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diff --git a/old/51969-0.txt b/old/51969-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c65a655..0000000 --- a/old/51969-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9397 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of According to Plato, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you’ll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: According to Plato - -Author: Frank Frankfort Moore - -Release Date: May 2, 2016 [EBook #51969] -Last Updated: November 16, 2016 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACCORDING TO PLATO *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - - - - - - - - -ACCORDING TO PLATO - -By Frank Frankfort Moore - -Dodd, Mead & Company - -1900 - -[Illustration: 0002] - -[Illustration: 0006] - - - - -CHAPTER I - -No one who has not been bankrupt at least twice could afford to be so -careful about his dress as Mr. Richmond is,” said Josephine. - -“He admits a solitary bankruptcy,” said Amber. “Bankruptcy is the -official recognition of genius.” - -“It certainly is the shortest way to distinction,” said Josephine. -“Bankruptcy’s a sort of English Legion of Honour, isn’t it?--a kind of -_bourgeois_ decoration.” - -“To genius,” said Amber, with the nod of one who completes a quotation -that some one else has begun. “Mr. Richmond is really very clever.” - -“Now you contradict yourself--a moment ago you said he was a genius--and -being a genius is just the opposite to being clever,” laughed Josephine. -“Is this your syllogism: Geniuses become bankrupt, Mr. Richmond becomes -bankrupt, therefore he is a genius?” - -“Well, that wasn’t quite what was in my mind. I suppose that to have the -Homeric attribute of nodding scarcely makes one a Homer?” - -“If it did there would be no need for people to learn Greek, But you -must forgive me for distrusting your Mr. Richmond--no, I shouldn’t make -use of so strong a word--I don’t distrust him. What I mean to say is -that I am rarely convinced by a man who is so scrupulous about his -coats. Genius--in man--is rarely found in association with silk linings -where silk linings are not imperative.” - -“Now you are becoming commonplace, my dear Joe; you give one the -idea that you cannot imagine genius without a darn. A darn--maybe a -patch--and a soft hat have floated many a mediocrity upon the public -under the name of a genius. But brains can work just as actively within -the drum of a silk hat as within the bowl of a bowler.” - -“Just as a true heart may beat beneath a silk lining as fervently as -under a moleskin waistcoat. Well, I’ll approach Mr. Richmond with an -open mind. After all it’s only a universal genius who is a man that has -failed in everything; and no man has yet hinted that Mr. Richmond is a -universal genius. By the way, I heard of an adroit Irishman who got a -great name as a poet solely by reason of his wearing an old cloak and -turning up at awkward hours for dinner.” - -“Mr. Richmond is--well, perhaps I had better say, a bit of a genius.” - -“That sounds more companionable. I like the nodding of Homer--it makes -him more human.” - -“If you wish I’ll withdraw the genius altogether and merely say that he -is a man of ideas.” - -“I think I shall like him: a man of ideas is a man of ideals. I am -nearly sure that I shall like him. There must be something good about a -man who can be praised by his friends in _diminuendo_.” - -“In _diminuendo?_ Oh, I understand: yes, I began by calling him a man of -genius and now I am perfectly satisfied to hear you say that you think -you will like him. Well, that’s not a _crescendo_ of praise anyhow. Oh, -really, he’s not half a bad sort of man when you come to know him.” - -“Now you are becoming _crescendo_, my Amber. One only says of the best -men what you have said of Mr. Richmond. I know that it represents the -flood-tide of one man’s praise of another. Personally I don’t see why -the papers should have made such fun of Mr. Richmond.” - -“Oh, my dear Joe, that wasn’t his doing, believe me. Oh, no; that was -Willie Bateman’s idea. He’s becoming the great authority on advertising, -you know. Yes, he said that you can ridicule any man into success.” - -“I fancy he’s not far wrong in that. You remember the horrid man who got -on--for a time--by pretending that he was the original of one of Mr. du -Maurier’s pictures in _Punch?_” - -“I have heard of him. He was a sort of painter, only he had a habit of -dabbing in the eyes outside the face. Mr. Richmond is not an impostor, -however; he is only a theorist.” - -“Now you are hair-splitting, Amber, the Sophist.” Amber frowned and then -laughed--freely--graciously--not the laugh of Ananias and Sapphira his -wife, who kept back part of their possessions. - -“Well, I admit that--no, I admit nothing. I say that Mr. Richmond -deserves to succeed on his own merits, and that he would succeed even -without being ridiculed in the papers. His theories are thoroughly -scientific--papa admits so much.” - -“He not only admits the theorist but the theories as well, into his -house. And yet Sir Creighton is a practical man.” - -“And a scientific man. It is because Mr. Richmond works on such a -scientific basis and in such a practical manner we are so anxious to -do all we can for him. Why shouldn’t there be a Technical College of -Literature as well as one of Wool-combing, or one of Dyeing, or one of -Turning?” - -“Why shouldn’t there be one? You have reason and analogy on your side. -I suppose it needs quite as much skill to turn a Sonnet as to turn a -Sofa-leg, and yet it is thought necessary to serve an apprenticeship to -the one industry and not to the other.” - -“That’s exactly what I say--exactly what Mr. Richmond says. He once -edited a magazine, and he would have made it pay too, if the people who -wrote for him had been able to write. But they didn’t. It was reading -the fearful stuff he used to get by every post that caused him to think -of the great need there was for a Technical School of Literature. Now, -suppose you want to write a History of any period, how would you set -about it?” - -“I haven’t the remotest idea of writing a history of even the remotest -period, Amber.” - -“Yes, that’s because you are unfortunate enough to be the daughter of -so wealthy a man as Mr. West, the Under Secretary for the Arbitration -Department. You have no need to do anything for a living--to do anything -to distinguish yourself in the world. But take the case that you were -dependent upon writing histories of certain periods for your daily -bread, wouldn’t you like to have some place to go in order to learn the -technicalities of history-writing?” - -“There’s no doubt in my mind that I would. The writing of histories -of periods has long ago been placed among the great industries of the -country, I know.” - -“I was appalled the other day when I began to think how utterly at sea I -should be if I had to write a history, or for that matter, a biography; -and history and biography, mind you, are the branches that do not need -any imagination for their working up.” - -“Oh, do they not?” - -“Well, of course--but I mean that if one has to write a play----” - -“What, is there a play department too? What on earth have plays got to -do with literature?” - -“The connection just now is faint enough, I admit. And why?--why, I -ask?” - -“Let me guess. Is it because up to the present there has not been a -Technical School of Literature?” - -“Of course it is. But at one time plays formed a very important part of -the literature of the day.” - -“Undoubtedly. The author of Shakespeare’s plays, whoever he was, was -certainly a literary man. I wonder, by the way, if there was a Technical -School in his time.” - -“There wasn’t. That’s how it comes that he knew so little about the -technicalities of the modern stage. Take my word for it, Josephine, Mr. -Richmond will prevent the possibility of a recurrence of such mistakes -as those Shakespeare made. And then there are the departments of fiction -and poetry. Could anything be worse than the attempts at fiction and -poetry which one meets nowadays?” - -“Impossible, I admit.” - -“The poor things who make those poor attempts are really not to be -blamed. If they were set down to make a pair of boots should any one -blame them if they failed? Now I hear it said that there is no market -for poetry in these days. I don’t believe it.” - -“I believe that if a paper pattern were to be given away with every -volume the public would buy as many volumes of poetry as could be -printed, if only the patterns were of a high class.” - -“The public would buy poetry if a first-class article were offered to -them, but as only one first-class volume appears for every five hundred -of a second-class or a third-class or no class at all, the public are -content to go mad over the merest doggerel, provided it is technically -good doggerel.” - -“Mr. Richmond will guarantee that his third year pupils will turn out -good doggerel, I’m sure. And what department do you mean to graduate in, -my Amber?” - -Amber paused before replying. A line--a delicate little crayon -line--appeared across her forehead, suggesting earnest thought as she -said: - -“I have a great hope to graduate in every department. But I think for -the present I shall confine myself to the ‘Answers to Correspondents.’” - -“Oh, the school is actually so technical as that?” cried Josephine. - -“It is nothing if not practical, Joe; and I think you will agree with -Mr. Richmond that there’s no branch of magazine literature that requires -to be more practical than the ‘Answers to Correspondents.’ The ‘Aunt -Dorothy’ branch is also one that demands considerable technical skill to -be exercised if it is to be done properly. Mr. Richmond thinks I might -begin upon the Aunt Dorothy branch and work my way up to the true -Petrarchian Sonnet Department, through the Rondel, Rondeau, Vilanelle, -and Triolet classes.” - -“It’s a far cry from Aunt Dorothy to Petrarch. And pray what does Mr. -Galmyn think of the scheme?” - -“He wasn’t very enthusiastic at first, but I fancy that I have persuaded -him to look at it in its true light. But you see, being a poet, he is -hardly open to reason.” - -“That is what it is to be a poet. A poet does not reason: he sings. -And has Mr. Overton any ideas on the subject: he cannot be accused of -singing.” - -“He has an open mind, he says.” - -“Oh, a man with an open mind is just as disagreeable as a man without -prejudices. And Willie Bateman--ah, I forgot; you said that he had had -something to do with pushing the school.” - -“Yes; he took care that the scheme was properly ridiculed in the papers. -Oh, yes; he has been extremely useful to us.” - -“What, you have actually come to talk of the school as ‘us’? I had no -idea that you meant to hang up the scalp of this Mr. Richmond in your -wigwam.” - -“I do not even want his scalpet, Josephine; at the same time...” - -“I see. You don’t want his scalp, but if he insists on sending you a -tuft of his hair, you will not return it to him.” - -“Well, perhaps that is what is in my mind. Though really I am sincerely -anxious to see what will come of so daring, and at the same time, so -scientific an experiment.” - -“You are a child of science, and to be a child of science is to be the -parent of experiments. It was a child of science who modelled toys in -dynamite, was it not? Pretty little clay pigs and elephants and poets -and millionaires, but one day she thought she would try the experiment -of putting a light to the cigar that she had struck into the mouth of -the dynamite figure that she was playing with.” - -“And what happened?” - -“Let me think. Oh, nothing happened because a live man appeared on the -scene and quickly dropped all the little toys of the scientific little -girl into a bucket of water.” - -“And then?” - -“Well, then the scientific little girl cried for a while but when she -grew up she married the live little man and they lived happily ever -after.” - -Amber was blushing like a peony before her friend had finished her -parable. When Josephine had begun to speak Amber was beginning to -fold her serviette, and now she continued folding it as if she were -endeavouring to carry out one of the laborious designs of napkin folding -given in the Lady’s columns of some weekly paper. Suddenly, while her -friend watched her, she pulled the damask square out of its many folds -and tossed its crumpled remains on the tablecloth. - -“Psha!” she cried, “there’s not a grain of dynamite among all my little -boys.” - -“Is there not? You just ask your father to give you an analysis of -any little boy, and you’ll find that the result will be something like -this:” - -(She wrote with her chatelaine pencil on the back of the _menu_ card.) - -[Illustration: 0016] - -Amber read the card with blushes and laughter. - -“It’s very good fun,” she said. “And there is my motor at the door. You -will come with me and see how things are managed?” - -“Why should I go?” - -“Why should not you go?” - -“Oh, I’ll go: whatever it may be it is still a topic.” - -“It is much more than a topic: it is a revolution.” - -“Then I shall go if only to see it revolve.” - - - - -CHAPTER II - -The two girls left Sir Creighton Severn’s house in Kensington Palace -Gardens, and the dainty little motor Victoria made its way eastwards -under the skilful guidance of a young coachman engineer trained by Sir -Creighton himself. - -Every one has heard of Sir Creighton Severn, the great inventor. A large -number of people, if asked what Sir Creighton had invented, would -reply “Electricity,” so closely has his name become associated with the -development of this power and its adaptation to the various necessities -of modern life. - -Some time ago there was a general feeling throughout the country that -he had gone too far in this direction. There should surely be a limit, -people said, to the many humiliations to which scientific men were -subjecting that power which after all was nothing less than lightning -made captive, and under that name, the most imposing attribute of great -Jove himself. It was not so bad to ask it to light a well-appointed -drawing-room or to annihilate distance when applied to the end of a -few thousand miles of telegraph cable--there was a heroic aspect of -its employment in such ways: there was something of the dignity of an -international treaty in the relationship existing between civilisation -and electricity up to a certain point; but it was going quite too far -to set it to cook chump chops for the servants’ dinner, or to heat the -irons in the laundry. - -People began to feel for electricity, just as they did when they heard -the story of King Alfred in the swineherd’s cottage. If the nations had -ceased to offer oblations to the leven of Jove that was no reason why it -should be degraded to the level of a very scullion. - -But when Sir Creighton, after inventing the electric kitchener, and -the electric ironer, brought out an electric knife cleaner, an electric -boot-black, and an electric mouse trap--nay, when he destroyed the very -black-beetles in the kitchen by electricity, people ceased to protest. -They only shook their heads and said no good could come of such things. - -Of course, these adaptations of the power of which Sir Creighton was -looked upon as the legitimate owner in succession to Jupiter (deceased), -represented only his hours of relaxation. They were the gleanings, so to -speak, of his electric harvest--the heel-taps of his electric banquet: -they only brought him in about five thousand a year in royalties. The -really great adaptations for which he was responsible filled the world -with admiration and his own pockets with money. He had lived so long in -close association with electricity that he had come to know every little -phase of its nature just as a man--after thirty years or so of married -life--comes to have an inkling of his wife’s character. He had invented -the electric ship that picked up broken cables at sea by merely passing -over where they were laid. He had invented the air purifier which -instantly destroyed every injurious element in the atmosphere of large -manufacturing towns, making them as pleasant to live in as London -itself. He had also produced a fog disperser; but he was not -sufficiently satisfied with its operation to give it to the public. It -was quite equal to the duty of giving fresh air and sunshine to his -own house and gardens, at times when people outside were choking with -sulphur and knocking their heads against lamp posts, but this was not -enough for Sir Creighton, and he withheld his discovery until he should -have so perfected it as to make it applicable to the widest areas. - -He had sufficient confidence in his powers and in the ductility of his -partner--he had long ago come to allude to electricity as his _conjux -placens_--to feel certain that in the course of a year or two, he would -be in a position to clear the Atlantic Ocean of fogs and even to do -something with London itself. - -But there was another discovery which Sir Creighton hoped he was on the -eve of perfecting--the greatest of all the long list already standing -to his credit--this was the Electric Digester. He had proved to the -satisfaction of every one except himself the possibility of treating not -only flesh meat but every form of diet in such a way as practically to -obviate the necessity for it to undergo the various tedious processes of -digestion before it became assimilated with the system. - -He had early in life become impressed with the need of making a -departure from the old-fashioned methods of preparing food for human -consumption. In the early days of man--he put the date roughly at 150000 -b. c., though he admitted that the recent discovery of a fossil scorpion -in the Silurian rocks left him about a million years to come and go -upon--there was probably no need for an Artificial Digestive. The early -man had plenty of exercise. It is quite conceivable that, with -such things as the Mammoth, the Mastodon, the Pterodactyl and the -Ichtheosaurus roaming about with empty stomachs, the human race should -have a good deal of exercise (Scoffers said that the human race was -properly so called). But the human race had won the race, and had then -settled down for a period of well-earned repose. - -This was all very well, but their doing so had changed the most -important of the conditions under which they had lived, until, as -civilisation strengthened the human digestion had weakened. But instead -of openly acknowledging this fact and acting accordingly, physicians -had kept trying to tinker up the obsolete machinery with, naturally, -the most deplorable results. Instead of frankly acknowledging that man’s -digestion had gone the way of the tail, the supplemental stomach, and -the muscle that moved the ears, attempts were daily made to stimulate -the obsolete processes of digestion, but the result was not stimulating. - -Sir Creighton Severn, however, frankly assumed that man had got rid of -his digestion to make way for his civilisation, and set about the task -of accommodating his diet to his altered conditions of life. - -He had not yet succeeded in satisfying himself that his invention of the -Electric Digester would do all that he meant it to do; so, in spite of -the bitter cry that came from the great pie regions of North America, -imploring him to help them, he withheld it from the world for the -present. - -Sir Creighton was wise enough to make a fool of himself every now and -again, and the fools said in their haste that his daughter was the -agency which he usually employed for effecting his purpose in this -direction. But while some said that it was his daughter who made a fool -of him others said that it was he who made a fool of his daughter. - -No one seemed to fancy that it was quite possible for both statements to -be correct. - -However this may be it may at once be said that Sir Creighton treated -his daughter as if she were a rational person, capable of thinking for -herself and of pronouncing a moderately accurate judgment of such minor -problems of life as were suggested to her. Without knowing why--though -her father could have told her all about it--she was most pleased -when she was trying certain experiments--not in electricity, but in -sociology. - -And yet people said, simply because they saw that she was invariably -well dressed, that she had no scientific tendencies. - -She had a certain indefinite beauty of her own that made people--some -people: mostly men--wonder where they had seen a flower like her--a -lily, they were nearly sure it was--or perhaps it was a white -clematis--the one with the star centre that swung so gracefully. They -continued looking at her and thinking of flowers, and happy is the girl -who makes people think of flowers when they see her! - -Having very few delusions she knew that there was something of a -flower about her nature. And being well aware that flowers are the most -practical things in Nature, she had aspirations as boundless as those of -a lily. - -That was why she was delighted when she attracted to her various forms -of idle insect life, male and female. Her aspirations were to attract -rather than to retain, for she had the lily’s instincts as well as -the lily’s industry. She knew that when youth made a bee-line to -her (speaking in a phrase of the garden) they did so for their own -advantage. And she awaited their departure with interest, knowing as she -did that it is when the insect leaves the lily that the latter is most -benefited; but without prejudice to the possibilities of the insect -being also benefited. She had no sympathy with the insectivorous plants -of womankind, though at the same time she knew that she was born with -a passion for experiments. She hoped, however, that her curiosity was -founded on a scientific basis. - -She had, as it were, taken Love into her father’s laboratory, and with -his assistance subjected it to the most careful analysis. She was able -to assign to it a chemical symbol, and so she fancied that she knew all -there was to be known about love. - -She knew a good deal less about it than does the flower of the lily when -the summer is at its height. - -And now this offspring of the most modern spirit of investigation and -the most ancient femininity that existed before the scorpion found -his way into the Silurian rocks to sting, after the lapse of a -hundred thousand years, the biologists who had nailed their faith to -a theory--this blend of the perfume of the lily and the fumes of -hydrochlorate of potassium, was chatting to her friend Josephine West as -her motor-victoria threaded its silent way through the traffic of Oxford -Street to that region where Mr. Richmond had established his Technical -School of Literature. - -Josephine West was the daughter of the right honourable Joseph West, -Under Secretary of State for the Department of Arbitration. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -The “forced draught” conversation--the phrase was Sir -Creighton’s--which the two girls exchanged at lunch and which has been -in some measure recorded, formed excellent exercise for their wits, Sir -Creighton thought, though he had not the privilege of listening to their -latest battledore and shuttlecock in this direction, the fact being that -he and Lady Severn were partaking of a more exciting meal aboard the new -electric turbine yacht which Sir Creighton had just perfected. It was -certainly a stimulating reflection that for the first time since the -waters were spread over a portion of the surface of the earth, a -meal was partaken of in comfort aboard a vessel moving at the rate of -forty-two miles an hour. Even the conversation of the two girls in the -dining-room at home could scarcely beat that Sir Creighton remarked to -his wife as she clutched at her cap on the hurricane deck and gasped. -(There was a pretty fair amount of cap clutching and gasping aboard that -boat while it was flying over the measured mile.) - -But when the girls were being motored to the Technical School of -Literature, their chat was of such commonplaces as the new evening -dress bodice with the lace up to the throat, and the future of the -Khaki dresses which every one was wearing as a token of respect to the -Colonial office. They had not exhausted the latter question when they -arrived at the school. - -It was located in an interesting house in Hanover Square for the -present, Amber explained to her friend; and her friend cordially -opined with her that it would be foolish to enter into possession of -an important building before the school had taken a sure hold upon the -affections of the people of Great Britain. - -Mr. Richmond was just opening the fiction class in the largest room when -Miss Severn and Miss West entered. Mr. Richmond, who represented the -latest of Amber’s experiments, had met Miss West a few days before. He -knew that her father was a member of the Government and he hoped to -be able to squeeze a grant out of the Government with his assistance, -therefore--the logic was Mr. Richmond’s and thoroughly sound--he thought -it well to pay as little attention as was consistent with good manners -to Miss West, and even to her friend and his friend, Miss Severn. He -had a pretty fair working knowledge of a world in which woman has at all -times played a rather prominent part, and he knew that while some young -women are affected by flattery, those who are most potent in getting -grants from their fathers in favour of certain enterprises resent being -singled out for attention. - -He paid no attention to the entrance of the two girls, but commenced his -lesson--he refused to make use of the commonplace word “lecture”: the -mention of such a word should be enough to frighten people away from -the school, he said; and on the same principle he chose to call his -undertaking a school, not a college. - -Josephine and Amber took seats at one of the desks, with paper and -pens in front of them, and the former glanced round the class. It was -composed of some interesting units. At a desk well to the front sat bolt -upright a gentleman of rather more than middle-age. Half-pay was writ -large all over him. There was not a wrinkle in his coat that did not -harbour a little imp that shrieked out “half pay--half pay!” for all the -world to hear. His hair was thin in places, but at no place was it too -thin to afford cover to half a dozen of those frolicsome demons with -their shriek of “half pay!” His over-brushed frock coat (of the -year before last), his over-blackened boots, and the general air of -over-tidiness that he carried about with him proclaimed the elderly -officer of correct habits who after trying for a year or two to obtain -congenial employment as the secretary to a club and for another year or -two to persuade people to drink the wines of Patagonia, for the sale of -which he had been appointed sole agent for Primrose Hill, had resolved -to commence life again as a popular novelist. - -Not far off sat a youth with receding forehead and chin, and a face like -a marmot of the Alps. He kept his small eyes fixed upon the head of a -drowsily pretty girl, with towzled hair of an orange tint unknown to -nature but well known to art--the art of the second class coiffure. She -did the reviews for a humble paper but hoped to qualify to be herself -the reviewed one some day. It was clear that she would not ruin her -chances by a _misalliance_ with the well-balanced scheme of retrocession -observable in his profile. - -Two interested young girls sat at another desk guardianed by a -governess--they, at any rate, Josephine thought, possessed the first -qualification for success in fiction, for they observed every one -about them, and made rude remarks to each other respecting their -fellow-creatures. The governess took notes by the aid of a stumpy pencil -the blunt end of which she audibly touched with the tip of her tongue -after every few words; and Josephine perceived that she was anaemic. - -Her simple methods contrasted with the elaborate _batterie d’écriture_ -of a young lady who sat at the desk next to that at which Josephine -and Amber had placed themselves; for she had placed in front of her a -silver-mounted case, monstrously monogrammed, with double ink-bottles, -each containing something under half a pint. A rack holding half a dozen -pens of varying shapes and sizes, stood imposingly at one side, and on -the other lay a neat ream of letter paper, crested and monogrammed, and -a pronouncing dictionary. The apparatus certainly seemed quite adequate -to the demands of the occasion; and as it turned out, it contained a -good deal that was absolutely unnecessary, for the young lady slipped -into an unobtrusive doze, the moment the lecturer began to address his -class. - -A young woman who had removed her hat in order to show that she had a -brow with generous bumps scattered about it, resembling Kopjes above a -kloof, lounged with an ungracefulness that a plebiscite had pronounced -to have a distinct literary flavour about it, half across her desk. It -was understood that she had once written a column in a lady’s paper on -something and so could afford to be careless. - -A youth with a cloak and a yellow smile was understood to be a poet. -People said that his smile would work off. But he had never tried. - -A well-dressed man of middle age looked, Josephine thought, as if he -were something in the city; but that was just where she was mistaken. It -was only when he was out of the city that he was something; in the city -he was nothing. He was on the eve of drafting a prospectus; and so had -joined the fiction class to gain the necessary finish. - -Two or three younger men and a few young women who seemed to have come -straight from the hands of a confectioner’s artist in frosting and -almond icing, had taken up positions of prominence. They looked as if -they were anxious to be commented on, and they were commented on. - -Mr. Owen Glendower Richmond, the founder of the school was not a -well-dressed man, only an expensively dressed man. He was young but not -so very young as to be able to disregard the tendency to transparency in -that portion of his hair which covered (indifferently) the crown of his -head. He had the art of making one hair do duty for two over this area. - -He had also a very persuasive voice. - -Many men have gone with success through life with fewer endowments. But -Mr. Richmond had never been quite successful in anything that he had -attempted, and at thirty-four he had occasional regrets that earlier in -life he had not let his hair grow curiously, or acquired a reputation -for a profile--a profile like that of Dante in the picture. - -He had published a book or two; but people about him were good-natured -and had agreed to ignore the incident and to give him another chance. -He proved that their benevolence had not been misplaced by becoming -bankrupt over a scheme for regulating the output of fiction. The public -had subscribed generously to his bureau, and it might possibly have -succeeded but for the discovery of the new element to which the name of -neurosis was given. - -Taking advantage of his position on the summit of a base of bankruptcy, -he had no difficulty in finding a sufficient number of friends to assist -him in the realisation of his scheme for establishing on a permanent -basis a School of Literature; and among his friends he would have -permission to include Sir Creighton Severn and his daughter. He knew -that their appetite for experiments was insatiable, and he had at one -time taught Archie Severn--Amber’s only brother--all that he knew on the -subject of exotic forms of verse--a science in which the young man had -been greatly interested at one period of his life. He was not altogether -free from a suspicion that his claims upon the family were somewhat -attenuated; but when he had an interview with them he felt that such a -suspicion was unworthy of him. Sir Creighton told his daughter that she -was free to experiment with the experimenter, and Mr. Richmond found -that his year’s rent was guaranteed. - -Although the school had only been established for six months it was -already a paying concern and Mr. Richmond was in such prosperous -circumstances that he felt at liberty to dress less expensively, so -he bought a frock coat at seven pounds instead of the one at seven -guineas--the one which Josephine West had first seen him wear: the one -with the silk quilted lining where most men were quite contented to have -a material bearing the trade name of satinette. - -It was the cheaper garment that he was wearing on the afternoon of this -first visit of Josephine’s to the school, and being an observant young -woman, she had really no trouble in perceiving that his aspirations for -the moment were to assume that pose which offered the greatest chance of -permanency to the impression that he carried his frock coat as easily as -a Greek god carried his drapery. - -She was a very observant young woman and she admired the adroitness of -Mr. Owen Glendower Richmond in associating himself, even though he did -so only through the agency of a crease that began at the waist and ended -short of the knee, with classical tradition. - -And then she admired herself for the subtlety of her observation, and -thus was in a psychological frame of mind to yield to the persuasive -charm of Mr. Richmond’s voice. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -It has been suggested to the Council,” said Mr. Richmond--the name -Council was the one by which he desired to be known to the pupils of -the school upon occasions--“that, as the Slum Novel is that branch -of fiction by which it is easiest to make a reputation for profound -thought, at the least expenditure of thought, I should deal with the -technicalities of such a composition. - -“I think the suggestion an excellent one, and I trust that I shall -succeed in enabling you to produce, after a little practice, such a book -as will certainly be reviewed to the extent of a full column in more -than one of the leading newspapers.” - -There was a general movement of attention throughout the class at this -point. The lady with the two ink bottles, who lived in an atmosphere -strongly impregnated with monograms done in silver, carefully chose a -pen from her rack. - -“In addition to the novel receiving a lengthy review or two, it may even -sell,” continued Mr. Richmond. “But if it should not sell, the writer -will, in the estimation of a certain circle--a circle which I do not say -it is impossible to ‘square’--I speak paradoxically--have constituted a -still stronger claim to be regarded as a profound thinker. - -“Now at the outset I ask you to write at the head of your notes the word -‘_Dulness_.’ This is the goal to which you must press forward in the -Slum Novel. You must be dull at all hazards. No matter what you have to -sacrifice to produce this impression you must aim at being dull. Now -it is not generally recognised that there are many ways of being dull. -There is genial dulness and there is jocular dulness. There is dulness -of diction and dulness of characterisation. There is dulness of morality -and dulness of criminality. There is dulness of Socialism and dulness of -Suburbanism. Now, if you succeed in making a blend of all these forms of -dulness you will have gone far in making a successful Slum Novel. - -“The next note which I will beg of you to make is this: ‘The Slum Novel -must neither embody lessons nor suggest Remedies.’ - -“You must invent your characters, add if you will, a plot, but -the latter is by no means essential, and then you must get up your -topography. Too great emphasis cannot be laid upon the necessity for a -minute topographical scheme--with a map, if possible. I must remind you -that a map in a work of fiction imparts to it an aspect of dulness which -even the most brilliant writer might fail to achieve in a dozen pages. - -“Next in importance to imaginary topography is imaginary dialect. I will -ask you to write the word Dialect large in your notes. The _Argot_ of -the Slums cannot be made too unintelligible, nor can its inconsistency -be over-emphasised. An excellent recipe for true Cockney is to mix with -the broadest Lancashire a phrase or two of Norfolk, a word or two of -stage Irish, and all the oaths in daily use in the mining districts. The -result will be pure Cockney. But you must be very careful of your oaths. -Swearing is to a Slum Novel what vinegar is to salad--what the sulphur -tip is to the lucifer match. On the whole I think that those ladies who -are desirous of writing dialogue that can scarcely fail to receive the -heartiest recognition from critics, would do well to allow no character -to make even the simplest remark without intruding at least two of those -words which a few years ago a printer would refuse to print. The effect -will be startling at first, more especially if the coarsest words are -put into the mouths of women and children; but you must remember that -the object of a Slum Novel is to startle a reader without interesting a -reader. It is in furtherance of this aim that you must so disguise -the everyday words spoken by your characters as to make them quite -unintelligible to the most adroit of readers. If the least clue is -obtainable to the simplest words you may be sure that there is something -wrong in your _technique_. - -“Now I come to the important element known as Cruelty. Will you kindly -write down the word _Cruelty_. Respecting the technicalities of this -element a good deal of advice might be given. But I shall have said -enough on this point to give you a good working acquaintance with its -place in the Slum Novel when I assure you that you cannot make it too -revolting, and that you cannot describe the details of any revolting act -too closely. Your blood stains cannot be too large or dark or damp--you -must be careful that the blood stains are kept damp. - -“The entire technique of the plot may be included in this precept: -Make your heroine a woman with fists like those of a man and let her -be murdered by the man whom she loves and let her die in the act of -assuring the policeman that she did it herself. Her last words must be -‘S’elp me Gawd.’ This is understood to be genuine pathos. It is not for -me to say that it is otherwise. When I shall have the honour of dealing -with the technicalities of pathos you may depend on my not neglecting -the important branch of Slum Pathos.” - -Mr. Owen Glendower Richmond paused and took a glass of water with the -air of a connoisseur of vintages. He seemed to trust that it would be -understood that the water was of a delicate _cru_. There was another -distinct movement among his audience that almost suggested relief. -There were whispers. It seemed to be understood that the relaxing of -the strain put upon the members of the class meant a period of complete -repose. - -“He kept it up wonderfully, did he not?” remarked Josephine. - -“Kept it up?” cried Amber, assuming the wrinkle of the one who is -puzzled. - -“Yes; the tennis ball of satire and the shuttlecock of irony,” said -Josephine. “Do these folks take him seriously?” - -“We do,” replied Amber with a touch of dignity. “We do. He will prevent -a good many of us from making fools of ourselves.” - -“But I thought that you had only reached the Aunt Dorothy stage of -machine-made literature,” said Josephine. “Have you already mastered the -_technique_ of Aunt Dorothy?” - -“I am occasionally allowed to join the higher fiction class as a treat,” - said Amber. “You see, Mr. Overton comes to this class.” - -“I see. You are leading him to higher things by the primrose path of -technical literature,” said Josephine. “This primrose path seems to me -to resemble the mule track through the valley from Stalden to Saas Fée. -It does not admit of much independence of travelling.” - -“Hush! Mr. Richmond is going to set us our home exercise,” said Amber as -the teacher gave a little tap to his desk with the stem of a quill pen, -holding it by the feather end. The sound that it made was curious and -its effect was electrical: all faces were instantly turned toward him. - -“Last week I made you acquainted with the _technique_ of the Historical -Novel,” said Mr. Richmond, “and I am naturally anxious to learn to what -extent you have availed yourselves of suggestions. I will therefore -offer you for home exercise the following problem: ‘Given Richelieu and -a dark alley in a Seventeenth Century Continental city, with a cold damp -wind blowing through it when the hero of the story takes shelter in one -of the doorways, describe the fight in the cellar when he descends on -hearing the shrieks of a girl with fair hair and a curious cross set -with pearls and sapphires on her breast, proceeding from that portion of -the building. - -“You may do me the honour to recollect that I made you acquainted with -the _technique_ of the brawl of the historical romance, with its three -motives--Cardinal Richelieu, the marked pack of cards, and the girl with -fair hair and the cross with pearls and sapphires on her breast. You -are at perfect liberty in the exercise to make the young woman either -haughty or humble, but I need scarcely remind you, I hope, that she must -be either the one or the other to an extravagant degree, but Richelieu -must always be old. Now I will read out the terms of the problem once -more: ‘Given a dark alley--a dark alley’--have you got that down?” - -Mr. Richmond repeated slowly with praiseworthy distinctness, the terms -of the problem and the members of the class scratched away at their -notes with pencils of varying shapes and sizes--all except the young -lady with the big silver monograms and the blotter inside them: she used -a pen which she dipped alternately into the bottle of red and the bottle -of black ink, such is the absent-mindedness of authorship even in the -jelly-fish period of its evolution. - -“Is it possible that you are taking it all down?” asked Josephine of -Amber. - -“It is only to encourage the others,” replied Amber. “If Guy Overton did -not see me taking it all down he wouldn’t write a line.” - -“And will you make the attempt to work out the problem at home?” asked -Josephine. - -“Perhaps I may have a shot at it. After all it’s no more difficult -than an ordinary equation: given the hero, the cold damp wind and the -shrieks, to find the girl--I think I shall make her simple, not haughty; -the haughty ones are a little boring, are they not?” - -“And now we shall proceed to the dialect lesson,” said Mr. Richmond. -“Having dealt with Somersetshire during the past week I will now offer -you for translation a few sentences containing the fundamental words -necessary to the dialogue of the Lowland Scotch novel. You will observe -that these words are really not numerous. But, as you can ring some -thousands of changes upon a peal of eight bells so by the free use of -a dozen dialect words you can impart a strong local colour to any -commonplace story. Of course it ceases to be commonplace when the -characters speak in the dialect of the Lowlands.” He then wrote a few -sentences on the black board embodying such words as “muckle,” “mickle,” - “hoot awa’,” “bonnie--bonnie--bonnie”--“you cannot have too many -‘bonnies,’” he remarked--“wee” in its direct application, and “wee” when -combined with another diminutive, such as “wee bit.” He explained the -significance of every phrase and pointed out how directly it appealed to -the heart of a reader. He applied a critical stethoscope, as it were, to -every phrase, showing the strong manly heart of a sturdy people beating -through such sentences as he had placed before his class. - -“I will now, with your permission,” said Mr. Richmond, “conclude the -business of the class with a time study. A short time ago I brought -under your notice the technicalities of the novel of phrases. You will, -I hope, recollect that I laid considerable emphasis upon the effect -capable of being produced by a startling definition of something that, -in common acceptation, in no way stands in need of being defined. Now, -you all know what Platonic Love means; well, a definition or a series of -definitions of Platonic Love, will form the ten minutes time study -for to-day. Ladies and gentlemen, Platonic Love--a definition for the -purpose of the Novel of Phrases.” - -There was nothing like a smile on Mr. Richmond’s face at any part of his -lecture. He treated every technical point which he suggested in the most -serious way. He handled every portion of the subject with the freedom -and the gravity of a surgeon in the dissecting room. There was a certain -frankness in his assumption that any one could be taught how to make -the great mass of the people smile or laugh or weep or feel--that the -production of certain effects in prose was as entirely a matter of -machinery as the effects produced by the man at the throttle-valve of -the locomotive when he jerks the piece of metal with the handle. Some -people might have called this frankness cynicism; but Josephine could -not see that there was anything cynical about it. - -She had attended for some years a life-class at the studio of a painter -of distinction and he had lectured to his pupils on the technical -aspects of the art of painting, referring occasionally to what he called -the depth of feeling in certain chromatic combinations. He had also -showed them how to produce the effect of tears on a face, by making -a little smudge on the cheeks. If it was possible to teach such -technicalities why should not one do as Mr. Richmond was doing, and -teach a crowd of students how to write so as to draw tears or compel -smiles? - -“I don’t think that I will trouble myself with the time-study,” said -Amber. - -Josephine looked at her and gave a laugh. - -“Platonic affection,” she said musingly. “I wonder why you should shirk -a paper on that question. You are supposed to be an exponent of that -virtue. I should like to know what Mr. Guy Overton thinks about it. I -should like to know what Mr. Galmyn thinks about it. The definition -of Mr. Willie Bateman’s opinion might also possess some element of -interest.” - -“Write down what you think of it,” cried Amber, pushing the paper -towards her. - -Josephine shook her head at first, smiling gently. Then she made -a sudden grab at the pencil that hung to one of the chains of her -chatelaine. - -“I’ll define Platonic affection for you, my dear,” she whispered, “for -you--not for Mr. Richmond: he needs no definition of that or anything -else.” - -She began to write a good deal more rapidly than the others in the -class-room. So rapidly did she write that she was unable to see how -great was the interest in Mr. Richmond’s face while he watched her and -how great was the interest in the face of a young man who sat at the -most distant desk while he watched Amber. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -Platonic affection is the penalty which one pays in old age for -procrastination in one’s youth. It is the phrase that one employs to -restore one’s self-respect when suffering from the watchful care of a -husband. It is the theory of a Greek Sophist to define the attitude of a -sculptor in regard to his marble. It defines the attitude of the marble -in regard to the sculptor. It was the attribute of Galatea just before -she began to live, and it is the attitude of the moralist just before -he begins to die. It is the triumph of Logic over Love. It is the -consolation of the man who is content with roses cut out of tissue -paper. It is the comfort of the woman who thinks that a quill and -a glass of water make an entirely satisfactory substitute for a -nightingale in June. It is the banquet of the Barmecides. It is -the epitaph on the grave of manhood. It is the slab on the grave of -womanhood. It is the phrase that is shrieked out every hour from -the cuckoo clock. It is an ode by Sappho written in water. It is the -egg-shell that is treasured by a man when some one else is eating the -omelette. It is the affection of the Doge of Venice for the Adriatic. It -is a salad without vinegar. It is the shortest way to the Divorce Court. -It is a perpetual menace to a man and the severest threat that one can -hold over the head of a woman. It is a lion with the toothache. It is -the Sword of Damocles. It is Apollo in pyjamas. It is the fence upon -which a man sits while he waits to see which way the cat will jump. It -is a song the words of which have been lost and the music mislaid. It is -entering on a property the title deeds of which are in the possession of -some one else. It is offering a woman a loaf of bread when she is dying -of thirst. It is offering a man a cup of water when he is dying of -hunger. It is the smoke of an extinct volcano. It is the purchase -price paid by a fool for the fee-simple of a Castle in Spain. It is -the fraudulent prospectus of a bogus company. It is the only thing that -Nature abhors more than a vacuum. It is the triumph of the Vacuum over -Nature. It is the last refuge of the _roue_. It is presenting a diet of -confectionery for carnivora. It is the experiment which my dear friend -Amber Severn is trying in order that every one who knows her may be -warned in time.” - -She folded up the paper carefully and handed it to Amber saying: - -“There is not only a definition but a whole treatise for you, my dear -Amber. It is for you alone, however, and it is not written to dissuade -you from your experiment.” - -“My experiment? What is my experiment?” cried Amber. - -Josephine looked at her and smiled vaguely, benevolently. - -“The experiment of feeding _carnivora_ on confectionery,” said she. - -“You mean that--that---- Oh, no; you cannot say that, whatever happens, -I have not improved them all.” - -“I would not dare even to think so. If, however, you succeed in -convincing any two of them that you are quite right in marrying the -third you will have proved conclusively that confectionery is a most -satisfactory diet.” - -“I don’t believe that any one of the three wishes to marry me. Not one -of them has even so much hinted at that. Oh, no; we are far too good -friends ever to become lovers. They are all nice and are getting nicer -every day.” - -“I really think that they are. At any rate you were born to try -experiments. You can no more avoid experimenting than your father can. -Here comes an elementary principle with an empty notebook in his hand.” - -A youth of twenty-four or twenty-five with a good figure and a -pleasantly plain face and unusually large hands and feet sauntered -up--the members of the class were trooping out, some of them handing in -their time studies to Mr. Richmond who stood at the head of the room. - -“How do you do, Miss West? How are you, Amber?” he said. “I saw you -working like a gas-engine, Miss West. What on earth could you find to -say on that subject?” - -“What subject, Mr. Guy Overton?” said Josephine. - -The young man looked puzzled--pleasantly puzzled. - -“The subject you were writing about,” he replied cautiously. - -“You don’t even remember the title of the time study,” said Amber -severely. - -“I don’t,” he cried defiantly. “What would be the good of remembering -it? I saw at once that it was all Thomas.” - -“All Thomas?” said Amber enquiringly. - -“All Thomas--all Tommy rot. You didn’t bother yourself writing a big -heap Injin about it yourself, my fine lady.” - -“That was because she is really scientific in her methods, Mr. Overton,” - said Josephine. “She doesn’t write out the result of an experiment until -she has analysed the residuum in the crucible.” - -The young man looked into her face very carefully. He was never quite -sure of this particular girl. She required a lot of looking at, and even -then he was never quite certain that she had not said something that -would make him look like a fool if any one clever enough to understand -her was at hand. Luckily for him there were, he knew, not many such -people likely to be about. - -He looked at her very carefully and then turned to Amber saying: - -“I came across a chippie of a cornstalk yesterday who says his dad used -to know Sir Creighton before he went to Australia. May I bring him with -me one day?” - -“Of course you may,” cried Amber, her face brightening. Josephine -knew that her face brightened at the prospect of acquiring some fresh -materials for her laboratory. “What is his name?” - -“His name is Winwood--Pierce Winwood, if it so please you.” - -“I’ll ask the pater, and keep him up to the date,” said Amber. “I -suppose his father’s name was Winwood too.” - -“Why shouldn’t it be? Oh, there’s nothing the matter with him. My dad -used to know his dad out there. They were in the same colony and pretty -nearly cleaned it out between them. But Winwood died worth a good bit -more than my poor old dad. Oh, he’s all right.” - -“I’m sure you have said enough to convince any one that the son is all -right,” said Josephine. - -“Three-quarters of a million at least,” remarked Guy Overton with the -wink of sagacity. - -“What, so right as all that?” exclaimed Josephine with the uplifted -eyebrows of incredulity. - -“Every penny,” said the youth with the emphasis of pride. - -“Oh, money is nothing!” said Amber with the head shake of indifference. - -“Nothing in the world,” acquiesced Guy, with a heartiness that carried -with it absolute conviction of insincerity to the critical ears. - -“Have you made any progress, Guy?” enquired Amber. - -“Among this racket?” he asked. “Not much. I think if I’ve made any -progress it’s backwards. Two months ago I could read a novel--if it was -the right sort--without trouble. But since I have been shown the parts -of the machine that turns them out, blest if I can get beyond the first -page.” - -“That’s a good sign; it shows that you are becoming critical,” cried -Amber. - -“Does it? Well... I don’t know. If attending a Technical School of -Novel-writing makes a chippie incapable of reading a book, I don’t think -the show can be called a success. Anyway I don’t believe that prose -fiction--that’s how it’s called--is the department for me. I believe -that the poetry shop is the one I’m meant to shine in. You see, there’s -only one sort of poetry nowadays, and it’s easily taught; whereas there -are a dozen forms of prose fiction--I never guessed that the business -was so complicated before I came here. Oh, yes, I’ll join the poetry -shop next week.” - -“You’ll do nothing of the sort: it’s twice as complicated as this,” said -Amber severely. - -“Don’t tell me that,” he retorted. “I’ve heard the best poetry of the -day--yes, in the Music Halls, and I believe that with a little practice -I could turn it out by the web. All the people want is three verses and -a good kick in the chorus--something you remember easily, with a good -word about Tommy Atkins and two for good old Mother England. I know the -swing of the thing. Oh, yes; I’ll get seconded to the poetry shop. Here -comes Barnum himself.” - -His final words were delivered in a furtive whisper while Mr. Richmond -strolled across the room to the group--it was the last group that -remained. - -When he had come up Mr. Guy Overton was extremely respectful in his -attitude to Mr. Richmond and called him “Sir.” He looked at his watch, -however, a moment later and said he was an hour late for a particular -appointment that he had, so he reckoned he should make himself distant. - -Mr. Richmond smiled socially, not officially, and added a nod, before -turning to greet the girls. He was not very impressive while saying that -he felt greatly honoured to see Miss West in the class-room. He was sure -that she understood his aims. Then Miss West said she was certain that -it must be a great pleasure to him to lecture before a sympathetic -audience. He evaded her evasion and enquired of Miss Severn if he might -include her among the sympathetic members of his audience, and Miss -Severn declared that she had learned more in ten minutes from him -respecting the literary value of certain Scotch words than she had -acquired by reading the two novels in the Scotch tongue which she had -mastered in the previous four years of her life, and she hoped Mr. -Richmond considered the attendance satisfactory. He assured her that -sanguine though he had been as to the number of persons anxious to write -novels the attendance at the fiction class amazed him. - -“And many who were present to-day were actually attentive,” remarked -Josephine. - -“And one of the ladies defines Platonic Friendship as the reason why -Brutus killed Cæsar--I hold the document in my hand,” said the master. - -Both girls cried “How funny!” and smiled their way to the door, which -Mr. Richmond held open for them. - -On the way to Kensington Palace Gardens they agreed that the Khaki -frocks then so popular would not survive another season. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -Lady Severn had survived the measured mile. Sir Creighton was jubilant. -His daughter flew to him. How did the electric turbine work? What was -the coefficient of energy developed over the measured mile? Was forty -miles actually touched and what about the depression in the stern? Did -the boat steer all right on the progressive principle? Did the Admiral -grumble as usual? - -Her father gave her a detailed account of the strong points of the new -system of propulsion, which every one had recognised, and of the weak -points, which he alone had detected, and then she was able to drink her -tea, and so was Sir Creighton. - -Lady Severn said the lunch was excellent; only when travelling by water -at the rate of forty-two knots every one seemed inclined to eat at the -rate of fifty knots. - -After drinking a cup of tea Sir Creighton looked at the clock and -sighed. - -“The day is gone before one gets any work done,” he said. “I have not -been in my room since yesterday afternoon, Joe,” he added, looking at -Josephine as if hoping to find in her a sympathetic audience. - -“You’ll get no sympathy from me, Sir Creighton,” she laughed. “You -have done more to-day than all the men of your craft--I suppose that -a turbine boat may be called a craft--have succeeded in accomplishing -during the past hundred years--forty knots!--just think of it!--and yet -you complain of not being able to get anything done! Oh, no; you’ll get -no sympathy from me.” - -Sir Creighton went across the room to her and his scientific skill -enabled him to squeeze between his finger and thumb that part of her arm -where all the sensitive nerves meet. - -She shrieked. - -“I will force you to sympathise with me,” he said. “You have still -another arm. What! they are actually taking your part?” - -Sir Creighton had a pretty wit. It was most exuberant when he had -discovered a new torture founded on a purely scientific basis. That was -how he kept himself young. - -“Oh, by the way,” said Amber, when he was going once more towards the -door, “Guy has picked up with some one from New South Wales whose father -said he had once known you. His name is--now what on earth did he say -his name was?” - -“Wasn’t it Mr. Winwood?” said Josephine. - -“Of course. Pierce Winwood. Do you remember any man of that name--long -ago--it must have been long ago. He made a big fortune in the meantime?” - -“Winwood--Winwood? No, I don’t remember any one bearing that name,” said -Sir Creighton. “Better tell Guy to bring him out and I dare say he’ll -draw the threads together.” - -“I told Guy I was sure that you would like to have a chat with him--the -son, I mean; he said the father, who claimed to know you, was dead.” - -“There’s cause and effect for you,” said Sir Creighton. “Better ask him -to dinner with Guy--the son, I mean.” - -He spoke with his hand on the handle of the door, and then went -whistling down the corridor to his study which opened out upon the -garden of roses at the back of the house. The long table was covered -with scale drawings and the smell of the tracing paper filled the room. -Sir Creighton stood for a few moments looking down at those tracings -of the sections of wheels--wheels within wheels--and the profiles of -pinions. - -“What the Nightingale sang to the Rose,” said the man of science. “Pah, -what can any one say about the Nightingale and the Rose that has not -been said before?” - -He turned over several of the drawings critically, and counted the -leaves of one of the pinions. - -“He has made no allowance for end-shake,” he muttered. “A sixteenth on -each pivot. Was it in the Garden of Gulistan? I rather think not. An -English rose-garden--why not within the four-mile radius?” - -He stood at the glass door leading out to his own garden, and remained -there for some minutes looking out upon the great clusters of mixed -blooms. Then he turned to one of the desks and unlocking one of the -drawers and, drawing it out some way, slipped his hand inside, relieving -the spring of a secret compartment that seemed to be a fixture. He drew -out a sheaf of papers, covered with verses with many erasures and those -countless corrections which commonly occur in the manuscripts of -poets who are not only inspired but who add to the original impulse of -inspiration a fastidiousness of phrase quite unknown to the older poets. - -The topmost leaf of the sheaf contained a stanza and a half of a poem in -an original metre describing how a nightingale came nightly to visit a -certain rose, but the rose being only a bud, failed to understand what -was the meaning of the music, until on the evening of a burning day, -when the Star of Love shed the only light that came from the sky through -the heavy scented air that hovered on the rose-garden, “The faithful -nightingale sang this song: “.... - -That was where the manuscript ended. There was space enough on the paper -for two more stanzas. All that was needed was to put into words the song -that the nightingale sang to stir the rosebud into the bloom of passion. - -That was the reflection of the man of science as he read the ambitious -prelude which he had written the previous day just when the leader -writers on all the newspapers in England were pointing out how the -adaptation of electricity to the turbine boat marked the most important -epoch in the history of marine engineering. - -“That’s all I have got to do,” he muttered now, when the cables were -carrying to all parts of the world the news that Sir Creighton Severn’s -electric turbine had just been tested over the measured mile with the -most surprising results, a record speed of forty-two knots having been -noted. “Only the song of the nightingale,” said the man of science, -seating himself at the desk with the unfinished poem in front of him. - -He wrote for two hours, completing the poem entitled “What the -Nightingale sang to the Rose,” which when published above the name -“_Alençon Hope_” in a magazine three months later was so widely -commented on, some critics going so far as to declare with that -confidence which is the chief part of the equipment of the critic, that -in all the recently published volume by the same author nothing more -exquisite could be found. - -It was Sir Creighton’s little fun to publish, unknown to any one in the -world, a volume of verse that had achieved a brilliant success in the -world and even in his own household where its apt lines were frequently -quoted both by Amber and her brother. That was how it came about that -Sir Creighton smiled quite vaguely when people remarked how strange it -was that young Severn had shown an early taste for writing verse. Who -was it that he took after, they enquired. They felt that the exigencies -of the theory of heredity were fully satisfied when Lady Severn -explained that there was a tradition in her family that her father had -once sent a valentine to her mother. Still it was funny, they said, to -find the son of a father who was a practical “scientist”--that was what -they called Sir Creighton: a “scientist”--having a tendency to write -verse. - -Sir Creighton, when he had finished writhing at the word “scientist,” - smiled quite vaguely; for no one seemed to entertain the idea that the -inspiration which had enabled the man of science to look into the future -and see ships moving silently over the water at a speed of forty-two -knots an hour was precisely the same quality which permitted of -his translating into English metre the passionate song sung by the -Nightingale to the Rose. - -No one knew how refreshed he felt on returning to his electrical designs -after spending an hour or two over those exquisite fabrics of verse -which appeared in the volume by “Alençon Hope” Rhythm and arithmetic -seem to many people to be the positive and negative poles of a magnet, -but both mean the same thing in the language from which they are -derived. - -“Poor old pater!” said Amber when the girls were left alone with Lady -Severn. “He is back again at one of those problems which he has set -himself to solve for the good of the world. Poor old pater!” - -“Old!” cried Josephine. “I never met any one so young in the whole -course of my life. In his presence I feel quite mature.” - -“The greatest problem that he has solved is the science of living,” said -Lady Severn. “If he has not discovered the secret of perpetual youth, he -has mastered the more important mystery of perpetual happiness.” - -“He knows that it is best seen through another’s eye,” said Josephine. - -At this point a young man with a very shiny hat in his hand was shown -in. He was greeted by Amber by the name of Arthur and by the others -as Mr. Galmyn. He was a somewhat low-sized youth with very fair hair -breaking into curls here and there that suggested the crests of a wave -blown by the wind. It was not his curls, however, but his eyes that -attracted the attention of most people; for his eyes were large and -delicately blue. Sentimentalists who sat opposite him in an omnibus--an -omnibus is full of sentimental people, six on each side--were accustomed -to see a certain depth of sadness in Arthur Galmyn’s eyes. He would have -felt greatly disappointed if they had failed to think them sad. He had -long ago formed a definite opinion about their expression. They had -caused him a great deal of thought and some trouble in his time, but he -had long ago come to feel every confidence in their sadness. It was his -aim to see that his life was congenially tinged with a mild melancholy. - -He quoted from “The Lotus Eaters” and tried to realise a life “in which -it always seemed afternoon.” - -He took tea punctually at five. - -“If you please,” he said. “I know that the tea leaves are never allowed -to remain in your tea-pot. I have no disquieting recollection of your -tea-pot, Amber. And a cake--one of the hot ones, Miss West. They have no -currants. I know that I shall never run the chance of coming in personal -contact with a currant, change you your cakes never so often. I found -myself confronted with a currant without a moment’s warning a few days -ago at Lady March’s. I was saddened. And I thought I knew her tea-cakes -so well. I felt for some days as if I had heard of a dear friend’s -committing a forgery--as if I had come across you suddenly in the Park -wearing mauve, instead of pink, Amber.” - -“It does tinge one’s life with melancholy. Have you made any money -to-day?” said Amber in one breath. - -He drank his cup of tea and bit off a segment from the circle of the tea -cake, then he looked earnestly at the tips of his fingers. Two of them -were shiny. - -“I’ve not done badly,” he said. “I made about eight pounds. It doesn’t -seem much, does it? But that eight pounds is on the right side of the -ledger, and that’s something.” - -“It’s excellent,” said Lady Severn. - -“I consider it most praiseworthy if you made it by fair dealing,” said -Josephine. - -“Oh, Joe, don’t discourage him so early in his career,” cried Amber. - -Arthur Galmyn finished the tea in his cup and laid it thoughtfully -before Amber to be refilled. - -“It’s quite delicious,” he said. “Quite delicious. I wonder if anything -is quite fair in the way of making money--except the tables at Monte -Carlo: there’s no cheating done there.” - -“That’s what I wonder too,” said Josephine. - -“Anyway I’ve only made eight pounds to-day--there’s not much cheating in -eight pounds, is there, Miss West?” said Mr. Galmyn. - -“Everything must have a beginning,” said Miss West. - -“Don’t be discouraged, Arthur,” said Amber. “If you only continue on -this system I’ve laid down for you you’ll make plenty of money, and -what’s better still you will become reformed.” - -“I’ve given up poetry already,” said he, in the sad tone that one adopts -in speaking of one’s pleasant vices which one is obliged to relinquish -through the tyranny of years. - -“That’s a step in the right direction,” said Amber. “Oh, I’ve no doubt -as to your future, Arthur. But you must study hard--oh, yes, you must -study hard.” - -“So I do: I can tell you the closing price of all Home Rails to-day -without referring to a list.” - -“Really? Well, you are progressing. What about Industrials?” said Amber. - -“I’m leaving over Industrials for another week,” he replied. “I’ve given -all my attention to Home Rails during the past fortnight. I dare say -if I don’t break down under the strain I shall go through a course of -Industrials inside another week, and then go on to Kaffirs.” - -“It’s at Industrials that the money is to be made, you must remember,” - said Amber. “Let me enforce upon you once more the non-speculative -business--don’t think of _coups_. Aim only at a half per cent, of a -rise, and take advantage of even the smallest rise.” - -“That’s how I made my eight pounds to-day,” said he. “You see when -things were very flat in the morning there came the report of a great -British victory. I knew that it wasn’t true, but half a dozen things -went up ten shillings or so and I unloaded--unloaded. It’s so nice to -have those words pat; it makes you feel that you’re in the swim of -the thing. If I only knew what contango meant, I think I could make an -impressive use of that word also.” - -At this point another visitor was announced. His name was Mr. William -Bateman. He was a bright looking man of perhaps a year or two over -thirty, and though he was close upon six feet in height he probably -would have ridden under ten stone, so earnest was the attention that he -had given to his figure. - -He would not take any tea. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -We have been talking shop as usual, Mr. Bateman,” said Lady Severn. -“I wonder if there’s another drawing-room in London where shop and shop -only is talked!” - -“To say that shop is talked in a drawing-room is only another way -of saying that the people in that drawing-room never cease to be -interesting,” said Amber. “So long as people talk of what they know they -are interesting and shop is the shortest way of describing what people -understand. So how is your shop, Mr. Bateman?” - -“Flourishing,” said Mr. Bateman, with something of a Scotch accent. -“Miss Amber, I bless the day when you suggested that I should take up -the advertising business. I had no idea that it was a business that -required the exercise of so much imagination.” - -“Have you made much money to-day?” enquired Amber. - -“I think I must hurry away,” said Josephine. “We have a political party -to-night, and I’m tired of seeing Amber’s friends flaunting their wealth -before us. If Mr. Galmyn made eight pounds in the course of the morning -and he is a poet, what must Mr. Bateman have made?” - -“And he is a Scotchman,” said Mr. Bateman pleasantly. - -“Yes, that finish was in my mind I must confess,” said Josephine. “Do -not be led into dishonesty by any one, Mr. Galmyn; you will be far -happier as a humble lyric poet with the consciousness of being honest -than as a great financier with an imaginary mine up your sleeve.” - -“Go away, before you do any further mischief,” cried Amber. “Don’t -believe her, Arthur. If you ever have a gold mine up your sleeve, we’ll -float it between us.” - -“And we’ll let Miss West in on the ground floor,” said Arthur. “That’s -another good phrase that I’ve got hold of already. The ‘ground floor.’” - -“What does it mean?” asked Lady Severn, when Josephine had left the -room. “Does it mean anything in particular?” - -“It means joining a thing at par,” replied Arthur sadly. “Oh, yes! I’m -getting into the swing of the thing. Perhaps I may know what contango -means before another week has gone by.” - -“I should dearly like to know what contango means,” said Amber -sympathetically. It was her sympathetic manner that made a word or two -from her change the whole course of certain young lives--for a time. “I -was asking you about your prospects, Mr. Bateman,” she added, turning to -the latest addition to her circle. “I do hope that you are making your -way.” - -“Making my way?” said he gravely, and then he gave a little laugh--a -cautious little laugh, as of feeling his way to ascertain how far he -might safely go in the direction of hilarity. “Making my--oh, yes; I -can’t complain. I see a great future for my business if it is developed -on the right lines, and if too many adventurers do not take it up.” - -“It requires too much imagination to turn out a success in everybody’s -hands,” said Amber. - -“Imagination,” said he. “My dear Miss Amber, it requires nothing but -imagination. In these days advertising is the greatest power that -exists. It is, counting all its branches, the most important British -industry. There’s nothing that cannot be accomplished by discreet -advertising.” - -“You can sell a soap by it at any rate,” said Lady Severn. - -“Oh, soap selling and pill selling are too easy to need any of the more -delicate methods,” said Mr. Bateman. “Everybody--nearly everybody--wants -soap and no one can live without medicine--some people live on nothing -else. Of course I don’t trouble myself over the rough and tumble -advertising of drugs. As I told you last week I intend to proceed on a -higher plane. I leave posters and sandwich men and other antediluvian -methods for others. I am determined never to forget that I am an artist -and that I was once in a cavalry regiment.” - -“Have you struck out anything new since you told us of your scheme for -pushing things on by holding them up to ridicule?” asked Amber. - -“Oh, you allude to what I did for the Technical School of Literature. -You know, of course, that I only got that ridiculed into notice because -of the interest you took in it, Miss Amber. But I’ve undertaken to see a -young chap into Parliament by the same means. He is really such a -foolish young man I believe that nothing could keep him out of -Parliament in the long run; but he wants to get in at the next General -Election, so we haven’t much time to spare. I got him to make a -Vegetarian Speech a fortnight ago, and then I arranged with a number of -excellent newspapers to ridicule all that he had said. They are at it -to-day, all over the country.” - -“His name is Thornleigh and he said that no one could wear leather boots -and remain a Christian,” cried Amber. - -“There, you see,” said Mr. Bateman proudly. “He has already become known -to you--yes, and he shall be known to every man, woman and child -in England. The Vegetarians are taking him up and he’ll become more -ridiculous every day until his name is a by-word. You can’t keep a man -out of Parliament whose name is a by-word throughout the length and -breadth of the country. Then I’ve a young woman who simply wants to get -her name into the papers. It’s marvellous how universal this aspiration -is. Anyhow I think I can promise her a good move.” - -“She has only to kill a baby,” suggested Mr. Galmyn in a flash of -inspiration. - -“No more brilliant suggestion could be made,” said Mr. Bateman. “But it -does more credit to your heart than to you head, Galmyn, my friend. -If you sit down and give the matter that thoughtful consideration it -deserves, I think you will agree with me that the goal aimed at can be -reached by equally legitimate means and with less risk. I am going -to put up the young woman at the next meeting of the County Council’s -Licensing Committee to oppose the renewal of any singing and dancing -licenses whatsoever. That is the least expensive and most effective way -of pushing forward a nonentity with aspirations. She will soon come to -be looked upon as an intelligent woman, and the newspapers will publish -her opinion upon the conduct of the recent campaign as well as upon the -management of children.” - -“You don’t think that you are too sanguine, Mr. Bateman,” suggested Lady -Severn. - -“I prefer to understate rather than exaggerate the possibilities of -such a step as I have suggested, Lady Severn,” said Mr. Bateman. “And -moreover I will do my best to prevent my client from writing a novel. -Writing a novel rather gives away the show. Then another client whom I -have just secured to-day is the mother of two very ordinary daughters. -The mother is vulgar and wealthy, and the daughters wear birds in their -toques. They know no one in Society and yet before six months have gone -by you will find that no column of society gossip will be considered -complete that does not contain some reference to their movements, and -they will probably marry baronets--perhaps peers. I have also got on -my books a young American lady, who has set her heart on a peer, poor -thing!” - -“Poor thing? does that refer to the lady or to the peer?” asked Amber. - -“Possibly to both, Miss Amber. Anyhow I’m going to start the campaign by -denying on authority that any engagement exists between the young lady -and a still younger Duke. Now I need scarcely say that the desire to -know more about a young lady who is not engaged to marry a Duke is -practically universal. Well, I’ll take good care to let the public know -more about my client, and she may be engaged to marry the Duke after -all--perhaps she may even marry a member of the Stock Exchange itself. -But you mustn’t suppose that my clients are exclusively ladies.” - -“Ladies? ladies? oh, no, Mr. Bateman, I am sure we should never suppose -that they were ladies,” said Lady Severn. - -“They are not,” said Mr. Bateman. “Only a few days ago an honest but -obscure tradesman placed himself in my hands. The fact is that he has -laid in an absurdly large stock of High Church literature as well as -ornaments, and he cannot get rid of them. The stupid man has not acumen -enough to perceive that all he has got to do in order to get his name -into every paper in the Kingdom, with a portrait in the Weeklies and -a stereo-block in the Evening editions, is to disturb a Low Church -congregation, and insist on being prosecuted as a brawler. If he -succeeds in getting prosecuted into popularity he may double his already -large stock and yet be certain of getting rid of it all within a week of -his first appearance at the Police Court.” - -“You are certainly making an art of the business, Mr. Bateman,” said -Amber. “I had no idea when I suggested to you the possibilities of an -advertising agency that you would develop it to such an extent.” - -“Nor had I, Miss Amber. But I have really only reported progress to you -in a few of the cases I have now before me. I have said nothing about -the lady manicurist to whom I am giving a show by means of an action -for libel; nor have I told you of the tooth paste to which I am going to -give a start through the legitimate agency of a breach of promise -case. The falling out between the two litigants--whom I may mention -incidentally----” - -“Dentally,” suggested Mr. Galmyn in a low tone. - -“I beg your pardon. Oh, yes, of course. Well, dentally--to be sure, -it’s a tooth paste--yes, and incidentally, are the proprietors of the -article--their difference arose not upon the actual merits of the tooth -paste, for every love letter that will be read in court will contain a -handsome acknowledgment of the fact that the article is superior to any -in the market--no, the misunderstanding arose through--as the counsel -for the defence will allege--the lady’s head having been completely -turned by the compliments which she received from her friends upon the -marvellous change in her appearance since she was induced to use the -_Tivoli Toothicum_, the new preparation for the teeth and gums. Oh, -believe me, the ordinary system of advertising is obsolete. By the way, -I wonder if you know any one who is acquainted with a young Australian -lately come to London. His name is Mr. Winwood--Pierce Winwood.” - -“Why, Guy Overton was talking to us to-day about this very person,” said -Amber. “Is it possible that he has placed himself in your hands, Mr. -Bateman?” - -“Not yet--not yet. I only heard about him yesterday. I hope that he will -enter his name on my books. I am very anxious to get a good Colonial -_Clientele_. The way the chances of first-class Colonials have been -frittered away in this country makes the heart of any one with the true -feelings of an Imperialist to bleed. I know that I can do everything -for this Mr. Winwood, but, of course, though I can advertise others, I -cannot advertise myself--no, I can only trust to my friends to do that -for me.” - -“So that on the whole you have your hands pretty full just now?” said -Amber. - -“Pretty full? My dear Miss Amber, if I were engaged in no other branch -of my business but the complete prospectus list, I should still have my -hands full. I did not mention this list, by the way. Well, I think -it will place in my hands at once the largest prospectus addressing -business in the Kingdom. Good heavens! when one thinks of the thousands -upon thousands of pounds at present being squandered in promiscuous -prospectus posting, one is led to wonder if there is any real knowledge -of this business on the part of company promoters. At present they allow -their prospectuses to be thrown broadcast around; so that on an average -it may be said that nine-tenths of these documents fall into the hands -of intelligent--that is to say, moderately intelligent people who, of -course, see at once through the schemes. Now it is clear that to let -the prospectuses fall into the hands of intelligent people does positive -harm.” - -“Not if they decline to be drawn,” suggested Mr. Galmyn. - -“I am discussing the question from the standpoint of the promoters, you -forget, my dear Galmyn. It is plain that if the intelligent people who -see through the schemes talk to their friends about the flotations, -they will do the promoters’ position harm. Now, with the list which I -am compiling it will be impossible for a prospectus to go astray, for my -list will contain only the names of widows left with small means which -they are anxious to increase, orphans left without trustees, small -shopkeepers, governesses, half-pay officers, clerks and clergymen--in -short only such people as know nothing about business, and who -invariably skip all the small print in a prospectus, whereas, I need -scarcely say, the small print is the only part of a prospectus that an -intelligent person reads. The list that I am compiling is taking up a -great deal of time; but I will guarantee that it does not contain half -a dozen names of intelligent people. The only surprising thing is that -such a list was not compiled long ago. Oh, you must pardon my egotism; -I have bored you to a point of extinction, but I knew that you would be -interested in hearing of my progress. I can never forget that it was you -who told me that I should not waste my time but take up some enterprise -demanding the exercise of such talents as I possess. I hope should you -meet this Mr. Pierce Winwood, you will mention my name to him--casually, -of course--as casually as possible. Good-afternoon, Lady Severn. -Good-afternoon, Miss Amber. Are you coming my way, Galmyn--I can give -you a lift?” - -“No, I’m going in just the opposite direction,” said Mr. Galmyn. - -Then Mr. Bateman smiled his way to the door. “What a bounder!” murmured -the other man. “He has found congenial employment certainly,” said Lady -Severn. “Oh, Amber, Amber, your name is Frankenstein.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -Some days had actually passed before Amber Severn read the “time-study” - on the subject of Platonic Friendship which had been confided to her by -her friend Josephine. She read the quickly written and vaguely worded -treatise with alternate smiles and frowns, and the last words that it -contained called for a very becoming rose mantle of blushes. - -“It is so like Joe!” she muttered. “So very like Joe. And it’s all -wrong--all wrong!” - -She had thrown herself in her dressing-gown on the sofa in her -dressing-room hoping to have half an hour’s doze before dressing to -go out to dinner; and she had found the document in the pocket of the -luxurious garment of quilted satin and lace which suited her so well -that her maid had often lamented the fact that the _convenances_ of -modern English Society precluded her being seen within its folds by any -one except her mother and her maid. - -“It is so like Joe! And it is meant as a commentary upon my friendships. -But it is wrong--wrong!” This was her thought as she lay back upon the -sofa, until the pillows among which she had thrown herself surged up all -about her as though they were billows of the sea. - -And then, instead of going asleep, she began to review three or four -of the friendships which she had formed during the past few -years--friendships which might easily have degenerated into quite -another feeling, if they had not been built on a foundation very -different from that which Josephine West had assumed to be the basis of -friendship according to Plato. - -There was Arthur Galmyn for instance. He and she had become very -friendly when they had first met the year before. He had been at Oxford -with her brother and had won one of those pernicious prizes which are -offered for the best poem of the year--to be more exact, for the poem -which is most highly approved of by the adjudicating authorities of the -University. She quickly perceived that the effect of winning this -prize was, upon young Mr. Galmyn, most disquieting; for he had actually -settled down as a poet on the strength of winning it. - -Instead of saying, “I have written the poem which has met with the -approval of the most highly graduated pedants in the world, therefore -I am no poet,” he assumed that pedant was another word for prophet, and -that their judgment had conferred immortality upon him and perhaps even -upon themselves; for whenever his name came to be spoken in the awful -whisper which people employ in mentioning the name of a poet, the names -of the adjudicators of the prize would also be mentioned. - -He hoped to go through life writing poetry--not the poetry which appears -on a Christmas card or imprinted on the little ship which never loses -the curl that is originally gained by being enwound about the almond in -the after dinner cracker--not even the poetry which is sung, when wedded -to melody, by the light of a piano candle,--no; but that form of poetry -which is absolutely an unsalable commodity in the public market--unless -it was of that high quality which appeared over the signature of Alençon -Hope to which Amber had frequently called the inattention of her father. - -It was just when he was in this critical position that he came under -the influence of Amber Severn. They had become ostentatiously Platonic -friends. To be sure he had, after their second meeting, addressed to -her a sonnet written in exquisite accordance with the true Petrarchian -model, embodying a fervent hope in the last line of the sextett--the -two quatrains (each ending with a semicolon) had been mainly -descriptive--but she had explained to him that she would take a lenient -view of this action on his part, if he would promise to do his best to -resist in the future the inspiration which had forced him into it. - -He had promised her all that she asked; but he gave her to understand -that he did so only through fear of alienation from her. - - “I shrink from life from Amber alienate,” - -was the last line of the sonnet which he promptly composed after she -had lectured him; and then he had settled down into that graceful -philosophical friendship with her, which had sent him on the Stock -Exchange before three months had elapsed. - -It took three months to convince him that she was quite right in her -suggestion that instead of spending the best years of his life writing -poetry, having nothing to look forward to beyond the perpetual -struggle of trying to live within the four hundred pounds a year which -represented all his private means, he should endeavour to make a career -for himself in some direction where his undoubted gifts of imagination -would be appreciated--say the Stock Exchange. - -“My dear Arthur,” she had said, “what I fear most for you is the -possibility of your making a mercenary marriage. You know as well as I -do that it would be ridiculous for you to marry on your present income, -and I know your nature sufficiently well to be convinced that you -would never be happy so long as you felt that your wife’s fortune was -supporting you. Don’t you agree with me?” - -He thought that she took too narrow a view of the conditions under which -he could be happy; but he thought it better to nod his acquiescence in -the flattering estimate which she had formed of his nature. - -“I knew you would agree with me,” she said. “And that’s why I urge upon -you this step.” (The step she urged upon him was the Stock Exchange -Steps.) “You will have to study hard at first, and I believe that you -must begin by trusting nobody--especially avoiding every one who wants -to be your friend; but by this means you will eventually gain not only -a competence--not only complete independence, but such a Fortune as will -make you a Power in the world, and then--well, then you can marry any -one you please.” - -Although the poem which he considered the best that he had ever written -was one in praise of a young woman who had remained true to her love for -a poet without a penny, in the face of the opposition of her parents who -wished her to wed a very rich person in a good paying business, he said -he was sure that she was right, and he would give her his promise to buy -a twenty-five shilling silk hat the very next day: that being, as he -was informed, the first step necessary to be taken by any one with -aspirations after financial success. - -He had an idea that, after all, he had underrated the practical outlook -of the modern young woman. Could it be possible, he asked himself, that -after all the penniless poet who wrote on the Petrarchian model, was a -less attractive figure in the eyes of a girl--even of a girl who -could not be seen by any one without suggesting the thoughts of a -flower--perhaps a lily--than the man with a million invested in various -excellent securities? - -He feared that it was impossible for him to arrive at any other -conclusion than this one which was forced upon him; and the worst of the -matter was that he found that all his sympathies were on the side of the -modern young woman, although he would have died sooner than withdraw a -single line of the poem which he had written holding up to admiration -the young woman who refused to leave her penniless poet for the man of -millions. - -He bought a fine silk hat the next day, and forthwith wrote a series -of rondeaux bidding farewell to the Muse. He felt that such an act of -renunciation on his part demanded celebration on the analogy of the -Lenten Carnival. But when his days of riotous indulgence in all the -exotic forms of French verse had come to an end, he gave himself up to -a consideration of his bank book and found to his amazement that his -accumulations including a legacy of two thousand pounds which he had -received from the executors of his godmother, amounted to close upon -four thousand pounds. - -For over two years his account had been increasing, the trustees of the -estate of his father (deceased) having been in the habit of lodging the -quarterly payments of his income (less expenses) to his credit, and yet -he was receiving no penny of interest on all this money. - -He was innocent enough to ask the young man at the bank how it was that -no circular had been sent to him letting him know that his account was -overgrown. If it had been overdrawn he would have been informed of the -fact. - -The young man had only smiled and said that he was sure the matter -had been overlooked; for there was nothing that the bank found so -embarrassing as large balances bearing no interest. - -In the course of a few weeks he would have blushed to ask such a -question as he had put to the clerk. He began to study the methods of -finance for the first time and had almost mastered the art embodied in a -gold mine prospectus--it is the Petrarchian Sonnet of the money -market--before he had been a month at the work. By a rigid attention to -Amber’s precept of placing the most implicit distrust in every one -connected with finance, he had made a very good start for himself. - -His principle was an excellent one. He made several friends among those -disinterested financiers who give advice gratis as to what stocks to buy -and he had never failed to act contrary to the tips which they had given -him; so that when a few days later, they came to him with assumed long -faces and frank admissions of fallibility in the past but of promises -of certainty for the future, he had shown them that he was made of the -stuff that goes to the composition of a real financier by being in no -way put out; and disdaining to level a single reproach at them. - -“Distrust your best friend,” was the motto which he placed in a -conspicuous place on his mantelpiece, and by observing it he had made -some hundreds of pounds in the course of a few weeks. - -And then he made a stroke; for on hearing from a great authority on the -Stock Exchange that there was going to be no war in the Transvaal, and -that those rumours regarding strained relations between that State -and Great Britain were simply due to the fact that some members of the -Cabinet had given orders to their brokers to buy up for them all South -African Stock the moment that it fell to a certain figure--on hearing -this on so excellent an authority, Mr. Galmyn had felt so sure that -war was imminent that he did not hesitate for a moment in joining a -syndicate for the purchase of the full cinematograph rights in the -campaign. - -When the war became inevitable he sold out his shares at a profit of two -hundred per cent., and the next week he learned that the War Office had -prohibited all cinematographers from joining the troops ordered to South -Africa. - -He rubbed his hands and felt that he was a born financier. - -For some months after, he had been content, Amber knew, with very small -earnings, consequently his losses had been proportionately small; and -yet now, as she lay back upon her sofa she recalled with pride (she -fancied) that he had never written to her a single sonnet. He had never -once given expression to a sentiment that would bear to be construed -into a departure from the lines of that friendship which was the ideal -of Plato. - -And yet Josephine could write that “time-study” suggesting that such an -ideal was impracticable if not absolutely unattainable! - -She lost all patience with her friend. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -Before her maid came to her Amber had reflected also upon the cases -of Mr. Guy Overton and Mr. Willie Bateman, and the consciousness of the -fact that neither of these young men had tried (after the first attempt) -to make love to her was a source of the greatest gratification to her. -(To such a point of self-deception may the imagination of a young woman -born in an atmosphere of science lead her.) - -Guy Overton was a young man who was certainly in no need to try the -Stock Exchange as a means of livelihood. He was the only son of Richard -Over-ton, the once well-known Australian, who had been accidentally -killed when acting as his own Stevedore beside the hold of one of his -steamers. Guy had inherited from this excellent father a business which -he had speedily sold for a trifle over half a million, and a spirit of -thrift which was very unusual, people said, on the part of the idle -son of a self-made man--a self-made man is a man who has made himself -wealthy at the expense of others. - -It was a great disappointment to his many friends to find out, as they -did very soon after his father’s death, that young Mr. Overton was in -no way disposed to fling his money about in the light-hearted way -characteristic of the youth who becomes a prodigal by profession. He -could not see, he said, why he should buy spavined horses simply because -he was half a millionaire. Of course he knew it was an understood thing -that spavined horses were to be got rid of upon light-hearted aspiring -sons of fathers with humble beginnings in life; but he rather thought -that, for the present at least, he would try to pass his time apart from -the cheering companionship of the spavined horse. - -And then as regards the purchase of that couple of cases of choice -Manila cigars--the hemp yarn which entered largely into their -composition undoubtedly did come from Manila--he expressed the opinion -to the friend who had thoughtfully suggested the transaction, that, -until he felt more firmly on his feet in carrying out the rôle of the -complete prodigal he would struggle to repress his natural tendency to -smoke the sweepings of the rope walks of the Philippine Islands. - -In short young Mr. Overton was fortunate enough to obtain, not by -slow degrees, but in a single month after his father’s death, a sound -practical reputation for being a skinflint. - -It was his study to justify all that was said of him by his disappointed -friends in respect of the closeness of his pockets. - -He lived in chambers and kept no manservant. - -Why should he pay a hundred a year--sixty pounds in wages and, say, -forty in board and lodging--for having his trousers properly stretched, -he asked of those friends of his who were ready to recommend to him -several trustworthy menservants. He rather thought that it would pay him -better to buy a new pair of trousers every week. He knew a place where -you could buy a capital pair of trousers for thirteen and six. He jobbed -a horse. - -He couldn’t see why he should have a horse eating its head off in a -rack-rented stable necessitating the keeping of a groom at twenty-five -shillings a week, when he could hire a horse for all the riding that was -necessary for his health for five shillings the two hours. - -He knew of a good restaurant (Italian) in a back street where the -maximum charge for dinner was half a crown, and it was to this -establishment he invited his particular friends when the prodigal’s -desire to feast became irresistible, overwhelming his better nature -which lent him promptings towards frugality. - -He recommended the Chianti of this secluded dining-hall. It was a -good sound wine, with a distinct tendency towards body, and not wholly -without flavour--a flavour that one got accustomed to after a period of -probation. Only it was not well to eat olives with it. - -He was on the whole a pleasant, shrewd, unaffected man of twenty-eight, -when he was presented to Amber, and, on her acceptance of a pretty -little imitation Italian enamel from him, he yielded to her influence. - -She remembered with pleasure (she thought) that he had only upon one -occasion spoken of love in her presence. Her recollection was not at -fault. Only once had he hinted at certain aspirations on his part, -and then he and she had become good friends. He had submitted to her -influence sufficiently far to promise her that he would cease to live -a life of idle frugality. A course of practical literature was what -she prescribed for him and he at once joined the Technical School just -started by Mr. Owen Glen-dower Richmond. - -This was, she reflected, a great triumph for Platonic friendship, and -yet Guy Overton was only at the other end of the room when Josephine had -written that paper of hers in dispraise of this very sentiment! - -Amber was inclined to be impatient in thinking of her friend’s scarcely -veiled sneers. And then she began to think if it might not be possible -that her friend had in her mind her own case--the case of Josephine -West and Ernest Clifton--rather than the cases of Amber Severn and Guy -Overton, Amber Severn and Arthur Galmyn, Amber Severn and--yes, it -was quite possible that the cynicism--if it was cynicism--in the “time -study” was prompted by the real feeling of the writer in regard to her -relations with Mr. Ernest Clifton. - -The reflection had its consolations; but Amber thought she loved her -friend Josephine too dearly to be consoled at her expense. Though she -herself was, she fancied, perfectly happy in experimentalising, so to -speak, in the science of friendship she was too wise to assume that her -friend would be equally well satisfied to attain such results as she, -Amber, had achieved. - -She was led to ask herself if it was possible that Josephine was -actually in love with Mr. Ernest Clifton. - -And then she went on to ask herself if it was possible that Mr. Ernest -Clifton was in love with Josephine West. - -Without coming to a conclusion in her consideration of either question, -she knew that if Josephine really loved that particular man, her views -on the subject of Platonic friendship might be pretty much as she had -defined them--precipitating the acid of cynicism at present held in -solution in the series of phrases written down on the paper. - -Amber had now and again suspected that between Josephine and Mr. Clifton -there existed a stronger feeling than that of mere friendship. But -Josephine had said no word to her on this subject, and certainly none -of their common friends had said anything that tended to strengthen -her suspicions. Still the announcement of the engagement of some of her -acquaintance had invariably come upon her with surprise, a fact which -proved to her--for she was thoroughly logical and always ready to draw -faithful deductions even to her own disadvantage--that she had not -observed with any great care the phenomena of love in the embryotic -state and its gradual growth towards the idiotic state. Things had been -going on under her very eyes without her perceiving them, in regard -to other young men and maidens, so that it was quite possible that -Josephine had come, without Amber’s knowing anything of the matter, to -entertain a feeling of tenderness for Ernest Clifton, and had written in -that spirit of cynical raillery on the subject of Platonic friendship. -Of course if this were so and if at the same time Ernest Clifton had -given her no sign that he was affected towards her in the same way, that -circumstance would not of itself be sufficient (Amber knew) to prevent -Josephine’s taking a cynical view of the question that had formed the -subject of the “time study” at the Technical School. - -* * * * * - -It was at this point in her consideration of the whole question that -her maid opened the door gently and began to make preparations for her -toilet. Her father had not yet perfected his machinery to discharge the -offices of a maid. Where was the electrical device that would lace up a -dress behind? - -“I shall keep my eyes upon Joe and Mr. Clifton this evening, and perhaps -I shall learn something,” was the thought of Amber, while her hair was -being teased into the bewitching simplicity of form which gave her a -distinction of her own at a period when some artificiality was making -itself apparent in the disposal of the hair. (It took a great deal more -time to achieve Amber’s simplicity than it did to work out the elaborate -devices of the young women who had studied the fashion plate for the -month.) - -In less than an hour she was driving with her mother to Ranelagh where -they were to dine with one Mr. Shirley, a member of Parliament who was -known to have aspirations after a place in the Government and who was -fully qualified to aspire, being a bachelor. Amber knew that Josephine -would be of the party, and she was nearly sure that Mr. Clifton would -also be present. When people talked of Mr. Clifton they invariably -alluded to him as a long-headed fellow. Some of the men went so far -as to say that he knew what he was about. Others said that he might be -looked on as the leading exponent of the jumping cat. - -Amber, however, knew nothing of his ability, that of all the -acquaintance which Josephine and she had in common, Mr. Clifton was the -man of whom Josephine spoke most seldom. It was on this account she had -a suspicion that he might be held in some manner responsibly accountable -for the tone of Josephine’s “time study.” - -The lawn at Ranelagh was crowded on this particular Sunday, for the June -gloom that had prevailed during the three preceding days had vanished, -and the evening sunshine was making everything lovely. The general -opinion that prevailed was that the pretty way in which the guests of -the sun had dressed themselves to greet him made it worth his while, so -to speak, to shine, on the same principle that a host and hostess cannot -but be put into a smiling state of mind when their friends have arrived -to do them honour in their very best. - -The brilliant green of the lawn reflected the greatest credit, people -thought, upon the good taste of Nature in providing a background for all -the tints of all the fabrics that glowed upon it. And the consciousness -that their efforts to clothe themselves tastefully were reciprocated by -the sun and the summer was very gratifying to a considerable portion of -the crowd, who perhaps had their own reasons for thinking of themselves -as included in the general scheme of Nature. They could not imagine any -scheme of Nature independent enough to ignore a display of the shimmer -of satin or a flutter of muslin. - -And this was why Amber thought she had never seen together so many -well-satisfied faces as those among which she moved down the lawn to the -soft music of the band. And amongst all the well-satisfied faces not one -wore this expression more airily than the face of Guy Overton--yes, when -she appeared. The face of Mr. Randolph Shirley, in welcoming his guests, -also glowed with satisfaction--self-satisfaction. An aspiring politician -used long ago to be satisfied when he got his foot on the first rung -of the ladder; but the lift system has long ago superseded the outside -ladder. A politician of to-day has no idea of climbing up rung by -rung, he expects to enter the lift in the lobby and taking a seat among -cushions, to be rumbled up to the top floor by pulling a rope. - -The correct working of this system is altogether dependent upon one’s -knowledge of the right rope to pull; but Mr. Shirley was beginning to -know the ropes; so he was pleased to welcome Miss West, the daughter -of an under secretary who was almost certain of a chief secretaryship -before the end of the year. - -It was while Mr. Shirley was welcoming Miss West and her mother that Guy -Overton brought up to Amber a man with a very brown face, saying: - -“I want to present to you my friend Pierce Winwood, whom I was speaking -of a while ago--the cornstalk, you know.” - -“I know. I shall be delighted,” said Amber. - -He brought the man forward; he looked about the same age as Guy himself, -and Amber expressed to his face something of the delight which she felt -to meet him. He was not quite so fluent when he opened his lips: as a -matter of fact he seemed to be shy almost to a point of embarrassment, -and to find that the act of changing his stick from one hand to the -other and then treating it as a pendulum not only failed to relieve his -embarrassment, but was actually a source of embarrassment to people on -each side of him. - -Amber wondered if it might not be possible for her to add this young man -to her already long list of those whom she was influencing for their own -good, through the medium of a colourless friendship. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -I am so glad to meet you, Mr. Winwood,” she said. “Mr. Overton -mentioned that he thought your father was acquainted with mine long -ago.” - -“I was under that impression--in fact, I am nearly sure--however----” - -Amber gave him a chance of finishing his sentence; but he did not take -advantage of her offer. - -“You think that it is possible he may have made a mistake?” she said. - -He did not answer immediately. He followed with his eyes the irritating -sweep of his Malacca cane. - -“I should like you to ask Sir Creighton if he has any recollection of my -father before I make any further claims,” he said, suddenly looking at -her straight in the face. - -“I have already done so,” said Amber. - -He was so startled that he coloured beneath the brown surface of his -skin. The effect was a picturesque one. - -“And he said that he remembered--that----” - -“He said that we should ask you to dinner.” - -“Then that’s all right,” put in Guy Overton, for he could not but notice -the expression of disappointment on the face of the Australian. And when -he noticed that expression, of course Amber noticed it. - -“We hope that you will come and dine with us, Mr. Winwood,” she said. - -“That is how things begin--and end, in England, I think,” cried Winwood -with a laugh that had a note of contempt in its ring. “A dinner is -supposed to do duty for welcome as well as for _congé_. I am always -wondering which of the two every invitation that I get is meant to be--a -welcome or the other. I knew a man who used to say that an invitation to -dinner in England is the height of inhospitality.” - -“I say, that’s a bit of freehand drawing, isn’t it?” said Guy. “You seem -to have left your manners in the unclaimed luggage department, Winwood. -Besides--well, I give a little dinner to my friends now and again--yes, -in the Frangipanni: the only place where you get the real macaroni in -London. Their Chianti is really not half bad, when you get----” - -“I understand exactly what Mr. Winwood means, and I quite agree with -him: a dinner is the most cordial form of inhospitality,” said Amber. -“But if----” - -“I really must ask your pardon, Miss Severn,” interposed Winwood. “I did -not mean quite that----” - -“You meant that you gathered from what I said that my father had no -recollection of yours.” - -“Exactly.” - -“Then you were--not quite right. My father said he was sure -that--that--yes, that you were certain to be able to convince him that -he knew your father.” - -“Ah!” - -“I shall ask my mother to send you a card for--but I suppose you are -like the rest of us: you need at least a month’s notice?” - -“I only need a day’s notice, Miss Severn.” - -“You shall have a week at the least.” - -“And you can get up your affidavits in the meantime,” suggested Mr. -Overton. - -“I think I shall convince Sir Creighton of my identity without the -adventitious aid of affidavits,” said Winwood. - -“My solicitor--an excellent chap, and so cheap!--says that it is only -people who know nothing about the law courts who say that there is no -other form of perjury except an affidavit. He once knew a man who made -an affidavit that turned out to be true, though no one believed it at -the time.” - -It was at this point that Mr. Shirley came up and took away Winwood to -present him to Miss West, explaining that he had arranged his table so -that he was to sit next to Miss West. - -“I hope that he is putting me beside you,” said Mr. Overton with a look -of longing that is not strictly according to Plato. He now and again -made these lapses. They were very irritating to Amber (she thought). - -But his hope in regard to the regulation of the table was not destined -to be realised for Mr. Shirley brought up to her a young man who was the -son of a marquis and a member of the Cabinet as well--Mr. Shirley knew -how to choose his guests and how to place them so well. - -“I have asked Lord Lullworth to sit beside you, Miss Severn,” he said, -and immediately went off to welcome the last two of his guests who were -coming down the lawn. - -So that it was to a certain Miss Craythorpe--she was the daughter of the -under secretary of the annexation department (Mr. Shirley had reduced -the disposal of his guests to an exact science)--that Guy had an -opportunity of the remarkable chance offered to him the day before--the -chance of backing at a theatre a comedy by a dramatist who had made -fourteen consecutive failures at London theatres alone. But although the -agent of the actor manager who had just acquired for a considerable sum -of money the rights of the new comedy had pointed out to him that it -was almost sure to be a success, the fact being that it was beyond the -bounds of possibility for any dramatist to make fifteen consecutive -failures, he had decided to decline the offer. - -“I prefer to spend my money myself,” this possible patron of art -explained to the young woman as soon as he had settled down in his chair -beside her. - -Miss Craythorpe thought him very amusing and even went the length -of saying so: she had been told that Mr. Overton had at least half a -million of a fortune. She had also heard it mentioned casually that he -was not given to spending his money. This information was stimulating. - -And all the time that Amber Severn was pretending to give all attention -to the description of the polo match of the day before which was given -to her by the young man next to her, she was looking across the table at -Ernest Clifton wondering if he was wishing that, instead of being by the -side of Josephine’s mother, he were by the side of Josephine herself. -She also looked down the table to where Josephine was sitting and -wondered if she was wishing that she were by the side of Ernest Clifton -instead of that rather abrupt Mr. Pierce Winwood. - -She was of the opinion, being something of a philosopher with more than -the average philosopher’s experience, that society is usually made up of -people who are evermore longing to be by the side of other people; and -that what is meant by good manners is trying to appear content with the -people who have been placed beside you. - -Josephine certainly had good manners; she seemed to be more than -content with Mr. Winwood. She seemed actually to be interested in his -conversation--nay absorbed; and as for Ernest Clifton--well, Amber knew -enough of men and women to be well aware of the fact that if Ernest -Clifton was full of longing to be by the side of Josephine his first -impulse would be to make himself as agreeable as possible to Josephine’s -mother. - -And this was just what Ernest Clifton was doing. He was one of those -clever people who are actually better pleased to have a chance of being -agreeable to the mother than to the daughter, knowing that the mother -may be captured by the art of being agreeable, whereas the daughter is -rarely influenced by this rarest of the arts. - -And then Amber, somewhat to her own surprise, ceased to give any -attention to the people at the other side of the table or at the other -end of the table, for she found herself constrained to give all her -attention to Lord Lullworth, and his polo. She found that he had at -his command a phraseology which without being highly scientific was -extremely picturesque, and besides that, he hated Mr. Cupar. Mr. Cupar -was the novelist who wrote with the shriek of a street preacher, and was -for one season widely discussed. - -A common enemy constitutes a bond of friendship far more enduring than -any other the wit of man, money, or woman, can devise; so that after -Lord Lullworth had pointed out to her some of the ridiculous -mistakes which Mr. Cupar had made with all the ostentation of a great -teacher--mistakes about horses that a child would never have fallen -into, and mistakes about the usages of society that no one who had ever -seen anything decent would ever fall into--she found herself more than -interested in Lord Lull-worth, and by no means felt inclined to share -Guy Overton’s regret that he, Guy Overton, had not been beside her. - -She began to wonder if it might not be possible to annex Lord Lullworth -for his own good as she had annexed Guy Overton, Arthur Galmyn, Willie -Bateman and a few others, with such profitable results--to them all. She -thought, after he had agreed with her on some points that were usually -regarded as contentious, that he was perhaps the nicest of all the men -in whom she had interested herself--for their own good. - -Before the glacial period of the dinner had arrived, they had become -friendly enough to quarrel. - -It was over the Technical School of Literature. She wondered if she -could induce him to join, and he assured her that she needn’t allow -the question to occupy her thoughts for a moment; for there wasn’t the -slightest chance of his joining so ridiculous a scheme. She replied -warmly on behalf of the system of imparting instruction on what -was undoubtedly one of the arts; and he said he did not believe in -machine-made literature. - -Of course she could not be expected to let this pass, and she asked him -if he did not believe in machine-made pictures, or machine-made statues. - -He told her that he did; and then laughed. She gave him to understand -that she was hurt by his declining to take her seriously; and she became -very frigid over her ice, an attitude which, he assured her, was -one that no girl anxious to do her best for her host would assume. A -right-minded girl approached her ice with geniality, thereby allowing -that particular delicacy to “earn its living”--that was the phrase which -he employed and Amber thought it so queer that she allowed herself to -glow once more and so to give the ices a chance--a second phrase which -originated with him when he heard her laugh. - -By the time the strawberries arrived she was surprised to find that -she was actually in the position of being under the influence of a -man instead of finding the man drawn under her influence. This was a -position to which she was not accustomed; therefore it had a certain -fascination of its own and by thinking of the fascination of the -position she was foolish enough to confound the man with the position -and to feel ready to acknowledge that the man was fascinating. - -The babble of the large dining-room almost overcame the soft melody of -the band playing on the terrace while the dinner was proceeding, but -when the soft hour of cigarettes had come, there seemed to be a general -feeling that the music was worthy of more attention than had yet been -given to it. A movement was made to the Terrace by Mr. Shirley’s party -and at first there was some talk of wraps. When, however, one got -opposite the door and felt the warm breath of the perfect evening upon -one’s face no suggestion that a wrap was needed was heard. - -There was a scent of roses and mignonette in the air, and now and again -at unaccountable intervals a whiff of the new made hay from the paddock. -The lawns were spread forth in the softest of twilights, and the trees -beyond looked very black, for the moonlight was too faint to show even -upon the edge of the bourgeoning June foliage. - -“I have got a table for our coffee,” said Mr. Shirley, “also some -chairs; try if you can pick up a few more, Lord Lullworth--and you, -Overton--get a couple of the easiest cane ones and we shall be all -right.” - -Thus it was that the sweet companionship of the dinner-table was broken -up. Mr. Shirley was too well accustomed to dinner-giving to fancy that -one invariably longs to retain in the twilight and among the scent of -roses the companion one has had at the dinner-table. And thus it was -that Mr. Ernest Clifton found that the only vacant chair was that beside -Josephine--it took him as much manoeuvring to accomplish this as would -have enabled him, if he had been a military commander, to convince the -War Office that he was the right man to conduct a campaign. - -And thus it was that Pierce Winwood found himself by the side of Amber, -while Lord Lullworth had fallen quite naturally into pony talk with a -young woman who, having been left pretty well off at her father’s death -the year before, had started life on her own account with a hunting -stable within easy reach of the Pytchley. - -And then the coffee came, with the sapphire gleam of green Chartreuse -here and there, and the topaz twinkle of a Benedictine, and the ruby -glow of cherry brandy. It was all very artistic. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -There was a different note in the chat on the terrace in the twilight -from that which had prevailed in the dining-room. In the dining-room -people had seemed to be trying to talk down the band, now they were -talking with it. The band was making a very sympathetic accompaniment to -their chat--nay, it even suggested something of a possible topic, for -it was playing the dreamy strains of the “Roses of Love” Valse. People -could not talk loud when that delicious thing was wafting its melody -round them--ensnaring their hearts with that delicate network of woven -sounds--breathing half hushed rapture at intervals and then glowing as -the June roses glow in a passion that is half a dream. - -“I suppose you have lovelier places than Ranelagh in Australia,” said -Amber as she leant back in her chair. Pierce Win wood was leaning -forward in his. - -“Oh, yes, I dare say there are lovelier places in Australia,” he -replied. “You see there’s a pretty fair amount of room in Australia for -places lovely and the opposite. But there’s no place out there that’s -just the same as this place here on such an evening as this. I used to -wonder long ago if I should ever see Ranelagh under such conditions as -these--distinguished men--there are some distinguished men here--and -beautiful women--music and moonlight and the scent of roses, and above -all, the consciousness that this is Home--Home--in Australia we think a -good deal about this England of ours. People in England have great -pride in thinking of Australia as their own, but their pride is nothing -compared to that of the Australians in thinking of England as their -Home.” - -“Of course we are all one,” said Amber. “But your father could scarcely -have told you about Ranelagh: it did not exist in its present form in -his day--that is to say--oh, you see that I am assuming that he was in -Australia for a good many years.” - -“I heard about Ranelagh first from a stock rider on one of my father’s -farms. He was one of the best chaps in the world. He showed me a prize -or two that he had won here in the old days,--his old days could not -have been more than five or six years ago. I had also a groom who used -to play polo here.” - -“And people talk about the days of romance being past!” said Amber. “I -dare say you could furnish our school--I wonder if Guy mentioned it to -you-----” - -“Oh, yes; he told me all about it.” - -“You could furnish the romance class with some capital plots to work -out, could you not?” - -“I dare say I could if I knew all the circumstances that led up to the -fragments that came under my notice. But I could not ask the stock rider -or the groom how they came to sell their horses and settle down to live -on thirty shillings a week in a colony. I could not even ask either of -them what was his real name.” - -“I suppose that almost every romance begins by a change of name?” - -He was silent for some moments. Then he threw away the end of the cigar -which he had been smoking and drank the few drops of liqueur which -remained in his glass. He drew his chair an inch or two closer to hers -saying in a low tone: - -“It was only a short time before I left the colony that I had brought -under my notice the elements of a curious romance. Would you care to -hear it?” - -“I should like very much. If it is unfinished it might make a good -exercise for Mr. Richmond to set for one of his classes at the -school--‘given the romance up to a certain point, required the -legitimate and artistic ending--that would be the problem.” - -“A capital notion, I think. I should like very much myself to know what -the legitimate ending should be. But I have noticed now and again that -Fate is inclined to laugh at any scheme devised by the most astute -of men. That is to say when we have in our possession what seems the -beginning of a real romance Fate steps in and brings about the most -disastrous ending to the story.” - -“That is nearly always what happens. It only proves that romance writers -know a great deal better than Fate how to weave the threads of a story -into a finished fabric.” - -“Ah! those ‘accursed shears’!... I wonder if... never mind, I will -tell you the romance as far as it came under my notice and you or your -literary adviser--or perhaps your father--but I don’t suppose that Sir -Creighton would trouble himself over a miniature romance.” - -“Oh, wouldn’t he just? He reads nearly every novel that comes -out--especially the French ones.” - -“Oh, then I need not hesitate to ask you to place before him the -fragment which I acquired in the colony less than a year ago.” - -“It will be a capital exercise for him--working out the close -artistically. The story begins in England, of course?” - -“Of course. Let me think how it does begin. Yes, it begins in -England--at a seaport town. There is a shipbuilding yard. The head of it -is, naturally, a close-fisted, consequently a wealthy man--one of -those men who from insignificant beginnings rise by their own force of -character to position of wealth and influence. He has a son and the son -has a friend. The son has acquired extravagant habits and his father -will not sanction them, nor will he pay his debts a second time, he -declares--he has already paid them once. When the relations between -the father and the son are in this way strained, the son’s friend is -suddenly taken sick, and after a week or two the doctors in attendance -think it their duty to tell him that he cannot possibly recover--that -they cannot promise him even a month’s life. The man--he must have been -a young man--resigns himself to his fate and his friend, the son of the -shipbuilder comes to bid him farewell. In doing so, he confesses that in -what he calls a moment of madness, he was induced to forge the name of -the firm on certain documents on which he raised money, but that -the discovery of the forgery cannot be avoided further than another -fortnight, and that will mean ruin to him. The dying man suggests--he is -actually magnanimous enough--idiotic enough--to suggest that he himself -should confess that he committed the crime. That will mean that his -friend will be exculpated and that he himself will go to the grave with -a lie on his lips and with the stigma of a crime on his memory.” - -“And the other man--he actually accepted the sacrifice? Impossible!” - -“It was not impossible. The impossibility comes in later on. You see, -Miss Severn, the scheme appears feasible enough. One man has only a day -or two to live, the other has the chance of redeeming the past and of -becoming a person of influence and importance in the world. Yes, I think -the scheme sounded well, especially as the real criminal solemnly -swore to amend his life. Well, the confession is made in due form; and -then,--here is where Fate sometimes becomes objectionable--then--the -dying man ceases to die. Whether it was that the doctors were duffers, -or that a more skilful man turned up I cannot say--but the man -recovered and was arrested on his own confession. The other man being a -kind-hearted fellow did his best to get his father to be merciful; but -he was not kind-hearted enough to take the place in the dock where his -friend stood a month later to receive the judge’s sentence for the crime -which he had taken on his own shoulders.” - -“You mean to say that he was base enough to see his friend sentenced for -the forgery which he had committed?” - -“That is what happened. And to show how Fate’s jests are never -half-hearted, but played out to the very end in the finest spirit of -comedy, it also happened that the man who was the real criminal not only -saw that his friend fulfilled his part of the compact which they had -made by suffering the penalty of his confession, but he himself was -determined to act up to his part in the compact, for he so rigidly kept -his promise to amend his life, that when his friend was released from -gaol where he had been confined for more than a year, he refused to see -him; the fellow had actually come to believe that he was innocent and -that the other had been properly convicted!” - -“That is a touch of nature, I think. And what happened then? Surely -Nemesis----” - -“Nemesis is one of the most useful properties of the man who weaves -romances; but sometimes Nature dispenses with Nemesis. And do you know, -Miss Severn, I really think that the introduction of Nemesis would spoil -this particular story. At any rate I know nothing about the part that -Nemesis played in this romance.” - -“What, you mean to say that you know no more of the story than what you -have told me?” - -“Don’t you think that the story is complete in itself?” - -“Not at all; it must have a sequel.” - -“Oh, everybody knows--your master of the _technique_ of romance weaving -will bear me out, I am sure--that the sequel to a romance is invariably -tame and quite unworthy of the first part. That is why I would rather -that Mr. Richmond--or your father tried his hand at the sequel than -I--yes, I would like very much to know what your father thinks the -sequel should be.” - -“But surely you know something more of the lives of the two men, Mr. -Winwood.” - -“Yes. I know that the man who suffered went out to Australia and married -there--as a matter of fact I got the story from him--it was among his -papers when he died; but I never found out what his real name was, and -his papers failed to reveal the name of the other man; they only said -that he had prospered in every undertaking to which he set his hand; -so that you see he was not so unscrupulous a man as one might be led to -suppose; he was most scrupulous in adhering to his part of the contract -which was, of course, to lead a new life. And this shows the danger that -lies in _ex-parte_ stories: if one only heard that the man had accepted -the sacrifice of his friend on his behalf, one would assume that he was -certainly without scruples; whereas you see, he was as a matter of fact -most careful to carry out the terms of his compact. I never heard his -name either.” - -There was a pause of considerable duration before Amber said: - -“The story is a curious one; but I don’t think I should do well to -submit it to Mr. Richmond with a view of making a class exercise out of -it.” - -“Well, perhaps... But I should like you to ask your father if he, ever -heard a similar story before. If he is so earnest a novel reader as you -say he is, the chances are that he has come across such a plot as this, -and so will be able to let us know what the artistic finish should be. -Here is Overton. I dare say when he has attended Mr. Richmond’s classes -for a year or two, he will be in a position to say at a moment’s notice -what the artistic conclusion to my story should be.” - -It was only when Guy Overton dropped obtrusively into the chair nearest -to her that Amber became aware of the fact that only three or four -members of Mr. Shirley’s party remained on the Terrace. Josephine was -still seated in one of the cane chairs and Ernest Clifton had come -beside her. Lord Lull-worth and another man were standing together a -little way off, still smoking. - -“Good gracious! Where are the others?” cried Amber. - -“They are taking a final stroll on the lawn,” said Guy. “Somebody -suggested that it was a bit chilly, and so to prevent the possibility of -catching cold they are walking about on the damp grass. You must have -been absorbed not to notice them going. Has Miss Severn caught you for -the Technical School, Pierce?” - -“Miss Severn is just thinking that I am a possible candidate for the -next vacant chair,” said Pierce. - -“A vacant chair? You don’t want another chair, do you?” said Guy. -“You’re not so important as the chap that was told by Lord Rothschild -or somebody to take two chairs if he was so big an Injin as he wanted to -make out.” - -Pierce laughed. The story was an old one even in the Australian colonies -and every one knows that the stories that have become threadbare in -England are shipped off to the colonies with the shape of hat that has -been called in and the opera mantle of the year before last. - -“I was thinking of the chair of Romance at the School of Literature,” - said he, “but I should be sorry to interfere with your prospects if you -have an eye on it also.” - -He rose as Lady Severn came up by the side of Mr. Shirley. - -Mr. Shirley expressed the hope that Miss Severn had not been bored. She -looked so absorbed in whatever tale of the bush Mr. Winwood had been -telling her that he felt sure she was being bored, he said. (The people -to whom Mr. Shirley was obliged to be polite were so numerous that he -felt quite a relaxation in being impolite--when he could be so with -impunity--now and again.) - -“I never was bored in my life, Mr. Shirley,” said Amber. “Bores are the -only people that are ever bored. When I hear a man complain that he has -been bored I know perfectly well that what he means is that he hasn’t -had all the chances he looked for of boring other people.” - -“I think we must look for our wraps,” said Lady Severn. - -“It’s quite time: they’re beginning to light the Chinese lanterns,” said -Guy. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -It was while the Australian was telling Amber the story which had -interested her so greatly that Ernest Clifton was listening to something -that Josephine had to say to him--something that caused him a good deal -of spare thought all the time he was driving to his rooms in St. James’s -Street, and even after he had settled himself in his chair with a small -tumbler half filled with Apollinaris on a table at his elbow. - -The words that she had spoken to him at that time of soft sounds and -lights and garden scents were not such as he had been accustomed to hear -from her; though he could not but acknowledge to himself--he now and -again acknowledged something to himself; never to any one else--that he -had noticed signs of readiness on her part to say those very words. It -had needed all his adroitness--and he had usually a pretty fair share at -his command--to prevent her from saying them long ago. - -“_I wonder if you know how great a strain it is upon me to adhere to the -compact which we made last year._” - -Those were the words that she had spoken in his ear when the Terrace had -become almost deserted, only Amber and Pierce Win wood remaining in the -seats they had occupied while drinking their coffee, and she had spoken -in so low a tone that, even with the band playing so soft and low as it -was, no word could be heard by any one passing their chairs. - -He had been slightly startled by her words--he thought now that he had -time to think over the matter, that perhaps he should have seemed when -in her presence to have been more startled than he actually was. But the -fact was that he had been so startled as to be unable to discriminate -exactly how startled he should seem. - -It required a trained intelligence such as his to appreciate so delicate -a train of thought as this. He felt that it would have been more -flattering to her if he had seemed more surprised when she had spoken. -It would have allowed her to feel that his confidence in her fidelity -was absolute and therefore--the logic was his--she would have felt -flattered. When a young woman has secretly promised eventually to marry, -and in the meantime to love, a certain man, and when in the cool of the -evening of a delightful day and a tranquillising dinner she confesses -to him that the keeping of the “meantime” clause in her compact subjects -her to a great strain, the man should of course seem greatly surprised. -If he were to seem otherwise, he would in effect be saying to the girl, -“I took it for granted that the strain upon you would be great.” - -He could not accuse himself of any deficiency of cleverness in his -attitude towards her after she had spoken that surprising sentence. He -knew that there was a proper amount of feeling in the way he breathed -a sibilant “H’sh--h’sh!” while turning wondering eyes upon her--their -expression of surprise being not without a certain element of pain. - -“H’sh--for heaven’s sake--my dearest! Oh, Josephine! But... ah, you -cannot mean that--that...” - -He reflected now that those jerked-out words--those unfinished sentences -could scarcely have been surpassed in effect. He hoped that she felt -that the hand which he had then laid upon hers, was trembling. He had -meant that it should tremble. And yet now when he came to think over it, -he was not quite sure that his hand should have trembled. It was just -possible that a girl after speaking as she had spoken, would have been -more impressed by a thoroughly firm hand touching hers--a hand whose -firmness would have given her confidence, compelling her to realise the -confidence which he had--well, in himself. - -(He was certainly a man of exquisite judgment in subtle shades of -expression.) - -She had, however, not withdrawn her hand for some seconds--several -seconds: the dusk had cast its friendly and fascinating shade over them: -the seeming incaution of his attitude was purely imaginary. No one could -see the direction taken by his hand or hers. - -“I tell you, it is the truth,” she had said, withdrawing her hand. “It -is a great strain that you have put upon me, Ernest. I sometimes feel -like a criminal--exactly like a criminal--in the presence of my father -and my mother.” - -“Ah, I thought that you saw with my eyes,” he said, and the pained -expression in his voice increased. “I thought that we agreed that it -would be madness--your father--he would never give his consent--you -yourself said so.” - -“I said so--I admit; but--please don’t think that I want to--to--break -it off--oh, no; I only mean to say that--that--well, I have said all -that I mean to say--it is a great strain upon me and I sometimes feel -very miserable about it. You can understand that it should be so, -Ernest.” - -“I can understand, dearest--heaven knows that I feel how----” - -“I don’t know how I ever came to agree to--to all that you put -upon me--I really don’t.” She had actually interrupted him with her -vehemence. It seemed as if she had not heard that he had begun to speak. - -And her eyes were turned, he could see, in the direction of Pierce -Winwood--the man who had sat beside her at dinner and who was now -sitting beside Amber Severn. - -“You agreed to my suggestion because--well, because you knew what you -still know--that is, that you loved a man whose hope it is to become -worthy of you, Josephine. I admit that I had no right to ask you to -listen to me--to hear me tell you that I loved you--when I had nothing -to offer you--nothing but years of waiting--years of struggle--years of -hope. And now... Josephine, do you wish to be released from your part -in the compact which we made a year ago?” - -“No, no; I do not wish to be released. What, can it be possible that you -have so misunderstood me--that you fancy I am the sort of woman who does -not know her own mind--her own heart from one day to another?” - -“I know that you are steadfastness itself--only--if I have placed you in -an equivocal position--if you feel that the years of waiting... what -I feel exactly, my dearest, is that it would be better for both of us to -separate now than for----” - -“You cannot understand much of my nature if you think for a moment that, -after giving you my promise, I would ask you to free me from all that -the giving of that promise entailed. But I was thinking that it might be -better for us to be frank.” - -“Have I ever kept anything from you?” - -“I mean that it might be better if you had gone to my father and told -him what were your hopes--your prospects--told him that I had given you -my promise, and that we meant that nothing should come between us.” - -“That would have separated us in a moment--you agreed with me.” - -“It might have prevented our meeting and corresponding; but if we were -sure of ourselves, would it have separated us in reality? The only -separation possible would be brought about by either of us loving some -one else; and that we know would be impossible.” - -“Dearest, that is the confession which comes from my heart -daily--hourly--giving me strength to annihilate time and space, so that -the years of our waiting seem no more than hours.” - -“Oh, I know my own heart, Ernest; and that is why I feel that what I say -is true: even though my father should refuse to listen to us, we should -still not be separated. In fact I really feel that there would not be so -great a barrier between us as there is now when we meet.” - -“I think I know how you feel,” he said; but he had not the smallest -notion of how she felt. Barrier? What barrier was she thinking of? He -had not the smallest notion of what was in her mind--or for that matter, -her heart. - -And it seemed that she knew this for she made an attempt to explain -herself. - -“I mean that the secret which we share together forms a barrier between -us--a sort of barrier. I feel every time that I see you, with my mother -sitting by not knowing the compact which we have made--every one else -too sitting by, having no idea that we are otherwise than free--I feel -that I am treating them badly--that I am mean--underhanded--deceitful.” - -“Ah, my Josephine... Do you fancy that any one suspects?--your friend, -Miss Severn?--she is clever--she has been saying something that has -frightened you?” - -“Oh, cannot you even see that it would be a positive relief if any one -was to suspect anything--if any one were to speak out?” - -“Good heavens! What a state of nervousness you must have allowed -yourself to fall into when you would feel ruin to be a relief to you.” - -“Ruin?” - -“Ruin, I say; because I know that in such a case I should have no chance -of getting your father’s consent--yes, and not only so: when he came to -learn the truth--to be made aware of my presumption he would turn his -party against me, and my career would be ruined. Do you think that I am -not capable of doing something in the world, Josephine, that you would -stand by and see my career ruined?” - -“I have every belief in your ability, only--I am not sure that a man -should think so much of his career--no, I don’t mean that--I only mean -that prudence and--and a career may be bought too dearly.” - -“Prudence--bought too dear?” - -“I wonder if, after all, I am so very different from other women in -thinking that love is more to be preferred than a career.” - -“Of course it is, my dearest; but--heavens above, Josephine, would you -do me the injustice to believe that I would ask you to make what all the -world would call an idiotic match--well, at least an imprudent match?” - -“Imprudence? Who is there that can say what is a prudent marriage or -what is an imprudent! If people love each other truly... psha! I have -actually fallen into the strain of that detestable person--the Other -Woman. I dare say that you are right and I am wrong. You see, you are -a man and can reason these things out--prudent marriages and so forth; -whereas I am only a woman--I cannot reason--I cannot even think--I can -only feel.” - -“Thank heaven for that, Josephine. Ah, believe me, I have looked at this -matter from every standpoint, and I long ago came to see that there was -nothing for it but to do as we are doing. Believe me, my dear girl, -if you were content to marry me to-morrow just as I am, I would not be -content to accept such a sacrifice on your part. And for heaven’s -sake, dearest, do not let any one suspect that there exists between -us this--this understanding. Ah, Josephine, you will agree with me in -thinking that prudence is everything.” - -“Everything?” - -“Everything--next, of course, to love. But above all, no one must be led -to have the least suspicion----” - -“Oh, have I not been prudence itself up to the present?” There was -a suspicion in her voice--a suspicion of scorn,--he remembered that -distinctly as he sat in his rooms recalling the whole scene an -hour after it had been enacted. With that note--that half tone of -scorn--their little chat ceased, for Guy Overton had come up and after -him Lady Severn and Mr. Shirley, so that all that remained for him to do -was to give a tender pressure with a look of courteous carelessness that -was meant to prevent the possibility of any one with eyes fancying that -there was tenderness in his pressure of Miss West’s fingers. - -And now he was asking himself the question: - -“_Who is the Other Man?_” - -Ernest Clifton had a pretty good working acquaintance with the motives -of men and women--not perhaps, quite so complete an acquaintance with -these motives as he fancied he had, but still a very fair knowledge; and -therefore he was asking himself that question: - -“_Who is the Other Man?_” - -He had had a good deal of trouble persuading Josephine during the -preceding autumn to agree to engage herself to marry him. It had -not been done in a minute. He had never before had such difficulty -persuading a girl to give him such a promise. She was what physicians -call “an obstinate case.” Hers was psychologically an obstinate case; -but she had yielded at last to his treatment, and had given him her -promise. - -He flattered himself that it was his own cleverness--his own cleverness -of argument--his own personality, for was not cleverness part of his -personality?--that had brought her to perceive that she would be doing -well to promise to marry him and at the same time to keep that promise -a secret from her own father and mother and all the world besides. He -remembered how he had impressed her by his story of his early struggles. -He had appealed to her imagination by telling her how humble his career -had been in its beginning--how, being the third son of a doctor in a -village in Warwickshire, he had been thrown on the world to shift for -himself when he was sixteen years of age--how he had, while working as -a reporter on the staff of a Birmingham newspaper, starved himself in -order to have money enough to pass University examinations and take a -degree and, later on, to get called to the Bar. He told her how he -had given up much of his time when practically behind the scenes at -Birmingham to the study of the political machinery of a great party, -with the result that he had worked himself into the position of the -Secretary of the Organisation, becoming a power in his political -party--a man with whom in critical times, the Head of the Cabinet had -conferred before venturing upon legislation that might have a tendency -to alienate a considerable proportion of his friends. - -And Josephine had listened to him, and had fully appreciated his -contention that for such a man as he hoped to become, the choice of a -wife was a matter of supreme importance. He had given her to understand -that his ideal woman was one to whom her husband would apply for counsel -when he needed it--one who would be her husband’s right hand in all -matters. He had seen enough, he said, to make him aware of the fact that -those men who were willing to relegate their wives to a purely domestic -position were the men who were themselves eventually relegated by their -party to a purely domestic position: they became the domestics of -their party mainly, he believed, because they had been foolish -enough--conceited enough, for there is no such fool as your conceited -politician--to fancy that nowadays--nay, that at any time in the history -of the country, the wife of the political leader should occupy a humbler -place than the political leader himself. - -He had prevailed upon her, first, by stimulating her interest in -himself, and secondly, by stimulating her ambition--he knew that she had -ambition--and she had agreed, but only after considerable difficulty on -his part, to accept his assurance that for some time at least, it would -be well for their engagement to remain a secret, even from her father -and mother. He had reason for knowing, he told her, that her -father was antagonistic to him, on account of his alleged -interference--“interference” was the word that Mr. West had freely -employed at the time--with the constituency which he represented at a -rather critical time. He knew, he said, that it would require time to -clear the recollection of this unhappy incident from her father’s -mind, so that to ask him for his consent to their engagement would be -hopeless. - -Well, she had, after great demur, consented to give him her promise, and -to preserve the matter a secret. - -And now he was sitting in his chair asking himself the question: - -“Who is the Other Man?” - -He was unable to answer the question; all that he could do was to keep -his eyes open. - -But as this was the normal state of his eyes he knew that he was not -subjecting them to any condition that threatened astygia. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -While Mr. Ernest Clifton was thinking over the question, the answer to -which he believed to be vital to his interests, Amber Severn was -hanging on the arm of her father as they strolled together about their -rose-garden under the cool stars of the summer night. She was keeping -the promise she had made to Pierce Winwood and was telling him the -story--it struck her as being curious--which Pierce Winwood had told to -her. - -It seemed too that she had not overestimated the element of the curious -which it contained, for before she had gone very far with it her father -who had been, when she begun the narrative, stooping down every now -and again to smell the roses as he moved from bed to bed, was standing -still, quite as engrossed in hearing the story from her as she had been -in hearing it from the Australian. - -When she came to the end, he put his hands in his pockets, and drew a -long breath, gazing, not at her face, but in an abstracted way, over -her head into the distance of the shrubbery. There was a silence of -considerable duration before he said,--and once again he seemed to draw -a long breath: - -“What did you say is the name of the man--the Australian--I was paying -so little attention to you, I regret to say, when you began your story, -I have actually forgotten it?” - -“Pierce Winwood,” replied Amber. “I mentioned the name to you a few days -ago when I told you that I had met him. You said you did not recollect -hearing it before, but I now see that you recall it.” - -“You are wrong, my dear; I do not recall anyone of that name,” said -her father. And then he turned away from her, looking up to the topmost -windows of the house, which were glowing one by one, as the servants -switched on the lights in turn, preparing the rooms for the night. - -Amber was a little struck at his way of taking the story. It appeared -to her that he must have heard it all before, for he had not given any -exclamation of surprise while she dwelt on some of the details that -seemed to her rather marvellous. His attitude on hearing it to its -close, was, she thought, that of a person whose distant memories have -been awakened. - -“What did he say was the name of the man--the man to whom the thing -happened?” he asked, after another and a longer pause. - -“He was unable to give me any name--either the name of the man who was -falsely imprisoned or the one who allowed himself to be saved by the -falsehood,” replied Amber. - -“Ah... I wonder if he is anxious to find out either of those names.” - -“He said nothing about that. He only told me the story because we had -been talking about the romance of the colonies,” said Amber. - -“Ah...” - -“But now that I come to think of the way he dwelt on some of the details -in the story he must take a more than ordinary amount of interest in the -people of that little drama--the story would make a very good play, I -think.” - -“That is just what I have been thinking--a very good play. You really -fancy that he took a personal interest in some of the details?” - -“Well, it did not seem so to me at the moment, I must confess; but as I -said just now, the more I think of it the more I feel... but perhaps I -exaggerate... I can only tell you what is my impression now.” - -“That is almost certain to be accurate, my dear. I am sure that you have -been led to believe that I heard the story before. Of course I heard it -before. What surprised me was becoming aware of the fact that I was not -alone in my acquaintance with the details of the story--the man who was -innocent suffering for the one who was guilty.” - -“The strangest part seems to me to be that of the guilty man being -content to see the innocent suffer. Is it possible that such a man could -exist?” - -“There are few men in existence possessing sufficient strength of mind -to stand silently by while some one else--their closest friend--is -suffering in their place.” - -“Strength of mind? Strength of--well, they may have strength of -mind,--but what about their hearts? Oh, such men could have no hearts.” - -“When men set out in life with a determination that their ambition shall -be realised they find that their best ally is that process of nature -known as atrophy, my dear: they get rid of their hearts to make way for -their ambition. At the same time you should remember that atrophy is -as much a process of nature as those other processes which we associate -with the action of the heart.” - -“Oh, yes; I acknowledge that; and our abhorrence of the man with the -atrophied heart is quite as natural as the process known as atrophy.” - -Sir Creighton laughed. - -“And you will be able to tell Mr. Winwood the names of the people--the -two men: the man with the heart and the man with the ambition?” - continued Amber. - -“I could tell him both names; but I am not certain that I should tell -him so much as one of them,” said her father. “At any rate, you are -going to ask him to dinner. By the way, who did you say sat with him at -the little feast to-night--you said he told you the story after dinner?” - -“Josephine sat beside him. I think mother mentioned it when we -returned,” said Amber. - -“Of course she did,” said her father. “I had forgotten for the moment. -And I suppose one may take it for granted that Josephine and he got on -all right?” - -“I’m sure they did. I hadn’t a chance of asking her. Oh, of course, they -got on all right; Joe isn’t the girl to let a stranger feel ‘heavy and -ill at ease,’ as the song says.” - -“That occurred to me. And the man--would he tell her the story too? Oh, -I don’t suppose that he would have the chance at the dinner table. He -isn’t in the position of the Ancient Mariner.” - -“I don’t suppose he would have told me if we hadn’t begun to talk -about Australian romances. He had a groom who used to play polo at -Ranelagh--and a stock rider too. Funny, isn’t it?” - -“Very funny. You came to the conclusion that he was a good sort of -chap?” - -“You mean Mr. Winwood? Oh, yes, he is very nice.” - -“I think you might ask Josephine to come on whatever night you invite -him. Make it a small party, Amber.” - -“I’ll make it as small as you please, if you want to talk to him -afterwards. Why should not I ask him to drop in to lunch? that will be -more informal, and besides, we really haven’t a spare evening for three -weeks to come.” - -“A capital idea! Yes, ask him to lunch. Only he may not have a spare -morning for as many weeks. Don’t forget Josephine: meantime we’ll go to -our beds and have a sleep or two. Who sat beside you at dinner?” - -“Lord Lullworth. A nice--no, he might be nice only that he’s pig-headed. -He ridiculed the school.” - -They had walked towards the house, and now they were standing together -at the foot of the flight of steps leading to the door by which they -meant to enter. - -“He ridiculed the school, did he? Well, your friend Willie Bateman will -tell us that he could not do more for the school than that. By the way, -did this Mr. Winwood bind you down to secrecy in regard to his story?” - -“On the contrary he asked me to tell it to you; but now that I come -to think of it he said he would rather that I didn’t tell it to Mr. -Richmond: you see I suggested before he told it to me that it would -serve--possibly--as an exercise for one of the classes.” - -“I think he was right. I would advise you to refrain from telling it -to Mr. Richmond or in fact to any one. I would even go the length of -refraining from telling it to Josephine.” - -“What! oh, he did not tell me to keep it such a secret as all that. Why -shouldn’t I tell it to Joe?” - -“Why should you tell it to her. It may concern this Mr. Winwood more -closely than you think. You remember what the knowing man says in one of -Angler’s comedies?--‘When any one tells me a story of what happened to a -friend of his, I know pretty well who that friend is.’” - -“You mean to say that it is--that it was----” - -“I mean to say nothing more, and I would advise you to follow my -example. Good-night, my dear. Don’t give too much of your thought to -the question of who Mr. Winwood’s friend is--or was. He told you he was -dead, didn’t he?” - -“Yes, he said that he was dead and that he didn’t even know what his -name was.” - -“Ah, well, I have the better of him there. Goodnight.” - -He kissed her, and she suffered herself to be kissed by him, but was too -far lost in thought to be able to return his valediction. - -She went to her dressing-room; but she heard her father go down the -corridor to his study before she had reached the first lobby. She could -not, however, hear the way he paced the floor of his study for some -minutes before throwing himself upon his sofa, or she might have come -to the conclusion that the story which she had repeated to him concerned -him much more closely than it did. - -But he was a scientific man and his methods of thought were scientific. - -“A coincidence--a coincidence!” he muttered. “Yes, one of those -coincidences that are carefully arranged for. He never would have told -her the story but for the fact of his hearing that I knew all about it. -It would have been a coincidence if he had told her the story without -knowing who she was.” - -He resumed his pacing of the room for some minutes longer, but then, -with an impatient word, he extinguished the lights. - -“Psha!” he said. “What does it amount to after all? Not much, only -I never thought it possible that all that old business would ever be -revived. I fancied that it was dead and buried long ago. It’s a pity--a -great pity. Yes, that’s what I think now. But...” - -He remained for a minute or two in the dark, but whatever his thoughts -were he did not utter them. He went silently upstairs to his room. - -***** - -When Amber saw Josephine a couple of days later and asked her to drop in -to lunch on the following Friday, Josephine said she would be delighted; -but when Amber mentioned immediately afterwards, that Pierce Winwood -would probably be the only stranger of the party she was rather -surprised to notice a little flush upon Josephine’s face followed by a -little drawing down of the corners of her mouth, and the airiest shadow -of a frown--perhaps a pout. - -“Did you say Friday?” Josephine asked in a tone that suggested a vocal -sequence to the tiny frown that might have been a pout. - -“Yes, I said Friday and you said you would come. Don’t try to make out -now that you misunderstood me,” cried Amber. - -“I’m not going to try. Only----” - -“Only what? Why should you dislike meeting Mr. Winwood? Did you expect -me to ask Guy Overton or Mr. Richmond--or was it Arthur you had set your -heart on? Didn’t you find Mr. Win-wood entertaining?” - -“Entertaining? Entertaining?” Josephine looked at her strangely for a -few moments and then gave a laugh. “Entertaining?” she said again. -“I really never gave a thought to the question as to whether he was -entertaining or the reverse. The men who entertain one are not always -the people one wants to meet again. I think that there’s hardly any one -so dull as the man who tries to be entertaining.” - -“Then what have you against Mr. Winwood?” asked Amber. - -“Did I say that I had somewhat against him?” cried Josephine quickly and -with quite unnecessary vehemence. “Now, don’t say that I suggested to -you that I disliked this Mr. Winwood. I was only--only surprised. Why -should you ask me to meet him again? There was no need for me ever -to meet him again. People come together at dinner or at a dance and -separate and--and--that’s all right. Why shouldn’t this Mr. Winwood be -allowed to drift away after this comfortable and accommodating manner?” - -Amber stared at her. Her face was almost flushed with the vehemence of -her words, and there was a strange sparkle in her eyes. Amber stared -at this inexplicable display of feeling. She wondered what on earth had -come over her friend Josephine, and had opened her mouth to say so, when -Josephine prevented her speaking. - -“Now, don’t say--what you’re going to say,” she cried, lifting up both -her hands in an exaggerated attitude of protest which, however, but -imperfectly concealed the increased flush upon her face. “Don’t say that -I’m an idiot, my beloved girl, because I happen to have--to have taken -an unaccountable dislike to your Mr. Winwood. I haven’t--I give you -my word I haven’t in reality--as a matter of fact I think that I could -almost like him, if I did not--that is to say, _if_ I did not--do the -other thing. There you are now.” - -“What’s the other thing?” asked Amber. - -“Good gracious! what’s the opposite to liking a man?” - -“Loving a man,” cried Amber. - -Josephine’s flush vanished. It was her turn to stare. She stared as a -cold search-light stares. - -Then she said coldly: - -“I dislike your Mr. Winwood--I--I--I wonder if I don’t actually hate -him. Yes, I feel that I must actually hate him or I shouldn’t be looking -forward to meeting him so eagerly as I do. That’s the truth for you, my -dear Amber--the truth--whatever that may mean.” - -“I wish you were not coming on Friday,” said Amber, after a long, -thoughtful and embarrassing pause. - -“So do I. But I swear to you that nothing shall prevent my lunching with -you on Friday,” cried Josephine. - -And then after a moment of gravity which Amber thought might be -simulated in a kind of spirit of parody of her own gravity, Josephine -burst out laughing and then hurried away. - -Amber felt completely puzzled by her attitude. She did not know what to -make of her flushing--of her frowning--of her pouting--least of all of -her outburst of laughter. - -She thought over what Josephine had said; but, of course, that was no -assistance to her. - -If one cannot arrive at any satisfactory interpretation of a girl’s -flushing and frowning and laughing one is not helped forward to any -appreciable extent by recalling her words. - -Amber wished with all her heart that her father had not suggested to her -the asking of Josephine to this confidential little lunch which he had -projected. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -If Josephine came with great reluctance to lunch with her dearest -friend because of her precipitate dislike to Mr. Winwood, she was of -course sufficiently a woman of the world to avoid betraying in any way -that might cause her friend to feel uncomfortable, her antipathy to -him--perhaps antipathy was too strong a word to _think_, Amber thought; -but she felt that if she did Josephine an injustice in letting so strong -a word come into her mind in this connection, the mystic manner--the -absurd and inexplicable contradictoriness of Josephine was alone -accountable for it. - -Amber felt a little nervous in observing the attitude of Mr. Winwood -in respect of Josephine. If he were to give any sign of returning -Josephine’s--well, not antipathy--uncongeniality would be a better word, -Amber felt that she should have just cause for annoyance. - -The result of her observation of him was to relieve her mind of its -burden of doubt. He looked more than pleased when he found himself face -to face with Miss West. - -And then it was that Amber first came to perceive that Pierce Winwood -was a very good-looking man. He had a frank way of standing in front of -one that somehow suggested a schoolboy thirsting for information from -his betters. - -“I thought that London was a place where one never found out the name of -one’s next door neighbour and never met the same person twice, but I am -glad to discover my mistake,” said he when Josephine had shaken hands -with him. - -And then Amber breathed freely. - -And Josephine treated him with positive cordiality--“_How amazingly well -a woman can conceal her real feelings_,” was Amber’s thought when she -noticed how pleasantly her friend smiled looking straight into Mr. -Winwood’s face while she said: - -“I think our life here quite delightful: we need only meet a second time -the people whom we like. In the country one is compelled to take the -goats with the sheep: one has no choice in the matter.” - -“A second time?” said he. “What about a third time? Is a third time -possible?” - -“Almost inevitable--if one passes the second time,” said Josephine. - -“You are building up my hopes,” he said, turning away from her. - -She was petting the Persian cat, Shagpat by name. - -And at this moment Sir Creighton entered the room and his daughter -noticed the quick scrutiny that he gave to the face of the younger -man. She also noticed the return of that nervous awkwardness which the -younger man had displayed on meeting her on the Sunday afternoon. It -never occurred to her that the man who called himself Pierce Winwood and -who said that his father had once known hers might be an impostor. - -Sir Creighton shook hands with him and said he was glad that he was able -to come. - -“There are so many things going on just now, are there not?” he said. -“And I suppose you are anxious to attend everything, Mr. Winwood.” - -“One must lunch somewhere,” said Amber. “Lunch is a sort of postscript -to one’s breakfast in London town,” said Sir Creighton. “I don’t suppose -that any one except we working men can get over breakfast before eleven. -What time does your father breakfast on the morning after a late sitting -of the House, Josephine?” - -“He is invariably the first one of the household to be in the breakfast -room,” said Josephine. - -“I find people in London the earliest to bed and the earliest to rise -of any I have ever known,” remarked Winwood. “I was led into Bohemia the -other evening. I found it the most orderly and certainly the earliest -of communities. The greater number of the revellers drank nothing but -Apollinaris and hurried off to catch suburban trains.” - -“I heard some one say the other day that the Underground Railway has -done more to advance the cause of temperance than all the lecturers in -the world,” said Lady Severn. - -“I am afraid that even the once potent magic-lantern must take a second -place as a reforming agent,” said Sir Creighton. - -“I believe that there is still one real Bohemian alive in London -to-day,” said Josephine. “He is one of the aborigines and he is as -carefully looked after as if he were a Maori or a Pitcairn Islander.” - -“He was pointed out to me,” said Winwood. “He is, I hear, the sole -survivor of a once dilapidated community. He forms an excellent example -to those who may fancy that there was anything fascinating in mediocrity -combined with potations.” And all this time Amber perceived that her -father was scrutinising the face of Pierce Winwood, but giving no -indication that he recalled in the face of the son any of the features -of the father, whom her father was supposed to know. - -The conversation which was being eked out until the meal should be -announced became too attenuated even to serve this purpose, but just at -the right moment the relief came; and of course when the little party -had settled down at the table topics were not wanting, and also as a -matter of course every topic had to be general: there was no possibility -of Sir Creighton and Winwood discussing between themselves any matter -that they might have to discuss. Amber, who gave herself up to observing -everything, came to the conclusion that on the whole her father was -favourably impressed by the personality of the Australian; but somehow -the latter did not succeed in inducing Josephine to talk as she usually -could talk. She was not so silent as to call for remark; but there -was at the table none of that “forced draught” conversation which Sir -Creighton usually found so stimulating. - -When the two men were left together, and had lighted cigars, the younger -did not wait for his host to lead up to the question of his identity. - -“I have been wondering, with some anxiety, Sir Creighton, if I have yet -suggested any person to your memory.” - -“I am a scientific man, and therefore not quite so liable as most -people to accept fancies on the same basis as real evidence,” said Sir -Creighton. “It would be impossible for me to say that your features -suggested to me those of any man with whom I was acquainted years -ago--how many years ago?” - -Winwood shook his head. - -“I cannot say how many years ago it was that you were acquainted with my -father,” he said. “I thought that perhaps--no one has ever suggested a -likeness between my father and myself, still I thought--well, one often -sees transmitted some personal trait--some mannerism that recalls an -individuality. That is a scientific truth, is it not, Sir Creighton?” - -“It is highly scientific,” said Sir Creighton with a laugh. “Yes, on -that basis, I admit that--once or twice, perhaps--a recollection seemed -to be awakened; but--what is in my mind at this moment, is the imitation -of well-known actors to which one is treated in unguarded moments by -popular entertainers. I dare say that you have noticed also that it is -only when the entertainer has announced the name of the well-known actor -whom he imitates that the imitation becomes plausible. Now, although I -occasionally boast of being influenced only by scientific methods, -still I fancy that if I knew the name of your father I should have -less difficulty recalling the man whose personalities--that is some of -them--a few--are echoed by you. I knew no one bearing the name Winwood.” - -“You ask me the question which I was in hopes you could answer, Sir -Creighton,” said Winwood. “I had no idea that the name by which my -father was known during the forty years or so that he lived in the -colony was an assumed one. I never found out what was his real one. To -say the truth, it is only recently that my curiosity on this point has -been aroused. In a young colony there is a good deal of uncertainty with -regard to names.” - -“I dare say. You told my daughter a curious and an almost incredible -story, however, and she repeated it to me,” said Sir Creighton. - -“You will not tell me that you never heard that story before,” cried the -younger man, half rising from his seat. “If you tell me so, I shall feel -uncommonly like an impostor.” - -“Oh, no; I heard all the details of that story long ago,” replied Sir -Creighton. “Only, as it was told to me I fail to see what bearing it has -upon your identity.” - -“The man who suffered in the place of his friend was my father, Sir -Creighton,” said Winwood. “Now you know the name of the original -actor of whose personality I have been giving you imitations--faint -imitations, I dare say.” - -“Yes, now I know; and I admit that I see the original much more -clearly,” said Sir Creighton laughing. But his listener was not -laughing. He was leaning his head on his hand, his elbow being on the -table, and seemed to be lost in thought. There was no elation in his -expression at Sir Creighton’s admission. - -Sir Creighton became equally grave in a moment. - -“It was the cruellest thing and the most heroic thing ever done in the -world,” said he in a low voice. “It was to me your father told the truth -about that confession of his, and he did so only on my promising in the -most solemn way that I would keep the matter a secret. I often wonder if -I was justified in adhering to my promise.” - -“When he told me the story he rather prided himself on his judgment in -selecting you as his confidant,” said Winwood. “Yes; he said that he -knew he could trust you to keep his secret.” - -“I don’t think that I would have kept it if he had entrusted it to me -before he had suffered his imprisonment,” said Sir Creighton. “He did -not do so, however, until his release and when he was on the point -of sailing for South America--it was for South America he sailed, not -Australia.” - -“He remained for nearly five years in Rio Janeiro,” said Winwood. “The -training which we received at the engineering works he was able to turn -to good account at Rio, and so far as I could gather he made enough -money to give him a start in Australia. He succeeded and I think he was -happy. It was not until he had reached his last year that he told me the -story.” - -“He did so without any bitterness in regard to the other man, I am -sure,” said Sir Creighton. - -“Without a single word of reproach,” said Win-wood. “He really felt glad -that the other man had prospered--he told me that he had prospered and -that he had reached a high position in the world.” - -“You see your father rightly thought of himself as having saved the man -from destruction; not merely from the disgrace which would have been the -direct result of his forgery being discovered, but from the contemptible -life which he was leading. I don’t know if your father told you that one -of the conditions of the strange compact between them was that he -would change his life; and for once the man fulfilled that part of his -compact. Your father saved him.” - -Winwood nodded in assent, while he still allowed his head to rest on his -hand, as if he were lost in thought. - -Suddenly he turned his eyes upon Sir Creighton, then drew his chair -closer to him, and leaning forward, said: - -“Sir Creighton, will you tell me what is the name of that man?” - -Sir Creighton was awaiting this question. He had been considering for -the previous two days what answer he should return to this question, -and yet he felt taken somewhat unawares for he did not expect that his -conversation with Winwood would lead to a view of his father’s act from -the standpoint from which it now seemed that he regarded it. - -“It appears to me that your father had his own reasons--very excellent -reasons too--for refraining from telling you either his own name or the -name of the man whom he saved from destruction,” he said. “I wonder if -I have any right to make you acquainted with what he withheld. What is -your opinion on this matter?” - -“I asked you to tell me the man’s name, Sir Creighton,” replied Winwood. - -“I have no doubt that you are intensely interested in the search for -his name,” said Sir Creighton. “But do you really think that I should -be justified in telling you what your father clearly meant to remain a -secret? Just at present I feel very strongly that I have no right to do -this. If any one would be happier for my telling you the man’s name I -dare say that I might, at least, be tempted to do so; but no one would -be the happier for it. On the contrary, you yourself would, I know, be -sorry that I told you the name of the man, and as for the man--as I am -acquainted with him to-day and have some respect for him----” - -“Some respect?” - -“Some respect--in fact, in spite of my knowing all that I do, a good -deal of respect--as, I repeat, I have no desire to make him unhappy, I -shall not tell you what is his name--I shall not tell him that the son -of the man whom he allowed to suffer for his crime, is alive and anxious -to know all about him.” - -“You mean that you will not tell me---just yet.” - -“That is exactly what is in my mind at this moment. I should have added -those words of yours ‘just yet,’ to what I said regarding both you--and -the man. I may think it due to you to tell you some day; and I may also -think it due to--the man to tell him. Meantime--not just yet--I hope you -are not unsatisfied, my boy?” - -Sir Creighton put out his hand with more than cordiality--absolute -tenderness, and the younger man took it, and was deeply affected. - -“I am satisfied--more than satisfied,” he said in a low voice. “I shall -try to be worthy of such a father as I had.” - -“You are worthy, my boy--I know it now,” said Sir Creighton. “You do not -shrink from self-sacrifice. I hoped to find that my old friend had such -a son as you. I may be able to do something for you--to help you in a -way that--that--oh, we need not lay plans for the future; it is -only such plans that are never realised. Now I think we can face the -drawing-room.” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -Josephine was saying good-bye to Lady Severn and Amber was doing -her best to induce her to stay. As the two men paused outside the -drawing-room door there was a _frou-frou_ of laughter within the -room--the rustle of the drapery of a flying jest at Amber’s insistence. - -“You will not go, please,” said Pierce when Amber appealed to him to -stand between the door and Josephine. “You cannot go just at the moment -of my return, especially as Miss Severn has promised to show me the -roses.” - -“The argument is irresistible,” said Josephine with a little shrug -following a moment of irresolution. “But that was not Amber’s argument, -I assure you.” - -“I merely said that I expected some of my friends to come to me to -report their progress,” said Amber. - -“That seems to me to be an irresistible reason for a hurried departure,” - said Sir Creighton. - -“Oh, I wouldn’t suggest that they were so interesting as that,” said -Josephine, with a laugh, a laugh that made one--some one--think of the -laughter of a brook among mossy stones. - -“Interesting enough to run away from?” said Pierce. “Well, any one -who is interesting enough for Miss West to run away from is certainly -interesting enough for an ordinary person to stay for--but for that -matter, I did not suggest that I was going away.” - -“You saved us the trouble of insisting on your staying--for some time, -at any rate,” said Lady Severn. - -“As long as you can after the arrival of the objects of interest,” said -Sir Creighton. - -“And now I think we may go among the roses without reproach,” said -Josephine. - -She led the way out to the terrace and then down the steps into the -garden, and was followed by Amber and Pierce, and for half an hour they -strolled about the rose beds, Amber being every minute more amazed at -the self-repression of Josephine in regard to Mr. Winwood. Although she -had frankly acknowledged that she had formed a dislike to Mr. Winwood, -she had not only come to lunch when she knew that he would be the only -other guest, but she had allowed herself to be easily persuaded to stay -on after the hour when without being thought impolite, she might have -gone away. - -And she was not even content with these tokens of self-abnegation, for -here she was after the lapse of half an hour, still conversing with -Mr. Winwood when really she had no need to remain for longer than ten -minutes in the garden! - -And she was actually pretending to take an interest in all that he was -saying, an interest so absorbing as to give Amber herself an impression -of being neglected. - -She had always felt that Josephine was indeed a true friend, but she had -never before had offered to her so impressive a series of tokens of -her friendship. The friendship that dissembles a rooted dislike for a -fellow-visitor is of sterling quality Amber felt; and with this feeling -there was joined one of admiration for the way in which her friend -played her part. - -Poor Mr. Winwood! He might really have believed from her manner that he -had favourably impressed Josephine. Once or twice Amber fancied that she -saw on his face a certain look that suggested that he was gratified at -his success in holding the attention of the fair dissembler by his side. - -Poor Mr. Winwood! - -Perhaps Josephine was carrying the thing too far--perhaps she was -over-emphasising her attitude of polite attention. It would, the -kind-hearted young woman felt, be a very melancholy thing if so good a -sort of man as this Mr. Winwood were led to fancy that--that--oh, well, -no doubt in the colonies young men were more simple-minded than those -at home--more susceptible to the charming manners of a beautiful girl, -being less aware of the frequency with which charming manners are -used--innocently perhaps--to cloak a girl’s real feelings. It would, she -felt, be truly sad if this man were to go away under the belief that he -was creating a lasting impression upon Josephine; whereas, all the -time, it was only her exquisite sense of what was due to her host and -hostess--it was only her delicate appreciation of what her friendship -for Amber herself demanded of her, that led her to simulate a certain -pleasure from associating with Mr. Winwood. - -The kind thoughtfulness of Miss Severn not merely for the present but -for the future comfort of at least one of her guests was causing her -some slight uneasiness. She became aware of the fact that her mother was -making a sign to her from one of the windows of the drawing-room that -opened upon the terrace walk. - -“Some of my visitors must have arrived already,” she cried. “Oh, yes, it -is Guy. You must not run away. He would feel that you were rude.” - -“And he would be right: he has his sensitive intervals,” said Winwood. -“We should not hurt his feelings.” - -“You will not run away at once?” said Amber tripping towards the house. -“Oh, thank you.” - -They showed no sign of having any great desire to run away. - -“I never felt less inclined to run away than I do just now,” said -Winwood, looking at the girl who remained by his side. - -“You are so fond of roses--you said so.” - -She was holding up to her face a handful of crimson petals that she had -picked off one of the beds. - -“Yes, I am fond of--of roses,” he said. “Somehow England and all things -that I like in England are associated in my mind with roses.” - -“It is the association of the East with the West,” said she. “The rose -that breathes its scent through every eastern love song is still an -English emblem; just as that typical Oriental animal, the cat, suggests -no more of its native jungle than is to be found in the Rectory Garden.” - -“And the turtle of the tropics does not send one’s thoughts straying to -Enoch Arden’s island and the coral lagoon but only to the Mansion House -and a city dinner.” - -She laughed. - -“I am sorry I mentioned the cat,” she said. “The first English rose I -ever saw was when we were in camp with Methuen at the Modder River,” he -said. - -He had taken her by surprise. “You went through the campaign?” she cried -and he saw a new interest shining in her eyes. “I did not hear that you -had been a soldier. You did not mention it when you sat beside me at -Ranelagh. You were one of the Australians?” - -“We were talking of roses,” said he. “It was out there I saw an English -rose at Christmas. It had been sent out to a trooper who had been at -Chelsea Barracks, by his sweetheart. Her brother was a gardener and the -rose had evidently been grown under glass to send out to him.” - -“There is one English love-story with the scent of the rose breathing -through it,” she cried. “‘My luv is like a redde redde rose’ is an -English song--the rose you speak of was red, of course.” - -“Yes,” he replied after a little pause; “it was red--red when I found -it--under his tunic.” - -She caught her breath with the sound of a little sob in her throat. - -“The pity of it! the pity of it! she had sent it out for his grave.” - -She put her face once again down to the crimson petals which remained -in her hands; and when she let them drop to the grass he saw that two of -them were clinging together. - -“That was the first time I saw an English rose,” he said, “and I have -never seen one since without thinking of what it symbolised. The love -that is stronger than death.” - -“Yes,” she said, “yes.” - -And, curiously enough, it seemed that that word was the most complete -commentary upon the little story that he had told to her in so few -sentences. It also seemed to suggest something of the nature of a -comment upon his last remark--a confidential comment. - -He nodded, repeating the word, but with a longer interval between the -repetition of it: - -“Yes--yes.” - -For a few moments they stood together in silence. The sound of voices--a -faint murmur--came from the open window of the drawing-room. The note of -a blackbird from Kensington Gardens thrilled through the air. - -As if under the influence of the one impulse, Josephine and her -companion walked once more down the garden--slowly--musingly--silently. -It was not until they had made a complete circuit of the rose beds and -had returned to the parterre where they had been standing, that he said: - -“Yes--yes: I know that I shall never see a rose again without thinking -that--that--I have been among the roses with you.” - -He noticed that she gave a little start--was it a shudder?--and -then glanced quickly towards him. She made a motion with one of her -hands--she drew a sudden breath and said quickly in a low tone: - -“Mr. Winwood--I think--that is--oh, let us go into the house. I never -wish to walk in a garden of roses again.” - -He knew that whatever she had meant to say when she drew that long -breath, she had not said it: she had broken down and uttered something -quite different from what had been on her mind--on her lips. - -Already she was half way to the terrace steps, and she had run up them -and was within the room before he moved. - -She was greeting some one in the room. How loud her laugh was! - -And yet he had thought half an hour before that he had never heard so -low a laugh as hers!--the laughter of a brook among mossy stones. - -But a spate had taken place. - -He went down once more to the end of the garden alone thinking his -thoughts. - -And when, five minutes later, he went slowly up the terrace steps he -found that Josephine had gone away. - -“She said good-bye to you before she left the garden, did she not?” - cried Amber, while he glanced round the room. - -“Oh, yes, she said good-bye,” he replied. - -And then he cried out, seeing Guy Overton on a stool: - -“Hullo, you here? Why, I thought that this was one of your school days.” - -Amber had never before heard him speak in so boisterous a tone. He -usually spoke in a low voice. - -And she had also noticed that Josephine had laughed much louder than was -her wont. - -But she was sure that Josephine had not been rude to him. Josephine was -not one of those horrid girls who cannot be clever without being rude. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -Guy has been telling me all about his great investment,” cried Amber. -“You never mentioned it to us, Mr. Winwood. But perhaps you didn’t hear -of it?” - -“You were the first one to whom I told it,” said Guy looking at her -sentimentally. His tone was syrupy with sentimentality. - -Pierce laughed quite boisterously. “What has he been doing?” he said. “I -certainly heard nothing of it. It hasn’t yet been put into the hands of -that Mr. Bateman, the advertiser whom I have been eluding for the past -fortnight. Have you bought the Duke’s racers or what?” - -“Not much,” said Guy. “I’ve got something more solid for my money.” - -“I’m not so sure of that,” said Pierce. “I saw one of the Duke’s racers -and in the matter of solidity--but what have you bought?” - -“The Gables--I’ve just bought The Gables. You must come down and see me, -Pierce, old chap--you really must.” - -He had the air of the old-fashioned proprietor--the owner of broad acres -and so forth. - -“I can see you quite well enough from where I stand--that is, when you -keep still. Don’t wriggle about, sonny, but tell me what are The Gables? -Whose gables have you been buying?” - -“What are The Gables? What are--oh, he has just come from Australia. He -has never heard of the historic mansion--see the agent’s catalogue--The -historic mansion known as The Gables. Why, don’t you know enough of the -history of your native land to be aware of the fact that it was at The -Gables that King Charles the First--or was it Henry the First?--signed -something or other.” - -“Magna Charta?” suggested Pierce blandly. - -“No, not Magna Charta,” said Guy with the natural irritation of a great -scholar who, on forgetting for a moment an important name or date, hears -the haphazard prompting of a tyro. “Not Magna Charta--that was somewhere -else. Never mind, Nell Gwyn once lived at The Gables,” he added proudly. -“You’ve heard of Nell Gwyn, I suppose?” - -“Not in connection with the history of my native land, Mr. Overton. You -will search in vain the history of Australia from the earliest date to -find any allusion there to a visit from Nell Gwyn,” said Pierce. “But -I’ve had fifteen houses pointed out to me within the four-mile radius, -in each of which Nell Gwyn lived. And yet the greatest authority on the -subject says she never lived in any but two.” - -“Well, The Gables was one of them,” said Guy. “I should know it for the -place is mine. I’ve just bought it.” - -“The dearest old house by the river that was ever seen,” said Amber. -“You must have seen it, Mr. Winwood. On the way to Hurley--you told us -you went to Hurley. The river is at the bottom of the lawn.” - -“Yes, in summer; but in the winter the lawn is at the bottom of the -river--why it was Guy himself who told me that some friend of his had -said that,” laughed Pierce. “Anyhow you’ve bought the place. Bravo, Guy! -You got it cheap?” - -“Not so cheap as I meant to when I set out to do it,” said Guy. “But -another chap was in the running for it too--a brewer chap! Disgusting, -isn’t it, that all these fine old places are getting into the hands of -that sort of man?” - -“It is revolting to the old stock like you and me, Guy,” responded -Pierce with great solemnity. - -“I got the historic mansion, the grounds with the wreck of three -boats and two boathouses--the stables and a piggery--a decent sized -piggery--accommodate a family of seventeen. I don’t suppose that I’ll -ever want more than seventeen pigs at one time. The piggery is the only -part of the place that has been occupied for the past two years. I got -the furniture at a valuation too.” - -“And the pigs?” suggested Pierce. - -“Oh, I won’t need the pigs. I’m going to ask a crowd of you chaps -down some Saturday,” said Guy, and he could not for the life of him -understand why Lady Severn as well as Amber and Winwood burst out -laughing. He thought it as well to allow himself to be persuaded that -he had said something witty, so he too began to laugh; but he laughed so -entirely without conviction that every one else in the room roared. - -“Why shouldn’t I have a crowd down to keep me company?” he enquired -blandly. “What’s the good of having a country house unless to entertain -one’s friends. I’m going down as soon as I can. I’m not such a fool as -to keep up two establishments. I have been paying two pounds a week for -my rooms in town up to the present. That’s a lot of money, you know.” - -“You’ll be able to save something now,” said Pierce. - -“Not so much in the beginning. The house is not more than a couple -of miles from your place, Lady Severn,” said Guy, and at this further -suggestion of cause and effect there was another laugh. - -He felt that he had joined a merry party. - -“I don’t believe that it can be more than four miles from The Weir,” - said Amber, “so that we shall be constantly meeting.” - -“Yes--yes--I foresaw that,” acquiesced Guy. “And I hope the first Sunday -that you are at The Weir, you will come up to my place and give me a few -hints about the furniture and things. Shouldn’t I have a cow? I’ve been -thinking a lot about a cow. And yet I don’t know. If I get a cow I must -have some one to look after it. And yet if I don’t get a cow I’m sure to -be cheated in my milk and butter.” - -“Yes, you are plainly on the horns of a dilemma,” said Pierce, going -across the room to say good-bye to Lady Severn, and then returning to -shake hands with Amber. - -“I hope that you and papa had a satisfactory chat together,” she said -with a note of enquiry in her voice. - -“A most satisfactory chat: I think that I convinced him that I was not -an impostor.” - -And so he went away, narrowly watched by Guy, especially when he was -speaking to Amber. Guy did not at all like that confidential exchange of -phrases in an undertone. Pierce was clearly worth having an eye on. - -“I knew you’d be interested in hearing of my purchase,” he remarked to -Amber, assuming the confidential tone that Pierce had dropped. - -“Oh, yes; we are both greatly interested, mother and I,” said Amber. -“But what about your work at the school? I hope you don’t intend to give -up your work at the school.” - -There was something half-hearted in his disclaimer. He cried: - -“Oh, no--no--of course not!” but it was plain that his words did not -carry conviction with them to Amber, for she shook her head doubtfully. - -“I’m afraid that if you give all your time up to considering the -question of cows and things of that type you’ll not have much time left -to perfect yourself in literature,” she said. - -There was a kind of hang-literature expression on his face when she had -spoken, and she did not fail to notice it; she had shaken her head -once more before he hastened to assure her that he had acquired his -new possession mainly to give himself a chance of doing some really -consecutive literary work. - -“The fact is,” said he, “I find that the distractions of the town are -too great a strain on me. I feel that for a man to be at his very best -in the literary way he should live a life of complete retirement--far -from the madding crowd and that, you know. Now, I’ve been a constant -attender at the school for the past three weeks--ask Barnum himself if -I haven’t--I mean Richmond--Mr. Richmond. Why, only a few days ago he -complimented me very highly on my purpose. He said that if I persevered -I might one day be in a position to enter the Aunt Dorothy class. Now, -when I’ve settled down properly at The Gables I mean to write an Aunt -Dorothy letter every week. That’s why I want to be at my best--quite -free from all the attractions of the town--I should like to have your -opinion about the cow.” - -But he was not fortunate enough to be able to learn all that she thought -on this momentous question, for Arthur Galmyn was shown in and had a -great deal to say regarding his progress in the city. He had learned -what contango really did mean and he hoped that he was making the best -use of the information which he had acquired. He was contemplating a -poetical guide to the Stock Exchange, introducing the current price of -the leading debenture issues; and, if treated lyrically, a Sophoclean -Chorus dealing with Colonial securities; or should it be made the -_envoi_ of a ballade or a Chaunt Royal? He was anxious to get Amber’s -opinion on this point, there was so much to be said for and against each -scheme. - -Amber said she was distinctly opposed to the mingling of poetry and -prices. She hoped that Mr. Galmyn was not showing signs of lapsing once -again into the unprofitable paths of poetry. Of course she wished to -think the best of every one, but she really felt that he should be -warned in time. Would it not be a melancholy thing if he were to fall -back into his old habits? she asked him. - -And while he was assuring her that she need have no apprehension on -this score, as he felt that he was completely cured of his old disorder, -through six months contact with the flags of the Stock Exchange, Mr. -Willie Bateman and Mr. Owen Glendower Richmond were announced, and each -of them had a good deal to say to Amber. - -What all these young men had to say to her was in the nature of -reporting progress. Mr. Galmyn, whom she had turned from the excitement -of poetry to the academic quietude of the Stock Exchange, had to tell -her how thoughtfully he had made use of some fictitious information -which he had disseminated for the purpose of “bulling” a particular -stock; Mr. Bateman had a great deal to say regarding the system which -he had perfected for bringing American heiresses under the notice of the -old county families; he had also come to her for sympathy in respect of -one of his failures. He had been entrusted with the indelicate duty -of obtaining a knighthood for a certain gentleman of no conspicuous -ability--a gentleman who was quite down to the level of the usual -candidates for Knighthood. He had advised this gentleman to offer, -through the public prints, to present his valuable collection of -Old Masters to the Nation; and he had done so. For some reason or -other--possibly because all the pictures were the most genuinely -spurious collection ever brought together by one man--there was really -no knowing why--the Nation had refused the gift. - -This was one of his failures, Mr. Bateman said; and it was but -indifferently compensated for by his success in obtaining a popular -preacher to deliver a sermon on a novel lately published by a lady whom -he had been making widely conspicuous for some months back as being -the most retiring woman in England. The preacher had consented, and the -novel, which was the most characteristic specimen of Nineteenth Century -illiterature, was already in its sixth edition. - -“But on the whole, I have no reason to complain of my progress in -my art,--the art which is just now obtaining recognition as the -most important in all grades of society,” said Mr. Bateman. “The -Duchesses--well, just see the attitude of the various members of a Ducal -House to-day. Her Grace is reciting for an imaginary charity on the -boards of a Music Hall, and hopes by that to reach at a single bound the -popularity of a Music Hall _artiste_; another member is pushing herself -well to the front as the head of the committee for supplying the British -army with Tam o’ Shanter caps, another of the ladies is writing a book -on the late war and the most ambitious of all is, they say, going to see -what the Divorce Court can do for her. Oh, no, the Duchesses don’t -need my help; I sometimes envy them their resources. But think of the -hundreds of the aristocracy--the best families in England, Miss Severn, -who are falling behind in the great struggle to advertise themselves not -from any longing after obscurity; but simply because they don’t know -the A B C of the art. Yes, you’ll hear next week of a well-known and -beautiful Countess--in personal advertising ‘Once beautiful always -beautiful’ is an axiom, as you’ll notice in every Society Column you -glance at--the beautiful Countess, I say, will occupy the pulpit of a -high-class Conventicle.” - -“Following your advice?” said Amber. - -“I arranged every detail,” said Mr. Bateman proudly And then came the -turn of Mr. Owen Glendower Richmond, to report the progress of the -Technical School of Literature. - -His report was not a long one. - -“Miss Turquoise B. Hoskis, of Poseidon, in the State of Massachusetts, -has joined the Historical Romance class,” said Mr. Richmond. - -“What, the daughter of the Pie King?” cried Amber. - -“The daughter of Hannibal P. Hoskis, the Pie King,” said Mr. Richmond. - -Before the suspiration of surprise which passed round the drawing-room -at this piece of news had melted into silence, the servant announced -Lord Lullworth. - -This was certainly a greater surprise for Amber than the news that the -daughter of the great American, the head of the Pumpkin Pie Trust who -was making his way rapidly in English society, had become a member -of one of Mr. Richmond’s classes. And that was possibly why she was -slightly put out by the appearance of the young man who had sat beside -her at the Ranelagh dinner. She did not know that he had asked Lady -Severn for permission to call upon her, and that Lady Severn had -mentioned Friday afternoon to him. - -She could not quite understand why she should feel pleased at his -coming--pleased as well as flushed. She was acquainted with peers by the -dozen and with the sons of peers by the score, and yet somehow now she -felt as if she were distinctly flattered. - -That was why she asked him how he was and apologised for the absence of -her mother. - -(Lady Severn had left her daughter in possession of the drawing-room -when Mr. Bateman was talking about his Duchesses: she pretended that she -had an appointment which it was necessary to keep.) - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -Lord Lullworth, while he was drinking his tea and admiring to the full -the exquisite electrical apparatus by which it was prepared, was giving -some attention to the other young men--Mr. Richmond might possibly still -be thought of by some people as a young man--who occupied chairs or -stools around Miss Severn’s seat. Guy Overton he knew pretty well, and -he had never pretended that he thought highly of his talents--by talents -Lord Lullworth meant his seat on a pony something between twelve -and thirteen hands high--or of his disposition. (He had heard of his -habitually dining at a greasy Italian restaurant and drinking Chianti in -half flasks.) - -He knew nothing about the other men, but he knew instinctively that he -would never think much of them. - -And then they began to talk, and she actually listened to them and -pretended that she was interested in what they were talking about--he -was anxious to think the best of her, so he took it for granted that her -attention to what they were saying was only simulated. He was not fond -of hearing himself talk, so he did not feel all left out in the cold -while the others were--well, the exact word that was in his mind as -he listened to them was the word “jabbering.” They were jabbering, the -whole racket of them, weren’t they? - -“We really can’t spare you another week, Miss Severn,” one of the racket -was saying--the eldest of them, he was as high-toned as to his dress -as a shopwalker in a first-class establishment; a _figurant_ whom he -greatly resembled in Lord Lullworth’s judgment. “Oh, no; we cannot spare -you so soon. I am holding a special class on The Novel With A Purpose. -I think you may find it interesting, though doubtless you are acquainted -with some points in the _technique_ of this class of fiction. The title, -for instance; the title must be sharp, quick, straightforward, like the -bark of a dog, you know: ‘The Atheist,’ ‘The Nigger,’ ‘The Haggis,’ ‘The -Bog-trotter,’ ‘The Humbug’--all these are taking titles; they have bark -in them. And then in regard to the Purpose--in The Novel With A Purpose, -no one should have the least idea of what the Purpose is, but one must -never be allowed to forget for a moment that the Purpose is there. It -is, however, always as well for a writer of such a novel to engage the -services of an interviewer on the eve of the publication of the novel to -tell the public how great are his aims, and then he must not forget to -talk of the sea--that sea, so full of wonder and mystery beside which -The Novel With A Purpose must be written and a hint must be dropped that -all the wonder and mystery of the sea, and the sound of the weeping of -the women and the wailing of the children, and the strong true beating -hearts of great men anxious to strangle women and to repent grandly in -the last chapter, will be found in the book, together with a fine old -story--as old as the Bible--if you forget to drag the Bible into the -interview no one will know that you have written The Novel With A -Purpose--one story will do duty for half a dozen novels: two women in -love with one man--something Biblical like that. But doubtless you have -studied the _technique_ of this class of fiction, Miss Severn.” - -“I have never studied it so closely,” replied Amber. “I have always read -books for pleasure, not for analysis.” - -And Lord Lullworth kept staring away at Mr. Richmond, and then at Amber. -What the mischief were they talking about anyway? - -And then Willie Bateman chipped in. - -“I have always regarded the Interview as obsolete,” said he. “It does -not pay the photographer’s expenses. Even the bulldog as an advertising -medium for an author has had his day--like every other dog. A publisher -told me with tears in his eyes that he saw the time when the portrait of -an author’s bull pup in a lady’s weekly journal would have exhausted -a large edition of his novel--even a volume of pathetic poems has been -known to run into a second edition of twenty-five copies after the -appearance in an evening paper of the poet’s black-muzzled, pig-tailed -pug. I’m going to give the Cat a trial some of these days. I believe -that the Manx Cat has a brilliant future in store for it, and the -Persian--perhaps a common or garden-wall cat will do as well as any -other--I wouldn’t be bound with the stringency of the laws of the Medes -and Persians as to the breed--I’d just give the Cat a chance. Properly -run I believe that it will give an author of distinction as good a show -as his boasted bull terrier.” - -And Lord Lullworth stared away at the speaker. Great Queen of Sheba! -What was he talking about anyway? - -And then Amber, who had been listening very politely to both of the -men who had been trying to impart their ideas to her, turned to Lord -Lull-worth and asked him if he had heard that Mr. Over-ton had purchased -The Gables, and when he replied with a grin that he hoped Overton hadn’t -paid too much money for it, Overton hastened to place his mind at ease -on this point. The purchase of the place had involved an immediate -outlay of a considerable sum of money, he admitted, but by giving up his -chambers in town and the exercise of a few radical economies he hoped to -see his way through the transaction. Would Lord Lullworth come down some -week’s end and have a look round? - -Lord Lullworth smilingly asked for some superficial information -regarding the Cellar. - -And then Mr. Owen Glendower Richmond and Arthur Galmyn went off -together, and when Guy Overton found that he had to hurry off--the -_cuisine_ at the Casa Maccaroni was at its best between the hours of six -and seven--Willie Bateman, who wanted to have a quiet word with him went -away by his side. (He wondered if Guy would think it worth his while to -pay a hundred pounds to have a stereo-block made of the river view of -The Gables for an evening paper, to be inserted with a historical sketch -of the house and some account of the family of the new purchaser.) - -Lord Lullworth laughed pleasantly--confidentially, when he and Amber -were left alone together. - -“They are all so clever,” said Amber apologetically. She had really -quite a faculty interpreting people’s thoughts. - -“Yes,” said he, “they are, as you say, a rummy lot.” - -Then she too laughed. - -“That’s your way of putting it,” she said. - -“I suppose so. What fun chaps can find in jabbering away like that beats -me. They’re a bit pinkeyed, aren’t they now?” - -Amber evaded a question which might possibly be enigmatical, she -thought. - -“But they are really very clever,” said she. “Arthur Galmyn was a poet, -but I saw that he had not patience enough to wait for fame to come to -him.” - -“Why couldn’t he buy a practice in a populous suburban district?” asked -Lord Lullworth. “If a chap can’t succeed as a specialist in town -he should set up as a general practitioner in the suburbs or in the -provinces.” - -“I suppose a poet is a sort of literary specialist,” said Amber. “Never -mind,--he is all right now: he is making money on the Stock Exchange.” - -“You made him go on the Stock Exchange?” - -“Oh, yes; we talked it over together. And I got Guy Overton to join the -Technical School of Literature, and I believe he is improved by doing so -already.” - -“And you got the other chap to set up the school, I suppose?” - -“It was an old idea of mine. When people have a Conservatoire of Music, -and the Academy School of Painting, why should the art of Literary -Composition be allowed to struggle on as best it can without instruction -or advice?” - -“That’s just what I should like to know. And the other bounder--I mean -the chap who talked that about bulldogs and the cats and things--a bit -of a rotter he was, wasn’t he? Did you advise him in any direction? I -didn’t quite make out what his line was.” - -“Yes, it was I who suggested to him the splendid possibilities there -were in the way of advertising things. I showed him in what a haphazard -way people advertised just now, and persuaded him that there was money -in any systematic scheme of advertising, and he has gone far ahead of -anything I ever imagined to be possible.” - -“I should think he has. And what are they up to, the lot of them, can -you guess, Miss Severn?” - -“Up to?--what are they up to? Why, haven’t I just explained that each of -them is making a profession----” - -“Oh, yes; but do you fancy that they’re doing it for love of the -profession or for--for--any other reason?” - -“I don’t quite see what you mean, Lord Lullworth.” - -“It’s a bit rough to be frank with a girl; and it’s rarely that a chap -has to say just what he means, but there are times...” - -He spoke apologetically and paused, allowing his smile to rest upon her -for a moment. It was the smile of a man who hopes he hasn’t gone too -far, and trusts to get out of an untenable position by the aid of a -temporising smile. - -She returned his smile quite pleasantly. She knew that the sentences -over the utterance of which men hesitate are invariably the most -interesting that they have to speak. - -“What is it?” she asked. “Everybody speaks frankly to me: they don’t -treat me as they do other girls, you know.” - -“It’s a dangerous experiment talking frankly to a girl,” said he. “But -if it comes to that, it’s not so dangerous an experiment as a girl -talking frankly to a man--leading him to do things that he hasn’t a mind -to do--may be that he hates doing.” - -“I was born in an atmosphere of experiments,” said she. “I delight -in having dealings with new forces, and making out their respective -coefficients of energy.” - -“Oh; then you don’t happen to think that these chaps who were here just -now are in love with you? That’s frank enough, isn’t it?” - -Her face had become roseate, but she was not angry. Whatever she may -have been she was sufficiently like other girls to be able to refrain -from getting angry at the suggestion that four young men were in love -with her at the same time. - -“It’s nonsense enough,” she said. “You have quite misunderstood the -situation, Lord Lullworth. I like Guy Overton and all the others -greatly, and I hope they like me. But they are no more in love with me -than I am in love with them.” - -“Do you fancy that a chap allows himself to be led about by a girl all -for the fun of the thing?” he asked. - -“Why should a man think it ridiculous for a woman to be his friend and -to give him the advice of a friend--the advice that he would welcome if -it were to come from a brother?” she enquired. - -“I don’t know why, but I know that he does,” said Lord Lullworth. -“Anyhow, you don’t think of any of the chaps who were here as a lover?” - -“I do not,” she cried emphatically--almost eagerly. - -“That’s all right,” he said quietly--almost sympathetically. - -“It is all right,” she said. “I believe in the value of friendship -according to Plato.” - -“Have you ever thought of calculating its coefficient of energy, or its -breaking strain?” said he. - -“I do not like people who make fun--who try to make fun of what I -believe, Lord Lullworth,” said she. - -“Do you dislike alarum clocks?” he asked blandly. - -“Alarum clocks?” She was puzzled. - -“Yes; I’m an alarum clock--one of the cheap make, I admit, but a going -concern and quite effective. I want to rattle in your ears until your -eyes are opened.” - -“You certainly do the rattling very well. But I’m not asleep. I know -what you mean to say about my friends.” - -“I don’t mean to say anything about them. I don’t want to try to make -them out to be quite such soft roes as you would have me think they are. -I don’t want to talk of them; I want to talk of you.” - -“Of me? Well?” - -“Yes, and of me.” - -“Excellent topics both.” - -“Yes; but the two of us only make up one topic, and this is it. Now -listen. Your mother asked me to call and have tea some afternoon. If -she hadn’t asked me I would have asked her permission to do so. I came -pretty soon after her invitation, didn’t I?” - -“I’m so sorry that she has a Committee meeting this afternoon.” - -“It doesn’t make any difference to me--that is, in what I have to say to -you. And what I have to say to you is this; I came early to see you -and I’m coming often--very often--you have no notion how often--I don’t -believe I quite know it myself. Now no matter how often I come I -want you to understand distinctly from the first that I disclaim all -intention of using Plato as an umbrella to sit under with you. I am -coming in a strictly anti-Platonic spirit.” - -He had grown a bit red and she had flushed all over. - -“Go on--go on; tell me all you have to say; it’s -quite--quite--funny--yes, funny,” she said, and there was something -of bewilderment in her voice. “I never--never--heard anything so--so -queer--so straightforward. Go on.” - -“I have really said all that I came to say--maybe a trifle more,” he -said. “I’m not going to make an ass of myself leading you to fancy that -I’m coming here as a casual acquaintance having no designs in my heart -against you--I mean, for you. I don’t want you to fancy that I’m coming -here to talk to you about books, or pictures, for the sake of exchanging -opinions in a strictly platonic way. No, I want you to know from the -outset that I’m coming as a possible lover.” - -“I understand--oh, quite clearly--you have made the position quite clear -to me; only let me tell you at once, Lord Lullworth that--that----” - -“Now there you go treating me as disdainfully as if I had actually -declared myself to be your lover. I’m nothing of the sort, let me tell -you. I’m only the rough material out of which a lover may be formed. I’m -a possible lover, so I should be treated very gently--just the way that -you would treat a baby feeling that it may one day grow up to be a man. -At the same time nothing may really come of the business. Cupid, the god -of love is always shown as a child, because the people who started the -idea had before them the statistics of infant mortality; so many little -Loves die when they are young and never grow up at all.” - -“They do--they do. Isn’t it a blessing? You have only seen me twice and -yet you----” - -“My dear Miss Severn, I’ve seen you very often. I have been looking at -you for the past eighteen months, and I thought you the nicest girl -I had ever seen. I found out who you were, and it was I who got old -Shirley to get up his dinner to give me a chance of meeting you; and I -found you nicer even than I allowed myself to hope you would be. So I’m -coming to see you very often on the chance that something may come of -it. If after a while--a year or so--you find me a bit of a bore, you -just tell me to clear off, and I’ll clear without a back word. Now you -know just what my idea is. I’m not a lover yet but I may grow up to be -a lover. You may tell Lady Severn all this--and your father too, if you -think it worth while--if you think anything will come of the business.” - -“I won’t trouble either of them. It’s not worth while.” - -“I dare say you are right--only... Well, you are forewarned anyway. -Good-bye.” - -“Good-bye,” said she. “This is the second time I have seen you in my -life. I don’t care how soon you come again, but if you never do come -again I promise you that my pillow will not be wet with bitter tears of -disappointment.” - -“Same here,” he cried briskly, when he was at the door. He laughed and -went out and closed the door. In a moment, however, he opened the door, -and took a step towards her. - -“No; I find that I was wrong--I should not have said ‘same here.’ As a -matter of fact, I find that I’m more of a lover than I thought. Since I -have been with you here I am twice the lover that I was when I entered -this room. No, I should be greatly disappointed if you were to tell me -that I must not return.” - -“Then I won’t; only... oh, take my advice and hurry away before I have -time to say what I have on my mind to say.” - -“I know it already; and I also know that you’ll never tell it to me. -Good-bye again.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -When she was quite sure that he had gone--quite gone, beyond the -likelihood of another return to say something that he had omitted to say -or to take back something that he had already said, she threw herself -back on a sofa and yawned ostentatiously--almost insultingly at her -own reflection in a mirror that hung in the centre of one of the silk -panels--and then it seemed that it was for the first time in her -life that she perceived how curious was the design of the mirror. The -silvered glass was a Florentine one and at one curved edge it was cut -with a charming intaglio of a boy chasing a butterfly. On the opposite -curve there was a girl with a bird on her finger. Butterflies and birds -were cut all over the glass except in the centre. The frame of the -mirror was of beaten silver, and the design was that of a number of -cupids bending, as it were, over the brink of the glass to see the face -that it reflected. And some were fixing their arrows in their little -silver bows to shoot at the glass and its reflection. - -She lay back and laughed quite merrily at the thought that often as she -had looked at that charming work of art, she had never before noticed -the significance of the design. It interested her so greatly just now -that she actually rose from her sofa and stood before it, examining -its infinity of detail for several minutes. Then she threw herself once -again back among her cushions and laughed. - -She had never before had such a funny interview with any one in all her -life, she thought, and the funny part of it all was to be found in the -seriousness of the man. If he had meant to be jocular he would have been -a dead failure. But he had been desperately serious from the moment he -had entered the room, and had gone on talking gravely as if he had been -talking sense and not nonsense. - -That was the funny part of the business. - -The aid of Mr. Richmond had never been needed to make her aware of the -fact that the novel writers who produce the greatest amount of nonsense -are those who write seriously--who take themselves seriously and talk -about having a message to deliver. Such, she was well aware, are the -novel writers who perish after a year or two, for the only imperishable -quality in a novel is wit. Wit is the boric acid that makes a novel -“keep,” she knew. But here was a live man coming to her with a message -to deliver to her ears, and although he took himself quite seriously -she had not found him dull--certainly not dull as the novels with the -“message” are dull. What he had to say to her had surprised her at the -outset of his interview with her and had kept her excited until he had -gone away--nay, longer, for what he had said to her on his return after -an absence of perhaps ten seconds, was, she thought, the most exciting -part of her afternoon. - -But after all he had talked such nonsense as a child who knew nothing of -the world would talk. All the time that he was talking to her she felt -that she was listening to the prattle of a boy child asking her if she -would play at being sweethearts, and laying down certain rules of -the game--decreeing that if he were to get tired of having her for a -sweetheart, she must not get cross with him for leaving her, and at the -same time, with a high sense of fairness, affirming that if she tired -of him and told him to go back to the nursery he would not beat her with -his fists. - -Yes, he had talked just as any little boy in a sailor suit, and with -a little bucket in one hand and a little spade in the other might talk -while the day was young, and his gravity had made the scene very funny -to her. - -But then the fact of her thinking of the resemblance between him and the -little boy, caused her to recall what he had said about treating him as -gently as a baby should be treated. Yes, he was not to be looked on as a -lover, but only as the rough material that might eventually shape itself -into a lover. This was one of the rules of the game at which he wanted -her to play, and it was quite worthy of him. - -At first she had felt angry with him--slightly angry; but then she felt -that she would be a fool if she were to be seriously angry with a little -boy for asking her to play at being grown up and selling tea and sugar -with him in a shop made of oyster-shells. She had then only become -amused at the way he talked--she was amused at it still, as she lay back -among her cushions. - -She was glad on the whole that she had not snubbed him--that she had -even taken him seriously; and she thought that it was this reflection -upon the extent of her consideration for his feelings--that _amour -propre_ which children hold so dear--that made her feel so pleased as -she did. - -Although she knew that the young man had talked nonsense--making an -absurd proposal to her, and making it too on a purely unintellectual -basis; as if she, a girl born in an atmosphere of intellectuality and -breathing of this atmosphere into her life, could listen for a moment to -a proposal made to the emotional and not to the intellectual side of her -nature!--although he had talked this nonsense, still she could not deny -that she felt pleased at the thought of it all. The air somehow seemed -fresher about her, and she breathed more freely. Had none of those -writers with a message suggested that an atmosphere saturated with -intellectuality is like Rimmel’s shop on a spring day: one longs to get -out once more into the pure scentless air of Nature’s own breathing? - -She felt all the first sweet satisfaction which comes from a good -romp on the sands with a child who, though it has not conversed on -intellectual topics, has brought one into the open air--into the air -that blows across the sands from the sea. - -And she was glad that she had not snubbed him when he sneered at that -triumph of the intellect known as Platonic friendship. She was happy to -think that she was an exponent of that actuality of intellectuality, -and that in his hands it had become a great force tending towards the -civilisation of man. - -To be sure civilisation has always been opposed to Nature in its -operations, and the best civilisation is that which forms the most -satisfactory compromise with Nature. She knew all this, and a good deal -more in the same line of elementary biology, and it was just because she -had proofs of the success of her plans of Platonic friendship she was -disposed to regard it as one of the greatest of civilising forces. - -All the same she felt glad that she had refrained from severity towards -him when he had sneered at this force. She knew that if she had done so, -she would now feel ill at ease. If a baby boy jeers at the precession of -the Equinoxes--a phrase which it cannot even pronounce--an adult would -surely feel ill at ease at rebuking it for its ignorance. But Amber -Severn felt that she had no reason for self-reproach in the matter of -her interview with young Lord Lull-worth. - -But then she was led to do a foolish thing, for she began comparing -Lord Lullworth with the other young men who had been visiting her in -the fulness of their disinterested friendship for her. He was the best -looking of them all, she knew. He stood up straighter and he looked at -her straighter in the face than the best of them had done. If it came to -a fight.... - -And hereupon this young woman who had been born in, and who had lived -in, an atmosphere of intellectuality was led to think of the chances -that the young man who had just gone from her would have in a rough and -tumble tussle with the three others. She felt herself, curiously enough, -taking his part in this hustle and tussle--she actually became his -backer, and was ready to convince any one who might differ from her that -he could lick three of them--that horrid word of the butcher’s boy was -actually in her mind as she thought over the possible contest, though -why she should think over anything of the sort she would have had -difficulty in explaining to the satisfaction even of herself. But -somehow thinking of the men altogether--they were five of them all -told--made a comparison between them inevitable, and as Lord Lullworth -had frankly admitted that he was not intellectual she had, out of a -sense of fair play to him, drawn the comparison from an unintellectual -standpoint. - -This explanation--it is not wholly plausible--never occurred to her and -she was therefore left in a condition bordering on wonderment when she -pulled herself up, so to speak, in her attempt to witness the exciting -finish of the contest which had suggested itself to her when she -involuntarily compared the young man who had lately stood before her, -with the other four. - -She was startled, and gave a little laugh of derision at the foolish -exuberance of her own fancy; and then she became angry, and because she -felt that she had made a fool of herself, she called Lord Lullworth a -fool--not in a whisper, but quite out loud. - -“He is a fool--a fool--and I never want to see him again!” she said. - -And then the servant opened the door and announced Mr. Pierce Winwood, -and withdrew and closed the door. - -She sat upright on the sofa, staring at him, her left hand pressing the -centre of a cushion of Aubusson tapestry, and her right one a big pillow -of amber brocade. - -She stared at him. - -He gave a rather sheepish laugh, and twirled his cane till the handle -caught his gloves which he held in his hand, and sent them flying. He -gave another laugh picking them up. - -She was bewildered. Matters were becoming too much for her. Had he -actually been lunching in the house that day or had she dreamt it? It -seemed to her that only an hour had passed since she had said good-bye -to him, and yet here he was entering as a casual visitor might enter. - -She rose and mechanically held out her hand to him. - -“How do you do?” she said. “How do you do? A warm afternoon, is it not? -You look warm.” - -And so he did. He looked extremely warm. - -“I am afraid that I have surprised you,” said he. “I’m so sorry. But -when a chap is bound on making an ass of himself there’s really no -holding him back.” - -She felt her face becoming as warm as his appeared to be; for the -terrible thought flashed upon her: - -“This man too has come to me to offer himself as the rough material from -which a lover may one day be made.” - -It seemed to her that there was any amount of rough material of lovers -available within easy reach this particular afternoon. - -“After leaving here an hour ago,” he said, “I had a rather important -call to make, so I didn’t make it but went for a long walk instead--I -think I must have walked four or five miles and I don’t think I kept my -pace down as I should have, considering the day it is.” - -“Well?” she said when he paused. “Well, Mr. Winwood?” - -“Well, you see I was bent on thinking out something, and I thought it -out, and I have come back to you, you see, because you are, I think, -disposed to be friendly to me and I know that you are her closest -friend--that is why I ventured to come back to you.” - -“Yes--yes,” she said slowly and with a liberal space between each -utterance of the word. “Yes; but--what is the matter? What have I to say -to--to--whatever it is?” - -“I must really try to tell you,” said he. “Yes, the fact is, I hope -you will not think me impudent, but it is a serious matter to me. I -have--that is, I wish to--Miss Severn, I am, as you know, a stranger -here. I do not know many people, and I have no means of finding -out--except through you--what I should very much like to know. You see I -don’t want to make too great a fool of myself altogether; that is why -I hope you will not think me impudent when I ask you if you can tell me -if--if--Miss West is engaged to marry some one. You can well believe, -I am sure, that when I saw her for the first time--when I saw her -here to-day, it seemed to me quite impossible that such a girl--so -beautiful--so gracious--so womanly, should remain free. It seemed quite -impossible that no one should wish--but of course though every one who -sees her must feel how--how she stands alone--she would not lightly -think of giving her promise--in short--I---- Yes, I believe that I have -said all that I wished to say. I have said it badly, I know; but perhaps -I have made myself moderately clear to you--clear enough for you to give -me an answer.” - -He had seated himself close to her and had bent forward, turning his -hat over and over between his hands and showing himself to be far from -self-possessed while stammering out his statement. - -But Amber, although she had never before been made the _confidante_ of -a man, and although she had just passed through a curious experience of -her own, felt, so soon as it dawned on her that the man beside her -was in love with Josephine, both interested and became more than -sympathetic. - -The pleasure she experienced so soon as she became aware of the fact -that it was not to herself he was about to offer himself as the rough -material of a lover, after the fashion of the day, caused her to feel -almost enthusiastic as she said: - -“You have expressed yourself admirably, Mr. Win-wood; and I can tell -you at once that Josephine West is not engaged to marry any one--that -is--well, I think I am justified in speaking so decidedly, for if she -had promised to marry any one I am certain that she would tell me of it -before any one else in the world.” - -He rose and held out his hand to her, saying: - -“Thank you, Miss Severn--thank you. I knew that I should be safe in -coming to you in this matter, you have shown yourself to be so kind--so -gracious. You can understand how my position in this country is -not quite the same as that of the men who have lived here all their -lives--who are in your set and who hear of every incident as it occurs. -I thought it quite possible that she might... well, I hope you don’t -think me impudent.” - -“I do not indeed,” she said, “I feel that you have done me great honour, -and I think that you are--you are--manly. I think, you know, that there -is a good deal of manliness about men--more than I thought, and I tell -you that I always did think well of men. I believe that there is a great -future awaiting them.” - -“I hope that your optimism will be rewarded,” said he. “Of one thing I -am sure, and that is that a great future awaits one man: the man who is -lucky enough to be loved by you. Good-bye. You have placed me in such a -position as makes it inevitable for me to take the rosiest view of all -the world.” - -“Even of the man whom I shall love? Well, you are an optimist. -Good-bye.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -Mr. Ernest Clifton had a good deal to think about; but, as he was -usually in this condition, he did not feel greatly inconvenienced. He -was well aware of the fact that when one man insists on doing all the -thinking for a large and important organisation, he cannot expect to -have a vacant mind for many hours together. He had, however, so managed -matters in connection with the great political machine of which he was -secretary that he had become the sole Intelligence of the organisation. -He was not only the man who controlled the driving power of the engine, -he also had command of the brakes; and every one is aware of the fact -that to know when to slacken speed and when to stop is a most important -part of the duties of the man who is running any machine. Any inferior -person can pitch the coal into the furnace to keep up the steam, but it -requires an Intelligence to know when to shut it off. - -He had determined from the outset that he would not allow himself to be -hampered by the presence of another thinking man on the foot plate -of his engine; it is the easiest thing in the world to obtain for any -political organisation a president and a committee utterly devoid of -intelligence, and Ernest Clifton resolved that though he might be forced -to make seek for such a committee among the most notable men in the -Party, he would secure it somehow. - -He found it the easiest thing in the world to get an ideal President, -Vice-President, Honorary Secretary and Committee. They were all men whom -he could implicitly trust to abstain from thought on any vexed question, -but he took care that no question of this type remained in a condition -of suspense: he himself supplied the thinking power necessary for its -solution. - -The result of several years’ adherence to this system was that Ernest -Clifton, without a seat in Parliament, without a name that carried -weight with it outside his own Party, had become a Power in the -political world. - -It was rumoured that upon one occasion he had been consulted by the -Prime Minister in regard to a matter involving a considerable change -in the domestic policy of the Government, and that his counsel had been -accepted although it differed materially from the view of some important -members of the Cabinet. - -It was this Ernest Clifton who, after dictating to his private secretary -half a dozen letters of a more or less ambiguous phraseology, sat with -a letter of his own in front of him--a letter which he had received that -morning--a letter which added in no inconsiderable degree to his burden -of thought. The letter was from Josephine West and it notified to him -the fact that the writer found it impossible any longer to maintain the -policy of secrecy which he had imposed upon her. - -“When I agreed for your sake to keep our engagement a secret,” Josephine -wrote, “I did not foresee the difficulties in the situation which -that secrecy has already created. Daily I feel myself to be in a false -position, and hourly I feel humiliated by the consciousness of being -concerned in an underhand act. I know that I was wrong in giving you -my promise at first; there was really no reason why you should not have -gone to my father and if he refused his consent we should be placed in -no worse position than that of numbers of other men and women who are -separated by cruel circumstances, but are still happy relying on each -other’s fidelity. Surely we could bear up by the same means, against a -much greater adversity than the refusal of my father to give his consent -to our engagement being made public. I must therefore ask of you, my -dear Ernest, to release me from the promise which I made to you--to -release me nominally is all that I beg of you--until my father has given -his consent to our engagement. Of course I need hardly say to you who -know me so well, that your releasing me would not interfere with my -present affection which is quite unchanged and not likely to change. But -I must be released.” - -This was the part of the letter which added so materially to his burden -of thought, though the letter really could not be said to go more than -a little step in advance of the situation created by the writer by her -interview with him at Ranelagh, a fortnight ago. - -The question which he had then formulated to himself was one that could -not by any possibility be regarded as flattering to that assumption of -constancy upon which she now laid some stress. - -“Who is the man?” was, it may be remembered the question to the solution -of which he had addressed himself, and now he was not deterred by the -paragraph in the letter just received from her--the paragraph which was -meant to give him assurance of the immobility of her affections--from -once again asking himself that question: - -“_Who is the man?_” - -He had been unable to find any plausible answer to that question during -the weeks that had elapsed since Mr. Shirley’s dinner, though in the -meantime he had met Josephine twice and upon each occasion had shown -the utmost adroitness in the enquiries he put to her quite casually, and -without premeditation, with a view to approaching a step nearer to the -solution of the question. - -He could not hear that she had met any man whom he could feel justified -in regarding as a possible rival; but in spite of this fact he could not -bring himself to believe that her sudden appreciation of the falseness -of her position was due to a sudden access of sensitiveness. His long -and close connection with a political association had made him take a -cynical view of the motives of men. When he heard at any time of the -conscience of a politician being greatly perturbed in regard to any -question, he had never any difficulty in finding out exactly what that -particular gentleman wanted--whether it was a Knighthood, a recognition -of his wife at a Foreign office reception, or a chat for five minutes -with a Cabinet Minister on the Terrace on a day when the Terrace is -crowded. He flattered himself that he could within twenty-four hours -diagnose the most obstinate case of that insidious malady Politician’s -Conscience, and prescribe for it a specific that never failed if applied -according to his instructions. - -Thus it was that he was led to take what he called a practical view -of any psychological incident that came under his notice. He regarded -psychology as rather more of an exact science than meteorology. It was -altogether a question of so many atmospheric pressures, he thought; even -the force of spiritual cataclysms could be calculated, if one only took -the trouble to use one’s experience as a scisometer. - -Thus it was that although he had not yet discovered the identity of the -man who, in his opinion, had caused that excess of sensitiveness on the -part of Josephine, he was as certain of his existence as the astronomer -was of the planet known as Uranus, through observing certain aberrations -on the part of the planet Saturn, due to attraction. - -He hoped one day before long to be able to calculate the position of the -attractive but unknown man and to be able to see him without the aid of -a telescope. - -Meantime, however, he knew that he would have to answer that letter -which lay before him, and for the moment he scarcely knew how it should -be replied to. - -While he was giving all his consideration to this question, a clerk -knocked at the door of his room and entered with a card, bearing -the name of Sir Harcourt Mortimer, the Minister for the Arbitration -Department. - -He directed the visitor to be shown upstairs: it was no new thing for -a Cabinet Minister to pay a visit to the Central Offices of the Great -Organisation, and while Sir Harcourt was coming up crimson-carpeted -stairs, the Secretary slipped the letter which he had been reading -into the breast pocket of his coat, and wondered if he could by any -possibility bring the presence of the Chief to his Department to bear -upon the Under-Secretary, Mr. Philip West, to induce him to consent to -his daughter marrying so obscure, but powerful a man as the Secretary of -the Argus Organisation. - -The smile that came over his face as the fantastic idea occurred to -him had not passed away before the Minister was shaking hands with him, -discussing the possibility of a thunderstorm occurring within the next -twenty-four hours. - -Mr. Clifton knew perfectly well that his visitor had not come to him -solely for the purpose of discussing electrical phenomena; so he broke -off suddenly waiting for--was it a bolt out of the blue that was coming? - -“I want to get your opinion on a few matters of importance to us, -Clifton,” said the Minister the moment this pause was made. - -Clifton bowed. - -“My opinion,” said he, “my opinion--well, as you know, Sir Harcourt, -it amounts to nothing more than a simple equation. If a+b=c, it follows -that c-b=a.” - -“That is just what makes your opinion of such practical value,” said -the Minister. “We wish to know from you in this case the value of x-x -represents the unknown quantity to us--that is to say, the whim of a -constituency. The fact is that Holford is anxious for me to take his -place at the Annexation Department while he goes to the Exchequer--you -know, of course, that Saxeby is resigning on account of his deafness.” - -“Yes, on account of his deafness,” said Mr. Clifton smiling the strictly -political smile of Sir Harcourt. - -“Yes; deafness is a great infirmity,” sighed the Minister--his sigh -was strictly ministerial, “and his resignation cannot be delayed much -longer. Now we think that if Eardley is returned for the Arbroath Burghs -he will expect a place in the Cabinet.” - -“He did very well, in the last, and of course he would be in the present -Cabinet if he had not lost his seat at the General Election,” remarked -Clifton. - -“That is just the point. Now, do you think you could find a safe seat -for him if the Arbroath Burghs will have nothing to say to him?” - -“You would have to give a Baronetcy--perhaps a Barony to the man who -resigns in his favour.” - -“Of course. What is a Baronetcy--or a Barony for that matter?” - -“I think it might be managed,” said Clifton, but not without a pause--a -thoughtful pause. An inspiration came to him immediately after his -visitor had said: - -“Ah, you think so? That is just the point.” - -“There is another way out of the difficulty, though it may not have -occurred to you,” continued Clifton slowly. - -“What is that?” - -“I don’t know whether I should suggest it or not, Sir Harcourt--but it -may have occurred to you. Mr. Philip West is your Under Secretary. He -has always been a useful man. I know that in the country the opinion is -very general that he has done very well.” - -“For himself?” asked the Minister with a certain amount of dryness. - -The Argus Secretary gave a very fair imitation of an Englishman’s -imitation of a Frenchman’s shrug. - -“He won his seat for us and I doubt if there’s another man in England -who could have won it. I’m certain there’s not another who could hold -it,” remarked Clifton. - -“He is not very popular with the Cabinet,” said Sir Harcourt, after -another interval of thought. - -“It might be a case of the Cabinet against the Country, in which case we -all know which would have to give in,” said Clifton. “I don’t say that -it is so, mind, only--I shall have to think the whole thing over, Sir -Harcourt. I can do nothing without facts and figures. There are the -Arbroath Burghs to take into account. I shall have to hunt up the -results of the last revision. Eardley might be able to pull through -after all.” - -“What, do you mean to suggest that his return is as doubtful as all -that? We took it for granted that it was a pretty safe thing,” said the -Minister, and there was a note of alarm in his voice. - -If Clifton had not recognised this note he would have been greatly -disappointed. - -He shook his head. - -“Just at the present moment,” said he, “it is difficult to feel absolute -confidence in any seat. It would be unsafe to predict the return of Mr. -Girdlestone himself were he to hold on to the General Election, and -he is a local man. Oh, the Arbroath Burghs have always been a bit -skittish.” - -“Then perhaps after all it might be as well to face the possibility of -West’s promotion to the Cabinet,” remarked the Minister. “After all he -stands very close to it at present. In all probability we couldn’t keep -him out very much longer.” - -“Of course Eardley would be the better man,” said the Secretary, “and -it is quite likely that when I get more information regarding Arbroath I -shall be able to make your mind easy about him. Still I don’t think that -West’s promotion would be a case of the worst coming to the worst.” - -“Oh, no, no; of course not,” acquiesced Sir Harcourt. “Oh, not by any -means. He has put himself into the front rank by his treatment of the -Gaspard Mine affair, and, as you say, the county----” - -“Quite so. He is not altogether an outsider,” said Clifton. “At the same -time...” - -“I agree with you--yes, I fully appreciate the force of what you say, -Clifton,” cried Sir Harcourt. “You will be adding to your innumerable -services to the party if you collect the figures bearing upon this -little matter and let me know the result. Of course, if Eardley’s seat -were sure... but in any case we have an excellent man to fall back on.” - -“I think I understand how the matter rests, and I will lose no time -in collecting my figures,” said the Secretary; while the Minister -straightened out his gloves and got upon his feet. - -“I am sure you have a complete grasp of the business,” said Sir -Harcourt. “Perhaps in a week--there is no immediate hurry.” - -“Possibly in a week I shall have enough to go upon.” - -He opened the door for his visitor and Sir Harcourt thanked him, and -departed. - -“It was an inspiration,” said Clifton below his breath when he was -alone. He walked across the thick Turkey carpet--offices furnished at -the expense of an organisation invariably have thick Turkey carpets--and -stood with his back to the empty grate. “An inspiration,” he murmured -once more. - -He smiled rather grimly, took the letter out of his breast pocket, read -it thoughtfully and smiled again. Then he went to a window and looked -out. - -The day was gloomy but the rain was still keeping off. He tapped the -barometer that hung at one side of the window. He felt certain that -there would be thunder before night. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -Josephine had at one time--and it was not so very long ago--been -accustomed to send little missives to Mr. Ernest Clifton giving him some -information as to the entertainments to which she was going from week -to week so that their accidental meetings were frequent. A good deal -of fortuitous coming together can be arranged for by two persons of -ordinary enterprise. Since she had, however, become sensitive on the -subject of her duty to her parents, and had come to the conclusion that -her attitude in regard to Mr. Clifton was not one that any girl with a -right appreciation of what was due to herself as well as to her -father and mother would adopt, she had dropped this illicit -correspondence--after giving him due notice--so that their meetings were -altogether the result of chance. - -Still, even trusting only to this fickle power, they had a good many -opportunities of exchanging hand clasps and of sitting in the same -drawing-room. Since that momentous dinner at Ranelagh, however, neither -of them had had an opportunity of reverting to the subject of her -conversation when alone with him on the terrace; hence she had been -compelled to write to him that letter which he had read and upon which -he had pondered before the arrival of Sir Harcourt Mortimer, and some -time too after the departure of that minister. - -(By the way, that thunderstorm came on all right before the evening.) - -Two days later, he was fortunate enough (so he said) to find himself in -a group of which she was a member, in the grounds of an historic house -in Kensington--not South Kensington: it will be a hundred years or more -before there are historic houses in South Kensington. But in this house -a great statesman had once lived--a century has passed since there was -a great statesman in England--and before the birth of the statesman, -a great Man of Letters had, by a singular mischance of marriage, also -lived in the same house--according to some critics a hundred years have -passed since there was a great Man of Letters in England. - -Josephine was once again on a terrace--one with an Italian balustrade -overlooking a lawn and the little park that surrounded the historic -house--when Clifton saw her. He had no difficulty getting into the group -of dull celebrities, to whom she had been introduced by her father--dull -peers whose names figured largely on the first page--the title page -it should properly be called--of prospectuses; and deadly dull -representatives of county families who had never done anything but -represent the county; a moderately dull judge or two, an immoderately -dull Indian lieutenant-governor (retired), and a representative of -literature. (The last named had been invited in sympathy with the -traditions of the house; and indeed it was a matter of tradition that -this literary link with the past had written the most illiterate volume -of verse that had ever remained unread by the public.) - -Josephine suffered herself to be detached from this fascinating group -after a time, but resisted the temptations of a tent with moselle cup -and _pâté de foie gras_ sandwiches which Ernest held before her dazzled -eyes. - -They stood together at the top of the steps leading from the terrace to -the lawn, and they talked, not of the Great Statesman but of the Great -Literary Man. His writings have the boracic quality of wit to keep them -ever fresh. - -“To think that he stood here, just where we are standing,” said -Josephine. “To think that he looked at those very trees. He went to live -on the Fulham Road afterwards. Why did he not remain here, I wonder?” - -“You see his wife was here,” said Mr. Clifton with the air of the one -who explains. - -“Ah--perhaps,” laughed Josephine. “I came upon a letter of his the other -day in a magazine--a letter written from his cottage on the Fulham -Road to his stepson, who lived here, asking him to come to hear the -nightingale that sung every night in one of the lanes.” - -“There are other places besides the lanes off the Fulham Road where one -may listen to the song of the nightingale nowadays,” said Mr. Clifton. - -“His example should be a warning to a man not to marry beneath him,” - remarked Josephine. - -“Yes, it was rather a come down for him, wasn’t it?” said her companion. -“He lived in a garret off the Haymarket, didn’t he?--and his wife -brought him here.” - -“He was the greatest writer of his time, and she was only a Countess,” - said Josephine. - -“Quite so. But they lived very happily apart, so that it was not such -a _misalliance_ after all,” said Clifton. “I suppose it was one of -Dr. Johnson’s customary brutalities to say that the man died from -that insidious form of heredity known in recent diagnoses as habitual -alcoholism.” - -“The notion is horrid--quite worthy of Dr. Johnson,” said Josephine, -making a move as if to rejoin another sparkling group. - -“Don’t let us separate for a minute yet,” said Clifton. “Though I admit -that you are very properly cautious, still there are limits: we have not -been together, so that we could talk, for some weeks. Since then I got a -letter from you.” - -“I have been very unhappy, Ernest,” said she, gazing into the distance -of the lovely woodland. - -“Not more unhappy than I have been, my dearest,” said he. “Was that -letter of yours calculated to allay my unhappiness, do you think? It -made me doubly unhappy because it made me aware of your unhappiness.” - -“I felt that I could not avoid writing it, Ernest. It would have been -impossible for me to remain any longer in the position I was in: I could -not carry on the course of deception into which you led me--no, that is -going too far; I did not quite mean to say so much.” - -“Then it was only your own kind heart that restrained you; for you might -have meant all that you said and a great deal more. I admit that I was -to blame in leading you to make me the promise that has caused you all -this unhappiness.” - -“You were not more to blame than I was. In these matters it is decreed -that the blame is not to be laid at the door of one person only. You -are a man with ambition--you could not be expected--that is to say, the -world does not expect that you should feel the same way as a woman does -over such a point as the one which I dwelt on. A secret such as ours was -is, I know, a very little matter in the life of such a man as you -are. You are, I have heard, the guardian of some of the most important -secrets in the world. But in any case a man’s life contains innumerable -secrets that are never revealed until he is dead.” - -“That is quite true.” - -“A man with a career to--to--cultivate--men cultivate a career as -gardeners do their roses----” - -(They were standing beside a rose bed now.) - -“And not unfrequently by the same agents of fertilisation.” - -“Such a man must of necessity come to think more of the great issues of -certain incidents than of the incidents themselves.” - -“That is perfectly true.” He shook his head with a mournfulness that -was precisely in keeping with the sadness which could be seen in his -expression. “Too true--too true!” he murmured. “Yes, a man loses a sense -of perspective----” - -“Not he,” cried Josephine. “A man’s sense of perspective is fairly -accurate. It is a woman who is wanting in this respect. We have so -accustomed ourselves to see only what is under our noses that we become -shortsighted and are utterly unable to perceive the size and significance -of everything at a distance. That is how it comes that something beneath -our eyes seems so enormous when after all, it is quite insignificant. -Oh, men do not take such narrow--such shortsighted views of the -incidents of life.” - -“I am not so sure of that.” - -“What, would you say that any man takes the same narrow view of an -incident like love as a woman takes of it? Oh, no. He is too wise. He -has his career in the world to think about--to shape; it is a matter -of impossibility with him to distort out of all proportion to its -importance that incident in his life known as love. That is how it -comes, I know, that you think I am very foolish to lay so much emphasis -as I have done upon so simple a thing as my giving you my promise and -keeping it hidden from my father and mother. You think that it is making -a fuss about nothing. You cannot understand how it should be the means -of making me suffer tortures--tortures!” - -“On the contrary,” said the man, “I have myself suffered deeply knowing -that you were suffering and recognising as I do, that my want of -consideration for you--my selfishness--my want of appreciation for the -purest soul of woman that ever God sent on earth, was the direct cause -of your burden. I am glad that you wrote to me as you did, and I rejoice -that I am not selfish enough to hold you to the promise you made to me.” - -She turned her eyes upon him and looked at him in more than surprise--in -actual amazement. - -“You mean to say that you--you release me from my promise,” she said. - -“I release you freely,” he replied. “Until I receive your father’s -consent to an engagement I will not think that there is any engagement -between us--there may be an understanding between us; but there -is nothing between us that need cause you uneasiness through its -concealment from your father and mother. When the day comes on which -I can ask your father’s consent to our engagement with some hope of -success, I shall not be slow to go to him, you may be sure; but till -then--you are free--you need not feel any self-reproach on the score of -concealing anything: there is nothing to conceal.” - -She was dumb. She thought that she would have to fight for her freedom; -but lo, he had knocked the shackles off before she had uttered more than -a petulant complaint--she had no need to make any impassioned appeal -to him; the rhetoric on the subject of Freedom with which she was -fully acquainted she had no chance of drawing on. He had set her free -practically of his own free will. - -She was too surprised to be able to do more than thank him in the -baldest way. - -“I am sure that it is for the best.” she said, “I feel happy -already--happy feeling that a great burden has been lifted from -me--that I need no longer fear to look my own people in the face. Thank -you--thank you.” - -There was gratitude in her face as she looked at him. She could scarcely -put out her hand to him considering the number of people who were about -the terrace, or she would, he felt assured, have done so. - -But there was undoubtedly gratitude in her face. - -He would have given a good deal to know if she was grateful by reason of -being released from the pressing care of the secret which he had imposed -upon her or because she now considered herself free to listen to the -other man, the man whose identity he had not been able to discover. - -She herself would have given a good deal to know so much. - -“I admit that I was in error from the very first,” said he. “I had no -right to place you in a false position. I did not know--but I had no -excuse for not knowing--how a sensitive creature such as you are could -not but feel deeply--as I do now--that you were not one who needed to be -held in the bondage of a promise. I know now how that the real bond that -exists between us is one that is not dependent for its endurance -upon any formal promise--upon any formal engagement. I trust you, my -Josephine, and I know that you can trust me.” - -And then he took off his hat to Sir Digby and Lady Swan, and there was -something in his action, Josephine thought, that compelled them to stop -and shake hands with him and with her also, for she was acquainted with -the great ex-Solicitor General and his wife. - -Curiously enough that little movement on his part--a movement -which suggested that he expected something more than a formal -recognition--imparted to her an element of distrust. But it was not -until several other fellow-guests had come up and joined her group -separating her effectually from Ernest Clifton, that she began to be -dimly conscious of the truth--that she became aware of the fact that -while he had been ostentatiously knocking off her shackles of iron he -had been gently imposing on her shackles of gold. He had so contrived, -by the adroitness of his words, that she should remain bound to him by a -tie far stronger than that from which he had just released her. - -He had spoken quite truly: in telling her that he trusted her completely -he had put upon her a bondage from which she would not try to escape. -He had, so to speak, torn up her I O U before her eyes and had thereby -turned the debt for which he held security into a debt of honour. - -She felt that she had a right to resent this, and her feeling was that -of a person who has been got the better of by another in a bargain, and -who has come to be aware of this fact. She resented his cleverness of -attitude in regard to her. There is no love strong enough to survive a -display of cleverness on the part of either the man or the woman, and in -her irritation of the moment she felt very bitterly regarding the man. -“Trickster” was actually the word that was in her mind at the moment. -It never occurred to her that a liberal allowance should be made for any -man who has attained to a foremost position as a political organiser. - -She should have known that to judge a professional politician by the -ordinary standards that one instinctively employs in estimating the -actions of people whom one meets in social life is scarcely fair. She -should have known that there is honour among politicians just as there -is honour--its existence has been proverbial, among the representatives -of a mode of living whose affiliation with the profession of politics -has not yet been fully recognised in England, though it is in America; -but the standard of honour among either is not just the same as that -which prevails at a public school or even in a public house. The art of -jerrymandering is scarcely one that would be practised by the Chevalier -Bayard; but it is an art that statesmen have studied with great -advantage to themselves, without fear and without reproach--except, of -course, the reproach of the opposing statesman. - -Josephine West had talked a good deal about the point of view, and the -sense of perspective and other abstractions; and yet she could feel -irritated because she fancied that a man who had reduced dissimulation -to a science had not been quite frank with her. - -She was still suffering from this irritation when Amber Severn came up -to her accompanied by Pierce Winwood. - -“I thought that as I would see you here I need not write to remind you -that you are to come to us at The Weir to-morrow week,” cried Amber. - -“Is to-morrow week one of the dates that we agreed upon last month?” - asked Josephine. - -“Yes; you have got it all properly noted in your book. We shall be a -quiet little party. Mr. Win-wood is coming.” - -“That is a sufficient guarantee,” said Josephine nodding to Mr. Winwood. -They had reached these confidential terms, having met frequently since -they had had their little chat together in the rose-garden. - -“My ordinary deportment is chilling to the Hooligan element,” said -Winwood. “Miss Severn mentioned my name to allay your suspicions.” - -“Our only excitement is to be the visit which we are to pay to The -Gables,” said Amber. “Guy has invited us to drink tea on his lawn.” - -“That is something to look forward to,” said Josephine. - -“I hope his caterers are not the Casa Maccaroni,” said Winwood. - -And then two or three other people joined their group, and Winwood -got parted from Amber by the thoughtfulness of Lord Lullworth who, it -seemed, was an emissary from his mother, the Countess of Castlethorpe. -The great lady hoped, according to Lord Lullworth, that Miss Severn -would consent to be presented to her, and, of course, Miss Severn -would not be so absurd as to return a rude answer to a request which -represented so modest an aspiration. - -By this means Lord Lullworth who had great difficulty in finding -his mother had for a companion for quite half an hour of this lovely -afternoon, Miss Severn, and for even a longer space of time Josephine -West was by the side of Pierce Winwood beneath the red brick walls which -had once sheltered a great Man of Letters. - -They talked of the great Man of Letters and indeed other topics. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -Amber had come to the conclusion that it would be better for her to -be frank with her friend Josephine in regard to the _personnel_ of -her fellow-guests at The Weir for the Sunday. A month had passed since -Josephine had promised to keep herself disengaged for this particular -Sunday, but in the meantime a good many things had happened, the most -important being (as she fancied) the dinner at Ranelagh, which had given -a certain amount of prominence to Mr. Win-wood and had aroused a curious -prejudice against him in the estimation of Josephine. It was thus, she -thought, only fair to Josephine to tell her that Mr. Winwood had also -promised to go to The Weir for the Sunday, so that, if she felt that -another day spent in his company would be insupportable, she might have -a chance of concocting some excuse for remaining in town. - -The daughter of a politician of eminence should be at no loss for a -plausible excuse to extricate herself from the consequences of a promise -of a month’s standing. She should have at her command--even though her -father did not actually belong to the Cabinet--a sufficiency of that -subtle element called (by the organs of the Opposition) tergiversation -to tide her over a shoal place. - -It was this thoughtfulness on the part of Amber that impelled her to let -Josephine know that Mr. Winwood also had promised to go to The Weir, -and she felt greatly relieved to find that her friend did not make -any attempt to draw upon her imagination for an excuse to prevent her -joining the party at Sir Creighton’s riverside cottage. - -She wondered if Josephine’s prejudice was abating already, or if she was -merely showing how polite she could be. - -It was when she was trying to recover from the startling effects of the -return of Pierce Winwood to the drawing-room after the departure of Lord -Lull-worth, that her father came to her, saying something about Pierce -Winwood. - -“I am very glad you asked him here,” he said. “Yes; he was able to -convince me of his identity.” - -“So you remembered his father’s name after all,” said Amber. - -“Yes--oh, yes. I remembered his father’s name.” - -“It was the story that brought it back to you?” - -“Yes--that singular story.” - -“You were able to tell him the names of the people--the names that he -was so anxious to find out?” - -“Oh, yes; I was able to--to satisfy him on this point. By the way, he -and Josephine had some chat together in the garden--I could see them -from my window.” - -Amber shook her head and then said: - -“Poor fellow!” - -“Why poor fellow, pray?” asked her father raising his eyebrows. - -“I am afraid that he--that is--I’m not quite sure that I should tell you -that----” - -“Let me know what it is you are in doubt about, and I will give you my -best advice on this doubtful and delicate point,” said he. - -“If you decide that I shouldn’t have told you will you let it be as if I -hadn’t told you?” she said, clasping her hands over his arm. - -“Certainly I will,” he replied. “The terms are quite honourable.” - -“Then I may tell you that an hour after leaving this room he returned.” - -“For an umbrella--that’s what they do in plays: they always come back -for the umbrella which, with the most careful inadvertency they have -left behind them. But he didn’t come back to let you know that owing -to the distractions of lunch, he had forgotten to mention that he loved -you?” - -“Worse--much worse. He came to ask me if I could tell him if Joe had -given her promise to marry someone.” - -“Heavens above! And did he specify the some one?” - -“Oh, dear, no; he had no one--that is to say, he had every one in his -mind’s eye. He could not understand how it was possible that so sweet -and lovely a girl should have reached the age of twenty-four without -having given her promise to marry some man.” - -“It does seem a bit queer, doesn’t it? Well?” - -“That’s all. I told him, of course, that Joe was quite free.” - -“Of course. But that being so, where does your ‘poor fellow!’ come in. -Why not ‘lucky fellow’?” - -Amber shook her head more sadly than she had shaken it before. - -“The pity of it! the pity of it!” she murmured. “Poor Joe!” - -“Poor yourself!” laughed Sir Creighton. “You cannot be ambitious enough -to wish to include all the world in your pity. Why ‘poor Josephine’?” - -“She confessed to me that she hated him,” said Amber in a whisper--the -whisper of an aspen--tremulous rather than sibilant. - -“What, hated him? I had no idea that she cared so much as that for him -already,” said her father. “Are you sure that she confessed to hating -him?” - -Amber’s hands dropped from his arm, but her eyes did not drop from his -face. - -“Do you mean--you cannot mean--that--that all may yet be well?” she -cried. - -“My dear girl,” said he, smiling a smile which he had provisionally -patented since his daughter had made it a practice to consult him -on curious points of psychology and diction and deportment. “My dear -daughter, I have, as you well know, little time to devote to the study -of temperament or poetry or unpractical things of that sort, but I have -seen enough in the course of a busy but not wholly unobservant life, to -convince me that when a young woman goes so far as to confess that she -hates any particular young man, or old man, for that matter--she has -gone very far in the direction of saying that she loves that particular -man. I don’t say that Josephine----” - -“She doesn’t. She doesn’t--at least--I don’t believe that she has -thought about him one way or another. She was, however, quite polite to -him today.” - -“That’s rather a bad sign, isn’t it? When a girl is polite to a man whom -she hates, she makes one feel that his chances with her are reduced. But -of one thing you may be sure--yea, of two things you may be certain; the -first is that no girl hates a man of whom she has not been thinking a -great deal; the second is that no girl hates a man unless she knows that -he loves her.” - -“How curious! How very curious! You are sure--quite sure?” - -“There are variants,” said the man of science. “But one cannot study -the properties of the positive and negative currents of electricity for -forty years without learning something of the elementary principles of -attraction and repulsion. The air was, I think, strongly charged with -electricity when the first woman was born; and that being so, don’t you -think you might do worse than ask Winwood and Josephine to join us at -The Weir, some of these days?” - -He was smoothing her hair very gently: the action was prettily paternal -but it was also strictly businesslike; for was he not the inventor of -that microelectrometer which is so marvellously sensitive that it is -capable of measuring the force of the current generated by the stroking -of a cat. He had experimented on his daughter years ago. No penalty -attached to his doing so, though had he tried his electrometer on the -cat he would have laid himself open to a criminal prosecution. - -She was all unconscious of the escaping ohms; she was puzzling out -the hard saying that had come from her father. She was trying to see -daylight through the obstructions of his phrases and the obscuration of -his logic. - -She shook her head--for the third time--saying: “I’m in a bit of a mist -just now. I should like to think it all out.” - -“As if one can get out of a mist through much thinking,” said he. -“Dearest daughter of my house and heart, take my advice and think only -when you cannot help thinking; but remember that woman was not made to -think but to act. It is man, foolish man, who is so badly endowed of -nature that he is compelled to think out things. The woman who thinks -is about as womanly as the pantomine Old Mother Hubbard. Be a woman, my -dear, and assert your femininity by acting--yes, acting in accordance -with no principle of logic, but strictly in response to the prompting of -your instinct.” - -He kissed her and looked at the timepiece. - -“I’ll write to Mr. Winwood,” she said somewhat helplessly and -hopelessly. “Joe long ago promised to come to us at The Weir on Saturday -week. But I think I must tell her if he accepts the mater’s invitation.” - -“Oh, certainly; that is the least you can do: she was so polite to him -to-day,” said her father from the door, smiling that registered smile of -his and making his escape before she could put the question to him which -that smile invariably prompted. - -She felt that it was all very well for him to advise her not to think -out any matter; it was not so easy, however, for her to refrain from -thinking, seeing that he had led her into the perilous paths of thought -long ago. He had taught her the art of thinking long ago, and yet now he -could airily assure her that she was very foolish and--what was much the -same thing--very unwomanly to try to think herself out of a difficult -place. - -Well, that showed that he was a man anyway--a man as illogical as the -most sapient _savant_ can be, and that is saying a good deal. - -The suggestions made to her by her father had, however, considerably -widened the horizon of her consideration, so to speak. That is to say, -she had only been thinking how admirably Josephine had succeeded in -hiding beneath a mask of politeness her ill-founded prejudice against -Mr. Winwood; whereas now she was led to consider the possibility of that -mask of hers concealing a good deal more. She had been pitying, first, -Mr. Winwood for having been so impulsive as to fall in love with -Josephine; and, secondly, Josephine for having been so impulsive as -to conceive a prejudice that might interfere with her happiness in the -future. - -But now, it seemed that she need not have pitied either of them--if her -father’s suggestions were worth anything. - -And then she had given an exclamation of derision and had begun to think -of other matters. She meant this exclamation to bear upon the wisdom of -her father veiled (as so much wisdom may be if one is only wise) in a -fine lacework of phrases. Her father’s Valenciennes phrases were much -admired: they had a charming and delicate pattern of their own which -perhaps some people admired more than the wisdom whose features they -effectually concealed, and the design of his Point de Venise was so -striking that no one was in the least curious as to whether it concealed -any thought or not. - -Thus it was that Sir Creighton’s daughter found it necessary to make -use of a serious exclamation when she found that when she had looked for -wisdom from her father he had given her a phrase--the lace cerement of -wisdom. - -And then she gave a more emphatic exclamation when she reflected upon -the possibility of Josephine’s polite demeanour being as opaque as her -father’s paradoxes. She had believed that the embroidered domino of -politeness--that makes a variation from the rather flimsy trope of -the lace--concealed within its folds only her friend’s dislike for the -presence of Mr. Winwood; but now it had been suggested to her that there -was a good deal below the billowy surface of the ornamented fabric that -she had never suspected to exist there. - -She said “Psha!” also “Phu!” and “Phi,” and gave vent to all those -delicately modulated breathings with long-drawn sibilants which moments -of staccato derision suggest to those young women who have not trained -themselves to the more robust verbiage of condemnation--sounds like the -stamping of Alpine heels upon a solid pavement. - -It was of course a great relief to the girl to give way to those -half tones of vituperation--those dainty slipper-taps as it were, of -impatience. But after all the real relief that she experienced was in -diverting her thoughts from the possible dissimulation of her father -and her friend to the plain and simple language made use of by Lord -Lullworth in her presence. - -Lord Lullworth was, of course, a fellow with no pretensions to -brain-power--with no delicate appreciation of the subtleties of -language; but beyond a shadow of doubt Amber felt the greatest relief to -her mind through reflecting upon his extraordinary frankness. There at -any rate was a man who knew exactly what he meant and who was able to -communicate to another person exactly what he meant. To be sure what he -did mean was something too absurd to be entertained for a moment; still -it had been clearly defined and--yes, it was not without picturesqueness -and--yes, it was undeniably a relief to think about him. - -Only an hour had passed since she had been lying back among her -cushions, reflecting, with the help of the Florentine mirror, upon the -situation of the moment. She had at that time been led, out of a feeling -that Lord Lullworth should have fair play, to think of him in active and -brutal contest with the other young men who had been drinking tea with -her; but now she found that, even judged from a lofty standpoint, he was -susceptible of being thought about with positive pleasure--well, if not -absolute pleasure certainly with satisfaction, the satisfaction which -comes from a sense of relief. - -And then she found that really his frankness had not been unpicturesque -as a pose. She began to feel that a great misapprehension existed in the -minds of most people in regard to frankness. The impression undoubtedly -did prevail that frankness was only candour in hob-nailed boots. She -knew that the general feeling is that if candour is insolence in a -white surplice, frankness is rudeness in rags. That misapprehension was -allowed to exist simply because so many people who were really clever, -never found that it suited them to be frank. They had given all their -attention to the art of not being frank, just as some women give up all -their time to their dress, neglecting their bodies, to say nothing -of their souls, in order that they may appear well-dressed. She felt -convinced that if a really clever man were to study frankness as an art -he might be able to make a good thing out of it. At any rate it would be -a novelty. - -Yes, Lord Lullworth had certainly struck out a path for himself, and had -made some progress--quite enough to impress her, and to cause her some -remorse when she reflected upon her having thought of him as a fool. - -Lord Lullworth undoubtedly had made an appreciable amount of progress -when he had impelled the girl who had first thought of him only as a -young fool, to give herself over to the consideration of his position as -an athlete, then of his position as a relieving influence coming after -the distractions of intellectuality; and, finally, of his position as an -original thinker--the pioneer of a cult which might yet become a power -in a society where dissimulation, flourishes. - -And what marked the extent of his progress the more vividly was the -fact that the result of her consideration of the young man from every -successive standpoint only strengthened his place in her esteem. - -Then her mother wrote the invitation to Mr. Win-wood for Saturday week -and he accepted it in due course; and it was on the Wednesday next -before that Saturday that Amber met Josephine on the terrace of the -great historic house in Kensington, and reminded her that she had -engaged herself to go up the river to The Weir from Saturday to Monday. - -That was not the only engagement of which Josephine was conscious. - -Still she had been able to shoot a dart of pretty badinage with a barb -touched with sugar instead of gall, in the direction of Mr. Winwood at -that moment; and thus Amber had gone home more amazed than ever. - -But not before she had been charmed by her gracious reception at the -hands of the Countess of Castlethorpe. - -No young man with a mother so perfectly charming could be unworthy of -consideration, she felt. - -And thus Lord Lullworth took another stride along the perilous path -upon which he had set his feet. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -Even when he was living for two days in the retirement of his cottage -on the bank of the River Thames, Sir Creighton Severn was too busy a man -to find time to join the little company who set out in his launch on -the Sunday to pay the visit which his daughter had promised to the -new proprietor of The Gables. He was not so utterly overwhelmed with -business, however, but that he could look forward to two hours of -solitude and slumber during their absence. He calculated, without the -aid of logarithms, that the little company would be absent for two -hours, and he proposed spending twenty minutes of this space in the -enjoyment of his solitary cigar on the lawn and the remaining hour and -forty minutes on one of the long cane chairs in a bower over-clustered by -clematis, blue and white, and hidden away from the intrusive enquiries -of impressionable flies and impossible visitors. - -He had no doubt that a visit to The Gables would have been very -interesting--as a matter of fact he found most things in the world very -interesting--but, as he remarked with a sigh that fully expressed his -gratification at the thought, a busy man must make up his mind to forego -a good many of those enjoyments which he most detested. - -The utmost enjoyment that he could allow himself in connection with -this expedition was seeing the departure of the electric launch from -the little staging at the water’s edge. But this enjoyment though -only lasting a few minutes, was intense while it did last. His wife -understood his feelings thoroughly. It was not often that she was able -when up the river to withdraw her guests in so solid a body, leaving Sir -Creighton to the solitude of his bower. - -Her guests pitied him. Some of the more sapient ones shook their heads -and talked about burning the candle at both ends. - -She only smiled in response and said that it did not matter when the -candle was an electric one. - -And so the launch made its noiseless way towards the lock at Hurley. - -The cottage known as The Weir was quite a small place--it could only -accommodate six or seven visitors at once in addition to Sir Creighton’s -family, and the usual maids which the visitors brought with them; it was -just the snug little nook that would suit any one who did not want to -keep more than two gardeners and half a dozen servants. The woods of -Clievedon were behind it, and the waters of the weir at Marlow whispered -a perpetual “Hush” in the ears of all the household. Sometimes, however, -the sound was sufficiently loud to drown the silly bleatings of the -phonographs on the excursion steamers on the other side. - -The fellow-guests of Josephine and Pierce on this particular Sunday were -only two--a man and his wife who were entering on the third month -of married life and living as if they were utterly regardless of the -likelihood that they had forty years or so ahead of them. They sat far -astern, not exactly side by side, but within easy reach of each other’s -hands. They thought it well to be prepared for any emergency. And they -were. - -The Gables was scarcely a mile beyond Hurley. It had now and again -peeped into the pages of English history during the two hundred years of -its existence. It was only because it had not let very readily since -the death of its late owner that the agents had thought it advisable to -apply the Nell Gwyn myth to it. The imagination of the house agent is -bounded on every side by Nell Gwyn. He has not the least notion who Nell -Gwyn was and he doesn’t greatly care; but he knows that as a jog to the -dilatory purchaser there is no name so potent in a catalogue, whether -the “item” refers to a public-house or a rectory. - -Nell Gwyn had been dead for several years before The Gables was built. -It was quite another actress who had found it a convenient place of rest -for a season, but even in respect of the date of her residence beneath -its roof some doubt exists; for at the very period assigned to her -occupancy of the house, it is known that it was in the possession of -a Royal Personage, which, of course, proves that a confusing error has -crept into the dates. - -But it is certain that an historic duel once took place on the lawn--a -duel in which a distinguished nobleman ran his dearest friend through -the vitals, and subsequently was himself stabbed by the husband of the -lady with whom his former antagonist was in love. - -The duel took place with swords on the lawn; but the successive owners -of the house have pointed out for generations the marks of the bullet -on the painted wainscot of one of the drawing-rooms; and the mahogany -Hepplewhite chair a portion of the carving of which was injured by the -same missile. No one has yet ventured to explain how it was that the -bullet in a duel fought with swords killed a man who was run through the -body and then injured the carving of a chair made of a wood that was not -introduced into England until forty years later, and by an artist who -was not born at the time. - -Still there are the bullet marks and they were pointed out with pride by -the new owner of the house to his guests who had joined his house party -this evening. - -And the girls, who knew all about the house, laughed quite pleasantly, -and the young man from Australia said that servants were very careless, -which was an absurd remark to make when talking about historic deeds and -the eccentricities of bullets. - -Lady Severn said that the room wanted badly to be dusted, and this -was quite true, as every member of the house-party--they were three in -number: namely, Galmyn, Bateman and another--was ready to testify. - -The historic house was not seen to the greatest advantage at that time; -but so far as one could gather, the pride of the new owner in possessing -it, was quite as great as if the place were habitable. It was far from -habitable, a casual observer might have been led to believe. After -crossing the high grass on the lawn--the proprietor explained -apologetically that he had been offered fifteen shillings for the hay -crop but he meant to hold out for a pound--the visitors skirted the -enormously overgrown shrubs and the unclipped yew hedges, until they -found themselves stumbling over the hillocks of what had once been a -rose-garden, now given over to the riotous luxuriance of the flaming -dandelion and the tangled masses of the blue periwinkle, and the -persistent nasturtium. The whole place resembled nothing so closely as a -neglected graveyard. - -Guy Overton and his house-party trooped out to meet them, from the big -entrance-hall; and it was plain that the little party had been playing -billiards, for one of them appeared in the porch with a cue still in his -hand, and they all seemed warm and dusty, having hastily struggled -back into their coats, as garden snails retire to their shells when -surprised. - -“Is it possible that you have been playing billiards indoors such a -lovely afternoon as this?” cried Amber in grave surprise. - -“Oh, no; not billiards, only pool,” said Guy. - -“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” said Amber. - -“How could they do it when so charming a garden is smiling at them -here?” asked Pierce. - -“Well, to tell you the truth, we have had only a poor kind of game,” - said Guy, with an exculpatory inflection. “In fact, I don’t think it -could be called a game at all.” - -“There is the less excuse for you then, spending your time over it,” - said Amber. - -“When all nature calls to you rapturously from the cemetery outside,” - added Pierce. - -“Oh, that’s all my aunt!” cried Guy impatient of sarcasm. “The garden is -a bit depressing just now, but sooner than take fifteen bob for the hay -crop, I’d give it away.” - -“That would be an extreme measure indeed,” said Pierce. “Take my -advice, Guy; let it continue increasing in luxuriance until the winter -and then sell it when the hay is getting scarce.” - -“Welcome to The Gables!” cried Guy hospitably as the party passed -through the porch into the hall. “Welcome all! I hope this may be the -first of many pleasant visits to my humble home.” - -“How nicely said,” cried Lady Severn. “I am sure that we all share your -kind hopes, Mr. Overton.” - -The hall was a spacious apartment with a transparent dome roof and -mullioned windows. Here and there on the walls hung trophies of the -chase, done in plaster of Paris, beautifully tinted (an idea due to -the house agent) and some excellent specimens of drapers’ Japanese. The -floor was beautifully inlaid as one could see where the borders remained -free from the earthy layer that had been transferred from the garden by -the boots of (it seemed) half a century. - -Cobwebs hung from the beams of the roof like the tattered regimental -colours in a church, and here and there a piece of plaster had -disappeared from above the panels of the walls. The remaining breadths -of plaster bore countless round marks on its surface, suggesting that -some man had designed a new and curious scheme of decoration, but had -failed to realise his aims. - -It was while Josephine and Pierce were examining these singular -impressions on the wall that Guy explained their origin. - -“The fact is,” he said, “we played a billiard or two last night, and as -the tables hadn’t been used for five or six years, there was no chalk, -but Galmyn, not to be beat, hit upon the notion of rubbing the tips of -our cues against the plaster of the walls. The idea worked remarkably -well.” - -“It was worthy of the imagination, of a poet,” said Pierce, feeling the -cushions of the table and laughing. “You must have had a joyous time -over this table,” he added. “The cushions are clearly made of chilled -steel.” - -“They are a bit hard, aren’t they?” said Guy. “Yes, we found that they -hadn’t much spring left in them.” - -“Spring?” cried Mr. Galmyn. “Spring? No, there’s more that suggests -winter than spring about them.” - -“They’ll be all right when they are played on for some time,” said Guy. - -“Oh, yes; in a year or two they’ll be like butter,” said Pierce -encouragingly. “Your light wasn’t particularly good I should say?” - -He pointed to a splash of wax about the size of a crown piece on the -edge of one of the pockets. - -“That chap is a regular Sherlock Holmes,” cried Guy. “He has found out -that we played by the light of candles last night.” - -On the shelf of the mantelpiece stood a pair of silver candelabra with -remnants of candle still in the sockets, but a good bit out of the -upright. Splashes of wax decorated the path from the billiard-table to -the fireplace, suggesting the white stones alongside a carriage drive. - -“Only one cue had a tip,” said Guy. “That made playing a bit tiresome: -you see we had to pass it on for every stroke. We had best go on to -the drawing-room. The ceiling is said to have been painted by Angelica -Kauffmann--whoever she was.” - -“I never saw a painted ceiling that poor Miss Angel hadn’t something to -say to,” whispered Josephine as the party trooped through the open door. - -It was as Lady Severn had said: the drawing-room stood sadly in need of -dusting. - -So, for that matter, did every other room, to say nothing of the stairs -which were carpetless. The house was not quite a wreck; but one felt -oneself instinctively quoting lines from Tennyson’s “Mariana” - as one stood--it was scarcely safe to sit--in any of the rooms. There -were bald patches upon some of the walls that had some time--long -ago--been painted; but as a sort of compensation for this deficiency, as -a member of the party remarked when it was pointed out to him there were -several patches on the wall that were not bald but quite the contrary; -for indeed the mildew had been at work increasing the forlorn appearance -of the place. - -But the new proprietor was very proud of everything--of the patches -on the wall that marked where the plaster had become dislodged--of the -hirsute patches that had been subject to the damp--of the bullet -marks that he considered the visible signs of the duel fought with -swords--nay, even of the rat that went scurrying across a room which -he called the library, the moment the door was opened. Oh, there were -plenty of rats, he declared--some fine fat healthy animals; he talked of -them as though they were part of the live stock of the estate. - -And in the drawing-room, after a depressing ramble through the dreary -house, tea was served by a couple of elderly women (local) and it was -certainly not deficient in strength. Neither was the cake (local) nor -the china. Young Mr. Overton was already making a heroic attempt to -introduce a scheme of economy that should tend to lessen the dead weight -of the expense to which he had been put in purchasing the historic -house. - -Some members of the party wished that he had gone a little further -in the same direction and had refrained from forcing his _recherché_ -entertainment upon them. They swallowed a portion of the black tea, -however, and congratulating him upon the appearance of everything--for -any one who was fond of developing a property, as he assured them -he was, the state of the house and grounds left nothing to be -desired--wondered secretly why he should have asked them to visit such a -scene of desolation. - -If Amber was among those who marvelled what his motive could be, her -doubts were dispelled when she found herself alone with him at one of -the drawingroom windows: the other members of the party had made their -escape to the field of grass called by a daring figure of speech, a -lawn; but she had allowed herself to be persuaded to sample, so to -speak, a view from a side window. She admitted that the silver of the -river gleaming between the yew hedges was very effective, and felt -convinced that it would be improved by a judicious trimming of the -shrubs. - -“And you like the old place?” said he. “It has surprised you, hasn’t -it?” - -“Surprised me?--well,--oh, yes, it certainly surprised me,” she replied. -“You are looking forward to a delightful time with it, are you not? I -suppose it wouldn’t have had the same attraction for you if it had been -in any better condition?” - -“Amber,” he said in a whisper which had something of shyness lingering -in its tremulous emotion. “Amber, I lay it all at your feet.” - -She allowed him to catch her hand--she was too puzzled to keep it from -him. Was this his way of saying good-bye, she wondered. - -“I lay everything here at your feet; if you like it, it is all yours,” - he cried. - -“Don’t be a goose, Guy,” she said snatching her hand away. “What on -earth would I do with such a place as this?” - -“Come to it--be the chatelaine of my castle, reign here, Amber, as you -do in my heart. I got the place cheap; but I shall spend money on it--by -degrees--to make it worthy of your acceptance, Amber, my own--my----” - -At this point a rat put in an appearance at the side of the door and -rushed out through the open window. - -“Was it for this you asked me to come here?” cried Amber, bravely -ignoring what other girls might have regarded as a legitimate -interruption of the scene. “Yes, you asked me to come here in order to -make your absurd proposal to me. You should be ashamed of yourself, -when you knew so well that I thought of our friendship as wholly -disinterested. If I had, for one moment----” - -“I thought you saw it coming,” said he hanging his head. - -“What coming?” - -“This.” - -“You have given me a blow, Guy--I thought that you were a sincere -friend.” - -“So I was--I am. But I can’t help loving you all the same. Great Queen -of Sheba, you don’t fancy that what you call Platonic friendship can go -on beyond a certain point. It’s all very well for a beginning; it makes -a good enough basis for a start--but, hang it all, you don’t think that -a chap with any self-respect would be content--when there’s a pretty -girl like you--the prettiest and the dearest girl that ever lived---- -Who the mischief is bawling out there?” - -“They are calling to me from the launch,” said Amber. “It is just as -well. Guy, I am not angry--only disappointed. You have disappointed me. -I thought that you at least--they are getting impatient. I must go.” - -She hastened away to the open window and he followed her with a face of -melancholy so congenial with the prevailing note of the house that an -artist would have been delighted to include him in a picture of “The -Gables from the River.” - -She ran through the long grass and reached the launch so breathless that -she could with difficulty explain that she had been watching a rat. - -Every one in the boat knew that Guy had been asking her to marry him. -Chaps only have that hangdog expression, worn with some distinction -by Guy Overton, when they have been proposing to girls, the two-month -husband explained to his wife. - -A girl only shakes hands with a man so cordially as Amber had shaken -hands with Guy, when she has just refused to marry him, Josephine knew. - -And the boatman shifted the lever. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -There was a field of wheat not so far from The Weir. It was approached -by a stile from the roadway and a narrow path went through it to the -Clieve-don Woods as evenly as a canal divides a landscape. At the -further end there was another stile and a bank of low trees, with a -hollow and a slope overgrown with green grass and a myriad of wild -flowers beloved by bees. A grass meadow with a little stream creeping -through it, and here and there a tuft of rushes; behind all the long -high ridge of the woods--these are the details of which one becomes -aware when one has begun to recover from the vast wonder of the field of -wheat. - -Josephine was not wearing a hat. She had merely picked up a crimson -sunshade after breakfast on the Monday, and had gone alone strolling -through the garden, a magazine under her arm. She had given her maid -instructions to be ready to start for town after lunch--the other -guests, with the exception of Pierce Winwood, had already taken their -departure, and Pierce Winwood had gone to Marlow with Lady Severn and -Amber. That was how Josephine came to be alone, and to be glad to be -alone. She had become aware of the fact that she had something to think -about, and she hoped that half an hour on the green shorn breadths of -grass with the river at her feet and the whisper of the weir in her ears -would be a relief to her. - -She strolled down the lawn to the river, but a steamer with people -aboard drinking out of bottles and playing on banjos, when the sexes had -duly exchanged hats, was hooting for the lock-keeper, so she turned away -to the upper part of the garden. She found that she had more to think -about than the garden would contain, so she passed out by the little -gate to the silent road and stood for a moment looking along its dusty -curve to where it got lost in the dimness of overshadowing trees, and -then, in the other direction, where it twisted round by the boathouse at -the bridge. She began to walk in this direction, slowly and listlessly, -and when she came to the stile leading to the wheatfield, she mounted -it, and remained for some time on the topmost step gazing along the -surface of that yellow flaming plain lost in the marvel of it, when -there came a wind too light for her to feel upon her face, and fanned -the moveless breadth of flame into a thousand flickers, and the whole -wide field of a hundred acres became quickly alive, and full of the -whisperings of newly acquired vitality. - -She felt that she had never seen anything so beautiful before. She -leaped down from the topmost step to the path, with all the delight of -the swimmer springing into the sea. The waving mass closed on her head -for a moment but when she recovered herself she was head and shoulders -above the grain. She strolled along the flat track by the side of the -little bank, with blue wild flowers on one hand and flaring poppies -on the other, breathing of the fresh warm sunlight that seemed to be -enclosed between the green bank and the serried lines of the ripe grain. - -And then, where a space had been cleared by the reaping-machine, and the -bundles of grain lay at regular intervals along the ground, there arose -from under her very feet a flock of blue and white wood pigeons, and -flew for a few dozen yards ahead, then fell in an exquisite curve, the -sunlight gleaming for a moment upon every white feather in succession -until all had dropped at the brink of the field. - -When she reached the farther stile with the woods at her back she -seated herself, feeling that she never wished to get back to the world -again,--that she had at last reached a spot where all the joy of life -was to be had. There was nothing better than this in all the world--this -breathing of warm air, this listening to the hum of insects, this -watching of the myriad butterflies, fluttering, and flitting and poising -over everything that was sweet smelling on the bank and in the grass, -this gazing on the rippling flames that burned yellow into the distance -where no ripple stirred. The beauty and the quietness of it all! The -satisfied sense of waiting without emotion for the heat of the noontide, -of waiting, without longing, for the poppy sunset--for the sounds of the -evening, the cooing of the wood pigeons, the cawing of the rooks, with -now and again the rich contralto of a blackbird’s note. - -And then the warm silence of a night powdered with stars, as the soft -blue of the sky became dark, but without ceasing to be blue! Oh that -summer night! - -The thought of it all as she could imagine it, meant rest. - -That was what every one needed--rest; and she felt that she had wandered -away from man and into the very heart of the peace of God. - -***** - -The thought that she had a thought which was not one suggested by the -landscape irritated her. She felt that she had a good reason for being -irritated with Ernest Clifton who was responsible for her failure to -continue in this dream of perfect repose. She felt irritated with him -just as one is with a servant who blunders into the room where one is in -a sleep of divine tranquillity. - -During the ten days that had passed since he had surprised her--for a -few moments--by giving her the release for which she had asked him, only -to impose upon her a much stronger obligation, she had been thinking -over his trickery--the word had been forced upon her; she felt quite -shocked at its persistent intrusion but that made no difference: the -word had come and the word remained with her until she was accustomed to -it. - -But it was not until now that she asked herself the question: - -“_How could I ever have fancied that I loved the man who could thus -juggle with me?_” - -She knew that what she had told him on that Sunday at Ranelagh was quite -true: she had been greatly troubled for some months at the thought that -she was guilty of deception--a certain amount of deception--in respect -of her engagement to him. The deception of her father and mother had -become at last unendurable to her. She began to despise herself for -it all and to feel humiliated every time she was by the side of Ernest -Clifton when the eyes of people were watching her. She had to act as if -he was nothing to her, and this dissimulation had become unendurable, -so that she had sought for the opportunity of telling him that he must -release her. - -She thought that she cared for him even then--she thought that the first -step apart from him was taken by her when she perceived that he did not -believe what she had said to him at that time. She knew that he did not -believe that it pained her to deceive her father and mother--she knew -that he was thinking “Who is the other man?” and then she was conscious -of taking the first step apart from him. - -But it was not a mere step that she had taken away from him on that -evening on the Italian terrace of the Kensington garden when she had -recovered from her surprise at his generosity only to discover that he -had tricked her--that he had substituted a new bondage for the old from -which he had released her--it was not a mere step: she became conscious -of the fact that he and she were miles asunder--that she detested him so -much that she could scarcely realise that she had ever cared a jot for -him. And now---- - -Well now she was irritated that the thought that she had yet to free -herself entirely from him, came upon her shattering with a note of -discord her crystal dream of peace. - -She would write to him--no, she would see him face to face before -another day had passed, and tell him that she perceived how he had -juggled with her, and that she declined to be bound to him by any tie. -It was a comfort to her to reflect that she had need only to tell him to -go to her father and ask his consent to her promising to marry him, and -her separation from him would be complete, for she knew something of -the ambition of her father, and that he had other views respecting her -future than to marry her to a man who though perhaps possessing some -power as the wire puller--the stage manager, as it were--of a political -party, was far from being a match for the daughter of a man who hoped -for a peerage. Mr. Clifton himself had been well aware of this fact, -or he would not have imposed upon her that bondage of secrecy which had -become so irksome to her. - -Yes, she would tell him that unless her father gave his consent, she -would consider herself bound in no way to him--not even by that subtle -silken cord of mutual faith, “mutual confidence holds us together,” was -the phrase that he had employed. - -She laughed at the thought of it. - -“_Does it--does it?_” she thought, through her laugh. “_Well, -perhaps--but----_” - -And then she started, hearing through the hum of the wild bees about the -sweet briar of the grassy bank, the sound of a step on the track leading -from the stile through the woods. She started and then her face flamed -like the poppies at her feet, though she must have seen in a moment that -the man who had vaulted over the rails of the stile was no stranger but -only Pierce Winwood. - -And then he too started and his face--but his face being already the -colour of a copper-beech was not susceptible of any poppy tint, although -there is an inward blushing, just as there is an inward bleeding--far -more fatal than the other. - -Then they both laughed, with their heads thrown back, after the manner -of people who give themselves over to a laugh. - -It seemed that she was under the impression that an apology for her -presence there was necessary, for there was more than an explanatory -note in her voice while she said: - -“I had no idea that--why, I thought that you had gone to Marlow--I was -in the garden but there was a horribly crowded steamer with a terrible -Hampsteading crowd aboard and a whistle. I came out on the road and -was amazed to find that I had never heard that a wheatfield is the most -beautiful thing in the world. How is it that the people here have been -talking on any other subject during the past few days? What else is -there worth talking about in comparison with this?” - -She made a motion with her sunshade to include all the landscape. He did -not look at the landscape: he was too busy looking at her. - -“I wondered what it could be compared to,” she resumed with great -rapidity. She did not show her disappointment at his disregard of the -glory of mellow growth which he had taken the trouble to indicate. “Oh, -what is worthy of being mentioned in the same breath as this?... But how -did you come here from that direction?” - -“I crossed the river by the bridge and took a stroll through the woods,” - said he. “I was not sure that I should find a path through this field, -but when I saw the stile I had hopes.” - -“That is how people come upon the best things that life has in store for -them--by the merest fluke,” said she, and she made a movement as if she -understood that they were to walk together to The Weir. - -“Don’t let us go away for another minute,” said he, without moving. - -She turned her head only, with the sunshade over it. An enquiry was on -her face. - -“Don’t go away,” he repeated. “I was going to put those words of yours -to the test.” - -“What words? Did I say anything? Oh, the beauty of the wheatfield? I -will not have it analysed by any canon of criticism. If you say that it -is too yellow I shall never speak to you again.” - -“I will not say that, and yet perhaps you will never speak to me again.” - -The smile faded away from her face at the tone of his voice. - -“I will listen to you,” she said resolutely. - -He looked into her face for a few moments and then he took a step or two -away from her, actually turning round to do so. His eyes were fixed on -the ground. - -“You said that people come upon the best things in life as--as I came -here--to you, and I am going to find out whether I have come upon the -best or the worst thing that life has to offer me, for I am going to -tell you that I love you and to ask you if you can give me any hope that -you will one day think of me as loving you.” - -He was now standing face to face with her. He spoke in a low voice -but not in even tones, until she gave a little cry--it sounded like -a sob--when he was half way through his sentences, making a motion of -protest with one hand; then his voice became quite steady--steady almost -to a point of coldness. - -She did not answer him at once. But there came a silence, through which -they could both hear the hum of the wild bees on the green bank. - -Two sulphur butterflies danced above them in the air. - -She watched the butterflies, and then glanced at the bank. - -“There is sweet briar about here I am sure,” she said, as if they had -been discussing the herbarium. - -He thought he appreciated her mood of the moment. - -“Yes,” he said; “I think there must be sweet briar somewhere.” - -He did not stir hand or foot. His hands were in the pocket of his -jacket. - -She took a few steps to the bank; then her sunshade slipped from her -shoulder and fell awkwardly on the ground behind her; for she had no -hand to hold it; she was holding both her hands to her face sobbing in -them. - -He made no move. He did not even recover her sunshade, sprawling there -a mighty crimson thing among the crimson poppies and the pink. He could -not understand her tears; he only felt that she could not be indifferent -to him. There are only two sorts of tears; they never come from -indifference. - -And then she seated herself on the bank and wiped her tears away with -her handkerchief. He saw how the sunlight was snared among the strands -of her hair. He had never known that it had that reddish gold tinge -among its masses of rich brown. It maddened him with its beauty; but -still he could not move. He had a feeling that it would be fatal for him -to make the least movement. - -He had ample time to admire this newly-discovered charm of her hair, -for she did not look at him nor did she speak until several minutes had -passed. - -Then she tossed from her the handkerchief that she had rolled into a -round mass, as a child flings its ball away, and the recklessness that -the act suggested was prolonged in her voice, as she said: - -“What a fool I am! Why should I cry because I know that you love me -when I too know that I love you, and that whatever happens I shall marry -you--you--you--and not the man whom I promised to marry? What a fool!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -He was beside her in a moment. An inarticulate sound of triumph had -come from him--the legacy of some carniverous ancestor coeval with Adam. -He was kissing her hands, and her face, and, when she bowed her head, he -kissed the shining beauty of her hair. - -It had the taste of sunlight. - -She did not take any great pains to prevent him. She did not at that -moment see that there was a particular need to do so. It seemed to her -so good to be kissed by him. - -He had an impression that she kissed him back--once. - -Then they looked into each other’s faces and laughed quite pleasantly. - -“How funny, isn’t it?” she said, “you have not seen me more than a dozen -times.” - -He was unable to see what was funny in the matter--that was why he -laughed very seriously, and whispered, “My beloved!” in her ear. - -“My beloved,” he said again holding her hand close to him. “My beloved, -never say that I have not been seeing you all my life. From the time I -first knew what love meant I loved you--an ideal--I loved the Ideal that -was you. I wondered if I should ever meet you. I hoped that I should or -it would not have been worth my while to live. But I met you--you came -to me.” - -“Yes, I have come to you,” she said. “But...” - -“Ah, why should you introduce that note of discord?” he cried. “You said -something just now--something--I wonder if I heard it aright... Never -mind. This hour is mine, is it not?” - -“I don’t know,” she said doubtfully. “You have made it yours, have you -not? Oh, yes it must be your hour--and mine--I suppose it must be mine -too--because I never felt so happy before; and I do not even let the -thought of--of--the other man come between us.” - -There was a dreadful recklessness in her voice. She could not help it: -she felt reckless at that moment. She felt that she was retaliating -justly upon the man who had tricked her. She would have liked if he -had suddenly appeared on the other side of the stile and looked on. She -would have kissed her lover before his face. What could he have done -to her? Did he really fancy that Pierce Winwood would allow him to -interfere? If he did he was a fool. - -He did not know that it is part of a woman’s nature to be reckless--once -in her life; and he became a little afraid of the way in which she was -speaking to him. He did not know how she had been driven ahead by the -thought that another man had tried to trick her into being true to him. - -She was having her retaliation. - -He did not object in the least to be a participator in it, though he -knew nothing about it. He held her hands in his own and looked into her -face. - -“You were right,” he whispered; “it is the best day of my life. And I -thought that I came here by chance. You love me, don’t you? I wonder -if you really do love me. Shall I awaken and find that this marvel of -sunshine and summer has fled forever? Were you really thinking of me as -I came up? It seems ridiculous to hope so much.” - -“I think I must have been thinking of you,” she said, “if I had not been -thinking of you should I have felt so... Oh, I recollect now--I -was not thinking of you--I was only thinking of the loveliness of the -world--that was why I felt angry that he had bound me to him--if I never -really hated him before I hated him then. You will not let me go back to -him, will you? You must promise to save me from him.” - -She had caught him by the arm. All her recklessness had vanished. She -was appealing to him as a child appeals to one for protection against a -bogey man. - -He had his arms about her. - -“No one shall take you from me,” he said. “Who is it that you fear, my -dearest?” - -She stared at him for some moments, and then burst into a laugh. - -“I forgot--I forgot,” she cried. “You never heard it. How was it -possible for you to hear it?” - -Then she put down a hand to his that clasped her waist, and held it away -from her. Her eyes were looking out over the whispering breadth of the -wheat-field. The wood pigeons were still rising at intervals and curving -downward with a glint of sunlight on their feathers. - -She rose from where she was sitting against the bank, and picked up her -sunshade. - -“I am afraid that it is all wrong,” she said, shaking her head. “I have -been too sudden--I had no right to listen to you--to tell you--but you -came upon me before I was aware of it, and--oh, I told you just how I -felt. As I kept telling you, I felt that I was telling myself the truth -for the first time. But--well, I was free--that is to say, I should have -been free if he had not said that he trusted in me. That was his trick... -Oh, why did you come here to-day? Why--why--why? Could you not have -waited until I had carried out my resolution to go to him and tell him -that I would not be bound by any trick of his? You had no right to come -as you did. I feel that I have been wrong--horribly wrong. I should have -gone to him first.” - -“Yes; but I came--I came, and you cannot take back a word that you -spoke--that’s one good thing anyway,” said he in the voice of a man that -no woman’s treble can oppose, unless it becomes shrill, and there is a -craning of the neck as it is uttered. - -“You will say that women have no sense of honour--I have heard men say -that,” she continued, and there was indignation in her voice. “No sense -of honour! Perhaps we have not; but I meant--yes, it was my sense -of honour that made me make up my mind to go to him and give him to -understand that I meant to be free--free, not merely in name, but really -free--free so that he should have no right to say that he trusted me. He -said that he trusted me--those were his words; they sounded generous at -the moment, but then I perceived that--that----” Her utterance became -more deliberate; then it seemed to occur to her that there was something -wanting on the part of her auditor: there was a puzzled expression on -his face that puzzled her at first interfering with her fluency; then -all at once she seemed to recollect that the extent of her knowledge -of the subject on which she was speaking was a good deal more than his -could possibly be. How could he be expected to know what had been kept a -secret from her father and mother--from all the world? - -“You know nothing,” she said after a long pause. “I shall have to -tell you everything. Perhaps you will feel that I have acted -badly--disgracefully--without a sense of honour. I dare say I have--yes, -I feel that I have behaved badly; but it was your fault. You came too -soon. I tell you that indeed I had thought it all out, and made up my -mind that I should be free from all blame.” - -“Tell me all that is on your mind, my dearest,” said he. “You have -already told me all that is on your heart.” - -“It doesn’t matter what he may think--now, does it?” she cried. - -“Nothing matters so long as we love each other,” he responded glibly and -gladly. - -“And it really isn’t much after all that I have to tell,” she said. “How -I ever came to agree to his proposal, I cannot explain.” - -“Whose proposal?” - -“Whose?--Whose? Oh, you do not know even so much. Listen. Nearly a year -ago I fancied that I was in love with Ernest Clifton. At any rate he -told me that he was in love with me and I admired him so much for the -way he had worked himself up from the humblest of positions--I suppose -that’s the best explanation of the matter--I agreed to marry him, and -he also persuaded me to keep my engagement secret from all the world: he -knew that my father would not sanction it until at least he had a seat -in Parliament. Well, it was kept a secret; but I gradually so came to -see that I was acting wrongly--the whole business so weighed upon me -that I was conscious of my whole character--my whole nature changing, -and I insisted on his releasing me from my engagement.” - -“And he did so? It would not matter to me whether he did so or not; but -I suppose he was wise enough to do so.” - -“After some time, and a letter or two, he said that he released me; and -then--this was what made me angry--he said, ‘Between you and me there is -no need for the formality of an engagement. I have implicit faith in you -and I know that you have implicit faith in me. We can trust each other.’ -Now don’t you see how despicably clever he was? Don’t you see that while -he released me with one hand he was holding me to him with the other? -Don’t you see that in listening to you here to-day--in admitting to -you that it is you and none other whom I love, I have acted -dishonestly--shamefully, if you insist on it.” - -“I don’t insist on it. I am glad that I came here when I did, taking -you by surprise. I see clearly that if I had not taken you by surprise -I might never have had a chance of hearing the truth from you--the truth -which has made a new man of me.” - -“I don’t agree with you. I feel that when he trusted me--cannot you see -that he made it a question of honour with me? Haven’t you heard of a -soldier’s _parole?_ I have broken my _parole_. That’s what I feel.” - -“My dearest girl, do you fancy that _parole_ can be a one-sided -agreement? Is your sense of honour to be entrapped by sophistry? Talk -of _parole_--a man to whom you consider yourself bound by a promise -releases you from the consequence of this promise, and then tells you -that though you promised not to run away, and though he releases -you from that promise he trusts in your honour not to run away. What -sophistry is this? It might do well enough for a political juggler, -but it is not for such people as you or I. You didn’t say to him, did -you?--‘I agree to be bound to you by the faith which we have in each -other.’” - -“He took care to give me no chance of replying to him one way or -another.” - -“Then cannot you perceive that he had no claim on you?” - -She was silent. The fact was that she did not perceive it. But -undoubtedly the way he proved the point was agreeable to her. Of -course it is quite possible for a man to prove a point to a woman’s -satisfaction and yet to leave her unsatisfied as to whether or not his -contention is correct. Pierce Winwood had proved to this young woman -that she had been well within her rights in accepting him as her lover, -and yet she had an uneasy feeling that she had done the other man -a wrong. An old rhyme went jingling through her brain, with all the -irritating force of a milk cart hurrying for a train--something about -the advisability of being off with the old love before being on with the -new. - -But that was just what she had done: she had been strictly -conscientious. She had written to Ernest Clifton asking to be released -from the promise which she had made to him and he had freed her--what -the young man beside her said was perfectly true: she had not been -a party to the _parole_--it had been forced upon her. She had not -consented to it. Nothing in the world could be clearer than this. - -And yet the result of thinking over it all was to leave her with a -feeling of uneasiness in respect of her own action and of still greater -uneasiness in respect of his sense of honour. - -“Don’t think anything more about the business,” said he. - -“I will not,” she said. “I will not; after all, did not he _try_ to -trick me, and why should not I, if I saw that--that---- But you--well, -I have made a confession to you at any rate, and that’s something, isn’t -it? You are not angry?” - -“Angry--I--angry----” - -He was taking such action in regard to her as should he thought convince -her that he was not permanently embittered against her; but she gave -him to understand that his word of mouth was quite adequate to allay her -doubts. - -“Ah, no--no,” she said; and his lips had to be content with the back of -her hand. “I was taken by surprise just now. I did wrong, considering -the position in which I stood--in which I still stand.” - -“Good heavens,” he cried, “haven’t I proved--didn’t you agree with -me----” - -“Yes, yes; there can be no doubt about it,” she assented with the utmost -cordiality. “Yes; still--but I see clearly what I can do. I can tell -him that without my father’s consent it would be impossible for me -to--to--to be otherwise than free. I will tell him that I consider -myself to be free--that I considered myself to be so from the moment he -agreed to my taking back my promise.” - -He could not see that anything would be gained by this traffic with -the other man; but he thought that she might fancy that he was giving -himself the airs of a lover too early in his career. Only half an -hour had elapsed since he had undertaken to play the part, and though -ambitious to make a mark in the _role_, he thought it would be more -prudent to perfect himself in it by slow degrees. - -Still he could not refrain from saying: - -“I wouldn’t bother myself much, if I were you, in this business. These -chaps are so clever you never know quite where you are with them. I see -plainly that was how you came to engage yourself to him. He told you of -his hopes--you wished out of the goodness and generosity of your heart -to help him on, and so--well, there you were, don’t you see?” - -“That was exactly how it was,” she cried. “You are just to me. I know -now that I never loved him--ah, now I know what love is!” - -“My beloved!” - -“I admired him for his courage--I admired him for having got on without -any one to help him--I do so still: indeed there is a good deal that -is worthy of admiration about him--and respect--oh, heaven knows that I -respect him.” - -The lover laughed. He knew that he had nothing to fear from the other -man when she began to talk of respecting him. In fact the more she -spoke in praise of the fellow the more confident he felt in her love for -himself. Girls do not talk in praise of the men they love. They simply -love them. - -She went on. - -“Yes, I thought--I hoped that it might be possible for me to have helped -him. Perhaps I felt flattered--every one about me was saying how clever -he was--that he was one of the coming men--that was the phrase--I think -I hate the sound of it now. But I dare say that I felt flattered... -he might have chosen some other girl, you see: such men usually choose -girls who are heiresses--and yet he chose me--I suppose I felt all -that.” - -“He’ll have a chance of choosing one of the heiresses now,” said the -Real Lover grimly; “and he’ll do it, you may be certain.” - -She did not respond to the laugh he gave. She felt that it would have -been in bad taste. When the second husband looks at the portrait of his -predecessor and says something jocular about the size of his ears, the -widow of the original of the picture does not usually acquiesce with a -smile, even though her late husband’s ears were as long as Bottom’s. She -thinks that, ears or no ears, he was once her gentle joy. - -There was a note of reproof in Josephine’s voice as she said: - -“You must do him the justice to acknowledge that he was not mercenary -when he asked me to give him my promise. We must do Mr. Clifton -justice.” - -The Real Lover was better pleased than ever. He had almost reached the -chuckling point of the condition of being pleased. When a girl talks -about her desire to be strictly just towards a man she (Mr. Win-wood -felt assured) has no remnant of affection for that man. The moment a -girl becomes just towards a man she ceases to have any affection for -him. There is some chance for a man (Winwood knew) so long as a girl -is capable of treating him unjustly. The assumption of the judicial -attitude on the part of a girl means that the little god Cupid has had -the bandage snatched from his eyes, and Cupid with his eyes open might, -if provided with a jacket covered with buttons, pass for the boy at any -dentist’s door. - -The Real Lover being, by virtue of his Loverhood, strictly -dishonourable, encouraged her to be just to the other. - -“Yes,” he said gravely, “I should be sorry to think that he is otherwise -than a good kind of chap--for a professor of politics. But there are -heiresses and heiresses. Money is a very minor inheritance. I am quite -ready to believe as you did, that he had a real--that is to say, a--an -honest--he may have fancied it was honest--feeling that you--yes, that -you could advance his interests. Oh, I don’t say that these clever chaps -are indifferent to beauty and grace and the soul of a woman as the -means of advancing their own ends. I dare say that he had a notion that -you--but he’ll certainly have a look in where there are heiresses now.” - -“You are grossly unjust--you are grossly ungenerous--and I am deeply -hurt,” said she. - -“That makes me love you all the more,” he cried. “For every word you say -in his favour I will love you an extra thousand years.” - -He knew that if he could only stimulate her to talk still more -generously about Mr. Clifton he would soon get her to feel that she -had not been guilty of the breach of honour with which she was still -inclined to reproach herself. It was so like a woman, he thought, to -place so much importance upon a little flaw in the etiquette of being -off with the old love and on with the new. He loved her the more for -her femininity and he thought that he might lead her on to feel that she -had actually been generous in respect of the other. - -“I will not have a word said against Mr. Clifton,” she said firmly. - -And she did not hear a word said against him, though she had so -earnestly encouraged him to say such a word; but the fact was that -the dinner-hour of the prosaic harvesters had come to an end, and the -reaping machine, with the patent binding attachment, began to work under -their eyes, and a girl cannot speak well even of the man whom she has -just thrown over when so interesting a machine is at hand. - -The two stood spell-bound watching that beautiful thing of blue picked -out with red, as it went mightily on its way down the wall of standing -grain, stretching out its pendulous arms with a rhythmic regularity that -a poet might have envied,--lifting the material for a sheaf and laying -it along with more than the tenderness of a mother for her child, laying -it in its cot. - -How much more picturesque--how much more stimulating to the imagination -was not this marvellous creature--this graminivorous reanimated thing of -the early world, than the squalid shrill-voiced, beer-ex-haling reapers -of the fields in the days gone by? This was the boldly expressed opinion -of both the watchers, though each of them had a good word to say for the -cycle of the sickle. - -“The sickle was the lyric of the wheatfield, the reaping machine is -the epic,” said Josephine, with a laugh at her attempt to satisfy an -exacting recollection of a picture of Ruth, the Moabitess, with her -sickle in a field flooded with moonlight, as well as an inexorable sense -of what is due to the modern inventor. - -“My dearest,” said he, “I know now that you are happy. Are you happy, my -dearest?” - -“Ah, happy, happy, happy!” she whispered, when their faces were only an -inch or two apart. - -They watched the wood pigeons circling, and dip-. ping with the -exceeding delicacy of cherubic wings until they dropped upon the surface -of the freshly cleared space. They breathed the warm fragrance of the -sun-saturated air, with now and again a whiff of the wild thyme that -caused them to hear through the whir of the machinery the faint strain -of a Shakesperian lyric floating above the oxlips and nodding violets -of that bank beside them--and the sweet briar that was somewhere, loved -of the wild bee. The sulphur butterflies went through their dances -in the air, and more than one velvety butterfly in brown--a floating -pansy--swung on the poppies of the path. - -“You are happy,” he said again. - -“Happy--happy, happy,” she repeated. - -Happiness was in her face--in her parted lips--in her half closed -eyes--in the smile of the maiden who loves she knows not why, and she -cares not whom. - -***** - -She was not quite so happy when she had returned to her home two hours -later and her father met her saying: - -“My dearest child, Ernest Clifton has been with me and he has persuaded -me. Josephine, my child, I think of your happiness more than any earthly -consideration. I have given my consent to your engagement. Kiss me, my -Josephine.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -What could she say? What could she do on hearing this sentence -pronounced by her father? - -He had impressed upon her the kiss of a father. It lay on her forehead -and she could feel it there like the seal to a contract. It was his -formality that made her feel there was nothing to be said or done -further in the matter. When once a contract is sealed no one can do -anything. Protest is useless. Submission is taken for granted. - -But to come up fresh from the glory of that wheatfield--every ear of -grain seemed a unit in the sum of the love which was alive in that -field--to come up to town by the side of the man whom she knew that she -loved--his hand touching hers now and again--his eyes evermore drawing -her own to meet them and to mix with them--his voice still in her -heart--to leave him feeling certain of him--certain of the future, and -then to hear her father speak that sentence and to feel that cold wax -kiss of his on her forehead--oh, the thought of it all was suffocating. - -What could she say? - -How could she tell her father at that moment that two hours ago she had -found out that she loved, not the man who had by some mysterious means -won her father’s consent to her name being united with his, but quite -another man--a man whom her father had only seen twice, and who had been -seen by herself not more than a dozen times, and all within a period of -a few weeks. - -The surprise was too much for her. The mystery of it all overcame her. -She could only stare at her father, while he held her hand and talked -to her in a paternal, parliamentary way, patting the back of her fingers -very gently. - -She felt that his words were in good taste and well chosen. She knew -that they could never be otherwise. But how could they ever come to be -uttered? That was the question which was humming through her poor head -all the while he was assuring her that though perhaps he had had other -views in his mind in respect of securing her happiness--other ambitions -in regard to her future, still he was content to waive all in order that -she might marry the man of her choice. - -“Clifton has been perfectly frank with me, my dear,” he said. “Oh, -yes, he confessed to me that you and he had an understanding early last -autumn that if my consent could be obtained he could count on you. I -cannot say that I approve of such secret understandings between young -people: an exchange of confidences of this type is almost equivalent to -a secret engagement, is it not? But he told me how sensitive you were on -this point and how scrupulous you were--I know that he admires you more -than ever on account of your scruples--every right thinking man, lover -or otherwise, must do so. He too had his scruples--they do him honour -also. He was sensible--fully sensible of the fact that we had every -right to look higher--much higher for our daughter than our -daughter herself thought fit to look. Of course my position in the -Government--well, some people have been flattering enough to say that -I may look for a place in the Cabinet when the next change takes place, -and between ourselves, I think a change is imminent. Never mind that. I -know that Clifton is a rising man; he has been a power in our camp -for several years past and his advice is esteemed in--I have reason to -know--the highest--the very highest quarters. In fact if he had not made -himself so very useful as to become almost indispensable he would long -ago have been provided with a Seat and a post. He is by no means at the -foot of the ladder. He is a man who has made a successful fight against -the most adverse influences--he knows his own strength--he still knows -it--he does not fritter away his chances, taking up one thing and then -dropping it for another. Men of his stamp are the men to succeed. Your -future, my child, is, I know, safe in his keeping--oh, quite safe. You -have shown your wisdom in your choice. God bless you, my dear, God bless -you!” - -The paternal kiss was this time impressed upon her forehead with a -paternal smile, and she could say nothing. The futility of saying -anything was impressed upon her with each of the two paternal kisses. -The next moment she was left alone, and her most prominent thought was -that he had spoken so convincingly as to leave no opening for any one to -say a single word. - -And yet, only two hours before, she had been kissed on the cheeks and on -the hair by Pierce Winwood! - -The result of her father’s words was to make her feel far more deeply -than she had yet felt that she had been guilty of something dreadful in -the way of double-dealing when she had allowed Pierce Winwood to kiss -her--even if she had allowed him to kiss only one of her hands she would -have been guilty (she now felt) of something almost shocking. Breathing -as she now did, in the centre of the paternal halo of her father’s -phrases, she could not but feel shocked as she reflected upon her -frankness in confessing (in the breathing spaces between his kisses) her -love for Pierce Winwood, and before she met her mother she was actually -thinking what reparation she could make to her parents for her shocking -conduct. Would an attitude of complete submission to their wishes be -sufficient, she asked herself. - -She came to the conclusion that it would not be an excessive atonement -to make for so terrible a lapse from the conduct which was expected from -her. It certainly would not, for her father had given her to understand -that he had only been induced to give his consent to her engagement -to Ernest Clifton, because it was clearly her dearest hope to get his -consent to that engagement. How absurd then was her thought that there -was any atonement in an attitude of submission to a fate which her -parents had the best reasons for believing that she most ardently -sought. - -And thus she had to face her mother. - -The maternal halo which her mother welded to that of her father formed -a most appropriate decoration, any connoisseur of phrases would have -admitted. It was mat gilt with a burnished bit of _repousse_ here and -there along the border. But the double halo, though decorative enough, -was too heavy for Josephine’s head and its weight oppressed her. - -Her mother was a charming woman. She had not reached that period of -humiliation in the life of a woman of the world when she hears people -say that she is a charming woman _still_. No one ever thought of saying -that she was a charming woman _still_. Growing old has gone out, for it -has become acknowledged that the custom of a woman’s doing her best to -look hideous with caps and combs and things when she gets married -is allied to the Suttee; and Lady Gwendolen West--she was the fifth -daughter of the late Earl of Innisfallen in the peerage of Ireland--was -one of the leaders of modern intelligence who had made this discovery -in the science of comparative superstition. By the aid of a confidential -_masseuse_ and an hour’s sleep before lunch and dinner every day of her -life, she remained worldly at forty-six. - -She kissed her daughter with a subtle discrimination of what her -daughter expected of her and gave her her blessing. - -“You are a wicked child,” was the opening bar of the maternal -benediction. “How wicked you have been!--absolutely naughty: you know -you cannot deny it, you sweet thing. And you make me look a hundred, you -know, especially when I have anything of mauve about me. Thank heaven, I -am not as other women who make up with that absurd mauve complexion and -think that it deceives any one. What would you think of your mother, -Joe, if she made up like those poor things one meets even at the -best houses, though I do think that you might have let me into your -confidence, Joe--I do really. You know that I should have been delighted -to take your part against your father any day. I see you looking at my -new _tocque_, but if you say that the pink and crimson poppies do not -look well among the corn ears I’ll have nothing more to do with you or -your affairs. Now what on earth are you staring at, Joe? Isn’t it quite -natural for corn and poppies----” - -“It’s wheat--wheat,” said Josephine, and still she kept her eyes fixed -upon the headdress of her mother. (“_Only two hours ago--only two hours -ago_.”) - -“And where’s the difference between wheat and corn, you little -quibbler?” laughed Lady Gwen. “You didn’t know that I had ordered the -_tocque_ from Madame Sophy. I kept it a secret from you in order to -surprise you. But it hasn’t surprised you after all. Now what was I -saying apropos of secrets just now?--something about--of course, I knew -that we had been talking of secrets. You were very naughty, you sly -puss, and you don’t deserve to be forgiven; but Mr. Clifton--I suppose -I must call him Ernest now--how funny it will be!--he’s one of the most -coming men--he’s awfully coming. Your father agreed with surprising -ease. I expect that some one turned him against the notion that he had -that Lord Lull-worth would have suited you. Lord Lully is no fool, as I -happen to know; so perhaps things are just as well as they are, though -I know your father thought that, with you married to the son of the -Minister, he was pretty sure of getting into the Cabinet. I met Lord -Lully only yesterday and he asked me how it had never occurred to some -of the men who do the caricatures in the papers to draw the Marquis in -the character of a job-master. Funny, wasn’t it? A bit disrespectful of -course; but then everybody knows that the Marquis has done very well for -all his relations and his relations’ relations. Good heavens, is that -four o’clock striking? Hurry upstairs and get Madeline to put you into -another dress. We are going to the Glastonburys’ reception in Hyde Park -Gate. The Green Scandinavian are to be there. Make haste. We have two -other places of call.” - -What was she to say to such a mother? How could she hope for sympathy -from such a source? How could she tell Lady Gwendolen that she had -changed her mind--that she loved not Ernest Clifton but Pierce Winwood? - -That was the terrible part of this greeting of her parents: they took -everything for granted; they assumed that her dearest wish was to obtain -their consent to be engaged with Mr. Clifton, though it did not look -very much as if they expected her to be exuberant in her gratitude to -them for their complaisance. She had been deadly cold while her father -had spoken to her, and she had not warmed in the least under the -influence of her mother’s chatter. Was this the way in which girls as a -rule deport themselves when the happiest hour of their life has come? - -“I am not going out this afternoon,” she said when her mother had turned -to a mirror to pinch some fancied improvement in the poppies that flared -over her _tocque_. - -“What nonsense are you talking?” cried Lady Gwen pinching away. “What -nonsense! These things should be bordered with wire; they fall out of -shape in a day. Is that an improvement?” - -She faced her daughter, and Joe said: - -“I somehow think that it was best lying flat. No, I’m not going out this -afternoon. I am deadly tired.” - -“You do look a bit blowsy,” said the mother with a critical poise of -the inverted flower-basket on her head. Then, as if a sudden thought had -struck her, she added, while Josephine was going to the door: “Don’t -you run away with the notion that he is likely to drop in this afternoon -upon you. The chances are that he will be at the Oppenkirks’, so your -best chance will be to come with me.” - -“I have no wish to see anybody this evening--least of all Mr. Clifton. -I’m only tired to death,” said Josephine. - -Her mother’s laugh followed her to the staircase. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -She threw herself upon the sofa in her boudoir and tried to face the -situation which presented itself to her. She tried to think what she -could do to escape from the toils which had been woven round her--woven -with the appropriate phrases that went to the declaring of a father’s -blessing, and the frivolous inconsequence of a mother’s acquiescence. - -She felt for a moment as if she were a prisoner in a strong room, with -bars across the windows and bolts upon the door. She looked, as an -imprisoned girl might, first to the door then to the windows, as if she -had a hope that, by some accidental neglect of precaution on the part of -her gaoler a chance might be left for her of escape one way or another. - -She threw back her head and stared at the ceiling. She felt that she had -no chance. The door had its bolts drawn and no one of the bars across -the window was defective. She was a prisoner without means of escape. - -She felt hopeless facing such cleverness as that which Ernest Clifton -had shown her he had at his command. A fortnight ago he had given her to -understand that he considered it beyond the bounds of possibility that -he should obtain the consent of her father to their engagement--he had -certainly had no hope of winning her father’s consent for if he had had -such a hope he would only have required to tell her so when she had met -him at that garden party and had asked him to free her from her promise -made to him in the autumn. Yes, all he need have said was this: - -“I am going to run the chance of getting your father’s consent, and if I -am not successful we can then talk as you are talking, of throwing over -our compact.” - -That was all he need have said, if he had had any expectation of winning -over her father; but he had said nothing of the sort; and yet he had, -by his own cleverness--by some mystery of adroitness of which she was -ignorant--by some strange trick--she was sure it was a trick, though she -knew nothing about it--gained the acquiescence of her father in their -compact, and his cheerful forgiveness for the deception of the past. - -What could she do in the face of such cleverness as this? How could she -hope to combat it? Would it not be ridiculous for such a girl as she -to strive against such a man as he? Would it not be better for her to -submit to the inevitable with good grace? - -But had she not already submitted to it? She had been dumb in the -presence of her father, so overwhelmed as she was with surprise at the -first words of the announcement of his forgiveness; and she had thus -given him to understand that she was extremely grateful--grateful to -a point of complete extinction of the power of expressing her -gratitude--to him for his more than fatherly appreciation of her dearest -hopes. And as for her mother--she had allowed her mother to go so far as -to suggest that she was pretending to be tired in order to be at home if -her lover--her lover--were to call. - -Well, she had made a fool of herself--so much was certain. That secret -engagement was an act of folly that had to be paid for. It seemed as if -no power was strong enough to show her how she could evade the supreme -penalty which that act carried with it. Yes, she had undoubtedly made a -fool of herself. - -And then the thought came to her that she had not only made a fool of -herself, she had also made a fool of Pierce Winwood. This reflection was -too much for her. She turned her face to a pillow and wept silently into -its depths. - -This was the second time she had been moved to tears since the morning, -and it was the memory of the incident of her first tears that caused her -to weep the more piteously now. By a strange inconsistency it was this -same memory that caused her to leap to her feet after an interval of -silent sobbing, and to toss away her second handkerchief just as she had -done her first and then to strike the palms of her hands together crying -aloud: - -“I will face them all--I will face them all. I am not afraid of any of -them. I know my own mind now--now. I don’t care whether I have behaved -honourably or basely or idiotically, I love one man and that man I mean -to marry. That’s enough for me.” - -It was in this spirit that she sat down in front of her _escritoire_ -and flung the ink upon a sheet of paper to the effect that if Dear Mr. -Clifton would have the kindness to pay her a visit on the following -afternoon she would be glad. She thumped the scrawl when face downward -on the blotter, as good-natured people thump the back of a child that -has swallowed a fishbone. It was a great satisfaction to her to pound -away at it; and when she picked it up she saw that the blotting paper, -which had been spotless before was now black. The face of the letter was -also smudged, the absorbent not having been rapid enough in its action. -But she knew that not only would the lines be deciphered by the man to -whom they were addressed, he would also be made to understand something -of the mood she was in when she had made that cavalry charge upon the -paper using her broadest quill as a lance. - -She gave a sigh of relief when she saw the envelope with the letter -inside, lying on the table beside her; and then she wrote the date on -another sheet of paper. The second letter, however, seemed to require -more careful composition than the first. She sat looking wistfully at -the blank paper for more than half an hour, without making sufficient -progress to write the name of the one whom the post office authorities -call the addressee. She leant back in her chair and bit at the feather -end of the pen for a long time. At last she tore up the sheet of paper -and dropped the fragments with great tenderness into the Dresden vase -that stood on a carved bracket on the wall. - -“I will not spoil his day,” she said pathetically. “I may have a good -deal more to tell him by this time to-morrow. But I am not afraid to -face anything that may come to pass. I know my own mind now--now.” - -Her maid came to enquire if she was at home, and if she would have tea -in her boudoir or in one of the drawing-rooms. She replied that she was -not at home and that she would like her tea brought to her at once. - -This was done and she found herself greatly refreshed, and able to -enjoy an hour’s sleep before dinner, and to hear during that meal, her -mother’s account of the two entertainments at which she had assisted, -with a detailed description of some of the most innocuous of the dresses -worn by the heroines of the lady correspondents’ columns. A word or two -Lady Gwendolen threw in about the less interesting subject of the men -who had walked through the garden of the Hyde Park Gate house, with the -usual mournfulness of the men among five o’clock ices and angel-cakes, -failed to move Josephine. - -“You should have been there, Joe,” said the mother when the servants had -left the dining-room, and the scent of fresh peeled peaches was in the -air. “I told you that it was quite unlikely that your Ernest would call -to-day, so you had your waiting at home for nothing. Amber was there -wearing that ancient thing with the little sprigs of violets--she must -have had that since May--but I think the hat was new--do you know it?--a -fearfully broad thing of white straw with a droop on both sides and -two ostrich feathers lying flat, one falling over the brim and coiling -underneath, and who is the latest victim to her theories of training, do -you think? Why, Lord Lully himself. She had ices with him, and held on -to him with grim determination for half an hour, though he told me last -week that he would be there and I saw that he was struggling hard to get -away from her, poor boy! But if she fancies that Lord Lully is such a -fool as the rest of them, she is going a little too far. I happen to -know that he has his eyes open just as wide as his father could -wish. Amber will make nothing of him, take my word for it. Theories! -Experiments! Fiddlestrings and fiddlesticks! And his mother was quite -civil to her too--almost gracious, only that we know that she never is -so except for three weeks during a General Election, and she takes -it out of her home circle when it’s all over and she need be civil no -longer. I hope your father will get into the Cabinet and so relieve -me from the General Election smile. I smiled him through three -General Elections, but I decline to face a fourth. Why should an Under -Secretary’s wife be supposed to make a Cheshire Cat of herself when the -wife of a Cabinet Minister need only be civil?” - -This and several other social problems were formulated by Lady Gwendolen -for the consideration of her daughter while they ate their peaches, and -then they had an interval to themselves before dressing for a very Small -Dance at a very great house, following an Official Reception. - -An Official Reception means a scuffle in a hall, a scramble on a -staircase and a scamper past a whiff of scent. That’s an Official -Reception. - -Josephine danced eleven dances at the Small Dance and would have gone on -to the fifteenth only that she had the responsibility of chaperoning her -mother. She knew that her mother could not stand late hours, so she took -her home (reluctantly) at two. - -At four o’clock the following afternoon Ernest Clifton made his call, -and Josephine received him alone. - -“At last--at last!” he cried in a very creditable imitation of the -lover’s exaltation, when they were alone. He had approached her with -outstretched hands. His voice was tremulous. - -She did not allow him to put even one arm around her. He was showing an -aspiration in regard to the employment of both. - -“I wrote to you to come here to-day in order to tell you that--that--” - she paused. She did not know what she had to tell him. Was it that she -considered that he had tricked her into an acceptance of the terms -on which he had granted her petition for liberty? Was it that she had -merely changed her mind in regard to him? “I wish to tell you that--that -you must have misunderstood--I cannot tell how--the effect of the letter -which I wrote to you--of the explanation I made to you the last time we -met.” - -“Good heavens! what can you possibly mean, my Josephine?” said he in -a maelstrom of astonishment; but she thought she could detect an -artificial gesture for all the swirl: the whirlpool was a machine made -one. “Good heavens! where was the possibility of a mistake?” - -“I don’t know,” she replied. “I meant to be clear enough. I told you -that I wanted to be freed from the consequences of our engagement; you -freed me, and yet a few days later, you go to my father and tell him -that all we want is his sanction for our engagement--our engagement that -was annulled some time before.” - -“What,” he cried, “can you forget that the only reason you put forward -for wishing to be free--nominally free--was that you felt uneasy at the -secrecy of our engagement? You said you felt as if you were guilty of -double-dealing because your father had not given his consent--you said -all this, my dearest, the last time we met, and your saying so--your -feeling so--filled me with remorse--the deepest remorse--the intensest -self-reproach. I had caused you to suffer, and what more natural than -that I make the attempt at the earliest possible moment to atone for -what I had done--to remove the one cause of your suffering? I made up -my mind that I would risk all to save you from further self-reproach. I -took my life in my hand, so to speak--I risked all on a simple cast -for your sake--I went to your father... well, by giving his consent he -withdrew the cause--the very reasonable cause, I admit of your--your -uneasiness. Surely you remember?” - -“I remember everything,” she said. “I asked you to free me--to release -me from the promise I had made to you and you released me.” - -“You place too great emphasis on my simple act,” said he. “What man -worthy of the name of man would have been less generous than I was? -Could I forget that you had suffered on my account? Oh, my Josephine, -I could not but release you from your promise--your promise of secrecy. -But I trusted you--I knew I could trust you.” - -She perceived in a moment the position in which he meant to place her. - -“But it was not from my promise of secrecy that I begged you to -free me,” she said; “it was from my engagement--I wished to be free -altogether, and you agreed. I was free when we parted. I did not -consider myself bound to you in any way.” - -“What? ah, my dear Josephine, you are something of a sophist. Just think -for a moment and you will see how impossible it was for me to accept -what you said in the sense in which you now say you meant it. You told -me that the one reason--the sole reason you had for writing to me as -you wrote, and for appealing to me as you did, was the fact that the -secrecy--the secret--the secret that you shared with me was preying on -your mind. Well, that sole reason is now removed, therefore--oh, the -thing is simplicity itself.” - -“That is perfectly plausible,” said she, after a long interval. She saw -without difficulty that he had logic and reason on his side. That made -her feel a greater antipathy to him than she had yet felt: a woman hates -the man who has proved himself to be in the right. “Yes, it is perfectly -plausible, but--but--you did not tell me that you intended coming to my -father.” - -“And you did not know enough of my character to know that the first -step I should take after hearing from your lips that the fact of our -engagement being kept from him was causing you pain, would be to go to -your father?” - -There was more than a suggestion of reproach in his voice: there was -pain. - -“I did not know enough of your character,” she said. “And so I -considered myself free--altogether free. No engagement existed between -us when we parted last.” - -“Although my last words to you were that I knew I could trust you? Did -not those words suggest to you that you had not made your meaning plain -to me--that I at least had no feeling that our engagement was at an -end?” - -“I felt that--that you were setting me free with one phrase and trying -to bind me faster than before with another phrase,” she replied. - -“But you made no protest. You tacitly admitted that I was entitled to -accept your meaning as I did.” - -“You did not give me a chance. You turned away to speak to some one who -came up at that moment.” - -“What would you have said to me if you had had the chance?” he asked her -slowly. - -She hesitated. - -“Oh, do not trouble yourself thinking for an answer,” he cried. “What is -the good of discussing in this way the--diplomatists call it the _status -quo ante?_ Such a discussion is quite profitless. Even if we were not -engaged then we are now. The obstacle has been removed.” - -She felt overcome by the plausibility of it all, just as she had felt -overcome in the presence of her father by a sense of the inevitable. -It was not surprising that he accepted the long pause on her part as -indicating complete surrender to his reasoning. He went towards her with -a smile and outstretched hands. - -“Do not come to me: I love another man and I mean to marry him--I shall -never marry you,” she said quietly. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -So she had abandoned the untenable position of reason, and had -withdrawn to the cover of a statement of complete femininity. She gave a -sigh of relief: she knew where she was now. She was on firm ground. - -“I am afraid, Josephine,” said he with the utmost calmness, “that you -have been too late in coming to this determination. You cannot be so -flagrantly inconsistent.” - -“I know nothing about consistency or inconsistency; I love another man, -and all the arguments in the world will not prevent my loving him.” - -She knew where she stood now. Her position was impregnable. - -“You say that you broke off your engagement with me. Why? Because I had -not got your father’s consent. Well, if the absence of your father’s -consent was a legitimate reason for our engagement coming to an end -it is certainly a reason for your refraining from entering into an -engagement with another man, for your father cannot give his consent to -two men at the same time. You see that you cannot possibly--as you are -showing--be engaged to any one but myself.” - -“I told you I care nothing for consistency--or reason--or -logic--or--or--_you_. I love another man--I love another man.” - -“I am sorry for you, dear Josephine. But if you do not care anything for -consistency and me, I care for consistency and you far too much to -relinquish either. If you can show me that there has ever been a breach -in our engagement I might be led to consider the situation from another -standpoint. Look at me and tell me that you understood clearly when we -parted last that you were free--that there was no uneasy feeling in your -mind that you were still bound to me. You see, you cannot. You are -silent. Yes, my dearest, there was a bond between us when we separated, -and you and I are engaged now, as we have been for several months, and -your father and mother take exactly the same view of our position, and -are good enough to sanction it. That is enough for me; it should be -enough for you. I decline to take any other view of the matter. You have -admitted tacitly--that I never released you. I decline to release you -now. Of course you will accept the situation. Think over it and you will -find that no alternative remains. Good-bye, my dear--for the present.” - -He did not ask her to give him her hand; but simply moved smiling, to -the door with a wave of his own hand that somehow produced upon her -the effect of shaking hands with her--at any rate that graceful gesture -rendered a parting salute unnecessary, without the slightest suggestion -of a breach of courtesy. - -He was gone, and he had got the better of her--that was her first -impression when he had closed the door--very gently--behind him. He had -been too clever for her. She knew long ago that it would be ridiculous -for her to hope to get the better of him. - -And the worst of it was that he was altogether in the right. He was -hopelessly in the right. She had treated him badly. She had behaved -dishonestly, whatever Pierce Winwood might say by way of exculpating -her: she had parted from Ernest Clifton feeling--she could not deny it -face to face with him--bound to him, and she could not but acknowledge -that until she had a complete understanding with him, she had no right -to listen to a word of love to another man. - -She had behaved basely--there could be no doubt about that, and the -only excuse--and she knew that it was no excuse--that she could make -for herself was that Pierce Winwood had come upon her so suddenly--so -unexpectedly that she had no chance of giving due consideration to the -question as to whether or not she would be justified in listening to -him. The idea of her pausing at such a moment to determine whether or -not Pierce Winwood had what lawyers term a _locus standi_ in the suit -did not strike her as being at all funny. She felt that she should have -adopted something of a judicial attitude in regard to Pierce. She -could not understand how it was that she had had that moment of -recklessness--that moment of recklessness which remains a mystery to so -many women. - -And the result of all this after consideration of the matter was to -convince her that she had been desperately in the wrong--deceiving every -one around her and trying to deceive herself also from the very first; -for knowing the impression that Pierce had produced on her upon the -occasion of their first meeting at Ranelagh, she had not refused to meet -him again as she should have done. She had told Amber that she hated -him; but she knew perfectly well that why she hated him was because he -had compelled her to love him. It was not he whom she hated but only the -idea of acting dishonourably in regard to the man whom she had promised -to marry. - -Oh, she knew all along but too well that she loved him from the first, -and yet she had not--after the first week--taken the least trouble to -keep apart from him, the result being the feeling of humiliation that -now had taken possession of her--this feeling that she had been so -dreadfully in the wrong that nothing remained for her but to plunge -still deeper into the depths of wickedness by agreeing to marry the man -whom she did not love and to throw over the man she did love. - -She felt that Ernest Clifton had spoken the truth. No alternative -remained to her. She had agreed with her eyes open, to marry him, -and she was quite unable to give any reason that would be considered -satisfactory by her father for declining to marry him. - -After an hour or two she actually became resigned to the idea. After -all, what did it matter? She had got into the frame of mind of the one -who asks this question. The frame of mind of the French philosopher on -the guillotine, who rolled his cigarette, saying “N’importe: un homme de -mois!” - -What did it matter whom she married? The general scheme of the universe -would not be interfered with because she was about to do the thing that -was most abhorrent to her of all acts done by women--this act being, -by the way, the one which she was most earnest to do only six months -before! - -She was able, without the shedding of a tear, to sit down to her -escritoire and write a letter to Pierce, letting him know the -determination to which she had come, and admitting to him that she had -behaved basely--cruelly--inconsiderately. She had been bound to Mr. -Clifton--and she knew it--at the very moment that she had acknowledged -to the man to whom she was writing that she loved him. She admitted how -culpably weak she had been--and still was, but she thought that she was -strong enough to see that the best way--the only way--of sparing the -one who was dearest to her much misery--the only way of escaping from a -hopeless position was by submitting to Fate. If he would think over the -matter he would, she was sure, see that she was right, and thinking over -it all he could not but be thankful that he was saved from a wretched -woman who did not know her own mind two days together and who had no -sense of honour or truth or fidelity. - -That was the substance of the letter which she felt great satisfaction -in writing to Pierce Winwood; and she sincerely believed that she -was all that she announced herself to be, though she would have been -terribly disappointed if she had thought that she would succeed in -convincing him that she was unworthy to be loved by him. - -She felt greatly relieved on writing this letter embodying as it did -so frank a confession of her weakness and--incidentally--of her -womanliness, and she was able to dance nine dances and to partake of a -very _recherche_ supper in the course of the night. She felt that she -had become thoroughly worldly, taking a pleasure in the whirl and the -glow and the glitter of all. There was no chance of her being led to -think about what lay heavy on her heart while she was giving herself up -to this form of intoxication. Every dance had the effect of a dram of -green Chartreuse upon her, and the result of her night’s festivity was -to make her feel, she thought, that the world was very well adapted as a -place of residence for men and women; and as for the worldliness--well, -worldliness was one of the pleasantest elements in the world of men and -women. - -Having come to so satisfactory a conclusion, it was somewhat remarkable, -she thought, that, on finding her father drinking his glass of -Apollinaris in his study--he had just returned from the House--she -should go straight up to him, after shutting the door, and say, “I wish -to say to you that I do not wish to marry Ernest Clifton, because I love -quite another man.” - -He looked at her curiously for a few moments, then he said, laying down -his tumbler: - -“What stuff is this? Is it not true that you agreed to listen to Clifton -six months ago? Heavens above us! Another man--quite another man! Have -you been making a fool of Clifton and--and yourself, and do you now -think to make a fool of me?” - -“I am ready to admit everything,” she cried plaintively. “I -have been a fool, I know. I have behaved badly--with no sense of -honour--basely--basely--but I am wretched and I will not marry Ernest -Clifton--oh, nothing will force me to marry him.” - -“Poor child! poor child! It is quite natural this maidenly shrinking!” - said the father smiling like a mulberry. “Bromide of potassium--that -will steady you. After all, you are not going to be married tomorrow, -nor even the next day. Give yourself a night off, my child. Don’t let -your mother rush you. It’s all very well for her. At her age women can -do anything; but a girl’s nerves----” - -“It is not my nerves--it is--because I love another man--and I mean to -love him. I cannot help it--I have tried--God knows--oh, my dear father, -you will pity me--you must pity me, no matter how foolish I have been.” - -She broke down and would have thrown herself into his arms but that he -was too quick for her. At the first suggestion of such a thing, he had -picked up his tumbler half full of Apollinaris. That saved him. It was -on a big red leather chair that she was sobbing, not on his shirt front. - -“Poor child--poor child, poor--bromide,” he murmured. “Tell me all about -it, my Josephine--my little Josephine. I have had a busy night of it but -I can give five minutes to the troubles of my little girl.” - -He flattered himself that he was acting the part of the father to a -quaver. He half believed that she would accept his representation of an -honourable character without misgiving. What could she know of the terms -of the contract which he had made--in the most delicate way, no word -being used on either side to which exception could be taken by a -sensitive person--with Ernest Clifton, respecting the feeling of the -ticklish constituency of Arbroath Burghs? - -She lost some precious moments of the night in sobbing. But though her -father did not know very much about women he knew enough to cause him to -refrain from asking her to come to the point upon which she was anxious -to talk to him. Upstairs the door of the Lady Gwendolen’s dressing-room -banged. - -“Poor little Josey!” said the father smoothing her hair. He felt that -he really would miss her when Clifton had married her and he had got his -seat in the Cabinet. - -She looked up. - -“I know I have been a fool, my dear father,” she said. “But I love -another man--not Mr. Clifton, and I will not marry Mr. Clifton.” - -“That is nonsense, my dear,” said he in a pleasant, soothing tone--the -tone that suggests a large toleration for human weaknesses, especially -those of a girl, because so few of them are worth talking about. “You -must not worry yourself, my dear. You will have worries enough when you -are married, if I know anything about what marriage means. Now take my -advice and have a good dose of bromide and get into bed. Don’t get up -early. Had you a touch of the sun when you were up the river?” - -“He will not listen to me! He treats me as if I were a child--a sick -child!” cried Josephine piteously. - -The reproach annoyed him. - -“You are behaving as such,” he said. “I am anxious to make every -allowance for you, but when you talk in this wild fashion--why did you -not stop me yesterday when I told you that I had given my consent to -your engagement?” - -“I did not know what to say--I was overcome with surprise.” - -“Do you mean to tell me that he--Clifton--left you the last time he was -with you before you went up the river, under the impression that you and -he were no longer engaged?” - -“I cannot say what his impression was--I asked him to release me on that -very day.” - -“What reason did you put forward for making such a request?” - -“I said that--that I felt that I was doing wrong in remaining engaged to -him in secret--without your consent.” - -“You were quite right. But you see I have removed the cause--the -legitimate cause of your self-reproach. The consequence is that you are -engaged to him, if I know anything of logic and reason.” - -“Oh, logic and reason! I am only a woman, God help me!” - -“My dear girl, to be a woman is to be a very charming thing, if a bit -unreasonable at times. You are the slaves to your nerves. And these -days--what does the poet say? ‘It was the time of roses’--ah, neurosis, -he would have written to-day--‘and we plucked them as we passed.’” - -She had risen. - -“I am going to bed,” she said. “Good-night.” - -“You couldn’t do better, my dear. Good-night and God bless you! Don’t -neglect the bro--by the way, I should perhaps mention to you that even -if I were inclined to accept your protest now it would be too late--I -should be powerless to do anything, for the announcement is already gone -to the papers.” - -“What--you have sent it to the papers?” - -“Of course I have--that is to say, Clare has sent it.” (Julian Clare -was Mr. West’s private secretary.) “It was necessary for it to appear -without delay. It will increase the interest in your father--there is -always a sort of reflected glory upon the father of a beautiful girl who -is about to be married. We cannot fly in the face of Providence and the -papers at the present moment. The present moment is critical for the -house of West.” - -“You are going into the Cabinet,” she said. “That represents the highest -height of your ambition.” - -“It is one of the peaks, at any rate,” said he smiling. “It is high -enough for me. Those who cannot get to the summit of Mont Blanc must -be content with the humble Monte Rosa. And feeling that your future, my -child, is assured, I shall be the more content, if--ah, you are quite -right. Good-night--good-night.” - -She went upstairs feeling that the fight with Fate was over. What would -be the use of struggling any longer against what was plainly the decree -of Fate? Fate is a tough antagonist at any time, but when Fate and the -newspapers are pulling together---- - -She went to bed without saying her prayers. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -Amber Severn read the announcement in one of the papers the next -morning that a marriage was arranged and would shortly take place -between Mr. Ernest Clifton, fifth son of the late Constantine Clifton -of The Elms, Lynnthorpe, Esq., and Josephine, only daughter of the Right -Honourable J. Carew West, Under Secretary of State for the Department of -Arbitration. - -She gave an exclamation of surprise, and this was followed by one that -suggested irritation. She was more than irritated, she felt that she had -lost a friend--her dearest friend. She had always known that Josephine -was somewhat reticent about her own affairs for an ideal friend; but the -notion of her being in love with Mr. Clifton and carefully refraining -from giving a hint to any one of the state of her heart was past all -bearing. - -And yet she remembered now having had once or twice during the previous -six months, a suspicion that if Josephine inclined to look on any man -of their acquaintance with especial favour that man was Mr. Clifton. -She might have guessed but what about Pierce Winwood? What about her -father’s subtle suggestions as to the possibility of Josephine’s looking -with eyes of favour on Pierce Winwood? What about that Monday morning -when they had come into the house together talking with guilty fluency -about a reaping machine that was painted blue and delicately picked out -with vermillion? - -“I will never--never trust to the evidence of my own eyes again,” she -cried, remembering the look of exultation on Mr. Winwood’s face upon -that morning. She also made up her mind that she would never again in -matters of this sort trust to the evidence of her father’s experience, -even though conveyed to her in the choicest and most enigmatical -language ever employed by him. Her father had shown a desire to -encourage the bringing about of a match between Josephine and Pierce; -and indeed he had proved his possession of some of the qualities of the -fully equipped match-maker, which she took to be a cheery readiness to -assume the rôle of a sort of boarding-house Providence, and a complete -faith in the influence of propinquity upon opposing natures. - -She would never again trust to her father’s judgment. He knew too much -about electricity. - -She had an opportunity of telling him so, but she refrained from doing -so: if he lacked judgment there was no reason for her to attempt to -consolidate his views on heredity by so indiscreet an act. She pointed -out the paragraph to him when he came down to breakfast but made no -comment upon it. No one since the world began ever regarded an absence -of comment as an indiscretion. - -“But it takes my breath away,” said Sir Creighton. “Heavens! just think -of it--Clifton--Ernest Clifton, the wire-puller. What can she possibly -see... oh, after all... a curious coincidence, isn’t it, that this -talk should be just now about her father getting a seat in the Cabinet? -But I can’t for the life of me see where Clifton comes in. He has no -power of that sort, whatever may be ascribed to him as an organiser in -the country. He could be of no use to West, for his seat is a perfectly -safe one. And we thought...” - -“_You_ did, at any rate,” said Amber. - -“I did--I admit it. I thought--I hoped. It would have come out so well. -I might have been able to give him a helping hand.” - -“To give Mr. Winwood a helping hand?” - -“I thought it just possible if the worst came to the worst. But I -suppose the business is settled in the other quarter. We can do nothing -now.” - -“Of course one can do nothing when the announcement has appeared in the -papers.” Amber was disposed to take the same view of Providence and -the papers as was taken by the Under Secretary for the Arbitration -Department. They both appeared to regard the newspaper announcement as -a sort of civil ceremony, quite as binding as the one which follows the -singing of “The Voice that breathed o’er Eden.” - -“I confess that I am surprised,” continued Amber. “But I suppose one’s -friends never do marry the people one allots to them. Still, there was -no reason for Josephine to be so secret.” - -“Was there not?” said her father. “Take my word for it, if a woman is -ever secret it is only under the severest pressure.” - -Amber smiled. Applying her father’s aphorism to herself, she refrained -from expressing what she thought on the subject of her father’s -knowledge of woman’s nature. - -But beyond doubt Sir Creighton took deeply to heart the frustration of -his incipient efforts as a matchmaker. His daughter was surprised at his -head-shakings and his thoughtful pauses--at his general abstraction. She -knew enough of him to be well aware that it was not his own work -which disturbed him: he was accustomed to made merry over the little -aberrations of adapted electricity, just as some fathers (with trusted -memories) make merry over the vagaries of their sons, and as some -women (with a sense of humour) can smile at the fringes of their -under-housemaids. It was perfectly clear that Sir Creighton was -profoundly discouraged at the failure of his attempt to make Josephine -and Pierce fall in love, each with each. He felt as if Fate had openly -sneered at him and he was looking about for a way of retaliating. So -much at least his daughter gathered from his manner, and his frank -admissions. The frank admissions of a man count for something in any -honest endeavour that one may make to determine what is on his mind. - -“Do you know what a straight flush is, my dear?” he enquired as he -rose from the table. “I thought that I had the joker,” he added -thoughtfully--regretfully. - -(He was the best poker player in the Royal Society.) - -Amber had herself been thinking out a scheme of retaliation, and it -was directed against her friend who had been reticent to a point of -unfriendliness. A friend should be permitted to share her friend’s -infirmities but Josephine had left her to read the announcement of her -engagement in the papers. After some thought she came to the conclusion -that she would be out when Josephine should call. She took it for -granted that Josephine intended to call, and so made arrangements for -going to the Technical School of Literature immediately after lunch. She -would have gone before lunch--for she had not been latterly so regular -an attendant as Mr. Richmond could have wished--but that for the fact -that her mother had asked Lord Lullworth to drop in and have lunch with -them, and Amber’s scheme of retaliation did not go so far as to compass -the personal slighting of even the least of her mother’s guests. - -And Lord Lullworth came. - -He was really very amusing, and sometimes very nice; but he was both -during lunch; it was when that refection was over, and Lady Severn had -gone into an inner room to write out a commission--it had something to -do with the matching of sewing-silks--for her daughter to execute in -Regent Street that Lord Lullworth ceased to be amusing because he began -to be funny. He told Amber that he didn’t mind being one of the literary -arbitrators on the Aunt Dorothy competition, should such be set on foot -at the Technical School. Would dear Aunt Dorothy tell him what was the -colour of Adam’s grey mare? Would she hazard a reply to the query, under -the heading of “Our Feathered Pets” as to whether the white goose or -the grey goose was the gander? Also could she supply some information -respecting the man who had the twenty-six sheep--twenty sick sheep, -mind--and when one of them died how many were left? - -“I will not have my hobby made fun of,” said Amber. “It would do you all -the good in the world to come to the school.” - -“I believe it would,” he said, after a pause, “and I do believe that -I’ll come; but it won’t be for the sake of the show, but just because -you are there. Now, a fortnight ago I would have laughed at the idea -of going to such a show, so I think that you’ll agree with me in what I -said about love growing. I really feel that mine is becoming quite grown -up. He has got too big for his sailor suit, and I’ll have to get him -measured for an Eton jacket. I wonder if you have been thinking over the -possibilities that I placed before you that day.” - -“Of course I thought over them. Why shouldn’t I?” said Amber. - -“And do they appear so ridiculous now as they did then?” - -“Not nearly so ridiculous,” she replied. “One gets used to things. -Really there’s nothing I like better than to hear that you will be some -place where I am going. I have--yes, I have got really to like you.” - -“You never thought of wishing to have me for a brother, did you?” he -asked apprehensively. - -“Oh, never--never--I give you my word--never!” she cried, and he -breathed freely once more. - -“Thank goodness! Then I’ve still got a chance. If you had ever felt that -you would like me for a brother I would put on my hat and skip. Do you -know that you are encouraging me?” - -“Of course I know it. I meant to encourage you, just to see what will -come of it.” - -“You’ll see. I should like to encourage you. It will take a deal of -encouragement to bring you on so that we may start scratch; because, you -know, I--I really do believe that I’m on the verge of being in love with -you.” - -“I would not go on any further, until I catch you up.” - -“If I thought you would one day.” - -“I really think that I shall--one day. There is nothing like getting -used to an idea. I thought that I should never get reconciled to the -notion of a lover--a lover seems so _banal_--and yet already I--yes, I -like it. You see, I’m wondering what will come of it. I was born in -a laboratory atmosphere. My father made his first great discovery in -electricity the day I was born--that’s why he called me Amber--Amber is -the English for the Greek word _electron_, and that’s the origin of the -word electricity, you know.” He looked at her admiringly. “You don’t -need much to go to any school,” said he. “Just fancy your knowing all -that! By the way, don’t you forget that it’s in the bargain that I’m to -let you know if I find myself properly in love with you--seriously, I -mean.” - -“It will be so interesting,” said she. “I’m dying to see what will -be the result of our experiment. I wonder does it matter about my not -thinking you good-looking.” - -He caught her hand. She flushed. - -“Do you not think me good-looking?” he asked. “Well, really, to be -candid with you--and of course it’s in the ‘rules’ that we are both to -be candid, I think you anything but--but--good gracious! what has come -over me? Only yesterday I was thinking about you and I thought of you -as being quite plain; but now--now that I come to look at you, I declare -that you seem good-looking--positively good-looking! You have good eyes. -I don’t suppose you ever told a lie in your life.” - -“That’s going from a question of eyes to ethics, isn’t it; but whether -or not I ever had imagination enough to tell a whopper, I am telling the -truth now when I say that I have come to the conclusion that you are the -nicest girl I ever met as well as being the most beautiful--that’s why I -tried to. You see I always thought you the most beautiful--that’s why I -tried to avoid meeting you for a long time--I was afraid that I would be -disillusioned, as they call it.” - -“And you were not?” - -“On the contrary I think that--that we’re on the eve of a very -interesting experiment--that’s how the newspapers would define the -situation of the moment.” - -“After all nothing may come of it.” There was a suspicion of a sigh in -her delivery of the phrase. - -“Are you taking what you would call an optimistic view of the matter?” - he asked. - -She actually flushed again--very slightly--as she said: - -“The scientific atmosphere in which I was born forbids optimism or -pessimism. I wish to remain neutral.” - -“I shall make no attempt to bias your judgment one way or another,” said -he. - -Lady Severn returned to the room and gave her daughter her instructions -regarding the silks. - -“I wish you would let me do it for you, Lady Severn,” said Lord -Lullworth seriously. “I have to go to Bond Street anyway, and my horse -wants exercise.” Amber turned round and stared at him; her mother -laughed. Then Amber put the patterns of silk into one of his hands, and -crying, “Let him do it: he really wants to do it,” she ran out of the -room. - -“I want to have a chat with you, my dear Lady Severn,” said he. “It -was you who were good enough to ask me to lunch, and yet I’ve hardly -exchanged a word with you.” - -“Nothing would delight me more,” said Lady Severn. “I will intrust -you with my commission, but it will do any time in the course of the -afternoon. We can have our chat first.” - -And they had their chat. - -It was while it was in progress Amber was sitting at her desk in the -Technical Schoolroom listening to Mr. Owen Glendower’s enunciation of -the problem in plots which was to serve as an exercise for his pupils. -Amber, in her haste to retaliate upon Josephine’s secrecy by being -absent when she should call, arrived at the class-room several -minutes too soon. She had, however, upon a former occasion, made the -acquaintance of the earnest American girl whose name was Miss Quartz -Mica Hanker--she was said to be worth some ten million (dollars)--and -now she had a pleasant little talk with her. - -At first Amber hesitated approaching her, for today, Miss Hanker was -dressed in deep mourning. She, however, smiled invitingly towards Amber, -and Amber crossed the class-room to her. - -“I fear that you have suffered a bereavement,” said Amber in the hushed -voice that suggests sympathy. - -“Oh, no; at least not recently; but you must surely remember that this -is the anniversary of the death of King James the Third,” said Miss -Hanker. - -“Oh, King James the Third?” said Amber. “But there never was a James the -Third of England.” - -“That is the fiction of the Hanoverians,” said Miss Hanker scornfully. -“But we know better. I am the Vice-President of the White Rose Society -of Nokomis County, Nebraska, and we are loyal to the true dynasty. We -decline to acknowledge any allegiance to the distant branch at present -in occupation of the Throne. The rightful Queen to-day is the Princess -Clementina Sobieska.” - -“I thought that the Pretender--” began Amber. - -“The Pretender!” cried Miss Hanker still more scornfully. “He pretended -nothing. I am going to separate pretence and the Pretender once and -for all when I write my novel--‘The White Rose.’ I came to this side to -learn how to do it. I find Owen Glen-dower Richmond very helpful. He has -royal blood in his veins--plenty of it. He may be on the throne of Wales -yet. Miss Amber, I don’t desiderate a Civil war, but when my novel comes -out if the British don’t turn round and put the Princess Clementina -Sobieska on their Throne, they are not the people I have been told they -are. I don’t advocate extreme measures, but loyalty is loyalty, and the -American people are true Royalists. They can never forget that it was -one of the Hanoverians who brought about their separation from Britain. -That old wound is rankling yet in the breast of every true American.” - -And then Mr. Owen Glendower Richmond entered the class-room, and Amber -nodded _au revoir_ to the American girl, and went to her own desk. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -Mr. Richmond had become more carefully careless in regard to his dress -during the past few weeks than he had yet been, Amber thought. She -noticed with surprise that them was a breath of Byron--a suspiration -of Shelley about his collars, which was not so before. He still wore a -frock coat but he did it with the most painstaking negligence, and from -some standpoints it did not look a bit like a frock coat. His hair was -short, but it was plainly (in some lights) the hair of a thoughtful man. -The amount of thinking that goes on beneath even the shortest hair has a -perturbing influence upon it: one does not expect the grass which grows -on the sides of an active volcano to be as ordinary grass. - -He wore his tie in a loose bow. - -“I am about to offer for your consideration a time-study,” said Mr. -Richmond, when he had tapped the tubular end of his quill pen upon the -edge of his desk. “Last week I had a most satisfactory response to the -home exercise on the ‘Honest Doubter’ form of fiction, but I must say -here lest I should forget it, that I think it was unnecessary to define, -as some of the class did, the doubts of the Honest Doubter. It was also -a technical error to clear away his doubts. Of course there is a good -deal to say in favour of the domestic treatment of the theme, adopted by -some of the class. Marrying him to an estimable and brainless woman, -and showing his doubts cleared away as he stands alone in the nursery -looking at the face of his sleeping child, is an excellent suburban view -to take of the Honest Doubter; nine ladies were most successful in their -treatment of the subject on these lines; but I regret to say that not -one of them thought of the moonlight. A moment’s reflection should -be sufficient to convince any one of the impossibility of banishing -a strong man’s doubts in the afternoon, or before lunch. He must be -brought full into the moonlight. The technical phrase is: ‘There; with -the moonlight of heaven streaming through the nursery window upon the -little face of his child, the strong man felt his heart soften and -become once more as the heart of a little child. All the doubts that -had clung to him for years as the mists cling to the moor fled away, -as those same mists melt into the moonlight. He felt that a new day was -breaking for him, a new light, he looked down at the little sleeping -face, and cried--‘you can make him say anything you please: but he -must say it when the moon is full. Still, I repeat the papers were most -satisfactory as a whole. Now, the Time Study for to-day is on a -very different theme; but it is one which I hope will appeal to the -imagination of a good many in the class. The headings are these: Given, -a young man--well, not perhaps, very young--let us say, a still young -man, of good family, but by the force of circumstances for which he is -not responsible--undeserved misfortune--compelled to become a tutor in -a family of distinction; he falls in love with the beautiful daughter of -the house; but he is too proud to confess his love, he is too modest to -reveal himself to her. He has his hopes--sometimes they are strong when -she smiles upon him, and then he thinks of his own humble position and -he is on the verge of despair. Required the conclusion of the story: the -happy accident by which he is enabled to reveal himself.” - -In a second a dozen at least of the young women in the class were -writing away for dear life, only a few thought it necessary to give any -preliminary consideration to the problem suggested by Mr. Richmond. The -little governess, however, who sat at a distant desk, could not write on -account of her tears, and the half pay veteran was laboriously mending -his quill pen. Amber, who used a reservoir pen, and had never seen a -quill being mended, watched the operation with a curious interest. - -She had no intention of making an attempt to work out the theme. The -truth was that her heart was beginning to soften towards Josephine, -and she came to the conclusion that in adopting so drastic a scheme of -retaliation for Josephine’s secrecy respecting her engagement to Mr. -Clifton, she was showing herself to be very hard-hearted. She felt that -she should have waited at home to kiss Josephine when she should call. - -She made up her mind not to remain at the school for the Aunt Dorothy -class which followed the Time-Study class, but to hasten to the side of -her friend, and if she failed to find her at home, she would drive -back to her own home, and catch her there, and then--well, perhaps Lord -Lullworth would drop in for tea, when he came back with the matched -silks for Lady Severn. - -“You are not working out the Time Study, Miss Severn,” said Mr. Richmond -taking a seat beside her. This was his system of helpfulness referred to -by Miss Quartz Mica Hanker. He was accustomed to take a seat by the side -of some member of his class--he seemed discreetly indifferent to sex in -this matter--in order to make suggestions as to the working out of the -Time Study. He invariably spoke in so low a tone as to run no chance of -disturbing the active members of the class. - -“I do not feel much inclined to work at anything just now,” said Amber. -“But I am glad to see so many other girls do their best. You have given -them confidence, Mr. Richmond.” - -“Then I give away what I myself stand most in need of just now,” said -Mr. Richmond in a still lower tone. - -“Confidence?” said Amber. “Oh, I think you have a very firm hand in -these matters, Mr. Richmond. You deal with every problem with the hand -of a master.” - -“Alas!” he murmured. “Alas! I find myself faltering even now--at this -moment. Dear Miss Severn, will you not make the attempt to work out the -question which I have enunciated for you--believe me, it was for -you only I enunciated it?--a Time Study? Ah, it is with me at all -times--that problem. Miss Severn--Amber, will you try to suggest a happy -conclusion to the parable which I have just uttered, when I tell you -that I am in the position of the man, and that I think of you in the -position of the girl?” - -Amber scarcely gave a start. She only looked curiously at the man as if -she was under the impression that he was enunciating another Time Study -for her to work out--as if he was making a well-meant but more than -usually unintelligible attempt to help her over a literary stile. - -“I don’t quite understand, Mr. Richmond,” said she, after a thoughtful -pause. “You say that you are--you------” - -“I am poor and obscure, and I am unfortunate enough to love--to love the -daughter of a distinguished family--you--you, Amber. What is to be the -conclusion of the story--my love story?--the conclusion of it rests with -you.” - -Amber heard the quill pens about going scrawl, and the steel pens going -scratch and the pencils going scribble. The voice of Mr. Richmond had -not been raised louder than the voice of the pens. She was too much -astonished to be able to reply at once. But soon the reply came. - -This was it. - -She picked up her little morocco writing case and folded it carefully -and fastened the elastic band over it, then she picked up her parasol, -rose, and went to the door, without a word. - -He was before her at the door; he held it open for her. She went out -without a word. - -He was in no way overcome. He simply walked to another desk at which a -girl was scribbling. He said a few words of commendation to her. Then -he crossed the room to where Miss Quartz Mica Hanker was sitting -industriously idle. He knew she was giving all her thoughts to the -solution of the problem which he had offered to her, and this was real -industry. - -“Dear Miss Quartz,” he said in his low earnest voice--every time he -conversed with her in this voice it was not the white rose that was -suggested by her cheeks. “Dear Miss Quartz, are you making the attempt -to work out the question which I have enunciated for you--believe me, -it was for you only I enunciated it--a Time Study? Ah, it is with me -for all time--that problem. Miss Quartz, will you try to suggest a happy -conclusion to the parable which I have just uttered, when I tell you -that I am in the position of the man and that I think of you in the -position of the girl?” - -Miss Quartz proved herself to be a far more apt student of the obscure -than Miss Severn. She looked down at the blank paper in front of her -saying: - -“I wonder if you mean that--that--you---- - -“I am poor and obscure,” said he, “and I am unfortunate enough to -love--to love the daughter of a distinguished family--to love you--you. -What is to be the conclusion of the story--my love story?--the -conclusion rests with you.” - -Miss Quartz had mastered the literary technicalities of various sorts -of proposals and acceptances--it had been Mr. Richmond’s pleasing -duty during the month to keep the members of his class abreast of that -important incident in the making of fiction known as The Proposal. She -carried out the technicalities of the “business” of the part of the -addressee to the letter--that is to say, she became suffused with a -delicate pink--only she became a very peony, as she looked coyly down to -the paper on her desk. She put her ungloved hand an inch or two nearer -to his, raising her eyes to his, for a moment. - -He glanced round the room, and having reassured himself, he laid his -hand gently on hers. - -“Dear child,” he said. “I have greatly dared--I have greatly dared. -You will never regret it. Your novel will rank with ‘Esmond’ and ‘The -Virginians’ and ‘Ben Hur’--------” - -“And Kate Douglas Wiggin?” she cried. “Oh, Mr. Richmond, if you promise -me that I shall be alluded to as the Kate Douglas Wiggin of Nebraska -I’ll just go down on my knees and worship you.” - -“Ah,” he said with a smile. “She has never written an historical novel. -She has made books, but never an Epoch. ‘The White Rose’ will be an -Epoch-making book.” - -“The girl’s eyes filled with tears. Such a future as he promised her was -too dazzling to be viewed except through such a dimness. - -“Come to my aunt’s for tea to-night,” she whispered. “The Daniel Webster -boarding-house, Guildford Street. My money is in my own hands. Sixty -thousand dollars.” - -“The legitimate end of the story has come--you have solved the -question,” he murmured. - -He rose and returned to his desk. Sixty thousand dollars--twelve -thousand pounds. He had calculated on five millions. Sixty -thousand--well, it was better than nothing. - -And that insolent girl, Amber Severn, would know that all girls were not -like her--that was something too. - -But by the time he had come to consider this very important point, Amber -Severn, full of anger against the man who had not hesitated to take -advantage of his position as the master of a school in order to make a -proposal to one of his pupils--the man who had outraged her sense of the -protecting influences of Platonic friendship, was flying along in -her motor Victoria in the direction of Palace Gate where was the town -residence of the Under Secretary for the Arbitration Department. She was -burning with indignation against Mr. Owen Glendower Richmond, for his -having the effrontery to add to the efforts which other people had -already made to shatter her theory. She had heard of preceptors--they -were mostly in the musical line--taking advantage of their opportunities -to make love to their pupils and she had always held such persons in -contempt. But if they were contemptible, how much more so was not such a -man as Mr. Richmond--a man whose business it was to give a helping hand -to those who might be anxious to write books illustrating the charm of -disinterested friendship between men and women? - -She felt very bitterly in regard to Mr. Richmond, quite as bitterly as -did Barak the son of Zippor against the professional vituperator who, -when he had a chance of showing what stuff he was made of, had rounded -upon his patron. Amber had great hopes that one day a novel might -be written to make the world aware of the beautiful possibilities of -friendship for friendship’s sake only, between the sexes, and she had -looked to Mr. Richmond to help on such a project. And yet it was he who -had gone further than any one else in impressing on her the weakness of -the basis of her faith. - -She felt greatly disappointed. She felt that she was being daily -disillusioned, and no one likes to be disillusioned: it makes one feel -such a fool. So great an effect had the act of Guy Overton and Mr. -Richmond upon her that she actually felt glad that she had not bound -herself irrevocably to her theory but that latterly she had hedged. She -knew that her attitude in regard to Lord Lullworth was suggestive of the -hedge. He had boldly refused any compromise with her. He had told her -at the outset of their acquaintance that he scoffed at the idea of -her ideal--that his object in coming to see her would be strictly -anti-platonic and yet her fondness for experiments had been so great -that she had not made his scoffing at her ideal of friendship a barrier -to their future association. If this was not hedging there never was -hedging in any question of philosophy in the world; and so far as she -could make out philosophy was simply the science of hedging. - -She felt glad that she had encouraged Lord Lullworth, the exponent of a -cult that admitted of no compromise. With him she was at least safe. For -obvious reasons, he could never cause her to feel such disappointment -as she felt at the conduct of Guy Overton and at the conduct of Owen -Glendower Richmond. When one is in the presence of a man who promptly -avows himself a brigand one is never surprised if one feels a tug at -one’s purse. The surprise and the sorrow come only when one is in the -company of a professional moralist and detects him trying to wheedle -one’s handkerchief out of one’s pocket. - -By the time she had reached the Brompton Road Amber Severn was feeling -very strongly that the companionship of professed brigands was much -to be preferred to the association with philosophers who talked of -disinterested friendship while in the act of pocketing your silver -spoons. An avowed lover was, she was sure, infinitely safer than a man -who carries Plato in his breast pocket and presses his hand upon it -while he makes a glib proposal of marriage to every girl he meets. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -Amber had been dwelling so much upon her philosophy and its development -that she half hoped that Josephine was not at home: there was just a -possibility that if Josephine was not at home, she, Amber, would get -back to her own home in time to give Lord Lullworth a cup of tea on his -return with the matched silks for her mother. She was therefore slightly -disappointed to learn that Miss West was at home and in the drawing-room -with her ladyship. - -Josephine was paler than Amber had ever seen her, and she was certainly -colder than she had ever known her. She scarcely made any response to -Amber’s long kiss. - -Resignation--that was the word which came to Amber’s mind when she held -her friend by both hands and looked at her. She was a statue--a marble -statue of Resignation. The worst might come; it would not move her. - -“I thought--I expected--” Amber began, with a tone of reproach in her -voice. “You are really going to marry him--him--Mr. Clifton?” she -cried, after faltering over a word or two. - -“Did you not see it in the papers, and has any one the hardihood to put -the papers in the wrong?” said Josephine. - -“And you are to be congratulated? I am to congratulate you?” said Amber. - -“Ah, that is quite another matter, my Amber,” laughed Josephine. Amber -did not like her laugh. - -“Why should it be another matter?” she asked. “If you love----” - -“Heavens! are you--you--you who are the exponent of the ineffable -fragrance of friendship--according to Plato--are you going to talk of -the lustre of love?” said Josephine. “There’s a cluster of phrases for -you, my dear. ‘The fragrance of Friendship--the lustre of Love’--quite -like a modern poet’s phrase, is it not? Send it to your friend Mr. -Richmond to serve up to his fourth form pupils. ‘Given, the phrase to -make the poem’--that’s the exercise--what does he call it--the Time -Study? Do let us try it. It should run like this: ‘The Fragrance of -Friendship is folly’--that’s a capital line--even though it does contain -a memory of ‘Dolores.’ And then you must go on--‘The Lustre of Love is -a lure’? Yes, that might do, if you can’t find anything better. And -now let us talk about something agreeable for a change. Here is my dear -mother dying to tell you what she thinks of your trying to entrap poor -Lord Lully in your network of Platonism. She saw you in the garden at -Hyde Park Gate on Monday.” - -Amber turned away. She had never known anything more pathetic than the -way in which Josephine had rushed along when once she began to speak. - -There was not a note of Josephine’s voice in all she had said. When -Josephine had ever played at being cynical, she had gone softly--there -had been something of merriment in her voice; but now there was the -gleam of chilled steel in every flash of her phrases. The implacable -brilliance of a bayonet charge was in all her words. Amber felt as if a -bird which had always sung the song of a thrush had suddenly developed -the metallic shriek of the parrot. - -Amber was ready to weep at the pathos of it. It was pathetic; but -terrible. She saw that Josephine’s nerves were strung up to the highest -point of tension, and that was why the effect of shrillness was produced -by her speech. - -She turned to Lady Gwendolen. Surely Lady Gwendolen would at last become -a mother to her own daughter! Surely she would detect the pathos of the -change that had come about in her nature. And indeed Lady Gwendolen was -very sympathetic. - -“It is all very well to make light of the whole business, my dear -Amber,” she cried plaintively. “Daughters engage themselves to be -married, and sometimes get married too, without a thought for their -mothers. Ah, is there no poet--no novelist--who will deal adequately -with the mother’s tragedy? It will make me look a hundred, at the very -least! A married daughter! ... ‘Good heavens!’ people will say. ‘I had -no idea that Lady Gwendolen had a married daughter; why then she must be -at least’--and then they will name some horrid age--forty, may be,--I -know the way of these women. ‘Forty--she must be a good way over forty,’ -they will say. ‘She was no chicken when she married, and her daughter -looks every day of twenty-six--why, she must be at least fifty’--they -will try to make me out to be fifty--fifty-two the spiteful ones will -insist on--I know them. They will take very good care never to look up -Debrett to get at the truth. Ah, the Mother’s Tragedy--the Mother’s -Tragedy. No one ever thinks of asking about a woman’s age until her -daughter gets married. Then, it’s the first thing they do. Ah, the -Mother’s Tragedy! How well that broad brim suits her, doesn’t it, Joe? -You didn’t think, I suppose, of a bow of cerise chiffon just at the -curve? A little daring thing like that, you know, is often quite -effective.” - -“I hope you will be happy, my dearest Joe,” said Amber. - -“I shall be married, at any rate,” said Josephine, “and isn’t that a -step in the right direction? Happiness?... Well, could there be anything -more ridiculous than an attempt to define happiness? Six months ago I -had no hesitation in defining it for my own benefit. I defined it--down -to the very man. That was where I was the fool,--for now I have come to -think that that which I thought to be happiness is the only unhappiness -that exists for me in the world. But I shall face it. I shall face it. -When one has been a fool one must pay for it.” - -“Dear Joe--oh, Joe--Joe! Do not talk so, for God’s sake,” cried Amber. - -“You began it, my dear Amber,” said Joe, pointing a finger at her, and -leaning back among the cushions of her sofa. The attitude was that one -of the lovely figures in Andrea’s picture of “The Wedding Feast,” and -Amber recognised it with horror. “You began it--you, talking about -happiness and the rest of it,” she continued. “Well, there, I’ll say no -more.... Heavens, I forgot that I did not see you since we returned from -The Weir! And that seems a lifetime ago. Ah, it is true, ‘Marriage and -death and division, make barren our lives.’ I wonder why I was such a -fool as to go to The Weir with you, Amber.” - -“What has come over her? She has been quite as rude as that all day,” - complained Lady Gwendolen. “I thought that nothing could make her rude, -however full of theories she might be. But I’ve noticed, Amber, that -rudeness and a reputation usually go together. At any rate, the women -who are said to be intellectual seem to me to be nothing but rude. As -soon as a woman has insulted you grossly three times you must take it -for granted that her intellect is of the highest order. Of course if you -think cerise too trying you might have it in a much lighter shade just -where the brim begins to curve. You saw my toque with the poppies and -the corn? I was not afraid to face the strongest colour. Oh, must you -really go?” - -“She really must: I cannot see how she could possibly remain another -five minutes,” said Josephine. “Amber has some sense of what is sacred -and what is profane. I had the same ideas a week ago, but that’s a long -time back. Priestesses of Baal must have revolted the sensitiveness of -the daughters of Levi. Good-bye, Amber, and take my advice and don’t -come back to us. I should be sorry to flaunt my new-found unhappiness in -your face.” - -The tone of her voice and of her laugh that followed gave Amber the -impulse to put her fingers in her ears and rush from the room--from the -house. She resisted the suggestion, however, and contented herself with -a protest of uplifted hands and mournfully shaking head. - -“Poor Joe--poor Joe!” she whispered. - -“That is the sincerest congratulation I have yet had,” said Josephine. -“It is the congratulation that contains the smallest amount of -bitterness. When people say ‘I hope you may be happy, my dear,’ they -mean that they wouldn’t give much for my chances. No, Amber, don’t come -back to us until I get used to being engaged. So many people have come. -Mr. Clifton is wiser: he stays away. Oh, he was always so clever! The -idea of a girl like myself trying to be equal to him!--Good-bye, dear.” - -Amber did not speak a word. She almost rushed from the room, while Lady -Gwendolen was still talking, musingly, of the merits of a bow of pink -chiffon--it need not necessarily be a large or an imposing incident in -the composition of the hat with the broad brim, a mere suggestion of the -tint would be enough, she thought. - -Amber felt as if she had just come from the deathbed of her dearest -friend. She was horrified at the tone of Josephine’s voice and at the -sound of her laugh. She felt that she never wished to see again the -creature who had taken the place of her dear friend Josephine West. - -The daughter of a mother who was a worldling, and of a father who was -a politician, Josephine had ever shown herself to be free from the -influence of either. But now--well, even her father was able to assume -a certain amount of sincerity in dealing with political questions, -especially when a General Election was impending. He had never talked -cynically of the things which were held dear by the people with the -votes. And as for her mother she was in the habit of speaking with -deep feeling on the subject of the right fur for opera cloaks and other -matters of interest to the intelligent. But there was Josephine talking -and laughing on the first day of her engagement with a cynicism that -could not have been bitterer had she been married a whole year. - -What did it mean? What had brought about that extraordinary change in -the girl’s nature? These were the questions which distracted Amber all -the way to her home. - -She could not forget that, after Josephine had written that little -paper defining Platonic Friendship, she had been led to ask herself why -Josephine should have thought well to be so satirical on the subject; -and she had come to the conclusion that Josephine’s attitude was due to -the fact of her having a tender feeling not of friendship but of love -for some man; and Amber’s suspicions fell upon Ernest Clifton. She -felt sure that she had noticed a certain light in Josephine’s face upon -occasions when Mr. Clifton was near her. And yet now that she promised -to become the wife of Mr. Clifton, the light that was in her eyes was an -illumination of a very different sort. - -And then as the question of exultation suggested itself to her she -recollected how she fancied that she had perceived such an expression -on the face of her friend on the Monday morning when she had returned to -The Weir by the side of Pierce Winwood. The same expression was on the -face of Pierce Winwood also, and Amber had felt convinced that he had -told her he loved her and that she had not rejected him. - -That was why they had talked so enthusiastically on the subject of the -reaping machine (blue, picked out with vermillion). - -But how was she to reconcile what she had seen and heard in the -drawing-room which she had just left with her recollection of the return -of Josephine and the other man--not the man whom she had promised to -marry--from the survey of the reaping machine? - -Pierce Winwood had practically confessed to her that he meant to -ask Josephine if she thought she could love him, and the chance -had undoubtedly been given to him to put such a question to her. If -then--if--if he... - -In an instant she fancied that she perceived all that had happened. - -She did not as a matter of fact perceive all that had happened, but she -certainly did become aware of a good deal--enough for her to go on -with; and a moment after perceiving this she saw that Pierce Winwood was -walking rapidly alongside the rails of Kensington Gardens. - -He saw her and made a little motion with his hand suggesting his desire -to speak to her. She stopped the victoria. - -“I hope you will be at home this afternoon,” he said. “I am so anxious -to speak with you for five minutes.” - -“I will walk the rest of the way home: I have not had a walk to-day,” - she said, stepping out of the victoria. - -“You are very good,” he said, as the machine whirled off. “Do let us -turn into the gardens for a minute. I should not like to miss this -chance. You saw that announcement in the papers to-day?” - -“Ah--ah!” she sighed, as they went through one of the gates and on to an -avenue made dim by the boughs of horse-chestnut. - -“Think of it! Think of that paragraph if you can when I tell you that -she told me only on Monday that she loved me,” he cried. - -She stopped short. So she had not been mistaken after all. - -“She promised--Josephine promised?” - -“She promised. I gave you to understand that I meant to put my fate to -the test, and I did so on Monday. Ah, she told me that she loved -me--me only--me only--and I know that she spoke the truth. She loved me -then--she loves me now--me only--and yet--you saw that announcement.” - -Amber could only shake her head dolefully. Matters were getting too -complicated for her. The effort to reconcile one incident with another -was a pain to her. - -“You told me that she was free,” he continued. “That was because you did -not know that she had been engaged secretly to that man. He was clever -enough--unscrupulous enough--clever people are unscrupulous. It is -only the people who are less clever that fail to get rid of their -scruples--at any rate he persuaded her to bind herself to him in secret. -Later--a fortnight ago--she insisted on his releasing her and he did -so--technically; but in parting from her--more cleverness--he gave her -to understand that he regarded her as still bound to him--he made it a -matter of honour--she was only released on _parole_--a trick. Was -she not entitled to listen to me? No one can deny it. She had her -misgivings, but that was afterwards--she had confessed that she loved -me--me only. I did not give the matter a thought. She had no doubt that -she would be able to meet him. Her protection was to ask him to go to -her father for his consent.” - -“And he took her at her word. He got her father’s consent. They are -both politicians--her father and the other. And every member of the -Government knows enough about every other member of the Government to -hang him. They must have made a compact together. They say that Mr. -Clifton is the cleverest politician in England. We know what that means. -My father says, ‘Show me the cleverest politician in England and I’ll -show you the greatest rascal in Europe.’” - -“There must have been something diabolical at work. This is the letter -which she wrote to me. Poor girl! Poor girl!” - -“I cannot read it--I know it all--all. I love her--I cannot listen to -the despairing cries of one whom I love. Poor Josephine! I was with her -just now... oh, terrible--terrible!” - -“Ah, you have been with her? you saw her? She would not see me. And what -have you found out? Do not tell me that she cares anything for him.” - -“I saw her; but what could I find out? She did not confide anything to -me--she did not seek to do so. I shall never go again---- She frightened -me. There was no word of Josephine in all she said. Have you not been to -her?” - -“Been to her. How could I get that letter and remain away from her? I -went in the forenoon--she would not see me--the man had received his -instructions. That is why I was going to you. You must ask her to go to -you to-morrow, and I shall meet her at your house. My God, cannot you -perceive that I must see?--that she must be saved from her fate?... What -am I thinking of--to talk to you in this way--commanding? What can you -think of me?” - -“Do not accuse me of being unable to see how you love her. But I -cannot do what you ask me. How would it be possible? You must write to -her--persuade her to see you.” - -“And I thought that you were my friend.” - -He had stopped on the avenue and was gazing at her reproachfully. - -“I am your friend,” she said, “and therefore I cannot do this. If you -were to meet her and hear her talk as I heard her to-day you would turn -away from her forever. I know that.” - -“Turn from her--I--I--turn from her--her?” he cried. “Oh, let me have -the chance--you will give me the chance?” - -She shook her head. - -“Then what am I to do?” he said. “Would you counsel me to remain -passive--to allow her to marry that man whom she detests and to send her -a wedding present? A diamond star would be a nice present, wouldn’t -it? or a wheat sheaf--I saw one the other day--set with pearls and -diamonds?” - -“Oh, you are talking now just as she talked--so wildly--so wickedly. -Cannot you see that just at this moment you are both beyond the control -of reason? You say things to me now that you do not mean--she did the -same. If you were to meet now you would say things to her--she would say -things to you--you would part from her forever.” - -“I would be calm. I would remember that everything depended on my being -calm.” - -“Ah, you think so. But you cannot be calm even to me. And you did not -see her as I saw her just now.” - -“Would to heaven that I had the chance.” - -“Do not say that. You would drown yourself there.” - -(They had reached the Round Pond.) - -He walked along in silence by her side--in silence and with bowed head. - -“I know what will happen,” he said at last: “she will soon become -reconciled to her fate. She will soon come to think that he is part of -her life and I shall cease to be in any thought of hers. Well, perhaps -that is the best thing that could happen. But I thought that she was not -like other women. I fancied that when she knew... But you will see her -again? You will tell her that I must see her--surely she will let me say -good-bye to her.” - -“I can say nothing. But you must not see her now. Wait for a day or two. -Oh, cannot you trust her to bear you in mind for a day or two? Did she -not say that she loved you?” - -“And she does--I know that she does. Oh, it is the old story--the old -story. Her father has forced her into this.” - -Amber could say nothing. She thought that it would be better for her -not to go into the question of the antiquity of the story of a girl -promising to marry a rich man, and her parents endeavouring to marry her -to a poor one--that was the summary of the love story of Josephine West. - -He walked in silence--comparative silence--by her side until they -reached the road once more. At the entrance to her home, he said humbly: - -“My dear Miss Severn, I feel that you have given me good advice. I will -obey you--I will make no attempt to see her for some days. I knew that I -should be right in coming to you. You will forgive me for the wild way I -talked to you.” - -“If you had not talked in that way I would never speak to you again,” - said Amber, giving him her hand. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - -Amber ran upstairs to her room and threw herself not upon the little -sofa in her dressing-room but upon the bed in her bedroom. She was -guided in the right direction. She knew perfectly well that the cry -which was coming was too big for a sofa--it was a bed-sized cry. - -She lay in her tears for more than an hour, and no one went near her -to disturb her. Emotions were recognised as possible in this -household--emotions and moods and sulks--and no member of the -household--ancillary or otherwise--was allowed to interfere with -another. - -Her mother was fortunate in having been at one time of her life of the -same age as Amber, and she had a pretty good notion of how it was that -her daughter did not come downstairs for tea. Lady Severn had heard her -daughter’s comments upon the announcement of Josephine’s engagement, and -having herself noticed the expression on the faces of her guests at -The Weir on their return together from their stroll, she had no great -difficulty in understanding how it was possible that Amber might be -having a good cry after visiting her friend Josephine. - -It was, however, Sir Creighton who, before dinner, asked Amber if -she had learned anything by her visit to Josephine. He appeared quite -anxious to know all that there was to be known on the subject of -Josephine’s engagement to Mr. Clifton; but for that matter he took quite -as much interest as his wife, in the incidents of their social life. -Even the humblest essays in elementary biology had a certain attraction -about them, he was accustomed to say. - -Amber gave him a spasmodic account of her call upon Josephine, and of -her subsequent overtaking of Pierce and his confession during their -stroll in the Park. - -“Just think of it,” she said by way of summing up. “Just think of it: -she acknowledged to Mr. Winwood on Monday that she loved him, and yet -to-day she allows it to be announced in the papers that she is to be -married to the other man! Was there ever anything so terrible since the -world began?” - -“Never--never,” said he. “Nothing of such terrible significance to -Josephine and Winwood has been heard of since the world began. There is -a good deal in this business which is not easy to understand without the -aid of a trustworthy key to the motives of men and women and political -adventurers. If she had promised in secret long ago to marry Clifton, -the secret being kept a secret because of the unlikelihood of her -father’s giving his consent to the engagement, what, I should like to -know, has occurred during the past few days to make Clifton perceive -that her father would give his consent? You got a hint from Josephine on -this point--or that fool of a mother of hers--did she say nothing that -would suggest a compact--a reciprocal treaty, these politicians would -call it--between Mr. West and Mr. Clifton?” - -Amber laughed scornfully. - -“Lady Gwendolen talked about the new opera cloaks,” said she. - -“A topic well within her grasp,” said Sir Creighton. “If I wished for -any information regarding the possibilities of longevity among certain -esoteric developments of the opera cloak I think I would apply to Lady -Gwendolen. She is, one might say, the actuary of the opera cloak: she -can calculate, upon the theory of averages, the duration of life of such -ephemera.” - -“Yes; but what is to be done,” said Amber, who perceived the danger of -drifting into phrases and fancying that because a good sentence has been -made, there is no need for further action. - -Sir Creighton walked to a window and stood in front of it with his hands -in his pockets. - -“We can do a good deal,” he said, after a pause of considerable -duration. “I know, at any rate, that I can do a good deal in this -matter--yes, in certain circumstances I think that I have a good deal -of influence--moral influence of course, not the other sort,--to avoid -making use of an uglier word, we shall call it political influence. But -we must be certain first how we stand--exactly how we stand. Why should -West give his consent just now to his daughter’s engagement to Clifton -when both persons mainly concerned in the contract considered six -months ago that it would be quite useless to make an appeal to him. Why, -according to what you say Winwood told you, Josephine up to last -Monday felt certain that it would be ridiculous to expect that he would -entertain a thought of Clifton as a son-in-law. Now, what we need to -find out is, How did Clifton convince Josephine’s father that he was the -right man to marry his daughter?” - -Amber could not see for the life of her what bearing this point had upon -the question of the destiny of Josephine, but she had a great deal of -confidence in her father. - -“Mind you, my dear,” resumed Sir Creighton, “I do not say that Josephine -has not herself to thank for a good deal of this trouble. Why should she -allow herself to be persuaded into an underhand compact with that man? -And then, having entered into that compact, why does she allow herself -to fall in love with quite another man?” - -“How could she prevent it?” cried Amber. “How is a girl to prevent -herself from falling in love with one particular man?” - -“Possibly a course of higher mathematics might be prescribed,” said Sir -Creighton. “My dear Amber, I don’t think that Josephine is the heroine -of this romance. However, that is no reason why she should not be -happy--it is certainly no reason why Pierce Winwood should be unhappy. -He at least is blameless.” - -This was the end of their conversation at that time, and Amber felt that -it had not been very helpful in the way of furthering the prospects of -Pierce Win-wood, and, incidentally, of Josephine West. - -She could not even see why her father should laugh the laugh of a man -who is gratified on receiving a proof of his own shrewdness, when the -following morning he pointed out to her in one of the newspapers, -under the heading of Changes in the Cabinet, the announcement that the -Minister of the Annexation Department had agreed to go to the Exchequer -on the resignation owing to his increasing deafness of the Chancellor, -and that Mr. Carew West, the Under Secretary for the Arbitration Office, -had accepted the portfolio thereby rendered vacant, with a Seat in the -Cabinet. - -Every paper in the kingdom contained a leading article or a note under -the leading article, referring to this important change and offering -congratulations to the new Minister. But the paper which Sir Creighton -showed to his daughter went rather more into the details of the Cabinet -Changes, and explained that it was thought by many people that the -Chancellor of the Exchequer would not resign until a seat had been found -for Mr. Eardley, who had had a seat in the last Cabinet of the existing -Government, but who had failed to be returned for his old constituency -at the General Election. The Government had, however, been advised that, -owing to the attitude of the electors of the Arbroath Burghs in regard -to the war, the return of Mr. Eardley for that fickle constituency could -not be relied on, and therefore the Under Secretary at the Arbitration -Office had got his seat in the Cabinet rather sooner than might have -been expected. - -“There is the explanation of it all,” said Sir Creighton. “I wondered -how it was that Clifton could get into his hands the wires that affected -West, for every one knows that West’s seat is a perfectly safe one, -and Clifton is only a wire-puller among the constituencies. But now the -whole thing is clear to me. The Chancellor has made a fool of himself -and the Government want to unload him. They want their old colleague -Eardley back, and they ask Clifton about the Arbroath Burghs. If Clifton -says ‘safe,’ the Chancellor will wait until Eardley is returned; if he -says ‘unsafe’ the vacant place will be given to West. Clifton then goes -to West and says ‘Would you care to get into the Cabinet? I can put you -into the Cabinet to-morrow.’ ‘What’s your price?’ cries West, perceiving -that the object of his ambition is within reach, and hoping that Clifton -will be as reasonable as Mephisto was to Faust, and only say, ‘Your -Soul.’ But Clifton knows that the soul of an Under Secretary is quoted -low in the Market, but that a daughter is a perfectly negotiable -security--oh, the whole thing is clear.” - -“Quite clear,” acquiesced Amber, “but where does Mr. Winwood come in?” - -Her father roared with laughter. - -“You are surely the most practical young woman that lives,” he -said. “Here have I been romancing away in the vaguest fashion and so -overwhelmed with a sense of my own cleverness that I lose sight of the -true objective--the phrase is one of the multitudinous military critics, -my dear--but you, you hold me down to the dry details of the matter in -hand.” - -“You see, my dear father, I have not yet been able to understand how -much is gained by your knowing that Mr. West had some reason for giving -his consent to Josephine’s engagement with Mr. Clifton,” said Amber. - -“It was necessary for me to see if Mr. Clifton held debenture stock -in the Soul of Julian Carew West or only ordinary shares,” said Sir -Creighton. “And have you found that out?” - -“I have found that he holds merely preference shares. And now that the -Soul of Mr. West is going into allotment it is just possible that I -may be successful in getting in on the ground floor, as your friend Mr. -Galmyn would say.” - -“I don’t understand even yet.” - -“Better not try for a few days yet. Give the man a chance of settling -down in his place in the Cabinet and feeling comfortable in regard -to his future. A man who has just managed to crawl into a high office -should not be bothered by people making enquiries as to the marks of mud -on the knees of his trousers. There is no crawling through mud without -getting a stain or two. But do not forget that I am the inventor of the -only time fuse in existence.” - -He left his daughter to ponder over that dark saying. Exploding mines -were so well known that even the members of his own family had heard of -them. But what did her father who was the least egotistical man on the -face of the earth, mean by referring to that special invention of his? - -She was annoyed by his attitude of mystery, and when the afternoon -came she was still further annoyed, when in the course of giving Arthur -Galmyn a cup of nice tea, he begged of her to marry him, confessing -that he had gone on the Stock Exchange only out of love for her, and -threatening to go back to the poetry once more if she refused him. - -Regardless of this pistol held to her head, she told him that he had -disappointed her. She had always looked on him as a true friend. - -He hurried away at the entrance of Mr. Willie Bateman, and before Mr. -Bateman had eaten his second hot cake, he had assured her that if she -were good enough to marry him she might depend upon his making her the -most celebrated woman in England. He had a plan, he said--an advertising -system that could not possibly fail, and if she rejected him he would -communicate it to the Duchess of Manxland who was at her wit’s end to -find some new scheme of advertising herself--she had exhausted all the -old ones. - -But even the force of this threat did not prevent Amber from telling -him that he had disappointed her. She had always looked on him as a true -friend. - -When he had gone away in a huff, she ate the remainder of the hot cakes -and reflected that she had received four proposals of marriage within -the week. - -This was excessively flattering and annoying, and the truth began to be -impressed upon her that Platonic Friendship was all that Josephine had -said it was and that it was in addition a perpetual encouragement to a -timorous lover. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - -A letter received from Pierce Winwood two days later made her inclined -to ask, as he did several times, in the course of three hurricane pages, -if inaction as a policy might not be pursued too long? Her father had -responded enigmatically to her hints that she thought if a Cabinet -Minister could not settle down in his seat in the course of two days he -must be singularly ill-adapted for a career of repose. - -He had laughed heartily when she asked him again if Mr. West was not -ready for the time-fuse? or was it the time-fuse that was not ready for -Mr. West, but the questions were not further responded to; and now here -was Mr. Winwood saying that he would call this very day. - -His announcement sounded like the tradesman’s threat which she had once -seen at the foot of a college bill of her brother’s to the effect that -the writer would call on such a day at such an hour and hoped that Mr. -Severn would find it convenient to have his money ready for him. - -She found, on counting her loose change--all that she had got from her -father in response to her hints--that she had not enough to pay Pierce -Winwood--she would not even be able to give him something on account. -She had neither seen Josephine nor heard anything about her; and she -knew better than to fancy that the ardent lover would go away satisfied -with the parable of the time-fuse. - -She had all the courage of her sex; but she could not face him. She -actually felt herself becoming nervous at the thought of his entering -the room and repeating in her ears the words which he had shouted into -his letter. His noisy letter had greatly disturbed her; so after an -interval--an uneasy interval, she rushed at paper and pens and scrawled -off a page in precisely the same style as that which he had made his -own, begging him for heaven’s sake to be patient, if it was possible, -for a few days still, and entreating him to be a man. (She knew that -this was nonsense: to be a man was to be wildly unreasonable and -absurdly impatient in simple matters such as waiting until a young woman -came to know her own mind.) - -She was in the act of putting her avalanche letter in reply to -his hurricane pages, into its envelope when the door of the small -drawing-room where she was sitting at a writing-table was flung open and -Josephine swooped down on her, kissing her noisily and crying in her ear -the one word “saved--saved--saved!” after the style of the young woman -in the last popular melodrama--only much less graceful in pose. - -“What--what--what?” cried Amber spasmodically within the encircling arms -of her friend. - -Then they both rose, as it might be said, to the surface of their -overwhelming emotions, and stood facing each other breathless and -disordered. - -Josephine went off in a peal of laughter, Amber, ever sympathetic though -burning with curiosity, followed her, and then they flung themselves on -the sofa--one at each end, and laughed again. - -“I am saved--saved--and I come to you to tell you so,” cried Josephine, -catching one of Amber’s hands and swinging her arm over the cushions -that billowed between them. - -“Saved--saved--is he dead--or--or--has he been found out?” whispered -Amber. “Clever men invaribly are found out.” - -“Found out?--oh, I found him out long ago--the day he tricked me into -believing that I was still bound to him, though he had just pretended -to set me free. But to-day--before lunch time--by the way, I have had no -lunch yet!” - -Both girls laughed as aimlessly as negresses at this point, it seemed so -ridiculous not to have had lunch. - -“Before lunch--he came to you?” suggested Amber. - -“Not he--not Launcelot but another--the other was a young woman--oh, -quite good-looking, and wearing a very pretty Parma-violet velvet hat -with ospreys, and a cashmere dress, with an Eton jacket trimmed with -diagonal stripes of velvet to match the hat--oh, quite a nice girl. -I had never seen her before--she had sent in her name--Miss Barbara -Burden--such a sweet name, isn’t it?” - -“Quite charming! Who was she? I never heard the name.” - -“I had never heard the name. I fancied that she had come about a bazaar -for the widows and orphans, so many strangers come about that, you -know--but she hadn’t. I saw her. It was most amusing; but she was quite -nice. She had the newspaper in her hand with that announcement--that -horrid announcement-----” - -“I know--I know.” - -“‘Do you love that man, Miss West?’ she began, pointing to the -paragraph.” - -“Good gracious! That was a beginning--and a total stranger!” - -“So I thought. Of course I became cold and dignified. ‘Have you not seen -that I am going to marry Mr. Clifton?’ I asked in as chilling a voice -as I could put on at a moment’s notice. ‘What I mean is this,’ said the -young woman; ‘if you tell me that you are about to marry him because -you love him, I will go away now and you will never hear anything of me -again. But if you cannot say truly that you do love him I will tell you -that the day you marry him I shall bring an action against him that will -go far to ruin his career and to make you unhappy for the rest of your -life unless you are very different from what I have heard you are, Miss -West.’” - -“Heavens!” - -“I looked at her and saw that she was quite nice. ‘I cannot tell you -that I love him,’ said I, ‘but I can tell you that I detest him, and -that I love somebody else. Is that good enough for you to go on with?’ -‘Thank God!’ she cried quite fervently, and then she told me her story. -Oh, there was nothing wicked in it. She is the daughter of a doctor in -a town where he lived before he came to London. Her father was a man of -influence in the town and Mr. Clifton became engaged to the girl--but -in secret--no one was to know anything about it until he should find -himself in a position to get her father’s consent.” - -“A country doctor: Mr. Clifton must have been in a small way even then.” - -“So he was--he hoped to better himself by marrying her, however. She -showed me several letters that he had written to her--clever letters, -but still such letters as would be received with laughter, in brackets, -if read in a court of law. Well, he left that town and went to a larger, -and having worked himself into a better position, he found that to marry -the girl would be to marry beneath him--that was the girl’s phrase--‘to -marry beneath him’--so he engaged himself--also in secret--to a girl -above him in social position; but in the meantime he had worked himself -up and up until he came to London and was a sufficiently important -person to get me to engage myself to him--in secret too--and--that’s the -whole story the young lady had to tell only--yes, I forgot: before -he met her he had actually engaged himself to a girl in Lynnthorpe--a -grocer’s daughter in the town--Miss Burden found that out also. Was -there ever anything so amusing heard since the world began--such a -comedy of courtships! He had been gradually working himself up through -the whole gamut of the social scale until he reached the dizzy height -represented by me--me! But there is a sublimer height even than me, and -now he shall have his chance of reaching it.” - -“And we have always thought him so clever!” - -“So he is. But the cleverest men that have ever lived have had -their weaknesses. His little weakness seems to have been the secret -engagement. It appears that he has never been able to resist it. He -has gone from one girl to another like a butterfly. He will marry the -daughter of a Duke now.” - -“You believed the girl--Miss Burden?” said Amber in a tone that -suggested suspicion. - -Josephine laughed and patted her hand. - -“He came into the room while we were together,” she said. - -“Oh!” - -“He had not been to see me since Tuesday, and to-day is Saturday; he -thought it better on the whole to let me get accustomed to the situation -which was the natural sequel to the announcement in the papers. But -he came to-day. He met the other girl--one of the other girls--face to -face. You never saw anything so funny. For a moment I thought that he -would make the attempt to strangle her as the villain on the stage does. -But he did nothing of the sort. ‘I have just been telling Miss West that -the day you marry her, I shall bring up an action against you and give -the leader writers of the Opposition a chance of showing off their -cleverness in dealing with the case of Burden v. Clifton,’ said she -quite nicely. And he was dumb--absolutely dumb! ‘But Miss West has too -high a regard for Mr. Clifton to precipitate such an event,’ said I, and -then my father came into the room.” - -“More comedy!” - -“I felt equal to playing my rôle. He looked from me to Mr. Clifton, and -from Mr. Clifton to Miss Burden. ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘I forgot that you don’t -know Miss Burden, papa. This is my father, Miss Burden. Miss Burden is -the young lady whom Mr. Clifton promised to marry four years ago. It -is a nice question, and one which no doubt will have to be decided in -a Court of law, but it really seems to me that he is still engaged to -marry Miss Burden. But of course there were other girls and other secret -engagements.’” - -“You said that? How neat! And your father?” - -“He said ‘Don’t be a fool, Josephine. What nonsense is this, Clifton?’ -‘I think I should like five minutes alone with Miss Burden; I think I -could bring her to see that nothing would be gained by----’ ‘I do not -want such an interview with you,’ said Miss Burden. ‘I am here and if -Mr. West wishes to ask me any question--Mr. West or Miss West--I shall -answer it in your presence, Ernest.’ I pitied my father--I really did. -‘Clifton,’ said he, ‘do you mean to tell me that you were not a free man -when you made your proposal to my daughter?’ ‘A free man? that girl is -a fool--an utter fool!’ said Mr. Clifton. ‘Good heavens! Because a man -happens--psha! it was four years ago. There is nothing criminal in the -business!’ ‘Oh, no,’ said I, ‘nothing criminal--only ridiculous; but for -my part I have no intention of allowing my name to be associated -with the brackets in the newspaper reports enclosing the words “Great -laughter in the court,” and I cannot believe that my father anticipates -such a destiny for me.’ Then my father did a foolish thing. He said, -‘Madam, what damages do you hope for in this matter? Do you fancy that -any jury would award you more than a thousand pounds? That would be -ridiculous. But at the same time--I have my cheque-book here--supposing -we say fifteen hundred pounds?’” - -“He fancied that she would take it? Was he deceived by the ospreys in -her Parma-violet hat, do you think?” - -“He couldn’t have been, they were quite simple. But anyhow the girl -walked straight to the door and was out before any one could say a -word.” - -“How good!” - -“I ran after her and caught her up on the landing. I kissed her, -and--well, I didn’t think it worth while returning to the drawing-room. -But when I was putting on my hat to come to you, my father met me and -said, ‘Don’t you fancy that because this business has gone astray for a -while there is the smallest chance of your getting my consent in regard -to--to that fellow from Australia. Perhaps it is as well for us to be -clear of Clifton--such men have no sense of honour; but don’t you think -for a moment that this Winwood man--Clifton told me all about him--will -get my consent.’ So you see, my dear, although I have escaped from -Ernest Clifton... oh, how horribly I talked when you came to see me... -But you knew that I cared for Pierce--you knew that I had given him my -promise--you knew that he----” - -And at this point Mr. Pierce Winwood was announced and Amber Severn -rushed past him as he entered the room. - -***** - -“My dear West,” said Sir Creighton Severn when after church the next -day, he found himself seated opposite to the new Minister of the -Annexation Department in Mr. West’s library. “My dear West, so old a -friend as I am should be the first to offer you congratulations. You see -that your ambition was not the foolish impulse that so many people in -the old days said that it was. You had the stuff in you.” - -“I knew that you would be the first, my dear Severn,” said the new -Minister. “We have both done very well for ourselves since those old -days--those cruel old days, Severn. Ah, we had both ambitions of the -right sort. We knew how to make the most of our opportunities, you and -I. Yes, we have done pretty well for ourselves.” - -“And we have done pretty well for others too--if people only knew it,” - said Sir Creighton. - -“Yes, yes, the world is the happier for our having lived in it--you in -particular, Severn--you in particular. Your inventions--where are they -going to end? that’s what some one was saying to me the other day--a man -at the Admiralty--we had been hearing the result of the trial of that -boat of yours. Ah, you are fortunate, Severn. Your work is recognised -freely; whereas the labours of one who aspires to be thought a -statesman--ah, how few appreciate the life of perpetual self-sacrifice -which we are compelled to lead. People talk of the sweets of -office--sweets?--Do you know, Severn, I feel greatly inclined sometimes -to relinquish forever all this worry of political life--all this -noise--the clamour--the--the _strepitum_--that is the word--the -_strepitum_--and settle down to enjoy the life which is nearest to my -heart--the home life--the home--the hearth.” - -“Not yet--not yet, my friend,” said Sir Creighton, shaking his head -sadly. “You are not your own master now. Your duty may be an onerous -one, but there are too few statesmen in England for you to think of -retiring yet awhile.” - -“Well, perhaps one should not look at such a matter from the standpoint -of one’s private feelings. You do not see so much of me nowadays as -you once did, Severn; if you did you would know that the home--the -hearth--ah--ah!” - -“We do not see so much of each other; but our children--our girls, you -know that they are inseparable--West,--you are the father of a girl whom -I have come to understand, and to understand such a nature as hers is to -love her. I love her as I do my own child; and I am here to talk to you -about her.” - -“Ah, Severn, she is a good girl--a noble girl, but--well, frankly, I am -rather glad that this affair with Clifton has come to an end. It will -be years before Clifton is anything but the merest wire-puller--a -paltry provincial sort of jobbing jerrymander--that was--he will be--not -without his uses, of course--those organisms have their uses to us; but -I think that my daughter has every right to look for some one--some -one, in short, more in her own rank in life. You heard, of course, that -Clifton had been a fool--that it would be impossible for us to entertain -any longer the idea of----” - -“I saw Josephine yesterday. I am quite of your way of thinking in this -matter. Clifton behaved badly from the first--inducing her to do an -underhand thing--I know that her better nature recoiled from it. I -cannot understand how you ever came to give your consent, West.” - -“Well, you see, my dear Severn, I believed that she loved him, and a -girl’s heart--ah, Severn, Severn, when the prospect of one’s daughter’s -happiness----” - -“That is what I want to talk to you about, West--her future -happiness--and yours.” - -“If you are going to talk to me about that man from Australia--or is -it New Zealand?--whom she fancies she loves, you may spare yourself -the trouble, my dear friend--I decline to discuss a man so -obviously--flagrantly ineligible.” - -“I have found out a good deal about him during the past month, and I -have heard nothing except what is good.” - -“Good--good--what signifies goodness--I mean, of course, that my -daughter is now in a very different position from that she occupied six -months ago. The best families in the land might receive her with open -arms. But a Colonial--well, of course, they did very well in the war, -the Colonials, and the mother country is proud of them--yes, quite proud -of them. But for my daughter to marry a man who does not know his own -father----” - -“I know all about his father, though he does not.” - -“I don’t want to know, anything, West. His father may have been the -Archbishop of Canterbury for all I care; but the chances are that he was -a convict--or a descendant of convicts.” - -“You have not guessed very wide of the mark; his father was a convict.” - -“What; and you are here to suggest that--that--good lord, Severn, are -you mad--oh, you must be mad?” - -“I do not consider that he is anything the worse for being the son of -a convict, West. There is always the possibility of a convict being -innocent.” - -“Oh, they all affirm their innocence, of course. Now, that is all I want -to hear about either father or son. You will stay to lunch, I hope--oh, -yes, you must stay to lunch. The Marquis may drop in afterwards; his son -is certainly coming. You know Lord Lullworth--a promising young fellow, -Severn--quite promising. Come upstairs; Lady Gwendolen will be pleased.” - -“One moment, my dear West. I happen to know that the convict father of -Pierce Winwood, as he calls himself, was innocent of the crime for which -he suffered.” - -“Then comfort the son with that information. He will be glad to believe -it, I am confident.” - -“Shall I add to that information the name of the criminal on whose -behalf he suffered?” - -“You may add the names of all the heroes of the Newgate Calendar, if you -please, my dear friend.” - -“I will not offer him so interesting a catalogue. But come with me--I -have taken the liberty of bringing him here with me: he is upstairs--I -will give him the name of the real criminal in your presence and in the -presence of the Marquis and the Marquis’s son and also present him with -the proofs, which I have in my pocket, that I have not made a mistake.” - -Sir Creighton took a step towards the door. - -Mr. West did not move. His jaw had fallen. He had grasped the back of a -chair. - -The gong sounded for luncheon filling up the long pause with its hum. - -“For God’s sake--for God’s sake,” whispered the Cabinet Minister. - -“I tell you the truth, West,” said Sir Creighton. “The son of Richard -Gaintree, the man who was in your father’s works with myself and with -you--the man who in that strange way when we thought he was at the -point of death confessed to the crime which you committed and so saved -you--the man whom you saw go cheerfully to prison, without speaking a -word to save him--that man is the father of Pierce Winwood as certain as -we stand here.” - -Mr. West gazed at Sir Creighton Severn for some minutes, and then with -an articulation that was half a cry and half a groan, dropped into -the chair in front of him, and bowed his head down to his hands on the -table. - -For a long time his visitor did not speak--did not stir. At last he went -to him and laid his hand on his shoulder. - -“‘God moves in a mysterious way,’--you remember that hymn at the Chapel -in the old days, Julian?” he said in a low voice. “Though we have -drifted away from the chapel, we can still recognise the truth of that -line. I know that for years you have thought and thought if it might be -possible for you to redeem that one foolish act of your life--to redeem -your act of cowardice in sending that man to suffer in your place. Well, -now, by the mysterious working of Providence, the chance is offered to -you.” - -“And I will accept it--I will accept it as I did the offer of Richard -Gaintree,” cried West, clutching at his friend’s arm. “Thank God I can -do it--I can do it. But he need not know--the son need not know--you say -he does not know?” - -“He knows the story--the bare story, but his father hid the names from -him. He need never know more than he does now.” - -“Send them to me--send them to me, quick, Severn, quick--I may die -before I have accomplished the act of restitution.” - -Sir Creighton put out his hand, the other man put his own right hand -into it for a moment. - -Sir Creighton went upstairs to the drawing-room where Josephine and -Pierce were sitting with Lord Lullworth and Amber. Lady Gwendolen was -still in her dressing-room. - -Josephine started up at his entrance. She looked eagerly--enquiringly at -him. - -“He is in his study. He wants to see you both. Dear child, you have my -congratulations--and you too, Winwood.” - -Josephine was in Sir Creighton’s arms before he had finished speaking. - -“We are starving. What has happened?” cried Amber with some awe in her -voice, when Josephine and Pierce had disappeared. - -“The time-fuse has burnt itself down--that’s all,” said her father. -“Listen: you can almost hear Mr. West telling his daughter that his -fondest wish has always been for her happiness, and that he is ready to -sacrifice all his aspirations and ambitions in order that she may marry -the man whom she loves. That is what he is saying just now.” - -And, sure enough, that was exactly what Mr. West was saying at that -moment. - -“But the time-fuse?” said Amber. - -“Time-fuse--the time-fuse,” said Lord Lullworth. “Ah, that reminds -me--well, I may as well get it over at once, Sir Creighton. The fact is -that I--I have--well, I gave myself a time-fuse of six months to fall in -love with your daughter, but the explosion has come a good deal sooner -than I expected. She says that she thinks that she may come to think -about me as I do of her, in about four months.” - -“Oh, less than four months, now,” cried Amber. “It was four months half -an hour ago. Half an hour of the time-fuse has burnt away. And it’s -not the real Severn time-fuse, I know, for I’ve no confidence that the -climax may not be reached at any time.” - -“You are a pair of young fools,” said Sir Creighton. “And yet--well, I -don’t know. You may be the two wisest people in the world.” - -“Great Queen of Sheba! we can’t be so bad as all that,” said Lord Lull -worth. - - -THE END. - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg’s According to Plato, by Frank Frankfort Moore - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ACCORDING TO PLATO *** - -***** This file should be named 51969-0.txt or 51969-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/9/6/51969/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by Google Books - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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