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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Crown of Life, by George Gissing
+#21 in our series by George Gissing
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+Title: The Crown of Life
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+Author: George Gissing
+
+Release Date: October, 2003 [Etext# 4541]
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+The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Crown of Life, by George Gissing
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+This etext was produced by Charles Aldarondo (Aldarondo@yahoo.com).
+
+
+
+
+George Gissing
+
+THE CROWN OF LIFE
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+
+Amid the throng of suburban arrivals volleyed forth from Waterloo
+Station on a May morning in the year '86, moved a slim, dark,
+absent-looking young man of one-and-twenty, whose name was Piers
+Otway. In regard to costume--blameless silk hat, and dark morning
+coat with lighter trousers--the City would not have disowned him,
+but he had not the City countenance. The rush for omnibus seats left
+him unconcerned; clear of the railway station, he walked at a
+moderate pace, his eyes mostly on the ground; he crossed the
+foot-bridge to Charing Cross, and steadily made his way into the
+Haymarket, where his progress was arrested by a picture shop.
+
+A window hung with engravings, mostly after pictures of the day;
+some of them very large, and attractive to a passing glance. One or
+two admirable landscapes offered solace to the street-wearied
+imagination, but upon these Piers Otway did not fix his eye; it was
+drawn irresistibly to the faces and forms of beautiful women set
+forth with varied allurement. Some great lady of the passing time
+lounged in exquisite array amid luxurious furniture lightly
+suggested; the faint smile of her flattered loveliness hovered about
+the gazer; the subtle perfume of her presence touched his nerves;
+the greys of her complexion transmuted themselves through the
+current of his blood into life's carnation; whilst he dreamed upon
+her lips, his breath was caught, as though of a sudden she had
+smiled for him, and for him alone. Near to her was a maiden of
+Hellas, resting upon a marble seat, her eyes bent towards some AEgean
+isle; the translucent robe clung about her perfect body; her breast
+was warm against the white stone; the mazes of her woven hair shone
+with unguent. The gazer lost himself in memories of epic and idyll,
+warming through worship to desire. Then his look strayed to the next
+engraving; a peasant girl, consummate in grace and strength, supreme
+in chaste pride, cheek and neck soft-glowing from the sunny field,
+eyes revealing the heart at one with nature. Others there were,
+women of many worlds, only less beautiful; but by these three the
+young man was held bound. He could not satisfy himself with looking
+and musing; he could not pluck himself away. An old experience; he
+always lingered by the print shops of the Haymarket, and always went
+on with troubled blood, with mind rapt above familiar circumstance,
+dreaming passionately, making wild forecast of his fate.
+
+At this hour of the morning not many passers had leisure to stand
+and gaze; one, however, came to a pause beside Piers Otway, and
+viewed the engravings. He was a man considerably older; not so well
+dressed, but still, on the strength of externals, entitled to the
+style of gentleman; his brown, hard felt hat was entirely
+respectable, as were his tan gloves and his boots, but the cut-away
+coat began to hint at release from service, and the trousers owed a
+superficial smartness merely to being tightly strapped. This man had
+a not quite agreeable face; inasmuch as it was smoothly shaven, and
+exhibited a peculiar mobility, it might have denoted him an actor;
+but the actor is wont to twinkle a good-natured mood which did not
+appear upon this visage. The contour was good, and spoke
+intelligence; the eyes must once have been charming. It was a face
+which had lost by the advance of years; which had hardened where it
+was soft, and seemed likely to grow harder yet; for about the lips,
+as he stood examining these pictures, came a suggestion of the vice
+in blood which tends to cruelty. The nostrils began to expand and to
+tremble a little; the eyes seemed to project themselves; the long
+throat grew longer. Presently, he turned a glance upon the young man
+standing near to him, and in that moment his expression entirely
+altered.
+
+"Why," he exclaimed, "Piers!"
+
+The other gave a start of astonishment, and at once smiled
+recognition.
+
+"Daniel! I hadn't looked--I had no idea----" They shook hands,
+with graceful cordiality on the elder man's part, with a slightly
+embarrassed goodwill on that of the younger. Daniel Otway, whose age
+was about eight-and-thirty, stood in the relation of
+half-brotherhood to Piers, a relation suggested by no single trait
+of their visages. Piers had a dark complexion, a face of the square,
+emphatic type, and an eye of shy vivacity; Daniel, with the long,
+smooth curves of his countenance and his chestnut hair was, in the
+common sense, better looking, and managed his expression with a
+skill which concealed the characteristics visible a few moments ago;
+he bore himself like a suave man of the world, whereas his brother
+still betrayed something of the boy in tone and gesture, something,
+too, of the student accustomed to seclusion. Daniel's accent had
+nothing at all in keeping with a shabby coat; that of the younger
+man was less markedly refined, with much more of individuality.
+
+"You live in London?" inquired Daniel, reading the other's look as
+if affectionately.
+
+"No. Out at Ewell--in Surrey."
+
+"Oh yes, I know Ewell. Reading?"
+
+"Yes for the Civil Service. I've come up to lunch with a man who
+knows father--Mr. Jacks."
+
+"John Jacks, the M.P.?"
+
+Piers nodded nervously, and the other regarded him with a smile of
+new interest.
+
+"But you're very early. Any other engagements?"
+
+"None," said Piers. It being so fine a morning, he had proposed a
+long ramble about London streets before making for his destination
+in the West End.
+
+"Then you must come to my club," returned Daniel. "I shall be glad
+of a talk with you, very glad, my dear boy. Why, it must be four
+years since we saw each other. And, by the bye, you are just of age,
+I think?"
+
+"Three days ago."
+
+"To be sure. Heard anything from father?--No?--You're looking
+very well, Piers--take my arm. I understood you were going into
+business. Altered your mind? And how is the dear old man?"
+
+They walked for a quarter of an hour, turning at last into a quiet,
+genteel byway westward of Regent Street, and so into a club house of
+respectable appearance. Daniel wrote his brother's name, and led up
+to the smoking-room, which they found unoccupied.
+
+"You smoke?--I am very glad to hear it. I began far too young, and
+have suffered. It's too early to drink--and perhaps you don't do
+that either?--Really? Vegetarian also, perhaps?--Why, you are
+the model son of your father. And the regime seems to suit you. _Per
+Bacco_! couldn't follow it myself: but I, like our fat friend, am
+little better than one of the wicked. So you are one-and-twenty. You
+have entered upon your inheritance, I presume?"
+
+Piers answered with a look of puzzled inquiry.
+
+"Haven't you heard about it? The little capital due to you."
+
+"Not a word!"
+
+"That's odd. _Was soil es bedeuten_?--By the bye, I suppose you
+speak German well?"
+
+"Tolerably."
+
+"And French?"
+
+"Moderately."
+
+"_Benissimo_!" Daniel had just lit a cigar; he lounged gracefully,
+observing his brother with an eye of veiled keenness. "Well, I think
+there is no harm in telling you that you are entitled to something
+--your mother's money, you know."
+
+"I had no idea of it," replied Piers, whom the news had in 'some
+degree excited.
+
+"Apropos, why don't you live with father? Couldn't you read as well
+down there?"
+
+"Not quite, I think, and--the truth is, the stepmother doesn't
+much like me. She's rather difficult to get on with you know."
+
+"I imagined it. So you're just in lodgings?"
+
+"I am with some people called Hannaford. I got to know them at
+Geneva--they're not very well off; I have a room and they board
+me."
+
+"I must look you up there--Piers, my dear boy, I suppose you know
+your mother's history?"
+
+It was asked with an affected carelessness, with a look suggestive
+of delicacy in approaching the subject. More and more perturbed,
+Piers abruptly declared his ignorance; he sat in an awkward
+attitude, bending forward; his brows were knit, his dark eyes had a
+solemn intensity, and his square jaw asserted itself more than
+usual.
+
+"Well, between brothers, I don't see why you shouldn't. In fact, I
+am a good deal surprised that the worthy old man has held his peace
+about that legacy, and I don't think I shall scruple to tell you all
+I know. You are aware, at all events, that our interesting parent
+has been a little unfortunate in his matrimonial adventures. His
+first wife--not to pick one's phrase--quarrelled furiously with
+him. His second, you inform me, is somewhat difficult to live with."
+
+"His _third_," interrupted Piers.
+
+"No, my dear boy," said the other gravely, sympathetically. "That
+intermediate connection was not legal."
+
+"Not----? My mother was not----?"
+
+"Don't worry about it," proceeded Daniel in a kind tone. "These are
+the merest prejudices, you know. She could not become Mrs. Otway,
+being already Mrs. Somebody-else. Her death, I fear, was a great
+misfortune to our parent. I have gathered that they suited each
+other--fate, you know, plays these little tricks. Your mother, I
+am sure, was a most charming and admirable woman--I remember her
+portrait. _A l'heure qu'il est_, no doubt, it has to be kept out of
+sight. She had, I am given to understand, a trilling capital of her
+own, and this was to become yours."
+
+6
+
+THE CROWN OF LIFE
+
+Piers stared at vacancy. When he recovered himself he said with
+decision:
+
+"Of course I shall hear about it. There's no hurry. Father knows I
+don't want it just now. Why, of course he will tell me. The exam.
+comes off in autumn, and no doubt he keeps the news back as a sort
+of reward when I get my place. I think that would be just like him,
+you know."
+
+"Or as a solatium, if you fail," remarked the other genially.
+
+"Fail? Oh, I'm not going to fail," cried Piers in a voice of
+half-resentful confidence.
+
+"Bravo!" laughed the other; "I like that spirit. So you're going to
+lunch with John Jacks. I don't exactly know him, but I know friends
+of his very well. Known him long?"
+
+Piers explained that as yet he had no personal acquaintance with Mr.
+Jacks; that he had, to his surprise, received a written invitation a
+few days ago.
+
+"It may be useful," Daniel remarked reflectively. "But if you'll
+permit the liberty, Piers, I am sorry you didn't pay a little more
+attention to costume. It should have been a frock coat--really it
+should."
+
+"I haven't such a thing," exclaimed the younger brother, with some
+annoyance and confusion. "And what can it matter? You know very well
+how father would go."
+
+"Yes, yes; but Jerome Otway the democratic prophet and young Mr.
+Piers Otway his promising son, are very different persons. Never
+mind, but take care to get a frock coat; you'll find it
+indispensable if you are going into that world. Where does Jacks
+live?"
+
+"Queen's Gate."
+
+Daniel Otway meditated, half closing his eyes as he seemed to watch
+the smoke from his cigar. Dropping them upon his brother, he found
+that the young man wore a look of troubled thoughtfulness.
+
+"Daniel," began Piers suddenly, "are you quite sure about all you
+have told me?"
+
+"Quite. I am astonished it's news to you."
+
+Piers was no longer able to converse, and very soon he found it
+difficult to sit still. Observant of his face and movements, the
+elder brother proposed that they should resume their walk together,
+and forth they went. But both were now taciturn, and they did not
+walk far in company.
+
+"I shall look you up at Ewell," said Daniel, taking leave. "Address
+me at that club; I have no permanent quarters just now. We must see
+more of each other."
+
+And Piers went his way with shadowed countenance.
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+Straying about Kensington Gardens in the pleasant sunshine, his mind
+occupied with Daniel's information, Piers Otway lost count of time,
+and at last had to hurry to keep his engagement. As he entered the
+house in Queen's Gate, a mirrored image of himself made him uneasy
+about his costume. But for Daniel, such a point would never have
+troubled him. It was with an unfamiliar sense of Irritation and
+misgiving that he moved into the drawing-room.
+
+A man of sixty or so, well preserved, with a warm complexion, broad
+homely countenance and genial smile, stepped forward to receive him.
+Mr. Jacks was member for the Penistone Division of the West Riding;
+new to Parliament, having entered with the triumphant Liberals in
+the January of this year 1886. His friends believed, and it seemed
+credible, that he had sought election to please the lady whom, as a
+widower of twenty years' endurance, he had wedded only a short time
+before; politics interested him but moderately, and the greater part
+of his life had been devoted to the manufacturing business which
+brought him wealth and local influence. Not many people remembered
+that in the days of his youth John Jacks had been something of a
+Revolutionist, that he had supported the People's Charter; that he
+had written, nay had published, verses of democratic tenor, earning
+thereby dark reputation in the respectable society of his native
+town. The turning-point was his early marriage. For a while he still
+wrote verses--of another kind, but he ceased to talk about
+liberty, ceased to attend public meetings, and led an entirely
+private life until, years later, his name became reputably connected
+with municipal affairs. Observing Mr. Jacks' face, one saw the
+possibility of that early enthusiasm; he had fine eyes full of
+subdued tenderness, and something youthful, impulsive, in his
+expression when he uttered a thought. Good-humoured, often merry,
+abounding in kindness and generosity, he passed for a man as happy
+as he was prosperous; yet those who talked intimately with him
+obtained now and then a glimpse of something not quite in harmony
+with these characteristics, a touch of what would be called
+fancifulness, of uncertain spirits. Men of his world knew that he
+was not particularly shrewd in commerce; the great business to which
+his name was attached had been established by his father, and was
+kept flourishing mainly by the energy of his younger brother. As an
+occasional lecturer before his townsfolk, he gave evidence of wide
+reading and literary aptitudes. Of three children of his first
+marriage, two had died; his profound grief at their loss, and the
+inclination for domestic life which always appeared in the man, made
+it matter for surprise that he had waited so long before taking
+another wife. It would not have occurred to most of those who knew
+him that his extreme devotion to women made him shy, diffident, all
+but timorous in their presence. But Piers Otway, for all his mental
+disturbance at this moment, remarked the singular deference, the
+tone and look of admiring gentleness, with which Mr. Jacks turned to
+his wife as he presented their guest.
+
+Mrs. Jacks was well fitted to inspire homage. Her age appeared to be
+less than five-and-twenty; she was of that tall and gracefully
+commanding height which became the English ideal in the last quarter
+of the century--her portrait appears on every page illustrated by
+Du Manner. She had a brilliant complexion, a perfect profile; her
+smile, though perhaps a little mechanical, was the last expression
+of immutable sweetness, of impeccable self-control; her voice never
+slipped from the just note of unexaggerated suavity. Consummate as
+an ornament of the drawing-room, she would be no less admirably at
+ease on the tennis lawn, in the boat, on horseback, or walking by
+the seashore. Beyond criticism her breeding; excellent her
+education. There appeared, too, in her ordinary speech, her common
+look, a real amiability of disposition; one could not imagine her
+behaving harshly or with conscious injustice. Her manners--within
+the recognised limits--were frank, spontaneous; she had for the
+most part a liberal tone in conversation, and was evidently quite
+incapable of bitter feeling on any everyday subject. Piers Otway
+bent before her with unfeigned reverence; she dazzled him, she
+delighted and confused his senses. As often as he dared look at her,
+his eye discovered some new elegance in her attitude, some marvel of
+delicate beauty in the details of her person. A spectator might have
+observed that this worship was manifest to Mr. Jacks, and that it by
+no means displeased him.
+
+"You are very like your father, Mr. Otway," was the host's first
+remark after a moment of ceremony. "Very like what he was forty
+years ago." He laughed, not quite naturally, glancing at his wife.
+"At that time he and I were much together. But he went to London; I
+stayed in the North; and so we lost sight of each other for many a
+long year. Somewhere about 1870 we met by chance, on a Channel
+steamer; yes, it was just before the war; I remember your father
+prophesied it, and foretold its course very accurately. Then we
+didn't see each other again until a month ago--I had run down into
+Yorkshire for a couple of days and stood waiting for a train at
+Northallerton. Someone came towards me, and looked me in the face,
+then held out his hand without speaking; and it was my old friend.
+He has become a man of few words."
+
+"Yes, he talks very little," said Piers. "I've known him silent for
+two or three days together."
+
+"And what does he do with himself there among the moors? You don't
+know Hawes," he remarked to the graciously attentive Mrs. Jacks. "A
+little stony town at the wild end of Wensleydale. Delightful for a
+few months, but very grim all the rest of the year. Has he any
+society there?"
+
+"None outside his home, I think. He sits by the fire and reads
+Dante."
+
+"Dante?"
+
+"Yes, Dante; he seems to care for hardly anything else. It has been
+so for two or three years. Editions of Dante and books about Dante
+crowd his room--they are constantly coming. I asked him once if he
+was going to write on the subject, but he shook his head."
+
+"It must be a very engrossing study," remarked Mrs. Jacks, with her
+most intelligent air. "Dante opens such a world."
+
+"Strange!" murmured her husband, with his kindly smile. "The last
+thing I should have imagined."
+
+They were summoned to luncheon. As they entered the dining-room,
+there appeared a young man whom Mr. Jacks greeted warmly.
+
+"Hullo, Arnold! I am so glad you lunch here to-day. Here is the son
+of my old friend Jerome Otway."
+
+Arnold Jacks pressed the visitor's hand and spoke a few courteous
+words in a remarkably pleasant voice. In physique he was quite
+unlike his father; tall, well but slenderly built, with a small
+finely-shaped head, large grey-blue eyes and brown hair. The
+delicacy of his complexion and the lines of his figure did not
+suggest strength, yet he walked with a very firm step, and his whole
+bearing betokened habits of healthy activity. In early years he had
+seemed to inherit a very feeble constitution; the death of his
+brother and sister, followed by that of their mother at an untimely
+age, left little hope that he would reach manhood; now, in his
+thirtieth year, he was rarely on troubled the score of health, and
+few men relieved from the necessity of earning money found fuller
+occupation for their time. Some portion of each day he spent at the
+offices of a certain Company, which held rule in a British colony of
+considerable importance. His interest in this colony had originated
+at the time when he was gaining vigour and enlarging his experience
+in world-wide travel; he enjoyed the sense of power, and his voice
+did not lack weight at the Board of the Company in question. He had
+all manner of talents and pursuits. Knowledge--the only kind of
+knowledge he cared for, that of practical things, things alive in
+the world of to-day--seemed to come to him without any effort on
+his part. A new invention concealed no mysteries from him; he looked
+into it; understood, calculated its scope. A strange piece of news
+from any part of the world found him unsurprised, explanatory. He
+liked mathematics, and was wont to say jocosely that an abstract
+computation had a fine moral affect, favouring unselfishness. Music
+was one of his foibles; he learnt an instrument with wonderful
+facility, and, up to a certain point, played well. For poetry,
+though as a rule he disguised the fact, he had a strong distaste;
+once, when aged about twenty, he startled his father by observing
+that "In Memoriam" seemed to him a shocking instance of wasted
+energy; he would undertake to compress the whole significance of
+each section, with its laborious rhymings, into two or three lines
+of good clear prose. Naturally the young man had undergone no
+sentimental troubles; he had not yet talked of marrying, and cared
+only for the society of mature women who took common-sense views of
+life. His religion was the British Empire; his saints, the men who
+had made it; his prophets, the politicians and publicists who held
+most firmly the Imperial tone.
+
+Where Arnold Jacks was in company, there could be no dullness. Alone
+with his host and hostess, Otway would have found the occasion
+rather solemn, and have wished it over, but Arnold's melodious
+voice, his sprightly discussion and anecdotage, his frequent
+laughter, charmed the guest into self-oblivion.
+
+"You are no doubt a Home Ruler, Mr. Otway," observed Arnold, soon
+after they were seated.
+
+"Yes, I am," answered Piers cheerily. "You too, I hope?"
+
+"Why, yes. I would grant Home Rule of the completest description,
+and I would let it run its natural course for--shall we say five
+years? When the state of Ireland had become intolerable to herself
+and dangerous to this adjacent island, I would send over dragoons.
+And," he added quietly, crumbling his bread, "the question would not
+rise again."
+
+"Arnold," remarked Mr. Jacks, with good humour, "you are quite
+incapable of understanding this question. We shall see. Mr.
+Gladstone's Bill----"
+
+"Mr. Gladstone's _little_ Bill--do say his _little_ Bill."
+
+"Arnold, you are too absurd!" exclaimed the hostess mirthfully.
+
+"What does your father think?" Mr. Jacks inquired of their guest.
+"Has he broken silence on the subject?"
+
+"I think not. He never says a word about politics."
+
+"The little Bill hasn't a chance," cried Arnold. "Your majority is
+melting away. You, of course, will stand by the old man, but that is
+chivalry, not politics. You don't know what a picturesque figure you
+make, sir; you help me to realise Horatius Codes, and that kind of
+thing."
+
+John Jacks laughed heartily at his own expense, but his wife seemed
+to think the jest unmannerly. Home Rule did not in the least commend
+itself to her sedate, practical mind, but she would never have
+committed such an error in taste as to proclaim divergence from her
+husband's views.
+
+"It is a most difficult and complicated question," she said,
+addressing herself to Otway. "The character of the people makes it
+so; the Irish are so sentimental."
+
+Upon the young man's ear this utterance fell strangely; it gave him
+a little shock, and he could only murmur some commonplace of assent.
+With men, Piers had plenty of moral courage, but women daunted him.
+
+"I heard a capital idea last night," resumed Arnold Jacks, "from a
+man I was dining with--interesting fellow called Hannaford. He
+suggested that Ireland should be made into a military and naval
+depot--used solely for that purpose. The details of his scheme
+were really very ingenious. He didn't propose to exterminate the
+natives----"
+
+John Jacks interrupted with hilarity, which his son affected to
+resent: the look exchanged by the two making pleasant proof of how
+little their natural affection was disturbed by political and other
+differences. At the name of Hannaford, Otway had looked keenly
+towards the speaker.
+
+"Is that Lee Hannaford?" he asked. "Oh, I know him. In fact, I'm
+living in his house just now."
+
+Arnold was interested. He had only the slightest acquaintance with
+Hannaford, and would like to hear more of him.
+
+"Not long ago," Piers responded, "he was a teacher of chemistry at
+Geneva--I got to know him there. He seems to speak half a dozen
+languages in perfection; I believe he was born in Switzerland. His
+house down in Surrey is a museum of modern weapons--a regular
+armoury. He has invented some new gun."
+
+"So I gathered. And a new explosive, I'm told."
+
+"I hope he doesn't store it in his house?" said Mr. Jacks, looking
+with concern at Piers.
+
+"I've had a moment's uneasiness about that, now and then," Otway
+replied, laughing, "especially after hearing him talk."
+
+"A tremendous fellow!" Arnold exclaimed admiringly. "He showed me,
+by sketch diagrams, how many men he could kill within a given
+space."
+
+"If this gentleman were not your friend, Mr. Otway," began the host,
+"I should say----"
+
+"Oh, pray say whatever you like! He isn't my friend at all, and I
+detest his inventions."
+
+"Shocking!" fell sweetly from the lady at the head of the table.
+
+"As usual, I must beg leave to differ," put in Arnold. "What would
+become of us if we left all that kind of thing to the other
+countries? Hannaford is a patriot. He struck me as quite
+disinterested; personal gain is nothing to him. He loves his
+country, and is using his genius in her service."
+
+John Jacks nodded.
+
+"Well, yes, yes. But I wish your father were here, Mr. Otway, to
+give his estimate of such genius; at all events if he thinks as he
+did years ago. Get him on that topic, and he was one of the most
+eloquent men living. I am convinced that he only wanted a little
+more self-confidence to become a real power in public life--a
+genuine orator, such, perhaps, as England has never had."
+
+"Nor ever will have," Arnold interrupted. "We act instead of
+talking."
+
+"My dear boy," said his father weightily, "we talk very much, and
+very badly; in pulpit, and Parliament, and press, We want the man
+who has something new to say, and knows how to say it. For my own
+part, I don't think, when he comes, that he will glorify explosives.
+I want to hear someone talk about Peace--and _not_ from the
+commercial point of view. The slaughterers shan't have it all their
+own way, Arnold; civilisation will be too strong for them, and if
+Old England doesn't lead in that direction, it will be her shame to
+the end of history."
+
+Arnold smiled, but kept silence. Mrs. Jacks looked and murmured her
+approval.
+
+"I wish Hannaford could hear you," said Piers Otway.
+
+When they rose from the table, John Jacks invited the young man to
+come with him into his study for a little private talk.
+
+"I haven't many books here," he said, noticing Otway's glance at the
+shelves. "My library is down in Yorkshire, at the old home; where I
+shall be very glad indeed to see you, whenever you come north in
+vacation-time. Well now, let us make friends; tell me something
+about yourself. You are reading for the Civil Service, I
+understand?"
+
+Piers liked Mr. Jacks, and was soon chatting freely. He told how his
+education had begun at a private school in London, how he had then
+gone to school at Geneva, and, when seventeen years old, had entered
+an office of London merchants, dealing with Russia.
+
+"It wasn't my own choice. My father talked to me, and seemed so
+anxious for me to go into business that I made no objection. I
+didn't understand him then, but I think I do now. You know"--he
+added in a lower tone--"that I have two elder brothers?"
+
+"Yes, I know. And a word that fell from your father at Northallerton
+the other day--I think I understand."
+
+"Both went in for professions," Otway pursued, "and I suppose he
+wasn't very well satisfied with the results. However, after I had
+been two years in the office, I felt I couldn't stand it, and I
+began privately to read law. Then one day I wrote to my father, and
+asked whether he would allow me to be articled to a solicitor. He
+replied that he would, if, at the age of twenty, I had gone steadily
+on with the distasteful office work, and had continued to read law
+in my leisure. Well, I accepted this, of course, and in a year's
+time found how right he had been; already I had got sick of the law
+books, and didn't care for the idea of being articled. I told father
+that, and he asked me to wait six months more, and then to let him
+know my mind again. I hadn't got to like business any better, and
+one day it seemed to me that I would try for a place in a Government
+office. When the time came, I suggested this, and my father
+ultimately agreed. I lived with him at Hawes for a month or two,
+then came into Surrey, to work on for the examination. We shall see
+what I get."
+
+The young man spoke with a curious blending of modesty and
+self-confidence, of sobriety beyond his years and the glow of a
+fervid temperament. He seemed to hold himself consciously in
+restraint, but, as if to compensate for subdued language, he used
+more gesticulation than is common with Englishmen. Mr. Jacks watched
+him very closely, and, when he ceased, reflected for a moment.
+
+"True; we shall see. You are working steadily?"
+
+"About fourteen hours a day."
+
+"Too much! too much!--All at the Civil Service subjects?"
+
+"No; I manage a few other things. For instance, I'm trying to learn
+Russian. Father says he made the attempt long ago, but was beaten. I
+don't think I shall give in."
+
+"Your father knew Herzen and Bakounine, in the old days. Well, don't
+overdo it; don't neglect the body. We must have another talk before
+long."
+
+Again Mr. Jacks looked thoughtfully at the keen young face, and his
+countenance betrayed a troublous mood.
+
+"How you remind me of my old friend, forty years ago--forty years
+ago!"
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+A little apart from the village of Ewell, within sight of the noble
+trees and broad herbage of Nonsuch Park, and looking southward to
+the tilth and pasture of the Downs, stood the house occupied by Mr.
+Lee Hannaford. It was just too large to be called a cottage; not
+quite old enough to be picturesque; a pleasant enough dwelling, amid
+its green garden plot, sheltered on the north side by a dark hedge
+of yew, and shut from the quiet road by privet topped with lilac and
+laburnum. This day of early summer, fresh after rains, with a clear
+sky and the sun wide-gleaming over young leaf and bright blossom,
+with Nature's perfume wafted along every alley, about every field
+and lane, showed the spot at its best. But it was with no eye to
+natural beauty that Mr. Hannaford had chosen this abode; such
+considerations left him untouched. He wanted a cheap house not far
+from London, where his wife's uncertain health might receive
+benefit, and where the simplicity of the surroundings would offer no
+temptations to casual expense. For his own part, he was a good deal
+from home, coming and going as it suited him; a very small income
+from capital, and occasional earnings by contribution to scientific
+journalism, left slender resources to Mrs. Hannaford and her
+daughter after the husband's needs were supplied. Thus it came about
+that they gladly ceded a spare room to Piers Otway, who, having
+boarded with them during his student time at Geneva, had at long
+intervals kept up a correspondence with Mrs. Hannaford, a lady he
+admired.
+
+The rooms were indifferently furnished; in part, owing to poverty,
+and partly because neither of the ladies cared much for things
+domestic. Mr. Hannaford's sanctum alone had character; it was hung
+about with lethal weapons of many kinds and many epochs, including a
+memento of every important war waged in Europe since the date of
+Waterloo. A smoke-grimed rifle from some battlefield was in
+Hannaford's view a thing greatly precious; still more, a bayonet
+with stain of blood; these relics appealed to his emotions. Under
+glass were ranged minutiae such as bullets, fragments of shells, bits
+of gore-drenched cloth or linen, a splinter of human bone--all
+ticketed with neat inscription. A bookcase contained volumes of
+military history, works on firearms, treatises on (chiefly
+explosive) chemistry; several great portfolios were packed with maps
+and diagrams of warfare. Upstairs, a long garret served as
+laboratory, and here were ranged less valuable possessions; weapons
+to which some doubt attached, unbloody scraps of accoutrements, also
+a few models of cannon and the like.
+
+In society, Hannaford was an entertaining, sometimes a charming,
+man, with a flow of well-informed talk, of agreeable anecdote; his
+friends liked to have him at the dinner-table; he could never be at
+a loss for a day or two's board and lodging when his home wearied
+him. Under his own roof he seldom spoke save to find fault, rarely
+showed anything but acrid countenance. He and his wife were
+completely alienated; but for their child, they would long ago have
+parted. It had been a love match, and the daughter's name, Olga,
+still testified to the romance of their honeymoon; but that was
+nearly twenty years gone by, and of these at least fifteen had been
+spent in discord, concealed or flagrant. Mrs. Hannaford was
+something of an artist; her husband spoke of all art with contempt
+--except the great art of human slaughter. She liked the society of
+foreigners; he, though a remarkable linguist, at heart distrusted
+and despised all but English-speaking folk. As a girl in her teens,
+she had been charmed by the man's virile accomplishments, his
+soldierly bearing and gay talk of martial things, though Hannaford
+was only a teacher of science. Nowadays she thought with dreary
+wonder of that fascination, and had come to loathe every trapping
+and habiliment of war. She knew him profoundly selfish, and
+recognised the other faults which had hindered so clever a man from
+success in life; indolent habits, moral untrustworthiness, and a
+conceit which at times menaced insanity. He hated her, she was well
+aware, because of her cold criticism; she returned his hate with
+interest.
+
+Save in suicide, of which she had sometimes thought, Mrs. Hannaford
+saw but one hope of release. A sister of hers had married a rich
+American, and was now a widow in falling health. That sister's death
+might perchance endow her with the means of liberty; she hung upon
+every message from across the Atlantic.
+
+She had a brother, too; a distinguished, but not a wealthy man. Dr.
+Derwent would gladly have seen more of her, gladly have helped to
+cheer her life, but a hearty antipathy held him aloof from Lee
+Hannaford. Communication between the two families was chiefly
+maintained through Dr. Derwent's daughter Irene, now in her
+nineteenth year. The girl had visited her aunt at Geneva, and since
+then had occasionally been a guest at Ewell. Having just returned
+from a winter abroad with her father, and no house being ready for
+her reception in London, Irene was even now about to pass a week
+with her relatives. They expected her to-day. The prospect of
+Irene's arrival enabled Mrs. Hannaford and Olga to find pleasure in
+the sunshine, which otherwise brought them little solace.
+
+Neither was in sound health. The mother had an interesting face; the
+daughter had a touch of beauty; but something morbid appeared on the
+countenance of each. They lived a strange life, lonely, silent; the
+stillness of the house unbroken by a note of music, unrelieved by a
+sound of laughter. In the neighbourhood they had no friends; only at
+long intervals did a London acquaintance come thus far to call upon
+them. Hut for the presence of Piers Otway at meals, and sometimes in
+the afternoon or evening, they would hardly have known conversation.
+For when Hannaford was at home, his sour muteness discouraged any
+kind of talk; in his absence, mother and daughter soon exhausted all
+they had to say to each other, and read or brooded or nursed their
+headaches apart.
+
+With the coming of Irene, gloom vanished. It had always been so,
+since the beginning of her girlhood; the name of Irene Derwent
+signified miseries forgotten, mirthful hours, the revival of health
+and hope. Unable to resist her influence, Hannaford always kept as
+much as possible out of the way when she was under his roof; the
+conflict between inclination to unbend and stubborn coldness towards
+his family made him too uncomfortable. Vivaciously tactful in this
+as in all things, Irene had invented a pleasant fiction which
+enabled her to meet Mr. Hannaford without embarrassment; she always
+asked him "How is your neuralgia?" And the man, according as he
+felt, made answer that it was better or worse. That neuralgia was
+often a subject of bitter jest between Mrs. Hannaford and Olga, but
+it had entered into the life of the family, and at times seemed to
+be believed in even by the imagined sufferer.
+
+Nothing could have been more characteristic of Irene. Wit at the
+service of good feeling expressed her nature.
+
+Her visit this time would be specially interesting, for she had
+passed the winter in Finland, amid the intellectual society of
+Helsingfors. Letters had given a foretaste of what she would have to
+tell, but Irene was no great letter-writer. She had an impatience of
+remaining seated at a desk. She did not even read very much. Her
+delight was in conversation, in movement, in active life. For
+several years her father had made her his companion, as often as
+possible, in holiday travel and on the journeys prompted by
+scientific study. Though successful as a medical man, Dr. Derwent no
+longer practised; he devoted himself to pathological research, and
+was making a name in the world of science. His wife, who had died
+young, left him two children; the elder, Eustace, was an amiable and
+intelligent young man, but had small place in his father's life
+compared with that held by Irene.
+
+She was to arrive at Ewell in time for luncheon. Her brother would
+bring her, and return to London in the afternoon.
+
+Olga walked to the station to meet them. Mrs. Hannaford having paid
+unusual attention to her dress--she had long since ceased to care
+how she looked, save on very exceptional occasions--moved
+impatiently, nervously, about the house and the garden. Her age was
+not yet forty, but a life of disappointment and unrest had dulled
+her complexion, made her movements languid, and was beginning to
+touch with grey her soft, wavy hair. Under happier circumstances she
+would have been a most attractive woman; her natural graces were
+many, her emotions were vivid and linked with a bright intelligence,
+her natural temper inclined to the nobler modes of life.
+Unfortunately, little care had been given to her education; her best
+possibilities lay undeveloped; thrown upon her inadequate resources,
+she nourished the weaknesses instead of the virtues of her nature.
+She was always saying to herself that life had gone by, and was
+wasted; for life meant love, and love in her experience had been a
+flitting folly, an error of crude years, which should, in all
+justice, have been thrown aside and forgotten, allowing her a second
+chance. Too late, now. Often she lay through the long nights
+shedding tears of misery. Too late; her beauty blurred, her heart
+worn with suffering, often poisoned with bitterness. Yet there came
+moments of revolt, when she rose and looked at herself in the
+mirror, and asked----But for Olga, she would have tried to shape
+her own destiny.
+
+To-day she could look up at the sunshine. Irene was coming.
+
+A sound of young voices in the quiet road; then the shimmer of a
+bright costume, the gleam of a face all health and charm and
+merriment. Irene came into the garden, followed by her brother, and
+behind them Olga.
+
+Her voice woke the dull house; of a sudden it was alive, responding
+to the cheerful mood of its inhabitants. The rooms had a new
+appearance; sunlight seemed to penetrate to every shadowed comer;
+colours were brighter, too familiar objects became interesting. The
+dining-room table, commonly so uninviting, gleamed as for a
+festival. Irene's eyes fell on everything and diffused her own happy
+spirit. Irene had an excellent appetite; everyone enjoyed the meal.
+This girl could not but bestow something of herself on all with whom
+she came together; where she felt liking, her influence was
+incalculable.
+
+"How much better you look than when I last saw you." she said to her
+aunt. "Ewell evidently suits you."
+
+And at once Mrs. Hannaford felt that she was stronger, younger, than
+she had thought. Yes, she felt better than for a long time, and
+Ewell was exactly suited to her health.
+
+"Is that pastel yours, Olga? Admirable! The best thing of yours I
+ever saw."
+
+And Olga, who had thought her pastel worthless, saw all at once that
+it really was not bad; she glowed with gratification.
+
+The cousins were almost of an age, of much the same stature; but
+Olga had a pallid tint, tawny hair, and bluish eyes, whilst Irene's
+was a warm complexion, her hair of dark-brown, and her eyes of
+hazel. As efficient human beings, there could be no comparison
+between them; Olga looked frail, despondent, inclined to sullenness,
+whilst Irene impressed one as in perfect health, abounding in gay
+vitality, infinite in helpful resource. Straight as an arrow, her
+shoulders the perfect curve, bosom and hips full-moulded to the
+ideal of ripe girlhood, she could not make a gesture which was not
+graceful, nor change her position without revealing a new excellence
+of form. Yet a certain taste would have leant towards Miss
+Hannaford, whose traits had more mystery; as an uncommon type, she
+gained by this juxtaposition. Miss Derwent, despite her larger
+experience of the world, her vastly better education, was a much
+younger person than Olga; she had an occasional _naivete_ unknown to
+her cousin; her sex was far less developed. To the average man,
+Olga's proximity would have been troubling, whereas Irene's would
+simply have given delight.
+
+During the excitement of the arrival, and through the cheerful meal
+which followed, Eustace Derwent maintained a certain reserve, was
+always rather in the background. This implied no defect of decent
+sentiment; the young man--he was four-and-twenty--could not
+regard his aunt and cousin with any fond emotion, but he did not
+dislike them, and was willing to credit them with all the excellent
+qualities perceived by Irene, wondering merely how his father's
+sister, a member of the Derwent family, could have married such a
+"doubtful customer" as Lee Hannaford. Eustace never became
+demonstrative; he had in perfection the repose of a self-conscious,
+delicately bred, and highly trained Englishman. In a day of
+democratisation, he supported the ancient fame of the University
+which fostered gentlemen. Balliol was his College. His respect for
+that name, and his reverence for the great master who ruled there,
+were not inconsistent with a private feeling that, whatever he might
+owe to Balliol, Balliol in turn lay under a certain obligation to
+him. His academic record had no brilliancy; he aimed at nothing of
+the kind, knowing his limltations--or rather his distinctions; but
+he was quietly conscious that no graduate of his year better
+understood the niceties of decorum, more creditably represented the
+tone of that famous school of manners.
+
+Eustace Derwent was in fact a thoroughly clear-minded and
+well-meaning young man; sensitive as to his honour; ambitious of
+such social advancement as would illustrate his name; unaffectedly
+attached to those of his own blood, and anxious to fulfil with
+entire propriety all the recognised duties of life. He was
+intelligent, with originality; he was good-natured without shadow of
+boisterous impulse. In countenance he strongly resembled his mother,
+who had been a very handsome woman (Irene had more of her father's
+features), and, of course, he well knew that the eyes of ladies
+rested upon him with peculiar interest; but no vulgar vanity
+appeared in his demeanour. As a matter of routine, he dressed well,
+but he abhorred the hint of foppishness. In athletics he had kept
+the golden mean, as in all else; he exercised his body for health,
+not for the pride of emulation. As to his career, he was at present
+reading for the Bar. In meditative moments it seemed to him that he
+was, perhaps, best fitted for the diplomatic service.
+
+Not till this gentleman had taken his leave, which he did (to catch
+a train) soon after lunch, was there any mention of the fact that
+the Hannafords had a stranger residing under their roof: in coarse
+English, a lodger.
+
+To Eustace, as his aunt knew, the subject would necessarily have
+been painful; and not only in the snobbish sense; it would really
+have distressed him to learn that his kinsfolk were glad of such a
+supplement to their income. But soon after his retirement, Mrs.
+Hannaford spoke of the matter, and no sooner had she mentioned Piers
+Otway's name than Irene flashed upon her a look of attentive
+interest.
+
+"Is he related to Jerome Otway, the agitator?--His son? How
+delightful! Oh, I know all about him; I mean, about the old man. One
+of our friends at Helsingfors was an old French revolutionist, who
+has lived a great deal in England; he was always talking about his
+English friends of long ago, and Jerome Otway often came in. He
+didn't know whether he was still alive. Oh, I must write and tell
+him."
+
+The ladles gave what information they could (it amounted to very
+little) about the recluse of Wensleydale; then they talked of the
+young man.
+
+"We knew him at Geneva, first of all," said Mrs. Hannaford. "Indeed,
+he lived with us there for. a time; he was only a boy, then, and
+such a nice boy! He has changed a good deal--don't you think so,
+Olga? I don't mean for the worse; not at all; but he is not so
+talkative and companionable. You'll find him shy at first, I fancy."
+
+"He works terrifically," put in Olga. "It's certain he must be
+injuring his health."
+
+"Then," exclaimed Irene, "why do you let him?"
+
+"Let him? We have no right to interfere with a young man of
+one-and-twenty."
+
+"Surely you have, if he's behaving foolishly, to his own harm. But
+what do you call terrific work?"
+
+"All day long, and goodness knows how much of the night. Somebody
+told us his light had been seen burning once at nearly three
+o'clock."
+
+"Is he at it now?" asked Irene, with a comical look towards the
+ceiling.
+
+They explained Otway's absence.
+
+"Oh, he lunches with Members of Parliament, does he?"
+
+"It's a very exceptional thing for him to leave home," said Mrs.
+Hannaford. "He only goes out to breathe the air for half an hour or
+so in an afternoon."
+
+"You astonish me, aunt! You oughtn't to allow it--_I_ shan't allow
+it, I assure you."
+
+The listeners laughed gaily.
+
+"My dear Irene," said her aunt, "Mr. Otway will be much flattered,
+I'm sure. Hut his examination comes on very soon, and he was telling
+us only yesterday that he didn't want to lose an hour if he could
+help it."
+
+"He'll lose a good many hours before long, at this rate. Silly
+fellow! That's not the way to do well at an exam! I must counsel him
+for his soul's good, I must, indeed. Will he dine here to-night?"
+
+"No doubt."
+
+"And make all haste to get away when dinner is over," said Olga,
+with a smile.
+
+"Then we won't let him. He shall tell us all about the Member of
+Parliament; and then all about his famous father. I undertake to
+keep him talking till ten."
+
+"Then, poor fellow, he'll have to work all night to make it up."
+
+"Indeed, no! I shall expressly forbid it. What a shocking thing if
+he died here, and it got into the papers! Aunt, do consider; they
+would call you his _landlady_!"
+
+Mrs. Hannaford reddened whilst laughing, and the girl saw that her
+joke was not entirely relished, but she could never resist the
+temptation to make fun of certain prejudices.
+
+"And when you give your evidence," she went on, "the coroner will
+remark that if the influence of a lady so obviously sweet and
+right-feeling and intelligent could not avail to save the poor
+youth, he was plainly destined to a premature end."
+
+At which Mrs. Hannaford again laughed and reddened, but this time
+with gratification.
+
+If Irene sometimes made a mistake, no one could have perceived it
+more quickly, and more charmingly have redeemed the slip.
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+When Piers Otway got back to Ewell, about four o'clock, he felt the
+beginning of a headache. The day of excitement might have accounted
+for it, but in the last few weeks it had been too common an
+experience with him, a warning, naturally, against his mode of life,
+and of course unheeded. On reaching the house, he saw and heard no
+one; the door stood open, and he went straight up to his room.
+
+He had only one, which served him for study and bedchamber. In front
+of the window stood a large table, covered with his books and
+papers, and there, on the blotting pad, lay a letter which had
+arrived for him since his departure this morning. It came, he saw,
+from his father. He took it up eagerly, and was tearing the envelope
+when his eye fell on something that stayed his hand.
+
+The wide-open window offered a view over the garden at the back of
+the house, and on the lawn he saw a little group of ladies. Seated
+in basket chairs, Mrs. Hannaford and her daughter were conversing
+with a third person whom Piers did not know, a tall, fair-faced girl
+who stood before them and seemed at this moment to be narrating some
+lively story. Even had her features been hidden, the attitude of
+this stranger, her admirable form and rapid, graceful gestures, must
+have held the young man's attention; seeing her with the light full
+on her countenance, he gazed and gazed, in sudden complete
+forgetfulness of his half-opened letter. Just so had he stood before
+the print shop in London this morning, with the same wide eyes, the
+same hurried breathing; rapt, self-oblivious.
+
+He remembered. The Hannafords' relative, Miss Derwent, was expected
+to-day; and Miss Derwent, doubtless, he beheld.
+
+The next moment it occurred to him that his observation, within
+earshot of the group, was a sort of eavesdropping; he closed his
+window and turned away. The sound must have drawn attention, for
+very soon there came a knock at the door, and the servant inquired
+of him whether he would have tea, as usual, in his room, or join the
+ladies below.
+
+"Bring it here, please," he replied. "And--yes, tell Mrs.
+Hannaford that I shall not come down to dinner--you can bring me
+anything you like--just a mouthful of something."
+
+Now there went, obscurely, no less than three reasons to the quick
+shaping of this decision. In the first place, Piers had glanced over
+his father's letter, and saw in it matter for long reflection.
+Secondly, his headache was declared, and he would be better alone
+for the evening. Thirdly, he shrank from meeting Miss Derwent. And
+this last was the predominant motive. Letter and headache
+notwithstanding, he would have joined the ladies at dinner but for
+the presence of their guest. An inexplicable irritation all at once
+possessed him; a grotesque resentment of Miss Derwent's arrival.
+
+Why should she have come just when he wanted to work harder than
+ever? That was how things happened--the perversity of
+circumstance! She would be at every meal for at least a week; he
+must needs talk with her, look at her, think about her. His
+annoyance became so acute that he tramped nervously about the floor,
+muttering maledictions.
+
+It passed. A cup of tea brought him to his right mind, and he no
+longer saw the event in such exaggerated colours. But he was glad of
+his decision to spend the evening alone.
+
+His father's letter had come at the right moment; in some degree it
+allayed the worry caused by his brother Daniel's talk this morning.
+Jerome Otway wrote, as usual, briefly, on the large letter-paper he
+always used; his bold hand, full of a certain character, demanded
+space. He began by congratulating Piers on the completion of his
+one-and-twentieth year. "I am late, but had not forgotten the day;
+it costs me an effort to put pen to paper, as you know." Proceeding,
+he informed his son that a sum of money, a few hundred pounds, had
+become payable to him on the attainment of his majority. "It was
+your mother's, and she wished you to have it. A man of law will
+communicate with you about the matter. Speak of it to me, or not, as
+you prefer. If you wish it, I will advise; if you wish it not, I
+will keep silence." There followed a few words about the beauty of
+spring in the moorland; then: "Your ordeal approaches. An absurdity,
+I fear, but the wisdom of our day will have it thus. I wish you
+success. If you fall short of your hopes, come to me and we will
+talk once more. Befall what may, I am to the end your father who
+wishes you well." The signature was very large, and might have drawn
+censure of affectation from the unsympathetic. As, indeed, might the
+whole epistle: very significant of the mind and temper of Jerome
+Otway.
+
+To Piers, the style was too familiar to suggest reflections besides,
+he had a loyal mind towards his father, and never criticised the old
+man's dealing with him. The confirmation of Daniel's report about
+the legacy concerned him little in itself; he had no immediate need
+of money, and so small a sum could not affect the course of his
+life; but, this being true, it seemed probable that Daniel's other
+piece of information was equally well founded. If so, what matter?
+Already he had asked himself why the story about his mother should
+have caused him a shock. His father, in all likelihood, would now
+never speak of that; and, indeed, why should he? The story no longer
+affected either of them, and to worry oneself about it was mere
+"philistinism," a favourite term with Piers at that day.
+
+In replying, which he did this same night, he decided to make no
+mention of Daniel. The name would give his father no pleasure.
+
+When he rang to have his tea-things taken away, Mrs. Hannaford
+presented herself. She was anxious about him. Why would he not dine?
+She wished him to make the acquaintance of Miss Derwent, whose talk
+was sure to interest him. Piers pleaded his headache, causing the
+lady more solicitude. She entreated. As he could not work, it would
+be much better for him to spend an hour or two in company. Would he
+not? to please her?
+
+Mrs. Hannaford spoke in a soft, caressing voice, and Piers returned
+her look of kindness; but he was firm. An affection had grown up
+between these two; their intercourse, though they seldom talked long
+together, was much like that of mother and son.
+
+"You are injuring you health," said Mrs. Hannaford gravely, "and it
+is unkind to those who care for you."
+
+"Wait a few weeks," he replied cheerily, "and I'll make up the
+health account."
+
+"You refuse to come down to please me, this once?"
+
+"I must be alone--indeed I must," Piers replied, with unusual
+abruptness. And Mrs. Hannaford, a little hurt, left the room without
+speaking.
+
+He all but hastened after her, to apologise; but the irritable
+impulse overcame him again, and he had to pace the room till his
+nerves grew steady.
+
+Very soon after it was dark he gave up the effort to read, and went
+to bed. A good night's sleep restored him. He rose with the sun,
+felt the old appetite for work, and when the breakfast bell rang had
+redeemed more than three good hours. He was able now to face Miss
+Derwent, or anyone else. Indeed, that young lady hardly came into
+his mind before he met her downstairs. At the introduction he
+behaved with his natural reserve, which had nothing, as a rule, of
+awkwardness. Irene was equally formal, though a smile at the corner
+of her lips half betrayed a mischievous thought. They barely spoke
+to each other, and at table Irene took no heed of him.
+
+But with the others she talked as brightly as usual, managing, none
+the less, to do full justice to the meal. Miss Derwent's vigour of
+mind and body was not sustained on air, and she never affected a
+delicate appetite. There was still something of the healthy
+schoolgirl in her manner. Otway glanced at her once or twice, but
+immediately averted his eyes--with a slight frown, as if the light
+had dazzled him.
+
+She was talking of Finland, and mentioned the name of her father's
+man-servant, Thibaut. It entered several times into the narrative,
+and always with an approving epithet, the excellent Thibaut, the
+brave Thibaut.
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Hannaford, presently, "do tell Mr. Otway the
+story of Thibaut."
+
+"Yes, do!" urged Olga.
+
+Piers raised his eyes to the last speaker, and moved them timidly
+towards Irene. She smiled, meeting his look with a sort of merry
+satisfaction.
+
+"Mr. Otway is occupied with serious thoughts," was her good-humoured
+remark.
+
+"I should much like to hear the story of Thibaut," said Piers,
+bending forward a little.
+
+"Would you? You shall--Thibaut Rossignol; delightful name, isn't
+it? And one of the most delightful of men, though only a servant,
+and the son of a village shopkeeper. It begins fifteen years ago,
+just after the Franco-Prussian War. My father was taking a holiday
+in eastern France, and he came one day to a village where an
+epidemic of typhoid was raging. _Tant mieux_! Something to do; some
+help to be given. If you knew my father--but you will understand.
+He offered his services to the overworked couple of doctors and was
+welcomed. He fought the typhoid day and night--if you knew my
+father! Well, there was a bad case in a family named Rossignol: a
+boy of twelve. What made it worse was that two elder brothers had
+been killed in the war, and the parents sat in despair by the
+bedside of their only remaining child. The father was old and very
+shaky; the mother much younger, but she had suffered dreadfully from
+the death of her two boys--you should hear my father tell it! I
+make a hash of it; when _he_ tells it people cry. Madame Rossignol
+was the sweetest little woman--you know that kind of Frenchwoman,
+don't you? Soft-voiced, tender, intelligent, using the most
+delightful phrases; a jewel of a woman. My father settled himself by
+the bedside and fought; Madame Rossignol watching him with eyes he
+did not dare to meet--until a certain moment. Then--_then_ the
+soft voice for once was loud. '_Ii est sauve_!' My father shed
+tears; everybody shed tears--except Thibaut himself."
+
+Piers hung on the speaker's lips. No music had ever held him so
+rapt. When she ceased he gazed at her.
+
+"No, of course, that's not all," Irene proceeded, with the
+mischievous smile again; and she spoke much as she might have done
+to an eagerly listening child. "Six years pass by. My father is
+again la the east of France, and he goes to the old village. He is
+received with enthusiasm; his name has become a proverb. Rossignol
+_pere_, alas, is dead, long since. Dear Madame Rossignol lives, but
+my father sees at a glance that she will not live long. The
+excitement of meeting him was almost too much for her--pale, sweet
+little woman. Thibaut was keeping shop with her, but he seemed out
+of place there; a fine lad of eighteen; very intelligent,
+wonderfully good-humoured, and his poor mother had no peace, night
+or day, for the thought of what would become of him after her death;
+he had no male kinsfolk, and certainly would not stick to a dull
+little trade. My father thought, and after thinking, spoke. 'Madame,
+will you let me take your son to England, and find something for him
+to do?' She screamed with delight. 'But will Thibaut consent?'
+Thibaut had his patriotic scruples; but when he saw and heard his
+poor mother, he consented. Madame Rossignol had a sister near by,
+with whom she could live. And so on the spot it was settled."
+
+Piers hung on the speaker's lips; no tale had ever so engrossed him.
+Indeed, it was charmingly told; with so much girlish sincerity, so
+much womanly feeling.
+
+"No, that's not all. My father went to his inn for the night. Early
+in the morning he was hastily summoned; he must come at once to the
+house of the Rossignols; something was wrong. He went, and there, in
+her bed, lay the little woman, just as if asleep, and a smile on her
+face--but she was dead."
+
+Piers had a lump in his throat; he straightened himself, and tried
+to command his features. Irene, smiling, looked steadily at him.
+
+"From that day," she added, "Thibaut has been my father's servant.
+He wouldn't be anything else. This, he always says, would best have
+pleased his mother. He will never leave Dr. Derwent. The good
+Thibaut!"
+
+All were silent for a minute; then Piers pushed back his chair.
+
+"Work?" said Mrs. Hannaford, with a little note of allusion to last
+evening.
+
+"Work!" Piers replied grimly, his eyes down.
+
+"Well, now," exclaimed Irene, turning to her cousin, "what shall we
+do this splendid morning? Where can we go?"
+
+Piers left the room as the words were spoken. He went upstairs with
+slower step than usual, head bent. On entering his room (it was
+always made ready for him while he was at breakfast), he walked to
+the window, and stared out at the fleecy clouds in the summer blue,
+at the trees and the lawn. He was thinking of the story of Thibaut.
+What a fine fellow Dr. Derwent must be! He would like to know him.
+
+To work! He meant to give an hour or two to his Russian, with which
+he had already made fair progress. By the bye, he must tell his
+father that; the old man would be pleased.
+
+An hour later, he again stood at his window, staring at the clouds
+and the blue. Russian was against the grain, somehow, this morning.
+He wondered whether Miss Derwent had learnt any during her winter at
+Helsingfors.
+
+What a long day was before him! He kept looking at his watch. And,
+instead of getting on with his work, he thought and thought again of
+the story of Thibaut.
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+At lunch Piers was as silent as at breakfast; he hardly spoke, save
+in answer to a chance question from Mrs. Hannaford. His face had an
+unwonted expression, a shade of sullenness, a mood rarely seen in
+him. Miss Derwent, whose animation more than made up for this
+muteness in one of the company, glanced occasionally at Otway, but
+did not address him.
+
+As his habit was, he went out for an afternoon walk, and returned
+with no brighter countenance. On the first landing of the staircase,
+as he stole softly to his room, he came face to face with Miss
+Derwent, descending.
+
+"We are going to have tea in the garden," she exclaimed, with the
+friendliest look and tone.
+
+"Are you? It will be enjoyable--it's so warm and sunny."
+
+"You will come, of course?"
+
+"I'm sorry--I have too much to do."
+
+He blundered out the words with hot embarrassment, and would have
+passed on. Irene did not permit it.
+
+"But you have been working all the morning?"
+
+"Oh, yes----"
+
+"Since when?"
+
+"Since about--oh, five o'clock----"
+
+"Then you have already worked something like eight hours, Mr. Otway.
+How many more do you think of working?"
+
+"Five or six, I hope," Piers answered, finding courage to look into
+her face, and trying to smile.
+
+"Mr. Otway," she rejoined, with an air of self-possession which made
+him feel like a rebuked schoolboy, "I prophesy that you will come to
+grief over your examination."
+
+"I don't think so, Miss Derwent," he said, with the firmness of
+desperation, as he felt his face grow red under her gaze.
+
+"I am the daughter of a medical man. Prescriptions are in my blood.
+Allow me to tell you that you have worked enough for one day, and
+that it is your plain duty to come and have tea in the garden."
+
+So serious was the note of interest which blended with her natural
+gaiety as she spoke these words that Piers felt his nerves thrill
+with delight. He was able to meet her eyes, and to respond in
+becoming terms.
+
+"You are right. Certainly I will come, and gladly."
+
+Irene nodded, smiled approval, and moved past him.
+
+In his room he walked hither and thither aimlessly, still holding
+his hat and stick. A throbbing of the heart, a quickening of the
+senses, seemed to give him a new consciousness of life. His mood of
+five minutes ago had completely vanished. He remembered his dreary
+ramble about the lanes as if it had taken place last week. Miss
+Derwent was still speaking to him; his mind echoed again and again
+every word she had said, perfectly reproducing her voice, her
+intonation; he saw her bright, beautiful face, its changing lights,
+its infinite subtleties of expression. The arch of her eyebrows and
+the lovely hazel eyes beneath; the small and exquisitely shaped
+mouth; the little chin, so delicately round and firm; all were
+engraved on his memory, once and for ever.
+
+He sat down and was lost in a dream. His arms hung idly; all his
+muscles were relaxed. His eyes dwelt on a point of the carpet which
+he did not see.
+
+Then, with a sudden start of activity, he went to the looking-glass
+and surveyed himself. His tie was the worse for wear. He exchanged
+it for another. He brushed his hair violently, and smoothed his
+moustache. Never had he felt such dissatisfaction with his
+appearance. Never had it struck him so disagreeably before that he
+was hard-featured, sallow, anything but a handsome man. Yet, he had
+good teeth, very white and regular; that was something, perhaps.
+Observing them, he grinned at himself grotesquely--and at once was
+so disgusted that he turned with a shudder away.
+
+Ordinarily, he would have awaited the summons of the bell for tea.
+But, after making himself ready, he gazed from the window and saw
+Miss Derwent walking alone in the garden; he hastened down.
+
+She gave him a look of intelligence, but took his arrival as a
+matter of course, and spoke to him about a flowering shrub which
+pleased her. Otway's heart sank. What had he expected? He neither
+knew nor asked himself; he stood beside her, seeing nothing, hearing
+only a voice and wishing it would speak on for ever. He was no
+longer a reflecting, reasoning young man, with a tolerably firm will
+and fixed purposes, but a mere embodied emotion, and that of the
+vaguest, swaying in dependence on another's personality.
+
+Olga Hannaford joined them. Olga, for all the various charms of her
+face, had never thus affected him. But then, he had known her a few
+years ago, when, as something between child and woman, she had
+little power to interest an imaginative boy, whose ideal was some
+actress seen only in a photograph, or some great lady on her travels
+glimpsed as he strayed about Geneva. She, in turn, regarded him with
+the coolest friendliness, her own imagination busy with far other
+figures than that of a would-be Government clerk.
+
+Just as tea was being served, there sounded a voice welcome to no
+one present, that of Lee Hannaford. He came forward with his wonted
+air of preoccupation; a well-built man, in the prime of life,
+carefully dressed, his lips close-set, his eyes seemingly vacant,
+but in reality very attentive; a pinched ironical smile meant for
+cordiality. After greetings, he stood before Miss Derwent's chair
+conversing with her; a cup of tea in his steady hand, his body just
+bent, his forehead curiously wrinkled--a habit of his when he
+talked for civility's sake and nothing else. Hannaford could never
+be at ease in the presence of his wife and daughter if others were
+there to observe him; he avoided speaking to them, or, if obliged,
+did so with awkward formality. Indeed, he was not fond of the
+society of women, and grew less so every year. His tone with regard
+to them was marked with an almost puritanical coldness; he visited
+any feminine breach of the proprieties with angry censure. Yet,
+before his marriage, he had lived, if anything, more laxly than the
+average man, and to his wife he had confessed (strange memory
+nowadays), that he owed to her a moral redemption. His morality, in
+fact, no one doubted; the suspicions Mrs. Hannaford had once
+entertained when his coldness to her began, she now knew to be
+baseless. Absorbed in meditations upon bloodshed and havoc, he held
+high the ideal of chastity, and, in company agreeable to him, could
+allude to it as the safeguard of civil life.
+
+When he withdrew into the house, Mrs. Hannaford followed him. Olga,
+always nervous when her father was near, sat silent. Piers Otway,
+with a new reluctance, was rising to return to his studies, when
+Miss Derwent checked him with a look.
+
+"What a perfect afternoon!"
+
+"It is, indeed," he murmured, his eyes falling.
+
+"Olga, are you too tired for another walk?"
+
+"I? Oh, no! I should enjoy it."
+
+"Do you think"--Irene looked roguishly at her cousin--"Mr. Otway
+would forgive us if we begged him to come, too?"
+
+Olga smiled, and glanced at the young man with certainty that he
+would excuse himself.
+
+"We can but ask," she said.
+
+And Piers, to her astonishment, at once assented. He did so with
+sudden colour in his cheeks, avoiding Olga's look.
+
+So they set forth together; and, little by little, Piers grew
+remarkably talkative. Miss Derwent mentioned his father, declared an
+interest in Jerome Otway, and this was a subject on which Piers
+could always discourse to friendly hearers. This evening he did so
+with exceptional fervour, abounded in reminiscences, rose at moments
+to enthusiasm. His companions were impressed; to Irene it was an
+unexpected revelation of character. She had imagined young Otway dry
+and rather conventional, perhaps conceited; she found him
+impassioned and an idealist, full of hero-worship, devoted to his
+father's name and fame.
+
+"And he lives all the year round in that out-of-the-way place?" she
+asked. "I must make a pilgrimage to Hawes. Would he be annoyed? I
+could tell him about his old friends at Helsingfors----"
+
+"He would be delighted to see you!" cried Piers, his face glowing.
+"Let me know before--let me write----"
+
+"Is he quite alone?"
+
+"No, his wife--my stepmother--is living."
+
+Irene's quick perception interpreted the change of note.
+
+"It would really be very interesting--if I can manage to get so
+far," she said, less impulsively.
+
+They walked the length of the great avenue at Nonsuch, and back
+again in the golden light of the west. Piers Otway disregarded the
+beauty of earth and sky, he had eyes for nothing but the face and
+form beside him. At dinner, made dull by Hannaford's presence, he
+lived still in the dream of his delight, listening only when Irene
+spoke, speaking only when she addressed him, which she did several
+times. The meal over, he sought an excuse for spending the next hour
+in the drawing-room; but Mrs. Hannaford, unconscious of any change
+in his habits, offered no invitation, and he stole silently away.
+
+He did not light his lamp, but sat in the dim afterglow till it
+faded through dusk into dark. He sat without movement, in an
+enchanted reverie. And when night had fallen, he suddenly threw off
+his clothes and got into bed, where for hours he lay dreaming in
+wakefulness.
+
+He rose at eight the next morning, and would, under ordinary
+circumstances, have taken a book till breakfast. But no book could
+hold him, for he had already looked from the window, and in the
+garden below had seen Irene. Panting with the haste he had made to
+finish his toilet, he stepped towards her.
+
+"Three hours' work already, I suppose," she said, as they shook
+hands.
+
+"Unfortunately, not one. I overslept myself."
+
+"Come, that's reasonable! There's hope of you. Tell me about this
+examination. What are the subjects?"
+
+He expounded the matter as they walked up and down. It led to a
+question regarding the possibilities of such a career as he had in
+view.
+
+"To tell the truth, I haven't thought much about that," said Piers,
+with wandering look. "My idea was, I fancy, to get a means of
+earning my living which would leave me a good deal of time for
+private work."
+
+"What, literary work?"
+
+"No; I didn't think of writing. I like study for its own sake."
+
+"Then you have no ambitions, of the common kind?"
+
+"Well, perhaps not. I suppose I have been influenced by my father's
+talk about that kind of thing."
+
+"To be sure."
+
+He noticed a shrinking movement in Miss Derwent and saw that
+Hannaford was approaching. This dislike of the man, involuntarily
+betrayed, gave Piers an exquisite pleasure. Not only because it
+showed they had a strong feeling in common; it would have delighted
+him in any case, for he was jealous of any human being who
+approached Irene.
+
+Hannaford made known at breakfast that he was leaving home again
+that afternoon, and might be absent for several days. A sensitive
+person must have felt the secret satisfaction caused all round the
+table by this announcement; Hannaford, whether he noticed it or not,
+was completely indifferent; certain letters he had received took
+most of his attention during the meal. One of them related to an
+appointment in London which he was trying to obtain; the news was
+favourable, and it cheered him.
+
+An hour later, as he sat writing in his study, Mrs. Hannaford
+brought in a parcel, which had just arrived for him.
+
+"Ah, what's that?" he asked, looking up with interest.
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," answered his wife. "Something with blood on
+it, I dare say"
+
+Hannaford uttered a crowing laugh of scorn and amusement.
+
+Through the afternoon Piers Otway sat in the garden with the ladies.
+After tea he again went for a walk with Olga and Irene. After dinner
+he lingered so significantly that Mrs. Hannaford invited him to the
+drawing-room, and with unconcealed pleasure he followed her thither.
+When at length he had taken his leave for the night, there was a
+short silence, Mrs. Hannaford glancing from her daughter to Irene,
+and smiling reflectively.
+
+"Mr. Otway seems to be taking a holiday," she said at length.
+
+"Yes, so it seemed to me," fell from Olga, who caught her mother's
+eye.
+
+"It'll do him good," was Miss Derwent's remark. She exchanged no
+glance with the others, and seemed to be thinking of something else.
+
+Next morning, though the sun shone brilliantly, she did not appear
+in the garden before breakfast. From a window above, eyes were
+watching, watching in vain. At the meal Irene was her wonted self,
+but she did not enter into conversation with Otway. The young man
+had grown silent again.
+
+Heavily he went up to his room. Mechanically he seated himself at
+the table. But, instead of opening books, he propped his head upon
+his hands, and so sat for a long, long time.
+
+When thoughts began to shape themselves (at first he did not think,
+but lived in a mere tumult of emotions) he recalled Irene's
+question: what career had he really in view? A dull, respectable
+clerkship, with two or three hundred a year, and the chance of
+dreary progress by seniority till it was time to retire on a decent
+pension? That, he knew, was what the Civil Service meant. The far,
+faint possibility of some assistant secretaryship to some statesman
+in office; really nothing else. His inquiries had apprised him of
+this delightful state of things, but he had not cared. Now he did
+care. He was beginning to understand himself better.
+
+In truth, he had never looked forward beyond a year or two.
+Ambition, desires, he possessed in no common degree, but as a vague,
+unexamined impulse. He had dreamt of love, but timidly, tremulously;
+that was for the time to come. He had dreamt of distinction; that,
+also, must be patiently awaited. In the meantime, labour. He enjoyed
+intellectual effort; he gloried in the amassing of mental riches.
+
+    "To follow Knowledge like a sinking star
+    Beyond the
+    utmost bound of human thought--"
+
+these lines were frequently in his mind, and helped to shape his
+enthusiasm. Consciously he subdued a great part of himself, binding
+his daily life in asceticism. He would not live in London because he
+dreaded its temptations. Gladly he adhered to his father's
+principles in the matter of food and drink; this helped him to
+subdue his body, or at least he thought so. He was happiest when,
+throwing himself into bed after some fourteen hours of hard reading,
+he felt the stupor of utter weariness creep upon him, with certainty
+of oblivion until the next sunrise.
+
+He did not much reflect upon the course of his life hitherto, with
+its false starts, its wavering; he had not experience enough to
+understand their significance. Of course his father was mainly
+responsible for what had so far happened. Jerome Otway, whilst
+deciding that this youngest son of his should be set in the sober
+way of commerce, to advance himself, if fate pleased, through
+recognised grades of social respectability, was by no means careful
+to hide from the lad his own rooted contempt of such ideals. Nothing
+could have been more inconsistent than the old agitator's behaviour
+in attempting to discharge this practical duty. That he meant well
+was all one could say of him; for it was not permissible to suppose
+Jerome Otway defective in intelligence. Perhaps the outcome of
+solicitude in the case of his two elder sons had so far discouraged
+him, that, on the first symptoms of instability, he ceased to regard
+Piers as within his influence.
+
+Piers, this morning, had a terrible sense of loneliness, of
+abandonment. The one certainty by which he had lived, his delight in
+books, his resolve to become erudite, now of a sudden vanished. He
+did not know himself; he was in a strange world, and bewildered.
+Nay, he was suffering anguish.
+
+Why had Miss Derwent disregarded him at breakfast? He must have
+offended her last night. And that could only be in one way, by
+neglecting his work to loiter about the drawing-room. She had
+respected him at all events; now, no doubt she fancied he had not
+deserved her respect.
+
+This magnificent piece of self-torturing logic sufficed to occupy
+him all the morning.
+
+At luncheon-time he was careful not to come down before the bell
+rang. As he prepared himself, the glass showed a drawn visage, heavy
+eyes; he thought he was uglier than ever.
+
+Descending, he heard no voices. With tremors he stepped into the
+dining-room, and there sat Mrs. Hannaford alone.
+
+"They have gone off for the day," she said, with a kind look. "To
+Dorking, and Leith Hill, and I don't know where."
+
+Piers felt a stab through the heart. He stammered something about a
+hope that they would enjoy themselves. The meal passed very
+silently, for Mrs. Hannaford was meditative. She paid unusual
+attention to Piers, trying to tempt his appetite; but with
+difficulty he swallowed a mouthful. And, the meal over, he returned
+at once to his room.
+
+About four o'clock--he was lying on the bed, staring at the
+ceiling--a knock aroused him. The servant opened the door.
+
+"A gentleman wanting to see you, sir--Mr. Daniel Otway."
+
+Piers was glad. He would have welcomed any visitor. When Daniel--
+who was better dressed than the other day--came into the room,
+Piers shook hands warmly with him.
+
+"Delightful spot!" exclaimed the elder, with more than his
+accustomed suavity. "Charming little house!--I hope I shan't be
+wasting your time?"
+
+"Of course not. We shall have some tea presently. How glad I am to
+see you!--I must introduce you to Mrs. Hannaford."
+
+"Delighted, my dear boy! How well you look!--stop though; you are
+_not_ looking very well----"
+
+Piers broke into extravagant gaiety.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+There had only been time to satisfy Daniel's profound and touching
+interest in his brother's work for the examination when the tea bell
+rang, and they went down to the drawing-room. Piers noticed that
+Mrs. Hannaford had made a special toilet; so rarely did a new
+acquaintance enter the house that she was a little fluttered in
+receiving Daniel Otway, whose manners evidently impressed and
+pleased her. Had he known his brother well, Piers would have
+understood that this exhibition of fine courtesy meant a peculiar
+interest on Daniel's part. Such interest was not difficult to
+excite; there needed only an agreeable woman's face of a type not
+familiar to him, in circumstances which offered the chance of
+intimacy. And Mrs. Hannaford, as it happened, made peculiar appeal
+to Daniel's sensibilities. As they conversed, her thin cheeks grew
+warm, her eyes gathered light; she unfolded a charm of personality
+barely to be divined in her usual despondent mood.
+
+Daniel's talk was animated, varied, full of cleverness and
+character. No wonder if his hostess thought that she had never met
+so delightful a man. Incidentally, in quite the permissible way, he
+made known that he was a connoisseur of art; he spoke of his travels
+on the track of this or that old master, of being consulted by
+directors of great Galleries, by wealthy amateurs. He was gracefully
+anecdotic; he allowed one to perceive a fine enthusiasm. And Piers
+listened quite as attentively as Mrs. Hannaford, for he had no idea
+how Daniel made his living. The kernel of truth in this fascinating
+representation was that Daniel Otway, among other things, collected
+_bric-a-brac_ for a certain. dealer, and at times himself disposed
+of it to persons with more money than knowledge or taste. At the age
+of thirty-eight this was the point he had reached in a career which
+once promised brilliant things. In whatever profession he had
+steadily pursued, Daniel would have come to the front; but precisely
+that steady pursuit was the thing impossible to him. His special
+weakness, originally amiable, had become an enthralling vice; the
+soul of goodness in the man was corrupted, and had turned poisonous.
+
+The conversation was still unflagging when Olga and her cousin
+returned from their day's ramble. Daniel was presented to them. Olga
+at once noticed her mother's strange vivacity, and, sitting silent,
+closely observed Mr. Otway. Irene, also, studied him with her keen
+eyes; not, one would have guessed, with very satisfactory results.
+As time was drawing on, Mrs. Hannaford presently asked Daniel if he
+could give them the pleasure of staying to dine; and Daniel accepted
+without a moment's hesitation. When the ladies retired to dress, he
+went up to Piers' room, where a little dialogue of some importance
+passed between the brothers.
+
+"Have you heard anything about that matter I spoke of?" Daniel began
+by asking, confidentially.
+
+Piers answered in the affirmative, and gave details, much to the
+elder's satisfaction. Thereupon, Daniel began talking in a strain of
+yet closer confidence, sitting knee to knee with Piers and tapping
+him occasionally in a fraternal way. It might interest Piers to know
+that he was writing a book--a book which would revolutionise
+opinion with regard to certain matters, and certain periods of art.
+The work was all but finished. Unfortunately, no publisher could be
+found to bear the entire expense of this publication, which of
+course appealed to a very small circle of readers. The illustrations
+made it costly, and--in short, Daniel found himself pressingly in
+need of a certain sum to complete this undertaking, which could not
+but establish his fame as a connoisseur, and in all likelihood would
+secure his appointment as Director of a certain Gallery which he
+must not name. The money could be had for the asking from twenty
+persons--a mere bagatelle of a hundred and fifty pounds or so; but
+how much pleasanter it would be if this little loan could be
+arranged between brothers Daniel would engage to return the sum on
+publication of the book, probably some six months hence. Of course
+he merely threw out the suggestion--
+
+"I shall be only too glad to help," exclaimed Piers at once. "You
+shall have the money as soon as I get it."
+
+"That's really noble of you, my dear boy--By the bye, let all this
+be very strictly _entre nous_. To tell you the truth. I want to give
+the dear old philosopher of Wensleydale a pleasant surprise. I'm
+afraid he misjudges me; we have not been on the terms of perfect
+confidence which I should desire. But this book will delight him, I
+know. Let it come as a surprise."
+
+Piers undertook to say nothing; and Daniel after washing his hands
+and face, and smoothing his thin hair, was radiant with
+gratification.
+
+"Charming girl, Miss Derwent--eh, Piers? I seem to know the name
+--Dr. Derwent? Why, to be sure! Capital acquaintance for you. Lucky
+rascal, to have got into this house. Miss Hannaford, too, has
+points. Nothing so good at your age, my dear boy, as the habit of
+associating with intelligent girls and women. _Emollit mores_, and
+something more than that. An excellent influence every way. I'm no
+preacher, Piers, but I hold by morality; it's the salt of life--
+the salt of life!"
+
+At dinner, Daniel surpassed himself. He told admirable stories, he
+started just the right topics, and dealt with them in the right way;
+he seemed to know intuitively the habits of thought of each person
+he addressed. The hostess was radiant; Olga looked almost happy;
+Irene, after a seeming struggle with herself, which an unkind
+observer might have attributed to displeasure at being rivalled in
+talk, yielded to the cheery influence, and held her own against the
+visitor in wit and merriment. Not till half-past ten did Daniel
+resolve to tear himself away. His thanks to Mrs. Hannaford for an
+"enjoyable evening" were spoken with impressive sincerity, and the
+lady's expression of hope that they might meet again made his face
+shine.
+
+Piers accompanied him to the station. After humming to himself for a
+few moments, as they walked along the dark lane, Daniel slipped a
+hand through his brother's arm and spoke affectionately.
+
+"You don't know how glad I am that we have met, old boy! Now don't
+let us lose sight of each other--By the bye, do you ever hear of
+Alec?"
+
+Alexander, Jerome Otway's second son, had not communicated with his
+father for a good many years. His reputation was that of a
+good-natured wastrel. Piers replied that he knew nothing whatever of
+him.
+
+"He is in London," pursued Daniel, "and he is rather anxious to meet
+_you_. Now let me give you a word of warning. Alec isn't at all a
+bad sort. I confess I like him, for all his faults--and
+unfortunately he has plenty of them; but to you, Piers, he would be
+dangerous. Dangerous, first of all, because of his want of prnciple
+--you know my feelings on that point. Then, I'm afraid he knows of
+your little inheritance, and he _might_--I don't say he would--
+but he might be tempted to presume upon your good nature. You
+understand?"
+
+"What is he doing?" Piers inquired.
+
+"Nothing worth speaking of, I fear. Alec has no stability--so
+unlike you and me in that. You and I inherit the brave old man's
+love of work; Alec was born an idler. If I thought you might
+influence him for good--but no, it is too risky. One doesn't like
+to speak so of a brother, Piers, but I feel it my duty to warn you
+against poor Alec. _Basta_!"
+
+That night Piers did not close his eyes. The evening's excitement
+and the unusual warmth of the weather enhanced the feverishness due
+to his passionate thoughts. Before daybreak he rose and tried to
+read, but no book would hold his attention. Again he flung himself
+on to the bed, and lay till sunrise vainly groaning for sleep.
+
+With the new day came a light rain, which threatened to continue.
+Dullness ruled at breakfast. The cousins spoke fitfully of what they
+might do if the rain ceased.
+
+"A good time for work," said Irene to Piers. "But perhaps it's all
+the same to you, rain or shine?
+
+"Much the same," Piers answered mechanically.
+
+He passed a strange morning. Though to begin with he had seated
+himself resolutely, the attempt to study was ridiculous; the sight
+of his books and papers moved him to loathing. He watched the sky,
+hoping to see it broken. He stood by his door, listening, listening
+if perchance he might hear the movements of the girls, or hear a
+word in Irene's voice. Once he did hear her; she called to Olga,
+laughingly; and at the sound he quivered, his breath stopped.
+
+The clouds parted; a fresh breeze unveiled the summer blue. Piers
+stood at the window, watching; and at length he had his reward; the
+cousins came out and walked along the garden paths, conversing
+intimately. At one moment, Olga gave a glance up at his window, and
+he darted back, fearful of having been detected. Were they talking
+of him? How would Miss Derwent speak of him? Did he interest her in
+the least?
+
+He peeped again. Irene was standing with her hands linked at the
+back of her head, seeming to gaze at a lovely cloud above the great
+elm tree. This attitude showed her to perfection. Piers felt sick
+and dizzy as his eyes fed upon her form.
+
+At an impulse as sudden as irresistible, he pushed up the sash.
+
+"Miss Hannaford! It's going to be fine, you see."
+
+The girls turned to him with surprise.
+
+"Shall you have a walk after lunch?" he continued.
+
+"Certainly," replied Olga. "We were just talking about it."
+
+A moment's pause--then:
+
+"Would you let me go with you?"
+
+"Of course--if you can really spare the time."
+
+"Thank you."
+
+He shut down the window, turned away, stood in an agony of shame.
+Why had he done this absurd thing? Was it not as good as telling
+them that he had been spying? Irene's absolute silence meant
+disapproval, perhaps annoyance. And Olga's remark about his ability
+to spare time had hinted the same thing: her tone was not quite
+natural; she averted her look in speaking. Idiot that he was! He had
+forced his company upon them, when, more likely than not, they much
+preferred to be alone. Oh, tactless idiot! Now they would never be
+able to walk in the garden without a suspicion that he was observing
+them.
+
+He all but resolved to pack a travelling-bag and leave home at once.
+It seemed impossible to face Irene at luncheon.
+
+When the bell rang, he stole, slunk, downstairs. Scarcely had he
+entered the dining-room, when he began an apology; after all, he
+could not go this afternoon; he must work; the sky had tempted him,
+but----
+
+"Mr. Otway," said Irene, regarding him with mock sternness, "we
+don't allow that kind of thing. It is shameful vacillation--I love
+a long word--What's the other word I was trying for?--still
+longer--I mean, tergiversation! it comes from _tergum_ and
+_verso_, and means turning the back. It is rude to turn your back on
+ladies."
+
+Piers would have liked to fall at her feet, in his voiceless
+gratitude. She had rescued him from his shame, had put an end to all
+awkwardness, and, instead of merely permitting, had invited his
+company.
+
+"That decides it, Miss Derwent. Of course I shall come. Forgive me
+for being so uncivil."
+
+At lunch and during their long walk afterwards, Irene was very
+gracious to him. She had never talked with him in such a tone of
+entire friendliness; all at once they seemed to have become
+intimate. Yet there was another change less pleasing to the young
+man; Irene talked as though either she had become older, or he
+younger. She counselled him with serious kindness, urged him to make
+rational rules about study and recreation.
+
+"You're overdoing it, you know. To-day you don't look very well."
+
+"I had no sleep last night," he replied abruptly, shunning her gaze.
+
+"That's bad. You weren't so foolish as to try to make up for lost
+time?"
+
+"No, no! I _couldn't_ sleep."
+
+He reddened, hung his head. Miss Derwent grew almost maternal. This,
+she pointed out, was the natural result of nerves overstrained. He
+must really use common sense. Come now, would he promise?
+
+"I will promise you anything!"
+
+Olga glanced quickly at him from one side; Irene, on the other,
+looked away with a slight smile.
+
+"No," she said, "you shall promise Miss Hannaford. She will have you
+under observation; whereas you might play tricks with me after I'm
+gone. Olga, be strict with this young gentleman. He is well-meaning,
+but he vacillates; at times he even tergiversates--a shocking
+thing."
+
+There was laughter, but Piers suffered. He felt humiliated. Had he
+been alone with Miss Derwent, he might have asserted his manhood,
+and it would have been _her_ turn to blush, to be confused. He had a
+couple of years more than she. The trouble was that he could not
+feel this superiority of age; she treated him like a schoolboy, and
+to himself he seemed one. Even more than Irene's, he avoided Olga's
+look, and walked on shamefaced.
+
+The remaining days, until Miss Derwent departed, were to him a mere
+blank of misery. Impossible to open a book, and sleep came only with
+uttermost exhaustion. How he passed the hours, he knew not. Spying
+at windows, listening for voices, creeping hither and thither in
+torment of multiform ignominy, forcing speech when he longed to be
+silent, not daring to break silence when his heart seemed bursting
+with desire to utter itself--a terrible time. And Irene persevered
+in her elder-sister attitude; she was kindness itself, but never
+seemed to remark a strangeness in his look and manner. Once he found
+courage to say that he would like to know Dr. Derwent; she replied
+that her father was a very busy man, but that no doubt some
+opportunity for their meeting would arise--and that was all. When
+the moment came for leave-taking, Piers tried to put all his soul
+into a look; but he failed, his eyes dropped, even as his tongue
+faltered. And Irene Derwent was gone.
+
+If, in the night that followed, a wish could have put an end to his
+existence, Piers would have died. He saw no hope in living, and the
+burden seemed intolerable. Love-anguish of one-and-twenty; we smile
+at it, but it is anguish all the same, and may break or mould a
+life.
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+A week went by, and Piers was as far as ever from resuming his
+regular laborious life. One day he spent in London. His father's
+solicitor had desired to see him, in the matter of the legacy; Piers
+received his money, and on the same day made over one hundred and
+fifty pounds to Daniel Otway, whom he met by appointment; in
+exchange, Daniel handed him a beautifully written I.O.U., which the
+younger brother would pocket only with protest.
+
+Another week passed. Piers no longer pretended to keep his usual
+times; he wandered forth whenever home grew intolerable, and
+sometimes snatched his only sleep in the four-and-twenty hours under
+the hawthorn blossom of some remote meadow. His mood had passed into
+bitterness. "I was well before; why did she interfere with me? She
+did it knowing what would happen; it promised her amusement. I
+should have kept to myself, and have been safe. She waylaid me. That
+first meeting on the stairs----"
+
+He raged against her and against all women.
+
+One evening, towards sunset, he came home dusty and weary and with a
+hang-dog air, for he had done something which made him ashamed.
+Miles away from Ewell thirst and misery had brought him to a wayside
+inn, where--the first time for years--he drank strong liquor. He
+drank more than he needed, and afterwards fell asleep in a lane, and
+woke to new wretchedness.
+
+As he entered the house and was about to ascend the stairs, a voice
+called to him. It was Mrs. Hannaford's; she bade him come to her in
+the drawing-room. Reluctantly he moved thither. The lady was sitting
+idle and alone; she looked at him for a moment without speaking,
+then beckoned him forward.
+
+"Your brother has been here," she said, in a low voice not quite her
+own.
+
+"Daniel?"
+
+"Yes. He called very soon after you had gone out. He wouldn't--
+couldn't stay. He'll let you know when he is coming next time."
+
+"Oh, all right."
+
+"Come and sit down." She pointed to a chair next hers. "How tired
+you look!"
+
+Her tone was very soft, and, as he seated himself, she touched his
+arm gently. The room was scented with roses. A blind, half-drawn on
+the open window, broke the warm western rays; upon a tree near by, a
+garden warbler was piping evensong.
+
+"What is it?" she asked, with a timid kindness. "What has happened?
+Won't you tell me?"
+
+"You know--I am sure you know----"
+
+His voice was choked into silence.
+
+"But you will get over it--oh, yes, you will! Your work----"
+
+"I can't work!" he broke out vehemently--"I shall never work
+again. She has changed all my life. I must find something else to do
+--I don't care what. I can't go in for that examination."
+
+Then abruptly he turned to her with a look of eagerness.
+
+"Would it be any use? Suppose I got a place in one of the offices?
+Would there be any hope for me?"
+
+Mrs. Hannaford's eyes dropped.
+
+"Don't think of her," she answered. "She has such brilliant
+prospects--it is so unlikely. You think me unsympathetic--oh,
+I'm not!" Again she let her fingers rest on his arm. "I feel so much
+with you that I daren't offer imaginary hopes. She belongs to such a
+different world, try, try to forget her."
+
+"Of course I know she cares and thinks nothing about me now. But if
+I made my way----"
+
+"She will marry very early, and someone----"
+
+With an upward movement of her hand the speaker, was sufficiently
+explicit. Otway, he knew not why, tried to laugh, and frightened
+himself with the sound.
+
+"She is not the only girl, good and beautiful," Mrs. Hannaford
+continued, pleading with him.
+
+"For me she is," he replied, in a hard voice. "And I believe she
+will be always."
+
+For a minute or two the little warbler sang in silence, then Piers,
+of a sudden, stood up, and strode hastily away.
+
+Mrs. Hannaford fell into reverie. Her daughter was in London to-day,
+her husband absent somewhere else. But she had not been solitary,
+for Daniel Otway, failing to meet his brother, lingered a couple of
+hours in the drawing-room. As she sat dreaming under the soft light,
+her face relieved for the moment of its weariness and discontent,
+had a beauty more touching than that of youth.
+
+Upstairs, Piers found a letter awaiting him. He did not know the
+writing, and found with surprise that it came from his brother
+Alexander, who had addressed it to him through their father's
+solicitor. Alexander wrote from the neighbourhood of Bloomsbury
+Square; it was an odd letter, beginning formally, almost paternally,
+and running off into chirruping facetiousness, as if the writer had
+tried in vain to subdue his natural gaiety. There were extraordinary
+phrases. "I congratulate you on being gazetted major in the regiment
+of Old Time." "For my own part I am just beginning my thirty-fifth
+round with knuckly life, and I rejoice to say that I have come up
+smiling. Floorers I have suffered, not a few, in the rounds
+preceding, but I am harder for it, harder and gamer." "Shall we not
+crack a bottle together on this side of the circumfluent Oceanus?"
+And so on, to the effect that Alexander much wished for a meeting
+with his brother, and urged him to come to Theobald's Road as soon
+as possible, at his own convenience.
+
+It gave Piers--what he needed badly--something new to think
+about. From what he remembered of Alexander, he did not dislike him,
+and this letter made, on the whole, an agreeable impression; but he
+remembered Daniel's warning. In any case, there could be no harm in
+calling on his brother; it made an excuse for a day in London, the
+country stillness having driven him all but to frenzy. So he replied
+at once, saying that he would call on the following afternoon.
+
+Alexander occupied the top floor of a great old house in Theobald's
+Road. Whether he was married or not, Piers had not heard; the
+appearance of the place suggested bachelor quarters, but, as he
+knocked at what seemed the likely door, there sounded from within an
+infantine wail, which became alarmingly shrill when the door was
+thrown open by a dirty little girl. At sight of Piers this young
+person, evidently a servant, drew back smiling, and said with a
+strong Irish accent:
+
+"Please to come in. They're expecting of you."
+
+He passed into a large room, magnificently lighted by the sunshine,
+but very simply furnished. A small round table, two or three chairs
+and a piano were lost on the great floor, which had no carpeting,
+only a small Indian rug being displayed as a thing of beauty, in the
+very middle. There were no pictures, but here and there, to break
+the surface of the wall, strips of bright-coloured material were
+hung from the cornice. At the table, next the window, sat a man
+writing, also, as his lips showed, whistling a tune; and on the bare
+boards beside him sat a young woman with her baby on her lap,
+another child, of two or three years old, amusing itself by pulling
+her dishevelled hair.
+
+"Here's your brother, Mr. Otw'y," yelled the little servant. "Give
+that baby to me, mum. I know what'll quoiet him, bless his little
+heart."
+
+Alexander sprang up, waving his arm in welcome. He was a stoutish
+man of middle height, with thick curly auburn hair, and a full
+beard; geniality beamed from his blue eyes.
+
+"Is it yourself, Piers?" he shouted, with utterance suggestive of
+the Emerald Isle, though the man was so loudly English. "It does me
+good to set eyes on you, upon my soul, it does! I knew you'd come.
+Didn't I say he'd come, Biddy?--Piers, this is my wife, Bridget
+the best wife living in all the four quarters of the world!"
+
+Mrs. Otway had risen, and stood smiling, the picture of cordiality.
+She was not a beauty, though the black hair broad-flung over her
+shoulders made no common adornment; but her round, healthy face,
+with its merry eyes and gleaming teeth, had an honest
+attractiveness, and her soft Irish tongue went to the heart. It
+never occurred to her to apologise for the disorderly state of
+things. Having got rid of her fractious baby--not without a kiss
+--she took the other child by the hand and with pride presented "My
+daughter Leonora"--a name which gave Piers a little shock of
+astonishment.
+
+"Sit down, Piers," shouted her husband. "First we'll have tea and
+talk; then we'll have talk and tobacco; then we'll have dinner and
+talk again, and after that whatever the gods please to send us. My
+day's work is done--_ecce signum_!"
+
+He pointed to the slips of manuscript from which he had risen.
+Alexander had begun life as a medical student, but never got so far
+as a diploma. In many capacities, often humble but never
+disgraceful, he had wandered over Broader Britain--drifting at
+length, as he was bound to do, into irregular journalism.
+
+"And how's the old man at home?" he asked, whilst Mrs. Otway busied
+herself in getting tea. "Piers, it's the sorrow of my life that he
+hasn't a good opinion of me. I don't say I deserve it, but, as I
+live, I've always meant to And I admire him, Piers. I've written
+about him; and I sent him the article, but he didn't acknowledge it.
+How does he bear his years, the old Trojan? And how does his wife
+use him? Ah, that was a mistake, Piers; that was a mistake. In
+marriage--and remember this, Piers, for your time'll come--it
+must be the best, or none at all. I acted upon that, though Heaven
+knows the trials and temptations I went through. I said to myself--
+the best or none! And I found her, Piers; I found her sitting at a
+cottage door by Enniscorthy, County Wexford, where for a time I had
+the honour of acting as tutor to a young gentleman of promise, cut
+short, alas!--'the blind Fury with the abhorred shears!' I wrote
+an elegy on him, which I'll show you. His father admired it, had it
+printed, and gave me twenty pounds, like the gentleman he was!"
+
+There appeared a handsome tea-service; the only objection to it
+being that every piece was chipped or cracked, and not one
+thoroughly clean. Leonora, a well-behaved little creature who gave
+earnest of a striking face, sat on her mother's lap, watching the
+visitor and plainly afraid of him.
+
+"Well," exclaimed Mrs. Otway, "I should never have taken you two for
+brothers--no, not even the half of it!"
+
+"He has an intellectual face, Biddy," observed her husband. "Pale
+just now, but it's 'the pale cast of thought.' What are you aiming
+at, Piers?"
+
+"I don't know," was the reply, absently spoken.
+
+"Ah, but I'm sorry to hear that. You should have concentrated
+yourself by now, indeed you should. If I had to begin over again, I
+should go in for commerce."
+
+Piers gave him a look of interest.
+
+"Indeed? You mean that?"
+
+"I do. I would apply myself to the science and art of money-making
+in the only hopeful way--honest buying and selling. There's
+something so satisfying about it. I envy even the little shopkeeper,
+who reckons up his profits every Saturday night, and sees his
+business growing. But you must begin early; you must learn
+money-making like anything else. If I had made money, Piers, I
+should be at this moment the most virtuous and meritorious citizen
+of the British Empire!"
+
+Alexander was vexed to find that his brother did not smoke. He lit
+his pipe after tea, and for a couple of hours talked ceaselessly,
+relating the course of his adventurous life; an entertaining story,
+told with abundant vigour, with humorous originality. Though he had
+in his possession scarce a dozen volumes, Alexander was really a
+bookish man and something of a scholar; his quotations, which were
+frequent, ranged from Homer to Horace, from Chaucer to Tennyson. He
+recited a few of his own poetical compositions, and they might have
+been worse; Piers made him glow and sparkle with a little praise.
+
+Meanwhile, Bridget was putting the children to bed and cooking the
+evening meal--styled dinner for this occasion. Both proceedings
+were rather tumultuous, but, amid the clamour they necessitated, no
+word of ill-temper could be heard; screams of laughter, on the other
+hand, were frequent. With manifest pride the little servant came in
+to lay the table; she only broke one glass in the operation, and her
+"Sure now, who'd have thought it!" as she looked at the fragments,
+delighted Alexander beyond measure. The chief dish was a stewed
+rabbit, smothered in onions; after it appeared an immense gooseberry
+tart, the pastry hardly to be attacked with an ordinary table knife.
+Compromising for the nonce with his teetotalism as well as his
+vegetarianism--not to pain the hosts--Piers drank bottled ale.
+It was an uproarious meal. The little servant, whilst in attendance,
+took her full share of the conversation, and joined shrilly in the
+laughter. Mrs. Otway had arrayed herself in a scarlet gown, and her
+hair was picturesquely braided. She ceased not from hospitable
+cares, and set a brave example in eating and drinking. Yet she was
+never vulgar, as an untaught London woman in her circumstances would
+have been, and many a delightful phrase fell from her lips in the
+mellow language of County Wexford.
+
+When the remnants of dinner were removed, a bottle of Irish whisky
+came forth, with the due appurtenances. Then it was that Alexander,
+with pride in his eyes, made known Bridget's one accomplishment; she
+had a voice, and would presently use it for their guest's
+delectation. She was trying to learn the piano, as yet with small
+success; but Alexander who had studied music concurrently with
+medicine, and to better result, was able to furnish accompaniments.
+The concert began, and Piers, who had felt misgivings, was most
+agreeably surprised. Not only had Bridget a voice, a very sweet
+mezzo-contralto, but she sang with remarkable feeling. More than
+once the listener had much ado to keep tears out of his eyes; they
+were at his throat all the time, and his heart swelled with the
+passionate emotion which had lurked there to the ruin of his peace.
+But music, the blessed, the peacemaker (for music called martial is
+but a blustering bastard), changed his torments to ecstasy; his
+love, however hopeless, became an inestimable possession, and he
+seemed to himself capable of such great, such noble things as had
+never entered into the thought of man.
+
+The crying of her baby obliged Bridget to withdraw for a little.
+Alexander, who had already made a gallant inroad on the whisky
+bottle, looked almost fiercely at his brother, and exclaimed:
+
+"What do you day to _that_? Isn't that a woman? Isn't that a wife to
+be proud of?"
+
+Piers replied with enthusiasm.
+
+"Not long ago," proceeded the other, "when we were really hard up,
+she wanted me to let her try to earn money with her voice. She
+could, you know! But do you think I'd allow it? Sooner I'll fry the
+soles of my boots and make believe they're beefsteak!--Look at
+her, and remember her when you're seeking for a wife of your own.
+Never mind if you have to wait; it's worth it. When it comes to
+wives, the best or none! That's my motto."
+
+In his emotional mood, Piers had an impulse. He bent forward and
+asked quietly:
+
+"Are things all right now? About money, I mean."
+
+"Oh, we get on. We could do with a little more furniture, but all in
+good time."
+
+Piers again listened to his impulse. He spoke hurriedly of the money
+he had received, and hinted, suggested, made an embarrassed offer.
+Impossible not to remark the gleam of joy that came into Alexander's
+eyes; though he vehemently, almost angrily, declared such a thing
+impossible, it was plain he quivered to accept. And in the end
+accept he did--a round fifty pounds. A loan, strictly a loan, of
+course, the most binding legal instrument should be given in
+acknowledgment of the debt; interest should be paid at the rate of
+three and a half per cent. per annum--not a doit less! And just
+when this was settled, Bridget came back again, the sleepless baby
+at her breast.
+
+"He wants to have his share of the good company," she exclaimed.
+"And why shouldn't he, bless um!"
+
+Alexander grew glorious. It was one of his peculiarities that, when
+he had drunk more than enough, he broke into noisy patriotism.
+
+"Piers, have you ever felt grateful enough for being born an
+Englishman? I've seen the world, and I know; the Englishman is the
+top of creation. When I say English, I mean all of us, English,
+Irish, or Scotch. Give me an Englishman and an Irishwoman, and let
+all the rest of the world go hang!--I've travelled, Piers, my boy.
+I've seen what the great British race is doing the world round; and
+I'm that proud of it I can't find words to express myself."
+
+"I've seen something of other races," interposed Piers, lifting his
+glass with unsteady hand, "and I don't think we've any right to
+despise them."
+
+"I don't exactly despise them, but I say, What are they compared
+with us? A poor lot! A shabby lot!--I'm a journalist, Piers, and
+let me tell you that we English newspaper men have the destiny of
+the world in our hands. It makes me proud when I think of it. We
+guard the national honour. Let any confounded foreigner insult
+England, and he has to reckon with _us_. A word from _us_, and it
+means war, Piers, glorious war, with triumphs for the race and for
+civilisation! England means civilisation; the other nations don't
+count."
+
+"Oh, come----"
+
+"I tell you they don't count!" roared Alexander, his hair wild and
+his beard ferocious. "You're not one of the muffs who want to keep
+England little and tame, are you?"
+
+"I think pretty much with father about these things."
+
+"The old man! Oh, I'd forgotten the old man. But he's not of our
+time, Piers; he's old-fashioned, though a good old man, I admit. No,
+no; we must be armed and triple-armed; we must be so strong that not
+all the confounded foreigners leagued together can touch us. It's
+the cause of civilisation, Piers. I preach it whenever I get the
+chance; I wish I got it oftener. I stand for England's honour,
+England's supremacy on sea and land. I st-tand----"
+
+He tried to do so, to reach the bottle, which proved to be empty.
+
+"Send for another, Biddy--the right Irish, my lass! Another bottle
+to the glory of the British Empire! Piers, we'll make a night of it.
+I haven't a bed to offer you, but Biddy'll give you a shake-down
+here on the floor. You're the right sort, Piers. You're a
+noble-minded, generous-hearted Englishman."
+
+Mrs. Otway, with a glance at the visitor, only made pretence of
+sending for more whisky, and Piers, after looking at his watch,
+insisted on taking leave. Alexander would have gone with him to the
+station, but Bridget forbade this. The patriot had to be content
+with promises of another such evening, and Piers, saying
+significantly "You will hear from me," hastened to catch his train.
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+When he awoke next morning from a heavy sleep, Piers suffered the
+half-recollection of some reproachful dream. His musty palate and
+dull brain reminded him of Alexander's whisky; matter, that, for
+self-reproach; but in the background was something more. He had
+dreamt of his father, and seemed to have discharged in sleep a duty
+still in reality neglected; that, namely, of responding to the old
+man's offer of advice respecting the use he should make of his
+money. Out of four hundred pounds, two hundred were already given
+away--for he had no serious expectation that his brothers would
+repay the so-called loans. Plainly it behoved him to be frank on
+this subject. Affectionate loyalty to his father had ever been a
+guiding principle in Piers Otway's life; he was uneasy under the
+sense that he had begun to slip towards neglectfulness, towards
+careless independence.
+
+He would have written this morning, but, after all, it was better to
+wait until he had settled the doubt which made havoc of his days. At
+heart he knew that he would not present himself for the Civil
+Service examination; but he durst not yet put the resolve into
+words. It seemed a sort of madness, after so many months of
+laborious preparation, and the fixity of purpose which had grown
+with his studious habit. And what a return for the patient kindness
+with which his father had counselled and assisted him! He thought of
+Daniel and Alexander. Was he, too, going to drift in life, instead
+of following a steadfast, manly course? The perception and fear of
+such a danger were something new to him. Piers had seen himself as
+an example of moral and intellectual vigour. His abandonment of
+commerce had shown as a strong step in practical wisdom; the
+fourteen hours of daily reading had flattered his pride. Thereupon
+came this sudden collapse of the whole scheme. He could no longer
+endure the prospects for which he had toiled so strenuously.
+
+But for shame, he would have bundled together all the books that lay
+on his table, and have flung them out of sight.
+
+In the afternoon, he sought a private conversation with Mrs.
+Hannaford. It was not easily managed, as Hannaford and Olga were
+both at home; but, by watching and waiting, he caught a moment when
+the lady stood alone in the garden.
+
+"Do you think," he asked, with tremulous, sudden speech, "that I
+might call at Dr. Derwent's?"
+
+"Why not?" was the answer, but given with troubled countenance. "You
+mean"--she smiled--"call upon Miss Derwent. There would be no
+harm; she is the lady of the house, at present."
+
+"Would she be annoyed?"
+
+"I don't see why. But of course I can't answer for another person in
+such things."
+
+Their eyes met. Mrs. Hannaford gazed at him sadly for an instant,
+shook her head, and turned away. Piers went back to lonely misery.
+
+Early next day he stole from the house, and went to London. His
+business was at the tailor's; he ordered a suit of ceremony--the
+frock coat on which his brother Daniel had so pathetically insisted
+--and begged that it might be ready at the earliest possible
+moment. Next he made certain purchases in haberdashery. Through it
+all, he had a most oppressive feeling of self-contempt, which--
+Piers was but one-and-twenty--he did not try to analyze. Every
+shop-mirror which reflected him seemed to present a malicious
+caricature; he hurried away on to the pavement, small, ignoble,
+silly. His heart did battle, and at moments assailed him in a
+triumph of heroic desire; but then again came the sinking moments,
+the sense of a grovelling fellowship with people he despised.
+
+It was raining. His shopping done, he entered an omnibus, which took
+him as far as the Marble Arch; thence, beneath his umbrella, he
+walked in search of Bryanston Square. Here was Dr. Derwent's house.
+Very much like a burglar, a beginner at the business, making survey
+of his field, he moved timidly into the Square, and sought the
+number; having found it with unexpected suddenness, he hurried past.
+To be detected here would be dreadful; he durst not go to the
+opposite side, lest Irene should perchance be at a window; yet he
+wanted to observe the house, and did, from behind his umbrella, when
+a few doors away.
+
+Never had he known what it was to feel such an insignificant mortal.
+Standing here in the rain, he saw no distinction between himself and
+the ragged, muddy crossing-sweeper; alike, they were lost in the
+huge welter of common London. On the other hand, there in the
+hard-fronted, exclusive-looking house sat Irene Derwent, a pearl of
+women, the prize of wealth, distinction, and high manliness. What
+was this wild dream he had been harbouring? Like a chill wind,
+reality smote him in the face; he turned away, saying to himself
+that he was cured of folly.
+
+On the journey home he shaped a project. He would seek an interview
+with the head of the City house in which he had spent so much time
+and worked so conscientiously, a quite approachable man as he knew
+from experience, and would ask if he might be allowed to re-enter
+their service not, however, in London, but in their place of
+business at Odessa. He had made a good beginning with Russian, and
+living in Russia, might hope soon to master the language. If
+necessary, he would support himself at Odessa for a time, until he
+was capable of serving the firm in some position of trust. Yes, this
+was what he would do; it gave him a new hope. For Alexander, foolish
+fellow as he might be in some respects, had spoken the truth on the
+subject of money-making; the best and surest way was by honourable
+commerce. Money he must have; a substantial position; a prospect of
+social advance. Not for their own sake, these things, but as steps
+to the only end he felt worth living for--an ideal marriage.
+
+He marvelled that the end of life should have been so obscure to him
+hitherto. Knowledge! What satisfaction was there in that? Fame! What
+profit in that by itself? Yet he had thought these aims predominant;
+had been willing to toil day and night in such pursuits. His eyes
+were opened. His first torturing love might be for ever frustrate,
+but it had revealed him to himself. He looked forth upon the world,
+its activities, its glories, and behold there was for him but one
+prize worth winning, the love of the ideal woman.
+
+He found a letter at Ewell. It contained a card of invitation; Mrs.
+John Jacks graciously announced to him that she would be at home on
+an evening a week hence, at nine o'clock.
+
+How came he to have forgotten the Jacks family? Not once had he
+mentioned to Miss Derwent that he was on friendly terms with these
+most respectable people. What a foolish omission! It would at once
+have given him a better standing in her sight, have smoothed their
+social relations.
+
+Instantly, his plan of exile was forgotten. He would accept this
+invitation, and on the same day, in the afternoon, he would boldly
+call at the Derwents'. Why not?--as Mrs. Hannaford said. John
+Jacks, M.P., was undoubtedly the social superior of Dr. Derwent;
+admitted to the house at Queen's Gate, one might surely with all
+confidence present oneself in Bryanston Square. Was he not an
+educated man, by birth a gentleman? If he had no position, why, who
+had at one-and-twenty? How needlessly he had been humiliating and
+discouraging himself! In the highest spirits he went down into the
+garden to talk with Mrs. Hannaford and Olga. They gazed at him,
+astonished; he was a new creature; he joked and laughed and could
+hardly contain his exuberance of joy. When there fell from him a
+casual mention of Mrs. Jacks' card, no one could have imagined that
+this was the explanation of his altered mood. Mrs. Hannaford felt
+sure that he had been to see Irene, and had received, or fancied,
+some sort of encouragement. Olga thought so too, and felt sorry to
+see him in a fool's paradise.
+
+That very evening he sat down and resolved to work. He had an
+appetite for it once more. He worked till long after midnight, and
+on the morrow kept his old hours. Moreover, he wrote a long letter
+to Hawes, a good, frank letter, giving his father a full account of
+the meetings with Daniel and Alexander, and telling all about the
+pecuniary transactions:--"I hope you will not think I behaved very
+foolishly. Indeed, it has given me pleasure to share with them. My
+trouble is lest you should think I acted in complete disregard of
+you; but, if I am glad to do a good turn, remember, dear father,
+that it is to you I owe this habit of mind. And I shall not need
+money. I feel it practically certain that I shall get my office, and
+then it will go smoothly. The examination draws near, and I am
+working like a Trojan!"
+
+"I cannot carp at you," wrote Jerome Otway in reply, "but tighten
+the purse-strings after this, and be not overmuch familiar with
+Alexander the Little or Daniel the Purblind. Their ways are not
+mine; let them not be yours!"
+
+He had to run up to town for the trying-on of his new garments, and
+this time the business gave him satisfaction. In future he would be
+seeing much more society; he must have a decent regard for
+appearances.
+
+His spirits faltered not; they were in harmony with the June
+weather. Never had he laboured to such purpose. Everything seemed
+easy; he strode with giant strides into the field of knowledge.
+Papers such as would be set him at the examination were matter for
+his mirth, mere schoolboy tests. Now and then he rose from study
+with a troublesome dizziness, and of a morning his head generally
+ached a little; but these were trifles. _Prisch zu_!--as a German
+friend of his at Geneva used to say.
+
+Even on the morning of the great day he worked; it was to prove his
+will-power, his worthiness. After lunch, clad in the garb of
+respectability, he went up by a quick train.
+
+His evening suit he had previously despatched to Alexander's abode,
+where he was to dine and dress.
+
+At four o'clock he was in Bryanston Square, tremulous but sanguine,
+a different man from him who had sneaked about here under the
+umbrella. He knocked. The servant civilly informed him that Miss
+Derwent was not at home, asked his name, and bowed him away.
+
+It was a shock. This possibility had not entered his mind, so
+engrossed was he in forecasting, in dramatising, the details of the
+interview. Looking like one who has received some dreadful news, he
+turned slowly from the door and walked away with head down. Probably
+no event in all his life had given him such a sense of desolating
+frustration. At once the sky was overcast, the ways were woebegone;
+he shrank within his new garments, and endured once more the feeling
+of personal paltriness.
+
+Though the time before him was so long, he had no choice but to go
+at once to Theobald's Road, where at all events friendly faces would
+greet him. The streets of London are terrible to one who is both
+lonely and unhappy; the indifference of their hard egotism becomes
+fierce hostility; instead of merely disregarding, they crush. As
+soon as he could command his thoughts, Piers made for the shortest
+way, and hurried on.
+
+Mrs. Otway admitted him; Alexander, she said, was away on business,
+but would soon return. On entering the large room, Piers was
+startled at the change in its appearance. The well-carpeted floor,
+the numerous chairs of inviting depth and softness, the
+centre-table, the handsome bureau, the numerous pictures, and a
+multitude of knickknacks not to be taken in at one glance, made it
+plain that most of the money he had lent his brother had been
+expended at once in this direction. Bridget stood watching his face,
+and at the first glimmer of a smile broke into jubilation. What did
+he think? How did he like it? Wasn't it a room to be proud of? She
+knew it would do his kind heart good to see such splendours! Let him
+sit down--after selecting his chair--and take it all in whilst
+she got some tea. No wonder it took away his breath! She herself had
+hardly yet done gazing in mute ecstasy.
+
+"It's been such a feast for my eyes, Mr. Piers, that I've scarcely
+wanted to put a bit in my mouth since the room was finished!"
+
+When Alexander arrived, he greeted his brother as though with
+rapturous congratulation; one would have thought some great good
+fortune had befallen the younger man.
+
+"Biddy!" he shouted, "I've a grand idea! We'll celebrate the
+occasion with a dinner out; we'll go to a restaurant. Hanged if you
+shall have the trouble of cooking on such a day as this! Get ready;
+make yourself beautiful--though you're always that. We'll dine
+early, as Piers has to leave us at nine o'clock."
+
+Outcries and gesticulations confirmed the happy thought. Tea over,
+Piers was dismissed to the bedroom (very bare and uncomfortable,
+this) to don his evening suit, and by six o'clock the trio set
+forth. They drove in a cab to festive regions, and, as one to the
+manner born, Alexander made speedy arrangements for their banquet.
+An odd-looking party; the young man's ceremonious garb and not
+ungraceful figure contrasting with his brother's aspect of Bohemian
+carelessness and jollity, whilst Bridget, adorned in striking
+colours, would have passed for anything you like but a legitimate
+and devoted spouse. Once again did Piers stifle his conscience in
+face of the exhilarating bottle; indeed, he drank deliberately to
+drown his troubles, and before the second course had already to some
+extent succeeded.
+
+Alexander talked of his journalistic prospects. Whether there was
+any special reason for hopefulness, Piers could not discover; it
+seemed probable that here also the windfall of fifty pounds had
+changed the aspect of the world. To hear him, one might have
+supposed that the struggling casual contributor had suddenly been
+offered some brilliant appointment on a great journal; but he
+discoursed with magnificent vagueness, and could not be brought to
+answer direct questions. His attention to the wine was unremittent;
+he kept his brother's glass full, nor was Bridget allowed to shirk
+her convivial duty. At dessert appeared a third bottle; by this
+time, Piers was drinking without heed to results; jovially,
+mechanically, glass after glass, talking, too, in a strain of
+nebulous imaginativeness. There could be little doubt, he hinted,
+that one of his Parliamentary friends (John Jacks had been
+insensibly multiplied) would give him a friendly lift. A
+secretaryship was sure to come pretty quickly, and then, who knew
+what opening might present itself! He wouldn't mind a consulship,
+for a year or two, at some agreeable place. But eventually--who
+could doubt it?--he would enter the House. "Why, of course!" cried
+Alexander; the outline of his career was plain beyond discussion.
+And let him go in strong for Home Rule. That would be the great
+question for the next few years, until it was triumphantly settled.
+Private information--from a source only to be hinted at--assured
+him that Mr. Gladstone (after the recent defeat) was already hard at
+work preparing another Bill. Come now, they must drink Home Rule--
+"Justice to Ireland, and the world-supremacy of the British Empire!"
+--that was his toast. They interrupted their sipping of green
+Chartreuse to drink it in brimming glasses of claret.
+
+"We'll drive you to Queen's Gate!" said Alexander, when Piers began
+to look at his watch. "No hurry, my boy! The night is young! 'And'"
+--he broke into lyric quotation--"'haply the Queen Moon is on her
+throne, clustered around with all her starry fays.'--I shall never
+forget this dinner; shall you, Biddy? We'll have a song when we get
+home."
+
+One little matter had to be attended to, the paying of the bill.
+Having glanced carelessly at the total, Alexander began to search
+his pockets.
+
+"Why, hang it!" he exclaimed. "What a fellow I am! Piers, it's
+really too absurd, but I shall have to ask you to lend me a
+sovereign; I can't make up enough--stupid carelessness! Biddy, why
+didn't you ask me if I'd got money?--No, no; just a sovereign,
+Piers; I have the rest. I'll pay you back to-morrow morning."
+
+With laughter at such a capital joke, Piers disbursed the coin.
+Quaint, comical fellow, this brother of his I He liked him, and was
+beginning to like Biddy too.
+
+A cab bore them all to Queen's Gate, Alexander and his wife making
+the journey just for the fun of the thing. Piers would have paid for
+the vehicle back to Theobald's Road, but this his brother declined;
+he and Mrs. Otway preferred the top of a 'bus this warm night. They
+parted at Mr. Jacks' door, where carriages and cabs were stopping
+every minute or two.
+
+"I'll sit up for you, Piers," roared Alexander genially. "You'll
+want a whisky-and-soda after this job. Come along, Biddy!"
+
+In another frame of mind, Piers would have felt the impropriety of
+these loud remarks at such a moment. Even as it was, he would
+doubtless have regretted the incident had he turned his head to
+observe the two persons who had just alighted and were moving up the
+steps close behind him. A young, slim, perfectly equipped man, with
+features expressive of the most becoming sentiment; a lady--or
+girl--of admirable figure, with bright, intelligent, handsome
+face. These two exchanged a look; they exchanged a discreet murmur;
+and were careful not to overtake Piers Otway in the hall.
+
+He, hat and overcoat surrendered, moved up the gleaming staircase. A
+sound of soft music fluttered his happy temper. Seeing his form in a
+mirror, he did not at once recognise himself; for his face had a
+high colour, with the result of making him far more comely than at
+ordinary times. He stepped firmly on, delighted to be here, eager to
+perceive his hostess. Mrs. Jacks, for a moment, failed to remember
+him; but needless to say that this did not appear in her greeting,
+which, as she recollected, dropped upon a tone of special
+friendliness. To her, Piers Otway was the least interesting of young
+men; but her husband had spoken of him very favourably, and Mrs.
+Jacks had a fine sense of her duty on such points. Piers was dazzled
+by the lady's personal charm; her brilliantly pure complexion, her
+faultless shoulders and soft white arms, her pose of consummate
+dignity and courtesy. Happily, his instincts and his breeding held
+their own against perilous circumstance; excited as he was, nothing
+of the cause appeared in his brief colloquy with the hostess, and he
+acquitted himself very creditably. A little farther on, John Jacks
+advanced to him with cordial welcome.
+
+"So glad you could come. By the bye"--he lowered his voice--"if
+you have any trouble about trains back to Ewell, do let us put you
+up for the night. Just stay or not, as you like. Delighted if you
+do."
+
+Piers replied that he was staying at his brother's. Whereupon John
+Jacks became suddenly thoughtful, said, "Ah, I see," and with a
+pleasant smile turned to someone else. Only when it was too late did
+Piers remember that Mr. Jacks possibly had a private opinion about
+Jerome Otway's elder sons. He wished, above all things, that he
+could have accepted the invitation. But doubtless it would be
+repeated some other time.
+
+As he looked about him at the gathering guests, he recalled his
+depression this afternoon in Bryanston Square, and it seemed to him
+so ridiculous that he could have laughed aloud. As if he would not
+have other chances of calling upon Irene Derwent! Ah, but, to be
+sure, he must provide himself with visiting-cards. A trifling point,
+but he had since reflected on it with some annoyance.
+
+A hand was extended to him, a pink, delicate, but shapely hand,
+which his eyes fell upon as he stood in half-reverie. He exchanged
+civilities with Arnold Jacks.
+
+"I think some particular friends of yours are here," said Arnold.
+"The Derwents----"
+
+"Indeed! Are they? Miss Derwent?"
+
+Piers' vivacity caused the other to examine him curiously.
+
+"I only learned a day or two ago," Arnold pursued, "that you knew
+each other."
+
+"I knew Miss Derwent. I haven't met Dr. Derwent or her brother. Are
+they here yet? I wish you would introduce me."
+
+Again Arnold, smiling discreetly, scrutinised the young man's
+countenance, and for an instant seemed to reflect as he glanced
+around.
+
+"The Doctor perhaps hasn't come. But I see Eustace Derwent. Shall we
+go and speak to him?"
+
+They walked towards Irene's brother, Piers gazing this way and that
+in eager hope of perceiving Irene herself. He was wild with delight.
+Could fortune have been kinder? Under what more favourable
+circumstance could he possibly have renewed his relations with Miss
+Derwent? Eustace, turning at the right moment, stood face to face
+with Arnold Jacks, who presented his companion, then moved away. Had
+he lingered, John Jacks' critical son would have found hints for
+amused speculation in the scene that followed. For Eustace Derwent,
+remembering, as always, what he owed to himself and to society,
+behaved with entire politeness; only, like certain beverages
+downstairs, it was iced. Otway did not immediately become aware of
+this.
+
+"I think we missed each other only by an hour or two, when you
+brought Miss Derwent to Ewell. That very day, curiously, I was
+lunching here."
+
+"Indeed?" said Eustace, with a marble smile.
+
+"Miss Derwent is here, I hope?" pursued Piers; not with any
+offensive presumption, but speaking as he thought, rather
+impetuously.
+
+"I believe Miss Derwent is in the room," was the answer, uttered
+with singular gravity and accompanied with a particularly freezing
+look.
+
+This time, Piers could not but feel that Eustace Derwent was
+speaking oddly. In his peculiar condition, however, he thought it
+only an amusing characteristic of the young man. He smiled, and was
+about to continue the dialogue, when, with a slight, quick bow, the
+other turned away.
+
+"Disagreeable fellow, that!" said Piers to himself. "I hope the
+Doctor isn't like him. Who could imagine him Irene's brother?"
+
+His spirits were not in the least affected; indeed, every moment
+they grew more exuberant, as the wine he had drunk wrought
+progressively upon his brain. Only he could have wished that his
+cheeks and ears did not burn so; seeing himself again in a glass, he
+decided that he was really too high-coloured. It would pass, no
+doubt. Meanwhile, his eyes kept seeking Miss Derwent. The longer she
+escaped him, the more vehement grew his agitation. Ah, there!
+
+She was seated, and had been hidden by a little group standing in
+front. At this moment, Eustace Derwent was bending to speak to her;
+she gave a nod in reply to what he said. As soon as the
+objectionable brother moved from her side, Piers stepped quickly
+forward.
+
+"How delightful to meet you here! It seems too good to be true. I
+called this afternoon at your house--called to see you--but you
+were not at home. I little imagined I should see you this evening."
+
+Irene raised her eyes, and let them fall back upon her fan; raised
+them again, and observed the speaker attentively.
+
+"I was told you had called, Mr. Otway."
+
+How her voice thrilled him! What music like that voice! It made him
+live through his agonies again, which by contrast heightened the
+rapture of this hour.
+
+"May I sit down by you?"
+
+"Pray do."
+
+He remarked nothing of her coldness; he was conscious only of her
+presence, of the perfume which breathed from her and made his heart
+faint with longing.
+
+Irene again glanced at him, and her countenance was troubled. She
+looked to left and right, sure that they were not overheard, and
+addressed him with quick directness.
+
+"Where did you dine, Mr. Otway?"
+
+"Dine?--Oh, at a restaurant, with one of my brothers and his
+wife."
+
+"Did your brother and his wife accompany you to this house?"
+
+Piers was startled. He gazed into her face, and Irene allowed him to
+meet her eyes, which reminded him most unpleasantly of the look he
+had seen in those of Eustace.
+
+"Why do you ask that, Miss Derwent?" he faltered.
+
+"I will tell you. I happened to be just behind you as you entered,
+and couldn't help hearing the words shouted to you by your brother.
+Will you forgive me for mentioning such a thing? And, as your
+friend, will you let me say that I think it would be unfortunate if
+you were introduced to my father this evening? He is not here yet,
+but he will be--I have taken a great liberty, Mr. Otway; but it
+seemed to me that I had no choice. When an unpleasant thing _has_ to
+be done, I always try to do it quickly."
+
+Piers was no longer red of face. A terrible sobriety had fallen upon
+him; his lips quivered; cold currents ran down his spine. He looked
+at Irene with the eyes of a dog entreating mercy.
+
+"Had I"--his dry throat forced him to begin again--"had I better
+go now?"
+
+"That is as you think fit."
+
+Piers stood up, bowed before her, gave her one humble, imploring
+look, and walked away.
+
+He went down, as though to the supper-room; in a few minutes, he had
+left the house. He walked to Waterloo Station, and by the last train
+returned to Ewell.
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+At the head of Wensleydale, where rolling moor grows mountainous
+toward the marches of Yorkshire and Westmorland, stands the little
+market-town named Hawes. One winding street of houses and shops,
+grey, hard-featured, stout against the weather; with little byways
+climbing to the height above, on which rises the rugged church,
+stern even in sunshine; its tower, like a stronghold, looking out
+upon the brooding-place of storms. Like its inhabitants, the place
+is harsh of aspect, warm at heart; scornful of graces, its honest
+solidity speaks the people that built it for their home. This way
+and that go forth the well-kept roads, leading to other towns, their
+sharp tracks shine over the dark moorland, climbing by wind-swept
+hamlets, by many a lonely farm; dipping into sudden hollows, where
+streams become cascades, and guiding the wayfarers by high, rocky
+passes from dale to dale. A country always impressive by the severe
+beauty of its outlines; sometimes speaking to the heart in radiant
+stillness, its moments of repose mirthful sometimes, inspiring
+joyous life, with the gleams of its vast sky, the sweet, keen breath
+of its heaths and pastures; but for the most part shadowed,
+melancholy, an austere nurse of the striving spirit of man, with
+menace in its mountain-rack, in the rushing voice of its winds and
+torrents.
+
+Here, in a small, plain cottage, stone-walled, stone-roofed, looking
+over the wide and deep hollow of a stream--a beck in the local
+language--which at this point makes a sounding cataract on its
+course from the great moor above, lived Jerome Otway. It had been
+his home for some ten years. He lived as a man of small but
+sufficient means, amid very plain household furniture, and with no
+sort of social pretence. With him dwelt his wife, and one
+maidservant.
+
+On an evening of midsummer, still and sunny, the old man sat among
+his books; open before him the great poem of Dante. His much-lined
+face, austere in habitual expression, yet with infinite
+possibilities of radiance in the dark eyes, of tenderness on the
+mobile lips, was crowned with hair which had turned iron-grey but
+remained wonderfully thick and strong; the moustache and beard, only
+a slight growth, were perfectly white. He had once been of more than
+average stature; now his bent shoulders and meagre limbs gave him an
+appearance of shortness, whilst he suffered on the score of dignity
+by an excessive disregard of his clothing. He sat in a round-backed
+wooden chair at an ordinary table, on which were several volumes
+ranked on end, a large blotter, and an inkstand. The room was
+exclusively his, two bookcases and a few portraits on the walls
+being almost the only other furniture; but at this moment it was
+shared by Mrs. Otway, who, having some sort of woman's work on her
+lap, sat using her fingers and her tongue with steady diligence. She
+looked about forty, had a colourless but healthy face, not
+remarkable for charm, and was dressed as a sober, self-respecting
+gentlewoman. In her accents sounded nothing harsh, nothing vehement;
+she talked quietly, without varied inflections, as if thoughtfully
+expounding an agreeable theme; such talk might well have inclined a
+disinterested hearer to somnolence. But her husband's visage, and
+his movements, betokened no such peaceful tendency; every moment he
+grew more fidgety, betrayed a stronger irritation.
+
+"I suppose," Mrs. Otway was saying, "there are persons who live
+without any religious conscience. It seems very strange; one would
+think that no soul could be at rest in utter disregard of its Maker,
+in complete neglect of the plainest duties of a creature endowed
+with human intelligence--which means, of course, power to perceive
+spiritual truths. Yet such persons seem capable of going through a
+long life without once feeling the impulse to worship, to render
+thanks and praise to the Supreme Being. I suppose they very early
+deaden their spiritual faculties; perhaps by loose habits of life,
+or by the indulgence of excessive self-esteem, or by----"
+
+Jerome made a quick gesture with his hands, as if defending himself
+against a blow; then he turned to his wife, and regarded her
+fixedly.
+
+"Will it take you much longer," he asked, with obvious struggle for
+self-command, but speaking courteously, "to exhaust this theme?"
+
+"It annoys you?" said the lady, very coldly, straightening herself
+to an offended attitude.
+
+"I confess it does. Or rather, it worries me. If I may beg----"
+
+"I understood you to invite me to your room."
+
+"I did. And the fact of my having done so ought, I should think, to
+have withheld you from assailing me with your acrid tedium."
+
+"Thank you," said Mrs. Otway, as she rose to her full height. "I
+will leave you to your own tedium, which must be acrid enough, I
+imagine, to judge from the face you generally wear."
+
+And she haughtily withdrew.
+
+A scene of this kind--never more violent, always checked at the
+right moment--occurred between them about once every month. During
+the rest of their time they lived without mutual aggression; seldom
+conversing, but maintaining the externals of ordinary domestic
+intercourse. Nor was either of them acutely unhappy. The old man
+(Jerome Otway was sixty-five, but might have been taken for seventy)
+did not, as a rule, wear a sour countenance; he seldom smiled, but
+his grave air had no cast of gloominess; it was profoundly
+meditative, tending often to the rapture of high vision. The lady
+had her own sufficient pursuits, chief among them a rigid attention
+to matters ecclesiastical, local and national. That her husband held
+notably aloof from such interests was the subject of Mrs. Otway's
+avowed grief, and her peculiar method of assailing his position
+brought about the periodical disturbance which seemed on the whole
+an agreeable feature of her existence.
+
+He lived much in the past, brooding upon his years of activity as
+author, journalist, lecturer, conspirator, between 1846 and 1870. He
+talked in his long days of silence with men whose names are written
+in history, men whom he had familiarly known, with whom he had
+struggled and hoped for the Better Time. Mazzini and Herzen, Kossuth
+and Ledru-Rollin, Bakounine, Louis Blanc, and a crowd of less
+eminent fighters in the everlasting war of human emancipation. The
+war that aims at Peace; the strife that assails tyranny, and
+militarism, and international hatred. Beginning with Chartism (and
+narrowly escaping the fierce penalties suffered by some of his
+comrades), he grew to wider activities, and for a moment seemed
+likely to achieve a bright position among the liberators of mankind;
+but Jerome Otway had more zeal than power, and such powers as he
+commanded were scattered over too wide a field of enthusiastic
+endeavour. He succeeded neither as man of thought nor as man of
+action. His verses were not quite poetry; his prose was not quite
+literature; personally he interested and exalted, but without
+inspiring confidence such as is given to the born leader. And in
+this year 1886, when two or three letters on the Irish Question
+appeared over his signature, few readers attached any meaning to the
+name. Jerome Otway had fought his fight and was forgotten.
+
+He married, for the first time, at one-and-twenty, his choice being
+the daughter of an impoverished "county" family, a girl neither
+handsome nor sweet-natured, but, as it seemed, much in sympathy with
+his humanitarian views. Properly speaking, he did not choose her;
+the men who choose, who deliberately select a wife, are very few,
+and Jerome Otway could never have been one of them. He was ardent
+and impulsive; marriage becoming a necessity, he clutched at the
+first chance which in any way addressed his imagination; and the
+result was calamitous. In a year or two his wife repented the
+thoughtlessness with which she had sacrificed the possibilities of
+her birth and breeding for marriage with a man of no wealth. Narrow
+of soul, with a certain frothy intelligence, she quickly outgrew the
+mood of social rebellion which had originated in personal
+discontent, and thenceforward she had nothing but angry scorn for
+the husband who allowed her to live in poverty. Two sons were born
+to them; the elder named Daniel (after O'Connell), the second called
+Alexander (after the Russian Herzen). For twelve years they lived in
+suppressed or flagrant hostility; then Mrs. Otway died of cholera.
+To add to the bitterness of her fate, she had just received, from
+one of her "county" relatives, a legacy of a couple of thousand
+pounds.
+
+This money, which became his own, Otway invested in a newspaper then
+being started by certain of his friends; a paper, as it seemed,
+little likely to have commercial success, but which, after many
+changes of editorship, ultimately became an established organ of
+Liberalism. The agitator retained an interest in this venture, and
+the small income it still continued to yield him was more than
+enough for his personal needs; it enabled him to set a little aside,
+year after year, thus forming a fund which, latterly, he always
+thought of as destined to benefit his youngest son--the child of
+his second marriage.
+
+For he did not long remain solitary, and his next adventure was
+somewhat in keeping with the character he had earned in public
+estimate. Living for a time in Switzerland, he there met with a
+young Englishwoman, married, but parted from her husband, who was
+maintaining herself at Geneva as a teacher of languages; Jerome was
+drawn to her, wooed her, and won her love. The husband, a Catholic,
+refused her legal release, but the irregular union was a true
+marriage. It had lasted for about four years when their only child
+was born. In another twelvemonth, Jerome was again a widower. A
+small sum of money which had belonged to the dead woman, Jerome, at
+her wish, put out at interest for their boy, if he should attain
+manhood. The child's name was Piers; for Jerome happened at that
+time to be studying old Langland's "Vision," with delight in the
+brave singer, who so long ago cried for social justice--one of the
+few in Christendom who held by the spirit of Christ.
+
+He was now forty-five years old; he mourned the loss of his comrade,
+a gentle, loving woman, whom, though she seldom understood his views
+of life, his moods and his aims, he had held in affection and
+esteem. For eight years he went his way alone; then, chancing to be
+at a seaside place in the north of England, he made the acquaintance
+of a mother and daughter who kept a circulating library, and in less
+than six months the daughter became Mrs. Otway. Aged not quite
+thirty, tall, graceful, with a long, pale face, distinguished by its
+air of meditative refinement, this lady probably never made quite
+clear to herself her motives in accepting the wooer of fifty-three,
+whose life had passed in labours and experiences with which she
+could feel nothing like true sympathy. Perhaps it was that she had
+never before received offer of marriage; possibly Jerome's eloquent
+dark eyes, of which the gleam was not yet dulled, seconded the
+emotional language of his lips, and stirred her for the moment to
+genuine feeling. For a few months they seemed tolerably mated, then
+the inevitable divergence began to show itself. Jerome withdrew into
+his reveries, became taciturn, absorbed himself at length in the
+study of Dante; Mrs. Otway, resenting this desertion, grew critical,
+condemnatory, and, as if to atone for her union with a man who stood
+outside all the creeds, developed her mild orthodoxy into a
+peculiarly virulent form of Anglican puritanism. The only thing that
+kept them together was their common inclination for a retired
+existence, and their love of the northern moorland.
+
+Looking back upon his marriages, the old man wondered sadly. Why had
+he not--he who worshipped the idea of womanhood--sought
+patiently for his perfect wife? Somewhere in the world he would have
+found her, could he but have subdued himself to the high seriousness
+of the quest. In a youthful poem, he had sung of Love as "the crown
+of life," believing it fervently; he believed it now with a fervour
+more intense, because more spiritual. That crown he had missed, even
+as did the multitude of mankind. Only to the elect is it granted--
+the few chosen, where all are called. To some it falls as if by the
+pure grace of Heaven, meeting them as they walk in the common way.
+Some, the fewest, attain it by merit of patient hope, climbing
+resolute until, on the heights of noble life, a face shines before
+them, the face of one who murmurs "_Guardami ben_!"
+
+He thought much, too, about his offspring. The two children of his
+first marriage he had educated on the approved English model, making
+them "gentlemen." Partly because he knew not well how else to train
+them, for Jerome was far too weak on the practical side to have
+shaped a working system of his own--a system he durst rely upon;
+and partly, too, because they seemed to him to inherit many
+characteristics from their mother, and so to be naturally fitted for
+some conventional upper-class career. The result was grievous
+failure. In the case of Piers, he decided to disregard the boy's
+seeming qualifications, and, after having him schooled abroad for
+the sake of modern languages, to put him early into commerce. If
+Piers were marked out for better things, this discipline could do
+him no harm. And to all appearances, the course had been a wise one.
+Piers had as yet given no cause for complaint. In wearying of trade,
+in aiming at something more liberal, he claimed no more than his
+rights.
+
+With silent satisfaction, Jerome watched the boy's endeavours, his
+heart warming when he received one of those well-worded and dutiful,
+yet by no means commonplace letters, which came from Geneva and from
+London. On Piers he put the hope of his latter day; and it gladdened
+him to think that this, his only promising child, was the offspring
+of the union which he could recall with tenderness.
+
+When Mrs. Otway had withdrawn with her sour dignity, the old man
+sighed and lost himself in melancholy musing. The house was, as
+usual, very still, and from without the only sound was that of the
+beck, leaping down over its stony ledges. Jerome loved this sound.
+It tuned his thoughts; it saved him from many a fit of ill-humour.
+It harmonised with the melody of Dante's verses, fit accompaniment
+to many a passage of profound feeling, of noble imagery. Even now he
+had been brooding the anguish of Maestro Adamo who hears for ever
+
+    Li ruscelletti che de' verdi colli
+    Del Casentin discendon giuso in Arno--"
+
+and the music of the Tuscan fountains blended with the voice of this
+moorland stream.
+
+There was a knock at the door; the maid-servant handed him a letter;
+it came from Piers. The father read it, and, after a few lines, with
+grave visage. Piers began by saying that, a day or two ago, he had
+all but resolved to run down to Hawes, for he had something very
+serious to speak about; on the whole, it seemed better to make the
+communication in writing.
+
+"I have abandoned the examination, and all thought of the Civil
+Service. If I invented reasons for this, you would not believe them,
+and you would think ill of me. The best way is to tell you the plain
+truth, and run the risk of being thought a simpleton, or something
+worse. I have been in great trouble, have gone through a bad time.
+Some weeks ago there came to stay here a girl of eighteen or
+nineteen, the daughter of Dr. Lowndes Derwent (whose name perhaps
+you know). She is very beautiful, and I was unlucky enough--if I
+ought to use such a phrase--to fall in love with her. I won't try
+to explain what this meant to me; you wouldn't have patience to read
+it; but it stopped my studies, utterly overthrew my work. I was all
+but ill; I suffered horribly. It was my first such experience; I
+hope it may be the last--in that form. Indeed, I believe it will,
+for I can't imagine that I shall ever feel towards anyone else in
+the same way, and--you will smile, no doubt--I have a conviction
+that Irene Derwent will remain my ideal as long as I live."
+
+Enough of that. It being quite clear to me that I simply could not
+go in for the examination, I hit upon another scheme; one, it seemed
+to me, which might not altogether displease you. I went to see Mr.
+Tadworth, and told him that I had decided to go back into business;
+could he, I asked, think of giving me a place in their office at
+Odessa? If necessary, I would work without salary till I had
+thoroughly learned Russian, and could substantially serve them.
+Well, Mr. Tadworth was very kind, and, after a little questioning,
+promised to send me out to Odessa in some capacity or other, still
+to be determined. I am to go in about ten days.
+
+"This, father, is my final decision. I shall give myself to the
+business, heartily and energetically. I think there is no harm in
+telling you that I hope to make money. If I do so, it will be done,
+I think, honourably, as the result of hard work. I had better not
+see you; I should be ashamed. But I beg you will write to me soon. I
+hope I shall not have overtried your patience. Bear with me, if you
+can, and give me the encouragement I value."
+
+Jerome pondered long. He looked anything but displeased: there was
+tenderness in his smile, and sympathy; something, too, of pride.
+Very much against his usual practice, he wrote a reply the same day.
+
+"So be it, my dear lad! I have no fault to find, no criticism to
+offer. Your letter is an honest one, and it has much moved me. Let
+me just say this: you rightly doubt whether you should call yourself
+unlucky. If, as I can imagine, the daughter of Dr. Derwent is a girl
+worth your homage, nothing better could have befallen you than this
+discovery of your 'ideal.' Whether you will be faithful to be
+faithful to it, the gods alone know. If you _can_ be, even for a few
+ears of youth, so much the happier and nobler your lot!
+
+"Work at money-making, then. And, as I catch a glimmer of your
+meaning in this resolve, I will tell you something for your comfort.
+If you hold on at commerce, and verily make way, and otherwise
+approve yourself what I think you, I promise that you shall not lack
+advancement. Plainly, I have a little matter of money put by, for
+sundry uses; and, if the day comes when something of capital would
+stead you (after due trial, as I premise), it shall be at your
+disposal.
+
+"Write to me with a free heart. I have lived my life perchance I can
+help you to live yours better. The will, assuredly, is not wanting.
+
+"Courage, then! Pursue your purpose--
+
+    'Con l'animo che vince ogni battaglia,
+     Se col suo grave corpo non s'accascia.'
+
+"And, believe me that you could have no better intimate for leisure
+hours than the old Florentine, who knew so many things; among them,
+your own particular complaint."
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+Clad for a long railway journey on a hot day; a grey figure of
+fluent lines, of composedly decisive movements; a little felt hat
+close-fitting to the spirited head, leaving full and frank the soft
+rounded face, with its quietly observant eyes, its lips of contained
+humour--Irene Derwent stepped from a cab at Euston Station and
+went forward into the booking-office. From the box-seat of the same
+vehicle descended a brisk, cheerful little man, looking rather like
+a courier than an ordinary servant, who paid the cabman, saw to the
+luggage, and, at a respectful distance, followed Miss Derwent along
+the platform; it was Thibaut Rossignol.
+
+Grey-clad also, with air no less calm and sufficient, a gentleman
+carrying newspapers in Britannic abundance moved towards the train
+which was about to start. Surveying for a moment, with distant
+curiosity, the travellers about him, his eye fell upon that maiden
+of the sunny countenance just as she was entering a carriage; he
+stopped, insensibly drew himself together, subdued a smile, and
+advanced for recognition.
+
+"I am going to Liverpool, Miss Derwent. May I have the pleasure
+----?"
+
+"If you will promise not to talk politics, Mr. Jacks."
+
+"I can't promise that. I want to talk politics."
+
+"From here to Crewe?"
+
+"As far as Rugby, let us say. After that--morphology, or some
+other of your light topics."
+
+It seemed possible that they might have the compartment to
+themselves, for it was mid-August, and the tumult of northward
+migration had ceased. Arnold Jacks, had he known a moment sooner,
+would have settled it with the guard. He looked forbiddingly at a
+man who approached; who, in his turn, stared haughtily and turned
+away.
+
+Irene beckoned to Thibaut, and from the window gave him a trivial
+message for her father, speaking in French; Thibaut, happy to serve
+her, put a world of chivalrous respect into his "Bien,
+Mademoiselle!" Arnold Jacks averted his face and smiled. Was she
+girlish enough, then, to find pleasure in speaking French before
+him? A charming trait!
+
+The train started, and Mr. Jacks began to talk. It was not the first
+time that they had merrily skirmished on political and other
+grounds; they amused each other, and, as it seemed, in a perfectly
+harmless way; the English way of mirth between man and maid, candid,
+inallusive, without self-consciousness. Arnold made the most of his
+thirty years, spoke with a tone something paternal. He was wholly
+sure of himself, knew so well his own mind, his scheme of existence,
+that Irene's beauty and her charm were nothing more to him than an
+aesthetic perception. That she should feel an interest in him, a
+little awe of him, was to be hoped and enjoyed: he had not the least
+thought of engaging deeper emotion--would, indeed, have held
+himself reprobate had such purpose entered his head. Nor is it
+natural to an Englishman of this type to imagine that girls may fall
+in love with him. Love has such a restricted place in their lives,
+is so consistently kept out of sight in their familiar converse.
+They do not entirely believe in it; it ill accords with their
+practical philosophy. Marriage--that is another thing. The
+approaches to wedlock are a subject of honourable convention, not to
+be confused with the trivialities of romance.
+
+"I'm going down to Liverpool," he said, presently, "to meet Trafford
+Romaine."
+
+It gratified him to see the gleam in Miss Derwent's eyes the'
+announcement had its hoped-for effect. Trafford Romaine, the Atlas
+of our Colonial world; the much-debated, the universally interesting
+champion of Greater British interests! She knew, of course, that
+Arnold Jacks was his friend; no one could talk with Mr. Jacks for
+half an hour without learning that; but the off-hand mention of
+their being about to meet this very day had an impressiveness for
+Irene.
+
+"I saw that he was coming to England."
+
+"From the States--yes. He has been over there on a holiday--
+merely a holiday. Of course, the papers have tried to find a meaning
+in it. That kind of thing amuses him vastly. He says in his last
+letter to me----"
+
+Carelessly, the letter was drawn from an inner pocket. Only a page
+and a half; Arnold read it out. A bluff and rather slangy epistolary
+style.
+
+"May I see his hand?" asked Irene, trying to make fun of her wish.
+
+He gave her the letter, and watched her amusedly as she gazed at the
+first page. On receiving it back again, he took his penknife,
+carefully cut out the great man's signature, and offered it for
+Irene's acceptance.
+
+"Thank you. But you know, of course, that I regard it as a mere
+curiosity."
+
+"Oh, yes! Why not? So do I the theory of Evolution."
+
+By a leading question or two, Miss Derwent set her companion talking
+at large of Trafford Romaine, his views and policies. The greatest
+man in the Empire! he declared. The only man, in fact, who held the
+true Imperial conception, and had genius to inspire multitudes with
+his own zeal. Arnold's fervour of admiration betrayed him into no
+excessive vivacity, no exuberance in phrase or unusual gesture such
+as could conflict with "good form"; he talked like the typical
+public schoolboy, with a veneering of wisdom current in circles of
+higher officialdom. Enthusiasm was never the term for his state of
+mind; instinctively he shrank from that, as a thing Gallic,
+"foreign." But the spirit of practical determination could go no
+further. He followed Trafford Romaine as at school he had given
+allegiance to his cricket captain; impossible to detect a hint that
+he felt the life of peoples in any way more serious than the sports
+of his boyhood, yet equally impossible to perceive how he could have
+been more profoundly in earnest. This made the attractiveness of the
+man; he compelled confidence; it was felt that he never exaggerated
+in the suggestion of force concealed beneath his careless, mirthful
+manner. Irene, in spite of her humorous observation, hung upon his
+speech. Involuntarily, she glanced at his delicate complexion, at
+the whiteness and softness of his ungloved hand, and felt in a
+subtle way this combination of the physically fine with the morally
+hard, trenchant, tenacious. Close your eyes, and Arnold Jacks was a
+high-bred bulldog endowed with speech; not otherwise would a game
+animal of that species, advanced to a world-polity, utter his
+convictions.
+
+"You take for granted," she remarked, "that our race is the finest
+fruit of civilisation."
+
+"Certainly. Don't you?"
+
+It's having a pretty good conceit of ourselves. Is every foreigner
+who contests it a poor deluded creature? Take the best type of
+Frenchman, for instance. Is he necessarily fatuous in his criticism
+of us?"
+
+"Why, of course he is. He doesn't understand us. He doesn't
+understand the world. He has his place, to be sure, but that isn't
+in international politics. We are the political people; we are the
+ultimate rulers. Our language----"
+
+"There's a quotation from Virgil----"
+
+"I know. We are very like the Romans. But there are no new races to
+overthrow us."
+
+He began to sketch the future extension of Britannic lordship and
+influence. Kingdoms were overthrown with a joke, continents were
+annexed in a boyish phrase; Armageddon transacted itself in sheer
+lightness of heart. Laughing, he waded through the blood of nations,
+and in the end seated himself with crossed legs upon the throne of
+the universe.
+
+"Do you know what it makes me wish?" said Irene, looking wicked.
+
+"That you may live to see it?"
+
+"No. That someone would give us a good licking, for the benefit of
+our souls."
+
+Having spoken it, she was ashamed, and her lip quivered a little.
+But the train had slackened speed; they entered a station.
+
+"Rugby!" she exclaimed, with relief. "Have you any views about
+treatment of the phylloxera?"
+
+"Odd that you should mention that. Why?"
+
+"Only because my father has been thinking about it: we have a friend
+from Avignon staying with us--all but ruined in his vineyards."
+
+Jacks had again taken out his letter-case. He selected a folded
+sheet of paper, and showed what looked like a dry blade of grass.
+The wheat, he said, on certain farms in his Company's territory had
+begun to suffer from a strange disease; here was an example of the
+parasite-eaten growth; no one yet had recognised the disease or
+discovered a cheek for it.
+
+"Let my father have it," said Irene. "He is interested in all that
+kind of thing."
+
+"Really? Seriously?"
+
+"Quite seriously. He would much like to see it."
+
+"Then I will either call on him, or write to him, when I get back."
+
+Miss Derwent had not yet spoken of her destination. She mentioned,
+now, that she was going to spend a week or two with relations at a
+country place in Cheshire. She must change trains at Crewe. This
+gave a lighter turn to the conversation. Arnold Jacks launched into
+frank gaiety, and Irene met him with spirit. Not a little remarkable
+was the absence of the note of sex from their merry gossip in the
+narrow seclusion of a little railway compartment. Irene was as safe
+with this world-conquering young man as with her own brother; would
+have been so, probably, on a desert island. They were not man and
+woman, but English gentleman and lady, and, from one point of view,
+very brilliant specimens of their kind.
+
+At Crewe both alighted, Arnold to stretch his legs for a moment.
+
+"By the bye," he said, as Miss Derwent, having seen to her luggage,
+was bidding him farewell, "I'm sorry to hear that young Otway has
+been very ill."
+
+"Ill?--I had no knowledge of it. In Russia?"
+
+"Yes. My father was speaking of it yesterday. He had heard it from
+his friend, old Mr. Otway. A fever of some kind. He's all right
+again, I believe."
+
+"We have heard nothing of it. There's your whistle. Good-bye!"
+
+Jacks leapt into his train, waved a hand from the window, and was
+whirled away.
+
+For the rest of her journey, Irene seemed occupied with an
+alternation of grave and amusing thoughts. At moments she looked
+seriously troubled. This passed, and the arrival found her bright as
+ever; the pink of modern maidenhood, fancy free.
+
+The relatives she was visiting were two elderly ladies, cousins of
+her mother; representatives of a family native to this locality for
+hundreds of years. One of the two had been married, but husband and
+child were long since dead; the other, devoted to sisterly
+affection, had shared in the brief happiness of the wife and
+remained the solace of the widow's latter years. They were in
+circumstances of simple security, living as honoured gentlewomen,
+without display as without embarrassment; fulfiling cheerfully the
+natural duties of their position, but seeking no influence beyond
+the homely limits; their life a humanising example, a centre of
+charity and peace. The house they dwelt in came to them from their
+yeoman ancestors of long ago; it was held on a lease of one thousand
+years from near the end of the sixteenth century, "at a quit-rent of
+one shilling," and certain pieces of furniture still in use were
+contemporary with the beginning of the tenure. No corner of England
+more safely rural; beyond sound of railway whistle, bosomed in great
+old elms, amid wide meadows and generous tillage; sloping westward
+to the river Dee, and from its soft green hills descrying the
+mountains of Wales.
+
+Here in the old churchyard lay Irene's mother. She died in London,
+but Dr. Derwent wished her to rest by the home of her childhood,
+where Irene, too, as a little maid, had spent many a summer holiday.
+Over the grave stood a simple slab of marble, white as the soul of
+her it commemorated, graven thereon a name, parentage, dates of
+birth and death--no more. Irene's father cared not to tell the
+world how that bereavement left him.
+
+Round about were many kindred tombs, the most noticeable that of
+Mrs. Derwent's grandfather, a ripe old scholar, who rested from his
+mellow meditations just before the century began.
+
+"GULIELMI W----
+Pii, docti, integri,
+Reliquiae seu potius exuviae."
+
+It was the first Latin Irene learnt, and its quaint phrasing to this
+day influenced her thoughts of mortality. Standing by her mother's
+grave, she often repeated to herself "_seu potius exuviae_," and
+wondered whether her father's faith in science excluded the hope of
+that old-world reasoning. She would not have dared to ask him, for
+all the frank tenderness of their companionship. On that subject Dr.
+Derwent had no word to say, no hint to let fall. She knew only that,
+in speaking of her they had lost, his voice would still falter; she
+knew that he always came into this churchyard alone, and was silent,
+troubled, for hours after the visit. Instinctively, too, she
+understood that, though her father might almost be called a young
+man, and had abounding vitality, no second wife would ever obscure
+to him that sacred memory. It was one of the many grounds she had
+for admiring as much as she loved him. His loyalty stirred her
+heart, coloured her view of life.
+
+The ladies had some little apprehension that their young relative,
+fresh from contact with a many-sided world, might feel a dulness in
+their life and their interests; but nothing of the sort entered
+Irene's mind. She was intelligent enough to appreciate the
+superiority of these quiet sisters to all but the very best of the
+acquaintances she had made in London or abroad, and modest enough to
+see in their entire refinement a correction of the excessive
+_sans-gene_ to which society tempted her. They were behind the times
+only in the sense of escaping, by seclusion, those modern tendencies
+which vulgarise. An excellent library of their own supplied them
+with the essentials of culture, and one or two periodicals kept them
+acquainted with all that was worth knowing in the activity of the
+day. They belonged to the very small class of persons who still
+read, who have mind and leisure to find companionship in books.
+Their knowledge of languages passed the common; in earlier years
+they had travelled, and their reminiscences fostered the liberality
+which was the natural tone of their minds. To converse familiarly
+with them was to discover their grasp of historical principles,
+their insight into philosophic systems, their large apprehension of
+world-problems. At the same time, they nurtured jealously their
+intellectual preferences, differing on such points from each other
+as they did from the common world. One of them would betray an
+intimate knowledge of some French or Italian poet scarce known by
+name to ordinary educated people; something in him had appealed to
+her mind at a certain time, and her memory held him in gratitude.
+The other would be found to have informed herself exhaustively
+concerning the history of some neglected people, dear to her for
+some subtle reason of affinity or association. But in their
+table-talk appeared no pedantry; things merely human were as
+interesting to them as to the babbler of any drawing-room, and their
+inexhaustible kindliness sweetened every word they spoke.
+
+Nothing more salutary for Irene Derwent than this sojourn with
+persons whom she in every way respected--with whom there was not
+the least temptation to exhibit her mere dexterities. In London,
+during this past season, she had sometimes talked as a young, clever
+and admired girl is prone to do; always to the mockery of her sager
+self when looking back on such easy triumphs. How very easy it was
+to shine in London drawing-rooms, no one knew better. Here, in the
+country stillness, in this beautiful old house sacred to sincerity
+of heart and mind, to aim at "smartness" would indeed have been to
+condemn oneself. Instead of phrasing, she was content, as became her
+years, to listen; she enjoyed the feeling of natural youthfulness,
+of spontaneity without misgiving. The things of life and intellect
+appeared in their true proportions; she saw the virtue of repose.
+
+When she had been here a day or two, the conversation chanced to
+take a turn which led to her showing the autograph of Trafford
+Romaine; she said merely that a friend had given it to her.
+
+"An interesting man, I should think," remarked the elder of the two
+sisters, without emphasis.
+
+"An Englishman of a new type, wouldn't you say?" fell from the
+other.
+
+"So far as I understand him. Or perhaps of an old type under new
+conditions."
+
+Irene, paying close attention, was not sure that she understood all
+that these words implied.
+
+"He is immensely admired by some of our friends," she said with
+restraint. "They compare him to the fighting heroes of our history."
+
+"Indeed?" rejoined the elder lady. "But the question is: Are those
+the qualities that we want nowadays? I admire Sir Walter Raleigh,
+but I should be sorry to see him, just as he was, playing an active
+part in our time."
+
+"They say," ventured Irene, with a smile, "that but for such men, we
+may really become a mere nation of shopkeepers."
+
+"Do they? But may we not fear that their ideal is simply a
+shopkeeper ready to shoot anyone who rivals him in trade? The finer
+qualities I admit; but one distrusts the objects they serve."
+
+"We are told," said Irene, "that England _must_ expand."
+
+"Probably. But the mere necessity of the case must not become our
+law. It won't do for a great people to say, 'Make room for us, and
+we promise to set you a fine example of civilisation; refuse to make
+room, and we'll blow your brains out!' One doubts the quality of the
+civilisation promised."
+
+Irene laughed, delighted with the vigour underlying the old lady's
+calm and gentle habit of speech. Yet she was not convinced, though
+she wished to be. A good many times she had heard in thought the
+suavely virile utterances of Arnold Jacks; his voice had something
+that pleased her, and his way of looking at things touched her
+imagination. She wished these ladies knew Arnold Jacks, that she
+might ask their opinion of him.
+
+And yet, she felt she would rather not have asked it.
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+From this retreat, Irene wrote to her cousin Olga Hannaford, and in
+the course of the letter made inquiry whether anything was known at
+Ewell about a severe illness that had befallen young Mr. Otway. Olga
+replied that she had heard of no such event; that they had received
+no news at all of Mr. Otway since his leaving England. This did not
+allay an uneasiness which, in various forms, had troubled Irene ever
+since she heard that her studious acquaintance had abandoned his
+ambitions and gone back to commerce. A few weeks more elapsed, and
+--being now in Scotland--she received a confirmation of what
+Arnold Jacks had reported. Immediately on reaching Odessa, Piers
+Otway had fallen ill, and for a time was in danger. Irene mused. She
+would have preferred not to think of Otway at all, but often did so,
+and could not help it. A certain reproach of conscience connected
+itself with his name. But as time went on, and it appeared that the
+young man was settled to his mercantile career in Russia, she
+succeeded in dismissing him from her mind.
+
+For the next three years she lived with her father in London; a life
+pretty evenly divided between studies and the amusements of her
+world.
+
+Dr. Derwent pursued his quiet activity. In a certain sphere he had
+reputation; the world at large knew little or nothing of him. All he
+aimed at was the diminution of human suffering; whether men thanked
+him for his life's labour did not seem to him a point worth
+considering. He knew that only his scientific brethren could gauge
+the advance in knowledge, and consequent power over disease, due to
+his patient toil; it was a question of minute discoveries, of
+investigations unintelligible to the layman. Some of his colleagues
+held that he foolishly restricted himself in declining to
+experimentalise _in corpore vili_, whenever such experiments were
+attended with pain; he was spoken of in some quarters as a
+"sentimentalist," a man who might go far but for his "fads." One
+great pathologist held that the whole idea of pursuing science for
+mitigation of human ills was nothing but a sentimentality and a fad.
+A debate between this personage and Dr. Derwent was brought to a
+close by the latter's inextinguishable mirth. He was, indeed, a man
+who laughed heartily, and laughter often served him where another
+would have waxed choleric.
+
+"Only a dog!" he exclaimed once to Irene, apropos of this subject,
+and being in his graver mood. "Why, what assurance have I that any
+given man is of more importance to the world than any given dog? How
+can I know what is important and what is not, when it comes to the
+ultimate mystery of life? Create me a dog--just a poor little
+mongrel puppy--and you shall torture him; then, and not till then.
+And in that event I reserve my opinion of the----" He checked
+himself on the point of a remark which seemed of too wide bearing
+for the girl's ears. Hut Irene supplied the hiatus for herself, as
+she was beginning to do pretty often when listening to her father.
+
+Dr. Derwent was, in a sense, a self-made man; in youth he had gone
+through a hard struggle, and but for his academic successes he could
+not have completed the course of medical training. Twenty years of
+very successful practice had made him independent, and a mechanical
+invention--which he had patented--an ingenuity of which he
+thought nothing till some friend insisted on its value--raised his
+independence to moderate wealth. For his children's sake he was glad
+of this comfort; like every educated man who has known poverty at
+the outset of life, he feared it more than he cared to say.
+
+His wife had brought him nothing--save her beauty and her noble
+heart. She wedded him when it was still doubtful whether he would
+hold his own in the fierce fight for a living; she died before the
+days of his victory. Now and then, a friend who heard him speak of
+his wife's family smiled with the thought that he only just escaped
+being something of a snob. Which merely signified that a man of
+science attached value to descent. Dr. Derwent knew the properties
+of such blood as ran in his wife's veins, and it rejoiced him to
+mark the characteristics which Irene inherited from her mother.
+
+He often suffered anxiety on behalf of his sister, Mrs. Hannaford,
+whom he knew to be pinched in circumstances, but whom it was
+impossible to help. Lee Hannaford he disliked and distrusted; the
+men were poles apart in character and purpose. The family had now
+left Ewell, and lived in a poor house in London. Olga was trying to
+earn money by her drawing, not, it seemed, with much success.
+Hannaford was always said to be on the point of selling some
+explosive invention to the British Government, whence would result a
+fortune; but the Government had not yet come to terms.
+
+"What a shame it is," quoth Dr. Derwent, "that an honest man who
+facilitates murder on so great a scale should be kept waiting for
+his reward!"
+
+Hannaford pursued his slight acquaintance with Arnold Jacks, who. in
+ignorance of any relationship, once spoke of him to Miss Derwent.
+
+"An ingenious fellow. I should like to make some use of him, but I
+don't quite know how."
+
+"I am sorry to say he belongs by marriage to our family," replied
+Irene.
+
+"Indeed? Why sorry?"
+
+"I detest his character. He is neither a gentleman, nor anything
+else that one can respect."
+
+It closed a conversation in which they had differed more sharply
+than usual, with--on Irene's part--something less than the
+wonted gaiety of humour. They did not see each other very often, but
+always seemed glad to meet, and always talked in a tone of peculiar
+intimacy, as if conscious of mutual understanding. Yet no two
+acquaintances could have been in greater doubt as to each other's
+mind and character. Irene was often mentally occupied with Mr.
+Jacks, and one of the questions she found most uncertain was whether
+he in turn ever thought of her with like interest. Now she seemed to
+have proof that he sought an opportunity of meeting; now, again, he
+appeared to have forgotten her existence. He interested her in his
+personality, he interested her in his work. She would have liked to
+speak of him with her father; but Dr. Derwent never broached the
+subject, and she could not herself lead up to it. Whenever she saw
+his name in the paper--where it often stood in reports of public
+festivities or in items of social news--her eye dwelt upon it, and
+her fancy was stirred. Curiosity, perhaps, had the greater part in
+her feeling. Arnold Jacks seemed to live so "largely," in contact
+with such great affairs and such eminent people. One day, at length,
+a little paragraph in an evening journal announced that he was
+engaged to be married, and to a lady much in the light, the widowed
+daughter of a Conservative statesman. It was only an hour or two
+after reading this news that Irene met him at dinner, and spoke with
+him of Hannaford; neither to Arnold himself nor to anyone else did
+she allude to the rumoured engagement; but that night she was not
+herself.
+
+About lunch time on the next day she received a note from Jacks. His
+attention had been drawn--he wrote--to an absurd bit of gossip
+connecting his name with that of a lady whose friend he was, and
+absolutely nothing more. Would Miss Derwent, if occasion arose, do
+him the kindness to contradict this story in her circle? He would be
+greatly obliged to her.
+
+Irene was something more than surprised. It struck her as odd that
+Arnold Jacks should request her services in such a matter as this.
+In an obscure way she half resented the brief, off-hand missive. And
+she paid no further attention to it.
+
+A month later, she, her father and brother, were on their way to
+Switzerland. Stepping into the boat at Dover, she saw in front of
+her Arnold Jacks. It was a perfectly smooth passage, and they talked
+all the way; for part of the time, alone.
+
+"I think," said Arnold, at the first opportunity, looking her in the
+face, "you never replied to a letter of mine last month about a
+certain private affair?"
+
+"A letter? Oh, yes. I didn't think it required an answer."
+
+"Don't you generally answer letters from your friends?"
+
+Irene, in turn, gave him a steady look.
+
+"Generally, yes. But not when I have the choice between silence and
+being disagreeable."
+
+"You were both silent _and_ disagreeable," said Arnold, smiling. "Do
+you mind being disagreeable again, and telling me what your answer
+would have been?"
+
+"Simply that I never, if I can help it, talk about weddings and
+rumours of weddings, and that I couldn't make an exception in your
+case."
+
+Arnold laughed in the old way.
+
+"A most original rule, Miss Derwent, and admirable. If all kept to
+it I shouldn't have been annoyed by that silly chatter. It occurs to
+me that I perhaps ought not to have sent you that note. I did it in
+a moment of irritation--wanting to have the stupid thing
+contradicted right and left, as fast as possible. I won't do it
+again."
+
+They were on excellent terms once more. Irene felt a singular
+pleasure in his having apologised; it was one of the very rare
+occasions of his yielding to her on any point whatever. Never had
+she felt so kindly disposed to him.
+
+Arnold was going to Paris, and on business; he hinted at something
+pending between his Company and a French Syndicate.
+
+"You are a sort of informal diplomatist," said Irene, her interest
+keen.
+
+"Now and then, yes. And"--he added with the frankness which was
+one of his more amiable points--"I rather like it."
+
+"One sees that you do. Better, I suppose, than the thought of going
+into Parliament."
+
+"That may come some day," he answered, glancing at a gull that
+hovered above the ship. "Not whilst my father sits there."
+
+"You would be on different sides, I suppose."
+
+Arnold smiled, and went on to say that he was uneasy about his
+father's health. John Jacks had fallen of late into a habit of worry
+about things great and small, as though age were suddenly telling
+upon him. He fretted over public affairs; he suffered from the death
+of old friends, especially that of John Bright, whom he had held in
+affectionate regard for a lifetime. Irene was glad to hear this
+expression of anxiety. For it sometimes seemed to her that Arnold
+Jacks had little, if any, domestic feeling.
+
+She wished they could have travelled further together. Their talks
+were always broken off too soon, just when she began to get a
+glimpse of characteristics still unknown to her. On the journey she
+thought constantly of him; not with any sort of tender emotion, but
+with much curiosity. It would have gratified her to know what degree
+of truth there was in that rumour of his engagement a month ago;
+some, undoubtedly, for she had noticed a peculiar smile on the faces
+of persons who alluded to it. His apparent coldness towards women in
+general might be natural, or might conceal mysteries. So difficult a
+man to know! And so impossible to decide whether he was really worth
+knowing!
+
+Among intimates of her own sex Irene had a reputation for a certain
+chaste severity becoming at moments all but prudery. It did not
+altogether harmonise with the tone of highly taught young women who
+rather prided themselves on freedom of thought, and to some extent
+of utterance. Singular in one so far from cold-blooded, so abounding
+in vitality. Towards men, her attitude seemed purely intellectual;
+no one had ever so much as suspected a warmer interest. A hint of
+things forbidden with regard to any male acquaintance caused her to
+turn away, silent, austere. That such things not seldom came to her
+hearing was a motive of troubled reflection, common enough in all
+intelligent girls who live in touch with the wider world. Men
+puzzled her, and Irene did not like to be puzzled. As free from
+unwholesome inquisitiveness as a girl can possibly be, she often
+wished to know, once for all, whatever was to be learnt about the
+concealed life of men; to know it and to have done with it; to
+settle her mind on that point, as on any other that affected the
+life of a reasonable being. Yet she shrank from all such enquiry,
+with a sense of womanly pride, doing her best to believe that there
+was no concealment in the case of any man with whom she could have
+friendly relations. She scorned the female cynic; she disliked the
+carelessly liberal in moral judgment. Profoundly mysterious to her
+was everything covered by the word "passion"--a word she detested.
+
+Her way of seeing life on the amusing side aided, of course, her
+maidenly severity against trouble of sense and sentiment. This she
+had from her father, a man of quips and jokes on the surface of his
+seriousness. As she grew older, it threatened a decline of intimacy
+between her and her cousin Olga, who, never naturally buoyant, was
+becoming so cheerless, so turbid of temper, that Irene found it
+difficult to talk with her for long together. Domestic miseries
+might greatly account for the girl's mood, but Irene had insight
+enough to perceive that this was not all. And she felt uncomfortably
+helpless. To jest seemed unfeeling; sympathy of the sentimental sort
+she could not give. She feared that Olga was beginning to shrink
+from her.
+
+Since the Hannaford's removal to London, they had not been able to
+see much of each other. Irene understood that she was not very
+welcome in the little house at Hammersmith, even before her aunt
+wrote to ask her not to come. Lee Hannaford's aloofness from his
+wife's relatives had turned to hostility; he spoke of them with
+increasing bitterness, threw contempt on Dr. Derwent's scientific
+work, and condemned Irene as a butterfly of fashion. Olga ceased to
+visit the house in Bryanston Square, and the cousins only
+corresponded. It was Dr. Derwent's opinion that Hannaford could not
+be quite sane; he was much troubled on his sister's account, and had
+often pondered extreme measures for her rescue from an intolerable
+position.
+
+At length there came to pass the event to which Mrs. Hannaford had
+looked as her only hope. The widowed sister in America died, and,
+out of her abundance, her children all provided for, left to the
+unhappy wife in England a substantial bequest. News of this came
+first to Dr. Derwent, who was appointed trustee.
+
+But before he had time to communicate with Mrs. Hannaford, a letter
+from her occasioned him new anxiety. His sister wrote that Olga was
+bent on making a most undesirable marriage, having fallen in love
+with a penniless nondescript who called himself an artist; a man
+given, it was suspected, to drink, and without any decent connection
+that one could hear of. A wretched, squalid affair! Would the Doctor
+come at once and see Olga? Her father was away, as usual; of course
+the girl would not be influenced by _him_, in any case; she was
+altogether in a strange, wild, headstrong state, and one could not
+be sure how soon the marriage might come about.
+
+With wrinkled brows, the vexed pathologist set forth for
+Hammersmith.
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+A semi-detached dwelling in a part of Hammersmith just being invaded
+by the social class below that for which it was built; where, in
+consequence, rents had slightly fallen, and notices of "apartments"
+were beginning to rise; where itinerant vendors, finding a new
+market, strained their voices with special discord; where hired
+pianos vied with each other through party walls; where the earth was
+always very dusty or very muddy, and the sky above in all seasons
+had a discouraging hue. The house itself furnished half-heartedly,
+as if it was felt to be a mere encampment; no comfort in any
+chamber, no air of home. Hannaford had not cared to distribute his
+mementoes of battle and death in the room called his own; they
+remained in packing-cases. Each member of the family, unhappy trio,
+knew that their state was transitional, and waited rather than
+lived.
+
+With the surprise of a woman long bitter against destiny, Mrs.
+Hannaford learnt that something _had_ happened, and that it was a
+piece of good, not ill, fortune. When her brother left the house
+(having waited two hours in vain for Olga's return), she made a
+change of garb, arranged her hair with something of the old grace,
+and moved restlessly from room to room. A light had touched her
+countenance, dispelling years of premature age; she was still a
+handsome woman; she could still find in her heart the courage for a
+strong decision.
+
+There was no maid--Mrs. Hannaford herself laid upon the table what
+was to serve for an evening meal; and she had just done so when her
+daughter came in. Olga had changed considerably in the past three
+years; at one-and-twenty she would have passed for several years
+older; her complexion was fatigued, her mouth had a nervous mobility
+which told of suppressed suffering, her movements were impatient,
+irritable. But at this moment she did not wear a look of
+unhappiness; there was a glow in her fine eyes, a tremour of resolve
+on all her features. On entering the room where her mother stood,
+she at once noticed a change. Their looks met: they gazed excitedly
+at each other.
+
+"What is it? Why have you dressed?"
+
+"Because I am a free woman. My sister is dead, and has left me a lot
+of money."
+
+They rushed into each other's arms; they caressed with tears and
+sobs; it was minutes before they could utter more than broken
+phrases and exclamations.
+
+"What shall you do?" the girl asked at length, holding her mother's
+hand against her heart. Of late there had been unwonted conflict
+between them, and in the reaction of joy they became all tenderness.
+
+"What I ought to have done long ago--go and live away----"
+
+"Will it be possible, dear?"
+
+"It shall be!" exclaimed the mother vehemently. "I am not a slave--
+I am not a wife! I ought to have had courage to go away years since.
+It was wrong, wrong to live as I have done. The money is my own, and
+I will be free. He shall have a third of it every year, if he leaves
+me free. One-third is yours, one mine."
+
+"No, no!" said Olga drawing back. "For me, none of it!"
+
+"Yes, you will live with me--you will, Olga! This makes everything
+different. You will see that you cannot do what you thought of!
+Don't speak of it now--think--wait----"
+
+The girl moved apart. Her face lost its brightness; hardened in
+passionate determination.
+
+"I can't begin all that again," she said, with an accent of
+weariness.
+
+"No! I won't speak of it now, Olga. But will you do one thing for
+me? Will you put it off for a short time? I'll tell you what I've
+planned; your uncle and I talked it all over. I must leave this
+house before _he_ comes back, to-morrow morning. I can't go to your
+uncle's house, as he asked me; you see why it is better not, don't
+you? The best will be to go into lodgings for a time, and not to let
+_him_ know where I am, till I hear whether he will accept the terms
+I offer. Look, I have enough money for the present." She showed gold
+that had been left with her by Dr. Derwent. "But am I to go alone?
+Will you desert me in my struggle? I want you, dear; I need your
+help. Oh, it would be cruel to leave me just now! Will you put it
+off for a few weeks, until I know what my life is going to be? You
+won't refuse me this one thing, Olga, after all we have gone through
+together?"
+
+"For a few weeks: of course I will do that," replied the girl, still
+in an attitude of resistance. "But you mustn't deceive yourself,
+mother. My mind is made up; _nothing_ will change it. Money is
+nothing to me; we shall be able to live----"
+
+"I can count on you till the struggle is over?"
+
+"I won't leave you until it is settled. And perhaps there will be no
+struggle at all. I should think it will be enough for you to say
+what you have decided----"
+
+"Perhaps. But I can't feel sure. He has got to be such a tyrant, and
+it will enrage him--But perhaps the money--Yes, he will be glad
+of the money."
+
+Presently they sat down to make a pretence of eating; it was over in
+a few minutes. Mrs. Hannaford made known in detail what she had
+rapidly decided with her brother. Tonight she would pack her
+clothing and Olga's; she would leave a letter for her husband; and
+early in the morning they would leave London. Not for any distant
+hiding-place; it was better to be within easy reach of Dr. Derwent,
+and a retreat in Surrey would best suit their purposes, some place
+where lodgings could be at once obtained. The subject of difference
+put aside, they talked again freely and affectionately of this
+sudden escape from a life which in any case Mrs. Hannaford could not
+have endured much longer. About nine o'clock, the quiet of the house
+was broken by a postman's knock; Olga ran to take the letter, and
+exclaimed on seeing the address--
+
+"Why, it's from Mr. Otway, and an English stamp!"
+
+Mrs. Hannaford found a note of a few lines. Piers Otway had reached
+London that morning, and would be in town for a day or two only,
+before going on into Yorkshire. Could he see his old friends
+to-morrow? He would call in the afternoon.
+
+"Better reply to-night," said Olga, "and save him the trouble of
+coming here."
+
+The letter in her hand, Mrs. Hannaford stood thinking, a half-smile
+about her lips.
+
+"Yes; I must write," she said slowly. "But perhaps he could come and
+see us in the country. I'll tell him where we are going."
+
+They talked of possible retreats, and decided upon Epsom, which was
+not far from their old home at Ewell; then Mrs. Hannaford replied to
+Otway. Through the past three years she had often heard from him,
+and she knew that he was purposing a visit to England, but no date
+had been mentioned. After writing, she was silent, thoughtful. Olga,
+too, having been out to post the letter, sat absorbed in her own
+meditations. They did some hasty packing before bedtime, but talked
+little. They were to rise early, and flee at once from the hated
+house.
+
+A sunny morning--it was July--saw them start on their journey,
+tremulous, but rejoicing. Long before midday they had found lodgings
+that suited them, and had made themselves at home. The sense of
+liberty gave everything a delightful aspect; their little
+sitting-room was perfection the trees and fields had an ideal beauty
+after Hammersmith, and they promised themselves breezy walks on the
+Downs above. Not a word of the trouble between them. The mother held
+to a hope that the great change of circumstance would insensibly
+turn Olga's thoughts from her reckless purpose; and, for the moment,
+Olga herself seemed happy in self-forgetfulness.
+
+The man to whom she had plighted herself was named Kite. He did not
+look like a bird of prey; his countenance, his speech, were anything
+but sinister; but for his unlucky position, Mrs. Hannaford would
+probably have rather taken to him. Olga's announcement came with
+startling suddenness. For a twelvemonth she had been trying to make
+money by artistic work, and to a small extent had succeeded,
+managing to sell a few drawings to weekly papers, and even to get a
+poor little commission for the illustrating of a poor little book.
+In this way she had made a few acquaintances in the so-called
+Bohemian world, but she spoke seldom of them, and Mrs. Hannaford
+suspected no special intimacy with anyone whose name was mentioned
+to her. One evening (a week ago) Olga said quietly that she was
+going to be married.
+
+Mr. Kite was summoned to Hammersmith. A lank, loose-limbed,
+indolent-looking man of thirty or so, with a long, thin face,
+tangled hair, gentle eyes. The clothes he wore were decent, but
+suggested the idea that they had been purchased at second-hand; they
+did not fit him well; perhaps he was the kind of man whose clothes
+never do fit. Unless Mrs. Hannaford was mistaken, his breath wafted
+an alcoholic odour; but Mr. Kite had every appearance of present
+sobriety. He seemed chronically tired; sat down with a little sigh
+of satisfaction; stretched his legs, and let his arms fall full
+length. To the maternal eye, a singular, problematic being, anything
+but likely to inspire confidence. Yet he talked agreeably, if oddly;
+his incomplete sentences were full of good feeling; above all, he
+evidently meant to be frank, put his poverty in the baldest aspect,
+set forth his hopes with extreme moderation. "We seem to suit each
+other," was his quiet remark, with a glance at Olga; and Mrs.
+Hannaford could not doubt that he meant well. But what a match!
+Scarcely had he gone, when the mother began her dissuasions, and
+from that moment there was misery.
+
+For Olga, Mrs. Hannaford had always been ambitious. The girl was
+clever, warm-hearted, and in her way handsome. But for the
+disastrous father, she would have had every chance of marrying
+"well." Mrs. Hannaford was not a worldly woman, and all her secret
+inclinations were to romance, but it is hard for a mother to
+dissociate the thought of marriage from that of wealth and
+respectability. Mr. Kite, well-meaning as he might be, would never
+do.
+
+To-day there was truce. They talked much of Piers Otway, and in the
+afternoon, as had been arranged by letter, both went to the railway
+station, to meet the train by which it was hoped he would come--
+Piers arrived.
+
+"How much improved!" was the thought of both. He was larger,
+manlier, and though still of pale complexion had no longer the
+bloodless look of years ago. Walking, he bore himself well; he was
+self-possessed in manner, courteous in not quite the English way;
+brief, at first, in his sentences, but his face lit with cordiality.
+On the way to the ladies' lodgings, he stole frequent glances at one
+and the other; plainly he saw change in them, and perhaps not for
+the better.
+
+Mrs, Hannaford kept mentally comparing him with the scarecrow Kite.
+A tremor of speculation took hold upon her; a flush was on her
+cheeks, she talked nervously, laughed much.
+
+Nothing was to be said about the flight from home; they were at
+Epsom for a change of air. But Mrs. Hannaford could not keep silence
+concerning her good fortune; she had revealed it in a few nervous
+words, before they reached the house.
+
+"You will live in London?" asked Otway.
+
+"That isn't settled. It would be nice to go abroad again. We liked
+Geneva."
+
+"I must tell you about a Swiss friend of mine," Piers resumed. "A
+man you would like; the best, jolliest, most amusing fellow I ever
+met; his name is Moncharmont. He is in business at Odessa. There was
+talk of his coming to England with me, but we put it off; another
+time. He's a man who does me good; but for him, I shouldn't have
+held on."
+
+"Then you don't like it, after all?" asked Mrs. Hannaford.
+
+"Like it? No. But I have stuck to it--partly for very shame, as
+you know. I've stuck to it hard, and it's getting too late to think
+of anything else. I have plans; I'll tell you."
+
+These plans were laid open when tea had been served in the little
+sitting-room. Piers had it in mind to start an independent business,
+together with his friend Moncharmont; one of them to live in Russia,
+one in London.
+
+"My father has promised the money. He promised it three years ago. I
+might have had it when I liked; but I should have been ashamed to
+ask till a reasonable time had gone by. It won't be a large capital,
+but Moncharmont has some, and putting it together, we shall manage
+to start, I think."
+
+He paused, watching the effect of his announcement. Mrs. Hannaford
+was radiant with pleasure; Olga looked amused.
+
+"Why do you laugh?" Piers asked, turning to the girl.
+
+"I didn't exactly laugh. But it seems odd. I can't quite think of
+you as a merchant."
+
+"To tell you the truth, I can't quite think of myself in that light
+either. I'm only a bungler at commerce, but I've worked hard, and I
+have a certain amount of knowledge. For one thing, I've got hold of
+the language; this last year I've travelled a good deal in Russia
+for our firm, and it often struck me that I might just as well be
+doing the business on my own account. I dreamt once of a partnership
+with our people; but there's no chance of that. They're very close;
+besides, they don't make any serious account of me; I'm not the type
+that gains English confidence. Strange that I get on so much better
+with almost any other nationality--with men, that is to say."
+
+He smiled, reddened, turned it off with a laugh. For the moment he
+was his old self, and his wandering eyes kept a look such has had
+often been seen in them during that month of torture three years
+ago.
+
+"You are quite sure," said Mrs. Hannaford, "that it wouldn't be
+better to use your capital in some other way?"
+
+"Don't, don't!" Piers exclaimed, tossing his arm in exaggerated
+dread. "Don't set me adrift again. I've thought about it; it's
+settled. This is the only way of making money, that I can see."
+
+"You are so set on making money?" said Olga, looking at him in
+surprise.
+
+"Savagely set on it!"
+
+"You have really come to see that as the end of life?" Olga asked,
+regarding him curiously.
+
+"The end? Oh, dear no! The means of life, only the means!"
+
+Olga was about to put another question, but she met her mother's
+eye, and kept silence. All were silent for a space, and meditative.
+
+They went out to walk together. Looking over the wide prospect from
+the top of the Downs, the soft English landscape, homely, peaceful,
+Otway talked of Russia. It was a country, he said, which interested
+him more the more he knew of it. He hoped to know it very well, and
+perhaps--here he grew dreamy--to impart his knowledge to others.
+Not many Englishmen mastered the language, or indeed knew anything
+of it; that huge empire was a mere blank to be filled up by the
+imaginings of prejudice and hostility. Was it not a task worth
+setting before oneself, worth pursuing for a lifetime, that of
+trying to make known to English folk their bugbear of the East?
+
+"Then this," said Olga, "is to be the end of your life?"
+
+"The end? No, not even that."
+
+On their return, he found himself alone with Mrs. Hannaford for a
+few minutes. He spoke abruptly, with an effort.
+
+"Do you see much of the Derwents?"
+
+"Not much. Our lives are so different, you know."
+
+"Will you tell me frankly? If I called there--when I come south
+again--should I be welcome?"
+
+"Oh, why not?" replied the lady, veiling embarrassment. "I see."
+Otway's face darkened. "You think it better I shouldn't. I
+understand."
+
+Olga reappeared, and the young man turned to her with resolute
+cheerfulness. When at length he took leave of his friends, they saw
+nothing but good spirits and healthful energy. He would certainly
+see them again before leaving England, and before long would let
+them know all his projects in detail. So he went his way into the
+summer night, back to the roaring world of London; one man in the
+multitude who knew his heart's desire, and saw all else in the light
+thereof.
+
+For three days, Mrs. Hannaford and her daughter lived expectant;
+then arrived in answer to the letter left behind at Hammersmith. It
+came through Dr. Derwent's solicitor, whose address Mrs. Hannaford
+had given for this purpose. A curt, dry communication, saying simply
+that the fugitive might do as she chose, and would never be
+interfered with. Parting was, under the circumstances, evidently the
+wise course; but it must be definite, legalised; the writer had no
+wish ever to see his wife again. As to her suggestion about money,
+in that too she would please herself; it relieved him to know her
+independent, and he was glad to be equally so.
+
+For all that, Lee Hannaford made no objection to receiving the
+portion of his wife's income which she offered. He took it without
+thanks, keeping his reflections to himself. And therewith was
+practically dissolved one, at least, of the innumerable mock
+marriages which burden the lives of mankind. Mrs. Hannaford's only
+bitterness was that in law she remained wedded. It soothed her but
+moderately to reflect that she was a martyr to national morality.
+
+She was pressed to come and stay for a while in Bryanston Square,
+but Olga would not accept that invitation. Her mother's affairs
+being satisfactorily settled, the girl returned to her fixed
+purpose; she would hear of no further postponement of her marriage.
+Thereupon Mrs. Hannaford took a step she feared to be useless, but
+which was the only hope remaining to her. She wrote to Kite; she
+explained to him her circumstances; she asked him whether, out of
+justice to Olga, who might repent a hasty union, he would join her
+(Mrs. Hannaford) in a decision to put off the marriage for one year.
+If, in a twelvemonth, Olga were still of the same mind, all
+opposition should be abandoned, and more than that, pecuniary help
+would be given to the couple. She appealed to his manhood, to his
+generosity, to his good sense.
+
+And, much to her surprise, the appeal was successful. Kite wrote the
+oddest letter in reply, all disjointed philosophising, with the gist
+that perhaps Mrs. Hannaford was right. No harm in waiting a year;
+perhaps much good. Life was a mystery; love was uncertain. He would
+get on with his art, the only stable thing from his point of view.
+
+From her next meeting with her lover, Olga came hack pale and
+wretched.
+
+"I must go and live alone, mother," she said. "I must go to London
+and work. This life would be impossible to me now."
+
+She would hear of nothing else. Her marriage was postponed; they
+need say no more about it. If her mother would let her have a little
+money, till she could support herself, she would be grateful; but
+she must live apart. And so, after many tears it was decided. Olga
+went by herself into lodgings, and Mrs. Hannaford accepted her
+brother's invitation to Bryanston Square.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+Piers Otway spent ten days in Yorkshire. His father was well, but
+more than ever silent, sunk in prophetic brooding; Mrs. Otway kept
+the wonted tenor of her life, apprehensive for the purity of the
+Anglican Church (assailed by insidious papistry), and monologising
+at large to her inattentive husband upon the godlessness of his
+impenitent old age.
+
+"Piers," said the father one day, with a twinkle in his eye, "I find
+myself growing a little deaf. Your stepmother is fond of saying that
+Providence sends blessings in disguise, and for once she seems to
+have hit upon a truth."
+
+On a glorious night of stars, he walked with his son up to the open
+moor. A summer breeze whispered fitfully between the dark-blue vault
+and the grey earth; there was a sound of water that leapt from the
+bosom of the hills; deep answering to deep, infinite to infinite.
+After standing silent for a while, Jerome Otway laid a hand on his
+companion's shoulder, and muttered, "The creeds--the dogmas!"
+
+They had two or three long conversations. Most of his time Piers
+spent in rambling alone about the moorland, for health and for
+weariness. When unoccupied, he durst not be physically idle; the
+passions that ever lurked to frenzy him could only be baffled at
+such times by vigorous exercise. His cold bath in the early morning
+was followed by play of dumb-bells. He had made a cult of physical
+soundness; he looked anxiously at his lithe, well-moulded limbs;
+feebleness, disease, were the menaces of a supreme hope. Ideal love
+dwells not in the soul alone, but in every vein and nerve and muscle
+of a frame strung to perfect service. Would he win his heart's
+desire?--let him be worthy of it in body as in mind. He pursued to
+excess the point of cleanliness. With no touch of personal conceit,
+he excelled the perfumed exquisite in care for minute perfections.
+Not in costume; on that score he was indifferent, once the
+conditions of health fulfilled. His inherited tone was far from
+perfect; with rage he looked back upon those insensate years of
+study, which had weakened him just when he should have been
+carefully fortifying his constitution. Only by conflict daily
+renewed did he keep in the way of safety; a natural indolence had
+ever to be combated; there was always the fear of relapse, such as
+had befallen him now and again during his years in Russia; a relapse
+not alone in physical training, but from the ideal of chastity. He
+had cursed the temper of his blood; he had raved at himself for
+vulgar gratifications; and once more the struggle was renewed.
+Asceticism in diet had failed him doubly; it reduced his power of
+wholesome exertion, and caused a mental languor treacherous to his
+chief purpose. Nowadays he ate and drank like any other of the sons
+of men, on the whole to his plain advantage.
+
+A day or two after receiving a letter from Mrs. Hannaford, in which
+she told him of her removal to Dr. Derwent's house, he bade farewell
+to his father.
+
+To his hotel in London, that night, came a note he had expected.
+Mrs. Hannaford asked him to call in Bryanston Square at eleven the
+next morning.
+
+As he approached the house, memories shamed him. How he had slunk
+about the square under his umbrella; how he had turned away in black
+despair after that "Not at home"; his foolish long-tailed coat, his
+glistening stovepipe! To-day, with scarce a thought for his dress,
+he looked merely what he was: an educated man, of average physique,
+of intelligent visage, of easy hearing. For all that, his heart
+throbbed as he stood at the door, and with catching breath, he
+followed the servant upstairs.
+
+Before Mrs. Hannaford appeared, he had time to glance round the
+drawing-room, which was simpler in array than is common in such
+houses. His eye fell upon a portrait, a large crayon drawing, hung
+in a place of honour; he knew it must represent Irene's mother;
+there was a resemblance to the face which haunted him, with more of
+sweetness, with a riper humanity. Whilst his wife still lived, Dr.
+Derwent had not been able to afford a painting of her; this drawing
+was done and well done, in the after days from photographs. On the
+wall beneath it was a little bracket, supporting a little glass
+vessel which held a rose. The year round, this tiny altar never
+lacked its flower.
+
+Mrs. Hannaford entered. Her smile of greeting was not untroubled,
+but seeing her for the first time somewhat ornately clad, and with
+suitable background, Piers was struck by the air of youth that
+animated her features. He had always admired Mrs. Hannaford, had
+always liked her, and as she took his hand in both her own, he felt
+a warm response to her unfeigned kindliness.
+
+"Well, is it settled?"
+
+"It is settled. I go back to Odessa, remain with the firm for
+another six months, then make the great launch!"
+
+They laughed together, both nervously. Piers' eyes wandered, and
+Mrs. Hannaford, as she sat down, made an obvious effort to compose
+herself.
+
+"I didn't ask you, the other day," she began, as if on a sudden
+thought, "whether you had seen either of your brothers."
+
+Piers shook his head, smiling.
+
+"No. Alexander, I hear, is somewhere in the North, doing provincial
+journalism. Daniel--I believe he is in London, but I'm not very
+likely to meet him."
+
+"Don't you wish to?" asked the other lightly.
+
+"Oh, I'm not very anxious. Daniel and I haven't a great interest in
+each other, I'm afraid. You haven't seen him lately?"
+
+"No, no," Mrs. Hannaford answered, with an absent air. "No--not
+for a long time. I have hoped to see an announcement of his book."
+
+"His book?--Ah, I remember. I fear we shall wait long for that."
+
+"But he really was working at it," said Mrs. Hannaford, bending
+forward with a peculiar earnestness. "When he last spoke to me about
+it, he said the material grew so on his hands. And then, there is
+the expense of publication. Such a volume, really well illustrated,
+must cost much to produce, and the author would have to bear----"
+
+Piers was smiling oddly; she broke off, and observed him, as if the
+smile pained her.
+
+"Let us have faith," said Otway. "Daniel is a clever man no doubt,
+and may do something yet."
+
+Mrs. Hannaford abruptly changed the subject, returning to Piers'
+prospects. They talked for half an hour, the lady's eyes
+occasionally turning towards the door, and Otway sometimes losing
+himself as he glanced at the crayon portrait. He was thinking of a
+reluctant withdrawal, when the door opened. He heard a soft rustle,
+turned his head, and rose.
+
+It was Irene! Irene in all the grace of her earlier day, and with
+maturer beauty; Irene with her light step, her bravely balanced
+head, her smile of admirable courtesy, her golden voice. Otway knew
+not what she said to him; something frank, cordial, welcoming. For
+an instant he had held her hand, and felt its coolness thrill him to
+his heart of hearts; he had bent before her, mutely worshipping. His
+brain was on fire with the old passion newly kindled. He spoke, he
+was beginning to converse; the room grew real again; he was aware
+once more of Mrs. Hannaford's presence, of a look she had fixed upon
+him. A look half amused, half compassionate; he answered it with a
+courageous smile.
+
+Miss Derwent was in her happiest mood; impossible to be kinder and
+friendlier in that merry way of hers. Scarce having expected to meet
+her, still keeping in his mind the anguish of that calamitous and
+shameful night three years ago when he fled before her grave
+reproof, Piers beheld her and listened to her with such a sense of
+passionate gratitude that he feared lest some crazy word should
+escape him. That Irene remembered, no look or word of hers
+suggested; unless, indeed, the perfection of her kindness aimed at
+assuring him that the past was wholly past. She made inquiry about
+his father's health; she spoke of his life at Odessa, and was full
+of interest when he sketched his projects. To crown all, she said,
+with her eyes smiling upon him:
+
+"My father would so like to know you; could you dine with us one
+evening before you go?"
+
+Piers declared his absolute freedom for a week to come.
+
+"Suppose, then, we say Thursday? An old friend of ours will be with
+us, whom you may like to meet."
+
+She spoke a name which surprised and delighted him; that of a
+scientific man known the world over. Piers went his way with
+raptures and high resolves singing at his heart.
+
+For the rest of daytime it was enough to walk about the streets in
+sun and shower, seeing a glorified London, one exquisite presence
+obscuring every mean thing and throwing light upon all that was
+beautiful. He did not reason with himself about Irene's
+friendliness; it had cast a spell upon him, and he knew only his
+joy, his worship. Three years of laborious exile were trifling in
+the balance; had they been passed in sufferings ten times as great,
+her smile would have paid for all.
+
+Fortunately, he had a little business to transact in London; on the
+two mornings that followed he was at his firm's house in the City,
+making reports, answering inquiries--mainly about wool and hemp.
+Piers was erudite concerning Russian wool and hemp. He talked about
+it not like the ordinary business man, but as a scholar might who
+had very thoroughly got up the subject. His firm did not altogether
+approve this attitude of mind; they thought it _queer_, and would
+have smiled caustically had they known Otway's purpose of starting
+as a merchant on his own account. That, he had not yet announced,
+and would not do so until he had seen his Swiss friend at Odessa
+again.
+
+The evening of the dinner arrived, and again Piers was rapt above
+himself. Nothing could have been more cordial than Dr. Derwent's
+reception of him, and he had but to look into the Doctor's face to
+recognise a man worthy of reverence; a man of genial wisdom, of the
+largest humanity, of the sanest mirth. Eustace Derwent was present;
+he behaved with exemplary good-breeding, remarking suavely that they
+had met before, and betraying in no corner of his pleasant smile
+that that meeting had been other than delightful to both. Three
+guests arrived, besides Otway, one of them the distinguished person
+whose name had impressed him; a grizzled gentleman, of bland brows,
+and the simplest, softest manner.
+
+At table there was general conversation--the mode of civilised
+beings. His mind in a whirl at first, Otway presently found himself
+quite capable of taking part in the talk. Someone had told a story
+illustrative of superstition in English peasant folk, and Piers had
+only to draw upon his Russian experiences for pursuit of the
+subject. He told how, in a time of great drought, he had known a
+corpse dug up from its grave by peasantry, and thrown into a muddy
+pond--a vigorous measure for the calling down of rain; also, how
+he had seen a priest submit to be dragged on his back across a
+turnip field, that thereby a great crop might be secured. These
+things interested the great man, who sat opposite; he beamed upon
+Otway, and sought from him further information regarding Russia.
+Piers saw that Irene had turned to him; he held himself in command,
+he spoke neither too much nor too little, and as the things he knew
+were worth knowing, his share in the talk made a very favourable
+impression. In truth, these three years had intellectually much
+advanced him. It was at this time that he had begun to use the
+brief, decisive turn of speech which afterwards became his habit; a
+mode of utterance suggesting both mental resources and force of
+character.
+
+Later in the evening, he found himself beside Mrs. Hannaford in a
+corner of the drawing-room. He had hoped to speak a little with Miss
+Derwent, in semi-privacy, but of that there seemed no chance; enough
+that he had her so long before his eyes. Nor did he venture to speak
+of her to her aunt, though with difficulty subduing the desire. He
+knew that Mrs. Hannaford understood what was in his mind, and he
+felt pleased to have her for a silent confidante. She, not
+altogether at ease in this company, was glad to talk to Otway of
+everyday things; she mentioned her daughter, who was understood to
+be living elsewhere for the convenience of artistic studies.
+
+"I hope you will be able to meet Olga before you go. She shuts
+herself up from us a great deal--something like you used to do at
+Ewell, you remember."
+
+"I do, only too well. Why mayn't I go and call on her?"
+
+Mrs. Hannaford shook her head, vaguely, trying to smile.
+
+"She must have her own way, like all artists. If she succeeds, she
+will come amongst us again."
+
+"I know that spirit," said Piers, "and perhaps it's the right one.
+Give her my good wishes--they will do no harm."
+
+The image of Olga Hannaford was distinct before his mind's eye, but
+did not touch his emotions. He thought with little interest of her
+embarking on an artist's career, and had small belief in her chances
+of success. Under the spell of Irene, he felt coldly critical
+towards all other women; every image of feminine charm paled and
+grew remote when hers was actually before him, and it would have
+cost a great effort of mind to assure himself that he had not felt
+precisely thus ever since the days at Ewell. The truth was, of
+course, that though imagination could always restore Irene's
+supremacy, and constantly did so, though his intellectual being
+never failed from allegiance to her, his blood had been at the mercy
+of any face sufficiently alluring. So it would be again, little as
+he could now believe it.
+
+Before he departed, he had his wish of a few minutes' talk with her.
+The words exchanged were insignificant. Piers had nothing ready to
+his tongue but commonplace, and Miss Derwent answered as became her.
+As he left the room he suffered a flush of anger, the natural revolt
+of every being who lives by emotion against the restraints of polite
+intercourse. At such moments one _feels_ the bonds wrought for
+themselves by civilised mankind; commonly accepted without
+consciousness of voluntary or involuntary restraint. In revolt, he
+broke through these trammels of self-subduing nature, saw himself
+free man before her free woman, in some sphere of the unembarrassed
+impulse, and uttered what was in him, pleaded with all his life,
+conquered by vital energy. Only when he had walked back to the hotel
+was he capable of remembering that Irene, in taking leave, had
+spoken the kindest wishes for his future, assuredly with more than
+the common hostess-note. Dr. Derwent, too, had held his hand with a
+pleasant grip, saying good things. It was better than nothing, and
+he felt humanly grateful amid the fire that tortured him.
+
+In his room the sight of pen, ink and paper was a sore temptation.
+At Odessa he had from time to time written what he thought poetry
+(it was not quite that, yet as verse not contemptible), and now,
+recalling to memory some favourite lines, he asked himself whether
+he might venture to write them out and send them to Miss Derwent.
+Could he leave England, this time, without confessing himself to
+her? Faint heart--he mused over the proverb. The thought of a
+laboured letter repelled him, and perhaps her reply--if she
+replied at all--would be a blow scarce endurable. In the offer of
+a copy of verses there is no undue presumption; it is a consecrated
+form of homage; it demands no immediate response. But were they good
+enough, these rhymes of his?--He would decide to-morrow, his last
+day.
+
+And as was his habit, he read a little before sleeping, in one of
+the half-dozen volumes which he had chosen for this journey. It was
+_Les Chants du Crepuscule_, and thus the page sang:
+
+"Laisse-toi donc aimer! Car l'amour, c'est la vie,
+C'est tout ce qu'on regrette et tout ce qu'on envie
+Quand on voit sa jeunesse au couchant decliner.
+Sans lui rien n'est complet, sans lui rien ne rayonne.
+La beante c'est le front. l'amour c'est la couronne.
+Laisse-toi couronner!"
+
+His own lines sounded a sad jingle; he grew ashamed of them, and in
+the weariness of his passions he fell asleep.
+
+He had left till to-morrow the visit he owed to John Jacks. It was
+not pleasant, the thought of calling at the house at Queen's Gate;
+Mrs. Jacks might have heard strange things about him on that mad
+evening three years ago. Yet in decency he must go; perhaps, too, in
+self-interest. And at the wonted hour he went.
+
+Fortunately; for John Jacks seemed unfeignedly glad to see him, and
+talked with him in private for half an hour after the observances of
+the drawing-room, where Mrs. Jacks had been very sweetly proper and
+properly sweet. In the library, much more at his ease, Otway told
+what he had before him, all the details of his commercial project.
+
+"It occurs to me," said John Jacks--who was looking far from well,
+and at times spoke with an effort--"that I may be able to be of
+some use in this matter. I'll think about it, and--leave me your
+address--I shall probably write to you. And now tell me all about
+your father. He is hale and hearty?"
+
+"In excellent health, I think," Piers replied cheerfully. "Dante
+suffices him still."
+
+"Odd that you should have come to-day. I don't know why, I was
+thinking of your father all last night--I don't sleep very well
+just now. I thought of the old days, a lifetime ago; and I said to
+myself that I would write him a letter. So I will, to-day. And in a
+month or two I shall see him. I'm a walking-copybook-line;
+procrastination--nothing but putting off pleasures and duties
+these last years; I don't know how it is. But certainly I will go
+over to Hawes when I'm in Yorkshire. And I'll write today, tell him
+I've seen you."
+
+Much better in spirits, Piers returned to the hotel. Yes, after all,
+he would copy out those verses of his, and send them to Miss
+Derwent. They were not bad; they came from his heart, and they might
+speak to hers. Just his name at the end; no address. If she desired
+to write to him, she could easily learn his address from Mrs.
+Hannaford. He would send them!
+
+"A telegram for you, sir," said the porter, as he entered.
+
+Wondering, he opened it.
+
+"Your father has suddenly died. Hope this will reach you in time.
+
+EMMA OTWAY."
+
+For a minute or two, the message was meaningless. He stood reading
+and re-reading the figures which indicated hour of despatch and of
+delivery. Presently he asked for a railway-guide, and with shaking
+hands, with agony of mental confusion, sought out the next train
+northwards. There was just time to catch it; not time to pack his
+bag. He rushed out to the cab.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+"The circumstances are these. On the day after I said good-bye to
+him, my father went for his usual morning walk, and was absent for
+two hours. He returned looking very pale and disturbed, and with
+some difficulty was persuaded (you know how he disliked speaking of
+himself) to tell what had happened. It seems that, somewhere on the
+lonely road, he came across two men, honest-looking country folk,
+engaged in a violent quarrel; their language made it clear that one
+accused the other of some sort of slander, a very trivial affair.
+Just as my father came up to them, they began fighting. He
+interfered, tried to separate them--as he would have done, I am
+sure, had they been armed with pistols, for the sight of fighting
+was intolerable to him, it put him beside himself with a sort of
+passionate disgust. They were great strong fellows, and one of them,
+whether intentionally or not, dealt him a fierce blow on the chest,
+knocking him down. That put an end to the fight. My father had to
+sit by the roadside for a time before he could go home.
+
+"The next day he did not look well, but spent his time as usual, and
+on the morning after, he seemed to be all right again. The next day
+again he went for his walk, and did not return. When his absence
+became alarming, messengers were sent to look for him, and by one of
+these he was found lying on the moorside, dead. The postmortem
+showed that the blow he had received affected the heart, which was
+already diseased (he did not know that). Of course the man who
+struck him cannot be discovered, and I don't know that it matters.
+My father would no doubt have been glad to foresee such a death as
+this. It was sudden (for that he always hoped), and it came of a
+protest against the thing he most hated, brutal violence."
+
+So Piers Otway wrote in a letter to John Jacks. He did not add that
+his father had died intestate, but of that he was aware before any
+inquiries had been set on foot; in one of their last talks, Jerome
+had expressly told his son that he would shortly make a will, not
+having hitherto been able to decide how his possessions should be
+distributed. This intestacy meant (if Daniel Otway had spoken truth)
+that Piers would have no fruit whatever of his father's promises;
+that his recent hopes and schemes would straightway fall to the
+ground.
+
+And so it was. A telegram from Piers brought down into Yorkshire the
+solicitor who had for many years been Jerome Otway's friend and
+adviser; he answered the young man's inquiries with full and
+decisive information. Mrs. Otway already knew the fact; whence her
+habitual coldness to Piers, and the silent acerbity with which she
+behaved to him at this juncture.
+
+"Mrs. Otway," said Piers to her, on the day of the inquest, "I shall
+stay for my father's funeral, and to avoid gossip I still ask your
+hospitality. I do it with reluctance, but you will very soon see the
+last of me."
+
+"You are of course welcome to stay in the house," replied the lady.
+"There is no need to say that we shall in future be strangers, and I
+only hope that the example of this shockingly sudden death in the
+midst of----"
+
+His blood boiling, Piers left the room before the sentence was
+finished.
+
+Had he obeyed his conscience, he would have followed the coffin in
+the clothes he was wearing, for many a time he had heard his father
+speak with dislike of the black trappings which made a burial
+hideous; but enforced regard for public opinion, that which makes
+cowards of good men and hampers the world's progress, sent him to
+the outfitter's, where he was duly disguised. With the secret tears
+he shed, there mingled a bitterness at being unable to show respect
+to his father's memory in such small matters. That Jerome Otway
+should be buried as a son of the Church, to which he had never
+belonged, was a ground of indignation, but neither in this could any
+effective protest be made. Mute in his sorrow, Piers marvelled with
+a young man's freshness of feeling at the forms and insincerities
+which rule the world. He had a miserable sense of his helplessness
+amid forces which he despised.
+
+On the day of the inquest arrived Daniel Otway, Piers having
+telegraphed to the club where he had seen his brother three years
+ago. Before leaving London, Daniel had provided himself with solemn
+black, of the latest cut; Hawes people remarked him with curiosity,
+saying what a gentleman he looked, but whispering at the same time
+rumours and doubts; for the little town had long gossiped about
+Jerome, a man not much to its mind. A day later came Alexander. With
+him there had been no means of communicating, and a newspaper
+paragraph informed him of his father's death. Appearing in rough
+tweeds, with a felt hat, he inspired more curiosity than respect.
+Both brothers greeted Piers cordially; both were curt and formal
+with the widow, but, for appearances' sake, accepted a cramped
+lodging in the cottage. Piers kept very much to himself until the
+funeral was over; he was then invited by Daniel to join a conference
+in what had been his father's room. Here the man of law (Jerome's
+name for him) expounded the posture of things; with all
+professional, and some personal, tact and delicacy. Will there was
+certainly none; Daniel, in the course of things, would apply for
+letters of administration. The estate, it might be said, consisted
+of certain shares in a prosperous newspaper, an investment which
+could be easily realised, and of a small capital in consols; to the
+best of the speaker's judgment, the shares were worth about six
+thousand pounds, the consols amounted to nearly fifteen hundred.
+This capital sum, the widow and the sons would divide in legal
+proportion. Followed technicalities, with conversation. Mrs. Otway
+kept dignified silence; Piers, in the background, sat with eyes
+sunk.
+
+"I think," remarked the solicitor gravely and firmly, "that,
+assembled as we are in privacy, I am only doing my duty in making
+known that the deceased had in view (as I know from hints in his
+correspondence) to assist his youngest son substantially, as soon as
+that son appeared likely to benefit by such pecuniary aid. I think I
+am justified in saying that that time had arrived, that death
+interposed at an unfortunate moment as regards such plans. I wished
+only to put the point before you, as one within my own knowledge. Is
+there any question you would like to ask me at present, Mrs. Otway?"
+
+The widow shook her head (and her funeral trappings). Thereupon
+sounded Piers Otway's voice.
+
+"I should like to say that as I have no legal claim whatever upon my
+father's estate, I do not wish to put forward a claim of any other
+kind. Let that be understood at once."
+
+There was silence. They heard the waters of the beck rushing over
+its stony channel. For how many thousand years had the beck so
+murmured? For how many thousand would it murmur still?
+
+"As the eldest son," then observed Daniel, with his Oxford accent,
+and a sub-note of feeling, "I desire to say that my brother"--he
+generously emphasised the word--"has expressed himself very well,
+in the spirit of a gentleman. Perhaps I had better say no more at
+this moment. We shall have other opportunities of--of considering
+this point."
+
+"Decidedly," remarked Alexander, who sat with legs crossed. "We'll
+talk it over."
+
+And he nodded with a good-natured smile in Piers' direction.
+
+Later in the day--a family council having been held at which Piers
+was not present--Daniel led the young man apart.
+
+"You insist on leaving Hawes to-night? Well, perhaps it is best.
+But, my dear boy, I can't let you go without saying how deeply I
+sympathise with your position. You bear it like a man, Piers; indeed
+you do. I think I have mentioned to you before how strong I am on
+the side of morals."
+
+"If you please," Piers interrupted, with brow dark.
+
+"No, no, no!" exclaimed the other. "I was far from casting any
+reflection. _De mortuis_, you know; much more so when one speaks of
+a father. I think, by the bye, Alec ought to write something about
+him for publication; don't you? I was going to say, Piers, that, if
+I remember rightly, I am in your debt for a small sum, which you
+very generously lent me. Ah, that book! It grows and grows; I
+_can't_ get it into final form. The fact is Continental art critics
+--But I was going to say that I must really insist on being allowed
+to pay my debt--indeed I must--soon as this business is
+settled."
+
+He paused, watching Piers' face. His own had not waxed more
+spiritual of late years, nor had his demeanour become more likely to
+inspire confidence; but he was handsome, in a way, and very fluent,
+very suave.
+
+"Be it so," replied Piers frankly; "I shall be glad of the money, I
+confess."
+
+"To be sure! You shall have it with the least possible delay. And,
+Piers, it has struck us, my dear fellow, that you might like to
+choose a volume or two of the good old man's library as a memento.
+We beg you will do so. We beg you will do it at once, before you
+leave."
+
+"Thank you. I should like the Dante he used to carry in his pocket."
+
+"A most natural wish, Piers. Take it by all means. Nothing else, you
+think?"
+
+"Yes. You once told me that you had seen a portrait of my mother. Do
+you think it still exists?"
+
+"I will inquire about it," answered Daniel gravely. "It was a framed
+photograph, and at one time--many years ago--used to stand on
+his writing-table. I will inquire, my dear boy."
+
+Next, Alexander sought a private colloquy with his disinherited
+brother.
+
+"Look here, Piers," he began bluffly, "it's a cursed shame! I'm
+hanged if it isn't! If we weren't so solemn, my boy, I should quote
+Bumble about the law. Of course it's the grossest absurdity, and as
+far as I'm concerned----. By Jove, Piers!" he cried, with sudden
+change of subject, "if you knew the hard times Biddy and I have been
+going through! Eh, but she's a brick, is Biddy; she sent you her
+love, old boy, and that's worth something, I can tell you. But I was
+going to say that you mustn't suppose I've forgotten about the debt.
+You shall be repaid as soon as ever we realise this property; you
+shall, Piers! And, what's more, you shall be repaid with interest;
+yes, three per cent. It would be cursed meanness if I didn't."
+
+"The fifty pounds I shall be glad of," said Piers. "I want no
+interest. I'm not a money-lender."
+
+"We won't quarrel about that," rejoined Alexander, with a merry
+look. "But come now, why don't you let a fellow hear from you now
+and then? What are you doing? Going back among the Muscovites?"
+
+"Straight back to Odessa, yes."
+
+"I may look you up there some day, if Biddy can spare me for a few
+weeks. A glimpse of the bear--it might be useful to me. Terrible
+savages I suppose?"
+
+Piers laughed impatiently, and gave no other answer.
+
+"Well, the one thing I really wanted to say, Piers--you _must_ let
+me say it--I, for one, shall take a strong stand about your moral
+rights in this business here, Of course your claim is every bit as
+good as ours; only a dunder-headed jackass would see it in any other
+way. Daniel quite agrees with me. The difficulty will be that woman.
+A terrible woman! She regards you as sealed for perdition by the
+mere fact of your birth. But you will hear from us, old boy, be sure
+of that. Give me your Muscovite address."
+
+Piers carelessly gave it. He was paying hardly any attention to his
+brother's talk, and would have felt it waste of energy to reassert
+what he had said in the formal conclave. Weariness had come upon him
+after these days of grief and indignant tumult; he wanted to be
+alone.
+
+The portrait for which he had asked was very quickly found. It lay
+in a drawer, locked away among other mementoes of the past. With a
+shock of disappointment, Piers saw that the old photograph had faded
+almost to invisibility. He just discerned the outlines of a pleasant
+face, the dim suggestion of womanly charm--all he would ever see
+of the mother who bore him.
+
+"It seems to me," said Daniel, after sympathising with his chagrin,
+"that there must be a lot of papers, literary work, letters, and
+that kind of thing, which will have more interest for you than for
+anyone else. When we get things looked through, shall I send you
+whatever I think you would care for?"
+
+With gratitude Piers accepted what he could not have brought himself
+to ask for.
+
+On the southward journey he kept taking from his pocket two letters
+which had reached him at Hawes. One was from John Jacks, full of the
+kindliest condolence; a manly letter which it did him good to read.
+The other came from Mrs. Hannaford, womanly, sincere; it contained a
+passage to which Piers returned again and again. "My niece is really
+grieved to hear of your sudden loss; happening at a moment when all
+seemed to be going well with you. She begs me to assure you of her
+very true sympathy, and sends every good wish." Little enough, this,
+but the recipient tried to make much of it. He had faintly hoped
+that Irene might send him a line in her own hand. That was denied,
+and perhaps he was foolish even to have dreamt of it.
+
+He could not address his verses to her, now. He must hurry away from
+England, and try to forget her.
+
+Of course she would bear, one way or another, about the
+circumstances of his birth. It would come out that he had no share
+in the property left by his father, and the reason be made known. He
+hoped that she might also learn that death had prevented his
+father's plan for benefiting him. He hoped it; for in that ease she
+might feel compassion. Yet in the same moment he felt that this was
+a delusive solace. Pity for a man because he had lost money does not
+incline to warmer emotion. The hope was sheer feebleness of spirit.
+He spurned it; he desired no one's compassion.
+
+How would Irene regard the fact of his illegitimacy? Not, assuredly,
+from Mrs. Otway's point of view; she was a century ahead of that.
+Possibly she was capable of dismissing it as indifferent. But he
+could not be certain of her freedom from social prejudice. He
+remembered the singular shock with which he himself had first learnt
+what he was a state of mind quite irrational, but only to be
+dismissed with an effort of the trained intelligence. Irene would
+undergo the same experience, and it might affect her thought of him
+for ever.
+
+Not for one instant did he visit these troubles upon the dead man.
+His loyalty to his father was absolute; no thought, or half-thought,
+looked towards accusation.
+
+He arrived at his hotel in London late at night, drank a glass of
+spirits and went to bed. The sleep he hoped for came immediately,
+but lasted only a couple of hours. Suddenly he was wide awake, and a
+horror of great darkness enveloped him. What he now suffered he had
+known before, but with less intensity. He stared forward into the
+coming years, and saw nothing that his soul desired. A life of
+solitude, of bitter frustration. Were it Irene, were it another, the
+woman for whom he longed would never become his. He had not the
+power of inspiring love. The mere flesh would constrain him to
+marriage, a sordid union, a desecration of his ideal, his worship;
+and in the latter days he would look back upon a futile life. What
+is life without love? And to him love meant communion with the
+noblest. Nature had kindled in him this fiery ambition only for his
+woe.
+
+All the passion of the great hungry world seemed concentrated in his
+sole being. Images of maddening beauty glowed upon him out of the
+darkness, glowed and gleamed by he knew not what creative mandate;
+faces, forms, such as may visit the delirium of a supreme artist. Of
+him they knew not; they were worlds away, though his own brain
+bodied them forth. He smothered cries of agony; he flung himself
+upon his face, and lay as one dead.
+
+For the men capable of passionate love (and they are few) to miss
+love is to miss everything. Life has but the mockery of consolation
+for that one gift denied. The heart may be dulled by time; it is not
+comforted. Illusion if it be, it is that which crowns all other
+illusions whereof life is made. The man must prove it, or he is born
+in vain.
+
+At sunrise, Piers dressed himself, and made ready for his journey.
+He was worn with fever, had no more strength to hope or to desire.
+His body was a mechanism which must move and move.
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+
+In the saloon of a homeward-bound steamer, twenty-four hours from
+port, and that port Southampton, a lady sat writing letters. Her age
+was about thirty; her face was rather piquant than pretty; she had
+the air of a person far too intelligent and spirited to be involved
+in any life of mere routine, on whatever plane. Two letters she had
+written in French, one in German, and that upon which she was now
+engaged was in English, her native tongue; it began "Dearest
+Mother."
+
+"All's well. A pleasant and a quick voyage. The one incident of it
+which you will care to hear about is that I have made friends--a
+real friendship, I think--with a delightful girl, of
+respectability which will satisfy even you. Judge for yourself; she
+is the daughter of Dr. Derwent, a distinguished scientific man, who
+has been having a glimpse of Colonial life. When we were a day or
+two out I found that Miss Derwent was the object of special
+interest; she and her father had been the guests of no less a
+personage than Trafford Romaine, and it was reported that the great
+man had offered her marriage! Who started the rumour I don't know,
+but it is quite true that Romaine _did_ propose to her--and was
+refused! I am assured of it by a friend of theirs on board, Mr.
+Arnold Jacks, an intimate friend of Romaine; but he declared that he
+did not start the story, and was surprised to find it known. Miss
+Derwent herself? No, my dear cynical mamma! She isn't that sort. She
+likes me as much as I like her, I think, but in all our talk not a
+word from her about the great topic of curiosity. It is just
+possible, I fear, that she means to marry Mr. Arnold Jacks, who, by
+the bye, is a son of a Member of Parliament, and rather an
+interesting man, but, I am quite sure, not the man for _her_. If she
+will come down into Hampshire with me may I bring her? It would so
+rejoice your dear soul to be assured that I have made such a friend,
+after what you are pleased to call my riff-raff foreign intimacies."
+
+A few words more of affectionate banter, and she signed herself
+"Helen M. Borisoff."
+
+As she was addressing the envelope, the sound of a book thrown on to
+the table just in front of her caused her to look up, and she saw
+Irene Derwent.
+
+"What's the matter? Why are you damaging the ship's literature?" she
+asked gaily.
+
+"No, I can't stand that!" exclaimed Irene. "It's too imbecile. It
+really is what our slangy friend calls 'rot,' and very dry rot. Have
+you read the thing?"
+
+Mrs. Borisoff looked at the title, and answered with a headshake.
+
+"Imagine! An awful apparatus of mystery; blood-curdling hints about
+the hero, whose prospects in life are supposed to be utterly
+blighted. And all because--what do you think? Because his father
+and mother forgot the marriage ceremony."
+
+The other was amused, and at the same time surprised. It was the
+first time that Miss Derwent, in their talk, had allowed herself a
+remark suggestive of what is called "emancipation." She would talk
+with freedom of almost any subject save that specifically forbidden
+to English girls. Helen Borisoff, whose finger showed a wedding
+ring, had respected this reticence, but it delighted her to see a
+new side of her friend's attractive personality.
+
+"I suppose in certain circles"--she began.
+
+"Oh yes! Shopkeepers and clerks and so on. But the book is supposed
+to deal with civilised people. It really made me angry!"
+
+Mrs. Borisoff regarded her with amused curiosity. Their eyes met.
+Irene nodded.
+
+"Yes," she continued, as if answering a question, "I know someone in
+just that position. And all at once it struck me--I had hardly
+thought of it before--what an idiot I should be if I let it affect
+my feelings or behaviour!"
+
+"I think no one would have suspected you of such narrowness."
+
+"Indeed I hope not!--Have you done your letters? Do come up and
+watch Mrs. Smithson playing at quoits--a sight to rout the brood
+of cares!"
+
+In the smoking-room on deck sat Dr. Derwent and Arnold Jacks,
+conversing gravely, with subdued voices. The Doctor had a smile on
+his meditative features; his eyes were cast down he looked a trifle
+embarrassed.
+
+"Forgive me," Arnold was saying, with some earnestness, "if this
+course seems to you rather irregular."
+
+"Not at all! Not at all! But I can only assure you of my honest
+inability to answer the question. Try, my dear fellow! _Solvitur
+quaerendo_!"
+
+Jacks' behaviour did, in fact, appear to the Doctor a little odd.
+That the young man should hint at his desire to ask Miss Derwent to
+marry him, or perhaps ask the parental approval of such a step, was
+natural enough; the event had been looming since the beginning of
+the voyage home. But to go beyond this, to ask the girl's father
+whether he thought success likely, whether he could hold out hopes,
+was scarcely permissible. It seemed a curious failure of tact in
+such a man as Arnold Jacks.
+
+The fact was that Arnold for the first time in his life, had turned
+coward. Having drifted into a situation which he had always regarded
+as undesirable, and had felt strong enough to avoid, he lost his
+head, and clutched rather wildly at the first support within reach.
+That Irene Derwent should become his wife was not a vital matter; he
+could contemplate quite coolly the possibility of marrying some one
+else, or, if it came to that, of not marrying anyone at all. What
+shook his nerves was the question whether Irene would be sure to
+accept him.
+
+Six months ago, he had no doubt of it. He viewed Miss Derwent with
+an eye accustomed to scrutinise, to calculate (in things Imperial
+and other), and it amused him to reflect that she might be numbered
+among, say, half a dozen eligible women who would think it an honour
+to marry him. This was his way of viewing marriage; it was on the
+woman's side a point of ambition, a gratification of vanity; on the
+man a dignified condescension. Arnold conceived himself a brilliant
+match for any girl below the titled aristocracy; he had grown so
+accustomed to magnify his place, to regard himself as one of the
+pillars of the Empire, that he attributed the same estimate to all
+who knew him. Of personal vanity he had little; purely personal
+characteristics did not enter, he imagined, into a man's prospects
+of matrimony. Certain women openly flattered him, and these he
+despised. His sense of fitness demanded a woman intelligent enough
+to appreciate what he had to offer, and sufficiently well-bred to
+conceal her emotions when he approached her. These conditions Miss
+Derwent fulfilled. Personally she would do him credit (a wife, of
+course, must he presentable, though in the husband appearance did
+not matter), and her obvious social qualities would be useful. Yet
+he had had no serious thought of proposing to her. For one thing,
+she was not rich enough.
+
+The change began when he observed the impression made by her upon
+Trafford Romaine. This was startling. Romaine, the administrator of
+world-wide repute, the man who had but to choose among Great
+Britain's brilliant daughters (or so his worshippers believed), no
+sooner looked upon Irene Derwent than he betrayed his subjugation.
+No woman had ever received such honour from him, such homage public
+and private. Arnold Jacks was pricked with uneasiness; Irene had at
+once a new value in his eyes, and he feared he had foolishly
+neglected his opportunities. If she married Romaine, it would be
+mortifying. She refused the great man's offer, and Arnold was at
+first astonished, then gratified. For such refusal there could be
+only one ground: Miss Derwent's "heart" was already disposed of.
+Women have "hearts"; they really do grow fond of the men they
+admire; a singular provision of nature.
+
+He would propose during the voyage.
+
+But the voyage was nearly over; he might have put his formal little
+question fifty times; it was still to be asked--and he felt
+afraid. Afraid more than ever, now that he had committed himself
+with Dr. Derwent. The Doctor had received his confession so calmly,
+whereas Arnold hoped for some degree of effusiveness. Was he--
+hideous doubt--preparing himself for an even worse disillusion?
+
+Undoubtedly the people on board had remarked his attentions; for all
+he knew, jokes were being passed, nay, bets being made. It was a
+serious thing to proclaim oneself the wooer of a young lady who had
+refused Trafford Romaine; who was known to have done so, and talked
+about with envy, admiration, curiosity. You either carried her off,
+or you made yourself fatally. ridiculous. Half a dozen of the
+passengers would spread this gossip far and wide through England.
+There was that problematic Mrs. Borisoff, a frisky grass widow, who
+seemed to know crowds of distinguished people, and who was watching
+him day by day with her confounded smile! Who could say what passed
+between her and Irene, intimates as they had become? Did they make
+fun of him? Did they _dare_ to?
+
+Arnold Jacks differed widely from the common type of fatuous young
+man. He was himself a merciless critic of fatuity; he had a faculty
+of shrewd observation, plenty of caustic common sense. Yet the
+position into which he had drifted threatened him with ridiculous
+extremes of self-consciousness. Even in his personal carriage, he
+was not quite safe against ridicule; and he felt it. This must come
+to an end.
+
+He sought his moment, and found it at the hour of dusk. The sun had
+gone down gloriously upon a calm sea; the sky was overspread with
+clouds still flushed, and the pleasant coolness of the air foretold
+to-morrow's breeze on the English Channel. With pretence of watching
+a steamer that had passed, Arnold drew Miss Derwent to a part of the
+deck where they would be alone.
+
+"You will feel," he said abruptly, "that you know England better now
+that you have seen something of the England beyond seas."
+
+"I had imagined it pretty well," replied Irene.
+
+"Yes, one does."
+
+Under common circumstances, Arnold would have scornfully denied the
+possibility of such imagination. He felt most unpleasantly tame.
+
+"You wouldn't care to make your home out yonder?"
+
+"Heaven forbid!"
+
+This was better. It sounded like emphatic rejection of Trafford
+Romaine, and probably was meant to sound so.
+
+"I myself," he pursued absently, "shall always live in England. If I
+know myself, I can be of most service at the centre of things.
+Parliament, when the moment arrives----"
+
+"The moment when you can be most mischievous?" said Irene, with a
+glance at him.
+
+"That's how you put it. Yes, most mischievous. The sphere for
+mischief is growing magnificent."
+
+He talked, without strict command of his tongue, just to gain time;
+spoke of expanding Britain, and so on, a dribble of commonplaces.
+Irene moved as if to rejoin her company.
+
+"Don't go just yet--I want you--now and always."
+
+Sheer nervousness gave his voice a tremor as if of deep emotion.
+These simple words, which had burst from him desperately, were the
+best he could have uttered--Irene stood with her eyes on the
+darkening horizon.
+
+"We know each other pretty well," he continued, "and the better we
+know each other, the more we find to talk about. It's a very good
+sign--don't you think? I can't see how I'm to get along without
+you, after this journey. I don't like to think of it, and I _won't_
+think of it I Say there's no need to."
+
+Her silence, her still attitude, had restored his courage. He spoke
+at length like himself, with quiet assurance, with sincerity; and
+again it was the best thing he could have done.
+
+"I am not quite sure, Mr. Jacks, that I think about it in the same
+way."
+
+Her voice was subdued to a very pleasant note, but it did not
+tremble.
+
+"I can allow for that uncertainty--though I have nothing of it
+myself. We shall both be in London for a month or so. Let me see you
+as often as I can, and, before you leave town, let me ask whether
+the doubt has been overcome."
+
+"I hold myself free," said Irene impulsively.
+
+"Naturally."
+
+"I do you no wrong if it seems to me impossible."
+
+"None whatever."
+
+His eyes were fixed on her face, dimly beautiful in the fading
+shimmer from sea and sky. Irene met his glance for an instant, and
+moved away, he following.
+
+Arnold Jacks had never known a mood so jubilant. He was saved from
+the terror of humiliation. He had comported himself as behoved him,
+and the result was sure and certain hope. He felt almost grateful,
+almost tender, towards the woman of his choice.
+
+But Irene as she lay in her berth, strangely wakeful to the wash of
+the sea as the breeze freshened, was frightened at the thought of
+what she had done. Had she not, in the common way of maidenhood, as
+good as accepted Arnold Jacks' proposal? She did not mean it so; she
+spoke simply and directly in saying that she was not clear about her
+own mind; on any other subject she would in fact, or in phrase, have
+reserved her independence. But an offer of marriage was a thing
+apart, full of subtle implications, needing to be dealt with
+according to special rules of conscience and of tact. Some five or
+six she had received, and in each case had replied decisively, her
+mind admitting no doubt. As when to her astonishment, she heard the
+frank and large confession of Trafford Romaine; the answer was an
+inevitable--No! To Arnold Jacks she could not reply thus promptly.
+Relying on the easy terms of their intercourse, she told him the
+truth; and now she saw that no form of answer could be less
+discreet.
+
+For about a year she had thought of Arnold as one who _might_ offer
+her marriage; any girl in her position would have foreseen that
+possibility. After every opportunity which he allowed to pass, she
+felt relieved, for she had no reply in readiness. The thought of
+accepting him was not at all disagreeable; it had even its
+allurements; but between the speculation and the thing itself was a
+great gap for the leaping of mind and heart. Her relations with him
+were very pleasant, and she would have been glad if nothing had ever
+happened to disturb them.
+
+When her father suggested this long journey in Arnold's company, she
+hesitated. In deciding to go, she said to herself that if nothing
+resulted, well and good; if something did, well and good also. She
+would get to know Arnold better, and on that increase of
+acquaintance must depend the outcome, as far as she was concerned.
+She was helped in making up her mind by a little thing that
+happened. There came to her one day a letter from Odessa; on opening
+it, she found only a copy of verses, with the signature "P.O." A
+love poem; not addressed to her, but about her; a pretty poem, she
+thought, delicately felt and gracefully worded. It surprised her,
+but only for a moment; thinking, she accepted it as something
+natural, and was touched by the tribute. She put it carefully away
+--knowing it by heart.
+
+Impertinence! Surely not. Long ago she had reproached herself with
+her half-coquetry to Piers Otway, an error of exuberant spirits when
+she was still very young. There was no obscuring the fact;
+deliberately she had set herself to draw him away from his studies;
+she had made it a point of pride to show herself irresistible. Where
+others failed in their attack upon his austere seclusion, _she_
+would succeed, and easily. She had succeeded only too well, and it
+never quite ceased to trouble her conscience. Now, learning that
+even after four years her victim still remained loyal, she thought
+of him with much gentleness, and would have scorned herself had she
+felt scorn of his devotion.
+
+No other of her wooers had ever written her a poem; no other was
+capable of it. It gave Piers a distinction in her mind which more
+than earned her pardon.
+
+But--poor fellow!--he must surely know that she could never
+respond to his romantic feeling. It was pure romance, and charming
+--if only it did not mean sorrow to him and idle hopes. Such a love
+as this, distant, respectful, she would have liked to keep for
+years, for a lifetime. If only she could be sure that romance was as
+dreamily delightful to her poet as to her!
+
+The worst of it was that Piers Otway had suffered a sad wrong, an
+injustice which, when she heard of it, made her nobly angry. A month
+after the death of the old philosopher at Hawes, Mrs. Hannaford
+startled her with a strange story. The form it took was this: That
+Piers, having for a whispered reason no share in his father's
+possessions, had perforce given up his hopes of commercial
+enterprise, and returned to his old subordinate position at Odessa.
+The two legitimate sons would gladly have divided with him their
+lawful due, but Piers refused this generosity, would not hear of it
+for a moment, stood on his pride, and departed. Thus Mrs. Hannaford,
+who fully believed what she said; and as she had her information
+direct from the eldest son, Daniel Otway, there could be no doubt as
+to its correctness. Piers had behaved well; he could not take alms
+from his half-brothers. But what a monstrous thing that accident and
+the law of the land left him thus destitute! Feeling strongly about
+it, Irene begged her aunt, when next she wrote to Odessa, to give
+Piers, from her, a message of friendly encouragement; not, of
+course, a message that necessarily implied knowledge of his story,
+but one that would help him with the assurance of his being always
+kindly remembered by friends in London.
+
+Six months after came the little poem, which Irene, without
+purposing it, learnt by heart.
+
+A chapter of pure romance; one which, Irene felt, could not possibly
+have any relation to her normal life. And perhaps because she felt.
+that so strongly, perhaps because her conscience warned her against
+the danger of still seeming to encourage a lover she could not dream
+of marrying, perhaps because these airy nothings threw into stronger
+relief the circumstances which environed her, she forthwith made up
+her mind to go on the long journey with her father and Arnold Jacks.
+Mrs. Hannaford did not fail to acquaint Piers Otway with the
+occurrence.
+
+And those two months of companionship told in Arnold's favour. Jacks
+was excellent in travel; he had large experience, and showed to
+advantage on the highways of the globe. No more entertaining
+companion during the long days of steamship life; no safer guide in
+unfamiliar lands. His personality made a striking contrast with the
+robustious semi-civilisation of the colonists with whom Irene became
+acquainted; she appreciated all the more his many refinements.
+Moreover, the respectful reception he met with could not but impress
+her; it gave reality to what Miss Derwent sometimes laughed at, his
+claim to be a force in the great world. Then, that eternal word
+"Empire" gained somewhat of a new meaning. She joked about it,
+disliking as much as ever its baser significance but she came to
+understand better the immense power it represented. On that subject,
+her father was emphatic.
+
+"If," remarked Dr. Derwent once, "if our politics ever fall into the
+hands of a stock-jobbing democracy, we shall be the hugest force for
+evil the poor old world has ever known."
+
+"You think," said Irene, "that one can already see some danger of
+it?"
+
+"Well, I think so sometimes. But we have good men still, good men."
+
+"Do you mind telling me," Miss Derwent asked, "whether our
+fellow-traveller seems to you one of them?"
+
+"H'm! On the whole, yes. His faults are balanced, I think, by his
+aristocratic temper. He is too proud consciously to make dirty
+bargains. High-handed, of course; but that's the race--the race.
+Things being as they are, I would as soon see him in power as
+another."
+
+Irene pondered this. It pleased her.
+
+On the morning after Arnold's proposal, she knew that he and her
+father had talked. Dr. Derwent, a shy man, rather avoided her look;
+but he behaved to her with particular kindliness; as they stood
+looking towards the coast of England, he drew her hand through his
+arm, and stroked it once or twice--a thing he had not done on the
+whole journey.
+
+"The brave old island!" he was murmuring. "I should be really
+disturbed if I thought death would find me away from it. Foolish
+fancy, but it's strong in me."
+
+Irene was taciturn, and unlike herself. The approach to port enabled
+her to avoid gossips, but one person, Helen Borisoff, guessed what
+had happened; Irene's grave countenance and Arnold Jacks' meditative
+smile partly instructed her. On the railway journey to London, Jacks
+had the discretion to keep apart in a smoking-carriage. Dr. Derwent
+and his daughter exchanged but few words until they found themselves
+in Bryanston Square.
+
+During their absence abroad, Mrs. Hannaford had been keeping house
+for them. With brief intervals spent now and then in pursuit of
+health, she had made Bryanston Square her home since the change in
+her circumstances two years ago. Lee Hannaford held no communication
+with her, content to draw the modest income she put at his disposal,
+and Olga, her mother knew not why, was still unmarried, though
+declaring herself still engaged to the man Kite. She lived here and
+there in lodgings, at times seeming to maintain herself, at others
+accepting help; her existence had an air of mystery far from
+reassuring.
+
+On meeting her aunt, Irene found her looking ill and troubled. Mrs.
+Hannaford declared that she was much as usual, and evaded inquiries.
+She passed from joy at her relatives' return to a mood of silent
+depression; her eyes made one think that she must have often shed
+tears of late. In the past twelvemonth she had noticeably aged; her
+beauty was vanishing; a nervous tremor often affected her thin
+hands, and in her speech there was at times a stammering
+uncertainty, such as comes of mental distress. Dr. Derwent, seeing
+her after two months' absence, was gravely observant of these
+things.
+
+"I wish you could find out what's troubling your aunt," he said to
+Irene, next day. "Something is, and something very serious, though
+she won't admit it. I'm really uneasy about her."
+
+Irene tried to win the sufferer's confidence, but without success.
+Mrs. Hannaford became irritable, and withdrew as much as possible
+from sight.
+
+The girl had her own trouble, and it was one she must needs keep to
+herself. She shrank from the next meeting with Arnold Jacks, which
+could not long be postponed. It took place three days after her
+return, when Arnold and Mrs. Jacks dined in Bryanston Square. John
+Jacks was to have come, but excused himself on the plea of
+indisposition. As might have been expected of him, Arnold was
+absolute discretion; he looked and spoke, perhaps, a trifle more
+gaily than usual, but to Irene showed no change of demeanour, and
+conversed with her no more than was necessary. Irene felt grateful,
+and once more tried to convince herself that she had done nothing
+irreparable. In fact, as in assertion, she was free. The future
+depended entirely on her own will and pleasure. That her mind was
+ceaselessly preoccupied with Arnold could only be deemed natural,
+for she had to come to a decision within three or four weeks' time.
+But--if necessary the respite should be prolonged.
+
+Eustace Derwent dined with them, and Irene noticed--what had
+occurred to her before now--that the young man seemed to have
+particular pleasure in the society of Mrs. Jacks; he conversed with
+her more naturally, more variously, than with any other lady of his
+friends; and Mrs. Jacks, through the unimpeachable correctness of
+her exterior, almost allowed it to be suspected that she found a
+special satisfaction in listening to him. Eustace was a frequent
+guest at the Jacks'; yet there could hardly be much in common
+between him and the lady's elderly husband, nor was he on terms of
+much intimacy with Arnold. Of course two such excellent persons,
+such models of decorum, such examples of the English ideal,
+masculine and feminine, would naturally see in each other the most
+desirable of acquaintances; it was an instance of social and
+personal fitness, which the propriety of our national manners
+renders as harmless as it is delightful. They talked of art, of
+literature, discovering an entire unanimity in their preferences,
+which made for the safely conventional. They chatted of common
+acquaintances, agreeing that the people they liked were undoubtedly
+the very nicest people in their circle, and avoiding in the suavest
+manner any severity regarding those they could not approve. When
+Eustace apologised for touching on a professional subject (he had
+just been called to the Bar), Mrs. Jacks declared that nothing could
+interest her more. If he ventured a jest, she smiled with surpassing
+sweetness, and was all but moved to laugh. They, at all events,
+spent a most agreeable evening.
+
+Not so Mrs. Hannaford, who, just before dinner, had received a
+letter, which at once she destroyed. The missive ran thus:
+
+"DEAR MRS. HANNAFORD--I am distressed to hear that you suffer so
+in health. Consult your brother; you will find that the only thing
+to do you good will be a complete change of climate and of habits.
+You know how often I have urged this; if you had listened to me, you
+would by now have been both healthy and happy--yes, happy. Is it
+too late? Don't you value your life? And don't you care at all for
+the happiness of mine? Meet me to-morrow, I beg, at the Museum,
+about eleven o'clock, and let us talk it all over once more. Do be
+sensible; don't wreck your life out of respect for social
+superstitions. The thing once over, who thinks the worse of you? Not
+a living creature for whom you need care. You have suffered for
+years; put an end to it; the remedy is in your hands. Ever yours,
+
+D.O."
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+
+A few days after her return, Irene left home in the morning to make
+an unceremonious call. She was driven to Great Portland Street and
+alighted before a shop, which bore the number of the house she
+sought. Having found the private entrance--a door that stood wide
+open--and after ringing once or twice without drawing anyone's
+attention, she began to ascend the uncarpeted stairs. At that moment
+there came down a young woman humming an air; a cheery-faced,
+solidly-built damsel, dressed with attention to broad effect in
+colours which were then--or recently had been--known as
+"aesthetic." With some diffidence, for the encounter was not of a
+kind common in her experience, Irene asked this person for a
+direction to the rooms occupied by Miss Hannaford.
+
+"Oh, she's my chum," was the genial reply. "Top floor, front. You'll
+find her there."
+
+With thanks the visitor passed on, but had not climbed half a dozen
+steps when the clear-sounding voice caused her to stop.
+
+"Beg your pardon and all that kind of thing, but would you mind
+telling her that Tomkins is huffy? I forgot to mention it before I
+came out. Thanks, awfully."
+
+Puzzled, if not disconcerted, Miss Derwent reached the top floor and
+knocked. A voice she recognised bade her enter. She found herself in
+a bare-floored room, furnished with a table, a chair or two, and a
+divan, on the walls a strange exhibition of designs in glaring
+colours which seemed to be studies for street posters. At the table,
+bending over a drawing-board, sat Olga Hannaford, her careless
+costume and the disorder of her hair suggesting that she had only
+just got up. She recognised her visitor with some embarrassment.
+
+"Irene--I am so glad--I really am ashamed--we keep such hours
+here--please don't mind!"
+
+"Not I, indeed! What is there to mind? I spoke to someone downstairs
+who gave me a message for you. I was to say that Tomkins was huffy.
+Do you understand?"
+
+Olga bit her lip in vexation, and to restrain a laugh.
+
+"No, that's too bad! But just like her. That was the girl I live
+with--Miss Bonnicastle. She's very nice really--not a bit of
+harm in her; but she will play these silly practical jokes."
+
+"Ah, it was a joke?" said Irene, not altogether pleased with Miss
+Bonnicastle's facetiousness. But the next moment, good humour coming
+to her help, she broke into merriment.
+
+"That's what she does," said Olga, pointing to the walls. "She's
+awfully clever really, and she'll make a great success with that
+sort of thing before long, I'm sure. Look at that advertisement of
+Honey's Castor Oil. Isn't the child's face splendid?"
+
+"Very clever indeed," assented Irene, and laughed again, her cousin
+joining in her mirth. Five minutes ago she had felt anything but
+hilarious; the impulse to gaiety came she knew not how, and she
+indulged it with a sense of relief.
+
+"Are you doing the same sort of thing, Olga?"
+
+"Wish I could. I've a little work for a new fashion paper; have to
+fill in the heads and arms, and so on. It isn't high art, you know,
+but they pay me."
+
+"Why in the world do you do it? _Why_ do you live in a place like
+this?"
+
+"Oh, I like the life; on the whole. It's freedom; no society
+nonsense--I beg your pardon, Irene----"
+
+"Please don't. I hope I'm not much in the way of society nonsense.
+Sit down; I want to talk. When did you see your mother?"
+
+"Not for a long time," answered Olga, her countenance falling. "I
+sent her the new address when I came here, but she hasn't been yet."
+
+"Why don't you go to her?"
+
+"No! I've broken with that world. I can't make calls in Bryanston
+Square--or anywhere else. That's all over."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"It isn't nonsense!" exclaimed Olga, flushing angrily. "Why do you
+come to interfere with me? What right have you, Irene? I'm old
+enough to live as I please. I don't come to criticise your life!"
+
+Irene was startled into silence for a moment. She met her cousin's
+look, and so gravely, so kindly, that Olga turned away in shame.
+
+"You and I used to be friends, and to have confidence in each
+other," resumed Irene. "Why can't that come over again? Couldn't you
+tell me what it all means, dear?"
+
+The other shook her head, keeping her eyes averted.
+
+"My first reason for coming," Irene pursued, "was to talk to you
+about your mother. Do you know that she is very far from well? My
+father speaks very seriously of her state of health. Something is
+weighing on her mind, as anyone can see, and we think it can only be
+_you_--your strange life, and your neglect of her."
+
+Olga shook her head.
+
+"You're mistaken, I know you are."
+
+"You know? Then can you tell us how to be of use to her? To speak
+plainly, my father fears the worst, if something isn't done."
+
+With elbow on knee, and chin in hand, Olga sat brooding. She had a
+dishevelled, wild appearance; her cheeks were hollow, her eyes and
+lips expressed a reckless mood.
+
+"It is not on my account," she let fall, abstractedly.
+
+"Can you help her, Olga?"
+
+"No one can help her," was the reply in the same dreamy tone.
+
+Then followed a long silence. Irene gazed at one of the flaring
+grotesques on the wall, but did not see it.
+
+"May I ask you a question about your own affairs?" she said at
+length, very gently. "It isn't for curiosity. I have a deeper
+interest."
+
+"Of course you may ask Irene. I'm behaving badly to you, but I don't
+mean it. I'm miserable--that's what it comes to."
+
+"I can see that, dear. Am I right in thinking that your engagement
+has been broken off?"
+
+"I'll tell you; you shall know the whole truth. It isn't broken; yet
+I'm sure it'll never come to anything. I don't think I want it to.
+He behaves so strangely. You know we were to have been married after
+the twelvemonth, with mother's consent. When the time drew near, I
+saw he didn't wish it. He said that after all he was afraid it would
+be a miserable marriage for me. The trouble is, he has no character,
+no will. He cares for me a great deal; and that's just why he won't
+marry me. He'll never do anything--in art, I mean. We should have
+to live on mother's money, and he doesn't like that. If we had been
+married straight away, as I wanted, two years ago, it would have
+been all right. It's too late now."
+
+"And this, you feel, is ruining your life?"
+
+"I'm troubled about it, but more on his account than mine. I'll tell
+you, Irene, I want to break off, for good and all, and I'm afraid.
+It's a hard thing to do."
+
+"Now I understand you. Do you think"--Irene added in another tone
+--"that it's well to be what they call in love with the man one
+marries?"
+
+"Think? Of course I do!"
+
+"Many people doubt it. We are told that French marriages are often
+happier than English, because they are arranged with a practical
+view, by experienced people."
+
+"It depends," replied Olga, with a half-disdainful smile, "what one
+calls happiness. I, for one, don't want a respectable, plodding,
+money-saving married life. I'm not fit for it. Of course some people
+are."
+
+"Then, you could never bring yourself to marry a man you merely
+liked--in a friendly way?"
+
+"I think it horrible, hideous!" was the excited reply. "And yet"--
+her voice dropped--"it may not be so for some women. I judge only
+by myself."
+
+"I suspect, Olga, that some people are never in love--never could
+be in that state."
+
+"I daresay, poor things!"
+
+Irene, though much in earnest, was moved to laugh.
+
+"After all, you know," she said, "they have less worry."
+
+"Of course they have, and live more useful lives, if it comes to
+that."
+
+"A useful life isn't to be despised, you know."
+
+Olga looked at her cousin; so fixedly that Irene had to turn away,
+and in a moment spoke as though changing the subject.
+
+"Have you heard that Mr. Otway is coming to England again?"
+
+"What!" cried Olga with sudden astonishment. "You are thinking of
+_him_--of Piers Otway?"
+
+Irene became the colour of the rose; her eyes flashed with
+annoyance.
+
+"How extraordinary you are, Olga! As if one couldn't mention anyone
+without that sort of meaning! I spoke of Mr. Otway by pure accident.
+He had nothing whatever to do with what I was saying before."
+
+Olga sank into dulness again, murmuring, "I beg your pardon." When a
+minute had elapsed in silence, she added, without looking up, "He
+was dreadfully in love with you. poor fellow. I suppose he has got
+over it."
+
+An uncertain movement, a wandering look, and Miss Derwent rose. She
+stood before one of the rough-washed posters, seeming to admire it;
+Olga eyed her askance, with curiosity.
+
+"I know only one thing," Irene exclaimed abruptly, without turning.
+"It's better not to think too much about all that."
+
+"How _can_ one think too much of it?" said the other.
+
+"Very easily, I'm afraid," rejoined the other, her eyes still on the
+picture.
+
+"It's the only thing in life _worth_ thinking about!"
+
+"You astonish me. We'll agree to differ--Olga dear, come and see
+us in the old way. Come and dine this evening; we shall be alone."
+
+But the unkempt girl was not to be persuaded, and Irene presently
+took her leave. The conversation had perturbed her; she went away in
+a very unwonted frame of mind, beset with troublesome fancies and
+misgivings. Olga's state seemed to her thoroughly unwholesome, to be
+regarded as a warning; it was evidently contagious; it affected the
+imagination with morbid allurement. Morbid, surely; Irene would not
+see it in any other light. She felt the need of protecting herself
+against thoughts which had never until now given her a moment's
+uneasiness. Happily she was going to lunch with her friend Mrs.
+Borisoff, anything but a sentimental person. She began to discern a
+possibility of taking Helen Borisoff into her confidence. With
+someone she _must_ talk freely; Olga would only harm her; in Helen
+she might find the tonic of sound sense which her mood demanded.
+
+Olga Hannaford, meanwhile, finished her toilet, and, having had no
+breakfast, went out a little after midday to the restaurant in
+Oxford Street where she often lunched. Her walking-dress showed
+something of the influence of Miss Bonnicastle; it was more
+picturesque, more likely to draw the eye, than her costume of former
+days. She walked, too, with an air of liberty which marked her
+spiritual progress. Women glanced at her and looked away with a toss
+of the head--or its more polite equivalent. Men observed her with
+a smile of interest; "A fine girl," was their comment, or something
+to that effect.
+
+Strolling westward after her meal, intending to make a circuit by
+way of Edgware Road, she was near the Marble Arch when a man who had
+caught sight of her from the top of an omnibus alighted and hastened
+in her direction. At the sound of his voice, Olga paused, smiling,
+and gave him her hand with friendliness. He was an Italian, his name
+Florio; they had met several times at a house which she visited with
+Miss Bonnicastle. Mr. Florio had a noticeable visage, very dark of
+tone, eyes which at one time seemed to glow with noble emotion, and
+at another betrayed excessive shrewdness; heavy eyebrows and long
+black lashes; a nose of classical Perfection; large mouth with thick
+and very red lips. He was dressed in approved English fashion, as a
+man of leisure, wore a massive watchguard across his buff summer
+waistcoat, and carried a silver-headed cane.
+
+"You are taking a little walk," he said, with a very slight foreign
+accent. "If you will let me walk with you a little way I shall be
+honoured. The Park? A delightful day for the Park! Let us walk over
+the grass, as we may do in this free country. I have something to
+tell you, Miss Hannaiord."
+
+"That's nice of you, Mr. Florio. So few people tell one anything one
+doesn't know; but yours is sure to be real news."
+
+"It is--I assure you it is. But, first of all, I was thinking on
+the 'bus--I often ride on the 'bus, it gives one ideas--I was
+thinking what a pity they do not use the back of the 'bus driver to
+display advertisements. It is a loss of space. Those men are so
+beautifully broad, and one looks at their backs, and there is
+nothing, nothing to see but an ugly coat. I shall mention my little
+scheme to a friend of mine, a very practical man."
+
+Olga laughed merrily.
+
+"Oh, you are too clever, Mr. Florio!"
+
+"Oh, I have my little ideas. Do you know, I've just come back from
+Italy."
+
+"I envy you--I mean, I envy you for having been there."
+
+"Ah, that is your mistake, dear Miss Hannaford! That is the mistake
+of the romantic English young lady. Italy? Yes, there is a blue sky
+--not always. Yes, there are ruins that interest, if one is
+educated. And, there is misery, misery! Italy is a poor country,
+poor, poor, poor, poor." He intoned the words as if speaking his own
+language. "And poverty is the worst thing in the world. You make an
+illusion for yourself, Miss Hannaford. For a holiday when one's
+rich, yes, Italy is not bad--though there is fever, and there are
+thieves--oh, thieves! Of course The man who is poor will steal--
+_ecco_! It amuses me, when the English talk of Italy."
+
+"But you are proud of--of your memories?"
+
+"Memories!" Mr. Florio laughed a whole melody. "One is not proud of
+former riches when one has become a beggar. It is you, the English,
+who can be proud of the past, because you can be proud of the
+present. You have grown free, free, free! Rich, rich, rich, ah!"
+
+Olga laughed.
+
+"I am sorry to say that I have not grown rich."
+
+He bent his gaze upon her, and it glowed with tender amorousness.
+
+"You remind me--I have something to tell you. In Italy, not
+everybody is quite poor. For example, my grandfather, at Bologna. I
+have made a visit to my grandfather. He likes me; he admires me
+because I have intelligence. He will not live very long, that poor
+grandfather."
+
+Olga glanced at him, and met the queer calculating melancholy of his
+fine eyes.
+
+"Miss Hannaford, if some day I am rich, I shall of course live in
+England. In what other country can one live? I shall have a house in
+the West End; I shall have a carriage; I shall nationalise--you
+say naturalise?--myself, and be an Englishman, not a beggarly
+Italian. And that will not be long. The poor old grandfather is
+weak, weak; he decays, he loses his mind; but he has made his
+testament, oh yes!"
+
+The girl's look wandered about the grassy space, she was uneasy.
+
+"Shall we turn and walk back, Mr. Florio?"
+
+"If you wish, but slowly, slowly. I am so happy to have met you.
+Your company is a delight to me, Miss Hannaford. Can we not meet
+more often?"
+
+"I am always glad to see you," she answered nervously.
+
+"Good!--A thought occurs to me." He pointed to the iron fence they
+were approaching. "Is not that a waste? Why does not the public
+authority--what do you call it?--make money of these railings?
+Imagine! One attaches advertisements to the rail, metal plates, of
+course artistically designed, not to spoil the Park. They might
+swing in the wind as it blows, and perhaps little bells might ring,
+to attract attention. A good idea, is it not?"
+
+"A splendid idea," Olga answered, with a laugh.
+
+"Ah! England is a great country! But, Miss Hannaford, there is one
+thing in which the Italian is not inferior to the Englishman. May I
+say what that is?"
+
+"There are many things, I am sure----"
+
+"But there is one thing--that is Love!"
+
+Olga walked on, head bent, and Florio enveloped her in his gaze.
+
+"To-day I say no more, Miss Hannaford. I had something to tell you,
+and I have told it. When I have something more to tell we shall meet
+--oh, I am sure we shall meet."
+
+"You are staying in England for some time?" said Olga, as if in
+ordinary conversation.
+
+"For a little time; I come, I go. I have, you know, my affairs, my
+business. How is your friend, the admirable artist, the charming
+Miss Bonnicastle?"
+
+"Oh, very well, always well."
+
+"Yes, the English ladies they have wonderful health--I admire
+them; but there is one I admire most of all."
+
+A few remarks more, of like tenor, and they drew near again to the
+Marble Arch. With bows and compliments and significant looks, Mr.
+Florio walked briskly away in search of an omnibus.
+
+Olga, her eyes cast down as she turned homeward, was not aware that
+someone who had held her in sight for a long time grew gradually
+near, until he stepped to her side. It was Mr. Kite. He looked at
+her with a melancholy smile on his long, lank face, and, when at
+length the girl saw him, took off his shabby hat respectfully. Olga
+nodded and walked on without speaking. Kite accompanying her.
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+
+Olga was the first to break silence.
+
+"You ought to take your boots to be mended," she said gently. "If it
+rains, you'll get wet feet, and you know what that means."
+
+"You're very kind to think of it; I will."
+
+"You can pay for them, I hope?"
+
+"Pay? Oh, yes, yes! a trifle such as that--Have you had a long
+walk?"
+
+"I met a friend. I may as well tell you; it was the Italian, Mr.
+Florio."
+
+"I saw you together," said Kite absently, but not resentfully. "I
+half thought of coming up to be introduced to him. But I'm rather
+shabby, I feared you mightn't like it."
+
+"It wouldn't have mattered a bit, so far as I'm concerned," replied
+Olga good-naturedly. "But he isn't the kind of man you'd care for.
+If he had been, I should have got you to meet him before now."
+
+"You like him?"
+
+"Yes, I rather like him. But it's nothing more than that; don't
+imagine it. Oh, I had a call from my cousin Irene this morning. We
+don't quite get on together; she's getting very worldly. Her idea is
+that one ought to marry cold-bloodedly, just for social advantage,
+and that kind of thing. No doubt she's going to do it, and then we
+shall never see each other again, never!--She tells me that Piers
+Otway is coming to England again."
+
+"Oh, now I should like to know _him_, I really should!" exclaimed
+Kite, with a mild vivacity.
+
+"So you shall, if he stays in London. Perhaps you would suit each
+other."
+
+"I'm sure, because you like him so much."
+
+"Do I?" asked Olga doubtfully. "Yes, perhaps so. If he hasn't
+changed for the worse. But it'll be rather irritating if he talks
+about nothing but Irene still. Oh, that's impossible! Five years;
+yes, that's impossible."
+
+"One should think the better of him, in a way," ventured Kite.
+
+"Oh, in a way. But when a thing of that sort is hopeless. I'm afraid
+Irene looks down upon him, just because--you know. But he's better
+than most of the men she'll meet in her drawing-rooms, that's
+Certain. Shall I ask him to come to my place?"
+
+"Do. And I hope he'll stay in England, and that you'll see a good
+deal of him."
+
+"Pray, why?"
+
+"Because that's the right kind of acquaintance for you, he'll do you
+good."
+
+Olga laughed a little, and said, with compassionate kindness:
+
+"You _are_ queer!"
+
+"I meant nothing unpleasant, Olga," was the apologetic rejoinder.
+
+"Of course you didn't. Have you had dinner yet?"
+
+"Dinner? Oh yes--of course, long ago!"
+
+"I know what that means."
+
+"'Sh! 'Sh! May I came home and talk a little?"
+
+Dinner, it might be feared, was no immutable feature of Mr. Kite's
+day. He had a starved aspect; his long limbs were appallingly
+meagre; as he strode along, his clothing, thin and disreputable,
+flapped about him. But his countenance showed nothing whatever of
+sourness, or of grim endurance. Nor did he appear to be in a feeble
+state of health; for all his emaciation, his step was firm and he
+held himself tolerably upright. One thing was obvious, that at
+Olga's side he forgot his ills. Each time he glanced at her, a
+strange beautiful smile passed like a light over his hard features,
+a smile of infinite melancholy, yet of infinite tenderness. The
+voice in which he addressed her was invariably softened to express
+something more than homage.
+
+They had the habit of walking side by side, and could keep silence
+without any feeling of restraint. Kite now and then uttered some
+word or ejaculation, to which Olga paid no heed; it was only his
+way, the trick of a man who lived much alone, and who conversed with
+visions.
+
+On ascending to the room in Great Portland Street, they found Miss
+Bonnicastle hard at work on a design of considerable size, which
+hung against the wall. This young lady, for all her sportiveness,
+was never tempted to jest at the expense of Mr. Kite; removing a
+charcoal holder from her mouth, she nodded pleasantly, and stood
+aside to allow the melancholy man a view of her work.
+
+"Astonishing vigour!" said Kite, in his soft, sincere voice. "How I
+envy you!"
+
+Miss Bonnicastle laughed with self-deprecation. She, no less than
+Olga Hannaford, credited Kite with wonderful artistic powers; in
+their view, only his constitutional defect of energy, his
+incorrigible dreaminess, stood between him and great achievement.
+The evidence in support of their faith was slight enough; a few
+sketches, a hint in crayon, or a wash in water-colour, were all he
+had to show; but Kite belonged to that strange order of men who,
+seemingly without effort or advantage of any kind, awaken the
+interest and gain the confidence of certain women. Even Mrs.
+Hannaford, though a mother's reasons set her against him, had felt
+this seductive quality in Olga's lover, and liked though she could
+not approve of him. Powers of fascination in a man very often go
+together with lax principle, if not with active rascality; Kite was
+an instance to the contrary. He had a quixotic sensitiveness, a
+morbid instinct of honour. If it is true that virile force,
+preferably with a touch of the brutal, has a high place in the
+natural woman's heart, none the less does an ideal of male purity,
+of the masculine subdued to gentle virtues, make strong appeal to
+the imagination in her sex. To the everyday man, Kite seemed a mere
+pale grotesque, a creature of flabby foolishness. But Olga Hannaford
+was not the only girl who had dreamed of devoting her life to him.
+If she could believe his assurance (and she all but did believe it),
+for her alone had he felt anything worthy to be called love, to her
+alone had he spoken words of tenderness. The high-tide of her
+passion had long since ebbed; yet she knew that Kite still had power
+over her, power irresistible, if he chose to exercise it, and the
+strange fact that he would not, that, still loving her, he did not
+seem to be jealous for her love in return, often moved her to
+bitterness.
+
+She knew his story. He was the natural son of a spendthrift
+aristocrat, who, after educating him decently had died and left a
+will which seemed to assure Kite a substantial independence.
+Unfortunately, the will dealt, for the most part, with property no
+longer in existence. Kite's income was to be paid by one of the
+deceased's relatives, who, instead of benefiting largely, found that
+he came in for a mere pittance; and the proportion of that pittance
+due to the illegitimate son was exactly forty-five pounds, four
+shillings, and fourpence per annum. It was paid; it kept Kite alive;
+also, no doubt, it kept him from doing what he might have done, in
+art or anything else. On quarterly pay-day the dreamer always spent
+two or three pounds on gifts to those of his friends who were least
+able to make practical return. To Olga, of course, he had offered
+lordly presents, until the day when she firmly refused to take
+anything more from him. When his purse was empty he earned something
+by journeyman work in the studio of a portrait painter, a keen man
+of business, who gave shillings to this assistant instead of the
+sovereigns that another would have asked for the same labour.
+
+As usual when he came here, Kite settled himself in a chair,
+stretched out his legs, let his arms depend, and so watched the two
+girls at work. There was not much conversation; Kite never began it.
+Miss Bonnicastle hummed, or whistled, or sang, generally the
+refrains of the music-hall; if work gave her trouble she swore
+vigorously--in German, a language with which she was well
+acquainted and at the sound of her maledictions, though he did not
+understand them, Kite always threw his head back with a silent
+laugh. Olga naturally had most of his attention; he often fixed his
+eyes upon her for five minutes at a time, and Olga, being used to
+this, was not at all disturbed by it.
+
+When five o'clock came, Miss Bonnicastle flung up her arms and
+yawned.
+
+"Let's have some blooming tea!" she exclaimed. "All right, I'll get
+it. I've just about ten times the muscle and go of you two put
+together; it's only right I should do the slavey."
+
+Kite rose, and reached his hat. Whereupon, with soft pressure of her
+not very delicate hands, Miss Bonnicastle forced him back into his
+chair.
+
+"Sit still. Do as I tell you. What's the good of you if you can't
+help us to drink tea?"
+
+And Kite yielded, as always, wishing he could sit there for ever.
+
+Three weeks later, on an afternoon of rain, the trio were again
+together in the same way. Someone knocked, and a charwoman at work
+on the premises handed in a letter for Miss Hannaford.
+
+"I know who this is from," said Olga, looking up at Kite.
+
+"And I can guess," he returned, leaning forward with a look of
+interest.
+
+She read the note--only a few lines, and handed it to her friend,
+remarking:
+
+"He'd better come to-morrow."
+
+"Who's that?" asked Miss Bonnicastle.
+
+"Piers Otway."
+
+The poster artist glanced from one face to the other, with a smile.
+There had been much talk lately of Otway, who was about to begin
+business in London; his partner, Andre Moncharmont, remaining at
+Odessa. Olga had heard from her mother that Piers wished to see her,
+and had allowed Mrs. Hannaford to give him her address; he now wrote
+asking if he might call.
+
+"I'll go and send him a wire," she said. "There isn't time to write.
+To-morrow's Sunday."
+
+When Olga had run out, Kite, as if examining a poster on the wall,
+turned his back to Miss Bonnicastle. She, after a glance or two in
+his direction, addressed him by name, and the man looked round.
+
+"You don't mind if I speak plainly?"
+
+"Of course I don't," he replied, his features distorted, rather than
+graced, by a smile.
+
+The girl approached him, arms akimbo, but, by virtue of a frank
+look, suggesting more than usual of womanhood.
+
+"You've got to be either one thing or the other. She doesn't care
+_that_"--a snap of the fingers--"for this man Otway, and she
+knows he doesn't care for her. But she's playing him against you,
+and you must expect more of it. You ought to make up your mind. It
+isn't fair to her."
+
+"Thank you," murmured Kite, reddening a little. "It's kind of you."
+
+"Well, I hope it is. But she'd be furious if she guessed I'd said
+such a thing. I only do it because it's for her good as much as
+yours. Things oughtn't to drag on, you know; it isn't fair to a girl
+like that."
+
+Kite thrust his hands into his pockets, and drew himself up to a
+full five feet eleven.
+
+"I'll go away," he said. "I'll go and live in Paris for a bit."
+
+"That's for _you_ to decide. Of course if you feel like that--it's
+none of my business, I don't pretend to understand _you_; I'm not
+quite sure I understand _her_. You're a queer couple. All I know is,
+it's gone on long enough, and it isn't fair to a girl like Olga. She
+isn't the sort that can doze through a comfortable engagement of ten
+or twelve years, and surely you know that."
+
+"I'll go away," said Kite again, nodding resolutely.
+
+He turned again to the poster, and Miss Bonnicastle resumed her
+work. Thus Olga found them when she came back.
+
+"I've asked him to come at three," she said. "You'll be out then,
+Bonnie. When you come in we'll put the kettle on, and all have tea."
+She chanted it, to the old nursery tune. "Of course you'll come as
+well"--she addressed Kite--"say about four. It'll be jolly!"
+
+So, on the following afternoon, Olga sat alone, in readiness for her
+visitor. She had paid a little more attention than usual to her
+appearance, but was perfectly self-possessed; a meeting with Piers
+Otway had never yet quickened her pulse, and would not do so to-day.
+If anything, she suffered a little from low spirits, conscious of
+having played a rather disingenuous part before Kite, and not
+exactly knowing to what purpose she had done so. It still rained; it
+had been gloomy for several days. Looking at the heavy sky above the
+gloomy street, Olga had a sense of wasted life. She asked herself
+whether it would not have been better, on the decline of her
+love-fever, to go back into the so-called respectable world, share
+her mother's prosperity, make the most of her personal attractions,
+and marry as other girls did--if anyone invited her. She was doing
+no good; all the experience to be had in a life of mild Bohemianism
+was already tasted, and found rather insipid. An artist she would
+never become; probably she would never even support herself. To
+imagine herself really dependent on her own efforts, was to sink
+into misery and fear. The time had come for a new step, a new
+beginning, yet all possibilities looked so vague.
+
+A knock at the door. She opened, and saw Piers Otway.
+
+If they had been longing to meet, instead of scarcely ever giving a
+thought to each other, they could not have clasped hands with more
+warmth. They gazed eagerly into each other's eyes, and seemed too
+much overcome for ordinary words of greeting. Then Olga saw that
+Otway looked nothing like so well as when on his visit to England
+some couple of years ago. He, in turn, was surprised at the change
+in Olga's features; the bloom of girlhood had vanished; she was
+handsome, striking, but might almost have passed for a married woman
+of thirty.
+
+"A queer place, isn't it?" she said, laughing, as Piers cast a
+glance round the room.
+
+"Is this your work?" he asked, pointing to the posters.
+
+"No, no! Mine isn't for exhibition. It hides itself--with the
+modesty of supreme excellence!"
+
+Again they looked at each other; Olga pointed to a chair, herself
+became seated, and explained the conditions of her life here.
+Bending forward, his hands folded between his knees, Otway listened
+with a face on which trouble began to reassert itself after the
+emotion of their meeting.
+
+"So you have really begun business at last?" said Olga.
+
+"Yes. Rather hopefully, too."
+
+"You don't look hopeful, somehow."
+
+"Oh, that's nothing. Moncharmont has scraped together a fair
+capital, and as for me, well, a friend has come to my help, I
+mustn't say who it is. Yes, things look promising enough, for a
+start. Already I've seen an office in the City, which I think I
+shall take. I shall decide to-morrow, and then--_avos_!"
+
+"What does that mean?"
+
+"A common word in Russian. It means 'Fire away.'"
+
+"I must remember it," said Olga, laughing. "It'll make a change from
+English and French slang--_Avos_!"
+
+There was a silence longer than they wished. Olga broke it by asking
+abruptly:
+
+"Have you seen my mother?"
+
+"Not yet."
+
+"I'm afraid she's not well."
+
+"Then why do you keep away from her?" said Piers, with good-humoured
+directness. "Is it really necessary for you to live here? She would
+be much happier if you went back."
+
+"I'm not sure of that."
+
+"But I am, from what she says in her letters, and I should have
+thought that you, too, would prefer it to this life."
+
+He glanced round the room. Olga looked vexed, and spoke with a note
+of irony.
+
+"My tastes are unaccountable, I'm afraid. You, no doubt, find it
+difficult to understand them. So does my cousin Irene. You have
+heard that she is going to be married?"
+
+Piers, surprised at her change of tone, regarded her fixedly, until
+she reddened and her eyes fell.
+
+"Is the engagement announced, then?"
+
+"I should think so; but I'm not much in the way of hearing
+fashionable gossip."
+
+Still Piers regarded her; still her cheeks kept their colour, and
+her eyes refused to meet his.
+
+"I see I have offended you," he said quietly. "I'm very sorry. Of
+course I went too far in speaking like that of the life you have
+chosen. I had no righ----"
+
+"Nonsense! If you mustn't tell me what you think, who may?"
+
+Again the change was so sudden, this time from coldness to smiling
+familiarity, that Piers felt embarrassed.
+
+"The fact is," Olga pursued, with a careless air, "I don't think I
+shall go on with this much longer. If you said what you have in your
+mind, that I should never be any good as an artist, you would be
+quite right. I haven't had the proper training; it'll all come to
+nothing. And--talking of engagements--I daresay you know that
+mine is broken off?"
+
+"No, I didn't know that."
+
+"It is. Mr. Kite and I are only friends now. He'll look in
+presently, I think. I should like you to meet him, if you don't
+mind."
+
+"Of course I shall be very glad."
+
+"All this, you know," said Olga, with a laugh, "would be monstrously
+irregular in decent society, but decent society is often foolish,
+don't you think?"
+
+"To be sure it is," Piers answered genially, "and I never meant to
+find fault with your preference for a freer way of living. It is
+only--you say I may speak freely--that I didn't like to think of
+your going through needless hardships."
+
+"You don't think, then, it has done me good?"
+
+"I am not at all sure of that."
+
+Olga lay back in her chair, as if idly amused.
+
+"You see," she said, "how we have both changed. We are both much
+more positive, in different directions. To be sure, it makes
+conversation more interesting. But the change is greatest in me. You
+always aimed at success in a respectable career."
+
+Otway looked puzzled, a little disconcerted.
+
+"Really, is that how I always struck you? To me it's new light on my
+own character."
+
+"How did you think of yourself, then?" she asked, looking at him
+from beneath drooping lids.
+
+"I hardly know; I have thought less on that subject than on most."
+
+Again there came a silence, long enough to be embarrassing. Then
+Olga took up a sketch that was lying on the table, and held it to
+her visitor.
+
+"Don't you think that good? It's one of Miss Bonnicastle's. Let us
+talk about her; she'll be here directly. We don't seem to get on,
+talking about ourselves."
+
+The sketch showed an elephant sitting upright, imbibing with gusto
+from a bottle of some much-advertised tonic. Piers broke into a
+laugh. Other sketches were exhibited, and thus they passed the time
+until Miss Bonnicastle and Kite arrived together.
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+
+Strangers with whom Piers Otway had business at this time saw in him
+a young man of considerable energy, though rather nervous and
+impulsive, capable in all that concerned his special interests, not
+over-sanguine, inclined to brevity of speech, and scrupulously
+courteous in a cold way. He seldom smiled; his clean-cut,
+intelligent features expressed tension of the whole man, ceaseless
+strain and effort without that joy of combat which compensates
+physical expenditure. He looked in fair, not robust, health; a
+shadowed pallor of complexion was natural to him, and made
+noticeable the very fine texture of his skin, which quickly betrayed
+in delicate flushes any strong feeling. He shook hands with a short,
+firm grip which argued more muscle than one might have supposed in
+him. His walk was rapid; his bearing upright; his glance direct,
+with something of apprehensive pride. The observant surmised a force
+more or less at odds with the facts of life. Shrewd men of commerce
+at once perceived his qualities, but reserved their judgment as to
+his chances he was not, in any case, altogether of their world,
+however well he might have studied its principles and inured himself
+to its practice.
+
+He took rooms in Guildford Street. Indifferent to locality, asking
+nothing more than decency in his immediate surroundings, he fell by
+accident on the better kind of lodging-house, and was at once what
+is called comfortable; his landlady behaved to him with a peculiar
+respectfulness, often noticeable in the uneducated who had relations
+with Otway, and explained perhaps by his quiet air of authority. To
+those who served him, no man was more considerate, but he never
+became familiar with them; without a trace of pretentiousness in his
+demeanour, he was viewed by such persons as one sensibly above them,
+with some solid right to rule.
+
+In the selection of his place of business, he of course exercised
+more care, but here, too, luck favoured him. A Russian merchant
+moving into more spacious quarters ceded to him a small office in
+Fenchurch Street, with furniture which he purchased at a very
+reasonable price. To begin with, he hired only a lad; it would be
+seen in a month or so whether he had need of more assistance. If
+business grew, he was ready to take upon himself a double share, for
+the greater his occupation the less his time for brooding. Labour
+was what he asked, steady, dogged toil; and his only regret was that
+he could not work with his hands in the open air, at some day-long
+employment followed by hunger and weariness and dreamless sleep.
+
+The partner whose name he did not wish to mention was John Jacks.
+Very soon after learning the result to the young man of Jerome
+Otway's death (the knowledge came in an indirect way half a year
+later), Mr. Jacks wrote to Piers a letter implying what he knew, and
+made offer of a certain capital towards the proposed business. Piers
+did not at once accept the offer, for difficulties had arisen on the
+side of his friend Moncharmont, who, on Otway's announcement of
+inability to carry out the scheme they had formed together, turned
+in another direction. A year passed; John Jacks again wrote; and,
+Moncharmont's other projects having come to nothing, the friends
+decided at length to revert to their original plan, with the
+difference that a third partner supplied capital equal to that which
+Moncharmont himself put into the venture. The arrangement was
+strictly business-like; John Jacks, for all his kindliness, had no
+belief in anything else where money was concerned, and Piers Otway
+would not have listened to any other sort of suggestion. Piers put
+into the affair only his brains, his vigour, and his experience; he
+was to reap no reward but that fairly resulting from the exercise of
+these qualities.
+
+Only a day or two before leaving Odessa he received a letter from
+Mrs. Hannaford, in which she hinted that Irene Derwent was likely to
+marry. On reaching London, he found at the hotel her answer to his
+reply; she now named Miss Derwent's wooer, and spoke as if the
+marriage were practically a settled thing. This turned to an ordeal
+for Piers what would otherwise have been a pleasure, his call upon
+John Jacks. He had to dine at Queen's Gate; be had to converse with
+Arnold Jacks; and for the first time in his life he knew the meaning
+of personal jealousy.
+
+The sight of Irene's successful lover made active in him what had
+for years been only a latent passion. All at once it seemed
+impossible that he should have lost what hitherto he had scarcely
+ever felt it possible to win. An unconsciously reared edifice of
+hope collapsed about him, laid waste his life, left him standing in
+desolate revolt against fate. Arnold Jacks was the embodiment of a
+cruel destiny; Piers regarded him, not so much with hate, as with a
+certain bitter indignation. He had no desire to disparage the man,
+to caricature his assailable points; rather, in undiminished worship
+of Irene, he exaggerated the qualities which had won her, the power
+to which her gallant pride had yielded. These qualities, that power,
+were so unlike anything in himself, that they gave boundless scope
+to a jealous imagination. He knew so little of the man, of his
+pursuits, his society, his prospects or ambitions. But he could not
+imagine that Irene's love would be given to any man of ordinary
+type; there must be a nobility in John Jacks' son, and indeed,
+knowing the father, one could readily believe it. Piers suffered a
+cruel sense of weakness, of littleness, by comparison.
+
+And Arnold behaved so well to him, with such frank graceful
+courtesy; to withhold the becoming return was to feel oneself a
+shrinking creature, basely envious.
+
+It was at Mrs. Hannaford's suggestion that he asked to be allowed to
+call on Olga. A few days later, having again exchanged letters with
+Irene's aunt, he sat writing in the office after business hours, his
+door and that of the anteroom both open. Footsteps on the staircase
+had become infrequent since the main exodus of clerks; he listened
+whenever there was a sound, and looked towards the entrance. There,
+at length, appeared a lady, Mrs. Hannaford herself. Piers went
+forward, and greeted her without words, motioning her with his hand
+into the inner office; the outer door he latched.
+
+"So I have tracked you to your lair!" exclaimed the visitor, with a
+nervous laugh, as she sank in fatigue upon the chair he placed for
+her. "I looked for your name on the wall downstairs, forgetting that
+you are Moncharmont & Co."
+
+"It is very, very kind of you to have taken all this trouble!"
+
+He saw in her face the signs of ill-health for which he was
+prepared, and noticed with pain her tremulousness and shortness of
+breath after the stair-climbing. The friendship which had existed
+between them since his boyhood was true and deep as ever; Piers
+Otway could, as few men can, be the loyal friend of a woman. A
+reverent tenderness coloured his feeling towards Mrs. Hannaford; it
+was something like what he would have felt for his mother had she
+now been living. He did not give much thought to her character or
+circumstances; she had always been kind to him, and he in turn had
+always liked her: that was enough. Anything in her service that
+might fall within his power to do, he would do right gladly.
+
+"So you saw poor Olga?"
+
+"Yes, and the friend she lives with--and Mr. Kite."
+
+"Ah! Mr. Kite!" The speaker's face brightened. "I have news about
+him; it came this morning. He has gone to Paris, and means to stay
+there."
+
+"Indeed! I heard no syllable of that the other day."
+
+"But it is true. And Olga's letter to me, in which she mentions it;
+gives hope that that is the end of their engagement. Naturally, the
+poor child won't say it in so many words, but it is to be read
+between the lines. What's more, she is willing to come for her
+holiday with me! It has made me very happy!--I told you I was
+going to Malvern; my brother thinks that is most likely to do me
+good. Irene will go down with me, and stay a day or two, and then I
+hope to have Olga. It is delightful! I hadn't dared to hope. Perhaps
+we shall really come together again, after this dreary time!"
+
+Piers was listening, but with a look which had become uneasily
+preoccupied.
+
+"I am as glad, almost, as you can be," he said. "Malvern, I never
+was there."
+
+"So healthy, my brother says! And Shakespeare's country, you know;
+we shall go to Stratford, which I have never seen. I have a feeling
+that I really shall get better. Everything is more hopeful."
+
+Piers recalled Olga's mysterious hints about her mother. Glancing at
+the worn face, with its vivid eyes, he could easily conceive that
+this ill-health had its cause in some grave mental trouble.
+
+"Have you met your brother?" she asked.
+
+"My brother? Oh no!" was the careless reply. Then on a sudden
+thought, Piers added, "You don't keep up your acquaintance with him,
+do you?"
+
+"Oh--I _have_ seen him--now and then----"
+
+There was a singular hesitancy in her answer to the abrupt question.
+Piers, preoccupied as he was, could not but remark Mrs. Hannaford's
+constraint, almost confusion. At once it struck him that Daniel had
+been borrowing money of her, and the thought aroused strong
+indignation. His own hundred and fifty pounds he had never
+recovered, for all Daniel's fine speeches, and notwithstanding the
+fact that he had taken suggestive care to let the borrower know his
+address in. Russia. Rapidly he turned in his mind the question
+whether he ought not to let Mrs. Hannaford know of Daniel's
+untrustworthiness; but before he could decide, she launched into
+another subject.
+
+"So this is to be your place of business? Here you will sit day
+after day. If good wishes could help, how you would flourish I Is it
+orthodox to pray for a friend's success in business?"
+
+"Why not? Provided you add--so long as he is guilty of no
+rascality."
+
+"That, _you_ will never be."
+
+"Why, to tell you the truth, I shouldn't know how to go about it.
+Not everyone who wishes becomes a rascal in business. It's difficult
+enough for me to pursue commerce on the plain, honest track; knavery
+demands an expertness altogether beyond me. Wherefore, let us give
+thanks for my honest stupidity!"
+
+They chatted a while of these things. Then Piers, grasping his
+courage, uttered what was burning within him.
+
+"When is Miss Derwent to be married?"
+
+Mrs. Hannaford's eyes escaped his hard look. She murmured that no
+date had yet been settled.
+
+"Tell me--I beg you will tell me--is her engagement absolutely
+certain?"
+
+"I feel sure it is."
+
+"No! I want more than that. Do you know that it is?"
+
+"I can only say that her father believes it to be a certain thing.
+No announcement has yet been made."
+
+"H'm! Then it isn't settled at all."
+
+Piers sat stiffly upon his chair. He held an ivory paperknife, which
+he kept bending across his knee, and of a sudden the thing snapped
+in two. But he paid no attention, merely flinging the handle away.
+Mrs. Hannaford looked him in the face; he was deeply flushed; his
+lips and his throat trembled like those of a child on the point of
+tears.
+
+"Don't! Oh, don't take it so to heart! It seems impossible--after
+all this time----"
+
+"Impossible or not, it _is_!" he replied impetuously. "Mrs.
+Hannaford, you will do something for me. You will let me come down
+to Malvern, whilst she is with you, and see her--speak with her
+alone."
+
+She drew back, astonished.
+
+"Oh! how can you think of it, Mr. Otway?"
+
+"Why should I not?" he spoke in a low and soft voice, but with
+vehemence. "Does she know all about me?"
+
+"Everything. It was not I who told her. There has been talk----"
+
+"Of course there has"--he smiled--"and I am glad of it. I wished
+her to know. Otherwise, I should have told her. Yes, I should have
+told her! It shocks you, Mrs. Hannaford? But try to understand what
+this means to me. It is the one thing I greatly desire in all the
+world, shall I be hindered by a petty consideration of etiquette? A
+wild desire--you think. Well, the man sentenced to execution
+clings to life, clings to it with a terrible fierce desire; is it
+less real because utterly hopeless? Perhaps I am behaving
+frantically; I can't help myself. As that engagement is still
+doubtful--you admit it to be doubtful--I shall speak before it
+is too late. Why not have done so before? Simply, I hadn't the
+courage. I suppose I was too young. It didn't mean so much to me as
+it does now. Something tells me to act like a man, before it is too
+late. I feel I _can_ do it. I never could have, till now."
+
+"But listen to me--do listen! Think how extraordinary it will seem
+to her. She has no suspicion of----"
+
+"She has! She knows! I sent her: a year ago, a poem--some verses
+of my writing, which told her."
+
+Mrs. Hannaford kept silence with a face of distress.
+
+"Is there any harm," he pursued, "in asking you whether she has ever
+spoken of me lately--since that time?"
+
+"She has," admitted the other reluctantly, "but not in a way to make
+one think----"
+
+"No, no! I expected nothing of the kind. She has mentioned me; that
+is enough. I am not utterly expelled from her thoughts, as a
+creature outlawed by all decent people----"
+
+"Of course not. She is too reasonable and kind."
+
+"That she is!" exclaimed Piers, with a passionate delight on his
+visage and in his voice. "And she would _rather_ I spoke to her--I
+feel she would! She, with her fine intelligence and noble heart, she
+would think it dreadful that a man did not dare to approach her,
+just because of something not his fault, something that made him no
+bit the less a man, and capable of honour. I know that thought would
+shake her with pity and indignation. So far I can read in her. What!
+You think I know her too little? And the thought of her never out of
+my mind for these five years! I have got to know her better and
+better, as time went on. Every word she spoke at Ewell stayed in my
+memory, and by perpetual repetition has grown into my life. Every
+sentence has given me its full meaning. I didn't need to be near her
+to study her. She was in my mind; I heard her and saw her whenever I
+wished; as I have grown older and more experienced in life, I have
+been better able to understand her. I used to think this was enough.
+I had--you know--that exalted sort of mood; Dante's Beatrice,
+and all that! It _was_ enough for the time, seeing that I lived with
+it, and through it. But now--no! And there is no single reason why
+I should be ashamed to stand before her, and tell her that--What I
+feel."
+
+He checked himself, and gloomed for an instant, then continued in
+another tone:
+
+"Yet that isn't true. There _are_ reasons--I believe no man living
+could say that when speaking of such a woman as Irene Derwent. I
+cannot face her without shame--the shame of every man who stands
+before a pure-hearted girl. We have to bear that, and to hide it as
+best we can."
+
+The listener bent upon him a wondering gaze, and seemed unable to
+avert it, till his look answered her.
+
+"You will give me this opportunity, Mrs. Hannaford?" he added
+pleadingly.
+
+"I have no right whatever to refuse it. Besides, how could I, if I
+wished?
+
+"When shall I come? I must remember that I am not free to wander
+about. If it could be a Sunday----"
+
+"I have forgotten something I ought to have told you already," said
+Mrs. Hannaford. "Whilst she was on her travels, Irene had an offer
+from someone else."
+
+Piers laughed.
+
+"Can that surprise one? Should I wonder if I were told she had
+fifty?"
+
+"Yes, but this was not of the ordinary kind. You know that Mr. Jacks
+is well acquainted with Trafford Romaine. And it was Trafford
+Romaine himself."
+
+The news did not fail of its impression. Piers smiled vaguely, and
+on the smile came a look of troubled pride.
+
+"Well, it is not astonishing, but it gives me a better opinion of
+the man. I shall always feel a sort of sympathy when I come across
+his name. Why did you think I ought to know?"
+
+"For a reason I feel to be rather foolish, now I come to speak of
+it," replied Mrs. Hannaford. "But--I had a feeling that Irene is
+by nature rather ambitious; and if, after such an experience as
+that, she so soon accepts a man who has done nothing particular,
+whose position is not brilliant----"
+
+"I understand. She must, you mean, be very strongly drawn to him.
+But then I needed no such proof of her feeling--if it is _certain_
+that she is going to marry him. Could I imagine her marrying a man
+for any reason but one? Surely you could not?"
+
+"No--no----"
+
+The denial had a certain lack of emphasis. Otway's eyes flashed.
+
+"You doubt? You speak in that way of Irene Derwent?"
+
+Gazing into Mrs. Hannaford's face, he saw rising tears. She gave a
+little laugh, which did not disguise her emotion as she answered
+him.
+
+"Oh, what an idealist it makes a man!--don't talk of your
+unworthiness. If some women are good, it is because they try hard to
+be what the best men think them. No, no, I have no doubts of Irene.
+And that is why it really grieves me to see you still hoping. She
+would never have gone so far----"
+
+"But there's the very question!" cried Piers excitedly. "Who knows
+how far she has gone? It may be the merest conjecture on your part,
+and her father's. People are so ready to misunderstand a girl who
+respects herself enough to be free and frank in her association with
+men. Let me shame myself by making a confession. Five years ago,
+when I all but went mad about her, I was contemptible enough to
+think she had treated me cruelly." He gave a scornful laugh. "You
+know what I mean. At Ewell, when I lived only for my books, and she
+drew me away from them. Conceited idiot! And she so bravely honest,
+so simple and direct, so human! Was it _her_ fault if I lost my
+head?"
+
+"She certainly changed the whole course of your life," said Mrs.
+Hannaford thoughtfully.
+
+"True, she did. And to my vast advantage! What should I have become?
+A clerkship at Whitehall--heaven defend us! At best a learned
+pedant, in my case. She sent me out into the world, where there is
+always hope. She gave me health and sanity. Above all, she set
+before me an ideal which has never allowed me to fall hopelessly--
+never will let me become a contented brute! If she never addresses
+another word to me, I shall owe her an infinite debt as long as I
+live. And I want her to hear that from my own lips, if only once."
+
+Mrs. Hannaford held out her hand impulsively.
+
+"Do what you feel you must. You make me feel very strangely. I never
+knew what----"
+
+Her voice faltered. She rose.
+
+When she had left him, Piers sat for some time communing with his
+thoughts. Then he went home to the simple meal he called dinner, and
+afterwards, as the evening was clear, walked for a couple of hours
+away from the louder streets. His resolve gave him a night of quiet
+rest.
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+
+Again Irene was going down into Cheshire, to visit the two old
+ladies, her relatives. It was arranged that she should accompany
+Mrs. Hannaford to Malvern, and spend a couple of days there. The
+travellers arrived on a Friday evening. Before leaving town Mrs.
+Hannaford had written to Piers Otway to give him the address of the
+house at Malvern in which rooms had been taken for them.
+
+On Saturday morning there was sunshine over the hills. Irene walked,
+and talked, but it was evident with thoughts elsewhere. When they
+sat down to rest and to enjoy the landscape before them, the rich
+heart of England, with its names that echo in history and in song,
+Irene plucked at the grass beside her, and presently began to strip
+a stem, after the manner of children playing at a tell-fortune game.
+She stripped it to the end; her hands fell and she heaved a little
+sigh. From that moment she grew merry and talked without
+pre-occupation.
+
+After lunch she wrote a short letter, and herself took it to the
+post. Mrs. Hannaford was lying on the sofa, with eyes closed, but
+not in sleep; her forehead and lips betraying the restless thoughts
+which beset her now as always. On returning, Irene took a chair, as
+if to read; but she gave only an absent glance at the paper in her
+hands, and smiled to herself in musing.
+
+"I'm sure those thoughts are worth far more than a penny," fell from
+the lady on the couch, who had observed her for a moment.
+
+"I may as well tell you them," was the gently toned reply, as Irene
+bent forward. "I have just done something decisive."
+
+Mrs. Hannaford raised herself, a sudden anxiety in her features; she
+waited.
+
+"You guess, aunt? Yes, that's it, I have written to Mr. Jacks."
+
+"To--to----?"
+
+"To answer an ultimatum. In the right way, I hope; any way, it's
+done."
+
+"You have accepted him?"
+
+"Even so."
+
+Mrs. Hannaford tried to smile, but could not smooth away the
+uneasiness which had come into her look. She spoke a few of the
+natural words, and in doing so looked at the clock.
+
+"There is something I have forgotten," she said, starting to her
+feet hurriedly. "You reminded me of it--speaking of a letter; I
+must send a telegram at once--indeed I must. No, no, I will go
+myself, dear. I had rather!"
+
+She hastened away. leaving Irene in wonder.
+
+When they were together again, Mrs. Hannaford seemed anxious to
+atone for her brevity on the all-important subject. She spoke with
+pleasure of her niece's decision thought it wise; abounded in happy
+prophecy; through the rest of the day she had a face which spoke
+relief, all but contentment. The morning of Sunday saw her nervous.
+She made an excuse of the slightly clouded sky for lingering within
+doors; she went often to the window and looked this way and that
+along the road, as if judging the weather, until Irene, when the
+church bells had ceased, grew impatient for the open air.
+
+"Yes, we will go," said her aunt. "I think we safely may."
+
+Each went to her room to make ready. At Mrs. Hannaford's door, just
+as she was about to come forth, there sounded a knock; the servant
+announced that a gentleman had called to see her--Mr. Otway.
+Quivering, death-pale, she ran to the sitting-room. Irene had not
+yet reappeared. Piers Otway stood there alone.
+
+"You didn't get my telegram?" broke from her lips, in a hurried
+whisper. "Oh! I feared it would be too late, and all is too late."
+
+"You mean----"
+
+"The engagement is announced."
+
+She had time to say no more. At that moment Irene entered the room,
+dressed for walking. At first she did not seem to recognise the
+visitor, then her face lighted up; she smiled, subdued the slight
+embarrassment which had succeeded to her perplexity, and stepped
+quickly forward.
+
+"Mr. Otway! You are staying here?"
+
+"A few hours only. I came down yesterday on business--which is
+finished."
+
+His voice was so steady, his bearing so self-possessed, that Irene
+found herself relieved from the immediate restraint of the
+situation. She could not quite understand his presence here; there
+was a mystery, in which she saw that her aunt was involved; the
+explanation might be forthcoming after their visitor's departure.
+For the moment, enough to remark that the sun was dispersing the
+clouds, and that all were ready to enjoy a walk. Mrs. Hannaford,
+glancing anxiously at Irene before she spoke, hoped that Mr. Otway
+would return with them to lunch; Irene added her voice to the
+invitation; and Piers at once accepted.
+
+Talk suggested by the locality occupied them until they were away
+from the houses; by that time Irene had thoroughly reassured
+herself, and was as tranquil in mind as in manner. Whatever the
+meaning of Piers Otway's presence, no difficulty could come about in
+the few hours he was to spend with them. Involuntarily she found
+herself listening to the rhythm of certain verses which she had
+received some months ago, and which she still knew by heart; but
+nothing in the author's voice or look indicated a desire to remind
+her of that romantic passage in their acquaintance. If they were
+still to meet from time to time--and why not?--common sense must
+succeed to vain thoughts in the poet's mind. He was quite capable of
+the transition, she felt sure. His way of talking, the short and
+generally pointed sentences in which he spoke on whatever subject,
+betokened a habit of lucid reflection. Had it been permissible, she
+would have dwelt with curiosity on the problem of Piers Otway's life
+and thoughts; but that she resolutely ignored, strong in the
+irrevocable choice which she had made only yesterday. He was
+interesting, but not to her. She knew him on the surface, and cared
+to know no more.
+
+Business was a safe topic; at the first noticeable pause, Irene led
+to it.
+
+Piers laughed with pleasure as he began to describe Andre
+Moncharmont. A man of the happiest vivacity, of the sweetest humour,
+irresistibly amusing, yet never ridiculous--entirely competent in
+business, yet with a soul as little mercantile as man's could be.
+Born a French Swiss, be had lived a good deal in Italy, and had all
+the charm of Italian manners; but in whatever country, he made
+himself at home, and by virtue of his sunny temper saw only the best
+in each nationality. His recreation was music, and he occasionally
+composed.
+
+"There is a song of Musset's--you know it, perhaps--beginning
+'_Quand on perd, par triste occurrence_'--which he has set, to my
+mind, perfectly. I want him to publish it. If he does I must let you
+see it."
+
+Irene did not know the verses and made no remark.
+
+"There are English men of business," pursued Otway, "who would smile
+with pity at Moncharmont. He is by no means their conception of the
+merchant. Yet the world would be a vastly better place if its
+business were often in the hands of such men. He will never make a
+large fortune, no; but he will never fall into poverty. He sees
+commerce from the human point of view, not as the brutal pitiless
+struggle which justifies every form of ferocity and of low cunning.
+I never knew him utter an ignoble thought about trade and
+money-making. An English acquaintance asked me once, 'Is he a
+gentleman?' I was obliged to laugh--delicious contrast between
+what _he_ meant by a gentleman and all I see in Moncharmont."
+
+"I picture him," said Irene, smiling, "and I picture the person who
+made that inquiry."
+
+Piers flashed a look of gratitude. He had, as yet, hardly glanced at
+her; he durst not; his ordeal was to be gone through as became a
+man. Her voice, at moments, touched him to a sense of faintness; he
+saw her without turning his head; the wave of her dress beside him
+was like a perfume, was like music; part of him yielded, languished,
+part made splendid resistance.
+
+"He is a lesson in civilisation. If trade is not to put an end to
+human progress, it must be pursued in Moncharmont's spirit. It's
+only returning to a better time; our man of business is a creation
+of our century, and as bad a thing as it has produced. Commerce must
+be humanised once more. We invented machinery, and it has enslaved
+us--a rule of iron, the servile belief that money-making is an end
+in itself, to be attained by hard selfishness."
+
+He checked himself, laughed, and said something about the beauty of
+the lane along which they were walking.
+
+"Don't you think," fell from Irene's lips, "that Mr. John Jacks is a
+very human type of the man of business?"
+
+"Indeed he is!" replied Piers, with spirit. "An admirable type."
+
+"I have been told that he owed most of his success to his brothers,
+who are a different sort of men."
+
+"His wealth, perhaps."
+
+"Yes, there's a difference," said Irene, glancing at him. "You may
+be successful without becoming wealthy; though not of course in the
+common opinion. But what would have been the history of England
+these last fifty years, but for our men of iron selfishness? Isn't
+it a fact that only in this way could we have built up an Empire
+which ensures the civilisation of the world?"
+
+Piers could not answer with his true thought, for he knew all that
+was implied in her suggestion of that view. He bent his head and
+spoke very quietly.
+
+"Some of our best men think so."
+
+An answer which gratified Irene more keenly than he imagined; she
+showed it in her face.
+
+When they returned to luncheon, and the ladies went upstairs, Mrs.
+Hannaford stepped into her niece's room.
+
+"What you told me yesterday," she asked, in a nervous undertone,
+"may it be repeated?"
+
+"Certainly--to anyone."
+
+"Then please not to come down until I have had a few minutes' talk
+with Mr. Otway. All this shall be explained, dear, when we are alone
+again."
+
+On entering the sitting-room Irene found it harder to preserve a
+natural demeanour than at her meeting with the visitor a couple of
+hours ago. Only when she had heard him speak and in just the same
+voice as during their walk was she able to turn frankly towards him.
+His look had not changed. Impossible to divine the thoughts hidden
+by his smile; he bore himself with perfect control.
+
+At table all was cheerfulness. Speaking of things Russian, Irene
+recalled her winter in Finland, which she had so greatly enjoyed.
+
+"I remember," said Otway, "you had just returned when I met you for
+the first time."
+
+It was said with a peculiar intonation, which fell agreeably on the
+listener's ear; a note familiar, in the permitted degree, yet
+touchingly respectful; a world of emotion subdued to graceful
+friendliness. Irene passed over the reminiscence with a light word
+or two, and went on to gossip merely of trifles.
+
+"Do you like caviare, Mr. Otway?"
+
+"Except perhaps that supplied by the literary censor," was his
+laughing reply.
+
+"Now I am _intriguee_. Please explain."
+
+"We call caviare the bits blacked out in our newspapers and
+periodicals."
+
+"Unpalatable enough!" laughed Irene. "How angry that would make me!"
+
+"I got used to it," said Piers, "and thought it rather good fun
+sometimes. After all, a wise autocrat might well prohibit newspapers
+altogether, don't you think? They have done good, I suppose, but
+they are just as likely to do harm. When the next great war comes,
+newspapers will be the chief cause of it. And for mere profit,
+that's the worst. There are newspaper proprietors in every country,
+who would slaughter half mankind for the pennies of the half who
+were left, without caring a fraction of a penny whether they had
+preached war for a truth or a lie."
+
+"But doesn't a newspaper simply echo the opinions and feelings of
+its public?"
+
+"I'm afraid it manufactures opinion, and stirs up feeling. Consider
+how very few people know or care anything about most subjects of
+international quarrel. A mere handful at the noisy centre of things
+who make the quarrel. The business of newspapers, in general, is to
+give a show of importance to what has no real importance at all--
+to prevent the world from living quietly--to arouse bitterness
+when the natural man would be quite different."
+
+"Oh, surely you paint them too black! We must live, we can't let the
+world stagnate. Newspapers only express the natural life of peoples,
+acting and interacting."
+
+"I suppose I quarrel with them," said Piers, once more subduing
+himself, "because they have such gigantic power and don't make
+anything like the best use of it."
+
+"That is to say, they are the work of men--I don't mean," Irene
+added laughingly, "of men instead of women. Though I'm not sure that
+women wouldn't manage journalism better, if it were left to them."
+
+"A splendid idea! All men to go about their affairs and women to
+report and comment. Why, it would solve every problem of society!
+There's the hope of the future, beyond a doubt! Why did I never
+think of it!"
+
+The next moment Piers was talking about nightingales, how he had
+heard them sing in Little Russia, where their song is sweeter than
+in any other part of Europe. And so the meal passed pleasantly, as
+did the hour or two after it, until it was time for Otway to take
+leave.
+
+"You travel straight back to London?" asked Irene.
+
+"Straight back," he answered, his eyes cast down.
+
+"To-morrow," said Mrs. Hannaford, "we think of going to Stratford."
+
+Piers had an impulse which made his hands tremble and his head
+throb; in spite of himself he had all but asked whether, if he
+stayed at Malvern overnight, he might accompany them on that
+expedition. Reason prevailed, but only just in time, and the
+conquest left him under a gloomy sense of self-pity, which was the
+worst thing he had suffered all day. Not even Mrs. Hannaford's
+whispered words on his arrival had been so hard to bear.
+
+He sat in silence, wishing to rise, unable to do so. When at length
+he stood up, Irene let her eyes fall upon him, and continued to
+observe him, as if but half consciously whilst he shook hands with
+Mrs. Hannaford. He turned to her, and his lips moved, but what he
+had tried to say went unexpressed. Nor did Irene speak; she could
+have uttered only a civil commonplace, and the tragic pallor of his
+countenance in that moment kept her mute. He touched her hand and
+was gone.
+
+When the house door had closed behind him, the eyes of the two women
+met. Standing as before, they conversed with low voices, with
+troubled brows. Mrs. Hannaford rapidly explained her part in what
+had happened.
+
+"You will forgive me, Irene? I see now that I ought to have told you
+about it yesterday."
+
+"Better as it was, perhaps, so far as I am concerned. But he--I'm
+sorry----"
+
+"He behaved well, don't you think?"
+
+"Yes," replied Irene thoughtfully, slowly, "he behaved well."
+
+They moved apart, and Irene laid her hand on a book, but did not sit
+down.
+
+"How old is he?" she asked of a sudden.
+
+"Six-and-twenty."
+
+"One would take him for more. But of course his ways of thinking
+show how young he is." She fluttered the pages of her book, and
+smiled. "It will be interesting to see him in another five years."
+
+That was all. Neither mentioned Otway's name again during the two
+more days they spent together.
+
+But Irene's mind was busy with the contrast between him and Arnold
+Jacks. She pursued this track of thought whithersoever it led her,
+believing it a wholesome exercise in her present mood. Her choice
+was made, and irrevocable; reason bade her justify it by every means
+that offered. And she persuaded herself that nothing better could
+have happened, at such a juncture, than this suggestion of an
+alternative so widely different.
+
+An interesting boy--six-and-twenty is still a boyish age--with
+all sorts of vague idealisms; nothing ripe; nothing that convinced;
+a dreary cosmopolite, little likely to achieve results in any
+direction. On the other hand, a mature and vigorous man, English to
+the core, stable in his tested views of life, already an active
+participant in the affairs of the nation and certain to move
+victoriously onward; a sure patriot, a sturdy politician. It was
+humiliating to Piers Otway. Indeed, unfair!
+
+On Monday, when she returned from her visit to Stratford, a telegram
+awaited her. "Thank you, letter tomorrow, Arnold." That pleased her;
+the British laconicism; the sensible simplicity of the thing! And
+when the letter arrived (two pages and a half) it seemed a suitable
+reply to hers of Saturday, in which she had used only everyday words
+and phrases. No gushing in Arnold Jacks! He was "happy," he was
+"grateful"; what more need an honest man say to the woman who has
+accepted him? She was his "Dearest Irene"; and what more could she
+ask to be?
+
+A curious thing happened that evening. Mrs. Hannaford and her niece,
+both tired after the day's excursion, and having already talked over
+its abundant interests, sat reading, or pretending to read.
+Suddenly, Irene threw her book aside, with a movement of impatience,
+and stood up.
+
+"Don't you find it very close?" she said, almost irritably. "I shall
+go upstairs. Good-night!"
+
+Her aunt gazed at her in surprise.
+
+"You are tired, my dear."
+
+"I suppose I am--Aunt, there is something I should like to say, if
+you will let me. You are very kind and good, but that makes you,
+sometimes, a little indiscreet. Promise me, please, never to make me
+the subject of conversation with anyone to whom you cannot speak of
+me quite openly, before all the world."
+
+Mrs. Hannaford was overcome with astonishment, with distress. She
+tried to reply, but before she could shape a word Irene had swept
+from the room.
+
+When they met again at breakfast, the girl stepped up to her aunt
+and kissed her on both cheeks--an unusual greeting. She was her
+bright self again; talked merrily; read aloud a letter from her
+father, which proved that at the time of writing he had not seen
+Arnold Jacks.
+
+"I must write to the Doctor to-morrow," she said, with an air of
+reflection.
+
+At ten o'clock they drove to the station. While Miss Derwent took
+her ticket Mrs. Hannaford walked on the platform. On issuing from
+the booking-office, Irene saw her aunt in conversation with a man,
+who, in the same moment, turned abruptly and walked away. Neither
+she nor her aunt spoke of this incident, but Irene noticed that the
+other was a little flushed.
+
+She took her seat; Mrs. Hannaford stood awaiting the departure of
+the train. Before it moved, the man Irene had noticed came back
+along the platform, and passed them without a sign. Irene saw his
+face, and seemed to recognise it, but could not remember who he was.
+
+Half an hour later, the face came back to her, and with it a name.
+
+"Daniel Otway!" she exclaimed to herself.
+
+It was five years and more since her one meeting with him at Ewell,
+but the man, on that occasion, had impressed her strongly in a very
+disagreeable way. She had since heard of him, in relation to Piers
+Otway's affairs, and knew that her aunt had received a call from him
+in Bryanston Square. What could be the meaning of this incident on
+the platform? Irene wondered, and had an unpleasant feeling about
+it.
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+
+On the journey homeward, and for two or three days after, Piers held
+argument with his passions, trying to persuade himself that he had
+in truth lost nothing, inasmuch as his love had never been founded
+upon a reasonable hope. Irene Derwent was neither more nor less to
+him now than she had been ever since he first came to know her: a
+far ideal, the woman he would fain call wife, but only in a dream
+could think of winning. What audacity had speeded him on that wild
+expedition? It was well that he had been saved from declaring his
+folly to Irene herself, who would have shared the pain her answer
+inflicted. Nay, when the moment came, reason surely would have
+checked his absurd impulse. In seeing her once more, he saw how wide
+was the distance between them. No more of that! He had lost nothing
+but a moment's illusion.
+
+The ideal remained; the worship, the gratitude. How much she had
+been to him! Rarely a day--very rarely a day--that the thought
+of Irene did not warm his heart and exalt his ambition. He had
+yielded to the fleshly impulse, and the measure of his lapse was the
+sincerity of that nobler desire; he had not the excuse of the
+ordinary man, nor ever tried to allay his conscience with facile
+views of life. What times innumerable had he murmured her name,
+until it was become to him the only woman's name that sounded in
+truth womanly--all others cold to his imagination. What long
+evenings had he passed, yonder by the Black Sea, content merely to
+dream of Irene Derwent; how many a summer night had he wandered in
+the acacia-planted streets of Odessa, about and about the great
+square, with its trees, where stands the cathedral; how many a time
+had his heart throbbed all but to bursting when he listened to the
+music on the Boulevard, and felt so terribly alone--alone! Irene
+was England. He knew nothing of the patriotism which is but shouted
+politics; from his earliest years of intelligence he had learnt,
+listening to his father, a contempt for that loud narrowness; but
+the tongue which was Irene's, the landscape where shone Irene's
+figure--these were dear to him for Irene's sake. He believed in
+his heart of hearts that only the Northern Island could boast the
+perfect woman--because he had found her there.
+
+Should he talk of loss--he who had gained so unspeakably by an
+ideal love through the hot years of his youth, who to the end of his
+life would be made better by it? That were the basest ingratitude.
+Irene owed him nothing, yet had enriched him beyond calculation. He
+did not love her less; she was the same power in his life. This
+sinking of the heart, this menace of gloom and rebellion, was
+treachery to his better self. He fought manfully against it.
+
+Circumstances were unfavourable to such a struggle. Work, absorption
+in the day's duty, well and good; but when work and duty led one
+into the City of London! At first, he had found excitement in the
+starting of his business; so much had to be done, so many points to
+be debated and decided, so many people to be seen and conversed
+with, contended with; it was all an exhilarating effort of mind and
+body. He felt the joy of combat; sped to the City like any other
+man, intent on holding his own amid the furious welter, seeing a
+delight in the computation of his chances; at once a fighter and a
+gambler, like those with whom he rubbed shoulders in the roaring
+ways. He overtaxed his energy, and in any case there must have come
+reaction. It came with violence soon after that day at Malvern.
+
+The weather was hot; one should have been far away from these huge
+rampart-streets, these stifling burrows of commerce. But here toil
+and stress went on as usual, and Piers Otway saw it all in a lurid
+light. These towering edifices with inscriptions numberless,
+announcing every imaginable form of trade with every corner of the
+world; here a vast building, consecrate in all its commercial
+magnificence, great windows and haughty doorways, the gleam of
+gilding and of brass, the lustre of polished woods, to a single
+company or firm; here a huge structure which housed on its many
+floors a crowd of enterprises, names by the score signalled at the
+foot of the gaping staircase; arrogant suggestions of triumph side
+by side with desperate beginnings; titles of world-wide significance
+meeting the eye at every turn, vulgar names with more weight than
+those of princes, words in small lettering which ruled the fate of
+millions of men;--no nightmare was ever so crushing to one in
+Otway's mood. The brute force of money; the negation of the
+individual--these, the evils of our time, found there supreme
+expression in the City of London. Here was opulence at home and
+superb; here must poverty lurk and shrink, feeling itself alive only
+on sufferance; the din of highway and byway was a voice of
+blustering conquest, bidding the weaker to stand aside or be
+crushed. Here no man was a human being, but each merely a portion of
+an inconceivably complicated mechanism. The shiny-hatted figure who
+rushed or sauntered, gloomed by himself at corners or made one of a
+talking group, might elsewhere be found a reasonable and kindly
+person, with traits, peculiarities; here one could see in him
+nothing but a money-maker of this or that class, ground to a certain
+pattern. The smooth working of the huge machine made it only the
+more sinister; one had but to remember what cold tyranny, what
+elaborate fraud, were served by its manifold ingenuities, only to
+think of the cries of anguish stifled by its monotonous roar.
+
+Piers had undertaken a task and would not shirk it; but in spite of
+all reasonings and idealisms he found life a hard thing during those
+weeks of August. He lost his sleep, turned from food, and for a
+moment feared collapse such as he had suffered soon after his first
+going to Odessa.
+
+By the good offices of John Jacks he had already been elected to a
+convenient club, and occasionally he passed an evening there; but
+his habit was to go home to Guildford Street, and sit hour after
+hour in languid brooding. He feared the streets at night-time; in
+his loneliness and misery, a gleam upon some wanton face would
+perchance have lured him, as had happened ere now. Not so much at
+the bidding of his youthful blood, as out of mere longing for
+companionship, the common cause of disorder in men condemned to
+solitude in great cities. A woman's voice, the touch of a soft hand
+--this is what men so often hunger for, when they are censured for
+lawless appetite. But Piers Otway knew himself, and chose to sit
+alone in the dreary lodging-house. Then he thought of Irene, trying
+to forget what had happened. Now and then successfully; in a waking
+dream he saw and heard her, and knew again the exalting passion that
+had been the best of his life, and was saved from ignoble impulse.
+
+When he was at the lowest, there came a letter from Olga Hannaford,
+the first he had ever received in her writing. Olga had joined her
+mother at Malvern, and Mrs. Hannaford was so unwell that it seemed
+likely they would remain there for a few weeks. "When we can move,
+the best thing will be to take a house in or near London. Mother has
+decided not to return to Bryanston Square, and I, for my part, shall
+give up the life you made fun of. You were quite right; of course it
+was foolish to go on in that way." She asked him to write to her
+mother, whom a line from him would cheer. Piers did so; also
+replying to his correspondent, and trying to make a humorous picture
+of the life he led between the City and Guilford Street. It was a
+sorry jest, but it helped him against his troubles. When, in a
+week's time, Olga again wrote, he was glad. The letter seemed to him
+interesting; it revived their common memories of life at Geneva,
+whither Olga said she would like to return. "What to do--how to
+pass the years before me--is the question with me now, as I
+suppose it is with so many girls of my age. I must find a _mission_.
+Can you suggest one? Only don't let it have anything humanitarian
+about it. That would make me a humbug, which I have never been yet.
+It must be something entirely for my own pleasure and profit. Do
+think about it in an idle moment."
+
+With recovery from his physical ill-being came a new mental
+restlessness; the return, rather, of a mood which had always
+assailed him when he lost for a time his ideal hope. He demanded of
+life the joy natural to his years; revolted against the barrenness
+of his lot. A terror fell upon him lest he should be fated never to
+know the supreme delight of which he was capable, and for which
+alone he lived. Even now was he not passing his prime, losing the
+keener faculties of youth? He trembled at the risks of every day;
+what was his assurance against the common ill-hap which might
+afflict him with disease, blight his life with accident, so that no
+woman's eye could ever be tempted to rest upon him? He cursed the
+restrictions which held him on a straight path of routine, of narrow
+custom, when a world of possibilities spread about him on either
+hand, the mirage of his imprisoned spirit. Adventurous projects
+succeeded each other in his thoughts. He turned to the lands where
+life was freer, where perchance his happiness awaited him, had he
+but the courage to set forth. What brought him to London, this
+squalid blot on the map of the round world? Why did he consume the
+irrecoverable hours amid its hostile tumult, its menacing gloom?
+
+On the first Sunday in September he aroused himself to travel by an
+early train, which bore him far into the country. He had taken a
+ticket at hazard for a place with a pleasant-sounding name, and
+before village bells had begun to ring he was wandering in deep
+lanes amid the weald of Sussex. All about him lay the perfect
+loveliness of that rural landscape which is the old England, the
+true England, the England dear to the best of her children. Meadow
+and copse, the yellow rank of new-reaped sheaves, brown roofs of
+farm and cottage amid shadowing elms, the grassy borders of the
+road, hedges with their flowered creepers and promise of wild fruit
+--these things brought him comfort. Mile after mile he wandered,
+losing himself in simplest enjoyment, forgetting to ask why he was
+alone. When he felt hungry, an inn supplied him with a meal. Again
+he rambled on, and in a leafy corner found a spot where he could
+idle for an hour or two, until it was time to think of the railway
+station.
+
+He had tired himself; his mind slipped from the beautiful things
+around him, and fell into the old reverie. He murmured the haunting
+name--Irene. As well as for her who bore it, he loved the name for
+its meaning. Peace! As a child he had been taught that no word was
+more beautiful, more solemn; at this moment, he could hear it in his
+father's voice, sounding as a note of music, with a tremor of deep
+feeling. Peace! Every year that passed gave him a fuller
+understanding of his father's devotion to that word in all its
+significance; he himself knew something of the same fervour, and was
+glad to foster it in his heart. Peace! What better could a man
+pursue? From of old the desire of wisdom, the prayer of the aspiring
+soul.
+
+And what else was this Love for which he anguished? Irene herself,
+the beloved, sought with passion and with worship, what more could
+she give him, when all was given, than content, repose, peace?
+
+He had been too ambitious. It was the fault of his character, and,
+thus far on his life's journey, in recognising the error might he
+not correct it? Unbalanced ambition explained his ineffectiveness.
+At six-and-twenty he had done nothing, and saw no hope of activity
+correspondent with his pride. In Russia he had at least felt that he
+was treading an uncrowded path: he had made his own a language
+familiar to very few western Europeans, and constantly added to his
+knowledge of a people moving to some unknown greatness; the position
+was not ignoble. But here in London he was lost amid the uproar of
+striving tradesmen. The one thing which would still have justified
+him, hope of wealth, had all but vanished. He must get rid of his
+absurd self-estimate, see himself in the light of common day.
+
+Peace! He could only hope for it in marriage; but what was marriage
+without ideal love? Impossible that he should ever love another
+woman as he had loved, as he still loved, Irene. The ordinary man
+seeks a wife just as he takes any other practical step necessary to
+his welfare; he marries because he must, not because he has met with
+the true companion of his life; he mates to be quiet, to be
+comfortable, to get on with his work, whatever it be. Love in the
+high sense between man and woman is of all things the most rare. Few
+are capable of it; to fewer still is it granted. "The crown of
+life!" said Jerome Otway. A truth, even from the strictly scientific
+point of view; for is not a great mutual passion the culminating
+height of that blind reproductive impulse from which life begins?
+Supreme desire; perfection of union. The purpose of Nature
+translated into human consciousness, become the glory of the highest
+soul, uttered in the lyric rapture of noblest speech.
+
+That, he must renounce. But not thereby was he condemned to a
+foolish or base alliance. Women innumerable might be met, charming,
+sensible, good, no unfit objects of his wooing; in all modesty he
+might hope for what the world calls happiness. But, put it at the
+best, he would be doing as other men do, taking a wife for his
+solace, for the defeat of his assailing blood. It was the bitterness
+of his mere humanity that he could not hope to live alone and
+faithful. Five years ago he might have said to himself, "Irene or no
+one!" and have said it with the honesty of youth, of inexperience.
+No such enthusiasm was possible to him now. For the thing which is
+common in fable is all but unknown in life: a man, capable of loving
+ardently, who for the sake of one woman, beyond his hope, sacrifices
+love altogether. Piers Otway, who read much verse, had not neglected
+his Browning. He knew the transcendent mood of Browning's ideal
+lover--the beatific dream of love eternal, world after world,
+hoping for ever, and finding such hope preferable to every less
+noble satisfaction. For him, a mood only, passing with a smile and a
+sigh. To that he was not equal; these heights heroic were not for
+his treading. Too insistent were the flesh and blood that composed
+his earthly being.
+
+He must renounce the best of himself, step consciously to a lower
+level. Only let it not prove sheer degradation.
+
+In all his struggling against the misery of loss, one thought never
+tempted him. Never for a fleeting instant did he doubt that his
+highest love was at the same time highest reason. Men woefully
+deceive themselves, yearning for women whose image in their minds is
+a mere illusion, women who scarce for a day could bring them
+happiness, and whose companionship through life would become a
+curse. Be it so; Piers knew it, dwelt upon it as a perilous fact; it
+had no application to his love for Irene Derwent. Indeed, Piers was
+rich in that least common form of intelligence--the intelligence
+of the heart. Emotional perspicacity, the power of recognising
+through all forms of desire one's true affinity in the other sex, is
+bestowed upon one mortal in a vast multitude. Not lack of
+opportunity alone accounts for the failure of men and women to mate
+becomingly; only the elect have eyes to see, even where the field of
+choice is freely opened to them. But Piers Otway saw and knew, once
+and for ever. He had the genius of love: where he could not observe,
+divination came to his help. His knowledge of Irene Derwent
+surpassed that of the persons most intimate with her, and he could
+as soon have doubted his own existence as the certainty that Irene
+was what he thought her, neither more nor less. But he had erred in
+dreaming it possible that he might win her love. That he was not all
+unworthy of it, his pride continued to assure him; what he had
+failed to perceive was the impossibility, circumstances being as
+they were, of urging a direct suit, of making himself known to
+Irene. His birth, his position, the accidents of his career--all
+forbade it. This had been forced upon his consciousness from the
+very first, in hours of despondency or of torment; but he was too
+young and too ardent for the fact to have its full weight with him.
+Hope resisted; passion refused acquiescence. Nothing short of what
+had happened could reveal to him the vanity of his imaginings. He
+looked back on the years of patient confidence with wonder and
+compassion. Had he really hoped? Yes, for he had lived so long
+alone.
+
+Paragraphs, morning, evening, and weekly, had long since published
+Miss Derwent's engagement. Those making simple announcement of the
+fact were trial enough to him when his eye fell upon them;
+intolerable were those which commented, as in the case of a society
+journal which he had idly glanced over at his club. This taught him
+that Irene had more social importance than he guessed; her marriage
+would be something of an event. Heaven grant that he might read no
+journalistic description of the ceremony! Few things more disgusted
+him than the thought of a fashionable wedding; he could see nothing
+in it but profanation and indecency. That mattered little, to be
+sure, in the case of ordinary people, who were born, and lived, and
+died, in fashionable routine, anxious only to exhibit themselves at
+any given moment in the way held to be good form; but it was hard to
+think that custom's tyranny should lay its foul hand on Irene
+Derwent. Perhaps her future husband meant no such thing, and would
+arrange it all with quiet becomingness. Certainly her father would
+not favour the tawdry and the vulgar.
+
+No date was announced. Paragraphs said merely that it would be
+"before the end of the year."
+
+After all, his day amid the fields was spoilt. He had allowed his
+mind to stray in the forbidden direction, and the seeming quiet to
+which he had attained was overthrown once more. Heavily he moved
+towards the wayside station, and drearily he waited for the train
+that was to take him back to his meaningless toil and strife.
+
+In the compartment he entered, an empty one, some passenger had left
+a weekly periodical; Piers seized upon it gladly, and read to
+distract his thoughts. One article interested him; it was on the
+subject of national characteristics: cleverly written, what is
+called "smart" journalism, with grip and epigram, with hint of
+universal knowledge and the true air of British superiority. Having
+scanned the writer's comment on the Slavonic peoples, Piers laughed
+aloud; so evidently it was a report at second or third hand, utterly
+valueless to one who had any real acquaintance with the Slavs. This
+moment of spontaneous mirth did him good, helped to restore his
+self-respect. And as he pondered old ambitions stirred again in him.
+Could he not make some use of the knowledge he had gained so
+laboriously--some use other than that whereby he earned his
+living? Not so long ago, he had harboured great designs, vague but
+not irrational. And to-day, even in bidding himself be humble, his
+intellect was little tuned to humility. He had never, at his point
+of darkest depression, really believed that life had no shining
+promise for him. The least boastful of men, he was at heart one of
+the most aspiring. His moods varied wonderfully. When he alighted at
+the London terminus, he looked and felt like a man refreshed by some
+new hope.
+
+Half by accident, he kept the paper he had been reading. It lay on
+his table in Guildford Street for weeks, for months. Years after, he
+came upon it one day in turning out the contents of a trunk, and
+remembered his ramble in the Sussex woodland, and smiled at the
+chances of life.
+
+On Monday morning he had a characteristic letter from Moncharmont,
+part English, part French, part Russian. Nothing, or only a passing
+word, about business; communications of that sort were all addressed
+to the office, and were as concise, as practical, as any trader
+could have desired. In his friendly letter, Moncharmont chatted of a
+certain Polish girl with whom he had newly made acquaintance, whose
+beauty, according to the good Andre, was a thing to dream of, not to
+tell. It meant nothing, as Piers knew. The cosmopolitan Swiss fell
+in love some dozen times a year, with maidens or women of every
+nationality and every social station. Be the issue what it might, he
+was never unhappy. He had a gallery of photographs, and delighted to
+pore over it, indulging reminiscences or fostering hopes. Once in a
+twelvemonth or so, he made up his mind to marry, but never went
+further than the intention. It was doubtful whether he would ever
+commit himself irrevocably. "It seems such a pity," he often said,
+with his pensively humorous smile, "to limit the scope of one's
+emotions--_borner la carriere a ses emotions_!" Then he sighed,
+and was in the best of spirits.
+
+Not even to Moncharmont--with whom he talked more freely than with
+any other man--had Piers ever spoken of Irene. Andre of course
+suspected some romantic attachment, and was in constant amaze at
+Piers' fidelity.
+
+"Ah, you English! you English!" he would exclaim. "You are the
+stoics of the modern world. I admire; yes, I admire; but, my friend,
+I do not wish to imitate."
+
+The letter cheered Otway's breakfast; he read it instead of the
+newspaper, and with vastly more benefit.
+
+Another letter had come to his private address, a note from Mrs.
+Hannaford. She was regaining strength, and hoped soon to come South
+again. Her brother had already taken a nice little house for her at
+Campden Hill, where Olga would have a sort of studio, and, she
+trusted, would make herself happy. Both looked forward to seeing
+Piers; they sent him their very kindest remembrances.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+
+The passionate temperament is necessarily sanguine. To desire with
+all one's being is the same thing as to hope. In Piers Otway's case,
+the temper which defies discouragement existed together with the
+intellect which ever tends to discourage, with the mind which probes
+appearances, makes war upon illusions. Hence his oft varying moods,
+as the one or the other part of him became ascendent. Hence his
+fervours of idealism, and the habit of destructive criticism which
+seemed inconsistent with them. Hence his ardent ambitions, and his
+appearance of plodding mediocrity in practical life.
+
+Intensely self-conscious, he suffered much from a habit of
+comparing, contrasting himself with other men, with men who achieved
+things, who made their way, who played a part in the world. He could
+not read a newspaper without reflecting, sometimes bitterly, on the
+careers and position of men whose names were prominent in its
+columns. So often, he well knew, their success came only of accident
+--as one uses the word: of favouring circumstance, which had no
+relation to the man's powers and merits. Piers had no overweening
+self-esteem; he judged his abilities more accurately, and more
+severely, than any observer would have done; yet it was plain to him
+that he would be more than capable, so far as endowment went, of
+filling the high place occupied by this or the other far-shining
+personage. He frankly envied their success--always for one and the
+same reason.
+
+Nothing so goaded his imagination as a report of the marriage of
+some leader in the world's game. He dwelt on these paragraphs,
+filled up the details, grew faint with realisation of the man's
+triumphant happiness. At another moment, his reason ridiculed this
+self-torment. He knew that in all probability such a marriage
+implied no sense of triumph, involved no high emotions, promised
+nothing but the commonest domestic satisfaction. Portraits of brides
+in an illustrated paper sometimes wrought him to intolerable
+agitation--the mood of his early manhood, as when he stood before
+the print shop in the Haymarket; now that he had lost Irene, the
+whole world of beautiful women called again to his senses and his
+soul. With the cooler moment came a reminder that these lovely faces
+were for the most part mere masks, tricking out a very ordinary
+woman, more likely than not unintelligent, unhelpful, as the
+ordinary human being of either sex is wont to be. What seemed to
+_him_ the crown of a man's career, was, in most cases, a mere
+incident, deriving its chief importance from social and pecuniary
+considerations. Even where a sweet countenance told truth about the
+life behind it, how seldom did the bridegroom appreciate what he had
+won! For the most part, men who have great good fortune, in
+marriage, or in anything else, are incapable of tasting their
+success. It is the imaginative being in the crowd below who marvels
+and is thrilled.
+
+How was it with Arnold Jacks? Did he understand what had befallen
+him? If so, on what gleaming heights did he now live and move! What
+rapture of gratitude must possess the man! What humility! What
+arrogance!
+
+Piers had not met him since the engagement was made known; he hoped
+not to meet him for a long time. Happily, in this holiday season,
+there was no fear of an invitation to Queen's Gate.
+
+Yet the unexpected happened. Early in September, he received a note
+from John Jacks, asking him to dine. The writer said that he had
+been at the seaside, and was tired of it, and meant to spend a week
+or two quietly in London; he was quite alone, so Otway need not
+dress.
+
+Reassured by the last sentence of the letter, Piers gladly went; for
+he liked to talk with John Jacks, and had a troubled pleasure in the
+thought that he might hear something about the approaching marriage.
+On his arrival, he was shown into the study, where his host lay on a
+sofa. The greeting was cordial, the voice cheery as ever, but as Mr.
+Jacks rose he had more of the appearance of old age than Piers had
+yet seen in him; he seemed to stand with some difficulty, his face
+betokening a body ill at ease.
+
+"How pleasant London is in September!" he exclaimed, with a laugh.
+"I've been driving about, as one does in a town abroad, just to see
+the streets. Strange that one knows Paris and Rome a good deal
+better than London. Yet it's really very interesting--don't you
+think?"
+
+The twinkling eye, the humorous accent, which had won Piers'
+affection, soon allayed his disquietude at being in this house. He
+spoke of his own recent excursion, confessing that he better
+appreciated London from a distance.
+
+"Ay, ay! I know all about that," replied Mr. Jacks, his Yorkshire
+note sounding, as it did occasionally. "But you're young, you're
+young; what does it matter where you live? To be your age again, I'd
+live at St. Helens, or Widnes. You have hope, man, always hope. And
+you may live to see what the world is like half a century from now.
+It's strange to look at you, and think that!"
+
+John Jacks' presence in London, and alone, at this time of the year
+had naturally another explanation than that he felt tired of the
+seaside. In truth, he had come up to see a medical specialist.
+Carefully he kept from his wife the knowledge of a disease which was
+taking hold upon him, which--as he had just learnt--threatened
+rapidly fatal results. From his son, also, he had concealed the
+serious state of his health, lest it should interfere with Arnold's
+happy mood in prospect of marriage. He was no coward, but a life
+hitherto untroubled by sickness had led him to hope that he might
+pass easily from the world, and a doom of extinction by torture
+perturbed his philosophy.
+
+He liked to forget himself in contemplation of Piers Otway's youth
+and soundness. He had pleasure, too, in Piers' talk, which reminded
+him of Jerome Otway, some half-century ago.
+
+Mrs. Jacks was staying with her own family, and from that house
+would pass to others, equally decorous, where John had promised to
+join her. Of course she was uneasy about him; that entered into her
+role of model spouse: but the excellent lady never suspected the
+true cause of that habit of sadness which had grown upon her husband
+during the last few years, a melancholy which anticipated his
+decline in health. John Jacks had made the mistake natural to such a
+man; wedding at nearly sixty a girl of much less than half his age,
+he found, of course, that his wife had nothing to give him but duty
+and respect, and before long he bitterly reproached himself with the
+sacrifice of which he was guilty.
+
+    "Soar on thy manhood clear of those
+     Whose toothless Winter claws at May,
+     And take her as the vein of rose
+     Athwart an evening grey."
+
+These lines met his eye one day in a new volume which bore the name
+of George Meredith, and they touched him nearly; the poem they
+closed gave utterance to the manful resignation of one who has
+passed the age of love, yet is tempted by love's sweetness, and John
+Jacks took to heart the reproach it seemed to level at himself.
+Putting aside the point of years, he had not chosen with any
+discretion; he married a handsome face, a graceful figure, just as
+any raw boy might have done. His wife, he suspected, was not the
+woman to suffer greatly in her false position; she had very
+temperate blood, and a thoroughly English devotion to the
+proprieties; none the less he had done her wrong, for she belonged
+to a gentle family in mediocre circumstances, and his prospective
+"M.P.," his solid wealth, were sore temptations to put before such a
+girl. He had known--yes, he assuredly knew--that it was nothing
+but a socially sanctioned purchase. Beauty should have become to him
+but the "vein of rose," to be regarded with gentle admiration and
+with reverence, from afar. He yielded to an unworthy temptation,
+and, being a man of unusual sensitiveness, very soon paid the
+penalty in self-contempt.
+
+He could not love his wife; he could scarce honour her--for she
+too must consciously have sinned against the highest law. Her
+irreproachable behaviour only saddened him. Now that he found
+himself under sentence of death, his solace was the thought that his
+widow would still be young enough to redeem her error--if she were
+capable of redeeming it.
+
+Alone with his guest in the large dining-room, and compelled to make
+only pretence of eating and drinking, he talked of many things with
+the old spontaneity, the accustomed liberal kindliness, and dropped
+at length upon the subject Piers was waiting for.
+
+"You know, I daresay, that Arnold is going to marry?"
+
+"I have heard of it," Piers answered, with the best smile he could
+command.
+
+"You can imagine it pleases me. I don't see how he could have been
+luckier. Dr. Derwent is one of the finest men I know, and his
+daughter is worthy of him."
+
+"She is, I am sure," said Piers, in a balanced voice, which sounded
+mere civility.
+
+And when silence had lasted rather too long, the host having fallen
+into reverie, he added:
+
+"Will it take place soon?"
+
+"Ah--the wedding? About Christmas, I think. Arnold is looking for
+a house. By the bye, you know young Derwent--Eustace?"
+
+Piers answered that he had only the slightest acquaintance with the
+young man.
+
+"Not brilliant, I think," said Mr. Jacks musingly. "But amiable,
+straight. I don't know that he'll do much at the Bar."
+
+Again he lost himself for a little, his knitted brows seeming to
+indicate an anxious thought.
+
+"Now you shall tell me anything you care to, about business," said
+the host, when they had seated themselves in the library. "And after
+that I have something to show you--something you'll like to see, I
+think."
+
+Otway's curiosity was at a loss when presently he saw his host take
+from a drawer a little packet of papers.
+
+"I had forgotten all about these," said Mr. Jacks. "They are
+manuscripts of your father; writings of various kinds which he sent
+me in the early fifties. Turning out my old papers, I came across
+them the other day, and thought I would give them to you."
+
+He rustled the faded sheets, glancing over them with a sad smile.
+
+"There's an amusing thing--called 'Historical Fragment.' I
+remember, oh I remember very well, how it pleased me when I first
+read it."
+
+He read it aloud now, with many a chuckle, many a pause of sly
+emphasis.
+
+"'The Story of the last war between the Asiatic kingdoms of Duroba
+and Kalaya, though it has reached us in a narrative far too concise,
+is one of the most interesting chapters in the history of ancient
+civilisation.
+
+"'They were bordering states, peopled by races closely akin, whose
+languages, it appears, were mutually intelligible; each had
+developed its own polity, and had advanced to a high degree of
+refinement in public and private life. Wars between them had been
+frequent, but at the time with which we are concerned the spirit of
+hostility was all but forgotten in a happy peace of long duration.
+Each country was ruled by an aged monarch, beloved of the people,
+but, under the burden of years, grown of late somewhat less vigilant
+than was consistent with popular welfare. Thus it came to pass that
+power fell into the hands of unscrupulous statesmen, who, aided by
+singular circumstances, succeeded in reviving for a moment the old
+sanguinary jealousies.
+
+"'We are told that a General in the army of Duroba, having a turn
+for experimental chemistry, had discovered a substance of terrible
+explosive power, which, by the exercise of further ingenuity, he had
+adapted for use in warfare. About the same time, a public official
+in Kalaya, whose duty it was to convey news to the community by
+means of a primitive system. of manuscript placarding, hit upon a
+mechanical method whereby news-sheets could be multiplied very
+rapidly and be sold to readers all over the kingdom. Now the Duroban
+General felt eager to test his discovery in a campaign, and,
+happening to have a quarrel with a politician in the neighbouring
+state, did his utmost to excite hostile feeling against Kalaya. On
+the other hand, the Kalayan official, his cupidity excited by the
+profits already arising from his invention, desired nothing better
+than some stirring event which would lead to still greater demand
+for the news-sheets he distributed, and so he also was led to the
+idea of stirring up international strife. To be brief, these
+intrigues succeeded only too well; war was actually declared, the
+armies were mustered, and marched to the encounter.
+
+"'They met at a point of the common frontier where only a little
+brook flowed between the two kingdoms. It was nightfall; each host
+encamped, to await the great engagement which on the morrow would
+decide between them.
+
+"'It must be understood that the Durobans and the Kalayans differed
+markedly in national characteristics. The former people was
+distinguished by joyous vitality and a keen sense of humour; the
+latter, by a somewhat meditative disposition inclining to timidity;
+and doubtless these qualities had become more pronounced during the
+long peace which would naturally favour them. Now, when night had
+fallen on the camps, the common soldiers on each side began to
+discuss, over their evening meal, the position in which they found
+themselves. The men of Duroba, having drunk well, as their habit
+was, fell into an odd state of mind. "What!" they exclaimed to one
+another. "After all these years of tranquillity, are we really going
+to fight with the Kalayans, and to slaughter them and be ourselves
+slaughtered! Pray, what is it all about? Who can tell us?" Not a man
+could answer, save with the vaguest generalities. And so, the debate
+continuing, the wonder growing from moment to moment, at length, and
+all of a sudden, the Duroban camp echoed with huge peals of
+laughter. "Why, if we soldiers have no cause of quarrel, what are we
+doing here? Shall we be mangled and killed to please our General
+with the turn for chemistry? That were a joke, indeed!" And, as soon
+as mirth permitted, the army rose as one man, threw together their
+belongings, and with jovial songs trooped off to sleep comfortably
+in a town a couple of miles away.
+
+"'The Kalayans, meanwhile, had been occupied with the very same
+question. They were anything but martial of mood, and the soldiery,
+ill at ease in their camp, grumbled and protested. "After all, why
+are we here?" cried one to the other. "Who wants to injure the
+Durobans? And what man among us desires to be blown to pieces by
+their new instruments of war? Pray, why should we fight? If the
+great officials are angry, as the news-sheets tell us, e'en let them
+do the fighting themselves." At this moment there sounded from the
+enemy's camp a stupendous roar; it was much like laughter; no doubt
+the Durobans were jubilant in anticipation of their victory. Fear
+seized the Kalayans; they rose like one man, and incontinently fled
+far into the sheltering night!
+
+"'Thus ended the war--the last between these happy nations, who,
+not very long after, united to form a noble state under one ruler.
+It is interesting to note that the original instigators of hostility
+did not go without their deserts. The Duroban General, having been
+duly tried for a crime against his country, was imprisoned in a
+spacious building, the rooms of which were hung with great pictures
+representing every horror of battle with the ghastliest fidelity;
+here he was supplied with materials for chemical experiment, to
+occupy his leisure, and very shortly, by accident, blew himself to
+pieces. The Kalayan publicist was also convicted of treason against
+the state; they banished him to a desert island, where for many
+hours daily he had to multiply copies of his news-sheet--that
+issue which contained the declaration of war--and at evening to
+burn them all. He presently became imbecile, and so passed away.'"
+
+Piers laughed with delight.
+
+"Whether it ever got into print," said Mr. Jacks, "I don't know.
+Your father was often careless about his best things. I'm afraid he
+was never quite convinced that ideals of that kind influence the
+world. Yet they do, you know, though it's a slow business. It's
+thought that leads."
+
+"The multitude following in its own fashion," said Piers drily.
+"Rousseau teaches liberty and fraternity; France learns the lesson
+and plunges into '93."
+
+"With Nap to put things straight again. For all that a step was
+taken. We are better for Jean Jacques--a little better."
+
+"And for Napoleon, too, I suppose. Napoleon--a wild beast with a
+genius for arithmetic."
+
+John Jacks let his eyes rest upon the speaker, interested and
+amused.
+
+"That's how you see him? Not a bad definition. I suppose the truth
+is, we know nothing about human history. The old view was good for
+working by--Jehovah holding his balance, smiting on one side, and
+rewarding on the other. It's our national view to this day. The
+English are an Old Testament people; they never cared about the New.
+Do you know that there's a sect who hold that the English are the
+Lost Tribes--the People of the Promise? I see a great deal to be
+said for that idea. No other nation has such profound sympathy with
+the history and the creeds of Israel. Did you ever think of it? That
+Old Testament religion suits us perfectly--our arrogance and our
+pugnaciousness; this accounts for its hold on the mind of the
+people; it couldn't be stronger if the bloodthirsty old Tribes were
+truly our ancestors. The English seized upon their spiritual
+inheritance as soon as a translation of the Bible put it before
+them. In Catholic days we fought because we enjoyed it, and made no
+pretences; since the Reformation we have fought for Jehovah."
+
+"I suppose," said Piers, "the English are the least Christian of all
+so-called Christian peoples."
+
+"Undoubtedly. They simply don't know the meaning of the prime
+Christian virtue--humility. But that's neither here nor there, in
+talking of progress. You remember Goldsmith--
+
+    'Pride in their port, defiance in their eye,
+     I see the lords of human kind pass by.'
+
+"Our pride has been a good thing, on the whole. Whether it will still
+be, now that it's so largely the pride of riches, let him say who is
+alive fifty years hence."
+
+He paused and added gravely:
+
+"I'm afraid the national character is degenerating. We were always
+too fond of liquor, and Heaven knows our responsibility for
+drunkenness all over the world; but worse than that is our gambling.
+You may drink and be a fine fellow; but every gambler is a sneak,
+and possibly a criminal. We're beginning, now, to gamble for slices
+of the world. We're getting base, too, in our grovelling before the
+millionaire--who as often as not has got his money vilely. This
+sort of thing won't do for 'the lords of human kind.' Our pride, if
+we don't look out, will turn to bluffing and bullying. I'm afraid we
+govern selfishly where we've conquered. We hear dark things of
+India, and worse of Africa. And hear the roaring of the Jingoes!
+Johnson defined Patriotism you know, as the last refuge of a
+scoundrel; it looks as if it might presently be the last refuge of a
+fool."
+
+"Meanwhile," said Piers, "the real interests of England, real
+progress in national life, seem to be as good as lost sight of."
+
+"Yes, more and more. They think that material prosperity is
+progress. So it is--up to a certain point, and who ever stops
+there? Look at Germany."
+
+"Once the peaceful home of pure intellect, the land of Goethe."
+
+"Once, yes. And my fear is that our brute, blustering Bismarck may
+be coming. But," he suddenly brightened, "croakers be hanged! The
+civilisers are at work too, and they have their way in the end.
+Think of a man like your father, who seemed to pass and be
+forgotten. Was it really so? I'll warrant that at this hour Jerome
+Otway's spirit is working in many of our best minds. There's no
+calculating the power of the man who speaks from his very heart. His
+words don't perish, though he himself may lose courage."
+
+Listening, Piers felt a glow pass into all the currents of his life.
+
+"If only," he exclaimed, in a voice that trembled, "I had as much
+strength as desire to carry on his work!"
+
+"Why, who knows?" replied John Jacks, looking with encouragement
+wherein mingled something of affection.
+
+"You have the power of sincerity, I see that. Speak always as you
+believe, and who knows what opportunity you may find for making
+yourself heard!"
+
+John Jacks reflected deeply for a few moments.
+
+"I'm going away in a day or two," he said at length, in a measured
+voice, "and my movements are uncertain--uncertain. But we shall
+meet again before the end of the year."
+
+When he had left the house, Piers recalled the tone of this remark,
+and dwelt upon it with disquietude.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+
+The night being fair, Piers set out to walk a part of the way home.
+It was only by thoroughly tiring himself with bodily exercise that
+he could get sound and long oblivion. Hours of sleeplessness were
+his dread. However soon he awoke after daybreak, he rose at once and
+drove his mind to some sort of occupation. To escape from himself
+was all he lived for in these days. An ascetic of old times,
+subduing his flesh in cell or cave, battled no harder than this
+idealist of London City tortured by his solitude.
+
+On the pavement of Piccadilly he saw some yards before him, a man
+seemingly of the common lounging sort, tall-hatted and frock-coated,
+who was engaged in the cautious pursuit of a female figure, just in
+advance. A light and springy and half-stalking step; head jutting a
+little forward; the cane mechanically swung--a typical
+woman-hunter, in some doubt as to his quarry. On an impulse of
+instinct or calculation, the man all at once took a few rapid
+strides, bringing himself within sideview of the woman's face.
+Evidently he spoke a word; he received an obviously curt reply; he
+fell back, paced slowly, turned and Piers became aware of a
+countenance he knew--that of his brother Daniel.
+
+It was a disagreeable moment. Daniel's lean, sallow visage had no
+aptitude for the expression of shame, but his eyes grew very round,
+and his teeth showed in a hard grin.
+
+"Why, Piers, my boy! Again we meet in a London street--which is
+rhyme, and sounds like Browning, doesn't it? _Comment ca va-t-il_?"
+
+Piers shook hands very coldly, without pretence of a smile.
+
+"I am walking on," he said. "Yours is the other way, I think."
+
+"What! You wish to cut me? Pray, your exquisite reason?"
+
+"Well, then, I think you have behaved meanly and dishonourably to
+me. I don't wish to discuss the matter, only to make myself
+understood."
+
+His ability to use this language, and to command himself as he did
+so, was a surprise to Piers. Nothing he disliked more than personal
+altercation; he shrank from it at almost any cost. But the sight of
+Daniel, the sound of his artificial voice, moved him deeply with
+indignation, and for the first time in his life he spoke out. Having
+done so, he had a pleasurable sensation; he felt his assured
+manhood.
+
+Daniel was astonished, disconcerted, but showed no disposition to
+close the interview; turning, he walked along by his brother.
+
+"I suppose I know what you refer to. But let me explain. I think my
+explanation will interest you."
+
+"No, I'm afraid it will not," replied Piers quietly.
+
+"In any case, lend me your ears. You are offended by my failure to
+pay that debt. Well, my nature is frankness, and I will plead guilty
+to a certain procrastination. I meant to send you the money; I fully
+meant to do so. But in the first place, it took much longer than I
+expected to realise the good old man's estate, and when at length
+the money came into my hands, I delayed and delayed--just as one
+does, you know; let us admit these human weaknesses. And I
+procrastinated till I was really ashamed--you follow the
+psychology of the thing? Then I said to myself: Now it is pretty
+certain Piers is not in actual want of this sum, or he would have
+pressed for it. On the other hand, a day may come when he will
+really be glad to remember that I am his banker for a hundred and
+fifty pounds. Yes--I said--I will wait till that moment comes; I
+will save the money for him, as becomes his elder brother. Piers is
+a good fellow, and will understand. _Voila_!"
+
+Piers kept silence.
+
+"Tell me, my dear boy," pursued the other. "Alexander of course paid
+that little sum he owed you?"
+
+"He too has preferred to remain my banker."
+
+"Now I call that very shameful!" burst out Daniel. "No, that's too
+bad!"
+
+"How did you know he owed me money?" inquired Piers.
+
+"How? Why, he told me himself, down at Hawes, after you went. We
+were talking of you, of your admirable qualities, and in his bluff,
+genial way he threw out how generously you had behaved to him, at a
+moment when he was hard up. He wanted to repay you immediately, and
+asked me to lend him the money for that purpose; unfortunately, I
+hadn't it to lend. And to think that, after all, he never paid you!
+A mere fifty pounds! Why, the thing is unpardonable! In my case the
+sum was substantial enough to justify me in retaining it for your
+future benefit. But to owe fifty pounds, and shirk payment--no, I
+call that really disgraceful. If ever I meet Alexander----!"
+
+Piers was coldly amused. When Daniel sought to draw him into general
+conversation, with inquiries as to his mode of life, and where he
+dwelt, the younger brother again spoke with decision. They were not
+likely, he said, to see more of each other, and he felt as little
+disposed to give familiar information as to ask it; whereupon Daniel
+drew himself up with an air of dignified offence, and saying, "I
+wish you better manners," turned on his heel.
+
+Piers walked on at a rapid pace. Noticing again a well-dressed
+prowler of the pavement, whose approaches this time were welcomed, a
+feeling of nausea came upon him. He hailed a passing cab, and drove
+home.
+
+A week later, he heard from Mrs. Hannaford that she and Olga were
+established in their own home; she begged him to come and see them
+soon, mentioning an evening when they would be glad if he could dine
+with them. And Piers willingly accepted.
+
+The house was at Campden Hill; a house of the kind known to agents
+as "desirable," larger than the two ladies needed for their comfort,
+and, as one saw on entering the hall, famished with tasteful care.
+The work had been supervised by Dr. Derwent, who thought that his
+sister and his niece might thus be tempted to live the orderly life
+so desirable in their unfortunate circumstances. When Piers entered,
+Mrs. Hannaford sat alone in the drawing room; she still had the look
+of an invalid, but wore a gown which showed to advantage the lines
+of her figure. Otway had been told not to dress, and it caused him
+some surprise to see his hostess adorned as if for an occasion of
+ceremony. Her hair was done in a new way, which changed the wonted
+character of her face, so that she looked younger. A bunch of pale
+flowers rested against her bosom, and breathed delicate perfume
+about her.
+
+"It was discussed," she said, in a low, intimate voice, "whether we
+should settle in London or abroad. But we didn't like to go away.
+Our only real friends are in England, and we must hope to make more.
+Olga is so good, now that she sees that I really need her. She has
+been so kind and sweet during my illness."
+
+Whilst they were talking, Miss Hannaford silently made her entrance.
+Piers turned his head, and felt a shock of surprise. Not till now
+had he seen Olga at her best; he had never imagined her so handsome;
+it was a wonderful illustration of the effect of apparel. She, too,
+had reformed the fashion of her hair, and its tawny abundance was
+much more effective than in the old careless style. She looked
+taller; she stepped with a more graceful assurance, and in offering
+her hand, betrayed consciousness of Otway's admiration in a little
+flush that well became her.
+
+She had subdued her voice, chastened her expressions. The touch of
+masculinity on which she had prided herself in her later "Bohemian"
+days, was quite gone. Wondering as they conversed, Piers had a
+difficulty in meeting her look; his eyes dropped to the little silk
+shoe which peeped from beneath her skirt. His senses were gratified;
+he forgot for the moment his sorrow and unrest.
+
+The talk at dinner was rather formal. Piers, with his indifferent
+appetite, could do but scanty justice to the dainties offered him,
+and the sense of luxury added a strangeness to his new relations
+with Mrs. Hannaford and her daughter. Olga spoke of a Russian novel
+she had been reading in a French translation, and was anxious to
+know whether it represented life as Otway knew it in Russia. She
+evinced a wider interest in several directions, emphasised--
+perhaps a little too much--her inclination for earnest thought:
+was altogether a more serious person than hitherto.
+
+Afterwards, when they grouped themselves in the drawing-room, this
+constraint fell away. Mrs. Hannaford dropped a remark which awakened
+memories of their life together at Geneva, and Piers turned to her
+with a bright look.
+
+"You used to play in those days," he said, "and I've never heard you
+touch a piano since."
+
+There was one in the room. Olga glanced at it, and then smilingly at
+her mother.
+
+"My playing was so very primitive," said Mrs. Hannaford, with a
+laugh.
+
+"I liked it."
+
+"Because you were a boy then."
+
+"Let me try to be a boy again. Play something you used to. One of
+those bits from 'Tell,' which take me back to the lakes and the
+mountains whenever I hear them."
+
+Mrs. Hannaford rose, laughing as if ashamed; Olga lit the candies on
+the piano.
+
+"I shall have to play from memory--and a nice mess I shall make of
+it."
+
+But memory served her for the passages of melody which Piers wished
+to hear. He listened with deep pleasure, living again in the years
+when everything he desired seemed a certainty of the future,
+depending only on the flight of time, on his becoming "a man." He
+remembered his vivid joy in the pleasures of the moment, the natural
+happiness now, and for years, unknown to him. So long ago, it
+seemed; yet Mrs. Hannaford, sitting at the piano, looked younger to
+him than in those days. And Olga, whom as a girl of fourteen he had
+not much liked, thinking her both conceited and dull, now was a very
+different person to him, a woman who seemed to have only just
+revealed herself, asserting a power of attraction he had never
+suspected in her. He found himself trying to catch glimpses of her
+face at different angles, as she sat listening abstractedly to the
+music.
+
+When it was time to go, he took leave with reluctance. The talk had
+grown very pleasantly familiar. Mrs. Hannaford said she hoped they
+would often see him, and the hope had an echo in his own thoughts.
+This house might offer him the refuge he sought when loneliness
+weighed too heavily. It was true, he could not accept the idea with
+a whole heart; some vague warning troubled his imagination; but on
+the way home he thought persistently of the pleasure he had
+experienced, and promised himself that it should be soon repeated.
+
+A melody was singing in his mind; becoming conscious of it, he
+remembered that it was the air to which his friend Moncharmont had
+set the little song of Alfred de Musset. At Odessa he had been wont
+to sing it--in a voice which Moncharmont declared to have the
+quality of a very fair tenor, and only to need training.
+
+   "Quand on perd. par triste occurrence,
+    Son esperance
+    Et sa gaite,
+    Le remede au melancolique
+    O'est la musique
+    Et la beaute.
+
+    Plus oblige et peut davantage
+    Un beau visage
+    Qu'un homme arme,
+    Et rien n'est meilleur que d'entendre
+    Air doux et tendre
+    Jadin alme!"
+
+It haunted him after he had gone to rest, and for once he did not
+mind wakefulness.
+
+A week passed. On Friday, Piers said to himself that to-morrow he
+would go in the afternoon to Campden Hill, on the chance of finding
+his friends at home. On Saturday morning the post brought him a
+letter which he saw to be from Mrs. Hannaford, and he opened it with
+pleasant anticipation; but instead of the friendly lines he expected
+he found a note of agitated appeal. The writer entreated him to come
+and see her exactly at three o'clock; she was in very grave trouble,
+had the most urgent need of him. Three o'clock; neither sooner or
+later; if he could possibly find time. If he could not come, would
+he telegraph an appointment for her at his office?
+
+With perfect punctuality, he arrived at the house, and in the
+drawing-room found Mrs. Hannaford awaiting him. She came forward
+with both her hands held out; in her eyes a look almost of terror.
+Her voice, at first, was in choking whispers, and the words so
+confusedly hurried as to be barely intelligible.
+
+"I have sent Olga away--I daren't let her know--she will be away
+for several hours, so we can talk--oh, you will help me--you
+will do your best----"
+
+Perplexed and alarmed, Piers held her hand as he tried to calm her.
+She seemed incapable of telling him what had happened, but kept her
+eyes fixed upon him in a wild entreaty, and uttered broken phrases
+which conveyed nothing to him; he gathered at length that she was in
+fear of some person.
+
+"Sit down and let me hear all about it," he urged.
+
+"Yes, yes--but I'm so ashamed to speak to you about such things. I
+don't know whether you'll believe me. Oh, the shame--the dreadful
+shame! It's only because there seems just this hope. How shall I
+bring myself to tell you?"
+
+"Dear Mrs. Hannaford, we have been friends so long. Trust me to
+understand you. Of course, of course I shall believe what you say!"
+
+"A dreadful, a shameful thing has happened. How shall I tell you?"
+Her haggard face flushed scarlet. "My husband has given me notice
+that he is going to sue for a divorce. He brings a charge against me
+--a false, cruel charge! It came yesterday. I went to the solicitor
+whose name was given, and learnt all I could. I have had to hide it
+from Olga, and oh! what it cost me! At once I thought of you; then
+it seemed impossible to speak to you; then I felt I must, I must. If
+only you can believe me! It is--your brother."
+
+Piers was overcome with amazement. He sat looking into the eyes
+which stared at him with their agony of shame.
+
+"You mean Daniel?" he faltered.
+
+"Yes--Daniel Otway. It is false--it is false! I am not guilty of
+this! It seems to me like a hateful plot--if one could believe
+anyone so wicked. I saw him last night. Oh, I must tell you all,
+else you'll never believe me--I saw him last night. How can anyone
+behave so to a helpless woman? I never did him anything but
+kindness. He has me in his power, and he is merciless."
+
+A passion of disgust and hatred took hold on Piers as he remembered
+the meeting in Piccadilly.
+
+"You mean to say you have put yourself into that fellow's power?" he
+exclaimed.
+
+"Not willingly! Oh, not willingly! I meant only kindness to him.
+Yes, I have been weak, I know, and so foolish! It has gone on so
+long.--You remember when I first saw him, at Ewell? I liked him,
+just as a friend. Of course I behaved foolishly. It was my miserable
+life--you know what my life was. But nothing happened--I mean, I
+never thought of him for a moment as anything but an ordinary friend
+--until I had my legacy."
+
+The look on the listener's face checked her.
+
+"I begin to understand," said Piers, with bitterness.
+
+"No, no! Don't say that--don't speak like that!"
+
+"It's not you I am thinking of, Mrs. Hannaford. As soon as money
+comes in--. But tell me plainly. I have perfect confidence in what
+you say, indeed I have."
+
+"It does me good to hear you say that! I can tell you all, now that
+I have begun. It is true, he _did_ ask me to go away with him, again
+and again. But he had no right to do that--I was foolish in
+showing that I liked him. Again and again I forbade him ever to see
+me; I tried so hard to break off! It was no use. He always wrote,
+wherever I was, sending his letters to Dr. Derwent to be forwarded.
+He made me meet him at all sorts of places--using threats at last.
+Oh, what I have gone through!"
+
+"No doubt," said Piers gently, "you have lent him money?"
+
+She reddened again; her head sank.
+
+"Yes--I have lent him money, when he was in need. Just before the
+death of your father."
+
+"Once only?"
+
+"Once--or twice----"
+
+"To be sure. Lately, too, I daresay?"
+
+"Yes----"
+
+"Then you quite understand his character?"
+
+"I do now," Mrs. Hannaford replied wretchedly. "But I must tell you
+more. If it were only a suspicion of my husband's I should hardly
+care at all. But someone must have betrayed me to him, and have told
+deliberate falsehoods. I am accused--it was when I was at the
+seaside once--and he came to the same hotel--Oh, the shame, the
+shame!"
+
+She covered her face with her hands, and turned away.
+
+"Why," cried Piers, in wrath, "that fellow is quite capable of
+having betrayed you himself. I mean, of lying about you for his own
+purposes."
+
+"You think he could be so wicked?"
+
+"I don't doubt it for a moment. He has done his best to persuade you
+to ruin yourself for him, and he thinks, no doubt, that if you are
+divorced, nothing will stand between him and you--in other words,
+your money."
+
+"He said, when I saw him yesterday, that now it had come to this, I
+had better take that step at once. And when I spoke of my innocence,
+he asked who would believe it? He seemed sorry; really he did.
+Perhaps he is not so bad as one fears?"
+
+"Where did you see him yesterday?" asked Otway.
+
+"At his lodgings. I was _obliged_ to go and see him as soon as
+possible. I have never been there before. He behaved very kindly. He
+said of course he should declare my innocence----"
+
+"And in the same breath assured you no one would believe it? And
+advised you to go off with him at once?"
+
+"I know how bad it seems," said Mrs. Hannaford. "And yet, it is all
+my own fault--my own long folly. Oh, you must wonder why I have
+brought you here to tell you this! It's because there is no one else
+I could speak to, as a friend, and I felt I should go mad if I
+couldn't ask someone's advice. Of course I could go to a lawyer--
+but I mean someone who would sympathise with me. I am not very
+strong; you know I have been ill: this blow seems almost more than I
+can bear; I thought I would ask you if you could suggest anything--
+if you would see him, and try to arrange something." She looked at
+Piers distractedly. "Perhaps money would help. My husband has been
+having money from me; perhaps if we offered him more? Ought I to see
+him, myself? But there is ill-feeling between us; and I fear he
+would be glad to injure me, glad!"
+
+"I will see Daniel," said Piers, trying to see hope where reason
+told him there was none. "With him, at all events, money can do
+much."
+
+"You will? You think you may be able to help me? I am in such terror
+when I think of my brother hearing of this. And Irene! Think, if it
+becomes public--everyone talking about the disgrace--what will
+Irene do? Just at the time of her marriage!" She held out her hands,
+pleadingly. "You would be glad to save Irene from such a shame?"
+
+Piers had not yet seen the scandal from this point of view. It came
+upon him with a shock, and he stood speechless.
+
+"My husband hates them," pursued Mrs. Hannaford, "and you don't know
+what _his_ hatred means. Just for that alone, he will do his worst
+against me--hoping to throw disgrace on the Derwents."
+
+"I doubt very much," said Piers, who had been thinking hard,
+"whether, in any event, this would affect the Derwents in people's
+opinion."
+
+"You don't think so? But do you know Arnold Jacks? I feel sure he is
+the kind of man who would resent bitterly such a thing as this. He
+is very proud--proud in just that kind of way--do you
+understand? Oh, I know it would make trouble between him and Irene."
+
+"In that case," Piers began vehemently, and at once checked himself.
+
+"What were you going to say?"
+
+"Nothing that could help us."
+
+When he raised his eyes again, Mrs. Hannaford was gazing at him with
+pitiful entreaty.
+
+"For _her_ sake," she said, in a low, shaken voice, "you will try to
+do something?"
+
+"If only I can!"
+
+"Yes! I know you! You are good and generous--It ought surely to be
+possible to stop this before it gets talked about? If I were guilty,
+it would be different. But I have done no wrong; I have only been
+weak and foolish. I thought of going straight to my brother, but
+there is the dreadful thought that he might not believe me. It is so
+hard for a woman accused in this way to seem innocent; men always
+see the dark side. He has no very good opinion of me, as it is, I
+know he hasn't. I turned so naturally to you; I felt you would do
+your utmost for me in my misery.--If only my husband can be
+brought to see that I am not guilty, that he wouldn't win the suit,
+then perhaps he would cease from it. I will give all the money I can
+--all I have!"
+
+Piers stood reflecting.
+
+"Tell me all the details you have learnt," he said. "What evidence
+do they rely on?"
+
+Her head bowed, her voice broken, she told of place and time and the
+assertions of so-called witnesses.
+
+"Why has this plot against you been a year in ripening?" asked
+Otway.
+
+"Perhaps we are wrong in thinking it a plot. My husband may only
+just have discovered what he thinks my guilt in some chance way. If
+so, there is hope."
+
+They sat mute for a minute or two.
+
+"If only I can hide this from Olga," said Mrs. Hannaford. "Think how
+dreadful it is for me, with her! We were going to ask you to spend
+another evening with us--but how is it possible? If I send you the
+invitation, will you make an answer excusing yourself--saying you
+are too busy? To prevent Olga from wondering. How hard, how cruel it
+is! Just when we had made ourselves a home here, and might have been
+happy!"
+
+Piers stood up, and tried to speak words of encouragement. The
+charge being utterly false, at worst a capable solicitor might
+succeed in refuting it. He was about to take his leave, when he
+remembered that he did not know Daniel's address: Mrs. Hannaford
+gave it.
+
+"I am sorry you went there," he said.
+
+And as he left the room, he saw the woman's eyes follow him with
+that look of woe which signals a tottering mind.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+
+Without investigating her motives, Irene Derwent deferred as long as
+possible her meeting with the man to whom she had betrothed herself.
+Nor did Arnold Jacks evince any serious impatience in this matter.
+They corresponded in affectionate terms, exchanging letters once a
+week or so. Arnold, as it chanced, was unusually busy, his
+particular section of the British Empire supplying sundry problems
+just now not to be hurriedly dealt with by those in authority; there
+was much drawing-up of reports, and translating of facts into
+official language, in Arnold's secretarial department. Of these
+things he spoke to his bride-elect as freely as discretion allowed;
+and Irene found his letters interesting.
+
+The ladies in Cheshire were forewarned of the new Irene who was
+about to visit them; political differences did not at all affect
+their kindliness; indeed, they saw with satisfaction the girl's keen
+mood of loyalty to the man of her choice. She brought with her the
+air of Greater Britain; she poke much, and well, of the destinies of
+the Empire.
+
+"I see it all more clearly since this bit of Colonial experience,"
+she said. "Our work in the world is marked out for us; we have no
+choice, unless we turn cowards. Of course we shall be hated by other
+countries, more and more. We shall be accused of rapacity, and
+arrogance, and everything else that's disagreeable in a large way;
+we can't help that. If we enrich ourselves, that is a legitimate
+reward for the task we perform. England means liberty and
+enlightenment; let England spread to the ends of the earth! We
+mustn't be afraid of greatness! We _can't_ stop--still less draw
+back. Our politics have become our religion. Our rulers have a
+greater responsibility than was ever known in the world's history--
+and they will be equal to it!"
+
+The listeners felt that a little clapping of the hands would have
+been appropriate; they exchanged a glance, as if consulting each
+other as to the permissibility of such applause. But Irene's
+eloquent eyes and glowing colour excited more admiration than
+criticism; in their hearts they wished joy to the young life which
+would go on its way through an ever changing world long after they
+and their old-fashioned ideas had passed into silence.
+
+In a laughing moment, Irene told them of the proposal she had
+received from Trafford Romaine. This betokened her high spirits, and
+perchance indicated a wish to make it understood that her acceptance
+of Arnold Jacks was no unconsidered impulse. The ladies were
+interested, but felt this confidence something of an indiscretion,
+and did not comment upon it. They hoped she would not be tempted to
+impart her secret to persons less capable of respecting it.
+
+During these days there came a definite invitation from Mrs.
+Borisoff, who was staying in Hampshire, at the house of her widowed
+mother, and Irene gladly accepted it. She wished to see more of
+Helen Borisoff, whose friendship, she felt, might have significance
+for her at this juncture of life. The place and its inhabitants, she
+found on arriving, answered very faithfully to Helen's description;
+an old manor-house, beautifully situated, hard by a sleepy village;
+its mistress a rather prim woman of sixty, conventional in every
+thought and act, but too good-natured to be aggressive, and living
+with her two unmarried daughters, whose sole care was the spiritual
+and material well-being of the village poor.
+
+"Where I come from, I really don't know," said Helen to her friend.
+"My father was the staidest of country gentlemen. I'm a sport,
+plainly. You will see my mother watch me every now and then with
+apprehension. I fancy it surprises her that I really do behave
+myself--that I don't even say anything shocking. With you, the
+dear old lady is simply delighted; I know she prays that I may not
+harm you. You are the first respectable acquaintance I have made
+since my marriage."
+
+In the lovely old garden, in the still meadows, and on the
+sheep-cropped hillsides, they had many a long talk. Now that Irene
+was as good as married, Mrs. Borisoff used less reserve in speaking
+of her private circumstances; she explained the terms on which she
+stood with her husband.
+
+"Marriage, my dear girl, is of many kinds; absurd to speak of it as
+one and indivisible. There's the marriage of interest, the marriage
+of reason, the marriage of love; and each of these classes can be
+almost infinitely subdivided. For the majority of folk, I'm quite
+sure it would be better not to choose their own husbands and wives,
+but to leave it to sensible friends who wish them well. In England,
+at all events, they _think_ they marry for love, but that's mere
+nonsense. Did you ever know a love match? I never even heard of one,
+in my little world. Well," she added, with her roguish smile,
+"putting yourself out of the question."
+
+Irene's countenance betrayed a passing inquietude. She had an air of
+reflection; averted her eyes; did not speak.
+
+"The average male or female is _never_ in love," pursued Helen.
+"They are incapable of it. And in this matter I--_moi qui vous
+parle_--am average. At least, I think I am; all evidence goes to
+prove it, so far. I married my husband because I thought him the
+most interesting man I had ever met. That was eight years ago, when
+I was two-and-twenty. Curiously, I didn't try to persuade myself
+that I was in love; I take credit for this, my dear! No, it was a
+marriage of reason. I had money, which Mr. Borisoff had not. He
+really liked me, and does still. But we are reasonable as ever. If
+we felt obliged to live always together, we should be very
+uncomfortable. As it is, I travel for six months when the humour
+takes me, and it works _a merveille_. Into my husband's life, I
+don't inquire; I have no right to do so, and I am not by nature a
+busybody. As for my own affairs, Mr. Borisoff is not uneasy; he has
+great faith in me--which, speaking frankly, I quite deserve. I am,
+my dear Irene, a most respectable woman--there comes in my
+parentage."
+
+"Then," said Irene, looking at her own beautiful fingernails, "your
+experience, after all, is disillusion."
+
+"Moderate disillusion," replied the other, with her humorously
+judicial air. "I am not grievously disappointed. I still find my
+husband an interesting--a most interesting--man. Both of us
+being so thoroughly reasonable, our marriage may be called a
+success."
+
+"Clearly, then, you don't think love a _sine qua non_?"
+
+"Clearly not. Love has nothing whatever to do with marriage, in the
+statistical--the ordinary--sense of the term. When I say love, I
+mean love--not domestic affection. Marriage is a practical concern
+of mankind at large; Love is a personal experience of the very few.
+Think of our common phrases, such as 'choice of a wife'; think of
+the perfectly sound advice given by sage elders to the young who are
+thinking of marriage, implying deliberation, care. What have these
+things to do with love? You can no more choose to be a lover, than
+to be a poet. _Nascitur non fit_--oh yes, I know my Latin.
+Generally, he man or woman born for love is born for nothing else."
+
+"A deplorable state of things!" exclaimed Irene, laughing.
+
+"Yes--or no. Who knows? Such people ought to die young. But I
+don't say that it is invariably the case. To be capable of loving,
+and at the same time to have other faculties, and the will to use
+them--ah! There's your complete human being."
+
+"I think----" Irene began, and stopped, her voice failing.
+
+"You think, _belle Irene_?"
+
+"Oh, I was going to say that all this seems to me sensible and
+right. It doesn't disturb me."
+
+"Why should it?"
+
+"I think I will tell you, Helen, that my motive in marrying is the
+same as yours was."
+
+"I surmised it."
+
+"But, you know, there the similarity will end. It is quite certain"
+--she laughed--"that I shall have no six-months' vacations. At
+present, I don't think I shall desire them."
+
+"No. To speak frankly, I auger well of your marriage."
+
+These words affected Irene with a sense of relief. She had imagined
+that Mrs. Borisoff thought otherwise. A bright smile sunned her
+countenance; Helen, observing it, smiled too, but more thoughtfully.
+
+"You must bring your husband to see me in Paris some time next year.
+By the bye, you don't think he will disapprove of me?"
+
+"Do you imagine Mr. Jacks----"
+
+"What were you going to say?"
+
+Irene had stopped as if for want of the right word She was
+reflecting.
+
+"It never struck me," she said, "that he would wish to regulate my
+choice of friends. Yet I suppose it would be within his right?"
+
+"Conventionally speaking, undoubtedly."
+
+"Don't think I am in uncertainty about this particular instance,"
+said Irene. "No, he has already told me that he liked you. But of
+the general question, I had never thought."
+
+"My dear, who does, or can, think before marriage of all that it
+involves? After all, the pleasures of life consist so largely in the
+unexpected."
+
+Irene paced a few yards in silence, and when she spoke again it was
+of quite another subject.
+
+Whether this sojourn with her experienced and philosophical friend
+made her better able to face the meeting with Arnold Jacks was not
+quite certain. At moments she fancied so; she saw her position as
+wholly reasonable, void of anxiety; she was about to marry the man
+she liked and respected--safest of all forms of marriage. But
+there came troublesome moods of misgiving. It did not flatter her
+self-esteem to think of herself as excluded from the number of those
+who are capable of love; even in Helen Borisoff's view, the elect,
+the fortunate. Of love, she had thought more in this last week or
+two than in all her years gone by. Assuredly, she knew it not, this
+glory of the poets. Yet she could inspire it in others; at all
+events, in one, whose rhythmic utterance of the passion ever and
+again came back to her mind.
+
+A temptation had assailed her (but she resisted it) to repeat those
+verses of Piers Otway to her friend. And in thinking of them, she
+half reproached herself for the total silence she had preserved
+towards their author. Perhaps he was uncertain whether the verses
+had ever reached her. It seemed unkind. There would have been no
+harm in letting him know that she had read the lines, and--as
+poetry--liked them.
+
+Was her temper prosaic? It would at any time have surprised her to
+be told so. Owing to her father's influence, she had given much time
+to scientific studies, but she knew herself by no means defective in
+appreciation of art and literature. By whatever accident, the
+friends of her earlier years had been notable rather for good sense
+and good feeling than for aesthetic fervour; the one exception, her
+cousin Olga, had rather turned her from thoughts about the
+beautiful, for Olga seemed emotional in excess, and was not without
+taint of affectation. In Helen Borisoff she knew for the first time
+a woman who cared supremely for music, poetry, pictures, and who
+combined with this a vigorous practical intelligence. Helen could
+burn with enthusiasm, yet never exposed herself to suspicion of
+weak-mindedness. Posturing was her scorn, but no one spoke more
+ardently of the things she admired. Her acquaintance with recent
+literature was wider than that of anyone Irene had known; she talked
+of it in the most interesting way, giving her friend new lights,
+inspiring her with a new energy of thought. And Irene was sorry to
+go away. She vaguely felt that this companionship was of moment in
+the history of her mind; she wished for a larger opportunity of
+benefiting by it.
+
+Dr. Derwent and his son were now at Cromer; there Irene was to join
+them; and thither, presently, would come Arnold Jacks.
+
+On the day of her departure there arose a storm of wind and rain,
+which grew more violent as she approached the Norfolk coast; and
+nothing could have pleased her better. Her troubled mood harmonised
+with the darkened, roaring sea; moreover, this atmospheric
+disturbance made something to talk about on arriving. She suffered
+no embarrassment at the meeting with her father and Eustace, who of
+course awaited her at the station. To their eyes, Irene was m
+excellent spirits, though rather wearied after the tiresome journey.
+She said very little about her stay in Hampshire.
+
+The last person in the world with whom Irene would have chosen to
+converse about her approaching marriage was her excellent brother
+Eustace; but the young man was not content with offering his good
+wishes; to her surprise, he took the opportunity of their being
+alone together on the beach, to speak with most unwonted warmth
+about Arnold Jacks.
+
+"I really was glad when I heard of it! To tell you the truth, I had
+hoped for it. If there is a man living whom I respect, it is Arnold.
+There's no end to his good qualities. A downright good and sensible
+fellow!"
+
+"Of course I'm very glad you think so, Eustace," replied his sister,
+stooping to pick up a shell.
+
+"Indeed I do. I've often thought that one's sister's choice in
+marriage must be a very anxious thing; it would have worried me
+awfully if I had felt any doubts about the man."
+
+Irene was inclined to laugh.
+
+"It's very good of you." she said.
+
+"But I mean it. Girls haven't quite a fair chance, you know. They
+can't see much of men."
+
+"If it comes to that," said Irene merrily, "men seem to me in much
+the same position."
+
+"Oh, it's so different. Girls--women--are good. There's nothing
+unpleasant to be known about them."
+
+"Upon my word, Eustace! _On n'cest pas plus galant_! But I really
+feel it my duty to warn you against that amiable optimism. If you
+were so kind as to be uneasy on my account, I shall be still more so
+on yours. Your position, my dear boy, is a little perilous."
+
+Eustace laughed, not without some amiable confusion. To give himself
+a countenance, he smote at pebbles with the head of his
+walking-stick.
+
+"Oh, I shan't marry for ages!"
+
+"That shows rather more prudence than faith in your doctrine."
+
+"Never mind. Our subject is Arnold Jacks. He's a splendid fellow.
+The best and most sensible fellow I know."
+
+It was not the eulogy most agreeable to Irene in her present state
+of mind. She hastened to dismiss the topic, but thought with no
+little surprise and amusement of Eustace's self-revelation. Brothers
+and sisters seldom know each other; and these two, by virtue of
+widely differing characteristics, were scarce more than mutually
+well-disposed strangers.
+
+Less emphatic in commendation, Dr. Derwent appeared not less
+satisfied with his future son-in-law. Irene's scrutiny, sharpened by
+intense desire to read her father's mind, could detect no
+qualification of his contentment. As his habit was, the Doctor,
+having found an opportunity, broached the subject with humorous
+abruptness.
+
+"It's no business of mine; I don't wish to be impertinent; but if I
+_may_ be allowed to express approval----"
+
+Irene raised her eyes for a moment, bestowing upon him a look of
+affection and gratitude.
+
+"He's a thorough Englishman, and. that means a good deal in the
+laudatory sense. The best sort of husband for an English girl, I've
+no manner of doubt."
+
+Dr. Derwent was not effusive; he had said as much as he cared to say
+on the more intimate aspect of the matter. But he spoke long and
+carefully regarding things practical. Irene had his entire
+confidence; nothing in the state of his affairs needed to be kept
+from her knowledge. He spoke of the duty he owed to his two children
+respectively, and in sufficient detail of Arnold Jacks'
+circumstances. On the death of John Jacks (which the Doctor
+suspected was not remote) Arnold would be something more than a
+well-to-do man; his wife, if she aimed that way, might look for a
+social position such as the world envied.
+
+"And on the whole," he added, "as society must have leaders, I
+prefer that they should he people with brains as well as money. The
+ambition is quite legitimate. Do your part in civilising the
+drawing-room, as Arnold conceives he is doing his on a larger scale.
+A good and intelligent woman is no superfluity in the world of
+wealth nowadays."
+
+Irene tried to believe that this ambition appealed to her. Nay, at
+times it certainly did so, for she liked the brilliant and the
+commanding. On the other hand, it seemed imperfect as an ideal of
+life. In its undercurrents her thought was always more or less
+turbid.
+
+A letter from Arnold announced his coming. A day after, he arrived.
+
+Many times as she had enacted in fancy the scene of their meeting,
+Irene found in the reality something quite unlike her anticipation.
+Arnold, it was true, behaved much as she expected; he was perfect in
+well-bred homage; he said the right things in the right tone; his
+face declared a sincere emotion, yet he restrained himself within
+due limits of respect. The result in Irene's mind was disappointment
+and fear.
+
+He gave her too little; he seemed to ask too much.
+
+The first interview--in a private sitting-room at the hotel where
+they were all staying--lasted about half an hour; it wrought a
+change in Irene for which she had not at all prepared herself,
+though the doubts and misgivings which had of late beset her pointed
+darkly to such a revulsion of feeling. She had not understood; she
+could not understand, until enlightened by the very experience.
+Alone once more, she sat down all tremulous; pallid as if she had
+suffered a shock of fright. An indescribable sense of immodesty
+troubled her nerves: she seemed to have lost all self-respect: the
+thought of going forth again, of facing her father and brother, was
+scarcely to be borne. This acute distress presently gave way to a
+dull pain, a sinking at the heart. She felt miserably alone. She
+longed for a friend of her own sex, not necessarily to speak of what
+she was going through, but for the moral support of a safe
+companionship. Never had she known such a feeling of isolation, and
+of over-great responsibility.
+
+A few tears relieved her. Irene was not prone to weeping; only a
+great crisis of her fate would have brought her to this extremity.
+
+It was over in a quarter of an hour--or seemed so. She had
+recovered command of her nerves, had subdued the excess of emotion.
+As for what had happened, that was driven into the background of her
+mind, to await examination at leisure. She was a new being, but for
+the present could bear herself in the old way. Before leaving her
+room, she stood before the looking-glass, and smiled. Oh yes, it
+would do!
+
+Arnold Jacks was in the state of mind which exhibited him at his
+very best. An air of discreet triumph sat well on this elegant
+Englishman; it prompted him to continuous discourse, which did not
+lack its touch of brilliancy; his features had an uncommon
+animation, and his slender, well-knit figure--of course clad with
+perfect seaside propriety--appeared to gain an inch, so gallantly
+he held himself. He walked the cliffs like one on guard over his
+country. Without for a moment becoming ridiculous, Arnold, with his
+first-rate English breeding, could carry off a great deal of radiant
+self-consciousness.
+
+Side by side, he and Irene looked very well; there was suitability
+of stature, harmony of years. Arnold's clean-cut visage, manly yet
+refined, did no discredit to the choice of a girl even so striking
+in countenance as Irene. They drew the eyes of passers-by. Conscious
+of this, Irene now and then flinched imperceptibly; but her smile
+held good, and its happiness flattered the happy man.
+
+Eustace Derwent departed in a day or two, having an invitation to
+join friends in Scotland. He had vastly enjoyed the privilege of
+listening to Arnold's talk. Indeed to his sister's amusement, he
+plainly sought to model himself on Mr. Jacks, in demeanour, in
+phraseology, and in sentiments; not without success.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+
+On one of those evenings at the seaside, Dr. Derwent, glancing over
+the newspapers, came upon a letter signed "Lee Hannaford." It had
+reference to some current dispute about the merits of a new bullet.
+Hannaford, writing with authority, criticised the invention; he gave
+particulars (the result of an experiment on an old horse) as to its
+mode of penetrating flesh and shattering bone; there was a gusto in
+his style, that of the true artist in bloodshed. pointing out the
+signature to Arnold Jacks, Dr. Derwent asked in a subdued tone, as
+when one speaks of something shameful:
+
+"Have you seen or heard of him lately?"
+
+"About ten days ago," replied Arnold. "He was at the Hyde Wilson's,
+and he had the impertinence to congratulate me. He did it, too,
+before other people, so that I couldn't very well answer as I
+wished. You are aware, by the bye, that he is doing very well--
+belongs to a firm of manufacturers of explosives?"
+
+"Indeed?--I wish he would explode his own head off."
+
+The Doctor spoke with most unwonted fierceness. Arnold Jacks,
+without verbally seconding the wish, showed by an uneasy smile that
+he would not have mourned the decease of this relative of the
+Derwents. Mrs. Hannaford's position involved no serious scandal, but
+Arnold had a strong dislike for any sort of social irregularity;
+here was the one detail of his future wife's family circumstances
+which he desired to forget. What made it more annoying than it need
+have been was his surmise that Lee Hannaford nursed rancour against
+the Derwents, and would not lose an opportunity of venting it. In
+the public congratulation of which Arnold spoke, there had been a
+distinct touch of malice. It was not impossible that the man hinted
+calumnies with regard to his wife, and, under the circumstances,
+slander of that kind was the most difficult thing to deal with.
+
+But in Irene's society these unwelcome thoughts were soon dismissed.
+With the demeanour of his betrothed, Arnold was abundantly
+satisfied; he saw in it the perfect medium between demonstrativeness
+and insensibility. Without ever having reflected on the subject, he
+felt that this was how a girl of entire refinement should behave in
+a situation demanding supreme delicacy. Irene never seemed in "a
+coming-on disposition," to use the phrase of a young person who had
+not the advantage of English social training; it was evidently her
+wish to behave, as far as possible, with the simplicity of mere
+friendship. In these days, Mr. Jacks, for the first time, ceased to
+question himself as to the prudence of the step he had taken.
+Hitherto he had been often reminded that, socially speaking, he
+might have made a better marriage; he had felt that Irene conquered
+somewhat against his will, and that he wooed her without quite
+meaning to do so. On the cliffs and the sands at Cromer, these
+indecisions vanished. The girl had never looked to such advantage;
+he had never been so often apprised of the general admiration she
+excited. Beyond doubt, she would do him credit--in Arnold's view
+the first qualification in a wife. She was really very intelligent,
+could hold her own in any company, and with experience might become
+a positively brilliant woman.
+
+For caresses, for endearments, the time was not yet; that kind of
+thing, among self-respecting people of a certain class, came only
+with the honeymoon. Yet Arnold never for a moment doubted that the
+girl was very fond of him. Of course it was for his sake that she
+had refused Trafford Romaine--a most illuminating incident. That
+she was proud of him, went without saying. He noted with
+satisfaction how thoroughly she had embraced his political views,
+what a charming Imperialist she had become. In short, everything
+promised admirably. At moments, Arnold felt the burning of a lover's
+impatience.
+
+They parted. The Derwents returned to London; Arnold set off to pay
+a hasty visit or two in the North. The wedding was to take place a
+couple of months hence, and the pair would spend their Christmas in
+Egypt.
+
+A few days after her arrival in Bryanston Square, Irene went to see
+the Hannafords. She found her aunt in a deplorable state, unable to
+converse, looking as if on the verge of a serious illness. Olga
+behaved strangely, like one in harassing trouble of which she might
+not speak. It was a painful visit, and on her return home Irene
+talked of it to her father.
+
+"Something wretched is going on of which we don't know," she
+declared. "Anyone could see it. Olga is keeping some miserable
+secret, and her mother looks as if she were being driven mad."
+
+"That ruffian, I suppose," said the Doctor. "What can he be doing?"
+
+The next day he saw his sister. He came home with a gloomy
+countenance, and called Irene into his study.
+
+"You were right. Something very bad indeed is going on, so bad that
+I hardly like to speak to you about it. But secrecy is impossible;
+we must use our common sense--Hannaford is bringing a suit for
+divorce."
+
+Irene was so astonished that she merely gazed at her father, waiting
+his explanation. Under her eyes Dr. Derwent suffered an increase of
+embarrassment, which tended to relieve itself in anger.
+
+"It will kill her," he exclaimed, with a nervous gesture. "And then,
+if justice were done, that scoundrel would be hanged!"
+
+"You mean her husband?"
+
+"Yes. Though I'm not sure that there isn't another who deserves the
+name. She wants to see you, Irene, and I think you must go at once.
+She says she has things to tell you that will make her mind easier.
+I'm going to send a nurse to be with her: she mustn't be left alone.
+It's lucky I went to-day. I won't answer for what may happen in
+four-and-twenty hours. Olga isn't much use, you know, though she's
+doing what she can."
+
+It was about one o'clock. Saying she would be able to lunch at her
+aunt's house, Irene forthwith made ready, and drove to Campden Hill.
+She was led into the drawing-room, and sat there, alone, for five
+minutes; then Olga entered. The girls advanced to each other with a
+natural gesture of distress.
+
+"She's asleep, I'm glad to say," Olga whispered, as if still in a
+sickroom. "I persuaded her to lie down. I don't think she has closed
+her eyes the last two or three nights. Can you wait? Oh, do, if you
+can! She does so want to see you."
+
+"But why, dear? Of course I will wait; but why does she ask for
+_me_?"
+
+Olga related all that had come to pass, in her knowledge. Only by
+ceaseless importunity had she constrained her mother to reveal the
+cause of an anguish which could no longer be disguised. The avowal
+had been made yesterday, not long before Dr. Derwent's coming to the
+house.
+
+"I wanted to tell you, but she had forbidden me to speak to anyone.
+What's the use of trying to keep such a thing secret? If uncle had
+not come, I should have telegraphed for him. Of course he made her
+tell him, and it has put her at rest for a little; she fell asleep
+as soon as she lay down. Her dread is that we shan't believe her.
+She wants, I think, only to declare to you that she has done no
+wrong."
+
+"As if I could doubt her word!"
+
+Irene tried to shape a question, but could not speak. Her cousin
+also was mute for a moment. Their eyes met, and fell.
+
+"You remember Mr. Otway's brother?" said Olga, in an unsteady voice,
+and then ceased.
+
+"He? Daniel Otway?"
+
+Irene had turned pale; she spoke under her breath. At once there
+recurred to her the unexplained incident at Malvern Station.
+
+"I knew mother was foolish in keeping up an acquaintance with him,"
+Olga answered, with some vehemence. "I detested the man, what I saw
+of him. And I suspect--of course mother won't say--he has been
+having money from her."
+
+An exclamation of revolted feeling escaped Irene. She could not
+speak her thoughts; they were painful almost beyond endurance. She
+could not even meet her cousin's look.
+
+"It's a hideous thing to talk about," Olga pursued, her head bent
+and her hands crushing each other, "no wonder it seems to be almost
+driving her mad. What do you think she did, as soon as she received
+the notice? She sent for Piers Otway, and told him, and asked him to
+help her. He came in the afternoon, when I was out. Think how
+dreadful it must have been for her!"
+
+"How could _he_ help her?" asked Irene, in a strangely subdued tone,
+still without raising her eyes.
+
+"By seeing his brother, she thought, and getting him, perhaps, to
+persuade my father--how I hate the name!--that there were no
+grounds for such an action."
+
+"What"--Irene forced each syllable from her lips--"what are the
+grounds alleged?"
+
+Olga began a reply, but the first word choked her. Her self-command
+gave way, she sobbed, and turned to hide her face.
+
+"You, too, are being tried beyond your strength," said Irene, whose
+womanhood fortified itself in these moments of wretched doubt and
+shame. "Come, we must have some lunch whilst aunt is asleep."
+
+"I want to get it all over--to tell you as much as I know," said
+the other. "Mother says there is not even an appearance of
+wrong-doing against her--that she can only be accused by
+deliberate falsehood. She hasn't told me more than that--and how
+can I ask? Of course _he_ is capable of everything--of any
+wickedness!"
+
+"You mean Daniel Otway?"
+
+"No--her husband--I will never again call him by the other
+name."
+
+"Do you know whether Piers Otway has seen his brother?"
+
+"He hadn't up to yesterday, when he sent mother a note, saying that
+the man was away, and couldn't be heard of."
+
+With an angry effort Olga recovered her self-possession. Apart from
+the natural shame which afflicted her, she seemed to experience more
+of indignation and impatience than any other feeling. Growing
+calmer, she spoke almost with bitterness of her mother's folly.
+
+"I told her once, quite plainly, that Daniel Otway wasn't the kind
+of man she ought to be friendly with. She was offended: it was one
+of the reasons why we couldn't go on living together. I believe, if
+the truth were known, it was worry about him that caused her
+breakdown in health. She's a weak, soft-natured woman, and he--I
+know very well what _he_ is. He and the other one--both Piers
+Otway's brothers--have always been worthless creatures. She knew
+it well enough, and yet----! I suppose their mother----"
+
+She broke off in a tone of disgust. Irene, looking at her with more
+attentiveness, waited for what she would next say.
+
+"Of course you remember," Olga added, after a pause, "that they are
+only half-brothers to Piers Otway?"
+
+"Of course I do."
+
+"_His_ mother must have been a very different woman. You have heard
+----?"
+
+They exchanged looks. Irene nodded, and averted her eyes, murmuring,
+"Aunt explained to me, after his father's death."
+
+"One would have supposed," said Olga, "that _they_ would turn into
+the honourable men, and _he_ the scamp. Nature doesn't seem to care
+much about setting us a moral lesson."
+
+And she laughed--a short, bitter laugh. Irene, her brows knit in
+painful thought, kept silence.
+
+They were going to the dining-room, when a servant made known to
+them that Mrs. Hannaford was asking for her daughter.
+
+"Do have something to eat," said Olga, "and I'll tell her you are
+here. You _shall_ have lunch first; I insist upon it, and I'll join
+you in a moment."
+
+In a quarter of an hour, Irene went up to her aunt's room. Mrs.
+Hannaford was sitting in an easy chair, placed so that a pale ray of
+sunshine fell upon her. She rose, feebly, only to fall back again;
+her hands were held out in pitiful appeal, and tears moistened her
+cheeks. Beholding this sad picture, Irene forgot the doubt that
+offended her; she was all soft compassion. The suffering woman clung
+about her neck, hid her face against her bosom, sobbed and moaned.
+
+They spoke together till dusk. The confession which Mrs. Hannaford
+made to her niece went further than that elicited from her either by
+Olga or Dr. Derwent. In broken sentences, in words of shamefaced
+incoherence, but easily understood, she revealed a passion which had
+been her torturing secret, and a temptation against which she had
+struggled year after year. The man was unworthy; she had long known
+it; she suffered only the more. She had been imprudent, once or
+twice all but reckless, never what is called guilty. Convinced of
+the truth of what she heard, Irene drew a long sigh, and became
+almost cheerful in her ardour of solace and encouragement. No one
+had ever seen the Irene who came forth under this stress of
+circumstance; no one had ever heard the voice with which she uttered
+her strong heart. The world? Who cared for the world? Let it clack
+and grin! They would defend the truth, and quietly wait the issue.
+No more weakness Brain and conscience must now play their part.
+
+"But if it should go against me? If I am made free of that man
+----?"
+
+"Then be free of him!" exclaimed the girl, her eyes flashing through
+tears. "Be glad!"
+
+"No--no! I am afraid of myself----"
+
+"We will help you. When you are well again, your mind will be
+stronger to resist. Not _that_--never _that_! You know it is
+impossible."
+
+"I know. And there is one thing that would really make it so. I
+haven't told you--another thing I had to say--why I wanted so to
+see you."
+
+Irene looked kindly into the agitated face.
+
+"It's about Piers Otway. He came to see us here. I had formed a hope
+----"
+
+"Olga?"
+
+"Yes. Oh, if that could be!"
+
+She caught the girl's hand in her hot palms, and seemed to entreat
+her for a propitious word. Irene was very still, thinking; and at
+length she smiled.
+
+"Who can say? Olga is good and clever----"
+
+"It might have been; I know it might. But after this?"
+
+"More likely than not," said Irene, with a half-absent look, "this
+would help to bring it about."
+
+"Dear, only your marriage could have changed him--nothing else.
+Oh, I am sure, nothing else! He has the warmest and truest heart!"
+
+Irene sat with bowed head, her lips compressed; she smiled again,
+but more faintly. In the silence there sounded a soft tap at the
+door.
+
+"I will see who it is," said Irene.
+
+Olga stood without, holding a letter. She whispered that the
+handwriting of the address (to Mrs. Hannaford) was Piers Otway's,
+and that possibly this meant important news. Irene took the letter,
+and re-entered the room. It was necessary to light the gas before
+Mrs. Hannaford could read the sheet that trembled in her hand.
+
+"What I feared! He can do nothing."
+
+She held the letter to Irene, who perused it. Piers began by saying
+that as result of a note he had posted yesterday, Daniel had this
+morning called upon him at his office. They had had a long talk.
+
+"He declared himself quite overcome by what had happened, and said
+he had been away from town endeavouring to get at an understanding
+of the so-called evidence against him. Possibly his inquiries might
+effect something; as yet they were useless. He was very vague, and
+did not reassure me; I could not make him answer simple questions.
+There is no honesty in the man. Unfortunately I have warrant for
+saying this, on other accounts. Believe me when I tell you that the
+life he leads makes him unworthy of your lightest thought. He is
+utterly, hopelessly ignoble. It is a hateful memory that I, who feel
+for you a deep respect and affection, was the cause of your coming
+to know him.
+
+"But for the fear of embarrassing you, I should have brought this
+news, instead of writing it. If you are still keeping your trouble a
+secret, I beseech you to ease your mind by seeing Dr. Derwent, and
+telling him everything. It is plain that your defence must at once
+be put into legal hands. Your brother is a man of the world, and
+much more than that; he will not, cannot, refuse to believe you, and
+his practical aid will comfort you in every way. Do not try to hide
+the thing even from your daughter; she is of an age to share your
+suffering, and to alleviate it by her affection. Believe me, silence
+is mistaken delicacy. You are innocent; you are horribly wronged;
+have the courage of a just cause. See Dr. Derwent at once; I implore
+you to do so, for your own sake, and for that of all your true
+friends."
+
+At the end, Irene drew a deep breath.
+
+"He, certainly, is one of them," she said.
+
+"Of my true friends? Indeed, he is."
+
+Again they were interrupted. Olga announced the arrival of the nurse
+sent by Dr. Derwent to tend the invalid. Thereupon Irene took leave
+of her aunt, promising to come again on the morrow, and went
+downstairs, where she exchanged a few words with her cousin. They
+spoke of Piers Otway's letter.
+
+"Pleasant for us, isn't it?" said Olga, with a dreary smile.
+"Picture us entertaining friends who call!"
+
+Irene embraced her gently, bade her be hopeful, and said good-bye.
+
+At home again, she remembered that she had an engagement to dine out
+this evening, but the thought was insufferable. Eustace, who was to
+have accompanied her, must go alone. Having given the necessary
+orders, she went to her room, meaning to sit there until dinner. But
+she grew restless and impatient; when the first bell rang, she made
+a hurried change of dress, and descended to the drawing-room. An
+evening newspaper failed to hold her attention; with nervous
+movements, she walked hither and thither. It was a great relief to
+her when the door opened and her father came in.
+
+Contrary to his custom, the Doctor had not dressed. He bore a
+wearied countenance, but at the sight of Irene tried to smooth away
+the lines of disgust.
+
+"It was all I could do to get here by dinner-time. Excuse me,
+Mam'zelle Wren; they're the clothes of an honest working-man."
+
+The pet syllable (a joke upon her name as translated by Thibaut
+Rossignol) had not been frequent on her father's lips for the last
+year or two; be used it only in moments of gaiety or of sadness.
+Irene did not wish to speak about her aunt just now, and was glad
+that the announcement of dinner came almost at once. They sat
+through an unusually silent meal, the few words they exchanged
+having reference to public affairs. As soon as it was over, Irene
+asked if she might join her father in the library.
+
+"Yes, come and be smoked," was his answer.
+
+This mood did not surprise her. It was the Doctor's principle to
+combat anxiety with jests. He filled and lit one of his largest
+pipes, and smoked for some minutes before speaking. Irene, still
+nervous, let her eyes wander about the book-covered walls; a flush
+was on her cheeks, and with one of her hands she grasped the other
+wrist, as if to restrain herself from involuntary movement.
+
+"The nurse came," she said at length, unable to keep silence longer.
+
+"That's right. An excellent woman; I can trust her."
+
+"Aunt seemed better when I came away."
+
+"I'm glad."
+
+Volleys of tobacco were the only sign of the stress Dr. Derwent
+suffered. He loathed what seemed to him the sordid tragedy of his
+sister's life, and he resented as a monstrous thing his daughter's
+involvement in such an affair. This was the natural man; the
+scientific observer took another side, urging that life was life and
+could not be escaped, refine ourselves as we may; also that a
+sensible girl of mature years would benefit rather than otherwise by
+being made helpful to a woman caught in the world's snare.
+
+"Whilst I was there," pursued Irene, "there came a letter from Mr.
+Otway. No, no; not from _him_; from Mr. Piers Otway."
+
+She gave a general idea of its contents, and praised its tone. "I
+daresay," threw out her father, almost irritably, "but I shall
+strongly advise her to have done with all of that name."
+
+"It's true they are of the same family," said Irene, "but that seems
+a mere accident, when one knows the difference between our friend
+Mr. Otway and his brothers."
+
+"Maybe; I shall never like the name. Pray don't speak of 'our
+friend.' In any case, as you see, there must be an end of that."
+
+"I should like you to see his letter, father. Ask aunt to show it
+you."
+
+The Doctor smoked fiercely, his brows dark. Rarely in her lifetime
+had Irene seen her father wrathful--save for his outbursts against
+the evils of the world and the time. To her he had never spoken an
+angry word. The lowering of his features in this moment caused her a
+painful flutter at the heart; she became mute, and for a minute or
+two neither spoke.
+
+"By the bye," said Dr. Derwent suddenly, "it is a most happy thing
+that your aunt's money was so strictly tied up. No one can be
+advantaged by her death--except that American hospital. Her
+scoundrelly acquaintances are aware of that fact no doubt."
+
+"It's a little hard, isn't it, that Olga would have nothing?"
+
+"In one way, yes. But I'm not sure she isn't safer so." Again there
+fell silence.
+
+Again Irene's eyes wandered, and her hands moved nervously.
+
+"There is one thing we must speak of," she said at length "If the
+case goes on, Arnold will of course hear of it."
+
+Dr. Derwent looked keenly at her before replying.
+
+"He knows already."
+
+"He knows? How?"
+
+"By common talk in some house he frequents. Agreeable! I saw him
+this afternoon; he took me aside and spoke of this. It is his belief
+that Hannaford himself has set the news going."
+
+Irene seemed about to rise. She sat straight, every nerve tense, her
+face glowing with indignation.
+
+"What an infamy!"
+
+"Just so. It's the kind of thing we're getting mixed up with."
+
+"How did Arnold speak to you? In what tone?"
+
+"As any decent man would--I can't describe it otherwise. He said
+that of course it didn't concern him, except in so far as it was
+likely to annoy our family. He wanted to know whether you had heard,
+and--naturally enough--was vexed that you couldn't be kept out
+of it. He's a man of the world, and knows that, nowadays, a scandal
+such as this matters very little. Our name will come into it, I
+fear, but it's all forgotten in a week or two."
+
+They sat still and brooded for a long time. Irene seemed on the
+point of speaking once or twice, but checked herself. When at length
+her father's face relaxed into a smile, she rose, said she was
+weary, and stepped forward to say good-night.
+
+"We'll have no more of this subject, unless compelled," said the
+Doctor. "It's worse that vivisection."
+
+And he settled to a book--or seemed to do so.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+
+Irene passed a restless night. The snatches of unrefreshing sleep
+which she obtained as the hours dragged towards morning were crowded
+with tumultuous dreams; she seemed to be at strife with all manner
+of people, now defending herself vehemently against some formless
+accusation, now arraigning others with a violence strange to her
+nature. Worst of all, she was at odds with her father, about she
+knew not what; she saw his kind face turn cold and hard in reply to
+a passionate exclamation with which she had assailed him. The wan
+glimmer of a misty October dawn was very welcome after this pictured
+darkness. Yet it brought reflections that did not tend to soothe her
+mind.
+
+Several letters for her lay on the breakfast-table; among them, one
+from Arnold Jacks, which she opened hurriedly. It proved to be a
+mere note, saying that at last he had found a house which seemed in
+every respect suitable, and he wished Irene to go over it with him
+as soon as possible; he would call for her at three o'clock.
+"Remember," he added, "you dine with us. We are by ourselves."
+
+She glanced at her father, as if to acquaint him with this news; but
+the Doctor was deep in a leading-article, and she did not disturb
+him. Eustace had correspondence of his own which engrossed him. No
+one seemed disposed for talk this morning.
+
+The letter which most interested her came from Helen Borisoff, who
+was now at home, in Paris. It was the kind of letter that few people
+are so fortunate as to receive nowadays, covering three sheets with
+gaiety and good-nature, with glimpses of interesting social life and
+many an amusing detail. Mrs. Borisoff was establishing herself for
+the winter, which promised all sorts of good things yonder on the
+Seine. She had met most of the friends she cared about, among whom
+were men and women with far-echoing names. With her husband she was
+on delightful terms; he had welcomed her charmingly; he wished her
+to convey his respectful homage to the young English lady with whom
+his wife had become _liee_, and the hope that at no distant time he
+might make her acquaintance. After breakfast, Irene lingered over
+this letter, which brightened her imagination. Paris shone luringly
+as she read. Had circumstances been different, she would assuredly
+have spent a month there with Helen.
+
+Well, she was going to Egypt, after--
+
+One glance she gave at Arnold's short note. "My dear Irene"--"In
+haste, but ever yours." These lines did not tempt her to muse. Yet
+Arnold was ceaselessly in her mind. She wished to see him, and at
+the same time feared his coming. As for the house, it occupied her
+thoughts with only a flitting vagueness. Why so much solicitude
+about the house? In any decent quarter of London, was not one just
+as good as another? But for the risk of hurting Arnold, she would
+have begged him to let her off the inspection, and to manage the
+business as he thought fit.
+
+A number of small matters claimed her attention during the morning,
+several of them connected with her marriage. Try as she might, she
+could not bring herself to a serious occupation with these things;
+they seemed trivial and tiresome. Her thoughts wandered constantly
+to the house at Campden Hill, which had a tragic fascination. She
+had promised to see her aunt to-day, but it would be difficult to
+find time, unless she could manage to get there between her business
+with Arnold and the hour of dinner. Olga was to telegraph if
+anything happened. A chill misgiving took hold upon her as often as
+she saw her aunt's face, so worn and woe-stricken; and it constantly
+hovered before her mind's eye.
+
+The revelation made to her yesterday had caused a mental shock
+greater than she had yet realised. That Mrs. Hannaford, a woman whom
+she had for many years regarded as elderly, should be possessed and
+overcome by the passion of love, was a thing so strange, so at
+conflict with her fixed ideas, as to be all but incredible. In her
+aunt's presence, she scarcely reflected upon it; she saw only a
+woman bound to her by natural affection, who had fallen into dire
+misfortune and wretchedness. Little by little the story grew upon
+her understanding; the words in which it had been disclosed came
+back to her, and with a new significance, a pathos hitherto unfelt.
+She remembered that Olga's mother was not much more than forty years
+old; that this experience began more than five years ago; that her
+life had been loveless; that she was imaginative and of emotional
+temper. To dwell upon these facts was not only to see one person in
+a new light, but to gain a wider perception of life at large. Irene
+had a sense of enfranchisement from the immature, the conventional.
+
+She would have liked to be alone, to sit quietly and think. She
+wanted to review once more, and with fuller self-consciousness, the
+circumstances which were shaping her future. But there was no
+leisure for such meditation; the details of life pressed upon her,
+urged her onward, as with an impatient hand. This sense of
+constraint became an irritation--due in part to the slight
+headache, coming and going, which reminded her of her bad night.
+Among the things she meant to do this morning was the writing of
+several letters to so-called friends, who had addressed her in the
+wonted verbiage on the subject of her engagement. Five minutes
+proved the task impossible. She tore up a futile attempt at
+civility, and rose from the desk with all her nerves quivering.
+
+"How well I understand," she said to herself, "why men swear!"
+
+At eleven o'clock, unable to endure the house, she dressed for going
+out, and drove to Mrs. Hannaford's.
+
+Olga was not at home. Before going into her aunt's room, Irene spoke
+with the nurse, who had no very comforting report to make; Mrs.
+Hannaford could not sleep, had not closed her eyes for some
+four-and-twenty hours; Dr. Derwent had looked in this morning, and
+was to return later with another medical man. The patient longed for
+her niece's visit; it might do good.
+
+She stayed about an hour, and it was the most painful hour her life
+had yet known. The first sight of Mrs. Hannaford's face told her how
+serious this illness was becoming; eyes unnaturally wide, lips which
+had gone so thin, head constantly moving from side to side as it lay
+back on the cushion of the sofa, were indications of suffering which
+made Irene's heart ache. In a faint, unsteady, lamenting voice, the
+poor woman talked ceaselessly; now of the wrong that was being done
+her, now of her miseries in married life, now again of her present
+pain. Once or twice Irene fancied her delirious, for she seemed to
+speak without consciousness of a hearer. To the inquiry whether it
+was in her niece's power to be of any service, she answered at first
+with sorrowful negatives, but said presently that she would like to
+see Piers Otway; could Irene write to him, and ask him to come?
+
+"He shall come," was the reply.
+
+On going down, Irene met her cousin, just returned. To her she spoke
+of Mrs. Hannaford's wish.
+
+"I promised he should be sent for. Will you do it, Olga?"
+
+"It is already done," Olga answered. "Did she forget? One of the
+things I went out for was to telegraph to him."
+
+They gazed at each other with distressful eyes.
+
+"Oh, what does the man deserve who has caused tills?" exclaimed
+Olga, who herself began to look ill. "It's dreadful! I am afraid to
+go into the room. If I had someone here to live with me!"
+
+Irene's instinct was to offer to come, but she remembered the
+difficulties. Her duties at home were obstacles sufficient. She had
+to content herself with promising to call as often as possible.
+
+Returning to Bryanston Square, she thought with annoyance of the
+possibility that her father and Piers Otway might come face to face
+in that house. Never till now had she taxed her father with
+injustice. It seemed to her an intolerable thing that the blameless
+man should be made to share in obloquy merited by his brother. And
+what memory was this which awoke in her? Did not she herself once
+visit upon him a fault in which he had little if any part? She
+recalled that evening, long ago, at Queen's Gate, when she was
+offended by the coarse behaviour of Piers Otway's second brother.
+True, there was something else that moved her censure on that
+occasion, but she would scarcely have noticed it save for the
+foolish incident at the door. Fortune was not his friend. She
+thought of the circumstances of his birth, which had so cruelly
+wronged him when Jerome Otway died. Now, more likely than not, her
+father would resent his coming to Mrs. Hannaford's, would see in it
+something suspicious, a suggestion of base purpose.
+
+"I can't stand that!" Irene exclaimed to herself. "If he is
+calumniated, I shall defend him, come of it what may!"
+
+At luncheon, Dr. Derwent was grave and disinclined to converse. On
+learning where Irene had been, he nodded, making no remark. It was a
+bad sign that his uneasiness could no longer be combated with a dry
+joke.
+
+As three o'clock drew near, Irene made no preparation for going out.
+She sat in the drawing-room, unoccupied, and was found thus when
+Arnold Jacks entered.
+
+"You got my note?" he began, with a slight accent of surprise.
+
+Irene glanced at him, and perceived that he did not wear his wonted
+countenance. This she had anticipated, with an uneasiness which now
+hardened in her mind to something like resentment.
+
+"Yes. I hoped you would excuse me. I have a little headache."
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry!"
+
+He was perfectly suave. He looked at her with a good-natured
+anxiety. Irene tried to smile.
+
+"You won't mind if I leave all that to you? Your judgment is quite
+enough. If you really like the house, take it at once. I shall be
+delighted."
+
+"It's rather a responsibility, you know. Suppose we wait till
+to-morrow?"
+
+Irene's nerves could not endure an argument. She gave a strange
+laugh, and exclaimed:
+
+"Are you afraid of responsibilities? In this case, you must really
+face it. Screw up your courage."
+
+Decidedly, Arnold was not himself. He liked an engagement of banter;
+it amused him to call out Irene's spirit, and to conquer in the end
+by masculine force in guise of affectionate tolerance. To-day he
+seemed dull, matter-of-fact, inclined to vexation; when not
+speaking, he had a slightly absent air, as if ruminating an
+unpleasant thought.
+
+"Of course I will do as you wish, Irene. Just let me describe the
+house----"
+
+She could have screamed with irritation.
+
+"Arnold, I entreat you! The house is nothing to me. I mean, one will
+do as well as another, if _you_ are satisfied."
+
+"So be it. I will never touch on the subject again."
+
+His tone was decisive. Irene knew that he would literally keep his
+word. This was the side of his character which she liked, which had
+always impressed her; and for the moment her nerves were soothed.
+
+"You will forgive me?" she said gently.
+
+"Forgive you for having a headache?--Will it prevent you from
+coming to us this evening?"
+
+"I should be grateful if you let me choose another day."
+
+He did not stay very long. At leave-taking, he raised her hand to
+his lips, and Irene felt that he did it gracefully. But when she was
+alone again, his manner, so slightly yet so noticeably changed,
+became the harassing subject of her thought. That the change
+resulted from annoyance at the scandal in her family she could not
+doubt; such a thing would be hard for Arnold to bear. When were they
+to speak of it? Speak they must, if the affair went on to publicity.
+And, considering the natural difficulty Arnold would find in
+approaching such a subject, ought not she to take some steps of her
+own initiative?
+
+By evening, she saw the position in a very serious light. She asked
+herself whether it did not behove her to offer to make an end of
+their engagement.
+
+"Your aunt has brain fever," said Dr. Derwent, in the library after
+dinner. And Irene shuddered with dread.
+
+Early next morning she accompanied her father to Mrs. Hannaford's.
+The Doctor went upstairs; Irene waited in the dining-room, where she
+was soon joined by Olga. The girl's face was news sufficient; her
+mother grew worse--had passed a night of delirium. Two nurses were
+in the house, and the medical man called every few hours. Olga
+herself looked on the point of collapse; she was haggard with fear;
+she trembled and wept. In spite of her deep concern and sympathy,
+Irene's more courageous temper reproved this weakness, wondered at
+it as unworthy of a grown woman.
+
+"Did Mr. Otway come?" she asked, as soon as It was possible to
+converse.
+
+"Yes. He was a long time in mother's room, and just before he left
+her your father came."
+
+"They met?"
+
+"No. Uncle seemed angry when I told him. He said, 'Get rid of him at
+once!' I suppose he dislikes him because of his brother. It's very
+unjust."
+
+Irene kept silence.
+
+"He came down--and we talked. I am so glad to have any friend near
+me! I told him how uncle felt. Of course he will not come again
+----"
+
+"Why not? This is _your_ house, not my father's!"
+
+"But poor mother couldn't see him now--wouldn't know him. I
+promised to send him news frequently. I'm going to telegraph this
+morning."
+
+"Of course," said Irene, with emphasis. "He must understand that
+_you_ have no such feeling----"
+
+"Oh, he knows that! He knows I am grateful to him--very grateful
+----"
+
+She broke down again, and sobbed. Irene, without speaking, put her
+arms around the girl and kissed her cheek.
+
+Dr. Derwent and his daughter met again at luncheon. Afterwards,
+Irene followed into the library.
+
+"I wish to ask you something, father. When you and Arnold spoke
+about this hateful thing, did you tell him, unmistakably, that aunt
+was slandered?"
+
+"I told him that I myself had no doubt of it."
+
+"Did he seem--do you think that _he_ doubts?"
+
+"Why?"
+
+Irene kept silence, feeling that her impression was too vague to be
+imparted.
+
+"Try," said her father, "to dismiss the matter from your thoughts.
+It doesn't concern you. You will never hear an allusion to it from
+Jacks. Happen what may"--his voice paused, with suggestive
+emphasis--"you have nothing to do with it. It doesn't affect your
+position or your future in the least."
+
+As she withdrew, Irene was uneasily conscious of altered relations
+with her father. The change had begun when she wrote to him
+announcing her engagement; since, they had never conversed with the
+former freedom, and the shadow now hanging over them seemed to chill
+their mutual affection. For the first time, she thought with serious
+disquiet of the gulf between old and new that would open at her
+marriage, of all she was losing, of the duties she was about to
+throw off--duties which appeared so much more real, more sacred,
+than those she undertook in their place. Her father's .widowerhood
+had made him dependent upon her in a higher degree than either of
+them quite understood until they had to reflect upon the
+consequences of parting; and Irene now perceived that she had
+dismissed this consideration too lightly. She found difficulty in
+explaining her action, her state of mind, her whole self. Was it
+really only a few weeks ago? To her present mood, what she had
+thought and done seemed a result of youth and inexperience, a
+condition long outlived.
+
+When she had sat alone for half an hour in the drawing-room, Eustace
+joined her. He said their father had gone out. They talked of
+indifferent things till bedtime.
+
+In the morning, the servant who came into Irene's room gave her a
+note addressed in the Doctor's hand. It contained the news that Mrs.
+Hannaford had died before daybreak. Dr. Derwent himself did not
+appear till about ten o'clock, when he arrived together with ills
+niece. Olga had been violently hysterical; it seemed the wisest
+thing to bring her to Bryanston Square; the change of surroundings
+and Irene's sympathy soon restored her to calm.
+
+At midday a messenger brought Irene a letter from Arnold Jacks.
+Arnold wrote that he had just heard of her aunt's death: that he was
+deeply grieved, and hastened to condole with her. He did not come in
+person, thinking she would prefer to let this sad day pass over
+before they met, but he would call to-morrow morning. In the
+meantime, he would be grateful for a line assuring him that she was
+well.
+
+Having read this, Irene threw it aside as if it had been a
+tradesman's circular. Not thus should he have written--if write he
+must instead of coming. In her state of agitation after the hours
+spent with Olga, this bald note of sympathy seemed almost an insult;
+to keep silence as to the real cause of Mrs. Hannaford's death was
+much the same, she felt, as hinting a doubt of the poor lady's
+innocence. Arnold Jacks was altogether too decorous. Would it not
+have been natural for a man in his position to utter at least an
+indignant word? It might have been as allusive as his fine propriety
+demanded, but surely the word should have been spoken!
+
+After some delay, she replied in a telegram, merely saying that she
+was quite well.
+
+Olga, as soon as she felt able, had sat down to write a letter. She
+begged her cousin to have it posted at once.
+
+"It's to Mr. Otway," she said, in an unsteady voice. And, when the
+letter had been despatched, she added, "It will be a great blow to
+him. I had a letter last night asking for news--Oh, I meant to
+bring it!" she exclaimed, with a momentary return of her distracted
+manner. "I left it in my room. It will be lost-destroyed!"
+
+Irene quieted her, promising that the letter should be kept safe.
+
+"Perhaps he will call," Olga said presently. "But no, not so soon.
+He may have written again. I must have the letter if there is one.
+Someone must go over to the house this evening."
+
+Through a great part of the afternoon, she slept, and whilst she was
+sleeping there arrived for her a telegram, which, Irene did not
+doubt, came from Piers Otway. It proved to be so, and Olga betrayed
+nervous tremors after reading the message.
+
+"I shall have a letter in the morning," she said to her cousin,
+several times; and after that she did not care to talk, but sat for
+hours busy with her thoughts, which seemed not altogether sad.
+
+At eleven o'clock next morning, Arnold Jacks was announced. Irene,
+who sat with Olga in the drawing-room, had directed that her visitor
+should be shown into the library, and there she received him. Arnold
+stepped eagerly towards her; not smiling indeed, but with the
+possibility of a smile manifest in every line of his countenance.
+There could hardly have been a stronger contrast with his manner of
+the day before yesterday. For this Irene had looked. Seeing
+precisely what she expected, her eyes fell; she gave a careless
+hand; she could not speak.
+
+Arnold talked, talked. He said the proper things, and said them
+well; to things the reverse of proper, not so much as the faintest
+reference. This duty discharged, he spoke of the house he had taken;
+his voice grew animated; at length the latent smile stole out
+through his eyes and spread to his lips. Irene kept silence.
+Respecting her natural sadness, the lover made his visit brief, and
+retired with an air of grave satisfaction.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVI
+
+
+Olga knew that by her mother's death she became penniless. The
+income enjoyed by Mrs. Hannaford under the will of her sister in
+America was only for life by allowing a third of it to her husband,
+she had made saving impossible, and, as she left no will, her
+daughter could expect only such trifles as might legally fall to her
+share when things were settled. To her surviving parent, the girl
+was of course no more than a stranger. It surprised no one that Lee
+Hannaford, informed through the lawyers of what had happened, simply
+kept silence, leaving his wife's burial to the care of Dr. Derwent.
+
+Three days of gloom went by; the funeral was over; Irene and her
+cousin sat together in their mourning apparel, not simply possessed
+by natural grief, but overcome with the nervous exhaustion which
+results from our habits and customs in presence of death. Olga had
+been miserably crying, but was now mute and still; Irene, pale, with
+an expression of austere thoughtfulness, spoke of the subject they
+both had in mind.
+
+"There is no necessity to take any step at all--until you are
+quite yourself again--until you really wish. This is your home; my
+father would like you to stay."
+
+"I couldn't live here after you are married," replied the other,
+weakly, despondently.
+
+Irene glanced at her, hung a moment on the edge of speech, then
+spoke with a self-possession which made her seem many years older
+than her cousin.
+
+"I had better tell you now, that we may understand each other. I am
+not going to be married."
+
+To Olga's voiceless astonishment she answered with a pale smile.
+Grave again, and gentle as she was firm, Irene continued.
+
+"I am going to break my engagement. It has been a mistake. To-night
+I shall write a letter to Mr. Jacks, saying that I cannot marry him;
+when it has been sent, I shall tell my father."
+
+Olga had begun to tremble. Her features were disturbed with an
+emotion which banished every sign of sorrow; which flushed her
+cheeks and made her eyes seem hostile in their fixed stare.
+
+"How can you do that?" she asked, in a hard voice "How is it
+possible?"
+
+"It seems to me far more possible then the alternative--a life of
+repentence."
+
+"But--what do you mean, Irene? When everything is settled--when
+your house is taken--when everyone knows! What do you mean? Why
+shall you do this?"
+
+The words rushed forth impetuously, quivering on a note of
+resentment. The flushed cheeks were turning pallid; the girl's
+breast heaved with indignant passion.
+
+"I can't fully explain it to you, Olga." The speaker's tones sounded
+very soft and reasonable after that outbreak. "I am doing what many
+a girl would do, I feel sure, if she could find courage--let us
+say, if she saw clearly enough. It will cause confusion,
+ill-feeling, possibly some unhappiness, for a few weeks, for a month
+or two; then Mr. Jacks will feel grateful to me, and my father will
+acknowledge I did right; and everybody else who knows anything about
+it will have found some other subject of conversation."
+
+"You are fond of somebody else?"
+
+It was between an exclamation and an inquiry. Bending forward, Olga
+awaited the reply as if her life depended upon it.
+
+"I am fond of no one--in that sense."
+
+Irene's look was so fearless, her countenance so tranquil in its
+candour, that the agitated girl grew quieter.
+
+"It isn't because you are _thinking_ of someone else that you can't
+marry Mr. Jacks?"
+
+"I am thinking simply of myself. I am afraid to marry him. No
+thought of the kind you mean has entered my head."
+
+"But how will it be explained to everybody?"
+
+"By telling the truth--always the best way out of a difficulty. I
+shall take all the blame on myself, as I ought."
+
+"And you will live on here, just as usual, seeing people----?"
+
+"No, I don't think I could do that. Most likely I shall go for a
+time to Paris."
+
+Olga's relief expressed itself in a sigh.
+
+"In all this," continued Irene, "there's no reason why you shouldn't
+stay here. Everything, you may be sure, will be settled very
+quietly. My father is a reasonable man."
+
+After a short reflection, Olga said that she could not yet make up
+her mind. And therewith ended their dialogue. Each was glad to go
+apart into privacy, to revolve anxious thoughts, and to seek rest.
+
+That her father was "a reasonable man," Irene had always held a
+self-evident proposition. She had never, until a few days ago,
+conceived the possibility of a conflict between his ideas of right
+and her own. Domestic discord was to her mind a vulgar, no less than
+an unhappy, state of things. Yet, in the step she was now about to
+take, could she feel any assurance that Dr. Derwent would afford her
+the help of his sympathy--or even that he would refrain from
+censure? Reason itself was on her side; but an otherwise reasonable
+man might well find difficulty in acknowledging it, under the
+circumstances.
+
+The letter to Arnold Jacks was already composed; she knew it by
+heart, and had but to write it out. In the course of a sleepless
+night, this was done. In the early glimmer of a day of drizzle and
+fog, the letter went to post.
+
+There needed courage--yes, there needed courage--on a morning
+such as this, when the skyless atmosphere weighed drearily on heart
+and mind, when hope had become a far-off thing, banished for long
+months from a grey, cold world, to go through with the task which
+Irene had set herself. Could she but have slept, it might have been
+easier for her; she had to front it with an aching head, with eyes
+that dazzled, with blood fevered into cowardice.
+
+Dr. Derwent was plainly in no mood for conversation. His voice had
+been seldom heard during the past week. At the breakfast-table he
+read his letters, glanced over the paper, exchanged a few sentences
+with Eustace, said a kind word to Olga; when he rose, one saw that
+he hoped for a quiet morning in his laboratory.
+
+"Could I see you for half an hour before lunch, father?"
+
+He looked into the speaker's face, surprised at something unusual in
+her tone, and nodded without smiling.
+
+"When you like."
+
+She stood at the window of the drawing-room, looking over the
+enclosure in the square, the dreary so-called garden, with its gaunt
+leafless trees that dripped and oozed. Opposite was the long facade
+of characterless houses, like to that in which she lived; the steps,
+the door-columns, the tall narrow windows; above them, murky vapour.
+
+She moved towards the door, hesitated, looked about her with
+unconsciously appealing eyes. She moved forward again, and on to her
+purpose.
+
+"Well?" said the Doctor, who stood before a table covered with
+scientific apparatus. "Is it about Olga?"
+
+"No, dear father. It's about Irene."
+
+He smiled; his face softened to tenderness.
+
+"And what about Mam'zelle Wren? It's hard on Wren, all this worry at
+such a time."
+
+"If it didn't sound so selfish, I should say it had all happened for
+my good. I suppose we can't help seeing the world from our own
+little point of view."
+
+"What follows on this philosophy?"
+
+"Something you won't like to hear, I know; but I beg you to be
+patient with me. When were you not? I never had such need of your
+patience and forbearance as now--Father, I cannot marry Arnold
+Jacks. And I have told him that I can't."
+
+The Doctor very quietly laid down a microscopic slide. His forehead
+grew wrinkled; his lips came sharply together; he gazed for a moment
+at an open volume on a high desk at his side, then said composedly:
+
+"This is your affair, Irene. All I can do is to advise you to be
+sure of your own mind."
+
+"I _am_ sure of it--very sure of it!"
+
+Her voice trembled a little; her hand, resting upon the table, much
+more.
+
+"You say you have told Jacks?"
+
+"I posted a letter to him this morning."
+
+"With the first announcement of your change of mind?--How do you
+suppose he will reply?"
+
+"I can't feel sure."
+
+There was silence. The Doctor took up a piece of paper, and began
+folding and re-folding it, the while he meditated.
+
+"You know, of course," he said at length, "what the world thinks of
+this sort of behaviour?"
+
+"I know what the world is likely to _say_ about it. Unfortunately,
+the world seldom thinks at all."
+
+"Granted. And we may also assume that no explanation offered by you
+or Jacks will affect the natural course of gossip. Still, you would
+wish to justify yourself in the eyes of your friends."
+
+"What I wish before all, of course, is to save Mr. Jacks from any
+risk of blame. It must be understood that I, and I alone, am
+responsible for what happens."
+
+"Stick to your philosophy," said her father. "Recognise the fact
+that you cannot save him from gossip and scandal--that people will
+credit as much or as little as they like of any explanation put
+forth. Moreover, bear in mind that this action of yours is defined
+by a vulgar word, which commonly injures the man more than the
+woman. In the world's view, it is worse to be made ridiculous than
+to act cruelly."
+
+A look of pain passed over the girl's face.
+
+"Father I am not acting cruelly. It is the best thing I can do, for
+him as well as for myself. On his side, no deep feeling is involved,
+and as for his vanity--I can't consider that."
+
+"You have come to the conclusion that he is not sufficiently devoted
+to you?"
+
+"I couldn't have put it in those words, but that is half the truth.
+The other half is, that I was altogether mistaken in my own feelings
+--Father, you are accustomed to deal with life and death. Do you
+think that fear of gossip, and desire to spare Mr. Jacks a brief
+mortification, should compel me to surrender all that makes life
+worth living, and to commit a sin for which there is no
+forgiveness?"
+
+Her voice, thoroughly under control, its natural music subdued
+rather than emphasised, lent to these words a deeper meaning than
+they would have conveyed if uttered with vehemence. They woke in her
+father's mind a memory of long years ago, recalled the sound of
+another voice which had the same modulations.
+
+"I find no fault with you," he said gravely. "That you can do such a
+thing as this proves to me how strongly you feel about it. Hut it is
+a serious decision--more serious, perhaps, than you realise.
+Things have gone so far. The mere inconvenience caused will be very
+great."
+
+"I know it. I have felt tempted to yield to that thought--to let
+things slide, as they say. Convenience, I feel sure, is a greater
+power on the whole than religion or morals or the heart. It doesn't
+weigh with me, because I have had such a revelation of myself as
+blinds me to everything else. I _dare_ not go on!"
+
+"Don't think I claim any authority over you," said the Doctor. "At
+your age, my only right as your father is in my affection, my desire
+for your welfare, Can you tell me more plainly how this change has
+come about?"
+
+Irene reflected. She had seated herself, and felt more confidence
+now that, by bending her head, she could escape her father's gaze.
+
+"I can tell you one of the things that brought me to a resolve," she
+said. "I found that Mr. Jacks was disturbed by the fear of a public
+scandal which would touch our name; so much disturbed that, on
+meeting me after aunt's death, he could hardly conceal his gladness
+that she was out of the way."
+
+"Are you sure you read him aright?"
+
+"Very sure."
+
+"It was natural--in Arnold Jacks."
+
+"It was. I had not understood that before."
+
+"His relief may have been as much on your account as his own."
+
+"I can't feel that," replied Irene. "If it were true, he could have
+made me feel it. There would have been something--if only a word
+--in the letter he wrote me about the death. I didn't expect him to
+talk to me about the hateful things that were going on; I _did_ hope
+that he would give me some assurance of his indifference to their
+effect on people's minds. Yet no; that is not quite true. Even then,
+I had got past hoping it. Already I understood him too well."
+
+"Strange! All this new light came after your engagement?"
+
+Irene bent her head again, for her cheeks were warm. In a flash of
+intellect, she wondered that a man so deep in the science of life
+should be so at a loss before elementary facts of emotional
+experience. She could only answer by saying nothing.
+
+Dr. Derwent murmured his next words.
+
+"I, too, have a share in the blame of all this."
+
+"You, father?"
+
+"I knew the man better than you did or could. I shirked a difficult
+duty. But one reason why I did so, was that I felt in doubt as to
+your mind. The fact that you were my daughter did not alter the fact
+that you were a woman, and I could not have any assurance that I
+understood you. If there had been a question of his life, his
+intellectual powers, his views--I would have said freely just what
+I thought. But there was no need; no objection rose on that score;
+you saw the man, from that point of view, much as I did--only with
+a little more sympathy. In other respects, I trusted to what we call
+women's instinct, women's perceptiveness. To me, he did not seem
+your natural mate; but then I saw with man's eyes; I was afraid of
+meddling obtusely."
+
+"Don't reproach yourself, father. The knowledge I have gained could
+only have come to me in one way."
+
+"Of course he will turn to me, in appeal against you."
+
+"If so, it will be one more proof how rightly I am acting."
+
+The Doctor smiled, all but laughed.
+
+"Considering how very decent a fellow he is, your mood seems severe,
+Irene. Well, you have made up your mind. It's an affair of no small
+gravity, and we must get through it as best we can. I have no doubt
+whatever it's worse for you than for anyone else concerned."
+
+"It is so bad for me, father, that, when I have gone through it, I
+shall be at the end of my strength. I shall run away from the after
+consequences."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"I shall accept Mrs. Horisoff's invitation and go to Paris. It is
+deserting you, but----"
+
+Dr. Derwent wore a doubtful look; he pondered, and began to pace the
+floor.
+
+"We must think about that."
+
+Though her own mind was quite made up, Irene did not see fit to say
+more at this juncture. She rose. Her father continued moving hither
+and thither, his hands behind his back, seemingly oblivious of her
+presence. To him, the trouble seemed only just beginning, and he was
+not at all sure what the end would be.
+
+"Jacks will come this evening, I suppose?" he threw out, as Irene
+approached the door.
+
+"Perhaps this afternoon."
+
+He looked at her with sympathy, with apprehension. Irene
+endeavouring to smile in reply, passed from his view.
+
+Olga had gone out, merely saying that she wished to see a friend,
+and that she might not be back to luncheon. She did not return.
+Father and daughter were alone together at the meal. Contrary to
+Irene's expectation, the Doctor had become almost cheerful; he made
+one or two quiet jokes in the old way, of course on any subject but
+that which filled their minds, and his behaviour was marked with an
+unusual gentleness. Irene was so moved by grateful feeling, that now
+and then she could not trust her voice.
+
+"Let me remind you," he said, observing her lack of appetite, "that
+an ill-nourished brain can't be depended upon for sanity of
+argument."
+
+"It aches a little," she replied quietly.
+
+"I was afraid so. What if you rest to-day, and let me postpone for
+you that interview----?"
+
+The suggestion was dreadful; she put it quickly aside. She hoped
+with all her strength that Arnold Jacks would have received the
+letter already, and that he would come to see her this afternoon. To
+pass another night with her suspense would be a strain scarce
+endurable.
+
+Fog still hung about the streets, shifting, changing its density,
+but never allowing a glimpse of sky. Alone in the drawing-room Irene
+longed for the end of so-called day, that she might shut out that
+spirit-crushing blotch of bare trees and ugly houses. She thought of
+a sudden, how much harder we make life than it need be, by dwelling
+amid scenes that disgust, in air that lowers vitality. There fell on
+her a mood of marvelling at the aims and the satisfactions of
+mankind. This hideous oblong, known as Bryanston Square--how did
+it come to seem a desirable place of abode? Nay, how was it for a
+moment tolerable to reasoning men and women? This whole London now
+gasping in foul vapours that half obscured, half emphasised its
+inexpressible monstrosity, its inconceivable abominations--by what
+blighting of eye and soul did a nation come to accept it as their
+world-shown pride, their supreme City? She was lost in a
+truth-perceiving dream. Habit and association dropped away; things
+declared themselves in their actuality; her mind whirled under the
+sense of human folly, helplessness, endurance.
+
+"Irene----"
+
+A cry escaped her; she started at the sound of her name as if
+terrified. Arnold Jacks had entered the room, and drawn near to her,
+whilst she was deep in reverie.
+
+"I am sorry to have alarmed you," he added, smiling tolerantly.
+
+With embarrassment which was almost shame--for she despised
+womanish nervousness--Irene turned towards the fireplace, where
+chairs invited them.
+
+"Let us sit down and talk," she said, in a softened voice. "I am so
+grateful to you for coming at once."
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVII
+
+
+His manner was that to which she had grown accustomed, or differed
+so little from it that, in ordinary circumstances, she would have
+remarked no peculiarity. He might have seemed, perhaps, a trifle
+less matter-of-fact than usual, slightly more disposed to ironic
+playfulness. At ease in the soft chair, his legs extended, with feet
+crossed, he observed Irene from under humorously bent brows; watched
+her steadily, until he saw that she could bear it no longer. Then he
+spoke.
+
+"I thought we should get through without it."
+
+"Without what?"
+
+"This little reaction. It comes into the ordinary prognosis, I
+believe; but we seemed safe. Yet I can't say I'm sorry. It's better
+no doubt, to get this over before marriage."
+
+Irene flushed, and for a moment strung herself to the attitude of
+offended pride. But it passed. She smiled to his smile, and, playing
+with the tassel of her chair, responded in a serious undertone.
+
+"I hoped my letter could not possibly be misunderstood."
+
+"I understand it perfectly. I am here to talk it over from your own
+standpoint."
+
+Again he frowned jocosely. His elbows on the chair-arms, he tapped
+together the points of his fingers, exhibiting nails which were all
+that they should have been. Out of regard for the Derwents'
+mourning, he wore a tie of black satin, and his clothes were of
+dark-grey, a rough material which combined the effects of finish and
+of carelessness--note of the well-dressed Englishman.
+
+"We cannot talk it over," rejoined Irene. "I have nothing to say--
+except that I take blame and shame to myself, and that I entreat
+your forgiveness."
+
+Under his steady eye, his good-humoured, watchful mastery, she was
+growing restive.
+
+"I was in doubt whether to come to-day," said Jacks, in a reflective
+tone. "I thought at first of sending a note, and postponing our
+meeting. I understood so perfectly the state of mind in which you
+wrote--the natural result of most painful events. The fact is, I
+am guilty of bad taste in seeming to treat it lightly; you have
+suffered very much, and won't be yourself for some days. But, after
+all, it isn't as if one had to do with the ordinary girl. To speak
+frankly I thought it was the kindest thing to come--so I came."
+
+Nothing Arnold had ever said to her had so appealed to Irene's
+respect as this last sentence. It had the ring of entire sincerity;
+it was quite simply spoken; it soothed her nerves.
+
+"Thank you," she answered with a grateful look. "You did right. I
+could not have borne it--if you had just written and put it off.
+Indeed, I could not have borne it."
+
+Arnold changed his attitude; he bent forward, his arms across his
+knees, so as to be nearer to her.
+
+"Do you think _I_ should have had an easy time?"
+
+"I reproach myself more than I can tell you. But you must understand
+--you _must_ believe that I mean what I am saying!" Her voice began
+to modulate. "It is not only the troubles we have gone through. I
+have seen it coming--the moment when I should write that letter.
+Through cowardice, I have put it off. It was very unjust to you; you
+have every right to condemn my behaviour; I am unpardonable. And yet
+I hope--I do so hope--that some day you will pardon me."
+
+In the man's eyes she had never been so attractive, so desirable, so
+essentially a woman. The mourning garb became her, for it was
+moulded upon her figure, and gave effect to the admirably pure tone
+of her complexion. Her beauty, in losing its perfect healthfulness,
+gained a new power over the imagination; the heavy eyes suggested
+one knew not what ideal of painters and poets; the lips were more
+sensuous since they had lost their mocking smile. All passion of
+which Arnold Jacks was capable sounded in the voice with which he
+now spoke.
+
+"I shall never pardon you, because I shall never feel you have
+injured me. Say to me what you want to say. I will listen. What can
+I do better than listen to your voice? I won't argue; I won't
+contradict. Relieve your mind, and let us see what it all comes to
+in the end."
+
+Irene had a creeping sense of fear. This tone was so unlike what she
+had expected. Physical weakness threatened a defeat which would have
+nothing to do with her will. If she yielded now, there would be no
+recovering her self-respect, no renewal of her struggle for liberty.
+She wished to rise, to face him upon her feet, yet had not the
+courage. His manner dictated hers. They were not playing parts on a
+stage, but civilised persons discussing their difficulties in a
+soft-carpeted drawing-room. The only thing in her favour was that
+the afternoon drew on, and the light thickened. Veiled in dusk, she
+hoped to speak more resolutely.
+
+"Must I repeat my letter?"
+
+"Yes, if you feel sure that it still expresses your mind."
+
+"It does. I made a grave mistake. In accepting your offer of
+marriage, I was of course honest, but I didn't know what it meant; I
+didn't understand myself. Of course it's very hard on you that your
+serious purpose should have for its only result to teach me that I
+was mistaken. If I didn't know that you have little patience with
+such words, I should say that it shows something wrong in our social
+habits. Yet that's foolish; you are right, that is quite silly. It
+isn't our habits that are to blame but our natures--the very
+nature of things. I had to engage myself to you before I could know
+that I ought to have done nothing of the kind."
+
+She paused, suddenly breathless, and a cough seized her.
+
+"You've taken cold," said Jacks, with graceful solicitude.
+
+"No, no! It's nothing."
+
+Dusk crept about the room. The fire was getting rather low.
+
+"Shall I ring for lamps?" asked Arnold, half rising.
+
+Irene wished to say no, but the proprieties were too strong. She
+allowed him to ring the bell, and, without asking leave, he threw
+coals upon the fire. For five minutes their dialogue suffered
+interruption; when it began again, the curtains were drawn, and warm
+rays succeeded to turbid twilight.
+
+"I had better explain to you," said Arnold, in a tone of delicacy
+overcome, "this state of mind in which you find yourself. It is
+perfectly natural; one has heard of it; one sees the causes of it.
+You are about to take the most important step in your whole life,
+and, being what you are, a very intelligent and very conscientious
+girl, you have thought and thought about its gravity until it
+frightens you. That's the simple explanation of your trouble. In a
+week--perhaps in a day or two--it will have passed. Just wait.
+Don't think of it. Put your marringe--put me--quite out of your
+mind. I won't remind you of my existence for--let us say before
+next Sunday. Now, is it agreed?"
+
+"I should be dishonest if I pretended to agree."
+
+"But--don't you think you owe it to me to give what I suggest a
+fair trial?"
+
+The words were trenchant, the tone was studiously soft. Irene strung
+herself for contest, hoping it would come quickly and undisguised.
+
+"I owe you much. I have done you a great injustice. But waiting will
+do no good. I know my mind at last. I see what is possible and what
+impossible."
+
+"Do you imagine, Irene, that I can part with you on these terms? Do
+you really think I could shake hands, and say good-bye, at this
+stage of our relations?"
+
+"What can I do?" Her voice, kept low, shook with emotion. "I confess
+an error--am I to pay for it with my life?"
+
+"I ask you only to be just to yourself as well as to me. Let three
+days go by, and see me again."
+
+She seemed to reflect upon it. In truth she was debating whether to
+persevere in honesty, or to spare her nerves with dissimulation. A
+promise to wait three days would set her free forthwith; the
+temptation was great. But something in her had more constraining
+power.
+
+"If I pretended to agree, I should be ashamed of myself. I should
+have passed from error into baseness. You would have a right to
+despise me; as it is, you have only a right to be angry."
+
+As though the word acted upon his mood, Arnold sprang forward from
+the chair, fell upon one knee close beside her, and grasped her
+hands. Irene instinctively threw herself back, looking frightened;
+but she did not attempt to rise. His face was hot-coloured, his eyes
+shone unpleasantly; but before he spoke, his lips parted in a laugh.
+
+"Are you one of the women," he said, "who have to be conquered? I
+didn't think so. You seemed so reasonable."
+
+"Do you dream of conquering a woman who cannot love you?"
+
+"I refuse to believe it. I recall your own words."
+
+He made a movement to pass one arm about her waist.
+
+"No! After what I have said----!"
+
+Her hands being free, she sprang up and broke away from him. Arnold
+rose more slowly, his look lowered with indignation. Eyes bent on
+the ground, hands behind him, he stood mute.
+
+"Must I leave you?" said Irene, when she could steady her voice.
+
+"That is my dismissal?"
+
+"If you cannot listen to me, and believe me--yes."
+
+"All things considered, you are a little severe."
+
+"You put yourself in the wrong. However unjust I have been to you, I
+can't atone by permitting what you call conquest. No, I assure you,
+I am _not_ one of those women."
+
+His eyes were now fixed upon her; his lips announced a new
+determination, set as they were in the lines of resentful dignity.
+
+"Let me put the state of things before you," he said in his softest
+tones, just touched with irony. "The fact of our engagement has been
+published. Our marriage is looked for by a host of friends and
+acquaintances, and even by the mere readers of the newspapers. All
+but at the last moment, on a caprice, an impulse you do not pretend
+to justify to one's intelligence, you declare it is all at an end.
+Pray, how do you propose to satisfy natural curiosity about such a
+strange event?"
+
+"I take all the blame. I make it known that I have behaved--
+unreasonably; if you will disgracefully."
+
+"That word," replied Jacks, faintly smiling, "has a meaning in this
+connection which you would hardly care to reflect upon. Take it that
+you have said this to your friends: what do _I_ say to _mine_?"
+
+Irene could not answer.
+
+"I have a pleasant choice," he pursued. "I can keep silence--which
+would mean scandal, affecting both of us, according to people's
+disposition. Or I can say with simple pathos, 'Miss Derwent begged
+me to release her.' Neither alternative is agreeable to me. It may
+be unchivalrous. Possibly another man would beg to be allowed to
+sacrifice his reputation, to ensure your quiet release. To be frank
+with you, I value my reputation, I value my chances in life. I have
+no mind to make myself appear worse than I am."
+
+Irene had sunk into her chair again. As he talked, Jacks moved to a
+sofa near her, and dropped on to the end of it.
+
+"Surely there is a way," began the girl's voice, profoundly
+troubled. "We could let it be known, first of all, that the marriage
+was postponed. Then--there would be less talk afterwards."
+
+He leaned towards her, upon his elbow.
+
+"It interests me--your quiet assumption that my feelings count for
+nothing."
+
+Irene reddened. She was conscious of having ignored that aspect of
+the matter, and dreaded to have to speak of it. For the revelation
+made to her of late taught her that, whatever Arnold Jacks' idea of
+love might be, it was not hers. Yet perhaps in his way, he loved her
+--the way which had found expression a few minutes ago.
+
+"I can only repeat that I am ashamed."
+
+"If you would grant me some explanation," Jacks resumed, with his
+most positive air, that of the born man of business. "Don't be
+afraid of hurting my sensibilities. Have I committed myself in any
+way?"
+
+"It is a change in myself--I was too hasty--I reflected
+afterwards instead of before----"
+
+"Forgive me if I make the most of that admission. Your hastiness was
+certainly not my fault. I did not unduly press you; there was no
+importunity. Such being the case, don't you think I may suggest that
+you ought to bear the consequences? I can't--I really can't think
+them so dreadful."
+
+Irene kept silence, her face bent and averted.
+
+"Many a girl has gone through what you feel now, but I doubt whether
+ever one before acted like this. They kept their word; it was a
+point of honour."
+
+"I know; it is true." She forced herself to look at him. "And the
+result was lives of misery--dishonour--tragedies."
+
+"Oh, come now----"
+
+"You _dare_ not contradict me!" Her eyes flashed; she let her
+feeling have its way. "As a man of the world, you know the meaning
+of such marriages, and what they may, what they do often, come to. A
+girl hears of such facts--realises them too late. You smile. No, I
+don't want to talk for effect; it isn't my way. All I mean is that
+I, like so many girls who have never been in love, accepted an offer
+of marriage on the wrong grounds, and came to feel my mistake--who
+knows how?--not long after. What you are asking me to do, is to
+pay for the innocent error with my life. The price is too great. You
+speak of your feelings; they are not so strong as to justify such a
+demand--And there's another thought that surely must have entered
+your mind. Knowing that I feel it impossible to marry you, how can
+you still, with any shadow of self-respect, urge me to do so? Is
+your answer, again, fear of what people will say? That seems to me
+more than cowardice. How strange that an honourable man doesn't see
+it so!"
+
+Jacks abandoned his easy posture, sat straight, and fixed upon her a
+look of masculine disdain.
+
+"I simply don't believe in the impossibility of your becoming my
+wife."
+
+"Then talk is useless. I can only tell you the truth, and reclaim my
+liberty."
+
+"It's a question of time. You wouldn't--well, say you couldn't
+marry me to-morrow. A month hence you would be willing. Because you
+suffer from a passing illusion, I am to unsettle all my arragements,
+and face an intolerable humiliation. The thing is impossible."
+
+With vast relief Irene heard him return upon this note, and strike
+it so violently. She felt no more compunction. The man was finally
+declared to her, and she could hold her own against him. Her
+headache had grown fierce; her mouth was dry; shudders of hot and
+cold ran through her. The struggle must end soon.
+
+"I am forgetting hospitality," she said, with sudden return to her
+ordinary voice. "You would like tea."
+
+Arnold waved his hand contemptuously.
+
+"No?--Then let us understand each other in the fewest possible
+words."
+
+"Good." He smiled, a smile which seemed to tighten every muscle of
+his face. "I decline to release you from your promise."
+
+She could meet his gaze, and did so as she answered with cold
+collectedness:
+
+"I am very sorry. I think it unworthy of you."
+
+"I shall make no change whatever in my arrangements. Our marriage
+will take place on the day appointed."
+
+"That can hardly be, Mr. Jacks, if the bride is not there."
+
+"Miss Derwent, the bride will be there!"
+
+He was not jesting. All the man's pride rose to assert dominion. The
+prime characteristic of his nation, that personal arrogance which is
+the root of English freedom, which accounts for everything best, and
+everything worst, in the growth of English power, possessed him to
+the exclusion of all less essential qualities. He was the subduer
+amazed by improbable defiance. He had never seen himself in such a
+situation it was as though a British admiral on his ironclad found
+himself mocked by some elusive little gunboat, newly invented by the
+condemned foreigner. His intellect refused to acknowledge the
+possibility of discomfiture; his soul raged mightily against the
+hint of bafflement. Humour would not come to his aid; the lighter
+elements of race were ousted; he was solid insolence, wooden-headed
+self-will.
+
+Irene had risen.
+
+"I am not feeling quite myself. I have said all there is to be said,
+and I must beg you to excuse me."
+
+"You should have begun by saying that. It is what I insisted upon."
+
+"Shall we shake hands, Mr. Jacks?"
+
+"To be sure!"
+
+"It is good-bye. You understand me? If, after this, you imagine an
+engagement between us, you have only yourself to blame."
+
+"I take the responsibility." He released her hand, and made a stiff
+bow. "In three days, I shall call."
+
+You will not see me."
+
+"Perhaps not. Then, three days later. Nothing whatever is changed
+between us. A little discussion of this sort is all to the good.
+Plainly, you have thought me a much weaker man than I am: when that
+error of judgment is removed, our relations will be better than
+ever."
+
+The temptation to say one word more overcame Irene's finer sense of
+the becoming. Jacks had already taken his hat, and was again bowing,
+when she spoke.
+
+"You are so sure that your will is stronger than mine?"
+
+"Perfectly sure," he replied, with superb tranquillity.
+
+No one had ever seen, no one again would ever see, that face of high
+disdainful beauty, pain-stricken on the fair brow, which Irene for a
+moment turned upon him. As he withdrew, the smile that lurked behind
+her scorn glimmered forth for an instant, and passed in the falling
+of a tear.
+
+She went to her room, and lay down. The sleep she had not dared to
+hope for fell upon her whilst she was trying to set her thoughts in
+order. She slept until eight o'clock; her headache was gone.
+
+Neither with her father, nor with Olga, did she speak of what had
+passed.
+
+Before going to bed, she packed carefully a large dress-basket and a
+travelling-bag, which a servant brought down for her from the
+box-room. Again she slept, but only for an hour or two, and at seven
+in the morning she rose.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXVIII
+
+
+The breakfast hour was nine o'clock. Dr. Derwent, as usual, came
+down a few minutes before, and turned over the letters lying for him
+on the table. Among them he found an envelope addressed in a hand
+which looked very much like Irene's; it had not come by post. As he
+was reading the note it contained, Eustace and Olga Hannaford
+entered together, talking. He bade them good-morning, and all sat
+down to table.
+
+"Irene's late," said Eustace presently, glancing at the clock.
+
+The Doctor looked at him with an odd smile.
+
+"She left Victoria ten minutes ago," he said, "by the Calais-boat
+express."
+
+Eustace and Olga stared, exclaimed.
+
+"She suddenly made up her mind to accept an invitation from Mrs.
+Borisoff."
+
+"But--what an extraordinary thing!" pealed Eustace, who was always
+greatly disturbed by anything out of routine. "She didn't speak of
+it yesterday!"
+
+Olga gazed at the Doctor. Her wan face had a dawn of brightness.
+
+"How long is she likely to stay, uncle?"
+
+"I haven't the least idea."
+
+"Well, she can't stay long," Eustace exclaimed. "Ah! I have it!
+Don't you see, Olga? It means Parisian dresses and hats!"
+
+Dr. Derwent exploded in laughter.
+
+"Acute young man! Now the ordinary male might have lost himself for
+a day in wild conjectures. This points to the woolsack, Olga!"
+
+She laughed for the first time in many days, and her appetite for
+breakfast was at once improved.
+
+In his heart, Dr. Derwent did not grieve over the singular events of
+yesterday and this morning. He had no fault to find with Arnold
+Jacks, and could cheerfully accept him as a son-in-law; but it was
+easy to imagine a husband more suitable for such a girl as Irene.
+Moreover, he had suspected, since the engagement, that she had not
+thoroughly known her own mind. But he was far from anticipating such
+original and decisive action on the girl's part. The thing being
+done, he could secretly admire it, and the flight to Paris relieved
+his mind from a prospect of domestic confusion. Just for a moment he
+questioned himself as to Irene's security, but only to recognise how
+firm was his confidence in her.
+
+Socially, the position was awkward. He had a letter from Jacks, a
+sensible and calmly worded letter, saying that Irene was overwrought
+by recent agitations, that she had spoken of putting an end to their
+engagement, but that doubtless a few days would see all right again.
+Arnold must now be apprised of what had happened, and, as all
+consideration was due to him, the Doctor despatched a telegram
+asking him to call as soon as he could. This brought Jacks to
+Bryanston Square at midday, and there was a conversation in the
+library. Arnold spoke his mind; with civility, but in unmistakable
+terms; he accused the Doctor of remissness. "Paternal authority," it
+seemed to him, should have sufficed to prevent what threatened
+nothing less than a scandal. Irene's father could not share this
+view; the girl was turned three-and-twenty; there could be no
+question of dictating to her, and as for expostulation, it had been
+honestly tried.
+
+"You are aware, I hope," said Jacks stiffly, "that Mrs. Borisoff has
+not quite an unclouded reputation?"
+
+"I know no harm against her."
+
+"She is as good as parted from her husband, and leads a very dubious
+wandering life."
+
+"Oh, it's all right. People countenance her who wouldn't do so if
+there were anything really amiss."
+
+"Well, Dr. Derwent," said the young man in a conclusive tone,
+"evidently all is at an end. It remains for us to agree upon the
+manner of making it known. Should the announcement come from your
+side or from mine?"
+
+The Doctor reflected.
+
+"You no longer propose to wait the effect of a little time?"
+
+"Emphatically, no. This step of Miss Derwent's puts that out of the
+question."
+
+"I see--Perhaps you feel that, in justice to yourself, it should
+be made known that she has done something of which you disapprove?"
+
+Arnold missed the quiet irony of this question.
+
+"Not at all. Our engagement ended yesterday; with to-day's events I
+have nothing to do."
+
+"That is the generous view," said Dr. Derwent, smiling pleasantly.
+"Do you know, I fancy we had better each of us tell the story in his
+own way. It will come to that in the end, won't it? You had a
+disagreement; you thought better of your proposed union; what more
+simple? I see no room for scandal."
+
+"Be it so. Have the kindness to acquaint Miss Derwent with what has
+passed between us."
+
+After dinner that evening, Dr. Derwent related the matter to his
+son. Eustace was astounded, and presently indignant. It seemed to
+him inconceivable that Arnold Jacks should have suffered this
+affront. He would not look at things from his sister's point of
+view; absurd to attempt a defence of her; really, really, she had
+put them all into a most painful position! An engagement was an
+engagement, save in the event of grave culpability on either side.
+Eustace spoke as a lawyer; his professional instincts were outraged.
+He should certainly call upon the Jacks' and utterly dissociate
+himself from his sister in this lamentable affair.
+
+"Why, what a shock it will be to Mrs. Jacks!"
+
+"She'll get over it, I fancy," remarked the Doctor drily.
+
+The young barrister withdrew to his room, where he read hard until
+very late. Eustace was no trifler; he had brains, and saw his way to
+make use of them to the one end which addressed his imagination,
+that of social self-advancement. His studies to-night were troubled
+with a resentful fear lest Irene's "unwomanly" behaviour (a
+generation ago it would have been "unladylike") should bring the
+family name into some discredit. Little ejaculations escaped him,
+such as "Really!" and "Upon my word!" Eustace had never been known
+to use stronger language.
+
+When his son had retired, Dr. Derwent stepped up to the
+drawing-room, where Olga Hannaford was sitting. After kindly
+regretting that she should be alone, he repeated to his niece what
+he had just told Eustace. Doubtless she would here very soon from
+Irene.
+
+"I have already heard something about this," said Olga. "I'm sure
+she has done right, but no one will ever know what it cost her."
+
+"That's the very point we have all been losing sight of," observed
+her uncle, gratified. "It would have been a good deal easier, no
+doubt, to go on to the marriage."
+
+"Easier!" echoed the girl. "She has done the most wonderful thing! I
+admire her, and envy her strength of character."
+
+The Doctor's eyes had fallen upon that crayon portrait which held
+the place of honour on the drawing-room walls. Playing with
+superstition, as does every man capable of high emotional life, he
+was wont to see in the pictured countenance of his dead wife changes
+of expression, correspondent with the mood in which he regarded it.
+At one time the beloved features smiled upon him; at another they
+were sad, or anxious. To-night, the eyes, the lips were so strongly
+expressive of gladness that he felt startled as he gazed. A joy from
+the years gone by suddenly thrilled him. He sat silent, too deeply
+moved by memories for speech about the present. And when at length
+he resumed talk with Olga, his voice was very gentle, his words all
+kindliness. The girl had never known him so sympathetic with her.
+
+On the morrow--it was Saturday--Olga received a letter from
+Piers Otway, who said that he had something of great importance to
+speak about, and must see her; could they not meet at the Campden
+Hill House, it being inadvisable for him to call at Dr. Derwent's?
+Either this afternoon or to-morrow would do, if Olga would appoint a
+time.
+
+She telegraphed, appointing this afternoon at three.
+
+Half an hour before that, she entered the house, which was now
+occupied only by a caretaker. Dr. Derwent was trying to let it
+furnished for the rest of the short lease. Olga had a fire quickly
+made in the drawing-room, and ordered tea. She laid aside her
+outdoor things, viewed herself more than once in a mirror, and moved
+about restlessly. When there sounded a visitor's knock at the front
+door, she flushed and was overcome with nervousness; she stepped
+forward to meet her friend, but could not speak. Otway had taken her
+hand in both his own; he looked at her with grave kindliness. It was
+their first meeting since Mrs. Hannaford's death.
+
+"I hesitated about asking you to see me here," he said. "But I
+thought--I hoped----"
+
+His embarrassment increased, whilst Olga was gaining self-command.
+
+"You were quite right," she said. "I think I had rather see you here
+than anywhere else. It isn't painful to me--oh! anything but
+painful!"
+
+They sat down. Piers was holding a large envelope, bulgy with its
+contents, whatever they were, and sealed; his eyes rested upon it.
+
+"I have to speak of something which at first will sound unwelcome to
+you; but it is only the preface to what will make you very glad. It
+is about my brother. I have seen him two or three times this last
+week on a particular business, in which at length I have succeeded.
+Here," he touched the envelope, "are all the letters he possessed in
+your mother's writing."
+
+Olga looked at him in distressful wonder and suspense.
+
+"Not one of them," he pursued, "contains a line that you should not
+read. They prove absolutely, beyond shadow of doubt, that the charge
+brought against your mother was false. The dates cover nearly five
+years--from a simple note of invitation to Ewell--you remember
+--down to a letter written about three weeks ago. Of course I was
+obliged to read them through; I knew to begin with what I should
+find. Now I give them to you. Let Dr. Derwent see them. If any doubt
+remains in his mind, they will make an end of it."
+
+He put the packet into Olga's hands. She, overcome for the moment by
+her feelings, looked from it to him, at a loss for words. She was
+struck with a change in Otway. That he should speak in a grave tone,
+with an air of sadness, was only natural; but the change went beyond
+this; he had not his wonted decision in utterance; he paused between
+sentences, his eyes wandering dreamily; one would have taken him for
+an older man than he was wont to appear, and of less energy. Thus
+might he have looked and spoken after some great effort, which left
+him wearied, almost languid, incapable of strong emotion.
+
+"Why didn't he show these letters before?" she asked, turning over
+the sealed envelope.
+
+"He had no wish to do so," answered Piers, in an undertone.
+
+"You mean that he would have let anything happen--which he could
+have prevented?"
+
+"I'm afraid he would."
+
+"But he offered them now?"
+
+"No--or rather yes, he offered them," Piers smiled bitterly. "Not
+however, out of wish to do justice."
+
+Olga could not understand. She gazed at him wistfully.
+
+"I bought them," said Piers. "It made the last proof of his
+baseness."
+
+"You gave money for them? And just that you might give them to me?"
+
+"Wouldn't you have done the same, to clear the memory of someone you
+loved?"
+
+Olga laid the packet aside; then, with a quick movement, stepped
+towards him, caught his hand, pressed it to her lips. Piers was
+taken by surprise, and could not prevent the action; but at once
+Olga's own hand was prisoned in his; they stood face to face, she
+blushing painfully, he pale as death, with lips that quivered in
+their vain effort to speak.
+
+"I shall be grateful to you as long as I live," the girl faltered,
+turning half away, trying gently to release herself.
+
+Piers kissed her hand, again and again, still speechless. When he
+allowed her to draw it away, he stood gazing at her like a man
+bewildered; there was moisture on his forehead; he seemed to
+struggle for breath.
+
+"Let us sit down again and talk," said Olga, glancing at him.
+
+But he moved towards her, the strangest look in his eyes, the fixed
+expressionless gaze of a somnambulist.
+
+"Olga----"
+
+"No, no!" she exclaimed, as if suddenly stricken with fear, throwing
+out her arms to repel him. "You didn't mean that! It is my fault.
+You never meant that."
+
+"Yes! Give me your hand again!" he said in a thick voice, the blood
+rushing into his cheeks.
+
+"Not now. You misunderstood me. I oughtn't to have done that. It was
+because I could find no word to thank you."
+
+She panted the sentences, holding her chair as if to support
+herself, and with the other hand still motioning him away.
+
+"I misunderstood----?"
+
+"I am ashamed--it was thoughtless--sit down and let us talk as
+we were doing. Just as friends, it is so much better. We meant
+nothing else."
+
+It was as if the words fell from her involuntarily; they were
+babbled, rather than spoken; she half laughed, half cried. And
+Otway, a mere automaton, dropped upon his chair, gazing at her,
+trembling.
+
+"I will let my uncle see the letters at once," Olga went on, in
+confused hurry. "I am sure he will be very grateful to you. But for
+you, we should never have had this proof. I, of course, did not need
+it; as if I doubted my mother! But he--I can't be sure what he
+still thinks. How kind you have always been to us!"
+
+Piers stood up again, but did not move toward her. She watched him
+apprehensively. He walked half down the room and back again, then
+exclaimed, with a wild gesture:
+
+"I never knew what a curse one's name could be! I used to be proud
+of it, because it was my father's; now I would gladly take any
+other."
+
+"Just because of that man?" Olga protested. "What does it matter?"
+
+"You know well what it matters," he replied, with an unnatural
+laugh.
+
+"To me--nothing whatever."
+
+"You try to think not. But the name will be secretly hateful to you
+as long as you live."
+
+"Oh! How can you say that! The name is yours, not his. Think how
+long we knew you before we heard of him! I am telling the simple
+truth. It is you I think of, when----"
+
+He was drawing nearer to her, and again that strange, fixed look
+came into his eyes.
+
+"I wanted to ask you something," said Olga quickly. "Do sit down--
+will you? Let us talk as we used to--you remember?"
+
+He obeyed her, but kept his eyes on her face.
+
+"What do you wish to ask, Olga?"
+
+The name slipped from his tongue; he had not meant to use it, and
+did not seem conscious of having done so.
+
+"Have you seen old Mr. Jacks lately?"
+
+"I saw him last night."
+
+"Last night?" Her breath caught. "Had he anything--anything
+interesting to say?"
+
+"He is ill. I only sat with him for half an hour. I don't know what
+it is. It doesn't keep him in bed; but he lies on a sofa, and looks
+dreadfully ill, as if he suffered much pain."
+
+"He told you nothing?"
+
+Their eyes met.
+
+"Nothing that greatly interested me," replied Piers heavily, with
+the most palpable feint of carelessness. "He mentioned what of
+course you know, that Arnold Jacks is not going to be married after
+all."
+
+Olga's head drooped, as she said in a voice barely audible:
+
+"Ah, you knew it."
+
+"What of that?"
+
+"I see--you knew it----"
+
+"What of that, Olga?" he repeated impatiently. "I knew it as a bare
+fact--no explanation. What does it mean? You know, I suppose?"
+
+In spite of himself, look and tones betrayed his eagerness for her
+reply.
+
+"They disagreed about something," said Olga. "I don't know what. I
+shouldn't wonder if they make it up again."
+
+At this moment the woman in care of the house entered with the
+tea-tray. To give herself a countenance, Olga spoke of something
+indifferent, and when they were alone again, their talk avoided the
+personal matters which had so embarrassed both of them. Olga said
+presently that she was going to see her friend Miss Bonnicastle
+to-morrow.
+
+"If I could see only the least chance of supporting myself, I would
+go to live with her again. She's the most sensible girl I know, and
+she did me good."
+
+"How, did you good?"
+
+"She helped me against myself," replied Olga abruptly. "No one else
+ever did that."
+
+Then she turned again to the safer subjects.
+
+"When shall I see you again?" Otway inquired, rising after a long
+silence, during which both had seemed lost in their thoughts.
+
+"Who knows?--But I will write and tell you what my uncle says
+about the letters, if he says anything. Again, thank you!"
+
+She gave her hand frankly. Piers held it, and looked into her face
+as once before.
+
+"Olga----"
+
+The girl uttered a cry of distress, drew her hand away, and
+exclaimed in a half-hysterical voice:
+
+"No! What right have you?"
+
+"Every right! Do you know what your mother said to me--her last
+words to me----?"
+
+"You mustn't tell me!" Her tones were softer. "Not to-day. If we
+meet again----"
+
+"Of course we shall meet again!"
+
+"I don't know. Yes, yes; we shall. But you must go now; it is time I
+went home."
+
+He touched her hand again, and left the room without looking back.
+Before the door had closed behind him, Olga ran forward with a
+stifled cry. The door was shut. She stood before it with tears in
+her eyes, her fingers clenched together on her breast, and sobbed
+miserably.
+
+For nearly half an hour she sat by the fire, head on hands, deeply
+brooding. In the house there was not a sound. All at once it seemed
+to her that a voice called, uttering her name; she started, her
+blood chilled with fear. The voice was her mother's; she seemed
+still to hear it, so plainly had it been audible, coming from she
+knew not where.
+
+She ran to her hat and jacket, which lay in a corner of the room,
+put them on with feverish haste, and fled out into the street.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIX
+
+
+"I will be frank with you, Piers," said Daniel Otway, as he sat by
+the fireside in his shabby lodgings, his feet on the fender, a
+cigarette between his fingers. He looked yellow and dried up;
+shivered now and then, and had a troublesome cough. "If I could
+afford to be generous, I would be; I should enjoy it. It's one of
+the worst evils of poverty, that a man can seldom obey the
+promptings of his better self. I can't give you these letters; can't
+afford to do so. You have glanced through them; you see they really
+are what I said. The question is, what are they worth to you?"
+
+Piers looked at the threadbare carpet, reflected, spoke.
+
+"I'll give you fifty pounds."
+
+A smile crept from the corners of Daniel's shrivelled lips to his
+bloodshot eye.
+
+"Why are you so anxious to have them," he said, "I don't know and
+don't ask. But if they are worth fifty to you, they are worth more.
+You shall have them for two hundred."
+
+And at this figure the bundle of letters eventually changed hands.
+It was a serious drain on Piers Otway's resources, but he could not
+bargain long, the talk sickened him. And when the letters were in
+his possession, he felt a joy which had no equivalent in terms of
+cash.
+
+He said to himself that he had bought them for Olga. In a measure,
+of course, for all who would be relieved by knowing that Mrs.
+Hannaford had told the truth; but first and foremost for Olga. On
+Olga he kept his thoughts. He was persuading himself that in her he
+saw his heart's desire.
+
+For Piers Otway was one of those men who cannot live without a
+woman's image to worship. Irene Derwent being now veiled from him,
+he turned to another beautiful face, in whose eyes the familiar
+light of friendship seemed to be changing, softening. Ambition had
+misled him; not his to triumph on the heights of glorious passion;
+for him a humbler happiness a calmer love. Yet he would not have
+been Piers Otway had this mood contented him. On the second day of
+his dreaming about Olga, she began to shine before his imagination
+in no pale light. He mused upon her features till they became the
+ideal beauty; he clad her, body and soul, in all the riches of
+love's treasure-house; she was at length his crowned lady, his
+perfect vision of delight.
+
+With such thoughts had he sat by Mrs. Hannaford, at the meeting
+which was to be their last. He was about to utter them, when she
+spoke Olga's name. "In you she will always have a friend? If the
+worst happens----?" And when he asked, "May I hope that she would
+some day let me be more than that?" the glow of joy on that stricken
+face, the cry of rapture, the hand held to him, stirred him so
+deeply that his old love-longing seemed a boyish fantasy. "Oh, you
+have made me happy! You have blotted out all my follies and
+sufferings!" Then the poor tortured mind lost itself.
+
+This was the second death which had upon Piers Otway the ageing
+effect known to all men capable of thoughts about mortality. The
+loss of his father marked for him the end of irresponsible years; he
+entered upon manhood with that grief blended of reverence and
+affection. By the grave of Mrs. Hannaford (he stood there only after
+the burial) he was touched again by the advancing shadow of life's
+dial, and it marked the end of youth. For youth is a term relative
+to heart and mind. At six-and-twenty many a man has of manhood only
+the physique; many another is already falling through experience to
+a withered age. Piers had the sense of transition; the middle years
+were opening before him. The tears he shed for his friend were due
+in part to the poignant perception of utter severance with boyhood.
+But a few weeks ago, talking with Mrs. Hannaford, he could revive
+the spirit of those old days at Geneva, feel his identity with the
+Piers Otway of that time. It would never be within his power again.
+He might remember, but memory showed another than himself.
+
+A note from John Jacks summoned him to Queen's Gate. Not till
+afterwards did he understand that Mr. Jacks' real motive in sending
+for him was to get light upon the rupture between Arnold and Miss
+Derwent. Piers' astonishment at what he heard caused his friend to
+quit the subject.
+
+In the night that followed, Piers for the first time in his life
+felt the possibility of base action. The experience has come to all
+men, and, whatever the result, always leaves its mark. Looking at
+the fact of Irene's broken engagement, he could explain it only in
+one way; the cause must be Mrs. Hannaford--the doubt as to her
+behaviour, the threatened scandal. Idle to attempt surmises as to
+the share of either side in what had come about; the difference had
+been sufficiently grave to part them. And this parting was to him a
+joy which shook his whole being. He could have raised a song of
+exultation.
+
+And in his hands lay complete evidence of the dead woman's
+guiltlessness. To produce it was possibly to reconcile Arnold Jacks
+and Irene. Viewed by his excited mind, the possible became certain;
+he evolved a whole act of drama between those two, turning on
+prejudices, doubts, scruples natural in their position; he saw the
+effect of their enlightenment. Was it a tempting thought, that he
+could give Irene back again into her bridegroom's arms.
+
+It brought sweat to his forehead; it shook him with the fierce
+torture of a jealous imagination. He fortified base suggestion by
+the natural revolt of his flesh. Once had he passed through the
+fire; to suffer that ordeal again was beyond human endurance. Irene
+was free. He paced the room, repeating wildly that Irene was free.
+And the mere fact of her freedom proved that she did not love the
+man--so it seemed to him, in his subordination of every motive to
+that passionate impulse. To him it brought no hope--what of that!
+Irene did not belong to another man.
+
+The fire needed stirring. As he broke the black surface of coal, a
+flame shot up, red, lambent, a serpent's tongue. It had a voice; it
+tempted. He took the packet of letters from the table.
+
+He had not yet read them through; had only tested them here and
+there under his brother's eye. Yes, they were the letters of a
+woman, who, suffering (as he knew) the strongest temptation to which
+her nature could be exposed, subdued herself in obedience to what
+she held the law of duty. He read page after page. Again and again
+she all but said, "I love you"; again and again she told her tempter
+that his suit was useless, that she would rather die than yield.
+Daniel Otway had used every argument to persuade her to defy the
+world and follow him--easy to understand his motives. One saw
+that, if she had been alone, she would have done so; but there was
+her daughter, there was her brother; to them she sacrificed what
+seemed to her the one chance of happiness left in a wasted life.
+
+Piers interrupted his reading to hear once more the voice that
+counselled baseness. Whom would it injure, if he destroyed these
+papers? Certainly not Irene, his first thought, who, he held it
+proved, was well rescued from a mistaken marriage. Not Dr. Derwent,
+or Olga, who, he persuaded himself, had already no doubt whatever of
+Mrs. Hannaford's innocence. Not the poor dead woman herself----
+
+What was this passage on which his eye had fallen? "I have long had
+a hope that your brother Piers might marry Olga. It would make me
+very happy; I cannot imagine for her a better husband. It came first
+into my mind years ago, at Geneva, and I have never lost the wish.
+Ah! how grateful you would make me, if, forgetting ourselves, you
+would join me in somehow trying to bring about this happiness for
+those two! Piers is coming to live in London. Do see as much of him
+as you can. I think very, very highly of him, and he is almost as
+dear to me as a son of my own. Speak to him of Olga. Sometimes a
+suggestion--and you know that I desire only his good."
+
+The voice spoke to him from the grave; it had a sweeter tone than
+that other. He read on; he came to the last sheet--so sad, so
+hopeless, that it brought tears to his eyes.
+
+"Cannot you defend me? Cannot you prove the falsehood of that story?
+Cannot you save me from this bitter disgrace? Oh, who will show the
+truth and do me justice?"
+
+Could he burn that letter? Could he close his ears against that cry
+of one driven to death by wrong?
+
+He drew a deep sigh, and looked about him as if waking from a bad
+dream. Why, he had come near to whole brotherhood with a man as
+coldly cruel and infamous as any that walked the earth! Destroying
+these letters, he would have been worse than Daniel.
+
+Straightway he wrote to Olga, requesting the appointment with her.
+Upon Olga once more he fixed his mind. He resolved that he would not
+part from her without asking her to be his wife. If he had but done
+so before hearing that news from John Jacks! Then it seemed to him
+that Olga was his happiness.
+
+From the house at Campden Hill he came away in a strangely excited
+mood; glad, sorry; cold, desirous; torn this way and that by
+conflict of passions and reasons. The only clear thought in his mind
+was that he had done a great act of justice. How often does it fall
+to a man to enjoy this privilege? Not once in a lifetime to the
+multitude such opportunity is the signal favour of fate. Had he let
+it pass, Piers felt he must have sunk so in his own esteem, that no
+light of noble hope would ever again have shone before him. He must
+have gone plodding the very mire of existence--Daniel's brother,
+never again anything but Daniel's brother.
+
+Would Dr. Derwent give him a thought of thanks? Would Irene hear how
+these letters were recovered?
+
+Sunday passed, he knew not well how. He wrote a letter to Olga, but
+destroyed it. On Monday he was very busy, chiefly at the warehouses
+of the Commercial Docks; a man of affairs; to look upon, not
+strikingly different from many another with whom he rubbed shoulders
+in Fenchurch Street and elsewhere. On Tuesday he had to go to
+Liverpool, to see an acquaintance of Moncharmont who might perchance
+be useful to them. The journey, the change, were not unpleasant. He
+passed the early evening with the man in question, who asked him at
+what hotel he meant to sleep. Piers named the house he had
+carelessly chosen, adding that he had not been there yet; his bag
+was still at the station.
+
+"Don't go there," said his companion. "It's small and uncomfortable
+and dear. You'll do much better at----"
+
+Without giving a thought to the matter, Otway accepted this advice.
+He went to the station, withdrew his bag, and bade a cabman drive
+him to the hotel his acquaintance had named. But no sooner had the
+cab started than he felt an unaccountable misgiving, an uneasiness
+as to this change of purpose. Strange as he was to Liverpool, there
+seemed no reason why he should hesitate so about his hotel; yet the
+mental disturbance became so strong that, when all but arrived, he
+stopped the cab and bade his driver take him to the other house,
+that which he had originally chosen. A downright piece of
+superstition, he said to himself, with a nervous laugh. He could not
+remember to have ever behaved so capriciously.
+
+The hotel pleased him. After inspecting his bedroom, he came down
+again to smoke and glance over the newspapers; it was about
+half-past nine. Half a dozen men were in the smoking-room; by ten
+o'clock there remained, exclusive of Piers, only three, of whom two
+were discussing politics by the fireside, whilst the third sat apart
+from them in a deep chair, reading a book. The political talk began
+to interest Otway; he listened, behind his newspaper. The louder of
+the disputants was a man of about fifty, dressed like a prosperous
+merchant; his cheeks were flabby, his chin triple or quadruple, his
+short neck, always very red, grew crimson as he excited himself. He
+was talking about the development of markets for British wares, and
+kept repeating the phrase "trade outlets," as if it had a flavour
+which he enjoyed. England, he declared, was falling behind in the
+competition for the world's trade.
+
+"It won't do. Mark my word, if we don't show more spirit, we shall
+be finding ourselves in Queer Street. Look at China, now! I call it
+a monstrous thing, perfectly monstrous, the way we're neglecting
+China."
+
+"My dear sir," said the other, a thin, bilious man, with an
+undecided manner, "we can't force our goods on a country----"
+
+"What! Why, that's exactly what we _can_ do, and ought to do! What
+we always _have_ done, and always _must_ do, if we're going to hold
+our own," vociferated he of the crimson neck. "I was speaking of
+China, if you hadn't interrupted me. What are the Russians doing?
+Why, making a railway straight to China! And we look on, as if it
+didn't matter, when the matter is national life or death. Let me
+give you some figures. I know what I'm talking about. Are you aware
+that our trade with China amounts to only half a crown a head of the
+Chinese population? Half a crown! While with little Japan, our trade
+comes to something like eighteen shillings a head. Let me tell you
+that the equivalent of that in China would represent about three
+hundred and sixty millions per annum!"
+
+He rolled out the figures with gusto culminating in rage. His eyes
+glared; he snorted defiance, turning from his companion to the two
+strangers whom he saw seated before him.
+
+"I say that it's our duty to force our trade upon China. It's for
+China's good--can you deny that? A huge country packed with
+wretched barbarians! Our trade civilises them--can you deny it?
+It's our duty, as the leading Power of the world! Hundreds of
+millions of poor miserable barbarians. And"--he shouted--"what
+else are the Russians, if you come to that? Can _they_ civilise
+China? A filthy, ignorant nation, frozen into stupidity, and
+downtrodden by an Autocrat!"
+
+"Well," murmured the diffident objector, "I'm no friend of tyranny;
+I can't say much for Russia----"
+
+"I should think you couldn't. Who can? A country plunged in the
+darkness of the Middle Ages! The country of the _knout_! Pah! Who
+_can_ say anything for Russia?"
+
+Vociferating thus, the champion of civilisation fixed his glare upon
+Otway, who, having laid down the paper, answered this look of
+challenge with a smile.
+
+"As you seem to appeal to me," sounded in Piers' voice, which was
+steady and good-humoured, "I'm bound to say that Russia isn't
+altogether without good points. You spoke of it, by the bye, as the
+country of the knout; but the knout, as a matter of fact, was
+abolished long ago."
+
+"Well, well--yes; yes--one knows all about that," stammered the
+loud man. "But the country is still ruled in the _spirit_ of the
+knout. It doesn't affect my argument. Take it broadly, on an
+ethnological basis." He expanded his chest, sticking his thumbs into
+the armholes of his waistcoat. "The Russians are a Slavonic people,
+I presume?"
+
+"Largely Slav, yes."
+
+"And pray, sir, what have the Slavs done for the world? What do we
+owe them? What Slavonic name can anyone mention in the history of
+progress?"
+
+"Two occur to me," replied Piers, in the same quiet tone, "well
+worthy of a place in the history of intellectual progress. There was
+a Pole named Kopernik, known to you, no doubt, as Copernicus, who
+came before Galileo; and there was a Czech named Huss--John Huss
+--who came before Luther."
+
+The bilious man was smiling. The fourth person present in the room,
+who sat with his book at some distance, had turned his eyes upon
+Otway with a look of peculiar interest.
+
+"You've made a special study, I suppose, of this sort of thing,"
+said the fat-faced politician, with a grin which tried to be civil,
+conveying in truth, the radical English contempt for mere
+intellectual attainment. "You're a supporter of Russia, I suppose?"
+
+"I have no such pretension. Russia interests me, that's all."
+
+"Come now, would you say that in any single point Russia, modern
+Russia, as we understand the term, had shown the way in _practical_
+advance?"
+
+All were attentive--the silent man with the book seeming
+particularly so.
+
+"I should say in one rather important point," Piers replied. "Russia
+was the first country to abolish capital punishment for ordinary
+crime."
+
+The assailant showed himself perplexed, incredulous. But this state
+of mind, lasting only for a moment, gave way to genial bluster.
+
+"Oh, come now! That's a matter of opinion. To let murderers go
+unhung----"
+
+"As you please. I could mention another interesting fact. Long
+before England dreamt of the simplest justice for women, it was not
+an uncommon thing for a Russian peasant who had appropriated money
+earned by his wife, to be punished with a flogging by the village
+commune."
+
+"A flogging! Why, there you are!" cried the other, with hoarse
+laughter--"What did I say? If it isn't the knout, it's something
+equivalent. As if we hadn't proved long ago the demoralising effect
+of corporal chastisement! We should be ashamed, sir, to flog men
+nowadays in the army or navy. It degrades: we have outgrown it--
+No, no, sir, it won't do! I see you have made a special study and
+you've mentioned very interesting facts; but you must see that they
+are wide of the mark--painfully wide of the mark--I must be
+thinking of turning in; have to be up at six, worse luck, to catch a
+train. Good-night, Mr. Simmonds! Good-night to you, sir--
+good-night!"
+
+He bustled away, humming to himself; and, after musing a little, the
+bilious man also left the room. Piers thought himself alone, but a
+sound caused him to turn his head; the person whom he had forgotten,
+the silent reader, had risen and was moving his way. A tall,
+slender, graceful man, well dressed, aged about thirty. He
+approached Otway, came in front of him, looked at him with a smile,
+and spoke.
+
+"Sir, will you permit me to thank you for what you have said in
+defence of Russia--my country?"
+
+The English was excellent; almost without foreign accent. Piers
+stood up, and held out his hand, which was cordially grasped. He
+looked into a face readily recognizable as that of a Little Russian;
+a rather attractive face, with fine, dreamy eyes and a mouth
+expressive of quick sensibility; above the good forehead, waving
+chestnut hair.
+
+"You have travelled in Russia?" pursued the stranger.
+
+"I lived at Odessa for some years, and I have seen something of
+other parts."
+
+"You speak the language?"
+
+Piers offered proof of this attainment, by replying in a few Russian
+sentences. His new acquaintance was delighted, again shook hands,
+and began to talk in his native tongue. They exchanged personal
+information. The Russian said that his name was Korolevitch; that he
+had an estate in the Government of Poltava, where he busied himself
+with farming, but that for two or three months of each year he
+travelled. Last winter he had spent in the United States; he was now
+visiting the great English seaports, merely for the interest of the
+thing. Otway felt how much less impressive was the account he had to
+give of himself, but his new friend talked with such perfect
+simplicity, so entirely as a good-humoured man of the world, that
+any feeling of subordination was impossible.
+
+"Poltava I know pretty well," he said gaily. "I've been more than
+once at the July fair, buying wool. At Kharkoff too, on the same
+business."
+
+They conversed for a couple of hours, at first amusing themselves
+with the rhetoric and arguments of the red-necked man. Korolevitch
+was a devoted student of poetry, and discovered not without surprise
+the Englishman's familiarity with that branch of Russian literature.
+He heard with great interest the few words Otway let fall about his
+father, who had known so many Russian exiles. In short, they got
+along together admirably, and, on parting for the night, promised
+each other to meet again in London some ten days hence.
+
+When he had entered his bedroom, and turned the key in the lock,
+Piers stood musing over this event. Of a sudden there came into his
+mind the inexplicable impulse which brought him to this hotel,
+rather than to that recommended by the Liverpool acquaintance. An
+odd incident, indeed. It helped a superstitious tendency of Otway's
+mind, the disposition he had, spite of obstacle and misfortune, to
+believe that destiny was his friend.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXX
+
+
+At home again, Piers wrote to Olga, the greater part of the letter
+being occupied with an account of what had happened at Liverpool. It
+was not a love-letter, yet differed in tone from those he had
+hitherto written her; he spoke with impatience of the circumstances
+which made it difficult for them to meet, and begged that it might
+not be long before he saw her again. Olga's reply came quickly; it
+was frankly intimate, with no suggestion of veiled feeling. Her
+mother's letters, she said, were in Dr. Derwent's hands. "I told him
+who had given them to me, and how you obtained them. I doubt whether
+he will have anything to say to me about them, but that doesn't
+matter; he knows the truth." As for their meeting, any Sunday
+afternoon he would find her at Miss Bonnicastle's, in Great Portland
+Street. "I wish I were living there again," she added. "My uncle is
+very kind, but I can't feel at home here, and I hope I shall not
+stay very long."
+
+So, on the next Sunday, Piers wended his way to Great Portland
+Street. Arriving about three o'clock, he found the artist of the
+posters sitting alone by her fire, legs crossed and cigarette in
+mouth.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Otway!" she exclaimed, turning her head to see who entered
+in reply to her cry of "Don't be afraid!" Without rising, she held a
+hand to him. "I didn't think I should ever see you here again. How
+are you getting on? Beastly afternoon--come and warm your toes."
+
+The walls were hung with clever brutalities of the usual kind. Piers
+glanced from them to Miss Bonnicastle, speculating curiously about
+her. He had no active dislike for this young woman, and felt a
+certain respect for her talent, but he thought, as before, how
+impossible it would be ever to regard her as anything but an
+abnormality. She was not ill-looking, but seemed to have no single
+characteristic of her sex which appealed to him.
+
+"What do you think of that?" she asked abruptly, handing him an
+illustrated paper which had lain open on her lap.
+
+The page she indicated was covered with some half-dozen small
+drawings, exhibiting scenes from a popular cafe in Paris, done with
+a good deal of vigour, and some skill in the seizing of facial
+types.
+
+"Your work?" he asked.
+
+"Mine?" she cried scoffingly. "I could no more do that than swim the
+channel. Look at the name, can't you?"
+
+He found it in a corner.
+
+"Kite? Our friend?"
+
+"That's the man. He's been looking up since he went to Paris. Some
+things of his in a French paper had a lot of praise; nude figures--
+queer symbolical stuff, they say, but uncommonly well done. I
+haven't seen them; in London they'd be called indecent, the man said
+who was telling me about them. Of course that's rot. He'll be here
+in a few days, Olga says."
+
+"She hears from him?"
+
+"It was a surprise letter; he addressed it to this shop, and I sent
+it on--that's only pot-boiling, of course." She snatched back the
+paper. "But it's good in its way--don't you think?"
+
+"Very good."
+
+"We must see the other things they talk about--the nudes."
+
+There was a knock at the door. "Come along!" cried Miss Bonnicastle,
+craning back her head to see who would enter. And on the door
+opening, she uttered an exclamation of surprise.
+
+"Well, this is a day of the unexpected! Didn't know you were in
+England."
+
+Piers saw a slim, dark, handsome man, who, in his elegant attire,
+rather reminded one of a fashion plate; he came briskly forward,
+smiling as if in extreme delight, and bent over the artist's hand,
+raising it to his lips.
+
+"Now, _you'd_ never do that," said Miss Bonnicastle, addressing
+Otway, with an air of mock gratification. "This is Mr. Florio, the
+best-behaved man I know. Signor, you've heard us speak of Mr. Otway.
+Behold him!"
+
+"Ah! Mr. Otway, Mr. Otway!" cried the Italian joyously. "Permit me
+the pleasure to shake hands with you! One more English friend! I
+collect English friends, as others collect pictures, bric-a-brac,
+what you will. Indeed, it is my pride to add to the collection--my
+privilege, my honour."
+
+After exchange of urbanities, he turned to the exhibition on the
+walls, and exhausted his English in florid eulogy, not a word of
+which but sounded perfectly sincere. From this he passed to a
+glorification of the art of advertisement. It was the triumph of our
+century, the supreme outcome of civilisation! Otway, amusedly
+observant, asked with a smile what progress the art was making in
+Italy.
+
+"Progress!" cried Florio, with indescribable gesture. "Italy and
+progress!--Yet," he proceeded, with a change of voice, "where
+would Italy be, but for advertisements? Italy lives by
+advertisements. She is the best advertised country in the world!
+Suppose the writers and painters ceased to advertise Italy; suppose
+it were no more talked about; suppose foreigners ceased to come!
+What would happen to Italy, I ask you?"
+
+His face conveyed so wonderfully the suggestion of ravenous hunger,
+that Miss Bonnicastle screamed with laughter. Piers did not laugh,
+and turned away for a moment.
+
+Soon after, there entered Olga Hannaford. Seeing the two men, she
+reddened and looked confused, but Miss Bonnicastle's noisy greeting
+relieved her. Her hand was offered first to Otway, who pressed it
+without speaking; their eyes met, and to Piers it seemed that she
+made an appeal for his forbearance, his generosity. The behaviour of
+the Italian was singular. Mute and motionless, he gazed at Olga with
+a wonder which verged on consternation; when she turned towards him,
+he made a profound bow, as though he met her for the first time.
+
+"Don't you remember me, Mr. Florio?" she asked, in an uncertain
+voice.
+
+"Oh--indeed--perfectly," was the stammered reply.
+
+He took her fingers with the most delicate respectfulness, again
+bowing deeply; then drew back a little, his eyes travelling rapidly
+to the faces of the others, as if seeking an explanation. Miss
+Bonnicastle broke the silence, saying they must have some tea, and
+calling upon Olga to help her in preparing it. For a minute or two
+the men were left alone. Florio, approaching Piers on tiptoe,
+whispered anxiously:
+
+"Miss Hannaford is in mourning?"
+
+"Her mother is dead."
+
+With a gesture of desolation, the Italian moved apart, and stood
+staring absently at a picture on the wall. For the next quarter of
+an hour, he took scarcely any part in the conversation; his
+utterances were grave and subdued; repeatedly he glanced at Olga,
+and, if able to do so unobserved, let his eyes rest upon her with
+agitated interest. But for the hostess, there would have been no
+talk at all, and even she fell far short of her wonted vivacity When
+things were at their most depressing, someone knocked.
+
+"Who's that, I wonder?" said Miss Bonnicastle. "All right!" she
+called out. "Come along."
+
+A head appeared; a long, pale, nervous countenance, with eyes that
+blinked as if in too strong a light. Miss Bonnicastle started up,
+clamouring an excited welcome. Olga flushed and smiled. It was Kite
+who advanced into the room; on seeing Olga he stood still, became
+painfully embarrassed, and could make no answer to the friendly
+greetings with which Miss Bonnicastle received him. Forced into a
+chair at length, and sitting sideways, with his long legs
+intertwisted, and his arms fidgeting about, he made known that he
+had arrived only this morning from Paris, and meant to stay in
+London for a month or two--perhaps longer--it depended on
+circumstances. His health seemed improved, but he talked in the old
+way, vaguely, languidly. Yes, he had had a little success; but it
+amounted to nothing; his work--rubbish! rubbish! Thereupon the
+cafe sketches in the illustrated papers were shown to Florio, who
+poured forth exuberant praise. A twinkle of pleasure came into the
+artist's eyes.
+
+"But the other things we heard about?" said Miss Bonnicastle. "The
+what-d'ye-call 'ems, the figures----"
+
+Kite shrugged his shoulders, and looked uneasy.
+
+"Oh, pot-boilers! Poor stuff. Happened to catch people's eyes. Who
+told you about them?"
+
+"Some man--I forget. And what are you doing now?"
+
+"Oh, nothing. A little black-and-white for that thing," he pointed
+contemptuously to the paper. "Keeps me from idleness."
+
+"Where are you going to live?"
+
+"I don't know. I shall find a garret somewhere. Do you know of one
+about here?"
+
+Olga's eyes chanced to meet a glance from Otway. She moved,
+hesitated, and rose from her chair. Kite and the Italian gazed at
+her, then cast a look at each other, then both looked at Otway, who
+had at once risen.
+
+"Do you walk home?" said Piers, stepping towards her.
+
+"I'd better have a cab."
+
+It was said in a quietly decisive tone, and Piers made no reply.
+Both took leave with few words. Olga descended the stairs rapidly,
+and, without attention to her companion, turned at a hurried pace
+down the dark street. They had walked nearly a hundred yards when
+she turned her head and spoke.
+
+"Can't you suggest some way for me to earn my living? I mean it. I
+must find something."
+
+"Have you spoken to your uncle about it?" asked Piers mechanically.
+
+"No; it's difficult. If I could go to him with something definite."
+
+"Have you spoken to your cousin?"
+
+Olga delayed an instant, and answered with an embarrassed
+abruptness.
+
+"She's gone to Paris."
+
+Before Piers could recover from his surprise, she had waved to an
+empty hansom driving past.
+
+"Think about it," she added, "and write to me. I must do something.
+This life of loneliness and idleness is unbearable."
+
+And Piers thought; to little purpose, for his mind was once more
+turned to Irene, and it cost him a painful effort to dwell upon
+Olga's circumstances. He postponed writing to her, until shame
+compelled him, and the letter he at length despatched seemed so
+empty, so futile, that he could not bear to think of her reading it.
+With astonishment he received an answer so gratefully worded that it
+moved his heart. She would reflect on the suggestions he had made;
+moreover, as he advised, she would take counsel frankly with the
+Doctor; and, whatever was decided, he should hear at once. She
+counted on him as a friend, a true friend; in truth, she had no
+other. He must continue to write to her, but not often, not more
+than once a fortnight or so. And let him be assured that she never
+for a moment forgot her lifelong debt to him.
+
+This last sentence referred, no doubt, to her mother's letters. Dr.
+Derwent, it seemed, would make no acknowledgment of the service
+rendered him by a brother of the man whom he must regard as a
+pitiful scoundrel. How abhorred by him must be the name of Otway!
+
+And could it be less hateful to his daughter, to Irene?
+
+The days passed. A pleasant surprise broke the monotony of work and
+worry when, one afternoon, the office-boy handed in a card bearing
+the name Korolevitch. The Russian was spending a week in London, and
+Otway saw him several times; on one occasion they sat talking
+together till three in the morning. To Piers this intercourse
+brought vast mental relief, and gave him an intellectual impulse of
+which he had serious need in his life of solitude, ever tending to
+despondency. Korolevitch, on leaving England, volunteered to call
+upon Moncharmont at Odessa. He had wool to sell, and why not sell it
+to his friends? But he, as well as Piers, looked for profit of
+another kind from this happy acquaintance.
+
+It was not long. before Otway made another call upon Miss
+Bonnicastle, and at this time, as he had hoped, he found her alone,
+working. He led their talk to the subject of Kite.
+
+"You ought to go and see him in his garret," said Miss Bonnicastle.
+"He'd like you to."
+
+"Tell me, if you know," threw out the other, looking into her broad,
+good-natured face. "Is he still interested in Miss Hannaford?"
+
+"Why, of course! He's one of the stupids who keep up that kind of
+thing for a lifetime. But 'he that will not when he may'! Poor silly
+fellow! How I should enjoy boxing his ears!"
+
+They laughed, but Miss Bonnicastle seemed very much in earnest.
+
+"He's tormenting his silly self," she went on, "because he has been
+unfaithful to her. There was a girl in Paris. Oh, he tells me
+everything! We're good friends. The girl over there did him enormous
+good, that's all I know. It was she that set him to work, and
+supplied him with his model at the same time! What better could have
+happened. And now the absurd creature has qualms of conscience!"
+
+"Well," said Piers, smiling uneasily, "it's intelligible."
+
+"Bosh! Don't be silly! A man has his work to do, and he must get
+what help he can. I shall pack him off back to Paris."
+
+"I'll go and see him, I think. About the Italian, Florio. Has he
+also an interest?"
+
+"In Olga? Yes, I fancy he has, but I don't know much about him. He
+comes and goes, on business. There's a chance, I think, of his
+dropping in for money before long. He isn't a bad sort--what do
+you think?"
+
+That same afternoon Piers went in search of Kite's garret. It was a
+garret literally, furnished with a table and a bed, and little else,
+but a large fire burned cheerfully, and on the table, beside a
+drawing-board, stood a bottle of wine. When he had welcomed his
+visitor, Kite pointed to the bottle.
+
+"I got used to it in Paris," he said, "and it helps me to work. I
+shan't offer you any, or you might be made ill; the cheapest claret
+on the market, but it reminds me of--of things."
+
+There rose in Otway's mind a suspicion that, to-day at all events,
+Kite had found his cheap claret rather too seductive. His face had
+an unwonted warmth of colour, and his speech an unusual fluency.
+Presently he opened a portfolio and showed some of the work he had
+done in Paris: drawings in pen-and-ink, and the published
+reproductions of others; these latter, he declared, were much spoilt
+in the process work. The motive was always a nude female figure, of
+great beauty; the same face, with much variety of expression; for
+background all manner of fantastic scenes, or rather glimpses and
+suggestions of a poet's dreamland.
+
+"You see what I mean?" said Kite. "It's simply Woman, as a beautiful
+thing, as a--a--oh, I can't get it into words. An ideal, you
+know--something to live for. Put her in a room--it becomes a
+different thing. Do you feel my meaning? English people wouldn't
+have these, you know. They don't understand. They call it
+sensuality."
+
+"Sensuality!" cried Piers, after dreaming for a moment. "Great
+heavens! then why are human bodies made beautiful?"
+
+The artist gave a strange laugh of gratification.
+
+"There you hit it! Why--why? The work of the Devil, they say."
+
+"The worst of it is," said Piers, "that they're right as regards
+most men. Beauty, as an inspiration, exists only for the few. Beauty
+of any and every kind--it's all the same. There's no safety for
+the world as we know it, except in utilitarian morals."
+
+Later, when he looked back upon these winter months, Piers could
+distinguish nothing clearly. It was a time of confused and obscure
+motives, of oscillation, of dreary conflict, of dull suffering. His
+correspondence with Olga, his meetings with her, had no issue. He
+made a thousand resolves; a thousand times he lost them. But for the
+day's work, which kept him in an even tenor for a certain number of
+hours, he must have drifted far and perilously.
+
+It was a life of solitude. The people with whom he talked were mere
+ghosts, intangible, not of his world. Sometimes, amid a crowd of
+human beings, he was stricken voiceless and motionless: he stared
+about him, and was bewildered, asking himself what it all meant.
+
+His health was not good; he suffered much from headaches; he fell
+into languors, lassitude of body and soul. As a result, imagination
+seemed to be dead in him. The torments of desire were forgotten.
+When he beard that Irene Derwent had returned to London, the news
+affected him only with a sort of weary curiosity. Was it true that
+she would not marry Arnold Jacks? It seemed so. He puzzled over the
+story, wondered about it; but only his mind was concerned, never his
+emotions.
+
+Once he was summoned to Queen's Gate. John Jacks lay on a sofa, in
+his bedroom; he talked as usual, but in a weaker voice, and had the
+face of a man doomed. Piers saw no one else in the house, and on
+going away felt that he had been under that roof for the last time.
+
+His mind was oppressed with the thought of death. As happens,
+probably, to every imaginative man at one time or another, he had a
+conviction that his own days were drawing to a premature close.
+Speculation about the future seemed idle; he had come to the end of
+hopes and fears. Night after night his broken sleep suffered the
+same dream; he saw Mrs. Hannaford, who stretched her hands to him,
+and with a face of silent woe seemed to implore his help. Help
+against Death; and his powerlessness wrung his heart with anguish.
+Waking, he thought of all the women--beautiful, tender, objects of
+infinite passion and worship--who even at that moment lay smitten
+by the great destroyer; the gentle, the loving, racked, disfigured,
+flung into the horror of the grave. And his being rose in revolt; he
+strove in silent agony against the dark ruling of the world.
+
+One day there was of tranquil self-possession, of blessed calm. A
+Sunday in January, when, he knew not how, he found himself amid the
+Sussex lanes, where he had rambled in the time of harvest. The
+weather, calm and dry and mild, but without sunshine, soothed his
+spirit. He walked for hours, and towards nightfall stood upon a
+wooded hill, gazing westward. An overcast, yet not a gloomy sky;
+still, soft-dappled; with rifts and shimmerings of pearly blue
+scattered among multitudinous billows, which here were a dusky
+yellow, there a deep neutral tint. In the low west, beneath the long
+dark edge, a soft splendour, figured with airy cloudlets, waited for
+the invisible descending sun. Moment after moment the rifts grew
+longer, the tones grew warmer; above began to spread a rosy flush;
+in front, the glory brightened, touching the cloud-line above it
+with a tender crimson.
+
+If all days could be like this! One could live so well, he thought,
+in mere enjoyment of the beauty of earth and sky, all else
+forgotten. Under this soft-dusking heaven, death was welcome rest,
+and passion only a tender sadness.
+
+He said to himself that he had grown old in hopeless love--only to
+doubt in the end whether he had loved at all.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXI
+
+
+The lad he employed in his office was run over by a cab one slippery
+day, and all but killed. Piers visited him in the hospital, thus
+seeing for the first time the interior of one of those houses of
+pain, which he always disliked even to pass. The experience did not
+help to brighten his mood; he lacked that fortunate temper of the
+average man, which embraces as a positive good the less of two
+evils. The long, grey, low-echoing ward, with its atmosphere of
+antiseptics; the rows of little white camp-beds, an ominous screen
+hiding this and that; the bloodless faces, the smothered groan, made
+a memory that went about with him for many a day.
+
+It strengthened his growing hatred of London, a huge battlefield
+calling itself the home of civilisation and of peace; battlefield on
+which the wounds were of soul no less than of body. In these gaunt
+streets along which he passed at night, how many a sad heart
+suffered, by the dim glimmer that showed at upper windows, a
+hopeless solitude amid the innumerable throng! Human cattle, the
+herd that feed and breed, with them it was well; but the few born to
+a desire for ever unattainable, the gentle spirits who from their
+prisoning circumstance looked up and afar how the heart ached to
+think of them! Some girl, of delicate instinct, of purpose sweet and
+pure, wasting her unloved life in toil and want and indignity; some
+man, whose youth and courage strove against a mean environment,
+whose eyes grew haggard in the vain search for a companion promised
+in his dreams; they lived, these two, parted perchance only by the
+wall of neighbour houses, yet all huge London was between them, and
+their hands would never touch. Beside this hunger for love, what was
+the stomach-famine of a multitude that knew no other?
+
+The spring drew nigh, and Otway dreaded its coming. It was the time
+of his burning torment, of imagination traitor to the worthier mind;
+it was the time of reverie that rapt him above everything ignoble,
+only to embitter by contrast the destiny he could not break. He rose
+now with the early sun; walked fast and far before the beginning of
+his day's work, with an aim he knew to be foolish, yet could not
+abandon. From Guildford Street, along the byways, he crossed
+Tottenham Court Road, just rattling with its first traffic, crossed
+Portland Place, still in its soundest sleep, and so onward till he
+touched Bryanston Square. The trees were misty with half-unfolded
+leafage birds twittered cheerily among the branches; but Piers
+heeded not these things. He stood before the high narrow-fronted
+house, which once he had entered as a guest, where never again would
+he be suffered to pass the door. Irene was here, he supposed, but
+could not be sure, for on the rare occasions when he saw Olga
+Hannaford they did not speak of her cousin. Of the course her life
+had taken, he knew nothing whatever. Here, in the chill bright
+morning, he felt more a stranger to Irene than on the day, six years
+ago, when with foolish timidity he ventured his useless call. She
+was merely indifferent to him then; now she shrank from the sound of
+his name.
+
+On such a morning, a few weeks later, he pursued his walk in the
+direction of Kensington, and passed along Queen's Gate. It was
+between seven and eight o'clock. Nearing John Jacks house, he saw a
+carriage at the door; it could of course be only the doctor's, and
+he became sad in thinking of his kind old friend, for whom the last
+days of life were made so hard. Just as he was passing, the door
+opened, and a man, evidently a doctor, came quickly forth. With
+movement as if he were here for this purpose, Otway ran up the
+steps; the servant saw him, and waited with the door still open.
+
+"Will you tell me how Mr. Jacks is?" he asked.
+
+"I am sorry to say, sir," was the subdued answer, "that Mr. Jacks
+died at three this morning."
+
+Piers turned away. His eyes dazzled in the sunshine.
+
+The evening papers had the news, with a short memoir--half of
+which was concerned not with John Jacks, but with his son Arnold.
+
+It seemed to him just possible that he might receive an invitation
+to attend the funeral; but nothing of the kind came to him. The
+slight, he took it for granted, was not social, but personal. His
+name, of course, was offensive to Arnold Jacks, and probably to Mrs.
+John Jacks; only the genial old man had disregarded the scandal
+shadowing the Otway name.
+
+On the morrow, it was made known that the deceased Member of
+Parliament would be buried in Yorkshire, in the village churchyard
+which was on his own estate. And Otway felt glad of this; the sombre
+and crowded hideousness of a London cemetery was no place of rest
+for John Jacks.
+
+A fortnight later, at eleven o'clock on Sunday morning, Piers
+mounted with a quick stride the stairs leading to Miss Bonnicastle's
+abode. The door of her workroom stood ajar; his knock brought no
+response; after hesitating a little, he pushed the door open and
+went in.
+
+Accustomed to the grotesques and vulgarities which generally met his
+eye upon these walls, he was startled to behold a life-size figure
+of great beauty, suggesting a study for a serious work of art rather
+than a design for a street poster. It was a woman, in classic
+drapery, standing upon the seashore, her head thrown back, her
+magnificent hair flowing unrestrained, and one of her bare arms
+raised in a gesture of exultation. As he gazed at the drawing with
+delight, Miss Bonnicastle appeared from the inner room, dressed for
+walking.
+
+"What do you think of _that_?" she exclaimed.
+
+"Better than anything you ever did!"
+
+"True enough! That's Kite. Don't you recognise his type?"
+
+"One thinks of Ariadne," said Piers, "but the face won't do for
+her."
+
+"Yes, it's Ariadne--but I doubt if I shall have the brutality to
+finish out my idea. She is to have lying on the sand by her a case
+of Higginson's Hair-wash, stranded from a wreck, and a bottle of it
+in her hand. See the notion? Her despair consoled by discovery of
+Higginson!"
+
+They laughed, but Piers broke off in half-serious anger.
+
+"That's damnable! You won't do it. For one thing, the mob wouldn't
+understand. And in heaven's name do spare the old stories! I'm
+amazed that Kite should consent to it."
+
+"Poor old fellow!" said Miss Bonnicastle, with an indulgent smile,
+"he'll do anything a woman asks of him. But I shan't have the heart
+to spoil it with Higginson; I know I shan't."
+
+"After all," Piers replied, "I don't know why you shouldn't. What's
+the use of our scruples? That's the doom of everything beautiful."
+
+"We'll talk about it another time. I can't stop now. I have an
+appointment. Stay here if you like, and worship Ariadne. I shouldn't
+wonder if Olga looks round this morning, and it'll disappoint her if
+there's nobody here."
+
+Piers was embarrassed. He had asked Olga to meet him, and wondered
+whether Miss Bonnicastle knew of it. But she spared him the
+necessity of any remark by speeding away at once, bidding him slam
+the door on the latch when he departed.
+
+In less than ten minutes, there sounded a knock without, and Piers
+threw the door open. It was Olga, breathing rapidly after her ascent
+of the stairs, and a startled look in her eyes as she found herself
+face to face with Otway. He explained his being here alone.
+
+"It is kind of you to have come!"
+
+"Oh, I have enjoyed the walk. A delicious morning! And how happy one
+feels when the church bells suddenly stop!"
+
+"I have often known that feeling," said Piers merrily. "Isn't it
+wonderful, how London manages to make things detestable which are
+pleasant in other places! The bells in the country!--But sit down.
+You look tired----"
+
+She seated herself, and her eyes turned to the beautiful figure on
+the wall. Piers watched her countenance.
+
+"You have seen it already?" he said.
+
+"A few days ago."
+
+"You know who did it?"
+
+"Mr. Kite, I am told," she answered absently. "And," she added,
+after a pause, "I think he disgraced himself by lending his art to
+such a purpose."
+
+Piers said nothing, and looked away to hide his smile of pleasure.
+
+"I asked you to come," were his next words, "to show you a letter I
+have had from John Jacks' solicitors."
+
+Glancing at him with surprise, Olga took the letter he held out, and
+read it. In this communication, Piers Otway was informed that the
+will of the late Mr. Jacks bequeathed to him the capital which the
+testator had invested in the firm of Moncharmont & Co., and the
+share in the business which it represented.
+
+"This is important to you," said the girl, after reflecting for a
+moment, her eyes down.
+
+"Yes, it is important," Piers answered, in a voice not quite under
+control. "It means that, if I choose, I can live without working at
+the business. Just live; no more, at present, though it may mean
+more in the future. Things have gone well with us, for a beginning;
+much better than I, at all events, expected. What I should like to
+do, now, would be to find a man to take my place in London. I know
+someone who, just possibly, might be willing--a man at Liverpool."
+
+"Isn't it a risk?" said Olga, regarding him with shamefaced anxiety.
+
+"I don't think so. If _I_ could do so well, almost an real man of
+business would be sure to do better. Moncharmont, you know, is the
+indispensable member of the firm."
+
+"And--what would you do? Go abroad, I suppose?"
+
+"For a time, at all events. Possibly to Russia--I have a purpose
+--too vague to speak of yet--I should frighten myself if I spoke
+of it. But it all depends upon----" He broke off, unable to command
+his voice. A moment's silence, during which he stared at the woman
+on the wall, and he could speak again. "I can't go alone. I can't do
+--can't think of--anything seriously, whilst I am maddened by
+solitude!"
+
+Olga sat with her head bent. He drew nearer to her.
+
+"It depends upon you. I want you for my companion--for my wife
+----"
+
+She looked him in the face--a strange, agitated, half-defiant
+look.
+
+"I don't think that is true! You don't want _me_----"
+
+"You! Yes, you, Olga! And only you!"
+
+"I don't believe it. You mean--any woman." Her voice all but
+choked. "If that one"--she pointed to the wall--"could step
+towards you, you would as soon have her. You would _rather_, because
+she is more beautiful."
+
+"Not in my eyes!" He seized her hand, and said, half laughing,
+shaken with the moment's fever, "Come and stand beside her, and let
+me see how the real living woman makes pale the ideal!"
+
+Flushing, trembling at his touch, she rose. Her lips parted; she had
+all but spoken; when there came a loud knock at the door of the
+room. Their hands fell, and they gazed at each other in
+perturbation.
+
+"Silence!" whispered Otway. "No reply!"
+
+He stepped softly to the door; silently he turned the key in the
+lock. No sooner had he done so, than someone without tried the
+handle; the door was shaken a little, and there sounded another
+knock, loud, peremptory. Piers moved to Olga's side, smiled at her
+reassuringly, tried to take her hand; but, with a frightened glance
+towards the door, she shrank away.
+
+Two minutes of dead silence; then Otway spoke just above his breath.
+
+"Gone! Didn't you hear the footstep on the stairs?"
+
+Had she just escaped some serious peril, Olga could not have worn a
+more agitated look. Her hand resisted Otway's approach; she would
+not seat herself, but moved nervously hither and thither, her eyes
+constantly turning to the door. It was in vain that Piers laughed at
+the incident, asking what it could possibly matter to them that some
+person had wished to see Miss Bonnicastle, and had gone away
+thinking no one was within; Olga made a show of assenting, she
+smiled and pretended to recover herself, but was still tremulous and
+unable to converse.
+
+He took her hands, held them firmly, compelled her to meet his look.
+
+"Let us have an end of this, Olga! Your life is unhappy--let me
+help you to forget. And help _me_! I want your love. Come to me--
+we can help each other--put an end to this accursed loneliness,
+this longing and raging that eats one's heart away!"
+
+She suffered him to hold her close--her head bent back, the eyes
+half veiled by their lids.
+
+"Give me one day--to think----"
+
+"Not one hour, not one minute! Now!"
+
+"Because you are stronger than I am, that doesn't make me really
+yours." She spoke in stress of spirit, her eyes wide and fearful.
+"If I said 'yes,' I might break my promise. I warn you! I can't
+trust myself--I warn you not to trust me!"
+
+"I will take the risk!"
+
+"I have warned you. Yes, yes! I will try!--Let me go now, and stay
+here till I have gone. I _must_ go now!" She shook with hysterical
+passion. "Else I take back my promise!--I will see you in two
+days; not here; I will think of some place."
+
+She drew towards the exit, and when her one hand was on the key,
+Piers, with sudden self-subdual, spoke.
+
+"You have promised!"
+
+"Yes, I will write very soon."
+
+With a look of gratitude, a smile all but of tenderness, she passed
+from his sight.
+
+On the pavement, she looked this way and that. Fifty yards away, on
+the other side of the street, a well-dressed man stood supporting
+himself on his umbrella, as if he had been long waiting; though to
+her shortness of sight the figure was featureless, Olga trembled as
+she perceived it, and started at a rapid walk towards the cabstand
+at the top of the street. Instantly, the man made after her, almost
+running. He caught her up before she could approach the vehicles.
+
+"So you were there! Something told me you were there!"
+
+"What do you mean, Mr. Florio?"
+
+The man was raging with jealous anger; trying to smile, he showed
+his teeth in a mere grin, and sputtered his words.
+
+"The door was shut with the key! Why was that?"
+
+"You mustn't speak to me in this way," said Olga, with troubled
+remonstrance rather than indignation. "When I visit my friend, we
+don't always care to be disturbed-----"
+
+"Ha! Your friend--Miss Bonnicastle--was _not_ there! I have seen
+her in Oxford Street! She said no one was there this morning, but I
+doubted--I came!"
+
+Whilst speaking, he kept a look turned in the direction of the house
+from which Olga had come. And of a sudden his eyes lit with fierce
+emotion.
+
+"See! Something told me! _That_ is your friend!"
+
+Piers Otway had come out. Olga could not have recognised him at this
+distance, but she knew the Italian's eyes would not be deceived.
+Instantly she took to flight, along a cross-street leading eastward.
+Florio kept at her side, and neither spoke until breathlessness
+stopped her as she entered Fitzroy Square.
+
+"You are safe," said her pursuer, or companion. "He is gone the
+other way. Ah! you are pale! You are suffering! Why did you run--
+run--run? There was no need."
+
+His voice had turned soothing, caressing; his eyes melted in
+compassion as they bent upon her.
+
+"I have given you no right to hunt me like this," said Olga,
+panting, timid, her look raised for a moment to his.
+
+"I take the right," he laughed musically. "It is the right of the
+man who loves you."
+
+She cast a frightened glance about the square, which was almost
+deserted, and began to walk slowly on.
+
+"Why was the door shut with the key?" asked Florio, his head near to
+hers. "I thought I would break it open And I wish I had done so," he
+added, suddenly fierce again.
+
+"I have given you no right," stammered Olga, who seemed to suffer
+under a sort of fascination, which dulled her mind.
+
+"I take it!--Has _he_ a right? Tell me that! You are not good to
+me; you are not honest to me; you deceive--deceive! Why was the
+door shut with the key? I am astonished! I did not think this was
+done in England--a lady--a young lady!"
+
+"Oh, what do you mean?" Olga exclaimed, with a face of misery.
+"There was no harm. It wasn't _I_ who wished it to be locked!"
+
+Florio gazed at her long and searchingly, till the blood burned in
+her face.
+
+"Enough!" he said with decision, waving his arm. "I have learnt
+something. One always learns something new in England. The English
+are wonderful--yes, they are wonderful. _Basta_! and _addio_!"
+
+He raised his hat, turned, moved away. As if drawn irresistibly,
+Olga followed. Head down, arms hanging in the limpness of shame, she
+followed, but without drawing nearer. At the corner of the square,
+Florio, as if accidentally, turned his head; in an instant, he stood
+before her.
+
+"Then you do not wish good-bye?"
+
+"You are very cruel! How can I let you think such things? You _know_
+it's false!"
+
+"But there must be explanation!"
+
+"I can easily explain. But not here--one can't talk in the street
+----"
+
+"Naturally!--Listen! It is twelve o'clock. You go home; you eat:
+you repose. At three o'clock, I pay you a visit. Why not? You said
+it yourself the other day, but I could not decide. Now I have
+decided. I pay you a visit; you receive me privately--can you not?
+We talk, and all is settled!"
+
+Olga thought for a moment, and assented. A few minutes afterwards,
+she was roiling in a cab towards Bryanston Square.
+
+On Monday evening, Piers received a note from Olga. It ran thus:
+
+"I warned you not to trust me. It is all over now; I have, in your
+own words, 'put an end to it.' We could have given no happiness to
+each other. Miss Bonnicastle will explain. Good-bye!"
+
+He went at once to Great Portland Street. Miss Bonnicastle knew
+nothing, but looked anxious when she had seen the note and heard its
+explanation.
+
+"We must wait till the morning," she said. "Don't worry. It's just
+what one might have expected."
+
+Don't worry! Piers had no wink of sleep that night. At post-time in
+the morning he was at Miss Bonnicastle's, but no news arrived. He
+went to business; the day passed without news; he returned to Great
+Portland Street, and there waited for the last postal delivery. It
+brought the expected letter; Olga announced her marriage that
+morning to Mr. Florio.
+
+"It's better than I feared," said Miss Bonnicastle. "Now go home to
+bed, and sleep like a philosopher."
+
+Good advice, but not of much profit to one racked and distraught
+with amorous frenzy, with disappointment sharp as death. Through the
+warm spring night, Piers raved and agonised. The business hour found
+him lying upon his bed, sunk in dreamless sleep.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXII
+
+
+Again it was springtime--the spring of 1894. Two years had gone by
+since that April night when Piers Otway suffered things unspeakable
+in flesh and spirit, thinking that for him the heavens had no more
+radiance, life no morrow. The memory was faint; he found it hard to
+imagine that the loss of a woman he did not love could so have
+afflicted him. Olga Hannaford--Mrs. Florio--was matter for a
+smile; he hoped that he might some day meet her again, and take her
+hand with the old friendliness, and wish her well.
+
+He had spent the winter in St. Petersburg, and was making
+arrangements for a visit to England, when one morning there came to
+him a letter which made his eyes sparkle and his heart beat high
+with joy. In the afternoon, having given more than wonted care to
+his dress, he set forth from the lodging he occupied at the lower
+end of the Nevski Prospect, and walked to the Hotel de France, near
+the Winter Palace, where he inquired for Mrs. Borisoff. After a
+little delay, he was conducted to a private sitting-room, where
+again he waited. On a table lay two periodicals, at which he
+glanced, recognising with a smile recent numbers of the _Nineteenth
+Century_ and the _Vyestnik Evropy_.
+
+There entered a lady with a bright English face, a lady in the years
+between youth and middle age, frank, gracious, her look of interest
+speaking a compliment which Otway found more than agreeable.
+
+"I have kept you waiting," she said, in a tone that dispensed with
+formalities, "because I was on the point of going out when they
+brought your card----"
+
+"Oh, I am sorry----"
+
+"But I am not. Instead of twaddle and boredom round somebody or
+other's samovar, I am going to have honest talk under the
+chaperonage of an English teapott--my own teapot, which I carry
+everywhere. But don't be afraid; I shall not give you English tea.
+What a shame that I have been here for two months without our
+meeting! I have talked about you--wanted to know you. Look!"
+
+She pointed to the periodicals which Piers had already noticed.
+
+"No," she went on, checking him as he was about to sit down, "_that_
+is your chair. If you sat on the other, you would be polite and
+grave and--like everybody else; I know the influence of chairs.
+That is the chair my husband selects when he wishes to make me
+understand some point of etiquette. Miss Derwent warned you, no
+doubt, of my shortcomings in etiquette?"
+
+"All she said to me," replied Piers, laughing, "was that you are
+very much her friend."
+
+"Well, that is true, I hope. Tell me, please; is the article in the
+_Vyestnik_ your own Russian?"
+
+"Not entirely. I have a friend named Korolevitch, who went through
+it for me."
+
+"Korolevitch? I seem to know that name. Is he, by chance, connected
+with some religious movement, some heresy?"
+
+"I was going to say I am sorry he is; yet I can't be sorry for what
+honours the man. He has joined the Dukhobortsi; has sold his large
+estate, and is devoting all the money to their cause. I'm afraid
+he'll go to some new-world colony, and I shall see little of him
+henceforth. A great loss to me."
+
+Mrs. Borisoff kept her eyes upon him as he spoke, seeming to reflect
+rather than to listen.
+
+"I ought to tell you," she said, "that I don't know Russian. Irene
+--Miss Derwent almost shamed me into working at it; but I am so
+lazy--ah, so lazy! you are aware, of course, that Miss Derwent has
+learnt it?"
+
+"Has learnt Russian?" exclaimed Piers. "I didn't know--I had no
+idea----"
+
+"Wonderful girl! I suppose she thinks it a trifle."
+
+"It's so long," said Otway, "since I had any news of Miss Derwent. I
+can hardly consider myself one of her friends--at least, I
+shouldn't have ventured to do so until this morning, when I was
+surprised and delighted to have a letter from her about that
+_Nineteenth Century_ article, sent through the publishers. She spoke
+of you, and asked me to call--saying she had written an
+introduction of me by the same post."
+
+Mrs. Borisoff smiled oddly.
+
+"Oh yes; it came. She didn't speak of the _Vyestnik_?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Yet she has read it--I happen to know. I'm sorry I can't. Tell me
+about it, will you?"
+
+The Russian article was called "New Womanhood in England." It began
+with a good-tempered notice of certain novels then popular, and
+passed on to speculations regarding the new ideals of life set
+before English women. Piers spoke of it as a mere bit of apprentice
+work, meant rather to amuse than as a serious essay.
+
+"At all events, it's a success," said his listener. "One hears of it
+in every drawing-room. Wonderful thing--you don't sneer at women.
+I'm told you are almost on our side--if not quite. I've heard a
+passage read into French--the woman of the twentieth century. I
+rather liked it."
+
+"Not altogether?" said Otway, with humorous diffidence.
+
+"Oh! A woman never quite likes an ideal of womanhood which doesn't
+quite fit her notion of herself. But let us speak of the other
+thing, in the _Nineteenth Century_--'The Pilgrimage to Kief.' For
+life, colour, sympathy, I think it altogether wonderful. I have
+heard Russians say that they couldn't have believed a foreigner had
+written it."
+
+"That's the best praise of all."
+
+"You mean to go on with this kind of thing? You might become a sort
+of interpreter of the two nations to each other. An original idea.
+The everyday thing is to exasperate Briton against Russ, and Russ
+against Briton, with every sort of cheap joke and stale falsehood.
+All the same Mr. Otway, I'm bound to confess to you that I don't
+like Russia."
+
+"No more do I," returned Piers, in an undertone. "But that only
+means, I don't like the worst features of the Middle ages. The
+Russian-speaking cosmopolitan whom you and I know isn't Russia; he
+belongs to the Western Europe of to-day, his country represents
+Western Europe of some centuries ago. Not strictly that, of course;
+we must allow for race; but it's how one has to think of Russia."
+
+Again Mrs. Borisoff scrutinised him as he spoke, averting her eyes
+at length with an absent smile.
+
+"Here comes my tutelary teapot," she said, as a pretty maid-servant
+entered with a tray. "A phrase I got from Irene, by the bye--from
+Miss Derwent, who laughs at my carrying the thing about in my
+luggage. She has clever little phrases of that sort, as you know."
+
+"Yes," fell from Piers, dreamily. "But it's so long since I heard
+her talk."
+
+When he had received his cup of tea, and sipped from it, he asked
+with a serious look:
+
+"Will you tell me about her?"
+
+"Of course I will. But you must first tell me about yourself. You
+were in business in London, I believe?"
+
+"For about a year. Then I found myself with enough to live upon, and
+came back to Russia. I had lived at Odessa----"
+
+"You may presuppose a knowledge of what came before," interrupted
+Mrs. Borisoff, with a friendly nod.
+
+"I lived for several months with Korolevitch, on his estate near
+Poltava. We used to talk--heavens! how we talked! Sometimes eight
+hours at a stretch. I learnt a great deal. Then I wandered up and
+down Russia, still learning."
+
+"Writing, too?"
+
+"The time hadn't come for writing. Korolevitch gave me no end of
+useful introductions. I've had great luck on my travels."
+
+"Pray, when did you make your studies of English women?"
+
+Piers tried to laugh; declared he did not know.
+
+"I shouldn't wonder if you generalise from one or two?" said his
+hostess, letting her eyelids droop as she observed him lazily. "Do
+you know Russian women as well?"
+
+By begging for another cup of tea, and adding a remark on some other
+subject, Piers evaded this question.
+
+"And what are you going to do?" asked Mrs. Borisoff "Stay here, and
+write more articles?"
+
+"I'm going to England in a few days for the summer."
+
+"That's what I think I shall do. But I don't know what part to go
+to. Advise me, can you? Seaside--no; I don't like the seaside. Do
+you notice how people--our kind of people, I mean--are losing
+their taste for it in England? It's partly, I suppose, because of
+the excursion train. One doesn't grudge the crowd its excursion
+train, but it's so much nicer to imagine their blessedness than to
+see it. Or are you for the other point of view?"
+
+Otway gave an expressive look.
+
+"That's right. Oh, the sham philanthropic talk that goes on in
+England! How it relieves one to say flatly that one does _not_ love
+the multitude!--No seaside, then. Lakes--no; Wales--no;
+Highlands--no. Isn't there some part of England one would like if
+one discovered it?"
+
+"Do you want solitude?" asked Piers, becoming more interested.
+
+"Solitude? H'm!" She handed a box of cigarettes, and herself took
+one. "Yes, solitude. I shall try to get Miss Derwent to come for a
+time. New Forest--no, Please, please, do suggest! I'm nervous;
+your silence teases me."
+
+"Do you know the Yorkshire dales?" asked Otway, watching her as she
+watched a nice little ring of white smoke from the end of her
+cigarette.
+
+"No! That's an idea. It's your own country, isn't it?"
+
+"But--how do you know that?"
+
+"Dreamt it."
+
+"I wasn't born there, but lived there as a child, and later a
+little. You might do worse than the dales, if you like that kind of
+country. Wensleydale, for instance. There's an old Castle, and a
+very interesting one, part of it habitable, where you can get
+quarters."
+
+"A Castle? Superb!"
+
+"Where Queen Mary was imprisoned for a time, till she made an escape
+----"
+
+"Magnificent! Can I have the whole Castle to myself?"
+
+"The furnished part of it, unless someone else has got it already
+for this summer. There's a family, the caretakers, always in
+possession--if things are still as they used to be."
+
+"Write for me at once, will you? Write immediately! There is paper
+on the desk."
+
+Piers obeyed. Whilst he sat penning the letter, Mrs. Borisoff
+lighted a second cigarette, her face touched with a roguish smile.
+She studied Otway's profile for a moment; became grave; fell into a
+mood of abstraction, which shadowed her features with weariness and
+melancholy. Turning suddenly to put a question, Piers saw the change
+in her look, and was so surprised that he forgot what he was going
+to say.
+
+"Finished?" she asked, moving nervously in her chair.
+
+When the letter was written, Mrs. Borisoff resumed talk in the same
+tone as before.
+
+"You have heard of Dr. Derwent's discoveries about diphtheria?--
+That's the kind of thing one envies, don't you think? After all,
+what can we poor creatures do in this world, but try to ease each
+other's pain? The man who succeeds in _that_ is the man I honour."
+
+"I too," said Piers. "But he is lost sight of, nowadays, in
+comparison with the man who invents a new gun or a new bullet."
+
+"Yes--the beasts!" exclaimed Mrs. Borisoff, with a laugh. "What a
+world! I'm always glad I have no children. But you wanted to speak,
+not about Dr. Derwent, but Dr. Derwent's daughter."
+
+Piers bent forward, resting his chin on his hand.
+
+"Tell me about her--will you?"
+
+"There's not much to tell. You knew about the broken-off marriage?"
+
+"I knew it _was_ broken off."
+
+"Why, that's all anyone knows, except the two persons concerned. It
+isn't our business. The world talks far too much about such things
+--don't you think? when we are civilised, there'll be no such
+things as public weddings, and talk about anyone's domestic concerns
+will be the grossest impertinence. That's an _obiter dictum_. I was
+going to say that Irene lives with her father down in Kent. They
+left Bryanston Square half a year after the affair. They wander
+about the Continent together, now and then. I like that chumming of
+father and daughter; it speaks well for both."
+
+"When did you see her last?"
+
+"About Christmas. We went to a concert together. That's one of the
+things Irene is going in for--music. When I first knew her, she
+didn't seem to care much about it, though she played fairly well."
+
+"I never heard her play," fell from Piers in an undertone.
+
+"No; she only did to please her father now and then. It's a mental
+and moral advance, her new love of music. I notice that she talks
+much less about science, much more about the things one really likes
+--I speak for myself. Well, it's just possible I have had a little
+influence there. I confess my inability to chat about either physic
+or physics. It's weak, of course, but I have no place in your new
+world of women."
+
+"You mistake, I think," said Piers. "That ideal has nothing to do
+with any particular study. It supposes intelligence, that's all."
+
+"So much the better. You must write about it in English; then we'll
+debate. By the bye, if I go to your Castle, you must come down to
+show me the country."
+
+"I should like to."
+
+"Oh, that's part of the plan. If we don't get the Castle, you must
+find some other place for me. I leave it in your hands--with an
+apology for my impudence."
+
+After a pause, during which each of them mused smiling, they began
+to talk of their departure for England. Otway would go direct in a
+few days' time; Mrs. Borisoff had to travel a long way round, first
+of all accompanying her husband to the Crimea, on a visit to
+relatives. She mentioned her London hotel, and an approximate date
+when she might be heard of there.
+
+"Get the Castle if you possibly can," were her words as they parted.
+"I have set my heart on the Castle."
+
+"So have I," said Piers, avoiding her look.
+
+And Mrs. Borisoff laughed.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIII
+
+
+Once in the two years' interval he had paid a short visit to
+England. He came on disagreeable business--to see his brother
+Daniel, who had fallen into the hands of the police on an infamous
+charge, and only by the exertions of clever counsel (feed by Piers)
+received the benefit of a doubt and escaped punishment. Daniel had
+already written him several begging letters, and, when detected in
+what looked like crime, declared that poverty and ill-health were
+his excuse. He was a broken man. Surmising his hidden life, Piers
+wondered at the pass a man can be brought to, in our society, by his
+primitive instincts; instincts which may lead, when they are
+impetuous, either to grimiest degradation or loftiest attainment. To
+save him, if possible, from the worst extremities, Piers granted him
+a certain small income, to be paid weekly, and therewith bade him
+final adieu.
+
+The firm of Moncharmont & Co. grew in moderate prosperity. Its
+London representative was a far better man, from the commercial
+point of view, than Piers Otway, and on visiting the new offices--
+which he did very soon after reaching London, in the spring of 1894
+--Piers marvelled how the enterprise had escaped shipwreck during
+those twelve months which were so black in his memory with storm and
+stress. The worst twelve month of his life!--with the possible
+exception of that which he spent part at Ewell, part at Odessa.
+
+Since, he had sailed in no smooth water; had seen no haven. But at
+least he sailed onward, which gave him courage. Was courage to be
+now illumined with hope? He tried to keep that thought away from
+him; he durst not foster it. Among the papers he brought with him to
+England was a letter, which, having laid it aside, he never dared to
+open again. He knew it by heart--unfortunately for his peace.
+
+He returned to another London than that he had known, a London which
+smiled welcome. It was his duty, no less than his pleasure, to call
+upon certain people for whom he had letters of introduction from
+friends in Russia, and their doors opened wide to him. Upon
+formalities followed kindness; the season was beginning, and at his
+modest lodgings arrived cards, notes, bidding to ceremonies greater
+and less; one or two of these summonses bore names which might have
+stirred envy in the sons of fashion.
+
+_Solus feci_! He allowed himself a little pride. His doing, it was
+true, had as yet been nothing much to the eye of the world; but he
+had made friends under circumstances not very favourable, friends
+among the intelligent and the powerful. That gift, it seemed, was
+his, if no other--the ability to make himself liked, respected.
+He, by law the son of nobody, had begun to approve himself true son
+of the father he loved and honoured.
+
+His habits were vigorous. Rising very early, he walked across the
+Park, and had a swim in the Serpentine. The hours of the solid day
+he spent, for the most part, in study at the British Museum. Then,
+if he had no engagement, he generally got by train well out of town,
+and walked in sweet air until nightfall; or, if weather were bad, he
+granted himself the luxury of horse-hire, and rode--rode, teeth
+set against wind and rain. This earned him sleep--his daily prayer
+to the gods.
+
+At the date appointed, he went in search of Mrs. Borisoff, who
+welcomed him cordially. Her first inquiry was whether he had got the
+Castle.
+
+"I have got it," Piers replied, and entered into particulars. They
+talked about it like children anticipating a holiday. Mrs. Borisoff
+then questioned him about his doings since he had been in England.
+On his mentioning a certain great lady, a Russian, with whom he was
+to dine next week, his friend replied with a laugh, which she
+refused to explain.
+
+"When can you spend an evening here? I don't mean a dinner. I'll
+give you something to eat, but it doesn't count; you come to talk,
+as I know you can, though you didn't let me suspect it at
+Petersburg. I shall have one or two others, old chums, not
+respectable people. Name your own day."
+
+When the evening came, Piers entered Mrs. Borisoff's drawing-room
+with trepidation. He glanced at the guest who had already arrived--
+a lady unknown to him. When again the door opened, he looked,
+trembling. His fearful hope ended only in a headache, but he talked,
+as was expected of him, and the hostess smiled approval.
+
+"These friends of yours," he said aside to her, before leaving, "are
+nice people to know. But----"
+
+And he broke off, meeting her eyes.
+
+"I don't understand," said his hostess, with a perplexed look.
+
+"Then I daren't try to make you."
+
+A few days after, at the great house of the great Russian lady, he
+ascended the stairs without a tremor, glanced round the room with
+indifference. No one would be there whom he could not face calmly.
+Brilliant women awed him a little at first, but it was not till
+afterwards, in the broken night following such occasions as this,
+that they had power over his imagination; then he saw them, drawn
+upon darkness, their beauty without that halo of worldly grandeur
+which would not allow him to forget the gulf between them. The
+hostess herself shone by quality of intellect rather than by charm
+of feature; she greeted him with subtlest flattery, a word or two of
+simple friendliness in her own language, and was presenting him to
+her husband, when, from the doorway, sounded a name which made
+Otway's heart leap, and left him tongue-tied.
+
+"Mrs. Borisoff and Miss Derwent."
+
+He turned, but with eyes downcast: for a moment he durst not raise
+them. He moved, insensibly, a few steps backward, shadowed himself
+behind two men who were conversing together. And at length he
+looked.
+
+With thrill of marvelling and rapture, with chill of self-abasement.
+When, years ago, he saw Irene in the dress of ceremony, she seemed
+to him peerlessly radiant; but it was the beauty and the dignity of
+one still girlish. What he now beheld was the exquisite fulfilment
+of that bright promise. He had not erred in worship; she who had
+ever been to him the light of life, the beacon of his passionate
+soul, shone before him supreme among women. What head so noble in
+its unconscious royalty! What form so faultless in its mould and
+bearing! He heard her speak--the graceful nothings of introduction
+and recognition; it was Irene's voice toned to a fuller music. Then
+her face dazzled, grew distant; he turned away to command himself.
+
+Mrs. Borisoff spoke beside him.
+
+"Have you no good-evening for me?"
+
+"So this is what you meant?"
+
+"You have a way of speaking in riddles."
+
+"And you--a way of acting divinely. Tell me," his voice sank, and
+his words were hurried. "May I go up to her as any acquaintance
+would? May I presume that she knows me?"
+
+"You mean Miss Derwent? But--why not? I don't understand you."
+
+"No--I forget--it seems to you absurd. Of course--she wrote
+and introduced me to you----"
+
+"You are amusing--which is more than can be said of everyone."
+
+She bent her head and turned to speak with someone else. Piers, with
+what courage he knew not, stepped across the carpet to where Miss
+Derwent was sitting. She saw his approach, and held her hand to him
+as if they had met only the other day. That her complexion was a
+little warmer than its wont, Piers had no power of perceiving; he
+saw only her eyes, soft-shining as they rose to his, in their depths
+an infinite gentleness.
+
+"How glad lam that you got my letter just before leaving
+Petersburg!"
+
+"How kind of you to introduce me to Mrs. Borisoff!"
+
+"I thought you would soon be friends."
+
+It was all they could say. At this moment, the host murmured his
+request that Otway would take down Mrs. Borisoff; the hostess led up
+someone to be introduced to Miss Derwent. Then the procession began.
+
+Piers was both disappointed and relieved. To have felt the touch
+upon his arm of Irene's hand would have been a delight unutterable,
+yet to desire it was presumption. He was not worthy of that
+companionship; it would have been unjust to Irene to oblige her to
+sit by him through the dinner, with the inevitable thoughts rising
+in her mind. Better to see her from a distance--though it was hard
+when she smiled at the distinguished and clever-looking man who
+talked, talked. It cost him, at first, no small effort to pay
+becoming attention to Mrs. Borisoff; the lady on his other hand, a
+brilliant beauty, moved him to a feeling almost hostile--he knew
+not why. But as the dinner progressed, as the kindly vintage circled
+in his blood, he felt the stirrings of a deep joy. By his own effort
+he had won reception into Irene's world. It was something; it was
+much--remembering all that had gone before.
+
+He spoke softly to his partner.
+
+"I am going to drink a silent health--that of my friend
+Korolevitch. To him I owe everything."
+
+"I don't believe _that_, but I will drink it too--I was speaking
+of him to Miss Derwent. She wants to know all about the Dukhobortsi.
+Instruct her, afterwards, if you get a chance. Do you think her
+altered?"
+
+"No--yes!"
+
+"By the bye, how long is it really since you first knew her?"
+
+"Eight years--just eight years."
+
+"You speak as if it were eighty."
+
+"Why, so it seems, when I look back. I was a boy, and had the
+strangest notions of the world."
+
+"You shall tell me all about that some day," said Mrs. Borisoff,
+glancing at him. "At the Castle, perhaps----"
+
+"Oh yes! At the Castle!"
+
+When the company divided, and Piers had watched Irene pass out of
+sight, he sat down with a tired indifference. But his host drew him
+Into conversation on Russian subjects, and, as had happened before
+now in gatherings of this kind, Otway presently found himself amid
+attentive listeners, whilst he talked of things that interested him.
+At such moments he had an irreflective courage, which prompted him
+to utter what he thought without regard to anything but the common
+civilities of life. His opinions might excite surprise; but they did
+not give offence; for they seemed impersonal, the natural outcome of
+honest and capable observation, with never a touch of national
+prejudice or individual conceit. It was well, perhaps, for the young
+man's natural modesty, that he did not hear certain remarks
+afterwards exchanged between the more intelligent of his hearers.
+
+When they passed to the drawing-room, the piano was sounding there.
+It stopped; the player rose, and moved away, but not before Piers
+had seen that it was Irene. He felt robbed of a delight. Oh, to hear
+Irene play!
+
+Better was in store for him. With a boldness natural to the hour, he
+drew nearer, nearer, watching his opportunity. The chair by Irene's
+side became vacant; he stepped forward, and was met with a frank
+countenance, which invited him to take the coveted place. Miss
+Derwent spoke at once of her interest in the Russian sectaries with
+whom--she had heard--Otway was well acquainted, the people
+called Dukhobortsi, who held the carrying of arms a sin, and
+suffered persecution because of their conscientious refusal to
+perform military service. Piers spoke with enthusiasm of these
+people.
+
+"They uphold the ideal above all necessary to our time. We ought to
+be rapidly outgrowing warfare; isn't that the obvious next step in
+civilisation? It seems a commonplace that everyone should look to
+that end, and strive for it. Yet we're going back--there's a
+military reaction--fighting is glorified by everyone who has a
+loud voice, and in no country more than in England. I wish you could
+hear a Russian friend of mine speak about it, a rich man who has
+just given up everything to join the Dukhobortsi. I never knew
+before what religious passion meant. And it seems to me that this is
+the world's only hope--peace made a religion. The forms don't
+matter; only let the supreme end be peace. It is what people have
+talked so much about--the religion of the future."
+
+His tones moved the listener, as appeared in her look and attitude.
+
+"Surely all the best in every country lean to it," she said.
+
+"Of course! That's our hope--but at the same time the pitiful
+thing; for the best hold back, keep silence, as if their quiet
+contempt could prevail against this activity of the reckless and the
+foolish."
+
+"One can't _make_ a religion," said Irene sadly. "It is just this
+religious spirit which has decayed throughout our world.
+Christianity turns to ritualism. And science--we were told you
+know, that science would be religion enough."
+
+"There's the pity--the failure of science as a civilising force. I
+know," added Piers quickly, "that there are men whose spirit, whose
+work, doesn't share in that failure; they are the men--the very
+few--who are above self-interest. But science on the whole, has
+come to mean money-making and weapon-making. It leads the
+international struggle; it is judged by its value to the capitalist
+and the soldier."
+
+"Isn't this perhaps a stage of evolution that the world must live
+through--to its extreme results?"
+
+"Very likely. The signs are bad enough."
+
+"You haven't yourself that enthusiastic hope?"
+
+"I try to hope," said Piers, in a low, unsteady voice, his eyes
+falling timidly before her glance. "But what you said is so true--
+one can't create the spirit of religion. If one hasn't it----" He
+broke off, and added with a smile, "I think I have a certain amount
+of enthusiasm. But when one has seen a good deal of the world, it's
+so very easy to feel discouraged. Think how much sheer barbarism
+there is around us, from the brutal savage of the gutter to the
+cunning savage of the Stock Exchange!"
+
+Irene had a gleam in her eyes; she nodded appreciation.
+
+"If," he went on vigorously, "if one could make the multitude really
+understand--understand to the point of action--how enormously
+its interest is peace!"
+
+"More hope that way, I'm afraid," said Irene, "than through
+idealisms."
+
+"Yes, yes. If it comes at all, it'll be by the way of self-interest.
+And really it looks as if the military tyrants might overreach
+themselves here and there. Italy, for instance. Think of Italy,
+crushed and cursed by a blood-tax that the people themselves see to
+be futile. One enters into the spirit of the men who freed Italy
+from foreigners--it was glorious; but how much more glorious to
+excite a rebellion there against her own rulers! Shouldn't you enjoy
+doing that?"
+
+At times, there is no subtler compliment to a woman than to address
+her as if she were a man. It must be done involuntarily, as was the
+case with this utterance of Otway's. Irene rewarded him with a look
+such as he had never had from her, the look of rejoicing
+comradeship.
+
+"Indeed I should! Italy is becoming a misery to those who love her.
+Is no plot going on? Couldn't one start a conspiracy against that
+infamous misgovernment?"
+
+"There's an arch-plotter at work. His name is Hunger. Let us be glad
+that Italy can't enrich herself by manufactures. Who knows? The
+revolution against militarism may begin there, as that against
+feudalism did in France. Talk of enthusiasm! How should we feel if
+we read in the paper some morning that the Italian people had formed
+into an army of peace--refusing to pay another centesimo for
+warfare?
+
+"The next boat for Calais! The next train for Rome!" Their eyes met,
+interchanging gleams of laughter.
+
+"Oh, but the crowd, the crowd!" sighed Piers. "What is bad enough to
+say of it? who shall draw its picture with long enough ears?"
+
+"It has another aspect, you know."
+
+"It has. At its best, a smiling simpleton; at its worst, a murderous
+maniac."
+
+"You are not exactly a socialist," remarked Irene, with that smile
+which, linking past and present, blended in Otway's heart old love
+and new--her smile of friendly irony.
+
+"Socialism? I seldom think of it; which means, that I have no faith
+in it.--When we came in, you were playing."
+
+"I miss the connection," said Irene, with a puzzled air.
+
+"Forgive me. I am fond of music, and it has been in my mind all the
+time--the hope that you would play again."
+
+"Oh, that was merely the slow music, as one might say, of the
+drawing-room mysteries--an obligato in the after-dinner harmony. I
+play only to amuse myself--or when it is a painful duty."
+
+Piers was warned by his tactful conscience that he had held Miss
+Derwent quite long enough in talk. A movement in their neighbourhood
+gave miserable opportunity; he resigned his seat to another
+expectant, and did his best to converse with someone else.
+
+Her voice went with him as he walked homewards across the Park,
+under a fleecy sky silvered with moonlight; the voice which now and
+again brought back so vividly their first meeting at Ewell. He lived
+through it all again, the tremors, the wild hopes, the black despair
+of eight years ago. How she encountered him on the stairs, talked of
+his long hours of study, and prophesied--with that indescribable
+blending of gravity and jest, still her characteristic--that he
+would come to grief over his examination. Irene! Irene! Did she
+dream what was in his mind and heart? The long, long love, his very
+life through all labours and cares and casualties--did she suspect
+it, imagine it? If she had received his foolish verses (he grew hot
+to think of them), there must have been at least a moment when she
+knew that he worshipped her, and does such knowledge ever fade from
+a woman's memory?
+
+Irene! Irene! Was she brought nearer to him by her own experience of
+heart-trouble? That she had suffered, he could not doubt; impossible
+for her to have given her consent to marriage unless she believed
+herself in love with the man who wooed her. It could have been no
+trifling episode in her life, whatever the story; Irene was not of
+the women who yield their hands in jest, in pique, in lighthearted
+ignorance. The change visible in her was more, he fancied, than
+could be due to the mere lapse of time; during her silences, she had
+the look of one familiar with mental conflict, perhaps of one whose
+pride had suffered an injury. The one or two glances which he
+ventured whilst she was talking with the man who succeeded to his
+place beside her, perceived a graver countenance, a reserve such as
+she had not used with him; and of this insubstantial solace he made
+a sort of hope which winged the sleepless hours till daybreak.
+
+He had permission to call upon Mrs. Borisoff at times alien to
+polite routine. Thus, when nearly a week had passed, he sought her
+company at midday, and found her idling over a book, her seat by a
+window which viewed the Thames and the broad Embankment with its
+plane trees, and London beyond the water, picturesque in squalid
+hugeness through summer haze and the sagging smoke of chimneys
+numberless. She gave a languid hand, pointed to a chair, gazed at
+him with embarrassing fixity.
+
+"I don't know about the Castle," were her first words. "Perhaps I
+shall give it up."
+
+"You are not serious?"
+
+Piers spoke and looked in dismay; and still she kept her heavy eyes
+on him.
+
+"What does it matter to _you_?" she asked carelessly.
+
+"I counted on--on showing you the dales----"
+
+Mrs. Borisoff nodded twice or thrice, and laughed, then pointed to
+the prospect through the window.
+
+"This is more interesting. Imagine historians living a thousand
+years hence--what would they give to see what we see now!"
+
+"Oh, one often has that thought. It's about the best way of making
+ordinary life endurable."
+
+They watched the steamers and barges, silent for a minute or two.
+
+"So you had rather I didn't give up the castle?"
+
+"I should be horribly disappointed."
+
+"Yes--no doubt you would. Why did you come to see me to-day? No,
+no, no! The real reason.
+
+"I wanted to talk about Miss Derwent," Piers answered, bracing
+himself to frankness.
+
+Mrs. Borisoff's lips contracted, in something which was not quite a
+smile, but which became a smile before she spoke.
+
+"If you hadn't told the truth, Mr. Otway, I would have sent you
+about your business. Well, talk of her; I am ready."
+
+"But certainly not if it wearies you----"
+
+"Talk! talk!"
+
+"I'll begin with a question. Does Miss Derwent go much into
+society?"
+
+"No; not very much. And it's only the last few months that she has
+been seen at all in London--I mean, since the affair that people
+talked about."
+
+"Did they talk--disagreeably?"
+
+"Gossip--chatter--half malicious without malicious intention--
+don't you know the way of the sweet creatures? I would tell you more
+if I could. The simple truth is that Irene has never spoken to me
+about it--never once. When it happened, she came suddenly to
+Paris, to a hotel, and from there wrote me a letter, just saying
+that her marriage was off; no word of explanation. Of course I
+fetched her at once to my house, and from that moment to this I have
+heard not one reference from her to the matter. You would like to
+know something about the hero? He has been away a good deal--
+building up the Empire, as they say; which means, of course, looking
+after his own and other people's dividends."
+
+"Thank you. Now let us talk about the Castle."
+
+But Mrs. Borisoff was not in a good humour to-day, and Piers very
+soon took his leave. Her hand felt rather hot; he noticed this
+particularly, as she let it lie in his longer than usual--part of
+her absent-mindedness.
+
+Piers had often resented, as a weakness, his susceptibility to the
+influence of others' moods; he did so to-day, when having gone to
+Mrs. Borisoff in an unusually cheerful frame of mind, he came away
+languid and despondent. But his scheme of life permitted no such
+idle brooding as used to waste his days; self-discipline sent him to
+his work, as usual, through the afternoon, and in the evening he
+walked ten miles.
+
+The weather was brilliant. As he stood, far away in rural stillness,
+watching a noble sunset, he repeated to himself words which had of
+late become his motto, "Enjoy now! This moment will never come
+again." But the intellectual resolve was one thing, the moral
+aptitude another. He did not enjoy; how many hours in all his life
+had brought him real enjoyment? Idle to repeat and repeat that life
+was the passing minute, which must be seized, made the most of; he
+could not live in the present; life was to him for ever a thing
+postponed. "I will live--I will enjoy--some day!" As likely as
+not that day would never dawn.
+
+Was it true, as admonishing reason sometimes whispered, that
+happiness cometh not by observation, that the only true content is
+in the moments which we pass without self-consciousness? Is all
+attainment followed by disillusion? A man aware of his health is on
+the verge of malady. Were he to possess his desire, to exclaim, "I
+am happy," would the Fates chastise his presumption?
+
+That way lay asceticism, which his soul abhorred. On, rather,
+following the great illusion, if this it were! "The crown of life"
+--philosophise as he might, that word had still its meaning, still
+its inspiration. Let the present pass untasted; he preferred his
+dream of a day to come.
+
+Next morning, very unexpectedly, he received a note from Mrs.
+Borisoff inviting him to dine with her a few days hence. About her
+company she said nothing, and Piers went, uncertain whether it was a
+dinner _tete-a-tete_ or with other guests. When he entered the room,
+the first face he beheld was Irene's.
+
+It was a very small party, and the hostess wore her gayest
+countenance. A delightful evening, from the social point of view;
+for Piers Otway a time of self-forgetfulness in the pleasures of
+sight and hearing. He could have little private talk with Irene; she
+did not talk much with anyone; but he saw her, he heard her voice,
+he lived in the glory of her presence. Moreover, she consented to
+play. Of her skill as a pianist, Otway could not judge; what he
+heard was Music, music absolute, the very music of the spheres. When
+it ceased, Mrs. Borisoff chanced to look at him; he was startlingly
+pale, his eyes wide as if in vision more than mortal.
+
+"I leave town to-morrow," said his hostess, as he took leave. "Some
+friends are going with me. You shall hear how we get on at the
+Castle."
+
+Perhaps her look was meant to supplement this bare news. It seemed
+to offer reassurance. Did she understand his look of entreaty in
+reply?
+
+Music breathed about him in the lonely hours. It exalted his
+passion, lulled the pains of desire, held the flesh subservient to
+spirit. What is love, says the physiologist, but ravening sex? If
+so, in Piers Otway's breast the primal instinct had undergone
+strange transformation. How wrought?--he asked himself. To what
+destiny did it correspond, this winged love soaring into the
+infinite? This rapture of devotion, this utter humbling of self,
+this ardour of the poet soul singing a fellow-creature to the heaven
+of heavens--by what alchemy comes it forth from blood and tissue?
+Nature has no need of such lyric life her purpose is well achieved
+by humbler instrumentality. Romantic lovers are not the ancestry of
+noblest lines.
+
+And if--as might well be--his love were defeated, fruitless,
+what end in the vast maze of things would his anguish serve?
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXIV
+
+
+After his day's work, he had spent an hour among the pictures at
+Burlington House. He was lingering before an exquisite landscape,
+unwilling to change this atmosphere of calm for the roaring street,
+when a voice timidly addressed him:
+
+"Mr. Otway!"
+
+How altered! The face was much, much older, and in some
+indeterminable way had lost its finer suggestions. At her best, Olga
+Hannaford had a distinction of feature, a singularity of emotional
+expression, which made her beautiful in Olga Florio the lines of
+visage were far less subtle, and classed her under an inferior type.
+Transition from maidenhood to what is called the matronly had been
+too rapid; it was emphasised by her costume, which cried aloud in
+its excess of modish splendour.
+
+"How glad I am to see you again!" she sighed tremorously, pressing
+his hand with fervour, gazing at him with furtive directness. "Are
+you living in England now?"
+
+Piers gave an account of himself. He was a little embarrassed but
+quite unagitated. A sense of pity averted his eyes after the first
+wondering look.
+
+"Will you--may I venture--can you spare the time to come and
+have tea with me? My carriage is waiting--I am quite alone--I
+only looked in for a few minutes, to rest my mind after a lunch
+with, oh, such tiresome people!"
+
+His impulse was to refuse, at all costs to refuse. The voice, the
+glance, the phrases jarred upon him, shocked him. Already he had
+begun "I am afraid"--when a hurried, vehement whisper broke upon
+his excuse.
+
+"Don't be unkind to me! I beg you to come! I entreat you!"
+
+"I will come with pleasure," he said in a loud voice of ordinary
+civility.
+
+At once she turned, and he followed. Without speaking, they
+descended the great staircase; a brougham drove up; they rolled away
+westward. Never had Piers felt such thorough moral discomfort; the
+heavily perfumed air of the carriage depressed and all but nauseated
+him; the inevitable touch of Olga's garments made him shrink. She
+had begun to talk, and talked incessantly throughout the homeward
+drive; not much of herself, or of him, but about the pleasures and
+excitements of the idle-busy world. It was meant, he supposed, to
+convey to him an idea of her prosperous and fashionable life. Her
+husband, she let fall, was for the moment in Italy; affairs of
+importance sometimes required his presence there; but they both
+preferred England. The intellectual atmosphere of London--where
+else could one live on so high a level?
+
+The carriage stopped in a street beyond Edgware Road, at a house of
+more modest appearance than Otway had looked for. Just as they
+alighted, a nursemaid with a perambulator was approaching the door;
+Piers caught sight of a very pale little face shadowed by the hood,
+but his companion, without heeding, ran up the steps, and knocked
+violently. They entered.
+
+Still the oppressive atmosphere of perfumes. Left for a few minutes
+in a little drawing-room, or boudoir, Piers stood marvelling at the
+ingenuity which had packed so much furniture and bric-tate-brac, so
+many pictures, so much drapery, into so small a space. He longed to
+throw open the window; he could not sit still in this odour-laden
+hothouse, where the very flowers were burdensome by excess. When
+Olga reappeared, she was gorgeous in flowing tea-gown; her tawny
+hair hung low in artful profusion; her neck and arms were bare, her
+feet brilliantly slippered.
+
+"Ah! How good, how good, it is to sit down and talk to you once
+more!--Do you like my room?"
+
+"You have made yourself very comfortable," replied Otway, striking a
+note as much as possible in contrast to that of his hostess. "Some
+of these drawings are your own work, no doubt?"
+
+"Yes, some of them," she answered languidly. "Do you remember that
+pastel? Ah, surely you do--from the old days at Ewell!"
+
+"Of course!--That is a portrait of your husband?" he added,
+indicating a head on a little easel.
+
+"Yes--idealised!"
+
+She laughed and put the subject away. Then tea was brought in, and
+after pouring it, Olga grew silent. Resolute to talk, Piers had the
+utmost difficulty in finding topics, but he kept up an everyday sort
+of chat, postponing as long as possible the conversation foreboded
+by his companion's face. When he was weary, Olga's opportunity came.
+
+"There is something I _must_ say to you----"
+
+Her arms hung lax, her head drooped forward, she looked at him from
+under her brows.
+
+"I have suffered so much--oh, I have suffered! I have longed for
+this moment. Will you say--that you forgive me?"
+
+"My dear Mrs. Florio"--Piers began with good-natured
+expostulation, a sort of forced bluffness; but she would not hear
+him.
+
+"Not that name! Not from _you_. There's no harm; you won't--you
+can't misunderstand me, such old friends as we are. I want you to
+call me by my own name, and to make me feel that we are friends
+still--that you can really forgive me."
+
+"There is nothing in the world to forgive," he insisted, in the same
+tone. "Of course we are friends! How could we be anything else?"
+
+"I behaved infamously to you! I can't think how I had the heart to
+do it!"
+
+Piers was tortured with nervousness. Had her voice and manner
+declared insincerity, posing, anything of that kind, he would have
+found the situation much more endurable; but Olga had tears in her
+eyes, and not the tears of an actress; her tones had recovered
+something of their old quality, and reminded him painfully of the
+time when Mrs. Hannaford was dying. She held a hand to him, her pale
+face besought his compassion.
+
+"Come now, let us talk in the old way, as you wish," he said, just
+pressing her fingers. "Of course I felt it--but then I was myself
+altogether to blame. I importuned you for what you couldn't give.
+Remembering that, wasn't your action the most sensible, and really
+the kindest?"
+
+"I don't know," Olga murmured, in a voice just audible.
+
+"Of course it was! There now, we've done with all that. Tell me more
+about your life this last year or two. You are such a brilliant
+person. I felt rather overcome----"
+
+"Nonsense!" But Olga brightened a little. "What of your own
+brilliancy? I read somewhere that you are a famous man in Russia
+----"
+
+Piers laughed, spontaneously this time, and, finding it a way of
+escape, gossiped about his own achievements with mirthful
+exaggeration.
+
+"Do you see the Derwents?" Mrs. Florio asked of a sudden, with a
+sidelong look.
+
+So vexed was Otway at the embarrassment he could not wholly hide,
+and which delayed his answer, that he spoke the truth with excessive
+bluntness.
+
+"I have met Miss Derwent in society."
+
+"I don't often see them," said Olga, in a tone of weariness. "I
+suppose we belong to different worlds."
+
+At the earliest possible moment, Piers rose with decision. He felt
+that he had not pleased Mrs. Florio, that perhaps he had offended
+her, and in leaving her he tried to atone for involuntary
+unkindness.
+
+"But we shall see each other again, of course!" she exclaimed,
+retaining his hand. "You will come again soon?"
+
+"Certainly I will."
+
+"And your address--let me have your address----"
+
+He breathed deeply in the open air. Glancing back at the house when
+he had crossed the street, he saw a white hand waved to him at a
+window; it hurried his step.
+
+On the following day, Mrs. Florio visited her friend Miss
+Bonnicastle, who had some time since exchanged the old quarters in
+Great Portland Street for a house in Pimlico, where there was a
+larger studio (workshop, as she preferred to call it), hung about
+with her own and other people's designs. The artist of the poster
+was full as ever of vitality and of good-nature, but her humour had
+not quite the old spice; a stickler for decorum would have said that
+she was decidedly improved, that she had grown more womanly; and
+something of this change appeared also in her work, which tended now
+to the graceful rather than the grotesque. She received her
+fashionable visitant with off-hand friendliness, not altogether with
+cordiality.
+
+"Oh, I've something to show you. Do you know that name?"
+
+Olga took a business-card, and read upon it: "Alexander Otway,
+Dramatic & Musical Agent."
+
+"It's his brother," she said, in a voice of quiet surprise.
+
+"I thought so. The man called yesterday--wants a fetching thing to
+boom an Irish girl at the halls. There's her photo."
+
+It represented a piquant person in short skirts; a face neither very
+pretty nor very young, but likely to be deemed attractive by the
+public in question. They amused themselves over it for a moment.
+
+"He used to be a journalist," said Olga. "Does he seem to be doing
+well?"
+
+"Couldn't say. A great talker, and a furious Jingo."
+
+"Jingo?"
+
+"This woman is to sing a song of his composition, all about the
+Empire. Not the hall; the British. Glorifies the Flag, that blessed
+rag--a rhyme I suggested to him, and asked him to pay me for. It's
+a taking tune, and we shall have it everywhere, no doubt. He sang a
+verse--I wish you could have heard him. A queer fish!"
+
+Olga walked about, seeming to inspect the pictures, but in reality
+much occupied with her thoughts.
+
+"Well," she said presently, "I only looked in, dear, to say
+how-do-you-do."
+
+Miss Bonnicastle was drawing; she turned, as if to shake hands, but
+looked her friend in the face with a peculiar expression, far more
+earnest than was commonly seen in her.
+
+"You called on Kite yesterday morning."
+
+Olga, with slight confusion, admitted that she had been to see the
+artist. For some weeks Kite had suffered from an ailment which
+confined him to the house; he could not walk, and indeed could do
+nothing but lie and read, or talk of what he would do, when he
+recovered his health. Cheap claret having lost its inspiring force,
+the poor fellow had turned to more potent beverages, and would ere
+now have sunk into inscrutable deeps but for Miss Bonnicastle, who
+interested herself in his welfare. Olga, after losing sight of him
+for nearly two years, by chance discovered his whereabouts and his
+circumstances, and twice in the past week had paid him a visit.
+
+"I wanted to tell you," pursued Miss Bonnicastle, in a steady,
+matter-of-fact voice, "that he's going to have a room in this house,
+and be looked after."
+
+"Indeed?"
+
+There was a touch of malice in Olga's surprise. She held herself
+rather stiffly.
+
+"It's just as well to be straightforward," continued the other. "I
+should like to say that it'll be very much better if you don't come
+to see him at all."
+
+Olga was now very dignified indeed.
+
+"Oh, pray say no more I quite understand--quite!"
+
+"I shouldn't have said it at all," rejoined Miss Bonnicastle, "if I
+could have trusted your--discretion. The fact is, I found I
+couldn't."
+
+"Really!" exclaimed Olga, red with anger. "You might spare me
+insults!"
+
+"Come, come! We're not going to fly at each other, Olga. I intended
+no insult; but, whilst we're about it, do take advice from one who
+means it well. Sentiment is all right, but sentimentality is all
+wrong. Do get rid of it, there's a good girl. You're meant for
+something better."
+
+Olga made a great sweep of the floor with her skirts, and vanished
+in a whirl of perfume.
+
+She drove straight to the address which she had seen on Alexander
+Otway's card. It was in a decently sordid street south of the river;
+in a window on the ground floor hung an announcement of Alexander's
+name and business. As Olga stood at the door, there came out,
+showily dressed for walking, a person in whom she at once recognised
+the original of the portrait at Miss Bonnicastle's. It was no other
+than Mrs. Otway, the "Biddy" whose simple singing had so pleased her
+brother-in-law years ago.
+
+"Is it the agent you want to see?" she asked, in her tongue of
+County Wexford. "The door to the right."
+
+Alexander jumped up, all smiles at the sight of so grand a lady. He
+had grown very obese, and very red about the neck; his linen might
+have been considerably cleaner, and his coat better brushed. But he
+seemed in excellent spirits, and glowed when his visitor began by
+saying that she wished to speak in confidence of a delicate matter.
+
+"Mr. Otway, you have an elder brother, his name Daniel."
+
+The listener's countenance fell.
+
+"Madam, I'm sorry to say I have."
+
+"He has written to me, more than once, a begging letter. My name
+doesn't matter; I'll only say now that he used to know me slightly
+long ago. I wish to ask you whether he is really in want."
+
+Alexander hesitated, with much screwing of the features.
+
+"Well, he may be, now and then," was his reply at length. "I have
+helped him, but, to tell the truth, it's not much good. So far as I
+know, he has no regular supplies--but it's his own fault."
+
+"Exactly." Olga evidently approached a point still more delicate. "I
+presume he has worn out the patience of _both_ brothers?"
+
+"Ah!" The agent shook his head, "I'm sorry to say that the _other's_
+patience--I see you know something of our family circumstances--
+never allowed itself to be tried. He's very well off, I believe, but
+he'll do nothing for poor Dan, and never would. I'm bound to admit
+Dan has his faults, but still----"
+
+His brows expressed sorrow rather than anger on the subject of his
+hard-fisted relative.
+
+"Do you happen to know anything," pursued Olga, lowering her voice,
+"of a transaction about certain--certain letters, which were given
+up by Daniel Otway?"
+
+"Why--yes. I've heard something about that affair."
+
+"Those letters, I always understood, were purchased from him at a
+considerable price."
+
+"That's true," replied Alexander, smiling familiarly as he leaned
+across the table. "But the considerable price was never paid--not
+one penny of it."
+
+Olga's face changed. She had a wondering lost, pained look.
+
+"Mr. Otway, are you _sure_ of that?"
+
+"Well, pretty sure. Dan has talked of it more than once, and I don't
+think he could talk as he does if there wasn't a real grievance. I'm
+very much afraid he was cheated. Perhaps I oughtn't to use that
+word; I daresay Dan had no right to ask money for the letters at
+all. But there was a bargain, and I'm afraid it wasn't honourably
+kept on the other side."
+
+Olga reflected for a moment, and rose, saying that she was obliged,
+that this ended her business. Alexander's curiosity sought to
+prolong the conversation, but in vain. He then threw out a word
+concerning his professional interests; would the lady permit him to
+bespeak her countenance for a new singer, an Irish girl of great
+talent, who would be coming out very shortly?
+
+"She has a magnificent song, madam! The very spirit of Patriotism--
+stirring, stirring! Let me offer you one of her photos. Miss Ennis
+Corthy--you'll soon see the announcements."
+
+Olga drove away in a troubled dream.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXV
+
+
+"The 13th will suit admirably," wrote Helen Borisoff.
+
+"That morning my guests leave, and we shall be quiet--except for
+the popping of guns round about. Which reminds me that my big,
+healthy Englishman of a cousin (him you met in town) will be down
+here to slaughter little birds in aristocratic company, and may most
+likely look in to tell us of his bags. I will meet you at the
+station."
+
+So Irene, alone, journeyed from King's Cross into the North Riding.
+At evening, the sun golden amid long lazy clouds that had spent
+their showers, she saw wide Wensleydale, its closing hills higher to
+north and south as the train drew onward, green slopes of meadow and
+woodland rising to the beat and the heather. At a village station
+appeared the welcoming face of her friend Helen. A countryman with
+his homely gig drove them up the hillside, the sweet air singing
+about them from moorland heights, the long dale spreading in grander
+prospect as they ascended, then hidden as they dropped into a wooded
+glen, where the horse splashed through a broad beck and the wheels
+jolted over boulders of limestone. Out again into the sunset, and at
+a turn of the climbing road stood up before them the grey old
+Castle, in its shadow the church and the hamlet, and all around the
+glory of rolling hills.
+
+Of the four great towers, one lay a shattered ruin, one only
+remained habitable. Above the rooms occupied by Mrs. Borisoff and
+her guests was that which had imprisoned the Queen of Scots; a
+chamber of bare stone, with high embrasure narrowing to the slit of
+window which admitted daylight, and, if one climbed the sill, gave a
+glimpse of far mountains. Down below, deep under the roots of the
+tower, was the Castle's dungeon, black and deadly. Early on the
+morrow Helen led her friend to see these things. Then they climbed
+to the battlements, where the sun shone hot, and Helen pointed out
+the features of the vast landscape, naming heights, and little dales
+which pour their tributaries into the Ure, and villages lying amid
+the rich pasture.
+
+"And yonder is Hawes," said Irene, pointing to the head of the dale.
+
+"Yes; too far to see."
+
+They did not exchange a look. Irene spoke at once of something else.
+
+There came to lunch Mrs. Borisoff's cousin, a grouse-guest at a
+house some miles away. He arrived on horseback, and his approach was
+watched with interest by two pairs of eyes from the Castle windows.
+Mr. March looked well in the saddle, for he was a strong, comely man
+of about thirty, who lived mostly under the open sky. Irene had met
+him only once, and that in a drawing-room; she saw him now to
+greater advantage, heard him talk freely of things he understood and
+enjoyed, and on the whole did not dislike him. With Helen he was a
+favourite; she affected to make fun of him, but had confessed to
+Irene that she respected him more than any other of her
+county-family kinsfolk. As he talked of his two days' shooting, he
+seemed to become aware that Miss Derwent had no profound interest in
+this subject, and there fell from him an unexpected apology.
+
+"Of course it isn't a very noble kind of sport," he said, with a
+laugh. "One is invited--one takes it in the course of things. I
+prefer the big game, where there's a chance of having to shoot for
+your life."
+
+"I suppose one _must_ shoot something," remarked Irene, as if musing
+a commonplace.
+
+Marck took it with good nature, like a man who cannot remember
+whether that point of view ever occurred to him, but who is quite
+willing to think about it. Indeed, he seemed more than willing to
+give attention to anything Miss Derwent choose to say: something of
+this inclination had appeared even at their first meeting, and
+to-day it was more marked. He showed reluctance when the hour
+obliged him to remount his horse. Mrs. Borisoff's hope that she
+might see him again before he left this part of the country received
+a prompt and cheerful reply.
+
+Later, that afternoon, the two friends climbed the great hillside
+above the Castle, and rambled far over the moorland, to a windy
+height where they looked into deep wild Swaledale. Their talk was
+only of the scenes around them, until, on their way back, they
+approached a line of three-walled shelters, built of rough stone,
+about the height of a man. In reply to Irene's question, Helen
+explained the use of these structures; she did so in an off-hand
+way, with the proper terms, and would have passed on, but Irene
+stood gazing.
+
+"What! They lie in ambush here, whilst the men drive the birds
+towards them, to be shot?"
+
+"It's sport," rejoined the other indifferently.
+
+"I see. And here are the old cartridges." A heap of them lay close
+by amid the ling. "I don't wonder that Mr. March seemed a little
+ashamed of himself."
+
+"But surely you knew all about this sort of thing!" said Mrs.
+Borisoff, with a little laugh of impatience.
+
+"No, I didn't."
+
+She had picked up one of the cartridge-cases, and, after examining
+it, her eyes wandered about the vast-rolling moor. The wind sang
+low; the clouds sailed across the mighty dome of heaven; not a human
+dwelling was visible, and not a sound broke upon nature's infinite
+calm.
+
+"It amazes me," Irene continued, subduing her voice.
+
+"Incredible that men can come up here just to bang guns and see
+beautiful birds fall dead! One would think that what they _saw_ here
+would stop their hands--that this silence would fill their minds
+and hearts, and make it impossible!"
+
+Her voice had never trembled with such emotion in Helen's hearing.
+It was not Irene's habit to speak in this way. She had the native
+reticence of English women, preferring to keep silence when she felt
+strongly, or to disguise her feeling with irony and jest. But the
+hour and the place overcame her; a noble passion shone in her clear
+eyes, and thrilled in her utterance.
+
+"What barbarians!"
+
+"Yet you know they are nothing of the kind," objected Helen. "At
+least, not all of them."
+
+"Mr. March?--You called him, yourself, a fine barbarian, quoting
+from Matthew Arnold. I never before understood how true that
+description was."
+
+"I assure you, it doesn't apply to him, whatever I may have said in
+joke. This shooting is the tradition of a certain class. It's one of
+the ways in which great, strong men get their necessary exercise.
+Some of them feel, at moments, just as you do, I've no doubt; but
+there they are, a lot of them together, and a man can't make himself
+ridiculous, you know."
+
+"You're not like yourself in this, Helen," said Irene. "You're not
+speaking as you think. Another time, you'll confess it's abominable
+savagery, with not one good word to be said for it. And more
+contemptible than I ever suspected! I'm so glad I've seen this. It
+helps to clear my thoughts about--about things in general."
+
+She flung away the little yellow cylinder-flung it far from her with
+disgust, and, as if to forget it, plucked as she walked on a spray
+of heath, which glowed with its purple bells among the redder ling.
+Helen's countenance was shadowed. She spoke no more for several
+minutes.
+
+When two days had passed, March again came riding up to the Castle,
+and lunched with the ladies. Irene was secretly vexed. At breakfast
+she had suggested a whole day's excursion, which her friend
+persuaded her to postpone; the reason must have been Helen's private
+knowledge that Mr. March was coming. In consequence, the lunch fell
+short of perfect cheerfulness. For reasons of her own, Irene was
+just a little formal in her behaviour to the guest; she did not talk
+so well as usual, and bore herself as a girl must who wishes,
+without unpleasantness, to check a man's significant approaches.
+
+In the hot afternoon, chairs were taken out into the shadow of the
+Castle walls, and there the three sat conversing. Someone drew near,
+a man, whom the careless glance of Helen's cousin took for a casual
+tourist about to view the ruins. Helen herself, and in the same
+moment, Irene, recognised Piers Otway. It seemed as though Mrs.
+Borisoff would not rise to welcome him; her smile was dubious, half
+surprised. She cast a glance at Irene, whose face was set in the
+austerest self-control, and thereupon not only stood up, but stepped
+forward with cordial greeting.
+
+"So you have really come! Delighted to see you! Are you walking--
+as you said?"
+
+"Too hot!" Piers replied, with a laugh. "I spent yesterday at York,
+and came on in a cowardly way by train."
+
+He was shaking hands with Irene, who dropped a word or two of mere
+courtesy. In introducing him to March, Mrs. Borisoff said, "An old
+friend of ours," which caused her stalwart cousin to survey the
+dark, slimly-built man very attentively.
+
+"We'll get you a chair, Mr. Otway----"
+
+"No, no! Let me sit or lie here on the grass. It's all I feel fit
+for after the climb."
+
+He threw himself down, nearer to Helen than to her friend, and the
+talk became livelier than before his arrival. Irene emerged from the
+taciturnity into which she had more and more withdrawn, and March,
+not an unobservant man, evidently noted this, and reflected upon it.
+He had at first regarded the new-comer with a civil aloofness, as
+one not of his world; presently, he seemed to ask himself to what
+world the singular being might belong--a man who knew how to
+behave himself, and whose talk implied more than common
+_savoir-vivre_, yet who differed in such noticeable points from an
+Englishman of the leisured class.
+
+Helen was in a mischievous mood. She broached the subject of grouse,
+addressing to Otway an ambiguous remark which led March to ask, with
+veiled surprise, whether he was a sportsman.
+
+"Mr. Otway's taste is for bigger game," she exclaimed. before Piers
+could reply. "He lives in hope of potting Russians on the Indian
+frontier."
+
+"Well, I can sympathise with him in that," said the large-limbed
+man, puzzled but smiling. "He'll probably have a chance before very
+long."
+
+No sooner had he spoken that a scarlet confusion glowed upon his
+face. In speculating about Otway, he had for the moment forgotten
+his cousin's name.
+
+"I _beg_ your pardon, Helen!--What an idiot I am Of course you
+were joking, and I----"
+
+"Don't, don't, don't apologise, Edward! Tell truth and shame--your
+Russian relatives! I like you all the better for it."
+
+"Thank you," he answered. "And after all, there's no harm in a
+little fighting. It's better to fight and have done with it than
+keeping on plotting between compliments. Nations arc just like
+schoolboys, you know; there has to be a round now and then; it
+settles things, and is good for the blood."
+
+Otway was biting a blade of grass; he smiled and said nothing. Mrs.
+Borisoff glanced from him to Irene, who also was smiling, but looked
+half vexed.
+
+"How can it be good, for health or anything else?" Miss Derwent
+asked suddenly, turning to the speaker.
+
+"Oh, we couldn't do without fighting. It's in human nature."
+
+"In uncivilised human nature, yes."
+
+"But really, you know," urged March, with good-natured deference,
+"it wouldn't do to civilise away pluck--courage--heroism--
+whatever one likes to call it."
+
+"Of course it wouldn't. But what has pluck or heroism to do with
+bloodshed? How can anyone imagine that courage is only shown in
+fighting? I don't happen to have been in a battle, but one knows
+very well how easy it must be for any coward or brute, excited to
+madness, to become what's called a hero. Heroism is noble courage in
+ordinary life. Are you serious in thinking that life offers no
+opportunities for it?"
+
+"Well--it's not quite the same thing----"
+
+"Happily, not! It's a vastly better thing. Every day some braver
+deed is done by plain men and women--yes, women, if you please--
+than was ever known on the battle-field. One only hears of them now
+and then. On the railway--on the sea--in the hospital--in
+burning houses--in accidents of road and street--are there no
+opportunities for courage? In the commonest everyday home life,
+doesn't any man or woman have endless chances of being brave or a
+coward? And this is civilised courage, not the fury of a bull at a
+red rag."
+
+Piers Otway had ceased to nibble his blade of grass; his eyes were
+fixed on Irene. When she had made a sudden end of speaking, when she
+smiled her apology for the fervour forbidden in polite converse, he
+still gazed at her, self-oblivious. Helen Borisoff watched him,
+askance.
+
+"Let us go in and have some tea," she said, rising abruptly.
+
+Soon after, March said good-bye, a definite good-bye; he was going
+to another part of England. With all the grace of his caste he
+withdrew from a circle, in which, temptations notwithstanding, he
+had not felt quite at ease. Riding down the dale through a sunny
+shower, he was refreshed and himself again.
+
+"Where do you put up to-night?" asked Helen of Otway, turning to
+him, when the other man had gone, with a brusque familiarity.
+
+"At the inn down in Redmire."
+
+"And what do you do to-morrow?"
+
+"Go to see the falls at Aysgarth, for one thing. There's been rain
+up on the hills; the river will be grand."
+
+"Perhaps we shall be there."
+
+When Piers had left them, Helen said to her friend
+
+"I wanted to ask him to stay and dine--but I didn't know whether
+you would like it."
+
+"I? I am not the hostess."
+
+"No, but you have humours, Irene. One has to be careful."
+
+Irene knitted her brows, and stood for a moment with face half
+averted.
+
+"If I cause this sort of embarrassment," she said frankly, I think I
+oughtn't to stay."
+
+"It's easily put right, my dear girl. Answer me a simple question.
+If I lead Mr. Otway to suppose that his company for a few days is
+not disagreeable to us, shall I worry you, or not?"
+
+"Not in the least," was the equally direct answer.
+
+"That's better. We've always got along so well, you know, that it's
+annoying to feel there's something not quits understood between us.
+Then I shall send a note down to the inn where he's staying, to
+appoint a meeting at Aysgarth to-morrow. And I shall ask him to come
+here for the rest of the day, if he chooses."
+
+At nightfall, the rain-clouds spread from the hills of Westmorland,
+and there were some hours of downpour. This did not look hopeful for
+the morrow, but, on the other hand, it promised a finer sight at the
+falls, if by chance the weather grew tolerable. The sun rose amid
+dropping vapours, and at breakfast-time had not yet conquered the
+day, but a steady brightening soon put an end to doubt. The friends
+prepared to set forth.
+
+As they were entering the carriage there arrived the postman, with
+letters for both, which they read driving down to the dale. One of
+Irene's correspondents was her brother, and the contents of
+Eustace's letter so astonished her that she sat for a time absorbed
+in thought.
+
+"No bad news, I hope?" said Helen, who had glanced quickly over the
+few lines from her husband, now at Ostend.
+
+"No, but startling. You may as well read the letter."
+
+It was written in Eustace Derwent's best style; really a very good
+letter, both as to composition and in the matter of feeling. After
+duly preparing his sister for what might come as a shock, he made
+known to her that he was about to marry Mrs. John Jacks, the widow
+of the late member of Parliament. "I can quite imagine," he
+proceeded, "that this may trouble your mind by exciting unpleasant
+memories, and perhaps may make you apprehensive of disagreeable
+things in the future. Pray have no such uneasiness. Only this
+morning I had a long talk with Arnold Jacks, who was very friendly,
+and indeed could not have behaved better. He spoke of you, and quite
+in the proper way; I was to remember him very kindly to you, if I
+thought the remembrance would not be unwelcome. As for my dear
+Marian, you will find her everything that a sister should be."
+Followed sundry details and promise of more information when they
+met again in town.
+
+"Describe her to me," said Helen, who had a slight acquaintance with
+Irene's brother.
+
+"One word does it--irreproachable. A couple of years older than
+Eustace, I think; John Jacks was more than twice her age, so it's
+only fair. The dear boy will probably give up his profession, and
+become an ornament of society, a model of all the proprieties.
+Wonderful I shan't realise it for a few days."
+
+As they drove on to the bridge at Aysgarth, Piers Otway stood there
+awaiting them. They exchanged few words; the picture before their
+eyes, and the wild music that filled the air, imposed silence.
+Headlong between its high banks plunged the swollen torrent, the
+roaring spate; brown from its washing of the peaty moorland, and
+churned into flying flakes of foam. Over the worn ledges, at other
+times a succession of little waterfalls, rolled in resistless fury a
+mighty cataract; at great rocks in mid-channel it leapt with surges
+like those of an angry sea. The spectacle was fascinating in its
+grandeur, appalling in its violence; with the broad leafage of the
+glen arched over it in warm, still sunshine, wondrously beautiful.
+
+They wandered some way by the river banks; then drove to other spots
+of which Otway spoke, lunched at a village inn, and by four o'clock
+returned altogether to the Castle. After tea, Piers found himself
+alone with Irene. Mrs. Borisoff had left the room whilst he was
+speaking, and so silently that for a moment he was not aware of her
+withdrawal. Alone with Irene, for the first time since he had known
+her; even at Ewell, long ago, they had never been together without
+companionship. There fell a silence. Piers could not lift his eyes
+to the face which had all day been before him, the face which seemed
+more than ever beautiful amid nature's beauties. He wished to thank
+her for the letter she had written him to St. Petersburg, but was
+fearful of seeming to make too much of this mark of kindness. Irene
+herself resumed the conversation.
+
+"You will continue to write for the reviews, I hope?"
+
+"I shall try to," he answered softly.
+
+"Your Russian must be very idiomatic. I found it hard in places."
+
+Overcome with delight, he looked at her and bent towards her.
+
+"Mrs. Borisoff told me you had learnt. I know what that means--
+learning Russian in England, out of books. I began to do it at Ewell
+--do you remember?"
+
+"Yes, I remember very well. Have you written anything besides these
+two articles?"
+
+"Written--yes, but not published. I have written all sorts of
+things." His voice shook. "Even--verse."
+
+He repented the word as soon as it was uttered. Again his eyes could
+not move towards hers.
+
+"I know you have," said Irene, in the voice of one who smiles.
+
+"I have never been sure that you knew it--that you received those
+verses."
+
+"To tell you the truth, I didn't know how to acknowledge them. I
+never received the dedication of a poem, before or since, and in my
+awkwardness I put off my thanks till it was too late to send them.
+But I remember the lines; I think they were beautiful. Shall you
+ever include them in a volume?"
+
+"I wrote no more, I am no poet. Yet if you had given a word of
+praise"--he laughed, as one does when emotion is too strong--"I
+should have written on and on, with a glorious belief in myself."
+
+"Perhaps it was as well, then, that I said nothing. Poetry must come
+of itself, without praise--don't you think?"
+
+"Yes, I lived it--or tried to live it--instead of putting it
+into metre."
+
+"That's exactly what I once heard my father say about himself. And
+he called it consuming his own smoke."
+
+Piers could not but join in her quiet laugh, yet he had never felt a
+moment less opportune for laughter. As if to prove that she
+purposely changed the note of their dialogue, Irene reached a volume
+from the table, and said in the most matter-of-fact voice:
+
+"Here's a passage of Tolstoi that I can't make out. Be my professor,
+please. First of all, let me hear you read it aloud for the accent."
+
+The lesson continued till Helen entered the room again. Irene so
+willed it.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVI
+
+
+She sat by her open window, which looked over the dale to the long
+high ridge of moors, softly drawn against a moonlit sky. Far below
+sounded the rushing Ure, and at moments there came upon the fitful
+breeze a deeper music, that of the falls at Aysgarth, miles away. It
+was an hour since she had bidden good-night to Helen, and two hours
+or more since all else in the Castle and in the cottages had been
+still and dark. She loved this profound quiet, this solitude guarded
+by the eternal powers of nature. She loved the memories and
+imaginings borne upon the stillness of these grey old towers.
+
+The fortress of warrior-lords, the prison of a queen, the Royalist
+refuge--fallen now into such placid dreaminess of age. Into the
+dark chamber above, desolate, legend-haunted, perchance in some
+moment of the night there fell through the narrow window-niche a
+pale moonbeam, touching the floor, the walls of stone; such light in
+gloom as may have touched the face of Mary herself, wakeful with her
+recollections and her fears. Musing it in her fancy, Irene thought
+of love and death.
+
+Had it come to her at length, that love which was so strange and
+distant when, in ignorance, she believed it her companion? Verses in
+her mind, verses that would never be forgotten, however lightly she
+held them, sang and rang to a new melody. They were not poetry--
+said he who wrote them. Yet they were truth, sweetly and nobly
+uttered. The false, the trivial, does not so cling to memory year
+after year.
+
+They had helped her to know him, these rhyming lines, or so she
+fancied. They shaped in her mind, slowly, insensibly, an image of
+the man, throughout the lapse of time when she neither saw him nor
+heard of him. Whether a true image how should she assure herself?
+She only knew that no feature of it seemed alien when compared with
+the impression of those two last days. Yet the picture was an ideal;
+the very man she could honour, love; he and no other. Did she
+perilously deceive herself in thinking that this ideal and the man
+who spoke with her, were one?
+
+It had grown without her knowledge, apart from her will, this
+conception of Piers Otway. The first half-consciousness of such a
+thought came to her when she heard from Olga of those letters,
+obtained by him for a price, and given to the kinsfolk of the dead
+woman. An interested generosity? She had repelled the suggestion as
+unworthy, ignoble. Whether the giver was ever thanked, she did not
+know. Dr. Derwent kept cold silence on the subject, after once
+mentioning it to her in formal words. Thanks, undoubtedly, were due
+to him. To-night it pained her keenly to think that perhaps her
+father had said nothing.
+
+She began to study Russian, and in secret; her impulse dark, or so
+obscurely hinted that it caused her no more than a moment's reverie.
+Looking back, she saw but one explanation of the energy, the zeal
+which had carried her through these labours. It shone clear on the
+day when a letter from Helen Borisoff told her that an article in a
+Russian review, just published, bore the name of Piers Otway. Thence
+onward, she was frank with herself. She recognised the meaning of
+the intellectual process which had tended to harmonise her life with
+that she imagined for her ideal man. There came a prompting of
+emotion, and she wrote the letter which Piers received.
+
+All things were made new to her; above all, her own self. She was
+acting in a way which was no result of balanced purpose, yet, as she
+perfectly understood, involved her in the gravest responsibilities.
+She had no longer the excuse which palliated her conduct eight years
+ago; that heedlessness was innocent indeed compared with the blame
+she would now incur, if she excited a vain hope merely to prove her
+feelings, to read another chapter of life. Solemnly in this charmed
+stillness of midnight, she searched her heart. It did not fail under
+question.
+
+A morning sleep held her so much later than usual that, before she
+had left her chamber, letters were brought to the door by the child
+who waited upon her. On one envelope she saw the Doctor's
+handwriting; on the other that of her cousin, Mrs. Florio. Surprised
+to hear from Olga, with whom she had had very little communication
+for a year or two, she opened that letter first.
+
+"Dear Irene," it began, "something has lately come to my knowledge
+which I think I am only doing a duty in acquainting you with. It is
+very unpleasant, but not the first unpleasant piece of news that you
+and I have shared together. You remember all about Piers Otway and
+those letters of my poor mother's, which he said he bought for us
+from his horrid brother? Well, I find that he did _not_ buy them--
+at all events that he never paid for them. Daniel Otway is now
+broken-down in health, and depends on help from the other brother,
+Alexander, who has gone in for some sort of music-hall business! Not
+only did Piers _cheat_ him out of the money promised for the letters
+(I fear there's no other word for it), but he has utterly refused to
+give the man a farthing--though in good circumstances, I hear.
+This is all very disagreeable, and I don't like to talk about it,
+but as I hear Piers Otway has been seeing you, it's better you
+should know." She added "very kind regards," and signed herself
+"yours affectionately." Then came a postscript. "Mrs. A. Otway is
+actually on the music-hall stage herself, in short skirts!"
+
+The paper shook in Irene's hand. She turned sick with fear and
+misery.
+
+Mechanically the other letter was torn open. Dr. Derwent wrote about
+Eustace's engagement. It did not exactly surprise him; he had
+observed significant things. Nor did it exactly displease him, for
+since talking with Eustace and with Marian Jacks (the widow), he
+suspected that the match was remarkable for its fitness. Mrs. Jacks
+had a large fortune--well, one could resign oneself to that.
+"After all, Mam'zelle Wren, there's nothing to be uneasy about.
+Arnold Jacks is sure to marry very soon (a dowager duchess, I should
+say), and on that score there'll be no awkwardness. When the Wren
+makes a nest for herself, I shall convert this house into a big
+laboratory, and be at home only to bacteria."
+
+But the Doctor, too, had a postscriptum. "Olga has been writing to
+me, sheer scandal, something about the letters you wot of having
+been obtained in a dishonest way. I won't say I believe it, or that
+I disbelieve it. I mention the thing only to suggest that perhaps I
+was right in not making any acknowledgment of that obligation. I
+felt that silence was the wise as well as the dignified thing--
+though someone disagreed with me."
+
+When Irene entered the sitting-room, her friend had long since
+breakfasted.
+
+"What's the matter?" Helen asked, seeing so pale and troubled a
+countenance.
+
+"Nothing much; I overtired myself yesterday. I must keep quiet for a
+little."
+
+Mrs. Borisoff herself was in no talkative frame of mind. She, too,
+an observer might have imagined, had some care or worry. The two
+very soon parted; Irene going back to her room, Helen out into the
+sunshine.
+
+A malicious letter this of Olga's; the kind of letter which Irene
+had not thought her capable of penning. Could there be any
+substantial reason for such hostile feeling? Oh, how one's mind
+opened itself to dark suspicion, when once an evil whisper had been
+admitted!
+
+She would not believe that story of duplicity, of baseness. Her very
+soul rejected it, declared it impossible, the basest calumny. Yet
+how it hurt! How it humiliated! Chiefly, perhaps, because of the
+evil art with which Olga had reminded her of Piers Otway's
+disreputable kinsmen. Could the two elder brothers be so worthless,
+and the younger an honest, brave man, a man without reproach--her
+ideal?
+
+Irene clutched at the recollection which till now she had preferred
+to banish from her mind. Piers was not born of the same mother,
+might he not inherit his father's finer qualities, and, together
+with them, something noble from the woman whom his father loved?
+Could she but know that history The woman was a law-breaker;
+repeatability gave her hard names; but Irene used her own judgment
+in such matters, and asked only for knowledge of facts. She had as
+good as forgotten the irregularity of Piers Otway's birth. Whom,
+indeed, did it or could it concern? Her father, least of all men,
+would dwell upon it as a subject of reproach. But her father was
+very capable of pointing to Daniel and Alexander, with a shake of
+the head. He had a prejudice against Piers--this letter reminded
+her of it only too well. It might be feared that he was rather glad
+than otherwise of the "sheer scandal" Olga had conveyed to him.
+
+Confident in his love of her, which would tell ill on the side of
+his reasonableness, his justice, she had not, during these crucial
+days, thought much about her father. She saw his face now, if she
+spoke to him of Piers. Dr. Derwent, like all men of brains, had a
+good deal of the aristocratic temper; he scorned the vulgarity of
+the vulgar; he turned in angry impatience from such sorry creatures
+as those two men; and often lashed with his contempt the ignoble
+amusements of the crowd. Olga doubtless had told him of the singer
+in short skirts----
+
+She shed a few tears. The very meanness of the injury done her at
+this crisis of emotion heightened its cruelty.
+
+Piers might come to the Castle this morning. Now and then she
+glanced from her window, if perchance she should see him
+approaching; but all she saw was a group of holiday-makers, the
+happily infrequent tourists who cared to turn from the beaten track
+up the dale to visit the Castle. She did not know whether Helen was
+at home, or had rambled away. If Piers came, and his call was
+announced to her, could she go forth and see him?
+
+Not to do so, would be unjust, both to herself and to him. The
+relations between them demanded, of all things, honesty and courage.
+No little courage, it was true; for she must speak to him plainly of
+things from which she shrank even in communing with herself.
+
+Yet she had done as hard a thing as this. Harder, perhaps, that
+interview with Arnold Jacks which set her free. Honesty and courage
+--clearness of sight and strength of purpose where all but every
+girl would have drifted dumbly the common way--had saved her life
+from the worst disaster: saved, too, the man whom her weakness would
+have wronged. Had she not learnt the lesson which life sets before
+all, but which only a few can grasp and profit by?
+
+Towards midday she left her room, and went in search of Helen; not
+finding her within doors, she stepped out on to the sward, and
+strolled in the neighbourhood of the Castle. A child whom she knew
+approached her.
+
+"Have you seen Mrs. Borisoff?" she asked.
+
+"She's down at the beck, with the gentleman," answered the little
+girl, pointing with a smile to the deep, leaf-hidden glen half a
+mile away.
+
+Irene lingered for a few minutes and went in again.
+
+At luncheon-time Helen had not returned. The meal was delayed for
+her, more than a quarter of an hour. When at length she entered,
+Irene saw she had been hastening; but Helen's features seemed to
+betray some other cause of discomposure than mere unpunctuality.
+Having glanced at her once or twice, Irene kept an averted face.
+Neither spoke as they sat down to table; only when they had begun
+the meal did Helen ask whether her friend felt better. The reply was
+a brief affirmative. For the rest of the time they talked a little,
+absently, about trivialities; then they parted; without any
+arrangement for the afternoon.
+
+Irene's mind was in that state of perilous commotion which invests
+with dire significance any event not at once intelligible. Alone in
+her chamber, she sat brooding with tragic countenance. How could
+Helen's behaviour be explained? If she had met Piers Otway and spent
+part of the morning with him, why did she keep silence about it? Why
+was she so late in coming home, and what had heightened her colour,
+given that peculiar shiftiness to her eyes?
+
+She rose, went to Helen's door, and knocked.
+
+"May I come in?"
+
+"Of course--I have a letter to write by post-time."
+
+"I won't keep you long," said Irene, standing before her friend's
+chair, and regarding her with grave earnestness. "Did Mr. Otway call
+this morning?"
+
+"He was coming; I met him outside, and told him you weren't very
+well. And"--she hesitated, but went on with a harder voice and a
+careless smile--"we had a walk up the glen. It's very lovely, the
+higher part. You must go. Ask him to take you."
+
+"I don't understand you," said Irene coldly. "Why should I ask Mr.
+Otway to take me?"
+
+"I beg your pardon. You are become so critical of words and phrases.
+To take _us_, I'll say."
+
+"That wouldn't be a very agreeable walk, Helen, whilst you are in
+this strange mood. What does it all mean? I never foresaw the
+possibility of misunderstandings such as this between us. Is it I
+who am to blame, or you? Have I offended you?"
+
+"No, dear," was the dreamy response.
+
+"Then why do you seem to wish to quarrel with me?"
+
+Helen had the look of one who strugglingly overcomes a paroxysm of
+anger. She stood up.
+
+"Would you leave me alone for a little, Irene? I'm not quite able to
+talk. I think we've both of us been doing too much--overtaxing
+ourselves. It has got on my nerves."
+
+"Yes I will go," was the answer, spoken very quietly. "And to-morrow
+morning I will return to London."
+
+She moved away.
+
+"Irene!"
+
+"Yes----?"
+
+"I have something to tell you before you go." Helen spoke with a set
+face, forcing herself to meet her friend's eyes. "Mr. Otway wants an
+opportunity of talking with you, alone. He hoped for it this
+morning. As he couldn't see you, he talked about you to me--you
+being the only subject he could talk about. I promised to be out of
+the way if he came this afternoon."
+
+"Thank you--but why didn't you tell me this before?"
+
+"Because, as I said, things have got rather on my nerves." She took
+a step forward. "Will you overlook it--forget about it? Of course
+I should have told you before he came."
+
+"It's strange that there should he anything to overlook or forget
+between _us_," said Irene, with wide pathetic eyes.
+
+"There isn't really! It's not you and I that have got muddled--
+only things, circumstances. If you had been a little more chummy
+with me. There's a time for silence, but also a time for talking."
+
+"Dear, there are things one _can't_ talk about, because one doesn't
+know what to say, even to oneself."
+
+"I know! I know it!" replied Helen, with emphasis.
+
+And she came still nearer, with hand held out.
+
+"All nerves, Irene! Neuralgia of--of the common sense, my dear!"
+
+They parted with a laugh and a quick clasp of hands.
+
+
+CHAPTER XXXVII
+
+
+For half an hour Irene sat idle. She was waiting, and could do
+nothing but wait. Then the uncertainty as to how long this suspense
+might hold her grew insufferable; she was afraid too, of seeing
+Helen again, and having to talk, when talk would be misery. A
+thought grew out of her unrest--a thought clear-shining amid the
+tumult of turbid emotions. She would go forth to meet him. He should
+see that she came with that purpose--that she put away all
+trivialities of prescription and of pride. If he were worthy, only
+the more would he esteem her. If she deluded herself--it lay in
+the course of Fate.
+
+His way up from Redmire was by the road along which she had driven
+on the evening of her arrival, the road that dipped into a wooded
+glen, where a stream tumbled amid rocks and boulders, over
+smooth-worn slabs and shining pebbles, from the moor down to the
+river of the dale. He might not come this way. She hoped--she
+trusted Destiny.
+
+She stood by the crossing of the beck. The flood of yesterday had
+fallen; the water was again shallow at this spot, but nearly all the
+stepping-stones had been swept away. For help at such times, a crazy
+little wooden bridge spanned the current a few yards above. Irene
+brushed through the long grass and the bracken, mounted on to the
+bridge, and, leaning over the old bough which formed a rail, let the
+voice of the beck soothe her impatience.
+
+Here one might linger for hours, in perfect solitude; very rarely in
+the day was this happy stillness broken by a footfall, a voice, or
+the rumbling of a peasant's cart. A bird twittered, a breeze
+whispered in the branches; ever and ever the water kept its hushing
+note.
+
+But now someone was coming. Not with audible footstep; not down the
+road at which Irene frequently glanced; the intruder approached from
+the lower part of the glen, along the beckside, now walking in soft
+herbage, now striding from stone to stone, sometimes lifting the
+bough of a hazel or a rowan that hung athwart his path. He drew near
+to the crossing. He saw the figure on the bridge, and for a moment
+stood at gaze.
+
+Irene was aware of someone regarding her. She moved. He stood below,
+the ripple-edge of the water touching his foot. Upon his upturned
+face, dark eyes wide in joy and admiration, firm lips wistfully
+subduing their smile, the golden sunlight shimmered through
+overhanging foliage. She spoke.
+
+"Everything around is beautiful, but this most of all."
+
+"There is nothing more beautiful," he answered, "in all the dales."
+
+The words had come to her easily and naturally, after so much
+trouble as to what the first words should be. His look was enough.
+She scorned her distrust, scorned the malicious gossip that had
+excited it. Her mind passed into consonance with the still, warm
+hour, with the loveliness of all about her.
+
+"I haven't been that way yet." She pointed up the glen. "Will you
+come?"
+
+"Gladly! I was here with Mrs. Borisoff this morning, and wished so
+much you had been with us."
+
+Irene stepped down from the bridge down to the beckside. The
+briefest shadow of annoyance had caused her to turn her face away;
+there followed contentment that he spoke of the morning, at once and
+so frankly. She was able to talk without restraint, uttering her
+delight at each new picture as they went along. They walked very
+slowly, ever turning to admire, stopping to call each other's
+attention with glowing words. At a certain point, they were obliged
+to cross the water, their progress on this side barred by natural
+obstacles. It was a crossing of some little difficulty for Irene,
+the stones being rugged, and rather far apart; Piers guided her, and
+at the worst spot held out his hand.
+
+"Jump! I won't let you fall."
+
+She sprang with a happy girlish laugh to his side, and withdrew her
+hand very gently.
+
+"Here is a good place to rest," she said, seating herself on a
+boulder. And Piers sat down at a little distance.
+
+The bed of the torrent was full of great stones, very white, rounded
+and smoothed by the immemorial flow, by their tumbling and grinding
+in time of spate; they formed innumerable little cataracts, with
+here and there a broad plunge of foam-streaked water, perilously
+swift and deep. By the bank the current spread into a large, still
+pool, of colour a rich brown where the sunshine touched it, and
+darkly green where it lay beneath spreading branches; everywhere
+limpid, showing the pebbles or the sand in its cool depths. Infinite
+were the varyings of light and shade, from a dazzling gleam on the
+middle water, to the dense obscurity of leafy nooks. On either hand
+was a wood, thick with undergrowth; great pines, spruces, and
+larches, red-berried rowans, crowding on the steep sides of the
+ravine; trees of noble stature, shadowing fern and flower, towering
+against the sunny blue. Just below the spot where Piers and Irene
+rested, a great lichened hazel stretched itself all across the beck;
+in the upward direction a narrowing vista, filled with every tint of
+leafage, rose to the brown of the moor and the azure of the sky. All
+about grew tall, fruiting grasses, and many a bright flower;
+clusters of pink willow-weed, patches of yellow ragwort, the
+perfumed meadowsweet, and, amid bracken and bramble, the purple
+shining of a great campanula.
+
+On the open moor, the sun blazed with parching heat; here was
+freshness as of spring, the waft of cool airs, the scent of verdure
+moistened at the root.
+
+"Once upon a time," said Otway, when both had been listening to
+their thoughts, "I fancied myself as unlucky a man as walked the
+earth. I've got over that."
+
+Irene did not look at him; she waited for the something else which
+his voice promised.
+
+"Think of my good fortune in meeting you this afternoon. If I had
+gone to the Castle another way, I should have missed you; yet I all
+but did go by the fields. And there was nothing I desired so much as
+to see you somewhere--by yourself."
+
+The slight failing of his voice at the end helped Irene to speak
+collectedly.
+
+"Chance was in my favour, too. I came down to the beck, hoping I
+might meet you."
+
+She saw his hand move, the fingers clutch together. Before he could
+say anything, she continued:
+
+"I want to tell you of an ill-natured story that has reached my
+ears. Not to discuss it; I know it is untrue. Your two brothers--
+do you know that they speak spitefully of you?"
+
+"I didn't know it. I don't think I have given them cause."
+
+"I am very sure you haven't. But I want you to know about it, and I
+shall tell you the facts. After the death of my aunt, Mrs.
+Hannaford, you got from the hands of Daniel Otway a packet of her
+letters; he bargained with you, and you paid his price, wishing
+those letters to be seen by my father and my cousin Olga, whose
+minds they would set at rest. Now, Daniel Otway is telling people
+that you never paid the sum you promised him, and that, being in
+poverty, he vainly applies to you for help."
+
+She saw his hand grasp a twig that hung near him, and drag it rudely
+down; she did not look at his face.
+
+"I should have thought," Piers answered with grave composure, "that
+nothing Daniel Otway said could concern me. I see it isn't so. It
+must have troubled you, for you to speak of it."
+
+"It has; I thought about it. I rejected it as a falsehood."
+
+"There's a double falsehood. I paid him the price he asked, on the
+day he asked it, and I have since"--he checked himself--"I have
+not refused him help in his poverty."
+
+Irene's heart glowed within her. Even thus, and not otherwise, would
+she have desired him to refute the slander. It was a test she had
+promised herself; she could have laughed for joy. Her voice betrayed
+this glad emotion.
+
+"Let him say what he will; it doesn't matter now. But how comes it
+that he is poor?"
+
+"That I should like to know." Piers threw a pebble into the still,
+brown water near him. "Five years ago, he came into a substantial
+sum of money. I suppose--it went very quickly. Daniel is not
+exactly a prudent man."
+
+"I imagine not," remarked Irene, allowing herself a glimpse of his
+countenance, which she found to be less calm than his tone. "Let us
+have done with him. Five years ago," she added, with soft accents,
+"some of that money ought to have been yours, and you received
+nothing."
+
+"Nothing was legally due to me," he answered, in a voice lower than
+hers.
+
+"That I know. I mention it--you will forgive me?--because I have
+sometimes feared that you might explain to yourself wrongly my
+failure to reply when you sent me those verses, long ago. I have
+thought, lately, that you might suppose I knew certain facts at that
+time. I didn't; I only learnt them afterwards. At no time would it
+have made any difference."
+
+Piers could not speak.
+
+"Look!" said Irene, in a whisper, pointing.
+
+A great dragon-fly, a flash of blue, had dropped on to the surface
+of the pool, and lay floating. As they watched it rose, to drop
+again upon a small stone amid a shallow current; half in, half out
+of, the sunny water, it basked.
+
+"Oh, how lovely everything is!" exclaimed Irene, in a voice that
+quivered low. "How perfect a day!"
+
+"It was weather like this when I first saw you," said Piers.
+"Earlier, but just as bright. My memory of you has always lived in
+sunshine. I saw you first from my window; you were standing in the
+garden at Ewell; I heard your voice. Do you remember telling the
+story of Thibaut Rossignol?"
+
+"Oh yes, yes!"
+
+"Is he still with your father?"
+
+"Thibaut? Why, Thibaut is an institution. I can't imagine our house
+without him. Do you know that he always calls me Mademoiselle
+Irene?"
+
+"Your name is beautiful in any language. I wonder how many times I
+have repeated it to myself? And thought, too, so often of its
+meaning; longed, for _that_--and how vainly!"
+
+"Say the name--now," she faltered.
+
+"Irene!--Irene!"
+
+"Why, you make music of it! I never knew how musical it sounded.
+Hush! look at that thing of light and air!"
+
+The dragon-fly had flashed past them. This way and that it darted
+above the shining water, then dropped once more, to float, to sail
+idly with its gossamer wings.
+
+Piers stole nearer. He sat on a stone by her side.
+
+"Irene!"
+
+"Yes. I like the name when you say it."
+
+"May I touch your hand?"
+
+Still gazing at the dragon-fly, as if careless of what she did, she
+held her hand to him. Piers folded it in both his own.
+
+"May I hold it as long as I live?"
+
+"Is that a new thought of yours?" she asked, in a voice that shook
+as it tried to suggest laughter in her mind.
+
+"The newest! The most daring and the most glorious I ever had."
+
+"Why, then I have been mistaken," she said softly, for an instant
+meeting his eyes. "I fancied I owed you something for a wrong I did,
+without meaning it, more than eight years gone by."
+
+"That thought had come to you?" Piers exclaimed, with eyes gleaming.
+
+"Indeed it had. I shall be more than half sorry if I have to lose
+it."
+
+"How foolish I was! What wild, monstrous folly! How could you have
+dreamt for a moment that such a one as I was could dare to love you?
+--Irene, you did me no wrong. You gave me the ideal of my life--
+something I should never lose from my heart and mind--something to
+live towards! Not a hope; hope would have been madness. I have loved
+you without hope; loved you because I had found the only one I could
+love--the one I must love--on and on to the end."
+
+She laid her free hand upon his that clasped the other, and bowed
+him to her reasoning mood.
+
+"Let me speak of other things--that have to be made plain between
+you and me. First of all, a piece of news. I have just heard that my
+brother is going to marry Mrs. John Jacks."
+
+Piers was mute with astonishment. It was so long since he had seen
+Mrs. Jacks, and he pictured her as a woman much older than Eustace
+Derwent. His clearest recollection of her was that remark she made
+at the luncheon-table about the Irish, that they were so
+"sentimental"; it had blurred her beauty and her youth in his
+remembrance.
+
+"Yes, Eustace is going to marry her; and I shouldn't wonder if the
+marriage turns out well. It leads to the disagreeable thing I have
+to talk about. You know that. I engaged myself to Arnold Jacks. I
+did so freely, thinking I did right. When the time of the marriage
+drew near, I had learnt that I had done _wrong_. Not that I wished
+to be the wife of anyone else. I loved nobody; I did not love the
+man I was pretending to. As soon as I knew that--what was I to do?
+To marry him was a crime--no less a crime for its being committed
+every day. I took my courage in both hands. I told him I did not love
+him, I would not marry him. And--I ran away."
+
+The memory made her bosom heave, her cheeks flush.
+
+"Magnificent!" commented the listener, with a happy smile.
+
+"An! but I didn't do it very well. I treated him badly--yes,
+inconsiderately, selfishly. The thing had to be done--but there
+were ways of doing it. Unfortunately I had got to resent my
+captivity, and I spoke to him as if _he_ were to blame. From the
+point of view of delicacy, perhaps he was; he should have released
+me at once, and that he wouldn't. But I was too little regardful of
+what it meant to him--above all to his pride. I have so often
+reproached myself. I do it now for the last time. There!" She picked
+up a pebble to fling away. "It is gone I We speak of the thing no
+more."
+
+A change was coming upon the glen. The sun had passed; it shone now
+only on the tree-tops. But the sky above was blue and warm as ever.
+
+"Another thing," she pursued, more gravely. "My father----"
+
+Piers waited a moment, then said with eyes downcast:
+
+"He does not think well of me?"
+
+"That is my grief, and my trouble. However, not a serious trouble.
+Of you, personally, he has no dislike; it was quite the opposite
+when he met you; when you dined at our house--you remember? He
+said things of you I am not going to repeat, sir. It was only after
+the disaster which involved your name. Then he grew prejudiced."
+
+"Who can wonder?"
+
+"It will pass over. My father is no stage-tyrant. If _he_ is not
+open to reason, what man living is? And no man has a tenderer heart.
+He was all kindness and forbearance and understanding when I did a
+thing which might well have made him angry. Some day you shall see
+the letter he wrote me, when I had run away to Paris. In it, he
+spoke, as never to me before, of his own marriage--of his love for
+my mother. Every word remains in my memory, but I can't trust my
+voice to repeat them, and perhaps I ought not--even to you."
+
+"May I go to him, and speak for myself?"
+
+"Yes--but not till I have seen him."
+
+"Can't I spare you that?" said Piers, in a voice which, for the
+first time, sounded his triumphant manhood. "Do you think I fear a
+meeting with your father, or doubt of its result? If I had gone
+merely on my own account, to try to remove his prejudice and win his
+regard, it would have been a different thing; indeed, I could never
+have done that; I felt too keenly his reasons for disliking me. But
+now! In what man's presence should I shrink, and feel myself
+unworthy? You have put such words into my heart as will gain my
+cause for me the moment they are spoken. I have no false shame--no
+misgivings. I shall speak the truth of myself and you, and your
+father will hear me."
+
+Irene listened with the love-light in her hazel eyes; the face she
+turned upon him brought back a ray of sunshine to the slowly
+shadowing glen.
+
+"I will think till to-morrow," she said. "Come to the Castle
+to-morrow morning, and I shall have settled many things. But now we
+must go; Helen will wonder what has become of me; I didn't tell her
+I was going out."
+
+He bent over her hand; she did not withdraw it from him as they
+walked through the bracken, and beneath the green boughs, and picked
+their way over the white stones of the rushing beck.
+
+At the road, they parted.
+
+An hour after sunset, Piers was climbing the hillside towards the
+Castle, now a looming shape against a sky still duskily purpled from
+the west. He climbed slowly, doubting at each step whether to go
+nearer, or to wave his hand and turn. Still, he approached. In the
+cottages a few lights were seen; but no one moved; there was no
+voice. His own footstep on the sward fell soundless.
+
+He stood before the tower which was inhabited, and looked at the
+dim-lighted windows. To the entrance led a long flight of steps, and
+as he gazed through the gloom, he seemed to discern a figure
+standing there, before the doorway. He was not mistaken; the figure
+moved, descended. Motionless, he saw it turn towards him. Then he
+knew the step, the form; he sprang forward.
+
+"Irene!"
+
+"You have come to say good-night? See how our thoughts chime; I
+guessed you would."
+
+Her voice had a soft, caressing tremor; her hand sought his.
+
+"Irene! You have given me a new life, a new soul!"
+
+Her lips were near as she answered him.
+
+"Rest from your sorrows, my dearest. I love you! I love you!"
+
+He was alone again in the darkness, on the hillside. He heard the
+voice of the far-off river, and to his rapturous mood it sounded as
+a moaning, brought a sudden sadness. All at once, he thought amid
+his triumph of those unhappy ones whom the glory of love would never
+bless; those, men and women, born to a vain longing such as he had
+known, doomed to the dread solitude from which he by miracle had
+been saved. His heart swelled, and his eyes were hot with tears.
+
+But as he went down to the dale, the calm of the silent hour crept
+over him. He whispered the beloved name, and it gave him peace; such
+peace as follows upon the hallowing of a profound passion, justified
+of reason, and proof under the hand of time.
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of The Crown of Life, by George Gissing
+
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