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diff --git a/43442-0.txt b/43442-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9b1542d --- /dev/null +++ b/43442-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,20759 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43442 *** + +Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected +without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have +been retained as printed. Words printed in italics are noted with +underscores: _italics_. The Table of Contents was not present in +the original text and has been produced for the reader's convenience. + + + + +THE GOLDEN BUTTERFLY + + +BY + +WALTER BESANT AND JAMES RICE + + +NEW YORK +R. F. FENNO & COMPANY +9 AND 11 EAST 16TH STREET + + + + +TO + +_EDMUND YATES_, + +EDITOR OF "THE WORLD," +IN WHICH PAPER "THE GOLDEN BUTTERFLY" +WAS FIRST PUBLISHED, + +This Story + +IS INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHORS. + + + + +PREFACE. + + +The Golden Butterfly, which gives a name to this novel, was seen by an +English traveller, two years ago, preserved as a curiosity in a mining +city near Sacramento, where it probably still remains. This curious +freak of Nature is not therefore an invention of our own. To the same +traveller--Mr. Edgar Besant--we are indebted for the description on +which is based our account of Empire City. + +The striking of oil in Canada in the manner described by Gilead P. +Beck was accomplished--with the waste of millions of gallons of the +oil, for want of casks and buckets to receive it, and with the result +of a promise of almost boundless wealth--by a man named Shaw, some ten +years ago. Shaw speculated, we believe; lost his money, and died in +poverty. + +Names of great living poets and writers have been used in this book in +connection with a supposed literary banquet. A critic has expressed +surprise that we have allowed Gilead Beck's failure to appreciate +Browning to stand as if it were our own. Is a writer of fiction to +stop the action of his story in order to explain that it is his +character's opinion and not his own, that he states? And it surely is +not asking too much to demand of a critic that he should consider +first of all the consistency of a character's actions or speeches. +Gilead Beck, a man of no education and little reading, but of +considerable shrewdness, finds Browning unintelligible and harsh. What +other verdict could be expected if the whole of Empire City in its +palmiest days had been canvassed? + +Moreover, we have never, even from that great writer's most ardent +admirers, heard an opinion that he is either easy to read, or musical. +The compliments which Mr. Beck paid to the guests who honoured his +banquet are of course worded just as he delivered them. + +Gilead Beck's experiences as an editor are taken--with a little +dressing--from the actual experiences of a living Canadian journalist. + +From their Virginian home Jack Dunquerque and Phillis his wife send +greetings to those who have already followed their fortunes. She only +wishes us to add that Mr. Abraham Dyson was right, and that the Coping +Stone of every woman's education is Love. Most people know this, she +says, from reading: but she never did read; and the real happiness is +to find it out for yourself. + + W. B. + J. R. + + _March, 1877._ + + + + + PROLOGUE + CHAPTER I. + CHAPTER II. + CHAPTER III. + CHAPTER IV. + CHAPTER V. + CHAPTER VI. + CHAPTER VII. + CHAPTER VIII. + CHAPTER IX. + CHAPTER X. + CHAPTER XI. + CHAPTER XII. + CHAPTER XIII. + CHAPTER XIV. + CHAPTER XV. + CHAPTER XVI. + CHAPTER XVII. + CHAPTER XVIII. + CHAPTER XIX. + CHAPTER XX. + CHAPTER XXI. + CHAPTER XXII. + CHAPTER XXIII. + CHAPTER XXIV. + CHAPTER XXV. + CHAPTER XXVI. + CHAPTER XXVII. + CHAPTER XXVIII. + CHAPTER XXIX. + CHAPTER XXX. + CHAPTER XXXI. + CHAPTER XXXII. + CHAPTER XXXIII. + CHAPTER XXXIV. + CHAPTER XXXV. + CHAPTER XXXVI. + CHAPTER XXXVII. + CHAPTER XXXVIII. + CHAPTER XXXIX. + CHAPTER XL. + CHAPTER XLI. + CHAPTER XLII. + CHAPTER XLIII. + CHAPTER XLIV. + CHAPTER XLV. + CHAPTER THE LAST. + + + + +THE GOLDEN BUTTERFLY. + + + + +PROLOGUE. + + +I. + +"What do you think, chief?" + +The speaker, who was leading by a half a length, turned in his saddle +and looked at his companion. + +"Push on," growled the chief, who was a man of few words. + +"If you were not so intolerably conceited about the value of your +words--hang it, man, you are not the Poet Laureate!--you might give +your reasons why we should not camp where we are. The sun will be down +in two hours; the way is long, the wind is cold, or will be soon. This +pilgrim has tightened his belt to stave off the gnawing at his +stomach; here is running water, here is wood, here is everything +calculated to charm the poetic mind even of Captain Ladds----" + +"Road!" interrupted his fellow-traveller, pointing along the track +marked more by deep old wheel-ruts, grown over with grass, than by any +evidences of engineering skill. "Roads lead to places; places have +beds; beds are warmer than grass--no rattlesnakes in beds; miners in +hotels--amusing fellows, miners." + +"If ever I go out again after buffaloes, or bear, or mountain-deer, or +any other game whatever which this great continent offers, with a +monosyllabic man, may I be condemned to another two months of buffalo +steak without Worcester sauce, such as I have had already; may I be +poisoned with bad Bourbon whisky; may I never again see the sweet +shady side of Pall Mall; may I----" + +Here he stopped suddenly, for want of imagination to complete the +curse. + +The first speaker was a young man of four and twenty--the age which is +to my sex what eighteen is to the other, because at four and twenty +youth and manhood meet. He of four and twenty is yet a youth, inasmuch +as women are still angels; every dinner is a feast, every man of +higher rank is a demigod, and every book is true. He is a man, +inasmuch as he has the firm step of manhood, he has passed through his +calf-love, he knows what claret means, and his heart is set upon the +things for which boys care nothing. He is a youth, because he can +still play a game of football and rejoice amazingly in a boat-race; he +is a man, because he knows that these things belong to the past, and +that to concern one's self seriously with athletics, when you can no +longer be an athlete in the games, is to put yourself on the level of +a rowing coach or the athletic critic of a sporting paper. + +Being only four and twenty, the speaker was in high spirits. He was +also hungry. He was always both. What has life better to offer than a +continual flow of animal spirits and a perpetual appetite? He was a +tall, slight, and perhaps rather a weedy youth, a little too long of +leg, a little too narrow in the beam, a little spare about the +shoulders; but a youth of a ruddy and a cheerful countenance. To say +that the lines of his face were never set to gravity would be too +much, because I defy any man to laugh when he is sleeping, eating, or +drinking. At all other times this young man was ready to laugh without +stopping. Not a foolish cackle of idiotic vacuity such as may be heard +in Earlswood asylum or at a tea-party to meet the curate, but a +cheerful bubble of mirth and good-humour, proof that the spirit within +took everything joyously, seeing in every misadventure its humorous +side, and in every privation its absurdity. + +The other who rode beside him was some years older at least. A man of +thirty-five, or perhaps more; a man with a hatchet-face--nose and +forehead in one straight line; long chin and long upper lip in +another; face red with health as well as bronzed with the sun--a good +honest face, supernaturally grave, grave beyond all understanding; +lips that were always tightly closed; eyes which sometimes sparkled in +response to some genial thought, or bubbled over at some joke of his +companion, but which, as a rule, were like gimlets for sternness, so +that strangers, especially stranger servants--the nigger of Jamaica, +the guileless Hindoo of his Indian station, and other members of the +inferior human brotherhood--trembled exceedingly when they met those +eyes. Captain Ladds was accordingly well served, as cold, reserved men +generally are. Mankind takes everything unknown _pro terribili_, for +something dreadful, and until we learn to know a man, and think we +know him, he is to be treated with the respect due to a possible +enemy. _Hostis_ means a stranger, and it is for strangers that we keep +our brickbats. + +People who knew Ladds laughed at this reputation. They said the +gallant captain was a humbug; they pretended that he was as gentle as +a turtle-dove; beneath those keen eyes, they said, and behind that +sharp hatchet-face, lurked the most amiable of dispositions. At any +rate, Ladds was never known to thrash a native servant, or to swear +more than is becoming and needful at a syce, while his hatchet-face +had been more than once detected in the very act of looking as soft +and tender as a young mother's over her first-born. The name of this +cavalier was short and simple. It was Thomas Ladds. His intimate +friends called him Tommy. + +They were in California, and were not buffalo-hunting now, because +there is not a buffalo within five hundred miles of Sacramento. Their +buffalo-hunting was over, having been accompanied by such small +hardships as have been already alluded to. They rode along a track +which was as much like a road as Richmond Park is like the Forest of +Arden. They were mounted on a pair of small nervous mustangs; their +saddles were the Mexican saddles used in the country, in front of +which was the never-failing horn. Round this was wound the horsehair +lariat, which serves the Western Nimrod for lassoing by day, and for +keeping off snakes at night, no snake having ever been known to cross +this barrier of bristly horsehair. You might as well expect a burgling +coolie, smeared with oil, and naked, to effect his escape by crawling +through a hedge of prickly pear. Also, because they were in a foreign +land, and wished to be in harmony with its institutions, they wore +immense steel spurs, inlaid with silver filigree, and furnished with +"lobs" attached to them, which jangled and danced to make melody, just +as if they formed part of an illustration to a Christmas book. Boots +of course, they wore, and the artistic instinct which, a year before, +had converted the younger man into a thing of beauty and a joy for the +whole Park in the afternoon, now impelled him to assume a _cummerbund_ +of scarlet silk, with white-tasselled fringes, the like of which, +perhaps, had never before been seen on the back of a Californian +mustang. His companion was less ornate in his personal appearance. +Both men carried guns, and if a search had been made, a revolver would +have been found either hidden in the belt of each or carried _perdu_ +in the trousers-pocket. In these days of Pacific Railways and +scampering Globe Trotters, one does not want to parade the revolver; +but there are dark places on the earth, from the traveller's as well +as from the missionary's point of view, where it would be well to have +both bowie and Derringer ready to hand. On the American continent the +wandering lamb sometimes has to lie down with the leopard, the +harmless gazelle to journey side by side with the cheetah, and the asp +may here and there pretend to play innocently over the hole of the +cockatrice. + +Behind the leaders followed a little troop of three, consisting of one +English servant and two "greasers." The latter were dressed in plain +unpretending costume of flannel shirt, boots, and rough trousers. +Behind each hung his rifle. The English servant was dressed like his +master, but more so, his spurs being heavier, the pattern of his +check-shirt being larger, his saddle bigger; only for the silk +cummerbund he wore a leather strap, the last symbol of the honourable +condition of dependence. He rode in advance of the greasers, whom he +held in contempt, and some thirty yards behind the leaders. The +Mexicans rode in silence; smoking cigarettes perpetually. Sometimes +they looked to their guns, or they told a story, or one would sing a +snatch of a song in a low voice; mostly they were grave and +thoughtful, though what a greaser thinks about has never yet been +ascertained. + +The country was so far in the Far West that the Sierra Nevada lay to +the east. It was a rich and beautiful country: there were park-like +tracts--supposing the park to be of a primitive and early +settlement-kind--stretching out to the left. These were dotted with +white oaks. To the right rose the sloping sides of a hill, which were +covered with the brush-wood called the chaparelle, in which grew the +manzanita and the scrub-oak, with an occasional cedar pine, not in the +least like the cedars of Lebanon and Clapham Common. Hanging about in +the jungle or stretching its arms along the side of the dry water +course which ran at the traveller's feet beside the road was the wild +vine loaded with its small and pretty grapes now ripe. Nature, in +inventing the wild grape, has been as generous as in her gift of the +sloe. It is a fruit of which an American once observed that it was +calculated to develop the generosity of a man's nature, "because," he +explained, "you would rather give it to your neighbour than eat it +yourself." + +The travellers were low down on the western slopes of the Sierra; they +were in the midst of dales and glades--cañons and gulches, of perfect +loveliness, shut in by mountains which rose over and behind them like +friendly giants guarding a troop of sleeping maidens. Pelion was piled +on Ossa as peak after peak rose higher, all clad with pine and cedar, +receding farther and farther, till peaks became points, and ridges +became sharp edges. + +It was autumn, and there were dry beds, which had in the spring been +rivulets flowing full and clear from the snowy sides of the higher +slopes; yet among them lingered the flowers of April upon the shrubs, +and the colours of the fading leaves mingled with the hues of the +autumn berries. + +A sudden turn in the winding road brought the foremost riders upon a +change in the appearance of the country. Below them to the left +stretched a broad open space, where the ground had been not only +cleared of whatever jungle once grew upon it, but also turned over. +They looked upon the site of one of the earliest surface-mining +grounds. The shingle and gravel stood about in heaps; the gullies and +ditches formed by the miners ran up and down the face of the country +like the wrinkles in the cheek of a baby monkey; old pits, not deep +enough to kill, but warranted to maim and disable, lurked like +man-traps in the open; the old wooden aqueducts, run up by the miners +in the year '52, were still standing where they were abandoned by the +"pioneers;" here and there lay about old washing-pans, rusty and +broken, old cradles, and bits of rusty metal which had once belonged +to shovels. These relics and signs of bygone gatherings of men were +sufficiently dreary in themselves, but at intervals there stood the +ruins of a log-house, or a heap which had once been a cottage built of +mud. Palestine itself has no more striking picture of desolation and +wreck than a deserted surface-mine. + +They drew rein and looked in silence. Presently they became aware of +the presence of life. Right in the foreground, about two hundred yards +before them, there advanced a procession of two. The leader of the +show, so to speak, was a man. He was running. He was running so hard, +that anybody could see his primary object was speed. After him, with +heavy stride, seeming to be in no kind of hurry, and yet covering the +ground at a much greater rate than the man, there came a bear--a real +old grisly. A bear who was "shadowing" the man and meant claws. A bear +who had an insult to avenge, and was resolved to go on with the affair +until he had avenged it. A bear, too, who had his enemy in the open, +where there was nothing to stop him, and no refuge for his victim but +the planks of a ruined log-house, could he find one. + +Both men, without a word, got their rifles ready. The younger threw +the reins of his horse to his companion and dismounted. + +Then he stood still and watched. + +The most exhilarating thing in the whole world is allowed to be a +hunt. No greater pleasure in life than that of the Shekarry, +especially if he be after big game. On this occasion the keenness of +the sport was perhaps intensified to him who ran, by the reflection +that the customary position of things was reversed. No longer did he +hunt the bear; the bear hunted _him_. No longer did he warily follow +up the game; the game boldly followed _him_. No joyous sound of horns +cheered on the hunter: no shout, such as those which inspirit the fox +and put fresh vigour into the hare--not even the short eager bark of +the hounds, at the sound of which Reynard begins to think how many of +his hundred turns are left. It was a silent chase. The bear, who +represented in himself the field--men in scarlet, ladies, master, +pack, and everything--set to work in a cold unsympathetic way, +infinitely more distressing to a nervous creature than the cheerful +ringing of a whole field. To hunt in silence would be hard for any +man; to be hunted in silence is intolerable. + +Grisly held his head down and wagged it from side to side, while his +great silent paws rapidly cleared the ground and lessened the +distance. + +"Tommy," whispered the young fellow, "I can cover him now." + +"Wait, Jack. Don't miss. Give Grisly two minutes more. Gad! how the +fellow scuds!" + +Tommy, you see, obeyed the instinct of nature. He loved the hunt: +if not to hunt actively, to witness a hunt. It is the same feeling +which crowds the benches at a bullfight in Spain. It was the same +feeling which lit up the faces in the Coliseum when Hermann, formerly +of the Danube, prisoner, taken red-handed in revolt, and therefore +_moriturus_, performed with vigour, sympathy, and spirit the _rôle_ of +Actæon, ending, as we all know, in a splendid chase by bloodhounds; +after which the poor Teuton, maddened by his long flight and exhausted +by his desperate resistance, was torn to pieces, fighting to the end +with a rage past all acting. It is our modern pleasure to read of pain +and suffering. Those were the really pleasant days to the Roman ladies +when they actually witnessed living agony. + +"Give Grisly two minutes," said Captain Ladds. + +By this time the rest of the party had come up, and were watching the +movements of man and bear. In the plain stood the framework of a +ruined wooden house. Man made for log-house. Bear, without any +apparent effort, but just to show that he saw the dodge, and meant +that it should not succeed, put on a spurt, and the distance between +them lessened every moment. Fifty yards; forty yards. Man looked round +over his shoulder. The log-house was a good two hundred yards ahead. +He hesitated; seemed to stop for a moment. Bear diminished the space +by a good dozen yards--and then man doubled. + +"Getting pumped," said Ladds the critical. Then he too dismounted, and +stood beside the younger man, giving the reins of both horses to one +of the Mexicans. "Mustn't let Grisly claw the poor devil," he +murmured. + +"Let me bring him down, Tommy." + +"Bring him down, young un." + +The greasers looked on and laughed. It would have been to them a +pleasant termination to the "play" had Bruin clawed the man. Neither +hunter nor quarry saw the party clustered together on the rising +ground on which the track ran. Man saw nothing but the ground over +which he flew; bear saw nothing but man before him. The doubling +manoeuvre was, however, the one thing needed to bring Grisly within +easy reach. Faster flew the man, but it was the last flight of +despair; had the others been near enough they would have seen the cold +drops of agony standing on his forehead; they would have caught his +panting breath, they would have heard his muttered prayer. + +"Let him have it!" growled Ladds. + +It was time. Grisly, swinging along with leisurely step, rolling his +great head from side to side in time with the cadence of his +footfall--one roll to every half-dozen strides, like a fat German over +a _trois-temps_ waltz, suddenly lifted his face, and roared. Then +the man shrieked: then the bear stopped, and raised himself for a +moment, pawing in the air; then he dropped again, and rushed with +quickened step upon his foe; then--but then--ping! one shot. It has +struck Grisly in the shoulder; he stops with a roar. + +"Good, young un!" said Ladds, bringing piece to shoulder. This time +Grisly roars no more. He rolls over. He is shot to the heart, and is +dead. + +The other participator in this _chasse_ of two heard the crack of the +rifles. His senses were growing dazed with fear; he did not stop, he +ran on still, but with trembling knees and outstretched hands; and +when he came to a heap of shingle and sand--one of those left over +from the old surface-mines--he fell headlong on the pile with a cry, +and could not rise. The two who shot the bear ran across the +ground--he lay almost at their feet--to secure their prey. After them, +at a leisurely pace, strode John, the servant. The greasers stayed +behind and laughed. + +"Grisly's dead," said Tommy, pulling out his knife. "Steak?" + +"No; skin," cried the younger. "Let me take his skin. John, we will +have the beast skinned. You can get some steaks cut. Where is the +man?" + +They found him lying on his face, unable to move. + +"Now, old man," said the young fellow cheerfully, "might as well sit +up, you know, if you can't stand. Bruin's gone to the happy +hunting-grounds." + +The man sat up, as desired, and tried to take a comprehensive view of +the position. + +Jack handed him a flask, from which he took a long pull. Then he got +up, and somewhat ostentatiously began to smooth down the legs of his +trousers. + +He was a thin man, about five and forty years of age; he wore an +irregular and patchy kind of beard, which flourished exceedingly on +certain square half-inches of chin and cheek, and was as thin as grass +at Aden on the intervening spaces. He had no boots; but a sort of +moccasins, the lightness of which enabled him to show his heels to the +bear for so long a time. His trousers might have been of a rough +tweed, or they might have been black cloth, because grease, many +drenchings, the buffeting of years, and the holes into which they were +worn, had long deprived them of their original colour and brilliancy. +Above the trousers he wore a tattered flannel shirt, the right arm of +which, nearly torn to pieces, revealed a tattooed limb, which was +strong although thin; the buttons had long ago vanished from the front +of the garment; thorns picturesquely replaced them. He wore a +red-cotton handkerchief round his neck, a round felt hat was on his +head; this, like the trousers, had lost its pristine colour, and by +dint of years and weather, its stiffness too. To prevent the hat from +flapping in his eyes, its possessor had pinned it up with thorns in +the front. + +Necessity is the mother of invention: there is nothing morally wrong +in the use of thorns where other men use studs, diamond pins, and such +gauds; and the effect is picturesque. The stranger, in fact, was a law +unto himself. He had no coat; the rifle of Californian civilisation +was missing; there was no sign of knife or revolver; and the only +encumbrance, if that was any, to the lightness of his flight was a +small wooden box strapped round tightly, and hanging at his back by +means of a steel chain, grown a little rusty where it did not rub +against his neck and shoulders. + +He sat up and winked involuntarily with both eyes. This was the effect +of present bewilderment and late fear. + +Then he looked round him, after, as before explained, a few moments of +assiduous leg-smoothing, which, as stated above, looked ostentatious, +but was really only nervous agitation. Then he rose, and saw Grisly +lying in a heap a few yards off. He walked over with a grave face, and +looked at him. + +When Henri Balafré, Duc de Guise, saw Coligny lying dead at his feet, +he is said--only it is a wicked lie--to have kicked the body of his +murdered father's enemy. When Henri III. of France, ten years later, +saw Balafré dead at his feet, he did kick the lifeless body, with a +wretched joke. The king was a cur. My American was not. He stood over +Bruin with a look in his eyes which betokened respect for fallen +greatness and sympathy with bad luck. Grisly would have been his +victor, but for the chance which brought him within reach of a +friendly rifle. + +"A near thing," he said. "Since I've been in this doggoned country +I've had one or two near things, but this was the nearest." + +The greasers stood round the body of the bear, and the English servant +was giving directions for skinning the beast. + +"And which of you gentlemen," he went on with a nasal twang more +pronounced than before--perhaps with more emphasis on the word +"gentlemen" than was altogether required--"which of you gentlemen was +good enough to shoot the critter?" + +The English servant, who was, like his master, Captain Ladds, a man of +few words, pointed to the young man, who stood close by with the other +leader of the expedition. + +The man snatched from the jaws of death took off his shaky thorn-beset +felt, and solemnly held out his hand. + +"Sir," he said, "I do not know your name, and you do not know mine. If +you did you would not be much happier, because it is not a striking +name. If you'll oblige me, sir, by touching that"--he meant his right +hand--"we shall be brothers. All that's mine shall be yours. I do not +ask you, sir, to reciprocate. All that's mine, sir, when I get +anything, shall be yours. At present, sir, there is nothing; but I've +Luck behind me. Shake hands, sir. Once a mouse helped a lion, sir. +It's in a book. I am the mouse, sir, and you are the lion. Sir, my +name is Gilead P. Beck." + +The young man laughed and shook hands with him. + +"I only fired the first shot," he explained. "My friend here----" + +"No; first shot disabled--hunt finished then--Grisly out of the +running. Glad you're not clawed--unpleasant to be clawed. Young un did +it. No thanks. Tell us where we are." + +Mr. Gilead P. Beck, catching the spirit of the situation, told them +where they were, approximately. "This," he said, "is Patrick's Camp; +at least, it was. The Pioneers of '49 could tell you a good deal about +Patrick's Camp. It was here that Patrick kept his store. In those old +days--they're gone now--if a man wanted to buy a blanket, that +article, sir, was put into one scale, and weighed down with gold-dust +in the other. Same with a pair of boots; same with a pound of raisins. +Patrick might have died rich, sir, but he didn't--none of the pioneers +did--so he died poor; and died in his boots, too, like most of the +lot." + +"Not much left of the camp." + +"No, sir, not much. The mine gave out. Then they moved up the hills, +where, I conclude, you gentlemen are on your way. Prospecting likely. +The new town, called Empire City, ought to be an hour or so up the +track. I was trying to find my way there when I met with old Grisly. +Perhaps if I had let him alone he would have let me alone. But I +blazed at him, and, sir, I missed him; then he shadowed me. And the +old rifle's gone at last." + +"How long did the chase last?" + +"I should say, sir, forty days and forty nights, or near about. And +you gentlemen air going to Empire City?" + +"We are going anywhere. Perhaps, for the present, you had better join +us." + + +II. + +Mr. Gilead P. Beck, partly recovered from the shock caused to his +nerves by the revengeful spirit of the bear, and in no way discomfited +by any sense of false shame as to his ragged appearance, marched +beside the two Englishmen. It was characteristic of his nationality +that he regarded the greasers with contempt, and that he joined the +two gentlemen as if he belonged to their grade and social rank. An +Englishman picked up in such rags and duds would have shrunk abashed +to the rear, or he would have apologised for his tattered condition, +or he would have begged for some garments--any garments--to replace +his own. Mr. Beck had no such feeling. He strode along with a swinging +slouch, which covered the ground as rapidly as the step of the horses. +The wind blew his rags about his long and lean figure as picturesquely +as if he were another Autolycus. He was as full of talk as that +worthy, and as lightsome of spirit, despite the solemn gravity of his +face. I once saw a poem--I think in the _Spectator_--on Artemus Ward, +in which the bard apostrophised the light-hearted merriment of the +Western American; a very fortunate thing to say, because the Western +American is externally a most serious person, never merry, never +witty, but always humorous. Mr. Beck was quite grave, though at the +moment as happy as that other grave and thoughtful person who has made +a name in the literature of humour--Panurge--when he escaped +half-roasted from the Turk's Serai. + +"I ought," he said, "to sit down and cry, like the girl on the +prairie." + +"Why ought you to cry?" + +"I guess I ought to cry because I've lost my rifle and everything +except my Luck"--here he pulled at the steel chain--"in that darned +long stern chase." + +"You can easily get a new rifle," said Jack. + +"With dollars," interrupted Mr. Beck. "As for them, there's not a +dollar left--nary a red cent; only my Luck." + +"And what is your Luck?" + +"That," said Mr. Beck, "I will tell you by-and-by. Perhaps it's your +Luck, too, young boss," he added, thinking of a shot as fortunate to +himself as William Tell's was to his son. + +He pulled the box attached to the steel chain round to the front, and +looked at it tenderly. It was safe, and he heaved a sigh. + +The way wound up a valley--a road marked only, as has been said, by +deep ruts along its course. Behind the travellers the evening sun was +slowly sinking in the west; before them the peaks of the Sierra lifted +their heads, coloured purple in the evening light; and on either hand +rose the hill-sides, with their dark foliage in alternate "splashes" +of golden light and deepest shade. + +It wanted but a quarter of an hour to sunset when Mr. Gilead P. Beck +pointed to a township which suddenly appeared, lying at their very +feet. + +"Empire City, I reckon." + +A good-sized town of wooden houses. They were all alike and of the +same build as that affected by the architects of doll's houses; that +is to say, they were of one story only, had a door in the middle, and +a window on either side. They were so small, also, that they looked +veritable dolls' houses. + +There were one or two among them of more pretentious appearance, and +of several stories. These were the hotels, billiard-saloons, bars, and +gambling-houses. + +"It's a place bound to advance, sir," said Mr. Beck proudly. "Empire +City, when I first saw it, which is two years ago, was only two years +old. It is only in our country that a great city springs up in a day. +Empire City will be the Chicago of the West." + +"I see a city," said Captain Ladds; "can't see the people." + +It was certainly curious. There was not a soul in the streets; there +was no smoke from the chimneys; there was neither carts nor horses; +there was not the least sign of occupation. + +Mr. Gilead P. Beck whistled. + +"All gone," he said. "Guess the city's busted up." + +He pushed aside the brambles which grew over what had been a path +leading to the place, and hurried down. The others followed him, and +rode into the town. + +It was deserted. The doors of the houses were open, and if you looked +in you might see the rough furniture which the late occupants +disdained to carry away with them. The two Englishmen dismounted, gave +their reins to the servants, and began to look about them. + +The descendants of Og, king of Bashan, have left their houses in black +basalt, dotted about the lava-fields of the Hauran, to witness how +they lived. In the outposts of desert stations of the East, the Roman +soldiers have left their barracks and their baths, their jokes written +on the wall, and their names, to show how they passed away the weary +hours of garrison duty. So the miners who founded Empire City, and +deserted it _en masse_ when the gold gave out, left behind them marks +by which future explorers of the ruins should know what manner of men +once dwelt there. The billiard saloon stood open with swinging doors; +the table was still there, the balls lay about on the table and the +floor; the cues stood in the rack; the green cloth, mildewed, covered +the table. + +"Tommy," said the younger, "we will have a game to-night." + +The largest building in the place had been an hotel. It had two +stories, and was, like the rest of the houses, built of wood, with a +verandah along the front. The upper story looked as if it had been +recently inhabited; that is, the shutters were not dropping off the +hinges, nor were they flapping to and fro in the breeze. + +But the town was deserted; the evening breeze blew chilly up its +vacant streets; life and sound had gone out of the place. + +"I feel cold," said Jack, looking about him. + +They went round to the back of the hotel. Old iron cog-wheels lay +rusting on the ground with remains of pumps. In the heart of the town +behind the hotel stretched an open space of ground covered with piles +of shingle and intersected with ditches. + +Mr. Beck sat down and adjusted one of the thorns which served as a +temporary shirt-stud. + +"Two years ago," he said, "there were ten thousand miners here; now +there isn't one. I thought we should find a choice hotel, with a +little monty or poker afterwards. Now no one left; nothing but a +Chinaman or two." + +"How do you know there are Chinamen?" + +"See those stones?" + +He pointed to some great boulders, from three to six feet in diameter. +Some operation of a mystical kind had been performed upon them, for +they were jagged and chipped as if they had been filed and cut into +shape by a sculptor who had been once a dentist and still loved the +profession. + +"The miners picked the bones of those rocks, but they never pick quite +clean. Then the Chinamen come and finish off. Gentlemen, it's a +special Providence that you picked me up. I don't altogether admire +the way in which that special Providence was played up to in the +matter of the bar; but a Christian without a revolver alone among +twenty Chinamen----" + +He stopped and shrugged his shoulders. + +"They'd have got my Luck," he concluded. + +"Chief, I don't like it;" said the younger man. "It's ghostly. It's a +town of dead men. As soon as it is dark the ghosts will rise and walk +about--play billiards, I expect. What shall we do?" + +"Hotel," growled the chief. "Sleep on floor--sit on chairs--eat off a +table." + +They entered the hotel. + +A most orderly bar: the glasses there; the bright-coloured bottles: +two or three casks of Bourbon whisky; the counter; the very dice on +the counter with which the bar-keeper used to "go" the miners for +drinks. How things at once so necessary to civilised life and so +portable as dice were left behind, it is impossible to explain. + +Everything was there except the drink. The greasers tried the casks +and examined the bottles. Emptiness. A miner may leave behind him the +impedimenta, but the real necessaries of life--rifle, revolver, bowie, +and cards--he takes with him. And as for the drink, he carries that +away too for greater safety, inside himself. + +The English servant looked round him and smiled superior. + +"No tap for beer, as usual, sir," he said. "These poor Californians +has much to learn." + +Mr. Gilead P. Beck looked round mournfully. + +"Everything gone but the fixin's," he sighed. "There used to be good +beds, where there wasn't more'n two at once in them; and there used to +be such a crowd around this bar as you would not find nearer'n St. +Louis City." + +"Hush!" said Jack, holding up his hand. There were steps. + +Mr. Beck pricked up his ears. + +"Chinamen, likely. If there's a row, gentlemen, give me something, if +it's only a toothpick, to chime in with. But that's not a Chinese +step; that's an Englishman's. He wears boots, but they are not miner's +boots; he walks firm and slow, like all Englishmen; he is not in a +hurry, like our folk. And who but an Englishman would be found staying +behind in the Empire City when it's gone to pot?" + +The footsteps came down the stairs. + +"Most unhandsome of a ghost," said the younger man, "to walk before +midnight." + +The producer of the footsteps appeared. + +"Told you he was an Englishman!" cried Mr. Beck. + +Indeed, there was no mistaking the nationality of the man, in spite of +his dress, which was cosmopolitan. He wore boots, but not, as the +quick ear of the American told him, the great boots of the miner; he +had on a flannel shirt with a red silk belt; he wore a sort of blanket +thrown back from his shoulders; and he had a broad felt hat. Of course +he carried arms, but they were not visible. + +He was a man of middle height, with clear blue eyes; the perfect +complexion of an Englishman of good stock and in complete health; a +brown beard, long and rather curly, streaked with here and there a +grey hair; square and clear-cut nostrils; and a mouth which, though +not much of it was visible, looked as if it would easily smile, might +readily become tender, and would certainly find it difficult to be +stern. He might be any age, from five and thirty to five and forty. + +The greasers fell back and grouped about the door. The questions which +might be raised had no interest for them. The two leaders stood +together; and Mr. Gilead P. Beck, rolling an empty keg to their side, +turned it up and sat down with the air of a judge, looking from one +party to the other. + +"Englishmen, I see," said the stranger. + +"Ye-yes," said Ladds, not, as Mr. Beck expected, immediately holding +out his hand for the stranger to grasp. + +"You have probably lost your way?" + +"Been hunting. Working round--San Francisco. Followed track; accident; +got here. Your hotel, perhaps? Fine situation, but lonely." + +"Not a ghost, then," murmured the other, with a look of temporary +disappointment. + +"If you will come upstairs to my quarters, I may be able to make you +comfortable for the night. Your party will accommodate themselves +without our help." + +He referred to the greasers, who had already begun their preparations +for spending a happy night. When he led the way up the stairs, he was +followed, not only by the two gentlemen he had invited, but also by +the ragamuffin hunter, miner, or adventurer, and by the valet, who +conceived it his duty to follow his master. + +He lived, this hermit, in one of the small bed-rooms of the hotel, +which he had converted into a sitting-room. It contained a single +rocking-chair and a table. There was also a shelf, which served for a +sideboard, and a curtain under the shelf, which acted as a cupboard. + +"You see my den," he said. "I came here a year or so ago by accident, +like yourselves. I found the place deserted. I liked the solitude, the +scenery, whatever you like, and I stayed here. You are the only +visitors I have had in a year." + +"Chinamen?" said Mr. Gilead P. Beck. + +"Well, Chinamen, of course. But only two of them. They take turns, at +forty dollars a month, to cook my dinners. And there is a half-caste, +who does not mind running down to Sacramento when I want anything. And +so, you see, I make out pretty well." + +He opened the window, and blew a whistle. + +In two minutes a Chinaman came tumbling up the stairs. His inscrutable +face expressed all the conflicting passions of humanity at +once--ambition, vanity, self respect, humour, satire, avarice, +resignation, patience, revenge, meekness, long-suffering, remembrance, +and a thousand others. No Aryan comes within a hundred miles of it. + +"Dinner as soon as you can," said his master. + +"Ayah! can do," replied the Celestial. "What time you wantchee? + +"As soon as you can. Half an hour." + +"Can do. My no have got cully-powder. Have makee finish. Have got?" + +"Look for some; make Achow help." + +"How can? No, b'long his pidgin. He no helpee. B'long my pidgin makee +cook chow-chow. Ayah! Achow have go makee cheat over Mexican man. +Makee play cards all same euchre." + +In fact, on looking out of the window, the other Celestial was clearly +visible, manipulating a pack of cards and apparently inviting the +Mexicans to a friendly game, in which there could be no deception. + +Then Ladds' conscience smote him. + +"Beg pardon. Should have seen. Make remark about hotel. Apologise." + +"He means," said the other, "that he was a terrible great fool not to +see that you are a gentleman." + +Ladds nodded. + +"Let me introduce our party," the speaker went on. "This is our +esteemed friend Mr. Gilead P. Beck, whom we caught in a bear-hunt----" + +"Bar behind," said Mr. Beck. + +"This is Captain Ladds, of the 35th Dragoons." + +"Ladds," said Ladds. "Nibs, cocoa-nibs--pure aroma--best +breakfast-digester--blessing to mothers--perfect fragrance." + +"His name is Ladds; and he wishes to communicate to you the fact that +he is the son of the man who made an immense fortune--immense, Tommy?" + +Ladds nodded. + +"By a crafty compound known as 'Ladds' Patent Anti-Dyspeptic Cocoa.' +This is Ladd's servant, John Boimer, the best servant who ever put his +leg across pig-skin; and my name is Roland Dunquerque. People +generally call me Jack; I don't know why, but they do." + +Their host bowed to each, including the servant, who coloured with +pleasure at Jack's description of him; but he shook hands with Ladds. + +"One of ours," he said. "My name is Lawrence Colquhoun. I sold out +before you joined. I came here as you see. And--now, gentlemen, I +think I hear the first sounds of dinner. Boimer--you will allow me, +Ladds?--you will find claret and champagne behind that curtain. Pardon +a hermit's fare. I think they have laid out such a table as the +wilderness can boast in the next room." + +The dinner was not altogether what a man might order at the Junior +United, but it was good. There was venison, there was a curry, there +was some mountain quail, there was claret, and there was +champagne--both good, especially the claret. Then there was coffee. + +The Honourable Roland Dunquerque, whom we will call in future, what +everybody always called him, Jack, ate and drank like Friar John. The +keen mountain air multiplied his normal twist by ten. Mr. Gilead P. +Beck, who sat down to dinner perfectly unabashed by his rags, was good +as a trencherman, but many plates behind the young Englishman. Mr. +Lawrence Colquhoun, their host, went on talking almost as if they were +in London, only now and then he found himself behind the world. It was +his ignorance of the last Derby, the allusion to an old and +half-forgotten story, perhaps his use of little phrases--not slang +phrases, but those delicately-shaded terms which imply knowledge of +current things--which showed him to have been out of London and Paris +for more than one season. + +"Four years," he said, "since I left England." + +"But you will come back to it again?" + +"I think not." + +"Better," said Jack, whose face was a little flushed with the wine. +"Much better. Robinson Crusoe always wanted to get home again. So did +Selkirk. So did Philip Quarles." + +Then the host produced cigars. Later on, brandy-and-water. + +The brandy and water made Mr. Gilead P. Beck, who found himself a good +deal crowded out of the conversation, insist on having his share. He +placed his square box on the table, and loosed the straps. + +"Let me tell you," he said, "the story of my Luck. I was in Sonora +City," he began, patting his box affectionately, "after the worst +three months I ever had; and I went around trying to borrow a few +dollars. I got no dollars, but I got free drinks--so many free drinks, +that at last I lay down in the street and went to sleep. Wal, +gentlemen, I suppose I walked in that slumber of mine, for when I woke +up I was lying a mile outside the town. + +"I also entertained angels unawares, for at my head there sat an +Indian woman. She was as wrinkled an old squaw as ever shrieked at a +buryin'. But she took an interest in me. She took that amount of +interest in me that she told me she knew of gold. And then she led me +by the hand, gentlemen, that aged and affectionate old squaw, to a +place not far from the roadside; and there, lying between two rocks, +and hidden in the chaparelle, glittering in the light, was this +bauble." He tapped his box. "I did not want to be told to take it. I +wrapped it in my handkerchief and carried it in my hand. Then she led +me back to the road again. 'Bad luck you will have,' she said; 'but it +will lead to good luck so long as that is not broken, sold, given +away, or lost.' Then she left me, and here it is." + +He opened the little box. There was nothing to be seen but a mass of +white wool. + +"Bad luck I _have_ had. Look at me, gentlemen. Adam was not more +destitute when the garden-gates were shut on him. But the good will +come, somehow." + +He removed the wool, and, behold, a miracle of nature! Two thin plates +of gold delicately wrought in lines and curious chasing, like the +pattern of a butterfly's wing, and of the exact shape, but twice as +large. They were poised at the angle, always the same, at which the +insect balances itself about a flower. They were set in a small piece +of quaintly marked quartz, which represented the body. + +"A golden butterfly!" + +"A golden butterfly," said Mr. Beck. "No goldsmith made this +butterfly. It came from Nature's workshop. It is my Luck." + + "And If the butterfly fall and break, + Farewell the Luck of Gilead Beck," + +said Jack. + +"Thank you, sir. That's very neat. I'll take that, sir, if you will +allow me, for my motto, unless you want it for yourself." + +"No," said Jack; "I have one already." + + "If this golden butterfly fall and break, + Farewell the Luck of Gilead P. Beck," + +repeated the owner of the insect. "If you are going on, gentlemen, to +San Francisco, I hope you will take me with you." + +"Colquhoun," said Ladds, "you do not mean to stay by yourself? Much +better come with us, unless, of course----" + +Lying on the table was a piece of an old newspaper in which Jack had +wrapped something. Ladds saw Colquhoun mechanically take up the paper, +read it, and change color. Then he looked straight before him, seeing +nothing, and Ladds stopped speaking. Then he smiled in a strange +far-off way. + +"I think I will go with you," he said. + +"Hear, hear!" cried Jack. "Selkirk returns to the sound of the +church-going bell." + +Ladds refrained from looking at the paper in search of things which +did not concern himself, but he perceived that Colquhoun had, like +Hamlet, seen something. There _was_, in fact, an announcement in +the fragment which greatly interested Lawrence Colquhoun: + + "On April 3, by the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of Turk's Island, + at St. George's Hanover Square, Gabriel Cassilis, of etc., to + Victoria, daughter of the Late Admiral Sir Benbow Pengelley, + K.C.B." + +In the morning they started, Mr. Beck being provided with a new +rig-out of a rough and useful kind. + +At the last moment one of the Chinamen, Leeching, the cook, besought +from his late master, as a parting favour and for the purpose of +self-protection, the gift of a pistol, powder, and ball. + +Mr. Colquhoun gave them to him, thinking it a small thing after two +years of faithful service. Then Leeching, after loading his pistol, +went to work with his comrade for an hour or so. + +Presently, Achow being on his knees in the shingle, the perfidious +Leeching suddenly cocked his pistol, and fired it into Achow's right +ear, so that he fell dead. + +By this lucky accident Leeching became sole possessor of the little +pile of gold which he and the defunct Achow had scraped together and +placed in a _cache_. + +He proceeded to unearth this treasure, put together his little +belongings, and started on the road to San Francisco with a smile of +satisfaction. + +There was a place in the windings of the road where there was a steep +bank. By the worst luck in the world a stone slipped and fell as +Leeching passed by. The stone by itself, would not have mattered much, +as it did not fall on Leeching's head; but with it fell a rattlesnake, +who was sleeping in the warmth of the sun. + +Nothing annoys a rattlesnake more than to be disturbed in his sleep. +With angry mind he awoke, looked around, and saw the Chinaman. +Illogically connecting him with the fall of the stone, he made for +him, and, before Leeching knew there was a rattlesnake anywhere near +him, bit him in the calf. + +Leeching sat down on the bank and realized the position. Being a +fatalist, he did not murmur; having no conscience, he did not fear; +having no faith, he did not hope; having very little time, he made no +testamentary dispositions. In point of fact, he speedily curled up his +legs and died. + +Then the deserted Empire City was deserted indeed, for there was not +even a Chinaman left in it. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +Joseph and His Brethren. + + +The largest and most solid of all the substantial houses in Carnarvon +Square, Bloomsbury, is Number Fifteen, which, by reason of its corner +position (Mulgrave Street intersecting it at right angles at this +point), has been enabled to stretch itself out at the back. It is a +house which a man who wanted to convey the idea of a solid income +without ostentation or attempt at fashion would find the very thing to +assist his purpose. The ladies of such a house would not desire to +belong to the world farther west; they would respect the Church, law, +and medicine; they would look on the City with favourable eyes when it +was represented by a partner in an old firm; they would have sound +notions of material comfort; they would read solid books, and would +take their pleasure calmly. One always, somehow, in looking at a house +wonders first of what sort its women are. There were, however, no +women at Number Fifteen at all, except the maids. Its occupants +consisted of three brothers, all unmarried. They were named +respectively Cornelius, Humphrey, and Joseph Jagenal. Cornelius and +Humphrey were twins. Joseph was their junior by ten years. Cornelius +and Humphrey were fifty--Joseph was forty. People who did not know +this thought that Joseph was fifty and his brethren forty. + +When the Venerable the Archdeacon of Market Basing, the well-known +author of _Sermons on the Duty of Tithe-Offerings_, the _Lesbia of +Catullus_, and a _Treatise on the Right Use of the Anapæst in Greek +Iambic Verse_, died, it was found that he had bequeathed his little +savings, worth altogether about £500 a year, to his three sons in the +following proportions: the twins, he said, possessed genius; they +would make their mark in the world, but they must be protected. They +received the yearly sum of £200 apiece, and it was placed in the hands +of trustees to prevent their losing it; the younger was to have the +rest, without trustees, because, his father said, "Joseph is a dull +boy and will keep it." It was a wise distribution of the money. +Cornelius, then nineteen, left Oxford immediately, and went to +Heidelberg, where he called himself a poet, studied metaphysics, drank +beer, and learned to fence. Humphrey, for his part, deserted +Cambridge--their father having chosen that they should not be +rivals--and announced his intention of devoting his life to Art. He +took up his residence in Rome. Joseph stayed at school, having no +other choice. When the boy was sixteen, his guardians articled him to +a solicitor. Joseph was dull, but he was methodical, exact, and +endowed with a retentive memory. He had also an excellent manner, and +the "appearance of age," as port wine advertisers say, before he was +out of his articles. At twenty-five, Joseph Jagenal was a partner; at +thirty-five, he was the working partner; at forty, he was the senior +partner in the great Lincoln's-Inn firm of Shaw, Fairlight, and +Jagenal, the confidential advisers of as many respectable county +people as any firm in London. + +When he was twenty-five, and became a partner, the brethren returned +to England simultaneously, and were good enough to live with him and +upon him. They had their £200 a year each, and expensive tastes. +Joseph, who had made a thousand for his share the first year of his +admission to the firm, had no expensive tastes, and a profound respect +for genius. He took in the twins joyfully, and they stayed with him. +When his senior partner died, and Mr. Fairlight retired, so that +Joseph's income was largely increased, they made him move from +Torrington Square, where the houses are small, to Carnarvon Square, +and regulated his household for him on the broadest and most liberal +scale. Needless to say, no part of the little income, which barely +served the twins with pocket-money and their _menus plaisirs_, +went towards the housekeeping. Cornelius, poet and philosopher, +superintended the dinner and daily interviewed the cook. Humphrey, +he devotee of art, who furnished the rooms according to the latest +designs of the most correct taste, was in command of the cellar. +Cornelius took the best sitting-room for himself, provided it with +books, easy-chairs, and an immense study-table with countless drawers. +He called it carelessly his Workshop. The room on the first floor +overlooking Mulgrave Street, and consequently with a north aspect, was +appropriated by Humphrey. He called it his Studio, and furnished it in +character, not forgetting the easy-chairs. Joseph had the back room +behind the dining-room for himself; it was not called a study or a +library, but Mr. Joseph's room. He sat in it alone every evening, at +work. There was also a drawing-room, but it was never used. They dined +together at half-past six: Cornelius sat at the head, and Humphrey at +the foot, Joseph at one side. Art and Intellect, thus happily met +together and housed under one roof, talked to each other. Joseph ate +his dinner in silence. Art held his glass to the light, and flashed +into enthusiasm over the matchless sparkle, the divine hues, the +incomparable radiance, of the wine. Intellect, with a sigh, as one who +regrets the loss of a sense, congratulated his brother on his vivid +passion for colour, and, taking another glass, discoursed on the +æsthetic aspects of a vintage wine. Joseph drank one glass of claret, +after which he retired to his den, and left the brethren to finish the +bottle. After dinner the twins sometimes went to the theatre, or they +repaired arm-in-arm to their club--the Renaissance, now past its prime +and a little fogyish; mostly they sat in the Studio or in the +Workshop, in two arm-chairs, with a table between them, smoked pipes, +and drank brandy and potash-water. They went to bed at any time they +felt sleepy--perhaps at twelve, and perhaps at three. Joseph went to +bed at half-past ten. The brethren generally breakfasted at eleven, +Joseph at eight. After breakfast, unless on rainy days, a uniform +custom was observed. Cornelius, poet and philosopher, went to the +window and looked out. + +Humphrey, artist, and therefore a man of intuitive sympathies, +followed him. Then he patted Cornelius on the shoulder, and shook his +head. + +"Brother, I know your thought. You want to drag me from my work; you +think it has been too much for me lately. You are too anxious about +me." + +Cornelius smiled. + +"Not on my own account too, Humphrey?" + +"True--on your account. Let us go out at once, brother. Ah, why did +you choose so vast a subject?" + +Cornelius was engaged--had been engaged for twenty years--upon an epic +poem, entitled the _Upheaving of Ælfred_. The school he belonged to +would not, of course, demean themselves by speaking of Alfred. To them +Edward was Eadward, Edgar was Eadgar, and old Canute was Knut. In the +same way Cicero became Kikero, Virgil was Vergil, and Socrates was +spelt, as by the illiterate bargee, with a _k_. So the French prigs of +the ante-Boileau period sought to make their trumpery pedantries pass +for current coin. So, too, Chapelain was in labour with the _Pucelle_ +for thirty years; and when it came--But Cornelius Jagenal could not be +compared with Chapelain, because he had as yet brought forth nothing. +He sat with what he and his called "English" books all round him; in +other words, he had all the Anglo-Saxon literature on his shelves, and +was amassing, as he said, material. + +Humphrey, on the other hand, was engaged on a painting, the +composition of which offered difficulties which, for nearly twenty +years, had proved insuperable. He was painting, he said, the "Birth of +the Renaissance." It was a subject which required a great outlay in +properties, Venetian glass, Italian jewelry, mediæval furniture, +copies of paintings--everything necessary to make this work a +masterpiece--he bought at Joseph's expense. Up to the present no one +had been allowed to see the first rough drawings. + +"Where's Cæsar?" Humphrey would say, leading the way to the hall. +"Cæsar! Why, here he is. Cæsar must actually have heard us proposing +to go out." + +Cornelius called the dog Kaysar, and he refused to answer to it; so +that conversation between him and Cornelius was impossible. + +There never was a pair more attached to each other than these twin +brethren. They sallied forth each morning at twelve, arm-in-arm, with +an open and undisguised admiration for each other which was touching. +Before them marched Cæsar, who was of mastiff breed, leading the way. +Cornelius, the poet, was dressed with as much care as if he were still +a young man of five-and-twenty, in a semi-youthful and wholly-æsthetic +costume, in which only the general air, and not the colour, revealed +the man of delicate perceptions. Humphrey, the artist, greatly daring, +affected a warm brown velvet with a crimson-purple ribbon. Both +carried flowers. Cornelius had gloves; Humphrey a cigar. Cornelius was +smooth-faced, save for a light fringe on the upper lip. Humphrey wore +a heavy moustache and a full long silky beard of a delicately-shaded +brown, inclining when the sun shone upon it to a suspicion of auburn. +Both were of the same height, rather below the middle; they had +features so much alike that, but for the hair on the face of one, it +would have been difficult to distinguish between them. Both were thin, +pale of face, and both had, by some fatality, the end of their +delicately-carved noses slightly tipped with red. Perhaps this was due +to the daily and nightly brandy-and-water. And in the airy careless +carriage of the two men, their sunny faces and elastic tread, it was +impossible to suppose that they were fifty and Joseph only forty. + +To be sure, Joseph was a heavy man, stout of build, broad in frame, +sturdy in the under-jaw; while his brothers were slight shadowy men. +And, to be sure, Joseph had worked all his life, while his brothers +never did a stroke. They were born to consume the fruits which Joseph +was born to cultivate. + +Outside the house the poet heaved a heavy sigh, as if the weight of +the epic was for the moment off his mind. The artist looked round with +a critical eye on the lights and shadows of the great commonplace +square. + +"Even in London," he murmured, "Nature is too strong for man. Did you +ever, my dear Cornelius, catch a more brilliant effect of sunshine +than that upon the lilac yonder?" + +Time, end of April; season forward, lilacs on the point of bursting +into flower; sky dotted with swift-flying clouds, alternate +withdrawals and bursts of sunshine. + +"I really must," said Humphrey, "try to fix that effect." + +His brother took the arm of the artist and drew him gently away. + +In front marched Cæsar. + +Presently the poet looked round. They were out of the square by this +time. + +"Where is Kaysar?" he said, with an air of surprise. "Surely, brother +Humphrey, the dog can't be in the Carnarvon Arms?" + +"I'll go and see," said Humphrey, with alacrity. + +He entered the bar of the tavern, and his brother waited outside. +After two or three minutes, the poet, as if tired of waiting, followed +the artist into the bar. He found him with a glass of brandy-and-water +cold. + +"I had," he explained, "a feeling of faintness. Perhaps this spring +air is chilly. One cannot be too careful." + +"Quite right," said the poet. "I almost think--yes, I really do +feel--ah! Thank you, my dear." + +The girl, as if anticipating his wants, set before him a "four" of +brandy and the cold water. Perhaps she had seen the face before. As +for the dog, he was lying down with his head on his paws. Perhaps he +knew there would be no immediate necessity for moving. + +They walked in the direction of the Park, arm-in-arm, affectionately. + +It might have been a quarter of an hour after leaving the Carnarvon +Arms when the poet stopped and gasped-- + +"Humphrey, my dear brother, advise me. What would you do if you had a +sharp and sudden pain like a knife inside you?" + +Humphrey replied promptly: + +"If I had a sharp and sudden pain like a knife inside me, I should +take a small glass of brandy neat. Mind, no spoiling the effect with +water." + +Cornelius looked at his brother with admiration. + +"Such readiness of resource!" he murmured, pressing his arm. + +"I think I see--ah, yes--Kaysar--he's gone in before us. The sagacity +of that dog is more remarkable than anything I ever read." He took his +small glass of brandy neat. + +The artist, looking on, said he might as well have one at the same +time. Not, he added, that he felt any immediate want of the stimulant, +but he might; and at all times prevention is better than cure. + +It was two o'clock when they returned to Carnarvon Square. They walked +arm-in-arm, with perhaps even a greater show of confiding affection +than had appeared at starting. There was the slightest possible lurch +in their walk, and both looked solemn and heavy with thought. + +In the hall the artist looked at his watch. + +"Pa--pasht two. Corneliush, Work----" + +He marched to the Studio with a resolute air, and, arrived there, drew +an easy-chair before the fire, sat himself in it, and went fast +asleep. + +The poet sought the workshop. On the table lay the portfolio of +papers, outside which was emblazoned on parchment, with dainty +scroll-work by the hands of his brother the artist, the title of his +poem: + + The Upheaving of Ælfred: + + AN EPIC IN TWENTY-FOUR CANTOS. + + BY CORNELIUS JAGENAL. + +He gazed at it fondly for a few minutes; vaguely took up a pen, as if +he intended to finish the work on the spot; and then with a sigh, +thought being to much for brain, he slipped into his arm-chair, put up +his feet, and was asleep in two minutes. At half-past five, one of the +maids--they kept no footman in Carnarvon Square--brought him tea. + +"I have been dozing, have I, Jane?" he asked. "Very singular thing for +me to do." + +We are but the creatures of habit. The brethren took the same walk +every day, made the same remarks, with an occasional variation, and +took the same morning drams; they spent the middle of the day in +sleep, they woke up for the afternoon tea, and they never failed to +call Jane's attention to the singularity of the fact that they had +been asleep. This day Jane lingered instead of going away when the tea +was finished. + +"Did master tell you, sir," she asked, "that Miss Fleming was coming +to-day?" + +It was an irritating thing that, although Cornelius ordered the dinner +and sat at the head of the table, although Humphrey was in sole +command of the wine-cellar, the servants always called Joseph the +master. Great is the authority of him who keeps the bag; the power of +the penniless twins was a shadowy and visionary thing. + +The master had told his brothers that Miss Fleming would probably have +to come to the house, but no date was fixed. + +"Miss Fleming came this afternoon, sir," said Jane, "with a French +maid. She's in Mr. Joseph's room now." + +"Oh, tell Mr. Humphrey, Jane, and we will dress for dinner. Tell Mr. +Humphrey, also, that perhaps Miss Fleming would like a glass of +champagne to-day." + +Jane told the artist. + +"Always thoughtful," said Humphrey, with enthusiasm. "Cornelius is for +ever thinking of others' comfort. To be sure Miss Fleming shall have a +glass of champagne." + +He brought up two bottles, such was his anxiety to give full +expression to his brother's wishes. + +When the dinner-bell rang, the brethren emerged simultaneously from +their rooms, and descended the stairs together, arm-in-arm. Perhaps in +expectation of dinner, perhaps in anticipation of the champagne, +perhaps with pleasure at the prospect of meeting with Joseph's ward, +the faces of both were lit with a sunny smile, and their eyes with a +radiant light, which looked like the real and genuine enthusiasm of +humanity. It was a pity that Humphrey wore a beard, or that Cornelius +did not; otherwise it would have been difficult to distinguish between +this pair so much alike--these youthful twins of fifty, who almost +looked like five-and-twenty. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +"Phillis is my only joy." + + +"My brothers, Miss Fleming!" + +Joseph introduced the twins with a pride impossible to dissemble. They +were so youthful-looking, so airy, so handsome, besides being so nobly +endowed with genius, that his pride may be excused. Castor and Pollux +the wrong side of forty, but slim still and well preserved--these +Greek figures do not run tall--might have looked like Cornelius and +Humphrey. + +They parted company for a moment to welcome the young lady, large-eyed +as Hêrê, who rose to greet them, and then took up a position on the +hearthrug, one with his hand on the other's shoulder, like the Siamese +twins, and smiled pleasantly, as if, being accustomed to admiration +and even awe, they wished to reassure Miss Fleming and put her at +ease. + +Dinner being announced, Cornelius, the elder by a few moments, gave +his arm to the young lady. Humphrey, the younger, hovered close +behind, as if he too was taking his part in the chivalrous act. Joseph +followed alone, of course, not counting in the little procession. + +Phillis Fleming's arrival at No. 15 Carnarvon Square was in a manner +legal. She belonged to the office, not to the shrine of intellect, +poesy, and art created by the twin brethren. She was an orphan and a +ward. She had two guardians: one of them, Mr. Lawrence Colquhoun, +being away from England; and the other, Mr. Abraham Dyson, with whom +she had lived since her sixth birthday, having finished his earthly +career just before this history begins, that is to say, in the spring +of last year. Shaw, Fairlight, and Jagenal were solicitors to both +gentlemen. Therefore Joseph found himself obliged to act for this +young lady when, Mr. Abraham Dyson buried and done with, it became a +question what was to be done with her. There were offers from several +disinterested persons on Miss Fleming's bereaved condition being +known. Miss Skimpit, of the Highgate Collegiate Establishment for +Young Ladies, proposed by letter to receive her as a parlour-boarder, +and hinted at the advantages of a year's discipline, tempered by +Christian kindness, for a young lady educated in so extraordinary and +godless a manner. The clergyman of the new district church at Finchley +called personally upon Mr. Jagenal. He said that he did not know the +young lady except by name, but that, feeling the dreadful condition of +a girl brought up without any of the gracious influences of Anglican +Ritual and Dogma, he was impelled to offer her a home with his +Sisterhood. Here she would receive clear dogmatic teaching and learn +what the Church meant by submission, fasting, penance, and +humiliation. Mr. Jagenal thought she might also learn how to bestow +her fortune on Anglo Catholic objects when she came of age, and +dismissed his reverence with scant courtesy. Two or three widows who +had known better days offered their services, which were declined with +thanks. Joseph even refused to let Miss Fleming stay with Mrs. +Cassilis, the wife of Abraham Dyson's second cousin. He thought that +perhaps this lady would not be unwilling to enliven her house by the +attraction of an heiress and a _débutante_. And it occurred to him +that, for a short time at least, she might, without offending a +censorious world, and until her remaining guardian's wishes could be +learned, take up her abode at the house of the three bachelors. + +"I am old, Miss Fleming," he said, "Forty years old; a great age +to you, and my brothers, Cornelius and Humphrey, who live with me, +are older still. Cornelius is a great poet; he is engaged on a +work--_The Upheaving of Ælfred_--which will immortalise his name. +Humphrey is an artist; he is working at a group the mere conception of +which, Cornelius says, would make even the brain of Michel Angelo +stagger. You will be proud, I think, in after years, to have made the +acquaintance of my brothers." + +She came, having no choice or any other wish, accompanied by her +French maid and the usual impedimenta of travel. + +Phillis Fleming--her father called her Phillis because she was his +only joy--was nineteen. She is twenty now, because the events of this +story only happened last year. Her mother died in giving her birth; +she had neither brothers nor sisters, nor many cousins, and those far +away. When she was six her father died too--not of an interesting +consumption or of a broken heart, or any ailment of that kind. He was +a jovial fox-hunting ex-captain of cavalry, with a fair income and a +carefully cultivated taste for enjoyment. He died from an accident in +the field. By his will he left all his money to his one child and +appointed as her trustees his father's old friend, Abraham Dyson of +Twickenham and the City, and with him his own friend, Lawrence +Colquhoun, a man some ten years younger than himself, with tastes and +pursuits very much like his own. Of course, the child was taken to the +elder guardian's house, and Colquhoun, going his way in the world, +never gave his trust or its responsibilities a moment's thought. + +Phillis Fleming had the advantage of a training quite different from +that which is usually accorded to young ladies. She went to Mr. +Abraham Dyson at a time when that old gentlemen, always full of +crotchety ideas, was developing a plan of his own for female +education. His theory of woman's training having just then grown in +his mind to finished proportions, he welcomed the child as a subject +sent quite providentially to his hand, and proceeded to put his views +into practice upon little Phillis. That he did so showed a healthy +belief in his own judgment. Some men would have hastened into print +with a mere theory. Mr. Dyson intended to wait for twelve years or so, +and to write his work on woman's education when Phillis's example +might be the triumphant proof of his own soundness. The education +conducted on Mr. Dyson's principles and rigidly carried out was +approaching completion when it suddenly came to an abrupt termination. +Few things in this world quite turn out as we hope and expect. It was +on the cards that Abraham Dyson might die before the proof of his +theory. This, in fact, happened; and his chief regret at leaving a +world where he had been supremely comfortable, and able to enjoy his +glass of port to his eightieth and last year, was that he was leaving +the girl, the creation of his theory, in an unfinished state. + +"Phillis," he said, on his deathbed, "the edifice is now +complete,--all but the Coping-stone. Alas, that I could not live to +put it on!" + +And what the Coping-stone was no man could guess. Great would be the +cleverness of him, who seeing a cathedral finished save for roof and +upper courses, would undertake to put on these, with all the +ornaments, spires, lanterns, gargoyles, pinnacles, flying buttresses, +turrets, belfries, and crosses drawn in the dead designer's lost +plans. + +Abraham Dyson was a wealthy man. Therefore he was greatly respected by +all his relations, in spite of certain eccentricities, notably those +which forbade him to ask any of them to his house. If the nephews, +nieces and cousins wept bitterly on learning their bereavement, deeper +and more bitter were their lamentations when they found that Mr. Dyson +had left none of them any money. + +Not one penny; not a mourning ring; not a single sign or token of +affection to one of them. It was a cruel throwing of cold water on the +tenderest affections of the heart, and Mr. Dyson's relations were +deeply pained. Some of them swore; others felt that in this case it +was needless to give sorrow words, and bore their suffering in +silence. + +Nor did he leave any money to Phillis. + +This obstinate old theorist left it all to found a college for girls, +who were to be educated in the same manner as Phillis Fleming, and in +accordance with the scheme stated to be fully drawn up and among his +papers. + +Up to the present, Joseph Jagenal had not succeeded in finding the +scheme. There were several rolls of paper, forming portions of the +great work, but none were finished, and all pointed to the last +chapter, that entitled the "Coping-stone," in which, it was stated, +would be found the whole scheme with complete fulness of detail. But +this last chapter could not be found anywhere. If it never was found, +what would become of the will? Then each one of Mr. Dyson's relations +began to calculate what might fall to himself out of the inheritance. +That was only natural, and perhaps it was not every one who, like Mr. +Gabriel Cassilis, openly lamented the number of Mr. Dyson's collateral +heirs. + +Not to be found. Joseph Jagenal's clerks now engaged in searching +everywhere for it, and all the relations praying--all fervently and +some with faith--that it might never turn up. + +So that poor Phillis is sitting down to dinner with her education +unfinished--where is that Coping-stone? Every young lady who has had a +finishing year at Brighton may look down upon her. Perhaps, however, +as her education has been of a kind quite unknown in polite circles, +and she has never heard of a finishing year, she may be calm even in +the presence of other young ladies. + +What sort of a girl is she? + +To begin with, she has fifty thousand pounds. Not the largest kind of +fortune, but still something. More than most girls have, more than the +average heiress has. Enough to make young Fortunio Hunter prick up his +ears, smooth down his moustache, and begin to inquire about guardians; +enough to purchase a roomy cottage where Love may be comfortable; +enough to enable the neediest wooer, if he be successful, to hang up +his hat on the peg behind the door and sit down for the rest of his +years. Fifty thousand pounds is a sum which means possibilities. It +was her mother's, and, very luckily for her, it was so tied up that +Captain Fleming, her father, could not touch more than the interest, +which, at three per cent., amounts, as may be calculated, to fifteen +hundred a year. Really, after explaining that a young lady has fifty +thousand, what further praise is wanted, what additional description +is necessary? By contemplation of fifty thousand pounds, ardent youth +is inflamed as by a living likeness of Helen. Be she lovely or be she +loathly, be she young or old, be she sweet or shrewish--she has fifty +thousand pounds. + +With her fifty thousand pounds the gods have given Phillis Fleming a +tall figure, the lines of which are as delicately curved as those of +any yacht in the Solent or of any statue from Greek studio. She is +slight, perhaps too slight; she has hair of a common dark brown, but +it is fine hair, there is a great wealth of it, it has a gleam and +glimmer of its own as the sunlight falls upon it, as if there were a +hidden colour lying somewhere in it waiting to be discovered; her +eyes, like her hair, are brown--they are also large and lustrous; her +lips are full; her features are not straight and regular, like those +of women's beauties, for her chin is perhaps a little short, though +square and determined; she has a forehead which is broad and rather +low; she wears an expression in which good temper, intelligence, and +activity are more marked than beauty. She is quick to mark the things +that she sees, and she sees everything. Her hands are curious, because +they are so small, so delicate, and so sympathetic; while her face is +in repose you may watch a passing emotion by the quivering of her +fingers, just as you may catch, if you have the luck, the laughter or +tears of most girls first in the brightness or the clouding of their +eyes. + +There are girls who, when we meet them in the street, pass us like the +passing of sunshine on an April day; who, if we spend the evening in a +room where they are, make us understand something of the warmth which +Nature intended to be universal, but has somehow only made special; +whom it is a pleasure to serve, whom it is a duty to reverence, who +can bring purity back to the brain of a rake, and make a young man's +heart blossom like a rose in June. + +Of such is Phillis Fleming. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +Phillis's Education. + + +The dinner began without much conversation; partly because the twins +were hungry, and partly because they were a little awed by the +presence of an unwonted guest in white draperies. + +Phillis noted that, so far as she had learned as yet, things of a +domestic kind in the outer world were much like things at Mr. Dyson's, +that is to say, the furniture of the dining-room was similar, and the +dinner was the same. I do not know why she expected it, but she had +some vague notion that she might be called upon to eat strange dishes. + +"The Böllinger, brother Cornelius," said the artist. + +"Thoughtful of you, brother Humphrey," the poet answered. "Miss +Fleming, the Böllinger is in your honour." + +Phillis looked puzzled. She did not understand where the honour came +in. But she tasted her glass. + +"It is a little too dry for me," she said with admirable candour. "If +you have any Veuve Clicquot, Mr. Jagenal"--she addressed the younger +brother--"I should prefer that." + +All three perceptibly winced. Jane, the maid, presently returned with +a bottle of the sweeter wine. Miss Fleming tasted it critically and +pronounced in its favor. + +"Mr. Dyson, my guardian," she said, "always used to say the ladies +like their wine sweet. At least I do. So he used to drink Perier Jout +très sec, and I had Veuve Clicquot." + +The poet laid his forefinger upon his brow and looked meditatively at +his glass. Then he filled it again. Then he drank it off helplessly. +This was a remarkable young lady. + +"You have lived a very quiet life," said Joseph, with a note of +interrogation in his voice, "with your guardian at Highgate." + +"Yes, very quiet. Only two or three gentlemen ever came to the house, +and I never went out." + +"A fair prisoner, indeed," murmured the poet. "Danae in her tower +waiting for the shower of gold." + +"Danae must have wished," said Phillis, "when she was put in the box +and sent to sea, that the shower of gold had never come." + +Cornelius began to regret his allusion to the mythological maid for +his classical memory failed, and he could not at the moment recollect +what box the young lady referred to. This no doubt came of much poring +over Anglo-Saxon Chronicles. But he remembered other circumstances +connected with Danae's history, and was silent. + +"At least you went out," said Humphrey, "to see the Academy and the +Water-colours." + +She shook her head. + +"I have never seen a picture-gallery at all. I have not once been +outside Mr. Dyson's grounds until to-day, since I was six years old." + +Humphrey supported his nervous system, like his brother, with another +glass of the Böllinger. + +"You found your pleasure in reading divine Poetry," said the Maker +softly; "perhaps in writing Poetry yourself." + +"Oh dear no!" said Phillis. "I have not yet learned to read. Mr. Dyson +said that ladies ought not to learn reading till they are of an age +when acquiring that mischievous art cannot hurt themselves or their +fellow-creatures." + +Phillis said this with an air of superior wisdom, as if there could be +no disputing the axiom. + +Humphrey looked oceans of sympathy at Cornelius, who took out his +handkerchief as if to wipe away a tear, but as none was in readiness +he only sighed. + +"You were taught other things, however?" Joseph asked. + +"Yes; I learned to play. My master came twice a week, and I can play +pretty well; I play either by ear or by memory. You see," she added +simply, "I never forget anything that I am told." + +Compensation of civilised nature. We read, and memory suffers. Those +who do not read remember. Before wandering minstrels learned to read +and write, the whole Iliad was handed down on men's tongues; there are +Brahmins who repeat all their Sacred Books word for word without slip +or error, and have never learned to read; there are men at Oxford who +can tell you the winners of Events for a fabulous period, and yet get +plucked for Greats because, as they will tell you themselves, they +really cannot read. Phillis did not know how to read. But she +remembered--remembered everything; could repeat a poem dictated twice +if it were a hundred lines long, and never forgot it; caught up an air +and learned how to play it at a sitting. + +She could not read. All the world of fiction was lost to her. All the +fancies of poets were lost to her; all the records of folly and crime +which we call history were unknown to her. + +Try to think what, and of what sort, would be the mind of a person, +otherwise cultivated, unable to read. In the first place, he would be +clear and dogmatic in his views, not having the means of comparison; +next, he would be dependent on oral teaching and rumor for his +information; he would have to store everything as soon as learned, +away in his mind to be lost altogether, unless he knew where to lay +his hand upon it; he would hear little of the outer world, and very +little would interest him beyond his own circle; he would be in the +enjoyment of all the luxuries of civilisation without understanding +how they got there; he would be like the Mohammedans when they came +into possession of Byzantium, in the midst of things unintelligible, +useful, and delightful. + +"You will play to us after dinner, if you will be so kind," said +Joseph. + +"Can it be, Miss Fleming," asked Humphrey, "that you never went +outside the house at all?" + +"Oh no; I could ride in the paddock. It was a good large field and my +pony was clever at jumping; so I got on pretty well." + +"Would it be too much to ask you how you managed to get through the +day?" + +"Not at all," she replied; "it was very easy. I had a ride before +breakfast; gave Mr. Dyson his tea at ten; talked with him till twelve; +we always talked 'subjects,' you know, and had a regular course. When +we had done talking, he asked me questions. Then I probably had +another ride before luncheon. In the afternoon I played, looked after +my dress, and drew." + +"You are, then, an Artist!" cried Humphrey enthusiastically. +"Cornelius, I saw from the first that Miss Fleming had the eye of an +Artist." + +"I do not know about that; I can draw people. I will show you some of +my sketches, if you like, to-morrow. They are all heads and figures; I +shall draw all of you to-night before going to bed." + +"And in the evening?" + +"Mr. Dyson dined at seven. Sometimes he had one or two gentlemen to +dine with him; never any lady. When there was no one, we talked +'subjects' again." + +Never any lady! Here was a young woman, rich, of good family, +handsome, and in her way accomplished, who had never seen or talked +with a lady, nor gone out of the house save into its gardens, since +she was a child. + +Yet, in spite of all these disadvantages and the strangeness of her +position, she was perfectly self-possessed. When she left the table, +the two elder brethren addressed themselves to the bottle of Château +Mouton with more rapidity than was becoming the dignity of the wine. +Joseph almost immediately joined his ward. When the twins left the +dining-room with its empty decanters, and returned arm-in-arm to the +drawing-room, they found their younger brother in animated +conversation with the girl. Strange that Joseph should so far forget +his usual habits as not to go straight to his own room. The two bosoms +which heaved in a continual harmony with each other felt a +simultaneous pang of jealousy for which there was no occasion. Joseph +was only thinking of the Coping stone. + +"Did I not feel it strange driving through the streets?" Phillis was +saying. "It is all so strange that I am bewildered--so strange and so +wonderful. I used to dream of what it was like; my maid told me +something about it; but I never guessed the reality. There are a +hundred things more than I can ever draw." + +It was, as hinted above, the custom of this young person, as it was +that of the Mexicans, to make drawings of everything which occurred. +She was thus enabled to preserve a tolerably faithful record of her +life. + +"Show me," said Joseph--"show me the heads of my brothers and myself, +that you promised to do, as soon as they are finished." + +The brethren sat together on a sofa, the Poet in his favorite attitude +of meditation, forefinger on brow; the Artist with his eyes fixed on +the fire, catching the effects of colour. Their faces were just a +little flushed with the wine they had taken. + +One after the other crossed the room and spoke to their guest. + +Said Cornelius: + +"You are watching my brother Humphrey. Study him, Miss Fleming; it +will repay you well to know that childlike and simple nature, innocent +of the world, and aglow with the flame of genius." + +"I think I can draw him now," said Phillis, looking at the Artist as +hard as a turnkey taking Mr. Pickwick's portrait. + +Then came Humphrey: + +"I see your eyes turned upon my brother Cornelius. He is a great, a +noble fellow, Miss Fleming. Cultivate him, talk to him, learn from +him. You will be very glad some day to be able to boast that you have +met my brother Cornelius. To know him is a Privilege; to converse with +him is an Education." + +"Come," said Joseph cheerfully, "where is the piano? This is a +bachelor's house, but there is a piano somewhere. Have you got it, +Cornelius?" + +The Poet shook his head, with a soft sad smile. + +"Nay," he said, "is a Workshop the place for music? Let us rather +search for it in the Realms of Art." + +In fact it was in Mr. Humphrey's Studio, whither they repaired. The +girl sat down, and as she touched the keys her eyes lit up and her +whole look changed. Joseph was the only one of the three who really +cared for music. He stood by the fire and said nothing. The brethren +on either side of the performer displayed wonders of enthusiastic +admiration, each in his own way--the Poet sad and reflective, as if +music softened his soul; the Artist with an effervescing gaiety +delightful to behold. Joseph was thinking. "Can we"--had his thoughts +taken form of speech--"can we reconstruct from the girl's own account +the old man's scheme anew, provided the chapter on the Coping-stone be +never found? Problem given. A girl brought up in seclusion, without +intercourse with any of her sex except illiterate servants, yet bred +to be a lady: not allowed even to learn reading, but taught orally, so +as to hold her own in talk: required, to discover what the old man +meant by it, and what was wanted to finish the structure. Could it be +reading and writing? Could Abraham Dyson have intended to finish where +all other people begin?" + +This solution mightily commended itself to Joseph, and he went to bed +in great good spirits at his own cleverness. + +In the dead of night he awoke in fear and trembling. + +"They will go into Chancery," he thought. "What if the Court refuses +to take my view?" + +At three in the morning the brethren, long left alone with their +pipes, rose to go to bed. + +Brandy-and-soda sometimes makes men truthful after the third tumbler, +and beguiles them with illusory hopes after the fourth. The twins were +at the end of their fourth. + +"Cornelius," said the Artist, "she has £50,000." + +"She has, brother Humphrey." + +"It is a pity, Cornelius, that we, who have only £200 a year each, are +already fifty years of age." + +"Humphrey, what age do we feel?" + +"Thirty. Not a month more," replied the Artist, striking out with both +fists at an imaginary foe--probably old Time. + +"Right. Not an hour above the thirty," said the Bard, smiting his +chest gently. "As for Joseph, he is too old----" + +"Very much too old----" + +"To think of marrying such a young----" + +"Fresh and innocent----" + +"Engaging and clever girl as Miss Phillis Fleming." + +Did they, then, both intend to marry the young lady? + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +"To taste the freshness of the morning air." + + +Phillis retreated to her own room at her accustomed hour of ten. Her +nerves were excited; her brain was troubled with the events of this +day of emancipation. She was actually in the world, the great world of +which her guardian had told her, the world where history was made, +where wicked kings, as Mr. Dyson perpetually impressed upon her, made +war their play and the people their playthings. She was in the world +where all those things were done of which she had only heard as yet. +She had seen the streets of London, or some of them--those streets +along which had ridden the knights whose pictures she loved to draw, +the princesses and queens whose stories Mr. Dyson had taught her; +where the business of the world was carried on, and where there flowed +up and down the ceaseless stream of those whom necessity spurs to +action. As a matter of narrow fact, she had seen nothing but that part +of London which lies between Highgate Hill and Carnarvon Square; but +to her it seemed the City, the centre of all life, the heart of +civilisation. She regretted only that she had not been able to discern +the Tower of London. That might be, however, close to Mr. Jagenal's +house, and she would look for it in the morning. + +What a day! She sat before her fire and tried to picture it all over +again. Horses, carriages, carts, and people rushing to and fro; shops +filled with the most wonderful exhibition of precious things; +eccentric people with pipes, who trundled carts piled with yellow +oranges; gentlemen in blue with helmets, who lounged negligently along +the streets; boys who ran and whistled; boys who ran and shouted; boys +who ran and sold papers; always boys--where were all the girls? Where +were they all going? and what were they all wishing to do? + +In the evening the world appeared to narrow itself. It consisted of +dinner with three elderly gentlemen; one of whom was thoughtful about +herself, spoke kindly to her, and asked her about her past life; while +the other two--and here she laughed--talked unintelligently about Art +and themselves, and sometimes praised each other. + +Then she opened her sketch-book and began to draw the portraits of her +new friends. And first she produced a faithful _effigies_ of the +twins. This took her nearly an hour to draw, but when finished it made +a pretty picture. The brethren stood with arms intertwined like two +children, with eyes gazing fondly into each other's and heads thrown +back, in the attitude of poetic and artistic meditation which they +mostly affected. A clever sketch, and she was more than satisfied when +she held it up to the light and looked at it, before placing it in her +portfolio. + +"Mr. Humphrey said I had the eye of an artist," she murmured. "I +wonder what he will say when he sees this." + +Then she drew the portrait of Joseph. This was easy. She drew him +sitting a little forward, playing with his watch-chain, looking at her +with deep grave eyes. + +Then she closed her eyes and began to recall the endless moving +panorama of the London streets. But this she could not draw. There +came no image to her mind, only a series of blurred pictures running +into each other. + +Then she closed her sketch-book, put up her pencils, and went to bed. +It was twelve o'clock. Joseph was still thinking over the terms of Mr. +Dyson's will and the chapter on the Coping-stone. The twins were +taking their third split soda--it was brotherly to divide a bottle, +and the mixture was less likely to be unfairly diluted. + +Phillis went to bed, but she could not sleep. The steps of the +passers-by, the strange room, the excitement of the day kept her +awake. She was like some fair yacht suddenly launched from the dock +where she had grown slowly to her perfect shape, upon the waters of +the harbour, which she takes for the waters of the great ocean. + +She looked round her bedroom in Carnarvon Square, and because it was +not Highgate, thought it must be the vast, shelterless and unpitying +world of which she had so often heard, and at thought of which, brave +as she was, she had so often shuddered. + +It was nearly three when she fairly slept, and then she had a strange +dream. She thought that she was part of the great procession which +never ended all day long in the streets, only sometimes a little more +crowded and sometimes a little thinner. She pushed and hastened with +the rest. She would have liked to stay and examine the glittering +things exhibited--the gold and jewelry, the dainty cakes and delicate +fruits, the gorgeous dresses in the windows--but she could not. All +pushed on, and she with them; there had been no beginning of the rush, +and there seemed to be no end. Faces turned round and glared at +her--faces which she marked for a moment--they were the same which she +had seen in the morning; faces hard and faces hungry; faces cruel and +faces forbidding; faces that were bent on doing something +desperate--every kind of face except a sweet face. That is a rare +thing for a stranger to find in a London street. The soft sweet faces +belong to the country. She wondered why they all looked at her so +curiously. Perhaps because she was a stranger. + +Presently there was a sort of hue and cry and everybody began running, +she with them. Oddly enough, they all ran after her. Why? Was that +also because she was a stranger? Only the younger men ran, but the +rest looked on. The twins, however were both running among the +pursuers. The women pointed and flouted at her; the older men nodded, +wagged their heads, and laughed. Faster they ran and faster she fled; +they distanced, she and her pursuers the crowd behind; they passed +beyond the streets and into country fields, where hedges took the +place of the brilliant windows; they were somehow back in the old +Highgate paddock which had been so long her only outer world. The +pursuers were reduced to three or four, among them, by some odd +chance, the twin brethren and as one, but who she could not tell, +caught up with her and laid his hand upon hers, and she could run no +longer and could resist no more, but fell, not with terror at all, but +rather a sense of relief and gladness, into a clutch which was like an +embrace of a lover for softness and strength, she saw in front of her +dead old Abraham Dyson, who clapped his hands and cried, "Well run, +well won! The Coping-stone, my Phillis, of your education!" + +She woke with a start, and sat up looking round the room. Her dream +was so vivid that she saw the group before her very eyes in the +twilight--herself, with a figure, dim and undistinguishable in the +twilight, leaning over her; and a little distance off old Abraham +Dyson himself, standing, as she best remembered him, upright, and with +his hands upon his stick. He laughed and wagged his head and nodded it +as he said: "Well run, well won, my Phillis; it is the Coping-stone!" + +This was a very remarkable dream for a young lady of nineteen. Had she +told it to Joseph Jagenal it might have led his thoughts into a new +channel. + +She rubbed her eyes, and the vision disappeared. Then she laid her +head again upon the pillow, just a little frightened at her ghosts, +and presently dropped off to sleep. + +This time she had no more dreams; but she awoke soon after it was +daybreak, being still unquiet in her new surroundings. + +And now she remembered everything with a rush. She had left Highgate; +she was in Carnarvon Square; she was in Mr. Joseph Jagenal's house; +she had been introduced to two gentlemen, one of whom was said to have +a child-like nature all aglow with the flame of genius, while the +other was described as a great, a noble fellow, to know whom was a +Privilege and to converse with whom was an Education. + +She laughed when she thought of the pair. Like Nebuchadnezzar, she had +forgotten her dream. Unlike that king, she did not care to recall it. + +The past was gone. A new life was about to begin. And the April sun +was shining full upon her window-blinds. + +Phillis sprang from her bed and tore open the curtains with eager +hand. Perhaps facing her might be the Tower of London. Perhaps the +Thames, the silver Thames, with London Bridge. Perhaps St. Paul's +Cathedral, "which Christopher Wren built in place of the old one +destroyed by the Great Fire." Phillis's facts in history were short +and decisive like the above. + +No Tower of London at all. No St. Paul's Cathedral. No silver Thames. +Only a great square with houses all round. Carnarvon Square at dawn. +Not, perhaps, a fairy piece, but wonderful in its novelty to this +newly emancipated cloistered nun, with whom a vivid sense of the +beautiful had grown up by degrees in her mind, fed only in the +pictures supplied by the imagination. She knew the trees that grew in +Lord Manfield's park, beyond the paddock; she could catch in fine days +a glimpse of the vast city that stretches itself out from the feet of +breezy Highgate; she knew the flowers of her own garden; and for the +rest--she imagined it. River, lake, mountain, forest, and field, she +knew them only by talk with her guardian. And the mighty ocean she +knew because her French maid had crossed it when she quitted fair +Normandy, and told her again and again of the horrors encountered by +those who go down to the sea in ships. + +So that a second garden was a new revelation. Besides it was bright +and pretty. There were the first flowers of spring, gay tulips and +pretty things, whose name she did not know or could not make out from +the window. The shrubs and trees were green with the first sweet +chlorine foliage of April, clear and fresh from the broken buds which +lay thick upon the ground, the tender leaflets as yet all unsullied by +the London smoke. + +The pavement was deserted, because it was as yet too early for any +one, even a milk-boy, to be out. The only living person to be seen was +a gardener, already at work among the plants. + +A great yearning came over her to be out in the open air and among the +flowers. At Highgate she rose at all hours; worked in the garden; +saddled and rode her pony in the field; and amused herself in a +thousand ways before the household rose, subject to no restraint or +law but one--that she was not to open the front-door, or venture +herself in the outer world. + +"Mr. Jagenal said I was to do as I liked," she said, hesitating. "It +cannot be wrong to go out of the front-door now. Besides," reasoning +here like a casuist, "perhaps it is the back-door which leads to that +garden." + +In a quarter of an hour she was ready. She was not one of those young +ladies who, because no one is looking at them, neglect their personal +appearance. On the contrary, she always dressed for herself; +therefore, she always dressed well. + +This morning she wore a morning costume, all one colour, and I think +it was gray, but am not quite certain. It was in the graceful fashion +of last year, lying in long curved lines, and fitting closely to her +slender and tall figure. A black ribbon was tied round her neck, and +in her hat--the hats of last year did not suit every kind of face, but +they suited the face of Phillis Fleming--she wore one of those bright +little birds whose destruction for the purposes of fashion we all +deplore. In her hand she carried, as if she were still at Highgate and +going to saddle her pony, a small riding-whip. And thus she opened the +door, and slid down the stairs of the great silent house as stealthily +and almost as fearfully as the Lady Godiva on a certain memorable day. +It was a ghostly feeling which came over her when she ran across the +broad hall, and listened to the pattering of her own feet upon the +oilcloth. The broad daylight streamed through the _réverbère_; but yet +the place seemed only half lit up. The closed doors on either hand +looked as if dreadful things lurked behind them. With something like a +shudder she let down the door-chain, unbarred the bolts, and opened +the door. As she passed through she was aware of a great rush across +the hall behind her. It was Cæsar, the mastiff. Awakened by a noise as +of one burgling, he crept swiftly and silently up the kitchen-stairs, +with intent to do a desperate deed of valour, and found to his +rapturous joy that it was only the young lady, she who came the night +before, and that she was going out for an early morning walk--a thing +he, for his part, had not been permitted to do for many, many moons, +not since he had been brought--a puppy yet, and innocent--to the heart +of London. + +No one out at all except themselves. What joy! Phillis shut the door +very carefully behind her, looked up and down the street, and then +running down the steps, seized the happy Cæsar by the paws and danced +round and round with him upon the pavement. Then they both ran a race. +She ran like Atalanta, but Cæsar led till the finish, when out of a +courtesy more than Castilian, he allowed himself to be beaten, and +Phillis won by a neck. This result pleased them both, and Phillis +discovered that her race had brought her quite to the end of one side +of the square. And then, looking about her, she perceived that a gate +of the garden was open, and went in, followed by Cæsar, now in the +seventh heaven. This was better, better, than leading a pair of twins +who sometimes tied knots with their legs. The gate was left open by +the under-gardener, who had arisen thus early in the morning with a +view to carrying off some of the finer tulips for himself. They raced +and chased each other up and down the gravel walks between the lilacs +and laburnums bursting into blossom. Presently they came to the +under-gardener himself, who was busy potting a selection of the +tulips. He stared as if at a ghost. Half-past five in the morning, and +a young lady, with a dog, looking at him! + +He stiffened his upper lip, and put the spade before the flower-pots. + +"Beg pardon, miss. No dogs allowed. On the rules, miss." + +"William," she replied--for she was experienced in undergardeners, +knew that they always answer to the name of William, also that they +are exposed to peculiar temptations in the way of bulb--"William, for +whom you are potting those tulips?" + +Then, because the poor youth's face was suffused and his countenance +was "unto himself for a betrayal," she whistled--actually whistled--to +Cæsar, and ran on laughing. + +"Here's a rum start," said William. "A young lady as knows my name, +what I'm up to and all, coming here at five o clock in the blessed +morning when all young ladies as I ever heard of has got their noses +in their pillowses--else 'tain't no good being a young lady. Ketches +me a disposin' of the toolups. With a dawg, and whistles like a young +nobleman." + +He began putting back the flowers. + +"No knowin' who she mayn't tell, nor what she mayn't say. It's +dangerous, William." + +By different roads, Montaigne wrote, we arrive at the same end. +William's choice of the path of virtue was in this case due to +Phillis's early visit. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +"Te duce Cæsar." + + +Tired of running, the girl began to walk. It was an April morning, +when the east wind for once had forgotten to blow. Walking, she +whistled one of the ditties that she knew. She had a very superior +mode of performing on that natural piccolo-flute, the human mouth; it +was a way of her own, not at all like the full round whistle of the +street-boy, with as much volume as in a bottle of '51 port, as full of +unmeaning sound as a later poem of Robert Browning's, and as +unmelodious as the instrument on which that poet has always played. +Quite the contrary. Phillis's whistle was of a curious delicacy and of +a bullfinch-like note, only more flexible. She trilled out an old +English ditty, "When Love was young," first simply, and then with +variations. Presently, forgetting that she was not in the old paddock, +she began to sing it in her fresh young voice, William the +under-gardener and Cæsar the dog her only audience. They were +differently affected. William grew sad, thinking of his sins. The dog +wagged his tail and rushed round and round the singer by way of +appreciation. Music saddens the guilty, but maketh glad those who are +clear of conscience. + +It was half past six when she became aware that she was getting +hungry. In the old times it was easy to descend to the kitchen and +make what Indian people call a _chota hazri_, a little breakfast +for herself. Now she was not certain whether, supposing the servants +were about, her visit would be well received; or, supposing they were +not yet up, she should know where to find the kettle, the tea, and the +firewood. + +She left the garden, followed by Cæsar, who was also growing hungry +after his morning walk, and resolved on going straight home. + +There were two objections to this. + +First, she did not know one house from another, and they were all +alike. Second, she did not know the number, and could not have read it +had she known it. + +Mr. Jagenal's door was painted a dark brown; so were they all. Mr. +Jagenal's door had a knocker; so had they all. Could she go all round +the square knocking at every door, and waking up the people to ask if +Mr. Jagenal lived there? She knew little of the world, but it did +occur to her that it would seem unconventional for a young lady to +"knock in" at six in the morning. She did not, most unfortunately, +think of asking William the under-gardener. + +She turned to the dog. + +"Now, Cæsar," she said, "take me home." + +Cæsar wagged his tail, nodded his head, and started off before her at +a smart walk, looking round now and then to see that his charge was +following. + +"Lucky," said Phillis, "that I thought of the dog." + +Cæsar proceeded with great solemnity to cross the road, and began to +march down the side of the square, Phillis expecting him to stop at +every house. But he did not. Arrived at the corner where Carnarvon +Street strikes off the square he turned aside, and looking round to +see that his convoy was steering the same course, he trudged sturdily +down that thoroughfare. + +"This cannot be right," thought Phillis. But she was loath to leave +the dog, for to lose him would be to lose everything, and she +followed. Perhaps he knew of a back way. Perhaps he would take her for +a little walk, and show her the Tower of London. + +Cæsar, no longer running and bounding around her, walked on with the +air of one who has an important business on hand, and means to carry +it through. Carnarvon Street is long, and of the half-dismal, +half-genteel order of Bloomsbury, Cæsar walked halfway down the +street. Then he suddenly came to a dead stop. It was in front of a +tavern, the Carnarvon Arms, the door of which, for it was an early +house, was already open, and the potboy was taking down the shutters. +The fact that the shutters were only half down made the dog at first +suspect that there was something wrong. The house, as he knew it, +always had the shutters down and the portals open. As, however, there +seemed no unlawfulness of licensed hours to consider, the dog marched +into the bar without so much as looking to see if Phillis was +following, and immediately lay down with his head on his paws. + +"Why does he go in there?" said Phillis. "And what is the place?" + +She pushed the door, which, as usual in such establishments, hung half +open by means of a leathern strap, and looked in. Nobody in the place +but Cæsar. She entered, and tried to understand where she was. A smell +of stale beer and stale tobacco hanging about the room smote her +senses, and made her sick and faint. She saw the bottles and glasses, +the taps and the counters, and she understood--she was in a +drinking-place, one of the wicked dens of which her guardian sometimes +spoke. She was in a tavern, that is, a place where workmen spend their +earnings and leave their families to starve. She looked round her with +curiosity and a little fear. + +Presently she became aware of the early-risen potboy, who, having +taken down the shutters, was proceeding about his usual work behind +the bar, when his eyes fell upon the astonishing sight of a young +lady, a real young lady, as he saw at once, standing in the Bottle and +Jug department. He then observed the dog, and comprehended that she +was come there after Cæsar, and not for purposes of refreshment. + +"Why, miss," he said, "Cæsar thinks he's out with the two gentlemen. +He brings them here regular, you see, every morning, and they takes +their little glass, don't they, Cæsar?" + +Probably--thought watchful Phillis, anxious to learn,--probably a +custom of polite life which Mr. Dyson had neglected to teach her. And +yet he always spoke with such bitterness of public-houses. + +"Will you take a drop of somethink, miss?" asked the polite assistant, +tapping the handles hospitably. "What shall it be?" + +"I should like----" said Phillis. + +"To be sure, it's full early," the man went on, "for a young lady and +all. But Lor' bless your 'art, it's never none too early for most, +when they've got the coin. Give it a name, miss, and there, the guvnor +he isn't hup, and we won't chalk it down to you, nor never ask you for +the money. On'y give it a name." + +"Thank you very much," said Phillis. "I _should_ like to have a cup of +tea, if I could take it outside." + +He shook his head, a gesture of disappointment. + +"It can't be had here. Tea!"--as if he had thought better things of so +much beauty--"Tea! Swipes! After all, miss, it's your way, and no +doubt you don't know no better. There's a Early Caufy-'ouse a little +way up the street. You must find it for yourself, because the dawg he +don't know it; knows nothink about Tea, that dawg. You go out, miss, +and Cæsar he'll go to." + +Phillis thanked him again for his attention, and followed his advice. +Cæsar instantly got up and sallied forth with her. Instead, however, +of returning to the square, he went straight on down Carnarvon Street, +still leading the way. Turning first to the right and then to the +left, he conducted Phillis through what seemed a labyrinth of streets. +These were mostly streets of private houses, not of the best, but +rather of the seediest. It was now nearly seven o'clock, and the signs +of life were apparent. The paper-boy was beginning, with the milk-man, +his rounds; the postman's foot was preparing for the first turn on his +daily treadmill of doorsteps and double knocks. The workmen, paid by +time, were strolling to their hours of idleness with bags of tools; +windows were thrown open here and there; and an early servant might be +seen rejoicing to bang her mats at the street-door. Phillis tried to +retain her faith in Cæsar, and followed obediently. It was easy to see +that the dog knew where he was going, and had a distinct purpose in +his mind. It was to be hoped, she thought, that his purpose included a +return home as soon as possible, because she was getting a little +tired. + +Streets--always streets. Who were the people who lived in them all? +Could there be in every house the family life of which Mr. Dyson used +to tell her--the life she had never seen, but which he promised she +should one day see--the sweet life where father and mother and +children live together and share their joys and sorrows? She began to +look into the windows as she walked along, in the hope of catching a +hasty glance at so much of the family life as might be seen so early +in the morning. + +She passed one house where the family were distinctly visible gathered +together in the front kitchen. She stopped and looked down through the +iron railings. The children were seated at the table. The mother was +engaged in some cooking operations at the fire. Were they about to +sing a hymn and to have family prayers before their breakfast? Not at +this house apparently, for the woman suddenly turned from her +occupation at the fire and, without any adequate motive that Phillis +could discern, began boxing the children's ears all round. Instantly +there arose a mighty cry from those alike who had already been boxed +and those who sat expectant of their turn. Evidently this was one of +the houses where the family life was not a complete success. The scene +jarred on Phillis, upsetting her pretty little Arcadian castle of +domestic happiness. She felt disappointed, and hurried on after her +conductor. + +It is sad to relate that Cæsar presently entered another public-house. +This time Phillis went in after him with no hesitation at all. She +encountered the landlord in person, who greeted the dog, asked him +what he was doing so early, and then explained to Miss Fleming that he +was accustomed to call at the house every day about noon, accompanied +by two gentlemen, who had their little whack and then went away; and +that she only had to go through the form of coming and departing in +order to get Cæsar out too. + +"Little whack," thought Phillis. "Little glass! What a lot of customs +and expressions I have to learn!" + +For those interested in the sagacity of dogs, or in comparative +psychology, it may be noted as a remarkable thing that when Cæsar came +out of that second public-house he hesitated, as one struck suddenly +with a grievous doubt. Had he been doing right? He took a few steps in +advance, then he looked round and stopped, then he looked up and down +the street. Finally he came back to Phillis, and asked for +instructions with a wistful gaze. + +Phillis turned round and said, "Home, Cæsar." Then, after barking +twice, Cæsar led the way back again with alacrity and renewed +confidence. + +He not only led the way home, but he chose a short cut known only to +himself. Perhaps he thought his charge might be tired; perhaps he +wished to show her some further varieties of English life. + +In the districts surrounding Bloomsbury are courts which few know +except the policeman; even that dauntless functionary is chary of +venturing himself into them, except in couples, and then he would +rather stay outside, if only out of respect to a playful custom, of +old standing, prevalent among the inhabitants. They keep flower-pots +on their first and second floors, and when a policeman passes through +the court they drop them over. If no one is hurt, there is no need of +an apology; if a constable receives the projectile on his head or +shoulder, it is a deplorable accident which those who have caused it +are the first to publicly lament. It was through a succession of these +courts that the dog led Phillis. + +Those of the men who had work to do were by this time gone to do it. +Those who had none, together with those who felt strongly on the +subject of Adam's curse and therefore wished for none, stayed at home +and smoked pipes, leaning against the doorposts. The ideal heaven of +these noble Englishmen is for ever to lean against doorposts and for +ever to smoke pipes in a land where it is always balmy morning, and +where there are "houses" handy into which they can slouch from time to +time for a drink. + +The ladies, their consorts, were mostly engaged in such household +occupations as could be carried on out of doors and within +conversation reach of each other. The court was therefore musical with +sweet feminine voices. + +The children played together--no officer of the London School Board +having yet ventured to face those awful flower-pots--in a continuous +stream along the central line of the courts. Phillis observed that the +same game was universal, and that the players were apparently all of +the same age. + +She also remarked a few things which struck her as worth noting. The +language of the men differed considerably from that used by Mr. Dyson, +and their pronunciation seemed to her to lack delicacy. The difference +most prominent at first was the employment of a single adjective to +qualify everything--an observance so universal as to arrest at once +the attention of a stranger. The women, it was also apparent, were all +engaged in singing together a kind of chorus of lamentation, in +irregular strophe and antistrophe, on the wicked ways of their men. + +Rough as were the natives of this place, no one molested Phillis. The +men stared at her and exchanged criticisms on her personal appearance. +These were complimentary, although not poetically expressed. The women +stared harder, but said nothing until she had passed by. Then they +made remarks which would have been unpleasant had they been audible. +The children alone took no notice of her. The immunity from insult +which belongs to young ladies in English thoroughfares depends, I +fear, more upon force of public opinion than upon individual chivalry. +Una could trust herself alone with her lion: she can only trust +herself among the roughs of London when they are congregated in +numbers. Nor, I think, the spectacle of goodness and purity, combined +with beauty, produce in their rude breasts, by comparison with +themselves, those feelings of shame, opening up the way to repentance, +which are expected by self-conscious maidens ministering in the paths +of Dorcas. + +Phillis walked along with steadfast eyes, watching everything and +afraid of nothing, because she knew of no cause for fear. The dog, +decreasing the distance between them, marched a few feet in advance, +right through the middle of the children, who fell back and formed a +lane for them to pass. Once Phillis stopped to look at a child--a +great-eyed, soft-faced, curly-haired, beautiful boy. She spoke to him, +asked him his name, held out her hand to him. The fathers and the +mothers looked on and watched for the result, which would probably +take the form of coin. + +The boy prefaced his reply with an oath of great fulness and rich +flavour. Phillis had never heard the phrase before, but it sounded +unmusically on her ear. Then he held out his hand and demanded a +copper. The watchful parents and guardians on the door-steps murmured +approval, and all the children shouted together like the men of +Ephesus. + +At this juncture Cæsar looked round. He mastered the situation in a +moment, surrounded and isolated his convoy by a rapid movement almost +simultaneous in flank and rear; barked angrily at the children, who +threatened to close in _en masse_ and make short work of poor Phillis; +and gave her clearly to understand once for all that she was to follow +him with silent and unquestioning docility. + +She obeyed, and they came out of the courts and into the squares. +Phillis began to hope that the Tower of London would presently heave +in sight, or at least the silver Thames with London Bridge; but they +did not. + +She was very tired by this time. It was nearly eight, and she had been +up and out since five. Even her vigorous young limbs were beginning to +feel dragged by her three hours' ramble. Quite suddenly Cæsar turned a +corner, as it seemed, and she found herself once more in Carnarvon +Square. The dog, feeling that he had done enough for reputation, +walked soberly along the pavement, until he came to No. 15, when he +ascended the steps and sat down. + +The door was open, Jane the housemaid assiduously polishing the +bell-handles. + +"Lor' a mercy, miss!" she cried, "I thought you was a-bed and asleep. +Wherever have you a-bin--with Cæsar too?" + +"We went for a walk and lost ourselves," Phillis replied. "Jane, I am +very hungry; what time is breakfast?" + +"The master has his at eight, miss. But Mr. Cornelius he told me +yesterday that you would breakfast with him and Mr. Humphrey--about +eleven, he said. And Mr. Humphrey thought you'd like a little fresh +fish and a prawn curry, perhaps." + +"I shall breakfast with Mr. Joseph," said Phillis. + +She went to her room in a little temper. It was too bad to be treated +like a child wanting nice things for breakfast. A little more +experience taught her that any culinary forethought on the part of the +Twins was quite sure to be so directed as to secure their own +favourite dishes. + +She did breakfast with Joseph: made tea for him, told him all about +her morning adventures, received his admonitions in good part, and +sent him to his office half an hour later than usual. One of his +letters bore an American stamp. This he opened, putting the rest in a +leather pocket-book. + +"This letter concerns you, Miss Fleming," he apologised, in an +old-fashioned way; "that is why I opened it before you. It comes from +your remaining guardian, Mr. Lawrence Colquhoun. Listen to what he +says. He writes from New York; 'I am sorry to hear that my old friend +Abraham Dyson is gone. I shall be ready to assume my new +responsibilities in a fortnight after you receive this letter, as I +hope to land in that time at Liverpool. Meantime give my kindest +regards to my ward.' So--Lawrence Colquhoun home again!" + +"Tell me about him: is he grave and old, like Mr. Dyson? Will he want +me to go back to the old life and talk 'subjects'? Mr. Jagenal, much +as I loved my dear old guardian, I _could_ not consent to be shut +up any more." + +"You will not be asked, my dear young lady. Mr. Colquhoun is a man +under forty. He is neither old nor grave. He was in the army with your +father. He sold out seven or eight years ago, spent a year or two +about London, and then disappeared. I am his lawyer, and from time to +time he used to send me his address and draw on me for money. That is +all I can tell you of his travels. Lawrence Colquhoun, Miss Fleming, +was a popular man. Everybody liked him; especially the--the fair sex." + +"Was he very clever?" + +"N-no; I should say _not_ very clever. Not stupid. And, now one +thinks of it, it is remarkable that he never was known to excel in +anything, though he hunted, rode, shot, and did, I suppose, all the +other things that young men in the army are fond of. He was fond of +reading too, and had a considerable fund of information; but he never +excelled in anything." + +Phillis shook her head. + +"Mr. Dyson used to say that the people we like best are the people who +are in our own line and have acknowledged their own inferiority to +ourselves. Perhaps the reason why Mr. Colquhoun was liked was that he +did not compete with the men who wished to excel, but contentedly took +a second place." + +This was one of the bits of Dysonian philosophy with which Phillis +occasionally graced her conversation, quoting it as reverently as if +it had been a line from Shakespeare, sometimes with startling effect. + +"I shall try to like him. I am past nineteen, and at twenty-one I +shall be my own mistress. If I do not like him, I shall not live with +him any longer after that." + +"I think you will not, in any case, live at Mr. Colquhoun's +residence," said Joseph; "but I am sure you will like him." + +"A fortnight to wait." + +"You must not be shy of him," Joseph went on; "you have nothing to be +afraid of. Think highly of yourself, to begin with." + +"I do," said Phillis; "Mr. Dyson always tried to make me think highly +of myself. He told me my education was better than that of any girl he +knew. Of course that was partly his kind way of encouraging me. Mr. +Dyson said that shyness was a kind of cowardice, or else a kind of +vanity. People who are afraid of other people, he said, either +mistrust themselves or think they are not rated at their true value. +But I think I am not at all afraid of strangers. Do I look like being +afraid?" She drew herself up to her full height and smiled a conscious +superiority. "Perhaps you will think that I rate myself too highly." + +"That," said Joseph, with a compliment really creditable for a +beginner,--"that would be difficult, Miss. Fleming." + +When the Twins prepared to take their morning walk at twelve an +unexpected event happened. Cæsar, for the first time on record, and +for no reason apparent or assigned, refused to accompany them. They +went out without him, feeling lonely, unhappy, and a little +unprotected. They passed the Carnarvon Arms without a word. At the +next halting-place they entered the bar in silence, glancing guiltily +at each other. Could it be that the passion for drink, divested of its +usual trappings of pretence, presented itself suddenly to the brethren +in its horrid ugliness? They came out with shame-faced looks, and +returned home earlier than usual. They were perfectly sober, and +separated without the usual cheery allusions to Work. Perhaps the +conscience was touched, for when Jane took up their tea she found the +Poet in his Workshop sitting at the table, and the Artist in his +Studio standing at his easel. Before the one was a blank sheet of +paper; before the other was a blank canvas. Both were fractious, and +both found fault with the tea. After dinner they took a bottle of +port, which Humphrey said, they really felt to want. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + + "I do not know + One of my sex; no woman's face remember + Save, from my glass, mine own." + + +In the afternoon Phillis, who was "writing up" her diary after the +manner of the ancient Aztec, received a visitor. For the first time in +her life the girl found herself face to face with--a lady. Men she +knew--chiefly men of advanced age; they came to dine with Abraham +Dyson. Women-servants she knew, for she had a French maid--imported +too young to be mischievous; and there had been a cook at Highgate, +with two or three maids. Not one of these virgins possessed the art of +reading, or they would never have been engaged by Mr. Dyson. Nor was +she encouraged by her guardian to talk with them. Also she knew that +in the fulness of time she was to be somehow transferred from the +exclusive society of men to that in which the leading part would be +taken by ladies--women brought up delicately like herself, but not +all, unhappily, on the same sound fundamental principle of oral +teaching. + +Among the loose odds and ends which remained in Mr. Dyson's +portfolios, and where lay all that Joseph Jagenal could ever find to +help in completing his great system of education, was the following +scrap:-- + +"Women brought up with women are hindered in their perfect +development. Let the girls be separated from the society of their sex, +and be educated mostly among men. In this way the receptivity of the +feminine mind may be turned to best account in the acquirement of +robust masculine ideas. Every girl may become a mother; let her +therefore sit among men and listen." + +Perhaps this deprivation of the society of her own sex was a greater +loss to Phillis than her ignorance of reading. Consider what it +entailed. She grew up without the most rudimentary notions of the +great art of flirtation; she had never even heard of looking out for +an establishment; she had no idea of considering every young man as a +possible husband; she had, indeed, no glimmerings, not the faintest +streak of dawning twilight in the matter of love; while as for +angling, hooking a big fish and landing him, she was no better than a +heathen Hottentot. This was the most important loss, but there were +others; she knew how to dress, partly by instinct, partly by looking +at pictures; but she knew nothing about Making-up. Nature, which gave +her the figure of Hebe, made this loss insignificant to her, though it +is perhaps the opinion of Mr. Worth that there is no figure so good +but Art can improve it. But not to _know_ about Making-up is, for +a woman, to lose a large part of useful sympathy for other women. + +Again, she knew nothing of the way in which girls pour little +confidences, all about trifles, into each other's ears; she had not +cultivated that intelligence which girls can only learn from each +other, and which enables them to communicate volumes with a +half-lifted eyelid; she had a man's way of saying out what she +thought, and even, so far as her dogmatic training permitted, of +thinking for herself. She did not understand the mystery with which +women enwrap themselves, partly working on the imagination of youth, +and partly through their love of secluded talk--a remnant of barbaric +times, and a proof of the subjection of the sex, the _frou-frou_ +of life was lost to her. And being without mystery, with the art of +flirtation, with nothing to hide and no object to gain, Phillis was +entirely free from the great vice into which women of the weaker +nature are apt to fall--she was perfectly and wholly truthful. + +And now she was about to make acquaintance for the first time with a +lady--one of her own sex and of her own station. + +I suppose Phillis must have preserved the characteristic instincts of +her womanhood, despite her extraordinary training, because the first +thing she observed was that her visitor was dressed in a style quite +beyond her power of conception and imperfect taste. So she generalised +from an individual case, and jumped at the notion that here was a very +superior woman indeed. + +The superiority was in the "young person" at Melton and Mowbray's, who +designed the dress; but that Phillis did not know. + +A more remarkable point with Mrs. Cassilis, Phillis's visitor, than +her dress was her face. It was so regular as to be faultless. It might +have been modelled, and so have served for a statue. It was also as +cold as a face of marble. Men have prayed--men who have fallen into +feminine traps--to be delivered from every species of woman except the +cold woman; even King Solomon, who had great opportunities, including +long life, of studying the sex, mentions her not; and yet I think that +she is the worst of all. Lord, give us tender-hearted wives! When we +carve our ideal woman in marble, we do not generally choose the wise +Minerva nor the chaste Diana, but Venus, soft-eyed, lissom, +tender--and generally true. + +Mrs. Cassilis called. As she entered the room she saw a tall and +beautiful girl, with eyes of a deep brown, who rose to greet her with +a little timidity. She was taken by surprise. She expected to find a +rough and rather vulgar young woman, of no style and unformed manners. +She saw before her a girl whose attitude spoke unmistakably of +delicacy and culture. Whatever else Miss Fleming might be, she was +clearly a lady. That was immediately apparent, and Mrs. Cassilis was +not likely to make a mistake on a point of such vital importance. A +young lady of graceful figure, most attractive face, and, which was +all the more astonishing, considering her education, perfectly +dressed. Phillis, in fact, was attired in the same simple morning +costume in which she had taken her early morning walk. On the table +before her were her sketch-book and her pencils. + +Mrs. Cassilis was dressed, for her part, in robes which it had taken +the highest talent of Regent Street to produce. Her age was about +thirty. Her cold face shone for a moment with the wintery light of a +forced smile, but her eyes did not soften, as she took Phillis's hand. + +Phillis's pulse beat a little faster, in spite of her courage. + +Art face to face with Nature. The girl just as she left her nunnery, +ignorant of mankind, before the perfect woman of the world. They +looked curiously in each other's eyes. Now the first lesson taught by +the world is the way to dissemble. Mrs. Cassilis said to herself, +"Here is a splendid girl. She is not what I expected to see. This is a +girl to cultivate and bring out--a girl to do one credit." But she +said aloud-- + +"Miss Fleming? I am sure it is. You are _exactly_ the sort of a girl I +expected." + +Then she sat down and looked at her comfortably. + +"I am the wife of your late guardian's nephew--Mr. Gabriel Cassilis. +You have never met him yet; but I hope you will very soon make his +acquaintance." + +"Thank you," said Phillis simply. + +"We used to think, until Mr. Dyson died and his preposterous will was +read, that his eccentric behaviour was partly your fault. But when we +found that he had left you nothing, of course we felt that we had done +you an involuntary wrong. And the will was made when you were a mere +child, and could have no voice or wish in the matter." + +"I had plenty of money," said Phillis; "why should poor Mr. Dyson want +to leave me any more?" + +Quite untaught. As if any one could have too much money! + +"Forty thousand pounds a year! and all going to Female education. Not +respectable Female education. If it had been left to Girton College, +or even to finding bread-and-butter, with the Catechism and +Contentment, for charity girls in poke bonnets, it would have been +less dreadful. But to bring up young ladies as you were brought up, my +poor Miss Fleming----" + +"Am I not respectable?" asked Phillis, as humbly as a West Indian +nigger before emancipation asking if he was not a man and a brother. + +"My dear child, I hear you cannot even read and write." + +"That is quite true." + +"But everybody learns to read and write. All the Sunday school +children even know how to read and write." + +"Perhaps that is a misfortune for the Sunday school children," Phillis +calmly observed; "it would very likely be better for the Sunday school +children were they taught more useful things." Here Phillis was +plagiarising--using Mr. Dyson's own words. + +"At least every one in society knows them. Miss Fleming, I am ten +years older than you, and, if you will only trust me, I will give you +such advice and assistance as I can." + +"You are very kind," said Phillis, with a little distrust, of which +she was ashamed. "I know that I must be very ignorant, because I have +already seen so much, that I never suspected before. If you will only +tell me of my deficiencies I will try to repair them. And I can learn +reading and writing any time, you know, if it is at all necessary." + +"Then let us consider. My poor girl, I fear you have to learn the very +rudiments of society. Of course you are quite ignorant of things that +people talk about. Books are out of the question. Music and concerts; +art and pictures; china--perhaps Mr. Dyson collected?" + +"No." + +"A pity. China would be a great help; the opera and theatres; balls +and dancing; the rink----" + +"What is the rink?" asked Phillis. + +"The latest addition to the arts of flirtation and killing time. +Perhaps you can fall back upon Church matters. Are you a Ritualist?" + +"What is that?" + +"My dear girl"--Mrs. Cassilis looked unutterable horror as a thought +struck her--"did you actually never go to church?" + +"No. Mr. Dyson used to read prayers every day. Why should people go to +church when they pray?" + +"Why? why? Because people in society all go; because you must set an +example to the lower orders. Dear me! It is very shocking! and girls +are all expected to take such an interest in religion. But the first +thing is to learn reading." + +She had been carrying a little box in her hands all this time, which +she now placed on the table and opened. It contained small wooden +squares, with gaudy pictures pasted on them. + +"This is a Pictorial Alphabet: an introduction to all education. Let +me show you how to use it. What is this?" + +She held up one square. + +"It is a very bad picture, abominably coloured, of a hatchet or a +kitchen chopper." + +"An axe, my dear--A, x, e. The initial letter A is below in its two +forms. And this?" + +"That is worse. I suppose it is meant for a cow. What a cow!" + +"Bull, my dear--B, u, l, l, bull. The initial B is below." + +"And is this," asked Phillis, with great contempt, "the way to learn +reading? A kitchen chopper stands for A, and a cow with her legs out +of drawing stands for B. Unless I can draw my cows for myself, Mrs. +Cassilis, I shall not try to learn reading." + +"You can draw, then?" + +"I draw a little," said Phillis. "Not so well, of course, as girls +brought up respectably." + +"Pardon me, my dear Miss Fleming, if I say that sarcasm is not +considered good style. It fails to attract." + +Good style, thought Phillis, means talking so as to attract. + +"Do let me draw you," said Phillis. Her temper was not faultless, and +it was rising by degrees, so that she wanted the relief of silence. +"Do let me draw you as you sit there." + +She did not wait for permission, but sketched in a few moments a +profile portrait of her visitor, in which somehow the face, perfectly +rendered in its coldness and strength, was without the look which its +owner always thought was there--the look which invites sympathy. The +real unsympathetic nature, caught in a moment by some subtle artist's +touch, was there instead. Mrs. Cassilis looked at it, and an angry +flush crossed her face, which Phillis, wondering why, noted. + +"You caricature extremely well. I congratulate you on that power, but +it is a dangerous accomplishment--even more dangerous than the +practice of sarcasm. The girl who indulges in the latter at most fails +to attract; but the caricaturist repels." + +"Oh!" said Phillis, innocent of any attempt to caricature, but trying +to assimilate this strange dogmatic teaching. + +"We must always remember that the most useful weapons in a girl's +hands are those of submission, faith and reverence. Men hate--they +hate and detest--women who think for themselves. They positively +loathe the woman who dares turn them into ridicule." + +She looked as if she could be one of the few who possess that daring. + +"Fortunately," she went on, "such women are rare. Even among the +strong-minded crew, the shrieking sisterhood, most of them are obliged +to worship some man or other of their own school." + +"I don't understand. Pardon me, Mrs. Cassilis, that I am so stupid. I +say what I think, and you tell me I am sarcastic." + +"Girls in society never say what they think. They assent, or at best +ask a question timidly." + +"And I make a little pencil sketch of you, and you tell me I am a +caricaturist." + +"Girls who can draw must draw in the conventional manner recognised by +society. They do not draw likenesses; they copy flowers, and sometimes +draw angels and crosses. To please men they draw soldiers and horses." + +"But why cannot girls draw what they please? And why must they try to +attract?" + +Mrs. Cassilis looked at this most innocent of girls with misgiving. +_Could_ she be so ignorant as she seemed, or was she pretending. + +"Why? Phillis Fleming, only ask me that question again in six months' +time if you dare." + +Phillis shook her head; she was clearly out of her depth. + +"Have you any other accomplishments?" + +"I am afraid not. I can play a little. Mr. Dyson liked my playing; but +it is all from memory and from ear." + +"Will you, if you do not mind, play something to me?" + +Victoria Cassilis cared no more for music than the deaf adder which +hath no understanding. By dint of much teaching, however, she had +learned to execute creditably. The playing of Phillis, sweet, +spontaneous, and full of feeling, had no power to touch her heart. + +"Ye-yes," she said, "that is the sort of playing which some young men +like: not those young men from Oxford who 'follow' Art, and pretend to +understand good music. You may see them asleep at afternoon recitals. +You must play at small parties only, Phillis. Can you sing?" + +"I sing as I play," said Phillis, rising and shutting the piano. "That +is only, I suppose, for small parties." The colour came into her +cheeks, and her brown eyes brightened. She was accustomed to think +that her playing gave pleasure. Then she reproached herself for +ingratitude, and she asked pardon. "I am cross with myself for being +so deficient. Pray forgive me, Mrs. Cassilis. It is very kind of you +to take all this trouble." + +"My dear, you are a hundred times better than I expected." + +Phillis remembered what she had said ten minutes before, but was +silent. + +"A hundred times better. Can you dance, my dear?" + +"No. Antoinette tells me how she used to dance with the villagers when +she was a little girl at Yport." + +"That can be easily learned. Do you ride?" + +At any other time Phillis would have replied in the affirmative. Now +she only asserted a certain power of sticking on, acquired on +pony-back and in a paddock. Mrs. Cassilis sighed. + +"After all, a few lessons will give you a becoming seat. Nothing so +useful as clever horsemanship. But how shall we disguise the fact that +you cannot read or write?" + +"I shall not try to disguise it," Phillis cried, jealous of Mr. +Dyson's good name. + +"Well, my dear, we come now to the most important question of all. +Where do you get your dresses?" + +"O Mrs. Cassilis! do not say that my dresses are calculated to repel!" +cried poor Phillis, her spirit quite broken by this time. "Antoinette +and I made this one between us. Sometimes I ordered them at Highgate, +but I like my own best." + +Mrs. Cassilis put up a pair of double eye-glasses, because they were +now arrived at a really critical stage of the catechism. There was +something in the simple dress which forced her admiration. It was +quite plain, and, compared with her own, as a daisy is to a dahlia. + +"It is a very nice dress," she said critically. "Whether it is your +figure, or your own taste, or material, I do not know; but you are +dressed _perfectly_, Miss Fleming. No young lady could dress better." + +Women meet on the common ground of dress. Phillis blushed with +pleasure. At all events, she and her critic had something on which +they could agree. + +"I will come to-morrow morning, and we will examine your wardrobe +together, if you will allow me; and then we will go to Melton & +Mowbray's. And I will write to Mr. Jagenal, asking him to bring you to +dinner in the evening, if you will come." + +"I should like it very much," said Phillis. "But you have made me a +little afraid." + +"You need not be afraid at all. And it will be a very small party. Two +or three friends of my husband's, and two men who have just come home +and published a book, which is said to be clever. One is a brother of +Lord Isleworth, Mr. Ronald Dunquerque, and the other is a Captain +Ladds. You have only to listen and look interested." + +"Then I will come. And it is very kind of you, Mrs. Cassilis, +especially since you do not like me." + +That was quite true, but not a customary thing to be said. Phillis +perceived dislike in the tones of her visitor's voice, in her eyes, in +her manner. Did Mrs. Cassilis dislike her for her fresh and +unsophisticated nature, or for her beauty, or for the attractiveness +which breathed from every untaught look and gesture of the girl? +Swedenborg taught that the lower nature cannot love the nobler; that +the highest heavens are open to all who like to go there, but the +atmosphere is found congenial to very few. + +"Not like you!" Mrs. Cassilis, hardly conscious of any dislike, +answered after her kind. "My dear, I hope we shall like each other +very much. Do not let fancies get into your pretty head. I shall try +to be your friend, if you will let me." + +Again the wintry smile upon the lips, and the lifting of the cold +eyes, which smiled not. + +But Phillis was deceived by the warmth of the words. She took her +visitor's hand and kissed it. The act was a homage to the woman of +superior knowledge. + +"Oh yes," she murmured, "if you only will." + +"I shall call you Phillis. My name is Victoria." + +"And you will tell me more about girls in society." + +"I will show you girls in society, which is a great deal better for +you," said Mrs. Cassilis. + +"I looked at the girls I saw yesterday as we drove through the +streets. Some of them were walking like this." She had been standing +during most of this conversation, and now she began walking across the +room in that ungraceful pose of the body which was more affected last +year than at present. Ladies do occasionally have intervals of lunacy +in the matter of taste, but if you give them time they come round +again. Even crinolines went out at last, after the beauty of a whole +generation had been spoiled by them. "Then there were others, who +walked like this." She laid her head on one side, and affected a +languid air, which I have myself remarked as being prevalent in the +High Street of Islington. Now the way from Highgate to Carnarvon +Square lies through that thoroughfare. "Then there were the boys. I +never dreamed of such a lot of boys. And they were all whistling. This +was the tune." + +She threw her head back, and began to whistle the popular song of last +spring. You know what it was. It came between the favourite air from +the _Fille de Madame Angot_ and that other sweet melody, "Tommy, make +room for your Uncle," and was called "Hold the Fort." It refreshed the +souls of Revivalists in Her Majesty's Theatre, and of all the +street-boys in this great Babylon. + +Mrs. Cassilis positively shrieked: + +"My dear, _dear_ DEAR girl," she cried, "you MUST not whistle!" + +"Is it wrong to whistle?" + +"Not morally wrong, I suppose. Girls never do anything morally wrong. +But it is far worse, Phillis, far worse; it is unspeakably vulgar." + +"Oh," said Phillis, "I am so sorry!" + +"And, my dear, one thing more. Do not cultivate the power of mimicry, +which you undoubtedly possess. Men are afraid of young ladies who can +imitate them. For actresses, authors, artists, and common people of +that sort, of course it does not matter. But for us it is different. +And now, Phillis, I must leave you till to-morrow. I have great hopes +of you. You have an excellent figure, a very pretty and attractive +face, winning eyes, and a taste in dress which only wants cultivation. +And that we will begin to-morrow at Melton and Mowbray's." + +"Oh yes," said Phillis, clapping her hands, "that will be delightful! +I have never seen a shop yet." + +"She has--never--seen--a Shop!" cried Mrs. Cassilis. "Child, it is +hard indeed to realise your Awful condition of mind. That a girl of +nineteen should be able to say that she has never seen a Shop! My +dear, your education has been absolutely unchristian. And poor Mr. +Dyson, I fear, cut off suddenly in his sins, without the chance of +repentance." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +"Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear." + + +Joseph Jagenal and his charge were the last arrivals at Mrs. +Cassilis's dinner. It was not a large party. There were two ladies of +the conventional type, well dressed, well looking, and not +particularly interesting; with them their two husbands, young men of +an almost preternatural solemnity--such solemnity as sometimes results +from a too concentrated attention to the Money Market. They were there +as friends of Mr. Cassilis, whom they regarded with the reverence +justly due to success. They longed to speak to him privately on +investments, but did not dare. There were also two lions, newly +captured. Ladds, the "Dragoon" of the joint literary venture--"THE +LITTLE SPHERE, by the Dragoon and the Younger Son"--is standing +in that contemplative attitude by which hungry men, awaiting the +announcement of dinner, veil an indecent eagerness to begin. The +other, the "Younger Son," is talking to Mr. Cassilis. + +Phillis remarked that the room was furnished in a manner quite beyond +anything she knew. Where would be the dingy old chairs, sofas, and +tables of Mr. Dyson's, or the solid splendour of Joseph Jagenal's +drawing-room, compared with the glories of decorative art which Mrs. +Cassilis had called to her aid? She had no time to make more than a +general survey as she went to greet her hostess. + +Mrs. Cassilis, for her part, observed that Phillis was dressed +carefully, and was looking her best. She had on a simple white dress +of that soft stuff called, I think, Indian muslin, which falls in +graceful folds. A pale lavender sash relieved the monotony of the +white, and set off her shapely figure. Her hair, done up in the +simplest fashion, was adorned with a single white rose. Her cheeks +were a little flushed with excitement, but her eyes were steady. + +Phillis stole a glance at the other ladies. They were dressed, she was +glad to observe, in the same style as herself, but not better. That +naturally raised her spirits. + +Then Mrs. Cassilis introduced her husband. + +When Phillis next day attempted to reproduce her impressions of the +evening, she had no difficulty in recording the likeness of Mr. +Gabriel Cassilis with great fidelity. He was exactly like old Time. + +The long lean limbs, the pronounced features, the stooping figure, the +forelock which our enemy will _not_ allow us to take, the head, bald +save for that single ornamental curl and a fringe of gray hair over +the ears--all the attributes of Time were there except the scythe. +Perhaps he kept that at his office. + +He was a very rich man. His house was in Kensington Palace Gardens, a +fact which speaks volumes; its furnishing was a miracle of modern art; +his paintings were undoubted; his portfolios of water-colours were +worth many thousands; and his horses were perfect. + +He was a director of many companies--but you cannot live in Kensington +Palace Garden by directing companies and he had an office in the City +which consisted of three rooms. In the first were four or five clerks, +always writing; in the second was the secretary, always writing; in +the third was Mr. Gabriel Cassilis himself, always giving audience. + +He married at sixty-three, because he wanted an establishment in his +old age. He was too old to expect love from a woman, and too young to +fall in love with a girl. He did not marry in order to make a pet of +his wife--indeed, he might as well have tried stroking a statue of +Minerva as petting Victoria Pengelley; and he made no secret of his +motive in proposing for the young lady. As delicately as possible he +urged that, though her family was good, her income was small; that it +is better to be rich and married than poor and single; and he offered, +if she consented to become his wife, to give her all that she could +wish for or ask on the material and artistic side of life. + +Victoria Pengelley, on receipt of the offer, which was communicated by +a third person, her cousin, behaved very strangely. She first refused +absolutely; then she declared that she would have taken the man, but +that it was now impossible; then she retracted the last statement, +and, after a week of agitation, accepted the offer. + +"And I must say, Victoria," said her cousin, "that you have made a +strange fuss about accepting an offer from one of the richest men in +London. He is elderly, it is true; but the difference between eight +and twenty and sixty lies mostly in the imagination. I will write to +Mr. Cassilis to-night." + +Which she did, and they were married. + +She trembled a great deal during the marriage ceremony. Mr. Cassilis +was pleased at this appearance of emotion, which he attributed to +causes quite remote from any thought in the lady's mind. "Calm to all +outward seeming," he said to himself, "Victoria is capable of the +deepest passion." + +They had now been married between two and three years. They had one +child--a boy. + +It is only to be added that Mr. Cassilis settled the sum of fifteen +thousand pounds upon the wedding-day on his wife, and that they lived +together in that perfect happiness which is to be expected from +well-bred people who marry without pretending to love each other. + +Their dinners were beyond praise; the wine was incomparable; but their +evenings were a little frigid. A sense of cold splendour filled the +house--the child which belongs to new things and to new men. + +The new man thirty years ago was loud, ostentatious, and vulgar. The +new man now--there are a great many more of them--is very often quiet, +unpretending, and well-bred. He understands art, and is a patron; he +enjoys the advantages which his wealth affords him; he knows how to +bear his riches with dignity and with reserve. The only objection to +him is that he wants to go where other men, who were new in the last +generation, go, and do what they do. + +Mr. Cassilis welcomed Miss Fleming and Joseph Jagenal, and resumed his +conversation with Jack Dunquerque. That young man looked much the same +as when we saw him last on the slopes of the Sierra Nevada. His tall +figure had not filled out, but his slight moustache had just a little +increased in size. And now he looked a good deal bored. + +"I have never, I confess," his host was saying, wielding a double +eye-glass instead of his scythe,--"I have never been attracted by the +manners and customs of uncivilised people. My sympathies cease, I +fear, where Banks end." + +"You are only interested in the country of Lombardy?" + +"Yes; very good: precisely so." + +"Outside the pale of Banks men certainly carry their money about with +them----" + +"Which prevents the accumulation of wealth, my dear sir. Civilisation +was born when men learned to confide in each other. Modern history +begins with the Fuggers, of whom you may have read." + +"I assure you I never did," said Jack truthfully. + +Then dinner was announced. + +Phillis found herself on the right of Mr. Cassilis. Next to her sat +Captain Ladds. Mr. Dunquerque was at the opposite corner of the +table--he had given his arm to Mrs. Cassilis. + +Mrs. Cassilis, Phillis saw, was watching her by occasional glances. +The girl felt a little anxious, but she was not awkward. After all, +she thought, the customs of society at a dinner-table cannot be very +different from those observed and taught her by Mr. Dyson. Perhaps her +manner of adjusting things was a little wanting in finish and +delicacy--too downright. Also, Mrs. Cassilis observed she made no +attempt to talk with Captain Ladds, her neighbour, but was, curiously +enough, deeply interested in the conversation of Mr. Cassilis. + +Ladds was too young for Phillis, despite his five and thirty years. +Old men and greybeards she knew. Young men she did not know. She could +form no guess what line of talk would be adopted by a young man--one +who had a deep bass voice when he spoke, and attacked his dinner with +a vigour past understanding. Phillis was interested in him, and a +little afraid lest he should talk to her. + +Others watched her too. Jack Dunquerque, his view a little intercepted +by the _épergne_, lifted furtive glances at the bright and pretty +girl at the other end of the table. Joseph Jagenal looked at her with +honest pride in the beauty of his ward. + +They talked politics, but not in the way to which she was accustomed. +Mr. Dyson and his brother greybeards were like Cassandra, Elijah, +Jeremiah, and a good many prophets of the present day, inasmuch as the +more they discussed affairs the more they prophesied disaster. So that +Phillis had learned from them to regard the dreadful future with +terror. Every day seemed to make these sages more dismal. Phillis had +not yet learned that the older we get the wiser we grow, and the wiser +we grow the more we tremble; that those are most light-hearted who +know the least. At this table, politics were talked in a very +different manner; they laughed where the sages wagged their heads and +groaned; they even discussed, with a familiarity which seemed to drive +out anxiety, the favorite bugbear of her old politicians, the +continental supremacy of Germany. + +The two young City men, who were as solemn as a pair of Home +Secretaries, listened to their host with an eager interest and +deference which the other two, who were not careful about investments, +did not imitate. Phillis observed the difference, and wondered what it +meant. Then Mr. Cassilis, as if he had communicated as many ideas +about Russia as he thought desirable, turned the conversation upon +travelling, in the interests of the Dragoon and the younger son. + +"I suppose," he said, addressing Jack, "that in your travels among the +islanders you practised the primitive mode of Barter." + +"We did; and they cheated us when they could. Which shows that they +have improved upon the primitive man. I suppose he was honest." + +"I should think not," said the host. "The most honest classes in the +world are the richest. People who want to get things always have a +tendency to be dishonest. England is the most honest nation, because +it is the richest. France is the next. Germany, you see, which is a +poor country, yielded to the temptations of poverty and took +Sleswick-Holstein, Alsace and Lorraine. I believe that men began with +dishonesty." + +"Adam, for example," said Ladds, "took what he ought not to have +taken." + +"O Captain Ladds!" this was one of two ladies, she who had read up +the new book before coming to the dinner, and had so far an advantage +over the other--"that is just like one of the wicked things, the +delightfully wicked things, in the _Little Sphere_. Now we know which +of the two did the wicked things." + +"It was the other man," said Ladds. + +"Is it fair to ask," the lady went on, "how you wrote the book?" + +She was one of those who, could she get the chance, would ask +Messieurs Erckmann and Chatrian themselves to furnish her with a list +of the paragraphs and the ideas due to each in their last novel. + +Ladds looked as if the question was beyond his comprehension. + +At last he answered slowly-- + +"Steel pen. The other man had a gold pen." + +"No--no; I mean did you write one chapter and your collaborateur the +next, or how?" + +"Let me think it over," replied Ladds, as if it were a conundrum. + +Mrs. Cassilis came to the rescue. + +"At all events," she said, "the great thing is that the book is a +success. I have not read it, but I hear there are many clever and +witty things in it. Also some wicked things. Of course, if you write +wickedness you are sure of an audience. I don't think, Mr. +Dunquerque," she added, with a smile, "that it is the business of +gentlemen to attack existing institutions." + +Jack shook his head. + +"It was not my writing. It was the other man. I did what I could to +tone him down." + +"Have you read the immortal work?" Ladds asked his neighbour. He had +not spoken to her yet, but he had eyes in his head, and he was +gradually getting interested in the silent girl who sat beside him, +and listened with such rapt interest to the conversation. + +This great and manifest interest was the only sign to show that +Phillis was not accustomed to dinners in society. + +Ladds thought that she must be some shy maiden from the country--a +little "rustical" perhaps. He noticed now that her eyes were large and +bright, that her features were clear and delicate, that she was +looking at himself with a curious pity, as if, which was indeed the +case, she believed the statement about his having written the wicked +things. And then he wondered how so bright a girl had been able to +listen to the prosy dogmatics of Mr. Cassilis. Yet she had listened, +and with pleasure. + +Phillis was at that stage in her worldly education when she would have +listened with pleasure to anybody--Mr. Moody, a lecture on astronomy, +a penny-reading, an amateur dramatic performance, or an essay in the +_Edinburgh_. For everything was new. She was like the blind man who +received his sight and saw men, like trees, walking. Every new face +was a new world; every fresh speaker was a new revelation. No one to +her was stupid, was a bore, was insincere, was spiteful, was envious, +or a humbug, because no one was known. To him who does not know, the +inflated india-rubber toy is as solid as a cannon-ball. + +"I never read anything," said Phillis, with a half blush. Not that she +was ashamed of the fact, but she felt that it would have pleased +Captain Ladds had she read his book. "You see, I have never learned to +read." + +"Oh!" + +It was rather a facer to Ladds. Here was a young lady, not being a +Spaniard, or a Sicilian, or a Levantine, or a Mexican, or a +Paraguayan, or a Brazilian, or belonging to any country where such +things are possible, who boldly confessed that she could not read. +This in England; this in the year 1875; this in a country positively +rendered unpleasant by reason of its multitudinous School Boards and +the echoes of their wrangling! + +Jack Dunquerque, in his place, heard the statement and looked up +involuntarily as if to see what manner of young lady this could be--a +gesture of surprise into which the incongruity of the thing startled +him. He caught her full face as she leaned a little forward, and his +glance rested for a moment on a cheek so fair that his spirits fell. +Beauty disarms the youthful squire, and arms him who has won his +spurs. I speak in an allegory. + +Mrs. Cassilis heard it and was half amused, half angry. + +Mr. Cassilis heard it, opened his mouth, as if to make some remark +about Mr. Dyson's method of education, but thought better of it. + +The two ladies heard it and glanced at her curiously. Then they looked +at each other with the slightest uplifting of the eyebrow, which +meant, "Who on earth can she be?" + +Mrs. Cassilis noted that too, and rejoiced, because she was going to +bring forward a girl who would make everybody jealous. + +Ladds was the only one who spoke. + +"That," he said feebly, "must be very jolly." + +He began to wonder what could be the reason of this singular +educational omission. Perhaps she had a crooked back; could not sit up +to a desk, could not hold a book in her hand; but no, she was like +Petruchio's Kate: + + "Like the hazel twig. + As straight and slender." + +Perhaps her eyes were weak; but no, her eyes were sparkling with the +"right Promethean fire." Perhaps she was of weak intellect; but that +was ridiculous. + +Then the lady who had read the book began to ask more questions. I do +not know anything more irritating than to be asked questions about +your own book. + +"Will you tell us, Mr. Dunquerque, if the story of the bear-hunt is a +true one, or did you make it up?" + +"We made up nothing. That story is perfectly true. And the man's name +was Beck." + +"Curious," said Mr. Cassilis. "An American named Beck, Mr. Gilead P. +Beck, is in London now, and has been recommended to me. He is +extremely rich. I think, my dear, that you invited him to dinner +to-day?' + +"Yes. He found he could not come at the last moment. He will be here +in the evening." + +"Then you will see the very man," said Jack, "unless there is more +than one Gilead P. Beck, which is hardly likely." + +"This man has practically an unlimited credit," said the host. + +"And talks, I suppose, like, well, like the stage Americans, I +suppose," said his wife. + +"You know," Jack explained, "that the stage American is all nonsense. +The educated American talks a great deal better than we do. He can +string his sentences together; we can only bark." + +"Perhaps our bark is better than their bite," Ladds remarked. + +"A man who has unlimited credit may talk as he pleases," said Mr. +Cassilis dogmatically. + +The two solemn young men murmured assent. + +"And he always did say that he was going to have luck. He carried +about a Golden Butterfly in a box." + +"How deeply interesting!" replied the lady who had read the book. "And +is that other story true, that you found an English traveller living +all alone in a deserted city?" + +"Quite true." + +"Really. And who was it? Anybody one has met?" + +"I do not know whether you have ever met him. His name is Lawrence +Colquhoun." + +Mrs. Cassilis flushed suddenly, and then her pale face became paler. + +"Lawrence Colquhoun, formerly of ours," said Ladds, looking at her. + +Mrs. Cassilis read the look to ask what business it was of hers, and +why she changed colour at his name. + +"Colquhoun!" she said softly. Then she raised her voice and addressed +her husband: "My dear, it is an old friend of mine of whom we are +speaking, Mr. Lawrence Colquhoun." + +"Yes!" he had forgotten the name. "What did he do? I think I +remember----" He stopped, for he remembered to have heard his wife's +name in connection with this man. He felt a sudden pang of jealousy, a +quite new and rather curious sensation. It passed, but yet he rejoiced +that the man was out of England. + +"He is my guardian," Phillis said to Ladds. "And you actually know +him? Will you tell me something about him presently?" + +When the men followed, half an hour later, they found the four ladies +sitting in a large semi-circle round the fire. The centre of the space +so formed was occupied by a gentleman who held a cup of tea in one +hand and declaimed with the other. That is to say, he was speaking in +measured tones, and as if he were addressing a large room instead of +four ladies: and his right hand and arm performed a pump-handle +movement to assist and grace his delivery. He had a face so grave that +it seemed as if smiles were impossible; he was apparently about forty +years of age. Mrs. Cassilis was not listening much. She was +considering, as she looked at her visitor, how far he might be useful +to her evenings. Phillis was catching every word that fell from the +stranger's lips. Here was an experience quite new and startling. She +knew of America; Mr. Dyson, born not so very many years after the War +of Independence, and while the memory of its humiliations was fresh in +the mind of the nation, always thought and spoke of Americans as +England's hereditary and implacable enemies. Yet here was one of the +race talking amicably, and making no hostile demonstrations whatever. +So that another of her collection of early impressions evidently +needed reconsideration. + +When he saw the group at the door, Mr. Gilead Beck--for it was +he--strode hastily across the room, and putting aside Mr. Cassilis, +seized Jack Dunquerque by the hand and wrung it for several moments. + +"You have not forgotten me!" he said. "You remember that lucky shot? +You still think of that Grisly?" + +"Of course I do," said Jack; "I shall never forget him." + +"Nor shall I, sir; never." And then he went through the friendly +ceremony with Ladds. + +"You are the other man, sir?" + +"I always am the other man," said Ladds, for the second time that +evening. "How are you, Mr. Beck, and how is the Golden Butterfly?" + +"That Inseck, captain, is a special instrument working under +Providence for my welfare. He slumbers at my hotel, the Langham, in a +fire-proof safe." + +Then he seized Jack Dunquerque's arm, and led him to the circle round +the fire. + +"Ladies, this young gentleman is my preserver. He saved my life. It is +owing to Mr. Dunquerque that Gilead P. Beck has the pleasure of being +in this drawing-room." + +"O Mr. Dunquerque," said the lady who had read the book, "that is not +in the volume!" + +"Clawed I should have been, mauled I should have been, rubbed out I +should have been, on that green and grassy spot, but for the crack of +Mr. Dunquerque's rifle. You will not believe me, ladies, but I thought +it was the crack of doom." + +"It was a most charming, picturesque spot in which to be clawed," said +Jack, laughing. "You could not have selected a more delightful place +for the purpose." + +"There air moments," said Mr. Beck, looking round the room solemnly, +and letting his eyes rest on Phillis, who gazed at him with an +excitement and interest she could hardly control--"there air moments +when the soul is dead to poetry. One of those moments is when you feel +the breath of a Grisly on your cheek. Even you, young lady, would, at +such a moment, lose your interest in the beauty of Nature." + +Phillis started when he addressed her. + +"Did he save your life?" she asked, with flashing eyes. + +Jack Dunquerque blushed as this fair creature turned to him with looks +of such admiration and respect as the queen of the tournament bestowed +upon the victor of the fight. So Desdemona gazed upon the Moor when he +spake + + "Of most disastrous chances, + Of moving accidents by flood and field." + +Mrs. Cassilis affected a diversion by introducing her husband to Mr. +Beck. + +"Mr. Cassilis, sir," he said, "I have a letter for you from one of our +most prominent bankers. And I called in the City this afternoon to +give it you. But I was unfortunate. Sir, I hope that we shall become +better acquainted. And I am proud, sir, I am proud of making the +acquaintance of a man who has the privilege of life partnership with +Mrs. Cassilis. That is a great privilege, sir, and I hope you value +it." + +"Hum--yes; thank you, Mr. Beck," replied Mr. Cassilis, in a tone which +conveyed to the sharp-eared Phillis the idea that he thought +considerable value ought to be attached to the fact of having a life +partnership with _him_. "And how do you like our country?" + +The worst of going to America, if you are an Englishman, or of +crossing to England, if you are an American is that you can never +escape that most searching and comprehensive question. + +Said Mr. Gilead Beck: + +"Well, sir, a dollar goes a long way in this country--especially in +cigars and drinks." + +"In drinks!" Phillis listened. The other ladies shot glances at each +other. + +"Phillis, my dear"--Mrs. Cassilis crossed the room and interrupted her +rapt attention--"let me introduce Mr. Ronald Dunquerque. Do you think +you could play something?" + +She bowed to the young hero with sparkling eyes and rose to comply +with the invitation. He followed her to the piano. She played in that +sweet spontaneous manner which the women who have only been +_taught_ hear with despair; she touched the keys as if she loved +them and as if they understood her; she played one or two of the +"Songs without Words;" and then, starting a simple melody, she began +to sing, without being asked, a simple old ballad. Her tone was low at +first, because she did not know the room, not because she was afraid; +but it gradually rose as she felt her power, till the room filled with +the volumes of her rich contralto voice. Jack Dunquerque stood beside +her. She looked up in his face with eyes that smiled a welcome while +she went on singing. + +"You told us you could not read," said the young man when she +finished. + +"It is quite true, Mr. Dunquerque. I cannot." + +"How, then, can you play and sing?" + +"Oh, I play by ear and by memory. That is nothing wonderful." + +"Won't you go on playing?" + +She obeyed, talking in low, measured tones, in time with the air. + +"I think you know my guardian, Mr. Lawrence Colquhoun. Will you tell +me all about him? I have never seen him yet." + +This unprincipled young man saw his chance, and promptly seized the +opportunity. + +"I should like to very much, but one cannot talk here before all these +people. If you will allow me to call to-morrow, I will gladly tell you +all I know about him." + +"You had better come at luncheon-time," she replied, "and then I shall +be very glad to see you." + +Mr. Abraham Dyson usually told his friends to come at luncheon-time, +so she could not be wrong. Also, she knew by this time that the Twins +were always asleep at two o'clock, so that she would be alone; and +it was pleasant to think of a talk, _sola cum solo_, with this +interesting specimen of newly-discovered humanity--a young man who had +actually saved another man's life. + +"Is she an outrageous flirt?" thought Jack, "or is she deliciously and +wonderfully simple?" + +On the way home he discussed the problem with Ladds. + +"I don't care which it is," he concluded, "I must see her again. +Ladds, old man, I believe I could fall in love with that girl. 'Ask me +no more, for at a touch I yield.' Did you notice her, Tommy? Did you +see her sweet eyes--I must say she has the sweetest eyes in all the +world--looking with a pretty wonder at our quaint Yankee friend? Did +you see her trying to take an interest in the twaddle of old Cassilis? +Did you----" + +"Have we eyes?" Ladds growled. "Is the heart at five and thirty a +log?" + +"And her figure, tall and slender, lissom and _gracieuse_. And +her face, 'the silent war of lilies and of roses.' How I love the +brunette faces! They are never insipid." + +"Do you remember the half-caste Spanish girl in Manilla?" + +"Ladds, don't dare to mention that girl beside this adorable angel of +purity. I have found out her Christian name--it is Phillis--rhymes to +lilies; and am going to call at her house to-morrow--Carnarvon +Square." + +"And I am going to have half an hour in the smoking-room," said Ladds, +as they arrived at the portals of the club. + +"So am I," said Jack. "You know what Othello says of Desdemona: + + "'O thou weed, + Who art so lovely fair, and smell'st so sweet + That the sense aches at thee!' + +"I mean Phillis Fleming, of course, not your confounded tobacco." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +"They say if money goes before, all ways do lie open." + + +"I call this kind, boys," said Mr. Gilead P. Beck, welcoming his +visitors, Captain Ladds and Jack Dunquerque; "I call this friendly. I +asked myself last night, 'Will those boys come to see me, or will they +let the ragged Yankee slide?' And here you are." + +"Change," said Ladds the monosyllabic, looking round. "Gold looking +up?" + +There is a certain suite of rooms in the Langham Hotel--there may be a +hundred such suites known to the travellers who have explored that +mighty hostelry--originally designed for foreign princes, ambassadors, +or those wandering kings whom our hospitality sends to an inn. The +suite occupied by Mr. Beck consisted of a large reception-room, a +smaller apartment occupied by himself, and a bedroom. The rooms were +furnished in supposed accordance with the tastes of their princely +occupants, that is to say, with solid magnificence. Mr. Beck had been +in England no more than a week, and as he had not yet begun to buy +anything, the rooms were without those splendid decorations of +pictures, plate, and objects of art generally, with which he +subsequently adorned them. They looked heavy and rather cheerless. A +fire was burning on the hearth, and Mr. Beck was standing before it +with an unlighted cigar in his lips. Apparently he had already +presented some letters of introduction, for there were a few cards of +invitation on the mantelshelf. He was dressed in a black frock-coat, +as a gentleman should be, and he wore it buttoned up, so that his tall +stature and thin figure were shown off to full advantage. He wore a +plain black ribbon by way of necktie, and was modest in the way of +studs. Jack Dunquerque noticed that he wore no jewelry of any kind, +which he thought unusual in a man of unlimited credit, a new man whose +fortune was not two years old. He was an unmistakable American. His +chin was now close shaven, and without the traditional tuft; but he +had the bright restless eye, the long spare form, the obstinately +straight hair, the thin flexible mouth with mobile lips, the +delicately shaped chin, and the long neck which seem points +characteristic with our Transatlantic brethren. His grave face lit up +with a smile of pleasure when he saw Jack Dunquerque. It was a +thoughtful face; it had lines in it, such as might have been caused by +the buffets of Fate; but his eyes were kindly. As for his speech, it +preserved the nasal drawl of his New England birthplace; he spoke +slowly, as if feeling for the right words, and his pronunciation was +that of a man sprung from the ranks. Let us say at once that we do not +attempt to reproduce by an affected spelling, save occasionally, the +Doric of the New England speech. He was a typical man of the Eastern +Estate--self-reliant, courageous, independent, somewhat prejudiced, +roughly educated, ready for any employment and ashamed of none, and +withal brave as an Elizabethan buccaneer, sensitive as a Victorian +lady, sympathetic as--as Henry Longfellow. + +"There is change, sir"--he addressed himself to Ladds--"in most things +human. The high tides and the low tides keep us fresh. Else we should +be as stagnant as a Connecticut gospel-grinder in his village +location." + +"This is high tide, I see," said Jack, laughing. "I hope that American +high tides last longer than ours." + +"I am hopeful, Mr. Dunquerque, that they air of a more abiding +disposition. If you should be curious, gentlemen, to know my history +since I left you in San Francisco, I will tell you it from the +beginning. You remember that blessed inseck, the Golden Butterfly?" + +"In the little box," said Ladds. "I asked you after his welfare last +night." + +Jack began to blush. + +"Before you begin," he interposed, "we ought to tell you that since we +came home we have written a book, we two, about our travels." + +"Is that so?" asked Mr. Beck, with some natural reverence for the +author of a book. + +"And we have put you into it, with an account of Empire City." + +"Me--as I was--in rags and without even a gun?" + +"Yes; not a flattering likeness, but a true one." + +"And the lucky shot, is that there too?" + +"Some of it is there," said Ladds. "Jack would not have the whole +story published. Looked ostentatious." + +"Gentlemen, I shall buy that book. I shall take five hundred copies of +that book for my people in the Dominion. Just as I was, you say--no +boots but moccasins; not a dollar nor a cent; running for bare life +before a Grisly. Gentlemen, that book will raise me in the estimation +of my fellow-countrymen. And if you will allow me the privilege, I +shall say it was written by two friends of mine." + +Jack breathed freely. He was afraid Mr. Beck might have resented the +intrusion of his ragged personality. An Englishman certainly would. +Mr. Beck seemed to think that the contrast between present broadcloth +and past rags reflected the highest credit on himself. + +This part of the work, indeed, which the critics declared to be wildly +improbable, was the only portion read by Mr. Beck. And just as he +persisted in giving Jack the sole credit of his rescue--perhaps +because in his mental confusion he never even heard the second shot +which finished the bear--so he steadfastly regarded Jack as the sole +author of this stirring chapter, which was Ladd's masterpiece, and was +grateful accordingly. + +"And now," he went on, "I must show you the critter himself, the +Golden Bug." + +There was standing in a corner, where it would be least likely to +receive any rude shocks or collisions, a small heavy iron safe. This +he unlocked, and brought forth with great care a glass case which +exactly fitted the safe. The frame of the case was made of golden +rods; along the lower part of the front pane, in letters of gold, was +the legend: + + "If this Golden Butterfly fall and break, + Farewell the Luck of Gilead P. Beck." + +"Your poetry, Mr. Dunquerque," said Mr. Beck, pointing to the distich +with pride. "Your own composition, sir, and my motto." + +Within the case was the Butterfly itself, but glorified. The bottom of +the glass box was a thick sheet of pure gold, on which was fixed a +rose, the leaves, flower, and stalk worked in dull gold. Not a fine +work of art, perhaps, but a reasonably good rose, as good as that +Papal rose they show in the Cluny Hotel. The Butterfly was poised upon +the rose by means of thin gold wire, which passed round the strip of +quartz which formed the body. The ends were firmly welded into the +leaves of the flower, and when the case was moved the insect vibrated +as if he was in reality alive. + +"There! Look at it, gentlemen. That is the inseck which has made the +fortune of Gilead P. Beck." + +He addressed himself to both, but his eye rested on Jack with a look +which showed that he regarded the young man with something more than +friendliness. The man who fired that shot, the young fellow who saved +him from a cruel death, was his David, the beloved of his soul. + +Ladds looked at it curiously, as if expecting some manifestation of +the supernatural. + +"Is it a medium?" he asked. "Does it rap, or answer questions, or tell +the card you are thinking of? Shall you exhibit the thing in the +Egyptian Hall as a freak of Nature?" + +"No, sir, I shall not. But I will tell you what I did, if you will let +me replace him in his box, where he sits and works for Me. No harm +will come to him there, unless an airthquake happens. Sit down, +general, and you too, Mr. Dunquerque. Here is a box of cigars, which +ought to be good, and you will call for your own drink." + +It was but twelve o'clock, and therefore early for revivers of any +sort. Finally, Mr. Beck ordered champagne. + +"That drink," he said, "as you get it here, is a compound calculated +to inspirit Job in the thick of his misfortunes. But if there is any +other single thing you prefer, and it is to be had in this almighty +city, name that thing and you shall have it." + +Then he began: + +"I went off, after I left you, by the Pacific Railway--not the first +time I travelled up and down that line--and I landed in New York. Mr. +Colquhoun gave me a rig out, and you, sir,"--he nodded to Jack--"you, +sir, gave me the stamps to pay the ticket." + +Jack, accused of this act of benevolence, naturally blushed a guilty +acknowledgment. + +Mr. Gilead P. Beck made no reference to the gift either then or at any +subsequent period. Nor did he ever offer to repay it, even when he +discovered the slenderness of Jack's resources. That showed that he +was a sensitive and sympathetic man. To offer a small sum of money in +repayment of a free gift from an extraordinarily rich man to a very +poor one is not a delicate thing to do. Therefore this gentleman of +the backwoods abstained from doing it. + +"New York City," he continued, "is not the village I should recommend +to a man without dollars in his pocket. London, where there is an +institootion, or a charity, or a hospital, or a workhouse, or a +hot-soup boiler in every street, is the city for that gentleman. Fiji, +p'r'aps, for one who has a yearning after bananas and black +civilisation. But not New York. No, gentlemen; if you go to New York, +let it be when you've made your pile, and not before. Then you will +find out that there air thirty theatres in the city, with lovely and +accomplished actresses in each, and you can walk into Delmonico's as +if the place belonged to you. But for men down on their luck, New York +is a cruel place. + +"I left that city, and I made my way North. I wanted to see the old +folks I left behind long ago in Lexington; I found them dead, and I +was sorry. Then I went farther North. P'r'aps I was driven by the +yellow toy hanging at my back. Anyhow, it was only six weeks after I +left you that I found myself in the city of Limerick on Lake Ontario. + +"You do not know the city of Limerick, I dare say. It was not famous, +nor was it pretty. In fact, gentlemen, it was the durndest misbegotten +location built around a swamp that ever called itself a city. There +were a few delooded farmers trying to persuade themselves that things +would look up; there were a few down-hearted settlers wondering why +they ever came there, and how they would get out again; and there were +a few log-houses in a row which called themselves a street. + +"I got there, and I stayed there. Their carpenter was dead, and I am a +handy man; so I took his place. Then I made a few dollars doing chores +around." + +"What are chores?" + +"All sorts. The clocks were out of repair; the handles were coming off +the pails; the chairs were without legs; the pump-handle crank; the +very bell-rope in the meetin' house was broken. You never saw such a +helpless lot. I did not stay among them because I loved them, but +because I saw things." + +"Ghosts?" asked Ladds, with an eye to the supernatural. + +"No, sir. That was what they thought I saw when I went prowling around +by myself of an evening. They thought too that I was mad when I began +to buy the land. You could buy it for nothing; a dollar an acre; half +a dollar an acre; anything an acre. I've mended a cart-wheel for a +five-acre lot of swamp. They laughed at me. The children used to cry +out when I passed along, 'There goes mad Beck.' But I bought all I +could, and my only regret was that I couldn't buy up the hull +township--clear off men, women, and children, and start fresh. Some +more champagne, Mr. Dunquerque." + +"What was the Golden Butterfly doing all this time?" asked Ladds. + +"That faithful inseck, sir, was hanging around my neck, as when you +were first introduced to him. He was whisperin' and eggin' me on, +because he was bound to fulfil the old squaw's prophecy. Without my +knowing it, sir, that prodigy of the world, who is as alive as you are +at this moment, will go on whisperin' till such time as the rope's +played out and the smash comes. Then he'll be silent again." + +He spoke with a solemn earnestness which impressed his hearers. They +looked at the fire-proof safe with a feeling that at any moment the +metallic insect might open the door, fly forth, and, after hovering +round the room, light at Mr. Beck's ear, and begin to whisper words of +counsel. Did not Mohammed have a pigeon? and did not Louis Napoleon at +Boulogne have an eagle? Why should not Mr. Beck have a butterfly. + +"The citizens of Limerick, gentlemen, in that dismal part of Canada +where they bewail their miserable lives, air not a people who have +eyes to see, ears to hear, or brains to understand. I saw that they +were walking--no, sleeping--over fields of incalculable wealth, and +they never suspected. They smoked their pipes and ate their pork. But +they never saw and they never suspected. Between whiles they praised +the Lord for sending them a fool like me, something to talk about, and +somebody to laugh at. They wanted to know what was in the little box; +they sent children to peep in at my window of an evening and report +what I was doing. They reported that I was always doing the same +thing; always with a map of Limerick City and its picturesque and +interestin' suburbs, staking out the ground and reckoning up my acres. +That's what I did at night. And in the morning I looked about me, and +wondered where I should begin." + +"What did you see when you looked about?" + +"I saw, sir, a barren bog. If it had been a land as fertile as the +land of Canaan, that would not have made my heart to bound as it did +bound when I looked across that swamp; for I never was a tiller or a +lover of the soil. A barren bog it was. The barrenest, boggiest part +of it all was my claim; when the natives spoke of it they called it +Beck's Farm, and then the poor critturs squirmed in their chairs and +laughed. Yes, they laughed. Beck's Farm, they said. It was the only +thing they had to laugh about. Wal, up and down the face of that +almighty bog there ran creeks, and after rainy weather the water stood +about on the morasses. Plenty of water, but a curious thing, none of +it fit to drink. No living thing except man would set his lips to that +brackish, bad-smelling water. And that wasn't all; sometimes a thick +black slime rose to the surface of the marsh and lay there an inch +thick; sometimes you came upon patches of 'gum-beds,' as they called +them, where the ground was like tar, and smelt strong. That is what I +saw when I looked around, sir. And to think that those poor mean pork +raisers saw it all the same as I did and never suspected! Only cursed +the gifts of the Lord when they weren't laughing at Beck's Farm." + +"And you found--what? Gold?" + +"No. I found what I expected. And that was better than gold. Mind, I +say nothing against gold. Gold has made many a pretty little +fortune----" + +"Little!" + +"Little, sir. There's no big fortunes made out of gold. Though many a +pretty villa-location, with a tidy flower-garden up and down the +States, is built out of the gold-mines. Diamonds again. One or two men +likes the name of diamonds; but not many. There's the disadvantage +about gold and diamonds that you have to dig for them, and to dig +durned hard, and to dig by yourself mostly. Americans do not love +digging. Like the young gentleman in the parable, they cannot dig, and +to beg they air ashamed. It is the only occupation that they air +ashamed of. Then there's iron, and there's coals; but you've got to +dig for them. Lord! Lord! This great airth holds a hundred things +covered up for them who know how to look and do not mind digging. But, +gentlemen, the greatest gift the airth has to bestow she gave to +me--abundant, spontaneous, etarnal, without bottom, and free." + +"And that is----" + +"It is ILE." + +Mr. Beck paused a moment. His face was lit with a real and genuine +enthusiasm, a pious appreciation of the choicer blessings of life; +those, namely, which enable a man to sit down and enjoy the proceeds +of other men's labour. No provision has been made in the prayer-book +of any Church for the expression of this kind of thankfulness. Yet +surely there ought to be somewhere a clause for the rich. No more +blissful repose can fall upon the soul than, after long years of +labour and failure, to sit down and enjoy the fruits of other men's +labour. A Form of Thanksgiving for publishers, managers of theatres, +owners of coal-mines, and such gentlemen as Mr. Gilead P. Beck, might +surely be introduced into our Ritual with advantage. It would +naturally be accompanied by incense. + +"It is Ile, sir." + +He opened another bottle of champagne and took a glass. + +"Ile. Gold you have to dig, to pick, to wash. Gold means rheumatism +and a bent back. Ile flows, and you become suddenly rich. You make all +the loafers around fill your pails for you. And then your bankers tell +you how many millions of dollars you are worth." + +"Millions!" repeated Jack. "The word sounds very rich and luxurious." + +"It is so, sir. There's nothing like it in the Old Country. England is +a beautiful place, and London is a beautiful city. You've got many +blessin's in this beautiful city. If you haven't got Joe Tweed, you've +got----" + +"Hush!" said Jack; "it's libellous to give names." + +"And if you haven't got Erie stock and your whiskey-rings, you've got +your foreign bonds to take your surplus cash. No, gentlemen; London is +not, in some respects, much behind New York. But one thing this +country has not got, and that is--Ile. + +"It is nearly a year since I made up my mind to begin my well. I +_knew_ it was there, because I'd been in Pennsylvania and learned +the signs; it was only the question whether I should strike it, and +where. The neighbours thought I was digging for water, and figured +around with their superior intellecks, because they were certain the +water would be brackish. Then they got tired of watching, and I worked +on. Boring a well is not quite the sort of work a man would select for +a pleasant and variegated occupation. I reckon it's monotonous; but I +worked on. I knew what was coming; I thought o' that Indian squaw, and +I always had my Golden Butterfly tied in a box at my back. I bored and +I bored. Day after day I bored. In that lonely miasmatic bog I bored +all day and best part of the night. For nothing came, and sometimes +qualms crossed my mind that perhaps there would never be anything. But +always there was the gummy mud, smelling of what I knew was below, to +lead me on. + +"It was the ninth day, and noon. I had a shanty called the farmhouse, +about a hundred yards from my well. And there I was taking my dinner. +To you two young English aristocrats----" + +"Ladds' Cocoa, the only perfect fragrance." + +"Shut up, Ladds," growled Jack; "don't interrupt." + +"I say, to you two young aristocrats a farmer's dinner in that +township would not sound luxurious. Mine consisted, on that day and +all days, of cold boiled pork and bread." + +"Ah, yah!" said Jack Dunquerque, who had a proud stomach. + +"Yes, sir, my own remark every day when I sat down to that simple +banquet. But when you are hungry you must eat, murmur though you will +for Egyptian flesh-pots. Cold pork was my dinner, with bread. And the +watter to wash it down with was brackish. In those days, gentlemen, I +said no grace. It didn't seem to me that the most straight-walking +Christian was expected to be more than tolerably thankful for cold +pork. My gratitude was so moderate that it wasn't worth offering." + +"And while you were eating the pork," said Ladds, "the Golden +Butterfly flew down the shaft by himself, and struck oil of his own +accord." + +"No, sir; for once you are wrong. That most beautiful creation of +Nature in her sweetest mood--she must have got up with the sun on a +fine summer morning--was reposing in his box round my neck as usual. +He did not go down the shaft at all. Nobody went down. But something +came up--up like a fountain, up like the bubbling over of the airth's +eternal teapot; a black muddy jet of stuff. Great sun! I think I see +it now." + +He paused and sighed. + +"It was nearly all Ile, pure and unadulterated, from the world's +workshop. Would you believe it, gentlemen? There were not enough +bar'ls, not by hundreds, in the neighbourhood all round Limerick City, +to catch that Ile. It flowed in a stream three feet down the creek; it +was carried away into the lake and lost; it ran free and uninterrupted +for three days and three nights. We saved what we could. The +neighbours brought their pails, their buckets, their basins, their +kettles; there was not a utensil of any kind that was not filled with +Ile, from the pig's trough to the child's pap-bowl. Not one. It ran +and it ran. When the first flow subsided we calculated that seven +million bar'ls had been wasted and lost. Seven millions! I am a +Christian man, and grateful to the Butterfly, but I sometimes repine +when I think of that wasted Ile. Every bar'l worth nine dollars at +least, and most likely ten. Sixty-three millions of dollars. Twelve +millions of pounds sterling lost in three days for want of a few +coopers. Did you ever think, Mr. Dunquerque, what you could do with +twelve millions sterling?" + +"I never did," said Jack. "My imagination never got beyond thousands." + +"With twelve millions I might have bought up the daily press of +England, and made you all republicans in a month. I might have made +the Panama Canal; I might have bought Palesteen and sent the Jews +back; I might have given America fifty ironclads; I might have put Don +Carlos on the throne of Spain. But it warn't to be. Providence wants +no rivals, meddling and messing. That was why the Ile ran away and was +lost while I ate the cold boiled pork. Perhaps it's an interestin' +fact that I never liked cold boiled pork before, and I have hated it +ever since. + +"The great spurt subsided, and we went to work in earnest. That well +has continued to yield five hundred bar'ls daily. That is four +thousand five hundred dollars in my pocket every four and twenty +hours." + +"Do you mean that your income is nine hundred pounds a day?" asked +Jack. + +"I do, sir. You go your pile on that. It is more, but I do not know +how much more. Perhaps it's twice as much. There are wells of mine +sunk all over the place; the swamp is covered with Gilead P. Beck's +derricks. The township of Limerick has become the city of +Rockoleaville--my name, that was--and a virtuous and industrious +population are all engaged morning, noon, and night in fillin' my +pails. There's twenty-five bars, I believe, at this moment. There are +three meetin'-houses and two daily papers, and there air fifteen +lawyers." + +"It seems better than Cocoa Nibs," said Ladds. + +"But the oil may run dry." + +"It _has_ run dry in Pennsylvania. That is so, and I do not deny +it. But Ile will not run dry in Rockoleaville. I have been thinking +over the geological problem, and I have solved it, all by myself." + +"What is this world, gentlemen?" + +"A round ball," said Jack, with the promptitude of a Board schoolboy +and the profundity of a Woolwich cadet. + +"Sir, it is like a great orange. It has its outer rind, what they call +the crust. Get through that crust and what do you find?" + +"More crust," replied Ladds, who was not a competition-wallah. + +"Did you ever eat pumpkin-pie, sir?" Mr. Beck replied, _more +Socratico_, by asking another question. "And if you did, was your +pie all crust? Inside that pie, sir, was pumpkin, apple, and juice. So +inside the rind of the earth there may be all sorts of things: gold +and iron, lava, diamonds, coals; but the juice, the pie-juice, is Ile. +You tap the rind and you get the Ile. This Ile will run, I calculate, +for five thousand and fifty-two years, if they don't sinfully waste +it, at an annual consumption of eighteen million bar'ls. Now that's a +low estimate when you consider the progress of civilisation. When it +is all gone, perhaps before, this poor old airth will crack up like an +empty egg." + +This was an entirely new view of geology, and it required time for Mr. +Beck's hearers to grasp the truth thus presented to their minds. They +were silent. + +"At Rockoleaville," he went on, "I've got the pipe straight into the +middle of the pie, and right through the crust. There's no mistake +about that main shaft. Other mines may give out, but my Ile will run +for ever." + +"Then we may congratulate you," said Jack, "on the possession of a +boundless fortune." + +"You may, sir." + +"And what do you intend to do?" + +"For the present I shall stay in London. I like your great city. Here +I get invited to dinner and dancin', because I am an American and +rich. There they won't have a man who is not thoroughbred. Your friend +Mrs. Cassilis asks me to her house--a first-rater. A New York lady +turns up her pretty nose at a man who's struck Ile. 'Shoddy,' she +says, and then she takes no more notice. Shoddy it may be. Rough my +manners may be. But I don't pretend to anything, and the stamps air +real." + +"We always thought ourselves exclusive," said Jack. + +"Did you, sir? Wall----" He stopped, as if he had intended to say +something unpleasantly true. "I shall live in London for the present. +I've got a big income, and I don't rightly know what to do with it. +But I shall find out some time. + +"That was a lovely young thing with Mrs. Cassilis the other night," he +went on meditatively. "A young thing that a man can worship for her +beauty while she is young, and her goodness all her life. Not like an +American gal. Ours are prettier, but they look as if they would blow +away. And their voices are not so full. Miss Fleming is flesh and +blood. Don't blush, Mr. Dunquerque, because it does you credit." + +Jack did blush, and they took their departure. + +"Mr. Dunquerque," whispered Gilead P. Beck when Ladds was through the +door, "think of what I told you; what is mine is yours. Remember that. +If I can do anything for you, let me know. And come to see me. It does +me good to look at your face. Come here as often as you can." + +Jack laughed and escaped. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + + "By my modesty, +The jewel in my dower, I would not wish +Any companion in the world but you." + + +Jack Dunquerque was no more remarkable for shrinking modesty than any +other British youth of his era; but he felt some little qualms as he +walked towards Bloomsbury the day after Mrs. Cassilis's dinner to +avail himself of Phillis's invitation. + +Was it coquetry, or was it simplicity? + +She said she would be glad to see him at luncheon. Who else would be +there? + +Probably a Mrs. Jagenal--doubtless the wife of the heavy man who +brought Miss Fleming to the party; herself a solid person in black +silk and a big gold chain; motherly with the illiterate Dryad. + +"Houses mighty respectable," he thought, penetrating into Carnarvon +Square. "Large incomes; comfortable quarters; admirable port, most +likely, in most of them; claret certainly good, too--none of your +Gladstone tap; sherry probably rather coarse. Must ask for Mrs. +Jagenal, I suppose." + +He did ask for Mrs. Jagenal, and was informed by Jane that there was +no such person, and that, as she presently explained with warmth, no +such person was desired by the household. Jack Dunquerque thereupon +asked for Mr. Jagenal. The maid asked which Mr. Jagenal. Jack replied +in the most irritating manner possible--the Socratic--by asking +another question. The fact that Socrates went about perpetually asking +questions is quite enough to account for the joy with which an +exasperated mob witnessed his judicial murder. The Athenians bore for +a good many years with his maddening questions--as to whether this way +or that way or how--and finally lost patience. Hence the little bowl +of drink. + +Quoth Jack, "How many are there of them?" + +Jane looked at the caller with suspicion. He seemed a gentleman, but +appearances are deceptive. Suppose he came for what he could pick up? +The twins' umbrellas were in the hall, and their great-coats. He +laughed, and showed an honest front; but who can trust a London +stranger? Jane remembered the silver spoons now on the luncheon-table, +and began to think of shutting the door in his face. + +"You can't be a friend of the family," she said, "else you'd know the +three Mr. Jagenals by name, and not come here showing your ignorance +by asking for Mrs. Jagenal. Mrs. Jagenal indeed! Perhaps you'd better +call in the evening and see Mr. Joseph." + +"I am not a friend of the family," he replied meekly. "I wish I was. +But Miss Fleming expects me at this hour. Will you take in my card?" + +He stepped into the hall, and felt as if the fortress was won. Phillis +was waiting for him in the dining-room, where, he observed, luncheon +was laid for two. Was he, then, about to be entertained by the young +lady alone? + +If she looked dainty in her white evening dress, she was far daintier +in her half-mourning grey frock, which fitted so tightly to her +slender figure, and was set off by the narrow black ribbon round her +neck which was her only ornament; for she carried neither watch nor +chain, and wore neither ear-rings nor finger-rings. This heiress was +as innocent of jewelry as any little milliner girl of Bond Street, and +far more happy, because she did not wish to wear any. + +"I thought you would come about this time," she said, with the +kindliest welcome in her eyes; "and I waited for you here. Let us sit +down and take luncheon." + +Mr. Abraham Dyson never had any visitors except for dinner or +luncheon; so that Phillis naturally associated an early call with +eating. + +"I always have luncheon by myself," explained the young hostess; "so +that it is delightful to have some one who can talk." + +She sat at the head of the table, Jack taking his seat at the side. +She looked fresh, bright, and animated. The sight of her beauty even +affected Jack's appetite, although it was an excellent luncheon. + +"This curried fowl," she went on. "It was made for Mr. Jagenal's +brothers; but they came down late, and were rather cross. We could not +persuade them to eat anything this morning." + +"Are they home for the holidays?" + +Phillis burst out laughing--such a fresh, bright, spontaneous laugh. +Jack laughed too, and then wondered why he did it. + +"Home for the holidays! They are always home, and it is always a +holiday with them." + +"Do you not allow them to lunch with you?" + +She laughed again. + +"They do not breakfast till ten or eleven." + +Jack felt a little fogged, and waited for further information. + +"Will you take beer or claret? No, thank you; no curry for me. Jane, +Mr. Dunquerque will take a glass of beer. How beautiful!" she went on, +looking steadily in the young man's face, to his confusion--"how +beautiful it must be to meet a man whose life you have saved! I should +like--once--just once--to do a single great action, and dream of it +ever after." + +"But mine was not a great action. I shot a bear which was following +Mr. Beck and meant mischief; that is all." + +"But you might have missed," said Phillis, with justice. "And then Mr. +Beck would have been killed." + +Might have missed! How many V.C.'s we should have but for that simple +possibility! Might have missed! And then Gilead Beck would have been +clawed, and the Golden Butterfly destroyed, and this history never +have reached beyond its first chapter. Above all, Phillis might never +have known Jack Dunquerque. + +"And you are always alone in this great house?" he asked, to change +the subject. + +"Only in the day-time. Mr. Joseph and I breakfast at eight. Then I +walk with him as far as his office in Lincoln's Inn-Fields, now that I +know the way. At first he used to send one of his clerks back with me, +for fear of my being lost. But I felt sorry for the poor young man +having to walk all the way with a girl like me, and so I told him, +after the second day, that I was sure he longed to be at his writing, +and I would go home by myself." + +"No doubt," said Jack, "he was rejoiced to go back to his pleasant and +exciting work. All lawyers' clerks are so well paid, and so happy in +their occupation, that they prefer it even to walking with a--a--a +Dryad." + +Phillis was dimly conscious that there was more in these words than a +literal statement. She was as yet unacquainted with the figures of +speech which consist of saying one thing and meaning another, and she +made a mental note of the fact that lawyers' clerks are a happy and +contented race. It adds something to one's happiness to know that +others are also happy. + +"And the boys--Mr. Jagenal's brothers?" + +"They are always asleep from two to six. Then they come down to +dinner, and talk of the work they have done. Don't you know them? Oh, +they are not boys at all! One is Cornelius. He is a great poet. He is +writing a long epic poem called the _Upheaving of Ælfred_. Humphrey, +his brother, says it will be the greatest work of this century. But I +do not think very much is done. Humphrey is a great artist, you know. +He is engaged on a splendid picture--at least it will be splendid when +it is finished. At present nothing is on the canvas. He says he is +studying the groups. Cornelius says it will be the finest artistic +achievement of the age. Will you have some more beer? Jane, give Mr. +Dunquerque a glass of sherry. And now let us go into the drawing-room, +and you shall tell me all about my guardian, Lawrence Colquhoun." + +In the hall a thought struck the girl. + +"Come with me," she said; "I will introduce you to the Poet and the +Painter. You shall see them at work." + +Her eyes danced with delight as she ran up the stairs, turning to see +if her guest followed. She stopped at a door, the handle of which she +turned with great care. Jack mounted the stairs after her. + +It was a large and well-furnished room. Rows of books stood in order +on the shelves. A bright fire burned on the hearth. A portfolio was on +the table, with a clean inkstand and an unsullied blotting-pad. By the +fire sat, in a deep and very comfortable easy-chair, the poet, sound +asleep. + +"There!" she whispered. "In the portfolio is the great poem. Look at +it." + +"We ought not to look at manuscripts, ought we?" + +"Not if there is anything written. But there isn't. Of course, I may +always turn over any pages, because I cannot read." + +She turned them over. Nothing but blank sheets, white in virgin +purity. + +Cornelius sat with his head a little forward, breathing rather +noisily. + +"Isn't it hard work?" laughed the girl. "Poor fellow, isn't it +exhaustive work? Let me introduce you. Mr. Cornelius Jagenal, Mr. +Ronald Dunquerque." Jack bowed to the sleeping bard. "Now you know +each other. That is what Mr. Dyson used always to say. Hush! we might +wake him up and interrupt--the Work. Come away, and I will show you +the Artist." + +Another room equally well furnished, but in a different manner. There +were "properties": drinking-glasses of a deep ruby red, luminous and +splendid, standing on the shelves; flasks of a dull rich green; a +model in armour; a lay figure, with a shawl thrown over the head and +looped up under the arm; a few swords hanging upon the walls; curtains +that caught the light and spread it over the room in softened +colouring; and by the fire a couch, on which lay, sleeping, Humphrey +with the wealth of silky beard. + +There was an easel, and on it a canvas. This was as blank as +Cornelius's sheets of paper. + +"Permit me again," said the girl. "Mr. Humphrey Jagenal, Mr. Ronald +Dunquerque. Now you know each other." + +Jack bowed low to the genius. + +Phillis, her eyes afloat with fun, beckoned the young man to the +table. Pencil and paper lay there. She sat down and drew the sleeping +painter in a dozen swift strokes. Then she looked up, laughing: + +"Is that like him?" + +Jack could hardly repress a cry of admiration. + +"I am glad you think it good. Please write underneath, 'The Artist at +work.' Thank you. Is that it? We will now pin it on the canvas. Think +what he will say when he wakes up and sees it." + +They stole out again as softly as a pair of burglars. + +"Now you have seen the Twins. They are really very nice, but they +drink too much wine, and sit up late. In the morning they are +sometimes troublesome, when they won't take their breakfast; but in +the evening, after dinner, they are quite tractable. And you see how +they spend their day." + +"Do they never do any work at all?" + +"I will tell you what I think," she replied gravely. "Mr. Dyson used +to tell me of men who are so vain that they are ashamed to give the +world anything but what they know to be the best. And the best only +comes by successive effort. So they wait and wait, till the time goes +by, and they cannot even produce second-rate work. I think the Twins +belong to that class of people." + +By this time they were in the drawing-room. + +"And now," said Phillis, "you are going to tell me all about my +guardian." + +"Tell me something more about yourself first," said Jack, not caring +to bring Mr. Lawrence Colquhoun into the conversation just yet. "You +said last night that you would show me your drawings." + +"They are only pencil and pen-and-ink sketches." Phillis put a small +portfolio on the table and opened it. "This morning Mr. Joseph took me +to see an exhibition of paintings. Most of the artists in that +exhibition cannot draw, but some can--and then--Oh!" + +"They cannot draw better than you, Miss Fleming, I am quite sure." + +She shook her head as Jack spoke, turning over the sketches. + +"It seems so strange to be called Miss Fleming. Everybody used to call +me Phillis." + +"Was--was everybody young?" Jack asked, with an impertinence beyond +his years. + +"No; everybody was old. I suppose young people always call each other +by their christian names. Yours seems to be rather stiff. Ronald, +Ronald--I am afraid I do not like it very much." + +"My brothers and sisters, uncles and aunts, cousins and kinsfolk--the +people who pay my debts and therefore love me most--call me Ronald. +But everybody else calls me Jack." + +"Jack!" she murmured. "What a pretty name Jack is! May I call you +Jack?" + +"If you only would!" he cried, with a quick flushing of his cheek. "If +you only would! Not when other people are present, but all to +ourselves, when we are together like this. That is, if you do not +mind." + +Could the Serpent, when he cajoled Eve, have begun in a more subtle +and artful manner? One is ashamed for Jack Dunquerque. + +"I shall always call you Jack, then, unless when people like Mrs. +Cassilis are present." + +"And what am I to call you?" + +"My name is Phillis, you know." But she knew, because her French maid +had told her, that some girls have names of endearment, and she +hesitated a little, in hope that Jack would find one for her. + +He did. She looked him so frankly and freely in the face that he took +courage, and said with a bold heart: + +"Phillis is a very sweet name. You know the song, 'Phillis is my only +joy?' I ought to call you Miranda, the Princess of the Enchanted +Island. But it would be prettier to call you Phil." + +"Phil!" Her lips parted in a smile of themselves as she shaped the +name. It is a name which admits of expression. You may lengthen it out +if you like; you may shorten it you like. "Phil! That is very pretty. +No one ever called me Phil before." + +"And we will be great friends, shall we not?" + +"Yes, great friends. I have never had a friend at all." + +"Let us shake hands over our promise. Phil, say, 'Jack Dunquerque, I +will try to like you, and I will be your friend.'" + +"Jack Dunquerque," she placed her hands, both of them, in his and +began to repeat, looking in his face quite earnestly and solemnly, "I +will try--that is nonsense, because I _do_ like you very much +already; and I will always be your friend, if you will be mine and +will let me." + +Then he, with a voice that shook a little, because he knew that this +was very irregular and even wrong, but that the girl was altogether +lovable, and a maiden to be desired, and a queen among girls, and too +beautiful to be resisted, said his say: + +"Phil, I think you are the most charming girl I have ever seen in all +my life. Let me be your friend always, Phil. Let me"--here he stopped, +with a guilty tremor in his voice--"I hope--I hope--that you will +always go on liking me more and more." + +He held both her pretty shapely hands in his own. She was standing a +little back, with her face turned up to his, and a bright fearless +smile upon her lips and in her eyes. Oh, the eyes that smile before +the lips! + +"Some people seal a bargain," he went on, hesitating and stammering, +"after the manner of the--the--early Christians--with a kiss. Shall +we, Phil?" + +Before she caught the meaning of his words he stooped and drew her +gently towards him. Then he suddenly released her. For all in a moment +the woman within her, unknown till that instant, was roused into life, +and she shrank back--without the kiss. + +Jack hung his head in silence. Phil, in silence, too, stood opposite +him, her eyes upon the ground. + +She looked up stealthily and trembled. + +Jack Dunquerque was troubled as he met her look. + +"Forgive me, Phil," he said humbly. "It was wrong--I ought not. Only +forgive me, and tell me we shall be friends all the same." + +"Yes," she replied, not quite knowing what she said; "I forgive you. +But, Jack, please don't do it again." + +Then he returned to the drawings, sitting at the table, while she +stood over him and told him what they were. + +There was no diffidence or mock-modesty at all about her. The drawings +were her life, and represented her inmost thoughts. She had never +shown them all together to a single person, and now she was laying +them all open before the young man whom yesterday she had met for the +first time. + +It seemed to him as if she were baring her very soul for him to read. + +"I like to do them," she said, "because then I can recall everything +that I have done or seen. Look! Here is the dear old house at +Highgate, where I stayed for thirteen years without once going beyond +its walls. Ah, how long ago it seems, and yet it is only a week since +I came away! And everything is so different to me now." + +"You were happy there, Phil?" + +"Yes; but not so happy as I am now. I did not know you then, Jack." + +He beat down the temptation to take her in his arms and kiss her a +thousand times. He tried to sit calmly critical over the drawings. But +his hand shook. + +"Tell me about it all," he said softly. + +"These are the sketches of my Highgate life. Stay; this one does not +belong to this set. It is a likeness of you, which I drew last night +when I came home." + +"Did you really draw one of me? Let me have it. Do let me have it." + +"It was meant for your face. But I could do a better one now. See, +this is Mr. Beck, the American gentleman; and this is Captain Ladds. +This is Mr. Cassilis." + +They were the roughest unfinished things, but she had seized the +likeness in every one. + +Jack kept his own portrait in his hand. + +"Let me keep it." + +"Please, no; I want that one for myself." + +Once more, and for the last time in his life, a little distrust +crossed Jack Dunquerque's mind. Could this girl, after all, be only +the most accomplished of all coquettes? He looked up at her face as +she stood beside him, and then abused himself for treachery to love. + +"It is like me," he said, looking at the pencil portrait; "but you +have made me too handsome." + +She shook her head. + +"You _are_ very handsome, I think," she said gravely. + +He was not, strictly speaking, handsome at all. He was rather an ugly +youth, having no regularity of features. And it was a difficult face +to draw, because he wore no beard--nothing but a light moustache to +help it out. + +"Phil, if you begin to flatter me you will spoil me; and I shall not +be half so good a friend when I am spoiled. Won't you give this to +me?" + +"No; I keep my portfolio all to myself. But I will draw a better one, +if you like, of you, and finish it up properly, like this." + +She showed him a pencil-drawing of a face which Rembrandt himself +would have loved to paint. It was the face of an old man, wrinkled and +crows-footed. + +"That is my guardian, Mr. Dyson. I will draw you in the same style. +Poor dear guardian! I think he was very fond of me." + +Another thought struck the young man. + +"Phil, will you instead make me a drawing--of your own face?" + +"But can you not do it for yourself?" + +"I? Phil, I could not even draw a haystack." + +"What a misfortune! It seems worse than not being able to read." + +"Draw me a picture of yourself, Phil." + +She considered. + +"Nobody ever asked me to do that yet. And I never drew my own face. It +would be nice, too, to think that you had a likeness of me, +particularly as you cannot draw yourself. Jack, would you mind if it +were not much like me?" + +"I should prefer it like you. Please try. Give me yourself as you are +now. Do not be afraid of making it too pretty." + +"I will try to make it like. Here is Mrs. Cassilis. She did not think +it was very good." + +"Phil, you are a genius. Do you know that? I hold you to your promise. +You will draw a portrait of yourself, and I will frame it and hang it +up--no, I won't do that; I will keep it myself, and look at it when no +one is with me." + +"That seems very pleasant," said Phil, reflecting. "I should like to +think that you are looking at me sometimes. Jack, I only met you +yesterday, and we are old friends already." + +"Yes; quite old familiar friends, are we not? Now tell all about +yourself." + +She obeyed. It was remarkable how readily she obeyed the orders of +this new friend, and told him all about her life with Mr. Dyson--the +garden and paddock, out of which she never went, even to church; the +pony, the quiet house, and the quiet life with the old man who taught +her by talking; her drawing and her music; and her simple wonder what +life was like outside the gates. + +"Did you never go to church, Phil?" + +"No; we had prayers at home; and on Sunday evenings I sang hymns." + +Clearly her religions education had been grossly neglected. "Never +heard of a Ritualist," thought Jack, with a feeling of gladness. +"Doesn't know anything about vestments; isn't learned in school +feasts; and never attended a tea-meeting. This girl is a Phoenix." +Why--why was he a Younger Son? + +"And is Mr. Cassilis a relation of yours?" + +"No; Mr. Cassilis is Mr. Dyson's nephew. All Mr. Dyson's fortune is +left to found an institution for educating girls as I was +educated----" + +"Without reading or writing?" + +"I suppose so. Only, you see, it is most unfortunate that my own +education is incomplete, and they cannot carry out the testator's +wishes, Mr. Jagenal tells me, because they have not been able to find +the concluding chapters of his book. Mr. Dyson wrote a book on it, and +the last chapter was called the 'Coping-stone.' I do not know what +they will do about it. Mr. Cassilis wants to have the money divided +among the relations, I know. Isn't it odd? And he has so much +already." + +"And I have got none." + +"O Jack! take some of mine--do! I know I have such a lot somewhere; +and I never spend anything." + +"You are very good, Phil; but that will hardly be right. But do you +know it is five o'clock? We have been talking for three hours. I must +go--alas, I must go!" + +"And you have told me nothing at all yet about Mr. Colquhoun." + +"When I see you next I will tell you what I know of him. Good-bye, +Phil." + +"Jack, come and see me again soon." + +"When may I come? Not to-morrow--that would be too soon. The day +after. Phil, make me the likeness, and send it to me by post. I forgot +you cannot write." + +He wrote his address on a sheet of foolscap. + +"Fold it in that, with this address outside, and post it to me. Come +again, Phil? I should like to come every day, and stay all day." He +pressed her hand and was gone. + +Phillis remained standing where he left her. What had happened to her? +Why did she feel so oppressed? Why did the tears crowd her eyes? Five +o'clock. It wanted an hour of dinner, when she would have to talk to +the Twin brethren. She gathered up her drawings and retreated to her +own room. As she passed Humphrey's door, she heard him saying to Jane: + +"The tea, Jane? Have I really been asleep? A most extraordinary thing +for me." + +"Now he will see the drawing of the 'Artist at Work,'" thought +Phillis. But she did not laugh at the idea, as she had done when she +perpetrated the joke. She had suddenly grown graver. + +She began her own likeness at once. But she could not satisfy herself. +She tore up half a dozen beginnings. Then she changed her mind. She +drew a little group of two. One was a young man, tall, shapely, +gallant, with a queer attractive face, who held the hands of a girl in +his, and was bending over her. Somehow a look of love, a strange and +new expression, which she had never seen before in human eyes, lay in +his. She blushed while she drew her own face looking up in that other, +and yet she drew it faithfully, and was only half conscious how sweet +a face she drew and how like it was to her own. Nor could she +understand why she felt ashamed. + +"Come again soon, Jack." + +The words rang in the young man's ears, but they rang like bells of +accusation and reproach. This girl, so sweet, so fresh, so +unconventional, what would she think when she learned, as she must +learn some day, how great was his sin against her? And what would +Lawrence Colquhoun say! And what would the lawyer say? And what would +the world say? + +The worst was that his repentance would not take the proper course. He +did not repent of taking her hands--he trembled and thrilled when he +thought of it--he only repented of the swiftness with which the thing +was done, and was afraid of the consequences. + +"And I am only a Younger Son, Tommy"--he made his plaint to Ladds, who +received a full confession of the whole--"only a Younger Son, with +four hundred a year. And she's got fifty thousand. They will say I +wanted her money. I wish she had nothing but the sweet grey dress----" + +"Jack, don't blaspheme. Goodness sometimes palls; beauty always fades; +grey dresses certainly wear out; figures alter for the worse; the +funds remain. I am always thankful for the thought which inspired +Ladds' Perfect Cocoa. The only true Fragrance. Aroma and Nutrition." + +Humphrey did not discover the little sketch before dinner, so that his +conversation was as animated and as artistic as usual. At two o'clock +in the morning he discovered it. And at three o'clock the Twins, after +discussing the picture with its scoffing legend in all its bearings, +went to bed sorrowful. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + + "I have in these rough words shaped out a man + Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug + With amplest entertainment." + + +Mr. Gabriel Cassilis, who, like Julius Cæsar and other illustrious +men, was always spoken of by both his names, stepped from his carriage +at the door of the Langham Hotel and slowly walked up the stairs to +Mr. Beck's room. He looked older, longer, and thinner in the morning +than in the evening. He carried his hands behind him and bore a look +of pre-occupation and care. The man of unlimited credit was waiting +for him, and, with his first cigar, pacing the room with his hands in +his pockets. + +"I got your letter," said Mr. Cassilis, "and telegraphed to you +because I was anxious not to miss you. My time is valuable--not so +valuable as yours, but still worth something." + +He spread his hands palm downwards, and at right angles to the +perpendicular line of his body, had that been erect. But it was +curved, like the figure of the man with the forelock. + +"Still worth something," he repeated. "But I am here, Mr. Beck, and +ready to be of any service that I can." + +"My time is worth nothing," said the American, "because my work is +done for me. When I was paid by the hour, it was worth the hour's +pay." + +"But now," Mr. Cassilis interposed, "it is worth at the rate +of your yearly income. And I observe that you have unlimited +credit--un-lim-it-ed credit. That is what we should hardly give +to a Rothschild." + +He wanted to know what unlimited credit really meant. It was a thing +hitherto beyond his experience. + +"It is my Luck," said Mr. Beck. "Ile, as everybody knows, is not to be +approached. You may grub for money like a Chinee, and you may scheme +for it like a Boss in a whisky-ring. But for a steady certain flow +there is nothing like Ile. And I, sir, have struck Ile as it never was +struck before, because my well goes down to the almighty reservoir of +this great world." + +"I congratulate you, Mr. Beck." + +"And I have ventured, sir, on the strength of that introductory +letter, to ask you for advice. 'Mr. Cassilis,' I was told, 'has the +biggest head in all London for knowledge of money.' And, as I am going +to be the biggest man in all the States for income, I come to you." + +"I am not a professional adviser, Mr. Beck. What I could do for you +would not be a matter of business. It is true that, as a friend only, +I might advise you as to investments. I could show you where to place +money and how to use it." + +"Sir, you double the obligation. In America we do nothing without an +equivalent. Here men seem to work as hard without being paid as those +who get wages. Why, sir, I hear that young barristers do the work of +others and get nothing for it; doctors work for nothing in hospitals; +and authors write for publishers and get nothing from them. This is a +wonderful country." + +Mr. Cassilis, at any rate, had never worked for nothing. Nor did he +propose to begin now. But he did not say so. + +He sat nursing his leg, looking up at the tall American who stood over +him. They were two remarkable faces, that thus looked into each other. +The American's was grave and even stern. But his eyes were soft. The +Englishman's was grave also. But his eyes were hard. They were not +stealthy, as of one contemplating a fraud, but they were curious and +watchful, as of one who is about to strike and is looking for the +fittest place--that is, the weakest. + +"Will you take a drink, Mr. Cassilis?" + +"A--a--a drink?" The invitation took him aback altogether, and +disturbed the current of his thoughts. "Thank you, thank you. +Nothing." + +"In the silver-mines I've seen a man threatened with a bowie for +refusing a drink. And I've known temperate men anxious for peace take +drinks, when they were offered, till their back teeth were under +whisky. But I know your English custom, Mr. Cassilis. When you don't +feel thirsty you say so. Now let us go on, sir." + +"Our New York friend tells me, Mr. Beck, that you would find it +difficult to spend your income." + +Mr. Beck brightened. He sat down and assumed a confidential manner. + +"That's the hitch. That's what I am here for. In America you may chuck +a handsome pile on yourself. But when you get out of yourself, unless +you were to buy a park for the people in the centre of New York City, +I guess you would find it difficult to get rid of your money." + +"It depends mainly on the amount of that money." + +"We'll come to figures, sir, and you shall judge as my friendly +adviser. My bar'ls bring me in, out of my first well, 2,500 dollars, +and that's £500 a day, without counting Sundays. And there's a dozen +wells of mine around, not so good, that are worth between them another +£800 a day." + +Mr. Cassilis gasped. + +"Do you mean, Mr. Beck, do you actually mean that you are drawing a +profit, a clear profit, of more than £1,300 a day from your rock-oil +shafts?" + +"That is it, sir--that is the lowest figure. Say £1,500 a day." + +"And how long has this been going on?" + +"Close upon ten months." + +Mr. Cassilis produced a pencil and made a little calculation. + +"Then you are worth at this moment, allowing for Sundays, at least a +quarter of a million sterling." + +"Wall, I think it is near that figure. We can telegraph to New York, +if you like, to find out. I don't quite know within a hundred +thousand." + +"And a yearly income of £500,000, Mr. Beck!" said Mr. Cassilis, rising +solemnly. "Let me--allow me to shake hands with you again. I had no +idea, not the slightest idea, in asking you to my house the other day, +that I was entertaining a man of so much weight and such enormous +power." + +He shook hands with a mixture of deference and friendship. Then he +looked again, with a watchful glance, at the tall and wiry American +with the stern face, the grave eyes, the mobile lips, and the muscular +frame, and sat down and began to soliloquise. + +"We are accustomed to think that nothing can compare with the great +landholders of this country and Austria. There are two or three +incomes perhaps in Europe, not counting crowned heads, which approach +your own, Mr. Beck, but they are saddled. Their owners have great +houses to keep up; armies of servants to maintain; estates to nurse; +dilapidations to make good; farmers to satisfy; younger sons to +provide for; poor people to help by hundreds; and local charities to +assist. Why, I do not believe, when all has been provided for, that a +great man, say the Duke of Berkshire, with coal-mines and quarries, +Scotch, Irish, Welsh, and English estates, has more to put by at the +end of the year than many a London merchant." + +"That is quite right," said Mr. Beck; "a merchant must save, because +he may crack up; but the land don't run away. When you want stability, +you must go to the Airth. Outside there's the fields, the rivers, the +hills. Inside there's the mines, and there's Ile for those who can +strike it." + +"What an income!" Mr. Cassilis went on. "Nothing to squander it on. No +duties and no responsibilities. No tenants; no philanthropy; no +frittering away of capital. You _can't_ spend a tenth part of it +on yourself. And the rest accumulates and grows--grows--spreads and +grows." He spread out his hands, and a flush of envy came into his +cheeks. "Mr. Beck, I congratulate you again." + +"Thank you, sir." + +"I see, Mr. Beck--you are yet an unmarried man, I believe, and without +children--I foresee boundless possibilities. You may marry and found a +great family; you may lay yourself out for making a fortune so great +that it may prove a sensible influence on the course of events. You +may bequeath to your race the tradition of good fortune and the habit +of making money." + +"My sons may take care of themselves," said Mr. Beck; "I want to spend +money, not to save it." + +It was remarkable that during all this generous outburst of vicarious +enthusiasm Mr. Beck's face showed no interest whatever. He had his +purpose, but it was not the purpose of Mr. Cassilis. To found a +family, to become a Rothschild, to contract loans--what were these +things to a man who felt strongly that he had but one life, that he +wished to make the most of it, and that the world after him might get +on as it could without his posthumous interference? + +"Listen Mr. Beck, for one moment. Your income is £500,000 a year. You +may spend on your own simple wants £5,000. Bah! a trifle--not a +quarter of the interest. You save the whole; in ten years you have +three millions. You are still under fifty?" + +"Forty-five, sir." + +"I wish I was forty-five. You may live and work for another quarter of +a century. In that time you ought to be worth twelve millions at +least. Twelve millions!" + +"Nearly as much as ran away and was lost when the Ile was struck," +said Mr. Beck. "Hardly worth while to work for five-and-twenty years +in order to save what Nature spent in three days, is it?" + +What, says the proverb, is easily got is lightly regarded. This man +made money so easily that he despised the slow, gradual building up of +an immense fortune. + +"There is nothing beyond the reach of a man with twelve millions," Mr. +Cassilis went on. "He may rule the world, so long as there are poor +states with vast armies who want to borrow. Why, at the present moment +a man with twelve millions at his command could undertake a loan with +Russia, Austria, Turkey, Italy, or Egypt. He could absolutely govern +the share market; he could rule the bank rate----" + +Mr. Beck interrupted, quite unmoved by these visions of greatness: + +"Wal, sir, I am not ambitious, and I leave Providence to manage the +nations her own way. I might meddle and muss till I busted up the +whole concern; play, after all, into the hands of the devil, and have +the people praying to get back to their old original Providence." + +"Or suppose," Mr. Cassilis went on, his imagination fired with the +contemplation of possibilities so far beyond his own reach--"suppose +you were to buy up land--to buy all that comes into the market. +Suppose you were to hand down to your sons a traditional policy of +buying land with the established principle of primogeniture. In twenty +years you might have great estates in twenty counties----" + +"I could have half a state," said Mr. Beck, "if I went out West." + +"In your own lifetime you could control an election, make yourself +President, carry your own principles, force your opinions on the +country, and become the greatest man in it." + +"The greatest country in the world is the United States of +America--that is a fact," said Mr. Beck, laughing; "so the greatest +man in it must be the greatest man in the world. I calculate that's a +bitter reflection for Prince Bismarck when he goes to bed at night; +also for the Emperor of all the Russias. And perhaps your Mr. +Gladstone would like to feel himself on the same level with General +Ulysses Grant." + +"Mr. Beck," cried Mr. Cassilis, rising to his feet in an irrepressible +burst of genuine enthusiasm, and working his right hand round exactly +as if he was really Father Time, whom he so much resembled--"Mr. Beck, +I consider you the most fortunate man in the world. We slowly amass +money--for our sons to dissipate. Save when a title or an ancient name +entails a conservative tradition which keeps the property together, +the process in this country and in yours is always the same. The +strong men climb, and the weak men fall. And even to great houses like +the Grosvenors, which have been carried upwards by a steady tide of +fortune, there will surely one day come a fool, and then the tide will +turn. But for you and yours, Mr. Beck, Nature pours out her +inexhaustible treasures----" + +"She does, sir--in Ile." + +"You may spend, but your income will always go on increasing." + +"To a certain limit, sir--to five thousand and fifty-three years. I +have had it reckoned by one of our most distinguished mathematicians, +Professor Hercules Willemott, of Cyprus University, Wisconsin. He made +the calculations for me." + +"Limit or not, Mr. Beck, you are now a most fortunate man. And I shall +be entirely at your service. I believe," he added modestly, "that I +have some little reputation in financial circles." + +"That is so, sir. And now let me put my case." Mr. Beck became once +more animated and interested. "Suppose, sir, I was to say to you, 'I +have more than enough money. I will take the Luck of the Golden +Butterfly and make it the Luck of other people.'" + +"I do not understand," said Mr. Cassilis. + +"Sir, what do you do with your own money? You do not spend it all on +yourself?" + +"I use it to make more." + +"And when you have enough?" + +"We look at things from a different point of view, Mr. Beck. _You_ +have enough; but I, whatever be my success, can never approach the +fourth part of your income. However, let me understand what you want +to do, and I will give such advice as I can offer." + +"That's kind, sir, and what I expected of you. It is a foolish fancy, +and perhaps you'll laugh; but I have heard day and night, ever since +the Ile began to run, a voice which says to me always the same +thing--I think it is the voice of my Golden Butterfly: 'What you can't +spend, give.' 'What you can't spend, give.' That's my duty, Mr. +Cassilis; that's the path marked out before me, plain and shinin' as +the way to heaven. What I can't spend, I must give. I've given nothing +as yet. And I am here in this country of giving to find out how to do +it." + +"We--I mean the--the----" Mr. Cassilis was on the point of saying "the +Idiots," but refrained in time. "The people who give money send it to +charities and institutions." + +"I know that way, sir. It is like paying a priest to say your prayers +for you." + +"When the secretaries get the money they pay themselves their own +salaries first; then they pay for the rent, the clerks, and the +advertising. What remains goes to the charity." + +"That is so, sir; and I do not like that method. I want to go right +ahead; find out what to do, and then do it. But I must feel like +giving, whatever I do." + +"Your countryman, Mr. Peabody, gave his money in trust for the London +poor. Would you like to do the same?" + +"No, sir; I should not like to imitate that example. Mr. Peabody was a +great man, and he meant well; but I want to work for myself. Let a man +do all the good and evil he has to do in his lifetime, not leave his +work dragging on after he is dead. 'They that go down into the pit +cannot hope for the truth.' Do you remember that text, Mr. Cassilis? +It means that you must not wait till you are dead to do what you have +to do." + +Mr. Cassilis altered his expression, which was before of a puzzled +cheerfulness, as if he failed to see his way, into one of unnatural +solemnity. It is the custom of certain Englishmen if the Bible is +quoted. He knew no more than Adam what part of the Bible it came from. +But he bowed, and pulled out his handkerchief as if he was at a +funeral. In fact, this unexpected hurling of a text at his head +floored him for the moment. + +Mr. Beck was quite grave and in much earnestness. + +"There is another thing. If I leave this money in trust, how do I know +that my purpose will be carried out? In a hundred years things will +get mixed. My bequests may be worth millions, or they may be worth +nothing. The lawyers may fight over the letter of the will, and the +spirit may be neglected." + +"It is the Dead Hand that you dread." + +"That may be so, sir. You air in the inside track, and you ought to +know what to call it. But no Hand, dead or alive, shall ever get hold +of my stamps." + +"Your stamps?" + +"My stamps, sir; my greenbacks, my dollars. For I've got them, and I +mean to spend them. 'Spend what you can, and give what you cannot +spend,' says the Voice to Gilead P. Beck." + +"But, my dear sir, if you mean to give away a quarter of a million a +year, you will have every improvident and extravagant rogue in the +country about you. You will have to answer hundreds of letters a day. +You will be deluged with prospectuses, forms, and appeals. You will be +called names unless you give to this institution or to that----" + +"I shall give nothing to any society." + +"And what about the widows of clergymen, the daughters of officers, +the nieces of Church dignitaries, the governess who is starving, the +tradesman who wants a hundred pounds for a fortnight, and will repay +you with blessings and 25 per cent. after depositing in your hand as +security all his pawn-tickets." + +"Every boat wants steering, but I was not born last Sunday, and the +ways of big cities, though they may be crooked, air pretty well known +to me. There are not many lines of life in which Gilead P. Beck has +not tried to walk." + +"My dear sir, do you propose to act the part of Universal +Philanthropist and Distributor at large?" + +"No, sir, I do not. And that puzzles me too. I should like to be quiet +over it. There was a man down to Lexington, when I was a boy, who said +he liked his religion unostentatious. So he took a pipe on a Sunday +morning and sat in the churchyard listening to the bummin' and the +singin' within. Perhaps, sir, that man knew his own business. Perhaps +thoughts came over his soul when they gave out the Psalm that he +wouldn't have had if he'd gone inside, to sit with his back upright +against a plank, his legs curled up below the seat, and his eyes +wandering around among the gells. Maybe that is my case, too, Mr. +Cassilis. I should like my giving to be unostentatious." + +"Give what you cannot spend," said Mr. Cassilis. "There are at any +rate plenty of ways of spending. Let us attend to them first." + +"And there's another thing, sir," Mr. Beck went on, shifting his feet +and looking uneasy and distressed. "It's on my mind since I met the +young gentleman at your house. I want to do something big, something +almighty big, for Mr. Ronald Dunquerque." + +"Because he killed the bear?" + +"Yes, sir, because he saved my life. Without that shot the Luck of +Gilead P. Beck would have been locked up for ever in that little box +where the Golden Butterfly used to live. What can I do for him? Is the +young gentleman rich?" + +"On the contrary, I do not suppose--his brother is one of the poorest +peers in the house--that the Honorable Mr. Ronald Dunquerque is worth +£500 a year. Really, I should say that £300 would be nearer the mark." + +"Then he is a gentleman, and I am--well, sir, I hope I am learning +what a gentleman should do and think in such a position as the Golden +Butterfly has brought me into. But the short of it is that I can't say +to him: 'Mr. Dunquerque, I owe you a life, and here is a cheque for so +many thousand dollars.' I can't do it, sir." + +"I suppose not. But there are ways of helping a young man forward +without giving him money. You can only give money to poets and +clergymen." + +"That is so, sir." + +"Wait a little till your position is known and assured. You will then +be able to assist Mr. Ronald Dunquerque, as much as you please." He +rose and took up his gloves. "And now, Mr. Beck, I think I understand +you. You wish to do something great with your money. Very good. Do not +be in a hurry. I will think things over. Meantime, you are going to +let it lie idle in the bank?" + +"Wal, yes; I was thinking of that." + +"It would be much better for me to place it for you in good shares, +such as I could recommend to you. You would then be able to--to--give +away"--he pronounced the words with manifest reluctance--"the interest +as well as the principal. Why should the bankers have the use of it?" + +"That seems reasonable," said Mr. Beck. + +Mr. Cassilis straightened himself and looked him full in the face. He +was about to strike his blow. + +"You will place your money," he said quietly, as if there could be no +doubt of Mr. Beck's immediate assent, "in my hands for investment. I +shall recommend you safe things. For instance, as regards the shares +of the George Washington Silver Mine----" + +He opened his pocket-book. + +"No, sir," said Mr. Beck with great decision. + +"I was about to observe that I should not recommend such an +investment. I think, however, I could place immediately £20,000 in the +Isle of Man Internal Navigation Company." + +"An English company?" said Mr. Beck. + +"Certainly. I propose, Mr. Beck, to devote this morning to a +consideration of investments for you. I shall advise you from day to +day. I have no philanthropic aims, and financing is my profession. But +your affairs shall be treated together with mine, and I shall bring to +bear upon them the same--may I say insight?--that has carried my own +ventures to success. For this morning I shall only secure you the Isle +of Man shares." + +They presently parted, with many expressions of gratitude from Mr. +Gilead Beck. + +A country where men work for nothing? Perhaps, when men are young. Not +a country where elderly men in the City work for nothing. Mr. Cassilis +had no intention whatever of devoting his time and experience to the +furtherance of Mr. Beck's affairs. Not at all: if the thoughts in his +mind had been written down, they would have shown a joy almost boyish +in the success of his morning's visit. + +"The Isle of Man Company," we should have read, "is floated. That +£20,000 was a lucky _coup_. I nearly missed my chances with the +silver mine; I ought to have known that he was not likely to jump at +such a bait. A quarter of a million of money to dispose of, and five +hundred thousand pounds a year. And mine the handling of the whole. +Never before was such a chance known in the City." + +A thought struck him. He turned, and went back hastily to Gilead +Beck's rooms. + +"One word more. Mr. Beck, I need hardly say that I do not wish to be +known as your adviser at all. Perhaps it would be well to keep our +engagements a secret between ourselves." + +That of course was readily promised. + +"Half a million a year!" The words jangled in his brain like the +chimes of St. Clement's. "Half a million a year! And mine the +handling." + +He spent the day locked up in his inner office. He saw no one, except +the secretary, and he covered an acre or so of paper with +calculations. His clerks went away at five; his secretary left him at +six; at ten he was still at work, feverishly at work, making +combinations and calculating results. + +"What a chance!" he murmured prayerfully, putting down his pen at +length. "What a blessed chance!" + +Mr. Gilead Beck would have congratulated himself on the disinterested +assistance of his unprofessional adviser had he known that the whole +day was devoted to himself. He might have congratulated himself less +had he known the thoughts that filled the financier's brains. + +Disinterested? How could Mr. Cassilis regard any one with money in his +hand but as a subject for his skill. And here was a man coming to him, +not with his little fortune of a few thousand pounds, not with the +paltry savings of a lifetime, not for an investment for widows and +orphans, but with a purse immeasurable and bottomless, a purse which +he was going to place unreservedly in his hands. + +"Mine the handling," he murmured as he got into bed. It was his +evening hymn of praise and joy. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + + "Higher she climbed, and far below her stretch'd + Hill beyond hill, with lightening slopes and glades, + And a world widening still." + + +Phillis's world widened daily, like a landscape, which stretches ever +farther the higher you mount. Every morning brought her fresh +delights, something more wonderful than she had seen the day before. +Her portfolio of drawings swelled daily; but with riches came +discontent, because the range of subjects grew too vast for her pencil +to draw, and her groups became every day more difficult and more +complicated. Life was a joy beyond all that she had ever hoped for or +expected. How should it be otherwise to her? She had no anxieties for +the future; she had no past sins to repent; she had no knowledge of +evil; she was young and in perfect health; the weight of her mortality +was as yet unfelt. + +During these early days of emancipation she was mostly silent, looking +about and making observations. She sat alone and thought; she forgot +to sing; if she played, it was as if she was communing confidentially +with a friend, and seeking counsel. She had so much to think of: +herself, and the new current of thoughts into which her mind had been +suddenly diverted; the connection between the world of Mr. Dyson's +teachings and the world of reality--this was a very hard thing; Mrs. +Cassilis, with her hard, cold manner, her kind words, and her eternal +teaching that the spring of feminine action is the desire to attract; +finally, Jack Dunquerque. And of him she thought a good deal. + +All the people she met were interesting. She tried to give each one +his own individuality, rounded and complete. But she could not. Her +experience was too small, and each figure in her mind was blurred. +Now, if you listen to the conversation of people, as I do +perpetually--in trains especially--you will find that they are always +talking about other people. The reason of that I take to be the +natural desire to have in your brain a clear idea of every man, what +he is, and how he is likely to be acted upon. Those people are called +interesting who are the most difficult to describe or imagine, and +who, perpetually breaking out in new places, disturb the image which +their friends have formed. + +None of Phillis's new friends would photograph clear and distinct in +her brain. She thought she missed the focus. It was not so, however; +it was the fault of the lens. But it troubled her, because if she +tried to draw them there was always a sense of something wanting. Even +Jack Dunquerque--and here her eyes brightened--had points about him +which she could not understand. She was quiet, therefore, and watched. + +It was pleasant only to watch and observe. She had made out clearly by +this time that the Twins were as vain and self-conscious as the old +peacock she used to feed at Highgate. She found herself bringing out +their little vanities by leading questions. She knew that Joseph +Jagenal, whom in their souls the Twins despised, was worth them both +ten times over; and she found that Joseph rated himself far beneath +his brothers. Then she gradually learned that their æsthetic talk was +soon exhausted, but that they loved to enunciate the same old maxims +over and over again, as children repeat a story. And it became one of +her chief pleasures to listen to them at dinner, to mark their +shallowness, and to amuse herself with their foibles. The Twins +thought the young lady was fascinated by their personal excellences. + +"Genius, brother Cornelius," said Humphrey, "always makes its way. I +see Phillis Fleming every night waiting upon your words." + +"I think the fascinations of Art are as great, brother Humphrey. At +dinner Phillis Fleming watches your every gesture." + +This was in the evening. In the morning every walk was a new delight +in itself; every fresh street was different. Brought up for thirteen +years within the same four walls, the keenest joy which the girl could +imagine was variety. She loved to see something new, even a new +disposition of London houses, even a minute difference in the aspect +of a London square. But of all the pleasures which she had yet +experienced--even a greater pleasure than the single picture-gallery +which she had visited--was the one afternoon of shopping she had had +with Mrs. Cassilis at Melton and Mowbray's in Regent Street. + +Mrs. Cassilis took her there first on the morning of her dinner-party. +It was her second drive through the streets of London, but an +incomparable superior journey to the first. The thoroughfares were +more crowded; the shops were grander; if there were fewer boys running +and whistling, there were picturesque beggars, Punch-and-Judy shows, +Italian noblemen with organs, and the other humours and diversions of +the great main arteries of London. Phillis looked at all with the +keenest delight, calling the attention of her companion to the common +things which escape our notice because we see them every day--the +ragged broken down old man without a hat, who has long grey locks, who +sells oranges from a basket, and betrays by his bibulous trembling +lips the secret history of his downfall; the omnibus full inside and +out; the tall Guardsman swaggering down the street; the ladies looking +in at the windows; the endless rows of that great and wonderful +exhibition which benevolent tradesmen show gratuitously to all; the +shopman rubbing his hands at the door; the foreigners and pilgrims in +a strange land--he with a cigarette in his mouth, lately from the Army +of Don Carlos; he with a bad cigar, a blue-black shaven chin and +cheek, and a seedy coat, who once adorned the ranks of Delescluze, +Ferrè, Flourens & Company; he with the pale face and hard cynical +smile, who hails from free and happy Prussia; the man, our brother, +from Sierra Leone, coal-black of hue, with snowy linen and a +conviction not to be shaken that all the world takes him for an +Englishman; the booted Belgian, cross between the Dutchman and the +Gaul; the young gentleman sent from Japan to study our country and its +laws--he has a cigar in his mouth, and a young lady with yellow hair +upon his arm; the Syrian, with a red cap and almond eyes; the Parsee, +with lofty superstructure, a reminiscence of the Tower of Babel, which +his ancestors were partly instrumental in building; Cretes, Arabians, +men of Cappadocia and Pontus, with all the other mingled nationalities +which make up the strollers along a London street,--Phillis marked +them every one, and only longed for a brief ten minutes with each in +order to transfer his likeness to her portfolio. + +"Phillis," said her companion, touching her hand, "can you practise +looking at people without turning your head or seeming to notice?" + +Phillis laughed, and tried to sit in the attitude of unobservant +carelessness which was the custom in other carriages. Like all first +attempts it was a failure. Then the great and crowded street reminded +her of her dream. Should she presently--for it all seemed unreal +together--begin to run, while the young men, among whom were the +Twins, ran after her? And should she at the finish of the race see the +form of dead old Abraham Dyson, clapping his hands and wagging his +head, and crying, "Well run! well won! Phillis, it is the +Coping-stone?" + +"This is Melton & Mowbray's," said Mrs. Cassilis, as the carriage drew +up in front of a shop which contained greater treasures then were ever +collected for the harem of an Assyrian king. + +She followed Mrs. Cassilis to some show rooms, in which lay about +carelessly things more beautiful than she had ever conceived; hues +more brilliant, textures more delicate then she ever knew. + +Phillis's first shopping was an event to be remembered in all her +after life. What she chose, what Mrs. Cassilis chose for her, what +Joseph Jagenal thought when the bill came in, it boots not here to +tell. Imagine only the delight of a girl of deep and artistic feeling, +which has hitherto chiefly found vent in the study of form--such form +as she could get from engravings and her own limited powers of +observation--in being let loose suddenly in a wilderness of beautiful +things. Every lady knows Messrs. Melton & Mowbray's great shop. Does +anybody ever think what it would seem were they to enter it for the +first time at the mature age of nineteen? + +In one thing only did Phillis disgrace herself. There was a young +person in attendance for the purpose of showing off all sorts of +draperies upon her own back and shoulders. Phillis watched her for +some time. She had a singularly graceful figure and a patient face, +which struck Phillis with pity. Mrs. Cassilis sat studying the effect +through her double eye-glasses. The saleswoman put on and took off the +things as if the girl were really a lay-figure, which she was, +excepting that she turned herself about, a thing not yet achieved by +any lay-figure. A patient face, but it looked pale and tired. The +"Duchess"--living lay-figures receive that title, in addition to a +whole pound a week which Messrs. Melton & Mowbray generously give +them--stood about the rooms all day, and went to bed late at night. +Some of the other girls envied her. This shows that there is no +position in life which has not something beneath it. + +Presently Phillis rose suddenly, and taking the opera-cloak which the +Duchess was about to put on, said: + +"You are tired. I will try it on myself. Pray sit down and rest." + +And she actually placed a chair for the shop-girl. + +Mrs. Cassilis gave a little jump of surprise. It had never occurred to +her that a shopwoman could be entitled to any consideration at all. +She belonged to the establishment; the shop and all that it contained +were at the service of those who bought; the _personnel_ was a matter +for Messrs. Melton & Mowbray to manage. + +But she recovered her presence of mind in a moment. + +"Perhaps it will be as well," she said, "to see how it suits you by +trying it on yourself." + +When their purchases were completed and they were coming away, Phillis +turned to the poor Duchess, and asked her if she was not very tired of +trying on dresses, and whether she would not like to take a rest, and +if she was happy, with one or two other questions; at which the +saleswoman looked a little indignant and the Duchess a little inclined +to cry. + +And then they came away. + +"It is not usual, Phillis," said Mrs. Cassilis, directly they were in +the carriage, "for ladies to speak to shop-people." + +"Is it not? The poor girl looked pale and tired." + +"Very likely she was. She is paid to work, and work is fatiguing. But +it was no concern of ours. You see, my dear, we cannot alter things; +and if you once commence to pitying people and talking to them, there +is an end of all distinctions of class." + +"Mr. Dyson used to say that the difficulty of abolishing class +distinctions was one of the most lamentable facts in human history. I +did not understand then what he meant. But I think I do now. It is a +dreadful thing, he meant, that one cannot speak or relieve a poor girl +who is ready to drop with fatigue, because she is a shop-girl. How sad +you must feel, Mrs. Cassilis, you, who have seen so much of +shop-assistants, if they are all like that poor girl!" + +Mrs. Cassilis had not felt sad, but Phillis's remark made her feel for +the moment uncomfortable. Her complacency was disturbed. But how could +she help herself? She was what her surroundings had made her. As +riches increase, particularly the riches which are unaccompanied by +territorial obligations, men and women separate themselves more and +more; the lines of demarcation become deeper and broader; English +castes are divided by ditches constantly widening; the circles into +which outsiders may enter as guests, but not as members, become more +numerous; poor people herd more together; rich people live more apart; +the latter become more like gods in their seclusion, and they grow to +hate more and more the sight and rumor of suffering. And the first +step back to the unpitying cruelty of the old civilizations is the +habit of looking on the unwashed as creatures of another world. If the +gods of Olympus had known sympathy they might have lived till now. + +This expedition occurred on the day of Phillis's first dinner-party, +and on their way home a singular thing happened. + +Mrs. Cassilis asked Phillis how long she was to stay with Mr. Jagenal. + +"Until," said Phillis, "my guardian comes home; and that will be in a +fortnight." + +"Your guardian, child? But he is dead." + +"I had two, you know. The other is Mr. Lawrence Colquhoun---- What is +the matter, Mrs. Cassilis?" + +For she became suddenly pallid, and stared blankly before her, with no +expression in her eyes, unless perhaps, a look of terror. It was the +second time that Phillis had noted a change in this cold and +passionless face. Before, the face had grown suddenly soft and tender +at a recollection; now, it was white and rigid. + +"Lawrence Colquhoun!" she turned to Phillis, and hardly seemed to know +what she was saying. "Lawrence Colquhoun! He is coming home--and he +promised me--no--he would not promise--and what will he say to me." + +Then she recovered herself with an effort. The name, or the +intelligence of Lawrence Colquhoun's return, gave her a great shock. + +"Mr. Colquhoun your guardian! I did not know. And is he coming home?" + +"You will come and see me when I am staying--if I am to stay--at his +house?" + +"I shall certainly," said Mrs. Cassilis, setting her lips together--"I +shall certainly make a point of seeing Mr. Colquhoun on his return, +whether you are staying with him or not. Here is Carnarvon Square. No, +thank you, I will not get down, even to have a cup of tea with you. +Good-bye, Phillis, till this evening. My dear, I think the white dress +that you showed me will do admirably. Home at once." + +A woman of steel? Rubbish! There is no man or woman of steel, save he +who has brooded too long over his own perfections. A metallic statue, +the enemies of Mrs. Cassilis called her. They knew nothing. A woman +who had always perfect control over herself, said her husband. He knew +nothing. A woman who turned pale at the mention of a name, and longed, +yet feared, to meet a man, thought Phillis. And she knew something, +because she knew the weak point in this woman's armour. Being neither +curious, nor malignant, nor a disciple in the school for scandal, +Phillis drew her little conclusion, kept it to herself, and thought no +more about it. + +As for the reasons which prompted Mrs. Cassilis to "take up" Phillis +Fleming, they were multiplex, like all the springs of action which +move us to act. She wanted to find out for her husband of what sort +was this system of education which Joseph Jagenal could not discover +anywhere. She was interested in, although not attracted by, the +character of the girl, unlike any she had ever seen. And she wanted to +use Phillis--an heiress, young, beautiful, piquante, strange--as an +attraction to her house. For Mrs. Cassilis was ambitious. She wished +to attract men to her evenings. She pictured herself--it is the dream +of so many cultured women--as another Madame Récamier, Madame du +Deffand, or Madame de Rambouillet. All the intellect in London was to +be gathered in her _salon_. She caught lions; she got hold of young +authors; she made beginnings with third-rate people who had written +books. They were not amusing; they were not witty; they were devoured +by envy and hatred. She let them drop, and now she wanted to begin +again. An idle and a futile game. She had not the quick sympathies, +the capacity for hero-worship, the lovableness of the Récamier. She +had no tears for others. She did not know that the woman who aspires +to lead men must first be able to be led. + +There was another fatal objection, not fully understood by ladies who +have "evenings" and sigh over their empty rooms. In these days of +clubs, what man is going to get up after dinner and find his +melancholy way from Pall Mall to Kensington Palace Gardens, in order +to stand about a drawing-room for two hours and listen to "general" +talk? It wants a Phillis, and a personal, if hopeless, devotion to a +Phillis, to tear the freshest lion from his club, after dinner, even +if it be to an altar of adulation. The evening begins properly with +dinner: and where men dine they love to stay. + +"Jack Dunquerque came to see me to-day," Phillis told Joseph. "You +remember Mr. Dunquerque. He was at Mrs. Cassilis's last night. He came +at two, to have luncheon and to tell me about Mr. Colquhoun; but he +did not tell me anything about him. We talked about ourselves." + +"Is Mr. Dunquerque a friend of yours?" + +"Yes; Jack and I are friends," Phillis replied readily. There was not +the least intention to deceive; but Joseph was deceived. He thought +they had been old friends. Somehow, perhaps, Phillis did not like to +talk very much about her friendship for Jack. + +"I want you to ask him to dinner, if you will." + +"Certainly, whenever you please. I shall be glad to make Mr. +Dunquerque's acquaintance. He is the brother of Lord Isleworth," said +Joseph, with a little satisfaction at seeing a live member of the +aristocracy at his own table. + +Jack came to dinner. He behaved extremely well; made no allusion to +that previous occasion when he had been introduced to the Twins; +listened to their conversation as if it interested him above all +things; and not once called Phillis by her Christian name. This +omission made her reflect; they were therefore, it was apparent, only +Jack and Phil when they were alone. It was her first secret, and the +possession of it became a joy. + +She had not a single word with him all the evening. Only before he +went he asked her if he might call the next day at luncheon-time. She +said to him yes. + +"After all these Bloomsbury people," said Cornelius, lighting his +first pipe, "it does one good, brother Humphrey, to come across a +gentleman. Mr. Ronald Dunquerque took the keenest interest in your Art +criticisms at dinner." + +"They were general principles only, Cornelius," said Humphrey. "He is +really a superior young man. A little modest in your presence, +brother. To be sure, it is not every day that he finds himself dining +with a Poet." + +"And an Artist, Humphrey." + +"Thank you, Cornelius. Miss Fleming had no charms for him, I think." + +"Phillis Fleming, brother, is a girl who is drawn more towards, and +more attracts, men of a maturer age--men no longer perhaps within the +_premiére jeunesse_, but still capable of love." + +"Men of our age, Cornelius. Shall we split this potash, or will you +take some Apollinaris water?" + + +Jack called, and they took luncheon together as before. Phillis, +brighter and happier, told him what things she had seen and what +remarks she had made since last they met, a week ago. Then she told +him of the things she most wished to see. + +"Jack," she said, "I want to see the Tower of London and Westminster +Abbey most." + +"And then, Phil?" + +"Then I should like to see a play." + +"Would Mr. Jagenal allow me to take you to the Tower of London? Now, +Phil--this afternoon?" + +Phillis's worldly education was as yet so incomplete that she clapped +her hands with delight. + +"Shall we go now, Jack? How delightful! Of course Mr. Jagenal will +allow me. I will be five minutes putting on my hat." + +"Now, that's wrong too," said Jack to himself. "It is as wrong as +calling her Phil. It's worse than wanting to kiss her, because the +kiss never came off. I can't help it--it's pleasant. What will +Colquhoun say when he comes home? Phil is sure to tell him everything. +Jack Dunquerque, my boy, there will be a day of reckoning for you. +Already, Phil? By Jove! how nice you look!" + +"Do I, Jack? Do you like my hat? I bought it with Mrs. Cassilis the +other day." + +"Look at yourself in the glass, Phil. What do you see?" + +She looked and laughed. It was not for her to say what she saw. + +"There was a little maid of Arcadia once, Phil, and she grew up so +beautiful that all the birds fell in love with her. There were no +other creatures except birds to fall in love with her, because her +sheep were too busy fattening themselves for the Corinthian +cattle-market to pay any attention to her. They were conscientious +sheep, you see, and wished to do credit to the Arcadian pastures." +Jack Dunquerque began to feel great freedom in the allegorical method. + +"Well, Jack?" + +"Well Phil, the birds flew about in the woods, singing to each other +how lovely she was, how prettily she played, and how sweetly she sang. +Nobody understood what they said, but it pleased this little maid. +Presently she grew a tall maid, like yourself, Phil. And then she came +out into the world. She was just like you, Phil; she had the same +bright eyes, and the same laugh, and the same identical sunlit face; +and O Phil, she had your very same charming ways!" + +"Jack, do you really mean it? Do you like my face, and are my ways +really and truly not rough and awkward?" + +Jack shook his head. + +"Your face is entrancing, Phil; and your ways are more charming than I +can tell you. Well, she came into the world and looked about her. It +was a pleasant world, she thought. And then--I think I will tell you +the rest of the story another time, Phil. + +"Jack, did other people besides birds love your maid of Arcadia?" + +"I'm afraid they did," he groaned. "A good many other people--confound +them!" + +Phil looked puzzled. Why did he groan? Why should not all the world +love the Arcadian maid if they pleased? + +Then they went out, Jack being rather silent. + +"This is a great deal better than driving with Mrs. Cassilis, Jack," +said the girl, as she made her first acquaintance with a hansom cab. +"It is like sitting in a chair, while all the people move past. Look +at the faces, Jack; how they stare straight before them! Is work so +dear to them that they cannot find time to look at each other." + +"Work is not dear to them at all, I think," said Jack. "If I were a +clergyman I should talk nonsense and say that it is the race for gold. +As a matter of fact, I believe it is a race for bread. Those hard +faces have got wives and children at home, and life is difficult, that +is all." + +Phillis was silent again. + +They drove through the crowded City, where the roll of the vehicles +thundered on the girl's astonished ears, and the hard-faced crowd sped +swiftly past her. Life was too multitudinous, too complex, for her +brain to take it in. The shops did not interest her now, nor the press +of business; it was the never-ending rush of the anxious crowd. She +tried to realise, if ever so faintly, that every one of their faces +meant a distinct and important personality. It was too much for her, +and, as it did to the Persian monarch, the multitudes brought tears +into her eyes. + +"Where are all the women?" she asked Jack at length. + +"At home. These men are working for them. They are spending the money +which their husbands and fathers fight for." + +She was silent again. + +The crowd diminished, but not much; the street grew narrower. +Presently they came to an open space, and beyond--oh, joy of +joys!--the Tower of London, which she knew from the pictures. + +Only country people go to the Tower of London. It would almost seem a +kindness to London readers were I to describe this national +gaudy-show. But it is better, perhaps, that its splendours should +remain unknown, like those of the National Gallery and the British +Museum. The solitudes of London are not too many, and its convenient +trysting places are few. The beef-eater who conducted the flock +attached himself specially to Phillis, thereby showing that good taste +has found a home among beef-eaters. Phillis asked him a thousand +questions. She was eager to see everything. She begged him to take +them slowly down the long line of armoured warriors; she did not care +for the arms, except for such as she had heard about, as bows and +arrows, pikes, battle-axes, and spears. She lingered in the room where +Sir Walter Raleigh was confined; she studied the construction of the +headsman's axe and the block; she glowed with delight at finding +herself in the old chapel of the White Tower. Jack did not understand +her enthusiasm. It was his own first visit also to the Tower, but he +was unaffected by its historical associations. Nor did he greatly care +for the arms and armour. + +Think of Phillis. Her guardian's favourite lessons to her had been in +history. He would read her passages at which her pulse would quicken +and her eyes light up. Somehow these seemed all connected with the +Tower. She constructed an imaginary Tower in her own mind, and peopled +it with the ghosts of martyred lords and suffering ladies. But the +palace of her soul was as nothing compared with the grim grey fortress +that she saw. The knights of her imagination were poor creatures +compared with these solid heroes of steel and iron on their wooden +charges; the dungeon in which Raleigh pined was far more gloomy than +any she had pictured; the ghosts of slain rebels and murdered princes +gained in her imagination a place and surroundings worthy of their +haunts. The first sight of London which an American visits is the +Tower; the first place which the boy associates with the past, and +longs to see, is that old pile beside the Thames. + +Phillis came away at length, with a sigh of infinite satisfaction. On +the way home she said nothing; but Jack saw, by her absorbed look, +that the girl was happy. She was adjusting, bit by bit, her memories +and her fancies with the reality. She was trying to fit the stories +her guardian had read her so often with the chambers and the courts +she had just seen. + +Jack watched her stealthily. A great wave of passion roiled over the +heart of this young man whenever he looked at this girl. He loved her: +there was no longer any possible doubt of that: and she only liked +him. What a difference! And to think that the French have only one +word for both emotions! She liked to be with him, to talk to him, +because he was young and she could talk to him. But love? Cold Dian +was not more free from love. + +"I can make most of it out," the girl said, turning to Jack. "All +except Lady Jane Grey. I cannot understand at all about her. You must +take me again. We will get that dear old beef-eater all by himself, +and we will spend the whole day there, you and I together, shall we +not?" + +Then, after her wont, she put the Tower out of her mind and began to +talk about what she saw. They passed a printseller's. She wanted to +look at a picture in the window, and Jack stopped the cab and took her +into the shop. + +He observed, not without dismay, that she had not the most rudimentary +ideas on the subject of purchase. She had only once been in a shop, +and then, if I remember rightly, the bill was sent to Mr. Joseph +Jagenal. Phillis turned over the engravings and photographs, and +selected half a dozen. + +Jack paid the bill next day. It was not much over fifteen pounds--a +mere trifle to a Younger Son with four hundred a year. And then he had +the pleasure of seeing the warm glow of pleasure in her eyes as she +took the "Light of the World" from the portfolio. Pictures were her +books, and she took them home to read. + +At last, and all too soon, they came back to Carnarvon Square. + +"Good-bye, Phil," said Jack, before he knocked at the door. "You have +had a pleasant day?" + +"Very pleasant, Jack; and all through you," she replied. "Oh, what a +good thing for me that we became friends!" + +He thought it might in the end be a bad thing for himself, but he did +not say so. For every hour plunged the unhappy young man deeper in the +ocean of love, and he grew more than ever conscious that the part he +at present played would not be regarded with favour by her guardian. + +"Jack," she said, while her hand rested in his, and her frank eyes +looked straight in his face with an expression in which there was no +love at all--he saw that clearly--but only free and childlike +affection,--"Jack--why do you look at me so sadly?--Jack, if I were +like--if I were meant for that maiden of Arcadia you told me of----" + +"Yes, Phil?" + +"If other people in the world loved me, you would love me a little, +wouldn't you?" + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + + "Hearken what the Inner spirit sings, + 'There is no joy but calm.' + Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?" + + +Lawrence Colquhoun was coming home. Phillis, counting the days, +remembered, with a little prick of conscience, that Jack Dunquerque +had never told her a single word concerning her second guardian. He +was about forty years of age, as old as Joseph Jagenal. She pictured a +grave heavy man, with massive forehead, thick black hair, and a +responsible manner. She knew too that there was to be a change in her +life, but of what kind she could not tell. The present mode of living +was happiness enough for her: a drive with Mrs. Cassilis--odd that +Phillis could never remove from herself the impression that Mrs. +Cassilis disliked her; a walk with Joseph to his office and back in +the morning; a day of occasional delight with her best friend, Jack +the unscrupulous; her drawing for amusement and occupation; and a +widely increased area, so to speak, of dress discussion with her maid. + +Antoinette, once her fellow-prisoner, now emancipated like herself, +informed her young mistress that should the new guardian insist on a +return to captivity, she, Antoinette, would immediately resign. Her +devotion to Phillis, she explained, was unalterable; but, contrary to +the experience of the bard, stone walls, in her own case, did make a +prison. Was Mademoiselle going to resign all these pleasures?--she +pointed to the evening-dresses, the walking-dresses, the riding +habits--was Mademoiselle about to give up taking walks when and where +she pleased? was Mademoiselle ready to let the young gentleman, +Monsieur Dunquerque, waste his life in regrets--and he so brave, so +good? Antoinette, it may be observed, had, in the agreeable society of +Jane the housemaid, Clarissa the cook, and Victoria Pamela, assistant +in either department, already received enlightenment in the usages of +London courtship. She herself, a little flirt with the Norman blue +eyes and light-brown hair, was already the object of a devouring +passion on the part of a young gentleman who cut other gentlemen's +hair in a neighboring street. Further, did Mademoiselle reflect on the +wickedness of burying herself and her beautiful eyes out of +everybody's sight? + +A change was inevitable. Phillis would willingly have stayed on at +Carnarvon Square, where the Twins amused her, and the lawyer Joseph +was kind to her. But Mrs. Cassilis explained that this was impossible; +that steps would have to be taken with regard to her future; and that +the wishes of her guardian must be consulted till she was of age. + +"You are now nineteen, my dear. You have two years to wait. Then you +will come into possession of your fortune, and you will be your own +mistress, at liberty to live where and how you please." + +Phillis listened, but made no reply. It was a new thought to her that +in two years she would be personally responsible for the conduct and +management of her own life, obliged to think and decide for herself, +and undertaking all the responsibilities and consequences of her own +actions. Then she remembered Abraham Dyson's warning and maxims. They +once fell unheeded on her brain, which was under strict ward and +tutelage, just like exhortations to avoid the sins of the world on the +ears of convent girls. Now she remembered them. + +"Life is made up of meeting bills drawn on the future by the +improvidence of youth." + +This was a very mysterious maxim, and one which had often puzzled her. +Now she began to understand what was meant. + +"The consequences of our own actions are what men call fate. They +accompany us like our shadows." + +Hitherto, she thought, she had had no chance of performing any action +of her own at all. She forgot how she asked Jack Dunquerque to +luncheon and went to the Tower with him. + +"Every moment of a working life may be a decisive victory." + +That would begin in two years' time. + +"Brave men act; philosophers discuss; cowards run away. The brave are +often killed: the talkers are always left behind; the cowards are +caught and cashiered." + +Better to act and be killed than to run away and be disgraced, thought +Phillis. That was a thing to be remembered in two years' time. + +"Women see things through the haze of a foolish education. They manage +their affairs badly because they are unable to reason. You, Phillis, +who have never learned to read, are the mistress of your own mind. +Keep it clear. Get information and remember it. Learn by hearing and +watching." + +She was still learning--learning something new every day. + +"It is not in my power to complete your education, Phillis. That must +be done by somebody else. When it is finished you will understand the +whole. But do not be in a hurry." + +When would the finisher of her education come? Was it Lawrence +Colquhoun? And how would it be finished? Surely some time in the next +two years would complete the edifice, and she would step out into the +world at twenty-one, her own mistress, responsible for her actions, +equipped at all points to meet the chances and dangers of her life. + +So she waited, argued with herself, and counted the days. + +Meantime her conduct towards the Twins inspired these young men with +mingled feelings of uncertainty and pleasure. She made their +breakfast, was considerate in the morning, and did not ask them to +talk. When the little dialogue mentioned in an early chapter was +finished, she would herself pick out a flower--there were always +flowers on the table, in deference to their artistic tastes--or their +buttonholes, and despatch them with a smile. + +That was very satisfactory. + +At dinner, too, she would turn from one to the other while they +discoursed sublimely on Art in its higher aspects. They took it for +admiration. It was in reality curiosity to know what they meant. + +After dinner she would too often confine her conversation to Joseph. +On these occasions the brethren would moodily disappear, and retire to +their own den, where they lit pipes and smoked in silence. + +In point of fact they were as vain as a brace of peacocks, and as +jealous as a domestic pet, if attention were shown by the young lady +to any but themselves. + +Cæsar, it may be observed, quickly learned to distinguish between the +habits of Phillis and those of his masters. He never now offered to +take the former into a public-house, while he ostentatiously, so to +speak, paraded his knowledge of the adjacent bars when conveying the +Twins. + +One afternoon Phillis took it into her head to carry up tea to the +Twins herself. + +Cornelius was, as usual, sound asleep in an easy-chair, his head half +resting upon one hand, and his pale cheek lit up with a sweet and +childlike smile--he was dreaming of vintage wines. He looked sweetly +poetical, and it was a thousand pities that his nose was so red. On +the table lay his blotting-pad, and on it, clean and spotless, was the +book destined to receive his epic poem. + +Phillis touched the Divine Bard lightly on the shoulder. + +He thought it was Jane; stretched, yawned, relapsed, and then awoke, +fretful, like a child of five months. + +"Give me the tea," he grumbled. "Too sweet again, I dare say, like +yesterday." + +"No sugar at all in it, Mr. Cornelius." + +He sprang into consciousness at the voice. + +"My dear Miss Fleming! Is it really you? You have condescended to +visit the Workshop, and you find the Laborer asleep. I feel like a +sentinel found slumbering at his post. Pray do not think--it is an +accident quite novel to me--the exhaustion of continuous effort, I +suppose." + +She looked about the room. + +"I see books; I see a table; I see a blotting-pad: and----" She +actually, to the Poet's horror, turned over the leaves of the stitched +book, with Humphrey's ornamental title-page. "Not a word written. +Where is your work, Mr. Cornelius?" + +"I work at Poesy. That book, Miss Fleming, is for the reception of my +great epic when it is completed. _Non omnis moriar._ There will be +found in that blank book the structure of a lifetime. I shall live by +a single work, like Homer." + +"What is it all about?" asked Phillis. She set the tea on the table +and sat down, looking up at the Poet, who rose from his easy chair and +made answer, walking up and down the room: + +"It is called the _Upheaving of Ælfred_. In the darkest moments of +Ælfred's life, while he is hiding amid the Somersetshire morasses, +comes the Spirit of his Career, and guides him in a vision, step by +step, to his crowning triumphs. Episodes are introduced. That of the +swineherd and the milkmaid is a delicate pastoral, which I hope will +stand side by side with the Daphnis and Chloe. When it is finished, +would you like me to read you a few cantos?" + +"No thank you very much," said Phillis. "I think I know all that I +want to know about Alfred. Disguised as a neatherd, he took refuge in +Athelney, where one day, being set to bake some cakes by the woman of +the cottage, he became so absorbed in his own meditations that---- I +never thought it a very interesting story." + +"The loves of the swineherd and the milkmaid----" the Poet began. + +"Yes," Phillis interrupted, unfeelingly. "But I hardly think I care +much for swineherds. And if I had been Alfred I should have liked the +stupid story about the cakes forgotten. Can't you write me some words +for music, Mr. Cornelius? Do, and I will sing them to something or +other. Or write some verses on subjects that people care to hear +about, as Wordsworth did. My guardian used to read Wordsworth to me." + +"Wordsworth could not write a real epic," said Cornelius. + +"Could he not? Perhaps he preferred writing other things. Now I must +carry Mr. Humphrey his tea. Good-by, Mr. Cornelius; and do not go to +sleep again." + +Humphrey, too, was asleep on his sofa. Raffaelle himself could not +have seemed a more ideal painter. The very lights of the afternoon +harmonised with the purple hue of his velvet coat, the soft brown +silkiness of his beard, and his high pale forehead. Like his brother, +Humphrey spoiled the artistic effect by that unlucky redness of the +nose. + +The same awakening was performed. + +"I have just found your brother," said Phillis, "at work on Poetry." + +"Noble fellow, Cornelius!" murmured the Artist. "Always at it. Always +with nose to the grindstone. He will overdo it some day." + +"I hope not," said Phillis, with a gleam in her eye. "I sincerely hope +not. Perhaps he is stronger than he looks. And what are you doing, Mr. +Humphrey?" + +"You found me asleep. The bow stretched too long must snap or be +unbent." + +"Yes," said Phillis; "you were exhausted with work." + +"My great picture--no, it is not on the canvas," for Phillis was +looking at the bare easel. + +"Where is it, then? Do show it to me." + +"When the groups are complete I will let you criticise them. It may be +that I shall learn something from an artless and unconventional nature +like your own." + +"Thank you," said Phillis. "That is a compliment, I am sure. What is +the subject of the picture?" + +"It is the 'Birth of the Renaissance.' An allegorical picture. There +will be two hundred and twenty-three figures in the composition." + +"The 'Birth of the Renaissance,'" Phillis mused. "I think I know all +about that. 'On the taking of Constantinople in the year 1433, the +dispersed Greeks made their way to the kingdoms of the West, carrying +with them Byzantine learning and culture. Italy became the chosen home +of these exiles. The almost simultaneous invention of printing, +coupled with an outburst of genius in painting and poetry, and a +new-born thirst for classical knowledge, made up what is known by the +name of the Renaissance.' That is what my guardian told me one night. +I think that I do not want to see any picture on that subject. Sit +down now and draw me a girl's face." + +He shook his head. + +"Art cannot be forced," he replied. + +"Mr. Humphrey,"--her eyes began to twinkle,--"when you have time--I +should not like to force your Art, but when you have time--paint me a +little group: yourself, Mr. Cornelius, and Cæsar, in the morning walk. +You may choose for the moment of illustration either your going into +or coming out of the Carnarvon Arms; when you intend to have or when +you have had your little whack." + +She laughed and ran away. + +Humphrey sat upright, and gazed at the door through which she fled. +Then he looked round helplessly for his brother, who was not there. + +"Little whack!" he murmured. "Where did she learn the phrase? And how +does she know that--Cæsar could not have told her." + +He was very sad all the evening, and opened his heart to his brother +when they sought the Studio at nine, an hour earlier than usual. + +"I wish she had not come," he said; "she makes unpleasant remarks." + +"She does; she laughed at my epic to-day." The Poet, who sat in a +dressing-gown, drew the cord tighter round his waist, and tossed up +his head with a gesture of indignation. + +"And she laughed at my picture." + +"She is dangerous, Humphrey." + +"She watches people when they go for a morning walk, Cornelius, and +makes allusion to the Carnarvon Arms and to afternoon naps." + +"If, Humphrey, we have once or twice been obliged to go to the +Carnarvon Arms----" + +"Or have been surprised into an afternoon nap, Cornelius----" + +"That is no reason why we should be ashamed to have the subjects +mentioned. I should hope that this young lady would not speak of +Us--of You, brother Humphrey, and of Myself--save with reverence." + +"She has no reverence, brother Cornelius." + +"Jane certainly tells me," said the Poet, "that a short time ago she +brought Mr. Ronald Dunquerque, then a complete stranger, to my room, +when I happened by the rarest accident to be asleep, and showed me to +him." + +"If one could hope that she was actuated only by respect! But no, I +hardly dare to think that. Then, I suppose, she brought her visitor to +the Studio." + +"Brother Humphrey, we always do the same thing at the same time." + +"_Mutatis mutandis_, my dear Cornelius. I design, you write; I group, +you clothe your conceptions in undying words. Perhaps we both shall +live. It was on the same day that she drew the sketch of me asleep." +Humphrey's mind was still running on the want of respect. "Here it +is." + +"_Forsitan hoc nomen nostrum miscebitur illis_," resumed the Poet, +looking at the sketch. "The child has a wonderful gift at catching a +likeness. If it were not for the annoyance one might feel pleased. The +girl is young and pretty. If our years are double what they should be, +our hearts are half our years." + +"They are. We cannot be angry with her." + +"Impossible." + +"Dear little Phillis!"--she was a good inch taller than either of the +Twins, who, indeed, were exactly the same height, and it was five feet +four--"she is charming in spite, perhaps on account, of her faults. +Her property is in the Funds, you said Cornelius?" + +"Three-per-cents. Fifty thousand pounds--fifteen hundred a year; which +is about half what Joseph pays income tax upon. A pleasant income, +brother Humphrey." + +"Yes, I dare say." Humphrey tossed the question of money aside. "You +and I, Cornelius, are among the few who care nothing about +three-per-cents. What is money to us? what have we to do with incomes? +Art, glorious Art, brother, is our mistress. She pays us, not in +sordid gold, but in smiles, in gleams of a haven not to be reached by +the common herd, in skies of a radiance visible only to the votary's +eye." + +Cornelius sighed response. It was thus that the brothers kept up the +sacred flame of artistic enthusiasm. Pity that they were compelled to +spend their working hours in subjection to sleep, instead of Art. Our +actions and our principles are so often at variance that their case is +not uncommon. + +Then they had their first split soda; then they lit their pipes; for +it was ten o'clock. Phillis was gone to bed; Joseph was in his own +room; the fire was bright and the hearth clean. The Twins sat at +opposite sides, with the "materials" on a chess-table between them, +and prepared to make the usual night of it. + +"Cornelius," said Humphrey, "Joseph is greatly changed since she +came." + +The Poet sat up and leaned forward, with a nod signifying concurrence. + +"He is, Humphrey; now you mention it, he is. And you think----" + +"I am afraid, Cornelius, that Joseph, a most thoughtful man in +general, and quite awake to the responsibilities of his position----" + +"It is not every younger son, brother Humphrey, who has thought of +changing his condition in life." + +Cornelius turned pale. + +"He has her to breakfast with him; she walks to the office with him; +she makes him talk at dinner; Joseph never used to talk with us. He +sits in the drawing-room after dinner. He used to go straight to his +own room." + +"This is grave," said the Poet. "You must not, my dear Humphrey, have +the gorgeous colouring and noble execution of your groups spoiled by +the sordid cares of life. If Joseph marries, you and I would be thrown +upon the streets, so to speak. What is two hundred a year?" + +"Nor must you, my dear brother, have the delicate fancies of your +brain shaken up and clouded by mean and petty anxieties." + +"Humphrey," said the Poet, "come to me in half an hour in the +Workshop. This is a time for action." + +It was only half-past ten, and the night was but just begun. He +buttoned his dressing-gown across his chest, tightened the cord, and +strode solemnly out of the room. The Painter heard his foot descend +the stairs. + +"Excellent Cornelius," he murmured, lighting his second pipe; "he +lives but for others." + +Joseph was sitting as usual before a pile of papers. It was quite true +that Phillis was brightening up the life of this hard-working lawyer. +His early breakfast was a time of pleasure; his walk to the office was +not a solitary one; he looked forward to dinner; and he found the +evenings tolerable. Somehow, Joseph Jagenal had never known any of the +little _agrèmens_ of life. From bed to desk, from desk to bed, save +when a dinner-party became a necessity, had been his life from the day +his articles were signed. + +"You, Cornelius!" He looked up from his work, and laid down his pen. +"This is unexpected." + +"I am glad to find you, as usual, at work, Joseph. We are a +hard-working family. You with law-books; poor Humphrey, and I with---- +But never mind." + +He sighed and sat down. + +"Why poor Humphrey?" + +"Joseph, we were happy before this young lady came." + +"What has Phillis done? Why, we were then old fogies, with our +bachelor ways; and she has roused us up a little. And again, why poor +Humphrey?" + +"We were settled down in a quiet stream of labour, thinking that there +would be no change. I see a great change coming over us now." + +"What change?" + +"Joseph, if it were not for Humphrey I should rejoice. I should say, +'Take her; be happy in your own way.' For me, I only sing of love. I +might perhaps sing as well in a garret and on a crust of bread, +therefore it matters nothing. It is for Humphrey that I feel. How can +that delicately-organised creature, to whom warmth, comfort and ease +are as necessary as sunshine to the flower, face the outer world? For +his sake, I ask you, Joseph, to reconsider your project, and pause +before you commit yourself." + +Joseph was accustomed to this kind of estimate which one Twin +invariably made of the other, but the reason for making it staggered +him. He actually blushed. Being forty years of age, a bachelor, and a +lawyer--on all these grounds presumably acquainted with the world and +with the sex--he blushed on being accused of nothing more than a mere +tendency in the direction of marriage. + +"This is the strangest whim!" he said. "Why, Cornelius, I am as likely +to marry Phillis Fleming as I am to send Humphrey into the cold. +Dismiss the thought at once, and let the matter be mentioned no more. +Good-night, Cornelius." + +He turned to his papers again with the look of one who wishes to be +alone. These Twins were a great pride to him, but he could not help +sometimes feeling the slightest possible annoyance that they were not +as other men. Still they were his charge, and in their future glory +his own name would play an honourable part. + +"Good-night, Cornelius. It is good of you to think of Humphrey first. +I shall not marry--either the child Phillis Fleming or any other +woman." + +"Good-night, my dear Joseph. You have relieved my mind of a great +anxiety. Good-night." + +Five minutes afterwards the door opened again. + +Joseph looked around impatiently. + +This time it was Humphrey. The light shone picturesquely on his great +brown beard, so carefully trimmed and brushed; on the velvet jacket, +in the pockets of which were his hands; and on his soft, large, limpid +eyes, so full of unutterable artistic perception, such lustrous +passion for colour and for form. + +"Well, Humphrey!" Joseph exclaimed, with more sharpness than he was +wont to display to his brothers. "Are you come here on the same wise +errand as Cornelius?" + +"Has Cornelius been with you?" asked the Painter artlessly. "What did +Cornelius come to you for? Poor fellow! he is not ill, I trust, I +thought he took very little dinner to-day." + +"Tut, tut! Don't you know why he came here?" + +"Certainly not, brother Joseph." This was of course strictly true, +because Cornelius had not told him. Guesses are not evidence. "And it +hardly matters, does it?" he asked, with a sweet smile. "For myself, I +come because I have a thing to say." + +"Well? Come, Humphrey, don't beat about the bush." + +"It is about Miss--Fleming." + +"Ah!" + +"You guess already what I have to say, my dear Joseph. It is this: I +have watched the birth and growth of your passion for this young lady. +In some respects I am not surprised. She is certainly piquante as well +as pretty. But, my dear brother Joseph, there is Cornelius." + +Joseph beat the tattoo on his chair. + +"Humphrey," he groaned, "I know all Cornelius's virtues." + +"But not the fragile nature of his beautifully subtle brain. That, +Joseph, I alone know. I tremble to think what would become of +that--that _deliciæ musurum_, were he to be deprived of the little +luxuries which are to him necessities. A poet's brain, Joseph, is not +a thing to be lightly dealt with." + +Joseph was touched at this appeal. + +"You are really, Humphrey, the most tender-hearted pair of creatures I +ever saw. Would that all the world were like you! Take my assurance, +if that will comfort you, that I have no thought whatever of marrying +Phillis Fleming." + +"Joseph,"--Humphrey grasped his hand,--"this is, indeed, a sacrifice." + +"Not at all," returned Joseph sharply. "Sacrifice? Nonsense. And +please remember, Humphrey, that I am acting as the young lady's +guardian; that she is an heiress; that she is intrusted to me; and +that it would be an unworthy breach of trust if I were even to think +of such a thing. Besides which, I have a letter from Mr. Lawrence +Colquhoun, who is coming home immediately. It is not at all likely +that the young lady will remain longer under my charge. Good-night, +Humphrey." + +"I had a thing to say to Joseph," said Humphrey, going up to the +Workshop, "and I said it." + +"I too had a thing to say," said the Poet, "and I said it." + +"Cornelius, you are the most unselfish creature in the world." + +"Humphrey, you are--I have always maintained it--too thoughtful, much +too thoughtful, for others. Joseph will not marry." + +"I know it; and my mind is relieved. Brother, shall we split another +soda? It is only eleven." + + +Joseph took up his paper. He neither smoked nor drank brandy-and-soda, +finding in his work occupation which left him no time for either. +To-night, however, he could not bring his mind to bear upon the words +before him. + +He to marry? And to marry Phillis? The thought was new and startling. +He put it from him; but it came back. And why not? he asked himself. +Why should not he, as well as the rest of mankind, have his share of +love and beauty? To be sure, it would be a breach of confidence as he +told Humphrey. But Colquhoun was coming; he was a young man--his own +age--only forty; he would not care to have a girl to look after; he +would--again he thought behind him. + +But all night long Joseph Jagenal dreamed a strange dream, in which +soft voices whispered things in his ears, and he thrilled in his sleep +at the rustle of a woman's dress. He could not see her face,--dreams +are always so absurdly imperfect--but he recognised her figure, and it +was that of Phillis Fleming. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +"She never yet was foolish that was fair." + + +The days sped on; but each day, as it vanished, made Phillis's heart +sadder, because it brought her guardian nearer, and the second great +change in her life, she thought, was inevitable. Think of a girl, +brought up a cloistered nun, finding her liberty for a few short +weeks, and then ordered back to her whitewashed cell. Phillis's +feelings as regards Lawrence Colquhoun's return were coloured by this +fear. It seemed as if, argument and probability notwithstanding, she +might be suddenly and peremptorily carried back to prison, without the +consolations of a maid, because Antoinette, as we know, would refuse +to accompany her, or the kindly society of the poor old Abraham Dyson, +now lying in a synonymous bosom. + +A short three weeks since her departure from Highgate; a short six +weeks since Mr. Dyson's death; and the world was all so different. She +looked back on herself, with her old ideas, contemptuously. "Poor +Phillis!" she thought, "she knew so little." And as happens to every +one of us, in every successive stage of life, she seemed to herself +now to know everything. Life without the sublime conceit of being +uplifted, by reason of superior inward light and greater outward +experience, above other men, would be but a poor thing. Phillis +thought she had the Key to Universal Knowledge, and that she was on +the high-road to make that part of her life which should begin in two +years' time easy, happy, and clear of pitfalls. From the Archbishop of +Canterbury to Joe the crossing-sweeper, we all think in exactly the +same way. And when the ages bring experience, and experience does not +blot out memory, we recall our old selves with a kind of shame--wonder +that we did not drop into the snare, and perish miserably; and +presently fall to thanking God that we are rid of a Fool. + +A fortnight. Phillis counted the days, and drew a historical record of +every one. Jack came three times: once after Mrs. Cassilis's dinner; +once when he took her to the Tower of London; and once--I have been +obliged to omit this third visit--when he sat for his portrait, and +Phillis drew him full length, leaning against the mantelshelf, with +his hands in his pockets--not a graceful attitude, but an easy one, +and new to Phillis, who thought it characteristic. She caught Jack's +cheerful spirit too, and fixed it by a touch in the gleam of his eye. +Mrs. Cassilis came four times, and on each occasion took the girl for +a drive, bought something for her, and sent the bill to Joseph +Jagenal. On each occasion, also, she asked particularly for Lawrence +Colquhoun. There were the little events with the Twins which we have +recorded; and there were walks with Cæsar about the square. Once +Joseph Jagenal took her to a picture-gallery, where she wanted to stay +and copy everything; it was her first introduction to the higher Art, +and she was half delighted, half confused. If Art critics were not +such humbugs, and did not pretend to feel what they do not, they might +help the world to a better understanding of the glories of painters. +As it is, they are the only people, except preachers, to whom unreal +gush is allowed by gods and men. After all, as no Art critic of the +modern unintelligible gush-and-conceit school can paint or draw, +perhaps if they were not to gush and pile up Alpine heaps of words +they would be found out for shallow-bags. The ideal critic in Art is +the great Master who sits above the fear of rivalry or the imputation +of envy; in Literature it is the great writer from whom praise is +honoured and dispraise the admonition of a teacher; in the Drama, a +man who himself has moved the House with his words, and can afford to +look on a new rising playwright with kindliness. + +Phillis in the Art Gallery was the next best critic to the calm and +impartial Master. She was herself artist enough to understand the +difficulties of art; she had that intense and real feeling for form +and colour which Humphrey Jagenal affected; and her taste in Art was +good enough to overmaster her sympathy with the subject. Some people +are ready to weep at a tragical subject, however coarse the daub, just +as they weep at the fustian of an Adelphi melodrama; Phillis was ready +to weep when the treatment and the subject together were worthy of her +tears. It seems as if she must have had her nature chilled; but it is +not so. + +Time, which ought to be represented as a locomotive engine, moved on, +and brought Lawrence Colquhoun at length to London. He went first to +Joseph Jagenal's office, and heard that his ward was in safe-keeping +with that very safe solicitor. + +"It was difficult," Joseph explained, "to know what to do. After the +funeral of Mr. Dyson she was left alone in the place, with no more +responsible person than a house-keeper. So, as soon as the arrangement +could be made, I brought her to my own house. Three old bachelors +might safely, I thought, be trusted with the protection of a young +lady." + +"I am much obliged to you," said Colquhoun. "You have removed a great +weight off my mind. What sort of a girl is she?" + +Joseph began to describe her. As he proceeded he warmed with his +subject, and delineated a young lady of such passing charms of person +and mind that Colquhoun was terrified. + +"My dear Jagenal, if you were not such a steady old file I should +think you were in love with her." + +"My love days are over," said the man of conveyances. "That is, I +never had any. But you will find Phillis Fleming everything that you +can desire. Except, of course," he added, "in respect to her +education. It certainly _is_ awkward that she does not know how +to read." + +"Not know how to read?" + + +"And so, you see," said the lawyer, completing the story we know +already, "Mr. Dyson's property will go into Chancery, because Phillis +Fleming has never learnt to read, and because we cannot find that +chapter on the Coping-stone." + +"Hang the Coping-stone!" ejaculated Colquhoun. "I think I will go and +see her at once. Will you let me dine with you to-night? And will you +add to my obligations by letting her stay on with you till I can +arrange something for her?" + +"What do you think of doing!" + +"I hardly know. I thought on the voyage, that I would do something in +the very-superior-lady-companion way for her. To tell the truth, I +thought it was a considerable bore--the whole thing. But she seems +very different from what I expected, and perhaps I could ask my +cousin, Mrs. L'Estrange, to take her into her own house for a time. +Poor old Dyson! It is twelve years ago since I saw him last, soon +after he took over the child. I remember her then, a solemn little +thing, with big eyes, who behaved prettily. She held up her mouth to +be kissed when she went to bed, but I suppose she won't do that now." + +"You can hardly expect it, I think," said Joseph. + +"Abraham Dyson talked all the evening about his grand principles of +Female education. I was not interested, except that I felt sorry for +the poor child who was to be an experiment. Perhaps I ought to have +interfered as one of her trustees. I left the whole thing to him, you +see, and did not even inquire after her welfare." + +"You two were, by some curious error of judgment, as I take it, left +discretionary trustees. As he is dead, you have now the care of Miss +Fleming's fifty thousand pounds. Mr. Dyson left it in the funds, where +he found it. As your legal adviser, Mr. Colquhoun, I strongly +recommend you to do the same. She will be entitled to the control and +management of it on coming of age, but it is to be settled on herself +when she marries. There is no stipulation as to trustees' consent. So +that you only have the responsibility of the young lady and her +fortune for two years." + +It was twelve o'clock in the day. Colquhoun left the office, and made +his way in the direction of Carnarvon Square. + +As he ascended the steps of Number Fifteen, the door opened and two +young men appeared. One was dressed in a short frock, with a flower in +his buttonhole: the other had on a velvet coat, and also had a flower; +one was shaven; the other wore a long and silky beard. Both had pale +faces and red noses. As they looked at the stranger and passed him +down the steps, Colquhoun saw that they were not so young and +beautiful as they seemed to be: there were crowsfeet round the eyes, +and their step had lost a little of its youthful buoyancy. He wondered +who they were, and sent in his card to Miss Fleming. + +He was come, then, this new guardian. Phillis could not read the card, +but Jane, the maid, told her his name. + +He was come; and the second revolution was about to begin. + +Instinctively Phillis's first thought was that there would be no more +walks with Jack Dunquerque. Why she felt so it would be hard to +explain, but she did. + +She stood up to welcome him. + +She saw a handsome young-looking man, with blue eyes, clear red and +white complexion, regular features, a brown beard, and a curious look +of laziness in his eyes. They were eyes which showed a repressed power +of animation. They lit up at sight of his ward, but not much. + +He saw a girl of nineteen, tall, slight, shapely; a girl of fine +physique; a girl whose eyes, like her hair, were brown; the former +were large and full, but not with the fulness of short-sight; the +latter was abundant, and was tossed up in the simplest fashion, which +is also the most graceful. Lawrence the lazy felt his pulse quicken a +little as this fair creature advanced, with perfect grace and +self-possession, to greet him. He noticed that her dress was perfect, +that her hands were small and delicate, and that her head was shaped, +save for the forehead, which was low and broad, like that of some +Greek statue. The Greeks knew the perfect shape of the head, but they +made the forehead too narrow. If you think of it, you will find that +the Venus of Milo would have been more divine still had her brows been +but a little broader. + +"My ward?" he said. "Let us make acquaintance, and try to like each +other. I am your new guardian." + +Phillis looked at him frankly and curiously, letting her hand rest in +his. + +"When I saw you last--it was twelve years ago--you were a little maid +of seven. Do you remember?" + +"I think I do; but I am not quite sure. Are you really my guardian?" + +"I am indeed. Do I not look like one? To be sure, it is my first +appearance in the character." + +She shook her head. + +"Mr. Dyson was so old," she said, "that I suppose I grew to think all +guardians old men." + +"I am only getting old," he sighed. "It is not nice to feel yourself +going to get old. Wait twenty years, and you will begin to feel the +same perhaps. But though I am thirty years younger than Mr. Dyson, I +will try to treat you exactly as he did." + +Phillis's face fell, and she drew away her hand sharply. + +"Oh!" she cried. "But I am afraid that will not do any more." + +"Why, Phillis--I may call you Phillis since I am your guardian, may I +not?--did he treat you badly? Why did you not write to me?" + +"I did not write, Mr. Colquhoun--if you call me Phillis, I ought to +call you Lawrence, ought I not, because you are not old?--I did not +write, because dear old Mr. Dyson treated me very kindly, and because +you were away and never came to see me, and because I--I never learned +to write." + +By this time Phillis had learned to feel a little shame at not being +able to write. + +"Besides," she went on, "he was a dear old man, and I loved him. But +you see, Lawrence, he had his views--Jagenal calls them crotchets--and +he never let me go outside the house. Now I am free I do not like to +think of being a prisoner again. If you try to lock me up, I am afraid +I shall break the bars and run away." + +"You shall not be a prisoner, Phillis. That is quite certain. We shall +find something better than that for you. But it cannot be very lively, +in this big house, all by yourself." + +"Not very lively; but I am quite happy here." + +"Most young ladies read novels to pass away the time." + +"I know, poor things." Phillis looked with unutterable sympathy. "Mr. +Dyson used to say that the sympathies which could not be quickened by +history were so dull that fiction was thrown away upon them." + +"Did you never--I mean, did he never read you novels?" + +She shook her head. + +"He said that my imagination was quite powerful enough to be a good +servant, and he did not wish it to become my master. And then there +was something else, about wanting the experience of life necessary to +appreciate fiction." + +"Abraham Dyson was a wise man, Phillis. But what do you do all day?" + +"I draw; I talk to my maid, Antoinette; I give the Twins their +breakfast----" + +"Those were the Twins--Mr. Jagenal's elder brothers--whom I met on the +steps, I suppose? I have heard of them. _Après_, Phillis?" + +"I play and sing to myself; I go out for a walk in the garden of the +square; I go to Mr. Jagenal's office, and walk home with him; and I +look after my wardrobe. Then I sit and think of what I have seen and +heard--put it all away in my memory, or I repeat to my self over again +some of the poetry which I learned at Highgate." + +"And you know no young ladies?" + +"No; I wish I did. I am curious to talk to young ladies--quite young +ladies, you know, of my own age. I want to compare myself with them, +and find out my faults. You will tell me my faults, Lawrence, will +you?" + +"I don't quite think I can promise that, Phillis. You see, you might +retaliate; and if you once begin telling me my faults, there would be +no end." + +"Oh, I am sorry!" Phillis looked curiously at her guardian for some +outward sign or token of the old Adam. But she saw none. "Perhaps I +shall find them out some time, and then I will tell you." + +"Heaven forbid!" he said, laughing. "Now, Phillis, I have been asked +to dine here, and I am going to be at your service all day. It is only +one o'clock. What shall we do, and where shall we go?" + +"Anywhere," she replied, "anywhere. Take me into the crowded streets, +and let me look at the people and the shops. I like that best of +anything. But stay and have luncheon here first." + +They had luncheon. Colquhoun confessed to himself that this was a +young lady calculated to do him the greatest credit. She acted hostess +with a certain dignity which sat curiously on so young a girl, and +which she had learned from presiding at many a luncheon in Mr. Dyson's +old age among his old friends, when her guardian had become too infirm +to take the head of his own table. There was, it is true, something +wanting. Colquhoun's practised eye detected that at once. Phillis was +easy, graceful, and natural. But she had not--the man of the world +noticed what Jack Dunquerque failed to observe--she had not the +unmistakable stamp of social tone which can only come by practice and +time. The elements, however, were there before him; his ward was a +diamond which wanted but a little polish to make her a gem of the +first water. + +After luncheon they talked again; this time with a little more +freedom. Colquhoun told her all he knew of the father who was but a +dim and distant memory to her. "You have his eyes," he said, "and you +have his mouth. I should know you for his daughter." He told her how +fond this straight rider, this Nimrod of the hunting-field, had been +of his little Phillis! how one evening after mess he told Colquhoun +that he had made a will, and appointed him, Lawrence, with Abraham +Dyson, the trustees of his little girl. + +"I have been a poor trustee, Phillis," Lawrence concluded. "But I was +certain you were in good hands, and I let things alone. Now that I +have to act in earnest, you must regard me as your friend and +adviser." + +They had such a long talk that it was past four when they went out for +their walk. Phillis was thoughtful and serious, thinking of the +father, whom she lost so early. Somehow she had forgotten, at +Highgate, that she once had a father. And the word mother had no +meaning for her. + +Outside the house Lawrence looked at his companion critically. + +"Am I poorly dressed?" she asked, with a smile, because she knew that +she was perfectly dressed. + +At all events, Lawrence thought he would have no occasion to be +ashamed of his companion. + +"Let me look again, Phillis. I should like to give you a little better +brooch than the one you have put on." + +"My poor old brooch! I cannot give up my old friend, Lawrence." + +She dropped quite easily into his Christian name, and hesitated no +more over it than she did with Jack Dunquerque. + +He took her into a jeweler's shop and bought her a few trinkets. + +"There, Phillis, you can add those to your jewel-box." + +"I have no jewels." + +"No jewels! Where are your mother's?" + +"I believe they are all in the Bank, locked up. Perhaps they are with +my money." + +Phillis's idea of her fifty thousand pounds was that the money was all +in sovereigns, packed away in a box and put into a bank. + +"Well, I think you ought to have your jewels out, at any rate. Did Mr. +Dyson give you any money to spend?" + +"No; and if he had I could not spend it, because I never went outside +the house. Lawrence, give me some money, and let me buy something all +by myself." + +He bought her a purse, and filled it with two or three sovereigns and +a handful of silver. + +"Now you are rich, Phillis. What will you buy?" + +"Pictures, I think." + +In all this great exhibition of glorious and beautiful objects there +was only one thing which Phillis wished to buy--pictures. + +"Well, let us buy some photographs." + +They were walking down Oxford Street, and presently they came to a +photograph shop. Proud of her newly-acquired wealth, Phillis selected +about twenty of the largest and most expensive. Colquhoun observed +that her taste was good, and that she chose the best subjects. When +she had all that she liked, together with one or two which she bought +for Jack, with a secret joy surpassing that of buying for herself, she +opened her purse and began to wonder how she was to pay. + +"Do you think your slender purse will buy all these views?" Colquhoun +asked. "Put it up, Phillis, and keep it for another time. Let me give +you these photographs." + +"But you said I should buy something." Her words and action were so +childish that Lawrence felt a sort of pity for her. Not to know how to +spend money seemed to lazy Lawrence, who had done nothing else all his +life, a state of mind really deplorable. It would mean in his own case +absolute deprivation of the power of procuring pleasure, either for +himself or for any one else. + +"Poor little nun! Not to know even the value of money." + +"But I do. A sovereign is twenty shillings, and a shilling is twelve +pence." + +"That is certainly true. Now you shall know the value of money. There +is a beggar. He is going to tell us that he is hungry; he will +probably add that he has a wife and twelve children, all under the age +of three, in his humble home, and that none of them have tasted food +for a week. What will you give him?" + +Phillis paused. How should she relieve so much distress? By this time +they were close to the beggar. He was a picturesque rogue in rags and +tatters and bare feet. Though it was a warm day he shivered. In his +hand he held a single box of lights. But the fellow was young, well +fed, and lusty. Lawrence Colquhoun halted on the pavement, and looked +at him attentively. + +"This man," he explained to Phillis, "can get for a penny a small +loaf; twopence will buy him a glass of ale; sixpence a dinner; for ten +shillings he could get a suit of working clothes--which he does not +want because he has no intention of doing any work at all; a sovereign +would lodge and feed him for a fortnight, if he did not drink." + +"I should give him a sovereign," said Phillis. "Then he would be happy +for a week." + +"Bless your ladyship," murmured the beggar. "I would get work, Gawd +knows, if I could." + +"I remember this fellow," said Colquhoun, "for six years. He is a +sturdy rogue. Best give nothing to him at all. Come on Phillis. We +must look for a more promising subject." + +"Poor fellow!" said Phillis, closing her purse. + +They passed on, and the beggar-man cursed audibly. I believe it is Mr. +Tupper, in his _Proverbial Philosophy_, who explains that what a +beggar most wants, to make him feel happier, is sympathy. Now that was +just what Phillis gave, and the beggar-man only swore. + +Colquhoun laughed. + +"You may keep your pity, Phillis, for some one who deserves it better. +Now let us take a cab and go to the Park. It is four years since I saw +the Park." + +It was five o'clock. The Park was fuller than when he saw it last. It +grows more crowded year after year, as the upward pressure of an +enriched multitude makes itself felt more and more. There was the +usual throng about the gates, of those who come to look for great +people, and like to tell whom they recognised, and who were pointed +out to them. There were the pedestrians on either side the road; +civilians after office hours; bankers and brokers from the City; men +up from Aldershot; busy men hastening home; loungers leaning on the +rails; curious colonials gazing at the carriages; Frenchmen trying to +think that Hyde Park cannot compare with the Bois de Boulogne; Germans +mindful of their mighty army, their great sprawling Berlin, the gap of +a century between English prosperity and Teutonic militarism, and as +envious as philosophy permits; Americans owning that New York, though +its women are lovelier, has nothing to show beside the Park at five on +a spring afternoon,--all the bright familiar scene which Colquhoun +remembered so well. + +"Four years since I saw it last," he repeated to the girl. "I suppose +there will be none of the faces that I used to know." + +He was wrong. The first man who greeted him was his old Colonel. Then +he came across a man he had known in India. Then one whom he had last +seen, a war correspondent, inside Metz. He shook hands with one, +nodded to another, and made appointments with all at his club. And as +each passed, he told something about him to his ward. + +"That is my old Colonel--your father's brother officer. The most +gallant fellow who ever commanded a regiment. As soon as you are +settled, I should like to bring him to see you. That is Macnamara of +the _London Herald_--a man you can't get except in England. That +is Lord Blandish; we were together up-country in India. He wrote a +book about his adventures in Cashmere. I did not." + +It was a new world to Phillis. All these carriages? these people: this +crowd--who were they? + +"They are not like the faces I see in the streets," she said. + +"No. Those are faces of men who work for bread. These are mostly of +men who work not at all, or they work for honour. There are two or +three classes of mankind, you know, Phillis." + +"Servants and masters?" + +"Not quite. You belong to the class of those who need not work--this +class. Your father knew all these people. It is a happy world in its +way--in its way," he repeated, thinking of certain shipwrecks he had +known. "Perhaps it is better to _have_ to work. I do not know. +Phillis, who----" He was going to ask her who was bowing to her, when +he turned pale, and stopped suddenly. In the carriage which was +passing within a foot of where they stood was a lady whom he +knew--Mrs. Cassilis. He took off his hat, and Mrs. Cassilis stopped +the carriage and held out her hand. + +"How do you do, Phillis dear? Mr. Colquhoun, I am glad to see you back +again. Come as soon as you can and see me. If you can spare an +afternoon as soon as you are settled, give it to me--for auld lang +syne." + +The last words were whispered. Her lips trembled, and her hand shook +as she spoke. And Lawrence's face was hard. He took off his hat and +drew back, Phillis did not hear what he said. But Mrs. Cassilis drove +on, and left the Park immediately. + +"Mrs. Cassilis trembled when she spoke to you, Lawrence." It was +exactly what a girl of six would have said. + +"Did she, Phillis? She was cold perhaps. Or perhaps she was pleased to +see old friends again. So you know her?" + +"Yes. I have dined at her house; and I have been shopping with her. +She does not like me, I know; but she is kind. She has spoken to me +about you." + +"So you know Mrs. Cassilis?" he repeated. "She does not look as if she +had any trouble on her mind, does she? The smooth brow of a clear +conscience--Phillis, if you have had enough of the Park, I think it is +almost time to drive you home." + +Lawrence Colquhoun dined at Carnarvon Square. The Twins dined at their +club; so that they had the evening to themselves and could talk. + +"I have made up my mind," Lawrence said, "to ask my cousin to take +charge of you, Phillis. Agatha L'Estrange is the kindest creature in +the world. Will you try to like her if she consents!" + +"Yes, I will try. But suppose she does not like me?" + +"Everybody likes you, Miss Fleming," said Joseph. + +"She is sure to like you," said Lawrence. "And I will come over often +and see you; we will ride together, if you like. And if you would like +to have any masters or lessons in anything----" + +"I think I should like to learn reading," Phillis remarked +meditatively. "Mr. Abraham Dyson used to say"--she held up her finger, +and imitated the manner and fidgety dogmatism of an old man--"'Reading +breeds a restless curiosity, and engenders an irreverent spirit of +carping criticism. Any jackanapes who can read thinks himself +qualified to judge the affairs of the nation. Reading, indeed!' But I +think I _should_ like, after all, to do what everybody else can do." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + + "You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings + Follow such creatures." + + +Half a mile or so above Teddington Lock--where you are quite above the +low tides, which leave the mud-banks in long stretches and spoil the +beauty of the splendid river; where the stream flows on evenly between +its banks, only sometimes swifter and stronger, sometimes slower and +more sluggish; where you may lie and listen a whole summer's day to +the murmurous wash of the current among the lilies and the +reeds,--there stands a house, noticeable among other houses by reason +of its warm red brick, its many gables, and its wealth of creepers. +Its gardens and lawns slope gently down to the river's edge; the +willows hang over it, letting their long leaves, like maidens' +fingers, lie lightly on the cool surface of the water; there is a +boat-house, where a boat used to lie, but it is empty now--ivy covers +it over, dark ivy that contrasts with the lighter greens of the sweet +May foliage; the lilacs and laburnums are exulting in the transient +glory of foliage and flower; the wisteria hangs its purple clusters +like grapes upon the wall; there are greenhouses and vineries; there +are flower-beds bright with the glories of modern gardening; and there +are old-fashioned round plots of ground innocent of bedding-out, where +flourish the good old-fashioned flowers, stocks, pansies, boy's-love, +sweet-william, and the rest, which used to be cultivated for their +perfume and colour long before bedding-out was thought of; an old +brick wall runs down to the river's edge as a boundary on either side, +thick and warm, with peaches, plums, and apricots trained in formal +lines, and crowned with wall-flowers and long grasses, like the walls +of some old castle. Behind are rooms which open upon the lawn; round +the windows clamber the roses waiting for the suns of June; and if you +step into the house from the garden, you will enter a dainty +drawing-room, light and sunny, adorned with all manner of feminine +things, and you will find, besides, boudoirs, studies, all sorts of +pretty rooms into which the occupants of the house may retire, the +time they feel disposed to taste the joys of solitude. + +The house of a lady. Does any one ever consider what thousands of +these dainty homes exist in England? All about the country they +stand--houses where women live away their innocent and restful lives, +lapped from birth to death in an atmosphere of peace and warmth. Such +luxury as they desire is theirs, for they are wealthy enough to +purchase all they wish. Chiefly they love the luxury of Art, and fill +their portfolios with water-colours. But their passions even for Art +are apt to be languid, and they mostly desire to continue in the warm +air, perfumed like the wind that cometh from the sweet south, which +they have created round themselves. The echoes of the outer world fall +upon their ears like the breaking of the rough sea upon a shore so far +off that the wild dragging of the shingle, with its long-drawn cry, +sounds like a distant song. These ladies know nothing of the fiercer +joys of life, and nothing of its pains. The miseries of the world they +understand not, save that they have been made picturesque in novels. +They have no ambition, and take no part in any battles. They have not +spent their strength in action, and therefore feel no weariness. +Society is understood to mean a few dinners, with an occasional visit +to the wilder dissipations of town; and their most loved +entertainments are those gatherings known as garden parties. Duty +means following up in a steady but purposeless way some line of study +which will never be mastered. Good works mean subscription to +societies. Many a kind lady thinks in her heart of hearts that the +annual guinea to a missionary society will be of far more avail to her +future welfare than a life of purity and innocence. The Christian +virtues naturally find their home in such a house. They grow of their +own accord, like the daisies, the buttercups, and the field +convolvulus: Love, Joy, Peace, Gentleness, Goodness, Faith, Meekness, +Temperance, all the things against which there is no law--which of +them is not to be seen abundantly blossoming and luxuriant in the +cottages and homes of these English ladies? + +In this house by the river lived Mrs. L'Estrange. Her name was Agatha, +and everybody who knew her called her Agatha L'Estrange. When a woman +is always called by her Christian name, it is a sign that she is loved +and lovable. If a man, on the other hand, gets to be known, without +any reason for the distinction, by _his_ Christian name, it is +generally a sure sign that he is sympathetic, but blind to his own +interests. She was a widow, and childless. She had been a widow so +long, her husband had been so much older than herself, her married +life had been so short, and the current of her life so little +disturbed by it, that she had almost forgotten that she was once a +wife. She had an ample income; she lived in the way that she loved; +she gathered her friends about her; she sometimes, but at rare +intervals, revisited society; mostly she preferred her quiet life in +the country. Girls came from London to stay with her, and wondered how +Agatha managed to exist. When the season was over, leaving its regrets +and its fatigues, with the usual share of hollowness and Dead-Sea +fruit they came again, and envied her tranquil home. + +She was first cousin to Lawrence Colquhoun, whom she still, from force +of habit, regarded as a boy. He was very nearly the same age as +herself, and they had been brought up together. There was nothing +about his life that she did not know, except one thing--the reason of +his abrupt disappearance four years before. She was his confidante: as +a boy he told her all his dreams of greatness; as a young man all his +dreams of love and pleasure. She knew the soft and generous nature, +out of which great men cannot be formed, which was his. She saw the +lofty dreams die away; and she hoped for him that he would keep +something of the young ideal. He did. Lawrence Colquhoun was a man +about town; but he retained his good-nature. It is not usual among the +young gentlemen who pursue pleasure as a profession; it is not +expected of them, after a few years of idleness, gambling, and the +rest, to have any good-nature surviving, or any thought left at all, +except for themselves; therefore Lawrence Colquhoun's case was +unusual, and popularity proportional. He tired of garrison life; he +sold out; he remained about town; the years ran on, and he neither +married nor talked of marrying. But he used to go down to his cousin +once a week, and talk to her about his idle life. There came a day +when he left off coming, or if he came at all, his manner to his +cousin was altered. He became gloomy; and one day she heard, in a +brief and unsatisfactory letter, that he was going to travel for a +lengthened period. The letter came from Scotland, and was as brief as +a dinner invitation. + +He went; he was away for four years; during that time he never once +wrote to her; she heard nothing of him or from him. + +One day, without any notice, he appeared again. + +He was very much the same as when he left England--men alter little +between thirty and fifty--only a little graver; his beard a little +touched with the grey hairs which belong to the eighth lustrum; his +eyes a little crows-footed; his form a little filled out. The gloom +was gone, however; he was again the kindly Lawrence, the genial +Lawrence, Lawrence the sympathetic, Lawrence the lazy. + +He walked in as if he had been away a week. Agatha heard a step upon +the gravel-walk, and knew it. Her heart beat a little--although a +woman may be past forty she may have a heart still--and her eyes +sparkled. She was sitting at work--some little useless prettiness. On +the work-table lay a novel, which she read in the intervals of +stitching; the morning was bright and sunny, with only a suspicion of +east wind, and her windows were open; flowers stood upon her table; +flowers in pots and vases stood in her windows; such flowers as bloom +in May were bright in her garden, and the glass doors of her +conservatory showed a wealth of flowers within. A house full of +flowers, and herself a flower too--call her a rose fully blown, or +call her a glory of early autumn--a handsome woman still, sweet and to +be loved, with the softness of her tranquil life in every line of her +face, and her warmth of heart in every passing expression. + +She started when she heard his step, because she recognised it. Then +she sat up and smiled to herself. She knew how her cousin would come +back. + +In fact he walked in at her open window, and held out his hand without +saying a word. Then he sat down, and took a single glance at his +cousin first and the room afterwards. + +"I have not seen you lately, Lawrence," said Agatha, as if he had been +away for a month or so. + +"No; I have been in America." + +"Really! You like America?" She waited for him to tell her what he +would. + +"Yes. I came back yesterday. You are looking well, Agatha." + +"I am very well." + +"And you have got a new picture on the wall. Where did you buy this?" + +"At Agnew's, three years ago. It was in the Exhibition. Now I think of +it, you have been away for four years, Lawrence." + +"I like it. Have you anything to tell me, Agatha?" + +"Nothing that will interest you. The house is the same. We have had +several dreadful winters, and I have been in constant fear that my +shrubs would be killed. Some of them were. My dog Pheenie is dead, and +I never intend to have another. The cat that you used to tease is +well. My aviary has increased; my horses are the same you knew four +years ago; my servants are the same; and my habits, I am thankful to +say, have not deteriorated to my knowledge, although I am four years +older." + +"And your young ladies--the traps you used to set for me when I was +four years younger, Agatha--where are they?" + +"Married, Lawrence, all of them. What a pity that you could not fix +yourself! But it is never too late to mend. At one time I feared you +would be attracted by Victoria Pengelley." + +Lawrence Colquhoun visibly changed colour, but Agatha was not looking +at him. + +"That would have been a mistake. I thought so then, and I know it now. +She is a cold and bloodless woman, Lawrence. Besides, she is married, +thank goodness. We must find you some one else." + +"My love days are over," he said, with a harsh and grating voice. "I +buried them before I went abroad." + +"You will tell me all about that some day, when you feel +communicative. Meantime, stay to dinner, and enliven me with all your +adventures. You may have some tea if you like, but I do not invite +you, because you will want to go away again directly afterwards. +Lawrence, what do you intend to do, now you are home again? Are you +going to take up the old aimless life, or shall you be serious?" + +"I think the aimless life suits me best. And it certainly is the +slowest. Don't you think, Agatha, that as we have got to get old and +presently to die, we may as well go in for making the time go slow? +That is the reason why I have never done anything." + +"I never do anything myself, except listen to what other people tell +me. But I find the days slip away all too quickly." + +"Agatha, I am in a difficulty. That is one of the reasons why I have +come to see you to day." + +"Poor Lawrence! You always are in a difficulty." + +"This time it is not my fault; but it is serious. Agatha, I have +got--a----" + +I do not know why he hesitated, but his cousin caught him up with a +little cry. + +"Not a wife, Lawrence; not a wife without telling me!" + +"No, Agatha," he flushed crimson, "not a wife. That would have been a +great deal worse. What I have got is a ward." + +"A ward?" + +"Do you remember Dick Fleming, who was killed in the hunting-field +about fifteen years ago?" + +"Yes, perfectly. He was one of my swains ever so long ago, before I +married my poor dear husband." + +Agatha had used the formula of her "poor dear husband" for more than +twenty years; so long, in fact, that it was become a mere collocation +of words, and had no longer any meaning, certainly no sadness. + +"He left a daughter, then a child of four or five. And he made me one +of that child's guardians. The other was a Mr. Dyson, who took her and +brought her up. He is dead, and the young lady, now nineteen years of +age, comes to me." + +"But, Lawrence, what on earth are you going to do with a girl of +nineteen?" + +"I don't know, Agatha. I cannot have her with me in the Albany, can +I?" + +"Not very well, I think." + +"I cannot take a small house in Chester Square, and give +evening-parties for my ward and myself, can I?" + +"Not very well, Lawrence." + +"She is staying with my lawyer, Jagenal; a capital fellow, but his +house is hardly the right place for a young lady." + +"Lawrence, what will you do? This is a very serious responsibility." + +"Very." + +"What sort of a girl is she?" + +"Phillis Fleming is what you would call, I think, a beautiful girl. +She is tall, and has a good figure. Her eyes are brown, and her hair +is brown, with lots of it. Her features are small, and not too +regular. She has got a very sweet smile, and I should say a good +temper, so long as she has her own way." + +"No, doubt," said Agatha. "Pray, go on; you seem to have studied her +appearance with a really fatherly care." + +"She has a very agreeable voice; a _naivete_ in manner that you +should like; she is clever and well informed." + +"Is she strong-minded, Lawrence?" + +"NO," said Lawrence, with emphasis, "she is not. She has excellent +ideas on the subject of her sex." + +"Always in extremes, of course, though I am not certain what." + +"She wants, so far as I can see, nothing but the society of some +amiable accomplished gentlewoman----" + +"Lawrence, you are exactly the same as you always were. You begin by +flattery. Now I know what you came here for." + +"An amiable accomplished gentlewoman, who would exercise a gradual and +steady influence upon her." + +"You want her to stay with me, Lawrence. And you are keeping something +back. Tell me instantly. You say she is beautiful. It must be +something else. Are her manners in any way unusual? Does she drop +_h's_, and eat with her knife?" + +"No, her manners are, I should say, perfect.' + +"Temper good, you say; manner perfect; appearance graceful. What can +be the reserved objection? My dear cousin, you pique my curiosity. She +is sometimes, probably insane?" + +"No, Agatha, not that I know of. It is only that her guardian brought +her up in entire seclusion from the world, and would not have her +taught to read and write." + +"How very remarkable!" + +"On the other hand, she can draw. She draws everything and everybody. +She has got a book full of drawings which she calls her diary. They +are the record of her life. She will show them to you, and tell you +all her story. You will take her for a little while, Agatha, will +you?" + +Of course she said "Yes." She had never refused Lawrence Colquhoun +anything in her life. Had he been a needy man he would have been +dangerous. But Lawrence Colquhoun wanted nothing for himself. + +"My dear Agatha, it is very good of you. You will find the most +splendid material to work upon, better than you ever had. The girl is +different from any other girl you have ever known. She talks and +thinks like a boy. She is as strong and active as a young athlete. I +believe she would outrun Atalanta; and yet I think she is a thorough +woman at heart." + +"I should not at all wonder at her being a thorough woman at heart. +Most of us are. But, Lawrence, you must not fall in love with your own +ward." + +He laughed a little uneasily. + +"I am too old for a girl of nineteen," he replied. + +"At any rate, you have excited my curiosity. Let her come, Lawrence, +as soon as you please. I want to see this paragon of girls, who is +more ignorant than a charity school girl." + +"On the contrary, Agatha, she is better informed than most girls of +her age. If she is not well read she is well told." + +"But really, Lawrence, think. She cannot read, even." + +"Not if you gave her a basketful of tracts. But that is rather a +distinction now. At least she will never want to go in for what they +call the Higher Education, will she?" + +"She must learn to read; but will she ever master Spelling?" + +"Very few people do; they only pretend. I am weak myself in spelling. +Phillis does not want to be a certificated Mistress, Agatha." + +"And Arithmetic, too." + +"Well, my cousin, of course the Rule of Three is as necessary to life +as the Use of the Globes, over which the schoolmistresses used to keep +such a coil. And it has been about as accessible to poor Phillis as an +easy seat to a tombstone cherub. But she can count and multiply and +add, and tell you how much things ought to come to; and really when +you think of it, a woman does not want much more, does she?" + +"It is the mental training, Lawrence. Think of the loss of mental +training." + +"I feel that, too," he said, with a smile of sympathy. "Think of +growing up without the discipline of Vulgar Fractions or Genteel +Decimals. One is appalled at imagining what our young ladies would be +without it. But you shall teach her what you like, Agatha." + +"I am half afraid of her, Lawrence." + +"Nonsense, my cousin; she is sweetness itself. Let me bring her +to-morrow." + +"Yes; she can have the room next to mine." Agatha sighed a little. +"Suppose we don't get on together after all. It would be such a +disappointment, and such a pain to part." + +"Get on, Agatha?--and with you? Well, all the world gets on with you. +Was there ever a girl in the world that you did not get on with?" + +"Yes, there was. I never got on with Victoria Pengelley--Mrs. +Cassilis. Shall you call upon her, Lawrence?" + +"No--yes--I don't know, Agatha," he replied, hurriedly; and went away +with scant leave-taking. He neither took any tea nor stayed to dinner. + +Then Agatha remembered. + +"Of course," she said. "How stupid of me! They used to talk about +Lawrence and Victoria. Can he think of her still? Why, the woman is as +cold as ice and as hard as steel, besides being married. A man who +would fall in love with Victoria Pengelley would be capable of falling +in love with a marble statue." + +"My cousin, Lawrence Colquhoun," she told her friends in her +letters--Agatha spent as much time letter-writing as Madame du +Deffand--"has come back from his travels. He is not at all changed, +except that he has a few grey hairs in his beard. He laughs in the +same pleasant way; has the same soft voice; thinks as little seriously +about life; and is as perfectly charming as he has always been. He has +a ward, a young lady, daughter of an old friend of mine. She is named +Phillis Fleming. I am going to have her with me for a while, and I +hope you will come and make her acquaintance, but not just yet, not +until we are used to each other. I hear nothing but good of her." + +Thus did this artful woman gloss over the drawbacks of poor Phillis's +education. Her friends were to keep away till such time as Phillis had +been drilled, inspected, reviewed, manoeuvred, and taught the social +tone. No word, you see, of the little deficiencies which time alone +could be expected to fill up. Agatha L'Estrange, in her way, was a +woman of the world. She expected, in spite of her cousin's favourable +report, to find an awkward, rather pretty, wholly unpresentable +hoyden. And she half repented that she had so easily acceded to +Lawrence Colquhoun's request. + + +It was nearly six next day when Phillis arrived. Her guardian drove +her out in a dog-cart, her maid following behind with the luggage. +This mode of conveyance being rapid, open, and especially adapted for +purposes of observation, pleased Phillis mightily; she even preferred +it to a hansom cab. She said little on the road, being too busy in the +contemplation of men and manners. Also she was yet hardly at home with +her new guardian. He was pleasant; he was thoughtful of her; but she +had not yet found out how to talk with him. Now, with Jack +Dunquerque--and then she began to think how Jack would look driving a +dog-cart, and how she should look beside him. + +Lawrence Colquhoun looked at his charge with eyes of admiration. Many +a prettier girl, he thought, might be seen in a London ballroom or in +the Park, but not one brighter or fresher. Where did it come from, +this piquant way? + +Phillis asked no more questions about Mrs. L'Estrange. Having once +made up her mind that she should rebel and return to Mr. Jagenal in +case she did not approve of Mr. Colquhoun's cousin, she rested +tranquil. To be sure she was perfectly prepared to like her, being +still in the stage of credulous curiosity in which every fresh +acquaintance seemed to possess all possible virtues. Up to the present +she had made one exception; I am sorry to say it was that of the only +woman she knew--Mrs. Cassilis. Phillis could not help feeling as if +life with Mrs. Cassilis would after a time become tedious. Rather, she +thought, life with the Twins. + +They arrived at the house by the river. Agatha was in the garden. She +looked at her visitor with a little curiosity, and welcomed her with +both hands and a kiss. Mrs. Cassilis did not kiss Phillis. In fact, +nobody ever had kissed her at all since the day when she entered +Abraham Dyson's house. Jack, she remembered, had proposed to commence +their friendship with an imitation of the early Christians, but the +proposal, somehow, came to nothing. So when Agatha drew her gently +towards herself and kissed her softly on the forehead, poor Phillis +changed colour and was confused. Agatha thought it was shyness, but +Phillis was never shy. + +"You are in good time, Lawrence. We shall have time for talk before +dinner. You may lie about in the garden, if you please, till we come +to look for you. Come, my dear, and I will show you your room." + +At Highgate Phillis's room was furnished with a massive four post +bedstead and adorned with dusky hangings. Solidity, comfort, and that +touch of gloom which our grandfathers always lent to their bedrooms, +marked the Highgate apartment. At Carnarvon Square she had the "spare +room," and it was furnished in much the same manner, only that it was +larger, and the curtains were of lighter colour. + +She saw now a small room, still with the afternoon sun upon it, with a +little iron bedstead in green and gold, and white curtains. There was +a sofa, an easy-chair, a table at one of the windows, and one in the +centre of the room; there were bookshelves; and there were pictures. + +Phillis turned her bright face with a grateful cry of surprise. + +"Oh, what a beautiful room!" + +"I am glad you like it, my dear. I hope you will be comfortable in +it." + +Phillis began to look at the pictures on the wall. + +She was critical about pictures, and these did not seem very good. + +"Do you like the pictures?" + +"This one is out of drawing," she said, standing before a +water-colour. "I like this better," moving on to the next; "but the +painting is not clear." + +Agatha remembered what she had paid for these pictures, and hoped the +fair critic was wrong. But she was not; she was right. + +And then, in her journey round the room, Phillis came to the open +window, and cried aloud with surprise and astonishment. + +"O Mrs. L'Estrange! is it--it----" she asked, in an awestruck voice, +turning grave eyes upon her hostess, as if imploring that no mistake +should be made on a matter of such importance. "Is it--really--the +Thames?" + +"Why, my dear, of course it is." + +"I have never seen a river. I have so longed to see a river, and +especially the Thames. Do you know-- + + "'Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song!' + +"And again--Oh, there are swans! + + "'With that I saw two swans of goodly hue + Come softly swimming down along the lee; + Two fairer birds I never yet did see.'" + +"I am glad you read poetry, my dear." + +"But I do not. I cannot read; I only remember. Mrs. L'Estrange, can we +get close to it, quite close to the water? I want to see it flowing." + +They went back into the garden, where Lawrence was lying in the shade, +doing nothing. Phillis looked not at the flowers or the spring +blossoms; she hurried Agatha across the lawn, and stood at the edge, +gazing at the water. + +"I should like," she murmured presently, after a silence--"I should +like to be in a boat and drift slowly down between the banks, seeing +everything as we passed, until we came to the place where all the +ships come up. Jack said he would take me to see the great ships +sailing home laden with their precious things. Perhaps he will. But, O +Mrs. L'Estrange, how sweet it is! There is the reflection of the tree; +see how the swans sail up and down; there are the water-lilies; and +look, there are the light and shade chasing each other up the river +before the wind." + +Agatha let her stay a little longer, and then led her away to show her +the flowers and hothouses. Phillis knew all about these and discoursed +learnedly. But her thoughts were with the river. + +Lawrence went away soon after dinner. It was a full moon, and the +night was warm. Agatha and Phillis went into the garden again when +Lawrence left them. It was still and silent, and as they stood upon +the walk, the girl heard the low murmurous wash of the current singing +an invitation among the grasses and reeds of the bank. + +"Let us go and look at the river again," she said. + +If it was beautiful in the day, with the evening sun upon it, it was +ten times as beautiful by night, when the shadows made great +blacknesses, and the bright moon silvered all the outlines and threw a +long way of light upon the rippling water. + +Presently they came in and went to bed. + +Agatha, half an hour later, heard Phillis's window open. The girl was +looking at the river again in the moonlight. She saw the water glimmer +in the moonlight; she heard the whisper of the waves. Her +thoughts--they were the long thoughts of a child--went up the stream, +and wondered through what meadows and by what hills the stream had +flowed; then she followed the current down, and had to picture it +among the ships before it was lost in the mighty ocean. + +As she looked there passed a boat full of people. They were probably +rough and common people, but among them was a woman, and she was +singing. Phillis wondered who they were. The woman had a sweet voice. +As they rowed by the house one of the men lit a lantern, and the light +fell upon their faces, making them clear and distinct for a moment, +and then was reflected in the black water below. Two of them were +rowing, and the boat sped swiftly on its way down the stream. Phillis +longed to be with them on the river. + +When they were gone there was silence for a space, and then the night +became suddenly musical. + +"Jug, jug, jug!" It was the nightingale; but Phillis's brain was +excited, and to her it was a song with words. "Come, come, come!" sang +the bird. "Stay with us here and rest--and rest. This is better than +the town. Here are sweetness and peace; this is the home of love and +gentleness; here you shall find the Coping-stone." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + + "But if ye saw that which no eyes can see, + The inward beauty of her lively spright + Garnished with heavenly gifts of high degree, + Much more, then, would you wonder at the sight." + + +"I like her, my dear Lawrence," Agatha wrote, a fortnight after +Phillis's arrival. "I like her not only a great deal better than I +expected, but more than any girl I have ever learned to know. She is +innocent, but then innocence is very easily lost; she is fresh, but +freshness is very often a kind of electro-plating, which rubs off and +shows the base metal beneath. Still Phillis's nature is pure gold; of +that I am quite certain; and with sincere people one always feels at +ease. + +"We were a little awkward at first, though perhaps the awkwardness was +chiefly mine, because I hardly knew what to talk about. It seemed as +if, between myself and a girl who cannot read or write, there must be +such a great gulf that there would be nothing in common. How conceited +we are over our education! Lawrence, she is quite the best-informed +girl that I know; she has a perfectly wonderful memory; repeats pages +of verse which her guardian taught her by reading it to her; talks +French very well, because she has always had a French maid; plays and +sings by ear; and draws like a Royal Academician. The curious thing, +however, is the effect which her knowledge has had upon her mind. She +knows what she has been told, and nothing more. Consequently her mind +is all light and shade, like a moonlight landscape. She wants +_atmosphere_; there is no haze about her. I did not at all understand, +until I knew Phillis, what a very important part haze plays in our +everyday life. I thought we were all governed by clear and definite +views of duty, religion, and politics. My poor Lawrence, we are all in +a fog. It is only Phillis who lives in the cloudless realms of pure +conviction. In politics she is a Tory, with distinct ideas on the +necessity of hanging all Radicals. As for her religion---- But that +does not concern you, my cousin. Or, perhaps, like most of your class, +you never think about religion at all, in which case you would not be +interested in Phillis's doctrines. + +"I took her to church on Sunday. Before the service I read her the +hymns which we were to sing, and after she had criticised the words in +a manner peculiarly her own, I read them again, and she knew those +hymns. I also told her to do exactly as I did in the matter of +uprising and downsitting. + +"One or two things I forgot, and in other one or two she made little +mistakes. It is usual, Lawrence, as you may remember, for worshippers +to pray in silence before sitting down. Phillis was looking about the +church, and therefore did not notice my performance of this duty. Also +I had forgotten to tell her that loud speech is forbidden by custom +within the walls of a church. Therefore it came upon me with a shock +when Phillis, after looking round in her quick eager way, turned to me +and said quite aloud, 'This is a curious place! Some of it is pretty, +but some is hideous.' + +"It was very true, because the church has a half-a-dozen styles, but +the speech caused a little consternation in the place. I think the +beadle would have turned us out had he recovered his presence of mind +in time. This he did not, fortunately, and the service began. + +"No one could have behaved better during prayers than Phillis. She +knelt, listening to every word. I could have wished that her intensity +of attitude had not betrayed a perfect absence of familiarity with +church customs. During the psalms she began by listening with a little +pleasure in her face. Then she looked a little bored; and presently +she whispered to me, 'Dear Agatha, I really must go out if this tune +is not changed.' Fortunately the psalms were not long. + +"She liked the hymns, and made no remark upon them, except that one of +the choir-boys was singing false, and that she should like to take him +out of the choir herself, there and then. It was quite true, and I +really feared that her sense of duty might actually impel her to take +the child by the ear and lead him solemnly out of the church. + +"During the sermon, I regret to say that she burst out laughing. You +know Phillis's laugh--a pretty rippling laugh, without any malice in +it. Oh, how rare a sweet laugh is! The curate, who was in the +pulpit--a very nice young man, and a gentleman, but not, I must own, +intellectual; and I hear he was plucked repeatedly for his +degree--stopped, puzzled and indignant, and then went on with his +discourse. I looked, I suppose, so horrified that Phillis saw she had +done wrong, and blushed. There were no more _contretemps_ in the +church. + +"'My dear Agatha,' she explained, when we came out, 'I suppose I ought +not to have laughed. But I really could not help it. Did you notice +the young gentleman in the box? He was trying to act, but he spoke the +words so badly, just as if he did not understand them. And I laughed +without thinking. I am afraid it was very rude of me.' + +"I tried to explain things to her, but it is difficult, because +sometimes you do not quite know her point of view. + +"Next day the curate called. To my vexation Phillis apologised. +Without any blushes she went straight to the point. + +"'Forgive me,' she said. 'I laughed at you yesterday in church; I am +very sorry for it.' + +"He was covered with confusion, and stammered something about the +sacred building. + +"'But I never was in a church before,' she went on. + +"'That is very dreadful!' he replied. 'Mrs. L'Estrange, do you not +think it is a very dreadful state for a young lady?' + +"Then she laughed again, but without apologising. + +"'Mr. Dyson used to say,' she explained to me, 'that everybody's +church is in his own heart. He never went to church, and he did not +consider himself in a dreadful state at all, poor dear old man.' + +"If she can fall back on an axiom of Mr. Abraham Dyson's, there is no +further argument possible. + +"The curate went away. He has been here several times since, and I am +sure that I am not the attraction. We have had one or two little +afternoons on the lawn, and it is pretty to see Phillis trying to take +an interest in this young man. She listens to his remarks, but they +fail to strike her; she answers his questions, but they seem to bore +her. In fact, he is much too feeble for her; she has no respect for +the cloth at all; and I very much fear that what is sport to her is +going to be death to him. Of course, Lawrence, you may be quite sure +that I shall not allow Phillis to be compromised by the attentions of +any young man--yet. Later on we shall ask your views. + +"Her guardian must have been a man of great culture. He has taught her +very well, and everything. She astonished the curate yesterday by +giving him a little historical essay on his favourite Laud. He +understood very little of it, but he went away sorrowful. I could read +in his face a determination to get up the whole subject, come back, +and have it out with Phillis. But she shall not be dragged into an +argument, if I can prevent it, with any young man. Nothing more easily +leads to entanglements, and we must be ambitious for our Phillis. + +"'It is a beautiful thing!' she said the other day, after I had been +talking about the theory of public worship--'a beautiful thing for the +people to come together every week and pray. And the hymns are sweet, +though I cannot understand why they keep on singing the same tune, and +that such a simple thing of a few notes.' + +"The next Sunday I had a headache, and Phillis refused to go to church +without me. She spent the day drawing on the bank of the river. + +"Mrs. Cassilis has been to call upon us. Victoria was never a great +friend of mine when she was young, and I really like her less now. She +was kind to Phillis, and proposed all sorts of hospitalities, which we +escaped for the present. I quite think that Phillis should be kept out +of the social whirl for a few months longer. + +"Victoria looked pale and anxious. She asked after you in her iciest +manner; wished to know where you were; said that you were once one of +her friends; and hoped to see you before long. She is cold by nature, +but her coldness was assumed here, because she suddenly lost it. I am +quite sure, Lawrence, that Victoria Pengelley was once touched, and by +you. There must have been something in the rumours about you two, four +years ago. Lazy Lawrence! It is a good thing for you that there was +nothing more than rumour. + +"We were talking of other things--important things, such as Phillis's +wardrobe, which wants a great many additions--when Victoria _a +propos_ of nothing, asked me if you were changed at all. I said no, +except that you were more confirmed in laziness. Then Phillis opened +her portfolio, where she keeps her diary after her own fashion, and +showed the pencil sketch she has made of your countenance. It is a +good deal better than any photograph, because it has caught your +disgraceful indolence, and you stand confessed for what you are. How +the girl contrives to put the _real_ person into her portraits, I +cannot tell. Victoria took it, and her face suddenly softened. I have +seen the look on many a woman's face. I look for it when I suspect +that one of my young friends has dropped head over ears in love; it +comes into her eyes when young Orlando enters the room, and then I +know and act accordingly. Poor Victoria! I ought not to have told you, +Lawrence, but you will forget what I said. She glanced at the portrait +and changed colour. Then she asked Phillis to give it to her. 'You can +easily make another,' she said, 'and I will keep this, as a specimen +of your skill and a likeness of an old friend.' + +"She kept it, and carried it away with her. + +"I have heard all about the Coping-stone. What a curious story it is! +Phillis talks quite gravely of the irreparable injury to the science +of Female Education involved in the loss of that precious chapter. Mr. +Jagenal is of opinion that without it the Will cannot be carried out, +in which case Mr. Cassilis will get the money. I sincerely hope he +will. I am one of those who dislike, above all things, notoriety for +women, and I should not like our Phillis's education and its results +made the subject of lawyers' wit and rhetoric in the Court of +Chancery. Do you know Mr. Gabriel Cassilis? He is said to be the +cleverest man in London, and has made an immense fortune. I hope +Victoria is happy with him. She has a child, but does not talk much +about it. + +"I have been trying to teach Phillis to read. It is a slow process, +but the poor girl is very patient. How we ever managed to 'worry +through,' as the Americans say, with such a troublesome acquirement, I +cannot understand. We spend two hours a day over the task, and are +still in words of one syllable. Needless to tell you that the +lesson-book--'First Steps in Reading'--is regarded with the most +profound contempt, and is already covered with innumerable drawings in +pencil. + +"Notes in music are easier. Phillis can already read a little, but the +difficulty here is, that if she learns the air from the notes, she +knows it once for all, and further reading is superfluous. Now, little +girls have as much difficulty in playing notes as in spelling them +out, so that they have to be perpetually practising the art of +reading. I now understand why people who teach are so immeasurably +conceited. I am already so proud of my superiority to Phillis in being +able to read, that I feel my moral nature deteriorating. At least, I +can sympathise with all school-masters, from the young man who holds +his certificated nose high in the air, to Dr. Butler of Harrow, who +sews up the pockets of his young gentlemen's trousers. + +"Are you tired of my long letter? Only a few words more. + +"I have got a music and a singing master for Phillis. They are both +delighted with her taste and musical powers. Her voice is very sweet, +though not strong. She will never be tempted to rival professional +people, and will always be sure to please when she sings. + +"I have also got an artist to give her a few lessons in the management +of her colours. He is an elderly artist, with a wife and bairns of his +own, not one of the young gentlemen who wear velvet coats and want to +smoke all day. + +"You must yourself get a horse for her, and then you can come over and +ride with her. At present she is happy in the contemplation of the +river, which exercises an extraordinary power over her imagination. +She is now, while I write, sitting in the shade, singing to herself in +solitude. Beside her is the sketch-book, but she is full of thought +and happy to be alone. Lawrence, she is a great responsibility, and it +is sad to think that the Lesson she most requires to learn is the +Lesson of distrust. She trusts everybody, and when anything is done or +said which would arouse distrust in ourselves, she only gets puzzled +and thinks of her own ignorance. Why cannot we leave her in the +Paradise of the Innocent, and never let her learn that every stranger +is a possible villain? Alas, that I must teach her this lesson; and +yet one would not leave her to find it out by painful experience! My +dear Lawrence, I once read that it was the custom in savage times to +salute the stranger with clubs and stones, because he was sure to be +an enemy. How far have we advanced in all these years? You sent +Phillis to me for teaching, but it is I who learned from her. I am a +worldly woman, cousin Lawrence, and my life is full of hollow shams. +Sometimes I think that the world would be more tolerable were all the +women as illiterate as dear Phillis. + +"Do not come to see her for a few days yet, and you will find her +changed in those few things which wanted change." + + +Sitting in solitude? Gazing on the river? Singing to herself? Phillis +was quite otherwise occupied, and much more pleasantly. + +She had been doing all these things, with much contentment of soul, +while Agatha was writing her letters. She sat under the trees upon the +grass, a little straw hat upon her head, letting the beauty of the +season fill her soul with happiness. The sunlit river rippled at her +feet; on its broad surface the white swans lazily floated! the soft +air of early summer fanned her cheek: the birds darted across the +water as if in ecstasy of joy at the return of the sun--as a matter of +fact they had their mouths wide open and were catching flies; a lark +was singing in the sky; there were a blackbird and a thrush somewhere +in the wood across the river: away up the stream there was a fat old +gentleman sitting in a punt; he held an umbrella over his head, +because the sun was hot, and he supported a fishing-rod in his other +hand. Presently he had a nibble, and in his anxiety he stood up the +better to manoeuvre his float; it was only a nibble, and he sat down +again. Unfortunately he miscalculated the position of the chair, and +sat upon space, so that he fell backwards all along the punt. Phillis +heard the bump against the bottom of the boat, and saw a pair of fat +little legs sticking up in the most comical manner; she laughed, and +resolved upon drawing the fat old gentleman's accident as soon as she +could find time. + +The afternoon was very still; the blackbird carolled in the trees, and +the "wise thrush" repeated his cheerful philosophy; the river ran with +soft whispers along the bank; and Phillis began to look before her +with eyes that saw not, and from eyelids that, in a little, would +close in sleep. + +Then something else happened. + +A boat came suddenly up the river, close to her own bank. She saw the +bows first, naturally; and then she saw the back of the man in it. +Then the boat revealed itself in full, and Phillis saw that the crew +consisted of Jack Dunquerque. Her heart gave a great leap, and she +started from the Sleepy Hollow of her thoughts into life. + +Jack Dunquerque was not an ideal oar, such as one dreams of and reads +about. He did not "grasp his sculls with the precision of a machine, +and row with a grand long sweep which made the boat spring under his +arms like a thing of life"--I quote from an author whose name I have +forgotten. Quite the contrary; Jack was rather unskilful than +otherwise; the ship in which he was embarked was one of those crank +craft consisting of a cedar lath with crossbars of iron; it was a boat +without outriggers, and he had hired it at Richmond. He was not so +straight in the back as an Oxford stroke! and he bucketed about a good +deal, but he got along. + +Just as he was nearing Phillis he fell into difficulties, in +consequence of one oar catching tight in the weeds. The effect of this +was, as may be imagined, to bring her bows on straight into the bank. +In fact, Jack ran the ship ashore, and sat with the bows high on the +grass just a few inches off Phillis's feet. Then he drew himself +upright, tried to disentangle the oar, and began to think what he +should do next. + +"I wish I hadn't come," he said aloud. + +Phillis laughed silently. + +Then she noticed the painter in the bows though she did not know it by +that name. Painters in London boats are sometimes longish ropes, for +convenience of mooring. Phillis noiselessly lifted the cord and tied +it fast round the trunk of a small elder-tree beside her. Then she sat +down again and waited. This was much better fun than watching an +elderly gentleman tumbling backwards in a punt. + +Jack, having extricated the scull and rested a little, looked at his +palms, which were blistering under the rough exercise of rowing, and +muttered something inaudible. Then he seized the oars again and began +to back out vigorously. + +The boat's bows descended a few inches, and then, the painter being +taut, moved no more. + +Phillis leaned forward, watching Jack with a look of rapturous +delight. + +"Damn the ship!" said Jack softly, after three or four minutes' +strenuous backing. + +"Don't swear at the boat, Jack," Phillis broke in, with her low laugh +and musical voice. + +Jack looked round. There was his goddess standing on the bank, +clapping her hands with delight. He gave a vigorous pull, which drove +the boat half-way up to shore and sprang out. + +"Jack, you must not use words that sound bad. Oh, how glad I am to see +you! I think you look best in flannels, Jack." + +"You here, Phil? I thought it was a mile higher up." + +"Did you know where I was gone to?" + +"Yes, I found out. I asked Colquhoun, and he told me. But he did not +offer to introduce me to Mrs. L'Estrange; and so I thought I would--I +thought that perhaps if I rowed up the river, you know, I might +perhaps see you." + +"O Jack," she replied, touched by this act of friendship, "did you +really row up in the hope of seeing me? I am so glad. Will you come in +and be introduced to Agatha,--that is, Mrs. L'Estrange? I have not yet +told her about you, because we had so many things to say." + +"Let us sit down and talk a little first. Phil, you look even better +than when you were at Carnarvon Square. Tell me what you are doing." + +"I am learning to read for one thing; and, Jack, a much more important +thing, I am taking lessons in water-colour drawing. I have learned a +great deal already, quite enough to show me how ignorant I have been. +But, Jack, Mr. Stencil cannot draw so well as I can, and I am glad to +think so." + +"When shall we be able to go out again for another visit somewhere, +Phil?" + +"Ah, I do not know. We shall stay here all the summer, I am sure; and +Agatha talks of going to the seaside in the autumn. I do not think I +shall like the sea so much as I like the river, but I want to see it. +Jack, how is Mr. Gilead Beck? have you seen him lately?" + +"Yes, I very often see him. We are great friends. But never mind him, +Phil; go on telling me about yourself. It is a whole fortnight since I +saw you." + +"Is it really? O Jack! and we two promised to be friends. There is +pretty friendship for you! I am very happy, Jack. Agatha L'Estrange is +so kind that I cannot tell you how I love her. Lawrence Colquhoun is +her first cousin. I like my guardian, too, very much; but I have not +yet found out how to talk to him. I am to have a horse as soon as he +can find me one; and then we shall be able to ride together, Jack, if +it is not too far for you to come out here." + +"Too far, Phil?" + +"Agatha is writing letters. Certainly it must be pleasant to talk to +your friends when they are away from you. I shall learn to write as +fast as I can, and then we will send letters to each other. I wonder +if she would mind being disturbed. Perhaps I had better not take you +in just yet." + +"Will you come for a row with me, Phil?" + +"In the boat, Jack? on the river? Oh, if you will only take me!" + +Jack untied the painter, pulled the ship's head round, and laid her +alongside the bank. + +"You will promise to sit perfectly still, and not move?" + +"Yes, I will not move. Are you afraid for me Jack?" + +"A little, Phil. You see, if we were to upset, perhaps you would not +trust yourself entirely to me." + +"Yes, I would, Jack. I am sure you would bring me safe to the bank." + +"But we must not upset. Now, Phil." + +He rowed her upstream. She sat in the stern, and enjoyed the +situation. As in every fresh experience, she was silent, drinking in +the details. She watched the transparent water beneath her, and saw +the yellow-green weeds sloping gently downwards with the current; she +noticed the swans, which looked so tranquil from the bank, and which +now followed the boat, gobbling angrily. They passed the old gentleman +in the punt. He had recovered his chair by this time, and was sitting +in it, still fishing. But Phillis could not see that he had caught +many fish. He looked from under his umbrella and saw them. "Youth and +beauty!" he sighed. + +"I like to _feel_ the river," said Phillis, softly. "It is pleasant on +the bank, but it is so much sweeter here. Can there be anything in the +world," she murmured half to herself, "more pleasant than to be rowed +along the river on such a day as this?" + +There was no one on the river except themselves and the old angler. +Jack rowed up stream for half a mile or so, and then turned her head +and let her drift gently down with the current, occasionally dipping +the oars to keep way on. But he left the girl to her own thoughts. + +"It is all like a dream to me, this river," said Phillis, in a low +voice. "It comes from some unknown place, and goes to some unknown +place." + +"It is like life, Phil." + +"Yes; we come like the river, trailing long glories behind us--you +know what Wordsworth says--but we do not go to be swallowed up in the +ocean, and we are not alone. We have those that love us to be with us, +and prevent us from getting sad with thought. I have you, Jack." + +"Yes, Phil." He could not meet her face, which was so full of +unselfish and passionless affection, because his own eyes were +brimming over with passion. + +"Take me in, Jack," she said, when they reached Agatha's lawn. "It is +enough for one day." + +She led him to the morning-room, cool and sheltered, where Agatha was +writing the letter we have already read. And she introduced him as +Jack Dunquerque, her friend. + +Jack explained that he was rowing up the river, that he saw Miss +Fleming by accident, that he had taken her for a row up the stream, +and so on--all in due form. + +"Jack and I are old friends," said Phillis. + +Agatha did not ask how old, which was fortunate. But she put aside her +letters and sent for tea into the garden. Jack became more amiable and +more sympathetic than any young man Mrs. L'Estrange had ever known. So +much did he win upon her that, having ascertained that he was a friend +of Lawrence Colquhoun, she asked him to dinner. + +Jack's voyage homeward was a joyful one. Many is the journey begun in +joy that ends in sorrow; few are those which begin, as Jack's +bucketing up the river, in uncertainty, and end in unexpected +happiness. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + + "Souvent femme varie, + Bien foi qui s'y fie." + + +Lawrence Colquhoun was not, in point of fact, devoting much time to +his ward at this time. She was pretty; she was fresh; she was +unconventional; but then he was forty. For twenty years he had been +moving through a panorama of pretty girls. It was hardly to be +expected that a girl whom he had seen but once or twice should move a +tough old heart of forty. Phillis pleased him, but lazy Lawrence +wanted girls, if that could be managed, to come to him, and she +necessarily stayed at Twickenham. Anyhow, she was in good and safe +hands. It was enough to know that Agatha had her in safe charge and +custody, and when he could find time he would go down and see her +again. As he had been thirteen years trying to find time to visit +Phillis at Highgate, it was possible that he might be in the same way +prevented by adverse circumstances from going to Twickenham. + +He was troubled also by other and graver matters. + +Victoria Cassilis asked him in the Park to call upon her--for auld +lang syne. What he replied is not on record, because, if anybody +heard, it could only have been the lady. But he did not call upon her. +After a day or two there came a letter from her. Of this he took no +notice. It is not usual for a man to ignore the receipt from a lady, +but Lawrence Colquhoun did do so. Then there came another. This also +he tore in small pieces. And then another. "Hang the woman," said +Lawrence; "I believe she wants to have a row. I begin to be sorry I +came home at all." + +His chambers were on the second floor in the Albany, and any one +who knows Lawrence Colquhoun will understand that they were furnished +in considerable comfort, and even luxury. He did not pretend to a +knowledge of Art, but his pictures were good; nor was he a dilettante +about furniture, but his was in good style. China he abhorred, +like many other persons of sound and healthy taste. Let us leave a +loophole of escape; there may be some occult reason, unknown to the +uninitiated, for finding beauty, loveliness, and desirability in +hideous china monsters and porcelain. After all we are but a flock, +and follow the leader. Why should we not go mad for china? It is +as sensible as going mad over rinking. Why should we not buy +water-colours at fabulous prices? At least these can be sold again +for something, whereas books--an extinct form of madness--cannot; +and besides, present their backs in a mute appeal to be read. + +The rooms of a man with whom comfort is the first thing aimed at. The +chairs are low, deep, and comfortable; there are brackets, tiny +tables, and all sorts of appliances for saving trouble and exertion; +the curtains are of the right shade for softening the light; the +pictures are of subjects which soothe the mind; the books, if you look +at them, are books of travel and novels. The place is exactly such a +home as lazy Lawrence would choose. + +And yet when we saw his laziness in the Prologue, he was living alone +in a deserted city, among the bare wooden walls of a half-ruined +hotel. But Lawrence was not then at home. He took what comfort he +could get, even there; and while he indulged his whim for solitude, +impressed into his own service for his own comfort the two Chinamen +who constituted with him the population of Empire City. + +But at Empire City he was all day shooting. That makes a difference to +the laziest of men. And he would not have stayed there so long had he +not been too lazy to go away. If a man does not mind lonely evenings, +the air on the lower slope of the Sierra Nevada is pleasant and the +game is abundant. Now, however, he was back in London, where the +laziest men live beside the busiest. The sun streamed in at his +windows, which were bright with flowers; and he sat in the shade doing +nothing. Restless men take cigars; men who find their own thoughts +insufficient for the passing hour take books; men who cannot sit still +walk about, Lawrence Colquhoun simply lay back in an easy-chair, +watching the sunlight upon the flowers with lazy eyes. He had the gift +of passive and happy idleness. + +To him there came a visitor--a woman whom he did not know. + +She was a woman about thirty years of age, a hard-featured, +sallow-faced woman. She looked in Lawrence's face with a grim +curiosity as she walked across the room and handed him a letter. + +"From Mrs. Cassilis, sir." + +"Oh!" said Lawrence. "And you are----" + +"I am her maid, sir." + +"Where is Janet, then?" + +"Janet is dead. She died three years ago, before Mrs. Cassilis +married." + +"Oh, Janet is dead, is she? Ah, that accounts--I mean, where did Janet +die?" + +"In lodgings at Ventnor, sir. Mrs. Cassilis--Miss Pengelley she was +then, as you know, sir,"--Lawrence looked up sharply, but there was no +change in the woman's impassive face as she spoke,--"Miss Pengelley +sent me with her, and Janet died in my arms, sir, of consumption." + +"Ah, I am sorry! And so Mrs. Cassilis has sent you to me with this +letter, has she?" He did not open it. "Will you tell Mrs. Cassilis +that I will send an answer by post, if there is any answer required?" + +"I beg your pardon, sir; but Mrs. Cassilis told me expressly that if +you were in town I was to wait for an answer, if I had to wait all +day." + +"In that case I suppose I had better read the letter." + +He opened it, and it seemed as if the contents were not pleasant, +because he rose from his chair and began to walk about. The +sallow-faced woman watched him all the time, as one who has fired a +shot, and wishes to know whether it has struck, and where. + +He held the letter in his left hand, and with his right moved and +altered the position of things on the mantel-shelf, a sign of mental +agitation. Then he turned round brusquely and said: + +"Tell your mistress that I will call upon her in the afternoon." + +"Will you write that, sir?" + +"No, I will not," he replied fiercely. "Take your answer and begone." + +She went without a word. + +"There will be trouble," she said to herself. "Janet said it would all +come up again some day. He's a handsome chap, and missus is a fool. +She's worse than a fool; she's a hard-hearted creature, with no more +blood than a stone statue. If there's to be trouble, it won't fall on +_his_ head, but on hern. And if I was him, I'd go away again quiet, +and then maybe no one wouldn't find it out. As for her, she'll blow on +it herself." + +Lawrence's thoughts assumed a form something like the following: + +"Three notes from her in rapid succession, each one more vehement than +the first. She must see me; she insists on my calling on her; she will +see me; she has something important to tell me. It's a marvellous +thing, and great proof of the absence of the inventive faculty in all +of them, that when they want to see you they invariably pretend that +they have something important to tell you. From the duchess to the +nursemaid, by Jove, they are all alike! And now she is coming here +unless I call upon her to-day. + +"It won't do to let her come here. I might go down to the seaside, go +into the country, go anywhere, back to America; but what would be the +good of that? Besides, I have not done anything to be afraid of or +ashamed of, unless a knowledge of a thing is guilt. I have nothing to +fear for myself. Remains the question, Ought I not to screen her? + +"But screen her from whom? No one knows except Janet, and Janet is +dead. Perhaps that woman with a face like a horse knows; that would be +awkward for Victoria if she were to offend her, for a more damned +unforgiving countenance I never set eyes upon. But Janet was faithful; +I am sure Janet would not split even when she was dying. And then +there was very little to split about when she died. Victoria hadn't +married Mr. Cassilis. + +"What the deuce does she want to rake up old things for? Why can't she +let things be? It's the way of women. They can't forget; and hang me +if I don't think she can't forgive me because she has done me a wrong! +Why did I come back from Empire City! There, at all events, one could +be safe from annoyance. + +"On a day like this, too, the first really fine day of the season; and +it's spoiled. I might have dined with cousin Agatha and talked to +Phillis--the pretty little Phillis! I might have mooned away the +afternoon in the Park and dined at the Club. I might have gone to +half-a-dozen places in the evening. I might have gone to Greenwich and +renewed my youth at the Ship. I might have gone to Richmond with old +Evergreen and his party. But Phillis for choice. But now I must have +it out with Victoria Cassilis. There's a fate in it: We can't be +allowed to rest and be happy. Like the schoolboy's scrag-end of the +rolly-polly pudding, it is helped, and must be eaten." + +Philosophy brings resignation, but it does not bring ease of mind. +Those unfortunate gentlemen who used to be laid upon the wheel and +have their limbs broken might have contemplated the approach of +inevitable suffering with resignation, but never with happiness. In +Colquhoun's mind, Victoria Cassilis was associated with a disagreeable +and painful chapter in his life. He saw her marriage in the fragment +of Ladds's paper, and thought the chapter closed. He came home and +found her waiting for him ready to open it again. + +"I _did_ think," he said, turning over her letter in his fingers, +"that for her own sake, she would have let things be forgotten. It's +ruin for her if the truth comes out, and not pleasant for me, A pretty +fool I should look explaining matters in a witness-box. But I must see +her, if only to bring her to reason. Reason? When was a woman +reasonable?" + +"I am here," he said, standing before Mrs. Cassilis at her own house a +few hours later. "I am here." + +Athos, Parthos, Arimis, and D'Artagnan would have said exactly the +same thing. + +"_Me voici!_" + +And they would have folded their arms and thrown back their heads with +a preliminary tap at the sword-hilt, to make sure that the trusty +blade was loose in the scabbard and easy to draw, in case M. le +Mari--whom the old French allegorists called _Danger_--should suddenly +appear. + +But Lawrence Colquhoun said it quite meekly, to a woman who neither +held out her hand nor rose to meet him, nor looked him in the face, +but sat in her chair with bowed head and weeping eyes. + +A woman of steel? There are no women of steel. + +It was in Mrs. Cassilis's morning-room, an apartment sacred to +herself; she used it for letter-writing, for interviews with +dressmakers, for tea with ladies, for all sorts of things. And now she +received her old friend in it. But why was she crying, and why did she +not look up? + +"I _did_ want to see you, Lawrence," she murmured. "Can you not +understand why?" + +"My name is Colquhoun, Mrs. Cassilis. And I cannot understand why----" + +"My name, Lawrence, is Victoria. Have you forgotten that?" + +"I have forgotten everything, Mrs. Cassilis. It is best to forget +everything." + +"But if you cannot! O Lawrence!" she looked up in his face--"O +Lawrence, if you cannot!" + +Her weeping eyes, her tear-clouded face, her piteous gesture, moved +the man not one whit. The power which she might once have had over him +was gone. + +"This is mere foolishness, Mrs. Cassilis. As a stranger, a perfect +stranger, may I ask why you call me by my Christian name, and why +these tears?" + +"Strangers! it is ridiculous!" she cried, starting up and standing +before him. "It is ridiculous, when all the world knows that we were +once friends, and half the world thought that we were going to be +something--nearer." + +"Nearer--and dearer, Mrs. Cassilis? What a foolish world it was! +Suppose we had become nearer, and therefore very much less dear." + +"Be kind to me, Lawrence." + +"I will be whatever you like, Mrs. Cassilis--except what I +was--provided you do not call me Lawrence any more. Come, let us be +reasonable. The past is gone; in deference to your wishes I removed +myself from the scene; I went abroad; I transported myself for four +years; then I saw the announcement of your marriage in the paper by +accident. And I came home again, because of your own free will and +accord you had given me my release. Is this true?" + +"Yes," she replied. + +"Then, in the name of Heaven, why seek to revive the past? Believe me, +I have forgotten the few days of madness and repentance. They are +gone. Some ghosts of the past come to me, but they do not take the +shape of Victoria Pengelley." + +"Suppose we cannot forget?" + +"Then we _must_ forget. Victoria--Mrs. Cassilis, rouse yourself. Think +of what you are--what you have made yourself." + +"I do think. I think every day." + +"You have a husband and a child; you have your position in the world. +Mrs. Cassilis, you have your honour." + +"My honour!" she echoed. "What honour? And if all were known! +Lawrence, don't you even pity me?" + +"What is the good of pity?" he asked rudely. "Pity cannot alter +things. Pity cannot make things which are as if they are not. You seem +to me to have done what you have done knowing well what you were +doing, and knowing what you were going to get by it. You have got one +of the very best houses in London; you have got a rich husband; you +have got an excellent position; and you have got--Mrs. Cassilis, you +have got a child, whose future happiness depends upon your reticence." + +"I will tell you what I have besides," she burst in, with passion. "I +have the most intolerable husband, the most maddening and exasperating +man in all the world!" + +"Is he cruel to you?" + +"No; he is kind to me. If he were cruel I should know how to treat +him. But he is kind." + +"Heroics, Mrs. Cassilis. Most women could very well endure a kind +husband. Are you not overdoing it? You almost make me remember a +scene--call it a dream--which took place in a certain Glasgow hotel +about four years and a half ago." + +"In the City he is the greatest financier living, I am told. In the +house he is the King of Littleness." + +"I think there was--or is--a bishop," said Lawrence meditatively, "who +gave his gigantic intellect to a Treatise on the Sinfulness of Little +Sins. Perhaps you had better buy that work and study it. Or present it +to your husband." + +"Very well, Lawrence. I suppose you think you have a right to laugh at +me?" + +"Right! Good God, Mrs. Cassilis," he cried, in the greatest alarm, "do +you think I claim any right--the smallest--over you? If I ever had a +right it is gone now--gone, by your own act, and my silence." + +"Yes, Lawrence," she repeated, with a hard smile on her lips, "your +silence." + +He understood what she meant. He turned from her and leaned against +the window, looking into the shrubs and laurels. She had dealt him a +blow which took effect. + +"My silence!" he murmured; "my silence! What have I to do with your +life since that day--that day which even you would find it difficult +to forget? Do what you like, marry if you like, be as happy as you +like, or as miserable--what does it matter to me? My silence! Am I, +then, going to proclaim to the world my folly and your shame?" + +"Let us not quarrel," she went on, pleased with the effect of her +words. There are women who would rather stab a man in the heart, and +so make some impression on him, than to see him cold and callous to +what they say or think. "It is foolish to quarrel after four years and +more of absence." + +"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," said Lawrence. "Yes, Mrs. +Cassilis, it is foolish to quarrel. Still I suppose it is old habit. +And besides----" + +"When a man has nothing else to say, he sneers." + +"When a woman has nothing else to say, she makes a general statement." + +"At all events, Lawrence, you are unchanged since I left you at that +hotel to which you refer so often. Are its memories pleasing to you?" + +"No; they are not. Are they to you? Come, Mrs. Cassilis, this is +foolish. You told me you had something to say to me. What is it?" + +"I wanted to say this. When we parted----" + +"Oh, hang it!" cried the man, "why go back to that?" + +"When we two parted"--she set her thin lips together as if she was +determined to let him off no single word--"you used bitter words. You +told me that I was heartless, cold, and bad-tempered. Those were the +words you used." + +"By Gad, I believe they were!" said Lawrence. "We had a blazing row; +and Janet stood by with her calm Scotch face, and, 'Eh, sir! Eh, +madam!' I remember." + +"I might retaliate on you." + +"You did then, Mrs. Cassilis. You let me have it in a very superior +style. No need to retaliate any more." + +"I might tell you now that you are heartless and cold. I might tell +you----" + +"It seems that you are telling me all this without any use of the +potential mood." + +"That if you have any lingering kindness for me, even if you have any +resentment for my conduct, you would pity the lonely and companionless +life I lead." + +"Your son is nearly a year old, I believe?" + +"What is a baby?" + +Lawrence thought the remark wanting in maternal feeling; but he said +nothing. + +"Come, Mrs. Cassilis, it is all no use. I cannot help you. I would not +if I could. Hang it! it would be too ridiculous for me to interfere. +Think of the situation. Here we are, we three; I first, you in the +middle, and Mr. Cassilis third. You and I know, and he does not +suspect. On the stage, the man who does not suspect always looks a +fool. No French novel comes anywhere near this position of things. +Make yourself miserable if you like, and make me uncomfortable; but +for Heaven's sake, don't make us all ridiculous! As things are, so you +made them. Tell me--what did you do it for?" + +"Speak to me kindly, Lawrence, and I will tell you all. After that +dreadful day I went back to the old life. Janet and I made up +something--never mind what. Janet was as secret as the grave. The old +life--Oh, how stupid and dull it was! Two years passed away. You were +gone, never to return, as you said. Janet died. And Mr. Cassilis +came." + +"Well?" + +"Well, I was poor. With my little income I had to live with friends, +and be polite to people I detested. I saw a chance for freedom; Mr. +Cassilis offered me that, at least. And I accepted him. Say you +forgive me, Lawrence." + +"Forgive! What a thing to ask or to say!" + +"It was a grievous mistake. I wanted a man who could feel with me and +appreciate me." + +"Yes," he said. "I know. Appreciation--appreciation. Perhaps you got +it, and at a truer estimate than you thought. I have sometimes found, +Mrs. Cassilis, in the course of my travels, people who make themselves +miserable because others do not understand their own ideals. If these +people could only label themselves with a few simple descriptive +sentences,--such as 'I am good; I am great; I am full of lofty +thoughts; I am noble; I am wise; I am too holy for this world;' and so +on,--a good deal of unhappiness might be saved. Perhaps you might even +now try on this method with Mr. Cassilis." + +"Cold and sneering," she said to herself, folding her hands, and +laying her arms straight out before her in her lap. If you think of +it, this is a most effective attitude, provided that the head be held +well back and a little to the side. + +"What astonishes me," he said, taking no notice of her remark, "is +that you do not at all seem to realise the Thing you have done. Do +you?" + +"It is no use realising what cannot be found out. Janet is in her +grave. Lawrence Colquhoun, the most selfish and heartless of men, is +quite certain to hold his tongue." + +He laughed good-naturedly. + +"Very well, Mrs. Cassilis, very well. If you are satisfied, of course +no one has the right to say a word. After all, no one has any cause to +fear except yourself. For me, I certainly hold my tongue. It would be +all so beautifully explained by Serjeant Smoothtongue: 'Six years ago, +gentlemen of the jury, a man no longer in the bloom of early youth was +angled for and hooked by a lady who employed a kind of tackle +comparatively rare in English society. She was a _femme incomprise_. +She despised the little ways of women; she was full of infinite +possibilities; she was going to lead the world if only she could get +the chance. And then, gentlemen of the jury'----" + +Here the door opened, and Mr. Gabriel Cassilis appeared. His wife was +sitting in the window, cold, calm, and impassive. Some four or five +feet from her stood Lawrence Colquhoun; he was performing his +imaginary speech with great rhetorical power, but stopped short at +sight of M. le Mari, whom he knew instinctively. This would have been +a little awkward, had not Mrs. Cassilis proved herself equal to the +occasion. + +"My dear!" She rose and greeted her husband with the tips of her +fingers. "You are early to-day. Let me introduce Mr. Colquhoun, a very +old friend of mine." + +"I am very glad, Mr. Colquhoun, to know you. I have heard of you." + +"Pray sit down, Mr. Colquhoun, unless you will go on with your +description. Mr. Colquhoun, who has just arrived from America, my +dear, was giving me a vivid account of some American trial-scene which +he witnessed." + +Her manner was perfectly cold, clear, and calm. She was an admirable +actress, and there was not a trace left of the weeping, shamefaced +woman who received Lawrence Colquhoun. + +Gabriel Cassilis looked at his visitor with a little pang of jealousy. +This, then, was the man with whom his wife's name had been coupled. To +be sure, it was a censorious world; but then he was a handsome fellow, +and a quarter of a century younger than himself. However, he put away +the thought, and tapped his knuckles with his double glasses while he +talked. + +To-day, whether from fatigue or from care, he was not quite himself; +not the self-possessed man of clear business mind that he wished to +appear. Perhaps something had gone wrong. + +Lawrence and Mrs. Cassilis, or rather the latter, began talking about +days of very long ago, so that her husband found himself out of the +conversation. This made him uneasy, and less useful when the talk came +within his reach. But his wife was considerate--made allowances, so to +speak, for age and fatigue; and Lawrence noted that he was fond and +proud of her. + +He came away in a melancholy mood. + +"I can't help it," he said. "I wish I couldn't feel anything about it, +one way or the other. Victoria has gone off, and I wonder how in the +world---- And now she has made a fool of herself. It is not my fault. +Some day it will all come out. And I am an accessory after the fact. +If it were not for that Phillis girl--I must see after her--and she is +pretty enough to keep any man in town--I would go back to America +again, if it were to Empire City." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + + "Now you set your foot on shore + In Novo Orbe; here's the rich Peru; + And there, within, sir, are the golden mines, + Great Solomon's Ophir." + + +Unlimited credit! Wealth without bound! Power to gratify any +desire--all desires! That was the luck of the Golden Butterfly. No +wish within the reach of man that Gilead Beck could not gratify. No +project or plan within limits far, far beyond what are generally +supposed reasonable, that he could not carry out. Take your own case, +brother of mine, struggling to realise the modest ambitions common to +cultured humanity, and to force them within the bounds of a slender +income. Think of the thousand and one things you want; think of the +conditions of your life you would wished changed; think of the +generous aspirations you would gratify: think of the revenges, +malices, envies, hatreds, which you would be able to satiate--_had +you the wealth which gives the power_. Then suppose yourself suddenly +possessed of that wealth, and think what you would do with it. + +Your brain is feeble; it falters at a few thousands; a hundred +thousand a year is too much for it--it was as much, if I remember +rightly, as even the imagination of the elder Dumas attained to. +Beyond a paltry twenty thousand or so, one feels oppressed in +imagination with a weight of income. Let us suppose you stick at +twenty thousand. What would you do with it? What could you not do with +it? Your ideal Society--the one thing wanting, only rich men cannot be +brought to see it, to regenerate the world--that could instantly be +put on a sound footing. Your works--those works which you keep locked +up in a desk at home--you could publish, and at once step into your +right position as a leader of thought, an [Greek: hanax andrôn]. Your +projects, educational, moral, theatrical, literary, musical, could all +together, for they are modest, be launched upon the ocean of public +opinion. You could gratify your taste for travel. Like Charles +Kingsley, you could stand in the shadow of a tropical forest (it would +not be one quarter so beautiful as a hundred glades ten miles from +Southampton) and exclaim, "At last!" You are an archæologist, and have +as yet seen little. You could make that long-desired trip to Naples +and see Pompeii; you could visit the cities of the Midi, and explore +the Roman remains you have as yet only read of; you could take that +journey to Asia Minor, your dream of twenty years, and sketch the +temples still standing, roofed and perfect, unvisited since the last +stragglers of the last crusading army died of famine on the steps, +scoffing with their latest breath at the desecrated altar. Their bones +lay mouldering in front of the marble columns--silent monuments of a +wasted enthusiasm--while the fleshless fingers pointed as if in scorn +in the direction of Jerusalem. They have been dust this many a year. +Dust blown about the fields; manure for the crops which the peasant +raises in luxuriance by scratching the soil. But the temples stand +still, sacred yet to the memory of Mother Earth, the many-breasted +goddess of the Ephesians. Why, if you had that £20,000 a year, you +would go there, sketch, photograph, and dig. + +What could not one do if one had money? And then one takes to thinking +what is done by those who actually have it. Well, they subscribe--they +give to hospitals and institutions--and they save the rest. Happy for +this country that Honduras, Turkey, and a few other places exist to +plunder the British capitalists, or we should indeed perish of +wealth-plethora. Thousands of things all round us wait to be done; +things which must be done by rich men, and cannot be done by trading +men, because they would not pay. + +_Exempli gratia_; here are a few out of the many. + +1. They are always talking of endowment of research; all the men who +think they ought to be endowed are clamouring for it. But think of the +luxury of giving a man a thousand a year, and telling him to work for +the rest of his days with no necessity for doing pot-boilers. Yet no +rich man does it. There was a man in Scotland, the other day, gave +half a million to the Kirk. For all the luxury to be got out of that +impersonal gift, one might just as well drop a threepenny-bit into the +crimson bag. + +2. This is a country in which the dramatic instinct is so strong as to +be second only to that of France. We want a National Theatre, where +such a thing as a 300 nights' run would be possible, and which should +be a school for dramatists as well as actors. A paltry £10,000 a year +would pay the annual deficit in such a theatre. Perhaps, taking year +with year, less than half that sum would do. No rich man has yet +proposed to found, endow, or subsidise such a theatre. + +3. In this City of London thousands of boys run about the streets +ragged and hungry. Presently they become habitual criminals. Then they +cost the country huge sums in goals, policemen, and the like. +Philanthropic people catch a few of these boys and send them to places +where they are made excellent sailors. Yet the number does not +diminish. A small £15 a year pays for a single boy. A rich man might +support a thousand of them. Yet no rich man does. + +4. In this country millions of women have to work for their living. +Everybody who employs those women under-pays them and cheats them. +Women cannot form trade-unions--they are without the organ of +government; therefore they are downtrodden in the race. They do men's +work at a quarter of men's wages. No trade so flourishing as that +which is worked by women--witness the prosperity of dress-making +masters. The workwomen have longer hours, as well as lower pay, than +the men. At the best, they get enough to keep body and soul together; +not enough for self-respect; not enough, if they are young and +good-looking, to keep them out of mischief. To give them a central +office and a central protecting power might cost a thousand pounds a +year No rich man, so far as I know, has yet come forward with any such +scheme for the improvement of women's labour. + +5. This is a country where people read a great deal. More books are +printed in England than in any other country in the world. Reading +forms the amusement of half our hours, the delight of our leisure +time. For the whole of its reading Society agrees to pay Mundie & +Smith from three to ten guineas a house. Here is a sum in arithmetic: +house-bills, £1,500 a year; wine-bill, £300; horses, £500; rent, £400; +travelling, £400; dress--Lord knows what; reading--say £5; also, spent +at Smith's stalls in two-shilling novels, say thirty shillings. That +is the patronage of Literature. Successful authors make a few hundreds +a year--successful grocers make a few thousands--and people say, "How +well is Literature rewarded!" + +Mr. Gilead Beck once told me of a party gathered together in Virginia +City to mourn the decease of a dear friend cut off prematurely. The +gentleman intrusted with the conduct of the evening's entertainment +had one-and-forty dollars put into his hands to be laid out to the +best advantage. He expended it as follows:-- + + Whisky Forty dollars, (40$) + Bread One dollar, ( 1$) + ------------------------ + Total Forty-one dollars. (41$) + +"What, in thunder," asked the chairman, "made you waste all that money +in bread?" + +Note.--He had never read _Henry IV_. + +The modern patronage of Literature is exactly like the proportion of +bread observed by the gentleman of Virginia City. + +Five pounds a year for the mental food of all the household. + +Enough; social reform is a troublesome and an expensive thing. Let it +be done by the societies; there are plenty of people anxious to be +seen on platforms, and plenty of men who are rejoiced to take the +salary of secretary. + +Think again of Mr. Gilead Beck's Luck and what it meant. The wildest +flights of your fancy never reach to a fourth part of his income. The +yearly revenues of a Grosvenor fall far short of this amazing good +fortune, Out of the bowels of the earth was flowing for him a +continuous stream of wealth that seemed inexhaustible. Not one well, +but fifty, were his, and all yielding. When he told Jack Dunquerque +that his income was a thousand pounds a day, he was far within the +limit. In these weeks he was clearing fifteen hundred pounds in every +twenty-four hours. That makes forty-five thousand pounds a month; five +hundred and forty thousand pounds a year. Can a Grosvenor or a Dudley +reach to that? + +The first well was still the best, and it showed no signs of giving +out; and as Mr. Beck attributed its finding to the direct personal +instigation of the Golden Butterfly, he firmly believed that it never +would give out. Other shafts had been sunk round it, but with varying +success; the ground covered with derricks and machinery erected for +boring fresh wells and working the old, an army of men were engaged in +these operations; a new town had sprung up in the place of Limerick +City; and Gilead P. Beck, its King, was in London, trying to learn how +his money might best be spent. + +It weighed heavily upon his mind; the fact that he was by no effort of +his own, through no merit of his own, earning a small fortune every +week made him thoughtful. In his rough way he took the wealth as so +much trust-money. He was entitled, he thought, to live upon it +according to his inclination; he was to have what his soul craved for +he was to use it first for his own purposes; but he was to devote what +he could not spend--that is, the great bulk of it--somehow to the +general good. Such was the will of the Golden Butterfly. + +I do not know how the idea came into Gilead Beck's head that he was to +regard himself a trustee. The man's antecedents would seem against +such a conception of Fortune and her responsibilities. Born in a New +England village, educated till the age of twelve in a village school, +he had been turned upon the world to make his livelihood in it as best +he could. He was everything by turns; there was hardly a trade that he +did not attempt, not a calling which he did not for a while follow. +Ill luck attended him for thirty years; yet his courage did not flag. +Every fresh attempt to escape from poverty only seemed to throw him +back deeper in the slough. Yet he never despaired. His time would +surely come. He preserved his independence of soul, and he preserved +his hope. + +But all the time he longed for wealth. The desire for riches is an +instinct with the Englishman, a despairing dream with the German, a +stimulus for hoarding with the Frenchman, but it is a consuming fire +with the American. Gilead P. Beck breathed an atmosphere charged with +the contagion of restless ambition. How many great men--presidents, +vice-presidents, judges, orators, merchants--have sprung from the +obscure villages of the older States? Gilead Beck started on his +career with a vague idea that he was going to be something great. As +the years went on he retained the belief, but it ceased to take a +concrete form. He did not see himself in the chair of Ulysses Grant; +he did not dream of becoming a statesman or an orator But he was going +to be a man of mark. Somehow he was bound to be great. + +And then came the Golden Butterfly. + +See Mr. Beck now. It is ten in the morning. He has left the pile of +letters, most of them begging letters, unopened opened at his elbow. +He has got the case of glass and gold containing the Butterfly on the +table. The sunlight pouring in at the opened window strikes upon the +yellow metal, and lights up the delicately chased wings of this freak +of Nature. Poised on the wire, the Golden Butterfly seems to hover of +its own accord upon the petals of the rose. It is alive. As its owner +sits before it, the creature seems endowed with life and motion. This +is nonsense, but Mr. Beck thinks so at the moment. + +On the table is a map of his Canadian oil-fields. + +He sits like this nearly every morning, the gilded box before him. It +is his way of consulting the oracle. After his interview with the +Butterfly he rises refreshed and clear of vision. This morning, if his +thoughts could be written down, they might take this form: + +"I am rich beyond the dreams of avarice. I have more than I can spend +upon the indulgence of every whim that ever entered the head of sane +man. When I have bought all the luxuries that the world has to sell, +there still remains to be saved more than any other living man has to +spend. + +"What am I to do with it? + +"Shall I lay it up in the Bank? The Bank might break. That is +possible. Or the well might stop. No; that is impossible. Other wells +have stopped, but no well has run like mine, or will again; for I have +struck through the crust of the earth into the almighty reservoir. + +"How to work out this trust? Who will help me to spend the money +aright? How is such a mighty pile to be spent? + +"Even if the Butterfly were to fall and break, who can deprive me of +my wealth?" + +His servant threw open the door: "Mr. Cassilis, sir." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + + "Doubtfully it stood, + As two spent swimmers that do cling together + And choke their art." + + +One of Gilead Beck's difficulties--perhaps his greatest--was his want +of an adviser. People in England who have large incomes pay private +secretaries to advise them. The post is onerous, but carries with it +considerable influence. To be a Great Man's whisperer is a position +coveted by many. At present the only confidential adviser of the +American Croesus was Jack Dunquerque, and he was unsalaried and +therefore careless. Ladds and Colquhoun were less ready to listen, and +Gabriel Cassilis showed a want of sympathy with Mr. Beck's Trusteeship +which was disheartening. As for Jack, he treated the sacred Voice, +which was to Gilead Beck what his demon was to Socrates, with profound +contempt. But he enjoyed the prospect of boundless spending in which +he was likely to have a disinterested share. Next to unlimited +"chucking" of his own money, the youthful Englishman would like--what +he never gets--the unlimited chucking of other people's. So Jack +brought ideas, and communicated them as they occurred. + +"Here is one," he said. "It will get rid of thousands; it will be a +Blessing and a Boon for you; it will make a real hole in the Pile; and +it's Philanthropy itself. Start a new daily." + +Mr. Beck was looking straight before him with his hands in his +pockets. His face was clouded with the anxiety of his wealth. Who +would wish to be a rich man? + +"I have been already thinking of it, Mr. Dunquerque," he said. "Let us +talk it over." + +He sat down in his largest easy-chair, and chewed the end of an +unlighted cigar. + +"I have thought of it," he went on. "I want a paper that shall have no +advertisements and no leading articles. If a man can't say what he +wants to say in half a column, that man may go to some other paper. I +shall get only live men to write for me. I will have no long reports +of speeches, and the bunkum of life shall be cut out of the paper." + +"Then it will be a very little paper." + +"No, sir. There is a great deal to say, once you get the right man to +say it. I've been an editor myself, and I know." + +"You will not expect the paper to pay you?" + +"No, sir; I shall pay for that paper. And there shall be no cutting up +of bad books to show smart writing. I shall teach some of your reviews +good manners." + +"But we pride ourselves on the tone of our reviews." + +"Perhaps you do, sir. I have remarked, that Englishmen pride +themselves on a good many things. I will back a first-class British +subject for bubbling around against all humanity. See, Mr. Dunquerque, +last week I read one of your high-toned reviews. There was an article +in it on a novel. The novel was a young lady's novel. When I was +editing the _Clearville Roarer_ I couldn't have laid it on in finer +style for the rough back of a Ward Politician. And a young lady!" + +"People like it, I suppose," said Jack. + +"I dare say they do, sir. They used to like to see a woman flogged at +the cart-tail. I am not much of a company man, Mr. Dunquerque, but I +believe that when a young lady sings out of tune it is not considered +good manners to get up and say so. And it isn't thought polite to +snigger and grin. And in my country, if a man was to invite the +company to make game of that young lady he would perhaps be requested +to take a header through the window. Let things alone, and presently +that young lady discovers that she is not likely to get cracked up as +a vocaller. I shall conduct my paper on the same polite principles. If +a man thinks he can sing and can't sing, let him be for a bit. Perhaps +he will find out his mistake. If he doesn't, tell him gently. And if +that won't do, get your liveliest writer to lay it on once for all. +But to go sneakin' and pryin' around, pickin' out the poor trash, and +cutting it up to make the people grin--it's mean, Mr. Dunquerque, it's +mean. The cart-tail and the cat-o'-nine was no worse than this +exhibition. I'm told it's done regularly, and paid for handsomely." + +"Shall you be your own editor?" + +"I don't know, sir. Perhaps if I stay long enough in this city to get +to the core of things, I shall scatter my own observations around. But +that's uncertain." + +He rose slowly--it took him a long time to rise--and extended his long +arms, bringing them together in a comprehensive way, as if he was +embracing the universe. + +"I shall have central offices in New York and London. But I shall +drive the English team first. I shall have correspondents all over the +world, and I shall have information of every dodge goin,' from an +emperor's ambition to a tin-pot company bubble." + +He brought his fingers together with a clasp. Jack noticed how strong +and bony those fingers were, with hands whose muscles seemed of steel. + +The countenance of the man was earnest and solemn. Suddenly it changed +expression, and that curious smile of his, unlike the smile of any +other man, crossed his face. + +"Did I ever tell you my press experiences?" he asked. "Let us have +some champagne, and you shall hear them." + +The champagne having been brought he told his story, walking slowly up +and down with his hands in his pockets, and jerking out the sentences +as if he was feeling for the most telling way of putting them. + +Mr. Gilead Beck had two distinct styles of conversation. Generally, +but for his American tone, the length of his sentences, and a certain +florid wealth of illustration, you might take him for an Englishman of +eccentric habits of thought. When he went back to his old experiences +he employed the vernacular--rich, metaphoric, and full--which belongs +to the Western States in the rougher period of their development. And +this he used now. + +"I was in Chicago. Fifteen years ago. I wanted employment. Nobody +wanted me. I spent most of the dollars, and thought I had better dig +out for a new location, when I met one day an old schoolfellow named +Rayner. He told me he was part proprietor of a morning paper. I asked +him to take me on. He said he was only publisher, but he would take me +to see the Editor, Mr. John B. Van Cott, and perhaps he would set me +grinding at the locals. We found the Editor. He was a short active man +of fifty, and he looked as cute as he was. Because, you see, Mr. +Dunquerque, unless you are pretty sharp on a Western paper, you won't +earn your mush. He was keeled back, I remember, in a strong chair, +with his feet on the front of the table, and a clip full of paper on +his knee. And in this position he used to write his leading articles. +Squelchers, some of them; made gentlemen of opposite politics cry, and +drove rival editors to polishing shooting-irons. The floor was covered +with exchanges. And there was nothing else in the place but a cracked +stove, half a dozen chairs standing around loose, and a spittoon. + +"I mention these facts, Mr. Dunquerque, to show that there was good +standing-room for a free fight of not more than two. + +"Mr. Van Cott shook hands, and passed me the tobacco pouch, while +Rayner chanted my praises. When he wound up and went away, the Editor +began. + +"'Wal, sir,' he said, 'you look as if you knew enough to go indoors +when it rains, and Rayner seems powerful anxious to get you on the +paper. A good fellow is Rayner; as white a man as I ever knew; and he +has as many old friends as would make a good-sized city. He brings +them all here, Mr. Beck, and wants to put every one on the paper. To +hear him hold forth would make a camp-meeting exhorter feel small. But +he's disinterested, is Rayner. It's all pure goodness.' + +"I tried to feel as if I wasn't down-hearted. But I was. + +"'Any way,' I said, 'if I can't get on here, I must dig out for a +place nearer sundown. Once let me get a fair chance on a paper, and I +can keep my end of the stick.' + +"The Editor went on to tell me what I knew already, that they wanted +live men on the paper, fellows that would do a murder right up to the +handle. Then he came to business; offered me a triple execution just +to show my style; and got up to introduce me to the other boys. + +"Just then there was a knock at the door. + +"'That's Poulter, our local Editor,' he said. 'Come in, Poulter. He +will take you down for me.' + +"The door opened, but it wasn't Poulter. I knew that by instinct. It +was a rough-looking customer, with a black-dyed moustache, a diamond +pin in his shirt front, and a great gold chain across his vest; and he +carried a heavy stick in his hand. + +"'Which is the one of you two that runs this machine?' he asked, +looking from one to the other. + +"'I am the Editor,' said Mr. Van Cott, 'if you mean that.' + +"'Then you air the Rooster I'm after,' he went on. 'I am John Halkett +of Tenth Ward. I want to know what in thunder you mean by printing +infernal lies about me and my party in your miserable one-hoss paper.' + +"He drew a copy of the paper from his pocket, and held it before the +Editor's eyes. + +"'You know your remedy, sir,' said Mr. Van Cott, quietly edging in the +direction of the table, where there was a drawer. + +"'That's what I do know. That's what I'm here for. There's two +remedies. One is that you retract all the lies you have printed, the +other'---- + +"'You need not tell me what the other is, Mr. Halkett.' As he spoke he +drew open the drawer; but he hadn't time to take the pistol from it +when the ward politician sprang upon him, and in a flash of lightning +they were rolling over each other among the exchanges on the floor. + +"If they had been evenly matched, I should have stood around to see +fair. But it wasn't equal. Van Cott, you could see at first snap, was +grit all through, and as full of fight as a game-rooster. But it was +bulldog and terrier. So I hitched on to the stranger, and pulled him +off by main force. + +"'You will allow me, Mr. Van Cott,' I said, 'to take this contract off +your hands. Choose a back seat sir, and see fair.' + +"'Sail in,' cried Mr. Halkett, as cheerful as a coot, 'and send for +the coroner, because he'll be wanted. I don't care which it is.' + +"That was the toughest job I ever had. The strength of ward +politicians' opinions lies in their powers of bruising, and John +Halkett, as I learned afterwards, could light his weight in wild cats. +Fortunately I was no slouch in those days. + +"He met my advances halfway. In ten minutes you couldn't tell Halkett +from me, nor me from Halkett. The furniture moved around cheerfully, +and there was a lovely racket. The sub-editors, printers, and +reporters came running in. It was a new scene for them, poor fellows, +and they enjoyed it accordingly. The Editor they had often watched in +a fight before, but here were two strangers worrying each other on the +floor, with Mr. Van Cott out of it himself, dodging around cheering us +on. That gave novelty. + +"The sharpest of the reporters had his flimsy up in a minute, and took +notes of the proceedings. + +"We fought that worry through. It lasted fifteen minutes. We fought +out of the office; we fought down the stairs; and we fought on the +pavement. + +"When it was over, I found myself arrayed in the tattered remnants of +my grey coat, and nothing else. John Halkett hadn't so much as that. +He was bruised and bleeding, and he was deeply moved. Tears stood in +his eyes as he grasped me by the hand. + +"'Stranger,' he said, 'will you tell me where you hail from?' + +"'Air you satisfied, Mr. Halkett,' I replied, 'with the editorial +management of this newspaper?' + +"'I am,' he answered. 'You bet. This is the very best edited paper +that ever ran. Good morning, sir. You have took the starch out of John +Halkett in a way that no starch ever was took out of that man before. +And if ever you get into a tight place, you come to me.' + +"They put him in a cab, and sent him home for repairs. I went back to +the Editor's room. He was going on again with his usual occupation of +manufacturing squelchers. The fragments of the chairs lay around him, +but he wrote on unmoved. + +"'Consider yourself permanently engaged,' he said. 'The firm will pay +for a new suit of clothes. Why couldn't you say at once that you were +fond of fighting? I never saw a visitor tackled in a more lovable +style. Why, you must have been brought up to it. And just to think +that one might never have discovered your points if it hadn't been for +the fortunate accident of John Halkett's call!' + +"I said I was too modest to mention my tastes. + +"'Most fortunate it is. Blevins, who used to do our fighting--a whole +team he was at it--was killed three months ago on this very floor; +there's the mark of his fluid still on the wall. We gave Blevins a +first-class funeral, and ordered a two-hundred-dollar monument to +commemorate his virtues. We were not ungrateful to Blevins. + +"'Birkett came next,' he went on, making corrections with a pencil +stump. 'But he was licked like a cur three times in a fortnight. +People used to step in on purpose to wallop Birkett, it was such an +easy amusement. The paper was falling into disgrace, so we shunted +him. He drives a cab now, which suits him better, because he was +always gentlemanly in his ways. + +"'Carter, who followed, was very good in some respects, but he wanted +judgment. He's in hospital with a bullet in the shoulder, which comes +of his own carelessness. We can't take him on again any more, even if +he was our style, which he never was.' + +"'And who does the work now?' I ventured to ask. + +"'We have had no regular man since Carter was carried off on a +shutter. Each one does a little, just as it happens to turn up. But I +don't like the irregular system. It's quite unprofessional.' + +"I asked if there was much of that sort of thing. + +"'Depends on the time of year. It is the dull season just now, but we +are lively enough when the fall elections come on. We sometimes have a +couple a day then. You won't find yourself rusting. And if you want +work, we can stir up a few editors by judicious writing. I'm powerful +glad we made your acquaintance, Mr. Beck.' + +"That, Mr. Dunquerque, is how I became connected with the press." + +"And did you like the position?" + +"It had its good points. It was a situation of great responsibility. +People were continually turning up who disliked our method of +depicting character, and so the credit of the paper mainly rested on +my shoulders. No, sir; I got to like it, except when I had to go into +hospital for repairs. And even that had its charms, for I went there +so often that it became a sort of home, and the surgeons and nurses +were like brothers and sisters." + +"But you gave up the post?" said Jack. + +"Well, sir, I did. The occupation, after all, wasn't healthy, and was +a little too lively. The staff took a pride in me too, and delighted +to promote freedom of discussion. If things grew dull for a week or +two, they would scarify some ward ruffian just to bring on a fight. +They would hang around there to see that ward ruffian approach the +office, and they would struggle who should be the man to point me out +as the gentleman he wished to interview. They were fond of me to such +an extent that they could not bear to see a week pass without a fight. +And I will say this of them, that they were as level a lot of boys as +ever destroyed a man's character. + +"Most of the business was easy. They came to see Mr. Van Cott, and +they were shown up to me. What there is of me, takes up a good deal of +the room. And when they'd put their case I used to open the door and +point. 'Git,' I would say. 'You bet,' was the general reply; and they +would go away quite satisfied with the Editorial reception. But one a +week or so there would be a put-up thing, and I knew by the look of my +men which would take their persuasion fighting. + +"It gradually became clear to me that if I remained much longer there +would be a first class funeral, with me taking a prominent part in the +procesh; and I began to think of digging out while I still had my hair +on. + +"One morning I read an advertisement of a paper to be sold. It was in +the city of Clearville, Illinois, and it seemed to suit. I resolved to +go and look at it, and apprised Mr. Van Cott of my intention. + +"'I'm powerful sorry,' he said; 'but of course we can't keep you if +you will go. You've hoed your row like a square man ever since you +came, and I had hoped to have your valuable services till the end.' + +"I attempted to thank him, but he held up his hand, and went on +thoughtfully. + +"'There's room in our plat at Rose Hill Cemetery for one or two more; +and I had made up my mind to let you have one side of the monument all +to yourself. The sunny side, too--quite the nicest nest in the plat. +And we'd have given you eight lines of poetry--Blevins only got four, +and none of the other fellows any. I assure you, Beck, though you may +not think it, I have often turned this over in my mind when you have +been in hospital, and I got to look on it as a settled thing. And now +this is how it ends. Life is made up of disappointments.' + +"I said it was very good of him to take such an interest in my +funeral, but that I had no yearning at present for Rose Hill Cemetery, +and I thought it would be a pity to disturb Blevins. As I had never +known him and the other boys, they mightn't be pleased if a total +stranger were sent to join their little circle. + +"Mr. Van Cott was good enough to say that they wouldn't mind it for +the sake of the paper: but I had my prejudices, and I resigned. + +"I don't know whether you visited Illinois when you were in America, +Mr. Dunquerque; but if you did, perhaps you went to Clearville. It is +in that part of the State which goes by the name of Egypt, and is so +named on account of the benighted condition of the natives. It wasn't +a lively place to go to, but still---- + +"The _Clearville Roarer_ was the property of a Mrs. Scrimmager, +widow of the lately defunct editor. She was a fresh buxom widow of +thirty-five, with a flow of language that would down a town council or +a vestry. I inferred from this that the late Mr. Scrimmager was not +probably very sorry when the time came for him to pass in his checks. + +"She occupied the upper flats of a large square building, in the lower +part of which were the offices of the paper. I inspected the premises, +and having found that the books and plant were pretty well what the +advertisement pretended, I closed the bargain at once, and entered +into possession. + +"The first evening I took tea with Mrs. Scrimmager. + +"'It must be more than a mite lonely for you,' she said, as we sat +over her dough-nuts and flipflaps, 'up at the tavern. But you'll soon +get to know all the leading people. They're a two-cent lot, the best +of them. Scrimmy (we always called him Scrimmy for short) never +cottoned to them. He used to say they were too low and common, mean +enough to shoot a man without giving him a chance--a thing which +Scrimmy, who was honourable from his boots up, would have scorned to +do.' + +"I asked if it was long since her husband had taken his departure. + +"'He started,' she said, 'for kingdom come two months ago, if that's +what you mean.' + +"'Long ill?' + +"'Ill?' she replied, as if surprised at the question. 'Scrimmy never +was ill in his life. He was quite the wrong man for that. Scrimmy was +killed.' + +"'Was he,' I asked. 'Railway accident, I suppose?' + +"Mrs. Scrimmager looked at me resentfully, as if she thought I really +ought to have known better. Then she curved her upper lip in disdain. + +"'Railway accident! Not much. Scrimmy was shot.' + +"'Terrible!' I ejaculated, with a nervous sensation, because I guessed +what was coming. + +"'Well, it was rough on him,' she said. 'Scrimmy and Huggins of the +_Scalper_--do you know Huggins? Well, you'll meet him soon enough +for your health. They hadn't been friends for a long while, and each +man was waiting to draw a bead on the other. How they did go for one +another! As an ink-slinger, Huggins wasn't a patch on my husband; but +Huggins was a trifle handier with his irons. In fact, Huggins has shot +enough men to make a small graveyard of his own; and his special +weakness is editors of your paper.' + +"'I began to think that Clearville was not altogether the place for +peace and rest. But it was too late now. + +"The lady went on: + +"'Finally, Scrimmy wrote something that riled Huggins awful. So he +sent him a civil note, saying that he'd bore a hole in him first +chance. I've got the note in my desk there. That was gentlemanlike, so +far; but he spoiled it all by the mean sneaking way he carried it +through. Scrimmy, who was wonderful careless and never would take my +advice, was writing in his office when Huggins crept in quiet, and +dropped a bullet through his neck before he had time to turn. Scrimmy +knew it was all up; but he was game to the last, and finished his +article, giving the _Scalper_ thunder. When he'd done it he came +upstairs and died.' + +"'And Mr. Huggins?' + +"'They tried him; but, Lord, the jury were all his friends, and they +brought it in justifiable homicide. After the funeral Huggins behaved +handsome; he put the _Scalper_ into deep mourning, and wrote a +beautiful send-off notice, saying what a loss the community had +suffered in Scrimmy's untimely end. I've got the article in my desk, +and I'll show it to you; but somehow I never could bring myself to be +friends with Huggins after it.' + +"'Mr. Scrimmager was perhaps not the only editor who has fallen a +victim in Clearville.' + +"'The only one? Not by a long chalk,' she replied. 'The _Roarer_ +has had six editors in five years; they've all been shot except one, +and he died of consumption. His was a very sad case. A deputation of +leading citizens called to interview him one evening; he took refuge +on the roof of the office, and they kept him there all night in a +storm. He died in two months after it. But he was a poor nervous +critter, quite unfit for his position.' + +"'And this,' I thought, 'this is the place I have chosen for a quiet +life.' + +"I debated that night with myself whether it would be better to blow +the roof off my head at once, instead of waiting for Huggins or some +other citizen to do it for me. But I resolved on waiting a little. + +"Next day I examined the files of the _Roarer_, and found that it +had been edited with great vigor and force; there was gunpowder in +every article, fire and brimstone in every paragraph. No wonder, I +thought, that the men who wrote those things were chopped up into +sausage-meat. I read more, and it seemed as if they might as well have +set themselves up as targets at once. I determined on changing the +tone of the paper; I would no longer call people midnight assassins +and highway robbers, nor would I hint that political opponents were +all related to suspended criminals. I would make the _Roarer_ +something pure, noble, and good; I would take Washington Irving for my +model; it should be my mission to elevate the people. + +"Wal, sir, I begun. I wrote for my first number articles as elevating +as Kentucky whisky. Every sentence was richly turned; every paragraph +was as gentle as if from the pen of Goldsmith. There was a mutiny +among the compositors; they were unaccustomed to such language, and it +made them feel small. One man, after swearing till the atmosphere was +blue, laid down his stick in despair and went and got drunk. And the +two apprentices fought over the meaning of a sentence in the backyard. +One of those boys is now a cripple for life. + +"It would have been better for me, a thousand times better, if I had +stuck to the old lines of writing. The people were accustomed to that. +They looked for it, and they didn't want any elevating. If you think +of it, Mr. Dunquerque, people never do. The Clearville roughs liked to +be abused, too, because it gave them prominence and importance. But my +pure style didn't suit them, and as it turned out, didn't suit me +either. + +"The City Marshal was the earliest visitor after the issue of my first +number. He came to say that, as the chief executive officer of the +town, he would not be responsible for the public peace if I persevered +in that inflammatory style. I told him I wouldn't change it for him or +anybody else. Then he said it would cause a riot, and he washed his +hands of it, and he'd done his duty. + +"Next came the Mayor with two town-councillors. + +"'What in thunder, do you think you mean, young man,' his honour +began, pointing to my last editorial, 'by bringing everlasting +disgrace on our town with such mush as that?' + +"He called it mush. + +"I asked him what was wrong in it. + +"'Wrong? It is all wrong. Of all the mean and miserable twaddle'---- + +"He called it miserable twaddle. + +"'Hold on, Mr. Mayor,' I said; 'we must discuss this article in a +different way. Which member of your august body does the heavy +business?' + +"'We all take a hand when it's serious,' he replied; 'but in ordinary +cases it's generally understood that I do the municipal fighting +myself.' + +"'We'll consider this an ordinary case, Mr. Mayor,' I said; and I went +for that chief magistrate. He presently passed through the window--the +fight had no details of interest--and then the town-councillors shook +hands with me, congratulated me on my editorial, and walked out quiet +through the door. + +"Nearly a dozen Egyptians dropped in during the afternoon to +remonstrate. I disposed of them in as gentlemanlike a manner as +possible. Towards evening I was growing a little tired, and thinking +of shutting up for the day, when my foreman, whom the day's +proceedings had made young again--such is the effect of joy--informed +me that Mr. Huggins of the _Scalper_ was coming down the street. +A moment later Mr. Huggins entered. He was a medium-sized man, with +sharp, piercing eyes and a well-bronzed face, active as a terrier and +tough as a hickory knot. I was sitting in the wreck of the +office-desk, but I rose as he came in. + +"'Don't stir,' he said pleasantly. 'My name is Huggins; but I am not +going to kill you to-day.' + +"I said I was much obliged to him. + +"'I see you've been receiving visitors,' he went on, looking at the +fragments of the chairs. 'Ours, Mr. Beck, is an active and a +responsible profession.' + +"I said I thought it was. + +"'These people have been pressing their arguments home with unseemly +haste,' he said. 'It is unkind to treat a stranger thus. Now as for +me, I wouldn't draw on you for your first article, not to be made +Governor of Illinois. It would be most unprofessional. Give a man a +fair show, I say.' + +"'Very good, Mr. Huggins.' + +"'At the same time, Mr. Beck, I _do_ think you've laid yourself open. +You are reckless, not to say insulting. Take my case. You never saw me +before, and you've had the weakness to speak of me as the gentlemanly +editor of the _Scalper_.' + +"'I'm sure, Mr. Huggins, if the term is offensive'---- + +"'Offensive? Of course it is offensive. But as this is our first +interview, I must not let my dander rise.' + +"'Let it rise by all means, and stay as high as it likes. We may find +a way of bringing it down again.' + +"'No, no,' he answered, smiling; 'it would be unprofessional. Still, I +must say that your sneaking, snivelling city way of speaking will not +go down, and I have looked in to tell you that it must not be +repeated.' + +"'It shall not be repeated, Mr. Huggins. I shall never again make the +mistake of calling you a gentleman.' + +"He started up like a flash, and moved his hand to his breast-pocket. + +"'What do mean by that?' + +"I was just in time, as I sprang upon and seized him by both arms +before he could draw his pistol. + +"'I mean this,' I said; 'you've waked up the wrong passenger this +time, Mr. Huggins. You needn't wriggle. I've been chucking people +through the window all day, and you shall end the lot. But first I +want that shooting-iron; it might go off by accident and hurt some one +badly.' + +"It was a long and mighty heavy contract, for he was as supple as an +eel and as wicked as a cat. But I got the best holt at last, relieved +him of his pistol, and tossed him through the window. + +"'Jim,' I said to the foreman, as I stretched myself in a corner, +panting and bleeding, 'You can shut up. We shan't do any more business +to-day.' + +"I issued two more numbers of the _Roarer_ on the same refined and +gentlemanly principle, and I fought half the county. But all to no +purpose. Neither fighting nor writing could reform those Egyptians. + +"Huggins shot me through the arm one evening as I was going home from +the office. I shall carry his mark to the grave. Three nights later I +was waited on by about thirty leading citizens, headed by the Mayor. +They said they thought Clearville wasn't agreeing with me, and they +were come to remove me. I was removed on a plank, escorted by a +torch-light procesh of the local fire brigade. On the platform of the +railway station the Mayor delivered a short address. He said, with +tears, that the interests of party were above those of individuals, +and that a change of residence was necessary for me. Then he put into +my hands a purse of two hundred dollars, and we parted with every +expression of mutual esteem. + +"That is how I came out of the land of Egypt, Mr. Dunquerque; and that +is the whole history of my connection with the press." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + + "We do not know + How she may soften at the sight o' the child." + + +If life was pleasant at Carnarvon Square, it was far more pleasant by +the banks of the river. Phillis expanded like a rose in June under the +sweet and gracious influences with which Agatha L'Estrange surrounded +her. Her straightforward way of speaking remained--the way that +reminded one of a very superior schoolboy who had _not_ been made +a prig at Rugby--but it was rounded off by something more of what we +call maidenly reserve. It should not be called reserve at all; it is +an atmosphere with which women have learned to surround themselves, so +that they show to the outward world like unto the haloed moon. Its +presence was manifested in a hundred little ways--she did not answer +quite so readily; she did not look into the face of a stranger quite +so frankly; she seemed to be putting herself more upon her +guard--strange that the chief charm of women should be a relic of +barbarous times, when the stronger sex were to be feared for their +strength and the way in which they often used it. Only with Jack +Dunquerque there was no change. With him she was still the frank, +free-hearted girl, the friend who opened all her heart, the maiden +who, alone of womankind, knew not the meaning of love. + +Phillis was perfectly at home with Agatha L'Estrange. She carolled +about the house like a bird; she played and sang at her sweet will; +she made sketches by thousands; and she worked hard at the elements of +all knowledge. Heavens, by what arid and thirsty slopes do we climb +the hills of Learning! Other young ladies had made the house by the +river their temporary home, but none so clever, none so bright, none +so entirely lovable as this emancipated cloister-child. She was not +subdued, as most young women somehow contrive to become; she dared to +have an opinion and to assert it; she did not tremble and hesitate +about acting before it had been ascertained that action was correct; +she had not the least fear of compromising herself; she hardly knew +the meaning of proper and improper; and she who had been a close +prisoner all her life was suddenly transformed into a girl as free as +any of Diana's nymphs. Her freedom was the result of her ignorance; +her courage was the result of her special training, which had not +taught her the subjection of the sex; her liberty was not license, +because she did not, and could not, use it for those purposes which +schoolgirls learn in religious boarding-houses. She could walk with a +curate, and often did, without flirting with the holy young man; she +could make Jack Dunquerque take her for a row upon the river, and +think of nothing but the beauty of the scene, her own exceeding +pleasure, and the amiable qualities of her companion. + +Of course, Agatha's friends called upon her. Among them were several +specimens of the British young lady. Phillis watched them with much +curiosity, but she could not get on with them. They seemed mostly to +be suffering from feeble circulation of the pulse; they spoke as if +they enjoyed nothing; those who were very young kindled into +enthusiasm in talking over things which Phillis knew nothing about, +such as dancing--Phillis was learning to dance, but did not yet +comprehend its fiercer joys--and sports in which the other sex took an +equal part. Their interest was small in painting; they cared for +nothing very strongly; their minds seemed for the most part as languid +as their bodies. This life at low ebb seemed to the girl whose blood +coursed freely, and tingled in her veins as it ran, a poor thing; and +she mentally rejoiced that her own education was not such as theirs. +On the other hand, there were points in which these ladies were +clearly in advance of herself. Phillis felt the cold ease of their +manner; that was beyond her efforts; a formal and mannered calm was +all she could assume to veil the intensity of her interest in things +and persons. + +"But what do they like, Agatha?" she asked one day, after the +departure of two young ladies of the highest type. + +"Well, dear, I hardly know. I should say that they have no strong +likings in any direction. After all, Phillis dear, those who have the +fewest desires enjoy the greatest happiness." + +"No, Agatha, I cannot think that. Those who want most things can enjoy +the most. Oh, that level line! What can shake them off it?" + +"They are happier as they are, dear. You have been brought up so +differently that you cannot understand. Some day they will marry. Then +the equable temperament in which they have been educated will stand +them in good stead with their husbands and their sons." + +Phillis was silent, but she was not defeated. + +Of course the young ladies did not like her at all. + +They were unequal to the exertion of talking to a girl who thought +differently from all other girls. Phil to them, as to all people who +are weak in the imaginative faculty, was _impossible_. + +But bit by bit the social education was being filled in, and Phillis +was rapidly becoming ready for the _début_ to which Agatha looked +forward with so much interest and pride. + +There remained another kind of education. + +Brought up alone, with only her maid of her own age, and only an old +man on whom to pour out her wealth of affection, this girl would, but +for her generous nature, have grown up cold and unsympathetic. She did +not. The first touch of womanly love which met her in her escape from +prison was the kiss which Agatha L'Estrange dropped unthinkingly upon +her cheek. It was the first of many kisses, not formal and unmeaning, +which were interchanged between these two. It is difficult to explain +the great and rapid change the simple caresses of another woman worked +in Phillis's mind. She became softer, more careful of what she said, +more thoughtful of others. She tried harder to understand people; she +wanted to be to them all what Agatha L'Estrange was to her. + +One day, Agatha, returning from early church, whither Phillis would +not accompany her, heard her voice in the kitchen. She was singing and +laughing. Agatha opened the door and looked in. + +Phillis was standing in the middle of a group. Her eyes were bright +with a sort of rapture; her lips were parted; her long hair was +tossing behind her; she was singing, talking, and laughing, all in a +breath. + +In her arms she held the most wonderful thing to a woman which can be +seen on this earth. + +A BABY. + +The child of the butter-woman. The mother stood before Phillis, her +pleased red face beaming with an honest pride. Phillis's maid, +Antoinette, and Agatha's three servants, surrounded these two, the +principal figures. In the corner, grinning, stood the coachman. And +the baby crowed and laughed. + +"Oh, the pretty thing! Oh, the pretty thing!" cried Phillis, tossing +the little one-year-old, who kicked and laughed and pulled at her +hair. "Was there ever such a lovely child? Agatha, come and see, come +and see! He talks, he laughs, he dances!" + +"Ah, madame!" said Antoinette, wiping away a sympathetic tear. "Dire +que ma'amsell n'en a jamais vu? Mais non, mais non--pas memes des +poupees!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + + "Go seek your fortune farther than at home." + + +Lawrence Colquhoun returned home to find himself famous. Do you +remember a certain book of travels written four or five years ago by +Lord Milton and Dr. Cheadle, in which frequent mention was made of +_un nomme_ Harris, an inquiring and doubting Christian, who wore +a pair of one-eyed spectacles and carried a volume of Paley? If that +Harris, thus made illustrious, had suddenly presented himself in a +London drawing-room while the book was enjoying his first run, he +would have met with much the same success which awaited Lawrence +Colquhoun. Harris let his opportunity go, and never showed up; perhaps +he is still wandering in the Rocky Mountains and pondering over Paley. +But Colquhoun appeared while the work of the Dragoon and the Younger +Son was still in the mouths of men and women. The liveliest thing in +that book is the account of Empire City and its Solitary. Everybody +whose memory can carry him back to last year's reading will remember +so much. And everybody who knew Colquhoun knew also that he was the +Solitary. + +The Hermit; the man with the Golden Butterfly, now a millionaire; the +Golden Butterfly, now in a golden cage--all these actually present, so +to speak, in the flesh, and ready to witness if the authors lied. Why, +each was an advertisement of the book, and if the two Chinamen had +been added, probably people might be reading the work still. But they, +poor fellows, were defunct. + +It annoyed Lawrence at first to find himself, like Cambuscan, with his +tale half told; and it was monotonous to be always asked whether it +was really true, and if he was the original Hermit. But everything +wears off; people in a week or two began to talk of something else, +and when Colquhoun met a man for the first time after his return he +would startle and confuse that man by anticipating his question. He +knew the outward signs of its approach. He would watch for the smile, +the look of curiosity, and the parting of the lips before they framed +the usual words: + +"By the way, Colquhoun, is it actually true that you are the Hermit in +Jack Dunquerque's book?" + +And while the questioner was forming the sentence, thinking it a +perfectly original one, never asked before, Lawrence would answer it +for him. + +"It is perfectly true that I was the Hermit. Now talk of something +else." + +For the rest he dropped into his old place. Time, matrimony, good and +evil hap, had made havoc among his set; but there was still some left. +Club-men come and club-men go; but the club goes on for ever. + +Colquhoun had the character of being at once the laziest and the most +good-natured of men. A dangerous reputation, because gratitude is a +heavy burden to bear. If you do a man a good turn he generally finds +it too irksome to be grateful, and so becomes your enemy. But +Colquhoun cared little about his reputation. + +When he disappeared, his friends for a day or two wondered where he +was. Then they ceased to talk of him. Now he was come back they were +glad to have him among them again. He was a pleasant addition. He was +not altered in the least--his eyes as clear from crows-feet, his beard +as silky, and his face as cheerful as ever. Some men's faces have got +no sun in them; they only light up with secret joy at a friend's +misfortunes; but this is an artificial fire, so to speak; it burns +with a baleful and lurid light. There are others whose faces are like +the weather in May, being uncertain and generally disagreeable. But +Lawrence Colquhoun's face always had a cheerful brightness. It came +from an easy temper, a good digestion, a comfortable income, and a +kindly heart. + +Of course he made haste to find Gilead P. Beck. Jack Dunquerque, who +forgot at the time to make any mention of Phillis Fleming, informed +him of the Golden Butterfly's wonderful Luck. And they all dined +together--the Hermit, the Miner, the Dragoon, and the Younger Son. + +They ran the Bear Hunt over again; they talked of Empire City, and +speculated on the two Chinamen; had they known the fate of the two, +their speculations might have taken a wider range. + +"It was rough on me that time," said Gilead. "It had never been so +rough before, since I began bumming around." + +They waited for more, and presently he began to tell them more. It was +the way of the man. He never intruded his personal experiences, being +for the most part a humble and even a retiring man; but when he was +among men he knew, he delighted in his recollections. + +"Thirty-three years ago since I began. Twelve years old; the youngest +of the lot. And I wonder where the rest are. Hiram, I know, sat down +beside a rattle one morning. He remembered he had an appointment +somewhere else, and got up in a hurry. But too late, and his +constitution broke up suddenly. But for the rest I never did know what +became of them. When I go back with that almighty Pile of mine, they +will find me out, I dare say. Then they will bring along all their +friends and the rest of the poor relations. The poorer the relations +in our country, the more affectionate and self-denying they are." + +"What did you do first?" asked Ladds. + +"Ran messages; swept out stores; picked up trades; went handy boy to a +railway engineer; read what I could and when I could. When I was +twenty I kept a village school at a dollar a day. That was in Ohio. +I've been many things in my pilgrimage and tried to like them all, but +that was most too much for me. Boys _was_ gells, Captain Ladds. Boys +themselves are bad; but boys and gells mixed, they air--wal, it's a +curious and interestin' thing that, ever since that time, when I see +the gells snoopin' around with their eyes as soft as velvet, and their +sweet cheeks the colour of peach, I say to myself, 'Shoddy. It is +shoddy. I've seen you at school, and I know you better than you +think.' As the poet says, 'Let gells delight to bark and bite, for +'tis their nature to.' You believe, Mr. Dunquerque, because you are +young and inexperienced, that gells air soft. Air they? Soft as the +shell of a clam. And tender? Tender as hickory-nut. Air they gentle, +unselfish, and yieldin'? As rattlesnakes. The child is mother to the +woman, as the poet says; and school-gells grow up mostly into women. +They're sweet to look at; but when you've tended school, you feel to +know them. And then you don't yearn after them so much. + +"There was once a boy I liked. He was eighteen, stood six foot high in +his stocking-boots, and his name was Pete Conkling. The lessons that +boy taught me were useful in my after life. We began it every morning +at five minutes past nine. Any little thing set us off. He might heave +a desk, or a row of books, or the slates of the whole class at my +head. I might go for him first. It was uncertain how it began, but the +fight was bound to be fought. The boys expected it, and it pleased the +gells. Sometimes it took me half an hour, and sometimes the whole +morning, to wallop that boy. When it was done, Pete would take his +place among the little gells, for he never could learn anything, and +school would begin. To see him after it was over sitting alongside of +little Hepzibah and Keziah, as meek as if he'd never heard of a black +eye, and never seen the human fist, was one of my few joys. I was fond +of Pete, and he was fond of me. Ways like his, gentlemen, kinder creep +round the heart of the lonely teacher. Very fond of him I grew. But I +got restless and dug out for another place; it was when I went on the +boards and became an actor, I think; and it was close on fifteen years +afterwards that I met him. Then he was lying on the slopes of +Gettysburg--it was after the last battle--and his eyes were turned up +to the sky; one of them, I noticed, was black; so that he had kept up +his fighting to the end. For he was stark dead, with a Confed. bullet +in his heart. Poor Pete!" + +"You fought for the North?" asked one of his audience. + +"I _was_ a Northerner," he replied simply. How could he help taking +his part in maintaining undivided that fair realm of America, which +every one of his countrymen love as Queen Elizabeth's yeoman loved the +realm of England? We have no yeomen now, which is perhaps one of the +reasons why we could not understand the cause of the North. + +"I worried through that war without a scratch. We got wary towards the +end, and let the bullets drop into trunks of trees for choice. And +when it was over, I was five-and-thirty, and had to begin the world +again. But I was used to it." + +"And you enjoyed a wandering life?" + +"Yes, I believe I did enjoy barking up a new tree. There's a breed of +Americans who can't keep still. I belong to that breed. We do not like +to sit by a river and watch the water flow; we get tired livin' in the +village lookin' in each other's faces while the seasons come round +like the hands of a clock. There's a mixture among us of Dutch and +German and English to sit quiet and till the ground. They get their +heels well grounded in the clay, and there they stick." + +"Where do you get it from, the wandering blood?" asked Colquhoun. + +Gilead P. Beck became solemn. + +"There air folk among us," he whispered, "Who hold that we are +descended from the Ten Tribes. I don't say those folk are right, but I +do say that it sometimes looks powerful like as if they were. +Descended from the Ten Tribes, they say, and miraculously kept +separate from the English among whom they lived. Lost their own +language--which, if it was Hebrew, I take it was rather a good thing +to be quit of--and speakin' English, like the rest. What were the +tribes? Wanderers, mostly. Father Abraham went drivin' his cows and +his camels up and down the country. Isaac went around on the rove, and +Jacob couldn't sit still. Very well, then. Didn't their children walk +about, tryin' one location after another, for forty years, and always +feelin' after a bit as if there must be a softer plank farther on? And +when they'd be settled down for a few hundred years, didn't they get +up and disappear altogether? Mark you, they _didn't want_ to settle. +And where are the Ten Tribes now? For they never went back; you may +look Palesteen through and through, and nary a tribe." + +He looked round asking the question generally, but no one ventured to +answer it. + +"Our folk, who have mostly gut religion, point to themselves. They +say; 'Look at us; we air the real original Wanderers.' Look at us all +over the world. What are the hotels full of? Full of Americans. We are +everywhere. We eat up the milk and the honey, and we tramp off on +ramble again. But there's more points of gen'ral resemblance. We like +bounce and bunkum; so did those people down in Syria; we like to pile +up the dollars; so did the Jews; they liked to set up their kings and +pull them down again; we pursue the same generous and confiding policy +with our presidents; and if they were stiff-necked and backsliding, we +are as stiff-necked and backsliding as any generation among all the +lot." + +"A very good case, indeed," said Colquhoun. + +"I did not think so, sir, till lately. But it's been borne in upon me +with the weight and force that can't be resisted, and I believe it +now. The lost Ten Tribes, gentlemen, air now located in the United +States. I am certain of it from my own case. Do any of you think--I +put it to you seriously--that such an inseck as the Golden Butterfly +would have been thrown away upon an outsider? It is likely that such +all-fired Luck as mine would have been wasted on a man who didn't +belong to the Chosen People? No, sir; I am of the children of Israel; +and I freeze to that." + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + + "Animum pictura pascit inani." + + +When Panurge was in that dreadful difficulty of his about marrying he +took counsel of all his friends. Pantagruel, as we know, advised him +alternately for and against, according to the view taken at the moment +by his versatile dependent. Gilead Beck was so far in Panurge's +position that he asked advice of all his friends. Mr. Cassilis +recommended him to wait and look about him; meantime, he took his +money for investment; and, as practice makes perfect, and twice or +thrice makes a habit, he found now no difficulty in making Mr. Beck +give him cheques without asking their amount or their object, while +the American Fortunatus easily fell into the habit of signing them +without question. He was a Fool? No doubt. The race is a common one; +especially common is that kind of Fool which is suspicious from long +experience, but which, having found, as he thinks, a fellow-creature +worthy of trust, places entire and perfect trust in him, and so, like +a ship riding at anchor with a single stout cable, laughs at danger +even while the wind is blowing, beam on, to a lee shore. Perfect faith +is so beautiful a thing that neither religionists who love to +contemplate it, nor sharpers who profit by it, would willingly let it +die out. + +Lawrence Colquhoun recommended pictures. + +"You may as well spend your money on Artists as on any other people. +They are on the whole a pampered folk, and get much too well paid. But +a good picture is generally a good investment. And then you will +become a patron and form a gallery of your own, the Beck collection, +to hand down to posterity." + +"I can't say, Colonel--not with truth--that I know a good picture from +a bad one. I once tried sign painting. But the figures didn't come out +right, somehow. Looked easy to do, too. Seems I didn't know about +Perspective, and besides, the colours got mixed. Sign-painting is not +a walk in life that I should recommend from personal experience." + +But the idea took root in his brain. + +Jack Dunquerque encouraged it. + +"You see, Beck," he said, "you may as well form a gallery of paintings +as anything else. Buy modern pictures; don't buy Old Masters, because +you will be cheated. The modern pictures will be old in a hundred +years, and then your collection will be famous." + +"I want to do my work in my own lifetime," said the millionaire. He +was a man of many ideas but few convictions, the strongest being that +man ought to do what he has to do in his own lifetime, and not to +devise and bequeath for posthumous reputation. + +"Why, and so you would. You buy the pictures while you are living; +when you go off, the pictures remain." + +A patron of Art. The very name flattered his vanity, being a thing he +had read of, and his imagination leaped up to the possibilities of the +thing. Why should he not collect for his own country? He saw himself, +like Stewart, returning to New York with a shipload of precious Art +treasures bought in London; he saw his agent ransacking the studios +and shops of Florence, Naples, Rome, Dresden--wherever painters +congregate and pictures are sold; he imagined rich argosies coming to +him across the ocean--the American looks across the ocean for the +luxuries and graces of life, his wines, his Art, and his literature. +Then he saw a great building, grander than the Capitol at Washington, +erected by a grateful nation for the reception of the Gilead P. Beck +Collection of Ancient and Modern Paintings. + +Now one of the earliest callers upon Mr. Beck was a certain +picture-dealer named Burls. Mr. Burls and his fraternity regard rich +Americans with peculiar favour. It is said to have been Bartholomew +Burls who invented especially for American use the now well-known +"multiplication" dodge. The method is this. You buy a work by a rising +artist, one whose pictures may be at some future time, but are not +yet, sufficiently known to make their early wanderings matter of +notoriety. One of your young men--he must be a safe hand and a +secret--make two, three, or four copies, the number depending on the +area, rather than the number, of your _clientele_. You keep the +Artist's receipt, a proof of the genuineness of the picture. The +copies, name and all, are so well done that even the painter himself +would be puzzled to know his own. You then proceed to place your +pictures at good distances from each other, representing each as +genuine. It is a simple, beautiful, and lucrative method. Not so +profitable, perhaps, as cleaning oil-paintings, which takes half an +hour apiece and is charged from ten shillings to ten pounds, according +to the dealer's belief in your power to pay. Nor is it more profitable +than the manufacture of a Correggio or a Cuyp for a guileless cotton +manufacturer, and there is certainly a glow of pride to be obtained by +the successful conversion of a new into an old picture by the aid of +mastic varnish, mixed with red and yellow lake to tone it down, and +the simple shaking of a door-mat over it. But then people have grown +wary, and it is difficult to catch a purchaser of a Correggio, for +which a large sum has to be asked. The multiplication dodge is the +simpler and the safer. + +Mr. Beck, as has been already shown, was by no means deficient in a +certain kind of culture. He had read such books as fell in his way +during his wandering and adventurous life. His reading was thus +miscellaneous. He had been for a short time an actor, and thus +acquired a little information concerning dramatic literature. He had +been on a newspaper, one of the rank and file as well as an editor. He +knew a good deal about many things, arts, customs, and trades. But of +one thing he was profoundly ignorant, and that was of painting. + +He looked at Burls' card, however--"Bartholomew Burls and Co., Church +Street, City, Inventors of the only safe and perfect Method of +Cleaning Oil Paintings"--and, accompanied by Jack Dunquerque, who knew +about as much of pictures as himself, hunted up the shop, and entered +it with the meekness of a pigeon about to be plucked. + +They stood amid a mass of pictures, the like of which Gilead Beck had +never before conceived. They were hanging on the walls; they were +piled on the floor; they were stretched across the ceiling; they +climbed the stairs; they were hiding away in dark corners; a gaping +doorway lit with gas showed a cellar below where they were stacked in +hundreds. Pictures of all kinds. The shop was rather dark, though the +sun of May was pouring a flood of light even upon the narrow City +streets. But you could make out something. There were portraits in +hundreds. The effigies of dead men and women stared at you from every +second frame. Your ancestor--Mr. Burls was very particular in +ascertaining beyond a doubt that it was your own ancestor, and nobody +else's--frowned at you in bright steel armour with a Vandyke beard; or +he presented a shaven face with full cheeks and a Ramillies wig; or he +smirked upon you from a voluminous white scarf and a coat-collar which +rose to the top of his head. The ladies of your family--Mr. Burls was +very particular, before selling you one, in ascertaining beyond a +doubt that she belonged to your own branch of the house, and none +other--smiled upon you with half-closed lids, like the consort of +Potiphar, the Egyptian, or they frisked as shepherdesses in airy +robes, conscious of their charms; or they brandished full-blown +petticoats, compared with which crinolines were graceful, or they +blushed in robes which fell tightly about the figure, and left the +waist beneath the arms. Name any knight, or mayor, or court beauty, or +famous toast among your ancestry whose portrait is wanting to your +gallery, and Burls, the great genealogical collector, will find you +before many weeks that missing link in the family history. Besides the +portraits, there were landscapes, nymphs bathing, Venuses asleep, +Venuses with a looking-glass, Venuses of all sorts; scenes from _Don +Quixote_; Actæons surprising Dianas; battle-pieces, sea-pieces, +river-pieces; "bits" of Hampstead Heath, and boats on the Thames. + +Mr. Beck looked round him, stroked his chin, and addressed the +guardian of this treasure-house: + +"I am going to buy pictures," he began comprehensively. "You air the +Boss?" + +"This gentleman means," Jack explained, "that he wants to look at your +pictures with a view to buying some if he approves of them." + +The man in the shop was used to people who would buy one picture after +a whole mornings haggling, but he was not accustomed to people who +wanted to buy pictures generally. He looked astonished, and then, with +a circular sweep of his right hand, indicated that here were pictures, +and all Mr. Beck had to do was to go in and buy them. + +"Look round you, gentlemen," he said; "pray look round you; and the +more you buy, the better we shall like it." + +Then he became aware that the elder speaker was an American, and he +suddenly changed his front. + +"Our chicer pictures," he explained, "are up stairs. I should like you +to look at them first. Will you step up, gentlemen?" + +On the stairs, more pictures. On the landing, more pictures. On the +stairs mounting higher, more pictures. But they stopped on the first +floor. Mr. Burls and his assistants never invited any visitors to the +second and third floors, because these rooms were sacred to the +manufacture of old pictures, the multiplication of new, and the sacred +processes of cleaning, lining, and restoring. In the first-floor rooms +were fewer pictures but more light. + +One large composition immediately caught Mr. Beck's eye. A noble +picture; a grand picture; a picture whose greatness of conception was +equalled by its boldness of treatment. It occupied the whole of one +side of the wall, and might have measured twenty feet in length by +fourteen in height. The subject was scriptural--the slaying of Sisera +by Jael, Heber the Kenite's wife. The defeated general lay stretched +on the couch, occupying a good ten feet of the available space. Beside +him stood the woman, a majestic figure, with a tent-peg and a mallet, +about to commit that famous breach of hospitality. The handle of the +mallet was rendered most conscientiously, and had evidently been +copied from a model. Through the open hangings of the tent were +visible portions of the army chasing the fugitives and lopping off +their heads. + +"That seems a striking picture," said Mr. Beck. "I take that picture, +sir, to represent George Washington after the news of the surrender at +Saratoga, or General Jackson after the battle of New Orleans." + +"Grant after Gettysburg," suggested Jack. + +"No, sir. I was at Gettysburg myself; and the hero asleep on the bed, +making every allowance for his fancy dress, which I take to be +allegorical, is not at all like General Ulysses Grant, nor is he like +General Sherman. The young female, I s'pose, is Liberty, with a hammer +in one hand, and a dagger in the other. Too much limb for an American +gell, and the flesh is redder than one could wish. But on the hull a +striking picture. What may be the value of this composition, mister?" + +"I beg your pardon, sir. Not Washington, sir, nor General Jackson, +though we can procure you in a very short time fine portraits of both +these 'eroes. This, gentlemen, is a biblical subject. Cicero, +overtaken, by sleep while in jail, about to be slain by 'Eber the wife +of the Kenite. That is 'Eber, with the 'eavy 'ammer in 'er 'and. The +Kenite belonged, as I have always understood--for I don't remember the +incident myself--to the opposite faction. That splendid masterpiece, +gentlemen, has been valued at five 'undred. For a town'all, or for an +altar-piece, it would be priceless. To let it go at anything under +five 'undred would be a sin and a shame, besides a-throwing away of +money. Look at the light and shade. Look at 'Eber's arm and Cicero's +leg. That leg alone has been judged by connisseers worth all the +money." + +Mr. Beck was greatly disappointed in the subject and in the price; +even had it been the allegorical picture which he thought, he was not +yet sufficiently educated in the prices of pictures to offer five +hundred for it; and when Mr. Burls's assistant spoke of pounds, Mr. +Beck thought dollars. So he replied: + +"Five hundred dollars? I will give you five-and-twenty." + +"That," interposed Jack Dunquerque, "is a five-pound note." + +"Then, by gad, sir," said the man, with alacrity, "it's yours! It's +been hangin' there for ten years, and never an offer yet. It's yours!" + +This splendid painting, thus purchased at the rate of rather more than +threepence a square foot, was the acquisition made by Mr. Beck towards +his great Gallery of Ancient and Modern Masters. + +He paid for it on the spot calling Jack to witness the transaction. + +"We will send it up to the hotel to-morrow," said the man. + +"I shall have it fixed right away along the side of my room," said Mr. +Beck. "Should it be framed?" + +"I should certainly have it framed," said Jack. + +"Yes, sir; we shall be happy to frame it for you." + +"I dare say you would," Jack went on. "This is a job for a +house-carpenter, Mr. Beck. You will have to build the frame for this +gigantic picture. Have it sent over, and consider the frame +afterwards." + +This course was approved; but, for reasons which will subsequently +appear, the picture never was framed. + +The dealer proceeded to show other pictures. + +"A beautiful Nicolas Pushing--'Nymphs and Satyrs in a Bacchanalian +Dance'--a genuine thing." + +"I don't think much of that, Mr. Dunquerque; do you? The Nymphs +haven't finished dressing; and the gentlemen with the goats' legs may +be satires on human nature, but they are not pretty. Let us go on to +the next show in the caravan, mister." + +"This is Hetty. In the master's best style. 'Graces surprised while +Bathing in the River.' Much admired by connisseers." + +"No, sir; not at all," said Mr. Beck severely. "_My_ gallery is +going to elevate the morals of our gells and boys. It's a pretty +thing, too, Mr. Dunquerque, and I sometimes think it's a pity morality +was ever invented. Now, Boss." + +"Quite so, sir. Hetty is, as you say--rayther--What do you think of +this, now--a lovely Grooze?" + +"Grooze," said Mr. Beck, "is French, I suppose, for gell. Yes, now +that's a real pretty picture; I call that a picture you ain't ashamed +to admire; there's lips you can kiss; there's a chin you can +chuck----" + +"How about the morals?" asked Jack. + +"Wal, Mr. Dunquerque, we'll buy the picture first, and we'll see how +it rhymes with morals afterwards. There's eyes to look into a man's. +Any more heads of pretty Groozes, mister? I'll buy the lot." + +"This is a Courage-oh!" the exhibitor went on, after expressing his +sorrow that he had no more Groozes, and bringing out a Madonna. +"Thought to be genuine by the best judges. History of the picture +unknown redooces the value." + +"I can't go fooling around with copies in _my_ gallery," said Mr. +Beck. "I must have genuine pictures, or none." + +"Then we will not offer you that Madonna, sir. I think I have +something here to suit you. Come this way. A Teniers, gentlemen--a +real undoubted gem of Teniers. This is a picture now for any +gentleman's collection. It came from the gallery of a nobleman lately +deceased, and was bought at the sale by Mr. Burls himself, who knows a +picture when he sees one. Mr. Bartholomew Burls, our senior partner, +gentlemen. 'The Bagpipe-player.'" + +It was an excellent imitation, but of a well-known picture, and it +required consummate impudence to pretend that it was original. + +"Oh," said Jack, "but I have seen this somewhere else. In the Louvre, +I believe." + +"Very likely, sir," replied the unabashed vendor. "Teniers painted six +hundred pictures. There was a good many 'Bagpipe-players' among them. +One is in the Louvre. This is another." + +On the advice of Jack Dunquerque Mr. Beck refrained from buying, and +contented himself with selecting, with the option of purchase. When +they left the shop, some twenty pictures were thus selected. + +The seller, who had a small interest or commission on sales, as soon +as their steps were fairly out of the shop, executed a short dance +indicative of joy. Then he called up the stairs, and a man came slowly +down. + +A red-nosed bibulous person, by name Critchett. He was manufacturer of +old masters in ordinary to Bartholomew Burls and Co.; cleaned and +restored pictures when other orders were slack, and was excellent at +"multiplication." He had worked for Burls for a quarter of a century, +save for a few weeks, when one Frank Melliship, a young gentleman then +down on his luck, worked in his stead. A trustworthy and faithful +creature, though given to drink; he could lie like an echo; was as +incapable of blushing as the rock on which the echo plays; and bore +cross-examination like a Claimant. + +"Come down, Critchett--come down. We've sold 'Cicero and 'Eber.'" + +"'Sisera and Jael.'" + +"Well, it don't matter--and I said 'Cicero in Jail.' They've gone for +five pounds. The governor he always said I could take whatever was +offered, and keep it for myself. Five pounds in my pocket! Your last +Teniers--that old bagpipe-party--I tried him, but it was no go. But +I've sold the only one left of your Groozes, and you had better make a +few more, out of hand. Look here, Critchett: it isn't right to drink +in hours, and the guv'nor out and all; but this is an occasion. This +ain't a common day, because I've sold the Cicero. I won't ask you to +torse, nor yet to pay; but I says, 'Critchett, come across the way, my +boy, and put your lips to what you like best.' Lord, Lord! on'y give +me an American, and give him to me green! Never mind your hat, +Critchett. 'It's limp in the brim and it's gone in the rim,' as the +poet says; and you look more respectable without it, Critchett." + +"That's a good beginning," Beck observed, after luncheon. They were in +Jack Dunquerque's club, in the smoking room. "That's a first-rate +beginning. How many pictures go to a gallery?" + +"It depends on the size of it. About five hundred for a moderate sized +one." + +Mr. Beck whistled. + +"Never mind. The Ile pays for all. A Patron of Art. Yes, sir, that +seems the right end of the stick for a rich man to keep up. But I've +been thinking it over. It isn't enough to go to shops and buy +pictures. We must go in for sculpting too, and a Patron ought to get +hold of a struggling artist, and lend him a helping hand; he should +advance unknown talent. That's my idea." + +"I think I can help you there," said Jack, his eyes twinkling. "I know +just such a man; an artist unknown, without friends, with slender +means, of great genius, who has long languished in obscurity." + +"Bring him to me, Mr. Dunquerque. Bring that young man to me. Let me +be the means of pushing the young gentleman. Holy thunder! What is +money if it isn't used. Tell me his name." + +"I think I ought to have spoken to him first," said Jack, in some +confusion, and a little taken aback by Mr. Beck's determination. "But, +however, you can only try. His name is Humphrey Jagenal. I will, if +you please, go and see him to-day. And I will ask him to call upon you +to-morrow morning." + +"I would rather call upon _him_," said Mr. Beck. "It might look like +the pride of patronage asking him to call at the Langham. I don't want +him to start with a feeling of shame." + +"Not at all; at least, of course, it will be patronage, and I believe +he will prefer it. There is no shame in taking a commission to execute +a picture." + +"Mr. Dunquerque, every day you confer fresh obligations upon me. And I +can do nothing for you--nothing at all." + +At this time it was Gilead Beck's worst misfortune that he was not +taken seriously by any one except Gabriel Cassilis, who literally and +liberally interpreted his permission to receive all his money for safe +investment. But as for his schemes, vague and shadowy as they were, +for using his vast income for some practically philanthropic and +benevolent objects, none of his friends sympathised with him, because +none of them understood him. Yet the man was deeply in earnest. He +meant what he said, and more, when he told Gabriel Cassilis that a +voice urged him by day and by night not to save his money, but to use +for others what he could not use himself. He had been two months in +England on purpose to learn a way, but saw no way yet. And every way +seemed barred. He would not give money to societies, because they were +societies; he wanted to strike out something new for himself. Nor +would he elaborate a scheme to be carried out after his death. Let +every man, he repeated every day, do what he has to do in his +lifetime. How was he to spend his great revenues? A Patron of Art? It +was the first tangible method that he had struck upon. He would be +that to begin with. Art has the great advantage, too, of swallowing up +any conceivable quantity of money. + +And on the way from the Burls's Depot of Real and Genuine Art, he hit +upon the idea of advancing artists as well as Art. He was in thorough +earnest when he raised his grave and now solemn eyes to Jack +Dunquerque, and thanked him for his kindness. And Jack's conscience +smote him. + +"I must tell you," Jack explained, "that I have never seen any of Mr. +Humphrey Jagenal's pictures. Miss Fleming, the young lady whom you met +at Mrs. Cassilis's, told me once that he was a great artist." + +"Bring him to me, bring him to me, and we will talk. I hope that I may +be able to speak clearly to him without hurting his feelin's. If I +brag about my Pile, Mr. Dunquerque, you just whisper 'Shoddy,' and +I'll sing small." + +"There will be no hurting of feelings. When you come to a question of +buying and selling, an artist is about the same as everybody else. +Give him a big commission; let him have time to work it out; and send +him a cheque in advance. I believe that would be the method employed +by patrons whom artists love. At least, I should love such a patron. + +"Beck," he went on after a pause: both were seated in the long deep +easy-chairs of the club smoking-room, with the chairs pretty close +together, so that they could talk in low tones,--"Beck, if you talk +about artists, there's Phil--I mean Miss Fleming. By Jove! she only +wants a little training to knock the heads off half the R.A.s. Come +out with me and call upon her. She will show us her sketches." + +"I remember her," said Gilead Beck slowly; "a tall young lady; a +lovely Grooze, as the man who grinds that picture-mill would say; she +had large brown eyes that looked as if they could be nothing but +tender and true, and a rosebud mouth all sweetness and smiles, and +lips that trembled when she thought. I remember her--a head like a +queen's piled up with her own brown hair and flowers, an' a figure +like--like a Mexican half-caste at fourteen." + +"You talk of her as if you were in love with her," said Jack +jealously. + +"No, Mr. Dunquerque; no, sir. That is, I may be. But it won't come +between you and her, what I feel. You air a most fortunate man. Go +down on your knees when you get home, and say so. For or'nary +blessin's you may use the plan of Joshua Mixer, the man who had the +biggest claim in Empire City before it busted up. He got his Petitions +and his Thanksgivin's printed out neat on a card together, and then he +hung that card over his bed. 'My sentiments,' he used to say, jerkin' +his thumb to the card when he got in at night. Never omitted his +prayers; never forgot that jerk, drunk or sober. Joshua Mixer was the +most religious man in all that camp. But for special Providences; for +Ile; for a lucky shot; for a sweet, pure, heavenly, gracious creature +like Miss Fleming,--I say, go on your knees and own to it, as a man +should. Well, Mr. Dunquerque," he continued, "I wish you success; and +if there's anything I can do to promote your success, let me know. Now +there's another thing. What I want to do is to unlock the door which +keeps me from the society of men of genius. I can get into good +houses; they all seem open to me because I've got money. London is the +most hospitable city in this wide world for those who have the stamps. +Republican? Republican ain't the word for it. Do they ask who a man +is? Not they. They ask about his dollars, and they welcome him with +smiles. It's a beautiful thing to look at, and it makes an Amer'can +sigh when he thinks of his own country, where they inquire into a +stranger's antecedents. But there's exceptions, and artists and +authors I cannot get to. And I want to meet your great men. Not to +interview them, sir. Not at all. They may talk a donkey's hind leg +off, and I wouldn't send a single line to the New York papers to tell +them what was said nor what they wore. But I should like, just for one +evening, to meet and talk with the great writers whom we respect +across the water." + +Again Jack Dunquerque's eyes began to twinkle. He _could_ not enter +into the earnestness of this man. And an idea occurred to him at which +his face lit up with smiles. + +"It requires thinking over. Suppose I was to be able to get +half-a-dozen or so of our greatest writers, how should we manage to +entertain them?" + +"I should like, if they would only come--I should like to give them a +dinner at the Langham. A square meal; the very best dinner that the +hotel can serve. I should like to make them feel like being at the +Guildhall." + +"I will think about it," said Jack, "and let you know in a day or two +what I can do for you." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + + "Ambition should be made of sterner stuff." + + +"A patron at last, Cornelius," said Humphrey Jagenal, partly +recovering from the shock of Jack Dunquerque's communication. "A +Patron. Patronage is, after all, the breath of life in Art. Let others +pander to the vitiated public taste and cater for a gaping crowd round +the walls of the Royal Academy. I would paint for a Lorenzo only, and +so work for the highest interests of Art. We will call, brother, upon +this Mr. Beck to-morrow." + +"We will!" said Cornelius, with enthusiasm. + +It was in the Studio. Both brothers, simultaneously fired with ardour, +started to their feet and threw back their heads with a gesture of +confidence and determination. The light of high resolve flashed from +their eyes, which were exactly alike. The half-opened lips expressed +their delight in the contemplation of immortal fame. Their chance had +arrived; their youth was come back to them. + +True, that Gilead Beck at present only proposed to become a Patron to +the Artist; but while it did not enter into Humphrey's head for one +moment that he could make that visit unsupported by his brother, so +the thought lay in either's brain that a Poet wanted patronage as much +as an Artist. + +They were both excited. To Humphrey it was clear that the +contemplation of his great work, in which he had basked so many years, +was to be changed for days of active labour. No longer could he +resolve to carry it into execution the "day after to-morrow," as the +Arabs say. This was difficult to realise, but as yet the thought was +like the first shock of ice-cold water, for it set his veins tingling +and braced his nerves. He felt within him once more the strength felt +by every young man at first, which is the strength of Michael Angelo. +He saw in imagination his great work, the first of many great works, +finished, a glorious canvas glowing with the realization of a +painter's dream of colour, crowded with graceful figures, warm with +the thought of genius, and rich with the fancy of an Artist-scholar--a +work for all time. And he gasped. But for his beard he might have been +a boy waiting for the morrow, when he should receive the highest prize +in the school; or an undergraduate, the favourite of his year, after +the examination, looking confidently to the Senior Wranglership. + +In the morning they took no walk, but retired silently each to his own +room. In the Studio the Artist opened his portfolios, and spread out +the drawings made years ago when he was studying in Rome. They were +good drawings; there was feeling in every line; but they were copies. +There was not one scrap of original work, and his Conscience began to +whisper--only he refused at first to listen--that the skill of hand +and touch was gone. Then Conscience, which gets angry if disregarded, +took to whispering more loudly, and presently he heard. He took crayon +and paper, and began, feverishly and in haste, to copy one of his old +drawings. He worked for a quarter of an hour, and then, looking at the +thing he had once done beside the thing he was then doing, he dashed +the pencil from him, and tore up the miserable replica in disgust. His +spirit, which had flown so high, sank dull and heavy as lead; he threw +himself back in his chair and began to think, gazing hopelessly into +space. + +It was the opportunity of Conscience, who presently began to sing as +loudly as any skylark, but not so cheerfully. "You are fifty," said +that voice which seldom lies, "you have wasted the last twenty years +of your life; you have become a wind-bag and a shallow humbug; you +cannot now paint or draw at all; what little power was in you has +departed. Your brother, the Poet, has been steadily working while you +have slept"--and it will be perceived that Conscience spoke from +imperfect information. "He will produce a great book, and live. You +will die. The grave will close over you, and you will be forgotten." + +It was a hard saying, and the Artist groaned as he listened to it. + +In the workshop, Cornelius also, startled into action, spread out upon +the table a bundle of papers which had been lying undisturbed in his +desk for a dozen years or more. They were poems he had written in his +youth, unpublished verses, thoughts in rhyme such as an imaginative +young man easily pours forth, reproducing the fashion of the time and +the thoughts of others. He began to read these over again with mingled +pleasure and pain. For the thoughts seemed strange to him. He felt +that they were good and lofty thoughts, but the conviction forced +itself upon him that the brain which had produced them was changed. No +more of such good matter was left within it. The lines of thought were +changed. The poetic faculty, a delicate plant, which droops unless it +is watered and carefully tended, was dead within him. + +And the whole of the Epic to be written. + +Not a line done, not a single episode on paper, though to Phillis he +claimed to have done so much. + +He seized a pen, and with trembling fingers and agitated brain forced +himself to write. + +In half an hour he tore the paper into shreds, and, with a groan, +threw down the pen. The result was too feeble. + +Then he too began to meditate, like his brother in the Studio. +Presently his guardian angel, who very seldom got such a chance, began +to admonish him, even as the dean admonishes an erring undergraduate. + +"You are fifty," said the invisible Censor. "What have you done with +yourself for twenty years and more. Your best thoughts have passed +away; the poetical eye is dim; you will write no more. Your brother, +the Artist, is busy with pencil and brain. He will produce a great +work, and live for ever. You will do nothing; you will go down into +the pit and be forgotten." + +It was too much for the Poet. His lips trembled, his hand shook. He +could no more rest in his chair. + +He walked backwards and forwards, the voice pursuing him. + +"Wasted years; wasted energies; wasted gifts; your chance is gone. You +cannot write now." + +Poets are more susceptible than artists. That is the reason why +Cornelius rushed out of the Workshop to escape this torture and sought +his brother Humphrey. + +Humphrey started like a guilty person. His face was pale, his eye was +restless. + +"Cornelius?" + +"Do not me disturb you, my dear brother. You are happy; you are at +work; your soul is at peace." + +"And you, Cornelius?" + +"I am not at peace. I am restless this morning. I am nervous and +agitated." + +"So am I, Cornelius. I cannot work. My pencil refuses to obey my +brain." + +"My own case. My pen will not write what I wish. The link between the +brain and the nerves is for the moment severed." + +"Let us go out, brother. It is now three. We will walk slowly in the +direction of the Langham Hotel." + +As they put on their hats Cornelius stopped, and said reflectively-- + +"The nervous system is a little shaken with both of us. Can you +suggest anything, brother Humphrey?" + +"The best thing for a shaken nervous system," replied Humphrey +promptly, "is a glass of champagne. I will get some champagne for you, +brother Cornelius." + +He returned presently with a modest pint bottle, which they drank +together, Humphrey remarking (in italics) that in such a case it is +not a question of what a man _wants_, so much as of what he _needs_. + +A pint of champagne is not much between two men, but it produced an +excellent effect upon the Twins. Before it they were downcast; they +looked around with the furtive eyes of conscious imposture; their +hands trembled. After it they raised their heads, laughed, and looked +boldly in each other's eyes, assumed a gay and confident air, and +presently marched off arm-in-arm to call upon the Patron. + +Gilead Beck, unprepared to see both brethren, welcomed them with a +respect almost overwhelming. It was his first interview with Genius. + +They introduced each other. + +"Mr. Beck," said Cornelius, "allow me to introduce my brother, +Humphrey Jagenal. In his case the world is satisfied with the +Christian name alone, without the ceremonial prefix. He is, as you +know, the Artist." + +If his brother had been Titian or Correggio he could not have said +more. + +"Sir," said Mr. Beck, shaking Humphrey's hand warmly, "I am proud +indeed to make your acquaintance. I am but a rough man myself, sir, +but I respect genius." + +"Then," said Humphrey, with admirable presence of mind, "allow me to +introduce my brother. Cornelius Jagenal, as you doubtless know, Mr. +Beck, is the Poet." + +Mr. Beck did not know it, and said so. But he shook hands with +Cornelius none the less cordially. + +"Sir, I have been knocking about the world, and have not read any +poetry since I was a boy. Then I read Alexander Pope. You know Pope, +Mr. Jagenal?" + +Cornelius smiled, as if he might allow some merit to Pope, though +small in comparison with his own. + +"I have never met with your poem, Mr. Cornelius Jagenal or your +pictures, Mr. Humphrey, but I hope you will now enable me to do so." + +"My brother is engaged"--said Cornelius. + +"My brother is engaged"--began Humphrey. "Pardon, brother." + +"Sit down, gentlemen. Will you take anything? In California, up +country, we always begin with a drink. Call for what you please, +gentlemen. Sail in, as we say." + +They took champagne, for the second time that day, and then their eyes +began to glisten. + +Mr. Beck observed that they were both alike--small and fragile-looking +men, with bright eyes and delicate features; he made a mental note to +the effect that they would never advance their own fortunes. He also +concluded from their red noses, and from the way in which they +straightened their backs after placing themselves outside the +champagne, that they loved the goblet, and habitually handled it too +often. + +"Now, gentlemen," he began, after making these observations, "may I be +allowed to talk business?" + +They both bowed. + +"Genius, gentlemen, is apt to be careless of the main chance. It don't +care for the almighty dollar; it lets fellows like me heap up the +stamps. What can we do but ask Genius to dig into our Pile?" + +Humphrey poured out another glass of champagne for his brother, and +one for himself. Then he turned to Cornelius and nodded gravely. + +"Cornelius, so far as I understand him, Mr. Beck speaks the strongest +common sense." + +"We agree with you so far, Mr. Beck," said Cornelius critically, +because he was there to give moral support to his brother. + +"Why should I have any delicacy in saying to a young man, or a man of +any age," he added doubtfully, for the years of the Twins seemed +uncertain, "'You, sir, are an Artist and a Genius. Take a cheque, and +carry out your ideas.'?" + +"What reason indeed?" asked Cornelius. "The offer does honour to +both." + +"Or to another man, 'You, sir, are a Poet. Why should the cares of the +world interfere with your thoughts? Take a cheque, and make the world +rejoice'!" + +Humphrey clapped his hands. + +"The world lies in travail for such a patron of poetry," he said. + +"Why, then, we are agreed," said Mr. Beck. "Gentlemen, I say to you +both, collectively, let me usher into the world those works of genius +which you are bound to produce. You, sir, are painting a picture. When +can you finish me that picture?" + +"In six months," said Humphrey, his brain suffused with a rosy warmth +of colour which made him see things in an impossibly favourable light. + +"I buy that picture, sir, at your own price," said the patron. "I +shall exhibit it in London, and it shall then go to New York with me. +And you, Mr. Cornelius Jagenal, are engaged upon poems. When would you +wish to publish your verses?" + +"My Epic, the _Upheaval of Ælfred_, will be ready for publication +about the end of November," said Cornelius. + +Humphrey felt a passing pang of jealousy as he perceived that his +brother would be before the world a month in advance of himself. But +what is a month compared with immortality? + +"I charge myself, sir, if you will allow me," said the American, "with +the production of that work. It shall be printed in the best style +possible, on the thickest paper made, and illustrated by the best +artist that can be found--you, perhaps, Mr. Humphrey Jagenal. It shall +be bound in Russian leather; its exterior shall be worthy of its +contents. And as for business arrangements, gentlemen, you will please +consider them at your leisure, and let me know what you think. We +shall be sure to agree, because, if you will not think it shoddy in me +to say so, I have my Pile to dig into. And I shall send you, if you +will allow me, gentlemen, a small cheque each in advance." + +They murmured assent and rose to go. + +"If you would favor me further, gentlemen, by dining with me--say this +day week--I should take it as a great distinction. I hope, with the +assistance of Mr. Dunquerque, to have a few prominent men of letters +to meet you. I want to have my table full of genius." + +"Can we, brother Humphrey, accept Mr. Beck's invitation?" + +Cornelius asked as if they were weeks deep in engagements. As it was, +nobody ever asked them anywhere, and they had no engagements at all. + +Humphrey consulted a pocket-book with grave face. + +"We can, Mr. Beck." + +"And if you know any one else, gentlemen, any men of Literature and +Art who will come too, bring them along with you, and I shall feel it +an honour." + +They knew no one connected with Literature and Art, not even a +printer's devil, but they did not say so. + + +At twelve o'clock, toward the close of this fatiguing day, Cornelius +asked Humphrey, with a little hesitation, if he really thought he +should have finished his great work in six months. + +"Art cannot be forced, Cornelius," said the Painter airily. "If I am +not ready, I shall not hesitate to consider the pledge conditional. My +work must be perfect ere it leaves my hands." + +"And mine, too," said the Poet. "I will never consent to let a poem of +mine go forth unfinished to the world. The work must be polished _ad +unguem_." + +"This is a memorable day, brother. The tumblers are empty. Allow me. +And, Cornelius, I really do think that, considering the way in which +we have been treated by Phillis Fleming, and her remarks about +afternoon work, we ought to call and let her understand the reality of +our reputation." + +"We will, Humphrey. But it is not enough to recover lost ground; we +must advance farther. The fortress shall be made to surrender." + +"Let us drink to your success, brother, and couple with the toast the +name of Phillis--Phillis--Phillis Jagenal, brother?" + +They drank that toast, smiling unutterable things. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + + "Call me not fool till Heaven hath sent me fortune." + + +When Jack Dunquerque communicated to Lawrence Colquhoun the fact of +having made the acquaintance of Miss Fleming, and subsequently that of +Mrs. L'Estrange, Lawrence expressed no surprise and felt no +suspicions. Probably, had he felt any, they would have been at once +set aside, because Colquhoun was not a man given to calculate the +future chances, and to disquiet himself about possible events. Also at +this time he was taking little interest in Phillis. A pretty piquante +girl; he devoted a whole day to her; drove her to Twickenham, and +placed her in perfect safety under the charge of his cousin. What more +was wanted? Agatha wrote to him twice a week or so, and when he had +time he read the letters. They were all about Phillis, and most of +them contained the assurance that he had no entanglements to fear. + +"Entanglements!" he murmured impatiently. "As if a man cannot dine +with a girl without falling in love with her. Women are always +thinking that men want to be married." + +He was forgetting, after the fashion of men who have gone through the +battle, how hot is the fight for those who are just beginning it. Jack +Dunquerque was four-and-twenty; he was therefore, so to speak, in the +thick of it. Phillis's eyes were like two quivers filled with darts, +and when she turned them innocently upon her friend the enemy, the +darts flew straight at him, and transfixed him as if he were another +Sebastian. Colquhoun's time was past; he was clothed in the armour of +indifference which comes with the years, and he was forgetting the +past. + +Still, had he known of the visit to the Tower of London, the rowing on +the river, the luncheons in Carnarvon Square, it is possible that even +he might have seen the propriety of requesting Jack Dunquerque to keep +out of danger for the future. + +He had no plans for Phillis, except of the simplest kind. She was to +remain in charge of Agatha for a year, and then she would come out. He +hoped that she would marry well, because her father, had he lived, +would have wished it. And that was all he hoped about her. + +He had his private worries at this time--those already +indicated--connected with Victoria Cassilis. The ice once broken, that +lady allowed him no rest. She wrote to him on some pretence nearly +every day; she sent her maid, the unlovely one, with three-cornered +notes all about nothing; she made him meet her in society, she made +him dine with her; it seemed as if she was spreading a sort of net +about him, through the meshes of which he could not escape. + +With the knowledge of what had been, it was an unrighteous thing for +Colquhoun to go to the house of Gabriel Cassilis; he ought not to be +there, he felt, it was the one house in all London in which he had no +business. And yet--how to avoid it? + +And Gabriel Cassilis seemed to like him; evidently liked to talk to +him; singled him out, this great financier, and talked with him as if +Colquhoun too was interested in stock; called upon him at his +chambers, and told him, in a dry but convincing way, something of his +successes and his projects. + +It was after many talks of this kind that Lawrence Colquhoun, +forgetful of the past, and not remembering that of all men in the +world Gabriel Cassilis was the last who should have charge of his +money, put it all in his hands, with power-of-attorney to sell out and +reinvest for him. But that was nothing. Colquhoun was not the man to +trouble about money. He was safe in the hands of this great and +successful capitalist: he gave no thought to any risk; he +congratulated himself on his cleverness in persuading the financier to +take the money for him; and he continued to see Victoria Cassilis +nearly every day. + +They quarrelled when they did meet; there was not a conversation +between them in which she did not say something bitter, and he +something savage. And yet he did not have the courage to refuse the +invitations which were almost commands. Nor could she resign the sweet +joys of making him feel her power. + +A secret, you see, has a fatal fascination about it. Schoolgirls, I am +told, are given to invent little secrets which mean nothing, and to +whisper them in the ears of their dearest friends to the exclusion of +the rest. The possession of this unknown and invaluable fact brings +them together, whispering and conspiring, at every possible moment. +Freemasons again--how are they kept together; except by the possession +of secrets which are said to have been published over and over again? +And when two people have a secret which means--all that the secret +between Colquhoun and Mrs. Cassilis meant, they can no more help being +drawn together than the waters can cease to find their own level. To +be together, to feel that the only other person in the world who knows +that secret is with you, is a kind of safety. Yet what did it matter +to Colquhoun? Simply nothing. The secret was his as well as hers, but +the reasons for keeping it a secret were not his at all, but hers +entirely. + +So Phillis was neglected by her guardian and left to Agatha and Jack +Dunquerque, with such results as we shall see. + +So Lawrence Colquhoun fell into the power of this man of stocks, about +the mouth of whose City den the footsteps pointed all one way. He +congratulated himself; he found out Gilead Beck, and they +congratulated each other. + +"I don't see," said Colquhoun, who had already enough for four +bachelors, "why one's income should not be doubled." + +"With Mr. Cassilis," said Gilead Beck, "you sign cheques, and he gives +you dividends. It's like Ile, because you can go on pumping." + +"He understands more than any other living man," said Lawrence. + +"He is in the inner track, sir," said Mr. Beck. + +"And a man," said Lawrence, "ready to take in his friends with +himself." + +"A high-toned and a whole-souled man," said Gilead Beck, with +enthusiasm. "That man, sir, I do believe would take in the hull +world." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + + "I had rather hear a brazen candlestick turn'd, + Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree; + And that would set my teeth nothing on edge. + Nothing so much as mincing poetry." + + +Jack Dunquerque repaired to the Langham, the day after the call on the +Twins, with a face in which cheerful anticipation and anxiety were +curiously blended. He was serious with his lips, but he laughed with +his eyes. And he spoke with a little hesitation not often observed in +him. + +"I think your dinner will come off next Wednesday," he said. "And I +have been getting together your party for you." + +"That is so, Mr. Dunquerque?" asked Gilead Beck, with a solemnity +which hardly disguised his pride and joy. "That is so? And those great +men, your friends, are actually coming?" + +"I have seen them all, personally. And I put the case before each of +them. I said, 'Here is an American gentleman most anxious to make your +acquaintance; he has no letters of introduction to you, but he is a +sincere admirer of your genius; he appreciates you better than any +other living man.'" + +"Heap it up, Mr. Dunquerque," said the Man of Oil. "Heap it up. Tell +them I am Death on appreciation." + +"That is in substance what I did tell them. Then I explained that you +deputed me, or gave me permission to ask them to dinner. 'The honour,' +I said, 'is mutual. On the one hand, my friend, Mr. Gilead P. Beck'--I +ventured to say, 'my friend, Mr. Gilead P. Beck'----" + +"If you hadn't said that you should have been scalped and gouged. Go +on, Mr. Dunquerque; go on, sir." + +"'On the one hand, my friend, Mr. Gilead P. Beck'----" + +"That is so--that is so." + +"'Will feel himself honoured by your company; on the other hand, it +will be a genuine source of pleasure for you to know that you are as +well known and as thoroughly appreciated on the other side of the +water as you are here.' I am not much of a speechmaker, and I assure +you that little effort cost me a good deal of thought. However, the +end of it is all you care about. Most of the writing swells will come, +either on Wednesday next or on any other day you please." + +"Mr. Dunquerque, not a day passes but you load me with obligations. +Tell me, if you please, who they are." + +"Well, you will say I have done pretty well, I think." Jack pulled out +a paper. "And you will know most of the names. First of all, you would +like to see the old Philosopher of Cheyne Walk, Thomas Carlyle, as +your guest?" + +"Carlyle, sir, is a name to conjure with in the States. When I was +Editor of the _Clearville Roarer_ I had an odd volume of Carlyle, and +I used to quote him as long as the book lasted. It perished in a +fight. And to think that I shall meet the man who wrote that work! An +account of the dinner must be written for the _Rockoleaville Gazette_. +We'll have a special reporter, Mr. Dunquerque. We'll get a man who'll +do it up to the handle." + +Jack looked at his list again. + +"What do you say of Professor Huxley and Mr. Darwin?" + +Mr. Beck shook his head. These two writers began to flourish--that is, +to be read--in the States after his editorial days, and he knew them +not. + +"I should say they were prominent citizens, likely, if I knew what +they'd written. Is Professor Huxley a professing Christian? There was +a Professor Habukkuk Huckster once down Empire City way in the Moody +and Sankey business, with an interest in the organs and a percentage +on the hymn-books; but they're not relations, I suppose? Not probable. +And the other genius--what is his name--Darwin? Grinds novels +perhaps?" + +"Historical works of fiction. Great in genealogy is Darwin." + +"Never mind my ignorance, Mr. Dunquerque. And go on, sir. I'm powerful +interested." + +"Ruskin is coming; and I had thought of Robert Browning, the poet, but +I am afraid he may not be able to be present. You see, Browning is so +much sought after by the younger men of the day. They used to play +polo and billiards and other frivolous things till he came into +fashion with his light and graceful verse, so simple that all may +understand it. His last poem, I believe, is now sung about the +streets. However, there are Tennyson and Swinburne--they are both +coming. Buchanan I would ask, if I knew him, but I don't. George +Eliot, of course, I could not invite to a stag party. Trollope we +might get, perhaps----" + +"Give me Charles Reade, sir," said Gilead Beck. "He is the novelist +they like on our side." + +"I am afraid I could not persuade him to come; though he might be +pleased to see you if you would call at his house, perhaps. However, +Beck, the great thing is"--he folded up his list and placed it in his +pocket-book--"that you shall have a dinner of authors as good as any +that sat down to the Lord Mayor's spread last year. Authors of all +sorts, and the very best. None of your unknown little hungry anonymous +beggars who write novels in instalments for weekly papers. Big men, +sir, with big names. Men you'll be proud to know. And they shall be +asked for next Wednesday." + +"That gives only four days. It's terrible sudden," said Gilead Beck. +He shook his head with as much gravity as if he was going to be hanged +in four days. Then he sat down and began to write the names of his +guests. + +"Professor Huxley," he said, looking up. "I suppose I can buy that +clergyman's sermons? And the Universal Genius who reels out the +historical romances, Mr. Darwin? I shall get his works, too. And +there's Mr. Ruskin, Mr. Robert Browning----" + +"What are you going to do?" + +"Well, Mr. Dunquerque, I am going to devote the next four days, from +morning till night, to solid preparation for that evening. I shall go +out right away, and I shall buy every darned book those great men have +written; and if I sit up every night over the job, I'm bound to read +every word." + +"Oh!" said Jack. "Then I advise you to begin with Robert Browning." + +"The light and graceful verse that everybody can understand? I will," +said Gilead Beck. "They shall not find me unacquainted with their +poems. Mr. Dunquerque, for the Lord's sake don't tell them it was all +crammed up in four days." + +"Not I. But--I say--you know, authors don't like to talk about their +own books." + +"That's the modesty of real genius," said the American, with +admiration. + +It will be perceived that Jack spoke with a certain rashness. Most +authors I have myself known do love very much to talk about their own +books. + +"That is their modesty. But they will talk about each other's books. +And it is as well to be prepared. What I'm bound to make them feel, +somehow, is that they have a man before them who has gone in for the +hull lot and survived. A tough contract, Mr. Dunquerque, but you trust +me." + +"Very well," said Jack, putting on his hat, "only don't ask them +questions. Authors don't like being questioned. Why, I shouldn't +wonder if next Wednesday some of them pretended not to know the names +of their own books. Don't you know that Shakespeare, when he went down +to Stratford, to live like a retired grocer at Leytonstone, used to +pretend not to know what a play meant? And when a strolling company +came round, and the manager asked permission to play _Hamlet_, he +was the first to sign a petition to the mayor not to allow immoral +exhibitions in the borough." + +"Is that so, sir?" + +"It may be so," said Jack, "because I never heard it contradicted." + +As soon he was gone, Gilead Beck sought the nearest bookseller's shop +and gave an extensive order. He requested to be furnished with all the +works of Carlyle, Ruskin, Tennyson, Swinburne, Browning, Buchanan, +Huxley, Darwin, and a few more. Then he returned to the Langham, gave +orders that he was at home to no one except Mr. Dunquerque, took off +his coat, lit a cigar, ordered more champagne, and began the first of +the three most awful days he ever spent in all his life. + +The books presently came in a great box, and he spread them on the +table with a heart that sank at the mere contemplation of their +numbers. About three hundred volumes in all. And only four days to get +through them. Seventy-five volumes a day, say, at the rate of fifteen +hours' daily work; five an hour, one every twelve minutes. He laid his +watch upon the table, took the first volume of Robert Browning that +was uppermost, sat down in his long chair with his feet up, and began. + +The book was _Fifine at the Fair_. Gilead Beck read cheerfully and +with great ease the first eight or ten pages. Then he discovered with +a little annoyance that he understood nothing whatever of the author's +meaning. "That comes of too rapid reading," he said. So he turned back +to the beginning and began with more deliberation. Ten minutes clean +wasted, and not even half a volume got through. When he had got to +tenth page for the second time, he questioned himself once more, and +found that he understood less than ever. Were things right? Could it +be Browning, or some impostor? Yes, the name of Robert Browning was on +the title-page; also, it was English. And the words held together, and +were not sprinkled out of a pepper-pot. He began a third time. Same +result. He threw away his cigar and wiped his brow, on which the cold +dews of trouble were gathering thickly. + +"This is the beginning of the end, Gilead P. Beck," he murmured. "The +Lord, to try you, sent His blessed Ile, and you've received it with a +proud stomach. Now you air going off your head. Plain English, and you +can't take in a single sentence." + +It was in grievous distress of mind that he sprang to his feet and +began to walk about the room. + +"There was no softenin' yesterday," he murmured, trying to reassure +himself. "Why should there be to-day? Softenin' comes by degrees. Let +us try again. Great Jehoshaphat!" + +He stood up to his work, leaning against a window-post, and took two +pages first, which he read very slowly. And then he dropped the volume +in dismay, because he understood less than nothing. + +It was the most disheartening thing he had ever attempted. + +"I'd rather fight John Halkett over again," he said. "I'd rather sit +with my finger on a trigger for a week, expecting Mr. Huggins to call +upon me." + +Then he began to construe it line by line, thinking every now and then +that he saw daylight. + +It is considered rather a mark of distinction, a separating seal upon +the brow, by that poet's admirers, to reverence his later works. Their +creed is that because a poem is rough, harsh, ungrammatical, and dark, +it must have a meaning as deep as its black obscurity. + +"It's like the texts of a copybook," said Gilead. "Pretty things, all +of them, separate. Put them together and where are they? I guess this +book would read better upsy down." + +He poured cold water on his head for a quarter of an hour or so, and +then tried reading it aloud. + +This was worse than any previous method, because he comprehended no +more of the poet's meaning, and the rough hard words made his front +teeth crack and fly about the room in splinters. + +"Cæsar's ghost!" he exclaimed, thinking what he should do if Robert +Browning talked as he wrote. "The human jaw isn't built that could +stand it." + +Two hours were gone. There ought to have been ten volumes got through, +and not ten pages finished of a single one. + +He hurled _Fifine_ to the other end of the room, and took another +work by the same poet. It was _Red Cotton Nightcap Country_, and +the title looked promising. No doubt a light and pretty fairy story. +Also the beginning reeled itself off with a fatal facility which +allured the reader onwards. + + +When the clock struck six he was sitting among the volumes on the +table, with _Red Cotton Nightcap Country_ still in his hand. His +eyes were bloodshot, his hair was pushed in disorder about his head, +his cheeks were flushed, his hands were trembling, the nerves in his +face were twitching. + +He looked about him wildly, and tried to collect his faculties. Then +he arose and cursed Robert Browning. He cursed him eating, drinking, +and sleeping. And then he took all his volumes, and disposing them +carefully in the fire-place, he set light to them. + +"I wish," he said, "that I could put the Poet there, too." I think he +would have done it, this mild and gentle-hearted stranger, so strongly +was his spirit moved to wrath. + +He could not stay any longer in the room. It seemed to be haunted with +ghosts of unintelligible sentences; things in familiar garb, which +floated before his eyes and presented faces of inscrutable mystery. He +seized his hat and fled. + +He went straight to Jack Dunquerque's club, and found that hero in the +reading-room. + +"I have a favour to ask you," he began in a hurried and nervous +manner. "If you have not yet asked Mr. Robert Browning to the little +spread next week, don't." + +"Certainly not, if you wish it. Why?" + +"Because, sir, I have spent eight hours over his works." + +Jack laughed. + +"And you think you have gone off your head? I'll tell you a secret. +Everybody does at first; and then we all fall into the dodge, and go +about pretending to understand him." + +"But the meaning, Mr. Dunquerque, the meaning?" + +"Hush! he _hasn't got any_. Only no one dares to say so, and it's +intellectual to admire him." + +"Well, Mr. Dunquerque, I guess I don't want to see that writer at my +dinner, anyhow." + +"Very well, then. He shall not be asked." + +"Another day like this, and you may bury me with my boots on. Come +with me somewhere, and have dinner as far away from those volumes of +Mr. Browning as we can get in the time." + +They dined at Greenwich. In the course of the next three days Gilead +Beck read diligently. He did not master the three hundred volumes, but +he got through some of the works of every writer, taking them in turn. + +The result was a glorious and inextricable mess. Carlyle, Swinburne, +Huxley, Darwin, Tennyson, and all of them, were hopelessly jumbled in +his brains. He mixed up the _Sartor Resartus_ with the _Missing Link_, +confounded the history of _Frederick the Great_ with that of _Queen +Elizabeth_, and thought that _Maud_ and _Atalanta in Calydon_ were +written by the same poet. But time went on, and the Wednesday evening, +to which he looked forward with so much anxiety and pride, rapidly +drew near. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + + "Why, she is cold to all the world." + + +And while Gilead Beck was setting himself to repair in a week the +defects of his early education, Jack Dunquerque was spending his days +hovering round the light of Phillis's eyes. The infatuated youth +frequented the house as if it was his own. He liked it, Mrs. +L'Estrange liked it, and Phillis liked it. Agatha looked with matronly +suspicion for indications and proofs of love in her ward's face. She +saw none, because Phillis was not in love at all. Jack to her was the +first friend she made on coming out of her shell. Very far, indeed, +from being in love. Jack looked too for any of those signs of mental +agitation which accompany, or are supposed to accompany, the birth of +love. There were none. Her face lit up when she saw him; she treated +him with the frankness of a girl who tells her brother everything; but +she did not blush when she saw him, nor was she ever otherwise than +the sweetest and lightest-hearted of sisters. He knew it, and he +groaned to think of it. The slightest sign would have encouraged him +to speak; the smallest indication that Phillis felt something for him +of what he felt for her would have been to him a command to tell what +was in his heart. But she made no sign. It was Jack's experience, +perhaps, which taught him that he is a fool who gives his happiness to +a woman before he has learned to divine her heart. Those ever make the +most foolish marriages who are most ignorant of the sex. Hooker, the +Judicious is a case in point, and many a ghostly man could, from his +country parsonage, tell the same tale. + +Jack was not like the Judicious Divine; he was wary, though +susceptible; he had his share of craft and subtlety; and yet he was in +love, in spite of all that craft, with a girl who only liked him in +return. + +Had he possessed greater power of imagination he would have understood +that he was expecting what was impossible. You cannot get wine out of +an empty bottle, nor reap corn without first sowing the seed; and he +forgot that Phillis, who was unable to read novels, knew nothing, +positively nothing, of that great passion of Love which makes its +victims half divine. It was always necessary, in thinking of this +girl, to remember her thirteen years of captivity. Jack, more than any +other person, not excepting Agatha L'Estrange, knew what she would say +and think on most things. Only in this matter of love he was at fault. +Here he did not know because here he was selfish. To all the world +except Jack and Agatha she was an _impossible_ girl; she said things +that no other girl would have said; she thought as no one else +thought. To all those who live in a tight little island of their own, +fortified by triple batteries of dogma, she was impossible. But to +those who accepted and comprehended the conditions of Phillis's +education she was possible, real, charming, and full of interest. + +Jack continually thought what Phillis would say and what she would +think. For her sake he noticed the little things around him, the +things among which we grow up unobservant. We see so little for the +most part. Things to eat and drink interest us; things that please the +eye; fair women and rare wine. We are like cattle grazing on the +slopes of the Alps. Around us rise the mountains, with their +ever-changing marvels of light and colour; the sunlight flashes from +their peaks; the snow-slopes stretch away and upwards to the deep +blues beyond in curves as graceful as the line of woman's beauty; at +our feet is the belt of pines perfumed and warmed by the summer air; +the mountain stream leaps, bubbles, and laughs, rushing from the +prison of its glacier cave; high overhead soars the Alpine eagle; the +shepherds yodel in the valleys; the rapid echoes roll the song up into +the immeasurable silence of the hills,--and amid all this we browse +and feed, eyes downward turned. + +So this young man, awakened by the quick sympathies of the girl he +loved, lifted his head, taught by her, and tried to catch, he too, +something of the childlike wonder, the appreciative admiration, the +curious enthusiasm, with which she saw everything. Most men's thoughts +are bound by the limits of their club at night, and their chambers or +their offices by day; the suns rise and set, and the outward world is +unregarded. Jack learned from Phillis to look at these unregarded +things. Such simple pleasures as a sunset, the light upon the river, +the wild flowers on the bank, he actually tasted with delight, +provided that she was beside him. And after a day of such Arcadian +joys he would return to town, and find the club a thirsty desert. + +If Phillis had known anything about love, she would have fallen in +love with Jack long before; but she did not. Yet he made headway with +her, because he became almost necessary to her life. She looked for +his coming; he brought her things he had collected in his "globe +trotting;" he told her stories of adventure; he ruined himself in +pictures; and then he looked for the love softening of her eyes, and +it came not at all. + +Yet Jack was a lovable sort of young man in maidens' eyes. Everybody +liked him to begin with. He was, like David, a youth of a cheerful, if +not of a ruddy countenance. Agatha L'Estrange remarked of him that it +did her good to meet cheerful young men--they were so scarce. "I know +quantities of young men, Phillis my dear; and I assure you that most +of them are enough to break a woman's heart even to think of. There is +the athletic young man--he is dreadful indeed, only his time soon goes +by; and there is the young man who talks about getting more brain +power. To be sure, he generally looks as if he wants it. There is the +young man who ought to turn red and hot when the word Prig is used. +There is the bad young man who keeps betting-books; and the miserable +young man who grovels and flops in a Ritualist church. I know young +men who are envious and backbite their friends; and young men who +aspire to be somebody else; and young men who pose as infidels, and +would rather be held up to execration in a paper than not to be +mentioned at all. But, my dear, I don't know anybody who is so +cheerful and contented as Jack. He isn't clever and learned, but he +doesn't want to be; he isn't sharp, and will never make money, but he +is better without it; and he is true, I am sure." + +Agatha unconsciously used the word in the sense which most women mean +when they speak of a man's truth. Phillis understood it to mean that +Jack Dunquerque did not habitually tell fibs, and thought the remark +superfluous, But it will be observed that Agatha was fighting Jack's +battle for him. + +After all, Jack might have taken heart had he thought that all these +visits and all this interest in himself were but the laying of the +seed, which might grow into a goodly tree. + +"If only she would look as if she cared for me, Tommy," he bemoaned to +Ladds. + +"Hang it! can't expect a girl to begin making eyes at you." + +"Eyes! Phillis make eyes! Tommy, as you grow older you grow coarser. +It's a great pity. That comes of this club life. Always smoking and +playing cards." + +Tommy grinned. Virtue was as yet a flower new to Jack Dunquerque's +buttonhole, and he wore it with a pride difficult to dissemble. + +"Better go and have it out with Colquhoun," Tommy advised. "He won't +care. He's taken up with his old flame, Mrs. Cassilis, again. Always +dangling at her heels, I'm told. Got no time to think of Miss Fleming. +Great fool, Colquhoun. Always was a fool, I believe. Might have gone +after flesh and blood instead of a marble statue. Wonder how Cassilis +likes it." + +"There you go," cried Jack impatiently. "Men are worse than women. At +Twickenham one never hears this foolish sort of gossip." + +"Suppose not. Flowers and music, muffins, tea, and spoons. Well, the +girl's worth it, Jack; the more flowers and music you get the better +it will be for you. But go on and square it with Colquhoun." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + + "A right royal banquet." + + +At seven o'clock on the great Wednesday Gilead Beck was pacing +restlessly in his inner room, the small apartment which formed his +sanctum, waiting to receive his guests. All the preparations were +complete: a quartette of singers was in readiness, with a piano, to +discourse sweet music after the dinner; the noblest bouquet ever +ordered at the Langham was timed for a quarter to eight punctually; +the wine was in ice; the waiters were adding the last touches to the +artistic decorations of a table which, laid for thirteen only, might +have been prepared for the Prince of Wales. In fact, when the bill +came up a few days later, even Gilead Beck, man of millions, quailed +for a moment before its total. Think of the biggest bill you ever had +at Vèfour's--for francs read pounds, and then multiply by ten; think +of the famous Lord Warden bill for the Emperor Napoleon when he landed +in all his glory, and then consider that the management of the Langham +is in no way behind that of the Dover hostelry. But this was to come, +and when it did come, was received lightly. + +Gilead Beck took a last look at the dinner-table. The few special +injunctions he had given were carried out; they were not many, only +that the shutters should be partly closed and the curtains drawn, so +that they might dine by artificial light; that the table and the room +should be entirely illuminated by wax-candles, save for one central +light, in which should be burning, like the sacred flame of Vesta, his +own rock-oil. He also stipulated that the flowers on the table should +be disposed in shallow vessels, so as to lie low, and not interfere +with the freedom of the eyes across the table. Thus there was no +central tower of flowers and fruit. To compensate for this he allowed +a whole bower of exotics to be erected round the room. + +The long wall opposite the window was decorated with his famous piece +by an unknown master, bought of Bartholomew Burls, known as "Sisera +and Jael." As the frame had not yet been made it was wreathed about +for its whole length and breadth with flowers. The other pictures, +also wreathed with flowers, were genuine originals, bought of the same +famous collector. For the end of the room Gilead Beck had himself +designed, and partly erected with his own hands, an allegorical +trophy. From a pile of books neatly worked in cork, there sprang a jet +of water illuminated on either side by a hidden lamp burning rock-oil. +He had wished to have the fountain itself of oil, but was overruled by +Jack Dunquerque. Above, by an invisible wire, hovered a golden +butterfly in gilded paper. And on either side hung a flag--that on the +right displaying the Stars and Stripes, that on the left the equally +illustrious Union Jack. + +At every man's place lay a copy of the _menu_, in green and gold, +elaborately decorated, a masterpiece of illumination. Gilead Beck, +after making quite sure that nothing was neglected, took his own, and, +retiring to the inner room, read it for the fiftieth time with a +pleasure as intense as that of the young author who reads his first +proof-sheet. It consisted of a large double card. On the top of the +left-hand side was painted in colours and gold a butterfly. And that +side read as follows (I regret that the splendours of the original +cannot be here reproduced): + + +-----------------------------------------------------+ + | _LANGHAM HOTEL_, | + | MAY 20, 1875. | + | | + | _Dinner in Honour of Literature, Science, and Art_, | + | | + | GIVEN BY | + | | + | GILEAD P. BECK, | + | | + | AN OBSCURE AMERICAN CITIZEN RAISED AT LEXINGTON, | + | WHO STRUCK ILE IN A MOST SURPRISING MANNER | + | BY THE HELP OF | + | | + | THE GOLDEN BUTTERFLY, | + | | + | BUT WHO DESPISES SHODDY AND RESPECTS GENIUS. | + | | + | | + | _Representatives of Literature, Art, and Science._ | + | | + | THOMAS CARLYLE, | + | ALFRED TENNYSON, | + | JOHN RUSKIN, | + | ALGERNON SWINBURNE, | + | GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA, | + | CHARLES DARWIN, | + | PROFESSOR HUXLEY, | + | FREDERICK LEIGHTON, R.A., | + | CORNELIUS JAGENAL, AND | + | HUMPHREY JAGENAL, | + | | + | WITH CAPTAIN LADDS, THE HON. RONALD DUNQUERQUE, | + | AND GILEAD P. BECK. | + +-----------------------------------------------------+ + +After this preamble, which occupied a whole side of the double card, +followed the _menu_ itself. + +I unwillingly suppress this. There are weaker brethren who might on +reading it feel dissatisfied with the plain lamb and rhubarb-tart of +the sweet spring season. As a present dignitary of the Church, now a +colonial bishop, once a curate, observed to me many years ago, _à +propos_ of thirst, university reminiscences, a neighbouring +public-house, a craving for tobacco, and the fear of being observed, +"These weaker brethren are a great nuisance." + +Let it suffice that at the Langham they still speak of Gilead Beck's +great dinner with tears in their eyes. I believe a copy of the green +and gold card is framed, and hung in the office so as to catch the eye +of poorer men when they are ordering dinners. It makes those of lower +nature feel envious, and even takes the conceit out of the nobler +kind. + +Gilead Beck, dressed for the banquet, was nervous and restless. It +seemed as if, for the first time, his wealth was about to bring him +something worth having. His face, always grave, was as solemn as if he +were fixing it for his own funeral. From time to time he drew a paper +from his pocket and read it over. Then he replaced it, and with lips +and arms went through the action of speaking. It was his speech of the +evening, which he had carefully written and imperfectly committed to +memory. Like a famous American lawyer, the attitude he assumed was to +stand bent a little forward, the feet together, the left hand hanging +loosely at his side, while he brandished the right above his head. + +In this attitude he was surprised by the Twins, who came a quarter of +an hour before the time. They were dressed with great care, having +each the sweetest little eighteenpenny bouquet, bought from the little +shop at the right hand of the Market as you go in, where the young +lady makes it up before your eyes, sticks the wire into it, and pins +it at your buttonhole with her own fair hands. Each brother in turn +winked at her during the operation. A harmless wink, but it suggested +no end of possible devilries should these two young gentlemen of fifty +find themselves loose upon the town. Those who saw it thought of +Mohocks, and praised the Lord for the new police. + +They both looked very nice; they entered with a jaunty step, a +careless backward toss of the head, parted lips, and bright eyes which +faced fearlessly a critical but reverent world. Nothing but the +crow's-feet showed that the first glow of youth was over; nothing but +a few streaks of grey in Humphrey's beard and in Cornelius's hair +showed that they were nearing the Indian summer of life. Mr. Beck, +seeing them enter so fresh, so bright, and so beaming, was more than +ever puzzled at their age. He was waiting for them in a nervous and +rather excitable state of mind, as becomes one who is about to find +himself face to face with the greatest men of his time. + +"You, gentlemen," he said, "will sit near me, one each side, if you +will be so kind, just to lend a helping-hand to the talk when it +flags. Phew! it will be a rasper, the talk of to-day. I've read all +their works, if I can only remember them, and I bought the _History +of English Literature_ yesterday to get a grip of the hull subject. +No use. I haven't got farther than Chaucer. Do you think they can talk +about Chaucer? He wrote the _Canterbury Tales_." + +"Cornelius," said Humphrey, "you will be able to lead the conversation +to the Anglo-Saxon period." + +"That period is too early, brother Humphrey," said Cornelius. "We +shall trust to you to turn the steam in the direction of the +Renaissance." + +Humphrey shifted in his seat uneasily. Why this unwillingness in +either Twin to assume the lead on a topic which had engaged his +attention for twenty years? + +Mr. Beck shook his head. + +"I most wish now," he said, "that I hadn't asked them. But it's a +thundering great honour. Mr. Dunquerque did it all for me. That young +gentleman met these great writers, I suppose, in the baronial halls of +his brother, the Earl of Isleworth." + +"Do we know Lord Isleworth?" asked Cornelius of Humphrey. + +"Lord Isleworth, Cornelius? No; I rather think we have never met him," +said Humphrey to Cornelius. + +"None of your small names to-night," said Gilead Beck, with serious +and even pious joy. "The Lord Mayor may have them at Guildhall. Mine +are the big guns. I did want to get a special report for my own +_Gazette_, but Mr. Dunquerque thought it better not to have it. +P'r'aps 'twould have seemed kind o' shoddy. I ought to be satisfied +with the private honour, and not want the public glory of it. What +would they say in Boston if they knew, or even in New York?" + +"You should have a dinner for poets alone," said Humphrey, anxious for +his brother. + +"Or for Artists only," said Cornelius. + +"Wal, gentlemen, we shall get on. As there's five minutes to spare, +would you like to give an opinion on the wine-list, and oblige me by +your advice?" + +The Twins perused the latter document with sparkling eyes. It was a +noble list. Gilead Beck's plan was simple. He just ordered the best of +everything. For Sauterne, he read Château Iquem: for Burgundy, he took +Chambertin; for Claret, Château Lafite; for Champagne, Heidsieck; for +Sherry, Montilla; a Box Boutel wine for Hock; and for Port the '34. +Never before, in all its experiences of Americans, Russians, and +returned colonials, had the management of the Langham so "thorough" a +wine-bill to make out as for this dinner. + +"Is that satisfactory, gentlemen?" + +"Cornelius, what do you think?" + +"Humphrey, I think as you do; and that is, that this princely +selection shows Mr. Beck's true appreciation of Literature and Art." + +"It is kind of you, gentlemen, to say so. I talked over the dinner +with the _chef_, and I have had the menou printed, as you see it, +in gilt and colours, which I am given to understand is the correct +thing at the Guildhall. Would you like to look at that?" + +They showed the greatest desire to look at it. Humphrey read it aloud +with emphasis. While he read and while his brother listened, Mr. Beck +thought they seemed a good deal older than before. Perhaps that was +before their faces were turned to the light, and the reflection +through an open window of the sinking sun showed up the crow's-feet +round their eyes. + +"Humph! Plovers' eggs. Clear mulligatawny; clear, Cornelius. +Turtle-fins. Salmon--I translate the French. Turbot. Lochleven +trout----" + +"Very good indeed, so far," said Cornelius, with a palpable smack of +his lips. + +"Lamb-cutlets with peas--a simple but excellent dish; aspic of _foie +gras_--ah, two or three things which I cannot translate; a preparation +of pigeon; haunch of venison; yes----" + +"An excellent dinner, indeed," said Cornelius. "Pray go on, Humphrey." + +He began to feel like Sancho in Barataria. So good a dinner seemed +really impossible. + +"Duckling; cabob curry of chicken-liver with Bombay ducks--really, Mr. +Beck, this dinner is worth a dukedom." + +"It is indeed," said Cornelius feelingly. + +"Canvas-back--ah!--from Baltimore--Cornelius, this is almost too much; +apricots in jelly, ice-pudding, grated Parmesan, strawberries, melons, +peaches, nectarines, (and only May, Cornelius!), pines, West India +bananas, custard apples from Jamaica, and dried litchis from China, +Cornelius." + +Humphrey handed the document to his brother with a look of appeal +which said volumes. One sentence in the volumes was clearly, "Say +something appropriate." + +Quoth Cornelius deeply moved-- + +"This new Mæcenas ransacks the corners of the earth to find a fitting +entertainment for men of genius. Humphrey, you shall paint him." + +"Cornelius, you shall sing his praises." + +By a simultaneous impulse the Twins turned to their patron, and +presented each a right hand. Gilead Beck had only one right hand to +give. He gave that to Cornelius, and the left to Humphrey. + +While this sacrament of friendship was proceeding was heard a sound as +of many men simultaneously stifling much laughter. The door opened, +and the other guests arrived in a body. They were preceded by Jack +Dunquerque, and on entering the room dropped, as if by word of +command, into line, like soldiers on parade. Eight of them were +strangers, but Captain Ladds brought up the rear. + +They were, as might be expected of such great men, a remarkable +assemblage. At the extreme right stood a tall well-set-up old man, +with tangled grey locks, long grey eye-brows, and an immense grey +beard. His vigorous bearing belied the look of age, and what part of +his face could be seen had a remarkably youthful appearance. + +Next to him were other two aged men, one of whom was bent and bowed by +the weight of years. They also had large eyebrows and long grey +beards; and Mr. Beck remarked at once that so far as could be judged +from the brightness of their eyes they had wonderfully preserved their +mental strength. The others were younger men, one of them being +apparently a boy of eighteen or so. + +Then followed a ceremony like a _levée_. Gilead Beck stood in the +centre of the room, the table having been pushed back into the corner. +He was supported, right and left, by the Twins, who formed a kind of +Court, and above whom he towered grandly with his height of +six-feet-two. He held himself as erect, and looked as solemn as if he +were the President of the United States. The Twins, for their part, +looked a little as if they were his sons. + +Jack Dunquerque acted as Lord Chamberlain or Master of the Ceremonies. +He wore an anxious face, and looked round among the great men whom he +preceded, as soon as they had all filed in, with a glance which might +have meant admonition, had that been possible. And, indeed, a broad +smile, which was hovering like the sunlight upon their venerable +faces, disappeared at the frown of this young gentleman. It was very +curious. + +It was in the Grand Manner--that peculiar to Courts--in which Jack +Dunquerque presented the first of the distinguished guests to Mr. +Beck. + +"Sir," he said, with low and awe-struck voice, "before you stands +Thomas Carlyle." + +A thrill ran through the American's veins as he grasped the hand which +had written so many splendid things, and looked into the eyes which +harboured such splendid thought. Then he said, in softened tones, +because his soul was moved; "This is a proud moment, sir, for Gilead +P. Beck. I never thought to have shaken by the hand the author of the +_French Revolution_ and the _Stones of Venice_." + +(It really was unfortunate that his reading had been so miscellaneous +during the four days preceding the dinner.) + +The venerable Philosopher opened his mouth and spake. His tones were +deep and his utterance slow. + +"You are proud, Mr. Beck? The only Pride should be the pride of work. +Beautiful the meanest thing that works; even the rusty and unmusical +Meatjack. All else belongs to the outlook of him whom men call +Beelzebub. The brief Day passes with its poor paper crowns in tinsel +gilt; Night is at hand with her silences and her veracities. What hast +thou done? All the rest is phantasmal. Work only remains. Say, +brother, what is thy work?" + +"I have struck Ile," replied Gilead proudly, feeling that his Work +(with a capital W) had been well and thoroughly done. + +The Philosopher stepped aside. + +Jack Dunquerque brought up the next. + +"Mr. Beck, Alfred Tennyson, the Poet Laureate." + +This time it was a man with robust frame and strongly-marked features. +He wore a long black beard, streaked with grey and rather ragged, with +a ragged mass of black hair, looking as he did at Oxford when they +made him an honorary D.C.L., and an undergraduate from the gallery +asked him politely, "_Did_ they wake and call you early?" + +"Mr. Tennyson," said Mr. Beck, "I do assure you, sir, that this is the +kindest thing that has been done to me since I came to England. I hope +I see you well, sir. I read your _Fifine at the Fair_, sir--no, that +was the other man's--I mean, sir, your _Songs before Sunrise_; and I +congratulate you. We've got some poets on our side of the water, sir. +I've written poetry myself for the papers. We've got Longfellow and +Lowell, and take out you and Mr. Swinburne, with them we'll meet your +lot." + +Mr. Tennyson opened his mouth to speak, but shut it again in silence, +and looking at Jack mournfully as if he had forgotten something, he +stepped aside. + +Jack presented another. + +"Mr. John Ruskin." + +A sharp-featured, clever-looking man, with grey locks and shaven face. +He seized Mr. Beck by the hand and spoke first, not giving his host +time to utter his little set speech. + +"I welcome," he said, "one of our fellow-workers from the other side of +the Atlantic. I cannot utter to you what I would. We all see too dimly +as yet what are our great world-duties, for we try and outline their +enlarging shadows. You in America do not seek peace as Menahem sought +it, when he gave the King of Assyria a thousand pieces of silver. You +fight for your peace and have it. You do not buy what you want; you +take it. That is strength; that is harmony. You do not sit at home +lisping comfortable prayers; you go out and work. For many a year to +come, sir, the sword of your nation shall be whetted to save and to +subdue." + +He stopped suddenly, and closed his lips with a snap. + +Mr. Beck turned rather helplessly to the Twins. He wanted a diversion +to this utterly unintelligible harangue. They stared straight before +them, and pretended to be absorbed in meditation. + +"Mr. Beck, Mr. Swinburne. Deaf people think Mr. Browning is musical, +sir; but all people allow Mr. Swinburne to be the most musical of +poets." + +It was the very young man. He stood before his host and laughed aloud. + +"Sir," said Mr. Beck, "I have read some of your verses. I can't say +what they were about, but I took to singin' them softly as I read +them, and I seemed to be in a green field, lyin' out among the +flowers, while the bees were bummin' around, and the larks were +liftin' their hymns in the sky." + +Mr. Swinburne laughed again and made way for the next comer. + +"Mr. Beck, let me introduce Mr. George Augustus Sala." + +"This," said the Man of Oil, "is indeed a pleasure. Mr. Sala, when I +say that I am an old and personal friend of Colonel Quagg, you will be +glad to meet me." + +Contrary to reasonable expectation, the face of Mr. Sala showed no +sign of joy at the reminiscence. He only looked rather helplessly at +Jack Dunquerque, who turned red, and brought up the rest of his men +together, as if to get the introductions over quickly. + +"Mr. Beck, these gentlemen are Mr. Darwin, Professor Huxley, and Mr. +Frederick Leighton. Ladds you know well enough already. Step up, +Tommy." + +Gilead Beck shook hands with each, and then, drawing himself up to his +full height, laid his left hand within his waistcoat, brandished his +right above his head with a preliminary flourish, and began his +speech. + +"Gentlemen all," he said, "I am more than proud to make your +acquaintance. Across the foaming waves of the mighty Atlantic there is +a land whose institootions--known to Mr. Sala--air not unlike your +own, whose literature is your own up to a hundred years ago ["Hear, +hear!" from Cornelius], whose language is the same as yours. We say +hard things of each other, gentlemen; but the hard things are said on +the low levels, not on the heights where you and your kindred spirits +dwell. No, gentlemen,"--here he raised both arms and prepared for a +rhetorical burst,--"when the American eagle, proudly bearing the stars +and stripes----" + +"Dinner on the table, sir!" bawled the head waiter, throwing open the +doors with the grandest flourish and standing in the open doorway. + +"Hear, hear!" cried Humphrey a little late, because he meant the cheer +for the speech, and it sounded like a joy bell ringing for the +announcement of dinner. Mr. Beck thought it rather rude, but he did +not say so, and vented his wrath upon the waiter. + +"Great Jehoshaphat!" he cried, "can't you see when a gentleman is on +the stump? Who the devil asked you to shove in?" + +"Never mind," said Jack irreverently. "Spout the rest after dinner." + +A sigh of relief escaped the lips of all, and the party, headed, after +some demur, by the host, who was escorted, one on each side, like a +great man with his private secretary, by the Twins, passed into the +dining-room. + +Oddly enough, when their host passed on before them, the guests turned +to each other, and the same extraordinary smile which Jack Dunquerque +checked on their first appearance passed from one to the other. Why +should Alfred Tennyson look in the face of Thomas Carlyle and laugh? +What secret relationship is there between John Ruskin, Swinburne, and +George Augustus Sala, that they should snigger and grin on catching +each other's eyes? And, if one is to go on asking questions, why did +Jack Dunquerque whisper in an agitated tone, "For Heaven's sake, Tom, +and you fellows, keep it up?" + +There was some little difficulty in seating the guests, because they +all showed a bashful reluctance to sitting near their host, and +crowded together to the lower end. At last, however, they were settled +down. Mr. Carlyle, who, with a modesty worthy of his great name, +seized the lowest chair of all--on the left of Jack Dunquerque, who +was to occupy the end of the table--was promptly dragged out and +forcibly led to the right of the host. Facing him was Alfred Tennyson. +The Twins, one on each side, came next. Mr. Sala faced John Ruskin. +The others disposed themselves as they pleased. + +A little awkwardness was caused at the outset by the host, who, firm +in the belief that Professor Huxley was in the Moody and Sankey line, +called upon him to say Grace. The invitation was warmly seconded by +all the rest, but the Professor, greatly confused, blushed, and after +a few moments of reflection was fain to own that he knew no Grace. It +was a strange confession, Gilead Beck thought, for a clergyman. The +singers, however--Miss Claribelle, Signors Altotenoro, Bassoprofondo, +and Mr. Plantagenet Simpkins--performed _Non nobis_ with great +feeling and power, and dinner began. + +It was then that Gilead Beck first conceived, against his will, +suspicion of the Twins. So far from being the backbone and stay of the +whole party, so far from giving a lead to the conversation, and +leading up to the topics loved by the guests, they gave themselves +unreservedly and from the very first to "tucking in." They went at the +dinner with the go of a Rugby boy--a young gentleman of Eton very soon +teaches himself that the stomach is not to be trifled with. So did the +rest. Considering the overwhelming amount of genius at the table, and +the number of years represented by the guests collectively, it was +really wonderful to contemplate the vigour with which all, including +the octogenarian, attacked the courses, sparing none. Could it have +been believed by an outsider that the author of _Maud_ was so +passionately critical over the wine? It is sad to be disillusioned, +but pleasant, on the other hand, to think that you are no longer an +outsider. Individually the party would have disappointed their host, +but he did not allow himself to be disappointed. Mr. Beck expected a +battery of wit. He heard nothing but laudation of the wine and remarks +upon the cookery. No anecdotes, no criticism, no literary talk, no +poetical enthusiasm. + +"In my country, sir," he began, glancing reproachfully at the Twins, +whose noses were over their plates, and feeling his way feebly to a +conversation with Carlyle,--"in my country, sir, I hope we know how to +appreciate what we cannot do ourselves." + +Mr. Carlyle stared for a moment. Then he replied-- + +"Hope you do, Mr. Beck, I'm sure. Didn't know you'd got so good a +_chef_ at the Langham." + +This was disheartening, and for a space no one spoke. + +Presently Mr. Carlyle looked round the table as if he was about to +make an utterance. + +Humphrey Jagenal, who happened at the moment to have nothing before +him, raised his hand and said solemnly, "Hush!" Cornelius bent forward +in an attitude of respectful attention. + +Said the Teacher-- + +"Clear mulligatawny's about the best thing I know to begin a dinner +upon. Some fellows like Palestine soup. That's a mistake." + +"The greatest minds," said Cornelius to the Poet Laureate, "condescend +to the meanest things----" + +"'Gad!" said Tennyson, "if you call such a dinner as this mean, I +wonder what you'd call respectable." + +Cornelius felt snubbed. But he presently rallied and went on again. It +was between the courses. + +"Pray, Mr. Carlyle," he asked, with the sweetest smile, "what was the +favourite soup of Herr Teufelsdröckh?" + +"Who?" asked the Philosopher. "Beg your pardon, Herr how much?" + +"From your own work, Mr. Carlyle," Jack sang out from his end. It was +remarkable to notice how anxiously he followed the conversation. + +"Oh, ah! quite so," said Mr. Carlyle. "Well, you see, the fact is +that--Jack Dunquerque knows." + +This was disconcerting too, and the more because everybody began to +laugh. What did they laugh at? + +The dinner went on. Gilead Beck, silent and grave, sat at the head of +the table, watching his guests. He ought, he said to himself, to be a +proud man that day. But there were one or two crumpled rose-leaves in +his bed. One thing was that he could not for the life of him remember +each man's works, so as to address him in honeyed tones of adulation. +And he also rightly judged that the higher a man's position in the +world of letters, the more you must pile up the praise. No doubt the +lamented George the Fourth, the Fourteenth Louis, and John Stuart +Mill, grew at last to believe in the worth of the praise-painting +which surrounded their names. + +And then the Twins were provoking. Only one attempt on the part of +Cornelius, at which everybody laughed. And nothing at all from +Humphrey. + +Carlyle and Tennyson, for their part, sat perfectly silent. Lower +down--below the Twins, that is--Sala, Huxley, and the others were +conversing freely, but in a low tone. And when Gilead Beck caught a +few words it seemed to him as if they talked of horse-racing. + +Presently, to his relief, John Ruskin leaned forward and spoke to him. + +"I have been studying lately, Mr. Beck, the Art growth of America." + +"Is that so, sir? And perhaps you have got something to tell my +countrymen?" + +"Perhaps, Mr. Beck. You doubtless know my principle, that Art should +interpret, not create. You also know that I have preached all my life +the doctrine that where Art is followed for Art's own sake, there +infallibly ensues a distinction of intellectual and moral principles, +while, devoted honestly and self-forgetfully to the clear statement +and record of the facts of the universe, Art is always helpful and +beneficial to mankind. So much you know, Mr. Beck, I'm sure." + +"Well, sir, if you would not mind saying that over again--slow--I +might be able to say I know it." + +"I have sometimes gone on to say," pursued Mr. Ruskin, "that a time +has always hitherto come when, having reached a singular perfection, +Art begins to contemplate that perfection and to deduce rules from it. +Now all this has nothing to do with the relations between Art and +mental development in the United States of America." + +"I am glad to hear that, sir," said Gilead Beck, a little relieved. + +He looked for help to the Twins, but he leaned upon a slender reed, +for they were both engaged upon the duckling, and proffered no help at +all. They did not even seem to listen. The dinner was far advanced, +their cheeks were red, and their eyes were sparkling. + +"What is it all about?" Mr. Carlyle murmured across the table to +Tennyson. + +"Don't know," replied the Maker. "Didn't think he had it in him." + +Could these two great men be jealous of Mr. Ruskin's fame? + +"Your remarks, Mr. Ruskin," said the host, "sound very pretty. But I +should like to have them before me in black and white, so I could +tackle them quietly for an hour. Then I'd tell you what I think. I was +reading, last week, all your works." + +"All my works in a week!" cried Ruskin. "Sir, my works require loving +thought and lingering tender care. You must get up early in the +morning with them, you must watch the drapery of the clouds at sunrise +when you read them, you must take them into the fields at spring-time +and mark, as you meditate on the words of the printed page, the young +leaflets breathing low in the sunshine. Then, as the thoughts grow and +glow in the pure ether of your mind--hock, if you please--you will +rise above the things of the earth, your wings will expand, you will +care for nothing of the mean and practical--I will take a little more +duckling--your faculties will be woven into a cunning subordination +with the wondrous works of Nature, and all will be beautiful alike, +from a blade of grass to a South American forest." + +"There are very good forests in the Sierra Nevada," said Mr. Beck, who +had just understood the last words; "we needn't go to South America +for forests, I guess." + +"That, Mr. Beck, is what you will get from a study of my works. But a +week--a week, Mr. Beck!" + +He shook his head with a whole library of reproach. + +"My time was limited, Mr. Ruskin, and I hope to go through your books +with more study, now I have had the pleasure of meeting you. What I +was going to say was, that I am sorry not to be able to talk with you +gentlemen on the subjects you like best, because things have got +mixed, and I find I can't rightly remember who wrote what." + +"Thank goodness!" murmured Mr. Tennyson, under his breath. + +Presently the diners began to thaw, and something like general +conversation set in. + +About the grated Parmesan period, Mr. Beck observed with satisfaction +that they were all talking together. The Twins were the loudest. With +flushed faces and bright eyes they were laying down the law to their +neighbours in Poetry and Art. Cornelius gave Mr. Tennyson some home +truths on his later style, which the Poet Laureate received without so +much as an attempt to defend himself. Humphrey, from the depth of his +Roman experiences, treated Mr. Ruskin to a brief treatise on his +imperfections as a critic, and Mr. Leighton to some remarks on his +paintings, which those great men heard with a polite stare. Gilead +Beck observed also that Jack Dunquerque was trying hard to keep the +talk in literary grooves, though with small measure of success. For as +the dinner went on the conversation resolved itself into a general +discussion on horses, events, Aldershot, Prince's, polo, the drama +from its lightest point of view, and such topics as might perhaps be +looked for at a regimental mess, but hardly at a dinner of Literature. +It was strange that the two greatest men among them all, Carlyle and +Tennyson, appeared as interested as any in this light talk. + +The Twins were out of it altogether. If there was one thing about +which they were absolutely ignorant, it was the Turf. Probably they +had never seen a race in their lives. They talked fast and a little at +random, but chiefly to each other, because no one, Mr. Beck observed, +took any notice of what they said. Also, they drank continuously, and +their host remarked that to the flushed cheeks and the bright eyes was +rapidly being added thickness of speech. + +Mr. Beck rose solemnly, at the right moment, and asked his guests to +allow him two or three toasts only. The first, he said, was England +and America. Ile, he said briefly, had not yet been found in the old +country, and so far she was behind America. But she did her best; she +bought what she could not dig. + +By special request of the host Mademoiselle Claribelle sang "Old John +Brown lies a-mouldering in his grave." + +The next toast, Mr. Beck said, was one due to the peculiar position of +himself. He would not waste their time in telling his own story, but +he would only say that until the Golden Butterfly brought him to +Limerick City and showed him Ile, he was but a poor galoot. Therefore, +he asked them to join him in a sentiment. He would give them, "More +Ile." + +Signor Altotenoro, an Englishman who had adopted an Italian name, sang +"The Light of other Days." + +Then Mr. Beck rose for the third time and begged the indulgence of his +friends. He spoke slowly and with a certain sadness. + +"I am not," he said, "going to orate. You did not come here, I guess, +to hear me pay out chin music. Not at all. You came to do honour to an +American. Gentlemen, I am an obscure American; I am half educated; I +am a man lifted out of the ranks. In our country--and I think in yours +as well, though some of you have got handles to your names--that is +not a thing to apologise for. No, gentlemen. I only mention it because +it does me the greater honour to have received you. But I can read and +I can think. I see here to-night some of the most honoured names in +England and I can tell you all what I was goin' to say before dinner, +only the misbegotten cuss of a waiter took the words out of my mouth: +that I feel this kindness greatly, and I shall never forget it. I did +think, gentlemen, that you would have been too many for me in the +matter of tall talk, but exceptin' Mr. Ruskin, to whom I am grateful +for his beautiful language, though it didn't all get in, not one of +you has made me feel my own uneducated ignorance. That is kind of you, +and I thank you for it. It was true feeling, Mr. Carlyle, which +prompted you, sir, to give the conversation such a turn that I might +join in without bein' ashamed or makin' myself feel or'nary. +Gentlemen, what a man like me has to guard against is shoddy. If I +talk Literature, it's shoddy. If I talk Art, it's shoddy. Because I +know neither Literature nor Art. If I pretend to be what I am not, +it's shoddy. Therefore, gentlemen, I thank you for leavin' the tall +talk at home, and tellin' me about your races and your amusements. And +I'll not ask you, either, to make any speeches; but if you'll allow +me, I will drink your healths. Mr. Carlyle, sir, the English-speaking +race is proud of you. Mr. Tennyson, our gells, I'm told, love your +poems more than any others in this wide world. What an American gell +loves is generally worth lovin', because she's no fool. Mr. Ruskin, if +you'd come across the water you might learn a wrinkle yet in the +matter of plain speech. Mr. Sala, we know you already over thar, and I +shall be glad to tell the Reverend Colonel Quagg of your welfare when +I see him. Mr. Swinburne, you air young, but you air getting on. +Professor Huxley and Mr. Darwin, I shall read your sermons and your +novels, and I shall be proud to have seen you at my table. Mr. +Cornelius and Mr. Humphrey Jagenal, I would drink your healths, too, +if you were not sound asleep." This was unfortunately the case; the +Twins, having succumbed to the mixture and quantity of the drinks +almost before the wine went round once, were now leaning back in their +chairs, slumbering with the sweetest of smiles. "Captain Ladds, you +know, sir, that you are always welcome. Mr. Dunquerque, you have done +me another favour. Gentlemen all, I drink your health." + +"Jack," whispered Mr. Swinburne, "I call this a burning shame. He's a +rattling good fellow, this, and you must tell him." + +"I will, some time; not now," said Jack, looking remorseful. "I +haven't the heart. I thought he would have found us out long ago. I +wonder how he'll take it." + +They had coffee and cigars, and presently Gilead Beck began telling +about American trotting matches, which was interesting to everybody. + +It was nearly twelve when Mr. Beck's guests departed. + +Mr. Carlyle, in right of his seniority, solemnly "up and spake." + +"Mr. Beck," he said, "you are a trump. Come down to the Derby with me, +and we will show you a race worth twenty of your trotting. Good night, +sir, you've treated us like a prince." + +He grasped his hand with a grip which had all its youthful vigour, and +strode out of the room with the step of early manhood. + +"A wonderful man!" said Mr. Beck. "Who would have thought it?" + +The rest shook hands in silence, except Mr. Ruskin. + +"I am sorry, Mr. Beck," he said meekly, "that the nonsense I talked at +dinner annoyed you. It's always the way if a fellow tries to be +clever; he overdoes it, and makes himself an ass. Good night, sir, and +I hope we shall meet on the racecourse next Wednesday." + +Mr. Beck was left alone with Jack Dunquerque, the waiter, and the +Twins still sleeping. + +"What am I to do with these gentlemen, sir?" asked the waiter. + +Mr. Beck looked at them with a little disdain. + +"Get John, and yank them both to bed, and leave a brandy-and-soda at +their elbows in case they're thirsty in the night. Mr. Dunquerque and +Captain Ladds, don't go yet. Let us have a cigar together in the +little room." + +They sat in silence for a while. Then Jack said, with a good deal of +hesitation: + +"I've got something to tell you, Beck." + +"Then don't tell it to-night," replied the American. "I'm thinking +over the evening, and I can't get out of my mind that I might have +made a better speech. Seems as if I wasn't nigh grateful enough. Wal, +it's done. Mr. Dunquerque, there is one thing which pleases me. Great +authors are like the rest of us. They are powerful fond of racing; +they shoot, they ride, and they hunt; they know how to tackle a +dinner; and all of 'em, from Carlyle to young Mr. Swinburne, seem to +love the gells alike. That's a healthy sign, sir. It shows that their +hearts air in the right place. The world's bound to go on well, +somehow, so long as its leaders like to talk of a pretty woman's eyes; +because it's human. And then for me to hear these great men actually +doing it! Why, Captain Ladds, it adds six inches to my stature to feel +sure that they like what I like, and that, after all said and done, +Alfred Tennyson and Gilead P. Beck are men and brothers." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + + "Greater humanity." + + +The world, largely as it had unfolded itself to Phillis, consisted as +yet to her wholly of the easy classes. That there were poor people in +the country was a matter of hearsay. That is, she had caught a glimpse +during a certain walk with Cæsar of a class whose ways were clearly +not her ways, nor their manner of thought hers. She had now to +learn--as a step to that wider sympathy first awakened by the +butter-woman's baby--that there is a kind of folk who are more +dangerous than picturesque, to be pitied rather than to be painted, to +be schooled and disciplined rather than to be looked at. + +She learned this lesson through Mrs. L'Estrange, whose laudable custom +it was to pay periodical visits to a certain row of cottages. They +were not nice cottages, but nasty. They faced an unrelenting ditch, +noisome, green, and putrid. They were slatternly and out at elbows. +The people who lived in them were unpleasant to look at or to think +of; the men belonged to the riverside--they were boat-cads and touts; +and if there is any one pursuit more demoralising than another, it is +that of launching boats into the river, handing the oars, and helping +out the crew. + +In the daytime the cottages were in the hands of the wives. Towards +nightfall the men returned: those who had money enough were drunk; +those who were sober envied those who were drunk. Both drunk and sober +found scolding wives, squalid homes, and crying children. Both drunk +and sober lay down with curses, and slept till the morning, when they +awoke, and went forth again with the jocund curse of dawn. + +Nothing so beautiful as the civilisation of the period. Half a mile +from Agatha L'Estrange and Phillis Fleming were these cottages. Almost +within earshot of a house where vice was unknown, or only dimly seen +like a ghost at twilight, stood the hovels where virtue was +impossible, and goodness a dream of an unknown land. What notion do +they have of the gentle life, these dwellers in misery and squalor? +What fond ideas of wealth's power to procure unlimited gratification +for the throat do they conceive, these men and women whose only +pleasure is to drink beer till they drop? + +One day Phillis went there with Agatha. + +It was such a bright warm morning, the river was so sparkling, the +skies were so blue, the gardens were so sunny, the song of the birds +so loud, the laburnums so golden, and the lilacs so glorious to +behold, that the girl's heart was full of all the sweet thoughts which +she had learned of others or framed for herself--thoughts of poets, +which echoed in her brain and flowed down the current of her thoughts +like the swans upon the river; happy thoughts of youth and innocence. + +She walked beside her companion with light and elastic tread; she +looked about her with the fresh unconscious grace that belongs to +childhood; it was her greatest charm. But the contentment of her soul +was rudely shaken--the beauty went out of the day--when Mrs. +L'Estrange only led her away from the leafy road and took her into her +"Row." There the long arms of the green trees were changed into +protruding sticks, on which linen was hanging out to dry; the songs of +the birds became the cry of children and the scolding of women; for +flowers there was the iridescence on the puddles of soap-suds; for +greenhouse were dirty windows and open doors which looked into squalid +interiors. + +"I am going to see old Mr. Medlicott," said Mrs. L'Estrange +cheerfully, picking her accustomed way among the cabbage-stalks, +wash-tubs, and other evidences of human habitation. + +The women looked out of their houses and retired hastily. Presently +they came out again, and stood every one at her door with a clean +apron on, each prepared to lie like an ambassador for the good of the +family. + +In a great chair by a fire there sat an old woman--a malignant old +woman. She looked up and scowled at the ladies; then she looked at the +fire and scowled; then she pointed to the corner and scowled again. + +"Look at him," she growled in a hoarse crescendo. "Look at him, lying +like a pig--like a pig. Do you hear?" + +"I hear." + +The voice came from what Phillis took at first to be a heap of rags. +She was right, because she could not see beneath the rags the supine +form of a man. + +Mrs. L'Estrange took no notice of the old woman's introduction to the +human pig. That phenomenon repeated his answer: + +"I hear. I'm her beloved grandson, ladies. I'm Jack-in-the-Water." + +"Get up and work. Go down to your river. Comes home and lies down, he +does--yah! ye lazy pig; says he's goin' to have the horrors, he +does--yah! ye drunken pig; prigs my money for drink--yah! ye thievin' +pig. Get up and go out of the place. Leave me and the ladies to talk. +Go, I say!" + +Jack-in-the-Water arose slowly. He was a long-legged creature with +shaky limbs, and when he stood upright his head nearly touched the +rafters of the low unceiled room. And he had a face at sight of which +Phillis shuddered--an animal face with no forehead; a cruel, bad, +selfish face, all jowl and no front. His eyes were bloodshot and his +lips were thick. He twitched and trembled all over--his legs trembled; +his hands trembled; his cheeks twitched. + +"'Orrors!" he said in a husky voice. "And should ha' had the 'orrors +if I hadn't a took the money. Two-and-tuppence." + +He pushed past Phillis, who shrank in alarm, and disappeared. + +"Well, Mrs. Medlicott, and how are we?" asked Mrs. L'Estrange in a +cheerful voice--she took no manner of notice of the man. + +"Worse. What have you got for me? Money? I want money. Flannel? I want +flannel. Physic? I want physic. Brandy? I want brandy very bad; I +never wanted it so bad. What have you got? Gimme brandy and you shall +read me a tract." + +"You forget," said Agatha, "that I never read to you." + +"Let the young lady read, then. Come here, missy. Lord, Lord! Don'tee +be afraid of an old woman as has got no teeth. Come now. Gimme your +hand. Ay, ay, ay! Eh, eh, eh! Here's a pretty little hand." + +"Now, Mrs. Medlicott, you said you would not do that any more. You +know it is all foolish wickedness. + +"Foolish wickedness," echoed the Witch of Endor. "Never after to-day, +my lady. Come, my pretty lass, take off the glove and gimme the hand." + +Without knowing what she did, Phillis drew off the glove from her left +hand. The old woman leaned forward in her chair and looked at the +lines. She was a fierce and eager old woman. Life was strong in her +yet, despite her fourscore years; her eyes were bright and fiery; her +toothless gums chattered without speaking; her long lean fingers shook +as they seized on the girl's dainty palm. + +"Ay, ah! Eh, eh! The line of life is long. A silent childhood! a +love-knot hindered; go, on, girl--go on, wife and mother; happy life +and happy age, but far away--not here--far away; a lucky lot with him +you love; to sleep by his side for fifty years and more; to see your +children and your grandchildren; to watch the sun rise and set from +your door--a happy life, but far away." + +She dropped the girl's hand as quickly as she had seized it, and fell +back in her chair mumbling and moaning. + +"Gimme brandy, Mrs. L'Estrange--you are a charitable woman--gimme +brandy. And port-wine!--ah! lemme have some port-wine. Tea? Don't +forget the tea. And Jack-in-the-Water drinks awful, he does. Worse +than his father; worse than his grandfather--and they all went off at +five-and-thirty." + +"I will send you up a basket, Mrs. Medlicott. Come, Phillis, I have +got to go to the next cottage." + +But Phillis stayed behind a moment. + +She touched the old woman on the forehead with her fingers and said +softly-- + +"Tell me, are you happy? Do you suffer?" + +"Happy? only the rich are happy. Suffer? of course I suffer. All the +pore suffers." + +"Poor thing! May I come and see you and bring you things?" + +"Of course you may." + +"And you will tell me about yourself?" + +"Child, child!" cried the old woman impatiently. "Tell you about +myself? There, there, you're one of them the Lord loves--wife and +mother; happy life and happy death; childer and grandchilder; but far +away, far away." + +Mrs. Medlicott gave Phillis her first insight into that life so near +and yet so distant from us. She should have been introduced to the +ideal cottage, where the stalwart husband supports the smiling wife, +and both do honour to the intellectual curate with the long coat and +the lofty brow. Where are they--lofty brow of priest and stalwart form +of virtuous peasant? Remark that Phillis was a child; the first effect +of the years upon a child is to sadden it. Philemon and Baucis in +their cot would have rejoiced her; that of old Mrs. Medlicott set her +thinking. + +And while she drew from memory the old fortune-teller in her cottage, +certain words of Abraham Dyson's came back to her: + +"Life is a joy to one and a burden to ninety-nine. Remember in your +joy as many as you can of the ninety-nine. + +"Learn that you cannot be entirely happy, because of the ninety-nine +who are entirely wretched. + +"When you reach this knowledge, Phillis, be sure that the Coping-stone +is not far-off." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + + "Non possidentem multa vocaveris + Recte beatum." + + +The manner in which Mr. Cassilis conveyed his advice, or rather +instructions, to Gilead Beck inspired the American with a blind +confidence. He spoke slowly, grimly, and with deliberation. He spoke +as one who knew. Most men speak as those who only half know, like the +Frenchman who said, "Ce que je sais, je le sais mal; ce que j'ignore, +je l'ignore parfaitement." + +Mr. Cassilis weighed each word. While he spoke his eyes sought those +of his friend, and looked straight in them, not defiantly, but +meditatively. He brought Mr. Beck bills, which he made him accept; and +he brought prospectuses, in which the American, finding they were +English schemes, invested money at his adviser's suggestion. + +"You have now," said Mr. Cassilis, "a very large sum invested in +different companies; you must consider now how long to hold the +shares--when to sell out in fact." + +"Can't I sell my shares at once, if I please?" + +"You certainly can, and so ruin the companies. Consider my undertaking +to my friends on the allotment committees." + +"Yes, sir." + +"You forget, Mr. Beck, that you are a wealthy man. We do not manage +matters in a hole and corner. The bears have sold on expectation of an +allotment. Now as they have not got an allotment, and we have, they +must buy. When such men as you buy largely, the effect is to run +shares up; when you sell largely, you run them down." + +Mr. Cassilis did not explain that he had himself greatly profited by +this tidal influence, and proposed to profit still more. + +"Many companies, perfectly sound in principle, may be ruined by a +sudden decrease in the price of shares; a panic sets in, and in a few +hours the shareholders may lose all. And if you bring this about by +selling without concert with the other favoured allottees, you'll be +called a black sheep." + +Mr. Beck hesitated. "It's a hard thing----" he began. + +His adviser went on: + +"You have thus two things to think of--not to lose your own profit, +and not to spread disaster over a number of other people by the very +magnitude of your transactions." + +This was a new light to Gilead. + +"Then why sell at all? Why not keep the shares and secure the +dividend? It's a hard hank, all this money." + +And this was a new light for the financier. + +Hold the shares? When they were, scores of them, at 16 premium? "You +can certainly do that, if you please," he said slowly. "That, however, +puts you in the simple position of investor." + +"I thought I was that, Mr. Cassilis?" + +"Not at all, Mr. Beck. The wise man distrusts all companies, but puts +his hope in a rise or fall. You are not conversant with the way +business is done. A company is formed--the A B C let us say. Before +any allotment of shares is made, influential brokers, acting in the +interest of the promoters, go on to the Stock Exchange, and make a +market." + +"How is that, sir?" + +"They purchase as many shares as they can get. Persons technically +called 'bears' in London or in New York sell these shares on the +chance of allotment." + +"Well?" + +"To their astonishment they don't get any shares allotted. Millions of +money in a year are allotted to clerks, Mr. Beck--to anybody, in +fact--a market is established, and our shares figure at a pretty +premium. Then begins the game of backing and filling--to and fro, +backward and forward--and all this time we are gradually unloading the +shares on the public, the real holders of every thing." + +"I begin to see," said Mr. Beck slowly. + +"By this time you will perceive," Mr. Cassilis continued, "the bears +are at the mercy of the favoured allottees. Then up go the shares; the +public have come in. I recollect an old friend of mine who made a +fortune on 'Change--small compared with yours, Mr. Beck, but a great +fortune--used to say, talking of shares in his rather homely style, +'When they rise, the people buys; when they fa's, they lets 'em goes.' +Ha, ha! it's so true. I have but a very poor opinion of the Isle of +Holyhead Inland Navigation Company; but I thought their shares would +go up, and I bought for you. You hold twenty out of fifty thousand. +Wait till 'the people buys,' and then unload cautiously." + +"And leave the rest in the lurch? No, sir, I can't do that." + +"Then, Mr. Beck, I can advise you no more." + +"I hold twenty thousand shares; and if I sell out, that company will +bust up." + +"I do not say so much. I say that if you sell out gradually you take +advantage of the premium, and the company is left exactly where it was +before you joined, to stand or fall upon its merits. But if you will +sell your shares without concert with our colleagues in these +companies you are in, we shall be very properly called black sheep." + +"Then, Mr. Cassilis," said Gilead, "in God's name, let us have done +with companies." + +"Very well; as you please. You have only to give me a power of +attorney, and I will dispose of all your shares in the best way +possible for your interests. Will you give me that power of attorney?" + +"Sir, I am deeply obliged to you for all the trouble you are taking." + +"A power of attorney conveys large powers. It will put into my hands +the management of your great revenues. This is not a thing to be done +in a moment. Think well, Mr. Beck, before you sign such a document." + +"I have thought, sir," said Gilead, "and I will sign it with +gratitude." + +"In that case, I will have the document--it is only a printed form, +filled up and sent on to you for signature immediately." + +"Thank you, Mr. Cassilis." + +"And as for the shares in the various companies which you have +acquired by my advice, I will, if you please, take them all over one +with another at the price you gave for them, without considering which +have gone up and which down." + +They had all gone up, a fact which Mr. Cassilis might have remembered +had he given the thing a moment's thought. The companies on paper were +doing extremely well. + +"Sir," said Mr. Beck, starting to his feet "you heap coals of fire on +my head. When a gentleman like you advises me, I ought to be thankful, +and not go worrying around like a hen in a farmyard. The English +nation are the only people who can raise a man like you, sir. Honour is +your birthright. Duty is your instinct. Truth is your nature. We, +Americans, sir, come next to you English in that respect. The rest of +the world are nowhere." He was walking backwards and forwards, with +his hands in his pockets, while Mr. Cassilis looked at him through his +gold eyeglasses as if he was a little amused at the outburst. +"Nowhere, sir. Truth lives only among us. The French lie to please +you. The Germans lie to get something for themselves. The Russians lie +because they imitate the French and have caught the bad tricks of the +Germans. Sir, no one but an Englishman would have made me the generous +offer you have just made, and I respect you for it, Mr. Cassilis, I +respect you, sir." + +Gabriel Cassilis looked a little, a very little, confused at all these +compliments. Then he held out his hand. + +"My dear friend, the respect is mutual," he said, with a forced smile. +"Do not, however, act always upon your belief in the honesty of +Englishmen. It may lead you into mischief." + +"As for the shares," said Beck, "they will stay as they are, if you +please, or they will be sold, as you will. And no more companies, Mr. +Cassilis, for me." + +"You shall have no more," said his adviser. + +In his pocket was a beautiful prospectus, brand new, of a company +about to be formed for the purpose of lighting the town of La +Concepcion Immaculata on the Amazon River in Brazil with gas. A +concession of land had been obtained, engineers had been out to survey +the place, and their prospects were most bright. + +Now, he felt, that project must be released. He turned the paper in +his fingers nervously round and round, and the muscles of his cheek +twitched. Then he looked up and smiled, but in a joyless way. Mr. Beck +did not smile. He was growing more serious. + +"You shall have no more shares," said the adviser. "Those that you +have already shall be disposed of as soon as possible. Remains the +question, what am I to do with the money?" + +"You have placed yourself," he went on, "in my hands by means of that +promised power of attorney. I advised, first of all, certain shares my +influence enabled me to get allotted to you. You have scruples about +selling shares at a profit. Let us respect your scruples, Mr. Beck. +Instead of shares, you will invest your money in Government stocks." + +"That, sir," said Mr. Beck, "would meet my wishes." + +"I am glad of it. There are two or three ways of investing money in +stocks. The first, your way, is to buy in and take the interest. The +next, my way, is to buy in when they are low and sell out when they go +up." + +"You may buy in low and sell out lower," said the astute Beck. + +"Not if you can afford to wait. This game, Mr. Beck, as played by the +few who understand it, is one which calls into play all the really +valuable qualities of the human intellect." + +Mr. Cassilis rose as he spoke and drew himself up to his full height. +Then he began to walk backwards and forwards, turning occasionally to +jerk a word straight in the face of his client, who was now leaning +against the window with an unlighted cigar between his lips, listening +gravely. + +"Foolish people think it a game of gambling. So it is--for them. What +is it to us? It is the forecasting of events. It is the pitting of our +experience, our sagacity, against what some outsiders call chance and +some Providence. We anticipate events; we read the future by the light +of the present." + +"Then it isn't true about Malachi," said Mr. Beck. "And he wasn't the +last prophet." + +Mr. Cassilis went on without regarding this observation: + +"There is no game in the world so well worth playing. Politics? You +stake your reputation on the breath of the mob. War? You throw away +your life at the stockade of savages before you can learn it. Trade? +It is the lower branch of the game of speculation. In this game those +who have cool heads and iron nerve win. To lose your head for a moment +is to lose the results of a lifetime--unless," he murmured, as if to +himself--"unless you can wait." + +"Well, sir," said Gilead, "I am a scholar, and I learn something new +every day. Do you wish me to learn this game? It seems to me----" + +"You?" Contempt that could not be repressed flashed for a moment +across the thin features of the speculator. "You? No. Perhaps, Mr. +Beck, I do not interest you." He resumed his habitually cold manner, +and went on: "I propose, however, to give you my assistance in +investing your money, to such advantage as I can, in English and +foreign stocks, including railway companies, but not in the shares of +newly-formed trading companies." + +"Sir, that is very kind." + +"You trust me, then, Mr. Beck?" + +Again the joyless smile, which gleamed for a moment on his lips and +disappeared. + +"That is satisfactory to both of us," he said. "And I will send up the +power of attorney to-day." + +Mr. Cassilis departed. By the morning's work he had acquired absolute +control over a quarter of a million of money. Before this he had +influence, but he required persuasion for each separate transaction. +Now he had this great fortune entirely in his own control. It was to +be the same as his own. And by its means he had the power which every +financier wants--that of waiting. He could wait. And Gilead Beck, this +man of unparalleled sharpness and unequalled experience, was a Fool. +We have been Christians for nearly two thousand years, and yet he who +trusts another man is a Fool. It seems odd. + +Mr. Cassilis felt young again. He held his head erect as he walked +down the steps of the Langham Hotel. He lost his likeness to old +Father Time, or at least resembled that potentate in his younger days, +when he used to accommodate himself to people, moving slowly for the +happy, sometimes sitting down for a few weeks in the case of young +lovers, and galloping for the miserable. He strode across the hall +with the gait of a Field-Marshal Commanding-in-Chief, and drove off to +the City with the courage of five-and-twenty and the wisdom of sixty. + +Before him stretched an endless row of successes, bigger than anything +he had ever yet tried. For him the glory of the _coup_ and the profit; +for Gilead Beck the interest on his money. + +In his inner room, after glancing at the pile of letters and +telegrams, noting instructions, and reserving a few for private reply, +he rang his bell. + +The private secretary of Mr. Gabriel Cassilis did not disdain +personally to answer that bell. He was a middle-aged man, with a sleek +appearance, and a face which, being fat, shiny, and graced only with a +slight fringe of whisker lying well behind, somehow conveyed the +impression of a Particular Baptist who was also in the oil-trade. That +was not the case, because Mr. Mowll was a member of the Church of +England and a sidesman. He lived at Tulse Hill, and was a +highly-respectable man. Mr. Cassilis gave him a fair salary, and a +small amount--a very small amount--of his confidence. He also, when +anything good in a humble way offered, tossed the information to his +secretary, who was thus enabled to add materially to his salary. + +In the outer world Mr. Mowll was the right-hand man of Gabriel +Cassilis, his factotum, and the man, according to some, by whose +advice he walked. Gabriel Cassilis walked by no man's advice save his +own. + +"For you, Mowll," said his employer briefly. "These I will attend to. +Telegraph to--wherever his address is--to the man Wylie--the writing +man"--newspaper people and writers of articles were "writing men" to +Gabriel Cassilis--"I want him at once." + +Then he absorbed himself again in his papers. + +When he was left alone he pulled some printed documents out of a +drawer, and compared them with letters which had the New York +post-mark upon them. He read carefully, and made notes at various +points with a stump of a blue crayon pencil. And he was still engaged +on them when, half an hour later, his secretary asked him through a +tube whether he would see Mr. Wylie. + +Mr. Wylie was an elderly man--a man of sixty--and he was a man on +whose face many years of rum-and-water were beginning to tell. He was +a man of letters, as he said himself; he had some kind of name, in +virtue of certain good things he had written, in his early manhood, +before the rum-and-water period set in. Now he went up and down, doing +odd jobs of literary work, such as are always wanting some one to do +them in this great city. He was a kind of literary cab. + +"You are free to-day, Mr. Wylie?" + +"I am, Mr. Cassilis." + +"Good. Do you remember last year writing a short political pamphlet--I +think at my suggestion--on the prospects of Patagonian bond-holders?" + +"You gave me all the information, you know." + +"That is, you found the papers in my outer office, to which all the +world has access, and on them you based your opinion." + +"Quite so," said the pamphleteer. "I also found five-and-twenty pounds +in gold on your secretary's table the day after the pamphlet +appeared." + +"Ah! Possibly--perhaps my secretary had private reasons of his own +for----" + +"Let us talk business, Mr. Cassilis," said the author a little +roughly. "You want me to do something. What is it?" + +"Do you know the affairs of Eldorado?" + +"I have heard of Eldorado bonds. Of course, I have no bonds either of +Eldorado or any other stock." + +"I have here certain papers--published papers--on the resources of the +country," said Mr. Cassilis. "I think it might pay a clever man to +read them. He would probably arrive at the conclusion that the +Republic, with its present income, cannot hope to pay its +dividends----" + +"Must smash up, in short." + +"Do not interrupt. But with any assurance of activity and honesty in +the application of its borrowed money, there seems, if this paper is +correct--it is published in New York--no doubt that the internal +resources would be more than sufficient to carry the State +triumphantly through any difficulty." + +"Is it a quick job, or a job that may wait?" + +"I dislike calling things jobs, Mr. Wylie. I give you a suggestion +which may or may not be useful. If it is useful--it is now half-past +twelve o'clock--the pamphlet should be advertised in to-morrow's +papers, in the printer's hand by four, and ready on every counter by +ten o'clock in the morning. Make your own arrangements with printers, +and call on me to-morrow with the pamphlet. On me, mind, not Mr. +Mowll." + +"Yes--and--and----" + +"And, perhaps, if the pamphlet is clever, and expresses a just view of +Eldorado and its obligations, there may be double the sum that you +once found on my secretary's table." + +Mr. Wylie grasped the papers and departed. + +The country of Eldorado is one of the many free, happy, virtuous, and +enlightened republics of Central America. It was constituted in the +year 1839, after the Confederation broke up. During the thirty years +which form its history, it has enjoyed the rule of fifteen Presidents. +Don Rufiano Grechyto, its present able administrator, a half-blood +Indian by birth, has sat upon the chair of state for nearly a year and +a half, and approaches the period of two years, beyond which no +previous President has reigned. He is accordingly ill at ease. Those +who survive of his fourteen predecessors await his deposition, and +expect him shortly in their own happy circle, where they sit like +Richard II., and talk of royal misfortunes. Eldorado is a +richly-endowed country to look at. It has mountains where a few inches +of soil separate the feet of the rare wayfarer from rich lodes of +silver; forests of mahogany cover its plains; indigo and tobacco +flourish in its valleys; everywhere roam cattle waiting to be caught +and sent to the London market. Palms and giant tree-ferns rise in its +woods; creepers of surpassing beauty hang from tree to tree; in its +silent recesses stand, covered with inscriptions which no man can +read, the ruins of a perished civilization. Among these ruins roam the +half-savage Indians who form nine-tenths of the population. And in the +hot seaboard towns loll and lie the languid whites and half-castes who +form the governing class. They never do govern at all; they never +improve; they never work; they are a worthless hopeless race; they +hoard their energies for the excitement of a pronunciamiento; their +favourite occupation is a game of monte; they consider thought a +wicked waste of energy, save for purposes of cheating. They ought all, +and without exception, to be rubbed out. And it is most unfortunate, +in the interests of humanity, that their only strong feeling is an +objection to be rubbed out. Otherwise we could plant in Eldorado a +colony of Germans; kill the pythons, alligators, jaguars, and other +impediments to free civilisation; open up the mines, and make it a +country green with sugar-canes and as sweet as Rimmel's shop by reason +of its spicy breezes. There are about five thousand of the dominant +class; they possess altogether a revenue of about £60,000 a year, a +good deal less than a first-class fortune in England. As every man of +the five thousand likes to have his share of the £60,000 there is not +much saved in the year. Consequently, when one reads that the Republic +of Eldorado owes the people of Great Britain and France, the only two +European States which have money to lend, the sum of six millions, one +feels sorry for the people of Eldorado. It must be a dreadful thing +for a high-minded republican to have so little and to owe so much. +Fancy a man with £600 a year in debt to the tune of £60,000. + +It all grew by degrees. Formerly the Eldoradians owed nothing. In +those days champagne was unknown, claret never seen, and the native +drink was rum. Nothing can be better for the natives than their rum, +because it kills them quickly, and so rids the earth of a pestilent +race. In an evil moment it came into the head of an enterprising +Eldoradian President to get up a loan. He asked for a million, which +is, of course, a trifle to a nation which has nothing, does nothing, +and saves nothing. They got so much of their million as enabled them +to raise everybody's salary and the pay of the standing army, also to +make the dividend certain for a few years. After this satisfactory +transaction, somebody boldly ordered the importation of a few cases of +brandy. The descent of Avernus is easy and pleasant. Next year they +asked for two millions and a half. They got this small trifle conceded +to them on advantageous terms--10 per cent., which is nothing to a +Republic with £60,000 a year, and the stock at 60. The pay of every +official was doubled, the army had new shirts issued, and there were +fireworks at San Mercurio, the principal town. They promised to build +railways leading from nowhere into continental space, to carry +passengers who did not exist, and goods not yet invented. The same +innovator who had introduced the brandy now went farther, and sent for +claret and champagne. Then they asked for more loans, and went ahead +quite like a First-class Power. + +When there was no more money to pay the dividends with, and no more +loans to be raised, Eldorado busted up. + +The gallant officers who commanded the standing army are now shirtless +and bootless; the men of the standing army have disappeared; grass +grows around the house of the importer of European luxuries; but +content has not returned to San Mercurio. The empty bottles remain to +remind the populace of lost luxuries; the national taste in drink is +hopelessly perverted; San Mercurio is ill at ease; and Don Rufiano +trembles in his marble palace. + +But a year ago the country was not quite played out. There seemed a +chance yet to those who had not the materials at hand for a simple sum +in Arithmetic. + +The next morning saw the appearance of the pamphlet--a short but +telling pamphlet of thirty-two pages--called "Eldorado and her +Resources. Addressed to the Holders of Eldorado Stock, by Oliver St. +George Wylie." + +The author took a gloomy but not a despairing view. He mentioned that +where there was no revenue there could be no dividends. Therefore, he +said, it behooved Eldorado stock-holders to be sure that something was +being done with their money. Then he gave pages of facts and figures +which proved the utter insolvency of the State unless something could +be done. And he then proceeded to point out the amazing resources of +the country, could only a little energy be introduced into the +Council. He drew a lively picture of millions of acres, the finest +ground in the world, planted with sugar-cane; forests of mahogany; +silver mines worked by contented and laborious Indians; ports crowded +with merchant fleets, each returning home with rich argosies; and a +luxurious capital of marble made beautiful by countless palaces. + +At eleven Mr. Wylie called on Gabriel Cassilis again. He brought with +him his pamphlet. + +"I have read it already," said Mr. Cassilis. "It is on the whole well +done, and expresses my own view, in part. But I think you have piled +it up too much towards the end." + +"Why did you not give me clearer instructions, then?" + +"I dare say it will have a success. Meantime," said the financier, +pushing over a little bag, "you can count that. There ought to be +fifty sovereigns. Good-morning, Mr. Wylie." + +"Good-morning, Mr. Cassilis. I don't know"--he turned the bag of gold +over in his hands--"I don't know; thirty years ago I should have +looked with suspicion on such a job as this; thirty years ago----" + +"Good-morning, Mr. Wylie." + +"Thirty years ago I should have thought that a man who could afford +fifty pounds for a pamphlet----" + +"Well?" + +"Well--that he had his little game. And I should have left that man to +play it by himself. Good-morning again, Mr. Cassilis. You know my +address, I believe, in case of any other little job turning up." + +That afternoon Eldorado stock went down. It was lucky for Mr. Gabriel +Cassilis, because he wished to buy--and did--largely. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + "It is my lady! Oh, it is my love-- + Would that she knew she were!" + + +"Jack is late," said Phillis. + +She was making the prettiest picture that painter ever drew, standing +in the sunlight, with the laburnums and lilacs behind her in their +fresh spring glory. Her slender and shapely figure, clad in its black +riding habit, stood out in relief against the light and shade of the +newly-born foliage; she wore one of the pretty hats of last year's +fashion, and in her hand she carried the flowers she had just been +gathering. Her face was in repose, and in its clear straight lines +might have served for a model Diana, chaste and fair. It was +habitually rather a grave face; that came of much solitude and long +companionship with an old man. And the contrast was all the greater +when she lit up with a smile that was like a touch of tender sunshine +upon her face and gave the statue a soul. But now she stood waiting, +and her eyes were grave. + +Agatha L'Estrange watched her from her shady garden seat. The girl's +mind was full of the hidden possibilities of things--for herself; the +elder lady--to whom life had given, as she thought, all it had to +give--was thinking of these possibilities too--for her charge. Only +they approached the subject from different points of view. To the +girl, an eager looking forward to new joys which were yet not the +ordinary joys of London maidenhood. Each successive day was to reveal +to her more secrets of life; she was born for happiness and sunshine; +the future was brighter in some dim and misty fashion, far brighter +than the present; it was like a picture by Claude, where the untrained +eye sees nothing but mist and vapour, rich with gorgeous colour, +blurring the outlines which lie behind. But the elder lady saw the +present and feared the future. Every man thinks he will succeed till +he finds out his own weakness; every woman thinks she is born for the +best of this world's gifts--to happiness, to be lapped in warmth and +comfort, to be clothed with the love of husband and children as with a +garment. Some women get it. Agatha had not received this great +happiness. A short two years of colourless wedded life with a man old +enough to be her father, and twenty years of widowhood. It was not the +lot she might have chosen; not the lot she wished for Phillis. And +then she thought of Jack Dunquerque. Oddly enough, the future, in +whatever shape it was present to the brain of Phillis, was never +without the figure of Jack Dunquerque. + +"Jack is late," said Phillis. + +"Come here, dear, out of the sun; we must take a little care of our +complexion. Sit down and let us talk." + +Agatha took Phillis's hand in hers, as the girl sat upon the grass at +her feet. + +"Let us talk. Tell me, dear Phillis, don't you think a little too much +about Mr. Dunquerque?" + +"About Jack? How can I, Agatha? Is he not my first friend?" + +She did not blush; she did not hesitate; she looked frankly in +Agatha's face. The light of love which the elder lady expected was not +there yet. + +"Changed as you are, my dear, in some things, you are only a child +still," said Agatha. + +"Am I only a child?" asked Phillis. "Tell me why you say so now, dear +Agatha. Is it because I am fond of Jack?" + +"No, dear," Mrs. L'Estrange laughed. What was to be said to this +_jeune ingénue_? "Not quite that." + +"I have learned a great deal--oh, a great deal--since I came here. How +ignorant I was! How foolish!" + +"What have you learned, Phillis?" + +"Well, about people. They are not all so interesting as they seemed at +first. Agatha, it seems like a loss not to think so much of people as +I did. Some are foolish, like the poor curate--are all curates +foolish, I wonder?--some seem to say one thing and mean another, like +Mr. Cassilis; some do not seem to care for anything in the world +except dancing; some talk as if china was the only thing worth living +for; but some are altogether lovely and charming, like yourself, my +dear." + +"Go on, Phillis, and tell me more." + +"Shall I? I am foolish, perhaps, but most of our visitors have +disappointed me. How _can_ people talk about china as if the thing +could be _felt_, like a picture? What is it they like so much in +dancing and skating-rinks, and they prefer them to music and painting, +and--and--the beautiful river?" + +"Wait till you come out, dear Phillis," said Agatha. + +For all the things in which young ladies do most delight were to her a +vanity and foolishness. She heard them talk and she could not +understand. She was to wait till she came out. And was her coming out +to be the putting on of the Coping-stone? + +"Jack is late," said Phillis. + +It was a little expedition. Mrs. L'Estrange and Gilead Beck were to +drive to Hampton Court, while Jack and Phillis rode. It was the first +of such expeditions. In late May and early June the Greater London, as +the Registrar calls it, is a marvel and a miracle of loveliness; in +all the world there are no such meadows of buttercups, with fragrant +hedges of thorn; there are no such generous and luxuriant growths +of wisteria, with purple clusters; there are no such woods of +horse-chestnuts, with massive pyramids of white blossom; there are no +such apple-orchards and snow-clad forests of white blossomed +plum-trees as are to be seen around this great city of ours. Colonials +returned from exile shed tears when they see them, and think of arid +Aden and thirsty Indian plains; the American owns that though Lake +George with its hundred islets is lovely, and the Hudson River a thing +to dream of, there is nothing in the States to place beside the +incomparable result of wealth and loving care which the outlying +suburbs of south and western London show. + +If it was new to Phillis--if every new journey made her pulses bound, +and every new place seen was another revelation--it was also new to +the American, who looked so grave and smiled so kindly, and sometimes +made such funny observations. + +Gilead Beck was more silent with the ladies than with Jack, which was +natural, because his only experience of the sex was that uncomfortable +episode in his life when he taught school and fought poor Pete +Conkling. And to this adventurer, this man who had been at all +trades--who had roamed about the world for thirty years; who had +habitually consorted with miners and adventurers, whom the comic +American books have taught us to regard as a compound of drunkard, +gambler, buccaneer, blasphemer, and weeping sentimentalist--his manner +of life had not been able to destroy the chivalrous respect for women +with which an American begins life. Only he had never known a lady at +all until now; never any lady in America. + +In spite of his life, this man was neither coarse nor vulgar. He was +modest, knowing his defects, and he was humble. Nevertheless, he had +the self-respect which none of his countrymen are without. He was an +undeniable "ranker," a fact of which he was proud, because, if he had +a weakness, it was to regard himself as another Cromwell, singled out +and chosen. He had two languages, of one of which he made sparing use, +save when he narrated his American experiences. This, as we have seen, +was a highly ornamental tongue, a gallery of imagery, a painted +chamber of decorated metaphor--the language of wild California, an +_argot_ which, on occasions, he handled with astounding vigour. The +other was the tongue of the cultivated American. In England we bark; +in the States they speak. We fling out our conversation in jerks; the +man of the States shapes his carefully in his brain before he speaks. +Gilead Beck spoke like a gentleman of Boston, save that his defective +education did not allow him to speak so well. + +His great terror was the word Shoddy. He looked at Shoddy full in the +face; he made up his mind what Shoddy was--the thing which pretends to +be what it is not, a branch of the great family which has the Prig at +one end and the Snob at the other--and he was resolute in avoiding the +slightest suspicion of Shoddy. + +If he was of obscure birth, with antecedents which left him nothing to +boast of but honesty, he was also soft-hearted as a girl, quick in +sympathy, which Adam Smith teaches us is the groundwork of all morals, +and refined in thought. After many years, a man's habitual thoughts +are stamped upon his face. The face of Gilead Beck was a record of +purity and integrity. Such a man in England would, by the power of +circumstances, have been forced into taprooms, and slowly dragged +downwards into that beery morass in which, as in another Malebolge, +the British workman lies stupefied and helpless. Some wicked +cynic--was it Thackeray?--said that below a certain class no English +woman knows the meaning of virtue. He might have said, with greater +truth, that below a certain class no Englishman knows the meaning of +self-respect. + +To go into that orderly house at Twickenham, where the higher uses of +wealth were practically illustrated by a refinement new to the good +ex-miner, was to this American in itself an education, and none the +less useful because it came late in life. To be with the ladies, to +see the tender graces of the elder and the sweetness of the younger, +filled his heart with emotion. + +"The Luck of the Golden Butterfly, Mrs. L'Estrange," he said, "is more +than what the old squaw thought. It began in dollars, but it has +brought me--this." + +They were sitting in the garden, Agatha and Gilead Beck, while Jack +Dunquerque and Phillis were watering flowers, or gathering them, or +always doing something which would keep Jack close to the girl. + +"If by 'this' you mean friendship, Mr. Beck," said Agatha, "I am very +glad of it. Dollars, as you call money, may take to themselves wings +and fly away, but friends do not." + +It will be observed that Agatha L'Estrange had never seen reason to +abandon the old-fashioned rules invented by those philosophers who +lived before Rochefoucauld. + +"I sometimes think I should like to try," said Gilead Beck. "Poor men +have no friends; they have mates on our side of the water, and pals on +yours." + +"Mates and pals?" cried Phillis, laughing. "Jack, do you know mates +and pals?" + +"I ought to," said Jack, "because I'm poor enough." + +"Friends come to rich folk naturally, like the fruit to the tree, +or--or--the flower to the rose," Gilead added poetically. + +"Or the mud to the wheel," said Jack. + +"Suppose all my dollars were suddenly to vamose--I mean, to vanish +away," Gilead Beck went on solemnly; "would the friends vanish away +too?" + +"Jack would not," said Phillis promptly, "and Agatha would not. Nor +should I." + +She held out her hand in the free frank manner which was her greatest +charm. Gilead Beck took the little fingers in his big rough hand the +bones of which seemed to stick out all over it, so rugged and hard it +was, and looked in her face with the solemn smile which made Phillis +trust in him, and raised her fingers to his lips. + +Then she blushed with a pretty confusion which drove poor Jack to the +verge of madness. Indeed, the ardour of his passion and the necessity +for keeping silence were together making the young man thin and pale. + +They were gradually exploring, this party of four, the outside +gardens, parks, castles, and views of London. Of course, they were as +new to Jack and Mrs. L'Estrange as they were to Phillis and the +American. Jack knew Greenwich, where he had dined; and Richmond, where +he had dined; and the Crystal Palace, where he had also dined, +revealed to him one summer evening an unknown stretch of fair country; +more than that he knew not. + +Perhaps more exciting pleasures might have been found, but this simple +party found their own unsophisticated delight in driving and riding +through green lanes. + +"Phillis will have to come out next year," said Agatha, half +apologising to herself for enjoying such things. "We must amuse her +while we can." + +They went to Virginia Water, where Mr. Beck made some excellent +observations on the ruins and on the flight of time, insomuch that it +was really sad to discover that they were only, so to speak, new +ruins. + +They went to Hampton Court, where they strolled through the picture +galleries and looked at the Lely beauties; walked up the long avenues, +and saw that quaint old mediæval garden which lies hidden away at the +side of the Palace, marked by few. Gilead Beck said that if he was the +Queen and had such a place he should sometimes live in it, if only for +the sake of giving a dinner in the great Hall. But Phillis liked best +the gardens, with their old-fashioned flowers, and the peace which +reigns perpetually in the quaint old courts. And Gilead Beck asked +Jack privately if he thought the Palace might be bought, and if so, +for how much. + +They visited Windsor. Mr. Beck said that if he had such a location he +should always live there; he speculated on the probable cost of +erecting such a fortress on the banks of the Hudson River; and then he +cast his imagination backwards up the stream of time and plunged into +history. + +Phillis allowed him to go on, while he jumbled kings, mixed up +cardinals, and tried, by the recovery of old associations, to connect +the venerable pile with the past. + +"From one of those windows, I guess," he said, pointing his long arm +vaguely round the narrow lattices, "Charles came out to be beheaded, +while Oliver Cromwell spurted ink in his face. It was rough on the +poor king. Seems to me, kings very often do have a rough time. And +perhaps, too, that Cardinal Thomas à Beckett, when he told Henry IV. +that he wished he'd served his country as well as he'd loved his God, +it was on this very terrace. Perhaps----" + +"O Mr. Beck! when _did_ you learn English history," cried Phillis. + +Then, like a little pedant as she was, she began to unfold all that +she knew about the old fortress and its history. Its history is not so +grim as that of the Tower of London, which she had once narrated to +Jack Dunquerque; but it has a picturesque story of its own, which the +girl somehow made out from the bare facts of English history--all she +knew. But these her imagination converted into living and indisputable +truths, pictures whose only fault was that the lights were too bright +and the shadows too intense. + +Alas, this is the way with posterity! The dead are to be judged as +they seem from such acts as have remained on record. The force of +circumstances, the mixture of motives, the general muddle of good and +bad together, are lost in the summing-up; and history, which after all +only does what Phillis did, but takes longer to do it, paints Nero +black and Titus white, with the clear and hard outline of an etching. + +Gilead Beck, after the lecture, looked round the place with renewed +interest. + +"I am more ignorant than I thought," he said humbly. "But I am trying +to read, Miss Fleming." + +"Are you!" she cried, with a real delight in finding, as she thought, +one other person in the world as ignorant of that art as herself. "And +how far have you got?" + +"I've got so far," he said, "that I've lost my way, and shall have to +go back again. It was all through Robert Browning. My dear young +lady,--" he said this in his most impressive tones,--"if you should +chance upon one of his books with a pretty title, such as _Red +Cotton Nightcap Country_, or _Fifine at the Fair_, don't read it, +don't try it. It isn't a fairy story, nor a love story. It's a story +without an end, it's a story told upsy-down; it's like wandering in a +forest without a path. It gets into your brain and makes it go round; +it gets into your eyes and makes you see ghosts. Don't you look at +that book. + +"Reading in a general way, and if you don't take too much of it, is a +fine thing," he continued. "The difficulty is to keep the volumes +separate in your head. Anybody can write a book. I've written columns +enough in the _Clearville Roarer_ for a dozen books; but it takes +a man to read one." + +"Ah, but it is different with you," said Phillis. "I am only in words +of two syllables. I've just got through the first reading-book. 'The +cat has drunk up all the milk.' I suppose I must go on with it, but I +think it is better to have some one to read for you. I am sure Jack +would read for me whenever I asked him." + +"I never thought of that," said Gilead Beck. "Why not keep a clerk to +read for you, and pay out the information in small chunks? I should +like to tackle Mr. Carlyle that way." + +"Agatha is reading a novel to me now," Phillis went on. "There is a +girl in it; but somehow I think my own life is more interesting than +hers. She belongs to a part of the country where the common people say +clever things!--Oh, very clever things!--and she herself says all +sorts of clever things." + +"Mr. Dunquerque," interrupted Gilead Beck, who was not listening, +"would read to you all the days of his life, I think, if you would let +him." + +Phillis made no reply. As she neither blushed, nor smiled, nor gave +any of the ordinary signs of apprehension with which most young ladies +would have received this speech, it is to be presumed that she did not +take in the full meaning of it. + +"There is one thing about Mr. Dunquerque," Gilead Beck went on, "that +belongs, I reckon, to you English people only. He is not a young +man----" + +"Jack not a young man? Why, Mr. Beck----" + +"Not what we call a young man. Our young men are sixteen and +seventeen. Mr. Dunquerque is five-and-twenty. Our men of +five-and-twenty are grave and full of care. Mr. Dunquerque is +light-hearted and laughs. That is what I like him for." + +"Yes; Jack laughs. I should not like to see Jack grave." + +She spoke of him as if he were her own property. To be sure, he was +her first and principal friend. She could talk to him as she could +talk to no one else. And she loved him with the deep and passionless +love, as yet, of a sister. + +"Yes," said Gilead Beck, looking round him, "England is a great +country. Its young men are not all mad for dollars; they can laugh and +be happy; and the land is one great garden. Miss Fleming, that is the +happiest country, I guess, whose people the longest keep their youth." + +She only half understood him, but she looked in his face with her +sweet smile. + +"It is like a dream. That I should be walking here with you, such as +you, in this grand place--I, Gilead P. Beck. To be with you and Mr. +Dunquerque is like getting back the youth I never had: youth that +isn't always thinkin' about the next day; youth that isn't always +plannin' for the future; youth that has time to enjoy the sunshine, to +look into a sweet gell's eyes and fall in love--like you, my pretty, +and Mr. Dunquerque--who saved my life." + +He added these last words as an after-thought, and as if he was +reminded of some duty forgotten. + +Phillis was silent, because his words fell upon her heart and made her +think. It was not her youth that was prolonged; it was her childhood. +And that was dropping from her now like the shell of the chrysalis. +She thought how, somewhere in the world, there were people born to be +unhappy, and she felt humiliated when she was selfishly enjoying what +they could not. Somewhere in the world--and where? Close to her, in +the cottages where Mrs. L'Estrange had taken her. + +For until then the poor, who are always with us, were not unhappy, to +Phillis, nor hungry, nor deserving of pity and sympathy; they were +only picturesque. + +They went to St. George's Chapel, after over-ruling Gilead Beck's +objections to attending divine service--for he said he hadn't been to +meetin' for more than thirty years; also, that he had not yet "got +religion"--and when he stood in the stall under the banner of its +rightful owner he looked on from an outsider's point of view. + +The ceremonial of the ancient Church of England was to him a pageant +and a scenic display. The picture, however, was very fine; the grand +chapel with its splendor of ornamentation; the banners and heraldry; +the surpliced sweet-voiced boys; the dignified white-robed clergy-men; +the roll of the organ; the sunlight through the painted glass; even +the young subaltern who came clanking into the chapel as the service +began,--there was nothing, he said, in America which could be reckoned +a patch upon it. Church in avenue 39, New York, was painted and gilded +in imitation of the Alhambra; that was considered fine, but could not +be compared with St. George's, Windsor. And the performance of the +service, he said, was so good as to have merited a larger audience. + +Jack Dunquerque, I grieve to say, did not attend to the service. He +was standing beside Phillis, and he watched her with hungry eyes. For +she was looking before her in a sort of trance. The beauty of the +place intoxicated her. She listened with soft eyes and parted lips. +All was artistic and beautiful. The chapel was peopled again with +mailed knights; the voices of the anthem sang the greatness and the +glory of England; the sunshine through the painted glass gave colour +to the picture in her brain; and when the service was over she came +out with dazed look, as one who is snatched too suddenly from a dream +of heaven. + +This too, like everything else, was part of her education. She had +learned the beauty of the world and its splendours. She was to see the +things she had only dreamed of, but by dreaming had wrapped in a cloud +of coloured mist. + +When was it to be completed, her education? Phillis waited for that +Coping-stone for which Joseph Jagenal was vainly searching. She +laughed when she thought of it, the mysterious completion of Abraham +Dyson's great fabric. What was it? + +She had not long to wait. + +"I love her, Mrs. L'Estrange," said Jack Dunquerque passionately, on +the evening of the last of their expeditions: "I love her!" + +"I have seen it for some time," Agatha replied. "And I wanted to speak +to you before, but I did not like to. I am afraid I have been very +wrong in encouraging you to come here so often." + +"Who could help loving her?" he cried "Tell me, Mrs. L'Estrange, you +who have known so many, was there ever a girl like Phillis--so sweet, +so fresh, so pretty, and so good?" + +"Indeed, she is all that you say," Agatha acknowledged. + +"And will you be my friend with Colquhoun? I am going to see him +to-morrow about it, because I cannot stand it any longer." + +"He knows that you visit me; he will be prepared in a way. And--Oh, +Mr. Dunquerque, why are you in such a hurry? Phillis is so nice and +you are so young." + +"I am five-and-twenty, and Phillis is nineteen." + +"Then Phillis is so inexperienced." + +"Yes; she is inexperienced," Jack repeated. "And if experience comes, +she may learn to love another man." + +"That is what all the men say. Why, you silly boy, if Phillis were to +love you first, do you think a thousand men could make her give you +up?" + +"You are right: but she does not love me; she only likes me; she does +not know what love means. That is bad enough to think of. But even +that isn't the worst." + +"What more is there?" + +"I am so horribly, so abominably poor. My brother Isleworth is the +poorest peer in the kingdom, and I am about the poorest younger son. +And Colquhoun will think I am coming after Phillis's money." + +"As you are poor, it will be a great comfort for everybody concerned," +said Agatha, with good sense, "to think that, should you marry +Phillis, she has some money to help you with. Go and see Lawrence +Colquhoun, Mr. Dunquerque, and--and if I can help your cause, I will. +There! Now let us have no more." + +"They will make a pretty pair," said Mr. Gilead Beck presently to Mrs. +L'Estrange. + +"O Mr. Beck, you are all in a plot! And perhaps after all--and Mr. +Dunquerque is so poor." + +"Is that so?" Mr. Beck asked eagerly. "Will the young lady's guardian +refuse the best man in the world because he is poor? No, Mrs. +L'Estrange, there's only one way out of this muss, and perhaps you +will take that way for me." + +"What is it, Mr. Beck?" + +"I can't say myself to Mr. Dunquerque, 'What is mine is yours.' And I +can't say to Mr. Colquhoun--not with the delicacy that you would put +into it--that Mr. Dunquerque shall have all I've got to make him +happy. I want you to say that for me. Tell him there is no two ways +about it--that Jack Dunquerque _must_ marry Miss Fleming. Lord, Lord! +why, they are made for each other! Look at him now, Mrs. L'Estrange, +leanin' towards her, with a look half respectful and half hungry. And +look at her, with her sweet innocent eyes; she doesn't understand it, +she doesn't know what he's beatin' down with all his might: the strong +honest love of a man--the best thing he's got to give. Wait till you +give the word, and she feels his arms about her waist, and his lips +close to hers. It's a beautiful thing, love. I've never been in love +myself, but I've watched those that were; and I venture to tell you, +Mrs. L'Estrange, that from the Queen down to the kitchen-maid, there +isn't a woman among them all that isn't the better for being loved. +And they know it, too, all of them, except that pretty creature." + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + "Pictoribus atque Poetis + Quidlibet audendi semper fuit æqua potestas." + + +"With commissions"--Cornelius Jagenal spoke as if Gilead Beck was a +man of multitude, signifying many, and as if one commission was a +thousand--"with commissions pouring in as they should, Brother +Humphrey----" + +"And the great Epic, the masterpiece of the century about to be +published in the Grand Style, brother Cornelius, the only style which +is worthy of its merits----" + +"Something definite should be attempted, Humphrey----" + +"You mean, brother----" + +"With regard to----" + +"With regard to Phillis Fleming." + +They looked at each other meaningly and firmly. The little table was +between them; it was past twelve o'clock; already two or three +soda-water bottles were lying on it empty; and the world looked rosy +to the poetic pair. + +Humphrey was the first to speak after the young lady's name was +mentioned. He removed the pipe from his mouth, threw back his head, +stroked his long brown beard, and addressed the ceiling. + +"She is," he said, "she is indeed a charming girl. Her outlines finely +but firmly drawn; her colouring delicate, but strongly accentuated; +the grouping to which she lends herself always differentiated +artistically; her single attitudes designed naturally and with +freedom; her flesh-tints remarkably pure and sweet; her draperies +falling in artistic folds; her atmosphere softened as by the perfumed +mists of morning; her hair tied in the simple knot which is the +admiration and despair of many painters;--you agree with my rendering, +brother Cornelius"--he turned his reflective gaze from the ceiling, +and fixed his lustrous eyes, perhaps with the least little look of +triumph, upon his brother--"my rendering of this incomparable Work?" + +He spoke of the young lady as if she were a picture. This was because, +immediately after receiving his commission, he bethought him of +reading a little modern criticism, and so bought the _Academy_ for a +few weeks. In that clear bubbling fount of modern English undefiled, +the Art criticisms are done with such entire freedom from cant and +affectation that they are a pleasure to read; and from its pages every +Prig is so jealously kept out, that the paper is as widely circulated +and as popular as _Punch_; thus Humphrey Jagenal acquired a new +jargon of Art criticism, which he developed and made his own. + +Cornelius had been profiting by the same delightful and genial enemy +to Mutual Admiration Societies. He was a little taken aback for a +moment by the eloquence and fidelity of his brother's word-picture, +but stimulated to rivalry. He made answer, gazing into the black and +hollow depths of the empty fireplace, and speaking slowly as if he +enjoyed his words too much to let them slip out too fast-- + +"She is all that you say, Humphrey. From your standpoint nothing could +be better. I judge her, however, from my own platform. I look on her +as one of Nature's sweetest poems; such a poem as defies the highest +effort of the greatest creative genius; where the cadenced lines are +sunlit, and as they ripple on make music in your soul. You are rapt +with their beauty; you are saddened with the unapproachable magic of +their charm; you feel the deepest emotions of the heart awakened and +beating in responsive harmony. And when, after long and patient +watching, the Searcher after the Truth of Beauty feels each verse sink +deeper and deeper within him, till it becomes a part of his own +nature, there arises before him, clad in mystic and transparent Coan +robe, the spirit of subtle wisdom, long lying perdu in those magic +utterances. She is a lyric; she is a sonnet; she is an epigram----" + +"At least," interrupted Humphrey unkindly, cutting short his brother's +freest flow, "at least she doesn't carry a sting." + +"Then let us say an Idyl----" + +"Cornelius, make an Idyl yourself for her," Humphrey interrupted +again, because really his brother was taking an unfair advantage of a +paltry verbal superiority. "Now that we have both described her--and I +am sure, brother," he added out of the kindness of his heart, "no +description could be more poetically true than your own--it would make +even a stranger see Phillis standing in a vision before his eyes. But +let us see what had better be done." + +"We must act at once, Humphrey. We must call upon her at her +guardian's, Mrs. L'Estrange, at Twickenham. Perhaps that lady does not +know so many men of genius as to render the accession of two more to +her circle anything but a pleasure and an honour. And as for our next +steps, they must be guided by our finesse, by our knowledge of the +world, our insight into a woman's heart, our--shall I say our power of +intrigue, Humphrey?" + +Then the Artist positively winked. It is not a gesture to be commended +from an artistic point of view, but he did it. Then he chuckled and +wagged his head. + +Then the Poet in his turn also winked, chuckled, and wagged his head +too. + +"We understand each other, Humphrey. We always do." + +"We must make our own opportunity," said the Artist thoughtfully. "Not +together, but separately." + +"Surely separately. Together would never do." + +"We will go to bed early to-night, in order to be fresh to-morrow. +Have you--did you--can you give me any of your own experiences in this +way, Cornelius?" + +The Poet shook his head. + +"I may have been wooed," he said. "Men of genius are always run after. +But as I am a bachelor, you see it is clear that I never proposed." + +Humphrey had much the same idea in his own mind, and felt as if the +wind was a little taken out of his sails. This often happens when two +sister craft cruise so very close alongside of each other. + +"Do not let us be nervous, Humphrey," the elder brother went on +kindly. "It is the simplest thing in the world, I dare say, when you +come to do it. Love finds out a way." + +"When I was in Rome----" Humphrey said, casting his thoughts backwards +thirty years. + +"When I was in Heidelberg----" said Cornelius, in the same mood of +retrospective meditation. + +"There was a model--a young artist's model----" + +"There was a little country girl----" + +"With the darkest eyes, and hair of a deep blue-black, the kind of +colour one seems only to read of or to see in a picture." + +"With blue eyes as limpid as the waters of the Neckar, and light-brown +hair which caught the sunshine in a way that one seldom seems to see, +but which we poets sometimes sing of." + +Then they both started and looked at each other guiltily. + +"Cornelius," said Humphrey, "I think that Phillis would not like these +reminiscences. We must offer virgin hearts." + +"True, brother," said Cornelius with a sigh, "We must. Yet the +recollection is not unpleasant." + +They went to bed early, only concentrating into two hours the +brandy-and-soda of four. It was a wonderful thing that neither gave +the other the least hint of a separate and individual preference for +Phillis. They were running together, as usual, in double harness, and +so far as might be gathered from their conversation they were +proposing to themselves that both should marry Phillis. + +They dressed with more than usual care in the morning, and, without +taking their customary walk, sat each in his own room till two +o'clock, when Humphrey sought Cornelius in the Workshop. + +They surveyed each other with admiration. They were certainly a +remarkable pair, and, save for that little redness of the nose already +alluded to, they were more youthful than one could conceive possible +at the age of fifty. Their step was elastic; their eyes were bright; +Humphrey's beard was as brown and silky, Cornelius's cheek as smooth, +as twenty years before. This it is to lead a life unclouded and +devoted to contemplation of Art. This it is to have a younger brother, +successful, and never tired of working for his seniors. + +"We are not nervous, brother?" asked Cornelius with a little +hesitation. + +"Not at all," said Humphrey sturdily, "not at all. Still, to steady +the system, perhaps----" + +"Yes," said Cornelius; "you are quite right, brother. We will." + +There was no need of words. The reader knows already what was implied. + +Humphrey led the way to the dining-room, where he speedily found a +pint of champagne. With this modest pick-me-up, which no one surely +will grudge the brethren, they started on their way. + +"What we need, Cornelius," said Humphrey, putting himself outside the +last drop--"What we need. Not what we wish for." + +Then he straightened his back, smote his chest, stamped lustily with +his right foot, and looked like a war-horse before the battle. + +Unconscious of the approaching attack of these two conquering heroes, +Phillis and Agatha L'Estrange were sitting in the shade and on the +grass: the elder lady with some work, the younger doing nothing. It +was a special characteristic with her that she could sit for hours +doing nothing. So the modern Arabs, the gipsies, niggerdom in general, +and all that large section of humanity which has never learned to read +and write, are contented to fold their hands, lie down, and think away +the golden hours. What they think about, these untutored tribes, the +Lord only knows. Whether by degrees, and as they grow old, some faint +intelligence of the divine order sinks into their souls, or whether +they become slowly enwrapped in the beauty of the world, or whether +their thoughts, always turned in the bacon-and-cabbage direction, are +wholly gross and earthly, I cannot tell. Phillis's thoughts were still +as the thoughts of a child, but as those of a child passing into +womanhood: partly selfish, inasmuch as she consciously placed her own +individuality, as every child does, in the centre of the universe, and +made the sun, the moon, the planets, and all the minor stars revolve +around her; partly unselfish, because they hovered about the forms of +two or three people she loved, and took the shape of devising means of +pleasing these people; partly artistic, because the beauty of the June +afternoon cried aloud for admiration, while the sunshine lay on the +lawns and the flower-beds, threw up the light leaves and blossoms of +the passion-flower on the house-side, and made darker shadows in the +gables, while the glorious river ran swiftly at her feet. The river of +which she never tired. Other things lost their novelty, but the river +never. + +"I wish Jack Dunquerque were here," she said at last. + +"I wish so, too," said Agatha. "Why did we not invite him, Phillis?" + +Then they were silent again. + +"I wish Mr. Beck would call," remarked Phillis. + +"My dear, we do nothing but wish. But here is somebody--two young +gentlemen. Who are they, I wonder?" + +"O Agatha, they are the Twins!" + +Phillis sprang from her seat, and ran to meet them with a most +unaffected pleasure. + +"This is Mr. Cornelius Jagenal," she said, introducing them to Agatha. +"The Poet, you know." And here she laughed, because Agatha did not +know, and Cornelius perked up his head and tried to look unconscious +of his fame. "And this is Mr. Humphrey, the Artist." And then she +laughed again, because Humphrey did exactly the same as Cornelius, +only with an air of deprecation, as one who would say, "Never mind my +fame for the present." + +It was embarrassing for Mrs. L'Estrange, because she could not for her +life recollect any Poet or Artist named Jagenal. The men and their +work were alike unknown to her. And why did Phillis laugh? And what +did the pair before her look so solemn about? + +They were solemn partly from vanity, which is the cause of most of the +grave solemnity we so much admire in the world, and partly because, +finding themselves face to face with Phillis, they became suddenly and +painfully aware that they had come on a delicate errand. Cornelius +looked furtively at Humphrey, and the Artist glanced at the Poet, but +neither found any help from his brother. Their courage, as evanescent +as that of Mr. Robert Acres, was rapidly oozing out at their boots. + +Phillis noted their embarrassment, and tried to put them at their +ease. This was difficult; they were so inordinately vain, so +self-conscious, so unused to anything beyond their daily experience, +that they were as awkward as a pair of fantoccini. People who live +alone get into the habit of thinking and talking about themselves; the +Twins were literally unable to think or speak on any other subject. + +Phillis, they saw, to begin with, was altered. Somehow she looked +older. Certainly more formidable. And it was awkward to feel that she +was taking them in a manner under her own protection before a +stranger. And why did she laugh? The task which they discussed with +such an airy confidence over the brandy-and-soda assumed, in the +presence of the young lady herself, dimensions quite out of proportion +to their midnight estimate. All these considerations made them feel +and look ill at ease. + +Also it was vexatious that neither of the ladies turned the +conversation upon the subject nearest to each man's heart--his own +Work. On the contrary, Phillis asked after Joseph, and sent him an +invitation to come and see her; Mrs. L'Estrange talked timidly about +the weather, and tried them on the Opera, on the Academy, and on the +last volume of Browning. It was odd in so great an Artist as Humphrey +that he had not yet seen the Academy, and in so great a Poet as +Cornelius that he had not read any recent poetry. Then they tried to +talk about flowers. The two city-bred artists knew a wall-flower from +a cabbage and a rose from a sprig of asparagus, and that was all. + +Phillis would not help either the Twins or Agatha, so that the former +grew more helpless every moment. In fact, the girl was staring at +them, and wondering to feel how differently she regarded men and +manners since that first evening in Carnarvon Square, when they +produced champagne in her honour, and drank it all up themselves. + +She remembered how she had looked at them with awe; how, after a day +or two, this reverence vanished; how she found them to be mere shallow +wind-bags and humbugs, and regarded them with contempt; how she made +fun of them with Jack Dunquerque; and how she drew their portraits. + +And now--it was a mark of her advanced education--she looked at them +with pity. They were so dependent on each other for admiration; they +were so childishly vain; they were so full of themselves; and their +daily life of sleep, drink, and boastful pretension showed itself to +her experienced head as so mean and sordid a thing. + +She came to the help of the whole party, and took the Twins for a walk +among the flowers, flattering them, asking how Work got on, +congratulating them on their good looks, and generally making things +comfortable for them. + +Presently she found herself on the sloping bank of the river, where +she was wont to sit with Jack. Cornelius Jagenal alone was by her +side. She looked round, and saw Humphrey standing before Mrs. +L'Estrange, and occasionally glancing over his shoulder. And she +noticed, then, a curiously nervous motion of her companion's hand; +also that his cheek was twitching with some secret emotion. He looked +older, too, she thought; perhaps that was the bright sunlight, which +brought out the dells and valleys and the crow's-feet round his eyes. + +He cleared his voice with an effort, and opened his mouth to speak, +but shut it again, silent. + +"You were going to say, Mr. Cornelius?" + +"Yes. Will you sit down, Miss Fleming?" + +"He is going to tell me about the _Upheaving of Ælfred_" thought +Phillis. "And how does the Workshop get on?" she asked. + +"Fairly well," he replied modestly. "We publish in the autumn. The +work is to be brought out, you will be glad to learn, with all the +luxury of the best illustrations, paper, print, and binding that money +can procure." + +"So that all you want is the poem itself," said Phillis, with a +mischievous light in her eyes. + +"Ye-es----" he winced a little. "As you say, the Epic itself alone is +wanting, and that advances with mighty strides. My brother Humphrey--a +noble creature is Humphrey, Miss Fleming----" + +She bowed and smiled. + +"Is he still hard at work? Always hard at work?" She laughed as she +asked the question. + +"His work is crushing him, Miss Fleming--may I call you Phillis?" He +spoke very solemnly--"His work is crushing him." + +"Of course you may, Mr. Cornelius. We are quite old friends. But I am +sorry to hear that your brother is being crushed." + +"Yesterday, Phillis--I feel to you already like a brother," pursued +the Poet--"yesterday I discovered the secret of Humphrey's life. May I +tell it to you?" + +"If you please." She began to be a little bored. Also she noticed that +Agatha wore a look of mute suffering, as if the Artist was getting +altogether too much for her. "If you please; but be quick, because I +think Mrs. L'Estrange wants me." + +"I will tell you the secret in a few words. My brother Humphrey adores +you with all the simplicity and strength of a noble artistic nature." + +"Does he? You mean he likes me very much. How good he his! I am glad +to hear it, Mr. Cornelius, though why it need be a secret I do not +know." + +"Then my poor brother--he is all loyalty, and brings you a virgin +heart," (O Cornelius! and the model with the blue black hair!) "an +unsullied name, and the bright prospects of requited genius--my +brother may hope?" + +Phillis did not understand one word. + +"Certainly," she said; "I am sure I would like to see him hoping." + +"I will tell him, sister Phillis," said Cornelius, nodding with a +sunny smile. "You have made two men happy, and one at least grateful." + +His mission was accomplished, his task done. It will hardly be +believed that this treacherous bard, growing more and more nervous as +he reflected on the uncertainty of the wedded life, actually came to a +sudden resolution to plead his brother's cause. Humphrey was the +younger. Let him bear off the winsome bride. + +"It will be a change in our lives," he said. "You will allow me to +have my share in his happiness?" + +Phillis made no reply. Decidedly the Poet was gone distraught with +overmuch reading and thought. + +Cornelius, smiling, crowing, and laughing almost like a child, pressed +her hand and left her, stepping with a youthful elasticity across the +lawn. Humphrey, sitting beside Mrs. L'Estrange, was bewildering that +good lady with a dissertation on colour _à propos_ of a flower which +he held in his hand. Agatha could not understand this strange pair, +who looked so youthful until you came to see them closely, and then +they seemed to be of any age you pleased to name. Nor could she +understand their talk, which was pedantic, affected, and continually +involved the theory that the speaker was, next to his brother, the +greatest of living men. + +If it was awkward and stupid sitting with Humphrey on a bench while he +discoursed on Colour, it was still more awkward when the other one +appeared with a countenance wreathed with smiles, and sat on the other +side. Nor did there appear any reason why the one with the beard +should suddenly break off his oration, turn very red in the face, get +up, and walk slowly across the lawn to take his brother's place. But +that is what he did, and Cornelius took up the running. + +Humphrey sat down beside Phillis without speaking. She noticed in him +the same characteristics of nervousness as in his brother. Twice he +attempted to speak, and twice his tongue clave to the roof of his +mouth. + +"He is going to tell me that Cornelius adores me," she thought. + +It was instinct. That was exactly what Humphrey--the treacherous +Humphrey--had determined on doing. Matrimony, contemplated at close +quarters and in the presence of the enemy, so to speak, lost all its +charms. Humphrey thought of the pleasant life in Carnarvon Square, and +determined, at the very last moment, that if either of them was to +marry it should not be himself. Cornelius was the elder. Let him be +married first. + +"You are peaceful and happy here, Miss Fleming--may I call you +Phillis?" + +"Certainly, Mr. Humphrey. We are old friends, you know. And I am very +happy here." + +"I am glad"--he sighed heavily--"I am very glad indeed to hear that." + +"Are you not happy, Mr. Humphrey? Why do you look so gloomy? And how +is the Great Picture getting on?" + +"The 'Birth of the Renaissance' is advancing rapidly--rapidly," he +said. "It will occupy a canvas fourteen feet long by six high." + +"If you have got the canvas, and the frame, and the purchaser, all you +want now is the Picture." + +"True, as you say, the Picture. It is all that I want. And that is +striding--literally striding, _I_ am happy, dear Miss Fleming, dear +Phillis, since I may call you by your pretty Christian name. It is of +my brother that I think. It is on his account that I feel unhappy." + +"What is the matter with him?" + +She tried very hard not to laugh, but would not trust herself to look +in his face. So that he thought she was modestly guessing his secret. + +"He is a great, a noble fellow, His life is made up of sacrifices and +devoted to hard work. No one works so conscientiously as Cornelius. +Now, at length the prospect opens up, and he will take immediately his +true position among English poets." + +"Indeed, I am glad of it." + +"Thank you. Yet he is not happy. There is a secret sorrow in his +life." + +"Oh, dear!" Phillis cried impatiently, "do let me know it, and at +once. Was there ever such a pair of devoted brothers?" + +Humphrey was disconcerted for the moment, but went on again: + +"A secret which no one has guessed but myself." + +"I know what it is." She laughed and clapped her hands. + +"Has he told you, Phillis? The secret of his life is that my brother +Cornelius is attached to you with all the devotion of his grand poetic +soul." + +"Why, that was what I thought you were going to say!" + +"You knew it?" Humphrey was as solemn as an eight-day clock, while +Phillis's eyes danced with mirth. "And you feel the response of a +passionate nature? He shall be your Petrarch. You shall read his very +soul. But Cornelius brings you a virgin heart, a virgin heart, +Phillis" (O Humphrey! and after what you know about Gretchen!). "May +he hope that----" + +"Certainly he may hope, and so may you. And now we have had quite +enough of devotion and secrets and great poetic souls. Come, Mr. +Humphrey." + +She rose from the grass and looked him in the face, laughing. For a +moment the thought crossed the Artist's brain that he had made a mess +of it somehow. + +"Now," she said, joining the other two, "let us have some tea, and be +real." + +Neither of them understood her desire to be real, and the Twins +declined tea. That beverage they considered worthy only of late +breakfast, and to be taken as a morning pick-me-up. So they departed, +taking leave with a multitudinous smile and many tender +hand-pressures. As they left the garden together arm-in-arm they +straightened their backs, held up their heads, and stuck out their +legs like the Knave of Spades. And they looked so exactly like a pair +of triumphant cocks that Phillis almost expected them to crow. + +"_Au revoir_," said Cornelius, taking off his hat, with a whole wreath +of smiles, for a final parting at the gate. + +"_Sans dire adieu_," said Humphrey, doing the same, with a light in +his eyes which played upon his beard like sunshine. + +"Phillis, my dear," said Agatha, "they really are the most wonderful +pair I ever saw." + +"They _are_ so funny," said Phillis, laughing. "They sleep all day, +and when they wake up they pretend to have been working. And they sit +up all night. And, O Agatha! each one came to me just now, and told me +he had a secret to impart to me." + +"What was that, my dear?" + +"That the other one adored me, and might he hope?" + +"But, Phillis, this is beyond a joke. And actually here, before my +very eyes!" + +"I said they might both hope. Though I don't know what they are to +hope. It seems to me that if those two lazy men, who never do anything +but pretend to be exhausted with work, were only to hope for anything +at all it might wake them up a little. And they each said that the +other would bring me a virgin heart, Agatha. What did they mean?" + +Agatha laughed. + +"Well, my dear, it is a most uncommon thing to find in a man of fifty, +and I should say, if it were true, which I don't believe, that it +argued extreme insensibility. Such an offering is desirable at +five-and-twenty, but very, very rare, my dear at any age. And at their +time of life I should think that it was like an apple in May--kept too +long, Phillis, and tasting of the straw. But then you don't +understand." + +Phillis thought that a virgin heart might be one of the things to be +understood when the Coping-stone was achieved, and asked no more. + +At the Richmond railway-station the brothers, who had not spoken a +word to each other since leaving the house, turned into the +refreshment-room by common consent and without consultation. They had, +as usual, a brandy-and-soda, and on taking the glasses in their hands +they looked at each other and smiled. + +"Cornelius." + +"Humphrey." + +"Shall we"--the Artist dropped his voice, so that the attendant damsel +might not hear--"shall we drink the health and happiness of Phillis?" + +"We will, Humphrey," replied the Poet, with enthusiasm. + +When they got into the train and found themselves alone in the +carriage they dug each other in the ribs once, with great meaning. + +"She knows," said the Poet, with a grin worthy of Mephistopheles, +"that she has found a virgin heart." + +"She does," said Humphrey. "O Cornelius, and the little Gretchen and +the milkpails? Byronic Rover!" + +"Ah, Humphrey, shall I tell her of the contadina, the black-eyed +model, and the old wild days in Rome, eh? Don Giovanni!" + +Then they both laughed, and then they fell asleep in the carriage, +because it was long past their regular hour for the afternoon nap, and +slept till the guard took their tickets at Vauxhall. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + "This fellow's of exceeding honesty, + And knows all qualities." + + +It was the night of the Derby of 1875. The great race had been run, +and the partisans of Galopin were triumphant. Those who had set their +affections on other names had finished their weeping, because by this +time lamentation, especially among those of the baser sort was changed +for a cheerful resignation begotten of much beer. The busy road was +deserted, save for the tramps who plodded their weary way homeward; +the moon, now in its third quarter, looked with sympathetic eye upon +the sleeping forms which dotted the silent downs. These lay strewn +like unto the bodies on a battle-field--they lay in rows, they lay +singly; they were protected from the night-dews by canvas tents, or +they were exposed to the moon-light and the wind. All day long these +people had plied the weary trade of amusing a mob; the Derby, when +most hearts are open, is the harvest-day of those who play +instruments, those who dance, those who tumble, those who tell +fortunes. Among these honest artists sleeps the 'prentice who is going +to rob the till to pay his debt of honour; the seedy betting-man in a +drunken stupor; the boy who has tramped all the way from town to pick +up a sixpence somehow; the rustic who loves a race; and the +sharp-fingered lad with the restless eye and a pocketful of +handkerchiefs. The holiday is over, and few are the heads which will +awake in the morning clear and untroubled with regrets, remorse, or +hot coppers. It is two in the morning, and most of the revellers are +asleep. A few, still awake, are at the Burleigh Club; and among these +are Gilead Beck, Ladds, and Jack Dunquerque. + +They have been to Epsom. On the course the two Englishmen seemed, not +unnaturally, to know a good many men. Some, whose voices were, oddly +enough, familiar to Gilead Beck, shook hands with him and laughed. One +voice--it belonged to a man in a light coat and a white hat--reminded +him of Thomas Carlyle. The owner of the voice laughed cheerfully when +Beck told him so. Another made him mindful of John Ruskin. And the +owner of that voice, too, laughed and changed the subject. They were +all cheerful, these friends of Jack Dunquerque; they partook with +affability of the luncheon and drank freely of the champagne. Also +there was a good deal of quiet betting. Jack Dunquerque, Gilead Beck +observed, was the least adventurous. Betting and gambling were +luxuries which Jack's income would not allow him. Most other things he +could share in, but betting was beyond him. Gilead Beck plunged and +won. It was a part of his Luck that he should win; but, nevertheless, +when Galopin carried his owner's colours past the winning-post, Gilead +gave a great shout of triumph, and felt for once the pleasures of the +Turf. + +Now it was all over. Jack and he were together in the smoking-room, +where half a dozen lingered. Ladds was somewhere in the club, but not +with them. + +"It was a fine sight," said Gilead Beck, on the subject of the race +generally; "a fine sight. In the matter of crowds you beat us: that I +allow. And the horses were good: that I allow too. But let me show you +a trotting-race, where the sweet little winner goes his measured mile +in two minutes and a half. That seems to me better sport. But the +Derby is a fine race, and I admit it. When I go back to America," he +went on, "I shall institute races of my own--with a great National +Dunquerque Cup--and we will have an American Derby, with trotting +thrown in. There's room for both sports. What do you think, Mr. +Dunquerque, of having sports from all countries?" + +"Seems a bright idea. Take your bull-fights from Spain; your fencing +from France; your racing from England--what will you have from +Germany?" + +"Playing at soldiers, I guess. They don't seem to care for any other +game." + +"And Russia?" + +"A great green table with a pack of cards and a roulette. We can get a +few Egyptian bonds for the Greeks to exhibit their favourite game +with. We may import a band of brigands for the Italian sports. +Imitation murder will represent Turkish Delights, and the performers +shall camp in Central Park. It wouldn't be bad fun to go out at night +and hunt them. Say, Mr. Dunquerque, we'll do it. A permanent +Exhibition of the Amusements of all Nations. You shall come over if +you like, and show them English fox-hunting. Where is Captain Ladds?" + +"I left him hovering round the card-tables. I will bring him up." + +Presently Jack returned. + +"Ladds is hard at work at _écarté_ with a villainous-looking stranger. +And I should think, from the way Tommy is sticking at it, that Tommy +is dropping pretty heavily." + +"It's an American he's playing with," said one of the other men in the +room. "Don't know who brought him; not a member; a Major Hamilton +Ruggles--don't know what service." + +Mr. Beck looked up quietly, and reflected a moment. Then he said +softly to Jack-- + +"Mr. Dunquerque, I think we can have a little amusement out of this. +If you were to go now to Captain Ladds, and if you were to bring him +up to this same identical room with Major Hamilton Ruggles, I think, +sir,--I do think you would see something pleasant." + +There was a sweet and winning smile on the face of Mr. Beck when he +spoke these words. Jack immediately understood that there was going to +be a row, and went at once on his errand, in order to promote it to +the best of his power. + +"You know Major Ruggles?" asked the first speaker. + +"No, sir, no--I can hardly say that I know Major Ruggles. But I think +he knows me." + +In ten minutes Ladds and his adversary at _écarté_ came upstairs. +Ladds wore the heavy impenetrable look in which, as in a mask, he +always played; the other, who had a limp in one leg and a heavy scar +across his face, came with him. He was laughing in a high-pitched +voice. After them came Jack. + +At sight of Mr. Beck, Major Ruggles stopped suddenly. + +"I beg your pardon, Captain Ladds," he said. "I find I have forgotten +my handkerchief." + +He turned to go. But, Jack, the awkward, was in his way. + +"Handkerchief sticking out of your pocket," said Ladds. + +"So it is, so it is!" + +By a sort of instinct the half-dozen men in the smoking-room seemed to +draw their chairs and to close in together. There was evidently +something going to happen. + +Mr. Beck rose solemnly--surely nobody ever had so grave a face as +Gilead P. Beck--and advanced to Major Ruggles. + +"Major Ruggles," he said, "I gave you to understand, two days ago, +that I didn't remember you. I found out afterwards that I was wrong. I +remember you perfectly well." + +"You used words, Mr. Beck, which----" + +"Ay, ay--I know. You want satisfaction, Major. You shall have it. Sit +down now, sit down, sir. We are all among gentlemen here, and this is +a happy meeting for both of us. What will you drink?--I beg your +pardon, Mr. Dunquerque, but I thought we were at the Langham. Perhaps +you would yourself ask Major Ruggles what he will put himself outside +of?" + +The Major, who did not seem quite at his ease, took a +seltzer-and-brandy and a cigarette. Then he looked furtively at Gilead +Beck. He understood what the man was going to say and why he was going +to say it. + +"Satisfaction, Major? Wal, these gentlemen shall be witnesses. +Yesterday mornin', as I was walkin' down the steps of the Langham +Hotel, this gentleman, this high-toned, whole-souled pride of the +American army, met me and offered his hand. 'Hope you are well, Mr. +Beck,' were his affable words. 'Hope you are quite well. Met you last +at Delmonico's, in with Boss Calderon.' Now, gentlemen, you'll hardly +believe me when I tell you I answered this politeness by askin' the +Major if he had ever heard of a Banco Steerer, and if he knew the +meanin' of a Roper. He did not reply, doubtless because he was wounded +in his feelin's--being above all things a man of honour _and_ the +boast of his native country. I then left him with a Scriptural +reference, which p'r'aps he's overhauled since, and now understands +what I meant when I said that, if I was to meet him goin' around +arm-in-arm with Ananias and Sapphira, I'd say he was in good company." + +Here the Major jumped in his chair, and put his right hand to his +shirt-front. + +"No, sir," said Beck, unmoved. "I can tackle more'n one wild cat at +once, if you mean fightin,' which you do not. And it's no use, no +manner o' use, feelin' in that breast-pocket of yours, because the +shootin' irons in this country are always left at home. You sit still, +Major, and take it quiet. I'm goin' to be more improvin' presently." + +"Perhaps, Beck," said Jack, "you would explain what a Banco Steerer +and a Roper are." + +"I was comin' to that, sir. They air one and the same animal. The +Roper or the Banco Steerer, gentlemen, will find you out the morning +after you land in Chicago or Saint Louis. He will accost you--very +friendly, wonderful friendly--when you come out of your hotel, by your +name, and he will remind you--which is most surprising, considerin' +you never set eyes on his face before--how you have dined together in +Cincinnati, or it may be Orleans, or perhaps Francisco, because he +finds out where you came from last. And he will shake hands with you: +and he will propose a drink; and he will pay for that drink. And +presently he will take you somewhere else, among his pals, and he will +strip you so clean that there won't be left the price of a four cent +paper to throw around your face and hide your blushes. In London, +gentlemen, they do, I believe, the confidence trick. Perhaps Major +Ruggles will explain his own method presently." + +But Major Ruggles preserved silence. + +"So, gentlemen, after I'd shown my familiarity with the Ax of the +Apostles, I went down town, thinkin' how mighty clever I was--that's a +way of mine, gentlemen, which generally takes me after I've made a +durned fool of myself. All of a sudden I recollected the face of Major +Ruggles, and where I'd seen him last. Yes, Major, you _did_ know +me--you were quite right, and I ought to have kept Ananias out of the +muss--you _did_ know me, and I'd forgotten it. Those words of mine, +Major, required explanation, as you said just now." + +"Satisfaction, I said," objected the Major, trying to recover himself +a little. + +"Sir, you air a whole-souled gentleman; and your sense of honour is as +keen as a quarter-dollar razor. Satisfaction you shall have; and if +you are not satisfied when I have done with you, ask these gentlemen +around what an American nobleman--one of the noblemen like yourself +that we do sometimes show the world--wants more, and the more you +shall git. + +"You did know me, Major; but you made a little mistake. It was not +with Boss Calderon that you met me, because I do not know Boss +Calderon; nor was it at Delmonico's. And where it was I am about to +tell this company." + +He hesitated a moment. + +"Gentlemen, I believe it is a rule that strangers in your clubs must +be introduced by members. I was introduced by my friend Mr. +Dunquerque, and I hope I shall not disgrace that introduction. May I +ask who introduced Major Ruggles?" + +Nobody knew. In fact, he had passed in with an acquaintance picked up +somehow, and stayed there. + +The Major tried again to get away. "This is fooling," he said. +"Captain Ladds, do you wish me to be insulted? If you do, sir, say so. +You will find that an American officer----" + +"Silence, sir!" said Mr. Beck. "An American officer! Say that again, +and I will teach you to respect the name of an American officer. I've +been a private soldier myself in that army," he added, by way of +explanation. "Now, Major Ruggles, I am going to invite you to remain +while I tell these gentlemen a little story--a very little story--but +it concerns you. And if Captain Ladds likes when that story is +finished, I will apologise to you, and to him, and to all this +honourable company." + +"Let us hear the story," said Jack. "Nothing could be fairer." + +"Nothing!" echoed the little circle of listeners. + +Beck addressed the room in general, occasionally pointing the finger +of emphasis at the unfortunate Major. His victim showed every sign of +bodily discomfort and mental agitation. First he fidgeted in the +chair; then he threw away his cigarette; then he folded his arms and +stared defiantly at the speaker. Then he got up again. + +"What have I to do with you and your story? Let me go. Captain Ladds, +you have my address. And as for you, sir, you shall hear from me +to-morrow." + +"Sit down, Major." Gilead Beck invited him to resume his chair with a +sweet smile. "Sit down. The night's young. May be Captain Ladds wants +his revenge." + +"Not I," said Ladds. "Had enough. Go to bed. Not a revengeful man." + +"Then," said Gilead Beck, his face darkening and his manner suddenly +changing, "I will take your revenge for you. Sit down, sir!" + +It was an order he gave this time, not an invitation, and the stranger +obeyed with an uneasy smile. + +"It is not gambling, Major Ruggles," Beck went on. "Captain Ladds' +revenge is going to be of another sort, I reckon." + +He drew close to Major Ruggles, and sitting on the table, placed one +foot on a chair which was between the stranger and the door. + +"Delmonico's, was it, where we met last? And with Joe Calderon--Boss +Calderon? Really, Major Ruggles, I was a great fool not to remember +that at once. But I always am weak over faces, even such a striking +face as yours. So we met last when you were dining with Boss Calderon, +eh?" + +Then Mr. Beck began his little story. + +"Six years ago, gentlemen,--long before I found my Butterfly, of which +you may have heard,--I ran up and down the Great Pacific Railway +between Chicago and Francisco for close upon six months. I did not +choose that way of spendin' the golden hours, because, if one had a +choice at all, a Pullman's sleeping-car on the Pacific Railway would +be just one of the last places you would choose to pass your life in. +I should class it, as a permanent home, with a first-class saloon in a +Cunard steamer. No, gentlemen, I was on board those cars in an +official capacity. I was conductor. It is not a proud position, not an +office which you care to magnify; it doesn't lift your chin in the air +and stick out your toes like the proud title of Major does for our +friend squirmin' in the chair before us. Squirm on, Major; but listen, +because this is interestin'. On those cars and on that railway there +is a deal of time to be got through. I am bound to say that time kind +of hangs heavy on the hands. You can't be always outside smokin'; you +can't sleep more'n a certain time, because the nigger turns you out +and folds up the beds; and you oughtn't to drink more'n your proper +whack. Also, you get tired watchin' the scenery. You may make notes if +you like, but you get tired o' that. And you get mortal tired of +settin' on end. Mostly, therefore, you stand around the conductor, and +you listen to his talk. + +"But six years ago the dullness of that long journey was enlivened by +the presence of a few sportsmen like our friend the Major here. They +were so fond of the beauties of Nature, they were so wrapped up in the +pride of bein' American citizens and ownin' the biggest railway in the +world, that they would travel all the way from New York to San +Francisco, stay there a day, and then travel all the way back again. +And the most remarkable thing was, that when they got to New York +again they would take a through ticket all the way back to San Fran. +This attachment to the line pleased the company at first. It did seem +as if good deeds was going to meet their recompense at last, even in +this world, and the spirited conduct of the gentlemen, when it first +became known, filled everybody with admiration.--You remember, Major, +the very handsome remarks made by you yourself on the New York +platform. + +"Lord, is it six years ago? Why, it seems to me but yesterday, Major +Ruggles, that I saw you standin' erect and bold--lookin' like a +senator in a stove pipe hat, store boots, and go-to-meetin' +coat--shakin' hands with the chairman. 'Sir,' you said, with tears in +your eyes, 'you represent the advance of civilisation. We air now, +indeed, ahead of the hull creation. You have united the Pacific and +the Atlantic. And, sir, by the iron road the West and the East may +jine hands and defy the tyranny of Europe.' Those, gentlemen, were the +noble sentiments of Major Hamilton Ruggles.--Did I say, Major, that I +would give you satisfaction? Wait till I have done, and you shall bust +with satisfaction." + +The Major did not look, at all events, like being satisfied so far. + +"One day an ugly rumor got about--you know how rumours spread--that +the Great Pacific Railroad was a big gamblin' shop. The enthusiastic +travellers up and down that line were one mighty confederated gang. +They were up to every dodge: they travelled together, and they +travelled separate; they had dice, and those dice were loaded; they +had cards, and those cards were marked; they played on the square, but +behind every man's hand was a confederate, and he gave signs, so that +the honest sportsman knew how to play. And by these simple +contrivances, gentlemen, they always won. So much did they win, that I +have conducted a through train in which, when we got to Chicago, there +wasn't a five-dollar piece left among the lot. And all the time +strangers to each other. The gang never, by so much as a wink, let out +that they had met before. And no one could tell them from ordinary +passengers. But I knew; and I had a long conversation with the +Directors one day, the result of which--Major Ruggles, perhaps you can +tell these gentlemen what was the result of that conversation." + +The man was sallow. His sharp eyes gleamed with an angry light as +he looked from one to the other, as if in the hope of finding an +associate. There was none. Only Ladds, his adversary, moved quietly +around the room and sat near to Gilead Beck, on the table, but _nearer +the door_. The Major saw this manoeuvre with a sinking heart, because +his pockets were heavy with the proceeds of the evening game. + +"Well, gentlemen, a general order came for all the conductors. It was +'No play.' We were to stop that. And another general order was--an +imperative order, Major, so that I am sure you will not bear +malice--'If they won't leave off, chuck 'em out.' That was the order, +Major, 'Chuck 'em out.' + +"It was on the journey back from San Francisco that the first trouble +began. You were an upright man to look at then, Major; you hadn't got +the limp you've got now, and you hadn't received that unfort'nate scar +across your handsome face. You were a most charmin' companion for a +long railway journey, but you had that little weakness--that you +_would_ play. I warned you at the time. I said, 'Cap'en, this must +stop.' You were only a Cap'en then. But you would go on. 'Cap'en,' I +said, 'if you will not stop, you will be chucked out.' You will +acknowledge, Major, that I gave you fair warnin'. You laughed. That +was all you did. You laughed and you shuffled the cards. But the man +who was playing with you got up. He saw reason. Then you drew out a +revolver and used bad language. So I made for you. + +"Gentlemen, it was not a fair fight. But orders had to be observed. In +half a minute I had his pistol from him, and in two minutes more he +was flyin' from the end of the train. We were goin' twenty miles an +hour, and we hadn't time to stop to see if he was likely to get along +somehow. And the last I saw of Captain Ruggles--I beg your pardon, +Major--was his two heels in the air as he left the end of the train. I +s'pose, Major, it was stoppin' so sudden gave you that limp and +ornamented your face with that beautiful scar. The ground was gritty, +I believe?" + +Everybody's eyes were turned on the Major, whose face was livid. + +"Gentlemen," Mr. Beck continued, "that ærial flight of Captain Ruggles +improved the moral tone of the Pacific Railroad to a degree that you +would hardly believe. I don't think there has been a single sportsman +chucked out since. Major Ruggles, sir, you were the blessed means, +under Providence and Gilead P. Beck conjointly, of commencing a new +and moral era for the Great Pacific Railroad. + +"And now, Major, that my little story is told, may I ask if you are +satisfied? Because if there is any other satisfaction in my power you +shall have that too. Have I done enough for honour, gentlemen all?" + +The men laughed. + +"Now for a word with me," Ladds began. + +"Cap'en," said Gilead Beck, "let me work through this contract, if you +have no objection--Major Ruggles, you will clear out all your +pockets." + +The miserable man made no reply. + +"Clear out every one, and turn them inside out, right away." + +He neither moved nor spoke. + +"Gentlemen," Mr. Beck said calmly, "you will be kind enough not to +interfere." + +He pulled a penknife out of his pocket and laid it on a chair open. He +then seized Major Ruggles by the collar and arm. The man fought like a +wild cat, but Beck's grasp was like a vice. It seemed incredible to +the bystanders that a man should be so strong, so active, and so +skilled. He tossed, rather than laid, his victim on the table, and +then, holding both his hands in one grip of his own enormous fist, he +deliberately ripped open the Major's trousers, waistcoat, and coat +pockets, and took out the contents. When he was satisfied that nothing +more was left in them he dragged him to the ground. + +On the table lay the things which he had taken possession of. + +"Take up those dice," he said to Ladds; "Try them; if they are not +loaded, I will ask the Major's pardon." + +They were loaded. + +"Look at these cards," he went on. "They are the cards you have been +playing with, when you thought you had a new pack of club-cards. If +they are not marked, I will ask the Major to change places with me." + +They were marked. + +"And now, gentlemen, I think I may ask Captain Ladds what he has lost, +and invite him to take it out of that heap." + +There was a murmur of assent. + +"I lost twenty pounds in notes and gold," said Ladds. "And I gave an I +O U for sixty more." + +There were other I O U's in the heap, and more gold when Ladds had +recovered his own. The paper was solemnly torn up, but the coin +restored to the Major, who now stood, abject, white, and trembling, +but with the look of a devil in his eyes. + +"Such men as you, Major," said Gilead the Moralist, "are the curse of +our country. You see, gentlemen, we travel about, we make money fast; +we are sometimes a reckless lot; the miners have got pockets full; +there's everything to encourage such a crew as Major Ruggles belonged +to. And when we find them out, we lynch them.--Lynch is the word, +isn't it, Major?--do you want to know the end of this man, gentlemen? +I am not much in the prophetic line, but I think I see a crowd of men +in a minin' city, and I see a thick branch with a rope over it. And at +the end of that rope is Major Ruggles's neck, tightened in a most +unpleasant and ungentlemanly manner.--It's inhospitable, but what can +you expect, Major? We like play, but we like playin' on the square. +Now, Major, you may go. And you may thank the Lord on your knees +before you go to sleep that this providential interference has taken +place in London instead of the States. For had I told my interestin' +anecdote at a bar in any city of the Western States, run up you would +have been. You may go, Major Ruggles; and I daresay Cap'en Ladds, in +consideration of the damage done to those bright and shinin' store +clothes of yours, will forego the British kicking which I see +tremblin' at the point of his toes." + +Ladds did forego that revenge, and the Major slunk away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + "Nulla fere causa est in qua non femina litem + Moverit." + + +When Mr. Wylie, the pamphleteer, left Gabriel Cassilis, the latter +resumed with undisturbed countenance his previous occupation of +reading the letters and telegrams he had laid aside. Among them was +one which he took up gingerly, as if it were a torpedo. + +"Pshaw!" he cried impatiently, tossing it from him. "Another of those +anonymous letters. The third." He looked at it with disgust, and then +half involuntarily his hand reached out and took it up again. "The +third, and all in the same handwriting. 'I have written you two +letters, and you have taken no notice. This is the third. Beware! Your +wife was with Mr. Colquhoun yesterday; she will be with him again +to-day and to-morrow. Ask her, if you dare, what is her secret with +him. Ask him what hold he has over her. Watch her, and caution her +lest something evil befall you.--Your well-wisher.' + +"I am a fool," he said, "to be disquieted about an anonymous slander. +What does it matter to me? As if Victoria--she did know Colquhoun +before her marriage--their names were mentioned--I remember hearing +that there had been flirtation--flirtation! As if Victoria could ever +flirt! She was no frivolous silly girl. No one who knows Victoria +could for a moment suspect--suspect! The word is intolerable. One +would say I was jealous." + +He pushed forward his papers and leaned back in his chair, casting his +thoughts behind him to the days of his stiff and formal wooing. He +remembered how he said, sitting opposite to her in her cousin's +drawing-room--there was no wandering by the river-bank or in pleasant +gardens on summer evenings for those two lovers-- + +"You bring me fewer springs than I can offer you, Victoria;" which was +his pretty poetical way of telling her that he was nearly forty years +older than herself: "but we shall begin life with no trammels of +previous attachments on either hand." + +He called it--and thought it--at sixty-five, beginning life; and it +was quite true that he had never before conceived an attachment for +any woman. + +"No, Mr. Cassilis," she replied; "we are both free, quite free; and +the disparity of age is only a disadvantage on my side, which a few +years will remedy." + +This cold stately woman conducting a flirtation before her marriage? +This Juno among young matrons causing a scandal after her marriage? It +was ridiculous. + +He said to himself that it was ridiculous so often, that he succeeded +at last in persuading himself that it really was. And when he had +quite done that, he folded up the anonymous document, docketed it, and +placed it in one of the numerous pigeon-holes of his desk, which was +one of those which shut up completely, covering over papers, +pigeon-holes, and everything. + +Then he addressed himself again to business, and, but for an +occasional twinge of uneasiness, like the first throb which presages +the coming gout, he got through an important day's work with his +accustomed ease and power. + + +The situation, as Lawrence Colquhoun told Victoria, was strained. +There they were, as he put it, all three--himself, for some reason of +his own, put first; the lady; and Gabriel Cassilis. The last was the +one who did not know. There was no reason, none in the world, why +things should not remain as they were, only that the lady would not +let sleeping dangers sleep, and Lawrence was too indolent to resist. +In other words, Victoria Cassilis, having once succeeded in making him +visit her, spared no pains to bring him constantly to her house, and +to make it seem as if he was that innocent sort of _cicisbeo_ whom +English society allows. + +Why? + +The investigation of motives is a delicate thing at the best, and apt +to lead the analyst into strange paths. It may be discovered that the +philanthropist acts for love of notoriety; that the preacher does not +believe in the truths he proclaims; that the woman of self-sacrifice +and good works is consciously posing before an admiring world. This is +disheartening, because it makes the cynic and the worldly-minded man +to chuckle and chortle with an open joy. St. Paul, who was versed in +the ways of the world, knew this perfectly when he proclaimed the +insufficiency of good works. It is at all times best to accept the +deed, and never ask the motive. And, after all, good deeds are +something practical. And as for a foolish or a bad deed, the +difficulty of ascertaining an adequate motive only becomes more +complicated with its folly or its villainy. Mrs. Cassilis had +everything to gain by keeping her old friend on the respectful level +of a former acquaintance; she had everything to lose by treating him +as a friend. And yet she forced her friendship upon him. + +Kindly people who find in the affairs of other people sufficient +occupation for themselves, and whose activity of intellect obtains a +useful vent in observation and comment, watched them. The man was +always the same; indolent, careless, unmoved by any kind of passion +for any other man's wife or for any maid. That was a just conclusion. +Lawrence Colquhoun was not in love with this lady. And yet he suffered +himself to obey orders; dropped easily in the position; allowed +himself to be led by her invitations; went where she told him to go; +and all the time half laughed at himself and was half angry to think +that he was thus enthralled by a siren who charmed him not. To have +once loved a woman; to love her no longer; to go about the town +behaving as if you did: this, it was evident to him, was not a +position to be envied or desired. Few false positions are. Perhaps he +did not know that Mrs. Grundy talked; perhaps he was only amused when +he heard of remarks that had been made by Sir Benjamin Backbite; and +although the brief sunshine of passion which he only felt for this +woman was long since past and gone, nipped in its very bud by the lady +herself perhaps, he still liked her cold and cynical talk. Colquhoun +habitually chose the most pleasant paths for his lounge through life. +From eighteen to forty there had been but one disagreeable episode, +which he would fain have forgotten. Mrs. Cassilis revived it; but, in +her presence, the memory was robbed somehow of half its sting. + +Sir Benjamin Backbite remarked that though the gentleman was languid, +the lady was shaken out of her habitual coldness. She was changed. +What could change her, asked the Baronet, but passion for this old +friend of her youth? Why, it was only four years since he had followed +her, after a London season, down to Scotland, and everybody said it +would be a match. She received his attentions coldly then, as she +received the attentions of every man. Now the tables were turned; it +was the man who was cold. + +These social observers are always right. But they never rise out of +themselves; therefore their conclusions are generally wrong. Victoria +Cassilis was not, as they charitably thought, running after Colquhoun +through the fancy of a wayward heart. Not at all. She was simply +wondering where it had gone--that old power of hers, by which she once +twisted him round her finger--and why it was gone. A woman cannot +believe that she has lost her power over a man. It is an intolerable +thought. Her power is born of her beauty and her grace; these may +vanish, but the old attractiveness remains, she thinks, if only as a +tradition. When she is no longer beautiful she loves to believe that +her lovers are faithful still. Now Victoria Cassilis remembered this +man as a lover and a slave; his was the only pleading she had ever +heard which could make her understand the meaning of man's passion; he +was the only suitor whom a word could make wretched or a look happy. +For he had once loved her with all his power and all his might. +Between them there was the knowledge of a thing which, if any +knowledge could, should have crushed out and beaten down the memory of +this love. She had made it, by her own act and deed, a crime to +remember it. And yet, in spite of all, she could not bring herself to +remember that the old power was dead. She tried to bring him again +under influence. She failed, but she succeeded in making him come back +to her as if nothing had ever happened. And then she said to herself +that there must be another woman, and she set herself to find out who +that woman was. + +Formerly many men had hovered--marriageable men, excellent +_partis_--round the cold and statuesque beauty of Victoria Pengelley. +She was an acknowledged beauty; she brought an atmosphere of perfect +taste and grace into a room with her; men looked at her and wondered; +foolish girls, who knew no better, envied her. Presently the foolish +girls, who had soft faces and eyes, which could melt in love or +sorrow, envied her no longer, because they got engaged and married. +And of all the men who came and went, there was but one who loved her +so that his pulse beat quicker when she came; who trembled when he +took her hand; whose nerves tingled and whose blood ran swifter +through his veins when he asked her, down in that quiet Scotch +village, with no one to know it but her maid, to be his wife. + +The man was Lawrence Colquhoun. The passion had been his. Now love and +passion were buried in the ashes of the past. The man was impassable, +and the woman, madly kicking against the fetters which she had bound +around herself, was angry and jealous. + +It is by some mistake of Nature that women who cannot love can yet be +jealous. Victoria Pengelley's pulse never once moved the faster for +all the impetuosity of her lover. She liked to watch it, this curious +yearning after her beauty, this eminently masculine weakness, because +it was a tribute to her power; it is always pleasant for a woman to +feel that she is loved as women are loved in novels--men's novels, not +the pseudo-passionate school-girls' novels, or the calmly respectable +feminine tales where the young gentlemen and the young ladies are +superior to the instincts of common humanity. Victoria played with +this giant as an engineer will play with the wheels of a mighty +engine. She could do what she liked with it. Samson was not more +pliable to Delilah; and Delilah was not more unresponsive to that +guileless strong man. She soon got tired of her toy, however. Scarcely +were the morning and the evening of the fifth day, when by pressing +some unknown spring she smashed it altogether. + +Now, when it was quite too late, when the thing was utterly smashed, +when she had a husband and child, she was actually trying to +reconstruct it. Some philosopher, probing more deeply than usual the +mysteries of mankind, once discovered that it was at all times +impossible to know what a woman wants. He laid that down as a general +axiom, and presented it as an irrefragable truth for the universal use +of humanity. One may sometimes, however, guess what a woman does not +want. Victoria Cassilis, one may be sure, did not want to sacrifice +her honour, her social standing, or her future. She was not intending +to go off, for instance, with her old lover, even if he should propose +the step, which seemed unlikely. And yet she would have liked him to +propose it, because then she would have felt the recovery of her +power. Now her sex, as Chaucer and others before him pointed out, love +power beyond all other earthly things. And the history of queens, from +Semiramis to Isabella, shows what a mess they always make of it when +they do get power. + +A curious problem. Given a woman, no longer in the first bloom of +youth, married well, and clinging with the instincts of her class to +her reputation and social position. She has everything to lose and +nothing to gain. She cannot hope even for the love of the man for whom +she is incurring the suspicions of the world, and exciting the +jealousy of her husband. Yet it is true, in her case, what the race of +evil-speakers, liars, and slanderers say of her. She is running after +Lawrence Colquhoun. He is too much with her. She has given the enemy +occasion to blaspheme. + +As for Colquhoun, when he thought seriously over the situation, he +laughed when it was a fine day, and swore if it was raining. The +English generally take a sombre view of things because it is so +constantly raining. We proclaim our impotence, the lack of national +spirit, and our poverty, until other nations actually begin to believe +us. But Colquhoun, though he might swear, made no effort to release +himself, when a word would have done it. + +"You may use harsh language to me, Lawrence," said Mrs. Cassilis--he +never had used harsh language to any woman--"you may sneer at me, and +laugh in your cold and cruelly impassive manner. But one thing I can +say for you, that you understand me." + +"I have seen all your moods, Mrs. Cassilis, and I have a good memory. +If you will show your husband that the surface of the ocean may be +stormy sometimes, he will understand you a good deal better. Get up a +little breeze for him." + +"I am certainly not going to have a vulgar quarrel with Mr. Cassilis." + +"A vulgar quarrel? Vulgar? Ah, vulgarity changes every five years or +so. What a pity that vulgar quarrels were in fashion six years ago, +Mrs. Cassilis!" + +"Some men are not worth losing your temper about." + +"Thank you. I was, I suppose. It was very kind of you, indeed, to +remind me of it, as you then did, in a manner at once forcible and not +to be forgotten. Mr. Cassilis gets nothing, I suppose, but east wind, +with a cloudless sky which has the sun in it, but only the semblance +of warmth. I got a good sou'-wester. But take care, take care, Mrs. +Cassilis! You have wantonly thrown away once what most women would +have kept--kept, Mrs. Cassilis! I remember when I was kneeling at your +feet years ago, talking the usual nonsense about being unworthy of +you. Rubbish! I was more than worthy of you, because I could give +myself to you loyally, and you--you could only pretend!" + +"Go on, Lawrence. It is something that you regret the past, and +something to see that you _can_ feel, after all." + +She stopped and laughed carelessly. + +"Prick me and I sing out. That is natural. But we will have no +heroics. What I mean is, that I am well out of it; and that you, +Victoria Cassilis, are--forgive the plain speaking--a foolish woman." + +"Lawrence Colquhoun has the right to insult me as he pleases, and I +must bear it." + +It was in her own room. Colquhoun was leaning on the window; she was +sitting on a chair before him. She was agitated and excited. He, save +for the brief moments when he spoke as if with emotion, was languid +and calm. + +"I have no right," he replied, "and you know it. Let us finish. Mrs. +Cassilis, keep what you have, and be thankful." + +"What I have! What have I?" + +"One of the best houses in London. An excellent social position. A +husband said to be the ablest man in the City. An income which gives +you all that a woman can ask for. The confidence and esteem of your +husband--and a child. Do these things mean nothing?" + +"My husband--Oh, my husband! He is insufferable sometimes, when I +remember, Lawrence." + +"He is a man who gives his trust after a great deal of doubt and +hesitation. Then he gives it wholly. To take it back would be a +greater blow, a far greater blow, than it would ever be to a younger +man--to such a man as myself." + +"Gabriel Cassilis only suffers when he loses money." + +"That is not the case. You cannot afford to make another great +mistake. Success isn't on the cards after two such blunders, Mrs. +Cassilis." + +"What do I want with success? Let me have happiness." + +"Take it; it is at your feet," said Lawrence. "It is in this house. It +is the commonest secret. Every simple country woman knows it." + +"No one will ever understand me," she sighed. "No one." + +"It is simply to give up for ever thinking about yourself. Go and look +after your baby, and find happiness there." + +Why superior women are always so angry if they are asked to look after +their babies, I cannot understand. There is no blinking the fact that +they have them. The maternal instinct makes women who cannot write or +talk fine language about the domestic affections, take to the tiny +creatures with a passion of devotion which is the loveliest thing to +look upon in all this earth. The _femme incomprise_ alone feels no +anguish if her baby cries, no joy if he laughs, and flies into a +divine rage if you remind her that she is a mother. + +"My baby!" cried Victoria, springing to her feet. "You see me yearning +for sympathy, looking to you as my oldest--once my dearest--friend, +for a little--only a little--interest and pity, and you send me to my +baby! The world is all selfish and cold-hearted, but the most selfish +man in it is Lawrence Colquhoun!" + +He laughed again. After all, he had said his say. + +"I am glad you think so, because it simplifies matters. Now, Mrs. +Cassilis, we have had our little confidential talk, and I think, under +the circumstances, that it had better be the last. So, for a time, we +will not meet, if you please. I do take a certain amount of interest +in you--that is, I am always curious to see what line you will take +next. And if you are at all concerned to have my opinion and counsel, +it is this: that you've got your chance; and if you give that man who +loves you and trusts you any unhappiness through your folly, you will +be a much more heartless and wicked woman than even I have ever +thought you. And, by Gad! I ought to know." + +He left her. Mrs. Cassilis heard his step in the hall and the door +close behind him. Then she ran to the window, and watched him +strolling in his leisurely, careless way down the road. It made her +mad to think that she could not make him unhappy, and made her jealous +to think that she could no longer touch his heart. Not in love with +him at all--she never had been; but jealous because her old power was +gone. + +Jealous! There must be another girl. Doubtless Phillis Fleming. She +ordered her carriage and drove straight to Twickenham. Agatha was +having one of her little garden-parties. Jack Dunquerque was there +with Gilead Beck. Also Captain Ladds. But Lawrence Colquhoun was not. +She stayed an hour; she ascertained from Phillis that her guardian +seldom came to see her, and went home again in a worse temper than +before, because she felt herself on the wrong track. + +Tomlinson, her maid, had a very bad time of it while she was dressing +her mistress for dinner. Nothing went right, somehow. Tomlinson, the +hard-featured, was long suffering and patient. She made no reply to +the torrent which flowed from her superior's angry lips. But when +respite came with the dinner-bell, and her mistress was safely +downstairs, the maid sat down to the table and wrote a letter very +carefully. This she read and re-read, and, being finally satisfied +with it, she took it out to the post herself. After that, as she would +not be wanted till midnight at least, she took a cab and went to the +Marylebone Theatre, where she wept over the distresses of a lady, +ruined by the secret voice of calumny. + +It was at the end of May, and the season was at its height. Mrs. +Cassilis had two or three engagements, but she came home early, and +was even sharper with the unfortunate Tomlinson than before dinner. +But Tomlinson was very good, and bore all in patience. It is Christian +to endure. + +Next morning Gabriel Cassilis found among his letters another in the +same handwriting as that of the three anonymous communications he had +already received. + +He tore it open with a groan. + +"This is the fourth letter. You will have to take notice of my +communications, and to act upon them, sooner or later. All this +morning Mr. Colquhoun was locked up with your wife in her boudoir. He +came at eleven and went away at half-past one. No one was admitted. +They talked of many things--of their Scotch secret especially, and how +to hide it from you. I shall keep you informed of what they do. At +half past two Mrs. Cassilis ordered the carriage and drove to +Twickenham. Mr. Colquhoun has got his ward there, Miss Fleming. So +that doubtless she went to meet him again. In the evening she came +home in a very bad temper, because she had failed to meet him. She had +hoped to see him three times at least this very day. Surely, surely +even your blind confidence cannot stand a continuation of this kind of +thing. All the world knows it except yourself. You may be rich and +generous to her, but she doesn't love you. And she doesn't care for +her child. She hasn't asked to see it for three days--think of that! +There is a pretty mother for you! She ill-treats her maid, who is _a +most faithful person, and devoted to your interests_. She is hated +by every servant in the house. She is a cold-hearted, cruel woman. And +even if she loves Mr. Colquhoun, it can only be through jealousy, and +because she won't let him marry anybody else, even if he wanted to. +But things are coming to a crisis. Wait!" + +Mr. Mowll came in with a packet of papers, and found his master +staring straight before him into space. He spoke to him but received +no answer. Then he touched him gently on the arm. Mr. Cassilis +started, and looked round hastily. His first movement was to lay his +hand upon a letter on the desk. + +"What is it, Mowll--what is it? I was thinking--I was thinking. I am +not very well to-day, Mowll." + +"You have been working too hard, sir," said his secretary. + +"Yes--yes. It is nothing. Now, then, let us look at what you have +brought." + +For two hours Mr. Cassilis worked with his secretary. He had the +faculty of rapid and decisive work. And he had the eye of a hawk. They +were two hours of good work, and the secretary's notes were +voluminous. Suddenly the financier stopped--the work half done. It was +as if the machinery of a clock were to go wrong without warning. + +"So," he said, with an effort, "I think we will stop for to-day. Put +all these matters at work, Mowll. I shall go home and rest." + +A thing he had never done before in all his life. + +He went back to his house. His wife was at home and alone. They had +luncheon together, and drove out in the afternoon. Her calm and +stately pride drove the jealous doubts from his troubled mind as the +sun chases away the mists of morning. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + "An excellent play." + + +Such things as dinners to Literature were the relaxations of Gilead +Beck's serious life. His real business was to find an object worthy of +that enormous income of which he found himself the trustee. The most +sympathetic man of his acquaintance, although it was difficult to make +him regard any subject seriously, was Jack Dunquerque, and to him he +confided his anxieties and difficulties. + +"I can't fix it," he groaned. "I can't fix it anyhow." + +Jack knew what he meant, but waited for further light, like him who +readeth an acrostic. + +"The more I look at that growin' pile--there's enough now to build the +White House over again--the more I misdoubt myself." + +"Where have you got it all?" + +"In Government Stocks--by the help of Mr. Cassilis. No more of the +unholy traffic in shares which you buy to sell again. No, sir. That +means makin' the widow weep and the minister swear; an' I don't know +which spectacle of those two is the more melancholy for a Christian +man. All in stocks--Government Stocks, safe and easy to draw out, with +the interest comin' in regular as the chant of the cuckoo-clock." + +"Well, can't you let it stay there?" + +"No, Mr. Dunquerque, I can't. There's the voice of that blessed Inseck +in the box there, night and day in my ears. And it says, plain as +speech can make it, 'Do something with the money.'" + +"You have bought a few pictures." + +"Yes, sir: I have begun the great Gilead P. Beck collection. And when +that is finished, I guess there'll be no collection on this airth to +show a candle to it. But that's personal vanity. That's not what the +Golden Butterfly wants." + +"Would he like you to have a yacht? A good deal may be chucked over a +yacht. That is, a good deal for what we Englishmen call a rich man." + +"When I go home again I mean to build a yacht, and sail her over here +and race you people at Cowes--all the same as the America, twenty +years ago. But not yet." + +"There are a few trifles going about which run away with money. Polo, +now. If you play polo hard enough, you may knock up a pony every game. +But I suppose that would not be expensive enough for you. You couldn't +ride two ponies at once, I suppose, like a circus fellow." + +"Selfish luxury, Mr. Dunquerque," said Gilead, with an almost +prayerful twang, "is not the platform of the Golden Butterfly. I +should like to ride two ponies at once, but it's not to be thought of. +And my legs are too long for any but a Kentucky pony." + +"Is the Turf selfish luxury, I wonder?" asked Jack. "A good deal of +money can be got through on the Turf. Nothing, of course, compared +with your pile; but still, you might make a sensible hole in it by +judicious backing." + +Gilead Beck was as free from ostentation, vanity, and the desire to +have his ears tickled as any man. But still he did like to feel that +by the act of Providence, he was separated from other men. An income +of fifteen hundred pounds a day, which does not depend upon harvests, +or on coal, or on iron, or anything to eat and drink, but only on the +demand for rock-oil, which increases, as he often said, with the march +of civilisation, does certainly separate a man from his fellows. This +feeling of division saddened him; it imparted something of the +greatness of soul which belongs even to the most unworthy emperors; he +felt himself bound to do something for the good of mankind while life +and strength were in him. And it was not unpleasant to know that +others recognised the vastness of his Luck. Therefore, when Jack +Dunquerque spoke as if the Turf were a gulf which might be filled up +with his fortune, while it swallowed, without growing sensibly more +shallow, all the smaller fortunes yearly shot into it like the rubbish +on the future site of a suburban villa, Gilead Beck smiled. Such +recognition from this young man was doubly pleasant to him on account +of his unbounded affection for him. Jack Dunquerque had saved his +life. Jack Dunquerque treated him as an equal and a friend. Jack +Dunquerque wanted nothing of him, and, poor as he was, would accept +nothing of him. Jack Dunquerque was the first, as he was also the most +favourable, specimen he had met of the class which may be poor, but +does not seem to care for more money; the class which no longer works +for increase of fortune. + +"No, sir," said Gilead. "I do not understand the Turf. When I go home +I shall rear horses and improve the breed. Maybe I may run a horse in +a trotting-match at Saratoga." + +In the mornings this American, in search of a Worthy Object, devoted +his time to making the round of hospitals, London societies, and +charities of all kinds. He asked what they did, and why they did it. +He made remarks which were generally unpleasant to the employés of the +societies; he went away without offering the smallest donation; and he +returned moodily to the Langham Hotel. + +"The English," he said, after a fortnight of these investigations, +"air the most kind-hearted people in the hull world. We are +charitable, and I believe the Germans, when they are not officers in +their own army, are a well-disposed folk. But in America, when a man +tumbles down the ladder, he falls hard. Here there's every contrivance +for makin' him fall soft. A man don't feel handsome when he's on the +broad of his back, but it must be a comfort for him to feel that his +backbone isn't broke. Lord, Mr. Dunquerque! to look at the hospitals +and refuges, one would think the hull Bible had got nothin' but the +story of the Prodigal Son, and that every other Englishman was that +misbehaved boy. I reckon if the young man had lived in London, he'd +have gone home very slow--most as slow as ever he could travel. +There'd be the hospitals, comfortable and warm, when his constitootion +had broke down with too many drinks: there'd have been the +convalescent home for him to enjoy six months of happy meditation by +the seaside when he was pickin' up again; and when he got well, would +he take to the swine-herdin', or would he tramp it home to the old +man? Not he, sir; he would go back to the old courses and become a +Roper. Then more hospitals. P'r'aps when he'd got quite tired, and +seen the inside of a State prison, and been without his little +comforts for a spell, he'd have gone home at last--just as I did, for +I was the prodigal son without the riotous livin'--and found the old +man gone, leavin' him his blessin'. The elder one would hand him the +blessin' cheerfully, and stick to the old man's farm. Then the poor +broken down sportsman--he'd tramp it back to London, get into an +almshouse, with an allowance from a City charity, and die happy. + +"There's another kind o' prodigal," Mr. Beck went on, being in a mood +for moralising. "She's of the other sex. Formerly she used to repent +when she thought of what was before her. There's a refuge before her +now, and kind women to take her by the hand and cry over her. She +isn't in any hurry for the cryin' to begin, but it's comfortable to +look forward to; and so she goes on until she's ready. Twenty years +fling, maybe, with nothing to do for her daily bread; and then to +start fair on the same level as the woman who has kept her +self-respect and worked. + +"I can't see my way clear, Mr. Dunquerque; I can't. It wouldn't do any +kind of honour to the Golden Butterfly to lay out all of these dollars +in helpin' up them who are bound to fall--bound to fall. There's only +two classes of people in this world--those who are goin' up, and those +who are goin' down. It's no use tryin' to stop those who are on their +way down. Let them go; let them slide; give them a shove down, if you +like, and all the better, because they will the sooner get to the +bottom, and then go up again till they find their own level." + +It was in the evening, at nine o'clock, when Gilead Beck made the +oration. He was in his smaller room, which was lit only by the +twilight of the May evening and by the gas-lamp in the street below. +He walked up and down, talking with his hands in his pockets, and +silencing Jack Dunquerque, who had never thought seriously about these +or any other things, by his earnestness. Every now and then he went to +the window and looked into the street below. The cabs rattled up and +down, and on the pavement the customary sight of a West-end street +after dark perhaps gave him inspiration. + +"Their own level," he repeated it. "Yes, sir, there's a proper level +for every one of us somewhere, if only we can find it. At the lowest +depth of all, there's the airth to be ploughed, the hogs to be drove, +and the corn to be reaped. I read the other day, when I was studying +for the great dinner, that formerly, if a man took refuge in a town, +he might stay there for a year and a day. If then he could not keep +himself, they opened the gates and they ran him out on a plank; same +way as I left Clearville City. Back to the soil he went--back to the +plough. Let those who are going down hill get down as fast as they +can, and go back to the soil. + +"I've sometimes thought," he went on, "that there's a kind of work +lower than agriculture. It is to wear a black coat and do copying. You +take a boy and you make him a machine; tell him to copy, that is all. +Why, sir, the rustic who feeds the pigs is a Solomon beside that poor +critter. Make your poor helpless paupers into clerks, and make the men +who've got arms and legs and no brains into farm labourers. Perhaps I +shall build a city and conduct it on those principles." + +Then he stopped because he had run himself down, and they began to +talk of Phillis. + +But it seemed to Jack a new and singular idea. The weak must go to the +wall; but they might be helped to find their level. He was glad for +once that he had that small four hundred a year of his own, because, +as he reflected, his own level might be somewhere on the stage where +the manufacture by hand, say, of upper leathers, represents the proper +occupation of the class. A good many other fellows, he thought, among +his own acquaintance, might find themselves accommodated with boards +for the cobbling business near himself. And he looked at Gilead Beck +with increased admiration as a man who had struck all this, as well as +Ile, out of his own head. + +Jack Dunquerque suggested educational endowments. Mr. Beck made +deliberate inquiries into the endowments of Oxford and Cambridge, with +a view of founding a grand National American University on the old +lines, to be endowed in perpetuity with the proceeds of his perennial +oil-fountains. But there were things about these ancient seats of +learning which did not commend themselves to him. In his unscholastic +ignorance he asked what was the good of pitting young men against each +other, like the gladiators in the arena, to fight, like them, with +weapons of no earthly modern use. And when he was told of fellowships +given to men for life as a prize for a single battle, he laughed +aloud. + +He went down to Eton. He was mean enough to say of the masters that +they made their incomes by over-charging the butchers' and the +grocers' bills, and he said that ministers, as he called them, ought +not to be grocers; and of the boys he said that he thought it +unwholesome for them that some should have unlimited pocket-money, and +all should have unlimited tick. Also some one told him that Eton boys +no longer fight, because they funk one another. So that he came home +sorrowful and scornful. + +"In my country," he said, "we have got no scholarships, and if the +young men can't pay their professors they do without them and educate +themselves. And in my country the boys fight. Yes, Mr. Dunquerque, you +bet they do fight." + +It was after an evening at the Lyceum that Gilead Beck hit upon the +grand idea of his life. + +The idea struck him as they walked home. It fell upon him like an +inspiration, and for the moment stunned him. He was silent until he +reached the hotel. Then he called a waiter. + +"Get Mr. Dunquerque a key," he said. "He will sleep here. That means, +Mr. Dunquerque, that we can talk all night if you please. I want +advice." + +Jack laughed. He always did laugh. + +"It is a great privilege," he said, "advising Fortunatus." + +"It is a great privilege, Mr. Dunquerque," returned Fortunatus, +"having an adviser who wants nothing for himself. See that pile of +letters. Every one a begging-letter, except that blue one on the top, +which is from a clergyman. He's a powerful generous man, sir. He +offers to conduct my charities at a salary of three hundred pounds a +year." + +Mr. Beck then proceeded to unfold the great idea which had sprung up, +full grown, in his brain. + +"That man, sir," he said, meaning Henry Irving, "is a grand actor. And +they are using him up. He wants rest." + +"I was an actor myself once, and I've loved the boards ever since. I +was not a great actor. I am bound to say that I did not act like Mr. +Henry Irving. Quite the contrary. Once I was the hind legs of an +elephant. Perhaps Mr. Irving himself, when he was a 'prentice, was the +fore legs. I was on the boards for a month, when the company busted +up. Most things did bust up that I had to do with in those days. I was +the lawyer in _Flowers of the Forest_. I was the demon with the keg to +Mr. Jefferson's Rip Van Winkle. Once I played Horatio. That was when +the Mayor of Constantinople City inaugurated his year of office by +playin' Hamlet. He'd always been fond of the stage, that Mayor, but +through bein' in the soft-goods line never could find time to go on. +So when he got the chance, bein' then a matter of four-and-fifty, of +course he took it. And he elected to play Hamlet, just to show the +citizens what a whole-souled Mayor they'd got, and the people in +general what good play-actin' meant. The corporation attended in a +body, and sat in the front row of what you would call the dress +circle. All in store clothes and go-to-meetin' gloves. It was a +majestic and an imposing spectacle. Behind them was the fire brigade +in uniform. The citizens of Constantinople and their wives and +daughters crowded out the house. + +"Wal, sir, we began. Whether it was they felt jealous or whether they +felt envious, that corporation laughed. They laughed at the sentinels, +and they laughed at the moon. They laughed at the Ghost, and they +laughed at me--Horatio. And then they laughed at Hamlet. + +"I watched the Mayor gettin' gradually riz. Any man's dander would. +Presently he rose to that height that he went to the footlights, and +stood there facin' his own town council like a bull behind a gate. + +"They left off laughing for a minute, and then they began again. We +are a grave people, Mr. Dunquerque, I am told, and the sight of those +town councillors all laughin' together like so many free niggers +before the war was most too much for any one. + +"The Mayor made a speech that wasn't in the play. + +"'Hyar,' he said, lookin' solemn. 'You jest gether up your traps and +skin out of this. I've got the say about this house, and I arn't a +goin' to have the folks incited to make game of their Mayor. +So--you--kin--jist--light.' + +"They hesitated. + +"The Mayor pointed to the back of the theatre. + +"'Git,' he said again. + +"One of the town councillors rose and spoke. + +"'Mr. Mayor,' he began, 'or Hamlet, Prince of Denmark'---- + +"'Wal, sir,' said the Mayor, 'didn't Nero play in his own theaytre?' + +"'Mr. Mayor, or Hamlet, or Nero,' e went on, 'we came here on the +presumption that we were paying for our places, and bound to laugh if +we were amused at the performance. Now, sir, this performance does +amuse us considerable.' + +"'You may presump,' said the Mayor, 'what you dam please. But git. Git +at once, or I'll turn on the pumps.' + +"It was the Ghost who came to the front with the hose in his hands +ready to begin. + +"The town council disappeared before he had time to play on them and +we went on with the tragedy. + +"But it was spoiled, sir, completely spoiled. And I have never acted +since then. + +"So you see Mr. Dunquerque, I know somethin' about actin. 'Tisn't as +if I was a raw youngster starting a theatrical idea all at once. I +thought of it to-night, while I saw a man actin who has the real stuff +in him, and only wants rest. I mean to try an experiment in London, +and if it succeeds I shall take it to New York, and make the American +Drama the greatest in all the world." + +"What will you do?" + +"I said to myself in that theatre: 'We want a place where we can have +a different piece acted every week; we want to give time for +rehearsals and for alteration; we want to bring up the level of the +second-rate actors; we want more intelligence; and we want more care.' +Now, Mr. Dunquerque, how would you tackle that problem?" + +"I cannot say." + +"Then I will tell you, sir. You must have three full companies. You +must give up expecting that Theatre to pay its expenses; you must find +a rich man to pay for that Theatre; and he must pay up pretty +handsome." + +"Lord de Molleteste took the Royal Hemisphere last year." + +"Had he three companies, sir?" + +"No; he only had one; and that was a bad one. Wanted to bring out a +new actress, and no one went to see her. Cost him a hundred pounds a +week till he shut it up." + +"Well, we will bring along new actresses too, but in a different +fashion. They will have to work their way up from the bottom of the +ladder. My Theatre will cost me a good deal more than a hundred pounds +a week, I expect. But I am bound to run it. The idea's in my head +strong. It's the thing to do. A year or two in London, and then for +the States. We shall have a Grand National Drama, and the Ile shall +pay for it." + +He took paper and pen, and began to write. + +"Three companies, all complete, for tragedy and comedy. I've been to +every theatre in London, and I'm ready with my list. Now, Mr. +Dunquerque, you listen while I write them down. + +"I say first company; not that there's any better or worse, but +because one must begin with something. + +"In the first I will have Mr. Irving, Mr. Henry Neville, Mr. William +Farren, Mr. Toole, Mr. Emery, Miss Bateman, and Miss Nelly Farren. + +"In the second, Mr. George Rignold--I saw him in _Henry V._ last +winter in the States--Mr. Hare, Mr. Kendal, Mr. Lionel Brough, Mrs. +Kendal, and that clever little lady, Miss Angelina Claude. + +"In the third I will have Mr. Phelps, Mr. Charles Matthews, Mr. W. J. +Hill, Mr. Arthur Cecil, Mr. Kelly, Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft, and Mrs. +Scott-Siddons, if you could only get her. + +"I should ask Mr. Alfred Wigan to be a stage-manager and general +director, and I would give him absolute power. + +"Every company will play for a week and rehearse for a fortnight. The +principal parts shall not always be played by the best actors. And I +will not have any piece run for more than a week at a time." + +"And how do you think your teams would run together?" + +"Sir, it would be a distinction to belong to that Theatre. And they +would be well paid. They will run together just for the very same +reason as everybody runs together--for their own interest." + +"I believe," said Jack, "that you have at last hit upon a plan for +getting rid even of your superfluous cash." + +"It will cost a powerful lot, I believe. But Lord, Mr. Dunquerque! +what better object can there be than to improve the Stage? Think what +it would mean. The House properly managed; no loafin' around behind +the scenes; every actor doing his darn best, and taking time for study +and rehearsal; people comin' down to a quiet evening, with the best +artists to entertain them, and the best pieces to play. The Stage +would revive, sir. We should hear no more about the decay of the +Drama. The Drama decay! That's bunkum, sir. That's the invention of +the priests and the ministers, who go about down-cryin' what they +can't have their own fingers in." + +"But I don't see how your scheme will encourage authors." + +"I shall pay them too, sir. I should say to Mr. Byron: 'Sir, you air a +clever and a witty man. Go right away, sir. Sit down for a +twelvemonth, and do nothin' at all. Then write me a play; put your own +situations in it, not old jokes; put your own situations in it, not +old ones. Give me somethin' better.' Then I should say to Mr. Gilbert: +'Your pieces have got the real grit, young gentleman; but you write +too fast. Go away too for six months and do nothin'. Then sit down for +six months more, and write a piece that will be pretty and sweet, and +won't be thin.' And there's more dramatists behind--only give them a +chance. They shall have it at my house." + +"And what will the other houses do?" + +"The other houses, sir, may go on playing pieces for four hundred +nights if they like. I leave them plenty of men to stump their boards, +and my Theatre won't hold more than a certain number. I shall only +take a small house to begin with, such a house as the Lyceum, and we +shall gradually get along. But no profit can be made by such a Stage, +and I am ready to give half my Ile to keep it goin'. Of course," he +added, "when it is a success in London I shall carry it away, company +and all, to New York." + +He rose in a burst of enthusiasm. + +"Gilead P. Beck shall be known for his collection of pictures. He +shall be known for his Golden Butterfly, and the Luck it brought him. +But he shall be best known, Mr. Dunquerque, because he will be the +first man to take the Stage out of the mud of commercial enterprise, +and raise it to be the great educator of the people. He shall be known +as the founder of the Grand National American Drama. And his bust +shall be planted on the top of every American stage." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + "In such a cause who would not give? What heart + But leaps at such a name?" + + +People of rank and position are apt to complain of begging-letters. +Surely England must be a happy country since its rich people complain +mostly of begging-letters; for they are so easily dropped into the +waste-paper basket. A country squire--any man with a handle to his +name and place for a permanent address--is the natural prey and victim +of the beggars. The lithographed letter comes with every post, trying +in vain to look like a written letter. And though in fervid sentences +it shows the danger to your immortal soul if you refuse the pleading, +most men have the courage to resist. The fact is that the letter is +not a nuisance at all, because it is never read. On the other hand, a +new and very tangible nuisance is springing up. It is that of the +people who go round and call. Sir Roger de Coverly in his secluded +village is free from the women who give you the alternative of a day +with Moody and Sankey or an eternity of repentance; he never sees the +pair of Sisters got up like Roman Catholic nuns, who stand meekly +before you, arms crossed, mutely refusing to go without five shillings +at least for their Ritualist hot-house. But he who lives in chambers, +he who puts up at a great hotel and becomes known, he who has a house +in any address from Chester Square to Notting Hill, understands this +trouble. + +In some mysterious way Gilead Beck had become known. Perhaps this was +partly in consequence of his habit of going to institutions, +charities, and the like, and wanting to find out everything. In some +vague and misty way it became known that there was at the Langham +Hotel an American named Gilead P. Beck, who was asking questions +philanthropically. Then all the people who live on philanthropists, +with all those who work for their pleasure among philanthropists, +began to tackle Gilead P. Beck. Letters came in the morning, which he +read but did not answer. Circulars were sent to him, of which he +perhaps made a note. Telegrams were even delivered to him--people +somehow _must_ read telegrams--asking him for money. Those wonderful +people who address the Affluent in the _Times_ and ask for £300 on the +security of an honest man's word; those unhappy ladies whose father +was a gentleman and an officer, on the strength of which fact they ask +the Benevolent to help them in their undeserved distress, poor things; +those disinterested advertisers who want a few hundreds, and who will +give fifteen per cent. on the security of a splendid piano, a small +gallery of undoubted pictures, and some unique china; those tradesmen +who try to stave off bankruptcy by asking the world generally for a +loan on the strength of a simple reference to the clergyman of St. +Tinpot, Hammersmith; those artful dodgers, Mr. Ally Sloper and his +friends, when they have devised a new and ingenious method of screwing +money out of the rich,--all these people got hold of our Gilead, and +pelted him with letters. Did they know, the ingenious and the needy, +how the business is overdone, they would change their tactics and go +round calling. + +It requires a front of brass, entire absence of self-respect, and an +epidermis like that of the rhinoceros for toughness, to undertake this +work. Yet ladies do it. You want a temperament off which insults, +gibes, sneers, and blank refusals fall like water off a +nasturtium-leaf to go the begging-round. Yet women do it. They do it +not only for themselves, but also for their cause. From Ritualism down +to Atheism, from the fashionable enthusiasm to the nihilism which the +British workman is being taught to regard as the hidden knowledge, +there are women who will brave anything, dare anything, say anything, +and endure anything. They love to be martyred, so long especially as +it does not hurt; they are angry with the lukewarm zeal of their male +supporters, forgetting that a man sees the two sides of a question, +while a woman never sees more than one; they mistake notoriety for +fame, and contempt for jealous admiration. + +And here, in the very heart of London, was a man who seemed simply +born for the Polite Beggar. A man restless because he could not part +with his money. Not seeking profitable investments, not asking for ten +and twenty per cent.; but anxious to use his money for the best +purposes; a man who was a philanthropist in the abstract, who +considered himself the trustee of a gigantic gift to the human race, +and was desirous of exercising that trust to the best advantage. + +In London; and at the same time, in the same city, thousands of people +not only representing their individual distresses or their society's +wants, but also plans, schemes, and ideas for the promotion of +civilisation in the abstract. Do we not all know the projectors? I +myself know at this moment six men who want each to establish a daily +paper; at least a dozen who would like a weekly; fifty who see a way, +by the formation of a new society, to check immorality, kill +infidelity once for all, make men sober and women clean, prevent +strikes and destroy Republicanism. There is one man who would "save" +the Church of England by establishing the preaching order; one who +knows how to restore England to her place among the nations without a +single additional soldier; one who burns to abolish bishops' aprons, +and would make it penal to preach in a black gown. The land teems with +idea'd men. They yearn, pray, and sigh daily for the capitalist who +will reduce their idea to practice. + +And besides the projectors, there are the inventors. I once knew a man +who claimed to have invented a means for embarking and setting down +passengers and goods on a railway without stopping the trains. Think +of the convenience. Why no railways have taken up the invention, I +cannot explain. Then there are men who have inventions which will +reform the whole system of domestic appliances; there are others who +are prepared on encouragement to reform the whole conduct of life by +new inventions. There are men by thousands brooding over experiments +which they have no money to carry out; there are men longing to carry +on experiments whose previous failure they can now account for. All +these men are looking for a capitalist as for a Messiah. Had they +known--had they but dimly suspected--that such a capitalist was in +June of last year staying at the Langham Hotel, they would have sought +that hotel with one consent, and besieged its portals. The world in +general did not know Mr. Beck's resources. But they were beginning to +find him out. The voice of rumour was spreading abroad his reputation. +And the people wrote letters, sent circulars, and called. + +"Twenty-three of them came yesterday morning," Gilead Beck complained +to Jack Dunquerque. "Three-and-twenty, and all with a tale to tell. +No, sir,"--his voice rose in indignation--"I did not give one of them +so much as a quarter-dollar. The Luck of the Golden Butterfly is not +to be squandered among the well-dressed beggars of Great Britain. +Three-and-twenty, counting one little boy, who came by himself. His +mother was a widow, he said, and he sat on the chair and sniffed. And +they all wanted money. There was one man in a white choker who had +found out a new channel for doing good--and one man who wished to +recommend a list of orphans. The rest were women. And talk? There's no +name for it. With little books, and pencils, and bundles of tracts." + +While he spoke there was a gentle tap at the door. + +"There's another of them," he groaned. "Stand by me, Mr. Dunquerque. +See me through with it. Come in, come in! Good Lord!" he whispered, "a +brace this time. Will you tackle the young one, Mr. Dunquerque?" + +A pair of ladies. One of them a lady tall and thin, stern of aspect, +sharp of feature, eager of expression. She wore spectacles: she was +apparently careless of her dress, which was of black silk a little +rusty. With her was a girl of about eighteen, perhaps her daughter, +perhaps her niece; a girl of rather sharp but pretty features, marked +by a look of determination, as if she meant to see the bottom of this +business, or know the reason why. + +"You are Mr. Beck, sir?" the elder lady began. + +"I am Gilead P. Beck, madam," he replied. + +He was standing before the fireplace, with his long hands thrust into +his pocket, one foot on an adjacent chair, and his head thrown a +little back--defiantly. + +"You have received two letters from me, Mr. Beck, written by my own +hand, and--how many circulars, child?' + +"Twenty," said the girl. + +"And I have had no answer. I am come for your answer, Mr. Beck. We +will sit down, if you please, while you consider your answer." + +Mr. Beck took up a waste paper basket which stood at his feet, and +tossed out the whole contents upon the table. + +"Those are the letters of yesterday and to-day," he said. "What was +yours, madam? Was it a letter asking for money?" + +"It was." + +"Yesterday there were seventy-four letters asking for money. To-day +there are only fifty-two. May I ask, madam, if you air the widow who +wants money to run a mangle?" + +"Sir, I am unmarried. A mangle!" + +He dug his hand into the pile, and took out one at random. + +"You air, perhaps, the young lady who writes to know if I want a +housekeeper, and encloses her carte-de-visite? No; that won't do. Is +it possible you are the daughter of the Confederate general who lost +his life in the cause?" + +"Really, sir!" + +"Then, madam, we come to the lady who"--here he read from another +letter--"who was once a governess, and now is reduced to sell her last +remaining garments." + +"Sir!" + +There was a withering scorn on the lady's lips. + +"I represent a Cause, Mr. Beck. I am not a beggar for myself. My cause +is the sacred one of Womanhood. You, sir, in your free and happy +Republic----" + +Mr. Beck bowed. + +"Have seen woman partially restored to her proper place--on a level +with man." + +"A higher level," murmured the girl, who had far-off eyes and a sweet +voice. "The higher level reached by the purer heart." + +"Only partially restored at present. But the good work goes on. Here +we are only beginning. Mr. Beck, the Cause wants help--your help." + +He said nothing and she went on. + +"We want our rights; we want suffrage; we want to be elected for the +Houses of Parliament; we insist on equality in following the +professions and in enjoying the endowments of Education. We shall +prove that we are no whit inferior to men. We want no privileges. Let +us stand by ourselves." + +"Wal, madam, their air helpers who shove up, and I guess there air +helpers who shove down." + +She did not understand him, and went on with increasing volubility. + +"The subjection of the Sex is the most monstrous injustice of all +those which blot the fair fame of manhood. What is there in man's +physical strength that he should use it to lord over the weaker half +of humanity? Why has not our sex produced a Shakespeare?" + +"It has, madam," said Mr. Beck gravely. "It has produced all our +greatest men." + +She was staggered. + +"Your answer, if you please, Mr. Beck." + +"I have no answer, madam." + +"I have written you two letters, and sent you twenty circulars, urging +upon you the claims of the Woman's Rights Association. I have the +right to ask for a reply. I expect one. You will be kind enough sir, +to give categorically your answer to the several heads. This you will +do of your courtesy to a lady. We can wait here while you write it. I +shall probably, I ought to tell you, publish it." + +"We can wait," said the young lady. + +They sat with folded hands in silence. + +Mr. Beck shifted his foot from the chair to the carpet. Then he took +his hands out of his pockets and stroked his chin. Then he gazed at +the ladies steadily. + +Jack Dunquerque sat in the background, and rendered no help whatever. + +"Did you ever, ladies," asked Mr. Beck, after a few moments of +reflection, "hear of Paul Deroon of Memphis? He was the wickedest man +in that city. Which was allowed. He kept a bar where the whisky was +straight and the language was free, and where Paul would tell stories, +once you set him on, calculated to raise on end the hair of your best +sofa. When the Crusade began--I mean the Whisky Crusade--the ladies +naturally began with Paul Deroon's saloon." + +"This is very tedious, my dear," said the elder lady in a loud +whisper. + +"How did Paul Deroon behave? Some barkeepers came out and cursed while +the Whisky War went on; some gave in and poured away the Bourbon: some +shut up shop and took to preachin.' Paul just did nothing. You +couldn't tell from Paul's face that he even knew of the forty women +around him prayin' all together. If he stepped outside he walked +through as if they weren't there, and they made a lane for him. If +he'd been blind and deaf and dumb, Paul Deroon couldn't have taken +less notice." + +"We shall not keep our appointment, I fear," the younger lady +remarked. + +"They prayed, preached, and sang hymns for a whole week. On Sunday +they sang eighty strong. And on the seventh day Paul took no more +notice than on the first. Once they asked him if he heard the singin.' +He said he did: and it was very soothin' and pleasant. Said, too, that +he liked music to his drink. Then they asked him if he heard the +prayers. He said he did; said, too, that it was cool work sittin' in +the shade and listenin'; also that it kinder seemed as if it was bound +to do somebody or other good some day. Then they told him that the +ladies were waitin' to see him converted. He said it was very kind of +them, and, for his own part, he didn't mind meetin' their wishes half +way, and would wait as long as they did." + +The ladies rose. Said the elder lady viciously: "You are unworthy, +sir, to represent your great country. You are a common scoffer." + +"General Schenck represents my country, madam." + +"You are unworthy of being associated with a great Cause. We have +wasted our time upon you." + +Their departure was less dignified than their entry. + +As they left the room another visitor arrived. It was a tall and +handsome man, with a full flowing beard and a genial presence. + +He had a loud voice and a commanding manner. + +"Mr. Beck? I thought so. I wrote to you yesterday, Mr. Beck. And I am +come in person--in person, sir--for your reply." + +"You air the gentleman, sir, interested in the orphan children of a +colonial bishop?" + +"No, sir, I am not. Nothing of the kind." + +"Then you air perhaps the gentleman who wrote to say that unless I +sent him a ten-pound note by return of post he would blow out his +brains?" + +"I am Major Borington. I wrote to you, sir, on behalf of the Grand +National Movement for erecting International Statues." + +"What is that movement, sir?" + +"A series of monuments to all our great men, Mr. Beck. America and +England, have ancestors in common. We have our Shakespeare, sir, our +Milton." + +"Yes, sir, so I have heard. I did not know those ancestors myself, +having been born too late, and therefore I do not take that interest +in their stone figures you do." + +"Positively, Mr. Beck, you must join us." + +"It is your idea, Colonel, is it?" + +"Mine, Mr. Beck. I am proud to say it is my own." + +"I knew a man once, Colonel, in my country, who wanted to be a great +man. He had that ambition, sir. He wasn't particular how he got his +greatness. But he scorned to die and be forgotten, and he yearned to +go down to posterity. His name, sir, was Hiram Turtle. First of all, +he ambitioned military greatness. We went into Bull's Run together. +And we came out of it together. We came away from that field side by +side. We left our guns there, too. If we had had shields, we should +have left them as well. Hiram concluded, sir, after that experience, +to leave military greatness to others." + +Major Borington interposed a gesture. + +"One moment, Brigadier. The connection is coming. Hiram Turtle thought +the ministry opened up a field. So he became a preacher. Yes; he +preached once. But he forgot that a preacher must have something to +say, and so the elders concluded not to ask Hiram Turtle any more. +Then he became clerk in a store while he looked about him. For a year +or two he wrote poetry. But the papers in America, he found, were in a +league against genius. So he gave up that lay. Politics was his next +move; and he went for stump-orating with the Presidency in his eye. +Stumpin' offers amusement as well as gentle exercise, but it doesn't +pay unless you get more than one brace of niggers and a bubbly-jock to +listen. Wal, sir, how do you think Hiram Turtle made his greatness? He +figured around, sir, with a List, and his own name a-top, for a Grand +National Monument to the memory of the great men who fell in the Civil +War. They air still subscribing, and Hiram Turtle is the great +Patriot. Now, General, you see the connection." + +"If you mean, sir," cried Major Borington, "to imply that my motives +are interested----" + +"Not at all, sir," said Mr. Beck; "I have told you a little story. +Hiram Turtle's was a remarkable case. Perhaps you might ponder on it." + +"Your language is insulting, sir!" + +"Colonel, this is not a country where men have to take care what they +say. But if you should ever pay a visit out West, and if you should +happen to be about where tar and feathers are cheap, you would really +be astonished at the consideration you would receive. No, sir, I shall +not subscribe to your Grand National Association. But go on, Captain, +go on. This is a charitable country, and the people haven't all heard +the story of Hiram Turtle. And what'll you take, Major?" + +But Major Borington, clapping on his hat, stalked out of the room. + +The visits of the strong-minded female and Major Borington which were +typical, took place on the day which was the first and only occasion +on which Phillis went to the theatre. Gilead Beck took the box, and +they went--Jack Dunquerque being himself the fourth, as they say in +Greek exercise-books--to the Lyceum, and saw Henry Irving play Hamlet. + +Phillis brought to the play none of the reverence with which English +people habitually approach Shakespeare, insomuch that while we make +superhuman efforts to understand him we have lost the power of +criticism. To her, George III.'s remark that there was a great deal of +rubbish in Shakspeare would have seemed a perfectly legitimate +conclusion. But she knew nothing about the great dramatist. + +The house, with its decorations, lights, and crowd, pleased her. She +liked the overture, and she waited with patience for the first scene. +She was going to see a representation of life done in show. So much +she understood. Instead of telling a story the players would act the +story. + +The Ghost--perhaps because the Lyceum Ghost was so palpably flesh and +blood--inspired her with no terror at all. But gradually the story +grew into her, and she watched the unfortunate Prince of Denmark torn +by his conflicting emotions, distraught with the horror of the deed +that had been done and the deed that was to do, with a beating heart +and trembling lip. When Hamlet with that wild cry threw himself upon +his uncle's throne, she gasped and caught Agatha by the hand. When the +play upon the stage showed the King how much of the truth was known, +she trembled, and looked to see him immediately confess his crime and +go out to be hanged. She was indignant with Hamlet for the slaughter +of Polonius; she was contemptuous of Ophelia, whom she did not +understand; and she was impatient when the two Gravediggers came to +the front, resolute to spare the audience none of their somewhat musty +old jokes and to abate nothing of the stage-business. + +When they left the theatre Phillis moved and spoke as in a dream. War, +battle, conspiracy, murder, crime--all these things, of which her +guardian had told her, she saw presented before her on the stage. She +had too much to think of; she had to fit all these new surroundings in +her mind with the stories of the past. As for the actors, she had no +power whatever of distinguishing between them and the parts they +played. Irving was Hamlet; Miss Bateman was Ophelia; and they were all +like the figures of a dream, because she did not understand how they +could be anything but Hamlet, Ophelia, and the Court of Denmark. + +And this, too, was part of her education. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + "Love in her eyes lay hiding, + His time in patience biding." + + +"Square it with Colquhoun before you go any farther," said Ladds. + +Square it with the guardian--speak to the young lady's father--make it +all right with the authorities; what excellent advice to give, and how +easy to follow it up! Who does not look forward with pleasure, or +backward as to an agreeable reminiscence, to that half hour spent in a +confidential talk with dear papa? How calmly critical, how severely +judicial, was his summing up! With what a determined air did he follow +up the trail, elicited in cross-examination, of former sins! With how +keen a scent did he disinter forgotten follies, call attention to +bygone extravagances, or place the finger of censure upon debts which +never ought to have been incurred, and economies which ought to have +been made! + +Remember his "finally"--a word which from childhood has been +associated with sweet memories, because it brings the sermon to an +end, but which henceforth will awake in your brain the ghost of that +_mauvais quart d'heure_. In that brief peroration he tore the veil +from the last cherished morsel of self-illusion; he showed you that +the furnishing of a house was a costly business, that he was not going +to do it for you, that servants require an annual income of +considerable extent, that his daughter had been brought up a lady, +that lady's dress is a serious affair, that wedlock in due season +brings babies, and that he was not so rich as he seemed. + +Well, perhaps he said "Yes" reluctantly, in spite of drawbacks. Then +you felt that you were regarded by the rest of the family as the means +of preventing dear Annabella from making a brilliant match. That +humbled you for life. Or perhaps he said "No." In that case you went +away sadly and meditated suicide. And whether you got over the fit, or +whether you didn't--though of course you did--the chances were that +Annabella never married at all, and you are still regarded by the +family as the cause of that sweet creature not making the +exceptionally splendid alliance which, but for you, the disturbing +influence, would have been her lot. + +However, the thing is necessary, unless people run away, a good old +fashion by which such interviews, together with wedding-breakfasts, +wedding-garments, and wedding-presents were avoided. + +Running away is out of fashion. It would have been the worst form +possible in Jack Dunquerque even to propose such a thing to Phillis, +and I am not at all certain that he would ever have made her +understand either the necessity or the romance of the thing. And I am +quite sure that she would never understand that Jack Dunquerque was +asking her to do a wrong thing. + +Certainly it was not likely that this young man would proceed further +in the path of irregularity--which leads to repentance--than he had +hitherto done. He had now to confess before the young lady's guardian +something of the part he played. + +Looked at dispassionately, and unsoftened by the haze of illusion, +this part had, as he acknowledged with groans, an appearance far from +pleasing to the Christian moralist. + +He had taken advantage of the girl's total ignorance to introduce +himself at the house where she was practically alone for the whole +day; he found her like a child in the absence of the reserve which +girls are trained to; he stepped at once into the position of a +confidential friend; he took her about for walks and drives, a thing +which might have compromised her seriously; he allowed Joseph Jagenal, +without, it is true, stating it in so many words, to believe him an +old friend of Phillis's; he followed her to Twickenham and installed +himself at Mrs. L'Estrange's as an _ami de famille_; he had done +so much to make the girl's life bright and happy, he was so dear to +her, that he felt there was but one step to be taken to pass from a +brother to a lover. + +It was a black record to look at, and it was poor consolation to think +that any other man would have done the same. + +Jack Dunquerque, like Phillis herself, was changed within a month. +Somehow the fun and carelessness which struck Gilead Beck as so +remarkable in a man of five-and-twenty were a good deal damped. For +the first time in his life he was serious; for the first time he had a +serious and definite object before him. He was perfectly serious in an +unbounded love for Phillis. Day by day the sweet beauty of the girl, +her grace, her simple faith, her child-like affection, sank into his +heart and softened him. Day after day, as he rowed along the meadows +of the Thames, or lazied under the hanging willows by the shore, or +sat with her in the garden, or rode along the leafy roads by her side, +the sincerity of her nature, as clear and cloudless as the blue depths +of heaven; its purity, like the bright water that leaps and bubbles +and flows beneath the shade of Lebanon; its perfect truthfulness, like +the midday sunshine in June; the innocence with which, even as another +Eve, she bared her very soul for him to read--these things, when he +thought of them, brought the unaccustomed tears to his eyes, and made +his spirit rise and bound within him as to unheard of heights. For +love, to an honest man, is like Nature to a poet or colour to an +artist--it makes him see great depths, and gives him, if only for once +in his life, a Pisgah view of a Land far, far holier, a life far, far +higher, a condition far, far sweeter and nobler than anything in this +world can give us--except the love of a good woman. In such a vision +the ordinary course of our life is suspended; we move on air; we see +men as trees walking, and regard them not. Happy the man who once in +his life has been so lifted out of the present, and knows not +afterwards whether he was in the flesh or out of the flesh. + +Jack, with the influence of this great passion upon him, was +transformed. Fortunately for us this emotion had its ebb and flow. +Else that great dinner to Literature had never come off. But at all +times he was under its sobering influence. And it was in a penitent +and humble mood that he sought Lawrence Colquhoun, in the hope of +"squaring it" with him as Ladds advised. Good fellow, Tommy; none +better; but wanting in the higher delicacy. Somehow the common words +and phrases of every-day use applied to Phillis jarred upon him. After +all, one feels a difficulty in offering a princess the change for a +shilling in coppers. If I had to do it, I should fall back on a +draught upon the Cheque Bank. + +Lawrence was full of his own annoyances--most of us always are, and it +is one of the less understood ills of life that one can never get, +even for five minutes, a Monopoly of Complaint. But he listened +patiently while Jack--Jack of the Rueful Countenance--poured out his +tale of repentance, woe, and prayer. + +"You see," he said, winding up, "I never thought what it would come +to. I dropped into it by accident and then--then----" + +"When people come to flirt they stay to spoon," said Lawrence. "In +other words, my dear fellow, you are in love. Ah!" + +Jack wondered what was meant by the interjection. In all the list of +interjections given by Lindley Murray, or the new light Dr. Morris, +such as Pish! Phaw! Alas! Humph! and the rest which are in everybody's +mouth, there is none which blows with such an uncertain sound as this. +Impossible to tell whether it means encouragement, sympathy, or cold +distrust. + +"Ah!" said Lawrence. "Sit down and be comfortable, Jack. When one is +really worried, nothing like a perfect chair. Take my own. Now, then, +let us talk it over." + +"It doesn't look well," thought Jack. + +"Always face the situation," said Lawrence (he had got an uncommonly +awkward situation of his own to face, and it was a little relief to +turn to some one else's). "Nothing done by blinking facts. Here we +are. Young lady of eighteen or so--just released from a convent; +ignorant of the world; pretty; attractive ways; rich, as girls go--on +the one hand. On the other, you: good-looking, as my cousin Agatha +L'Estrange says, though I can't see it; of a cheerful disposition--_aptus +ludere_, fit to play, _cum puellâ_, all the day----" + +"Don't chaff, Colquhoun; it's too serious." + +But Colquhoun went on: + +"An inflammable young man. Well, with any other girl the danger would +have been seen at once; poor Phillis is so innocent that she is +supposed to be quite safe. So you go on calling. My cousin Agatha +writes me word that she has been looking for the light of love, as she +calls it, in Phillis's eyes; and it isn't there. She is a +sentimentalist, and therefore silly. Why didn't she look in your eyes, +Jack? That would have been very much more to the purpose." + +"She has, now. I told her yesterday that I--I--loved Phillis." + +"Did she ask you to take the young lady's hand and a blessing at once? +Come, Jack, look at the thing sensibly. There are two or three very +strong reasons why it can't be." + +"Why it can't be!" echoed Jack dolefully. + +"First, the girl hasn't come out. Now, I ask you, would it not be +simply sinful not to give her a fair run? In any case you could not be +engaged till after she has had one season. Then her father, who did +not forget that he was grandson of a Peer, wanted his daughter to make +a good match, and always spoke of the fortune he was to leave her as a +guarantee that she would marry well. He never thought he was going to +die, of course; but all events I know so much of his wishes. Lastly, +my dear Jack Dunquerque, you are the best fellow in the world, but, +you know--but----" + +"But I am not Lord Isleworth." + +"That is just it. You are his lordship's younger brother, with one or +two between you and the title. Now don't you see? Need we talk about +it any more?" + +"I suppose Phil--I mean Miss Fleming--will be allowed to choose for +herself. You are not going to make her marry a man because he happens +to have a title and an estate, and offers himself?" + +"I suppose," said Lawrence, laughing, "that I am going to lock Phillis +up in a tower until the right man comes. No, no, Jack; there shall be +no compulsion. If she sets her heart upon marrying you--she is a +downright young lady--why, she must do it; but after she has had her +run among the ball-rooms, not before. Let her take a look round first; +there will be other Jack Dunquerques ready to look at, be sure of +that. Perhaps she will think them fairer to outward view than you. If +she does, you will have to give her up in the end, you know." + +"I have said no word of love to her, Colquhoun, I give you my honour," +said Jack hotly, "I don't think she would understand it if I did." + +"I am glad of that at least." + +"If I am to give her up and go away, I dare say," the poor youth went +on, with a little choking in his throat, "that she will regret me at +first and for a day or two. But she will get over that; and--as you +say, there are plenty of fellows in the world better than +myself--and----" + +"My dear Jack, there will be no going away. You tell me you have not +told her all the effect that her _beaux yeux_ have produced upon +you. Well, then--and there has been nothing to compromise her at all?" + +"Nothing; that is, once we went to the Tower in a hansom cab." + +"Oh, that is all, is it? Jack Dunquerque--Jack Dunquerque!" + +"And we have been up the river a good many times in a boat." + +"I see. The river is pleasant at this time of the year." + +"And we have been riding together a good deal. Phil rides very well, +you know." + +"Does she? It seems to me, Jack, that my cousin Agatha is a fool, and +that you have been having rather a high time in consequence. Surely +you can't complain if I ask you to consider the innings over for the +present?" + +"No; I can't complain, if one may hope----" + +"Let us hope nothing. Sufficient for the day. He who hopes nothing +gets everything. Come out of it at once, Jack, before you get hit too +hard." + +"I think no one was ever hit so hard before," said Jack. "Colquhoun, +you don't know your ward. It is impossible for any one to be with her +without falling in love with her. She is----" Here he stopped, because +he could not go any farther. Anybody who did not know the manly nature +of Jack Dunquerque might have thought he was stopped by emotion. + +"We all get the fever some time or other. But we worry through. Look +at me, Jack. I am forty, and, as you see, a comparatively hale and +hearty man, despite my years. It doesn't shorten life, that kind of +fever; it doesn't take away appetite; it doesn't interfere with your +powers of enjoyment. There is even a luxury about it. You can't +remember Geraldine Arundale, now Lady Newladegge, when she came out, +of course. You were getting ready for Eton about that time. Well, she +and I carried on for a whole season. People talked. Then she got +engaged to her present husband, after seeing him twice. She wanted a +Title, you see. I was very bad, that journey; and I remember that +Agatha, who was in my confidence, had a hot time of it over the +faithlessness of shallow hearts. But I got over the attack, and I have +not been dangerously ill, so to speak since. That is, I have made a +contemptible ass of myself on several occasions, and I dare say I +shall go on making an ass of myself as long as I live. Because the +older you grow, somehow, the sweeter do the flowers smell." + +Jack only groaned. It really is no kind of consolation to tell a +suffering man that you have gone through it yourself. Gilead Beck told +me once of a man who lived in one of the Southern States of America: +he was a mild, and placid creature, inoffensive as a canary bird, +quiet as a mongoose, and much esteemed for his unusual meekness. This +harmless being once got ear-ache--very bad ear-ache. Boyhood's +ear-aches are awful things to remember; but those of manhood, when +they do come, which is seldom, are the Devil. To him in agony came a +friend, who sat down beside him, like Eliphaz the Temanite, and +sighed. This the harmless being who had the ear-ache put up with, +though it was irritating. Presently the friend began to relate how he +once had the ear-ache himself. Then the harmless creature rose up +suddenly, and, seizing an adjacent chunk of wood, gave that friend a +token of friendship on the head with such effect that he ceased the +telling of that and all other stories, and has remained quite dumb +ever since. The jury acquitted that inoffensive and meek creature, who +wept when the ear-ache was gone, and often laid flowers on the grave +of his departed friend. + +Jack did not heave chunks of wood at Colquhoun. He only looked at him +with ineffable contempt. + +"Lady Newladegge! why, she's five-and-thirty! and she's fat!" + +"She wasn't always five-and-thirty, nor was she always fat. On the +contrary, when she was twenty, and I was in love with her, she was +slender, and, if one may so speak of a Peeress, she was cuddlesome!" + +"Cuddlesome!" Jack cried, his deepest feelings outraged. "Good +Heavens! to think of comparing Phil with a woman who was once +cuddlesome!" + +Lawrence Colquhoun laughed. + +"In fifteen years, or thereabouts, perhaps you will take much the same +view of things as I do. Meantime Jack, let things remain as they are. +You shall have a fair chance with the rest; and you must remember that +you have had a much better chance than anybody else, because you have +had the first running. Leave off going to Twickenham quite so much; +but don't stop going altogether, or Phillis may be led to suspect. +Can't you contrive to slack off by degrees?" + +Jack breathed a little more freely. The house, then, was not shut to +him. + +"The young lady will have her first season next year. I don't say I +hope she will marry anybody else, Jack, but I am bound to give her the +chance. As soon as she really understands a little more of life she +will find out for herself what is best for her, perhaps. Now we've +talked enough about it." + +Jack Dunquerque went away sorrowful. He expected some such result of +this endeavour to "square" it with Colquhoun, but yet he was +disappointed. + +"Hang it all, Jack," said Ladds, "what can you want more? You are told +to wait a year. No one will step in between you and the young lady +till she comes out. You are not told to discontinue your visits--only +not to go too often, and not to compromise her. What more does the man +want?" + +"You are a very good fellow, Tommy," sighed the lover; "a very good +fellow in the main. But you see, you don't know Phil. Let me call her +Phil to you, old man. There's not another man in the world that I +_could_ talk about her to--not one, by Jove; it would seem a +desecration." + +"Go on, Jack--talk away; and I'll give you good advice." + +He did talk away! What says Solomon? "Ointment and perfume rejoice the +soul; so doth the sweetness of a man's friend by hearty counsel." The +Wise Man might have expressed himself more clearly, but his meaning +can be made out. + +Meantime Lawrence Colquhoun, pulling himself together after Jack went +away, remembered that he had not once gone near his ward since he +drove her to Twickenham. + +"It is too bad," said Conscience; "a whole month." + +"It is all that woman's fault," he pleaded. "I have been dangling +about, in obedience to her, like a fool." + +"Like a fool!" echoed Conscience. + +He went that very day, and was easily persuaded to stay and dine with +the two ladies. + +He said very little, but Agatha observed him watching his ward +closely. + +After dinner she got a chance. + +It was a pleasant evening, early in June. They had strawberries on a +garden table. Phillis presently grew tired of sitting under the shade, +and strolled down to the river-side, where she sat on the grass and +threw biscuits to the swans. + +"What do you think, Lawrence?" + +He was watching her in silence. + +"I don't understand it, Agatha. What have you done to her?" + +"Nothing. Are you pleased?" + +"You are a witch; I believe you must have a familiar somewhere. She is +wonderful--wonderful!" + +"Is she a ward to be proud of and to love, Lawrence? Is she the +sweetest and prettiest girl you ever saw? My dear cousin, I declare to +you that I think her faultless. At least, her very faults are +attractive. She is impetuous and self-willed, but she is full of +sympathy. And that seems to have grown up in her altogether in the +last few months." + +"Her manner appears to be more perfect than anything I have ever +seen." + +"It is because she has no self-consciousness. She is like a child +still, my dear Phillis, so far." + +"I wonder if it is because she cannot read? Why should we not prohibit +the whole sex from learning to read?" + +"Nonsense, Lawrence. What would the novelists do? Besides, she is +learning to read fast. I put her this morning into the Third Lesson +Book--two syllables. And it is not as if she were ignorant, because +she knows a great deal." + +"Then why is it?" + +"I think her sweet nature has something to do with it; and, besides, +she has been shielded from many bad influences. We send girls to +school, and--and--well, Lawrence, we cannot all be angels, any more +than men. If girls learn about love, and establishments, and +flirtations, and the rest of it, why, they naturally want their share +of these good things. Then they get self-conscious." + +"What about Jack Dunquerque?" asked Lawrence abruptly. "He has been to +me about her." + +Agatha blushed as prettily as any self-conscious young girl. + +"He loves Phillis," she said; "but Phillis only regards him as a +brother." + +"Agatha, you are no wiser than little Red Riding Hood. Jack Dunquerque +is a wolf." + +"I am sure he is a most honourable, good young man." + +"As for good, goodness knows. Honourable no doubt, and a wolf. You are +a matchmaker, you bad, bad woman. I believe you want him to marry that +young Princess over there." + +"And what did you tell poor Jack?" + +"Told him to wait. Acted the stern guardian. Won't have an engagement. +Must let Phillis have her run. Mustn't come here perpetually trying to +gobble up my dainty heiress. Think upon that now, Cousin Agatha." + +"She could not marry into a better family." + +"Very true. The Dunquerques had an Ark of their own, I believe, at the +Deluge. But then Jack is not Lord Isleworth; and he isn't ambitious, +and he isn't clever, and he isn't rich." + +"Go on, Lawrence; it is charming to see you in a new +character--Lawrence the Prudent!" + +"Charmed to charm _la belle cousine_. He is in love, and he is hit as +hard as any man I ever saw. But Phillis shall not be snapped up in +this hasty and inconsiderate manner. There are lots of better _partis_ +in the field." + +Then Phillis came back, dangling her hat by its ribbons. The setting +sun made a glory of her hair, lit up the splendour of her eyes, and +made a clear outline of her delicate features and tall shapely figure. + +"Come and sit by me, Phillis," said her guardian. "I have neglected +you. Agatha will tell you that I am a worthless youth of forty, who +neglects all his duties. You are so much improved, my child, that I +hardly knew you. Prettier and--and--everything. How goes on the +education?" + +"Reading and writing," said Phillis, "do not make education. Really, +Lawrence, you ought to know better. A year or two with Mr. Dyson would +have done you much good. I am in words of two syllables; and Agatha +thinks I am getting on very nicely. I am in despair about my painting +since we have been to picture-galleries. And to think how conceited I +was once over it! But I _can_ draw, Lawrence; I shall not give up my +drawing." + +"And you liked your galleries?" + +"Some of them. The Academy was tiring. Why don't they put all the +portraits in one room together, so that we need not waste time over +them?" + +"What did you look at?" + +"I looked at what all the other people pressed to see, first of all. +There was a picture of Waterloo, with the French and English crowded +together so that they could shake hands. It was drawn beautifully; but +somehow it made me feel as if War was a little thing. Mr. Dyson used +to say that women take the grandeur and strength out of Art. Then +there was a brown man with a sling on a platform. The platform rested +on stalks of corn; and if the man were to throw the stone he would +topple over, and tumble off his platform. And there was another one, +of a row of women going to be sold for slaves; a curious picture, and +beautifully painted, but I did not like it." + +"What did you like?" + +"I liked some that told their own story, and made me think. There was +a picture of a moor--take me to see a moor, Lawrence--with a windy +sky, and a wooden fence, and a light upon. Oh, I liked all the +landscapes. I think our artists feel trees and sunshine. But what is +my opinion worth?" + +"Come with me to-morrow, Phillis; we will go through the pictures +together, and you shall teach me what to like. Your opinion worth? +Why, child, all the opinions of all the critics together are not worth +yours." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + "What is it that has been done?" + + +These anonymous letters and this fit of jealousy, the more dangerous +because it was a new thing, came at an awkward time for Gabriel +Cassilis. He had got "big" things in hand, and the eyes of the City, +he felt, were on him. It was all-important that he should keep his +clearness of vision and unclouded activity of brain. For the first +time in his life his operations equalled, or nearly approached, his +ambition. For the first time he had what he called a considerable sum +in his hands. That is to say, there was his own money--he was reported +to be worth three hundred thousand pounds--Gilead Beck's little pile, +with his unlimited credit, and smaller sums placed in his hands for +investment by private friends, such as Colquhoun, Ladds, and others. A +total which enabled him to wait. And the share-market oscillating. And +telegrams in cipher reaching him from all quarters. And Gabriel +Cassilis unable to work, tormented by the one thought, like Io by her +gad-fly, attacked by fits of giddiness which made him cling to the +arms of his chair, and relying on a brain which was active, indeed, +because it was filled with a never-ending succession of pictures, in +which his wife and Colquhoun always formed the principal figures, but +which refused steady work. + +Gabriel Cassilis was a gamester who played to win. His game was not +the roulette-table, where the bank holds one chance out of thirty, and +must win in the long run; it was a game in which he staked his +foresight, knowledge of events, financial connections, and calm +judgment against greed, panic, enthusiasm, and ignorance. It was his +business to be prepared against any turn of the tide. He would have +stood calmly in the Rue Quincampoix, buying in and selling out up to +an hour before the smash. And that would have found him without a +single share in Law's great scheme. A great game, but a difficult one. +It requires many qualities, and when you have got these, it requires a +steady watchfulness and attention to the smallest cloud appearing on +the horizon. + +There were many clouds on the horizon. His grand _coup_ was to be in +Eldorado Stock. Thanks to Mr. Wylie's pamphlet they went down, and +Gabriel Cassilis bought in--bought all he could; and the Stock went +up. There was a fortnight before settling day. + +They went up higher, and yet higher. El Señor Don Bellaco de la +Carambola, Minister of the Eldorado Republic at St. James's, wrote a +strong letter to the daily papers in reply to Mr. Wylie's pamphlet. He +called attention to the rapid--the enormous--advance made in the +State. As no one had seen the place, it was quite safe to speak of +buildings, banks, commercial prosperity, and "openings up." It +appeared, indeed from his letter that the time of universal wealth, +long looked for by mankind, was actually arrived for Eldorado. + +The Stock went higher. Half the country clergy who had a few hundreds +in the bank wanted to put them in Eldorado Stock. Still Gabriel +Cassilis made no move, but held on. + +And every day to get another of those accursed letters, with some new +fact; every day to groan under fresh torture of suspicion; every day +to go home and dine with the calm cold creature whose beauty had been +his pride, and try to think that this impassive woman could be +faithless. + +This torture lasted for weeks; it began when Colquhoun first went to +his house, and continued through May into June. His mental sufferings +were so great that his speech became affected. He found himself saying +wrong words, or not being able to hit upon the right word at all. So +he grew silent. When he returned home, which was now early, he hovered +about the house. Or he crept up to his nursery, and played with his +year-old child. And the nurses noticed how, while he laughed and +crowed to please the baby, the tears came into his eyes. + +The letters grew more savage. + +He would take them out and look at them. Some of the sentences burned +into his brain like fire. + +"As Mr. Lawrence Colquhoun is the only man she ever loved. Ask her for +the secret. They think no one knows it. + +"Does she care for the child--your child? Ask Tomlinson how often she +sees it. + +"When you go to your office, Mr. Colquhoun comes to your house. When +you come home, he goes out of it. Then they meet somewhere else. + +"Ask him for the secret. Then ask her, and compare what they say. + +"Five years ago Mr. Lawrence Colquhoun and Miss Pengelley were going +to be married. Everybody said so. She went to Scotland. He went after +her. Ask him why. + +"You are an old fool with a young wife. She loves your money, not you; +she despises you because you are a City man; and she loves Mr. +Colquhoun." + +He sat alone in his study after dinner, reading these wretched things, +in misery of soul. And a thought came across him. + +"I will go and see Colquhoun," he said. "I will talk to him, and ask +him what is this secret." + +It was about ten o'clock. He put on his hat and took a cab to +Colquhoun's chambers. + +On that day Lawrence Colquhoun was ill at ease. It was borne in upon +him with especial force--probably because it was one of the sultry and +thunderous days when Conscience has it all her own disagreeable +way--that he was and had been an enormous Ass. By some accident he was +acquainted with the fact that he had given rise to talk by his +frequent visits to Victoria Cassilis. + +"And to think," he said to himself, "that I only went there at her own +special request, and because she likes quarrelling!" + +He began to think of possible dangers, not to himself, but to her and +to her husband, even old stories revived and things forgotten and +brought to light. And the thing which she had done came before him in +its real shape and ghastliness--a bad and ugly thing; a thing for +whose sake he should have fled from her presence and avoided her; a +thing which he was guilty in hiding. No possible danger to himself? +Well, in some sense none; in every other sense all dangers. He had +known of this thing, and yet he sat at her table; he was conscious of +the crime, and yet he was seen with her in public places; he was +almost _particeps criminis_, because he did not tell what he knew; and +yet he went day after day to her house--for the pleasure of +quarrelling with her. + +He sat down and wrote to her. He told her that perhaps she did not +wholly understand him when he told her that the renewed acquaintance +between them must cease; that, considering the past and with an eye to +the future, he was going to put it out of her power to compromise +herself by seeing her no more. He reminded her that she had a great +secret to keep unknown, and a great position to lose; and then he +begged her to give up her wild attempts at renewing the old ties of +friendship. + +The letter, considering what the secret really was, seemed a wretched +mockery to the writer, but he signed it and sent it by his servant. + +Then he strolled to his club, and read the papers before dinner. But +he was not easy. There was upon him the weight of impending +misfortune. He dined, and tried to drown care in claret, but with poor +success, Then he issued forth--it was nine o'clock and still +light--and walked gently homewards. + +He walked so slowly that it was half-past nine when he let himself +into his chambers in the Albany. His servant was out, and the rooms +looked dismal and lonely. They were not dismal, being on the second +floor, where it is light and airy, and being furnished as mediæval +bachelorhood with plenty of money alone understands furniture. But he +was nervous to-night, and grim stories came into his mind of spectres +and strange visitors to lonely men in chambers. Such things happen +mostly, he remembered, on twilight evenings in midsummer. He was quite +right. The only ghost I ever saw myself was in one of the Inns of +Court, in chambers, at nine o'clock on a June evening. + +He made haste to light a lamp--no such abomination as gas was +permitted in Lawrence Colquhoun's chambers: it was one of the silver +reading-lamps, good for small tables, and provided with a green shade, +so that the light might fall in a bright circle, which was Cimmertian +blackness shading off into the sepia of twilight. It was his habit, +too, to have lighted candles on the mantelshelf and on a table; but +to-night he forgot them, so that, except for the light cast upwards by +the gas in the court and an opposite window illuminated, and for the +half-darkness of the June evening, the room was dark. It was very +quiet, too. There was no footsteps in the court below, and no voices +or steps in the room near him. His nearest neighbour, young Lord +Orlebar, would certainly not be home, much before one or two, when he +might return with a few friends connected with the twin services of +the army and the ballet for a little cheerful supper. Below him was +old Sir Richard de Counterpane, who was by this time certainly in bed, +and perhaps sound asleep. Very quiet--he had never known it more +quiet; and he began to feel as if it would be a relief to his nerves +were something or somebody to make a little noise. + +He took a novel, one that he had begun a week ago. Whether the novel +of the day is inferior to the novel of Colquhoun's youth, or whether +he was a bad reader of fiction, certainly he had been more than a week +over the first volume alone. + +Now it interested him less than ever. + +He threw it away and lit a cigar. And then his thoughts went back to +Victoria. What was the devil which possessed the woman that she could +not rest quiet? What was the meaning of this madness upon her? + +"A cold--an Arctic woman," Lawrence murmured. "Cold when I told her +how much I loved her; cold when she engaged herself to me; cold in her +crime; and yet she follows me about as if she was devoured by the +ardour of love, like another Sappho." + +It was not that, Lawrence Colquhoun; it was the _spretæ injuria +formæ_, the jealousy and hatred caused by the lost power. + +"I wish," he said, starting to his feet, and walking like the Polar +bear across his den and back again, "I wish to heaven I had gone on +living in the Empire City with my pair of villainous Chinamen. At +least I was free from her over there. And when I saw her marriage, by +Gad! I thought it was a finisher. Then I came home again." + +He stopped in his retrospection, because he heard a foot upon the +stairs. + +A woman's foot; a light step and a quick step. + +"May be De Counterpane's nurse. Too early for one of young Orlebar's +friends. Can't be anybody for me." + +But it was; and a woman stopped at his doorway, and seeing him alone, +stepped in. + +She had a hooded cloak thrown about an evening-dress; the hood was +drawn completely over her face, so that you could see nothing of it in +the dim light. And she came in without a word. + +Then Colquhoun, who was no coward, felt his blood run cold, because he +knew by her figure and by her step that it was Victoria Cassilis. + +She threw back the hood with a gesture almost theatrical, and stood +before him with parted lips and flashing eyes. + +His spirits rallied a little then, because he saw that her face was +white, and that she was in a royal rage. Lawrence Colquhoun could +tackle a woman in a rage. That is indeed elementary, and nothing at +all to be proud of. The really difficult thing is to tackle a woman in +tears and distress. The stoutest heart quails before such an +enterprise. + +"What is this?" she began, with a rush as of the liberated whirlwind. +"What does this letter mean, Lawrence?" + +"Exactly what it says, Mrs. Cassilis. May I ask, is it customary for +married ladies to visit single gentlemen in their chambers, and at +night?" + +"It is not usual for--married--ladies--to visit--single--gentlemen, +Lawrence. Do not ask foolish questions. Tell me what this means, I +say." + +"It means that my visits to your house have been too frequent, and +that they will be discontinued. In other words, Mrs. Cassilis, the +thing has gone too far, and I shall cease to be seen with you. I +suppose you know that people will talk." + +"Let them talk. What do I care how people talk? Lawrence, if you think +that I am going to let you go like this, you are mistaken." + +"I believe this poor lady has gone mad," said Lawrence quietly. It was +not the best way to quiet and soothe her, but he could not help +himself. + +"You think you are going to play fast and loose with me twice in my +life, and you are mistaken. You shall not. Years ago you showed me +what you are--cold, treacherous, and crafty----" + +"Go on, Victoria; I like that kind of thing, because now I know that +you are not mad. Quite in your best style." + +"And I forgave you when you returned, and allowed you once more to +visit me. What other woman would have acted so to such a man?" + +"Yet she must be mad," said Lawrence. "How else could she talk such +frightful rubbish?" + +"Once more we have been friends. Again you have drawn me on, until I +have learned to look to you, for the second time, for the appreciation +denied to me by my--Mr. Cassilis. No, sir; this second desertion must +not and shall not be." + +"One would think," said Lawrence helplessly, "that we had not +quarrelled every time we met. Now, Mrs. Cassilis, you have my +resolution. What you please, in your sweet romantic way, to call +second desertion must be and shall be." + +"Then I will know the reason why?" + +"I have told you the reason why. Don't be a fool, Mrs. Cassilis. Ask +yourself what you want. Do you want me to run away with you? I am a +lazy man, I know, and I generally do what people ask me to do; but as +for that thing, I am damned if I do it!" + +"Insult me, Lawrence!" she cried, sinking into a chair. "Swear at me, +as you will." + +"Do you wish me to philander about your house like a ridiculous tame +cat, till all the world cries out?" + +She started to her feet. + +"No!" she cried. "I care nothing about your coming and going. But I +know why--Oh, I know why!--you make up this lame excuse about my good +name--_my_ good name! As if you cared about that!" + +"More than you cared about it yourself," he retorted, "But pray go +on." + +"It is Phillis Fleming; I saw it from the very first. You began by +taking her away from me and placing her with your cousin, where you +could have her completely under your own influence. You let Jack +Dunquerque hang about her at first, just to show the ignorant creature +what was meant by flirtation, and then you send him about his +business. Lawrence, you are more wicked than I thought you." + +"Jealousy, by Gad!" he cried. "Did ever mortal man hear of such a +thing? Jealousy! And after all that she has done----" + +"I warn you. You may do a good many things. You may deceive and insult +me in any way except one. But you shall never, never marry Phillis +Fleming!" + +Colquhoun was about to reply that he never thought of marrying Phillis +Fleming, but it occurred to him that there was no reason for making +that assertion. So he replied nothing. + +"I escaped," she said, "under pretence of being ill. And I made them +fetch me a cab to come away in. My cab is at the Burlington Gardens +end of the court now. Before I go you shall make me a promise, +Lawrence--you used to keep your promises--to act as if this miserable +letter had not been written." + +"I shall promise nothing of the kind." + +"Then remember, Lawrence--you _shall never marry Phillis Fleming_! Not +if I have to stop it by proclaiming my own disgrace--you shall not +marry that girl, or any other girl. I have that power over you, at any +rate. Now I shall go." + +"There is some one on the stairs," said Lawrence quietly. + +"Perhaps he is coming here. You had better not be seen. Best go into +the other room and wait." + +There was only one objection to her waiting in the other room, and +that was that the door was on the opposite side; that the outer oak +was wide open; that the step upon the stairs was already the step upon +the landing; and that the owner of the step was already entering the +room. + +Mrs. Cassilis instinctively shrank back into the darkest corner--that +near the window. The curtains were of some light-coloured stuff. She +drew them closely round her and cowered down, covering her head with +the hood, like Guinevere before her injured lord. For the late caller +was no other than her own husband, Gabriel Cassilis. + +As he stood in the doorway the light of the reading-lamp--Mrs. +Cassilis in one of her gestures had tilted up the shade--fell upon his +pale face and stooping form. Colquhoun noticed that he stooped more +than usual, and that his grave face bore an anxious look--such a look +as one sees sometimes in the faces of men who have long suffered +grievous bodily pain. He hesitated for a moment, tapping his knuckles +with his double eyeglasses, his habitual gesture. + +"I came up this evening, Colquhoun. Are you quite alone?" + +"As you see, Mr. Cassilis," said Colquhoun. He looked hastily round +the room. In the corner he saw the dim outline of the crouching form. +He adjusted the shade, and turned the lamp a little lower. The gas in +the chambers on the other side of the narrow court was put out, and +the room was almost dark. "As you see, Mr. Cassilis. And what gives me +the pleasure of this late call from you?" + +"I thought I would come--I came to say----" he stopped helplessly, and +threw himself into a chair. It was a chair standing near the corner in +which his wife was crouching; and he pushed it back until he might +have heard her breathing close to his ear, and, if he had put forth +his hand, might have touched her. + +"Glad to see you always, Mr. Cassilis. You came to speak about some +money matters? I have an engagement in five minutes; but we shall have +time, I dare say." + +"An engagement? Ah! a lady, perhaps." This with a forced laugh, +because he was thinking of his wife. + +"A lady? Yes--yes, a lady." + +"Young men--young men----" said Gabriel Cassilis. "Well, I will not +keep you. I came here to speak to you about--about my wife." + +"O Lord!" cried Lawrence. "I beg your pardon--about Mrs. Cassilis?" + +"Yes; it is a very stupid business. You have known her for a long +time." + +"I have, Mr. Cassilis; for nearly eight years." + +"Ah, old friends; and once, I believe, people thought----" + +"Once, Mr. Cassilis, I myself thought--I cannot tell you what I +thought Victoria Pengelley might be to me. But that is over long +since." + +"One for her," thought Lawrence, whose nerves were steady in danger. +His two listeners trembled and shook, but from different causes. + +"Over long since," repeated Gabriel Cassilis. "There was nothing in +it, then?" + +"We were two persons entirely dissimilar in disposition, Mr. +Cassilis," Lawrence replied evasively. "Perhaps I was not worthy of +her--her calm, clear judgment." + +"Another for her," he thought, with a chuckle. The situation would +have pleased him but that he felt sorry for the poor man. + +"Victoria is outwardly cold, yet capable of the deepest emotions. It +is on her account, Colquhoun, that I come here. Foolish gossip has +been at work, connecting your names. I think it the best thing, +without saying anything to Victoria, who must never suspect----" + +"Never suspect," echoed Colquhoun. + +"That I ever heard this absurdity. But we must guard her from calumny, +Colquhoun. Cæsar's wife, you know; and--and--I think that, perhaps, if +you were to be a little less frequent in your calls--and----" + +"I quite understand, Mr. Cassilis; and I am not in the least offended. +I assure you most sincerely--I wish Mrs. Cassilis were here to +listen--that I am deeply sorry for having innocently put you to the +pain of saying this. However, the world shall have no further cause of +gossip." + +No motion or sign from the dark corner where the hiding woman +crouched. + +Mr. Cassilis rose and tapped his knuckles with his glasses. "Thank +you, Colquhoun. It is good of you to take this most unusual request so +kindly. With such a wife as mine jealousy would be absurd. But I have +to keep her name from even a breath--even a breath." + +"Quite right, Mr. Cassilis." + +He looked round the room. + +"Snug quarters for a bachelor--ah! I lived in lodgings always myself. +I thought I heard a woman's voice as I came up-stairs." + +"From Sir Richard de Counterpane's rooms down stairs, perhaps. His +nurses, I suppose. The poor old man is getting infirm." + +"Ay--ay; and your bedroom is there, I suppose?" + +Lawrence took the lamp and opened the door. It was a bare, badly +furnished room, with a little camp-bedstead, and nothing else hardly. +For Lawrence kept his luxurious habits for the day. + +Was it pure curiosity that made Gabriel Cassilis look all round the +room? + +"Ah, hermit-like. Now, I like a large bed. However, I am very glad I +came. One word, Colquhoun, is better than a thousand letters; and you +are sure you do not misunderstand me?" + +"Quite," said Lawrence, taking his hat. "I am going out, too." + +"No jealousy at all," said Gabriel Cassilis, going down the stairs. + +"Certainly not." + +"Nothing but a desire to--to----" + +"I understand perfectly," said Lawrence. + +As they descended, Lawrence heard steps on the stairs behind them. +They were not yet, then, out of danger. + +"Very odd," said Mr. Cassilis. "Coming up I heard a woman's voice. Now +it seems as if there were a woman's feet." + +"Nerves, perhaps," said Colquhoun. The steps above them stopped. "I +hear nothing." + +"Nor do I. Nerves--ah, yes--nerves." + +Mr. Cassilis turned to the left, Colquhoun with him. Behind them he +saw the cloaked and hooded figure of Victoria Cassilis. At the +Burlington Gardens end a cab was waiting. Near the horse's head stood +a woman's figure which Lawrence thought he knew. As they passed her +this woman, whoever she was, covered her face with a handkerchief. And +at the same moment the cab drove by rapidly. Gabriel Cassilis saw +neither woman nor cab. He was too happy to notice anything. There was +nothing in it; nothing at all except mischievous gossip. And he had +laid the Ghost. + +"Dear me!" he said to himself presently, "I forgot to ask about the +Secret. But of course there is none. How should there be?" + +Next morning there came another letter. + + "You have been fooled worse than ever," it said. "Your wife was in + Mr. Colquhoun's chambers the whole time that you were there. She + came down the stairs after you; she passed through the gate, + almost touching you, and she drove past you in a hansom cab. _I + know the number_, and will give it to you when the time comes. + Mr. Colquhoun lied to you. How long? How long?" + +It should have been a busy day in the City. To begin with, it only +wanted four days to settling-day. Telegrams and letters poured in, and +they lay unopened on the desk at which Gabriel Cassilis sat, with this +letter before him, mad with jealousy and rage. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + "'Come now,' the Master Builder cried, + 'The twenty years of work are done; + Flaunt forth the Flag, and crown with pride + The Glory of the Coping-Stone.'" + + +Jack Dunquerque was to "slack off" his visits to Twickenham. That is +to say, as he interpreted the injunction, he was not wholly to +discontinue them, in order not to excite suspicion. But he was not to +haunt the house; he was to make less frequent voyages up the silver +Thames; he was not to ride in leafy lanes side by side with +Phillis--without having Phillis by his side he cared little about +leafy lanes, and would rather be at the club; further, by these +absences he was to leave off being necessary to the brightness of her +life. + +It was a hard saying. Nevertheless, the young man felt that he had +little reason for complaint. Other fellows he knew, going after other +heiresses, had been quite peremptorily sent about their business for +good, particularly needy young men like himself. All that Colquhoun +extorted of him was that he should "slack off." He felt, in a manner, +grateful, although had he been a youth of quicker perception, he would +have remembered that the lover who "slacks off" can be no other than +the lover who wishes he had not begun. But nobody ever called Jack a +clever young man. + +He was not to give her up altogether. He was not even to give up +hoping. He was to have his chance with the rest. But he was warned +that no chance was to be open to him until the young lady should enter +upon her first season. + +Not to give up seeing her. That was everything. Jack Dunquerque had +hitherto lived the life of all young men, careless and _insouciant_, +with its little round of daily pleasures. He was only different from +other young men that he had learned, partly from a sympathetic nature +and partly by travel, not to put all his pleasure in that life about +town and in country houses which seems to so many the one thing which +the world has to offer. He who has lived out on the Prairies for weeks +has found that there are other pleasures besides the gas-light joys of +Town. But his life had been without thought and purposeless--a very +chaos of a life. And now he felt vaguely that his whole being was +changed. To be with Phillis day after day, to listen to the +outpourings of her freshness and innocence, brought to him the same +sort of refreshment as sitting under the little cataract of a mountain +stream brings to one who rambles in a hot West Indian island. Things +for which he once cared greatly he now cared for no more; the +club-life, the cards, and the billiards ceased to interest him; he +took no delight in them. Perhaps it was a proof of a certain weakness +of nature in Jack Dunquerque that he could not at the same time love +things in which Phillis took no part and the things which made the +simple pleasures of her every-day life. + +He might have been weak, and yet, whether he was weak or strong, he +knew that she leaned upon him. He was so sympathetic; he seemed to +know so much; he decided so quickly; he was in his way so masterful, +that the girl looked up to him as a paragon of wisdom and strength. + +I think she will always so regard him, because the knowledge of her +respect raises Jack daily in moral and spiritual strength, and so her +hero approaches daily to her ideal. What is the highest love worth if +it have not the power of lifting man and woman together up to the +higher levels, where the air is purer, the sunshine brighter, the +vision clearer? + +But Colquhoun's commands had wrought a further change in him; that +ugly good-looking face of his, which Agatha L'Estrange admired so +much, and which was wont to be wreathed with a multitudinous smile, +was now doleful. To the world of mankind--male mankind--the chief +charm of Jack Dunquerque, the main cause of his popularity--his +unvarying cheerfulness--was vanished. + +"You ought to be called Doleful Jack," said Ladds. "Jack of Rueful +Countenance." + +"You don't know, Tommy," replied the lover, sorrowfully wagging his +head. "I've seen Colquhoun; and he won't have it. Says I must wait." + +"He's waited till forty. I've waited to five and thirty, and we're +both pretty jolly. Come, young un, you may take courage by our +examples." + +"You never met Phil when you were five and twenty," said Jack. "Nobody +ever saw a girl like Phillis." + +Five and thirty seems so great an age to five and twenty. And at five +and thirty one feels so young, that it comes upon the possessor of so +many years like a shock of cold water to be reminded that he is really +no longer young. + +One good thing--Lawrence Colquhoun did not reproach him. Partly +perhaps because, as a guardian, he did not thoroughly realize Jack's +flagitious conduct; partly because he was an easy-going man, with a +notion in his head that he had nothing to do with the work of Duennas +and Keepers of the Gynæceum. He treated the confessions of the +remorseful lover with a cheery contempt--passed them by; no great harm +had been done; and the girl was but a child. + +His own conscience it was which bullied Jack so tremendously. One day +he rounded on his accuser like the poor worm in the proverb, who might +perhaps have got safe back to its hole but for that ill-advised +turning. He met the charges like a man. He pleaded that, criminal as +he had been, nefarious and inexcusable as his action was, this action +had given him a very high time; and that, if it was all to do over +again, he should probably alter his conduct only in degree, but not in +kind; that is to say, he would see Phillis oftener and stay with her +longer. Conscience knocked him out of time in a couple of rounds; but +still he did have the satisfaction of showing fight. + +Of course he would do the same thing again. There has never been found +by duenna, by guardian, by despotic parent, or by interested relation, +any law of restraint strong enough to keep apart two young people of +the opposite sex and like age, after they have once become attracted +towards each other. Prudence and prudery, jealousy and interest, never +have much chance. The ancient dames of duennadom may purse their +withered lips and wrinkle their crow's-footed eyes; Love, the +unconquered, laughs and conquers again. + +It is of no use to repeat long explanations about Phillis. Such as she +was, we know her--a law unto herself; careless of prohibitions and +unsuspicious of danger. Like Una, she wandered unprotected and +fearless among whatever two-legged wolves, bears, eagles, lions, +vultures and other beasts and birds of prey might be anxiously waiting +to snap her up. Jack was the great-hearted lion who was to bear her +safely through the wistful growls of the meaner beasts. The lion is +not clever like the fox or the beaver, but one always conceives of him +as a gentleman, and therefore fit to be entrusted with such a +beautiful maiden as Una or Phillis. And if Jack was quietly allowed to +carry off his treasure it was Agatha L'Estrange who was chiefly to +blame; and she, falling in love with Jack herself, quite in a motherly +way, allowed the wooing to go on under her very nose. "A bad, bad +woman," as Lawrence Colquhoun called her. + +But such a wooing! Miss Ethel Citybredde, when she sees Amandus making +a steady but not an eagerly impetuous advance in her direction at a +ball, feels her languid pulses beat a little faster. "He is coming +after Me," she says to herself, with pride. They snatch a few moments +to sit together in a conservatory. He offers no remark worthy of +repetition, nor does she; yet she thinks to herself, "He is going to +ask me to marry him; he will kiss me; there will be a grand wedding; +everybody will be pleased; other girls will be envious; and I shall be +delighted. Papa knows that he is well off and well connected. How +charming!" + +Now Phillis allowed her lover to woo her without one thought of love +or marriage, of which, indeed, she knew nothing. But if the passion +was all on one side, the affection was equally divided. And when Jack +truly said that Phillis did not love him, he forgot that she had given +him already all that she knew of love; in that her thoughts, which on +her first emancipation leaped forth, bounding and running in all +directions with a wild yearning to behold the Great Unknown, were now +returning to herself, and mostly flowed steadily, like streams of +electric influence, in the direction of Jack; inasmuch as she referred +unconsciously everything to Jack, as she dressed for him, drew for +him, pored diligently over hated reading-books for him, and told him +all her thoughts. + +I have not told, nor can I tell, of the many walks and talks these two +young people had together. Day after day Jack's boat--that comfortable +old tub, in which he could, and often did, cut a crab without spilling +the contents into the river--lay moored off Agatha's lawn, or rolled +slowly up and down the river, Jack rowing, while Phillis steered, +sang, talked, and laughed. This was pleasant in the morning; but it +was far more pleasant in the evening, when the river was so quiet, so +still and so black, and when thoughts crowded into the girl's brain, +which fled like spirits when she tried to put them into words. + +Or they rode together along the leafy roads through Richmond Park, and +down by that unknown region, far away from the world, where heron rise +up from the water's edge, where the wild fowl fly above the lake in +figures which remind one of Euclid's definitions, and the deer collect +in herds among great ferns half as high as themselves. There they +would let the horses walk, while Phillis, with the slender curving +lines of her figure, her dainty dress which fitted it so well, and her +sweet face, made the heart of her lover hungry; and when she turned to +speak to him, and he saw in the clear depths of her eyes his own face +reflected, his passion grew almost too much for him to bear. + +A delicate dainty maiden, who was yet of strong and healthy +_physique_; one who did not disdain to own a love for cake and +strawberries, cream and ices, and other pleasant things; who had no +young-ladyish affectations; who took life eagerly, not languidly. And +not a coward, as many maidens boast to be; she ruled her horse with a +rein as firm as Jack Dunquerque, and sat him as steadily; she clinched +her little fingers and set her lips hard when she heard a tale of +wrong; her eyes lit up and her bosom heaved when she heard of heroic +gest; she was strong to endure and to do. Not every girl would, as +Phillis did, rise in the morning at five to train her untaught eyes +and hand over those little symbols by which we read and write; not +every girl would patiently begin at nineteen the mechanical drudgery +of the music-lesson. And she did this in confidence, because Jack +asked her every day about her lessons, and Agatha L'Estrange was +pleased. + +The emotion which is the next after, and worse than that of love, is +sympathy. Phillis passed through the stages of curiosity and knowledge +before she arrived at the stage of sympathy. Perhaps she was not far +from the highest stage of all. + +She learned something every day, and told Jack what it was. Sometimes +it was an increase in her knowledge of evil. Jack, who was by no means +so clever as his biographer, thought that a pity. His idea was the +common one--that a maiden should be kept innocent of the knowledge of +evil. I think Jack took a prejudiced, even a Philistine, view of the +case. He put himself on the same level as the Frenchman who keeps his +daughter out of mischief by locking her up in a convent. It is not the +knowledge of evil that hurts, any more than the knowledge of +black-beetles, earwigs, slugs, and other crawling things; the pure in +spirit cast it off, just as the gardener who digs and delves among his +plants washes his hands and is clean. The thing that hurts is the +suspicion and constant thought of evil; the loveliest and most divine +creature in the world is she who neither commits any ill, nor thinks +any, nor suspects others of ill--who has a perfect pity for +backsliders, and a perfect trust in the people around her. Unfortunate +it is that experience of life turns pity to anger, and trust into +hesitation. + +Or they would be out upon Agatha's lawn, playing croquet, to which +that good lady still adhered, or lawn-tennis, which she tolerated. +There would be the curate--he had abandoned that design of getting up +_all_ about Laud, but was madly, ecclesiastically madly, in love +with Phillis; there would be occasionally Ladds, who, in his heavy, +kindly way, pleased this young May Queen. Besides, Ladds was fond of +Jack. There would be Gilead Beck in the straightest of frock coats, +and on the most careful behaviour; there would be also two or three +young ladies, compared with whom Phillis was as Rosalind at the court +of her uncle, or as Esther among the damsels of the Persian king's +seraglio, so fresh and so incomparably fair. + +"Mrs. L'Estrange," Jack whispered one day, "I am going to say a rude +thing. Did you pick out the other girls on purpose to set off +Phillis?" + +"What a shame, Jack!" said Agatha, who like the rest of the world +called him by what was not his Christian name. "The girls are very +nice--not so pretty as Phillis, but good-looking, all of them. I call +them as pretty a set of girls as you would be likely to see on any +lawn this season." + +"Yes," said Jack; "only you see they are all alike, and Phillis is +different." + +That was it--Phillis was different. The girls were graceful, pleasant, +and well bred. But Phillis was all this, and more. The others followed +the beaten track, in which the strength of life is subdued and its +intensity forbidden. Phillis was in earnest about everything, quietly +in earnest; not openly bent on enjoyment, like the young ladies who +run down Greenwich Hill, for instance, but in her way making others +feel something of what she felt herself. Her intensity was visible in +the eager face, the mobile flashes of her sensitive lips, and her +brightening eyes. And, most unlike her neighbours, she even forgot her +own dress, much as she loved the theory and practice of dress, when +once she was interested, and was careless about theirs. + +It was not pleasant for the minor stars. They felt in a vague +uncomfortable way that Phillis was far more attractive; they said to +each other that she was strange; one who pretended to know more French +than the others said that she was _farouche_. + +She was not in the least _farouche_, and the young lady her +calumniator did not understand the adjective; but _farouche_ she +continued to be among the maidens of Twickenham and Richmond. + +Jack Dunquerque heard the epithet applied on one occasion, and burst +out laughing. + +Phillis _farouche_! Phillis, without fear and without suspicion! + +But then they do teach French so badly at girls' schools. And so poor +Phillis remained ticketed with the adjective which least of any +belonged to her. + +A pleasant six weeks from April to June, while the late spring +blossomed and flowered into summer; a time to remember all his life +afterwards with the saddened joy which, despite Dante's observation, +does still belong to the memory of past pleasures. + +But every pleasant time passes, and the six weeks were over. + +Jack was to "slack off." The phrase struck him, applied to himself and +Phillis, as simply in bad taste; but the meaning was plain. He was to +present himself at Twickenham with less frequency. + +Accordingly he began well by going there the very next day. The new +_régime_ has to be commenced somehow, and Jack began his at once. +He pulled up in his tub. It was a cloudy and windy day; drops of rain +fell from time to time; the river was swept by sudden gusts which came +driving down the stream, marked by broad black patches; there were no +other boats out, and Jack struggled upwards against the current; the +exercise at least was a relief to the oppression of his thoughts. + +What was he to do with himself after the "slacking off" had +begun--after that day, in fact? The visits might drop to twice a week, +then once a week, and then? But surely Colquhoun would be satisfied +with such a measure of self-denial. In the intervals--say from +Saturday to Saturday--he could occupy himself in thinking about her. +He might write to her--would that be against the letter of the law? It +was clearly against the spirit. And--another consideration--it was no +use writing unless he wrote in printed characters, and in words of not +more than two syllables. He thought of such a love-letter, and of +Phillis gravely spelling it out word by word to Mrs. L'Estrange. For +poor Phillis had not as yet accustomed herself to look on the printed +page as a vehicle for thought, although Agatha read to her every day. +She regarded it as the means of conveying to the reader facts such as +the elementary reading-book delights to set forth; so dry that the +adult reader, if a woman, presently feels the dust in her eyes, and if +a man, is fain to get up and call wildly for quarts of bitter beer. +No; Phillis was not educated up to the reception of a letter. + +He would, he thought, sit in the least-frequented room of his +club--the drawing-room--and with a book of some kind before him, just +for a pretence, would pass the leaden hours in thinking of Phillis's +perfections. Heavens! when was there a moment, by day or by night, +that he did not think of them? + +Bump! It was the bow of the ship, which knew by experience very well +when to stop, and grounded herself without any conscious volition on +his part at the accustomed spot. + +Jack jumped out, and fastened the painter to the tree to which Phillis +had once tied him. Then he strode across the lawns and flower-beds, +and made for the little morning-room, where he hoped to find the +ladies. + +He found one of them. Fortune sometimes favors lovers. It was the +younger one--Phillis herself. + +She was bending over her work with brush and colour-box, looking as +serious as if all her future depended on the success of that +particular picture; beside her, tossed contemptuously aside, lay the +much-despised Lesson-Book in Reading; for she had done her daily task. +She did not hear Jack step in at the open window, and went on with her +painting. + +She wore a dress made of that stuff which looks like brown holland +till you come close to it, and then you think it is silk, but are not +quite certain, and I believe they call it Indian tussore. Round her +dainty waist was a leathern belt set in silver with a châtelaine, like +a small armoury of deadly weapons; and for colour she had a crimson +ribbon about her neck. To show that the ribbon was not entirely meant +for vanity, but had its uses, Phillis had slung upon it a cross of +Maltese silver-work, which I fear Jack had given her himself. And +below the cross, where her rounded figure showed it off, she had +placed a little bunch of sweet peas. Such a dainty damsel! Not content +with the flower in her dress, she had stuck a white jasamine-blossom +in her hair. All these things Jack noted with speechless admiration. + +Then she began to sing in a low voice, all to herself, a little French +ballad which Mrs. L'Estrange had taught her--one of the sweet old +French songs. + +She was painting in the other window, at a table drawn up to face it. +The curtains were partly pulled together, and the blind was half drawn +down, so that she sat in a subdued light, in which only her face was +lit up, like the faces in a certain kind of photograph, while her hair +and figure lay in shadow. The hangings were of some light-rose hue, +which tinted the whole room, and threw a warm colouring over the +old-fashioned furniture, the pictures, the books, the flowers on the +tables, and the ferns in their glasses. Mrs. L'Estrange was no +follower after the new school. Neutral tints had small charms for her; +she liked the warmth and glow of the older fashion in which she had +been brought up. + +It looked to Jack Dunquerque like some shrine dedicated to peace and +love, with Phillis for its priestess--or even its goddess. Outside the +skies were grey; the wind swept down the river with driving rain; here +was warmth, colour, and brightness. So he stood still and watched. + +And as he waited an overwhelming passion of love seized him. If the +world was well lost for Antony when he threw it all away for a queen +no longer young, and the mother of one son at least almost grown up, +what would it have been had his Cleopatra welcomed him in all the +splendour of her white Greek beauty at sweet seventeen? There was no +world to be lost for this obscure cadet of a noble house, but all the +world to be won. His world was before his eyes; it was an unconscious +maid, ignorant of her own surpassing worth, and of the power of her +beauty. To win her was to be the lord of all the world he cared for. + +Presently she laid down her brush, and raised her head. Then she +pushed aside the curtains, and looked out upon the gardens. The rain +drove against the windows, and the wind beat about the branches of the +lilacs on the lawn. She shivered, and pulled the curtains together +again. + +"I wish Jack were here," she said to herself. + +"He is here, Phil," Jack replied. + +She looked round, and darted across the room, catching him by both +hands. + +"Jack! Oh, I am glad! There is nobody at home. Agatha has gone up to +town, and I am quite alone. What shall we do this afternoon?" + +Clearly the right thing for him to propose was that he should +instantly leave the young lady, and row himself back to Richmond. +This, however, was not what he did propose. On the contrary, he kept +Phillis's hands in his, and held them tight, looking in her upturned +face, where he saw nothing but undisguised joy at his appearance. + +"Shall we talk? Shall I play to you? Shall I draw you a picture? What +shall we do, Jack?" + +"Well, Phil, I think--perhaps--we had better talk." + +Something in his voice struck her; she looked at him sharply. + +"What has happened, Jack? You do not look happy." + +"Nothing, Phil--nothing but what I might have expected." But he looked +so dismal that it was quite certain he had not expected it. + +"Tell me, Jack." + +He shook his head. + +"Jack, what _is_ the good of being friends if you won't tell me +what makes you unhappy?" + +"I don't know how to tell you, Phil. I don't see a way to begin." + +"Sit down, and begin somehow." She placed him comfortably in the +largest chair in the room, and then she stood in front of him, and +looked in his face with compassionate eyes. The sight of those +deep-brown orbs, so full of light and pity, smote her lover with a +kind of madness. "What is it makes people unhappy? Are you ill?" + +He shook his head, and laughed. + +"No, Phil; I am never ill. You see, I am not exactly unhappy----" + +"But Jack, you look so dismal." + +"Yes, that is it; I am a little dismal. No. Phil--no. I am really +unhappy, and you are the cause." + +"I the cause? But, Jack, why?" + +"I had a talk with your guardian, Lawrence Colquhoun, yesterday. It +was all about you. And he wants me--not to come here so often, in +fact. And I musn't come." + +"But why not? What does Lawrence mean?" + +"That is just what I cannot explain to you. You must try to forgive +me." + +"Forgive you, Jack?" + +"You see, Phil, I have behaved badly from the beginning. I ought not +to have called upon you as I did in Carnarvon Square; I ought not to +have let you call me Jack, nor should I have called you Phil. It is +altogether improper in the eyes of the world." + +She was silent for a while. + +"Perhaps I have known, Jack, that it was a little unusual. Other girls +haven't got a Jack Dunquerque, have they? Poor things! That is all you +mean, isn't it, Jack?" + +"Phil, don't look at me like that! You don't know--you can't +understand--No; it is more than unusual; it is quite wrong." + +"I have done nothing wrong," the girl said proudly. "If I had, my +conscience would make me unhappy. But I do begin to understand what +you mean. Last week Agatha asked me if I was not thinking too much +about you. And the curate made me laugh because he said, quite by +himself in a corner, you know, that Mr. Dunquerque was a happy man; +and when I asked him, why he turned very red, and said it was because +I had given to him what all the world would long to have. He meant, +Jack----" + +"I wish he was here," Jack cried hotly, "for me to wring his neck!" + +"And one day Laura Herries----" + +"That's the girl who said you were _farouche_, Phil. Go on." + +"Was talking to Agatha about some young lady who had got compromised +by a gentleman's attentions. I asked why, and she replied quite +sharply that if I did not know, no one could know. Then she got up and +went away. Agatha was angry about it, I could see; but she only said +something about understanding when I come out." + +"Miss Herries ought to have her neck wrung, too, as well as the +curate," said Jack. + +"Compromise--improper." Phil beat her little foot on the floor. "What +does it all mean? Jack, tell me--what is this wrong thing that you and +I have done?" + +"Not you, Phil; a thousand times not you." + +"Then I do not care much what other people say," she replied simply. +"Do you know, Jack, it seems to me as if we never ought to care for +what people, besides people we love, say about us." + +"But it is I who have done wrong," said Jack. + +"Have you, Jack? Oh, then I forgive you. I think I know you. You +should have come to me with an unreal smile on your face, and +pretended the greatest deference to my opinion, even when you knew it +wasn't worth having. That is what the curate does to young ladies. I +saw him yesterday taking Miss Herries's opinion on Holman Hunt's +picture. She said it was 'sweetly pretty.' He said, 'Do you really +think so?' in such a solemn voice, as if he wasn't quite sure that the +phrase summed up the whole picture, but was going to think it over +quietly. Don't laugh, Jack, because I cannot read like other people, +and all I have to go by is what Mr. Dyson told me, and Agatha tells +me, and what I see--and--and what you tell me, Jack, which is worth +all the rest to me." + +The tears came into her eyes, but only for a moment, and she brushed +them aside. + +"And I forgive you, Jack, all the more because you did not treat me as +you would have treated the girls who seem to me so lifeless and +languid, and--Jack, it may be wrong to say it, but Oh, so small! What +compliment could you have paid me better than to single me out for +your friend--you who have seen so much and done so much--my +friend--mine? We were friends from the first, were we not? And I have +never since hidden anything from you, Jack, and never will." + +He kept it down still, this mighty yearning that filled his heart, but +he could not bear to look her in the face. Every word that she said +stabbed him like a knife, because it showed her childish innocence and +her utter unconsciousness of what her words might mean. + +And then she laid her little hand in his. + +"And now you have compromised me, as they would say? What does it +matter Jack? We can go on always just the same as we have been doing, +can we not?" + +He shook his head and answered huskily, "No, Phil. Your guardian will +not allow it. You must obey him. He says that I am to come here less +frequently; that I must not do you--he is quite right, Phil--any more +mischief; and that you are to have your first season in London without +any ties or entanglements." + +"My guardian leaves me alone here with Agatha. It is you who have been +my real guardian, Jack. I shall do what you tell me to do." + +"I want to do what is best for you, Phil--but--Child"--he caught her +by the hands, and she half fell, half knelt at his feet, and looked up +in his eyes with her face full of trouble and emotion--"child, must I +tell you? Could not Agatha L'Estrange tell you that there is something +in the world very different from friendship? Is it left for me to +teach you? They call it Love, Phil." + +He whispered the last words. + +"Love? But I know all about it, Jack." + +"No, Phil, you know nothing. It isn't the love that you bear to Agatha +that I mean." + +"Is it the love I have for you, Jack?" she asked in all innocence. + +"It may be, Phil. Tell me only"--he was reckless now, and spoke fast +and fiercely--"tell me if you love me as I love you. Try to tell me. I +love you so much that I cannot sleep for thinking of you; and I think +of you all day long. It seems as if my life must have been a long +blank before I saw you; all my happiness is to be with you; to think +of going on without you maddens me." + +"Poor Jack!" she said softly. She did not offer to withdraw her hands, +but let them lie in his warm and tender grasp. + +"My dear, my darling--my queen and pearl of girls--who can help loving +you? And even to be with you, to have you close to me, to hold your +hands in mine, that isn't enough." + +"What more--O Jack, Jack! what more?" + +She began to tremble, and she tried to take back her hands. He let +them go, but before she could change her position he bent down, threw +his arms about her, and held her face close to his while he kissed it +a thousand times. + +"What more? My darling, my angel, this--and this! Phil, Phil! wake at +last from your long childhood; leave the Garden of Eden where you have +wandered so many years, and come out into the other world--the world +of love. My dear, my dear! can you love me a little, only a little, in +return? We are all so different from what you thought us; you will +find out some day that I am not clever and good at all; that I have +only one thing to give you--my love. Phil, Phil, answer me--speak to +me--forgive me!" + +He let her go, for she tore herself from him and sprang to her feet, +burying her face in her hands and sobbing aloud. + +"Forgive me--forgive me!" It was all that he could say. + +"Jack, what is it? what does it mean? O Jack!"--she lifted her face +and looked about her, with hands outstretched as one who feels in the +darkness; her cheeks were white and her eyes wild--"what does it mean? +what is it you have said? what is it you have done?" + +"Phil!" + +"Yes! Hush! don't speak to me--not yet, Jack. Wait a moment. My brain +is full of strange thoughts"--she put out trembling hands before her, +like one who wakes suddenly in a dream, and spoke with short, quick +breath. "Something seems to have come upon me. Help me, Jack! Oh, help +me! I am frightened." + +He took her in his arms and soothed and caressed her like a child, +while she sobbed and cried. + +"Look at me, Jack," she said presently. "Tell me, am I the same? Is +there any change in me?" + +"Yes, Phil; yes, my darling. You are changed. Your sweet eyes are full +of tears, like the skies in April; and your cheeks are pale and white. +Let me kiss them till they get their own colour again." + +He did kiss them, and she stood unresisting. But she trembled. + +"I know, Jack, now," she said softly. "It all came upon me in a +moment, when your lips touched mine. O Jack, Jack! it was as if +something snapped; as if a veil fell from my eyes. I know now what you +meant when you said just now that you loved me." + +"Do you, Phil? And can you love me, too?" + +"Yes, Jack. I will tell you when I am able to talk again. Let me sit +down. Sit with me, Jack." + +She drew him beside her on the sofa and murmured low, while he held +her hands. + +"Do you like to sit just so, holding my hands? Are you better now, +Jack? + +"Do you think, Jack, that I can have always loved you--without knowing +it all--just as you love me? O my poor Jack! + +"My heart beats so fast. And I am so happy. What have you said to me, +Jack, that I should be so happy? + +"See, the sun has come out--and the showers are over and gone--and the +birds are singing--all the sweet birds--they are singing for me, Jack, +for you and me--Oh, for you and me!" + +Her voice broke down again, and she hid her face upon her lover's +shoulder, crying happy tears. + +He called her a thousand endearing names; he told her that they would +be always together; that she had made him the happiest man in all the +world; that he loved her more than any girl ever had been loved in the +history of mankind; that she was the crown and pearl and queen of all +the women who ever lived; and then she looked up, smiling through her +tears. + +Ah, happy, happy day! Ah, day for ever to be remembered even when, if +ever, the years shall bring its fiftieth anniversary to an aged pair, +whose children and grandchildren stand around their trembling feet? +Ah, moments that live for ever in the memory of a life! They die, but +are immortal. They perish all too quickly, but they bring forth the +precious fruits of love and constancy, of trust, affection, good +works, peace, and joy, which never perish. + +"Take me on the river, Jack," she said presently. "I want to think it +all over again, and try to understand it better." + +He fetched cushion and wrapper, for the boat was wet, and placed her +tenderly in the boat. And then he began to pull gently up the stream. + +The day had suddenly changed. The morning had been gloomy and dull, +but the afternoon was bright; the strong wind was dropped for a light +cool breeze; the swans were cruising about with their lordly pretence +of not caring for things external; and the river ran clear and bright. + +They were very silent now; the girl sat in her place, looking with +full soft eyes on the wet and dripping branches or in the cool depths +of the stream. + +Presently they passed an old gentleman fishing in a punt; he was the +same old gentleman whom Phillis saw one morning--now so long ago--when +he had that little misfortune we have narrated, and tumbled backwards +in his ark. He saw them coming, and adjusted his spectacles. + +"Youth and Beauty again," he murmured. "And she's been crying. That +young fellow has said something cruel to her. Wish I could break his +head for him. The pretty creature! He'll come to a bad end, that young +man." Then he impaled an immense worm savagely and went on fishing. + +A very foolish old gentleman this. + +"I am trying to make it all out quite clearly, Jack," Phillis +presently began. "And it is so difficult." Her eyes were still bright +with tears, but she did not tremble now, and the smile was back upon +her lips. + +"My darling, let it remain difficult. Only tell me now, if you can, +that you love me." + +"Yes, Jack," she said, not in the frank and childish unconsciousness +of yesterday, but with the soft blush of a woman who is wooed. "Yes, +Jack, I know now that I do love you, as you love me, because my heart +beat when you kissed me, and I felt all of a sudden that you were all +the world to me." + +"Phil, I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you." + +"Not deserve me? O Jack, you make me feel humble when you say that! +And I am so proud. + +"So proud and so happy," she went on, after a pause. "And the girls +who know all along--how do they find it out?--want every one for +herself this great happiness, too. I have heard them talk and never +understood till now. Poor girls! I wish they had their--their own +Jack, not my Jack." + +Her lover had no words to reply. + +"Poor boy! And you went about with your secret so long. Tell me how +long, Jack?" + +"Since the very first day I saw you in Carnarvon Square, Phil." + +"All that time? Did you love me on that day--not the first day of all, +Jack? Oh, surely not the very first day?" + +"Yes; not as I love you now--now that I know you so well, my +Phillis--mine--but only then because you were so pretty." + +"Do men always fall in love with a girl because she is pretty?" + +"Yes, Phil. They begin because she is pretty, and they love her more +every day when she is so sweet and so good as my darling Phil." + +All this time Jack had been leaning on his oars, and the boat was +drifting slowly down the current. It was now close to the punt where +the old gentleman sat watching them. + +"They have made it up," he said. "That's right." And he chuckled. + +She looked dreamy and contented; the tears were gone out of her eyes, +and a sweet softness lay there, like the sunshine on a field of grass. + +"She is a rose of Sharon and a lily of the valley," said this old +gentleman. "That young fellow ought to be banished from the State for +making other people envious of his luck. Looks a good-tempered rogue, +too." + +He observed with delight that they were thinking of each other while +the boat drifted nearer to his punt. Presently--bump--bump! + +Jack seized his sculls and looked up guiltily. The old gentleman was +nodding and smiling to Phillis. + +"Made it up?" he asked most impertinently. "That is right, that is +right. Give you joy, sir, give you joy. Wish you both happiness. Wish +I had it to do all over again. God bless you, my dear!" + +His jolly red face beamed like the setting sun under his big straw +hat, and he wagged his head and laughed. + +Jack laughed too; at other times he would have thought the old angler +an extremely impertinent person. Now he only laughed. + +Then he turned the boat's head, and rowed his bride swiftly homewards. + +"Phil, I am like Jason bringing home Medea," he said, with a faint +reminiscence of classical tradition. I have explained that Jack was +not clever. + +"I hope not," said Phil; "Medea was a dreadful person." + +"Then Paris bringing home Helen--No, Phil; only your lover bringing +home the sweetest girl that ever was. And worth five and thirty +Helens." + +When they landed, Agatha L'Estrange was on the lawn waiting for them. +To her surprise, Phillis, on disembarking, took Jack by the arm, and +his hand closed over hers. Mrs. L'Estrange gasped. And in Phillis's +tear-bright eyes, she saw at last the light and glow of love; and in +Phillis's blushing face she saw the happy pride of the celestial Venus +who has met her only love. + +"Children--children!" she said, "what is this?" + +Phillis made answer, in words which Abraham Dyson used to read to her +from a certain Book, but which she never understood till now--made +answer with her face upturned to her lover-- + +"I am my beloved's, and his desire is toward me." + + +They were a quiet party that evening. Jack did not want to talk. He +asked Phillis to sing; he sat by in a sort of rapture while her voice, +in the songs she most affected, whispered and sang to his soul not +words, but suggestions of every innocent delight. She recovered +something of her gaiety, but their usual laughter was hushed as if by +some unexpressed thought. It will never come back to her again, that +old mirth and light heart of childhood. She felt while she played as +if she was in some great cathedral; the fancies of her brain built +over her head a pile more mystic and wonderful than any she had seen. +Its arches towered to the sky; its aisles led far away into dim space. +She was walking slowly up the church hand-in-hand with Jack, towards a +great rose light in the east. An anthem of praise and thanksgiving +echoed along the corridors, and pealed like thunder among the million +rafters of the roof. Round them floated faces which looked and smiled. +And she heard the voice of Abraham Dyson in her ear-- + +"Life should be two-fold, not single. That, Phillis, is the great +secret of the world. Every man is a priest; every woman is a +priestess; it is a sacrament which you have learned of Jack this day. +Go on with him in faith and hope. Love is the Universal Church and +Heaven is everywhere. Live in it; die in it; and dying begin your life +of love again." + +"Phil," cried Jack, "what is it? You look as if you had seen a +vision." + +"I have heard the voice of Abraham Dyson," she said solemnly. "He is +satisfied and pleased with us, Jack." + +That was nothing to what followed, for presently there occurred a +really wonderful thing. + +On Phillis's table--they were all three sitting in the pleasant +morning-room--lay among her lesson-books and drawing materials a +portfolio. Jack turned it over carelessly. There was nothing at all in +it except a single sheet of white paper, partly written over. But +there had been other sheets, and these were torn off. + +"It is an old book full of writing," said Phillis carelessly. "I have +torn out all the leaves to make rough sketches at the back. There is +only one left now." + +Jack took it up and read the scanty remnant. + +"Good heavens!" he cried. "Have you really destroyed all these pages, +Phil?" + +Then he laughed. + +"What is it, Jack? Yes I have torn them all out, drawn rough things on +them, and then burnt them, every one." + +"Is it anything important?" asked Mrs. L'Estrange. + +"I should think it was important!" said Jack. "Ho, ho! Phillis has +destroyed the whole of Mr. Dyson's lost chapter on the Coping-stone. +And now his will is not worth the paper it is written on." + +It was actually so. Bit by bit, while Joseph Jagenal was leaving no +corner unturned in the old house at Highgate in search of the precious +document, without which Mr. Dyson's will was so much waste paper, this +young lady was contentedly cutting out the sheets one by one and using +them up for her first unfinished groups. Of course she could not read +one word of what was written. It was a fitting Nemesis to the old +man's plans that they were frustrated through the very means by which +he wished to regenerate the world. + +And now nothing at all left but a tag end, a bit of the peroration, +the last words of the final summing-up. And this was what Jack read +aloud-- + +"... these provisions and no other. Thus will I have my College for +the better Education of Women founded and maintained. Thus shall it +grow and develop till the land is full of the gracious influence of +womankind at her best and noblest. The Coping-stone of a girl's +Education should be, and must be, Love. When Phillis Fleming, my ward, +whose example shall be taken as the model for my college, feels the +passion of Love, her education is finally completed. She will have +much afterwards to learn. But self-denial, sympathy, and faith come +best through Love. Woman is born to be loved; that woman only +approaches the higher state who has been wooed and who has loved. When +Phillis loves, she will give herself without distrust and wholly to +the man who wins her. It is my prayer, my last prayer for her, that he +may be worthy of her." Here Jack's voice faltered for a moment. "Her +education has occupied my whole thoughts for thirteen years. It has +been the business of my later years. Now I send her out into the world +prepared for all, except treachery, neglect, and ill treatment. +Perhaps her character would pass through these and come out the +brighter. But we do not know; we cannot tell beforehand. Lord, lead +her not into temptation; and so deal with her lover as he shall deal +with her." + +"Amen," said Agatha L'Estrange. + +But Phillis sprang to her feet and threw up her arms. + +"I have found it!" she cried. "Oh, how often did he talk to me about +the Coping-stone. Now I have nothing more to learn. O Jack, Jack!" she +fell into his arms, and lay there as if it was her proper place. "We +have found the Coping-stone--you and I between us--and it is here, it +is here!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + "'Tis well to be off with the old love, + Though you never get on with a new." + + +During the two of three weeks following their success with Gilead Beck +the Twins were conspicuous, had any one noticed them, for a +recklessness of expenditure quite without parallel in their previous +history. They plunged as regarded hansoms, paying whatever was asked +with an airy prodigality; they dined at the club every day, and drank +champagne at all hours; they took half-guinea stalls at theatres: they +went down to Greenwich and had fish-dinners; they appeared with new +chains and rings; they even changed their regular hours of sleep, and +sometimes passed the whole day broad awake, in the pursuit of youthful +pleasures. They winked and nodded at each other in a way which +suggested all kinds of delirious delights; and Cornelius even talked +of adding an episode to the Epic, based on his own later experiences, +which he would call, he said, the Jubilee of Joy. + +The funds for this fling, all too short, were provided by their +American patron. Gilead Beck had no objection to advance them +something on account; the young gentlemen found it so pleasant to +spend money, that they quickly overcame scruples about asking for +more; perhaps they would have gone on getting more, but for a word of +caution spoken by Jack Dunquerque. In consequence of this unkindness +they met each other one evening in the Studio with melancholy faces. + +"I had a letter to-day from Mr. Gilead Beck," said Cornelius to +Humphrey. + +"So had I," said Humphrey to Cornelius. + +"In answer to a note from me," said Cornelius. + +"In reply to a letter of mine," said Humphrey. + +"It is sometimes a little awkward, brother Humphrey," Cornelius +remarked with a little temper, "that our inclinations so often prompt +us to do the same thing at the same time." + +Said Humphrey, "I suppose then, Cornelius, that you asked him for +money?" + +"I did, Humphrey. How much has the Patron advanced you already on the +great Picture?" + +"Two hundred only. A mere trifle. And now he refuses to advance any +more until the Picture is completed. Some enemy, some jealous brother +artist, must have corrupted his mind." + +"My case, too. I asked for a simple fifty pounds. It is the end of +May, and the country would be delightful if one could go there. I have +already drawn four or five cheques of fifty each, on account of the +Epic. He says, this mercenary and mechanical patron, that he will not +lend me any more until the Poem is brought to him finished. Some +carping critic has been talking to him." + +"How much of the Poem is finished?" + +"How much of the Picture is done?" + +The questions were asked simultaneously, but no answer was returned by +either. + +Then each sat for a few moments in gloomy silence. + +"The end of May," murmured Humphrey. "We have to be ready by the +beginning of October. June--July--only four months. My painting is +designed for many hundreds of figures. Your poem for--how many lines, +brother?" + +"Twenty cantos of about five hundred lines each." + +"Twenty times five hundred is ten thousand." + +Then they relapsed into silence again. + +"Brother Cornelius," the Artist went on, "this has been a most +eventful year for us. We have been rudely disturbed from the artistic +life of contemplation and patient work into which we had gradually +dropped. We have been hurried--hurried, I say, brother--into Action, +perhaps prematurely----" + +Cornelius grasped his brother's hand, but said nothing. + +"You, Cornelius, have engaged yourself to be married." + +Cornelius dropped his brother's hand. "Pardon me, Humphrey; it is you +that is engaged to Phillis Fleming." + +"I am nothing of the sort, Cornelius," the other returned sharply. "I +am astonished that you should make such a statement." + +"One of us certainly is engaged to the young lady. And as certainly it +is not I. 'Let your brother Humphrey hope,' she said. Those were her +very words. I do think, brother, that it is a little ungenerous, a +little ungenerous of you, after all the trouble I took on your behalf, +to try to force this young lady on me." + +Humphrey's cheek turned pallid. He plunged his hands into his silky +beard, and walked up and down the room gesticulating. + +"I went down on purpose to tell Phillis about him. I spoke to her of +his ardour. She said she appreciated--said she appreciated it, +Cornelius. I even went so far as to say that you offered her a virgin +heart--perilling my own soul by those very words--a virgin heart"--he +laughed melodramatically. "And after that German milkmaid! Ha, ha! The +Poet and the milkmaid!" + +Cornelius by this time was red with anger. The brothers, alike in so +many things, differed in this, that, when roused to passion, while +Humphrey grew white Cornelius grew crimson. + +"And what did I do for you?" he cried out. The brothers were now on +opposite sides of the table, walking backwards and forwards with +agitated strides. "I told her that you brought her a heart which had +never beat for another--that, after your miserable little Roman model! +An artist not able to resist the charms of his own model!" + +"Cornelius!" cried Humphrey, suddenly stopping and bringing his fist +with a bang upon the table. + +"Humphrey!" cried his brother, exactly imitating his gesture. + +Their faces glared into each other's; Cornelius, as usual, wrapped in +his long dressing-gown, his shaven cheeks purple with passion; +Humphrey in his loose velvet jacket, his white lips and cheeks, and +his long silken beard trembling to every hair. + +It was the first time the brothers had ever quarrelled in all their +lives. And like a tempest on Lake Windermere, it sprang up without the +slightest warning. + +They glared in a steady way for a few minutes, and then drew back and +renewed their quick and angry walk side by side, with the table +between them. + +"To bring up the old German business!" said Cornelius. + +"To taunt me with the Roman girl!" said Humphrey. + +"Will you keep your engagement like a gentleman, and marry the girl?" +cried the Poet. + +"Will you behave as a man of honour, and go to the Altar with Phillis +Fleming?" asked the Artist. + +"I will not," said Cornelius. "Nothing shall induce me to get +married." + +"Nor will I," said Humphrey. "I will see myself drawn and quartered +first." + +"Then," said Cornelius, "go and break it to her yourself, for I will +not." + +"Break what?" asked Humphrey passionately. "Break her heart, when I +tell her, if I must, that my brother repudiates his most sacred +promises?" + +Cornelius was touched. He relented. He softened. + +"Can it be that she loves us both?" + +They were at the end of the table, near the chairs, which as usual +were side by side. + +"Can that be so, Cornelius?" + +They drew nearer the chairs; they sat down; they turned, by force of +habit, lovingly towards each other; and their faces cleared. + +"Brother Humphrey," said Cornelius, "I see that we have mismanaged +this affair. It will be a wrench to the poor girl, but it will have to +be done. I thought you _wanted_ to marry her." + +"I thought _you_ did." + +"And so we each pleaded the other's cause. And the poor girl loves us +both. Good heavens! What a dreadful thing for her." + +"I remember nothing in fiction so startling. To be sure, there is some +excuse for her." + +"But she can't marry us both?" + +"N--n--no. I suppose not. No--certainly not. Heaven forbid! And as you +will not marry her----" + +Humphrey shook his head in a decided manner. + +"And I will not----" + +"Marry?" interrupted Humphrey. "What! And give up this? Have to get up +early; to take breakfast at nine; to be chained to work; to be +inspected and interfered with while at work--Phillis drew me once, and +pinned the portrait on my easel; to be restricted in the matter of +port; to have to go to bed at eleven; perhaps, Cornelius, to have +babies; and beside, if they should be Twins! Fancy being shaken out of +your poetic dream by the cries of Twins!" + +"No sitting up at night with pipes and brandy-and-water," echoed the +Poet. "And, Humphrey"--here he chuckled, and his face quite returned +to its brotherly form--"should we go abroad, no flirting with Roman +models--eh, eh, eh?" + +"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed the Artist melodiously. "And no carrying +milk-pails up the Heidelberg hills--eh, eh, eh?" + +"Marriage be hanged!" cried the Poet, starting up again. "We will +preserve our independence, Humphrey. We will be free to woo, but not +to wed." + +Was there ever a more unprincipled Bard? It is sad to relate that the +Artist echoed his brother. + +"We will, Cornelius--we will. _Vive la liberté!_" He snapped his +fingers, and began to sing: + + "Quand on est a Paris + On ecrit a son pere, + Qui fait reponse, 'Brigand, + Tu n'en as----'" + +He broke short off, and clapped his hands like a school-boy. "We will +go to Paris next week, brother." + +"We will, Humphrey, if we can get any more money. And now--how to get +out of the mess?" + +"Do you think Mrs. L'Estrange will interfere?" + +"Or Colquhoun?" + +"Or Joseph?" + +"The best way would be to pretend it was all a mistake. Let us go +to-morrow, and cry off as well as we can." + +"We will, Cornelius." + +The quarrel and its settlement made them thirsty, and they drank a +whole potash-and-brandy each before proceeding with the interrupted +conversation. + +"Poor little Phillis!" said the Artist, filling his pipe. "I hope she +won't pine much." + +"Ariadne, you know," said the Poet; and then he forgot what Ariadne +did, and broke off short. + +"It isn't our fault, after all. Men of genius are always run after. +Women are made to love men, and men are made to break their hearts. +Law of nature, dear Cornelius--law of Nature. Perhaps the man is a fool +who binds himself to one. Art alone should be our mistress--glorious +Art!" + +"Yes," said Cornelius; "you are quite right. And what about Mr. Gilead +Beck?" + +This was a delicate question, and the Artist's face grew grave. + +"What are we to do, Cornelius?" + +"I don't know, Humphrey." + +"Will the Poem be finished?" + +"No. Will the Picture?" + +"Not a chance." + +"Had we not better, Humphrey, considering all the circumstances, make +up our minds to throw over the engagement?" + +"Tell me, Cornelius--how much of your Poem remains to be done?" + +"Well, you see, there is not much actually written." + +"Will you show it to me--what there is of it?" + +"It is all in my head, Humphrey. Nothing is written." + +He blushed prettily as he made the confession. But the Artist met him +half-way with a frank smile. + +"It is curious, Cornelius, that up to the present I have not actually +drawn any of the groups. My figures are still in my head." + +Both were surprised. Each, spending his own afternoons in sleep, had +given the other credit for working during that part of the day. But +they were too much accustomed to keep up appearances to make any +remark upon this curious coincidence. + +"Then, brother," said the Poet, with a sigh of relief, "there really +is not the slightest use in leading Mr. Beck to believe that the works +will be finished by October, and we had better ask for a longer term. +A year longer would do for me." + +"A year longer would, I think, do for me," said Humphrey, stroking his +beard, as if he was calculating how long each figure would take to put +in. "We will go and see Mr. Beck to-morrow." + +"Better not," said the sagacious Poet. + +"Why not?" + +"He might ask for the money back." + +"True, brother. He must be capable of that meanness, or he would have +given us that cheque we asked for. Very true. We will write." + +"What excuse shall we make?" + +"We will state the exact truth, Brother. No excuse need be invented. +We will tell our Patron that Art cannot--must not--be forced." + +This settled, Cornelius declared that a weight was off his mind, which +had oppressed him since the engagement with Mr. Beck was first entered +into. Nothing, he said, so much obstructed the avenues of fancy, +checked the flow of ideas, and destroyed grasp of language, as a +slavish time-engagement. Now, he went on to explain, he felt free; +already his mind, like a garden in May, was blossoming in a thousand +sweet flowers. Now he was at peace with mankind. Before this relief he +had been--Humphrey would bear him out--inclined to lose his temper +over trifles; and the feeling of thraldom caused him only that very +evening to use harsh words even to his twin brother. Here he held out +his hand, which Humphrey grasped with effusion. + +They wrote their letters next day--not early in the day, because they +prolonged their evening parliament till late, and it was one o'clock +when they took breakfast But they wrote the letters after breakfast, +and at two they took the train to Twickenham. + +Phillis received them in her morning-room. They appeared almost as +nervous and agitated as when they called a week before. So shaky were +their hands that Phillis began by prescribing for them a glass of wine +each, which they took, and said they felt better. + +"We come for a few words of serious explanation," said the Poet. + +"Yes," said Phillis. "Will Mrs. L'Estrange do?" + +"On the contrary, it is with you that we would speak." + +"Very well," she replied. "Pray go on." + +They were sitting side by side on the sofa, looking as grave as a pair +of owls. There was something Gog and Magogish, too, in their +proximity. + +Phillis found herself smiling when she looked at them. So, to prevent +laughing in their very faces, she changed her place, and went to the +open window. + +"Now," she said. + +Cornelius, with the gravest face in the world, began again. + +"It is a delicate and, I fear, a painful business," he said. "Miss +Fleming, you doubtless remember a conversation I had with you last +week on your lawn?" + +"Certainly. You told me that your brother, Mr. Humphrey, adored me. +You also said that he brought me a virgin heart. I remember perfectly. +I did not understand your meaning then. But I do now. I understand it +now." She spoke the last words with softened voice, because she was +thinking of the Coping-stone and Jack Dunquerque. + +Humphrey looked indignantly at his brother. Here was a position to be +placed in! But Cornelius lifted his hand, with a gesture which meant, +"Patience; I will see you through this affair," and went on-- + +"You see, Miss Fleming, I was under a mistake. My brother, who has the +highest respect, in the abstract, for womanhood, which is the +incarnation and embodiment of all that is graceful and beautiful in +this fair world of ours, does not--does not--after all----" + +Phillis looked at Humphrey. He sat by his brother, trembling with a +mixture of shame and terror. They were not brave men, these Twins, and +they certainly drank habitually more than is good for the nervous +system. + +She began to laugh, not loudly, but with a little ripple of mirth +which terrified them both, because in their vanity they thought it the +first symptoms of hysterical grief. Then she stepped to the sofa, and +placed both her hands on the unfortunate Artist's shoulder. + +He thought that she was going to shake him, and his soul sank into his +boots. + +"You mean that he does not, after all, adore me. O Mr. Humphrey, Mr. +Humphrey! was it for this that you offered me a virgin heart? Is this +your gratitude to me for drawing your likeness when you were hard at +work in the Studio? What shall I say to your brother Joseph, and what +will he say to you?" + +"My dear young lady," Cornelius interposed hastily, "there is not the +slightest reason to bring Joseph into the business at all. He must not +be told of this unfortunate mistake. Humphrey does adore you--speak, +brother--do you not adore Miss Fleming?" + +Humphrey was gasping and panting. + +"I do," he ejaculated, "I do--Oh, most certainly." + +Then Phillis left him and turned to his brother. + +"But there is yourself, Mr. Cornelius. You are not an artist; you are +a poet; you spend your days in the Workshop, where Jack Dunquerque and +I found you rapt in so poetic a dream that your eyes were closed and +your mouth open. If you made a mistake about Humphrey, it is +impossible that he could have made a mistake about you." + +"This is terrible," said Cornelius. "Explain, brother Humphrey. Miss +Fleming, we--no, you as well--are victims of a dreadful error." + +He wiped his brow and appealed to his brother. + +Released from the terror of Phillis's hands upon his shoulder, the +Artist recovered some of his courage and spoke. But his voice was +faltering. "I, too," he said, "mistook the respectful admiration of my +brother for something dearer. Miss Fleming, he is already wedded." + +"Wedded? Are you a married man, Mr. Cornelius? Oh, and where is the +virgin heart?" + +"Wedded to his art," Humphrey explained. Then he went a little off his +head, I suppose, in the excitement of this crisis, because he +continued in broken words, "Wedded--long ago--object of his life's +love--with milk-pails on the hills of Heidelberg, and light blue +eyes--the Muse of Song. But he regards you with respectful +admiration." + +"Most respectful," said Cornelius. "As Petrarch regarded the wife of +the Count de Sade. Will you forgive us, Miss Fleming, and--and--try to +forget us?" + +"So, gentlemen," the young lady said, with sparkling eyes, "you come +to say that you would rather not marry me. I wonder if that is usual +with men?" + +"No, no!" they both cried together. "Happy is the man----" + +"You may be the happy man, Humphrey," said Cornelius. + +"No; you, brother--you." + +Never had wedlock seemed so dreadful a thing as it did now, with a +possible bride standing before them, apparently only waiting for the +groom to make up his mind. + +"I will forgive you both," she said; "so go away happy. But I am +afraid I shall never, never be able to forget you. And if I send you a +sketch of yourselves just as you look now, so ashamed and so foolish, +perhaps you will hang it up in the Workshop or the Studio, to be +looked at when you are awake; that is, when you are not at work." + +They looked guiltily at each other and drew a little apart. It was the +most cruel speech that Phillis had ever made; but she was a little +angry with this vain and conceited pair of windbags. + +"I shall not tell Mr. Joseph Jagenal, because he is a sensible man and +would take it ill, I am sure. And I shall not tell my guardian, +Lawrence Colquhoun, because I do not know what he might say or do. And +I shall not tell Mrs. L'Estrange; that is, I shall not tell her the +whole of it, for your sakes. But I must tell Jack Dunquerque, because +I am engaged to be married to Jack, and because I love him and must +tell him everything." + +They cowered before her as they thought of the possible consequences +of this information. + +"You need not be frightened," she went on; "Jack will not call to see +you and disturb you at your work." + +Her eyes, that began by dancing with fun, now flashed indignation. It +was not that she felt angry at what most girls would have regarded as +a deliberate insult, but the unmanliness of the two filled her with +contempt. They looked so small and so mean. + +"Go," she said, pointing to the door. "I forgive you. But never again +dare to offer a girl each other's virgin heart." + +They literally slunk away like a pair of beaten hounds. Then Phillis +suddenly felt sorry for them as they crept out of the door, one after +the other. She ran after them and called them back. + +"Stop," she cried; "we must not part like that. Shake hands, +Cornelius. Shake hands, Humphrey. Come back and take another glass of +wine. Indeed you want it; you are shaking all over; come." + +She led them back, one in each hand, and poured out a glass of sherry +for each. + +"You could not have married me, you know," she said, laughing, +"because I am going to marry Jack. There--forgive me for speaking +unkindly, and we will remain friends." + +They took her hand, but they did not speak, and something like a tear +stood in their eyes. When they left her Phillis observed that they did +not take each other's arm as usual, but walked separate. And they +looked older. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + "What is it you see? + A nameless thing--a creeping snake in the grass." + + +Who was the writer of the letters? They were all in one hand, and that +a feigned hand. Gabriel Cassilis sat with these anonymous accusations +against his wife spread out upon the table before him. He compared one +with another; he held them up to the light; he looked for chance +indications which a careless moment might leave behind; there were +none--not a stroke of the pen; not even the name of the shop where the +paper was sold. They were all posted at the same place; but that was +nothing. + +The handwriting was large, upright, and perhaps designedly ill-formed; +it appeared to be the writing of a woman, but of this Mr. Cassilis was +not sure. + +Always the same tale; always reference to a secret between Colquhoun +and his wife. What was that secret? + +In Colquhoun's room--alone with him--almost under his hand. But where? +He went into the bedroom, which was lighted by the gas of the court; +an open room, furnished without curtains; there was certainly no one +concealed, because concealment was impossible. And in the +sitting-room--then he remembered that the room was dimly lighted; +curtains kept out the gas-light of the court; Colquhoun had on his +entrance lowered the silver lamp; there was a heavy green shade on +this; it was possible that she might have been in the room while he +was there, and listening to every word. + +The thought was maddening. He tried to put it all before himself in +logical sequence, but could not; he tried to fence with the question, +but it would not be evaded; he tried to persuade himself that +suspicions resting on an anonymous slander were baseless, but every +time his mind fell back upon the voice which proclaimed his wife's +dishonour. + +A man on the rack might as well try to dream of soft beds and +luxurious dreamless sleep; a man being flogged at the cart-tail might +as well try to transport his thoughts to boyhood's games upon a +village green; a man at the stake might as well try to think of deep +delicious draughts of ice-cold water from a shady brook. The agony and +shame of the present are too much for any imagination. + +It was so to Gabriel Cassilis. The one thing which he trusted in, +after all the villainies and rogueries he had learned during +sixty-five years mostly spent among men trying to make money, was his +wife's fidelity. It was like the Gospel--a thing to be accepted and +acted upon with unquestioning belief. Good heavens! if a man cannot +believe in his wife's honesty, in what is he to believe? + +Gabriel Cassilis was not a violent man; he could not find relief in +angry words and desperate deeds like a Moor of Venice; his jealousy +was a smouldering fire; a flame which burned with a dull fierce heat; +a disease which crept over body and mind alike, crushing energy, +vitality, and life out of both. + +Everything might go to ruin round him; he was no longer capable of +thought and action. Telegrams and letters lay piled before him on the +table, and he left them unopened. + +Outside, his secretary was in dismay. His employer would receive no +one, and would attend to nothing. He signed mechanically such papers +as were brought him to sign, and then he motioned the secretary to the +door. + +This apathy lasted for four days--the four days most important of any +in the lives of himself, of Gilead Beck, and of Lawrence Colquhoun. +For the fortunes of all hung upon his shaking it off, and he did not +shake it off. + +On the second day, the day when he got the letter telling him that his +wife had been in Colquhoun's chambers while he was there, he sent for +a private detective. + +He put into his hands all the letters. + +"Written by a woman," said the officer. "Have you any clue, sir?" + +"None--none whatever. I want you to watch. You will watch my wife and +you will watch Mr. Colquhoun. Get every movement watched, and report +to me every morning. Can you do this? Good. Then go, and spare neither +pains nor money." + +The next morning's report was unsatisfactory. Colquhoun had gone to +the Park in the afternoon, dined at his club, and gone home to his +chambers at eleven. Mrs. Cassilis, after dining at home, went out at +ten, and returned early--at half-past eleven. + +But there came a letter from the anonymous correspondent. + +"You are having a watch set on them. Good. But that won't find out the +Scotch secret. She _was_ in his room while you were there--hidden +somewhere, but I do not know where." + +He went home to watch his wife with his own eyes. He might as well +have watched a marble statue. She met his eyes with the calm cold look +to which he was accustomed. There was nothing in her manner to show +that she was other than she had always been. He tried in her presence +to realise the fact, if it was a fact. "This woman," he said to +himself, "has been lying hidden in Colquhoun's chambers listening +while I talked to him. She was there before I went; she was there when +I came away. What is her secret?" + +What, indeed! She seemed a woman who could have no secrets, a woman +whose life from her cradle might have been exposed to the whole world, +who would have found nothing but cause of admiration and respect. + +In her presence, under her influence, his jealousy lost something of +its fierceness. He feared her too much to suspect her while in his +sight. It was at night, in his office, away from her, that he gave +full swing to the bitterness of his thoughts. In the hours when he +should have been sleeping he paced his room, wrapped in his +dressing-gown--a long lean figure, with eyes aflame, and thoughts that +tore him asunder; and in the hours when he should have been waking he +sat with bent shoulders, glowering at the letters of her accuser, +gazing into a future which seemed as black as ink. + +His life, he knew, was drawing to its close. Yet a few more brief +years, and the summons would come for him to cross the River. Of that +he had no fear; but it was dreadful to think that his age was to be +dishonoured. Success was his; the respect which men give to success +was his; no one inquired very curiously into the means by which +success was commanded; he was a name and a power. Now that name was to +be tarnished; by no act of his own, by no fault of his; by the +treachery of the only creature in the world, except his infant child, +in whom he trusted. + +He would have, perhaps, to face the publicity of an open court; to +hear his wrongs set forth to a jury; to read his "case" in the daily +papers. + +And he would have to alter his will. + +Oddly enough, of all the evil things which seemed about to fall on +him, not one troubled him more than the last. + +His detective brought him no news on the next day. But his unknown +correspondent did. + +"She is tired," the letter said, "of not seeing Mr. Colquhoun for +three whole days. She will see him to-morrow. There is to be a +garden-party at Mrs. L'Estrange's Twickenham villa. Mr. Colquhoun will +be there, and she is going, too, to meet him. If you dared, if you had +the heart of a mouse, you would be there too. You would arrive late; +you would watch and see for yourself, unseen, if possible, how they +meet, and what they say to each other. An invitation lies for you, as +well as your wife upon the table. Go!" + +While he was reading this document his secretary came in, uncalled. + +"The Eldorado Stock," he said, in his usual whisper. "Have you decided +what to do? Settling day on Friday. Have you forgotten what you hold, +sir?" + +"I have forgotten nothing," Gabriel Cassilis replied. "Eldorado stock? +I never forget anything. Leave me. I shall see no one to-day; no one +is to be admitted. I am very busy." + +"I don't understand it," the secretary said to himself. "Has he got +information that he keeps to himself? Has he got a deeper game on than +I ever gave him credit for? What does it mean? Is he going off his +head?" + +More letters and more telegrams came. They were sent in to the inner +office; but nothing came out of it. + +That night Gabriel Cassilis left his chair at ten o'clock. He had +eaten nothing all day. He was faint and weak; he took something at a +City railway station, and drove home in a cab. His wife was out. + +In the hall he saw her woman, the tall woman with the unprepossessing +face. + +"You are Mrs. Cassilis's maid?" he asked. + +"I am, sir." + +"Come with me." + +He took her to his own study, and sat down. Now he had the woman with +him he did not know what to ask her. + +"You called me, sir," she said. "Do you want to know anything?" + +"How long have you been with your mistress?" + +"I came to her when her former maid, Janet, died, sir. Janet was with +her for many years before she married." + +"Janet--Janet--a Scotch name." + +"Janet was with my mistress in Scotland." + +"Yes--Mrs. Cassilis was in Scotland--yes. And--and--Janet was in your +confidence?" + +"We had no secrets from each other, sir. Janet told me everything. + +"What was there to tell?" + +"Nothing, sir. What should there be?" + +This was idle fencing. + +"You may go," he said. "Stay. Let them send me up something--a cup of +tea, a slice of meat--anything." + +Then he recommenced his dreary walk up and down the room. + +Later on a curious feeling came over him--quite a strange and novel +feeling. It was as if, while he thought, or rather while his fancies +like so many devils played riot in his brain, he could not find the +right words in which to clothe his thoughts. He struggled against the +feeling. He tried to talk. But the wrong words came from his lips. +Then he took a book; yes--he could read. It was nonsense; he shook off +the feeling. But he shrank from speaking to any servant, and went to +bed. + +That night he slept better, and in the morning was less agitated. He +breakfasted in his study, and then he went down to his office. + +It was the fourth day since he had opened no letters and attended to +no business. He remembered this, and tried to shake off the gloomy +fit. And then he thought of the coming _coup_, and tried to bring +his thoughts back to their usual channel. How much did he hold of +Eldorado Stock? Rising higher day by day. But three days, three short +days, before settling-day. + +The largest stake he had ever ventured; a stake so large that when he +thought of it his spirit and nerve came back to him. + +For once--for the last time--he entered his office, holding himself +erect, and looking brighter than he had done for days; and he sat down +to his letters with an air of resolution. + +Unfortunately, the first letter was from the anonymous correspondent. + +"She wrote to him to-day; she told him that she could bear her life no +longer; she threatened to tell the secret right out; she will have an +explanation with him to-morrow at Mrs. L'Estrange's. Do you go down +and you will hear the explanation. Be quiet, and the secret." + +He started from his chair, the letter in his hand, and looked straight +before him. Was it, then, all true? Would that very day give him a +chance of finding out the secret between Lawrence Colquhoun and his +wife? + +He put up his glasses and read the letter--the last of a long series, +every one of which had been a fresh arrow in his heart--again and +again. + +Then he sat down and burst into tears. + +A young man's tears may be forced from him by many a passing sorrow, +but an old man's only by the reality of a sorrow which cannot be put +aside. The deaths of those who are dear to the old man fall on him as +so many reminders that his own time will soon arrive; but it is not +for such things as death that he laments. + +"I loved her," moaned Gabriel Cassilis. "I loved her, and I trusted +her; and this the end!" + +He did not curse her, nor Colquhoun, nor himself. It was all the hand +of Fate. It was hard upon him, harder than he expected or knew, but he +bore it in silence. + +He sat so, still and quiet, a long while. + +Then he put together all the letters, which the detective had brought +back, and placed them in his pocket. Then he dallied and played with +the paper and pencils before him, just as one who is restless and +uncertain in his mind. Then he looked at his watch--it was past three; +the garden party was for four; and then he rose suddenly, put on his +hat, and passed out. His secretary asked him as he went through his +office, if he would return, and at what time. + +Mr. Cassilis made a motion with his hand, as if to put the matter off +for a few moments, and replied nothing. When he got into the street it +occurred to him that he could not answer the secretary because that +same curious feeling was upon him again, and he had lost the power of +speech. It was strange, and he laughed. Then the power of speech as +suddenly returned to him. He called a cab and told the driver where to +go. It is a long drive to Twickenham. He was absorbed in his thoughts, +and as he sat back, gazing straight before him, the sensation of not +being able to speak kept coming and going in his brain. This made him +uneasy, but not much, because he had graver things to think about. + +At half-past four he arrived within a few yards of Mrs. L'Estrange's +house, where he alighted and dismissed his cab. The cabman touched his +hat and said it was a fine day, and seasonable weather for the time of +the year. + +"Ay," replied Gabriel Cassilis mechanically. "A fine day, and +seasonable weather for the time of the year." + +And as he walked along under the lime-trees he found himself saying +over again, as if it was the burden of a song: + +"A fine day, and seasonable weather for the time of the year." + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + "How green are you and fresh in this old world!" + + +On the morning of the garden party Joseph Jagenal called on Lawrence +Colquhoun. + +"I have two or three things to say," he began, "if you can give me +five minutes." + +"Twenty," said Lawrence. "Now then." + +He threw himself back in his easiest chair and prepared to listen. + +"I am in the way of hearing things sometimes," Joseph said. "And I +heard a good deal yesterday about Mr. Gabriel Cassilis." + +"What?" said Lawrence, aghast, "he surely has not been telling all the +world about it!" + +"I think we are talking of different things," Joseph answered after a +pause. "Don't tell me what you mean, but what I mean is that there is +an uneasy feeling about Gabriel Cassilis." + +"Ay? In what way?" + +"Well, they say he is strange; does not see people; does not open +letters; and is evidently suffering from some mental distress." + +"Yes." + +"And when such a man as Gabriel Cassilis is in mental distress, money +is at the bottom of it." + +"Generally. Not always." + +"It was against my advice that you invested any of your money by his +direction." + +"I invested the whole of it; and all Phillis's too. Mr. Cassilis has +the investment of our little all," Lawrence added, laughing. + +But the lawyer looked grave. + +"Don't do it," he said; "get it in your own hands again; let it lie +safely in the three per cents. What has a pigeon like you to do among +the City hawks? And Miss Fleming's money, too. Let it be put away +safely, and give her what she wants, a modest and sufficient income +without risk." + +"I believe you are right, Jagenal. In fact, I am sure you are right. +But Cassilis would have it. He talked me into an ambition for good +investments which I never felt before. I will ask him to sell out for +me, and go back to the old three per cents. and railway shares--which +is what I have been brought up to. On the other hand, you are quite +wrong about his mental distress. That is--I happen to know--you are a +lawyer and will not talk--it is not due to money matters; and Gabriel +Cassilis is, for what I know, as keen a hand as ever at piling up the +dollars. The money is all safe; of that I am quite certain." + +"Well, if you think so--But don't let him keep it," said Joseph the +Doubter. + +"After all, why not get eight and nine per cent. if you can?" + +"Because it isn't safe, and because you ought not to expect it. What +do you want with more money than you have got? However, I have told +you what men say. There is another thing. I am sorry to say that my +brothers have made fools of themselves, and I am come to apologise for +them." + +"Don't if it is disagreeable, my dear fellow." + +"It is not very disagreeable, and I would rather. They are fifty, but +they are not wise. In fact, they have lived so much out of the world +that they do not understand things. And so they went down and proposed +for the hand of your ward, Phillis Fleming." + +"Oh! Both of them? And did she accept?" + +"The absurd thing is that I cannot discover which of them wished to be +the bridegroom, nor which Phillis thought it was. She is quite +confused about the whole matter. However, they went away and thought +one of them was accepted, which explains a great deal of innuendo and +reference to some unknown subject of mirth which I have observed +lately. I say one of them, because I find it impossible to ascertain +which of them was the man. Well, whether they were conscience-stricken +or whether they repented, I do not know, but they went back to +Twickenham and solemnly repudiated the engagement." + +"And Phillis?" + +"She laughed at them, of course. Do not fear; she wasn't in the least +annoyed. I shall speak to my brothers this evening." + +Colquhoun thought of the small, fragile-looking pair, and inwardly +hoped that their brother would be gentle with them. + +"And there is another thing, Colquhoun. Do you want to see your ward +married?" + +"To Jack Dunquerque?" + +"Yes." + +"Not yet. I want her to have her little fling first. Why the poor +child is only just out of the nursery, and he wants to marry her +off-hand--it's cruel. Let her see the world for a year, and then we +will consider it. Jagenal, I wish I could marry the girl myself." + +"So do I," said Joseph, with a sigh. + +"I fell in love with her," said Lawrence, "at first sight. That is +why," he added, in his laziest tones, "I suppose that is why I told +Jack Dunquerque not to go there any more. But he has gone there again, +and he has proposed to her, I hear, and she has accepted him. So that +I can't marry her, and you can't, and we are a brace of fogies." + +"And what have you said to Mr. Dunquerque?" + +"I acted the jealous guardian, and I ordered him not to call on my +ward any more for the present. I shall see how Phillis takes it, and +give in, of course, if she makes a fuss. Then Beck has been here +offering to hand over all his money to Jack, because he loves the +young man." + +"Quixotic," said the lawyer. + +"Yes. The end of it will be a wedding, of course. You and I may shake +a leg at it if we like. As for me, I never can marry any one; and as +for you----" + +"As for me, I never thought of marrying her. I only remarked that I +had fallen in love, as you say, with her. That's no matter to +anybody." + +"Well, things go on as they like, not as we like. What nonsense it is +to say that man is master of his fate! Now, what I should like would +be to get rid of the reason that prevents my marrying; to put Jack +Dunquerque into the water-butt and sit on the lid; and then for +Phillis to fall in love with me. After that, strawberries and cream +with a little champagne for the rest of my Methuselah-like career. And +I can't get any of these things. Master of his fate?" + +"Have you heard of the Coping-stone chapter? It is found." + +"Agatha told me something, in a disjointed way. What is the effect of +it?" + +Joseph laughed. + +"It is all torn up but the last page. A righteous retribution, because +if Phillis had been taught to read this would not have happened. Now, +I suspect the will must be set aside, and the money will mostly go to +Gabriel Cassilis, the nearest of kin, who doesn't want it." + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + + "La langue des femmes est leur epee, + et elles ne la laissent pas rouiller." + + +The grounds of the house formed a parallelogram, of which the longer +sides were parallel with the river. In the north-east corner stood the +house itself, its front facing west. It was not a large house, as has +been explained. A conservatory was built against nearly the whole +length of the front. The lawns and flower-beds spread to west and +south, sloping down to the river's edge. The opposite angle was +occupied by stables, kitchen-garden, and boat-house. Gabriel Cassilis +approached it from the east. An iron railing and a low hedge, along +which were planted limes, laburnums, and lilacs, separated the place +from the road. But before reaching the gate--in fact, at the corner of +the kitchen-garden--he could, himself, unseen, look through the trees +and observe the party. They were all there. He saw Mrs. L'Estrange, +Phillis, his own wife--Heavens! how calm and cold she looked, and how +beautiful he thought her!--with half a dozen other ladies. The men +were few. There was the curate. He was dangling round Phillis, and +wore an expression of holiness-out-for-a-holiday, which is always so +charming in these young men. Gabriel Cassilis also noticed that he was +casting eyes of longing at the young lady. There was Lawrence +Colquhoun. Gabriel Cassilis looked everywhere for him, till he saw +him, lying beneath a tree, his head on his hand. He was not talking to +Victoria, nor was he looking at her. On the contrary, he was watching +Phillis. There was Captain Ladds. He was talking to one of the young +ladies, and he was looking at Phillis. The young lady evidently did +not like this. And there was Gilead Beck. He was standing apart, +talking to Mrs. L'Estrange, with his hands in his pockets, leaning +against a tree. But he, too, was casting furtive glances at Phillis. + +They all seemed, somehow, looking at the girl. There was no special +reason why they should look at her, except that she was so bright, so +fresh, and so charming for the eye to rest upon. The other girls were +as well dressed, but they were nowhere compared with Phillis. The +lines of their figures, perhaps, were not so fine; the shape of their +heads more commonplace; their features not so delicate; their pose +less graceful. There are some girls who go well together. Helena and +Hermia are a foil to each other; but when Desdemona shows all other +beauties pale like lesser lights. And the other beauties do not like +it. + +Said one of the fair guests to another-- + +"What do they see in her?" + +"I cannot tell," replied her friend. "She seems to me more +_farouche_ than ever." + +For, having decided that _farouche_ was the word to express poor +Phillis's distinguishing quality, there was no longer any room for +question, and _farouche_ she continued to be. If there is anything +that Phillis never was, it is that quality of fierce shy wildness +which requires the adjective _farouche_. But the word stuck, because +it sounded well. To this day--to be sure, it is only a twelvemonth +since--the girls say still, "Oh, yes! Phillis Fleming. She was pretty, +but extremely _farouche_." + + +Gabriel Cassilis stood by the hedge and looked through the trees. He +has come all the way from town to attend this party, and now he +hesitated at the very gates. For he became conscious of two things: +first, that the old feeling of not finding his words was upon him +again; and secondly, that he was not exactly dressed for a festive +occasion. Like most City men who have long remained bachelors, Gabriel +Cassilis was careful of his personal appearance. He considered a +garden-party as an occasion demanding something special. Now he not +only wore his habitual pepper-and-salt suit, but the coat in which he +wrote at his office--a comfortable easy old frock, a little baggy at +the elbows. His mind was strung to such an intense pitch, that such a +trifling objection as his dress--because Gabriel Cassilis never looked +other than a gentleman--appeared to him insuperable. He withdrew from +the hedge, and retraced his steps. Presently he came to a lane. He +left the road, and turned down the path. He found himself by the +river. He sat down under a tree, and began to think. + +He thought of the time when his lonely life was wearisome to him, when +he longed for a wife and a house of his own. He remembered how he +pictured a girl who would be his darling, who would return his +caresses and love him for his own sake. And how, when he met Victoria +Pengelley, his thoughts changed, and he pictured that girl, stately +and statuesque, at the head of the table. There would be no pettings +and caressings from her, that was quite certain. On the other hand, +there would be a woman of whom he would be proud--one who would wear +his wealth properly. And a woman of good family, well connected all +round. There were no caresses, he remembered now; there was the +coldest acceptance of him; and there had been no caresses since. But +he had been proud of her; and as for her honour--how was it possible +that the doubt should arise? That man must be himself distinctly of +the lower order of men who would begin by doubting or suspecting his +wife. + +To end in this: doubt so strong as to be almost certainty: suspicion +like a knife cutting at his heart; his brain clouded; and he himself +driven to creep down clandestinely to watch his wife. + +He sat there till the June sun began to sink in the west. The river +was covered with the evening craft. They were manned by the young City +men but just beginning the worship of Mammon, who would have looked +with envy upon the figure sitting motionless in the shade by the +river's edge had they known who he was. Presently he roused himself, +and looked at his watch. It was past seven. Perhaps the party would be +over by this time; he could go home with his wife; it would be +something, at least, to be with her, to keep her from that other man. +He rose,--his brain in a tumult--and repaired once more to his point +of vantage at the hedge. The lawn was empty; there was no one there. +But he saw his own carriage in the yard, and therefore his wife was +not yet gone. + +In the garden, no one. He crept in softly, and looked round him. No +one saw him enter the place; and he felt something like a burglar as +he walked, with a stealthy step which he vainly tried to make +confident, across the lawn. + +Two ways of entrance stood open before him. One was the porch of the +house, covered with creepers and hung with flowers. The door stood +open, and beyond it was the hall, looking dark from the bright light +outside. He heard voices within. Another way was by the conservatory, +the door of which was also open. He looked in. Among the flowers and +vines there stood a figure he knew--his wife's. But she was alone. And +she was listening. On her face was an expression which he had never +seen there, and never dreamed of. Her features were distorted; her +hands were closed in a tight clutch; her arms were stiffened--but she +was trembling. What was she doing. To whom was she listening? + +He hesitated a moment, and then he stepped through the porch into the +hall. The voices came from the right, in fact, from the morning +room,--Phillis's room,--which opened by its single window upon the +lawn, and by its two doors into the hall on one side and the +conservatory on the other. + +And Gabriel Cassilis, like his wife, listened. He put off his hat, +placed his umbrella in the stand, and stood in attitude, in case he +should be observed, to push open the door and step in. He was so +abject in his jealousy that he actually did not feel the disgrace and +degradation of the act. He was so keen and eager to lose no word, that +he leaned his head to the half-open door, and stood, his long thin +figure trembling with excitement, like some listener in a melodrama of +the transpontine stage. + +There were two persons in the room, and one was a woman; and they were +talking together. One was Lawrence Colquhoun and the other was Phillis +Fleming. + +Colquhoun was not, according to his wont, lying on a sofa, nor sitting +in the easiest of the chairs. He was standing, and he was speaking in +an earnest voice. + +"When I saw you first," he said, "you were little Phillis--a wee +toddler of six or seven. I went away and forgot all about you--almost +forgot your very existence, Phillis,--till the news of Mr. Dyson's +death met me on my way home again. I fear that I have neglected you +since I came home; but I have been worried." + +"What has worried you, Lawrence?" asked the girl. + +She was sitting on the music-stool before the piano; and as she spoke +she turned from the piano, her fingers resting silently on the notes. +She was dressed for the party,--which was over now, and the guests +departed,--in a simple muslin costume, light and airy, which became +her well. And in her hair she had placed a flower. There were flowers +all about the room, flowers at the open window, flowers in the +conservatory beyond, flowers on the bright green lawns beyond. + +"How pretty you are, Phillis!" answered her guardian. + +He touched her cheek with his finger as she sat. + +"I am your guardian," he said, as if in apology. + +"And you have been worried about things?" she persisted. "Agatha says +you never care what happens." + +"Agatha is right, as a rule. In one case, of which she knows nothing, +she is wrong. Tell me, Phillis, is there anything you want in the +world that I can get for you?" + +"I think I have everything," she said, laughing. "And what you will +not give me I shall wait for till I am twenty-one." + +"You mean----" + +"I mean--Jack Dunquerque, Lawrence." + +Only a short month ago, and Jack Dunquerque was her friend. She could +speak of him openly and friendly, without change of voice or face. Now +she blushed, and her voice trembled as she uttered his name. That is +one of the outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual state +known to the most elementary observers. + +"I wanted to speak about him. Phillis, you are very young, you have +seen nothing of the world; you know no other men. All I ask you is to +wait. Do not give your promise to this man till you have at least had +an opportunity of--of comparing--of learning your own mind." + +She shook her head. + +"I have already given my promise," she said. + +"But it is a promise that may be recalled," he urged. "Dunquerque is a +gentleman; he will not hold you to your word when he feels that he +ought not to have taken it from you. Phillis, you do not know +yourself. You have no idea of what it is that you have given, or its +value. How can I tell you the truth?" + +"I think you mean the best for me, Lawrence," she said. "But the best +is--Jack." + +Then she began to speak quite low, so that the listeners heard +nothing. + +"See, Lawrence, you are kind, and I can tell you all without being +ashamed. I think of Jack all day long and all night. I pray for him in +the morning and in the evening. When he comes near me I tremble; I +feel that I must obey him if he were to order me in anything. I have +no more command of myself when he is with me----" + +"Stop, Phillis," Lawrence interposed; "you must not tell me any more. +I was trying to act for the best; but I will make no further +opposition. See, my dear"--he took her hand in his in a tender and +kindly way--"if I write to Jack Dunquerque to-day, and tell the +villain he may come and see you whenever he likes, and that he shall +marry you whenever you like, will that do for you?" + +She started to her feet, and threw her left hand--Lawrence still +holding the right--upon his shoulder, looking him full in the face. + +"Will it do? O Lawrence! Agatha always said you were the kindest man +in the world; and I--forgive me!--I did not believe it, I could not +understand it. O Jack, Jack, we shall be so happy, so happy! He loves +me, Lawrence, as much as I love him." + +The listeners in the greenhouse and the hall craned their necks, but +they could hear little, because the girl spoke low. + +"Does he love you as much as you love him, Phillis? Does he love you a +thousand times better than you can understand? Why, child, you do not +know what love means. Perhaps women never do quite realise what it +means. Only go on believing that he loves you, and love him in return, +and all will be well with you." + +"I do believe it, Lawrence! and I love him, too." + +Looking through the flowers and the leaves of the conservatory glared +a face upon the pair strangely out of harmony with the peace which +breathed in the atmosphere of the place--a face violently distorted by +passion, a face in which every evil feeling was at work, a face dark +with rage. Phillis might have seen the face had she looked in that +direction, but she did not; she held Lawrence's hand, and she was +shyly pressing it in gratitude. + +"Phillis," said Lawrence hoarsely, "Jack Dunquerque is a lucky man. We +all love you, my dear; and I almost as much as Jack. But I am too old +for you; and besides, besides----" He cleared his throat, and spoke +more distinctly. "I do love you, however, Phillis; a man could not be +long beside you without loving you." + +There was a movement and a rustle in the leaves. + +The man at the door stood bewildered. What was it all about? Colquhoun +and a woman--not his wife--talking of love. What love? what woman? And +his wife in the conservatory, looking as he never saw her look before, +and listening. What did it all mean? what thing was coming over him? +He pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to make out what it all +meant, for he seemed to be in a dream; and, as before, while he tried +to shape the words in his mind for some sort of an excuse, or a +reassurance to himself, he found that no words came, or, if any, then +the wrong words. + +The house was very quiet; no sounds came from any part of it,--the +servants were resting in the kitchen, the mistress of the house was +resting in her room, after the party,--no voices but the gentle talk +of the girl and her guardian. + +"Kiss me, Phillis," said Lawrence. "Then let me hold you in my arms +for once, because you are so sweet, and--and I am your guardian, you +know, and we all love you." + +He drew her gently by the hands. She made no resistance; it seemed to +her right that her guardian should kiss her if he wished. She did not +know how the touch of her hand, the light in her eyes, the sound of +her voice, were stirring in the man before her depths that he thought +long ago buried and put away, awakening once more the possibilities, +at forty, of a youthful love. + +His lips were touching her forehead, her face was close to his, he +held her two hands tight, when the crash of a falling flower-pot +startled him, and Victoria Cassilis stood before him. + +Panting, gasping for breath, with hands clenched and eyes distended--a +living statue of the _femina demens_. For a moment she paused to take +breath, and then, with a wave of her hand which was grand because it +was natural and worthy of Rachel--because you may see it any day among +the untutored beauties of Whitechapel, among the gipsy camps, or in +the villages where Hindoo women live and quarrel--Victoria Cassilis +for once in her life was herself, and acted superbly, because she did +not act at all. + +"Victoria!" The word came from Lawrence. + +Phillis, with a little cry of terror, clung tightly to her guardian's +arm. + +"Leave him!" cried the angry woman. "Do you hear?--leave him!" + +"Better go, Phillis," said Lawrence. + +At the prospect of battle the real nature of the man asserted itself. +He drew himself erect, and met her wild eyes with a steady gaze, which +had neither terror nor surprise in it--a gaze such as a mad doctor +might practise upon his patients, a look which calms the wildest +outbreaks, because it sees in them nothing but what it expected to +find, and is only sorry. + +"No! she shall not go," said Victoria, sweeping her skirts behind her +with a splendid movement from her feet; "she shall not go until she +has heard me first. You dare to make love to this girl, this +schoolgirl, before my very eyes. She shall know, she shall know our +secret!" + +"Victoria," said Lawrence calmly, "you do not understand what you are +saying. _Our_ secret? Say your secret, and be careful." + +The door moved an inch or two; the man standing behind it was shaking +in every limb. "Their secret? her secret?" He was going to learn at +last; he was going to find the truth; he was going---- And here a +sudden thought struck him that he had neglected his affairs of late, +and that, this business once got through, he must look into things +again; a thought without words, because, somehow, just then he had no +words--he had forgotten them all. + +The writer of the anonymous letters had done much mischief, as she +hoped to do. People who write anonymous letters generally contrive so +much. Unhappily, the beginning of mischief is like the boring of a +hole in a dam or dyke, because very soon, instead of a trickling +rivulet of water, you get a gigantic inundation. Nothing is easier +than to have your revenge; only it is so very difficult to calculate +the after consequences of revenge. If the writer of the letters had +known what was going to happen in consequence, most likely they would +never have been written. + +"Their secret? her secret?" He listened with all his might. But +Victoria, his wife Victoria, spoke out clearly; he could hear without +straining his ears. + +"Be careful," repeated Lawrence. + +"I shall not be careful; the time is past for care. You have sneered +and scoffed at me; you have insulted me; you have refused almost to +know me,--all that I have borne, but this I will not bear." + +"Phillis Fleming." She turned to the girl. Phillis did not shrink or +cower before her; on the contrary, she stood like Lawrence, calm and +quiet, to face the storm, whatever storm might be brewing. "This man +takes you in his arms and kisses you. He says he loves you; he dares +to tell you he loves you. No doubt you are flattered. You have had the +men round you all day long, and now you have the best of them at your +feet, alone, when they are gone. Well, the man you want to catch, the +excellent _parti_ you and Agatha would like to trap, the man who +stands there----" + +"Victoria, there is still time to stop," said Lawrence calmly. + +"That man is my husband!" + +Phillis looked from one to the other, understanding nothing. The man +stood quietly stroking his great beard with his fingers, and looking +straight at Mrs. Cassilis. + +"My husband. We were married six years ago and more. We were married +in Scotland, privately; but he is my husband, and five days after our +wedding he left me. Is that true?" + +"Perfectly. You have forgotten nothing, except the reason of my +departure. If you think it worth while troubling Phillis with that, +why----" + +"We quarrelled; that was the reason. He used cruel and bitter +language. He gave me back my liberty." + +"We separated, Phillis, after a row, the like of which you may +conceive by remembering that Mrs. Cassilis was then six years younger, +and even more ready for such encounters than at present. We separated; +we agreed that things should go on as if the marriage, which was no +marriage, had never taken place. Janet, the maid, was to be trusted. +She stayed with her mistress; I went abroad. And then I heard by +accident that my wife had taken the liberty I gave her, in its fullest +sense, by marrying again. Then I came home, because I thought that +chapter was closed; but it was not, you see; and for her sake I wish I +had stayed in America." + +Mrs. Cassilis listened as if she did not hear a word; then she went +on-- + +"He is my husband still. I can claim him when I want him; and I claim +him now. I say, Lawrence, so long as I live you shall marry no other +woman. You are mine; whatever happens, you are mine." + +The sight of the man, callous, immovable, suddenly seemed to terrify +her. She sank weeping at his knees. + +"Lawrence, forgive me, forgive me! Take me away. I never loved any one +but you. Forgive me!" + +He made no answer or any sign. + +"Let me go with you, somewhere, out of this place; let us go away +together, we two. I have never loved any one but you--never any one +but you, but you!" + +She broke into a passion of sobs. When she looked up, it was to meet +the white face of Gabriel Cassilis. He was stooping over her, his +hands spread out helplessly, his form quivering, his lips trying to +utter something; but no sound came through them. Beyond stood +Lawrence, still with the look of watchful determination which had +broken down her rage. Then she sprang to her feet. + +"You here? Then you know all. It is true; that is my legal husband. +For two years and more my life has been a lie. Stand back, and let me +go to my husband!" + +But he stood between Colquhoun and herself. Lawrence saw with a sudden +terror that something had happened to the man. He expected an outburst +of wrath, but no wrath came. Gabriel Cassilis turned his head from one +to the other, and presently said, in a trembling voice-- + +"A fine day, and seasonable weather for the time of year." + +"Good God!" cried Lawrence, "you have destroyed his reason!" + +Gabriel Cassilis shook his head, and began again-- + +"A fine day, and seasonable----" + +Here he threw himself upon the nearest chair, and buried his face in +his hands. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + + "Then a babbled of green fields." + + +And then there was silence. Which of them was to speak! Not the woman +who had wrought this mischief; not the man who knew of the wickedness +but had not spoken; not the innocent girl who only perceived that +something dreadful--something beyond the ordinary run of dreadful +events--had happened, and that Victoria Cassilis looked out of her +senses. Lawrence Colquhoun stood unmoved by her tears; his face was +hardened; it bore a look beneath which the guilty woman cowered. Yet +she looked at him and not at her husband. + +Presently Colquhoun spoke. His voice was harsh, and his words were a +command. + +"Go home!" he said to Victoria. "There is no more mischief for you to +do--go!" + +She obeyed without a word. She threw the light wrapper which she +carried on her arm round her slender neck, and walked away, restored, +to outward seeming, to all her calm and stately coldness. The coachman +and the footman noticed nothing. If any of her acquaintances passed +her on the road, they saw no change in her. The woman was impassive +and impenetrable. + +Did she love Colquhoun? No one knows. She loved to feel that she had +him in her power; she was driven to a mad jealousy when that power +slipped quite away; and although she had broken the vows which both +once swore to keep, she could not bear even to think that he should do +the same. And she did despise her husband, the man of shares, +companies, and stocks. But could she love Colquhoun? Such a woman may +feel the passion of jealousy; she may rejoice in the admiration which +gratifies her vanity; but she is far too cold and selfish for love. It +is an artful fable of the ancients which makes Narcissus pine away and +die for the loss of his own image, for thereby they teach the great +lesson that he who loves himself destroys himself. + +The carriage wheels crunched over the gravel, and Gabriel Cassilis +raised a pale and trembling face--a face with so much desolation and +horror, such a piteous gaze of questioning reproach at Colquhoun, that +the man's heart melted within him. He seemed to have grown old +suddenly; his hair looked whiter; he trembled as one who has the +palsy; and his eyes mutely asked the question, "Is this thing true?" + +Lawrence Colquhoun made answer. His voice was low and gentle; his eyes +were filled with tears. + +"It is true, Mr. Cassilis. God knows I would have spared you the +knowledge. But it is true." + +Gabriel Cassilis opened his lips as if to speak. But he refrained, +stopping suddenly, because he recollected that he could no longer +utter what he wished to say. Then he touched his mouth with his +fingers like a dumb man. He was worse than a dumb man, who cannot +speak at all, because his tongue, if he allowed it, uttered words +which had no connection with his thoughts. Men that have been called +possessed of the devil have knelt at altars, uttering blasphemous +impieties when their souls were full of prayer. + +"Do you understand me, Mr. Cassilis? Do you comprehend what I am +saying?" + +He nodded his head. + +Colquhoun took a piece of notepaper from the writing-table, and laid +it before him with a pencil. Mr. Cassilis grasped the pencil eagerly, +and began to write. From his fingers, as from his tongue, came the +sentence which he did _not_ wish to write-- + +"A fine day, and seasonable weather for the time of year." + +He looked at this result with sorrowful heart, and showed it to +Colquhoun, shaking his head. + +"Good heavens?" cried Colquhoun, "his mind is gone." + +Gabriel Cassilis touched him on the arm and shook his head. + +"He understands you, Lawrence," said Phillis; "but he cannot explain +himself. Something has gone wrong with him which we do not know." + +Gabriel Cassilis nodded gratefully to Phillis. + +"Then Mr. Cassilis," Colquhoun began, "it is right that you should +know all. Six years ago I followed Victoria Pengelley into Scotland. +We were married privately at a registrar's office under assumed names. +If you ever want to know where and by what names, you have only to ask +me, and I will tell you. There were reasons, she said,--I never quite +understood what they were, but she chose to be a _fille romanesque_ at +the time,--why the marriage should be kept secret. After the wedding +ceremony--such as it was--she left the office with her maid, who was +the only witness, and returned to the friends with whom she was +staying. I met her every day; but always in that house and among other +people. A few days passed. She would not, for some whim of her own, +allow the marriage to be disclosed. We quarrelled for that, and other +reasons--my fault, possibly. Good God! what a honeymoon! To meet the +woman you love--your bride--in society; if for half an hour alone, +then in the solitude of open observation; to quarrel like people who +have been married for forty years---- Well, perhaps it was my fault. +On the fifth day we agreed to let things be as if they had never been. +I left my bride, who was not my wife, in anger. We used bitter +words--perhaps I the bitterest. And when we parted, I bade her go back +to her old life as if nothing had been promised on either side. I said +she should be free; that I would never claim the power and the rights +given me by a form of words; that she might marry again; that, to +leave her the more free, I would go away and never return till she was +married, or till she gave me leave. I was away for four years; and +then I saw the announcement of her marriage in the paper, and I +returned. That is the bare history, Mr. Cassilis. Since my return, on +my honour as a gentleman, you have had no cause for jealousy in my own +behaviour towards--your wife, not mine. Remember, Mr. Cassilis, +whatever else may be said, she never was my wife. And yet, in the eye +of the law, I suppose she is my wife still. And with all my heart I +pity you." + +He stopped, and looked at the victim of the crime. Gabriel Cassilis +was staring helplessly from him to Phillis. Did he understand? Not +entirely, I think. Yet the words which he had heard fell upon his +heart softly, and soothed him in his trouble. At last his eyes rested +on Phillis, as if asking, as men do in times of trouble, for the quick +comprehension of a woman. + +"What can I do, Mr. Cassilis?" asked the girl. "If you cannot speak, +will you make some sign? Any little sign that I can understand?" + +She remembered that among her lesson-books was a dictionary. She put +that into his hand, and asked him to show her in the dictionary what +he wished to say. + +He took the book in his trembling hands, turned over the leaves, and +presently, finding the page he wanted, ran his fingers down the lines +till they rested on a word. + +Phillis read it, spelling it out in her pretty little school-girl +fashion. + +"S, I, si; L, E, N, C, LAME DUCK, lence--silence. Is that what you +wish to say, Mr. Cassilis?" + +He nodded. + +"Silence," repeated Lawrence. "For all our sakes it is the best--the +only thing. Phillis, tell no one what you have heard; not even Agatha; +not even Jack Dunquerque. Or, if you tell Jack Dunquerque, send him to +me directly afterwards. Do you promise, child?" + +"I promise, Lawrence. I will tell no one but Jack; and I shall ask him +first if he thinks I ought to tell him another person's secret." + +"Thank you, Phillis. Mr. Cassilis, there are only we three and--and +one more. You may trust Phillis when she promises a thing; you may +trust me, for my own sake; you may, I hope, trust that other person. +And as for me, it is my intention to leave England in a week. I deeply +regret that I ever came back to this country." + +A week was too far ahead for Mr. Cassilis to look forward to in his +agitation. Clearly the one thing in his mind at the moment--the one +possible thing--was concealment. He took the dictionary again, and +found the word "Home." + +"Will you let me take you home, sir?" Lawrence asked. + +He nodded again. There was no resentment in his face, and none in his +feeble confiding manner when he took Lawrence's arm and leaned upon it +as he crawled out to the carriage. + +Only one sign of feeling. He took Phillis by the hand and kissed her. +When he had kissed her, he laid his finger on her lips. And she +understood his wish that no one should learn this thing. + +"Not even Agatha, Phillis," said Lawrence. "Forget, if you can. And if +you cannot, keep silence." + +They drove into town together, these men with a secret between them. +Lawrence made no further explanations. What was there to explain? The +one who suffered the most sat upright, looking straight before him in +mute suffering. + +It is a long drive from Twickenham to Kensington Palace Gardens. When +they arrived, Mr. Cassilis was too weak to step out of the carriage. +They helped him--Lawrence Colquhoun and a footman--into the hall. He +was feeble with long fasting as much as from the effects of this +dreadful shock. + +They carried him to his study. Among the servants who looked on was +Tomlinson, the middle-aged maid with the harsh face. She knew that her +bolt had fallen at last; and she saw, too, that it had fallen upon the +wrong person, for up-stairs sat her mistress, calm, cold and +collected. She came home looking pale and a little worn; fatigued, +perhaps, with the constant round of engagements, though the season was +little more than half over. She dressed in gentle silence, which +Tomlinson could not understand. She went down to dinner alone, and +presently went to her drawing-room, where she sat in a window, and +thought. + +There Colquhoun found her. + +"I have told him all," he said. "Your words told him only half, and +yet too much. You were never my wife, as you know, and never will be, +though the Law may make you take my name. Cruel and heartless woman! +to gratify an insensate jealousy you have destroyed your husband." + +"Is he--is he--dead?" she cried, almost as if she wished he were. + +"No; he is not dead; he is struck with some fit. He cannot speak. +Learn, now, that your jealousy was without foundation. Phillis will +marry Dunquerque. As for me, I can never marry, as you know." + +"He is not dead!" she echoed, taking no notice of the last words. +Indeed, Phillis was quite out of her thoughts now. "Does he wish to +see me?" + +"No; you must not, at present, attempt to see him." + +"What will they do to me, Lawrence?" she asked again. "What can they +do? I did not mean him to hear. It was all to frighten you." + +"To frighten me! What they can do, Mrs. Cassilis, is to put you in the +prisoner's box and me in the witness box. What he wants to do, so far +as we can yet understand, is to keep silence." + +"What is the good of that? He will cry his wrongs all over the town, +and Phillis will tell everybody." + +"Phillis will tell no one, no one--not even Agatha. It was lucky that +Agatha heard nothing; she was upstairs, lying down after her party. +Will you keep silence?" + +"Of course I shall. What else is there for me to do?" + +"For the sake of your husband; for the sake of your boy----" + +"It is for my own sake, Lawrence," she interrupted coldly. + +"I beg your pardon. I ought to have known by this time that you would +have acted for your own sake only. Victoria, it was an evil day for me +when I met you; it was a worse day when I consented to a secret +marriage, which was no marriage, when there was no reason for any +secrecy; it was the worst day of all when I answered your letter, and +came here to see you. Every day we have met has produced more +recrimination. That would not have mattered, but for the mischief our +meeting has wrought upon your husband. I pray that we may never in +this world meet again." + +He was gone, and Victoria Cassilis has not met him since, nor do I +think now that she ever will meet him again. + +The summer night closed in; the moonlight came up and shone upon the +Park before her, laying silvery patches of light in ten of thousands +upon the young leaves of the trees, and darkening the shadows a deeper +black by way of contrast. They brought her tea and lights; then they +came for orders. There were none; she would not go out that night. At +eleven Tomlinson came. + +"I want nothing, Tomlinson. You need not wait up; I shall not want you +this evening." + +"Yes, madam; no, madam. Mr. Cassilis is asleep, madam." + +"Let some one sit up with him. See to that, Tomlinson; and don't let +him be disturbed." + +"I will sit up with him myself, madam." Tomlinson was anxious to get +to the bottom of the thing. What mischief had been done, and how far +was it her own doing? To persons who want revenge these are very +important questions, when mischief has actually been perpetrated. + +Then Victoria was left alone. In that great house, with its troop of +servants and nurses, with her husband and child, there was no one who +cared to know what she was doing. The master was not popular, because +he simply regarded every servant as a machine; but at least he was +just, and he paid well, and the house, from the point of view likely +to be taken by Mr. Plush and Miss Hairpin, was a comfortable one. The +mistress of the house was unpopular. Her temper at times was +intolerable, her treatment of servants showed no consideration; and +the women-folk regarded the neglect of her own child with the horror +of such neglect in which the Englishwoman of all ranks is trained. So +she was alone, and remained alone. The hands of the clock went round +and round; the moon went down, and over the garden lay the soft sepia +twilight of June; the lamp on the little table at her elbow went out; +but she sat still, hands crossed in her lap, looking out of window, +and thinking. + +She saw, but she did not feel the wickedness of it, a cold and selfish +girl ripening into a cold and selfish woman--one to whom the outer +world was as a panorama of moving objects, meaning nothing, and having +no connection with herself. Like one blind, deaf, and dumb, she moved +among the mobs who danced and sang, or who grovelled and wept. She had +no tears to help the sufferers, and no smiles to encourage the happy; +she had never been able to sympathise with the acting of a theatre or +the puppets of a novel; she was so cold that she was not even +critical. It seems odd, but it is really true, that a critic may be +actually too cold. She saw a mind that, like the Indian devotee, was +occupied for ever in contemplating itself; she saw beauty which would +have been irresistible had there been one gleam, just one gleam of +womanly tenderness; she saw one man after the other first attracted +and then repelled; and then she came to the one man who was not +repelled. There was once an unfortunate creature who dared to make +love to Diana. His fate is recorded in Lempriére's Dictionary; also in +Dr. Smith's later and more expensive work. Lawrence Colquhoun +resembled that swain, and his fate was not unlike the classical +punishment. She went through the form of marriage with him, and then +she drove him from her by the cold wind of her own intense +selfishness--a very Mistral. When he was gone she began to regret a +slave of such uncomplaining slavishness. Well, no one knew except +Janet. Janet did not talk. It was rather a struggle, she remembered, +to take Gabriel Cassilis--rather a struggle, because Lawrence +Colquhoun might come home and tell the story, not because there was +anything morally wrong. She was most anxious to see him when he did +come home--out of curiosity, out of jealousy, out of a desire to know +whether her old power was gone; out of fear, out of that reason which +makes a criminal seek out from time to time the scene and accomplices +of his crime, and for the thousand reasons which make up a selfish +woman's code of conduct. It was three o'clock and daylight when she +discovered that she had really thought the whole thing over from the +beginning, and that there was nothing more to think about, except the +future--a distasteful subject to all sinners. + +"After all," she summed up, as she rose to go to bed, "it is as well. +Lawrence and I should never have got along. He is too selfish, much +too selfish." + +Down-stairs they were watching over the stricken man. The doctor came +and felt his pulse; he also looked wise, and wrote things in Latin on +a paper, which he gave to a servant. Then he went away, and said he +would come in the morning again. He was a great doctor, with a title, +and quite believed to know everything; but he did not know what had +befallen this patient. + +When Gabriel Cassilis awoke there was some confusion in his mind, and +his brain was wandering--at least it appeared so, because what he said +had nothing to do with any possible wish or thought. He rambled at +large and at length; and then he grew angry, and then he became +suddenly sorrowful, and sighed; then he became perfectly silent. The +confused babble of speech ceased as suddenly as it had come; and since +that morning Gabriel Cassilis has not spoken. + +It was at half-past nine that his secretary called, simultaneously +with the doctor. + +He heard something from the servants, and pushed into the room where +his chief was lying. The eyes of the sick man opened languidly and +fell upon his first officer, but they expressed no interest and asked +no question. + +"Ah!" sighed Mr. Mowll, in the impatience of a sympathy which has but +little time to spare. "Will he recover, doctor?" + +"No doubt, no doubt. This way, my dear sir." He led the secretary out +of the room. "Hush! he understands what is said. This is no ordinary +seizure. Has he received any shock?" + +"Shock enough to kill thirty men," said the secretary. "Where was he +yesterday? Why did he not say something--do something--to avert the +disaster?" + +"Oh! Then the shock has been of a financial kind? I gathered from Mr. +Colquhoun that it was of a family nature--something sudden and +distressing." + +"Family nature!" echoed the secretary. "Who ever heard of Mr. Cassilis +worrying himself about family matters? No, sir; when a man is ruined +he has no time to bother about family matters." + +"Ruined? The great Mr. Gabriel Cassilis ruined?" + +"I should say so, and I ought to know. They say so in the City; they +will say so to-night in the papers. If he were well, and able to face +things, there might be--no, even then there could be no hope. +Settling-day this very morning; and a pretty settling it is." + +"Whatever day it is," said the doctor, "I cannot have him disturbed. +You may return in three or four hours, if you like, and then perhaps +he may be able to speak to you. Just now, leave him in peace." + +What had happened was this: + +When Mr. Cassilis caused to be circulated a certain pamphlet which we +have heard of, impugning the resources of the Republic of Eldorado, he +wished the stock to go down. It did go down, and he bought in--bought +in so largely that he held two millions of the stock. Men in his +position do not buy large quantities of stock without affecting the +price--Stock Exchange transactions are not secret--and Eldorado Stock +went up. This was what Gabriel Cassilis naturally desired. Also the +letter of El Señor Don Bellaco de la Carambola to the _Times_, +showing the admirable way in which Eldorado loans were received and +administered, helped. The stock went up from 64, at which price +Gabriel Cassilis bought in, to 75, at which he should have sold. Had +he done so at the right moment, he would have realised the very +handsome sum of two hundred and sixty thousand pounds; but the trouble +of the letters came, and prevented him from acting. + +While his mind was agitated by these--agitated, as we have seen, to +such an extent that he could no longer think or work, or attend to any +kind of business--there arrived for him telegram after telegram, in +his own cipher, from America. These lay unopened. It was disastrous, +because they announced beforehand the fact which only his +correspondent knew--the Eldorado bonds were no longer to be paid. + +That fact was now public. It was made known by all the papers that +Eldorado, having paid the interest out of the money borrowed, had no +further resources whatever, and could pay no more. It was stated in +leading articles that England should have known all along what a +miserable country Eldorado is. The British public were warned too late +not to trust in Eldorado promises any more; and the unfortunates who +held Eldorado Stock were actuated by one common impulse to sell, and +no one would buy. It was absurd to quote Eldorado bonds at anything; +and the great financier had to meet his engagements by finding the +difference between stock at 64 and stock at next to nothing for two +millions. + +Gabriel Cassilis was consequently ruined. When it became known that he +had some sort of stroke, people said that it was the shock of the +fatal news. He made the one mistake of an otherwise faultless career, +they said to each other, in trusting Eldorado, and his brain could not +stand the blow. When the secretary, who understood the cipher, came to +open the letters and telegrams, he left off talking about the fatal +shock of the news. It must have been something else--something he knew +nothing of, because he saw the blow might have been averted; and the +man's mind, clear enough when he went in for a great coup, had become +unhinged during the few days before the smash. + +Ruined! Gabriel Cassilis knew nothing about the wreck of his life, as +he lay upon his bed afraid to speak because he would only babble +incoherently. All was gone from him--money, reputation, wife. He had +no longer anything. The anonymous correspondent had taken all away. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + + "This comes of airy visions and the whispers + Of demons like to angels. Brother, weep." + + +Gilead Beck, returning from the Twickenham party before the explosion, +found Jack Dunquerque waiting for him. As we have seen, he was not +invited. + +"Tell me how she was looking!" he cried. "Did she ask after me?" + +"Wal, Mr. Dunquerque, I reckon you the most fortunate individual in +the hull world. She looked like an angel, and she talked like a--like +a woman, with pretty blushes; and yet she wasn't ashamed neither. +Seems as if bein' ashamed isn't her strong point. And what has she got +to be ashamed of?" + +"Did Colquhoun say anything?" + +"We had already got upon the subject, and I had ventured to make him a +proposition. You see, Mr. Dunquerque"--he grew confused, and +hesitated--"fact is, I want you to look at things just exactly as I +do. I'm rich. I have struck Ile; that Ile is the mightiest Special +Providence ever given to a single man. But it's given for purposes. +And one of those purposes is that some of it's got to go to you." + +"To me?" + +"To you, Mr. Dunquerque. Who fired that shot? Who delivered me from +the Grisly?" + +"Why, Ladds did as much as I." + +Mr. Beck shook his head. + +"Captain Ladds is a fine fellow," he said. "Steady as a rock is +Captain Ladds. There's nobody I'd rather march under if we'd the war +to do all over again. But the Ile isn't for Captain Ladds. It isn't +for him that the Golden Butterfly fills me with yearnin's. No sir. I +owe it all to you. You've saved my life; you've sought me out, and +gone about this city with me; you've put me up to ropes; you've taken +me to that sweet creature's house and made her my friend. And Mrs. +L'Estrange my friend, too. If I was to turn away and forget you, I +should deserve to lose that precious Inseck." + +He paused for a minute. + +"I said to Mr. Colquhoun, 'Mr. Dunquerque shall have half of my pile, +and more if he wants it. Only you let him come back again to Miss +Fleming.' And he laughed in his easy way; there's no kind of man in +the States like that Mr. Colquhoun--seems as if he never wants to get +anything. He laughed and lay back on the grass. And then he said, 'My +dear fellow, let Jack come back if he likes; there's no fighting +against fate; only let him have the decency not to announce his +engagement till Phillis has had her first season.' Then he drank some +cider-cup, and lay back again. Mrs. Cassilis--she's a very superior +woman that, but a trifle cold, I should say--watched him whenever he +spoke. She's got a game of her own, unless I am mistaken." + +"But, Beck," Jack gasped, "I can't do this thing; I can't take your +money." + +"I guess, sir, you can, and I guess you will. Come, Mr. Dunquerque, +say you won't go against Providence. There's a sweet young lady +waiting for you, and a little mountain of dollars." + +But Jack shook his head. + +"I thank you all the same," he said. "I shall never forget your +generosity--never. But that cannot be." + +"We will leave it to Miss Fleming," said Gilead. "What Miss Fleming +says is to be, shall be----" + +He was interrupted by the arrival of two letters. + +The first was from Joseph Jagenal. It informed him that he had learned +from his brothers that they had received money from him on account of +work which he thought would never be done. He enclosed a cheque for +the full amount, with many thanks for his kindness, and the earnest +hope that he would advance nothing more. + +In the letter was his cheque for £400, the amount which the Twins had +borrowed during the four weeks of their acquaintance. + +Mr. Beck put the cheque in his pocket and opened the other letter. It +was from Cornelius, and informed him that the Poem could not possibly +be finished in the time; that it was rapidly advancing; but that he +could not pledge himself to completing the work by October. Also, that +his brother Humphrey found himself in the same position as regarded +the Picture. He ended by the original statement that Art cannot be +forced. + +Mr. Beck laughed. + +"Not straight men, Mr. Dunquerque. I suspected it first when they +backed out at the dinner, and left me to do the talk. Wal, they may be +high-toned, whole-souled, and talented; but give me the man who works. +Now Mr. Dunquerque, if you please, we'll go and have some dinner, and +you shall talk about Miss Fleming. And the day after to-morrow--you +note that down--I've asked Mrs. L'Estrange and Miss Phillis to +breakfast. Captain Ladds is coming, and Mr. Colquhoun. And you shall +sit next to her. Mrs. Cassilis is coming too. When I asked her she +wanted to know if Mr. Colquhoun was to be there. I said yes. Then she +wanted to know if Phillis was to be there. I said yes. Then she set +her lips hard, and said, 'I will come, Mr. Beck.' She isn't happy, +that lady; she's got somethin' on her mind." + + +That evening Joseph Jagenal had an unpleasant duty to perform. It was +at dinner that he spoke. The Twins were just taking their first glass +of port. He had been quite silent through dinner, eating little. Now +he looked from one to the other without a word. + +They changed colour. Instinctively they knew what was coming. He said +with a gulp: + +"I am sorry to find that my brothers have not been acting honourably." + +"What is this, brother Humphrey," asked Cornelius. + +"I do not know, brother Cornelius," said the Artist. + +"I will tell you," said Joseph, "what they have done. They made a +disingenuous attempt to engage the affections of a rich young lady for +the sake of her money." + +"If Humphrey loved the girl----" began Cornelius. + +"If Cornelius was devoted to Phillis Fleming----" began Humphrey. + +"I was not, Humphrey," said Cornelius. "No such thing. And I told you +so." + +"I never did love her," said Humphrey. "I always said it was you." + +This was undignified. + +"I do not care which it was. It belongs to both. Then you went down to +her again, under the belief that she was engaged to--to--the Lord +knows which of you--and solemnly broke it off." + +Neither spoke this time. + +"Another thing. I regret to find that my brothers, having made a +contract for certain work with Mr. Gilead Beck, and having been partly +paid in advance, are not executing the work." + +"There, Joseph," said Humphrey, waving his hand as if this was a +matter on quite another footing, "you must excuse us. We know what is +right in Art, if we know nothing else. Art, Joseph, cannot be forced." + +Cornelius murmured assent. + +"We have our dignity to stand upon; we retreat with dignity. We say, +'We will not be forced; we will give the world our best.'" + +"Good," said Joseph. "That is very well; but where is the money?" + +Neither answered. + +"I have returned that money; but it is a large sum, and you must repay +me in part. Understand me, brothers. You may stay here as long as I +live: I shall never ask more of you than to respect the family name. +There was a time when you promised great things, and I believed in +you. It is only quite lately that I have learned to my sorrow that all +this promise has been for years a pretence. You sleep all day--you +call it work. You habitually drink too much at night. You, +Cornelius"--the Poet started--"have not put pen to paper for years. +You, Humphrey"--the Artist hung his head--"have neither drawn nor +painted anything since you came to live with me. I cannot make either +of you work. I cannot retrieve the past. I cannot restore lost habits +of industry. I cannot even make you feel your fall from the promise of +your youth, or remember the hopes of our father. What I can do is to +check your intemperate habits by such means as are in my power." + +He stopped; they were trembling violently. + +"Half of the £400 which you have drawn from Mr. Beck will be paid by +household saving. Wine will disappear from my table; brandy-and-soda +will have to be bought at your own expense. I shall order the dinners, +and I shall keep the key of the wine-cellar." + + +A year has passed. The Twins have had a sad time; they look forward +with undisguised eagerness to the return of the years of fatness; they +have exhausted their own little income in purchasing the means for +their midnight _séances_; and they have run up a frightful score +at the Carnarvon Arms. + +But they still keep up bravely the pretence about their work. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + + "So, on the ruins he himself had made. + Sat Marius reft of all his former glory." + + +"Can you understand me, sir?" + +Gabriel Cassilis sat in his own study. It was the day after the +garden-party. He slept through the night, and in the morning rose +and dressed as usual. Then he took his seat in his customary chair +at his table. Before him lay papers, but he did not read them. He +sat upright, his frock-coat tightly buttoned across his chest, and +rapped his knuckles with his gold eyeglasses as if he was thinking. + +They brought him breakfast, and he took a cup of tea. Then he motioned +them to take the things away. They gave him the _Times_, and he laid +it mechanically at his elbow. But he did not speak, nor did he seem to +attend to what was done around him. And his eyes had a far-off look in +them. + +"Can you understand me, sir?" + +The speaker was his secretary. He came in a cab, panting, eager to see +if there was still any hope. Somehow or other it was whispered already +in the City that Gabriel Cassilis had had some sort of stroke. And +there was terrible news besides. + +Mr. Mowll asked because there was something in his patron's face which +frightened him. His eyes were changed. They had lost the keen sharp +look which in a soldier means victory; in a scholar, clearness of +purpose; in a priest, knowledge of human nature and ability to use +that knowledge in a financier, the power and the intuition of success. +That was gone. In its place an expression almost of childish softness. +And another thing--the lips, once set firm and close, were parted now +and mobile. + +The other things were nothing. That a man of sixty-five should in a +single night become a man of eighty; that the iron grey hair should +become white; that a steady hand should shake, and straight shoulders +be bent. It was the look in his face, the far-off look, which made the +secretary ask that question before he went on. + +Mr. Cassilis nodded his head gently. He could understand. + +"You left the telegrams unopened for a week and more!" cried the +impatient clerk. "Why--Oh, why!--did you not let me open them?" + +There was no reply. + +"If I had known, I could have acted. Even the day before yesterday I +could have acted. The news came yesterday morning. It was all over the +City by three. And Eldorado's down to nothing in a moment." + +Mr. Cassilis looked a mild inquiry. No anxiety in that look at all. + +"Eldorado won't pay up her interest. It's due next week. Nothing to +pay it with. Your agent in New York telegraphed this a week ago. He's +been confirming the secret every day since. O Lord! O Lord! And you +the only man who had the knowledge, and all that stake in it! Can you +speak, sir?" + +For his master's silence was terrible to him. + +"Listen, then. Ten days ago Eldorados went down after Wylie's +pamphlet. You told him what to write and you paid him, just as you did +last year. But you tried to hide it from me. That was wrong, sir. I've +served you faithfully for twenty years. But never mind that. You +bought in at 64. Then the Eldorado minister wrote to the paper. Stock +went up to 75. You stood to win, only the day before yesterday, +£260,000; more than a quarter of a million. Yesterday, by three, they +were down to 16. This morning they are down to 8. And it's +settling-day, and you lose--you lose--your all. Oh, what a day, what a +day!" + +Still no complaint, not even a sigh from the patient man in the +Windsor chair. Only that gentle tapping of the knuckles, and that +far-off look. + +"The great name of Gabriel Cassilis dragged in the dust! All your +reputation gone--the whole work of your life--O sir! can't you feel +even that? Can't you feel the dreadful end of it all--Gabriel +Cassilis, the great Gabriel Cassilis, a LAME DUCK!" + +Not even that. The work of his life was forgotten with all its hopes, +and the great financier, listening to his clerk with the polite +impatience of one who listens to a wearisome sermon, was trying to +understand what was the meaning of that black shadow which lay upon +his mind and made him uneasy. For the rest a perfect calm in his +brain. + +"People will say it was the shock of the Eldorado smash. Well, sir, it +wasn't that; I know so much; but it's best to let people think so. If +you haven't a penny left in the world you have your character, and +that's as high as ever. + +"Fortunately," Mr. Mowll went on, "my own little savings were not in +Eldorado Stock. But my employment is gone, I suppose. You will +recommend me, I hope, sir. And I do think that I've got some little +reputation in the City." + +It was not for want of asserting himself that this worthy man failed, +at any rate, of achieving his reputation. For twenty years he had +magnified his office as confidential adviser of a great City light; +among his friends and in his usual haunts he successfully posed as one +burdened with the weight of affairs, laden with responsibility, and at +all times oppressed by the importance of his thoughts. He carried a +pocket-book which shut with a clasp; in the midst of a conversation he +would stop, become abstracted, rush at the pocket-book, so to speak, +confide a jotting to its care, shut it with a snap, and then go on +with a smile and an excuse. Some said that he stood in with Gabriel +Cassilis; all thought that he shared his secrets, and gave advice when +asked for it. + +As a matter of fact, he was a clerk, and had always been a clerk; but +he was a clerk who knew a few things which might have been awkward if +told generally. He had a fair salary, but no confidence, no advice, +and not much more real knowledge of what his chief was doing than any +outsider. And in this tremendous smash it was a great consolation to +him to reflect that the liabilities represented an amount for which it +was really a credit to fail. + +Mr. Mowll has since got another place where the transactions are not +so large, but perhaps his personal emoluments greater. In the evenings +he will talk of the great failure. + +"We stood to win," he will say, leaning back with a superior +smile,--"we stood to win £260,000. We lost a million and a quarter. I +told him not to hang on too long. Against my advice he did. I +remember--ah, only four days before it happened--he said to me, +'Mowll, my boy,' he said, 'I've never known you wrong yet. But for +once I fancy my own opinion. We've worked together for twenty years,' +he said, 'and you've the clearest head of any man I ever saw,' he +said. 'But here I think you're wrong. And I shall hold on for another +day or two,' he said. Ah, little he knew what a day or two would bring +forth! And he hasn't spoken since. Plays with his little boy, and goes +about in a Bath-chair. What a man he was! and what a pair--if I may +say so--we made between us among the bulls and the bears! Dear me, +dear me!" + +It may be mentioned here that everything was at once given up; the +house in Kensington Palace Gardens, with its costly furniture, its +carriages, plate, library, and pictures. Mr. Cassilis signed whatever +documents were brought for signature without hesitation, provided a +copy of his own signature was placed before him. Otherwise he could +not write his name. + +And never a single word of lamentation, reproach, or sorrow. The past +was, and is still, dead to him; all the past except one thing, and +that is ever with him. + +For sixty years of his life, this man of the City, whose whole desire +was to make money, to win in the game which he played with rare +success and skill, regarded bankruptcy as the one thing to be dreaded, +or at least to be looked upon, because it was absurd to dread it, as a +thing bringing with it the whole of dishonour. Not to meet your +engagements was to be in some sort a criminal. And now he was +proclaimed as one who could not meet his engagements. + +If he understood what had befallen him he did not care about it. The +trouble was slight indeed in comparison with the other disaster. The +honour of his wife and the legitimacy of his child--these were gone; +and the man felt what it is that is greater than money gained or money +lost. + +The blow which fell upon him left his brain clear while it changed the +whole course of his thoughts and deprived him partially of memory. But +it destroyed his power of speech. That rare and wonderful disease +which seems to attack none but the strongest, which separates the +brain from the tongue, takes away the knowledge and the sense of +language, and kills the power of connecting words with things, while +it leaves that of understanding what is said--the disease which +doctors call Aphasia--was upon Mr. Gabriel Cassilis. + +In old men this is an incurable disease. Gabriel Cassilis will never +speak again. He can read, listen, and understand, but he can frame no +words with his lips nor write them with his hand. He is a prisoner who +has free use of his limbs. He is separated from the world by a greater +gulf than that which divides the blind and the deaf from the rest of +us, because he cannot make known his thoughts, his wants, or his +wishes. + +It took some time to discover what was the matter with him. Patients +are not often found suffering from aphasia, and paralysis was the +first name given to his disease. + +But it was very early found out that Mr. Cassilis understood all that +was said to him, and by degrees they learned what he liked and what he +disliked. + +Victoria Cassilis sat up-stairs, waiting for something--she knew not +what--to happen. Her maid told her that Mr. Cassilis was ill; she made +no reply; she did not ask to see him; she did not ask for any further +news of him. She sat in her own room for two days, waiting. + +Then Joseph Jagenal asked if he might see her. + +She refused at first; but on hearing that he proposed to stay in the +house till she could receive him, she gave way. + +He came from Lawrence, perhaps. He would bring her a message of some +kind; probably a menace. + +"You have something to say to me, Mr. Jagenal?" Her face was set hard, +but her eyes were wistful. He saw that she was afraid. When a woman is +afraid, you may make her do pretty well what you please. + +"I have a good deal to tell you, Mrs. Cassilis; and I am sorry to say +it is of an unpleasant nature. + +"I have heard," he went on, "from Mr. Colquhoun that you made a +remarkable statement in the presence of Miss Fleming, and in the +hearing of Mr. Cassilis." + +"Lawrence informed you correctly, I have no doubt," she replied +coldly. + +"That statement of course was untrue," said Joseph, knowing that no +record ever was more true. "And therefore I venture to advise----" + +"On the part of Lawrence?" + +"In the name of Mr. Colquhoun, partly; partly in your own +interest----" + +"Go on, if you please, Mr. Jagenal." + +"Believing that statement to be untrue," he repeated, "for +otherwise I could not give this advice, I recommend to all parties +concerned--silence. Your husband's paralysis is attributed to the +shock of his bankruptcy----" + +"His what?" cried Victoria, who had heard as yet nothing of the City +disaster. + +"His bankruptcy. Mr. Cassilis is ruined." + +"Ruined! Mr. Cassilis!" + +She was startled out of herself. + +Ruined! The thought of such disaster had never once crossed her +brains. Ruined! That Colossus of wealth--the man whom she married for +his money, while secretly she despised his power of accumulating +money! + +"He is ruined, Mrs. Cassilis, and hopelessly. I have read certain +papers which he put into my hands this morning. It is clear to me that +his mind has been for some weeks agitated by certain anonymous letters +which came to him every day, and accused you--pardon me, Mrs. +Cassilis--accused you of--infidelity. The letters state that there is +a secret of some kind connected with your former acquaintance with Mr. +Colquhoun; that you have been lately in the habit of receiving him or +meeting him every day; that you were in his chambers one evening when +Mr. Cassilis called; with other particulars extremely calculated to +excite jealousy and suspicion. Lastly, he was sent by the writer to +Twickenham. The rest, I believe you know." + +She made no reply. + +"There can be no doubt, not the least doubt, that had your husband's +mind been untroubled, this would never have happened. The disaster is +due to his jealousy." + +"I could kill her!" said Mrs. Cassilis, clenching her fist. "I could +kill her!" + +"Kill whom?" + +"The woman who wrote those letters. It was a woman. No man could have +done such a thing. A woman's trick. Go on." + +"There is nothing more to say. How far other people are involved with +your husband, I cannot tell. I am going now into the City to find out +if I can. Your wild words, Mrs. Cassilis, and your unguarded conduct, +have brought about misfortunes on which you little calculated. But I +am not here to reproach you." + +"You are my husband's man of business, I suppose," she replied +coldly--"a paid servant of his. What you say has no importance, nor +what you think. What did Lawrence bid you tell me?" + +Joseph Jagenal's face clouded for a moment. But what was the good of +feeling resentment with such a woman, and in such a miserable +business? + +"You have two courses open to you," he went on. "You may, by repeating +the confession you made in the hearing of Mr. Cassilis, draw upon +yourself such punishment as the Law, provided the confession be true, +can inflict. That will be a grievous thing to you. It will drive you +out of society, and brand you as a criminal; it will lock you up for +two years in prison; it will leave a stigma never to be forgotten or +obliterated; it means ruin far, far worse than what you have brought +on Mr. Cassilis. On the other hand, you may keep silence. This at +least will secure the legitimacy of your boy, and will keep for you +the amount settled on you at your marriage. But you may choose. If the +statement you made is true, of course I can be no party to compounding +a felony----" + +"And Lawrence?" she interposed. "What does Lawrence say?" + +"In any case Mr. Colquhoun will leave England at once." + +"He will marry that Phillis girl? You may tell him," she hissed out, +"that I will do anything and suffer anything rather than consent to +his marrying her, or any one else." + +"Mr. Colquhoun informs me further," pursued the crafty lawyer, "that, +for some reason only known to himself, he will never marry during the +life of a certain person. Phillis Fleming will probably marry the +Honourable Mr. Ronald Dunquerque." + +She buried her head in her hands, not to hide any emotion, for there +was none to hide, but to think. Presently she rose, and said, "Take me +to--my husband, if you please." + +Joseph Jagenal, as a lawyer, is tolerably well versed in such +wickedness and deceptions as the human heart is capable of. At the +same time, he acknowledges to himself that the speech made by Victoria +Cassilis to her husband, and the manner in which it was delivered, +surpassed anything he had ever experienced or conceived. + +Gabriel Cassilis was sitting in an arm-chair near his table. In his +arms was his infant son, a child of a year old, for whose amusement he +was dangling a bunch of keys. The nurse was standing beside him. + +When his wife opened the door he looked up, and there crossed his face +a sudden expression of such repulsion, indignation, and horror, that +the lawyer fairly expected the lady to give way altogether. But she +did not. Then Mrs. Cassilis motioned the nurse to leave them, and +Victoria said what she had come to say. She stood at the table, in the +attitude of one who commands respect rather than one who entreats +pardon. Her accentuation was precise, and her words as carefully +chosen as if she had written them down first. But her husband held his +eyes down, as if afraid of meeting her gaze. You would have called him +a culprit waiting for reproof and punishment. + +"I learn to-day for the first time that you have suffered from certain +attacks made upon me by an anonymous writer; I learn also for the +first time, and to my great regret, that you have suffered in fortune +as well as in health. I have myself been too ill in mind and body to +be told anything. I am come to say at once that I am sorry if any rash +words of mine have given you pain, or any foolish actions of mine have +given you reason for jealousy. The exact truth is that Lawrence +Colquhoun and I were once engaged. The breaking off of that engagement +caused me at the time the greatest unhappiness. I resolved then that +he should never be engaged to any other girl if I could prevent it by +any means in my power. My whole action of late, which appeared to you +as if I was running after an old lover, was the prevention of his +engagement, which I determined to break off, with Phillis Fleming. In +the heat of my passion I used words which were not true. They occurred +to me at the moment. I said he was my husband. I meant to have said my +promised husband. You now know, Mr. Cassilis, the whole secret. I am +deeply humiliated in having to confess my revengeful spirit. I am +punished in your affliction." + +Always herself; always her own punishment. + +"We can henceforth, I presume, Mr. Cassilis, resume our old manner of +life." + +Mr. Cassilis made no answer, but he patted the head of his child, and +Joseph Jagenal saw the tears running down his cheeks. For he knew that +the woman lied to him. + +"For the sake of the boy, Mr. Cassilis," the lawyer pleaded, "let +things go on as before." + +He made no sign. + +"Will you let me say something for you in the interests of the child?" + +He nodded. + +"Then, Mrs. Cassilis, your husband consents that there shall be no +separation and no scandal. But it will be advisable for you both that +there shall be as little intercourse as possible. Your husband will +breakfast and dine by himself, and occupy his own apartments. You are +free, provided you live in the same house, and keep up appearances, to +do whatever you please. But you will not obtrude your presence upon +your husband." + +Mr. Cassilis nodded again. Then he sought his dictionary, and hunted +for a word. It was the word he had first found, and was "Silence." + +"Yes; you will also observe strict silence on what has passed at +Twickenham, here or elsewhere. Should that silence not be observed, +the advisers of Mr. Cassilis will recommend such legal measures as may +be necessary." + +Again Gabriel Cassilis nodded. He had not once looked up at his wife +since that first gaze, in which he concentrated the hatred and +loathing of his speechless soul. + +"Is that all?" asked Victoria Cassilis. "Or have we more +arrangements?" + +"That is all, madam," said Joseph, opening the door with great +ceremony. + +She went away as she had come, with cold haughtiness. Nothing seemed +to touch her; not her husband's misery; not his ruin; not the sight of +her child. One thing only pleased her. Lawrence Colquhoun would not +marry during her lifetime. Bah! she would live a hundred years, and he +should never marry at all. + +In her own room was her maid. + +"Tomlinson," said Mrs. Cassilis--in spite of her outward calm, her +nerves were strung to the utmost, and she felt that she must speak to +some one--"Tomlinson, if a woman wrote anonymous letters about you, if +those letters brought misery and misfortune, what would you do to that +woman?" + +"I do not know, ma'am," said Tomlinson, whose cheeks grew white. + +"I will kill her, Tomlinson! I will kill her! I will get those letters +and prove the handwriting, and find that woman out. I will devote my +life to it, and I will have no mercy on her when I have found her. I +will kill her--somehow--by poison--by stabbing--somehow. Don't +tremble, woman; I don't mean you. And Tomlinson, forget what I have +said." + +Tomlinson could not forget. She tottered from the room, trembling in +every limb. + +The wretched maid had her revenge. In full and overflowing measure. +And yet she was not satisfied. The exasperating thing about revenge is +that it never does satisfy, but leaves you at the end as angry as at +the beginning. Your enemy is crushed; you have seen him tied to a +stake, as is the pleasant wont of the Red Indian, and stick arrows, +knives, and red-hot things into him. These hurt so much that he is +glad to die. But he is dead, and you can do no more to him. And it +seems a pity, because if you had kept him alive, you might have +thought of other and more dreadful ways of revenge. These doubts will +occur to the most revenge-satiated Christian, and they lead to +self-reproach. After all, one might just as well forgive a fellow at +once. + +Mrs. Cassilis was a selfish and heartless woman. All the harm that was +done to her was the loss of her great wealth. And what had her husband +done to Tomlinson that he should be stricken? And what had others done +who were involved with him in the great disaster? + +Tomlinson was so terrified, however, by the look which crossed her +mistress's face, that she went away that very evening; pretended to +have received a telegram from Liverpool; when she got there wrote for +boxes and wages, with a letter in somebody else's writing, _for a +reason_, to her mistress, and then went to America, where she had +relations. She lives now in a city of the Western States, where her +brother keeps a store. She is a leader in her religious circle; and I +think that if she were to see Victoria Cassilis by any accident in the +streets of that city, she would fly again, and to the farthest corners +of the earth. + +So much for revenge; and I do hope that Tomlinson's example will be +laid to heart, and pondered by other ladies'-maids whose mistresses +are selfish and sharp-tempered. + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + + "Farewell to all my greatness." + + +The last day of Gilead Beck's wealth. He rose as unconscious of his +doom as that frolicsome kid whose destiny brought the tear to Delia's +eye. Had he looked at the papers he would at least have ascertained +that Gabriel Cassilis was ruined. But he had a rooted dislike to +newspapers, and never looked at them. He classed the editor of the +_Times_ with Mr. Huggins of Clearville or Mr. Van Cott of Chicago, but +supposed that he had a larger influence. Politics he despised; +criticism was beyond him; with social matters he had no concern; and +it would wound the national self-respect were he to explain how +carelessly he regarded matters which to Londoners seem of world-wide +importance. + +On this day Gilead rose early because there was a good deal to look +after. His breakfast was fixed for eleven--a real breakfast. At six he +was dressed, and making, in his mind's eye, the arrangements for +seating his guests. Mr. and Mrs. Cassilis, Mrs. L'Estrange and +Phillis, Lawrence Colquhoun, Ladds, and Jack Dunquerque--all his most +intimate friends were coming. He had also invited the Twins, but a +guilty conscience made them send an excuse. They were now sitting at +home, sober by compulsion and in great wretchedness, as has been seen. + +The breakfast was to be held in the same room in which he once +entertained the men of genius, but the appointments were different. +Gilead Beck now went in for flowers, to please the ladies: flowers in +June do not savour of ostentation. Also for fruit: strawberries, +apricots, cherries and grapes in early June are not things quite +beyond precedent, and his conscience acquitted him of display which +might seem shoddy. And when the table was laid, with its flowers and +fruit and dainty cold dishes garnished with all sorts of pretty +things, it was, he felt, a work of art which reflected the highest +credit on himself and everybody concerned. + +Gilead Beck was at great peace with himself that morning. He was +resolved on putting into practice at once some of those schemes which +the Golden Butterfly demanded as loudly as it could whisper. He would +start that daily paper which should be independent of commercial +success; have no advertisements; boil down the news; do without long +leaders; and always speak the truth, without evasion, equivocation, +suppression, or exaggeration. A miracle in journalism. He would run +the great National Drama which should revive the ancient glories of +the stage. And for the rest he would be guided by circumstances, and +when a big thing had to be done he would step in with his Pile, and do +that big thing by himself. + +There was in all this perhaps a little over-rating the power of the +Pile; but Gilead Beck was, after all, only human. Think what an +inflation of dignity, brother De Pauper-et-egens, would follow in your +own case on the acquisition of fifteen hundred pounds a day. + +Another thing pleased our Gilead. He knew that in his own country the +difficulty of getting into what he felt to be the best society would +be insuperable. The society of shoddy, the companionship with the +quickly grown rich, and the friendship of the gilded bladder are in +the reach of every wealthy man. But Gilead was a man of finer +feelings; he wanted more than this; he wanted the friendship of those +who were born in the purple of good breeding. In New York he could not +have got this. In London he did get it. His friends were ladies and +gentlemen; they not only tolerated him, but they liked him; they were +people to whom he could give nothing, but they courted his society, +and this pleased him more than any other part of his grand Luck. There +was no great merit in their liking the man. Rude as his life had been, +he was gifted with the tenderest and kindest heart; lowly born and +roughly bred, he was yet a man of boundless sympathies. And because he +had kept his self-respect throughout, and was ashamed of nothing, he +slipt easily and naturally into the new circle, picking up without +difficulty what was lacking of external things. Yet he was just the +same as when he landed in England; with the same earnest, almost +solemn, way of looking at things; the same gravity; the same twang +which marked his nationality. He affected nothing and pretended +nothing; he hid nothing and was ashamed of nothing; he paraded nothing +and wanted to be thought no other than the man he was--the ex-miner, +ex-adventurer, ex-everything, who by a lucky stroke hit upon Ile, and +was living on the profits. And perhaps in all the world there was no +happier man than Gilead Beck on that bright June morning, which was to +be the last day of his grandeur. A purling stream of content murmured +and babbled hymns of praise in his heart. He had no fears; his nerves +were strong; he expected nothing but a continuous flow of prosperity +and happiness. + +The first to arrive was Jack Dunquerque. Now, if this youth had read +the papers he would have been able to communicate some of the fatal +news. But he had not, because he was full of Phillis. And if any +rumour of the Eldorado collapse smote his ears, it smote them +unnoticed, because he did not connect Eldorado with Gilead Beck. What +did it matter to this intolerably selfish young man how many British +speculators lost their money by the Eldorado smash when he was going +to meet Phillis. After all, the round world and all that is therein do +really rotate about a pole--of course invisible--which goes through +every man's own centre of gravity, and sticks out in a manner which +may be felt by him. And the reason why men have so many different +opinions is, I am persuaded, this extraordinary, miraculous, +multitudinous, simultaneous revolution of the earth upon her million +axes. Enough for Jack that Phillis was coming--Phillis, whom he had +not seen since the discovery--more memorable to him than any made by +Traveller or Physicist--of the Coping-stone. + +Jack came smiling and bounding up the stairs with agile spring--a +good-half hour before the time. Perhaps Phillis might be before him. +But she was not. + +Then came Ladds. Gilead Beck saw that there was some trouble upon him, +but forbore to ask him what it was. He bore his heavy inscrutable +look, such as that with which he had been wont to meet gambling +losses, untoward telegrams from Newmarket, and other buffetings of +Fate. + +Then came a letter from Mrs. Cassilis. Her husband was ill, and +therefore she could not come. + +Then came a letter from Lawrence Colquhoun. He had most important +business in the City, and therefore he could not come. + +"Seems like the Wedding-feast," said Gilead irreverently. He was a +little disconcerted by the defection of so many guests; but he had a +leaf taken out of the table, and cheerfully waited for the remaining +two. + +They came at last, and I think the hearts of all three leaped within +them at sight of Phillis's happy face. If it was sweet before, when +Jack first met her, with the mysterious look of childhood on it, it +was far sweeter now with the bloom and blush of conscious womanhood, +the modest light of maidenly joy with which she met her lover. Jack +rushed, so to speak, at her hand, and held it with a ridiculous +shamelessness only excusable on the ground that they were almost in a +family circle. Then Phillis shook hands with Gilead Beck, with a smile +of gratitude which meant a good deal more than preliminary thanks for +the coming breakfast. Then it came to Ladds's turn. He turned very +red--I do not know why--and whispered in his deepest bass-- + +"Know all about it. Lucky beggar, Jack! Wish you happiness!" + +"Thank you, Captain Ladds," Phillis replied, in her fearless fashion. +"I am very happy already. And so is Jack." + +"Wanted yesterday," Ladds went on, in the same deep whisper--"wanted +yesterday to offer some slight token of regard--found I couldn't--no +more money--Eldorado smash--all gone--locked in boxes--found +ring--once my mother's. Will you accept it?" + +Phillis understood the ring, but she did not understand the rest of +the speech. It was one of those old-fashioned rings set in pearls and +brilliants. She was not by any means above admiring rings, and she +accepted it with a cheerful alacrity. + +"Sell up," Ladds growled,--"go away--do something--earn the daily +crust----" + +"But I don't understand----" she interrupted. + +"Never mind. Tell you after breakfast. Tell you all presently." + +And then they went to breakfast. + +It was rather a silent party. Ladds was, as might have been expected +of a man who had lost his all, disposed to taciturnity. Jack and +Phillis were too happy to talk much. Agatha L'Estrange and the host +had all the conversation to themselves. + +Agatha asked him if the dainty spread before them was the usual method +of breakfast in America. Gilead Beck replied that of late years he had +been accustomed to call a chunk of cold pork with a piece of bread a +substantial breakfast, and that the same luxuries furnished him, as a +rule, with dinner. + +"The old life," he said, "had its points, I confess. For those who +love cold pork it was one long round of delirious joy. And there was +always the future to look forward to. Now the future has come I like +it better. My experience, Mrs. L'Estrange, is that you may divide men +into two classes--those who've got a future, and those who haven't. I +belonged to the class who had a future. Sometimes we miss it. And I +feel like to cry whenever I think of the boys with a bright future +before them, who fell in the War at my side, not in tens, but in +hundreds. Sometimes we find it. I found it when I struck Ile. And +always, for those men, whether the future come early or whether it +come late, it lies bright and shinin' before them, and so they never +lose hope." + +"And have women no future as well as men, Mr. Beck?" asked Phillis. + +"I don't know, Miss Fleming. But I hope you have. Before my Golden +Butterfly came to me I was lookin' forward for my future, and I knew +it was bound to come in some form or other. I looked forward for +thirty years; my youth was gone when it came, and half my manhood. But +it is here." + +"Perhaps, Mr. Beck," said Mrs. L'Estrange, who was a little _rococo_ +in her morality, "it is well that this great fortune did not come to +you when you were younger." + +"You think that, madam? Perhaps it is so. To fool around New York +would be a poor return for the Luck of the Butterfly. Yes; better as +it is. Providence knows very well what to be about; it don't need +promptin' from us. And impatience is no manner of use, not the least +use in the world. At the right time the Luck comes; at the right time +the Luck will go. Yes,"--he looked solemnly round the table,--"some +day the Luck is bound to go. When it goes, I hope I shall be prepared +for the change. But if it goes to-morrow, it cannot take away, Mrs. +L'Estrange, the memory of these few months, your friendship, and +yours, Miss Fleming. There's things which do not depend upon Ile; more +things than I thought formerly; things which money cannot do. More +than once I thought my pile ought to find it easy to do somethin' +useful before the time comes. But the world is a more tangled web than +I used to think." + +"There are always the poor among us," said the good Agatha. + +"Yes, madam, that is true. And there always will be. More you give to +the poor, more you make them poor. There's folks goin' up and folks +goin' down. You in England help the folks goin' down. You make them +fall easy. I want to help the folks goin' up." + +At this moment a telegram was brought for him. + +It was from his London bankers. They informed him that a cheque for a +small sum had been presented, but that his balance was already +overdrawn; and that they had received a telegram from New York on +which they would be glad to see him. + +Gilead Beck read it, and could not understand it. The cheque was for +his own weekly account at the hotel. + +He laid the letter aside, and went on with his exposition of the +duties and responsibilities of wealth. He pointed out to Mrs. +L'Estrange, who alone listened to him--Jack was whispering to Phillis, +and Ladds was absorbed in thoughts of his own--that when he arrived in +London he was possessed with the idea that all he had to do, in order +to protect, benefit, and advance humanity, was to found a series of +institutions; that, in the pursuit of this idea, he had visited and +examined all the British institutions he could hear of; and that his +conclusions were that they were all a failure. + +"For," he concluded, "what have you done? Your citizens need not save +money, because a hospital, a church, an almshouse, a dispensary, and a +workhouse stand in every parish; they need not be moral, because +there's homes for the repentant in every other street. All around they +are protected by charity and the State. Even if they get knocked down +in the street, they need not fight, because there's a policeman within +easy hail. You breed your poor, Mrs. L'Estrange, and you take almighty +care to keep them always with you. In my country he who can work and +won't work goes to the wall; he starves, and a good thing too. Here he +gets fat. + +"Every way," he went on, "you encourage your people to do nothing. +Your clever young men get a handsome income for life, I am told, at +Oxford and Cambridge, if they pass one good examination. For us the +examination is only the beginning. Your clergymen get a handsome +income for life, whether they do their work or not. Ours have got to +go on preachin' well and livin' well; else we want to know the reason +why. You give your subalterns as much as other nations give their +colonels; you set them down to a grand mess every day as if they were +all born lords. You keep four times as many naval officers as you +want, and ten times as many generals. It's all waste and lavishin' +from end to end. And as for your Royal Family, I reckon that I'd find +a dozen families in Massachusetts alone who'd run the Royal Mill for a +tenth of the money. I own they wouldn't have the same gracious +manners," he added. "And your Princess is--wal, if Miss Fleming were +Princess, she couldn't do the part better. Perhaps gracious manners +are worth paying for." + +Here another telegram was brought him. + +It was from New York. It informed him in plain and intelligible terms +that his wells had all run dry, that his credit was exhausted, and +that no more bills would be honoured. + +He read this aloud with a firm voice and unfaltering eye. Then he +looked round him, and said solemnly---- + +"The time has come. It's come a little sooner than I expected. But it +has come at last." + +He was staggered, but he remembered something which consoled him. + +"At least," he said, "if the income is gone, the Pile remains. That's +close upon half a million of English money. We can do something with +that. Mr. Cassilis has got it all for me." + +"Who?" cried Ladds eagerly. + +"Mr. Gabriel Cassilis, the great English financier." + +"He is ruined," said Ladds. "He has failed for two millions sterling. +If your money is in his hands----" + +"Part of it, I believe, was in Eldorado Stock." + +"The Eldoradians cannot pay their interest. And the stock has sunk to +nothing. Gabriel Cassilis has lost all my money in it--at least, I +have lost it on his recommendation." + +"Your money all gone, Tommy?" cried Jack. + +"All, Jack--Ladds' Aromatic Cocoa--Fragrant--Nutritious--no use +now--business sold twenty years ago. Proceeds sunk in Eldorado Stock. +Nothing but the smell left." + +And while they were gazing in each other's face with mute +bewilderment, a third messenger arrived with a letter. + +It was from Mr. Mowll the secretary. It informed poor Gilead that Mr. +Gabriel Cassilis had drawn, in accordance with his power of attorney, +upon him to the following extent. A bewildering mass of figures +followed, at the bottom of which was the total--Gilead Beck's two +million dollars. That, further, Gabriel Cassilis, always, it appeared, +acting on the wishes of Mr. Beck, had invested the whole sum in +Eldorado Stock. That, &c. He threw the letter on the table half +unread. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he rose solemnly, and +sought the corner of the room in which stood the safe containing the +Emblem of his Luck. He opened it, and took out the box of glass and +gold which held it. This was covered with a case of green leather. He +carried it to the table. They all crowded round while he raised the +leathern cover and displayed the Butterfly. + +"Has any one," he lifted his head and looked helplessly round,--"has +any one felt an airthquake?" + +For a strange thing had happened The wings of the insect were lying +on the floor of the box; the white quartz which formed its body had +slipped from the gold wire which held it up, and the Golden Butterfly +was in pieces. + +He opened the box with a little gold key and took out the fragments of +the two wings and the body. + +"Gone!" he said. "Broken! + + "'If this golden Butterfly fall and break, + Farewell the Luck of Gilead P. Beck.' + +"Your own lines, Mr. Dunquerque. Broken into little bits it is. The +Ile run dry, the credit exhausted, and the Pile fooled away." + +No one spoke. + +"I am sorry for you most, Mr. Dunquerque. I am powerful sorry, sir. I +had hoped, with the assistance of Miss Fleming, to divide that Pile +with you. Now, sir, I've got nothing. Not a red cent left to divide +with a beggar. + +"Mrs. L'Estrange," he went on, "those last words of mine were +prophetic. When I am gone back to America--I suppose the odds and ends +here will pay my passage--you'll remember that I said the Luck would +some day go." + +It was all so sudden, so incomprehensible, that no one present had a +word to say, either of sympathy or of sorrow. + +Gilead Beck proceeded with his soliloquy: + +"I've had a real high time for three months; the best three months of +my life. Whatever happens more can't touch the memory of the last +three months. I've met English ladies and made friends of English +gentlemen. There's Amer'can ladies and Amer'can gentlemen, but I can't +speak of them, because I never went into their society You don't find +ladies and gentlemen in Empire City. And in all the trades I've turned +my attention to, from school-keepin' to editing, there's not been one +where Amer'can ladies cared to show their hand. That means that the +Stars and Stripes may be as good as the Union Jack--come to know +them." + +He stopped and pulled himself together with a laugh. + +"I can't make it out,--somehow. Seems as if I'm in a dream. Is it +real? Is the story of the Golden Butterfly a true story, or is it made +up out of some man's brain?" + +"It is real, Mr. Beck," said Phillis, softly putting her hand in his. +"It is real. No one could have invented such a story. See, dear Mr. +Beck, you that we all love so much, there is you in it, and I am in +it--and--and the Twins. Why, if people saw us all in a book they would +say it was impossible. I am the only girl in all the civilised world +who can neither read nor write--and Jack doesn't mind it--and you are +the only man who ever found the Golden Butterfly. Indeed it is all +real." + +"It is all real, Beck," Jack echoed. "You have had the high time, and +sorry indeed we are that it is over. But perhaps it is not all over. +Surely something out of the two million dollars must have remained." + +Mr. Beck pointed sorrowfully to the three pieces which were the +fragments of the Butterfly. + +"Nothing is left," he said. "Nothing except the solid gold that made +his cage. And that will go to pay the hotel-bill." + +Mrs. L'Estrange looked on in silence. What was this quiet lady, this +woman of even and uneventful life, to say in the presence of such +misfortune? + +Ladds held out his hand. + +"Worth twenty of any of us," he said. "We are in the same boat." + +"And you, too, Captain Ladds!" Gilead cried. "It is worse than my own +misfortune, because I am a rough man and can go back to the rough +life. No, Mrs. L'Estrange--no, my dear young lady--I can't--not with +the same light heart as before--you've spoiled me. I must strike out +something new--away from Empire City and Ile and gold. I'm spoiled. +It's not the cold chunk of pork that I am afraid of; it is the +beautiful life and the sweetness that I'm going to lose. I said I +hoped I should be prepared to meet the fall of my Luck--when it came. +But I never thought it would come like this." + +"Stay with us, Mr. Beck," said Phillis. "Don't go back to the old +life." + +"Stay with us," said Jack. "We will all live together." + +"Do not leave us, Mr. Beck," said Mrs. L'Estrange. (Women can blush, +although they may be past forty.) "Stay here with your friends." + +He looked from one to the other, and something like a tear glittered +in his eye. But he shook his head. + +Then he took up the wings of the Butterfly, the pretty golden +_laminæ_ cut in the perfect shape of a wing, marked and veined by +Nature as if, for once she was determined to show that she too could +be an Artist and imitate her self. They lay in her hands, and he +looked fondly at them. + +"What shall I do with these?" he said softly. "They have been very +good to me. They have given me the pleasantest hours of my life. They +have made me dream of power as if I was Autocrat of All the Russians. +Say, Mrs. L'Estrange--since my chief pleasure has come through Mr. +Dunquerque--may I offer the broken Butterfly to Miss Fleming?" + +He laid the wings before her with a sweet sad smile. Jack took them up +and looked at them. In the white quartz were the little holes where +the wings had fitted. He put them back in their old place--the wings +in the quartz. They fitted exactly, and in a moment the butterfly was +as it had always been. + +Jack deftly bent round it again the golden wire which held it to the +golden flower. Singular to relate, the wire fitted like the wings just +the same as before, and the Butterfly vibrated on its perch again. + +"It's wonderful!" cried Gilead Beck. "It's the Luck I've given away. +It's gone to you, Miss Fleming. But it won't take the form of Ile." + +"Then take it back, Mr. Beck," cried Phillis. + +"No, young lady. The Luck left me of its own accord. That was shown +when the Butterfly fell off the wires. It is yours now, yours; and you +will make a better use of it. + +"I think," he went on, with his hand upon the golden case,--"I think +there's a Luck in the world which I never dreamed of, a better Luck +than Ile. Mrs. L'Estrange, you know what sort of Luck I mean?" + +"Yes, Mr. Beck, I know," she replied. + +Phillis laid her hands on Jack's shoulder, while his arm stole round +her waist. + +"It is Love. Mr. Beck," said the girl. "Yes; that is the best Luck in +all the world, and I am sure of it." + +Jack stooped and kissed her. The simplicity and innocence of this +maiden went to Gilead Beck's heart. They were a religion to him, an +education. In the presence of that guileless heart all earthly +thoughts dropped from his soul, and he was, like the girl before him, +pure in heart and clean in memory. That is indeed the sweet +enchantment of innocence; a bewitchment out of which we need never +awake unless we like. + +"Take the case and all, Miss Fleming," said Gilead Beck. + +But she would not have the splendid case with its thick plate glass +and solid gold pillars. + +Then Gilead Beck brought out the little wooden box, the same in which +the Golden Butterfly lay when he ran from the Bear on the slopes of +the Sierra Nevada. And Phillis laid her new treasure in the +cotton-wool and slung the box by its steel chain round his neck, +laughing in a solemn fashion. + +While they talked thus sadly, the door opened, and Lawrence Colquhoun +stood before them. + +Agatha cried out when she saw him, because he was transformed. The +lazy insouciant look was gone; a troubled look was in its place. Worse +than a troubled look--a look of misery; a look of self-reproach; a +look as of a criminal brought to the bar and convicted. + +"Lawrence!" cried Mrs. L'Estrange. + +He came into the room in a helpless sort of way, his hands shaking +before him like those of some half-blind old man. + +"Phillis," he said, in hoarse voice, "forgive me!" + +"What have I to forgive, Lawrence?" + +"Forgive me!" he repeated humbly. "Nay, you do not understand. +Dunquerque, it is for you to speak--for all of you--you all love +Phillis. Agatha--you love her--you used to love me too. How shall I +tell you?" + +"I think we guess," said Gilead. + +"I did it for the best, Phillis. I thought to double your fortune. +Cassilis said I should double it. I thought to double my own. I put +all your money, child, every farthing of your money, in Eldorado Stock +by his advice, and all my own too. And it is all gone--every penny of +it gone." + +Jack Dunquerque clasped Phillis tighter by the hand. + +She only laughed. + +"Why, Lawrence," she said, "what if you have lost all my money? Jack +doesn't care. Do you Jack?" + +"No, darling, no," said Jack. And at the moment--such was the +infatuation of this young man--he really did not care. + +"Lawrence," said Agatha, "you acted for the best. Don't dear Lawrence, +don't trouble too much. Captain Ladds has lost all his fortune, +too--and Mr. Beck has lost all his--and we are all ruined together." + +"All ruined together!" echoed Gilead Beck, looking at Mrs. L'Estrange. +"Gabriel Cassilis is a wonderful man. I always said he was a wonderful +man." + + +In the evening the three ruined men sat together in Gilead's room. + +"Nothing saved, Colquhoun?" asked Ladds, after a long pause. + +"Nothing, The stock was 70 when I bought in: 70 at 10 percent. It is +now anything you like--4, 6, 8, 16--what you please--because no one +will buy it." + +"Wal," said Gilead Beck, "it does seem rough on us all, and perhaps +it's rougher on you two than it is on me. But to think, only to think, +that such an almighty Pile should be fooled away on a darned +half-caste State like Eldorado! And for all of us to believe Mr. +Gabriel Cassilis a whole-souled, high toned speculator. + +"Once I thought," he continued, "that we Amer'cans must be the Ten +Tribes; because, I said, nobody but one out of the Ten Tribes would +get such a providential lift as the Golden Butterfly. Gentlemen, my +opinions are changed since this morning. I believe we're nothing +better, not a single cent better, than one of the kicked-out Tribes. I +may be an Amalekite, or I may be a Hivite; but I'm darned if I ever +call myself again one of the children of Abraham." + + + + +CHAPTER THE LAST. + + "Whisper Love, ye breezes; sigh + In Love's content, soft air of morn; + Let eve in brighter sunsets die, + And day with brighter dawn be born." + + +It is a week since the disastrous day. Gilead Beck has sold the works +of art with which he intended to found his Grand National Collection; +he has torn up his great schemes for a National Theatre, a Grand +National Paper; he has ceased to think, for the delectation of the +Golden Butterfly, about improving the human race. His gratitude to +that prodigy of Nature has so far cooled that he now considers it more +in the light of a capricious sprite, a sort of Robin Good-fellow, than +as a benefactor. He has also changed his views as to the construction +of the round earth, and all that is therein. Ile, he says, may be +found by other lucky adventures; but Ile is not to be depended on for +a permanence. He would now recommend those who strike Ile to make +their Pile as quickly as may be, and devote all their energies to the +safety of that pile. And as to the human race, it may slide. + +"What's the good," he says to Jack Dunquerque, "of helpin' up those +that are bound to climb? Let them climb. And what's the good of tryin' +to save those that are bound to fall? Let them fall. I'm down myself; +but I mean to get up again." + +It is sad to record that Mr. Burls, the picture-dealer, refused to buy +back again the great picture of "Sisera and Jael." No one would +purchase the work at all. Mr. Beck offered it to the Langham Hotel as +a gift. The directors firmly declined to accept it. When it was +evident that this remarkable effort of genius was appreciated by no +one, Gilead Beck resolved on leaving it where it was. It is rumoured +that the manager of the hotel bribed the owner of a certain Regent +Street restaurant to take it away; and I have heard that it now hangs, +having been greatly cut down, on the wall of that establishment, +getting its tones mellowed day by day with the steam of roast and +boiled. As for the other pictures, Mr. Burls expressed his extreme +sorrow that temporary embarrassment prevented him purchasing them back +at the price given for them. He afterwards told Mr. Beck that the +unprincipled picture-dealer who did ultimately buy them, at the price +of so much a square foot, and as second-rate copies, was a disgrace to +his honourable profession. He, he said, stood high in public +estimation for truth, generosity, and fair dealing. None but genuine +works came from his own establishment; and what he called a Grooze was +a Grooze, and nothing but a Grooze. + +As for the Pile, Gilead's power of attorney had effectually destroyed +that. There was not a cent left; not one single coin to rub against +another. All was gone in that great crash. + +He called upon Gabriel Cassilis. The financier smiled upon him with +his newly-born air of sweetness and trust; but, as we have seen, he +could no longer speak, and there was nothing in his face to express +sorrow or repentance. + +Gilead found himself, when all was wound up, the possessor of that +single cheque which Joseph Jagenal had placed in his hands, and which, +most fortunately for himself, he had not paid into the bank. + +Four hundred pounds. With that, at forty-five, he was to begin the +world again. After all, the majority of mankind at forty five have +much less than four hundred pounds. + +He heard from Canada that the town he had built, the whole of which +belonged to him, was deserted again. There was a quicker rush out of +it than into it. It stands there now, more lonely than Empire +City--its derricks and machinery rusting and dropping to pieces, the +houses empty and neglected, the land relapsing into its old condition +of bog and marsh. But Gilead Beck will never see it again. + +He kept away from Twickenham during this winding-up and settlement of +affairs. It was a week later when, his mind at rest and his conscience +clear of bills and doubts, because now there was nothing more to lose, +he called at the house where he had spent so many pleasant hours. + +Mrs. L'Estrange received him. She was troubled in look, and the traces +of tears were on her face. + +"It is a most onfortunate time," Gilead said sympathetically; "a most +onfortunate time." + +"Blow after blow, Mr. Beck," Agatha sobbed. "Stroke upon stroke." + +"That is so, madam. They've got the knife well in, this time, and when +they give it a twist we're bound to cry out. You've thought me +selfish, I know, not to inquire before." + +"No, Mr. Beck; no. It is only too kind of you to think of us in your +overwhelming disaster. I have never spent so wretched a week. Poor +Lawrence has literally not a penny left, except what he gets from the +sale of his horses, pictures and things. Captain Ladds is the same; +Phillis has no longer a farthing; and now, Oh dear, Oh dear. I am +going to lose her altogether!" + +"But when she marries Mr. Dunquerque you will see her often." + +"No, no. Haven't they told you? Jack has got almost nothing--only ten +thousand pounds altogether; and they have made up their minds to +emigrate. They are going to Virginia, where Jack will buy a small +estate." + +"Is that so?" asked Gilead meditatively. + +"Lawrence says that he and Captain Ladds will go away together +somewhere; perhaps back to Empire City." + +"And you will be left alone--you, Mrs. L'Estrange--all alone in this +country, and ruined. It mustn't be." He straightened himself up, and +looked round the room. "It must not be, Mrs. L'Estrange. You know me +partly--that is you know the manner of man I wish to seem and try to +be; you know what I have been. You do not know, because you cannot +guess, the things which you have put into my head." + +Mrs. L'Estrange blushed and began to tremble. Could it be possible +that he was actually going to-- + +He was. + +"You and I together, Mrs. L'Estrange, are gone to wreck in this +almighty hurricane. I've got one or two thousand dollars left; perhaps +you will have as much, perhaps _not_. Mrs. L'Estrange, you will think +it presumptuous in a rough American--not an American gentleman by +birth and raising--to offer you such protection and care as he can +give to the best of women? We, too, will go to Virginia with Mr. +Dunquerque and his wife; we will settle near them, and watch their +happiness. The Virginians are a kindly folk, and love the English +people, especially if they are of gentle birth. Say, Mrs. L'Estrange." + +"O Mr. Beck! I am forty years of age!" + +"And I am five and forty." + +Just then Phillis and Jack burst into the room. They did not look at +all like being ruined; they were wild with joy and good spirits. + +"And you are going to Virginia, Mr. Dunquerque?" said Gilead. "I am +thinking of going, too, if I can persuade this lady to go with me." + +"O Agatha! come with us!" + +"Come with me," corrected Gilead. + +Then Phillis saw how things lay--what a change in Phillis, to see so +much?--and half laughing, but more in seriousness than in mirth, threw +her arms round Agatha's neck. + +"Will you come, dear Agatha? He is a good man, and he loves you; and +we will all live near together and be happy." + + +Three short scenes to conclude my story. + +It is little more than a year since Agatha L'Estrange, as shy and +blushing as any maiden--much more shy than Phillis--laid her hand in +Gilead's, with the confession, half sobbed out, "And it isn't a +mistake you are making, because I am not ruined at all. It is only you +and these poor children and Lawrence." + +We are back again to Empire City. It is the early fall, September. The +yellow leaves clothe all the forests with brown and gold; the sunlight +strikes upon the peaks and ridges of the great Sierra, lights up the +broad belt of wood making shadows blacker than night, and lies along +the grass grown streets of the deserted Empire City. Two men in +hunting-dress are making their way slowly through the grass and weeds +that choke the pathway. + +"Don't like it, Colquhoun," says one; "more ghostly than ever." + +They push on, and presently the foremost, Ladds, starts back with a +cry. + +"What is it?" asks Colquhoun. + +They push aside the brambles, and behold a skeleton. The body has been +on its knees, but now only the bones are left. They are clothed in the +garb of the celestial, and one side of the skull is broken in, as if +with a shot. + +"It must be my old friend Achow," said Colquhoun calmly. "See, he's +been murdered." + +In the dead of night Ladds awakened Colquhoun. + +"Can't help it," he said; "very sorry. Ghosts walking about the +stairs. Says the ghost of Achow to the shade Leeching, 'No your piecy +pidgin makee shootee me.' Don't like ghosts, Colquhoun." + +Next morning they left Empire City. Ladds was firm in the conviction +that he had heard and seen a Chinaman's ghost, and was resolute +against stopping another night in the place. + +Just outside the town they made another discovery. + +"Good Lord!" cried Ladds, frightened out of sobriety of speech. "It +rains skeletons. Look there; he's beckoning!" + +And, to be sure, before them was raised, with finger as of invitation, +a skeleton hand. + +This, too, belonged to a complete assortment of human bones clad in +Chinese dress. By its side lay a rusty pistol. Lawrence picked it up. + +"By Gad!" he said, "it's the same pistol I gave to Leeching. How do +you read this story, Ladds?" + +Ladds sat down and replied slowly. He said that he never did like +reading ghost stories, and since the apparition of the murdered Achow, +the night before, he should like them still less. Ghost stories, he +said, are all very well until you come to see and hear a ghost. Now +that he had a ghost story of his own--an original one in pigeon +English--he did not intend ever to read another. Therefore Colquhoun +must excuse him if he gave up the story of Leeching's skeleton +entirely to his own reading. He then went on to say that he never had +liked skeletons, and that he believed Empire City was nothing but a +mouldy old churchyard without the church, while, as a cemetery, it +wasn't a patch upon Highgate. And the mention of Highgate, he said, +reminded him of Phillis; and he proposed they should both get to +Virginia, and call upon Jack and his wife. + +All this took time to explain; and meanwhile Lawrence was poking the +butt end of his gun about in the grass to see if there was anything +more. There was something more. It was a bag of coarse yellow canvas, +tied by a string round what had been the waist of a man. Lawrence cut +the string, and opened the bag. + +"We're in luck, Tommy. Look at this." + +It was the gold so laboriously scraped together by the two Chinamen, +which had caused, in a manner, the death of both. + +"Lift it, Tommy." Colquhoun grew excited at his find. "Lift it--there +must be a hundred and fifty ounces, I should think. It will be worth +four or five hundred pounds. Here's a find!" + +To this pair, who had only a year ago chucked away their thousands, +the luck of picking up a bag of gold appeared something wonderful. + +"Tommy," said Colquhoun, "I tell you what we will do. We will add this +little windfall to what Beck would call your little pile and my little +pile. And we'll go and buy a little farm in Virginia, too; and we will +live there close to Jack and Phillis. Agatha will like it too. And +there's capital shooting." + + +Gabriel Cassilis and his wife reside at Brighton. The whole of the +great fortune being lost, they have nothing but Victoria's settlement. +That gives them a small income. "Enough to subsist upon," Victoria +tells her friends. The old man--he looks very old and fragile now--is +wheeled about in a chair on sunny days. When he is not being wheeled +about he plays with his child, to whom he talks; that is, pours out a +stream of meaningless words, because he will never again talk +coherently. Victoria is exactly the same as ever--cold, calm, and +proud. Nor is there anything whatever in her manner to her husband, if +she accidentally meets him, to show that she has the slightest sorrow, +shame, or repentance for the catastrophe she brought about. Joseph +Jagenal is working the great Dyson will case for them, and is +confident that he will get the testator's intentions, which can now be +only imperfectly understood, set aside, when Gabriel Cassilis will +once more become comparatively wealthy. + + +On a verandah in sunny Virginia, Agatha Beck sits quietly working, and +crooning some old song in sheer content and peace of heart. Presently +she lifts her head as she hears a step. That smile with which she +greets her husband shows that she is happy in her new life. Gilead +Beck is in white, with a broad straw hat, because it is in hot +September. In his hand he has a letter. + +"Good news, wife; good news," he says. "Jack and Phillis are coming +here to-day, and will stay till Monday. Will be here almost as soon as +the note. Baby coming, too." + +"Of course, Gilead," says Agatha, smiling superior. "As if the dear +girl would go anywhere without her little Philip. And six weeks old +to-morrow." + +(Everybody who has appreciated how very far from clever Jack +Dunquerque was will be prepared to hear that he committed an enormous +etymological blunder in the baptism of his boy, whom he named Philip, +in the firm belief that Philip was the masculine form of Phillis.) + +"Here they come! Here they are!" + +Jack comes rattling up to the house in his American trap, jumps out, +throws the reins to the boy, and hands out his wife with the child. +Kisses and greetings. + +Phillis seems at first, unchanged, except perhaps that the air of +Virginia has made her sweet delicacy of features more delicate. Yet +look again, and you find that she is changed. She was a child when we +saw her first; then we saw her grow into a maiden; she is a wife and a +mother now. + +She whispers her husband. + +"All right, Phil, dear.--Beck, you've got to shut your eyes for just +one minute. No, turn your back so. Now you may look." + +Phillis has hung round the neck of her unconscious baby, by a golden +chain, the Golden Butterfly. It seems as strong and vigorous as ever; +and as it lies upon the child's white dress, it looks as if it were +poised for a moment's rest, but ready for flight. + +"That Inseck!" said Gilead sentimentally. "Wal, it's given me the best +thing that a man can get"--he took the hand of his wife--"love and +friendship. You are welcome, Phillis, to all the rest, provided that +all the rest does not take away these." + +"Nay," she said, her eyes filling with the gentle dew of happiness and +content; "I have all that I want for myself. I have my husband and my +boy--my little, little Philip! I am more than happy; and so I give to +tiny Phil all the remaining Luck of the Golden Butterfly." + + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Butterfly, by +Walter Besant and James Rice + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43442 *** |