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+The Project Gutenberg Ebook A Modern Chronicle, Entire, by Winston Churchill
+WC#45 in our series by Winston Churchill (USA author, not Sir Winston)
+
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+*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers*****
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+Title: A Modern Chronicle, Complete
+
+Author: Winston Churchill (USA author, not Sir Winston Churchill)
+
+Release Date: March, 2004  [EBook #5382]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on June 28, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
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+
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN CHRONICLE, ALL, BY CHURCHILL ***
+
+
+
+This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
+
+
+
+[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the
+file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an
+entire meal of them.  D.W.]
+
+
+
+
+
+A MODERN CHRONICLE
+
+By Winston Churchill
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+BOOK I.
+
+Volume 1.
+I.        WHAT'S IN HEREDITY?
+II.       PERDITA RECALLED
+III.      CONCERNING PROVIDENCE
+IV.       OF TEMPERAMENT
+V.        IN WHICH PROVIDENCE BEEPS FAITH
+VI.       HONORA HAS A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD
+
+Volume 2.
+VII.      THE OLYMPIAN ORDER
+VIII.     A CHAPTER OF CONQUESTS
+IX.       IN WHICH THE VICOMTE CONTINUES HIS STUDIES
+X.        IN WHICH HONORA WIDENS HER HORIZON
+XI.       WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN
+XII.      WHICH CONTAINS A SURPRISE FOR MRS. HOLT
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+Volume 3.
+I.        SO LONG AS YE BOTH SHALL LIVE
+II.       "STAFFORD PARK"
+III.      THE GREAT UNATTACHED
+IV.       THE NEW DOCTRINE
+V.        QUICKSANDS
+VI.       GAD AND MENI
+
+Volume 4.
+VII.      OF CERTAIN DELICATE MATTERS
+VIII.     OF MENTAL PROCESSES-FEMININE AND INSOLUBLE
+IX.       INTRODUCING A REVOLUTIONIZING VEHICLE
+X.        ON THE ART OF LION TAMING
+XI.       CONTAINING SOME REVELATIONS
+
+
+BOOK III
+Volume 5.
+I.        ASCENDI
+II.       THE PATH OF PHILANTHROPY
+III.      VINELAND
+IV.       THE VIKING
+V.        THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
+
+Volume 6.
+VI.       CLIO, OR THALIA?
+VII       "LIBERTY, AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS"
+VIII.     IN WHICH THE LAW BETRAYS A HEART
+IX.       WYLIE STREET
+X.        THE PRICE OF FREEDOM
+
+Volume 7.
+XI.       IN WHICH IT IS ALL DONE OVER AGAIN
+XII.      THE ENTRANCE INTO EDEN
+XIII.     OF THE WORLD BEYOND THE GATES.
+XIV.      CONTAINING PHILOSOPHY FROM MR. GRAINGER
+XV.       THE PILLARS OF SOCIETY
+
+Volume 8.
+XVI.      IN WHICH A MIRROR IS HELD UP
+XVII.     THE RENEWAL OF AN ANCIENT HOSPITALITY
+XVIII.    IN WHICH MR. ERWIN SEES PARIS
+
+
+
+
+
+A MODERN CHRONICLE
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+WHAT'S IN HEREDITY
+
+Honora Leffingwell is the original name of our heroine.  She was born in
+the last quarter of the Nineteenth Century, at Nice, in France, and she
+spent the early years of her life in St. Louis, a somewhat conservative
+old city on the banks of the Mississippi River.  Her father was Randolph
+Leffingwell, and he died in the early flower of his manhood, while
+filling with a grace that many remember the post of United States Consul
+at Nice.  As a linguist he was a phenomenon, and his photograph in the
+tortoise-shell frame proves indubitably, to anyone acquainted with the
+fashions of 1870, that he was a master of that subtlest of all arts,
+dress.  He had gentle blood in his veins, which came from Virginia
+through Kentucky in a coach and six, and he was the equal in appearance
+and manners of any duke who lingered beside classic seas.
+
+Honora has often pictured to herself a gay villa set high above the
+curving shore, the amethyst depths shading into emerald, laced with
+milk-white foam, the vivid colours of the town, the gay costumes; the
+excursions, the dinner-parties presided over by the immaculate young
+consul in three languages, and the guests chosen from the haute noblesse
+of Europe. Such was the vision in her youthful mind, added to by degrees
+as she grew into young-ladyhood and surreptitiously became familiar with
+the writings of Ouida and the Duchess, and other literature of an
+educating cosmopolitan nature.
+
+Honora's biography should undoubtedly contain a sketch of Mrs. Randolph
+Leffingwell.  Beauty and dash and a knowledge of how to seat a table.
+seem to have been the lady's chief characteristics; the only daughter of
+a carefully dressed and carefully, preserved widower, likewise a
+linguist,--whose super-refined tastes and the limited straits to which
+he, the remaining scion of an old Southern family, had been reduced by a
+gentlemanly contempt for money, led him 'to choose Paris rather than New
+York as a place of residence.  One of the occasional and carefully
+planned trips to the Riviera proved fatal to the beautiful but reckless
+Myrtle Allison.  She, who might have chosen counts or dukes from the
+Tagus to the Danube, or even crossed the Channel; took the dashing but
+impecunious American consul, with a faith in his future that was sublime.
+Without going over too carefully the upward path which led to the post of
+their country's representative at the court of St. James, neither had the
+slightest doubt that Randolph Leffingwell would tread it.
+
+It is needless to dwell upon the chagrin of Honora's maternal
+grandfather, Howard Allison Esquire, over this turn of affairs, this
+unexpected bouleversement, as he spoke of it in private to his friends
+in his Parisian club.  For many years he had watched the personal
+attractions of his daughter grow, and a brougham and certain other
+delights not to be mentioned had gradually become, in his mind,
+synonymous with old age.  The brougham would have on its panels the
+Allison crest, and his distinguished (and titled) son-in-law would drop
+in occasionally at the little apartment on the Boulevard Haussmann.
+Alas, for visions, for legitimate hopes shattered forever!  On the day
+that Randolph Leffingwell led Miss Allison down the aisle of the English
+church the vision of the brougham and the other delights faded.  Howard
+Allison went back to his club.
+
+Three years later, while on an excursion with Sir Nicholas Baker and a
+merry party on the Italian aide, the horses behind which Mr. and Mrs.
+Leffingwell were driving with their host ran away, and in the flight
+managed to precipitate the vehicle, and themselves, down the side of one
+of the numerous deep valleys of the streams seeking the Mediterranean.
+Thus, by a singular caprice of destiny Honors was deprived of both her
+parents at a period which--some chose to believe--was the height of their
+combined glories.  Randolph Leffingwell lived long enough to be taken
+back to Nice, and to consign his infant daughter and sundry other
+unsolved problems to his brother Tom.
+
+Brother Tom--or Uncle Tom, as we must call him with Honora--cheerfully
+accepted the charge.  For his legacies in life had been chiefly blessings
+in disguise.  He was paying teller of the Prairie Bank, and the
+thermometer registered something above 90deg Fahrenheit on the July
+morning when he stood behind his wicket reading a letter from Howard
+Allison, Esquire, relative to his niece.  Mr. Leffingwell was at this
+period of his life forty-eight, but the habit he had acquired of assuming
+responsibilities and burdens seemed to have had the effect of making his
+age indefinite.  He was six feet tall, broad-shouldered, his mustache and
+hair already turning; his eyebrows were a trifle bushy, and his eyes
+reminded men of one eternal and highly prized quality--honesty.  They
+were blue grey.  Ordinarily they shed a light which sent people away from
+his window the happier without knowing why; but they had been known, on
+rare occasions, to flash on dishonesty and fraud like the lightnings of
+the Lord.  Mr. Isham, the president of the bank, coined a phrase about
+him.  He said that Thomas Leffingwell was constitutionally honest.
+
+Although he had not risen above the position of paying teller, Thomas
+Leffingwell had a unique place in the city of his birth; and the esteem
+in which he was held by capitalists and clerks proves that character
+counts for something.  On his father's failure and death he had entered
+the Prairie Bank, at eighteen, and never left it.  If he had owned it,
+he could not have been treated by the customers with more respect.  The
+city, save for a few notable exceptions, like Mr. Isham, called him Mr.
+Leffingwell, but behind his back often spoke of him as Tom.
+
+On the particular hot morning in question, as he stood in his seersucker
+coat reading the unquestionably pompous letter of Mr. Allison announcing
+that his niece was on the high seas, he returned the greetings of his
+friends with his usual kindness and cheer.  In an adjoining compartment a
+long-legged boy of fourteen was busily stamping letters.
+
+"Peter," said Mr. Leffingwell, "go ask Mr. Isham if I may see him."
+
+It is advisable to remember the boy's name.  It was Peter Erwin, and
+he was a favourite in the bank, where he had been introduced by Mr.
+Leffingwell himself.  He was an orphan and lived with his grandmother,
+an impoverished old lady with good blood in her veins who boarded in
+Graham's Row, on Olive Street.  Suffice it to add, at this time, that he
+worshipped Mr. Leffingwell, and that he was back in a twinkling with the
+information that Mr. Isham was awaiting him.
+
+The president was seated at his desk.  In spite of the thermometer he
+gave no appearance of discomfort in his frock-coat.  He had scant, sandy-
+grey whiskers, a tightly closed and smooth-shaven upper lip, a nose with-
+a decided ridge, and rather small but penetrating eyes in which the blue
+pigment had been used sparingly.  His habitual mode of speech was both
+brief and sharp, but people remarked that he modified it a little for Tom
+Leffingwell.
+
+"Come in, Tom," he said.  "Anything the matter?"
+
+"Mr. Isham, I want a week off, to go to New York."
+
+The request, from Tom Leffingwell, took Mr. Isham's breath.  One of the
+bank president's characteristics was an extreme interest in the private
+affairs of those who came within his zone of influence and especially
+when these affairs evinced any irregularity.
+
+"Randolph again?" he asked quickly.
+
+Tom walked to the window, and stood looking out into the street.  His
+voice shook as he answered:
+
+"Ten days ago I learned that my brother was dead, Mr. Isham."
+
+The president glanced at the broad back of his teller.  Mr. Isham's voice
+was firm, his face certainly betrayed no feeling, but a flitting gleam of
+satisfaction might have been seen in his eye.
+
+"Of course, Tom, you may go," he answered.
+
+Thus came to pass an event in the lives of Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary, that
+journey to New York (their first) of two nights and two days to fetch
+Honora.  We need not dwell upon all that befell them.  The first view of
+the Hudson, the first whiff of the salt air on this unwonted holiday, the
+sights of this crowded city of wealth,--all were tempered by the thought
+of the child coming into their lives.  They were standing on the pier
+when the windows were crimson in the early light, and at nine o'clock on
+that summer's morning the Albania was docked, and the passengers came
+crowding down the gang-plank.  Prosperous tourists, most of them, with
+servants and stewards carrying bags of English design and checked steamer
+rugs; and at last a ruddy-faced bonne with streamers and a bundle of
+ribbons and laces--Honora--Honora, aged eighteen months, gazing at a
+subjugated world.
+
+"What a beautiful child! exclaimed a woman on the pier."
+
+Was it instinct or premonition that led them to accost the bonne?
+
+"Oui, Leffingwell!" she cried, gazing at them in some perplexity.  Three
+children of various sizes clung to her skirts, and a younger nurse
+carried a golden-haired little girl of Honora's age.  A lady and
+gentleman followed.  The lady was beginning to look matronly, and no
+second glance was required to perceive that she was a person of opinion
+and character.  Mr. Holt was smaller than his wife, neat in dress and
+unobtrusive in appearance.  In the rich Mrs. Holt, the friend of the
+Randolph Leffingwells, Aunt Mary was prepared to find a more vapidly
+fashionable personage, and had schooled herself forthwith.
+
+"You are Mrs. Thomas Leffingwell?"  she asked.  "Well, I am relieved."
+The lady's eyes, travelling rapidly over Aunt Mary's sober bonnet and
+brooch and gown, made it appear that these features in Honora's future
+guardian gave her the relief in question.  "Honora, this is your aunt."
+
+Honora smiled from amidst the laces, and Aunt Mary, only too ready to
+capitulate, surrendered.  She held out her arms.  Tears welled up in the
+Frenchwoman's eyes as she abandoned her charge.
+
+"Pauvre mignonne!" she cried.
+
+But Mrs. Holt rebuked the nurse sharply, in French,--a language with
+which neither Aunt Mary nor Uncle Tom was familiar.  Fortunately,
+perhaps.  Mrs. Holt's remark was to the effect that Honora was going to a
+sensible home.
+
+"Hortense loves her better than my own children," said that lady.
+
+Honora seemed quite content in the arms of Aunt Mary, who was gazing so
+earnestly into the child's face that she did not at first hear Mrs.
+Holt's invitation to take breakfast with them on Madison Avenue, and then
+she declined politely.  While grossing on the steamer, Mrs. Holt had
+decided quite clearly in her mind just what she was going to say to the
+child's future guardian, but there was something in Aunt Mary's voice and
+manner which made these remarks seem unnecessary--although Mrs. Holt was
+secretly disappointed not to deliver them.
+
+"It was fortunate that we happened to, be in Nice at the time," she said
+with the evident feeling that some explanation was due.  "I did not know
+poor Mrs. Randolph Leffingwell very--very intimately, or Mr. Leffingwell.
+It was such a sudden--such a terrible affair.  But Mr. Holt and I were
+only too glad to do what we could."
+
+"We feel very grateful to you," said Aunt Mary, quietly.
+
+Mrs. Holt looked at her with a still more distinct approval, being
+tolerably sure that Mrs. Thomas Leffingwell understood.  She had cleared
+her skirts of any possible implication of intimacy with the late Mrs.
+Randolph, and done so with a master touch.
+
+In the meantime Honora had passed to Uncle Tom.  After securing the
+little trunk, and settling certain matters with Mr. Holt, they said good-
+by to her late kind protectors, and started off for the nearest street-
+cars, Honora pulling Uncle Tom's mustache.  More than one pedestrian
+paused to look back at the tall man carrying the beautiful child,
+bedecked like a young princess, and more than one passenger in the street
+cars smiled at them both.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+PERDITA RECALLED
+
+Saint Louis, or that part of it which is called by dealers in real estate
+the choice residence section, grew westward.  And Uncle Tom might be said
+to have been in the vanguard of the movement.  In the days before Honora
+was born he had built his little house on what had been a farm on the
+Olive Street Road, at the crest of the second ridge from the river.  Up
+this ridge, with clanking traces, toiled the horse-cars that carried
+Uncle Tom downtown to the bank and Aunt Mary to market.
+
+Fleeing westward, likewise, from the smoke, friends of Uncle Tom's and
+Aunt Mary's gradually surrounded them--building, as a rule, the high
+Victorian mansions in favour at that period, which were placed in the
+centre of commodious yards.  For the friends of Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary
+were for the most part rich, and belonged, as did they, to the older
+families of the city.  Mr. Dwyer's house, with its picture gallery, was
+across the street.
+
+In the midst of such imposing company the little dwelling which became
+the home of our heroine sat well back in a plot that might almost be
+called a garden.  In summer its white wooden front was nearly hidden by
+the quivering leaves of two tall pear trees.  On the other side of the
+brick walk, and near the iron fence, was an elm and a flower bed that was
+Uncle Tom's pride and the admiration of the neighbourhood.  Honora has
+but to shut her eyes to see it aflame with tulips at Eastertide.  The
+eastern wall of the house was a mass of Virginia creeper, and beneath
+that another flower bed, and still another in the back-yard behind the
+lattice fence covered with cucumber vine.  There were, besides, two
+maples and two apricot trees, relics of the farm, and of blessed memory.
+Such apricots!  Visions of hot summer evenings come back, with Uncle Tom,
+in his seersucker coat, with his green watering-pot, bending over the
+beds, and Aunt Mary seated upright in her chair, looking up from her
+knitting with a loving eye.
+
+Behind the lattice, on these summer evenings, stands the militant figure
+of that old retainer, Bridget the cook, her stout arms akimbo, ready to
+engage in vigorous banter should Honora deign to approach.
+
+"Whisht, 'Nora darlint, it's a young lady yell be soon, and the beaux a-
+comin' 'round!" she would cry, and throw back her head and laugh until
+the tears were in her eyes.
+
+And the princess, a slim figure in an immaculate linen frock with red
+ribbons which Aunt Mary had copied from Longstreth's London catalogue,
+would reply with dignity:
+
+"Bridget, I wish you would try to remember that my name is Honora."
+
+Another spasm of laughter from Bridget.
+
+"Listen to that now!" she would cry to another ancient retainer, Mary
+Ann, the housemaid, whose kitchen chair was tilted up against the side of
+the woodshed.  "It'll be Miss Honora next, and George Hanbury here to-day
+with his eye through a knothole in the fence, out of his head for a sight
+of ye."
+
+George Hanbury was Honora's cousin, and she did not deem his admiration a
+subject fit for discussion with Bridget.
+
+"Sure," declared Mary Ann, "it's the air of a princess the child has."
+
+That she should be thought a princess did not appear at all remarkable
+to Honora at twelve years of age.  Perdita may have had such dreams.
+She had been born, she knew, in some wondrous land by the shores of the
+summer seas, not at all like St. Louis, and friends and relatives had not
+hesitated to remark in her hearing that she resembled--her father,--that
+handsome father who surely must have been a prince, whose beforementioned
+photograph in the tortoise-shell frame was on the bureau in her little
+room.  So far as Randolph Leffingwell was concerned, photography had not
+been invented for nothing.  Other records of him remained which Honora
+had likewise seen: one end of a rose-covered villa--which Honora thought
+was a wing of his palace; a coach and four he was driving, and which had
+chanced to belong to an Englishman, although the photograph gave no
+evidence of this ownership.  Neither Aunt Mary nor Uncle Tom had ever
+sought--for reasons perhaps obvious--to correct the child's impression of
+an extraordinary paternity.
+
+Aunt Mary was a Puritan of Southern ancestry, and her father had been a
+Presbyterian minister, Uncle Tom was a member of the vestry of a church
+still under Puritan influences.  As a consequence for Honora, there were
+Sunday afternoons--periods when the imaginative faculty, in which she was
+by no means lacking, was given full play.  She would sit by the hour in
+the swing Uncle Tom had hung for her under the maple near the lattice,
+while castles rose on distant heights against blue skies.  There was her
+real home, in a balconied chamber that overlooked mile upon mile of
+rustling forest in the valley; and when the wind blew, the sound of it
+was like the sea.  Honora did not remember the sea, but its music was
+often in her ears.
+
+She would be aroused from these dreams of greatness by the appearance of
+old Catherine, her nurse, on the side porch, reminding her that it was
+time to wash for supper.  No princess could have had a more humble
+tiring-woman than Catherine.
+
+Honora cannot be unduly blamed.  When she reached the "little house under
+the hill" (as Catherine called the chamber beneath the eaves), she beheld
+reflected in the mirror an image like a tall, white flower that might
+indeed have belonged to a princess.  Her hair, the colour of burnt
+sienna, fell evenly to her shoulders; her features even then had
+regularity and hauteur; her legs, in their black silk stockings, were
+straight; and the simple white lawn frock made the best of a slender
+figure.  Those frocks of Honora's were a continual source of wonder
+and sometimes of envy--to Aunt Mary's friends; who returned from the
+seaside in the autumn, after a week among the fashions in Boston or New
+York, to find Honora in the latest models, and better dressed than their
+own children.  Aunt Mary made no secret of the methods by which these
+seeming miracles were performed, and showed Cousin Eleanor Hanbury the
+fashion plates in the English periodicals.  Cousin Eleanor sighed.
+
+"Mary, you are wonderful," she would say.  "Honora's clothes are better-
+looking than those I buy in the East, at such fabulous prices, from
+Cavendish."
+
+Indeed, no woman was ever farther removed from personal vanity than Aunt
+Mary.  She looked like a little Quakeress.  Her silvered hair was parted
+in the middle and had, in spite of palpable efforts towards tightness and
+repression, a perceptible ripple in it.  Grey was her only concession to
+colour, and her gowns and bonnets were of a primness which belonged to
+the past.  Repression, or perhaps compression, was her note, for the
+energy confined within her little body was a thing to have astounded
+scientists: And Honora grew to womanhood and reflection before she had.
+guessed or considered that her aunt was possessed of intense emotions
+which had no outlet.  Her features were regular, her shy eye had the
+clearness of a forest pool.  She believed in predestination, which is to
+say that she was a fatalist; and while she steadfastly continued to
+regard this world as a place of sorrow and trials, she concerned herself
+very little about her participation in a future life.  Old Dr. Ewing, the
+rector of St. Anne's, while conceding that no better or more charitable
+woman existed, found it so exceedingly difficult to talk to her, on the
+subject of religion that he had never tried it but once.
+
+Such was Aunt Mary.  The true student of human nature should not find it
+surprising that she spoiled Honora and strove--at what secret expense,
+care, and self-denial to Uncle Tom and herself, none will ever know--to
+adorn the child that she might appear creditably among companions whose
+parents were more fortunate in this world's goods; that she denied
+herself to educate Honora as these other children were educated.  Nor is
+it astonishing that she should not have understood the highly complex
+organism of the young lady we have chosen for our heroine, who was
+shaken, at the age of thirteen, by unfulfilled longings.
+
+Very early in life Honora learned to dread the summer, when one by one
+the families of her friends departed until the city itself seemed a
+remote and distant place from what it had been in the spring and winter.
+The great houses were closed and blinded, and in the evening the servants
+who had been left behind chattered on the front steps.  Honora could not
+bear the sound of the trains that drifted across the night, and the sight
+of the trunks piled in the Hanburys' hall, in Wayland Square, always
+filled her with a sickening longing.  Would the day ever come when she,
+too, would depart for the bright places of the earth?  Sometimes, when
+she looked in the mirror, she was filled with a fierce belief in a
+destiny to sit in the high seats, to receive homage and dispense
+bounties, to discourse with great intellects, to know London and Paris
+and the marts and centres of the world as her father had.  To escape--
+only to escape from the prison walls of a humdrum existence, and to soar!
+
+Let us, if we can, reconstruct an August day when all (or nearly all)
+of Honora's small friends were gone eastward to the mountains or the
+seaside.  In "the little house under the hill," the surface of which was
+a hot slate roof, Honora would awake about seven o'clock to find old
+Catherine bending over her in a dun-coloured calico dress, with the light
+fiercely beating against the closed shutters that braved it so
+unflinchingly throughout the day.
+
+"The birds are before ye, Miss Honora, honey, and your uncle waterin' his
+roses this half-hour."
+
+Uncle Tom was indeed an early riser.  As Honora dressed (Catherine
+assisting as at a ceremony), she could see him, in his seersucker coat,
+bending tenderly over his beds; he lived enveloped in a peace which has
+since struck wonder to Honora's soul.  She lingered in her dressing, even
+in those days, falling into reveries from which Catherine gently and
+deferentially aroused her; and Uncle Tom would be carving the beefsteak
+and Aunt Mary pouring the coffee when she finally arrived in the dining
+room to nibble at one of Bridget's unforgettable rolls or hot biscuits.
+Uncle Tom had his joke, and at quarter-past eight precisely he would kiss
+Aunt Mary and walk to the corner to wait for the ambling horse-car that
+was to take him to the bank.  Sometimes Honora went to the corner with
+him, and he waved her good-by from the platform as he felt in his pocket
+for the nickel that was to pay his fare.
+
+When Honora returned, Aunt Mary had donned her apron, and was
+industriously aiding Mary Ann to wash the dishes and maintain the
+customary high polish on her husband's share of the Leffingwell silver
+which, standing on the side table, shot hither and thither rays of green
+light that filtered through the shutters into the darkened room.  The
+child partook of Aunt Mary's pride in that silver, made for a Kentucky
+great-grandfather Leffingwell by a famous Philadelphia silversmith three-
+quarters of a century before.  Honora sighed.
+
+"What's the matter, Honora?" asked Aunt Mary, without pausing in her
+vigorous rubbing.
+
+"The Leffingwells used to be great once upon a time, didn't they, Aunt
+Mary?"
+
+"Your Uncle Tom," answered Aunt Mary, quietly, "is the greatest man I
+know, child."
+
+"And my father must have been a great man, too," cried Honora, "to have
+been a consul and drive coaches."
+
+Aunt Mary was silent.  She was not a person who spoke easily on difficult
+subjects.
+
+"Why don't you ever talk to me about my father, Aunt Mary?  Uncle Tom
+does."
+
+"I didn't know your father, Honora."
+
+"But you have seen him?"
+
+"Yes," said Aunt Mary, dipping her cloth into the whiting; "I saw him at
+my wedding.  But he was very, young."
+
+"What was he like?"  Honora demanded.  "He was very handsome, wasn't he?"
+
+'Yes, child."
+
+"And he had ambition, didn't he, Aunt Mary?"
+
+Aunt Mary paused.  Her eyes were troubled as she looked at Honora, whose
+head was thrown back.
+
+"What kind of ambition do you mean, Honora?"
+
+"Oh," cried Honora, "to be great and rich and powerful, and to be
+somebody."
+
+"Who has been putting such things in your head, my dear?"
+
+"No one, Aunt Mary.  Only, if I were a man, I shouldn't rest until I
+became great."
+
+Alas, that Aunt Mary, with all her will, should have such limited powers
+of expression!  She resumed her scrubbing of the silver before she spoke.
+
+"To do one's duty, to accept cheerfully and like a Christian the
+responsibilities and burdens of life, is the highest form of greatness,
+my child.  Your Uncle Tom has had many things to trouble him; he has
+always worked for others, and not for himself.  And he is respected and
+loved by all who know him."
+
+"Yes, I know, Aunt Mary.  But--"
+
+"But what, Honora?"
+
+"Then why isn't he rich, as my father was?"
+
+"Your father wasn't rich, my dear," said Aunt Mary, sadly.
+
+"Why, Aunt Mary!"  Honora exclaimed, "he lived in a beautiful house, and
+owned horses.  Isn't that being rich?"
+
+Poor Aunt Mary!
+
+"Honora," she answered, "there are some things you are too young to
+understand.  But try to remember, my dear, that happiness doesn't consist
+in being rich."
+
+"But I have often heard you say that you wished you were rich, Aunt Mary,
+and had nice things, and a picture gallery like Mr. Dwyer."
+
+"I should like to have beautiful pictures, Honora."
+
+"I don't like Mr. Dwyer," declared Honora, abruptly.
+
+"You mustn't say that, Honora," was Aunt Mary's reproof.  "Mr. Dwyer is
+an upright, public-spirited man, and he thinks a great deal of your Uncle
+Tom."
+
+"I can't help it, Aunt Mary," said Honora.  "I think he enjoys being--
+well, being able to do things for a man like Uncle Tom."
+
+Neither Aunt Mary nor Honora guessed what a subtle criticism this was
+of Mr. Dwyer.  Aunt Mary was troubled and puzzled; and she began to
+speculate (not for the first time) why the Lord had given a person with
+so little imagination a child like Honora to bring up in the straight and
+narrow path.
+
+"When I go on Sunday afternoons with Uncle Tom to see Mr. Dwyer's
+pictures," Honora persisted, "I always feel that he is so glad to have
+what other people haven't or he wouldn't have any one to show them to."
+
+Aunt Mary shook her head.  Once she had given her loyal friendship, such
+faults as this became as nothing.
+
+"And when" said Honora, "when Mrs. Dwyer has dinner-parties for
+celebrated people who come here, why does she invite you in to see the
+table?"
+
+"Out of kindness, Honora.  Mrs. Dwyer knows that I enjoy looking at
+beautiful things."
+
+"Why doesn't she invite you to the dinners?"  asked Honora, hotly.
+"Our family is just as good as Mrs. Dwyer's."
+
+The extent of Aunt Mary's distress was not apparent.
+
+"You are talking nonsense, my child," she said.  "All my friends know
+that I am not a person who can entertain distinguished people, and that
+I do not go out, and that I haven't the money to buy evening dresses.
+And even if I had," she added, "I haven't a pretty neck, so it's just
+as well."
+
+A philosophy distinctly Aunt Mary's.
+
+Uncle Tom, after he had listened without comment that evening to her
+account of this conversation, was of the opinion that to take Honora to
+task for her fancies would be waste of breath; that they would right
+themselves as she grew up.
+
+"I'm afraid it's inheritance, Tom," said Aunt Mary, at last.  "And if so,
+it ought to be counteracted.  We've seen other signs of it.  You know
+Honora has little or no idea of the value of money--or of its ownership."
+
+"She sees little enough of it," Uncle Tom remarked with a smile.
+
+"Tom."
+
+"Well."
+
+"Sometimes I think I've done wrong not to dress her more simply.  I'm
+afraid it's given the child a taste for--for self-adornment."
+
+"I once had a fond belief that all women possessed such a taste," said
+Uncle Tom, with a quizzical look at his own exception.  "To tell you the
+truth, I never classed it as a fault."
+
+"Then I don't see why you married me," said Aunt Mary--a periodical
+remark of hers.  "But, Tom, I do wish her to appear as well as the other
+children, and (Aunt Mary actually blushed) the child has good looks."
+
+"Why don't you go as far as old Catherine, and call her a princess?"  he
+asked.
+
+"Do you want me to ruin her utterly?"  exclaimed Aunt Mary.
+
+Uncle Tom put his hands on his wife's shoulders and looked down into her
+face, and smiled again.  Although she held herself very straight, the top
+of her head was very little above the level of his chin.
+
+"It strikes me that you are entitled to some little indulgence in life,
+Mary," he said.
+
+One of the curious contradictions of Aunt Mary's character was a never
+dying interest, which held no taint of envy, in the doings of people more
+fortunate than herself.  In the long summer days, after her silver was
+cleaned and her housekeeping and marketing finished, she read in the
+book-club periodicals of royal marriages, embassy balls, of great town
+and country houses and their owners at home and abroad.  And she knew,
+by means of a correspondence with Cousin Eleanor Hanbury and other
+intimates, the kind of cottages in which her friends sojourned at the
+seashore or in the mountains; how many rooms they had, and how many
+servants, and very often who the servants were; she was likewise informed
+on the climate, and the ease with which it was possible to obtain fresh
+vegetables.  And to all of this information Uncle Tom would listen,
+smiling but genuinely interested, while he carved at dinner.
+
+One evening, when Uncle Tom had gone to play piquet with Mr. Isham,
+who was ill, Honora further surprised her aunt by exclaiming:
+"How can you talk of things other people have and not want them,
+Aunt Mary?"
+
+"Why should I desire what I cannot have, my dear?  I take such pleasure
+out of my friends' possessions as I can."
+
+"But you want to go to the seashore, I know you do.  I've heard you say
+so," Honora protested.
+
+"I should like to see the open ocean before I die," admitted Aunt Mary,
+unexpectedly.  "I saw New York harbour once, when we went to meet you.
+And I know how the salt water smells--which is as much, perhaps, as I
+have the right to hope for.  But I have often thought it would be nice
+to sit for a whole summer by the sea and listen to the waves dashing upon
+the beach, like those in the Chase picture in Mr. Dwyer's gallery."
+
+Aunt Mary little guessed the unspeakable rebellion aroused in Honora by
+this acknowledgment of being fatally circumscribed.  Wouldn't Uncle Tom
+ever be rich?
+
+Aunt Mary shook her head--she saw no prospect of it.
+
+But other men, who were not half so good as Uncle Tom, got rich.
+
+Uncle Tom was not the kind of man who cared for riches.  He was content
+to do his duty in that sphere where God had placed him.
+
+Poor Aunt Mary.  Honora never asked her uncle such questions: to do so
+never occurred to her.  At peace with all men, he gave of his best to
+children, and Honora remained a child.  Next to his flowers, walking was
+Uncle Tom's chief recreation, and from the time she could be guided by
+the hand she went with him.  His very presence had the gift of dispelling
+longings, even in the young; the gift of compelling delight in simple
+things.  Of a Sunday afternoon, if the heat were not too great, he would
+take Honora to the wild park that stretches westward of the city, and
+something of the depth and intensity of his pleasure in the birds, the
+forest, and the wild flowers would communicate itself to her.  She
+learned all unconsciously (by suggestion, as it were) to take delight in
+them; a delight that was to last her lifetime, a never failing resource
+to which she was to turn again and again.  In winter, they went to the
+botanical gardens or the Zoo.  Uncle Tom had a passion for animals, and
+Mr. Isham, who was a director, gave him a pass through the gates.  The
+keepers knew him, and spoke to him with kindly respect.  Nay, it seemed
+to Honora that the very animals knew him, and offered themselves
+ingratiatingly to be stroked by one whom they recognized as friend.
+Jaded horses in the street lifted their noses; stray, homeless cats
+rubbed against his legs, and vagrant dogs looked up at him trustfully
+with wagging tails.
+
+Yet his goodness, as Emerson would have said, had some edge to it.
+Honora had seen the light of anger in his blue eye--a divine ray.  Once
+he had chastised her for telling Aunt Mary a lie (she could not have lied
+to him) and Honora had never forgotten it.  The anger of such a man had
+indeed some element in it of the divine; terrible, not in volume, but in
+righteous intensity.  And when it had passed there was no occasion for
+future warning.  The memory of it lingered.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+CONCERNING PROVIDENCE
+
+What quality was it in Honora that compelled Bridget to stop her ironing
+on Tuesdays in order to make hot waffles for a young woman who was late
+to breakfast?  Bridget, who would have filled the kitchen with righteous
+wrath if Aunt Mary had transgressed the rules of the house, which were
+like the laws of the Medes and Persians!  And in Honora's early youth
+Mary Ann, the housemaid, spent more than one painful evening writing home
+for cockle shells and other articles to propitiate our princess, who
+rewarded her with a winning smile and a kiss, which invariably melted the
+honest girl into tears.  The Queen of Scots never had a more devoted
+chamber woman than old Catherine,--who would have gone to the stake with
+a smile to save her little lady a single childish ill, and who spent her
+savings, until severely taken to task by Aunt Mary, upon objects for
+which a casual wish had been expressed.  The saints themselves must at
+times have been aweary from hearing Honora's name.
+
+Not to speak of Christmas!  Christmas in the little house was one wild
+delirium of joy.  The night before the festival was, to all outward
+appearances, an ordinary evening, when Uncle Tom sat by the fire in his
+slippers, as usual, scouting the idea that there would be any Christmas
+at all.  Aunt Mary sewed, and talked with maddening calmness of the news
+of the day; but for Honora the air was charged with coming events of the
+first magnitude.  The very furniture of the little sitting-room had a
+different air, the room itself wore a mysterious aspect, and the cannel-
+coal fire seemed to give forth a special quality of unearthly light.
+
+"Is to-morrow Christmas?" Uncle Tom would exclaim.  Bless me!  Honora,
+I am so glad you reminded me."
+
+"Now, Uncle Tom, you knew it was Christmas all the time!"
+
+"Kiss your uncle good night, Honora, and go right to sleep, dear,"--from
+Aunt Mary.
+
+The unconscious irony in that command of Aunt Mary's!--to go right to
+sleep!  Many times was a head lifted from a small pillow, straining after
+the meaning of the squeaky noises that came up from below!  Not Santa
+Claus.  Honora's belief in him had merged into a blind faith in a larger
+and even more benevolent, if material providence: the kind of providence
+which Mr. Meredith depicts, and which was to say to Beauchamp: "Here's
+your marquise;" a particular providence which, at the proper time, gave
+Uncle Tom money, and commanded, with a smile, "Buy this for Honora--she
+wants it."  All-sufficient reason!  Soul-satisfying philosophy, to which
+Honora was to cling for many years of life.  It is amazing how much can
+be wrung from a reluctant world by the mere belief in this kind of
+providence.
+
+Sleep came at last, in the darkest of the hours.  And still in the dark
+hours a stirring, a delicious sensation preceding reason, and the
+consciousness of a figure stealing about the room.  Honora sat up in bed,
+shivering with cold and delight.
+
+"Is it awake ye are, darlint, and it but four o'clock the morn!"
+
+"What are you doing, Cathy?"
+
+"Musha, it's to Mass I'm going, to ask the Mother of God to give ye many
+happy Christmases the like of this, Miss Honora."  And Catherine's arms
+were about her.
+
+"Oh, it's Christmas, Cathy, isn't it?  How could I have forgotten it!"
+
+"Now go to sleep, honey.  Your aunt and uncle wouldn't like it at all at
+all if ye was to make noise in the middle of the night--and it's little
+better it is."
+
+Sleep!  A despised waste of time in childhood.  Catherine went to Mass,
+and after an eternity, the grey December light began to sift through the
+shutters, and human endurance had reached its limit.  Honora, still
+shivering, seized a fleecy wrapper (the handiwork of Aunt Mary) and
+crept, a diminutive ghost, down the creaking stairway to the sitting-
+room.  A sitting-room.  which now was not a sitting-room, but for to-day
+a place of magic.  As though by a prearranged salute of the gods,--at
+Honora's entrance the fire burst through the thick blanket of fine coal
+which Uncle Tom had laid before going to bed, and with a little gasp of
+joy that was almost pain, she paused on the threshold.  That one flash,
+like Pizarro's first sunrise over Peru, gilded the edge of infinite
+possibilities.
+
+Needless to enumerate them.  The whole world, as we know, was in a
+conspiracy to spoil Honora.  The Dwyers, the Cartwrights, the Haydens,
+the Brices, the Ishams, and I know not how many others had sent their
+tributes, and Honora's second cousins, the Hanburys, from the family
+mansion behind the stately elms of Wayland Square--of which something
+anon.  A miniature mahogany desk, a prayer-book and hymnal which the
+Dwyers had brought home from New York, endless volumes of a more secular
+and (to Honora) entrancing nature; roller skates; skates for real ice,
+when it should apppear in the form of sleet on the sidewalks; a sled;
+humbler gifts from Bridget, Mary Ann, and Catherine, and a wonderful
+coat, with hat to match, of a certain dark green velvet.  When Aunt Mary
+appeared, an hour or so later, Honora was surveying her magnificence in
+the glass.
+
+"Oh, Aunt Mary!" she cried, with her arms tightly locked around her
+aunt's neck, "how lovely!  Did you send all the way to New York for it?"
+
+"No, Honora," said her aunt, "it didn't come from New York."  Aunt Mary
+did not explain that this coat had been her one engrossing occupation for
+six weeks, at such times when Honora was out or tucked away safely in
+bed.
+
+Perhaps Honora's face fell a little.  Aunt Mary scanned it rather
+anxiously.
+
+"Does that cause you to like it any less, Honora?" she asked.
+
+"Aunt Mary!" exclaimed Honora, in a tone of reproval.  And added after a
+little, "I suppose Mademoiselle made it."
+
+"Does it make any difference who made it, Honora?"
+
+"Oh, no indeed, Aunt Mary.  May I wear it to Cousin Eleanor's to-day?"
+
+"I gave it to you to wear, Honora."
+
+Not in Honora's memory was there a Christmas breakfast during which Peter
+Erwin did not appear, bringing gifts.  Peter Erwin, of whom we caught a
+glimpse doing an errand for Uncle Tom in the bank.  With the complacency
+of the sun Honora was wont to regard this most constant of her
+satellites.  Her awakening powers of observation had discovered him in
+bondage, and in bondage he had been ever since: for their acquaintance
+had begun on the first Sunday afternoon after Honora's arrival in St.
+Louis at the age of eighteen months.  It will be remembered that Honora
+was even then a coquette, and as she sat in her new baby-carriage under
+the pear tree, flirted outrageously with Peter, who stood on one foot
+from embarrassment.
+
+"Why, Peter," Uncle Tom had said slyly, "why don't you kiss her?"
+
+That kiss had been Peter's seal of service.  And he became, on Sunday
+afternoons, a sort of understudy for Catherine.  He took an amazing
+delight in wheeling Honora up and down the yard, and up and down the
+sidewalk.  Brunhilde or Queen Elizabeth never wielded a power more
+absolute, nor had an adorer more satisfactory; and of all his remarkable
+talents, none were more conspicuous than his abilities to tell a story
+and to choose a present.  Emancipated from the perambulator, Honora
+would watch for him at the window, and toddle to the gate to meet him,
+a gentleman-in-waiting whose zeal, however arduous, never flagged.
+
+On this particular Christmas morning, when she heard the gate slam,
+Honora sprang up from the table to don her green velvet coat.  Poor
+Peter!  As though his subjugation could be more complete!
+
+It's the postman," suggested Uncle Tom, wickedly.
+
+"It's Peter!" cried Honora, triumphantly, from the hall as she flunk open
+the door, letting in a breath of cold Christmas air out of the sunlight.
+
+It was Peter, but a Peter who has changed some since perambulator days,
+--just as Honora has changed some.  A Peter who, instead of fourteen, is
+six and twenty; a full-fledged lawyer, in the office of that most
+celebrated of St. Louis practitioners, Judge Stephen Brice.  For the
+Peter Erwins of this world are queer creatures, and move rapidly without
+appearing to the Honoras to move at all.  A great many things have
+happened to Peter since he had been a messenger boy in the bank.
+
+Needless to say, Uncle Tom had taken an interest in him.  And,
+according to Peter, this fact accounted for all the good fortune which
+had followed.  Shortly before the news came of his brother's death, Uncle
+Tom had discovered that the boy who did his errands so willingly was
+going to night school, and was the grandson of a gentleman who had fought
+with credit in the Mexican War, and died in misfortune: the grandmother
+was Peter's only living relative.  Through Uncle Tom, Mr. Isham became
+interested, and Judge Brice.  There was a certain scholarship in the
+Washington University which Peter obtained, and he worked his way through
+the law school afterwards.
+
+A simple story, of which many a duplicate could be found in this country
+of ours.  In the course of the dozen years or so of its unravelling the
+grandmother had died, and Peter had become, to all intents and purposes,
+a member of Uncle Tom's family.  A place was set for him at Sunday
+dinner; and, if he did not appear, at Sunday tea.  Sometimes at both.
+And here he was, as usual, on Christmas morning, his arms so full that
+he had had to push open the gate with his foot.
+
+"Well, well, well, well!" he said, stopping short on the doorstep and
+surveying our velvet-clad princess, "I've come to the wrong house."
+
+The princess stuck her finger into her cheek.
+
+"Don't be silly, Peter!" she said; and Merry Christmas!"
+
+"Merry Christmas!" he replied, edging sidewise in at the door and
+depositing his parcels on the mahogany horsehair sofa.  He chose one,
+and seized the princess--velvet coat and all!--in his arms and kissed
+her.  When he released her, there remained in her hand a morocco-bound
+diary, marked with her monogram, and destined to contain high matters.
+
+"How could you know what I wanted, Peter?"  she exclaimed, after she had
+divested it of the tissue paper, holly, and red ribbon in which he had so
+carefully wrapped it.  For it is a royal trait to thank with the same
+graciousness and warmth the donors of the humblest and the greatest
+offerings.
+
+There was a paper-knife for Uncle Tom, and a workbasket for Aunt Mary,
+and a dress apiece for Catherine, Bridget, and Mary Ann, none of whom
+Peter ever forgot.  Although the smoke was even at that period beginning
+to creep westward, the sun poured through the lace curtains into the
+little dining-room and danced on the silver coffeepot as Aunt Mary poured
+out Peter's cup, and the blue china breakfast plates were bluer than ever
+because it was Christmas.  The humblest of familiar articles took on the
+air of a present.  And after breakfast, while Aunt Mary occupied herself
+with that immemorial institution,--which was to lure hitherwards so many
+prominent citizens of St. Louis during the day,--eggnogg, Peter surveyed
+the offerings which transformed the sitting-room.  The table had been
+pushed back against the bookcases, the chairs knew not their time-
+honoured places, and white paper and red ribbon littered the floor.
+Uncle Tom, relegated to a corner, pretended to read his newspaper, while
+Honora flitted from Peter's knees to his, or sat cross-legged on the
+hearthrug investigating a bottomless stocking.
+
+"What in the world are we going to do with all these things?" said Peter.
+
+"We?"  cried Honora.
+
+"When we get married, I mean," said Peter, smiling at Uncle Tom.
+"Let's see!" and he began counting on his fingers, which were long but
+very strong--so strong that Honora could never loosen even one of them
+when they gripped her.  "One--two--three--eight Christmases before you
+are twenty-one.  We'll have enough things to set us up in housekeeping.
+Or perhaps you'd rather get married when you are eighteen?"
+
+"I've always told you I wasn't going to marry you, Peter," said Honora,
+with decision.
+
+"Why by not?" He always asked that question.
+
+Honora sighed.
+
+"I'll make a good husband," said Peter; "I'll promise.  Ugly men are
+always good husbands."
+
+"I didn't say you were ugly," declared the ever considerate Honora.
+
+Only my nose is too big," he quoted; "and I am too long one way and not
+wide enough."
+
+"You have a certain air of distinction in spite of it," said Honora.
+
+Uncle Tom's newspaper began to shake, and he read more industriously than
+ever.
+
+"You've been reading--novels!" said Peter, in a terrible judicial voice.
+
+Honora flushed guiltily, and resumed her inspection of the stocking.
+Miss Rossiter, a maiden lady of somewhat romantic tendencies, was
+librarian of the Book Club that year.  And as a result a book called
+"Harold's Quest," by an author who shall be nameless, had come to the
+house.  And it was Harold who had had "a certain air of distinction."
+
+"It isn't very kind of you to make fun of me when I pay you a
+compliment," replied Honora, with dignity.
+
+"I was naturally put out," he declared gravely, "because you said you
+wouldn't marry me.  But I don't intend to give up.  No man who is worth
+his salt ever gives up."
+
+"You are old enough to get married now," said Honora, still considerate.
+
+"But I am not rich enough," said Peter; "and besides, I want you."
+
+One of the first entries in the morocco diary--which had a lock and key
+to it--was a description of Honora's future husband.  We cannot violate
+the lock, nor steal the key from under her pillow.  But this much, alas,
+may be said with discretion, that he bore no resemblance to Peter Erwin.
+It may be guessed, however, that he contained something of Harold, and
+more of Randolph Leffingwell; and that he did not live in St. Louis.
+
+An event of Christmas, after church, was the dinner of which Uncle Tom
+and Aunt Mary and Honora partook with Cousin Eleanor Hanbury, who had
+been a Leffingwell, and was a first cousin of Honora's father.  Honora
+loved the atmosphere of the massive, yellow stone house in Wayland
+Square, with its tall polished mahogany doors and thick carpets, with its
+deferential darky servants, some of whom had been the slaves of her great
+uncle.  To Honora, gifted with imagination, the house had an odour all
+its own; a rich, clean odour significant, in later life, of wealth and
+luxury and spotless housekeeping.  And she knew it from top to bottom.
+The spacious upper floor, which in ordinary dwellings would have been an
+attic, was the realm of young George and his sisters, Edith and Mary
+(Aunt Mary's namesake).  Rainy Saturdays, all too brief, Honora had
+passed there, when the big dolls' house in the playroom became the scene
+of domestic dramas which Edith rehearsed after she went to bed, although
+Mary took them more calmly.  In his tenderer years, Honora even fired
+George, and riots occurred which took the combined efforts of Cousin
+Eleanor and Mammy Lucy to quell.  It may be remarked, in passing, that
+Cousin Eleanor looked with suspicion upon this imaginative gift of
+Honora's, and had several serious conversations with Aunt Mary on the
+subject.
+
+It was true, in a measure, that Honora quickened to life everything she
+touched, and her arrival in Wayland Square was invariably greeted with
+shouts of joy.  There was no doll on which she had not bestowed a
+history, and by dint of her insistence their pasts clung to them with all
+the reality of a fate not by any means to be lived down.  If George rode
+the huge rocking-horse, he was Paul Revere, or some equally historic
+figure, and sometimes, to Edith's terror, he was compelled to assume the
+role of Bluebeard, when Honora submitted to decapitation with a fortitude
+amounting to stoicism.  Hide and seek was altogether too tame for her, a
+stake of life and death, or imprisonment or treasure, being a necessity.
+And many times was Edith extracted from the recesses of the cellar in a
+condition bordering on hysterics, the day ending tamely with a Bible
+story or a selection from "Little Women" read by Cousin Eleanor.
+
+In autumn, and again in spring and early summer before the annual
+departure of the Hanbury family for the sea, the pleasant yard with its
+wide shade trees and its shrubbery was a land of enchantment threatened
+by a genie.  Black Bias, the family coachman, polishing the fat carriage
+horses in the stable yard, was the genie; and George the intrepid knight
+who, spurred by Honora, would dash in and pinch Bias in a part of his
+anatomy which the honest darky had never seen.  An ideal genie, for he
+could assume an astonishing fierceness at will.
+
+"I'll git you yit, Marse George!"
+
+Had it not been for Honora, her cousins would have found the paradise in
+which they lived a commonplace spot, and indeed they never could realize
+its tremendous possibilities in her absence.  What would the
+Mediterranean Sea and its adjoining countries be to us unless the
+wanderings of Ulysses and AEneas had made them real?  And what would
+Cousin Eleanor's yard have been without Honora?  Whatever there was of
+romance and folklore in Uncle Tom's library Honora had extracted at an
+early age, and with astonishing ease had avoided that which was dry and
+uninteresting.  The result was a nomenclature for Aunt Eleanor's yard, in
+which there was even a terra incognita wherefrom venturesome travellers
+never returned, but were transformed into wild beasts or monkeys.
+
+Although they acknowledged her leadership, Edith and Mary were sorry for
+Honora, for they knew that if her father had lived she would have had a
+house and garden like theirs, only larger, and beside a blue sea where it
+was warm always.  Honora had told them so, and colour was lent to her
+assertions by the fact that their mother, when they repeated this to her,
+only smiled sadly, and brushed her eyes with her handkerchief.  She was
+even more beautiful when she did so, Edith told her,--a remark which
+caused Mrs. Hanbury to scan her younger daughter closely; it smacked of
+Honora.
+
+"Was Cousin Randolph handsome?"  Edith demanded.  Mrs. Hanbury started,
+so vividly there arose before her eyes a brave and dashing figure, clad
+in grey English cloth, walking by her side on a sunny autumn morning in
+the Rue de la Paix.  Well she remembered that trip abroad with her
+mother, Randolph's aunt, and how attentive he was, and showed them the
+best restaurants in which to dine.  He had only been in France a short
+time, but his knowledge of restaurants and the world in general had been
+amazing, and his acquaintances legion.  He had a way, which there was no
+resisting, of taking people by storm.
+
+"Yes, dear," answered Mrs. Hanbury, absently, when the child repeated the
+question, "he was very handsome."
+
+"Honora says he would have been President," put in George.  "Of course
+I don't believe it.  She said they lived in a palace by the sea in the
+south of France, with gardens and fountains and a lot of things like
+that, and princesses and princes and eunuchs--"
+
+"And what!" exclaimed Mrs. Hanbury, aghast.
+
+"I know," said George, contemptuously, "she got that out of the Arabian
+Nights."  But this suspicion did not prevent him, the next time Honora
+regaled them with more adventures of the palace by the summer seas, from
+listening with a rapt attention.  No two tales were ever alike.  His
+admiration for Honora did not wane, but increased.  It differed from that
+of his sisters, however, in being a tribute to her creative faculties,
+while Edith's breathless faith pictured her cousin as having passed
+through as many adventures as Queen Esther.  George paid her a
+characteristic compliment, but chivalrously drew her aside to
+bestow it.  He was not one to mince matters.
+
+"You're a wonder, Honora," he said.  "If I could lie like that, I
+wouldn't want a pony."
+
+He was forced to draw back a little from the heat of the conflagration he
+had kindled.
+
+"George Hanbury," she cried, "don't you ever speak to me again!  Never!
+Do you understand?"
+
+It was thus that George, at some cost, had made a considerable discovery
+which, for the moment, shook even his scepticism.  Honora believed it all
+herself.
+
+Cousin Eleanor Hanbury was a person, or personage, who took a deep and
+abiding interest in her fellow-beings, and the old clothes of the Hanbury
+family went unerringly to the needy whose figures most resembled those of
+the original owners.  For Mrs. Hanbury had a wide but comparatively
+unknown charity list.  She was, secretly, one of the many providence
+which Honora accepted collectively, although it is by no means certain
+whether Honora, at this period, would have thanked her cousin for tuition
+at Miss Farmer's school, and for her daily tasks at French and music
+concerning which Aunt Mary was so particular.  On the memorable Christmas
+morning when, arrayed in green velvet, she arrived with her aunt and
+uncle for dinner in Wayland Square, Cousin Eleanor drew Aunt Mary into
+her bedroom and shut the door, and handed her a sealed envelope.  Without
+opening it, but guessing with much accuracy its contents, Aunt Mary
+handed it back.
+
+"You are doing too much, Eleanor," she said.
+
+Mrs. Hanbury was likewise a direct person.
+
+"I will, take it back on one condition, Mary.  If you will tell me that
+Tom has finished paying Randolph's debts."
+
+Mrs. Leffingwell was silent.
+
+"I thought not," said Mrs. Hanbury.  "Now Randolph was my own cousin, and
+I insist."
+
+Aunt Mary turned over the envelope, and there followed a few moments'
+silence, broken only by the distant clamour of tin horns and other
+musical instruments of the season.
+
+"I sometimes think, Mary, that Honora is a little like Randolph, and-
+Mrs. Randolph.  Of course, I did not know her."
+
+"Neither did I," said Aunt Mary.
+
+"Mary," said Mrs. Hanbury, again, "I realize how you worked to make the
+child that velvet coat.  Do you think you ought to dress her that way?"
+
+"I don't see why she shouldn't be as well dressed as the children of my
+friends, Eleanor."
+
+Mrs. Hanbury laid her hand impulsively on Aunt Mary's.
+
+"No child I know of dresses half as well," said Mrs. Hanbury.  "The
+trouble you take--"
+
+"Is rewarded," said Aunt Mary.
+
+"Yes," Mrs. Hanbury agreed.  "If my own daughters were half as good
+looking, I should be content.  And Honora has an air of race.  Oh, Mary,
+can't you see?  I am only thinking of the child's future."
+
+"Do you expect me to take down all my mirrors, Eleanor?  If she has good
+looks," said Aunt Mary, "she has not learned it from my lips."
+
+It was true: Even Aunt Mary's enemies, and she had some, could not accuse
+her of the weakness of flattery.  So Mrs. Hanbury smiled, and dropped the
+subject.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+OF TEMPERAMENT
+
+We have the word of Mr. Cyrus Meeker that Honora did not have to learn to
+dance.  The art came to her naturally.  Of Mr. Cyrus Meeker, whose
+mustaches, at the age of five and sixty, are waxed as tight as ever, and
+whose little legs to-day are as nimble as of yore.  He has a memory like
+Mr. Gladstone's, and can give you a social history of the city that is
+well worth your time and attention.  He will tell you how, for instance,
+he was kicked by the august feet of Mr. George Hanbury on the occasion of
+his first lesson to that distinguished young gentleman; and how, although
+Mr. Meeker's shins were sore, he pleaded nobly for Mr. George, who was
+sent home in the carriage by himself,--a punishment, by the way, which
+Mr. George desired above all things.
+
+This celebrated incident occurred in the new ballroom at the top of the
+new house of young Mrs. Hayden, where the meetings of the dancing class
+were held weekly.  Today the soot, like the ashes of Vesuvius, spouting
+from ten thousand soft-coal craters, has buried that house and the whole
+district fathoms deep in social obscurity.  And beautiful Mrs. Hayden
+what has become of her?  And Lucy Hayden, that doll-like darling of the
+gods?
+
+All this belongs, however, to another history, which may some day be
+written.  This one is Honora's, and must be got on with, for it is to be
+a chronicle of lightning changes.  Happy we if we can follow Honora, and
+we must be prepared to make many friends and drop them in the process.
+
+Shortly after Mrs. Hayden had built that palatial house (which had a high
+fence around its grounds and a driveway leading to a porte-cochere) and
+had given her initial ball, the dancing class began.  It was on a blue
+afternoon in late November that Aunt Mary and Honora, with Cousin Eleanor
+and the two girls, and George sulking in a corner of the carriage, were
+driven through the gates behind Bias and the fat horses of the Hanburys.
+
+Honora has a vivid remembrance of the impression the house made on her,
+with its polished floors and spacious rooms filled with a new and
+mysterious and altogether inspiring fashion of things.  Mrs. Hayden
+represented the outposts in the days of Richardson and Davenport--had
+Honora but known it.  This great house was all so different from anything
+she (and many others in the city) had ever seen.  And she stood gazing
+into the drawing room, with its curtains and decorously drawn shades,
+in a rapture which her aunt and cousins were far from guessing.
+
+"Come, Honora," said her aunt.  "What's the matter, dear?"
+
+How could she explain to Aunt Mary that the sight of beautiful things
+gave her a sort of pain--when she did not yet know it herself?  There was
+the massive stairway, for instance, which they ascended, softly lighted
+by a great leaded window of stained glass on the first landing; and the
+spacious bedrooms with their shining brass beds and lace spreads (another
+innovation which Honora resolved to adopt when she married); and at last,
+far above all, its deep-set windows looking out above the trees towards
+the park a mile to the westward, the ballroom,--the ballroom, with its
+mirrors and high chandeliers, and chairs of gilt and blue set against the
+walls, all of which made no impression whatever upon George and Mary and
+Edith, but gave Honora a thrill.  No wonder that she learned to dance
+quickly under such an inspiration!
+
+And how pretty Mrs. Hayden looked as she came forward to greet them and
+kissed Honora!  She had been Virginia Grey, and scarce had had a gown to
+her back when she had married the elderly Duncan Hayden, who had built
+her this house and presented her with a checkbook,--a check-book which
+Virginia believed to be like the widow's cruse of oil-unfailing.  Alas,
+those days of picnics and balls; of dinners at that recent innovation,
+the club; of theatre-parties and excursions to baseball games between the
+young men in Mrs. Hayden's train (and all young men were) who played at
+Harvard or Yale or Princeton; those days were too care-free to have
+endured.
+
+"Aunt Mary," asked Honora, when they were home again in the lamplight of
+the little sitting-room, "why was it that Mr. Meeker was so polite to
+Cousin Eleanor, and asked her about my dancing instead of you?"
+
+Aunt Mary smiled.
+
+"Because, Honora," she said, "because I am a person of no importance in
+Mr. Meeker's eyes."
+
+"If I were a man," cried Honora, fiercely, "I should never rest until I
+had made enough money to make Mr. Meeker wriggle."
+
+"Honora, come here," said her aunt, gazing in troubled surprise at the
+tense little figure by the mantel.  "I don't know what could have put
+such things into your head, my child.  Money isn't everything.  In times
+of real trouble it cannot save one."
+
+"But it can save one from humiliation!"  exclaimed Honora, unexpectedly.
+Another sign of a peculiar precociousness, at fourteen, with which Aunt
+Mary was finding herself unable to cope.  "I would rather be killed than
+humiliated by Mr. Meeker."
+
+Whereupon she flew out of the room and upstairs, where old Catherine, in
+dismay, found her sobbing a little later.
+
+Poor Aunt Mary!  Few people guessed the spirit which was bound up in her,
+aching to extend its sympathy and not knowing how, save by an unswerving
+and undemonstrative devotion.  Her words of comfort were as few as her
+silent deeds were many.
+
+But Honora continued to go to the dancing class, where she treated Mr.
+Meeker with a hauteur that astonished him, amused Virginia Hayden, and
+perplexed Cousin Eleanor.  Mr. Meeker's cringing soul responded, and in
+a month Honora was the leading spirit of the class, led the marches, and
+was pointed out by the little dancing master as all that a lady should be
+in deportment and bearing.
+
+This treatment, which succeeded so well in Mr. Meeker's case, Honora had
+previously applied to others of his sex.  Like most people with a future,
+she began young.  Of late, for instance, Mr. George Hanbury had shown a
+tendency to regard her as his personal property; for George had a high-
+handed way with him,--boys being an enigma to his mother.  Even in those
+days he had a bullet head and a red face and square shoulders, and was
+rather undersized for his age--which was Honora's.
+
+Needless to say, George did not approve of the dancing class; and let
+it be known, both by words and deeds, that he was there under protest.
+Nor did he regard with favour Honora's triumphal progress, but sat in a
+corner with several congenial spirits whose feelings ranged from scorn to
+despair, commenting in loud whispers upon those of his sex to whom the
+terpsichorean art came more naturally.  Upon one Algernon Cartwright, for
+example, whose striking likeness to the Van Dyck portrait of a young king
+had been more than once commented upon by his elders, and whose velveteen
+suits enhanced the resemblance.  Algernon, by the way, was the favourite
+male pupil of Mr. Meeker; and, on occasions, Algernon and Honora were
+called upon to give exhibitions for the others, the sight of which filled
+George with contemptuous rage.  Algernon danced altogether too much with
+Honora,--so George informed his cousin.
+
+The simple result of George's protests was to make Honora dance with
+Algernon the more, evincing, even at this period of her career, a
+commendable determination to resent dictation.  George should have lived
+in the Middle Ages, when the spirit of modern American womanhood was as
+yet unborn.  Once he contrived, by main force, to drag her out into the
+hall.
+
+"George," she said, "perhaps, if you'd let me alone perhaps I'd like you
+better."
+
+"Perhaps," he retorted fiercely, "if you wouldn't make a fool of yourself
+with those mother's darlings, I'd like you better."
+
+"George," said Honora, "learn to dance."
+
+"Never!" he cried, but she was gone.  While hovering around the door he
+heard Mrs. Hayden's voice.
+
+"Unless I am tremendously mistaken, my dear," that lady was remarking to
+Mrs. Dwyer, whose daughter Emily's future millions were powerless to
+compel youths of fourteen to dance with her, although she is now happily
+married, "unless I am mistaken, Honora will have a career.  The child
+will be a raving beauty.  And she has to perfection the art of managing
+men."
+
+"As her father had the art of managing women," said Mrs. Dwyer.  "Dear
+me, how well I remember Randolph!  I would have followed him to--to
+Cheyenne."
+
+Mrs. Hayden laughed.  "He never would have gone to Cheyenne, I imagine,"
+she said.
+
+"He never looked at me, and I have reason to be profoundly thankful for
+it," said Mrs. Dwyer.
+
+Virginia Hayden bit her lip.  She remembered a saying of Mrs. Brice,
+"Blessed are the ugly, for they shall not be tempted."
+
+"They say that poor Tom Leffingwell has not yet finished paying his
+debts," continued Mrs. Dwyer, "although his uncle, Eleanor Hanbury's
+father, cancelled what Randolph had had from him in his will.  It was
+twenty-five thousand dollars.  James Hanbury, you remember, had him
+appointed consul at Nice.  Randolph Leffingwell gave the impression of
+conferring a favour when he borrowed money.  I cannot understand why he
+married that penniless and empty-headed beauty."
+
+"Perhaps," said Mrs. Hayden, "it was because of his ability to borrow
+money that he felt he could afford to."
+
+The eyes of the two ladies unconsciously followed Honora about the room.
+
+"I never knew a better or a more honest woman than Mary Leffingwell, but
+I tremble for her.  She is utterly incapable of managing that child.  If
+Honora is a complicated mechanism now, what will she be at twenty?  She
+has elements in her which poor Mary never dreamed of.  I overheard her
+with Emily, and she talks like a grown-up person."
+
+Mrs. Hayden's dimples deepened.
+
+"Better than some grown-up women," she said.  "She sat in my room while
+I dressed the other afternoon.  Mrs. Leffingwell had sent her with a note
+about that French governess.  And, by the way, she speaks French as
+though she had lived in Paris."
+
+Little Mrs. Dwyer raised her hands in protest.
+
+"It doesn't seem natural, somehow.  It doesn't seem exactly--moral, my
+dear."
+
+"Nonsense," said Mrs. Hayden.  "Mrs. Leffingwell is only giving the child
+the advantages which her companions have--Emily has French, hasn't she?"
+
+"But Emily can't speak it--that way," said Mrs. Dwyer.  "I don't blame
+Mary Leffingwell.  She thinks she is doing her duty, but it has always
+seemed to me that Honora was one of those children who would better have
+been brought up on bread and butter and jam."
+
+"Honora would only have eaten the jam," said Mrs. Hayden.  "But I love
+her."
+
+"I, too, am fond of the child, but I tremble for her.  I am afraid she
+has that terrible thing which is called temperament."
+
+George Hanbury made a second heroic rush, and dragged Honora out once
+more.
+
+"What is this disease you've got?"  he demanded.
+
+"Disease?"  she cried; "I haven't any disease."
+
+"Mrs Dwyer says you have temperament, and that it is a terrible thing."
+
+Honora stopped him in a corner.
+
+"Because people like Mrs. Dwyer haven't got it," she declared, with a
+warmth which George found inexplicable.
+
+"What is it?"  he demanded.
+
+"You'll never know, either, George," she answered; "it's soul."
+
+"Soul!" he repeated; "I have one, and its immortal," he added promptly.
+
+In the summer, that season of desolation for Honora, when George Hanbury
+and Algernon Cartwright and other young gentlemen were at the seashore
+learning to sail boats and to play tennis, Peter Erwin came to his own.
+Nearly every evening after dinner, while the light was still lingering
+under the shade trees of the street, and Aunt Mary still placidly sewing
+in the wicker chair on the lawn, and Uncle Tom making the tour of flowers
+with his watering pot, the gate would slam, and Peter's tall form appear.
+
+It never occurred to Honora that had it not been for Peter those evenings
+would have been even less bearable than they were.  To sit indoors with a
+light and read in a St. Louis midsummer was not to be thought of.  Peter
+played backgammon with her on the front steps, and later on--chess.
+Sometimes they went for a walk as far as Grand Avenue.  And sometimes
+when Honora grew older--she was permitted to go with him to Uhrig's Cave.
+Those were memorable occasions indeed!
+
+What Saint Louisan of the last generation does not remember Uhrig's Cave?
+nor look without regret upon the thing which has replaced it, called a
+Coliseum?  The very name, Uhrig's Cave, sent a shiver of delight down
+one's spine, and many were the conjectures one made as to what might be
+enclosed in that half a block of impassible brick wall, over which the
+great trees stretched their branches.  Honora, from comparative infancy,
+had her own theory, which so possessed the mind of Edith Hanbury that she
+would not look at the wall when they passed in the carriage.  It was a
+still and sombre place by day; and sometimes, if you listened, you could
+hear the whisperings of the forty thieves on the other side of the wall.
+But no one had ever dared to cry "Open, Sesame!" at the great wooden
+gates.
+
+At night, in the warm season, when well brought up children were at home
+or at the seashore, strange things were said to happen at Uhrig's Cave.
+
+Honora was a tall slip of a girl of sixteen before it was given her to
+know these mysteries, and the Ali Baba theory a thing of the past.  Other
+theories had replaced it.  Nevertheless she clung tightly to Peter's arm
+as they walked down Locust Street and came in sight of the wall.  Above
+it, and under the big trees, shone a thousand glittering lights: there
+was a crowd at the gate, and instead of saying, "Open, Sesame," Peter
+slipped two bright fifty-cent pieces to the red-faced German ticketman,
+and in they went.
+
+First and most astounding of disillusions of passing childhood, it was
+not a cave at all!  And yet the word "disillusion" does not apply.  It
+was, after all, the most enchanting and exciting of spots, to make one's
+eye shine and one's heart beat.  Under the trees were hundreds of tables
+surrounded by hovering ministering angels in white, and if you were
+German, they brought you beer; if American, ice-cream.  Beyond the tables
+was a stage, with footlights already set and orchestra tuning up, and a
+curtain on which was represented a gentleman making decorous love to a
+lady beside a fountain.  As in a dream, Honora followed Peter to a table,
+and he handed her a programme.
+
+"Oh, Peter," she cried, "it's going to be 'Pinafore'!"
+
+Honora's eyes shone like stars, and elderly people at the neighbouring
+tables turned more than once to smile at her that evening.  And Peter
+turned more than once and smiled too.  But Honora did not consider Peter.
+He was merely Providence in one of many disguises, and Providence is
+accepted by his beneficiaries as a matter of fact.
+
+The rapture of a young lady of temperament is a difficult thing to
+picture.  The bird may feel it as he soars, on a bright August morning,
+high above amber cliffs jutting out into indigo seas; the novelist may
+feel it when the four walls of his room magically disappear and the
+profound secrets of the universe are on the point of revealing
+themselves.  Honora gazed, and listened, and lost herself.  She was no
+longer in Uhrig's Cave, but in the great world, her soul a-quiver with
+harmonies.
+
+"Pinafore," although a comic opera, held something tragic for Honora, and
+opened the flood-gates to dizzy sensations which she did not understand.
+How little Peter, who drummed on the table to the tune of:
+
+              "Give three cheers and one cheer more
+               For the hearty captain of the Pinafore,"
+
+imagined what was going on beside him!  There were two factors in his
+pleasure; he liked the music, and he enjoyed the delight of Honora.
+
+What is Peter?  Let us cease looking at him through Honora's eyes and
+taking him like daily bread, to be eaten and not thought about.  From
+one point of view, he is twenty-nine and elderly, with a sense of humour
+unsuspected by young persons of temperament.  Strive as we will, we have
+only been able to see him in his role of Providence, or of the piper.
+Has he no existence, no purpose in life outside of that perpetual
+gentleman in waiting?  If so, Honora has never considered it.
+
+After the finale had been sung and the curtain dropped for the last time,
+Honora sighed and walked out of the garden as one in a trance.  Once in a
+while, as he found a way for them through the crowd, Peter glanced down
+at her, and something like a smile tugged at the corners of a decidedly
+masculine mouth, and lit up his eyes.  Suddenly, at Locust Street, under
+the lamp, she stopped and surveyed him.  She saw a very real, very human
+individual, clad in a dark nondescript suit of clothes which had been
+bought ready-made, and plainly without the bestowal of much thought, on
+Fifth Street.  The fact that they were a comparative fit was in itself a
+tribute to the enterprise of the Excelsior Clothing Company, for Honora's
+observation that he was too long one way had been just.  He was too tall,
+his shoulders were too high, his nose too prominent, his eyes too deep-
+set; and he wore a straw hat with the brim turned up.
+
+To Honora his appearance was as familiar as the picture of the Pope which
+had always stood on Catherine's bureau.  But to-night, by grace of some
+added power of vision, she saw him with new and critical eyes.  She was
+surprised to discover that he was possessed of a quality with which she
+had never associated him--youth.  Not to put it too strongly--comparative
+youth.
+
+"Peter," she demanded, "why do you dress like that?"
+
+"Like what?"  he said.
+
+Honora seized the lapel of his coat.
+
+"Like that," she repeated.  "Do you know, if you wore different clothes,
+you might almost be distinguished looking.  Don't laugh.  I think it's
+horrid of you always to laugh when I tell you things for your own good."
+
+"It was the idea of being almost distinguished looking that--that gave me
+a shock," he assured her repentantly.
+
+"You should dress on a different principle," she insisted.
+
+Peter appeared dazed.
+
+"I couldn't do that," he said.
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"Because--because I don't dress on any principle now."
+
+"Yes, you do," said Honora, firmly.  "You dress on the principle of the
+wild beasts and fishes.  It's all in our natural history at Miss
+Farmer's.  The crab is the colour of the seaweed, and the deer of the
+thicket.  It's a device of nature for the protection of weak things."
+
+Peter drew himself up proudly.
+
+"I have always understood, Miss Leffingwell, that the king of beasts was
+somewhere near the shade of the jungle."
+
+Honora laughed in spite of this apparent refutation of her theory of his
+apparel, and shook her head.
+
+"Do be serious, Peter.  You'd make much more of an impression on people
+if you wore clothes that had--well, a little more distinction."
+
+"What's the use of making an impression if you can't follow it up?"
+he said.
+
+"You can," she declared.  "I never thought of it until to-night, but you
+must have a great deal in you to have risen all the way from an errand
+boy in the bank to a lawyer."
+
+"Look out!" he cautioned her; "I shall become insupportably conceited."
+
+"A little more conceit wouldn't hurt you," said Honora, critically.
+"You'll forgive me, Peter, if I tell you from time to time what I think.
+It's for your own good."
+
+"I try to realize that," replied Peter, humbly.  "How do you wish me to
+dress--like Mr. Rossiter?"
+
+The picture evoked of Peter arrayed like Mr. Harland Rossiter, who had
+sent flowers to two generations and was preparing to send more to a
+third, was irresistible.  Every city, hamlet, and village has its Harland
+Rossiter.  He need not be explained.  But Honora soon became grave again.
+
+"No, but you ought to dress as though you were somebody, and different
+from the ordinary man on the street."
+
+"But I'm not," objected Peter.
+
+"Oh," cried Honora, "don't you want to be?  I can't understand any man
+not wanting to be.  If I were a man, I wouldn't stay here a day longer
+than I had to."
+
+Peter was silent as they went in at the gate and opened the door, for on
+this festive occasion they were provided with a latchkey.  He turned up
+the light in the hall to behold a transformation quite as wonderful as
+any contained in the "Arabian Nights" or Keightley's "Fairy Mythology."
+This was not the Honora with whom he had left the house scarce three
+hours before!  The cambric dress, to be sure, was still no longer than
+the tops of her ankles and the hair still hung in a heavy braid down her
+back.  These were positively all that remained of the original Honora,
+and the change had occurred in the incredibly brief space required for
+the production of the opera "Pinafore."  This Honora was a woman in a
+strange and disturbing state of exaltation, whose eyes beheld a vision.
+And Peter, although he had been the subject of her conversation, well
+knew that he was not included in the vision.  He smiled a little as he
+looked at her.  It is becoming apparent that he is one of those
+unfortunate unimaginative beings incapable of great illusions.
+
+"You're not going!" she exclaimed.
+
+He glanced significantly at the hall clock.
+
+"Why, it's long after bedtime, Honora."
+
+"I don't want to go to bed.  I feel like talking," she declared.  "Come,
+let's sit on the steps awhile.  If you go home, I shan't go to sleep for
+hours, Peter."
+
+"And what would Aunt Mary say to me?"  he inquired.
+
+"Oh, she wouldn't care.  She wouldn't even know it."
+
+He shook his head, still smiling.
+
+"I'd never be allowed to take you to Uhrig's Cave, or anywhere else,
+again," he replied.  "I'll come to-morrow evening, and you can talk
+to me then."
+
+"I shan't feel like it then," she said in a tone that implied his
+opportunity was now or never.  But seeing him still obdurate, with
+startling suddenness she flung her arms mound his neck--a method which at
+times had succeeded marvellously--and pleaded coaxingly: "Only a quarter
+of an hour, Peter.  I've got so many things to say, and I know I shall
+forget them by to-morrow."
+
+It was a night of wonders.  To her astonishment the hitherto pliant
+Peter, who only existed in order to do her will, became transformed
+into a brusque masculine creature which she did not recognize.  With a
+movement that was almost rough he released himself and fled, calling back
+a "good night" to her out of the darkness.  He did not even wait to
+assist her in the process of locking up.  Honora, profoundly puzzled,
+stood for a while in the doorway gazing out into the night.  When at
+length she turned, she had forgotten him entirely.
+
+It was true that she did not sleep for hours, and on awaking the next
+morning another phenomenon awaited her.  The "little house under the
+hill" was immeasurably shrunken.  Poor Aunt Mary, who did not understand
+that a performance of "Pinafore" could give birth to the unfulfilled
+longings which result in the creation of high things, spoke to Uncle Tom
+a week later concerning an astonishing and apparently abnormal access of
+industry.
+
+"She's been reading all day long, Tom, or else shut up in her room, where
+Catherine tells me she is writing.  I'm afraid Eleanor Hanbury is right
+when she says I don't understand the child.  And yet she is the same to
+me as though she were my own."
+
+It was true that Honora was writing, and that the door was shut, and that
+she did not feel the heat.  In one of the bookcases she had chanced upon
+that immortal biography of Dr. Johnson, and upon the letters of another
+prodigy of her own sex, Madame d'Arblay, whose romantic debut as an
+authoress was inspiration in itself.  Honora actually quivered when
+she read of Dr. Johnson's first conversation with Miss Burney.  To write
+a book of the existence of which even one's own family did not know, to
+publish it under a nom de plume, and to awake one day to fetes and fame
+would be indeed to live!
+
+Unfortunately Honora's novel no longer exists, or the world might have
+discovered a second Evelina.  A regard for truth compels the statement
+that it was never finished.  But what rapture while the fever lasted!
+Merely to take up the pen was to pass magically through marble portals
+into the great world itself.
+
+The Sir Charles Grandison of this novel was, needless to say, not Peter
+Erwin.  He was none other than Mr. Randolph Leffingwell, under a very
+thin disguise.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+IN WHICH PROVIDENCE BEEPS FAITH
+
+Two more years have gone by, limping in the summer and flying in the
+winter, two more years of conquests.  For our heroine appears to be one
+of the daughters of Helen, born to make trouble for warriors and others
+--and even for innocent bystanders like Peter Erwin.  Peter was debarred
+from entering those brilliant lists in which apparel played so great a
+part.  George Hanbury, Guy Rossiter, Algernon Cartwright, Eliphalet
+Hopper Dwyer--familiarly known as "Hoppy"--and other young gentlemen
+whose names are now but memories, each had his brief day of triumph.
+Arrayed like Solomon in wonderful clothes from the mysterious and
+luxurious East, they returned at Christmas-tide and Easter from college
+to break lances over Honora.  Let us say it boldly--she was like that:
+she had the world-old knack of sowing discord and despair in the souls
+of young men.  She was--as those who had known that fascinating gentleman
+were not slow to remark--Randolph Leffingwell over again.
+
+During the festival seasons, Uncle Tom averred, they wore out the latch
+on the front gate.  If their families possessed horses to spare, they
+took Honora driving in Forest Park; they escorted her to those anomalous
+dances peculiar to their innocent age, which are neither children's
+parties nor full-fledged balls; their presents, while of no intrinsic
+value--as one young gentleman said in a presentation speech--had an
+enormous, if shy, significance.
+
+"What a beautiful ring you are wearing, Honora," Uncle Tom remarked slyly
+one April morning at breakfast; "let me see it."
+
+Honora blushed, and hid her hand under the table-cloth.
+
+And the ring-suffice it to say that her little finger was exactly
+insertable in a ten-cent piece from which everything had been removed but
+the milling: removed with infinite loving patience by Mr. Rossiter, and
+at the expense of much history and philosophy and other less important
+things, in his college bedroom at New Haven.  Honora wore it for a whole
+week; a triumph indeed for Mr. Rossiter; when it was placed in a box in
+Honora's bedroom, which contained other gifts--not all from him--and many
+letters, in the writing of which learning had likewise suffered.  The
+immediate cause of the putting away of this ring was said to be the
+renowned Clinton Howe, who was on the Harvard football eleven, and who
+visited Mr. George Hanbury that Easter.  Fortunate indeed the tailor who
+was called upon to practise his art on an Adonis like Mr. Howe, and it
+was remarked that he scarcely left Honora's side at the garden party and
+dance which Mrs. Dwyer gave in honour of the returning heroes, on the
+Monday of Easter week.
+
+This festival, on which we should like to linger, but cannot, took place
+at the new Dwyer residence.  For six months the Victorian mansion
+opposite Uncle Tom's house had been sightless, with blue blinds drawn
+down inside the plate glass windows.  And the yellow stone itself was not
+so yellow as it once had been, but had now the appearance of soiled
+manilla wrapping paper, with black streaks here and there where the soot
+had run.  The new Dwyer house was of grey stone, Georgian and palatial,
+with a picture-gallery twice the size of the old one; a magnificent and
+fitting pioneer in a new city of palaces.
+
+Westward the star of Empire--away from the smoke.  The Dwyer mansion,
+with its lawns and gardens and heavily balustraded terrace, faced the
+park that stretched away like a private estate to the south and west.
+That same park with its huge trees and black forests that was Ultima
+Thule in Honora's childhood; in the open places there had been real farms
+and hayricks which she used to slide down with Peter while Uncle Tom
+looked for wild flowers in the fields.  It had been separated from the
+city in those days by an endless country road, like a Via Claudia
+stretching towards mysterious Germanian forests, and it was deemed a feat
+for Peter to ride thither on his big-wheeled bicycle.  Forest Park was
+the country, and all that the country represented in Honora's childhood.
+For Uncle Tom on a summer's day to hire a surrey at Braintree's Livery
+Stable and drive thither was like--to what shall that bliss be compared
+in these days when we go to Europe with indifference?
+
+And now Lindell Road--the Via Claudia of long, ago--had become Lindell
+Boulevard, with granitoid sidewalks.  And the dreary fields through which
+it had formerly run were bristling with new houses in no sense Victorian,
+and which were the first stirrings of a national sense of the artistic.
+The old horse-cars with the clanging chains had disappeared, and you
+could take an electric to within a block of the imposing grille
+that surrounded the Dwyer grounds.  Westward the star!
+
+Fading fast was the glory of that bright new district on top of the
+second hill from the river where Uncle Tom was a pioneer.  Soot had
+killed the pear trees, the apricots behind the lattice fence had withered
+away; asphalt and soot were slowly sapping the vitality of the maples on
+the sidewalk; and sometimes Uncle Tom's roses looked as though they might
+advantageously be given a coat of paint, like those in Alice in
+Wonderland.  Honora should have lived in the Dwyers' mansion-people who
+are capable of judging said so.  People who saw her at the garden party
+said she had the air of belonging in such surroundings much more than
+Emily, whom even budding womanhood had not made beautiful.  And Eliphalet
+Hopper Dwyer, if his actions meant anything, would have welcomed her to
+that house, or built her another twice as fine, had she deigned to give
+him the least encouragement.
+
+Cinderella!  This was what she facetiously called herself one July
+morning of that summer she was eighteen.
+
+Cinderella in more senses than one, for never had the city seemed more
+dirty or more deserted, or indeed, more stifling.  Winter and its
+festivities were a dream laid away in moth balls.  Surely Cinderella's
+life had held no greater contrasts!  To this day the odour of matting
+brings back to Honora the sense of closed shutters; of a stifling south
+wind stirring their slats at noonday; the vision of Aunt Mary, cool and
+placid in a cambric sacque, sewing by the window in the upper hall, and
+the sound of fruit venders crying in the street, or of ragmen in the
+alley--"Rags, bottles, old iron!"  What memories of endless, burning,
+lonely days come rushing back with those words!
+
+When the sun had sufficiently heated the bricks of the surrounding houses
+in order that he might not be forgotten during the night, he slowly
+departed.  If Honora took her book under the maple tree in the yard,
+she was confronted with that hideous wooden sign "To Let" on the Dwyer's
+iron fence opposite, and the grass behind it was unkempt and overgrown
+with weeds.  Aunt Mary took an unceasing and (to Honora's mind) morbid
+interest in the future of that house.
+
+"I suppose it will be a boarding-house," she would say, "it's much too
+large for poor people to rent, and only poor people are coming into this
+district now."
+
+"Oh, Aunt Mary!"
+
+"Well, my dear, why should we complain?  We are poor, and it is
+appropriate that we should live among the poor.  Sometimes I think it is
+a pity that you should have been thrown all your life with rich people,
+my child.  I am afraid it has made you discontented.  It is no disgrace
+to be poor.  We ought to be thankful that we have everything we need."
+
+Honora put down her sewing.  For she had learned to sew--Aunt Mary had
+insisted upon that, as well as French.  She laid her hand upon her
+aunt's.
+
+"I am thankful," she said, and her aunt little guessed the intensity of
+the emotion she was seeking to control, or imagined the hidden fires.
+"But sometimes--sometimes I try to forget that we are poor.  Perhaps--
+some day we shall not be."
+
+It seemed to Honora that Aunt Mary derived a real pleasure from the
+contradiction of this hope.  She shook her head vigorously.
+
+"We shall always be, my child.  Your Uncle Tom is getting old, and he has
+always been too honest to make a great deal of money.  And besides," she
+added, "he has not that kind of ability."
+
+Uncle Tom might be getting old, but he seemed to Honora to be of the same
+age as in her childhood.  Some people never grow old, and Uncle Tom was
+one of these.  Fifteen years before he had been promoted to be the
+cashier of the Prairie Bank, and he was the cashier to-day.  He had the
+same quiet smile, the same quiet humour, the same calm acceptance of
+life.  He seemed to bear no grudge even against that ever advancing
+enemy, the soot, which made it increasingly difficult for him to raise
+his flowers.  Those which would still grow he washed tenderly night and
+morning with his watering-pot.  The greatest wonders are not at the ends
+of the earth, but near us.  It was to take many years for our heroine to
+realize this.
+
+Strong faith alone could have withstood the continued contact with such a
+determined fatalism as Aunt Mary's, and yet it is interesting to note
+that Honora's belief in her providence never wavered.  A prince was to
+come who was to bear her away from the ragmen and the boarding-houses and
+the soot: and incidentally and in spite of herself, Aunt Mary was to come
+too, and Uncle Tom.  And sometimes when she sat reading of an evening
+under the maple, her book would fall to her lap and the advent of this
+personage become so real a thing that she bounded when the gate slammed
+--to find that it was only Peter.
+
+It was preposterous, of course, that Peter should be a prince in
+disguise.  Peter who, despite her efforts to teach him distinction in
+dress, insisted upon wearing the same kind of clothes.  A mild kind of
+providence, Peter, whose modest functions were not unlike those of the
+third horse which used to be hitched on to the street car at the foot
+of the Seventeenth-Street hill: it was Peter's task to help pull Honora
+through the interminable summers.  Uhrig's Cave was an old story now:
+mysteries were no longer to be expected in St. Louis.  There was a great
+panorama--or something to that effect--in the wilderness at the end of
+one of the new electric lines, where they sometimes went to behold the
+White Squadron of the new United States Navy engaged in battle with mimic
+forts on a mimic sea, on the very site where the country place of Madame
+Clement had been.  The mimic sea, surrounded by wooden stands filled with
+common people eating peanuts and popcorn, was none other than Madame
+Clement's pond, which Honora remembered as a spot of enchantment.  And
+they went out in the open cars with these same people, who stared at
+Honora as though she had got in by mistake, but always politely gave her
+a seat.  And Peter thanked them.  Sometimes he fell into conversations
+with them, and it was noticeable that they nearly always shook hands with
+him at parting.  Honora did not approve of this familiarity.
+
+"But they may be clients some day," he argued--a frivolous answer to
+which she never deigned to reply.
+
+Just as one used to take for granted that third horse which pulled the
+car uphill, so Peter was taken for granted.  He might have been on the
+highroad to a renown like that of Chief Justice Marshall, and Honora had
+been none the wiser.
+
+"Well, Peter," said Uncle Tom at dinner one evening of that memorable
+summer, when Aunt Mary was helping the blackberries, and incidentally
+deploring that she did not live in the country, because of the cream one
+got there, "I saw Judge Brice in the bank to-day, and he tells me you
+covered yourself with glory in that iron foundry suit."
+
+"The Judge must have his little joke, Mr. Leffingwell," replied Peter,
+but he reddened nevertheless.
+
+Honora thought winning an iron foundry suit a strange way to cover one's
+self with glory.  It was not, at any rate, her idea of glory.  What were
+lawyers for, if not to win suits?  And Peter was a lawyer.
+
+"In five years," said Uncle Tom, "the firm will be 'Brice and Erwin'.
+You mark my words.  And by that time," he added, with a twinkle in his
+eye, "you'll be ready to marry Honora."
+
+"Tom," reproved Aunt Mary, gently, "you oughtn't to say such things."
+
+This time there was no doubt about Peter's blush.  He fairly burned.
+Honora looked at him and laughed.
+
+"Peter is meant for an old bachelor," she said.
+
+"If he remains a bachelor," said Uncle Tom, "he'll be the greatest waste
+of good material I know of.  And if you succeed in getting him, Honora,
+you'll be the luckiest young woman of my acquaintance."
+
+"Tom," said Aunt Mary, "it was all very well to talk that way when Honora
+was a child.  But now--she may not wish to marry Peter.  And Peter may
+not wish to marry her."
+
+Even Peter joined in the laughter at this literal and characteristic
+statement of the case.
+
+"It's more than likely," said Honora, wickedly.  "He hasn't kissed me
+for two years."
+
+"Why, Peter," said Uncle Tom, "you act as though it were warm to-night.
+It was only seventy when we came in to dinner."
+
+"Take me out to the park," commanded Honora.
+
+"Tom," said Aunt Mary, as she stood on the step and watched them cross
+the street, "I wish the child would marry him.  Not now, of course," she
+added hastily,--a little frightened by her own admission, "but later.
+Sometimes I worry over her future.  She needs a strong and sensible man.
+I don't understand Honora.  I never did.  I always told you so.
+Sometimes I think she may be capable of doing something foolish like
+--like Randolph."
+
+Uncle Tom patted his wife on the shoulder.
+
+"Don't borrow trouble, Mary," he said, smiling a little.  "The child is
+only full of spirits.  But she has a good heart.  It is only human that
+she should want things that we cannot give her."
+
+"I wish," said Aunt Mary, "that she were not quite so good-looking."
+
+Uncle Tom laughed.  "You needn't tell me you're not proud of it," he
+declared.
+
+"And I have given her," she continued, "a taste for dress."
+
+"I think, my dear," said her husband, "that there were others who
+contributed to that."
+
+"It was my own vanity.  I should have combated the tendency in her," said
+Aunt Mary.
+
+"If you had dressed Honora in calico, you could not have changed her,"
+replied Uncle Tom, with conviction.
+
+In the meantime Honora and Peter had mounted the electric car, and were
+speeding westward.  They had a seat to themselves, the very first one on
+the "grip"--that survival of the days of cable cars.  Honora's eyes
+brightened as she held on to her hat, and the stray wisps of hair about
+her neck stirred in the breeze.
+
+"Oh, I wish we would never stop, until we came to the Pacific Ocean!"
+she exclaimed.
+
+"Would you be content to stop then?" he asked.  He had a trick of looking
+downward with a quizzical expression in his dark grey eyes.
+
+"No," said Honora.  "I should want to go on and see everything in the
+world worth seeing.  Sometimes I feel positively as though I should die
+if I had to stay here in St. Louis."
+
+"You probably would die--eventually," said Peter.
+
+Honora was justifiably irritated.
+
+"I could shake you, Peter!"
+
+He laughed.
+
+"I'm afraid it wouldn't do any good," he answered.
+
+"If I were a man," she proclaimed, "I shouldn't stay here.  I'd go to
+New York--I'd be somebody--I'd make a national reputation for myself."
+
+"I believe you would," said Peter sadly, but with a glance of admiration.
+
+"That's the worst of being a woman--we have to sit still until something
+happens to us."
+
+"What would you like to happen?" he asked, curiously.  And there was a
+note in his voice which she, intent upon her thoughts, did not remark.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," she said; "anything--anything to get out of this rut
+and be something in the world.  It's dreadful to feel that one has power
+and not be able to use it."
+
+The car stopped at the terminal.  Thanks to the early hour of Aunt Mary's
+dinner, the western sky was still aglow with the sunset over the forests
+as they walked past the closed grille of the Dwyer mansion into the park.
+Children rolled on the grass, while mothers and fathers, tired out from
+the heat and labour of a city day, sat on the benches.  Peter stooped
+down and lifted a small boy, painfully thin, who had fallen, weeping, on
+the gravel walk.  He took his handkerchief and wiped the scratch on the
+child's forehead.
+
+"There, there!" he said, smiling, "it's all right now.  We must expect a
+few tumbles."
+
+The child looked at him, and suddenly smiled through his tears.
+
+The father appeared, a red-headed Irishman.
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Erwin; I'm sure it's very kind of you, sir, to bother
+with him," he said gratefully.  "It's that thin he is with the heat,
+I take him out for a bit of country air."
+
+"Why, Tim, it's you, is it?"  said Peter.  "He's the janitor of our
+building down town," he explained to Honora, who had remained a silent
+witness to this simple scene.  She had been, in spite of herself,
+impressed by it, and by the mingled respect and affection in the
+janitor's manner towards Peter.  It was so with every one to whom he
+spoke.  They walked on in silence for a few moments, into a path leading
+to a lake, which had stolen the flaming green-gold of the sky.
+
+"I suppose," said Honora, slowly, "it would be better for me to wish to
+be contented where I am, as you are.  But it's no use trying, I can't."
+
+Peter was not a preacher.
+
+"Oh," he said, "there are lots of things I want."
+
+"What?"  demanded Honora, interested.  For she had never conceived of him
+as having any desires whatever.
+
+"I want a house like Mr. Dwyer's," he declared, pointing at the distant
+imposing roof line against the fading eastern sky.
+
+Honora laughed.  The idea of Peter wishing such a house was indeed
+ridiculous.  Then she became grave again.
+
+"There are times when you seem to forget that I have at last grown up,
+Peter.  You never will talk over serious things with me."
+
+"What are serious things?" asked Peter.
+
+"Well," said Honora vaguely, "ambitions, and what one is going to make of
+themselves in life.  And then you make fun of me by saying you want Mr.
+Dwyer's house."  She laughed again.  "I can't imagine you in that house!"
+
+"Why not?"  he asked, stopping beside the pond and thrusting his hands in
+his pockets.  He looked very solemn, but she knew he was smiling
+inwardly.
+
+"Why--because I can't," she said, and hesitated.  The question had forced
+her to think about Peter.  "I can't imagine you living all alone in all
+that luxury.  It isn't like you."
+
+"Why I all alone?"  asked Peter.
+
+"Don't--Don't be ridiculous," she said; "you wouldn't build a house like
+that, even if you were twice as rich as Mr. Dwyer.  You know you
+wouldn't.  And you're not the marrying kind," she added, with the
+superior knowledge of eighteen.
+
+"I'm waiting for you, Honora," he announced.
+
+"You know I love you, Peter,"--so she tempered her reply, for Honora's
+feelings were tender.  What man, even Peter, would not have married her
+if he could?  Of course he was in earnest, despite his bantering tone.
+"but I never could--marry you."
+
+"Not even if I were to offer you a house like Mr. Dwyer's?" he said.
+A remark which betrayed--although not to her--his knowledge of certain
+earthly strains in his goddess.
+
+The colours faded from the water, and it blackened.
+
+As they walked on side by side in the twilight, a consciousness of
+repressed masculine force, of reserve power, which she had never before
+felt about Peter Erwin, invaded her; and she was seized with a strange
+uneasiness.  Ridiculous was the thought (which she lost no time in
+rejecting) that pointed out the true road to happiness in marrying such a
+man as he.  In the gathering darkness she slipped her hand through his
+arm.
+
+"I wish I could marry you, Peter," she said.
+
+He was fain to take what comfort he could from this expression of good-
+will.  If he was not the Prince Charming of her dreams, she would have
+liked him to be.  A little reflection on his part ought to have shown him
+the absurdity of the Prince Charming having been there all the time, and
+in ready-made clothes.  And he, too, may have had dreams.  We are not
+concerned with them.
+
+                    ............................
+
+If we listen to the still, small voice of realism, intense longing is
+always followed by disappointment.  Nothing should have happened that
+summer, and Providence should not have come disguised as the postman.
+It was a sultry day in early September-which is to say that it was
+comparatively cool--a blue day, with occasional great drops of rain
+spattering on the brick walk.  And Honora was reclining on the hall sofa,
+reading about Mr. Ibbetson and his duchess, when she perceived the
+postman's grey uniform and smiling face on the far side of the screen
+door.  He greeted her cordially, and gave her a single letter for Aunt
+Mary, and she carried it unsuspectingly upstairs.
+
+"It's from Cousin Eleanor," Honora volunteered.
+
+Aunt Mary laid down her sewing, smoothed the ruffles of her sacque,
+adjusted her spectacles, opened the envelope, and began to read.
+Presently the letter fell to her lap, and she wiped her glasses and
+glanced at Honora, who was deep in her book once more.  And in Honora's
+brain, as she read, was ringing the refrain of the prisoner:
+
+                        "Orleans, Beaugency!
+                         Notre Dame de Clery!
+                              Vendome!  Vendome!
+                         Quel chagrin, quel ennui
+                         De compter toute la nuit
+                              Les heures, les heures!".
+
+The verse appealed to Honora strangely; just as it had appealed to
+Ibbetson.  Was she not, too, a prisoner.  And how often, during the
+summer days and nights, had she listened to the chimes of the Pilgrim
+Church near by?
+
+                        "One, two, three, four!
+                         One, two, three, four!"
+
+After Uncle Tom had watered his flowers that evening, Aunt Mary followed
+him upstairs and locked the door of their room behind her.  Silently she
+put the letter in his hand.  Here is one paragraph of it:
+
+     "I have never asked to take the child from you in the summer,
+     because she has always been in perfect health, and I know how lonely
+     you would have been without her, my dear Mary.  But it seems to me
+     that a winter at Sutcliffe, with my, girls, would do her a world of
+     good just now.  I need not point out to you that Honora is, to say
+     the least, remarkably good looking, and that she has developed very
+     rapidly.  And she has, in spite of the strict training you have
+     given her, certain ideas and ambitions which seem to me, I am sorry
+     to say, more or less prevalent among young American women these
+     days.  You know it is only because I love her that I am so frank.
+     Miss Turner's influence will, in my opinion, do much to counteract
+     these tendencies."
+
+Uncle Tom folded the letter, and handed it back to his wife.
+
+"I feel that we ought not to refuse, Tom.  And I am afraid Eleanor is
+right."
+
+"Well, Mary, we've had her for seventeen years.  We ought to be willing
+to spare her for--how many months?"
+
+"Nine," said Aunt Mary, promptly.  She had counted them.  "And Eleanor
+says she will be home for two weeks at Christmas.  Seventeen years!  It
+seems only yesterday when we brought her home, Tom.  It was just about
+this time of day, and she was asleep in your arms, and Bridget opened the
+door for us."  Aunt Mary looked out of the window.  "And do you remember
+how she used to play under the maple there, with her dolls?"
+
+Uncle Tom produced a very large handkerchief, and blew his nose.
+
+"There, there, Mary," he said, "nine months, and two weeks out at
+Christmas.  Nine months in eighteen years."
+
+"I suppose we ought to be very thankful," said Aunt Mary.  "But, Tom, the
+time is coming soon--"
+
+"Tut tut," exclaimed Uncle Tom.  He turned, and his eyes beheld a work of
+art.  Nothing less than a porcelain plate, hung in brackets on the wall,
+decorated by Honora at the age of ten with wild roses, and presented with
+much ceremony on an anniversary morning.  He pretended not to notice it,
+but Aunt Mary's eyes were too quick.  She seized a photograph on her
+bureau, a photograph of Honora in a little white frock with a red sash.
+
+"It was the year that was taken, Tom."
+
+He nodded.  The scene at the breakfast table came back to him, and the
+sight of Catherine standing respectfully in the hall, and of Honora, in
+the red sash, making the courtesy the old woman had taught her.
+
+Honora recalled afterwards that Uncle Tom joked even more than usual that
+evening at dinner.  But it was Aunt Mary who asked her, at length, how
+she would like to go to boarding-school.  Such was the matter-of-fact
+manner in which the portentous news was announced.
+
+"To boarding-school, Aunt Mary?"
+
+Her aunt poured out her uncle's after-dinner coffee.
+
+"I've spilled some, my dear.  Get another saucer for your uncle."
+
+Honora went mechanically to the china closet, her heart thumping.  She
+did not stop to reflect that it was the rarest of occurrences for Aunt
+Mary to spill the coffee.
+
+"Your Cousin Eleanor has invited you to go this winter with Edith and
+Mary to Sutcliffe."
+
+Sutcliffe!  No need to tell Honora what Sutcliffe was--her cousins had
+talked of little else during the past winter; and shown, if the truth be
+told, just a little commiseration for Honora.  Sutcliffe was not only a
+famous girls' school, Sutcliffe was the world--that world which, since
+her earliest remembrances, she had been longing to see and know.  In a
+desperate attempt to realize what had happened to her, she found herself
+staring hard at the open china closet, at Aunt Mary's best gold dinner
+set resting on the pink lace paper that had been changed only last week.
+That dinner set, somehow, was always an augury of festival--when,
+on the rare occasions Aunt Mary entertained, the little dining room was
+transformed by it and the Leffingwell silver into a glorified and
+altogether unrecognizable state, in which any miracle seemed possible.
+
+Honora pushed back her chair.
+
+Her lips were parted.
+
+"Oh, Aunt Mary, is it really true that I am going?"  she said.
+
+"Why," said Uncle Tom, "what zeal for learning!"
+
+"My dear," said Aunt Mary, who, you may be sure, knew all about that
+school before Cousin Eleanor's letter came, "Miss Turner insists upon
+hard work, and the discipline is very strict."
+
+"No young men," added Uncle Tom.
+
+"That," declared Aunt Mary, "is certainly an advantage."
+
+"And no chocolate cake, and bed at ten o'clock," said Uncle Tom.
+
+Honora, dazed, only half heard them.  She laughed at Uncle Tom because
+she always had, but tears were shining in her eyes.  Young men and
+chocolate cake!  What were these privations compared to that magic word
+Change?  Suddenly she rose, and flung her arms about Uncle Tom's neck and
+kissed his rough cheek, and then embraced Aunt Mary.  They would be
+lonely.
+
+"Aunt Mary, I can't bear to leave you--but I do so want to go!  And it
+won't be for long--will it?  Only until next spring."
+
+"Until next summer, I believe," replied Aunt Mary, gently; "June is a
+summer month-isn't it, Tom?"
+
+"It will be a summer month without question next year," answered Uncle
+Tom, enigmatically.
+
+It has been remarked that that day was sultry, and a fine rain was now
+washing Uncle Tom's flowers for him.  It was he who had applied that term
+"washing" since the era of ultra-soot.  Incredible as it may seem, life
+proceeded as on any other of a thousand rainy nights.  The lamps were
+lighted in the sitting-room, Uncle Tom unfolded his gardening periodical,
+and Aunt Mary her embroidery.  The gate slammed, with its more subdued,
+rainy-weather sound.
+
+"It's Peter," said Honora, flying downstairs.  And she caught him,
+astonished, as he was folding his umbrella on the step.  "Oh, Peter,
+if you tried until to-morrow morning, you never could guess what has
+happened."
+
+He stood for a moment, motionless, staring at her, a tall figure,
+careless of the rain.
+
+"You are going away," he said.
+
+"How did you guess it?"  she exclaimed in surprise.  "Yes--to boarding-
+school.  To Sutcliffe, on the Hudson, with Edith and Mary.  Aren't you
+glad?  You look as though you had seen a ghost."
+
+"Do I?"  said Peter.
+
+"Don't stand there in the rain," commanded Honora; "come into the
+parlour, and I'll tell you all about it."
+
+He came in.  She took the umbrella from him, and put it in the rack.
+
+"Why don't you congratulate me?"  she demanded.
+
+"You'll never come back," said Peter.
+
+"What a horrid thing to say!  Of course I shall come back.  I shall come
+back next June, and you'll be at the station to meet me."
+
+And--what will Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary do--without you?"
+
+"Oh," said Honora, "I shall miss them dreadfully.  And I shall miss you,
+Peter."
+
+"Very much?" he asked, looking down at her with such a queer expression.
+And his voice, too, sounded queer.  He was trying to smile.
+
+Suddenly Honora realized that he was suffering, and she felt the pangs of
+contrition.  She could not remember the time when she had been away from
+Peter, and it was natural that he should be stricken at the news.  Peter,
+who was the complement of all who loved and served her, of Aunt Mary and
+Uncle Tom and Catherine, and who somehow embodied them all.  Peter, the
+eternally dependable.
+
+She found it natural that the light should be temporarily removed from
+his firmament while she should be at boarding-school, and yet in the
+tenderness of her heart she pitied him.  She put her hands impulsively
+upon his shoulders as he stood looking at her with that queer expression
+which he believed to be a smile.
+
+"Peter, you dear old thing, indeed I shall miss you!  I don't know what
+I shall do without you, and I'll write to you every single week."
+
+Gently he disengaged her arms.  They were standing under that which, for
+courtesy's sake, had always been called the chandelier.  It was in the
+centre of the parlour, and Uncle Tom always covered it with holly and
+mistletoe at Christmas.
+
+"Why do you say I'll never come back?"  asked Honora.  "Of course I shall
+come back, and live here all the rest of my life."
+
+Peter shook his head slowly.  He had recovered something of his customary
+quizzical manner.
+
+"The East is a strange country," he said.  "The first thing we know
+you'll be marrying one of those people we read about, with more millions
+than there are cars on the Olive Street line."
+
+Honora was a little indignant.
+
+"I wish you wouldn't talk so, Peter," she said.  "In the first place,
+I shan't see any but girls at Sutcliffe.  I could only see you for a few
+minutes once a week if you were there.  And in the second place, it isn't
+exactly--Well--dignified to compare the East and the West the way you do,
+and speak about people who are very rich and live there as though they
+were different from the people we know here.  Comparisons, as Shakespeare
+said, are odorous."
+
+"Honora," he declared, still shaking his head, "you're a fraud, but I
+can't help loving you."
+
+For a long time that night Honora lay in bed staring into the darkness,
+and trying to realize what had happened.  She heard the whistling and the
+puffing of the trains in the cinder-covered valley to the southward, but
+the quality of these sounds had changed.  They were music now.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+HONORA HAS A GLIMPSE OF THE WORLD
+
+It is simply impossible to give any adequate notion of the industry of
+the days that followed.  No sooner was Uncle Tom out of the house in the
+morning than Anne Rory marched into the sitting-room and took command,
+and turned it, into a dressmaking establishment.  Anne Rory, who deserves
+more than a passing mention, one of the institutions of Honora's youth,
+who sewed for the first families, and knew much more about them than Mr.
+Meeker, the dancing-master.  If you enjoyed her confidence,--as Aunt Mary
+did,--she would tell you of her own accord who gave their servants enough
+to eat, and who didn't.  Anne Rory was a sort of inquisition all by
+herself, and would have made a valuable chief of police.  The reputations
+of certain elderly gentlemen of wealth might have remained to this day
+intact had it not been for her; she had a heaven-sent knack of
+discovering peccadilloes.  Anne Rory knew the gentlemen by sight,
+and the gentlemen did not know Anne Rory.  Uncle Tom she held to be
+somewhere in the calendar of the saints.
+
+There is not time, alas, to linger over Anne Rory or the new histories
+which she whispered to Aunt Mary when Honora was out of the room.
+At last the eventful day of departure arrived.  Honora's new trunk--
+her first--was packed by Aunt Mary's own hands, the dainty clothes and
+the dresses folded in tissue paper, while old Catherine stood sniffing
+by.  After dinner--sign of a great occasion--a carriage came from
+Braintree's Livery Stable, and Uncle Tom held the horses while the driver
+carried out the trunk and strapped it on.  Catherine, Mary Ann, and
+Bridget, all weeping, were kissed good-by, and off they went through
+the dusk to the station.  Not the old Union Depot, with its wooden sheds,
+where Honora had gone so often to see the Hanburys off, that grimy
+gateway to the fairer regions of the earth.  This new station, of brick
+and stone and glass and tiles, would hold an army corps with ease.  And
+when they alighted at the carriage entrance, a tall figure came forward
+out of the shadow.  It was Peter, and he had a package under his arm.
+Peter checked Honora's trunk, and Peter had got the permission--through
+Judge Brice--which enabled them all to pass through the grille and down
+the long walk beside which the train was standing.
+
+They entered that hitherto mysterious conveyance, a sleeping-car,
+and spoke to old Mrs. Stanley, who was going East to see her married
+daughter, and who had gladly agreed to take charge of Honora.  Afterwards
+they stood on the platform, but in spite of the valiant efforts of Uncle
+Tom and Peter, conversation was a mockery.
+
+"Honora," said Aunt Mary, "don't forget that your trunk key is in the
+little pocket on the left side of your bag."
+
+"No, Aunt Mary."
+
+"And your little New Testament at the bottom.  And your lunch is arranged
+in three packages.  And don't forget to ask Cousin Eleanor about the
+walking shoes, and to give her my note."
+
+Cries reverberated under the great glass dome, and trains pulled out with
+deafening roars.  Honora had a strange feeling, as of pressure from
+within, that caused her to take deep breaths of the smoky air.  She but
+half heard what was being said to her: she wished that the train would
+go, and at the same time she had a sudden, surprising, and fierce longing
+to stay.  She had been able to eat scarcely a mouthful of that festal
+dinner which Bridget had spent the afternoon in preparing, comprised
+wholly of forbidden dishes of her childhood, for which Bridget and Aunt
+Mary were justly famed.  Such is the irony of life.  Visions of one of
+Aunt Mary's rare lunch-parties and of a small girl peeping covetously
+through a crack in the dining-room door, and of the gold china set,
+rose before her.  But she could not eat.
+
+"Bread and jam and tea at Miss Turner's," Uncle Tom had said, and she had
+tried to smile at him.
+
+And now they were standing on the platform, and the train might start at
+any moment.
+
+"I trust you won't get like the New Yorkers, Honora," said Aunt Mary.
+"Do you remember how stiff they were, Tom?"  She was still in the habit
+of referring to that memorable trip when they had brought Honora home.
+"And they say now that they hold their heads higher than ever."
+
+"That," said Uncle Tom, gravely, "is a local disease, and comes from
+staring at the tall buildings."
+
+"Uncle Tom!"
+
+Peter presented the parcel under his arm.  It was a box of candy, and
+very heavy, on which much thought had been spent.
+
+"They are some of the things you like," he said, when he had returned
+from putting it in the berth.
+
+"How good of you, Peter!  I shall never be able to eat all that."
+
+"I hope there is a doctor on the train," said Uncle Tom.
+
+"Yassah," answered the black porter, who had been listening with evident
+relish, "right good doctah--Doctah Lov'ring."
+
+Even Aunt Mary laughed.
+
+"Peter," asked Honora, "can't you get Judge Brice to send you on to New
+York this winter on law business?  Then you could come up to Sutcliffe to
+see me."
+
+"I'm afraid of Miss Turner," declared Peter.
+
+"Oh, she wouldn't mind you," exclaimed Honora.  "I could say you were an
+uncle.  It would be almost true.  And perhaps she would let you take me
+down to New York for a matinee."
+
+"And how about my ready-made clothes?"  he said, looking down at her.  He
+had never forgotten that.
+
+Honora laughed.
+
+"You don't seem a bit sorry that I'm going," she replied, a little
+breathlessly.  "You know I'd be glad to see you, if you were in rags."
+
+"All aboard!" cried the porter, grinning sympathetically.
+
+Honora threw her arms around Aunt Mary and clung to her.  How small and
+frail she was!  Somehow Honora had never realized it in all her life
+before.
+
+"Good-by, darling, and remember to put on your thick clothes on the cool
+days, and write when you get to New York."
+
+Then it was Uncle Tom's turn.  He gave her his usual vigorous hug and
+kiss.
+
+"It won't be long until Christmas," he whispered, and was gone, helping
+Aunt Mary off the train, which had begun to move.
+
+Peter remained a moment.
+
+"Good-by, Honora.  I'll write to you often and let you know how they are.
+And perhaps--you'll send me a letter once in a while."
+
+"Oh, Peter, I will," she cried.  "I can't bear to leave you--I didn't
+think it would be so hard--"
+
+He held out his hand, but she ignored it.  Before he realized what had
+happened to him she had drawn his face to hers, kissed it, and was
+pushing him off the train.  Then she watched from the, platform the three
+receding figures in the yellow smoky light until the car slipped out from
+under the roof into the blackness of the night.  Some faint, premonitory
+divination of what they represented of immutable love in a changing,
+heedless, selfish world came to her; rocks to which one might cling,
+successful or failing, happy or unhappy.  For unconsciously she thought
+of them, all three, as one, a human trinity in which her faith had never
+been betrayed.  She felt a warm moisture on her cheeks, and realized that
+she was crying with the first real sorrow of her life.
+
+She was leaving them--for what?  Honora did not know.  There had been
+nothing imperative in Cousin Eleanor's letter.  She need not have gone
+if she had not wished.  Something within herself, she felt, was impelling
+her.  And it is curious to relate that, in her mind, going to school had
+little or nothing to do with her journey.  She had the feeling of faring
+forth into the world, and she had known all along that it was destined
+she should.  What was the cause of this longing to break the fetters and
+fly away?  fetters of love, they seemed to her now--and were.  And the
+world which she had seen afar, filled with sunlit palaces, seemed very
+dark and dreary to her to-night.
+
+"The lady's asking for you, Miss," said the porter.
+
+She made a heroic attempt to talk to Mrs. Stanley.  But at the sight of
+Peter's candy, when she opened it, she was blinded once more.  Dear
+Peter! That box was eloquent with the care with which he had studied her
+slightest desires and caprices.  Marrons glaces, and Langtrys, and
+certain chocolates which had received the stamp of her approval--and she
+could not so much as eat one!  The porter made the berths.  And there had
+been a time when she had asked nothing more of fate than to travel in a
+sleeping-car!  Far into the night she lay wide awake, dry-eyed, watching
+the lamp-lit streets of the little towns they passed, or staring at the
+cornfields and pastures in the darkness; thinking of the home she had
+left, perhaps forever, and wondering whether they were sleeping there;
+picturing them to-morrow at breakfast without her, and Uncle Tom leaving
+for the bank, Aunt Mary going through the silent rooms alone, and dear
+old Catherine haunting the little chamber where she had slept for
+seventeen years--almost her lifetime.  A hundred vivid scenes of her
+childhood came back, and familiar objects oddly intruded themselves;
+the red and green lambrequin on the parlour mantel--a present many years
+ago from Cousin Eleanor; the what-not, with its funny curly legs, and the
+bare spot near the lock on the door of the cake closet in the dining
+room!
+
+Youth, however, has its recuperative powers.  The next day the excitement
+of the journey held her, the sight of new cities and a new countryside.
+But when she tried to eat the lunch Aunt Mary had so carefully put up,
+new memories assailed her, and she went with Mrs. Stanley into the dining
+car.  The September dusk was made lurid by belching steel-furnaces that
+reddened the heavens; and later, when she went to bed, sharp air and
+towering contours told her of the mountains.  Mountains which her great-
+grandfather had crossed on horse back, with that very family silver in
+his saddle-bags which shone on Aunt Mary's table. And then--she awoke
+with the light shining in her face, and barely had time to dress before
+the conductor was calling out "Jersey City."
+
+Once more the morning, and with it new and wonderful sensations that
+dispelled her sorrows; the ferry, the olive-green river rolling in the
+morning sun, alive with dodging, hurrying craft, each bent upon its
+destination with an energy, relentlessness, and selfishness of purpose
+that fascinated Honora.  Each, with its shrill, protesting whistle,
+seemed to say: "My business is the most important.  Make way for me."
+And yet, through them all, towering, stately, imperturbable, a great
+ocean steamer glided slowly towards the bay, by very might and majesty
+holding her way serene and undisturbed, on a nobler errand.  Honora
+thrilled as she gazed, as though at last her dream were coming true, and
+she felt within her the pulse of the world's artery.  That irksome sense
+of spectatorship seemed to fly, and she was part and parcel now of the
+great, moving things, with sure pinions with which to soar.  Standing
+rapt upon the forward deck of the ferry, she saw herself, not an atom,
+but one whose going and coming was a thing of consequence.  It seemed but
+a simple step to the deck of that steamer when she, too, would be
+travelling to the other side of the world, and the journey one of the
+small incidents of life.
+
+The ferry bumped into its slip, the windlasses sang loudly as they took
+up the chains, the gates folded back, and Honora was forced with the
+crowd along the bridge-like passage to the right.  Suddenly she saw
+Cousin Eleanor and the girls awaiting her.
+
+"Honora," said Edith, when the greetings were over and they were all four
+in the carriage, which was making its way slowly across the dirty and
+irregularly paved open space to a narrow street that opened between two
+saloons, "Honora, you don't mean to say that Anne Rory made that street
+dress?  Mother, I believe it's better-looking than the one I got at
+Bremer's."
+
+"It's very simple,", said Honora.
+
+"And she looks fairly radiant," cried Edith, seizing her cousin's hand.
+"It's quite wonderful, Honora; nobody would ever guess that you were from
+the West, and that you had spent the whole summer in St. Louis."
+
+Cousin Eleanor smiled a little as she contemplated Honora, who sat,
+fascinated, gazing out of the window at novel scenes.  There was a colour
+in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes.  They had reached Madison
+Square.  Madison Square, on a bright morning in late September, seen for
+the first time by an ambitious young lady who had never been out of St.
+Louis!  The trimly appointed vehicles, the high-stepping horses, the
+glittering shops, the well-dressed women and well-groomed men--all had an
+esprit de corps which she found inspiring.  On such a morning, and amidst
+such a scene, she felt that there was no limit to the possibilities of
+life.
+
+Until this year, Cousin Eleanor had been a conservative in the matter of
+hotels, when she had yielded to Edith's entreaties to go to one of the
+"new ones."  Hotels, indeed, that revolutionized transient existence.
+This one, on the Avenue, had a giant in a long blue livery coat who
+opened their carriage door, and a hall in yellow and black onyx, and
+maids and valets.  After breakfast, when Honora sat down to write to Aunt
+Mary, she described the suite of rooms in which they lived,--the brass
+beds, the electric night lamps, the mahogany French furniture, the heavy
+carpets, and even the white-tiled bathroom.  There was a marvellous
+arrangement in the walls with which Edith was never tired of playing,
+a circular plate covered with legends of every conceivable want, from a
+newspaper to a needle and thread and a Scotch whiskey highball.
+
+At breakfast, more stimulants--of a mental nature, of course.  Solomon in
+all his glory had never broken eggs in such a dining room.  It had onyx
+pillars, too, and gilt furniture, and table after table of the whitest
+napery stretched from one end of it to the other.  The glass and silver
+was all of a special pattern, and an obsequious waiter handed Honora a
+menu in a silver frame, with a handle.  One side of the menu was in
+English, and the other in French.  All around them were well-dressed,
+well-fed, prosperous-looking people, talking and laughing in subdued
+tones as they ate.  And Honora had a strange feeling of being one of
+them, of being as rich and prosperous as they, of coming into a long-
+deferred inheritance.
+
+The mad excitement of that day in New York is a faint memory now,
+so much has Honora lived since then.  We descendants of rigid Puritans,
+of pioneer tobacco-planters and frontiersmen, take naturally to a luxury
+such as the world has never seen--as our right.  We have abolished kings,
+in order that as many of us as possible may abide in palaces.  In one day
+Honora forgot the seventeen years spent in the "little house under the
+hill," as though these had never been.  Cousin Eleanor, with a delightful
+sense of wrong-doing, yielded to the temptation to adorn her; and the
+saleswomen, who knew Mrs. Hanbury, made indiscreet-remarks.  Such a
+figure and such a face, and just enough of height!  Two new gowns were
+ordered, to be tried on at Sutcliffe, and as many hats, and an ulster,
+and heaven knows what else.  Memory fails.
+
+In the evening they went to a new comic opera, and it is the music of
+that which brings back the day most vividly to Honora's mind.
+
+In the morning they took an early train to Sutcliffe Manors, on the
+Hudson.  It is an historic place.  First of all, after leaving the
+station, you climb through the little town clinging to the hillside; and
+Honora was struck by the quaint houses and shops which had been places of
+barter before the Revolution.  The age of things appealed to her.  It was
+a brilliant day at the very end of September, the air sharp, and here and
+there a creeper had been struck crimson.  Beyond the town, on the slopes,
+were other new sights to stimulate the imagination: country houses--not
+merely houses in the country, but mansions--enticingly hidden among great
+trees in a way to whet Honora's curiosity as she pictured to herself the
+blissful quality of the life which their owners must lead.  Long, curving
+driveways led up to the houses from occasional lodges; and once, as
+though to complete the impression, a young man and two women, superbly
+mounted, came trotting out of one of these driveways, talking and
+laughing gayly.  Honora took a good look at the man.  He was not
+handsome, but had, in fact, a distinguished and haunting ugliness.
+The girls were straight-featured and conventional to the last degree.
+
+Presently they came to the avenue of elms that led up to the long, low
+buildings of the school.
+
+Little more will be necessary, in the brief account of Honora's life at
+boarding-school, than to add an humble word of praise on the excellence
+of Miss Turner's establishment.  That lady, needless to say, did not
+advertise in the magazines, or issue a prospectus.  Parents were more or
+less in the situation of the candidates who desired the honour and
+privilege of whitewashing Tom Sawyer's fence.  If you were a parent,
+and were allowed to confide your daughter to Miss Turner, instead of
+demanding a prospectus, you gave thanks to heaven, and spoke about it to
+your friends.
+
+The life of the young ladies, of course, was regulated on the strictest
+principles.  Early rising, prayers, breakfast, studies; the daily walk,
+rain or shine, under the watchful convoy of Miss Hood, the girls in
+columns of twos; tennis on the school court, or skating on the school
+pond.  Cotton Mather himself could not have disapproved of the Sundays,
+nor of the discourse of the elderly Doctor Moale (which you heard if you
+were not a Presbyterian), although the reverend gentleman was distinctly
+Anglican in appearance and manners.  Sometimes Honora felt devout, and
+would follow the service with the utmost attention.  Her religion came
+in waves.  On the Sundays when the heathen prevailed she studied the
+congregation, grew to distinguish the local country families; and, if the
+truth must be told, watched for several Sundays for that ugly yet
+handsome young man whom she had seen on horseback.  But he never
+appeared, and presently she forgot him.
+
+Had there been a prospectus (which is ridiculous!), the great secret of
+Miss Turner's school could not very well have been mentioned in it.  The
+English language, it is to be feared, is not quite flexible enough to
+mention this secret with delicacy.  Did Honora know it?  Who can say?
+Self-respecting young ladies do not talk about such things, and Honora
+was nothing if not self-respecting.
+
+                              "SUTCLIFFE MANORS, October 15th.
+
+     "DEAREST AUNT MARY: As I wrote you, I continue to miss you and Uncle
+     Tom dreadfully,--and dear old Peter, too; and Cathy and Bridget and
+     Mary Ann.  And I hate to get up at seven o'clock.  And Miss Hood,
+     who takes us out walking and teaches us composition, is such a
+     ridiculously strict old maid--you would laugh at her.  And the
+     Sundays are terrible.  Miss Turner makes us read the Bible for a
+     whole hour in the afternoon, and reads to us in the evening.  And
+     Uncle Tom was right when he said we should have nothing but jam and
+     bread and butter for supper: oh, yes, and cold meat.  I am always
+     ravenously hungry.  I count the days until Christmas, when I shall
+     have some really good things to eat again.  And of course I cannot
+     wait to see you all.
+
+     "I do not mean to give you the impression that I am not happy here,
+     and I never can be thankful enough to dear Cousin Eleanor for
+     sending me.  Some of the girls are most attractive.  Among others,
+     I have become great friends with Ethel Wing, who is tall and blond
+     and good-looking; and her clothes, though simple, are beautiful.
+     To hear her imitate Miss Turner or Miss Hood or Dr. Moale is almost
+     as much fun as going to the theatre.  You must have heard of her
+     father--he is the Mr. Wing who owns all the railroads and other
+     things, and they have a house in Newport and another in New York,
+     and a country place and a yacht.
+
+     "I like Sarah Wycliffe very much.  She was brought up abroad, and we
+     lead the French class together.  Her father has a house in Paris,
+     which they only use for a month or so in the year: an hotel, as the
+     French call it.  And then there is Maude Capron, from Philadelphia,
+     whose father is Secretary of War.  I have now to go to my class in
+     English composition, but I will write to you again on Saturday.
+
+                                        "Your loving niece,
+
+                                                       "HONORA."
+
+
+The Christmas holidays came, and went by like mileposts from the window
+of an express train.  There was a Glee Club: there were dances, and
+private theatricals in Mrs. Dwyer's new house, in which it was imperative
+that Honora should take part.  There was no such thing as getting up for
+breakfast, and once she did not see Uncle Tom for two whole days.
+He asked her where she was staying.  It was the first Christmas she
+remembered spending without Peter.  His present appeared, but perhaps
+it was fortunate, on the whole, that he was in Texas, trying a case.
+It seemed almost no time at all before she was at the station again,
+clinging to Aunt Mary: but now the separation was not so hard, and she
+had Edith and Mary for company, and George, a dignified and responsible
+sophomore at Harvard.
+
+Owing to the sudden withdrawal from school of little Louise Simpson, the
+Cincinnati girl who had shared her room during the first term, Honora had
+a new room-mate after the holidays, Susan Holt.  Susan was not beautiful,
+but she was good.  Her nose turned up, her hair Honora described as a
+negative colour, and she wore it in defiance of all prevailing modes.
+If you looked very hard at Susan (which few people ever did), you saw
+that she had remarkable blue eyes: they were the eyes of a saint.  She
+was neither tall nor short, and her complexion was not all that it might
+have been.  In brief, Susan was one of those girls who go through a whole
+term at boarding--school without any particular notice from the more
+brilliant Honoras and Ethel Wings.
+
+In some respects, Susan was an ideal room-mate.  She read the Bible every
+night and morning, and she wrote many letters home.  Her ruling passion,
+next to religion, was order, and she took it upon herself to arrange
+Honora's bureau drawers.  It is needless to say that Honora accepted
+these ministrations and that she found Susan's admiration an entirely
+natural sentiment.  Susan was self-effacing, and she enjoyed listening
+to Honora's views on all topics.
+
+Susan, like Peter, was taken for granted.  She came from somewhere, and
+after school was over, she would go somewhere.  She lived in New York,
+Honora knew, and beyond that was not curious.  We never know when we are
+entertaining an angel unawares.  One evening, early in May, when she went
+up to prepare for supper she found Susan sitting in the window reading a
+letter, and on the floor beside her was a photograph.  Honora picked it
+up.  It was the picture of a large country house with many chimneys,
+taken across a wide green lawn.
+
+"Susan, what's this?"
+
+Susan looked up.
+
+"Oh, it's Silverdale.  My brother Joshua took it."
+
+"Silverdale?" repeated Honora.
+
+"It's our place in the country," Susan replied.  "The family moved up
+last week.  You see, the trees are just beginning to bud."
+
+Honora was silent a moment, gazing at the picture.
+
+"It's very beautiful, isn't it?  You never told me about it."
+
+"Didn't I?" said Susan.  "I think of it very often.  It has always seemed
+much more like home to me than our house in New York, and I love it
+better than any spot I know."
+
+Honora gazed at Susan, who had resumed her reading.
+
+"And you are going there when school is over."
+
+"Oh, yes," said Susan; "I can hardly wait."  Suddenly she put down her
+letter, and looked at Honora.
+
+"And you," she asked, "where are you going?"
+
+"I don't know.  Perhaps--perhaps I shall go to the sea for a while with
+my cousins."
+
+It was foolish, it was wrong.  But for the life of her Honora could not
+say she was going to spend the long hot summer in St. Louis.  The thought
+of it had haunted her for weeks: and sometimes, when the other girls were
+discussing their plans, she had left them abruptly.  And now she was
+aware that Susan's blue eyes were fixed upon her, and that they had a
+strange and penetrating quality she had never noticed before: a certain
+tenderness, an understanding that made Honora redden and turn.
+
+"I wish," said Susan, slowly, "that you would come and stay awhile with
+me.  Your home is so far away, and I don't know when I shall see you
+again."
+
+"Oh, Susan," she murmured, "it's awfully good of you, but I'm afraid--I
+couldn't."
+
+She walked to the window, and stood looking out for a moment at the
+budding trees.  Her heart was beating faster, and she was strangely
+uncomfortable.
+
+"I really don't expect to go to the sea, Susan," she said.  "You see,
+my aunt and uncle are all alone in St. Louis, and I ought to go back to
+them.  If--if my father had lived, it might have been different.  He
+died, and my mother, when I was little more than a year old."
+
+Susan was all sympathy.  She slipped her hand into Honora's.
+
+"Where did he live?" she asked.
+
+"Abroad," answered Honora.  "He was consul at Nice, and had a villa
+there when he died.  And people said he had an unusually brilliant
+career before him.  My aunt and uncle brought me up, and my cousin,
+Mrs. Hanbury, Edith's mother, and Mary's, sent me here to school."
+
+Honora breathed easier after this confession, but it was long before
+sleep came to her that night.  She wondered what it would be like to
+visit at a great country house such as Silverdale, what it would be like
+to live in one.  It seemed a strange and cruel piece of irony on the part
+of the fates that Susan, instead of Honora, should have been chosen for
+such a life: Susan, who would have been quite as happy spending her
+summers in St. Louis, and taking excursions in the electric cars: Susan,
+who had never experienced that dreadful, vacuum-like feeling, who had no
+ambitious craving to be satisfied.  Mingled with her flushes of affection
+for Susan was a certain queer feeling of contempt, of which Honora was
+ashamed.
+
+Nevertheless, in the days that followed, a certain metamorphosis seemed
+to have taken place in Susan.  She was still the same modest, self-
+effacing, helpful roommate, but in Honora's eyes she had changed--
+Honora could no longer separate her image from the vision of Silverdale.
+And, if the naked truth must be told, it was due to Silverdale that Susan
+owes the honour of her first mention in those descriptive letters from
+Sutcliffe, which Aunt Mary has kept to this day.
+
+Four days later Susan had a letter from her mother containing an
+astonishing discovery.  There could be no mistake,--Mrs. Holt had
+brought Honora to this country as a baby.
+
+"Why, Susan," cried Honora, "you must have been the other baby."
+
+"But you were the beautiful one," replied Susan, generously.  "I have
+often heard mother tell about it, and how every one on the ship noticed
+you, and how Hortense cried when your aunt and uncle took you away.  And
+to think we have been rooming together all these months and did not know
+that we were really--old friends.
+
+"And Honora, mother says you must come to Silverdale to pay us a visit
+when school closes.  She wants to see you.  I think," added Susan,
+smiling, "I think she feels responsible, for you.  She says that you
+must give me your aunts address, and that she will write to her."
+
+"Oh, I'd so like to go, Susan.  And I don't think Aunt Mary would object
+---for a little while."
+
+Honora lost no time in writing the letter asking for permission, and it
+was not until after she had posted it that she felt a sudden, sharp
+regret as she thought of them in their loneliness.  But the postponement
+of her homecoming would only be for a fortnight at best.  And she had
+seen so little!
+
+In due time Aunt Mary's letter arrived.  There was no mention of
+loneliness in it, only of joy that Honora was to have the opportunity to
+visit such a place as Silverdale.  Aunt Mary, it seems, had seen pictures
+of it long ago in a magazine of the book club, in an article concerning
+one of Mrs. Holt's charities--a model home for indiscreet young women.
+At the end of the year, Aunt Mary added, she had bought the number of
+the magazine, because of her natural interest in Mrs. Holt on Honora's
+account.  Honora cried a little over that letter, but her determination
+to go to Silverdale was unshaken.
+
+June came at last, and the end of school.  The subject of Miss Turner's
+annual talk was worldliness.  Miss Turner saw signs, she regretted to
+say, of a lowering in the ideals of American women: of a restlessness,
+of a desire for what was a false consideration and recognition; for
+power.  Some of her own pupils, alas!  were not free from this fault.
+Ethel Wing, who was next to Honora, nudged her and laughed, and passed
+her some of Maillard's chocolates, which she had in her pocket.  Woman's
+place, continued Miss Turner, was the home, and she hoped they would all
+make good wives.  She had done her best to prepare them to be such.
+Independence, they would find, was only relative: no one had it
+completely.  And she hoped that none of her scholars would ever descend
+to that base competition to outdo one's neighbours, so characteristic of
+the country to-day.
+
+The friends, and even the enemies, were kissed good-by, with pledges of
+eternal friendship.  Cousin Eleanor Hanbury came for Edith and Mary, and
+hoped Honora would enjoy herself at Silverdale.  Dear Cousin Eleanor!
+Her heart was large, and her charity unpretentious.  She slipped into
+Honora's fingers, as she embraced her, a silver-purse with some gold
+coins in it, and bade her not to forget to write home very often.
+
+"You know what pleasure it will give them, my dear," she said, as she
+stepped on the train for New York.
+
+"And I am going home soon, Cousin Eleanor," replied Honora, with a little
+touch of homesickness in her voice.
+
+"I know, dear," said Mrs. Hanbury.  But there was a peculiar, almost
+wistful expression on her face as she kissed Honora again, as of one who
+assents to a fiction in order to humour a child.
+
+As the train pulled out, Ethel Wing waved to her from the midst of a
+group of girls on the wide rear platform of the last car.  It was Mr.
+Wing's private car, and was going to Newport.
+
+"Be good, Honora!" she cried.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Blessed are the ugly, for they shall not be tempted
+Comparisons, as Shakespeare said, are odorous
+Constitutionally honest
+Conversation was a mockery
+Fetters of love
+He has always been too honest to make a great deal of money
+Her words of comfort were as few as her silent deeds were many
+How can you talk of things other people have and not want them
+Immutable love in a changing, heedless, selfish world
+Intense longing is always followed by disappointment
+Providence is accepted by his beneficiaries as a matter of fact
+Rocks to which one might cling, successful or failing
+Sleep!  A despised waste of time in childhood
+So glad to have what other people haven't
+Taking him like daily bread, to be eaten and not thought about
+That magic word Change
+The greatest wonders are not at the ends of the earth, but near
+Why should I desire what I cannot have
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A MODERN CHRONICLE
+
+By Winston Churchill
+
+
+
+BOOK I.
+
+Volume 2.
+
+
+VII.      THE OLYMPIAN ORDER
+VIII.     A CHAPTER OF CONQUESTS
+IX.       IN WHICH THE VICOMTE CONTINUES HIS STUDIES
+X.        IN WHICH HONORA WIDENS HER HORIZON
+XI.       WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN
+XII.      WHICH CONTAINS A SURPRISE FOR MRS. HOLT
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE OLYMPIAN ORDER
+
+Lying back in the chair of the Pullman and gazing over the wide Hudson
+shining in the afternoon sun, Honora's imagination ran riot until the
+seeming possibilities of life became infinite.  At every click of the
+rails she was drawing nearer to that great world of which she had
+dreamed, a world of country houses inhabited by an Olympian order.  To be
+sure, Susan, who sat reading in the chair behind her, was but a humble
+representative of that order--but Providence sometimes makes use of such
+instruments.  The picture of the tall and brilliant Ethel Wing standing
+behind the brass rail of the platform of the car was continually
+recurring to Honora as emblematic: of Ethel, in a blue tailor-made gown
+trimmed with buff braid, and which fitted her slender figure with
+military exactness.  Her hair, the colour of the yellowest of gold, in
+the manner of its finish seemed somehow to give the impression of that
+metal; and the militant effect of the costume had been heightened by a
+small colonial cocked hat.  If the truth be told, Honora had secretly
+idealized Miss Wing, and had found her insouciance, frankness, and
+tendency to ridicule delightful.  Militant--that was indeed Ethel's note
+--militant and positive.
+
+"You're not going home with Susan!" she had exclaimed, making a little
+face when Honora had told her.  "They say that Silverdale is as slow as
+a nunnery--and you're on your knees all the time.  You ought to have come
+to Newport with me."
+
+It was characteristic of Miss Wing that she seemed to have taken no
+account of the fact that she had neglected to issue this alluring
+invitation.  Life at Silverdale slow!  How could it be slow amidst such
+beauty and magnificence?
+
+The train was stopping at a new little station on which hung the legend,
+in gold letters, "Sutton."  The sun was well on his journey towards the
+western hills.  Susan had touched her on the shoulder.
+
+"Here we are, Honora," she said, and added, with an unusual tremor in her
+voice, "at last!"
+
+On the far side of the platform a yellow, two-seated wagon was waiting,
+and away they drove through the village, with its old houses and its
+sleepy streets and its orchards, and its ancient tavern dating from
+stage-coach days.  Just outside of it, on the tree-dotted slope of a long
+hill, was a modern brick building, exceedingly practical in appearance,
+surrounded by spacious grounds enclosed in a paling fence.  That, Susan
+said, was the Sutton Home.
+
+"Your mother's charity?"
+
+A light came into the girl's eyes.
+
+"So you have heard of it?  Yes, it is the, thing that interests mother
+more than anything else in the world."
+
+"Oh," said Honora, "I hope she will let me go through it."
+
+"I'm sure she will want to take you there to-morrow," answered Susan, and
+she smiled.
+
+The road wound upwards, by the valley of a brook, through the hills, now
+wooded, now spread with pastures that shone golden green in the evening
+light, the herds gathering at the gate-bars.  Presently they came to a
+gothic-looking stone building, with a mediaeval bridge thrown across the
+stream in front of it, and massive gates flung open.  As they passed,
+Honora had a glimpse of a blue driveway under the arch of the forest.  An
+elderly woman looked out at them through the open half of a leaded
+lattice.
+
+"That's the Chamberlin estate," Susan volunteered.  "Mr. Chamberlin has
+built a castle on the top of that hill."
+
+Honora caught her breath.
+
+"Are many of the places here like that?"  she asked.  Susan laughed.
+
+"Some people don't think the place is very--appropriate," she contented
+herself with replying.
+
+A little later, as they climbed higher, other houses could be discerned
+dotted about the country-side, nearly all of them varied expressions of
+the passion for a new architecture which seemed to possess the rich.
+Most of them were in conspicuous positions, and surrounded by wide acres.
+Each, to Honora, was an inspiration.
+
+"I had no idea there were so many people here," she said.
+
+"I'm afraid Sutton is becoming fashionable," answered Susan.
+
+"And don't you want it to?" asked Honora.
+
+"It was very nice before," said Susan, quietly.
+
+Honora was silent.  They turned in between two simple stone pillars that
+divided a low wall, overhung from the inside by shrubbery growing under
+the forest.  Susan seized her friend's hand and pressed it.
+
+"I'm always so glad to get back here," she whispered.  "I hope you'll
+like it."
+
+Honora returned the pressure.
+
+The grey road forked, and forked again.  Suddenly the forest came to an
+end in a sort of premeditated tangle of wild garden, and across a wide
+lawn the great house loomed against the western sky.  Its architecture
+was of the '60's and '70's, with a wide porte-cochere that sheltered the
+high entrance doors.  These were both flung open, a butler and two
+footmen were standing impassively beside them, and a neat maid within.
+Honora climbed the steps as in a dream, followed Susan through a hall
+with a black-walnut, fretted staircase, and where she caught a glimpse of
+two huge Chinese vases, to a porch on the other side of the house spread
+with wicker chairs and tables.  Out of a group of people at the farther
+end of this porch arose an elderly lady, who came forward and clasped
+Susan in her arms.
+
+"And is this Honora?  How do you do, my dear?  I had the pleasure of
+knowing you when you were much younger."
+
+Honora, too, was gathered to that ample bosom.  Released, she beheld a
+lady in a mauve satin gown, at the throat of which a cameo brooch was
+fastened.  Mrs. Holt's face left no room for conjecture as to the
+character of its possessor.  Her hair, of a silvering blend, parted in
+the middle, fitted tightly to her head.  She wore earrings.  In short,
+her appearance was in every way suggestive of momentum, of a force which
+the wise would respect.
+
+"Where are you, Joshua?" she said.  "This is the baby we brought from
+Nice.  Come and tell me whether you would recognize her."
+
+Mr. Holt released his--daughter.  He had a mild blue eye, white mutton-
+chop whiskers, and very thin hands, and his tweed suit was decidedly the
+worse for wear.
+
+"I can't say that I should, Elvira," he replied; "although it is not hard
+to believe that such a beautiful baby should, prove to be such a--er--
+good-looking young woman."
+
+"I've always felt very grateful to you for bringing me back," said
+Honora.
+
+"Tut, tut, child," said Mrs. Holt; "there was no one else to do it.  And
+be careful how you pay young women compliments, Joshua.  They grow vain
+enough.  By the way, my dear, what ever became of your maternal
+grandfather, old Mr. Allison--wasn't that his name?"
+
+"He died when I was very young," replied Honora.
+
+"He was too fond of the good things of this life," said Mrs. Holt.
+
+"My dear Elvira!" her husband protested.
+
+"I can't help it, he was," retorted that lady.  "I am a judge of human
+nature, and I was relieved, I can tell you, my dear" (to Honora), "when
+I saw your uncle and aunt on the wharf that morning.  I knew that I had
+confided you to good hands."
+
+"They have done everything for me, Mrs. Holt," said Honora.
+
+The good lady patted her approvingly on the shoulder.
+
+"I'm sure of it, my dear," she said.  "And I am glad to see you
+appreciate it.  And now you must renew your acquaintance with the
+family."
+
+A sister and a brother, Honora had already learned from Susan, had died
+since she had crossed the ocean with them.  Robert and Joshua, Junior,
+remained.  Both were heavyset, with rather stern faces, both had close-
+cropped, tan-coloured mustaches and wide jaws, with blue eyes like
+Susan's.  Both were, with women at least, what the French would call
+difficult--Robert less so than Joshua.  They greeted Honora reservedly
+and--she could not help feeling--a little suspiciously.  And their
+appearance was something of a shock to her; they did not, somehow, "go
+with the house," and they dressed even more carelessly than Peter Erwin.
+This was particularly true of Joshua, whose low, turned-down collar
+revealed a porous, brick-red, and extremely virile neck, and whose
+clothes were creased at the knees and across the back.
+
+As for their wives, Mrs. Joshua was a merry, brown-eyed little lady
+already inclining to stoutness, and Honora felt at home with her at once.
+Mrs. Robert was tall and thin, with an olive face and dark eyes which
+gave the impression of an uncomfortable penetration.  She was dressed
+simply in a shirtwaist and a dark skirt, but Honora thought her striking
+looking.
+
+The grandchildren, playing on and off the porch, seemed legion, and they
+were besieging Susan.  In reality there were seven of them, of all sizes
+and sexes, from the third Joshua with a tennis-bat to the youngest who
+was weeping at being sent to bed, and holding on to her Aunt Susan with
+desperation.  When Honora had greeted them all, and kissed some of them,
+she was informed that there were two more upstairs, safely tucked away in
+cribs.
+
+"I'm sure you love children, don't you?"  said Mrs. Joshua.  She spoke
+impulsively, and yet with a kind of childlike shyness.
+
+"I adore them," exclaimed Honora.
+
+A trellised arbour (which some years later would have been called a
+pergola) led from the porch up the hill to an old-fashioned summer-house
+on the crest.  And thither, presently, Susan led Honora for a view of the
+distant western hills silhouetted in black against a flaming western sky,
+before escorting her to her room.  The vastness of the house, the width
+of the staircase, and the size of the second-story hall impressed our
+heroine.
+
+"I'll send a maid to you later, dear," Susan said.  "If you care to lie
+down for half an hour, no one will disturb you.  And I hope you will be
+comfortable."
+
+Comfortable!  When the door had closed, Honora glanced around her and
+sighed, "comfort" seemed such a strangely inadequate word.  She was
+reminded of the illustrations she had seen of English country houses.
+The bed alone would almost have filled her little room at home.  On the
+farther side, in an alcove, was a huge dressing-table; a fire was laid in
+the grate of the marble mantel, the curtains in the bay window were
+tightly drawn, and near by was a lounge with a reading-light.  A huge
+mahogany wardrobe occupied one corner; in another stood a pier glass, and
+in another, near the lounge, was a small bookcase filled with books.
+Honora looked over them curiously.  "Robert Elsmere" and a life of
+Christ, "Mr. Isaacs," a book of sermons by an eminent clergyman,
+"Innocents Abroad," Hare's "Walks in Rome," "When a Man's Single," by
+Barrie, a book of meditations, and "Organized Charities for Women."
+
+Adjoining the bedroom was a bathroom in proportion, evidently all her
+own,--with a huge porcelain tub and a table set with toilet bottles
+containing liquids of various colours.
+
+Dreamily, Honora slipped on the new dressing-gown Aunt Mary had made for
+her, and took a book out of the bookcase.  It was the volume of sermons.
+But she could not read: she was forever looking about the room, and
+thinking of the family she had met downstairs.  Of course, when one lived
+in a house like this, one could afford to dress and act as one liked.
+She was aroused from her reflections by the soft but penetrating notes of
+a Japanese gong, followed by a gentle knock on the door and the entrance
+of an elderly maid, who informed her it was time to dress for dinner.
+
+"If you'll excuse me, Miss," said that hitherto silent individual when
+the operation was completed, "you do look lovely."
+
+Honora, secretly, was of that opinion too as she surveyed herself in the
+long glass.  The simple summer silk, of a deep and glowing pink, rivalled
+the colour in her cheeks, and contrasted with the dark and shining masses
+of her hair; and on her neck glistened a little pendant of her mother's
+jewels, which Aunt Mary, with Cousin Eleanor's assistance, had had set in
+New York.  Honora's figure was that of a woman of five and twenty: her
+neck was a slender column, her head well set, and the look of race, which
+had been hers since childhood, was at nineteen more accentuated.  All
+this she saw, and went down the stairs in a kind of exultation.  And when
+on the threshold of the drawing-room she paused, the conversation
+suddenly ceased.  Mr. Holt and his sons got up somewhat precipitately,
+and Mrs. Holt came forward to meet her.
+
+"I hope you weren't waiting for me," said Honora, timidly.
+
+"No indeed, my dear," said Mrs. Holt.  Tucking Honora's hand under her
+arm, she led the way majestically to the dining-room, a large apartment
+with a dimly lighted conservatory at the farther end, presided over by
+the decorous butler and his assistants.  A huge chandelier with prisms
+hung over the flowers at the centre of the table, which sparkled with
+glass and silver, while dishes of vermilion and yellow fruits relieved
+the whiteness of the cloth.  Honora found herself beside Mr. Holt, who
+looked more shrivelled than ever in his evening clothes.  And she was
+about to address him when, with a movement as though to forestall her,
+he leaned forward convulsively and began a mumbling grace.
+
+The dinner itself was more like a ceremony than a meal, and as it
+proceeded, Honora found it increasingly difficult to rid herself of a
+curious feeling of being on probation.
+
+Joshua, who sat on her other side and ate prodigiously, scarcely
+addressed a word to her; but she gathered from his remarks to his father
+and brother that he was interested in cows.  And Mr. Holt was almost
+exclusively occupied in slowly masticating the special dishes which the
+butler impressively laid before him.  He asked her a few questions about
+Miss Turner's school, but it was not until she had admired the mass of
+peonies in the centre of the table that his eyes brightened, and he
+smiled.
+
+"You like flowers?" he asked.
+
+"I love them," slid Honora.
+
+"I am the gardener here," he said.  "You must see my garden, Miss
+Leffingwell.  I am in it by half-past six every morning, rain or shine."
+
+Honora looked up, and surprised Mrs. Robert's eyes fixed on her with the
+same strange expression she had noticed on her arrival.  And for some
+senseless reason, she flushed.
+
+The conversation was chiefly carried on by kindly little Mrs. Joshua and
+by Mrs. Holt, who seemed at once to preside and to dominate.  She praised
+Honora's gown, but left a lingering impression that she thought her
+overdressed, without definitely saying so.  And she made innumerable--and
+often embarrassing--inquiries about Honora's aunt and uncle, and her life
+in St. Louis, and her friends there, and how she had happened to go to
+Sutcliffe to school.  Sometimes Honora blushed, but she answered them all
+good-naturedly.  And when at length the meal had marched sedately down to
+the fruit, Mrs. Holt rose and drew Honora out of the dining room.
+
+"It is a little hard on you, my dear," she said, "to give you so much
+family on your arrival.  But there are some other people coming to-
+morrow, when it will be gayer, I hope, for you and Susan."
+
+"It is so good of you and Susan to want me, Mrs. Holt," replied Honora,
+"I am enjoying it so much.  I have never been in a big country house like
+this, and I am glad there is no one else here.  I have heard my aunt
+speak of you so often, and tell how kind you were to take charge of me,
+that I have always hoped to know you sometime or other.  And it seems the
+strangest of coincidences that I should have roomed with Susan at
+Sutcliffe."
+
+"Susan has grown very fond of you," said Mrs. Holt, graciously.  "We are
+very glad to have you, my dear, and I must own that I had a curiosity to
+see you again.  Your aunt struck me as a good and sensible woman, and it
+was a positive relief to know that you were to be confided to her care."
+Mrs. Holt, however, shook her head and regarded Honora, and her next
+remark might have been taken as a clew to her thoughts.  "But we are not
+very gay at Silverdale, Honora."
+
+Honora's quick intuition detected the implication of a frivolity which
+even her sensible aunt had not been able to eradicate.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Holt," she cried, "I shall be so happy here, just seeing things
+and being among you.  And I am so interested in the little bit I have
+seen already.  I caught a glimpse of your girls' home on my way from the
+station.  I hope you will take me there."
+
+Mrs. Holt gave her a quick look, but beheld in Honora's clear eyes only
+eagerness and ingenuousness.
+
+The change in the elderly lady's own expression, and incidentally in the
+atmosphere which enveloped her, was remarkable.
+
+"Would you really like to go, my dear?"
+
+"Oh, yes indeed," cried Honora.  "You see, I have heard so much of it,
+and I should like to write my aunt about it.  She is interested in the
+work you are doing, and she has kept a magazine with an article in it,
+and a picture of the institution."
+
+"Dear me!" exclaimed the lady, now visibly pleased.  "It is a very modest
+little work, my dear.  I had no idea that--out in St. Louis--that the
+beams of my little candle had carried so far.  Indeed you shall see it,
+Honora.  We will go down the first thing in the morning."
+
+Mrs. Robert, who had been sitting on the other side of the room, rose
+abruptly and came towards them.  There was something very like a smile on
+her face,--although it wasn't really a smile--as she bent over and kissed
+her mother-in-law on the cheek.
+
+"I am glad to hear you are interested in--charities, Miss Leffingwell,"
+she said.
+
+Honora's face grew warm.
+
+"I have not so far had very much to do with them, I am afraid," she
+answered.
+
+"How should she?"  demanded Mrs. Holt.  "Gwendolen, you're not going up
+already?"
+
+"I have some letters to write," said Mrs. Robert.
+
+"Gwen has helped me immeasurably," said Mrs. Holt, looking after the tall
+figure of her daughter-in-law, "but she has a curious, reserved
+character.  You have to know her, my dear.  She is not at all like Susan,
+for instance."
+
+Honora awoke the next morning to a melody, and lay for some minutes in
+a delicious semi-consciousness, wondering where she was.  Presently she
+discovered that the notes were those of a bird on a tree immediately
+outside of her window--a tree of wonderful perfection, the lower branches
+of which swept the ground.  Other symmetrical trees, of many varieties,
+dotted a velvet lawn, which formed a great natural terrace above the
+forested valley of Silver Brook.  On the grass, dew-drenched cobwebs
+gleamed in the early sun, and the breeze that stirred the curtains was
+charged with the damp, fresh odours of the morning.  Voices caught her
+ear, and two figures appeared in the distance.  One she recognized as Mr.
+Holt, and the other was evidently a gardener.  The gilt clock on the
+mantel pointed to a quarter of seven.
+
+It is far too late in this history to pretend that Honora was,
+by preference, an early riser, and therefore it must have been the
+excitement caused by her surroundings that made her bathe and dress
+with alacrity that morning.  A housemaid was dusting the stairs as she
+descended into the empty hall.  She crossed the lawn, took a path through
+the trees that bordered it, and came suddenly upon an old-fashioned
+garden in all the freshness of its early morning colour.  In one of the
+winding paths she stopped with a little exclamation.  Mr. Holt rose from
+his knees in front of her, where he had been digging industriously with a
+trowel.  His greeting, when contrasted with his comparative taciturnity
+at dinner the night before, was almost effusive--and a little pathetic.
+
+"My dear young lady," he exclaimed, "up so early?  "He held up
+forbiddingly a mould-covered palm.  "I can't shake hands with you."
+
+Honora laughed.
+
+"I couldn't resist the temptation to see your garden," she said.
+
+A gentle light gleamed in his blue eyes, and he paused before a trellis
+of June roses.  With his gardening knife he cut three of them, and held
+them gallantly against her white gown.  Her sensitive colour responded as
+she thanked him, and she pinned them deftly at her waist.
+
+"You like gardens?" he said.
+
+"I was brought up with them," she answered; "I mean," she corrected
+herself swiftly, "in a very modest way.  My uncle is passionately fond of
+flowers, and he makes our little yard bloom with them all summer.  But of
+course," Honora added, "I've never seen anything like this."
+
+"It has been a life work," answered Mr. Holt, proudly, "and yet I feel as
+though I had not yet begun.  Come, I will show you the peonies--they are
+at their best--before I go in and make myself respectable for breakfast."
+
+Ten minutes later, as they approached the house in amicable and even
+lively conversation, they beheld Susan and Mrs. Robert standing on the
+steps under the porte-cochere, watching them.
+
+"Why, Honora," cried Susan, "how energetic you are!  I actually had a
+shock when I went to your room and found you'd gone.  I'll have to write
+Miss Turner."
+
+"Don't," pleaded Honora; "you see, I had every inducement to get up."
+
+"She has been well occupied," put in Mr. Holt.  "She has been admiring my
+garden."
+
+"Indeed I have," said Honora.
+
+"Oh, then, you have won father's heart!" cried Susan.  Gwendolen Holt
+smiled.  Her eyes were fixed upon the roses in Honora's belt.
+
+"Good morning, Miss Leffingwell," she said, simply.
+
+Mr. Holt having removed the loam from his hands, the whole family,
+excepting Joshua, Junior, and including an indefinite number of children,
+and Carroll, the dignified butler, and Martha, the elderly maid, trooped
+into the library for prayers.  Mr. Holt sat down before a teak-wood table
+at the end of the room, on which reposed a great, morocco-covered Bible.
+Adjusting his spectacles, he read, in a mild but impressive voice, a
+chapter of Matthew, while Mrs. Joshua tried to quiet her youngest.
+Honora sat staring at a figure on the carpet, uncomfortably aware that
+Mrs. Robert was still studying her.  Mr. Holt closed the Bible
+reverently, and announced a prayer, whereupon the family knelt upon the
+floor and leaned their elbows on the seats of their chairs.  Honora did
+likewise, wondering at the facility with which Mr. Holt worded his
+appeal, and at the number of things he found to pray for.  Her knees had
+begun to ache before he had finished.
+
+At breakfast such a cheerful spirit prevailed that Honora began almost
+to feel at home.  Even Robert indulged occasionally in raillery.
+
+"Where in the world is Josh?" asked Mrs. Holt, after they were seated.
+
+"I forgot to tell you, mother," little Mrs. Joshua chirped up, "that he
+got up at an unearthly hour, and went over to Grafton to look at a cow."
+
+"A cow!" sighed Mrs: Holt.  "Oh, dear, I might have known it.  You must
+understand, Honora, that every member of the Holt family has a hobby.
+Joshua's is Jerseys."
+
+"I'm sure I should adore them if I lived in the country," Honora
+declared.
+
+"If you and Joshua would only take that Sylvester farm, and build a
+house, Annie," said Mr. Holt, munching the dried bread which was
+specially prepared for him, "I should be completely happy.  Then,"
+he added, turning to Honora, "I should have both my sons settled on
+the place.  Robert and Gwen are sensible in building."
+
+"It's cheaper to live with you, granddad," laughed Mrs. Joshua.  "Josh
+says if we do that, he has more money to buy cows."
+
+At this moment a footman entered, and presented Mrs. Holt with some mail
+on a silver tray.
+
+"The Vicomte de Toqueville is coming this afternoon, Joshua," she
+announced, reading rapidly from a sheet on which was visible a large
+crown.  "He landed in New York last week, and writes to know if I could
+have him."
+
+"Another of mother's menagerie," remarked Robert.
+
+"I don't think that's nice of you, Robert," said his mother.  "The
+Vicomte was very kind to your father and me in Paris, and invited us to
+his chateau in Provence."
+
+Robert was sceptical.
+
+"Are you sure he had one?" he insisted.
+
+Even Mr. Holt laughed.
+
+"Robert," said his mother, "I wish Gwen could induce you to travel more.
+Perhaps you would learn that all foreigners aren't fortune-hunters."
+
+I've had an opportunity to observe the ones who come over here, mother."
+
+"I won't have a prospective guest discussed," Mrs. Holt declared, with
+finality.  "Joshua, you remember my telling you last spring that Martha
+Spence's son called on me?" she asked.  "He is in business with a man
+named Dallam, I believe, and making a great deal of money for a young
+man.  He is just a year younger than you, Robert."
+
+"Do you mean that fat, tow-headed boy that used to come up here and eat
+melons and ride my pony?" inquired Robert.  "Howard Spence?"
+
+Mrs. Holt smiled.
+
+"He isn't fat any longer, Robert.  Indeed, he's quite good-looking.
+Since his mother died, I had lost trace of him.  But I found a photograph
+of hers when I was clearing up my desk some months ago, and sent it to
+him, and he came to thank me.  I forgot to tell you that I invited him
+for a fortnight any time he chose, and he has just written to ask if he
+may come now.  I regret to say that he's on the Stock Exchange--but I was
+very fond of his mother.  It doesn't seem to me quite a legitimate
+business."
+
+"Why!" exclaimed little Mrs. Joshua, unexpectedly, "I'm given to
+understand that the Stock Exchange is quite aristocratic in these days."
+
+"I'm afraid I am old-fashioned, my dear," said Mrs. Holt, rising.  "It
+has always seemed to me little better than a gambling place.  Honora, if
+you still wish to go to the Girls' Home, I have ordered the carriage in a
+quarter of an hour."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+A CHAPTER OF CONQUESTS
+
+Honora's interest in the Institution was so lively, and she asked so many
+questions and praised so highly the work with which the indiscreet young
+women were occupied that Mrs. Holt patted her hand as they drove
+homeward.
+
+"My dear," she said, "I begin to wish I'd adopted you myself.  Perhaps,
+later on, we can find a husband for you, and you will marry and settle
+down near us here at Silverdale, and then you can help me with the work."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Holt," she replied, "I should so like to help you, I mean.  And
+it would be wonderful to live in such a place.  And as for marriage, it
+seems such a long way off that somehow I never think of it."
+
+"Naturally," ejaculated Mrs. Holt, with approval, "a young girl of your
+age should not.  But, my dear, I am afraid you are destined to have many
+admirers.  If you had not been so well brought up, and were not naturally
+so sensible, I should fear for you."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Holt!" exclaimed Honora, deprecatingly, and blushing very
+prettily.
+
+"Whatever else I am," said Mrs. Holt, vigorously, "I am not a flatterer.
+I am telling you something for your own good--which you probably know
+already."
+
+Honora was discreetly silent.  She thought of the proud and unsusceptible
+George Hanbury, whom she had cast down from the tower of his sophomore
+dignity with such apparent ease; and of certain gentlemen at home, young
+and middle-aged, who had behaved foolishly during the Christmas holidays.
+
+At lunch both the Roberts and the Joshuas were away.
+
+Afterwards, they romped with the children--she and Susan.  They were shy
+at first, especially the third Joshua, but Honora captivated him by
+playing two sets of tennis in the broiling sun, at the end of which
+exercise he regarded her with a new-born admiration in his eyes.  He was
+thirteen.
+
+"I didn't think you were that kind at all," he said.
+
+"What kind did you think I was?"  asked Honora, passing her arm around
+his shoulder as they walked towards the house.
+
+The boy grew scarlet.
+
+"Oh, I didn't think you--you could play tennis," he stammered.
+
+Honora stopped, and seized his chin and tilted his face upward.
+
+"Now, Joshua," she said, "look at me and say that over again."
+
+"Well," he replied desperately, "I thought you wouldn't want to get all
+mussed up and hot."
+
+"That's better," said Honora.  "You thought I was vain, didn't you?"
+
+"But I don't think so any more," he avowed passionately.  "I think you're
+a trump.  And we'll play again to-morrow, won't we?"
+
+"We'll play any day you like," she declared.
+
+It is unfair to suppose that the arrival of a real vicomte and of a
+young, good-looking, and successful member of the New York Stock Exchange
+were responsible for Honora's appearance, an hour later, in the
+embroidered linen gown which Cousin Eleanor had given her that spring.
+Tea was already in progress on the porch, and if a hush in the
+conversation and the scraping of chairs is any sign of a sensation, this
+happened when our heroine appeared in the doorway.  And Mrs. Holt, in the
+act of lifting the hot-water kettle; put it down again.  Whether or not
+there was approval in the lady's delft-blue eye, Honora could not have
+said.  The Vicomte, with the graceful facility of his race, had
+differentiated himself from the group and stood before her.  As soon
+as the words of introduction were pronounced, he made a bow that was
+a tribute in itself, exaggerated in its respect.
+
+"It is a pleasure, Mademoiselle," he murmured, but his eyes were more
+eloquent.
+
+A description of him in his own language leaped into Honora's mind, so
+much did he appear to have walked out of one of the many yellow-backed
+novels she had read.  He was not tall, but beautifully made, and his coat
+was quite absurdly cut in at the waist; his mustache was en-croc, and its
+points resembled those of the Spanish bayonets in the conservatory: he
+might have been three and thirty, and he was what the novels described as
+'un peu fane' which means that he had seen the world: his eyes were
+extraordinarily bright, black, and impenetrable.
+
+A greater contrast to the Vicomte than Mr. Howard Spence would have been
+difficult to find.  He was Honora's first glimpse of Finance, of the
+powers that travelled in private cars and despatched ships across the
+ocean.  And in our modern mythology, he might have stood for the god of
+Prosperity.  Prosperity is pink, and so was Mr. Spence, in two places,--
+his smooth-shaven cheeks and his shirt.  His flesh had a certain
+firmness, but he was not stout; he was merely well fed, as Prosperity
+should be.  His features were comparatively regular, his mustache a light
+brown, his eyes hazel.  The fact that he came from that mysterious
+metropolis, the heart of which is Wall Street, not only excused but
+legitimized the pink shirt and the neatly knotted green tie, the pepper-
+and-salt check suit that was loose and at the same time well-fitting, and
+the jewelled ring on his plump little finger.  On the whole, Mr. Spence
+was not only prepossessing, but he contrived to give Honora, as she shook
+his hand, the impression of being brought a step nearer to the national
+source of power.  Unlike the Vicomte, he did not appear to have been
+instantly and mortally wounded upon her arrival on the scene, but his
+greeting was flattering, and he remained by her side instead of returning
+to that of Mrs. Robert.
+
+"When did you come up?" he asked.  Only yesterday," answered Honora.
+
+"New York," said Mr. Spence, producing a gold cigarette case on which his
+monogram was largely and somewhat elaborately engraved, "New York is
+played out this time of year--isn't it?  I dropped in at Sherry's last
+night for dinner, and there weren't thirty people there."
+
+Honora had heard of Sherry's as a restaurant where one dined fabulously,
+and she tried to imagine the cosmopolitan and blissful existence which
+permitted "dropping in at" such a place.  Moreover, Mr. Spence was
+plainly under the impression that she too "came up" from New York, and it
+was impossible not to be a little pleased.
+
+"It must be a relief to get into the country," she ventured.
+
+Mr. Spence glanced around him expressively, and then looked at her with a
+slight smile.  The action and the smile--to which she could not refrain
+from responding--seemed to establish a tacit understanding between them.
+It was natural that he should look upon Silverdale as a slow place, and
+there was something delicious in his taking, for granted that she shared
+this opinion.  She wondered a little wickedly what he would say when he
+knew the truth about her, and this was the birth of a resolution that his
+interest should not flag.
+
+"Oh, I can stand the country when it is properly inhabited," he said, and
+their eyes met in laughter.
+
+"How many inhabitants do you require?" she asked.
+
+"Well," he said brazenly, "the right kind of inhabitant is worth a
+thousand of the wrong kind.  It is a good rule in business, when you come
+across a gilt-edged security, to make a specialty of it."
+
+Honora found the compliment somewhat singular.  But she was prepared to
+forgive New York a few sins in the matter of commercial slang: New York,
+which evidently dressed as it liked, and talked as it liked.  But not
+knowing any more of a gilt-edged security than that it was something to
+Mr. Spence's taste, a retort was out of the question.  Then, as though
+she were doomed that day to complicity, her eyes chanced to encounter an
+appealing glance from the Vicomte, who was searching with the courage of
+despair for an English word, which his hostess awaited in stoical
+silence.  He was trying to give his impressions of Silverdale, in
+comparison to country places abroad, while Mrs. Robert regarded him
+enigmatically, and Susan sympathetically.  Honora had an almost
+irresistible desire to laugh.
+
+"Ah, Madame," he cried, still looking at Honora, "will you have the
+kindness to permit me to walk about ever so little?"
+
+"Certainly, Vicomte, and I will go with you.  Get my parasol, Susan.
+Perhaps you would like to come, too, Howard," she added to Mr. Spence;
+"it has been so long since you were here, and we have made many changes."
+
+"And you, Mademoiselle," said the Vicomte to Honora, you will come--yes?
+You are interested in landscape?"
+
+"I love the country," said Honora.
+
+"It is a pleasure to have a guest who is so appreciative," said Mrs.
+Holt.  "Miss Leffingwell was up at seven this morning, and in the garden
+with my husband."
+
+"At seven!" exclaimed the Vicomte; "you American young ladies are
+wonderful.  For example--" and he was about to approach her to enlarge on
+this congenial theme when Susan arrived with the parasol, which Mrs. Holt
+put in his hands.
+
+"We'll begin, I think, with the view from the summer house," she said.
+"And I will show you how our famous American landscape architect, Mr.
+Olmstead, has treated the slope."
+
+There was something humorous, and a little pathetic in the contrasted
+figures of the Vicomte and their hostess crossing the lawn in front of
+them.  Mr. Spence paused a moment to light his cigarette, and he seemed
+to derive infinite pleasure from this juxtaposition.
+
+"Got left,--didn't he?" he said.
+
+To this observation there was, obviously, no answer.
+
+"I'm not very strong on foreigners," he declared.  "An American is good
+enough for me.  And there's something about that fellow which would make
+me a little slow in trusting him with a woman I cared for."
+
+"If you are beginning to worry over Mrs. Holt," said Honora, "we'd better
+walk a little faster."
+
+Mr. Spence's delight at this sally was so unrestrained as to cause the
+couple ahead to turn.  The Vicomte's expression was reproachful.
+
+"Where's Susan?"  asked Mrs. Holt.
+
+"I think she must have gone in the house," Honora answered.
+
+"You two seem to be having a very good time."
+
+"Oh, we're hitting it off fairly well," said Mr. Spence, no doubt for
+the benefit of the Vicomte.  And he added in a confidential tone,
+"Aren't we?"
+
+"Not on the subject of the Vicomte," she replied promptly.  "I like him.
+I like French people."
+
+"What!" he exclaimed, halting in his steps, "you don't take that man
+seriously?"
+
+"I haven't known him long enough to take him seriously," said Honora.
+
+"There's a blindness about women," he declared, "that's incomprehensible.
+They'll invest in almost any old thing if the certificates are
+beautifully engraved.  If you were a man, you wouldn't trust that
+Frenchman to give you change for five dollars."
+
+"French people," proclaimed Honora, "have a light touch of which we
+Americans are incapable.  We do not know how to relax."
+
+"A light touch!" cried Mr. Spence, delightedly, "that about describes the
+Vicomte."
+
+"I'm sure you do him an injustice," said Honora.
+
+"We'll see," said Mr. Spence.  "Mrs. Holt is always picking up queer
+people like that.  She's noted for it."  He turned to her.  How did you
+happen to come here?"
+
+"I came with Susan," she replied, amusedly, "from boarding-school at
+Sutcliffe."
+
+"From boarding-school!"
+
+She rather enjoyed his surprise.
+
+"You don't mean to say you are Susan's age?"
+
+"How old did you think I was?" she asked.
+
+"Older than Susan," he said surveying her.
+
+"No, I'm a mere child, I'm nineteen."
+
+"But I thought--" he began, and paused and lighted another cigarette.
+
+Her eyes lighted mischievously.
+
+"You thought that I had been out several years, and that I'd seen a good
+deal of the world, and that I lived in New York, and that it was strange
+you didn't know me.  But New York is such an enormous place I suppose one
+can't know everybody there."
+
+"And--where do you come from, if I may ask?" he said.
+
+"St. Louis.  I was brought to this country before I was two years old,
+from France.  Mrs. Holt brought me.  And I have never been out of St.
+Louis since, except to go to Sutcliffe.  There you have my history.  Mrs.
+Holt would probably have told it to you, if I hadn't."
+
+"And Mrs. Holt brought you to this country?"
+
+Honora explained, not without a certain enjoyment.
+
+"And how do you happen to be here?" she demanded.  "Are you a member of--
+of the menagerie?"
+
+He had the habit of throwing back his head when he laughed.  This, of
+course, was a thing to laugh over, and now he deemed it audacity.  Five
+minutes before he might have given it another name there is no use in
+saying that the recital of Honora's biography had not made a difference
+with Mr. Howard Pence, and that he was not a little mortified at his
+mistake.  What he had supposed her to be must remain a matter of
+conjecture.  He was, however, by no means aware how thoroughly this
+unknown and inexperienced young woman had read his thoughts in her
+regard.  And if the truth be told, he was on the whole relieved that she
+was nobody.  He was just an ordinary man, provided with no sixth sense or
+premonitory small voice to warn him that masculine creatures are often in
+real danger at the moment when they feel most secure.
+
+It is certain that his manner changed, and during the rest of the walk
+she listened demurely when he talked about Wall Street, with casual
+references to the powers that be.  It was evident that Mr. Howard Spence
+was one who had his fingers on the pulse of affairs.  Ambition leaped in
+him.
+
+They reached the house in advance of Mrs. Holt and the Vicomte, and
+Honora went to her room.
+
+At dinner, save for a little matter of a casual remark when Mr. Holt had
+assumed the curved attitude in which he asked grace, Mr. Spence had a
+veritable triumph.  Self-confidence was a quality which Honora admired.
+He was undaunted by Mrs. Holt, and advised Mrs. Robert, if she had any
+pin-money, to buy New York Central; and he predicted an era of prosperity
+which would be unexampled in the annals of the country.  Among other
+powers, he quoted the father of Honora's schoolmate, Mr. James Wing, as
+authority for this prophecy.  He sat next to Susan, who maintained her
+usual maidenly silence, but Honora, from time to time, and as though by
+accident, caught his eye.  Even Mr. Holt, when not munching his dried
+bread, was tempted to make some inquiries about the market.
+
+"So far as I am concerned," Mrs. Holt announced suddenly, "nothing can
+convince me that it is not gambling."
+
+"My dear Elvira!" protested Mr. Holt.
+
+"I can't help it," said that lady, stoutly; "I'm old-fashioned, I
+suppose.  But it seems to me like legalized gambling."
+
+Mr. Spence took this somewhat severe arraignment of his career in
+admirable good nature.  And if these be such a thing as an implied wink,
+Honora received one as he proceeded to explain what he was pleased to
+call the bona-fide nature of the transactions of Dallam and Spence.
+
+A discussion ensued in which, to her surprise, even the ordinarily
+taciturn Joshua took a part, and maintained that the buying and selling
+of blooded stock was equally gambling.  To this his father laughingly
+agreed.  The Vicomte, who sat on Mrs. Holt's right, and who apparently
+was determined not to suffer a total eclipse without a struggle,
+gallantly and unexpectedly came to his hostess' rescue, though she
+treated him as a doubtful ally.  This was because he declared with
+engaging frankness that in France the young men of his monde had a
+jeunesse: he, who spoke to them, had gambled; everybody gambled in
+France, where it was regarded as an innocent amusement.  He had friends
+on the Bourse, and he could see no difference in principle between
+betting on the red at Monte Carlo and the rise and fall of the shares of
+la Compagnie des Metaux, for example.  After completing his argument,
+he glanced triumphantly about the table, until his restless black eyes
+encountered Honora's, seemingly seeking a verdict.  She smiled
+impartially.
+
+The subject of finance lasted through the dinner, and the Vicomte
+proclaimed himself amazed with the evidences of wealth which confronted
+him on every side in this marvellous country.  And once, when he was at
+a loss for a word, Honora astonished and enchanted him by supplying it.
+
+"Ah, Mademoiselle," he exclaimed, "I was sure when I first beheld you
+that you spoke my language!  And with such an accent!"
+
+"I have studied it all my life, Vicomte," she said, modestly, "and I had
+the honour to be born in your country.  I have always wished to see it
+again."
+
+Monsieur de Toqueville ventured the fervent hope that her wish might soon
+be gratified, but not before he returned to France.  He expressed himself
+in French, and in a few moments she found herself deep in a discussion
+with him in that tongue.  While she talked, her veins seemed filled with
+fire; and she was dimly and automatically aware of the disturbance about
+her, as though she were creating a magnetic storm that interfered with
+all other communication.  Mr. Holt's nightly bezique, which he played
+with Susan, did not seem to be going as well as usual, and elsewhere
+conversation was a palpable pretence.  Mr. Spence, who was attempting to
+entertain the two daughters-in-law, was clearly distrait--if his glances
+meant anything.  Robert and Joshua had not appeared, and Mrs. Holt, at
+the far end of the room under the lamp, regarded Honora from time to time
+over the edge of the evening newspaper.
+
+In his capacity as a student of American manners, an unsuspected if
+scattered knowledge on Honora's part of that portion of French literature
+included between Theophile Gautier and Gyp at once dumfounded and
+delighted the Vicomte de Toqueville.  And he was curious to know whether,
+amongst American young ladies, Miss Leffingwell was the exception or the
+rule.  Those eyes of his, which had paid to his hostess a tender respect,
+snapped when they spoke to our heroine, and presently he boldly abandoned
+literature to declare that the fates alone had sent her to Silverdale at
+the time of his visit.
+
+It was at this interesting juncture that Mrs. Holt rattled her newspaper
+a little louder than usual, arose majestically, and addressed Mrs.
+Joshua.
+
+"Annie, perhaps you will play for us," she said, as she crossed the room,
+and added to Honora: "I had no idea you spoke French so well, my dear.
+What have you and Monsieur de Toqueville been talking about?"
+
+It was the Vicomte who, springing to his feet, replied nimbly:
+"Mademoiselle has been teaching me much of the customs of your country."
+
+"And what," inquired Mrs. Holt, "have you been teaching Mademoiselle?"
+
+The Vicomte laughed and shrugged his shoulders expressively.
+
+"Ah, Madame, I wish I were qualified to be her teacher.  The education of
+American young ladies is truly extraordinary."
+
+"I was about to tell Monsieur de Toqueville," put in Honora, wickedly,
+"that he must see your Institution as soon as possible, and the work your
+girls are doing."
+
+"Madame," said the Vicomte, after a scarcely perceptible pause, "I await
+my opportunity and your kindness."
+
+"I will take you to-morrow," said Mrs. Holt.
+
+At this instant a sound closely resembling a sneeze caused them to turn.
+Mr. Spence, with his handkerchief to his mouth, had his back turned to
+them, and was studiously regarding the bookcases.
+
+After Honora had gone upstairs for the night she opened her door in
+response to a knock, to find Mrs. Holt on the threshold.
+
+"My dear," said that lady, "I feel that I must say a word to you.  I
+suppose you realize that you are attractive to men."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Holt."
+
+"You're no fool, my dear, and it goes without saying that you-do realize
+it--in the most innocent way, of course.  But you have had no experience
+in life.  Mind you, I don't say that the Vicomte de Toqueville isn't very
+much of a gentleman, but the French ideas about the relations of young
+men and young women are quite different and, I regret to say, less
+innocent than ours.  I have no reason to believe that the Vicomte has
+come to this country to--to mend his fortunes.  I know nothing about his
+property.  But my sense of responsibility towards you has led me to tell
+him that you have no dot, for you somehow manage to give the impression
+of a young woman of fortune.  Not purposely, my dear--I did not mean
+that."  Mrs. Holt tapped gently Honora's flaming cheek.  "I merely felt
+it my duty to drop you a word of warning against Monsieur de Toqueville--
+because he is a Frenchman."
+
+"But, Mrs. Holt, I had no idea of--of falling in love with him,"
+protested Honora, as soon as she could get her breath.  He seemed so kind
+--and so interested in everything.
+
+"I dare say," said Mrs. Holt, dryly.  "And I have always been led to
+believe that that is the most dangerous sort.  I am sure, Honora, after
+what I have said, you will give him no encouragement."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Holt," cried Honora again, "I shouldn't think of such a thing!"
+
+"I am sure of it, Honora, now that you are forewarned.  And your
+suggestion to take him to the Institution was not a bad one.  I meant to
+do so anyway, and I think it will be good for him.  Good night, my dear."
+
+After the good lady bad gone, Honora stood for some moments motionless.
+Then she turned out the light.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+IN WHICH THE VICOMTE CONTINUES HIS STUDIES
+
+Mr. Robert Holt, Honora learned at breakfast, had two bobbies.  She had
+never heard of what is called Forestry, and had always believed the wood
+of her country to be inexhaustible.  It had never occurred to her to
+think of a wild forest as an example of nature's extravagance, and so
+flattering was her attention while Robert explained the primary
+principles of caring for trees that he actually offered to show her
+one of the tracts on the estate which he was treating.  He could not,
+--he regretted to say, take her that morning.
+
+His other hobby was golf.  He was president of the Sutton Golf Club, and
+had arranged to play a match with Mr. Spence.  This gentleman, it
+appeared, was likewise an enthusiast, and had brought to Silverdale a
+leather bag filled with sticks.
+
+"Won't you come, too, Miss Leffingwell?" he said, as he took a second cup
+of coffee.
+
+Somewhat to the astonishment of the Holt family, Robert seconded the
+invitation.
+
+"I'll bet, Robert," said Mr. Spence, gallantly, "that Miss Leffingwell
+can put it over both of us."
+
+"Indeed, I can't play at all," exclaimed Honora in confusion.  "And I
+shouldn't think of spoiling your match.  And besides, I am going to drive
+with Susan."
+
+"We can go another day, Honora," said Susan.
+
+But Honora would not hear of it.
+
+"Come over with me this afternoon, then," suggested Mr. Spence, "and I'll
+give you a lesson."
+
+She thanked him gratefully.
+
+"But it won't be much fun for you, I'm afraid," she added, as they left
+the dining room.
+
+"Don't worry about me," he answered cheerfully.  He was dressed in a
+checked golf costume, and wore a pink shirt of a new pattern.  And he
+stood in front of her in the hall, glowing from his night's sleep,
+evidently in a high state of amusement.
+
+"What's the matter?" she demanded.
+
+"You did for the Vicomte all right," he said.  "I'd give a good deal to
+see him going through the Institution."
+
+"It wouldn't have hurt you, either," she retorted, and started up the
+stairs.  Once she glanced back and saw him looking after her.
+
+At the far end of the second story hall she perceived the Vicomte, who
+had not appeared at breakfast, coming out of his room.  She paused with
+her hand on the walnut post and laughed a little, so ludicrous was his
+expression as he approached her.
+
+"Ah, Mademoiselle, que vous etes mechante!" he exclaimed.  "But I forgive
+you, if you will not go off with that stock-broker.  It must be that
+I see the Home sometime, and if I go now it is over.  I forgive you.
+It is in the Bible that we must forgive our neighbour--how many times?"
+
+"Seventy times seven," said Honora.
+
+"But I make a condition," said the Vicomte, "that my neighbour shall be a
+woman, and young and beautiful.  Then I care not how many times.
+Mademoiselle, if you would but have your portrait painted as you are,
+with your hand on the post, by Sargent or Carolus Duran, there would be
+some noise in the Salon."
+
+"Is that you, Vicomte?" came a voice from the foot of the stairs--Mrs.
+Holt's voice.
+
+"I come this instant, Madame," he replied, looking over the banisters,
+and added: "malheureux que je suis!  Perhaps, when I return, you will
+show me a little of the garden."
+
+The duty of exhibiting to guests the sights of Silverdale and the
+neighbourhood had so often devolved upon Susan, who was methodical, that
+she had made out a route, or itinerary, for this purpose.  There were
+some notes to leave and a sick woman and a child to see, which caused her
+to vary it a little that morning; and Honora, who sat in the sunlight and
+held the horse, wondered how it would feel to play the lady bountiful.
+"I am so glad to have you all to myself for a little while, Honora,"
+Susan said to her.  "You are so popular that I begin to fear that I shall
+have to be unselfish, and share you."
+
+"Oh, Susan," she said, "every one has been so kind.  And I can't tell
+you how much I am enjoying this experience, which I feel I owe to you."
+
+"I am so happy, dear, that it is giving you pleasure," said Susan.
+
+"And don't think," exclaimed Honora, "that you won't see lots of me,
+for you will."
+
+Her heart warmed to Susan, yet she could not but feel a secret pity for
+her, as one unable to make the most of her opportunities in the wonderful
+neighbourhood in which she lived.  As they drove through the roads and in
+and out of the well-kept places, everybody they met had a bow and a smile
+for her friend--a greeting such as people give to those for whom they
+have only good-will.  Young men and girls waved their racquets at her
+from the tennis-courts; and Honora envied them and wished that she, too,
+were a part of the gay life she saw, and were playing instead of being
+driven decorously about.  She admired the trim, new houses in which they
+lived, set upon the slopes of the hills.  Pleasure houses, they seemed to
+her, built expressly for joys which had been denied her.
+
+"Do you see much of--of these people, Susan?" she asked.
+
+"Not so much as I'd like," replied Susan, seriously.  "I never seem to
+get time.  We nearly always have guests at Silverdale, and then there are
+so many things one has to attend to.  Perhaps you have noticed," she
+added, smiling a little, "that we are very serious and old-fashioned."
+
+"Oh, no indeed," protested Honora.  "It is such a wonderful experience
+for me to be here!"
+
+"Well," said Susan, "we're having some young people to dinner to-night,
+and others next week--that's why I'm leaving these notes.  And then we
+shall be a little livelier."
+
+"Really, Susan, you mustn't think that I'm not having a good time.  It is
+exciting to be in the same house with a real French Vicomte, and I like
+Mr. Spence tremendously."
+
+Her friend was silent.
+
+"Don't you?" demanded Honora.
+
+To her surprise, the usually tolerant Susan did not wholly approve of Mr.
+Spence.
+
+"He is a guest, and I ought not to criticise him," she answered.  "But
+since you ask me, Honora, I have to be honest.  It seems to me that his
+ambitions are a little sordid--that he is too intent upon growing rich."
+
+"But I thought all New Yorkers were that way," exclaimed Honora, and
+added hastily, "except a few, like your family, Susan."
+
+Susan laughed.
+
+"You should marry a diplomat, my dear," she said.  "After all, perhaps
+I am a little harsh.  But there is a spirit of selfishness and--and of
+vulgarity in modern, fashionable New York which appears to be catching,
+like a disease.  The worship of financial success seems to be in every
+one's blood."
+
+"It is power," said Honora.
+
+Susan glanced at her, but Honora did not remark the expression on her
+friend's face, so intent was she on the reflections which Susan's words
+had aroused.  They had reached the far end of the Silverdale domain, and
+were driving along the shore of the lake that lay like a sapphire set
+amongst the green hills.  It was here that the new house of the Robert
+Holts was building.  Presently they came to Joshua's dairy farm, and
+Joshua himself was standing in the doorway of one of his immaculate barn
+Honora put her hand on Susan's arm.
+
+"Can't we see the cows?"  she asked.
+
+Susan looked surprised.
+
+"I didn't know you were interested in cows, Honora."
+
+"I am interested in everything," said Honora: "and I think your brother
+is so attractive."
+
+It was at this moment that Joshua, with his hands in his pockets,
+demanded what his sister was doing there.
+
+"Miss Leffingwell wants to look at the cattle, Josh," called Susan.
+
+"Won't you show them to me, Mr. Holt," begged Honora.  "I'd like so much
+to see some really good cattle, and to know a little more about them."
+
+Joshua appeared incredulous.  But, being of the male sex, he did not hide
+the fact that he was pleased, "it seems strange to have somebody really
+want to see them," he said.  "I tried to get Spence to come back this
+way, but the idea didn't seem to appeal to him.  Here are some of the
+records."
+
+"Records?" repeated Honora, looking at a mass of typewritten figures on
+the wall.  "Do you mean to say you keep such an exact account of all the
+milk you get?"
+
+Joshua laughed, and explained.  She walked by his side over the concrete
+paving to the first of the varnished stalls.
+
+"That," he said, and a certain pride had come into his voice, "is Lady
+Guinevere, and those ribbons are the prizes she has taken on both sides
+of the water."
+
+"Isn't she a dear!" exclaimed Honora; "why, she's actually beautiful.
+I didn't know cows could be so beautiful."
+
+"She isn't bad," admitted Joshua.  "Of course the good points in a cow
+aren't necessarily features of beauty for instance, these bones here,"
+he added, pointing to the hips.
+
+"But they seem to add, somehow, to the thoroughbred appearance," Honora
+declared.
+
+"That's absolutely true," replied Joshua,--whereupon he began to talk.
+And Honora, still asking questions, followed him from stall to stall.
+"There are some more in the pasture," he said, when they had reached the
+end of the second building.
+
+"Oh, couldn't I see them?" she asked.
+
+"Surely," replied Joshua, with more of alacrity than one would have
+believed him capable.  "I'll tell Susan to drive on, and you and I will
+walk home across the fields, if you like."
+
+"I should love to," said Honora.
+
+It was not without astonishment that the rest of the Holt family beheld
+them returning together as the gongs were sounding for luncheon.  Mrs.
+Holt, upon perceiving them, began at once to shake her head and laugh.
+
+"My dear, it can't be that you have captivated Joshua!" she exclaimed, in
+a tone that implied the carrying of a stronghold hitherto thought
+impregnable.
+
+Honora blushed, whether from victory or embarrassment, or both, it is
+impossible to say.
+
+"I'm afraid it's just the other way, Mrs. Holt," she replied; "Mr. Holt
+has captivated me."
+
+"We'll call it mutual, Miss Leffingwell," declared Joshua, which was for
+him the height of gallantry.
+
+"I only hope he hasn't bored you," said the good-natured Mrs. Joshua.
+
+"Oh, dear, no," exclaimed Honora.  "I  don't see bow any one could be
+bored looking at such magnificent animals as that Hardicanute."
+
+It was at this moment that her eyes were drawn, by a seemingly resistless
+attraction, to Mrs. Robert's face.  Her comment upon this latest
+conquest, though unexpressed, was disquieting.  And in spite of herself,
+Honora blushed again.
+
+At luncheon, in the midst of a general conversation, Mr. Spence made a
+remark sotto voce which should, in the ordinary course of events, have
+remained a secret.
+
+"Susan," he said, "your friend Miss Leffingwell is a fascinator.  She's
+got Robert's scalp, too, and he thought it a pretty good joke because I
+offered to teach her to play golf this afternoon."
+
+It appeared that Susan's eyes could flash indignantly.  Perhaps she
+resented Mr. Spence's calling her by her first name.
+
+"Honora Leffingwell is the most natural and unspoiled person I know," she
+said.
+
+There is, undoubtedly, a keen pleasure and an ample reward in teaching
+a pupil as apt and as eager to learn as Honora.  And Mr. Spence, if he
+attempted at all to account for the swiftness with which the hours of
+that long afternoon slipped away, may have attributed their flight to the
+discovery in himself of hitherto latent talent for instruction.  At the
+little Casino, he had bought, from the professional in charge of the
+course, a lady's driver; and she practised with exemplary patience the
+art of carrying one's hands through and of using the wrists in the
+stroke.
+
+"Not quite, Miss Leffingwell," he would say, "but so."
+
+Honora would try again.
+
+"That's unusually good for a beginner, but you are inclined to chop it
+off a little still.  Let it swing all the way round."
+
+"Oh, dear, how you must hate me!"
+
+"Hate you?" said Mr. Spence, searching in vain for words with which to
+obliterate such a false impression.  "Anything but that!"
+
+"Isn't it a wonderful, spot?" she exclaimed, gazing off down the swale,
+emerald green in the afternoon light between its forest walls.  In the
+distance, Silver Brook was gleaming amidst the meadows.  They sat down on
+one of the benches and watched the groups of players pass.  Mr. Spence
+produced his cigarette case, and presented it to her playfully.
+
+"A little quiet whiff," he suggested.  "There's not much chance over at
+the convent," and she gathered that it was thus he was pleased to
+designate Silverdale.
+
+In one instant she was doubtful whether or not to be angry, and in the
+next grew ashamed of the provincialism which had caused her to suspect an
+insult.  She took a cigarette, and he produced a gold match case, lighted
+a match, and held it up for her.  Honora blew it out.
+
+"You didn't think seriously that I smoked?" she asked, glancing at him.
+
+"Why not?" he asked; "any number of girls do."
+
+She tore away some of the rice paper and lifted the tobacco to her nose,
+and made a little grimace.
+
+"Do you like to see women smoke?"  she asked.
+
+Mr. Spence admitted that there was something cosey about the custom, when
+it was well done.
+
+"And I imagine," he added, "that you'd do it well."
+
+"I'm sure I should make a frightful mess of it," she protested modestly.
+
+"You do everything well," he said.
+
+"Even golf?"  she inquired mischievously.
+
+"Even golf, for a beginner and--and a woman; you've got the swing in an
+astonishingly short time.  In fact, you've been something of an eye-
+opener to me," he declared.  "If I had been betting, I should have placed
+the odds about twenty to one against your coming from the West."
+
+This Eastern complacency, although it did not lower Mr. Spence in her
+estimation, aroused Honora's pride.
+
+"That shows how little New Yorkers know of the West," she replied,
+laughing.  "Didn't you suppose there were any gentlewomen there?"
+
+"Gentlewomen," repeated Mr. Spence, as though puzzled by the word,
+"gentlewomen, yes.  But you might have been born anywhere."
+
+Even her sense of loyalty to her native place was not strong enough to
+override this compliment.
+
+"I like a girl with some dash and go to her," he proclaimed, and there
+could be no doubt about the one to whom he was attributing these
+qualities.  "Savoir faire, as the French call it, and all that.  I don't
+know much about that language, but the way you talk it makes Mrs. Holt's
+French and Susan's sound silly.  I watched you last night when you were
+stringing the Vicomte."
+
+"Oh, did you?" said Honora, demurely.
+
+"You may have thought I was talking to Mrs. Robert," he said.
+
+"I wasn't thinking anything about you," replied Honora, indignantly.
+"And besides, I wasn't I stringing' the Vicomte.  In the West we don't
+use anything like so much slang as you seem to use in New York."
+
+"Oh, come now!" he exclaimed, laughingly, and apparently not the least
+out of countenance, "you made him think he was the only pebble on the
+beach.  I have no idea what you were talking about."
+
+"Literature," she said.  "Perhaps that was the reason why you couldn't
+understand it."
+
+"He may be interested in literature," replied Mr. Spence, "but it
+wouldn't be a bad guess to say that he was more interested in stocks and
+bonds."
+
+"He doesn't talk about them, at any rate," said Honora.
+
+"I'd respect him more if he did," he announced.  "I know those fellows-
+they make love to every woman they meet.  I saw him eying you at lunch."
+
+Honora laughed.
+
+"I imagine the Vicomte could make love charmingly," she said.
+
+Mr. Spence suddenly became very solemn.
+
+"Merely as a fellow-countryman, Miss Leffingwell--" he began, when she
+sprang to her feet, her eyes dancing, and finished the sentence.
+
+"You would advise me to be on my guard against him, because, although I
+look twenty-five and experienced, I am only nineteen and inexperienced.
+Thank you."
+
+He paused to light another cigarette before he followed her across the
+turf.  But she had the incomprehensible feminine satisfaction of knowing,
+as they walked homeward, that the usual serenity of his disposition was
+slightly ruffled.
+
+A sudden caprice impelled her, in the privacy of her bedroom that
+evening, to draw his portrait for Peter Erwin.  The complacency of New
+York men was most amusing, she wrote, and the amount of slang they used
+would have been deemed vulgar in St. Louis.  Nevertheless, she liked
+people to be sure of themselves, and there was something "insolent"
+about New York which appealed to her.  Peter, when he read that letter,
+seemed to see Mr. Howard Spence in the flesh; or arrayed, rather, in the
+kind of cloth alluringly draped in the show-windows of fashionable
+tailors.  For Honora, all unconsciously, wrote literature.  Literature
+was invented before phonographs, and will endure after them.  Peter could
+hear Mr. Spence talk, for a part of that gentleman's conversation--
+a characteristic part--was faithfully transcribed.  And Peter detected a
+strain of admiration running even through the ridicule.
+
+Peter showed that letter to Aunt Mary, whom it troubled, and to Uncle
+Tom, who laughed over it.  There was also a lifelike portrait of the
+Vicomte, followed by the comment that he was charming, but very French;
+but the meaning of this last, but quite obvious, attribute remained
+obscure.  He was possessed of one of the oldest titles and one of the
+oldest chateaux in France.  (Although she did not say so, Honora had this
+on no less authority than that of the Vicomte himself.)  Mrs. Holt--with
+her Victorian brooch and ear-rings and her watchful delft-blue eyes that
+somehow haunted one even when she was out of sight, with her ample bosom
+and the really kind heart it contained--was likewise depicted; and Mr.
+Holt, with his dried bread, and his garden which Honora wished Uncle Tom
+could see, and his prayers that lacked imagination.  Joshua and his cows,
+Robert and his forest, Susan and her charities, the Institution, jolly
+Mrs. Joshua and enigmatical Mrs. Robert--all were there: and even a
+picture of the dinner-party that evening, when Honora sat next to a young
+Mr. Patterson with glasses and a studious manner, who knew George Hanbury
+at Harvard.  The other guests were a florid Miss Chamberlin, whose person
+loudly proclaimed possessions, and a thin Miss Longman, who rented one of
+the Silverdale cottages and sketched.
+
+Honora was seeing life.  She sent her love to Peter, and begged him to
+write to her.
+
+The next morning a mysterious change seemed to have passed over the
+members of the family during the night.  It was Sunday.  Honora, when she
+left her room, heard a swishing on the stairs--Mrs. Joshua, stiffly
+arrayed for the day.  Even Mrs. Robert swished, but Mrs. Holt, in a
+bronze-coloured silk, swished most of all as she entered the library
+after a brief errand to the housekeeper's room.  Mr. Holt was already
+arranging his book-marks in the Bible, while Joshua and Robert, in black
+cutaways that seemed to have the benumbing and paralyzing effect of
+strait-jackets, wandered aimlessly about the room, as though its walls
+were the limit of their movements.  The children had a subdued and touch-
+me-not air that reminded Honora of her own youth.
+
+It was not until prayers were over and the solemn gathering seated at
+the breakfast table that Mr. Spence burst upon it like an aurora.  His
+flannel suit was of the lightest of grays; he wore white tennis shoes and
+a red tie, and it was plain, as he cheerfully bade them good morning,
+that he was wholly unaware of the enormity of his costume.  There was a
+choking, breathless moment before Mrs. Holt broke the silence.
+
+"Surely, Howard," she said, "you're not going to church in those
+clothes."
+
+"I hadn't thought of going to church," replied Mr. Spence, helping
+himself to cherries.
+
+"What do you intend to do?" asked his hostess.
+
+"Read the stock reports for the week as soon as the newspapers arrive."
+
+"There is no such thing as a Sunday newspaper in my house," said Mrs.
+Holt.
+
+"No Sunday newspapers!"  he exclaimed.  And his eyes, as they encountered
+Honora's,--who sought to avoid them,--expressed a genuine dismay.
+
+"I am afraid," said Mrs. Holt, "that I was right when I spoke of the
+pernicious effect of Wall Street upon young men.  Your mother did not
+approve of Sunday newspapers."
+
+During the rest of the meal, although he made a valiant attempt to hold
+his own, Mr. Spence was, so to speak, outlawed.  Robert and Joshua must
+have had a secret sympathy for him.  One of them mentioned the Vicomte.
+
+"The Vicomte is a foreigner," declared Mrs. Holt.  "I am in no sense
+responsible for him."
+
+The Vicomte was at that moment propped up in bed, complaining to his
+valet about the weakness of the coffee.  He made the remark (which he
+afterwards repeated to Honora) that weak coffee and the Protestant
+religion seemed inseparable; but he did not attempt to discover the
+whereabouts, in Sutton, of the Church of his fathers.  He was not in the
+best of humours that morning, and his toilet had advanced no further
+when, an hour or so later, he perceived from behind his lace curtains Mr.
+Howard Spence, dressed with comparative soberness, handing Honora into
+the omnibus.  The incident did not serve to improve the cynical mood in
+which the Vicomte found himself.
+
+Indeed, the Vicomte, who had a theory concerning Mr. Spence's church-
+going, was not far from wrong.  As may have been suspected, it was to
+Honora that credit was due.  It was Honora whom Mr. Spence sought after
+breakfast, and to whom he declared that her presence alone prevented him
+from leaving that afternoon.  It was Honora who told him that he ought to
+be ashamed of himself.  And it was to Honora, after church was over and
+they were walking homeward together along the dusty road, that Mr. Spence
+remarked by way of a delicate compliment that "the morning had not been a
+total loss, after all!"
+
+The little Presbyterian church stood on a hillside just outside of the
+village and was, as far as possible, the possession of the Holt family.
+The morning sunshine illuminated the angels in the Holt memorial window,
+and the inmates of the Holt Institution occupied all the back pews.  Mrs.
+Joshua played the organ, and Susan, with several young women and a young
+man with a long coat and plastered hair, sang in the choir.  The sermon
+of the elderly minister had to do with beliefs rather than deeds, and was
+the subject of discussion at luncheon.
+
+"It is very like a sermon I found in my room," said Honora.
+
+"I left that book in your room, my dear, in the hope that you would not
+overlook it," said Mrs. Holt, approvingly.  "Joshua, I wish you would
+read that sermon aloud to us."
+
+"Oh, do, Mr. Holt!" begged Honora.
+
+The Vicomte, who had been acting very strangely during the meal, showed
+unmistakable signs of a futile anger.  He had asked Honora to walk with
+him.
+
+"Of course," added Mrs. Holt, "no one need listen who doesn't wish to.
+Since you were good enough to reconsider your decision and attend divine
+service, Howard, I suppose I should be satisfied."
+
+The reading took place in the library.  Through the open window Honora
+perceived the form of Joshua asleep in the hammock, his Sunday coat all
+twisted under him.  It worried her to picture his attire when he should
+wake up.  Once Mrs. Robert looked in, smiled, said nothing, and went out
+again.  At length, in a wicker chair under a distant tree on the lawn,
+Honora beheld the dejected outline of the Vicomte.  He was trying to
+read, but every once in a while would lay down his book and gaze
+protractedly at the house, stroking his mustache.  The low song of the
+bees around the shrubbery vied with Mr. Holt's slow reading.  On the
+whole, the situation delighted Honora, who bit her lip to refrain from
+smiling at M. de Toqueville.  When at last she emerged from the library,
+he rose precipitately and came towards her across the lawn, lifting his
+hands towards the pitiless puritan skies.
+
+"Enfin!" he exclaimed tragically.  "Ah, Mademoiselle, never in my life
+have I passed such a day!"
+
+"Are you ill, Vicomte?" she asked.
+
+"Ill!  Were it not for you, I would be gone.  You alone sustain me--it is
+for the pleasure of seeing you that I suffer.  What kind of a menage is
+this, then, where I am walked around Institutions, where I am forced to
+listen to the exposition of doctrines, where the coffee is weak, where
+Sunday, which the bon Dieu set aside for a jour de fete resembles to a
+day in purgatory?"
+
+"But, Vicomte," Honora laughed, "you must remember that you are in
+America, and that you have come here to study our manners and customs."
+
+"Ah, no," he cried, "ah, no, it cannot all be like this!  I will not
+believe it.  Mr. Holt, who sought to entertain me before luncheon,
+offered to show me his collection of Chinese carvings!  I, who might be
+at Trouville or Cabourg!  If it were not for you, Mademoiselle, I should
+not stay here--not one little minute," he said, with a slow intensity.
+"Behold what I suffer for your sake!"
+
+"For my sake?" echoed Honora.
+
+"For what else?" demanded the Vicomte, gazing upon her with the eyes of
+martyrdom.  "It is not for my health, alas!  Between the coffee and this
+dimanche I have the vertigo."
+
+Honora laughed again at the memory of the dizzy Sunday afternoons of her
+childhood, when she had been taken to see Mr. Isham's curios.
+
+"You are cruel," said the Vicomte; "you laugh at my tortures."
+
+"On the contrary, I think I understand them," she replied.  "I have often
+felt the same way."
+
+"My instinct was true, then," he cried triumphantly; "the first time my
+eyes fell on you, I said to myself, 'ah! there is one who understands.'
+And I am seldom mistaken."
+
+"Your experience with the opposite sex," ventured Honora, "must have made
+you infallible."
+
+He shrugged and smiled, as one whose modesty forbade the mention of
+conquests.
+
+"You do not belong here either, Mademoiselle," he said.  "You are not
+like these people.  You have temperament, and a future--believe me.
+Why do you waste your time?"
+
+"What do you mean, Vicomte?"
+
+"Ah, it is not necessary to explain what I mean.  It is that you do not
+choose to understand--you are far too clever.  Why is it, then, that you
+bore yourself by regarding Institutions and listening to sermons in your
+jeunesse?  It is all very well for Mademoiselle Susan, but you are not
+created for a religieuse.  And again, it pleases you to spend hours with
+the stockbroker, who is as lacking in esprit as the bull of Joshua.  He
+is no companion for you."
+
+"I am afraid," she said reprovingly, "that you do not understand Mr.
+Spence."
+
+"Par exemple!" cried the Vicomte; "have I not seen hundreds' like him?
+Do not they come to Paris and live in the great hotels and demand
+cocktails and read the stock reports and send cablegrams all the day
+long? and go to the Folies Bergeres, and yawn?  Nom de nom, of what does
+his conversation consist?  Of the price of railroads;--is it not so?
+I, who speak to you, have talked to him.  Does he know how to make love?"
+
+"That accomplishment is not thought of very highly in America," Honora
+replied.
+
+"It is because you are a new country," he declared.
+
+"And you are mad over money.  Money has taken the place of love."
+
+"Is money so despised in France?"  she asked.  "I have heard--that you
+married for it!"
+
+"Touch!" cried the Vicomte, laughing.  "You see, I am frank with you.  We
+marry for money, yes, but we do not make a god of it.  It is our servant.
+You make it, and we enjoy it.  Yes, and you, Mademoiselle--you, too, were
+made to enjoy.  You do not belong here," he said, with a disdainful sweep
+of the arm.  "Ah, I have solved you.  You have in you the germ of the
+Riviera.  You were born there."
+
+Honora wondered if what he said were true.  Was she different?  She was
+having a great deal of pleasure at Silverdale; even the sermon reading,
+which would have bored her at home, had interested and amused her.  But
+was it not from the novelty of these episodes, rather than from their
+special characters, that she received the stimulus?  She glanced
+curiously towards the Vicomte, and met his eye.
+
+They had been walking the while, and had crossed the lawn and entered one
+of the many paths which it had been Robert's pastime to cut through the
+woods.  And at length they came out at a rustic summer-house set over the
+wooded valley.  Honora, with one foot on the ground, sat on the railing
+gazing over the tree-tops; the Vicomte was on the bench beside her.  His
+eyes sparkled and snapped, and suddenly she tingled with a sense that the
+situation was not without an element of danger.
+
+"I had a feeling about you, last night at dinner," he said; "you reminded
+me of a line of Marcel Prevost, 'Cette femme ne sera pas aimee que parmi
+des drames.'"
+
+"Nonsense," said Honora; "last night at dinner you were too much occupied
+with Miss Chamberlin to think of me."
+
+"Ah, Mademoiselle, you have read me strangely if you think that.  I
+talked to her with my lips, yes--but it was of you I was thinking.  I was
+thinking that you were born to play a part in many dramas, that you have
+the fatal beauty which is rare in all ages."  The Vicomte bent towards
+her, and his voice became caressing.  "You cannot realize how beautiful
+you are," he sighed.
+
+Suddenly he seized her hand, and before she could withdraw it she had the
+satisfaction of knowing the sensation of having it kissed.  It was a
+strange sensation indeed.  And the fact that she did not tingle with
+anger alone made her all the more angry.  Trembling, her face burning,
+she leaped down from the railing and fled into the path.  And there,
+seeing that he did not follow, she turned and faced him.  He stood
+staring at her with eyes that had not ceased to sparkle.
+
+"How cowardly of you!" she cried.
+
+"Ah, Mademoiselle," he answered fervently, "I would risk your anger a
+thousand times to see you like that once more.  I cannot help my
+feelings--they were dead indeed if they did not respond to such an
+inspiration.  Let them plead for my pardon."
+
+Honora felt herself melting a little.  After all, there might have been
+some excuse for it, and be made love divinely.  When he had caught up
+with her, his contriteness was such that she was willing to believe he
+had not meant to insult her.  And then, he was a Frenchman.  As a proof
+of his versatility, if not of his good faith, he talked of neutral
+matters on the way back to the house, with the charming ease and
+lightness that was the gift of his race and class.  On the borders of the
+wood they encountered the Robert Holts, walking with their children.
+
+"Madame," said the Vicomte to Gwendolen, "your Silverdale is enchanting.
+We have been to that little summer-house which commands the valley."
+
+"And are you still learning things about our country, Vicomte?" she
+asked, with a glance at Honora.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+IN WHICH HONORA WIDENS HER HORIZON
+
+If it were not a digression, it might be interesting to speculate upon
+the reason why, in view of their expressed opinions of Silverdale, both
+the Vicomte and Mr. Spence remained during the week that followed.
+Robert, who went off in the middle of it with his family to the seashore,
+described it to Honora as a normal week.  During its progress there came
+and went a missionary from China, a pianist, an English lady who had
+heard of the Institution, a Southern spinster with literary gifts, a
+youthful architect who had not built anything, and a young lawyer
+interested in settlement work.
+
+The missionary presented our heroine with a book he had written about the
+Yang-tse-kiang; the Southern lady suspected her of literary gifts; the
+architect walked with her through the woods to the rustic shelter where
+the Vicomte had kissed her hand, and told her that he now comprehended
+the feelings of Christopher Wren when he conceived St. Paul's Cathedral,
+of Michael Angelo when he painted the Sistine Chapel.  Even the serious
+young lawyer succumbed, though not without a struggle.  When he had first
+seen Miss Leffingwell, he confessed, he had thought her frivolous.  He
+had done her an injustice, and wished to acknowledge it before he left.
+And, since she was interested in settlement work, he hoped, if she were
+going through New York, that she would let him know.  It would be a real
+pleasure to show her what he was doing.
+
+Best of all, Honora, by her unselfishness, endeared herself to her
+hostess.
+
+"I can't tell you what a real help you are to me, my dear," said that
+lady.  "You have a remarkable gift with people for so young a girl, and
+I do you the credit of thinking that it all springs from a kind heart."
+
+In the meantime, unknown to Mrs. Holt, who might in all conscience have
+had a knowledge of what may be called social chemistry, a drama was
+slowly unfolding itself.  By no fault of Honora's, of course.  There may
+have been some truth in the quotation of the Vicomte as applied to her--
+that she was destined to be loved only amidst the play of drama.  If
+experience is worth anything, Monsieur de Toqueville should have been an
+expert in matters of the sex.  Could it be possible, Honora asked herself
+more than once, that his feelings were deeper than her feminine instinct
+and, the knowledge she had gleaned from novels led her to suspect?
+
+It is painful to relate that the irregularity and deceit of the life the
+Vicomte was leading amused her, for existence at Silverdale was plainly
+not of a kind to make a gentleman of the Vicomte's temperament and
+habits ecstatically happy.  And Honora was filled with a strange and
+unaccountable delight when she overheard him assuring Mrs. Wellfleet, the
+English lady of eleemosynary tendencies, that he was engaged in a study
+at first hand of Americans.
+
+The time has come to acknowledge frankly that it was Honora he was
+studying--Honora as the type of young American womanhood.  What he did
+not suspect was that young American womanhood was studying him.  Thanks
+to a national System, she had had an apprenticeship; the heart-blood of
+Algernon Cartwright and many others had not been shed in vain.  And the
+fact that she was playing with real fire, that this was a duel with the
+buttons off, lent a piquancy and zest to the pastime which it had
+hitherto lacked.
+
+The Vicomte's feelings were by no means hidden processes to Honora, and
+it was as though she could lift the lid of the furnace at any time and
+behold the growth of the flame which she had lighted.  Nay, nature had
+endowed her with such a gift that she could read the daily temperature
+as by a register hung on the outside, without getting scorched.  Nor had
+there been any design on her part in thus tormenting his soul.  He had
+not meant to remain more than four days at Silverdale, that she knew;
+he had not meant to come to America and fall in love with a penniless
+beauty--that she knew also.  The climax would be interesting, if
+perchance uncomfortable.
+
+It is wonderful what we can find the time to do, if we only try.
+Monsieur de Toqueville lent Honora novels, which she read in bed; but
+being in the full bloom of health and of a strong constitution, this
+practice did not prevent her from rising at seven to take a walk through
+the garden with Mr. Holt--a custom which he had come insensibly to depend
+upon.  And in the brief conversations which she vouchsafed the Vicomte,
+they discussed his novels.  In vain he pleaded, in caressing undertones,
+that she should ride with him.  Honora had never been on a horse, but she
+did not tell him so.  If she would but drive, or walk-only a little way--
+he would promise faithfully not to forget himself.  Honora intimated that
+the period of his probation had not yet expired.  If he waylaid her on
+the stairs, he got but little satisfaction.
+
+"You converse by the hour with the missionaries, and take long promenades
+with the architects and charity workers, but to me you will give
+nothing," he complained.
+
+"The persons of whom you speak are not dangerous," answered Honora,
+giving him a look.
+
+The look, and being called dangerous, sent up the temperature several
+degrees.  Frenchmen are not the only branch of the male sex who are
+complimented by being called dangerous.  The Vicomte was desolated,
+so he said.
+
+"I stay here only for you, and the coffee is slowly deranging me," he
+declared in French, for most of their conversations were in that
+language.  If there were duplicity in this, Honora did not recognize it.
+"I stay here only for you, and how you are cruel!  I live for you--how,
+the good God only knows.  I exist--to see you for ten minutes a day."
+
+"Oh, Vicomte, you exaggerate.  If you were to count it up, I am sure you
+would find that we talk an hour at least, altogether.  And then, although
+I am very young and inexperienced, I can imagine how many conquests you
+have made by the same arts."
+
+"I suffer," he cried; "ah, no, you cannot look at me without perceiving
+it--you who are so heartless.  And when I see you play at golf with that
+Mr. Spence--!"
+
+"Surely," said Honora, "you can't object to my acquiring a new
+accomplishment when I have the opportunity, and Mr. Spence is so kind
+and good-natured about it."
+
+"Do you think I have no eyes?" he exclaimed.  "Have I not seen him look
+at you like the great animal of Joshua when he wants his supper?  He is
+without esprit, without soul.  There is nothing inside of him but money-
+making machinery."
+
+"The most valuable of all machinery," she replied, laughingly.
+
+"If I thought you believed that, Mademoiselle, if I thought you were like
+so many of your countrywomen in this respect, I should leave to-morrow,"
+he declared.
+
+"Don't be too sure, Vicomte," she cautioned him.
+
+If one possessed a sense of humour and a certain knowledge of mankind,
+the spectacle of a young and successful Wall Street broker at Silverdale
+that week was apt to be diverting.  Mr. Spence held his own.  He advised
+the architect to make a specialty of country houses, and promised some
+day to order one: he disputed boldly with the other young man as to the
+practical uses of settlement work, and even measured swords with the
+missionary.  Needless to say, he was not popular with these gentlemen.
+But he was also good-natured and obliging, and he did not object to
+repeating for the English lady certain phrases which she called
+"picturesque expressions," and which she wrote down with a gold pencil.
+
+It is evident, from the Vicomte's remarks, that he found time to continue
+Honora's lessons in golf--or rather that she found time, in the midst of
+her manifold and self-imposed duties, to take them.  And in this
+diversion she was encouraged by Mrs. Holt herself.  On Saturday morning,
+the heat being unusual, they ended their game by common consent at the
+fourth hole and descended a wood road to Silver Brook, to a spot which
+they had visited once before and had found attractive.  Honora, after
+bathing her face in the pool, perched herself on a boulder.  She was very
+fresh and radiant.
+
+This fact, if she had not known it, she might have gathered from Mr.
+Silence's expression.  He had laid down his coat; his sleeves were rolled
+up and his arms were tanned, and he stood smoking a cigarette and gazing
+at her with approbation.  She lowered her eyes.
+
+"Well, we've had a pretty good time, haven't we?" he remarked.
+
+Lightning sometimes fails in its effect, but the look she flashed back at
+him from under her blue lashes seldom misses.
+
+I'm afraid I haven't been a very apt pupil," she replied modestly.
+
+"You're on the highroad to a cup," he assured her.  "If I could take you
+on for another week" He paused, and an expression came into his eyes
+which was not new to Honora, nor peculiar to Mr. Silence.  "I have to go
+back to town on Monday."
+
+If Honora felt any regret at this announcement, she did not express it.
+
+"I thought you couldn't stand Silverdale much longer," she replied.
+
+"You know why I stayed," he said, and paused again--rather awkwardly for
+Mr. Spence.  But Honora was silent.  "I had a letter this morning from my
+partner, Sidney Dallam, calling me back."
+
+"I suppose you are very busy," said Honora, detaching a copper-green
+scale of moss from the boulder.
+
+"The fact is," he explained, "that we have received an order of
+considerable importance, for which I am more or less responsible.
+Something of a compliment--since we are, after all, comparatively young
+men."
+
+"Sometimes," said Honora, "sometimes I wish I were a man.  Women are so
+hampered and circumscribed, and have to wait for things to happen to
+them.  A man can do what he wants.  He can go into Wall Street and fight
+until he controls miles of railroads and thousands and thousands of men.
+That would be a career!"
+
+"Yes," he agreed, smilingly, "it's worth fighting for."
+
+Her eyes were burning with a strange light as she looked down the vista
+of the wood road by which they had come.  He flung his cigarette into the
+water and took a step nearer her.
+
+"How long have I known you?" he asked.
+
+She started.
+
+"Why, it's only a little more than a week," she said.
+
+"Does it seem longer than that to you?"
+
+"Yes," admitted Honora, colouring; "I suppose it's because we've been
+staying in the same house."
+
+"It seems to me," said Mr. Spence, "that I have known you always."
+
+Honora sat very still.  It passed through her brain, without comment,
+that there was a certain haunting familiarity about this remark; some
+other voice, in some other place, had spoken it, and in very much the
+same tone.
+
+"You're the kind of girl I admire," he declared.  "I've been watching
+you--more than you have any idea of.  You're adaptable.  Put you down any
+place, and you take hold.  For instance, it's a marvellous thing to me
+how you've handled all the curiosities up there this week."
+
+"Oh, I like people," said Honora, "they interest me."  And she laughed a
+little, nervously.  She was aware that Mr. Spence was making love, in his
+own manner: the New fork manner, undoubtedly; though what he said was
+changed by the new vibrations in his voice.  He was making love, too,
+with a characteristic lack of apology and with assurance.  She stole a
+glance at him, and beheld the image of a dominating man of affairs.  He
+did not, it is true, evoke in her that extreme sensation which has been
+called a thrill.  She had read somewhere that women were always expecting
+thrills, and never got them.  Nevertheless, she had not realized how
+close a bond of sympathy had grown between them until this sudden
+announcement of his going back to New York.  In a little while she too
+would be leaving for St. Louis.  The probability that she would never
+see him again seemed graver than she would have believed.
+
+"Will you miss me a little?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, yes," she said breathlessly, "and I shall be curious to know how
+your--your enterprise succeeds."
+
+"Honora," he said, "it is only a week since I first met you, but I know
+my own mind.  You are the woman I want, and I think I may say without
+boasting that I can give you what you desire in life--after a while.  I
+love you.  You are young, and just now I felt that perhaps I should have
+waited a year before speaking, but I was afraid of missing altogether
+what I know to be the great happiness of my life.  Will you marry me?"
+
+She sat silent upon the rock.  She heard him speak, it is true; but, try
+as she would, the full significance of his words would not come to her.
+She had, indeed, no idea that he would propose, no notion that his heart
+was involved to such an extent.  He was very near her, but he had not
+attempted to touch her.  His voice, towards the end of his speech, had
+trembled with passion--a true note had been struck.  And she had struck
+it, by no seeming effort!  He wished to marry her!
+
+He aroused her again.
+
+"I have frightened you," he said.
+
+She opened her eyes.  What he beheld in them was not fright--it was
+nothing he had ever seen before.  For the first time in his life,
+perhaps, he was awed.  And, seeing him helpless, she put out her hands to
+him with a gesture that seemed to enhance her gift a thousand-fold.  He
+had not realized what he was getting.
+
+"I am not frightened," she said.  "Yes, I will marry you."
+
+He was not sure whether--so brief was the moment!--he had held and kissed
+her cheek.  His arms were empty now, and he caught a glimpse of her
+poised on the road above him amidst the quivering, sunlit leaves, looking
+back at him over her shoulder.
+
+He followed her, but she kept nimbly ahead of him until they came out
+into the open golf course.  He tried to think, but failed.  Never in his
+orderly life had anything so precipitate happened to him.  He caught up
+with her, devoured her with his eyes, and beheld in marriage a delirium.
+
+"Honora," he said thickly, "I can't grasp it."
+
+She gave him a quick look, and a smile quivered at the corners of her
+mouth.
+
+"What are you thinking of?" he asked.
+
+"I am thinking of Mrs. Holt's expression when we tell her," said Honora.
+"But we shan't tell her yet, shall we, Howard?  We'll have it for our own
+secret a little while."
+
+The golf course being deserted, he pressed her arm.
+
+"We'll tell her whenever you like, dear," he replied.
+
+In spite of the fact that they drove Joshua's trotter to lunch--much too
+rapidly in the heat of the day, they were late.
+
+"I shall never be able to go in there and not give it away," he whispered
+to her on the stairs.
+
+"You look like the Cheshire cat in the tree," whispered Honora, laughing,
+"only more purple, and not so ghostlike."
+
+"I know I'm smiling," replied Howard, "I feel like it, but I can't help
+it.  It won't come off.  I want to blurt out the news to every one in the
+dining-room--to that little Frenchman, in particular."
+
+Honora laughed again.  Her imagination easily summoned up the tableau
+which such a proceeding would bring forth.  The incredulity, the chagrin,
+the indignation, even, in some quarters.  He conceived the household,
+with the exception of the Vicomte, precipitating themselves into his
+arms.
+
+Honora, who was cool enough herself (no doubt owing to the superior
+training which women receive in matters of deportment), observed that his
+entrance was not a triumph of dissimulation.  His colour was high, and
+his expression, indeed, a little idiotic; and he declared afterwards that
+he felt like a sandwich-man, with the news printed in red letters before
+and behind.  Honora knew that the intense improbability of the truth
+would save them, and it did.  Mrs. Holt remarked, slyly, that the game
+of golf must have hidden attractions, and regretted that she was too old
+to learn it.
+
+"We went very slowly on account of the heat," Howard declared.
+
+"I should say that you had gone very rapidly, from your face," retorted
+Mrs. Holt.  In relaxing moods she indulged in banter.
+
+Honora stepped into the breach.  She would not trust her newly acquired
+fiance to extricate himself.
+
+"We were both very much worried, Mrs. Holt," she explained, "because we
+were late for lunch once before."
+
+"I suppose I'll have to forgive you, my dear, especially with that
+colour.  I am modern enough to approve of exercise for young girls,
+and I am sure your Aunt Mary will think Silverdale has done you good
+when I send you back to her."
+
+"Oh, I'm sure she will," said Honora.
+
+In the meantime Mr. Spence was concentrating all of his attention upon a
+jellied egg.  Honora glanced at the Vicomte.  He sat very stiff, and his
+manner of twisting his mustache reminded her of an animal sharpening its
+claws.  It was at this moment that the butler handed her a telegram,
+which, with Mrs. Holt's permission, she opened and read twice before the
+meaning of it came to her.
+
+"I hope it is no bad news, Honora," said Mrs. Holt.
+
+"It's from Peter Erwin," she replied, still a little dazed.  "He's in New
+York.  And he's corning up on the five o'clock train to spend an hour
+with me."
+
+"Oh," said Susan; "I remember his picture on your bureau at Sutcliffe.
+He had such a good face.  And you told me about him."
+
+"He is like my brother," Honora explained, aware that Howard was looking
+at her.  "Only he is much older than I.  He used to wheel me up and down
+when I was a baby.  He was, an errand boy in the bank then, and Uncle Tom
+took an interest in him, and now he is a lawyer.  A very good one, I
+believe."
+
+"I have a great respect for any man who makes his own way in life," said
+Mrs. Holt.  "And since he is such an old friend, my dear, you must ask
+him to spend the night."
+
+"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Bolt," Honora answered.
+
+It was, however, with mingled feelings that she thought of Peter's
+arrival at this time.  Life, indeed, was full of strange coincidences!
+
+There was a little door that led out of the house by the billiard room,
+Honora remembered, and contrived, after luncheon, to slip away and reach
+it.  She felt that she must be alone, and if she went to her room she was
+likely to be disturbed by Susan or Mrs. Joshua--or indeed Mrs. Holt
+herself.  Honora meant to tell Susan the first of all.  She crossed the
+great lawn quickly, keeping as much as possible the trees and masses of
+shrubbery between herself and the house, and reached the forest.  With a
+really large fund of energy at her disposal, Honora had never been one to
+believe in the useless expenditure of it; nor did she feel the intense
+desire which a girl of another temperament might have had, under the same
+conditions, to keep in motion.  So she sat down on a bench within the
+borders of the wood.
+
+It was not that she wished to reflect, in the ordinary meaning of the
+word, that she had sought seclusion, but rather to give her imagination
+free play.  The enormity of the change that was to come into her life did
+not appall her in the least; but she had, in connection with it, a sense
+of unreality which, though not unpleasant, she sought unconsciously to
+dissipate.  Howard Spence, she reflected with a smile, was surely solid
+and substantial enough, and she thought of him the more tenderly for the
+possession of these attributes.  A castle founded on such a rock was not
+a castle in Spain!
+
+It did not occur to Honora that her thoughts might be more of the castle
+than of the rock: of the heaven he was to hold on his shoulders than of
+the Hercules she had chosen to hold it.
+
+She would write to her Aunt Mary and her Uncle Tom that very afternoon--
+one letter to both.  Tears came into her eyes when she thought of them,
+and of their lonely life' without her.  But they would come on to New
+York to visit her often, and they would be proud of her.  Of one thing
+she was sure--she must go home to them at once--on Tuesday.  She would
+tell Mrs. Holt to-morrow, and Susan to-night.  And, while pondering over
+the probable expression of that lady's amazement, it suddenly occurred to
+her that she must write the letter immediately, because Peter Erwin was
+coming.
+
+What would he say?  Should she tell him?  She was surprised to find that
+the idea of doing so was painful to her.  But she was aroused from these
+reflections by a step on the path, and raised her head to perceive the
+Vicomte.  His face wore an expression of triumph.
+
+"At last," he cried, "at last!" And he sat down on the bench beside her.
+Her first impulse was to rise, yet for some inexplicable reason she
+remained.
+
+"I always suspected in you the qualities of a Monsieur Lecoq," she
+remarked.  "You have an instinct for the chase."
+
+"Mon dieu?"  he said.  "I have risked a stroke of the sun to find you.
+Why should you so continually run away from me?"
+
+"To test your ingenuity, Vicomte."
+
+"And that other one--the stock-broker--you do not avoid him.  Diable, I
+am not blind, Mademoiselle.  It is plain to me at luncheon that you have
+made boil the sluggish blood of that one.  As for me--"
+
+"Your boiling-point is lower," she said, smiling.
+
+Listen, Mademoiselle," he pursued, bending towards her.  "It is not for
+my health that I stay here, as I have told you.  It is for the sight of
+you, for the sound of the music of that low voice.  It is in the hope
+that you will be a little kinder, that you will understand me a little
+better.  And to-day, when I learn that still another is on his way to see
+you, I could sit still no longer.  I do not fear that Spence,--no.  But
+this other--what is he like?"
+
+"He is the best type of American," replied Honora.  "I am sure you will
+be interested in him, and like him."
+
+The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"It is not in America that you will find your destiny, Mademoiselle.
+You are made to grace a salon, a court, which you will not find in this
+country.  Such a woman as you is thrown away here.  You possess
+qualities--you will pardon me--in which your countrywomen are lacking,--
+esprit, imagination, elan, the power to bind people to you.  I have read
+you as you have not read yourself.  I have seen how you have served
+yourself by this famille Holt, and how at the same time you have kept
+their friendship."
+
+"Vicomte!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Ah, do not get angry," he begged; "such gifts are rare--they are
+sublime.  They lead," he added, raising his arms, "to the heights."
+
+Honora was silent.  She was, indeed, not unmoved by his voice, into
+which there was creeping a vibrant note of passion.  She was a little
+frightened, but likewise puzzled and interested.  This was all so
+different from what she had expected of him.  What did he mean?  Was she
+indeed like that?
+
+She was aware that he was speaking again, that he was telling her of a
+chateau in France which his ancestors had owned since the days of Louis
+XII; a grey pile that stood upon a thickly wooded height,--a chateau with
+a banquet hall, where kings had dined, with a chapel where kings had
+prayed, with a flowering terrace high above a gleaming river.  It was
+there that his childhood had been passed.  And as he spoke, she listened
+with mingled feelings, picturing the pageantry of life in such a place.
+
+"I tell you this, Mademoiselle," he said, "that you may know I am not
+what you call an adventurer.  Many of these, alas! come to your country.
+And I ask you to regard with some leniency customs which must be strange
+to Americans.  When we marry in France, it is with a dot, and especially
+is it necessary amongst the families of our nobility."
+
+Honora rose, the blood mounting to her temples.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he cried, "do not misunderstand me.  I would die rather
+than hurt your feelings.  Listen, I pray.  It was to tell you frankly
+that I came to this country for that purpose,--in order that I might live
+as my ancestors have lived, with a hotel in Paris: But the chateau, grace
+a dieu, is not mortgaged, nor am I wholly impoverished.  I have soixante
+quinze mille livres de rente, which is fifteen thousand dollars a year in
+your money, and which goes much farther in France.  At the proper time,
+I will present these matters to your guardians.  I have lived, but I have
+a heart, and I love you madly.  Rather would I dwell with you in
+Provence, where I will cultivate the soil of my forefathers, than a
+palace on the Champs Elysees with another.  We can come to Paris for two
+months, at least.  For you I can throw my prospects out of the window
+with a light heart.  Honore--how sweet is your name in my language--I
+love you to despair."
+
+He seized her hand and pressed it to his lips, but she drew it gently
+away.  It seemed to her that he had made the very air quiver with
+feeling, and she let herself wonder, for a moment, what life with him
+would be.  Incredible as it seemed, he had proposed to her, a penniless
+girl!  Her own voice was not quite steady as she answered him, and her
+eyes were filled with compassion.
+
+"Vicomte," she said, "I did not know that you cared for me--that way.
+I thought--I thought you were amusing yourself."
+
+"Amusing myself!" he exclaimed bitterly.  "And you--were you amusing
+yourself?"
+
+"I--I tried to avoid you," she replied, in a low voice.
+
+"I am engaged."
+
+"Engaged!"  He sprang to his feet.  "Engaged!  Ah, no, I will not believe
+it.  You were engaged when you came here?"
+
+She was no little alarmed by the violence which he threw into his words.
+At the same time, she was indignant.  And yet a mischievous sprite within
+her led her on to tell him the truth.
+
+"No, I am going to marry Mr. Howard Spence, although I do not wish it
+announced."
+
+For a moment he stood motionless, speechless, staring at her, and then he
+seemed to sway a little and to choke.
+
+"No, no," he cried, "it cannot be!  My ears have deceived me.  I am not
+sane.  You are going to marry him--?  Ah, you have sold yourself."
+
+"Monsieur de Toqueville," she said, "you forget yourself.  Mr. Spence is
+an honourable man, and I love him."
+
+The Vicomte appeared to choke again.  And then, suddenly, he became
+himself, although his voice was by no means natural.  His elaborate and
+ironic bow she remembered for many years.
+
+"Pardon, Mademoiselle," he said, "and adieu.  You will be good enough to
+convey my congratulations to Mr. Spence."
+
+With a kind of military "about face" he turned and left her abruptly,
+and she watched him as he hurried across the lawn until he had
+disappeared behind the trees near the house.  When she sat down on
+the bench again, she found that she was trembling a little.  Was the
+unexpected to occur to her from now on?  Was it true, as the Vicomte had
+said, that she was destined to be loved amidst the play of drama?
+
+She felt sorry for him because he had loved her enough to fling to the
+winds his chances of wealth for her sake--a sufficient measure of the
+feelings of one of his nationality and caste.  And she permitted, for an
+instant, her mind to linger on the supposition that Howard Spence had
+never come into her life; might she not, when the Vicomte had made his
+unexpected and generous avowal, have accepted him?  She thought of the
+romances of her childish days, written at fever heat, in which ladies
+with titles moved around and gave commands and rebuked lovers who slipped
+in through wicket gates.  And to think that she might have been a
+Vicomtesse and have lived in a castle!
+
+A poor Vicomtesse, it is true.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN
+
+Honora sat still upon the bench.  After an indefinite period she saw
+through the trees a vehicle on the driveway, and in it a single
+passenger.  And suddenly it occurred to her that the passenger must be
+Peter, for Mrs. Holt had announced her intention of sending for him.  She
+arose and approached the house, not without a sense of agitation.
+
+She halted a moment at a little distance from the porch, where he was
+talking with Howard Spence and Joshua, and the fact that he was an
+unchanged Peter came to her with a shock of surprise.  So much, in less
+than a year, had happened to Honora!  And the sight of him, and the sound
+of his voice, brought back with a rush memories of a forgotten past.
+How long it seemed since she had lived in St. Louis!
+
+Yes, he was the same Peter, but her absence from him had served to
+sharpen her sense of certain characteristics.  He was lounging in his
+chair with his long legs crossed, with one hand m his pocket, and talking
+to these men as though he had known them always.  There was a quality
+about him which had never struck her before, and which eluded exact
+definition.  It had never occurred to her, until now, when she saw him
+out of the element with which she had always associated him, that Peter
+Erwin had a personality.  That personality was a mixture of simplicity
+and self-respect and--common sense.  And as Honora listened to his
+cheerful voice, she perceived that he had the gift of expressing himself
+clearly and forcibly and withal modestly; nor did it escape her that the
+other two men were listening with a certain deference.  In her sensitive
+state she tried to evade the contrast thus suddenly presented to her
+between Peter and the man she had promised, that very morning, to marry.
+
+Howard Spence was seated on the table, smoking a cigarette.  Never, it
+seemed, had he more distinctly typified to her Prosperity.  An attribute
+which she had admired in him, of strife without the appearance of strife,
+lost something of its value.  To look at Peter was to wonder whether
+there could be such a thing as a well-groomed combatant; and until to-day
+she had never thought of Peter as a combatant.  The sight of his lean
+face summoned, all undesired, the vague vision of an ideal, and perhaps
+it was this that caused her voice to falter a little as she came forward
+and called his name.  He rose precipitately.
+
+"What a surprise, Peter!" she said, as she took his hand.  "How do you
+happen to be in the East?"
+
+"An errand boy," he replied.  "Somebody had to come, so they chose me.
+Incidentally," he added, smiling down at her, "it is a part of my
+education."
+
+"We thought you were lost," said Howard Spence, significantly.
+
+"Oh, no," she answered lightly, evading his look.  "I was on the bench at
+the edge of the wood."  She turned again to Peter.  "How good of you to
+come up and see me!"
+
+"I couldn't have resisted that," he declared, "if it were only for an
+hour."
+
+"I've been trying to persuade him to stay a while with us," Joshua put in
+with unusual graciousness.  "My mother will be disappointed not to see
+you."
+
+"There is nothing I should like better, Mr. Holt," said Peter, simply,
+gazing off across the lawn.  "Unfortunately I have to leave for the West
+to-night."
+
+"Before you go," said Honora, "you must see this wonderful place.  Come,
+we'll begin with the garden."
+
+She had a desire now to take him away by himself, something she had
+wished, an hour ago, to avoid.
+
+"Wouldn't you like a runabout?"  suggested Joshua, hospitably.
+
+Honora thanked him.
+
+"I'm sure Mr. Erwin would rather walk," she replied.
+
+"Come, Peter, you must tell me all the news of home."
+
+Spence accepted his dismissal with a fairly good grace, and gave no
+evidence of jealousy.  He put his hand on Peter's shoulder.
+
+"If you're ever in New York, Erwin," said he, "look me up Dallam and
+Spence.  We're members of the Exchange, so you won't have any trouble in
+finding us.  I'd like to talk to you sometime about the West."
+
+Peter thanked him.
+
+For a little while, as they went down the driveway side by side, he was
+meditatively silent.  She wondered what he thought of Howard Spence,
+until suddenly she remembered that her secret was still her own, that
+Peter had as yet no particular reason to single out Mr. Spence for
+especial consideration.  She could not, however, resist saying,
+"New Yorkers are like that."
+
+"Like what?" he asked.
+
+She coloured.
+
+"Like--Mr. Spence.  A little--self-assertive, sure of themselves."  She
+strove to keep out of her voice any suspicion of the agitation which was
+the result of the events of an extraordinary day, not yet ended.  She
+knew that it would have been wiser not to have mentioned Howard; but
+Peter's silence, somehow, had impelled her to speak.  "He has made quite
+an unusual success for so young a man."
+
+Peter looked at her and shook his head.
+
+"New York--success!  What is to become of poor old St. Louis?" he
+inquired.
+
+"Oh, I'm going back next week," Honora cried.  "I wish I were going with
+you."
+
+"And leave all this," he said incredulously, "for trolley rides and
+Forest Park and--and me?"
+
+He stopped in the garden path and looked upon the picture she made
+standing in the sunlight against the blazing borders, her wide hat
+casting a shadow on her face.  And the smile which she had known so well
+since childhood, indulgent, quizzical, with a touch of sadness, was in
+his eyes.  She was conscious of a slight resentment.  Was there, in fact,
+no change in her as the result of the events of those momentous ten
+months since she had seen him?  And rather than a tolerance in which
+there was neither antagonism nor envy, she would have preferred from
+Peter an open disapproval of luxury, of the standards which he implied
+were hers.  She felt that she had stepped into another world, but he
+refused to be dazzled by it.  He insisted upon treating her as the same
+Honora.
+
+"How did you leave Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary?" she asked.
+
+They were counting the days, he said, until she should return, but they
+did not wish to curtail her visit.  They did not expect her next week, he
+knew.
+
+Honora coloured again.
+
+"I feel--that I ought to go to them," she said.
+
+He glanced at her as though her determination to leave Silverdale so soon
+surprised him.
+
+"They will be very happy to see you, Honora," he said.  "They have been
+very lonesome."
+
+She softened.  Some unaccountable impulse prompted her to ask:
+"And you?  Have you missed me--a little?"
+
+He did not answer, and she saw that he was profoundly affected.  She laid
+a hand upon his arm.
+
+"Oh, Peter, I didn't mean that," she cried.  "I know you have.  And I
+have missed you--terribly.  It seems so strange seeing you here," she
+went on hurriedly.  "There are so many' things I want to show you.  Tell
+me how it happened hat you came on to New York."
+
+"Somebody in the firm had to come," he said.
+
+"In the firm!" she repeated.  She did not grasp the full meaning of this
+change in his status, but she remembered that Uncle Tom had predicted it
+one day, and that it was an honour.  "I never knew any one so secretive
+about their own affairs!  Why didn't you write me you had been admitted
+to the firm?  So you are a partner of Judge Brice."
+
+"Brice, Graves, and Erwin," said Peter; "it sounds very grand, doesn't
+it?  I can't get used to it myself."
+
+"And what made you call yourself an errand boy?"  she exclaimed
+reproachfully.  "When I go back to the house I intend to tell Joshua
+Holt and--and Mr. Spence that you are a great lawyer."
+
+Peter laughed.
+
+"You'd better wait a few years before you say that," said he.
+
+He took an interest in everything he saw, in Mr. Holt's flowers, in
+Joshua's cow barn, which they traversed, and declared, if he were ever
+rich enough, he would live in the country.  They walked around the pond,
+--fringed now with yellow water-lilies on their floating green pads,--
+through the woods, and when the shadows were lengthening came out at the
+little summer-house over the valley of Silver Brook--the scene of that
+first memorable encounter with the Vicomte.  At the sight of it the
+episode, and much else of recent happening, rushed back into Honora's
+mind, and she realized with suddenness that she had, in his
+companionship, unconsciously been led far afield and in pleasant
+places.  Comparisons seemed inevitable.
+
+She watched him with an unwonted tugging at her heart as he stood for a
+long time by the edge of the railing, gazing over the tree-tops of the
+valley towards the distant hazy hills.  Nor did she understand what it
+was in him that now, on this day of days when she had definitely cast the
+die of life, when she had chosen her path, aroused this strange emotion.
+Why had she never felt it before?  She had thought his face homely--now
+it seemed to shine with a transfiguring light.  She recalled, with a
+pang, that she had criticised his clothes: to-day they seemed the
+expression of the man himself.  Incredible is the range of human emotion!
+She felt a longing to throw herself into his arms, and to weep there.
+
+He turned at length from the view.
+
+"How wonderful!" he said.
+
+"I didn't know--you cared for nature so much, Peter."
+
+He looked at her strangely and put out his hand and drew her,
+unresisting, to the bench beside him.
+
+"Are you in trouble, Honora?" he asked.
+
+"Oh, no," she cried, "oh, no, I am--very happy."
+
+"You may have thought it odd that I should have come here without knowing
+Mrs. Holt," he said gravely, "particularly when you were going home so
+soon.  I do not know myself why I came.  I am a matter-of-fact person,
+but I acted on an impulse."
+
+"An impulse!" she faltered, avoiding the troubled, searching look in his
+eyes.
+
+"Yes," he said, "an impulse.  I can call it by no other name.  I should
+have taken a train that leaves New York at noon; but I had a feeling this
+morning, which seemed almost like a presentiment, that I might be of some
+use to you."
+
+"This morning?" She felt herself trembling, and she scarcely recognized
+Peter with such words on his lips.  "I am happy--indeed I am.  Only--I am
+overwrought--seeing you again--and you made me think of home."
+
+"It was no doubt very foolish of me," he declared.  "And if my coming has
+upset you--"
+
+"Oh, no," she cried.  "Please don't think so.  It has given me a sense
+of--of security.  That you were ready to help me if--if I needed you."
+
+"You should always have known that," he replied.  He rose and stood
+gazing off down the valley once more, and she watched him with her heart
+beating, with a sense of an impending crisis which she seemed powerless
+to stave off.  And presently he turned to her, "Honora, I have loved you
+for many years," he said.  "You were too young for me to speak of it.
+I did not intend to speak of it when I came here to-day.  For many years
+I have hoped that some day you might be my wife.  My one fear has been
+that I might lose you.  Perhaps--perhaps it has been a dream.  But I am
+willing to wait, should you wish to see more of the world.  You are young
+yet, and I am offering myself for all time.  There is no other woman for
+me, and never can be."
+
+He paused and smiled down at her.  But she did not speak.  She could not.
+
+"I know," he went on, "that you are ambitious.  And with your gifts
+I do not blame you.  I cannot offer you great wealth, but I say with
+confidence that I can offer you something better, something surer.
+I can take care of you and protect you, and I will devote my life
+to your happiness.  Will you marry me?"
+
+Her eyes were sparkling with tears,--tears, he remembered afterwards,
+that were like blue diamonds.
+
+"Oh, Peter," she cried, "I wish I could!  I have always--wished that I
+could.  I can't."
+
+"You can't?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"I--I have told no one yet--not even Aunt Mary.  I am going to marry Mr.
+Spence."
+
+For a long time he was silent, and she did not dare to look at the
+suffering in his face.
+
+"Honora," he said at last, "my most earnest wish in life will be for your
+happiness.  And whatever may, come to you I hope that you will remember
+that I am your friend, to be counted on.  And that I shall not change.
+Will you remember that?"
+
+"Yes," she whispered.  She looked at him now, and through the veil of her
+tears she seemed to see his soul shining in his eyes.  The tones of a
+distant church bell were borne to them on the valley breeze.
+
+Peter glanced at his watch.
+
+"I am afraid," he said, "that I haven't time to go back to the house--my
+train goes at seven.  Can I get down to the village through the valley?"
+
+Honora pointed out the road, faintly perceptible through the trees
+beneath them.
+
+"And you will apologize for my departure to Mrs. Holt?"
+
+She nodded.  He took her hand, pressed it, and was gone.  And presently,
+in a little clearing far below, he turned and waved his hat at her
+bravely.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+WHICH CONTAINS A SURPRISE FOR MRS. HOLT
+
+How long she sat gazing with unseeing eyes down the valley Honora did not
+know.  Distant mutterings of thunder aroused her; the evening sky had
+darkened, and angry-looking clouds of purple were gathering over the
+hills.  She rose and hurried homeward.  She had thought to enter by the
+billiard-room door, and so gain her own chamber without encountering the
+household; but she had reckoned without her hostess.  Beyond the billiard
+room, in the little entry filled with potted plants, she came face to
+face with that lady, who was inciting a footman to further efforts in his
+attempt to close a recalcitrant skylight.  Honora proved of more
+interest, and Mrs. Holt abandoned the skylight.
+
+"Why, my dear," she said, "where have you been all afternoon?"
+
+"I--I have been walking with Mr. Erwin, Mrs. Holt.  I have been showing
+him Silverdale."
+
+"And where is he?  It seems to me I invited him to stay all night, and
+Joshua tells me he extended the invitation."
+
+"We were in the little summer-house, and suddenly he discovered that it
+was late and he had to catch the seven o'clock train," faltered Honora,
+somewhat disconnectedly.  "Otherwise he would have come to you himself
+and told you--how much he regretted not staying.  He has to go to St.
+Louis to-night."
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Holt, "this is an afternoon of surprises.  The Vicomte
+has gone off, too, without even waiting to say good-by."
+
+"The Vicomte!" exclaimed Honora.
+
+"Didn't you see him, either, before he left?" inquired Mrs. Holt;
+"I thought perhaps you might be able to give me some further explanation
+of it."
+
+"I?" exclaimed Honora.  She felt ready to sink through the floor, and
+Mrs. Holt's delft-blue eyes haunted her afterwards like a nightmare.
+
+"Didn't you see him, my dear?  Didn't he tell you anything?"
+
+"He--he didn't say he was going away."
+
+"Did he seem disturbed about anything?"  Mrs. Holt insisted.
+
+"Now I think of it, he did seem a little disturbed."
+
+"To save my life," said Mrs. Holt, "I can't understand it.  He left a
+note for me saying that he had received a telegram, and that he had to go
+at once.  I was at a meeting of my charity board.  It seems a very
+strange proceeding for such an agreeable and polite man as the Vicomte,
+although he had his drawbacks, as all Continentals have.  And at times
+I thought he was grave and moody,--didn't you?"
+
+"Oh, yes, he was moody," Honora agreed eagerly.
+
+"You noticed it, too," said Mrs. Holt.  "But he was a charming man, and
+so interested in America and in the work we are doing.  But I can't
+understand about the telegram.  I had Carroll inquire of every servant
+in the house, and there is no knowledge of a telegram having come up from
+the village this afternoon."
+
+"Perhaps the Vicomte might have met the messenger in the grounds,"
+hazarded Honora.
+
+At this point their attention was distracted by a noise that bore a
+striking resemblance to a suppressed laugh.  The footman on the step-
+ladder began to rattle the skylight vigorously.
+
+"What on earth is the matter with you, Woods?"  said Mrs. Holt.
+
+"It must have been some dust off the skylight, Madam, that got into my
+throat," he stammered, the colour of a geranium.
+
+"Nonsense," said Mrs. Holt, "there is no dust on the skylight."
+
+"It may be I swallowed the wrong way, looking up like, as I was, Madam,"
+he ventured, rubbing the frame and looking at his finger to prove his
+former theory.
+
+"You are very stupid not to be able to close it," she declared; "in a few
+minutes the place will be flooded.  Tell Carroll to come and do it."
+
+Honora suffered herself to be led limply through the library and up the
+stairs into Mrs. Holt's own boudoir, where a maid was closing the windows
+against the first great drops of the storm, which the wind was pelting
+against them.  She drew the shades deftly, lighted the gas, and retired.
+Honora sank down in one of the upholstered light blue satin chairs and
+gazed at the shining brass of the coal grate set in the marble mantel,
+above which hung an engraving of Sir Joshua Reynolds' cherubs.  She had
+an instinct that the climax of the drama was at hand.
+
+Mrs. Holt sat down in the chair opposite.
+
+"My dear," she began, "I told you the other day what an unexpected and
+welcome comfort and help you have been to me.  You evidently inherit"
+(Mrs. Holt coughed slightly) "the art of entertaining and pleasing, and
+I need not warn you, my dear, against the dangers of such a gift.  Your
+aunt has evidently brought you up with strictness and religious care.
+You have been very fortunate."
+
+"Indeed I have, Mrs. Holt," echoed Honora, in bewilderment.
+
+"And Susan," continued Mrs. Holt, "useful and willing as she is, does not
+possess your gift of taking people off my hands and entertaining them."
+
+Honora could think of no reply to this.  Her eyes--to which no one could
+be indifferent--were riveted on the face of her hostess, and how was the
+good lady to guess that her brain was reeling?
+
+I was about to say, my dear, that I expect to have a great deal of--well,
+of rather difficult company this summer.  Next week, for instance, some
+prominent women in the Working Girls' Relief Society are coming, and on
+July the twenty-third I give a garden party for the delegates to the
+Charity Conference in New York.  The Japanese Minister has promised to
+pay me a visit, and Sir Rupert Grant, who built those remarkable
+tuberculosis homes in England, you know, is arriving in August with his
+family.  Then there are some foreign artists."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Holt," exclaimed Honora; "how many interesting people you see!"
+
+"Exactly, my dear.  And I thought that, in addition to the fact that I
+have grown very fond of you, you would be very useful to me here, and
+that a summer with me might not be without its advantages.  As your aunt
+will have you until you are married, which, I may say, without denying
+your attractions, is likely to be for some time, I intend to write to her
+to-night--with your consent--and ask her to allow you to remain with me
+all summer."
+
+Honora sat transfixed, staring painfully at the big pendant ear-rings.
+
+"It is so kind of you, Mrs. Holt--"she faltered.
+
+"I can realize, my dear, that you would wish to get back to your aunt.
+The feeling does you infinite credit.  But, on the other hand, besides
+the advantages which would accrue to you, it might, to put the matter
+delicately, be of a little benefit to your relations, who will have to
+think of your future."
+
+"Indeed, it is good of you, but I must go back, Mrs. Holt."
+
+"Of course," said Mrs. Holt, with a touch of dignity--for ere now people
+had left Silverdale before she wished them to--"of course, if you do not
+care to stay, that is quite another thing."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Holt, don't say that!" cried Honora, her face burning;
+"I cannot thank you enough for the pleasure you have given me.  If--if
+things were different, I would stay with you gladly, although I should
+miss my family.  But now,--now I feel that I must be with them.  I--I am
+engaged to be married."
+
+Honora still remembers the blank expression which appeared on the
+countenance of her hostess when she spoke these words.  Mrs. Holt's
+cheeks twitched, her ear-rings quivered, and her bosom heaved-once.
+
+"Engaged to be married!" she gasped.
+
+"Yes," replied our heroine, humbly, "I was going to tell you--to-morrow."
+
+"I suppose," said Mrs. Holt, after a silence, "it is to the young man who
+was here this afternoon, and whom I did not see.  It accounts for his
+precipitate departure.  But I must say, Honora, since frankness is one of
+my faults, that I feel it my duty to write to your aunt and disclaim all
+responsibility."
+
+"It is not to Mr. Erwin," said Honora, meekly; "it is--it is to Mr.
+Spence."
+
+Mrs. Holt seemed to find difficulty in speaking, Her former symptoms,
+which Honora had come to recognize as indicative of agitation, returned
+with alarming intensity.  And when at length her voice made itself heard,
+it was scarcely recognizable.
+
+"You are engaged--to--Howard Spence?"
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Holt," exclaimed Honora, "it was as great a surprise to me--
+believe me--as it is to you."
+
+But even the knowledge that they shared a common amazement did not
+appear, at once, to assuage Mrs. Holt's emotions.
+
+"Do you love him?"  she demanded abruptly.
+
+Whereupon Honora burst into tears.
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Holt," she sobbed, "how can you ask?"
+
+From this time on the course of events was not precisely logical.  Mrs.
+Holt, setting in abeyance any ideas she may have had about the affair,
+took Honora in her arms, and against that ample bosom was sobbed out the
+pent-up excitement and emotion of an extraordinary day.
+
+"There, there, my dear," said Mrs. Holt, stroking the dark hair,
+"I should not have asked you that-forgive me."  And the worthy lady,
+quivering with sympathy now, remembered the time of her own engagement
+to Joshua.  And the fact that the circumstances of that event differed
+somewhat from those of the present--in regularity, at least, increased
+rather than detracted from Mrs. Holt's sudden access of tenderness.  The
+perplexing questions as to the probable result of such a marriage were
+swept away by a flood of feeling.  "There, there, my dear, I did not mean
+to be harsh.  What you told me was such a shock--such a surprise, and
+marriage is such a grave and sacred thing."
+
+"I know it," sobbed Honora.
+
+"And you are very young."
+
+"Yes, Mrs. Holt."
+
+"And it happened in my house."
+
+"No," said Honora, "it happened--near the golf course."
+
+Mrs. Holt smiled, and wiped her eyes.
+
+"I mean, my dear, that I shall always feel responsible for bringing you
+together---for your future happiness.  That is a great deal.  I could
+have wished that you both had taken longer to reflect, but I hope with
+all my heart that you will be happy."
+
+Honora lifted up a tear-stained face.
+
+"He said it was because I was going away that--that he spoke," she said.
+"Oh, Mrs. Holt, I knew that you would be kind about it."
+
+"Of course I am kind about it, my dear," said Mrs. Holt.  "As I told you,
+I have grown to have an affection for you.  I feel a little as though you
+belonged to me.  And after this--this event, I expect to see a great deal
+of you.  Howard Spence's mother was a very dear friend of mine.  I was
+one of the first who knew her when she came to New York, from Troy, a
+widow, to educate her son.  She was a very fine and a very courageous
+woman."  Mrs. Holt paused a moment.  "She hoped that Howard would be a
+lawyer."
+
+"A lawyer!" Honora repeated.
+
+"I lost sight of him for several years," continued Mrs. Holt, "but before
+I invited him here I made some inquiries about him from friends of mine
+in the financial world.  I find that he is successful for so young a man,
+and well thought of.  I have no doubt he will make a good husband, my
+dear, although I could wish he were not on the Stock Exchange.  And I
+hope you will make him happy."
+
+Whereupon the good lady kissed Honora, and dismissed her to dress for
+dinner.
+
+"I shall write to your aunt at once," she said.
+
+                    ........................
+
+Requited love, unsettled condition that it is supposed to bring, did not
+interfere with Howard Spence's appetite at dinner.  His spirits, as
+usual, were of the best, and from time to time Honora was aware of his
+glance.  Then she lowered her eyes.  She sat as in a dream; and, try as
+she might, her thoughts would not range themselves.  She seemed to see
+him but dimly, to hear what he said faintly; and it conveyed nothing to
+her mind.
+
+This man was to be her husband!  Over and over she repeated it to
+herself.  His name was Howard Spence, and he was on the highroad to
+riches and success, and she was to live in New York.  Ten days before he
+had not existed for her.  She could not bring herself to believe that he
+existed now.  Did she love him?  How could she love him, when she did not
+realize him?  One thing she knew, that she had loved him that morning.
+
+The fetters of her past life were broken, and this she would not realize.
+She had opened the door of the cage for what?  These were the fragments
+of thoughts that drifted through her mind like tattered clouds across an
+empty sky after a storm.  Peter Erwin appeared to her more than once, and
+he was strangely real.  But he belonged to the past.  Course succeeded
+course, and she talked subconsciously to Mr. Holt and Joshua--such is the
+result of feminine training.
+
+After dinner she stood on the porch.  The rain had ceased, a cool damp
+breeze shook the drops from the leaves, and the stars were shining.
+Presently, at the sound of a step behind her, she started.  He was
+standing at her shoulder.
+
+"Honora!" he said.
+
+She did not move.
+
+"Honora, I haven't seen you--alone--since morning.  It seems like a
+thousand years.  Honora?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did you mean it?
+
+"Did I mean what?"
+
+"When you said you'd marry me."  His voice trembled a little.  "I've been
+thinking of nothing but you all day.  You're not--sorry?  You haven't
+changed your mind?"
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"At dinner when you wouldn't look at me, and this afternoon--"
+
+"No, I'm not sorry," she said, cutting him short.  "I'm not sorry."
+
+He put his arm about her with an air that was almost apologetic.  And,
+seeing that she did not resist, he drew her to him and kissed her.
+Suddenly, unaccountably to her, she clung to him.
+
+"You love me!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Yes," she whispered, "but I am tired.  I--I am going upstairs, Howard.
+I am tired."
+
+He kissed her again.
+
+"I can't believe it!" he said.  "I'll make you a queen.  And we'll be
+married in the autumn, Honora."  He nodded boyishly towards the open
+windows of the library.  "Shall I tell them?" he asked.  "I feel like
+shouting it.  I can't hold on much longer.  I wonder what the old lady
+will say!"
+
+Honora disengaged herself from his arms and fled to the screen door.  As
+she opened it, she turned and smiled back at him.
+
+"Mrs. Holt knows already," she said.
+
+And catching her skirt, she flew quickly up the stairs.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Little better than a gambling place (Stock Exchange)
+Often in real danger at the moment when they feel most secure
+Weak coffee and the Protestant religion seemed inseparable
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A MODERN CHRONICLE
+
+By Winston Churchill
+
+
+
+BOOK II
+
+Volume 3.
+I.        SO LONG AS YE BOTH SHALL LIVE
+II.       "STAFFORD PARK"
+III.      THE GREAT UNATTACHED
+IV.       THE NEW DOCTRINE
+V.        QUICKSANDS
+VI.       GAD AND MENI
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+SO LONG AS YE BOTH SHALL LIVE!
+
+It was late November.  And as Honora sat at the window of the drawing-
+room of the sleeping car, life seemed as fantastic and unreal as the
+moss-hung Southern forest into which she stared.  She was happy, as a
+child is happy who is taken on an excursion into the unknown.  The
+monotony of existence was at last broken, and riven the circumscribing
+walls.  Limitless possibilities lay ahead.
+
+The emancipation had not been without its pangs of sorrow, and there were
+moments of retrospection--as now.  She saw herself on Uncle Tom's arm,
+walking up the aisle of the old church.  How many Sundays of her life had
+she sat watching a shaft of sunlight strike across the stone pillars of
+its gothic arches!  She saw, in the chancel, tall and grave and pale,
+Peter Erwin standing beside the man with the flushed face who was to be
+her husband.  She heard again the familiar voice of Dr. Ewing reciting
+the words of that wonderful introduction.  At other weddings she had been
+moved.  Why was her own so unrealizable?
+
+     "Honora, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live
+     together after God's ordinance in the holy state of Matrimony?  Wilt
+     thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness
+     and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him,
+     so long as ye both shall live?"
+
+She had promised.  And they were walking out of the church, facing the
+great rose window with its blended colours, and the vaults above were
+ringing now with the volume of an immortal march.
+
+After that an illogical series of events and pictures passed before her.
+She was in a corner of the carriage, her veil raised, gazing at her
+husband, who had kissed her passionately.  He was there beside her,
+looking extremely well in his top hat and frock-coat, with a white flower
+in his buttonhole.  He was the representative of the future she had
+deliberately chosen.  And yet, by virtue of the strange ceremony through
+which they had passed, he seemed to have changed.  In her attempt to
+seize upon a reality she looked out of the window.  They were just
+passing the Hanbury mansion in Wayland Square, and her eyes fell upon
+the playroom windows under the wide cornice; and she wondered whether the
+doll's house were still in its place, its mute inhabitants waiting to be
+called by the names she had given them, and quickened into life once
+more.
+
+Next she recalled the arrival at the little house that had been her home,
+summer and winter, for so many years of her life.  A red and white
+awning, stretching up the length of the walk which once had run beside
+the tall pear trees, gave it an unrecognizable, gala air.  Long had it
+stood there, patient, unpretentious, content that the great things should
+pass it by!  And now, modest still, it had been singled out from amongst
+its neighbours and honoured.  Was it honoured?  It seemed to Honora, so
+fanciful this day, that its unwonted air of festival was unnatural.  Why
+should the hour of departure from such a harbour of peace be celebrated?
+
+She was standing beside her husband in the little parlour, while carriage
+doors slammed in the dusk outside; while one by one--a pageant of the
+past which she was leaving forever the friends of her childhood came and
+went.  Laughter and tears and kisses!  And then, in no time at all, she
+found herself changing for the journey in the "little house under the
+hill."  There, locked up in the little desk Cousin Eleanor had given her
+long ago, was the unfinished manuscript of that novel written at fever
+heat during those summer days in which she had sought to escape from a
+humdrum existence.  And now--she had escaped.  Aunt Mary, helpful under
+the most trying circumstances, was putting her articles in a bag, the
+initials on which she did not recognize--H. L. S.--Honora Leffingwell
+Spence; while old Catherine, tearful and inefficient, knelt before her,
+fumbling at her shoes.  Honora, bending over, took the face of the
+faithful old servant and kissed it.
+
+"Don't feel badly, Catherine," she said; "I'll be coming back often to
+see you, and you will be coming to see me."
+
+"Will ye, darlint?  The blessing of God be on you for those words--and
+you to be such a fine lady!  It always was a fine lady ye were, with such
+a family and such a bringin' up.  And now ye've married a rich man, as is
+right and proper.  If it's rich as Croesus he was, he'd be none too good
+for you."
+
+"Catherine," said Aunt Mary, reprovingly, "what ideas you put into the
+child's head!"
+
+"Sure, Miss Mary," cried Catherine, "it's always the great lady she was,
+and she a wee bit of a thing.  And wasn't it yerself, Miss Mary, that
+dressed her like a princess?"
+
+Then came the good-bys--the real ones.  Uncle Tom, always the friend of
+young people, was surrounded by a group of bridesmaids in the hall.  She
+clung to him.  And Peter, who had the carriage ready.  What would her
+wedding have been without Peter?  As they drove towards the station, his
+was the image that remained persistently in her mind, bareheaded on the
+sidewalk in the light of the carriage lamps.  The image of struggle.
+
+She had married Prosperity.  A whimsical question, that shocked her,
+irresistibly presented itself: was it not Prosperity that she had
+promised to love, honour, and obey?
+
+It must not be thought that Honora was by any means discontented with her
+Prosperity.  He was new--that was all.  Howard looked new.  But she
+remembered that he had always looked new; such was one of his greatest
+charms.  In the long summer days since she had bade him good-by on her
+way through New York from Silverdale, Honora had constructed him: he was
+perpetual yet sophisticated Youth; he was Finance and Fashion; he was
+Power in correctly cut clothes.  And when he had arrived in St. Louis to
+play his part in the wedding festivities, she had found her swan a swan
+indeed--he was all that she had dreamed of him.  And she had tingled with
+pride as she introduced him to her friends, or gazed at him across the
+flower-laden table as he sat beside Edith Hanbury at the bridesmaids'
+dinner in Wayland Square.
+
+The wedding ceremony had somehow upset her opinion of him, but Honora
+regarded this change as temporary.  Julius Caesar or George Washington
+himself must have been somewhat ridiculous as bridegrooms: and she had
+the sense to perceive that her own agitations as a bride were partly
+responsible.  No matter how much a young girl may have trifled with that
+electric force in the male sex known as the grand passion, she shrinks
+from surrendering herself to its dominion.  Honora shrank.  He made love
+to her on the way to the station, and she was terrified.  He actually
+forgot to smoke cigarettes.  What he said was to the effect that he
+possessed at last the most wonderful and beautiful woman in the world,
+and she resented the implication of possession.
+
+Nevertheless, in the glaring lights of the station, her courage and her
+pride in him revived, and he became again a normal and a marked man.
+Although the sex may resent it, few women are really indifferent to
+clothes, and Howard's well-fitting check suit had the magic touch of the
+metropolis.  His manner matched his garments.  Obsequious porters grasped
+his pig-skin bag, and seized Honora's; the man at the gate inclined his
+head as he examined their tickets, and the Pullman conductor himself
+showed them their stateroom, and plainly regarded them as important
+people far from home.  Howard had the cosmopolitan air.  He gave the man
+a dollar, and remarked that the New Orleans train was not exactly the
+Chicago and New York Limited.
+
+"Not by a long shot," agreed the conductor, as he went out, softly
+closing the door behind him.
+
+Whereupon the cosmopolitan air dropped from Mr. Howard Spence, not
+gracefully, and he became once more that superfluous and awkward and
+utterly banal individual, the husband.
+
+"Let's go out and walk on the platform until the train starts," suggested
+Honora, desperately.  "Oh, Howard, the shades are up!  I'm sure I saw
+some one looking in!"
+
+He laughed.  But there was a light in his eyes that frightened her, and
+she deemed his laughter out of place.  Was he, after all, an utterly
+different man than what she had thought him?  Still laughing, he held to
+her wrist with one hand, and with the other pulled down the shades.
+
+"This is good enough for me," he said.  "At last--at last," he whispered,
+"all the red tape is over, and I've got you to myself!  Do you love me
+just a little, Honora?"
+
+"Of course I do," she faltered, still struggling, her face burning as
+from a fire.
+
+"Then what's the matter?"  he demanded.
+
+"I don't know--I want air.  Howard, please let me go.  It's-it's so hot
+inhere.  You must let me go."
+
+Her release, she felt afterwards, was due less to a physical than a
+mental effort.  She seemed suddenly to have cowed him, and his resistance
+became enfeebled.  She broke from him, and opened the door, and reached
+the cement platform and the cold air.  When he joined her, there was
+something jokingly apologetic about his manner, and he was smoking a
+cigarette; and she could not help thinking that she would have respected
+him more if he had held her.
+
+"Women beat me," he said.  "They're the most erratic stock in the
+market."
+
+It is worthy of remark how soon the human, and especially the feminine
+brain adjusts itself to new conditions.  In a day or two life became real
+again, or rather romantic.
+
+For the American husband in his proper place is an auxiliary who makes
+all things possible.  His ability to "get things done," before it ceases
+to be a novelty, is a quality to be admired.  Honora admired.  An
+intimacy--if the word be not too strong--sprang up between them.  They
+wandered through the quaint streets of New Orleans, that most foreign of
+American cities, searching out the tumbledown French houses; and Honora
+was never tired of imagining the romances and tragedies which must have
+taken place in them.  The new scenes excited her,--the quaint cafes with
+their delicious, peppery Creole cooking,--and she would sit talking for a
+quarter of an hour at a time with Alphonse, who outdid himself to please
+the palate of a lady with such allure.  He called her "Madame"; but well
+he knew, this student of human kind, that the title had not been of long
+duration.
+
+Madame came from New York, without doubt?  such was one of his questions,
+as he stood before them in answer to Howard's summons, rubbing his hands.
+And Honora, with a little thrill, acknowledged the accuracy of his guess.
+There was no dish of Alphonse's they did not taste.  And Howard smilingly
+paid the bills.  He was ecstatically proud of his wife, and although he
+did justice to the cooking, he cared but little for the mysterious
+courtyards, the Spanish buildings, and the novels of Mr. George W.
+Cable, which Honora devoured when she was too tired to walk about.  He
+followed her obediently to the battle field of New Orleans, and admired
+as obediently the sunset, when the sky was all silver-green through the
+magnolias, and the spreading live oaks hung with Spanish moss, and a
+silver bar lay upon the Father of Waters.  Honora, with beating heart and
+flushed cheeks, felt these things: Howard felt them through her and
+watched--not the sunset--but the flame it lighted in her eyes.
+
+He left her but twice a day, and then only for brief periods.  He even
+felt a joy when she ventured to complain.
+
+"I believe you care more for those horrid stocks than for me," she said.
+"I--I am just a novelty."
+
+His answer, since they were alone in their sitting-room, was obvious.
+
+"Howard," she cried, "how mean of you!  Now I'll have to do my hair all
+over again.  I've got such a lot of it--you've no idea how difficult it
+is."
+
+"You bet I have!" he declared meaningly, and Honora blushed.
+
+His pleasure of possession was increased when people turned to look at
+her on the street or in the dining room--to think that this remarkable
+creature was in reality his wife!  Nor did the feeling grow less intense
+with time, being quite the same when they arrived at a fashionable resort
+in the Virginia mountains, on their way to New York.  For such were the
+exactions of his calling that he could spare but two weeks for his
+honeymoon.
+
+Honora's interest in her new surroundings was as great, and the sight of
+those towering ridges against the soft blue of the autumn skies inspired
+her.  It was Indian summer here, the tang of wood smoke was in the air;
+in the valleys--as they drove--the haze was shot with the dust of gold,
+and through the gaps they looked across vast, unexplored valleys to other
+distant, blue-stained ridges that rose between them and the sunset.
+Honora took an infinite delight in the ramshackle cabins beside the
+red-clay roads, in the historic atmosphere of the ancient houses and
+porticoes of the Warm Springs, where the fathers of the Republic had
+come to take the waters.  And one day, when a north wind had scattered
+the smoke and swept the sky, Howard followed her up the paths to the
+ridge's crest, where she stood like a Victory, her garments blowing,
+gazing off over the mighty billows to the westward.  Howard had never
+seen a Victory, but his vision of domesticity was untroubled.
+
+Although it was late in the season, the old-fashioned, rambling hotel was
+well filled, and people interested Honora as well as scenery--a proof of
+her human qualities.  She chided Howard because he, too, was not more
+socially inclined.
+
+"How can you expect me to be--now?" he demanded.
+
+She told him he was a goose, although secretly admitting the justice of
+his defence.  He knew four or five men in the hotel, with whom he talked
+stocks while waiting for Honora to complete her toilets; and he gathered
+from two of these, who were married, that patience was a necessary
+qualification in a husband.  One evening they introduced their wives.
+Later, Howard revealed their identity--or rather that of the husbands.
+
+"Bowker is one of the big men in the Faith Insurance Company, and Tyler
+is president of the Gotham Trust."  He paused to light a cigarette, and
+smiled at her significantly.  "If you can dolly the ladies along once in
+a while, Honora, it won't do any harm," he added.  "You have a way with
+you, you know,--when you want to."
+
+Honora grew scarlet.
+
+"Howard!" she exclaimed.
+
+He looked somewhat shamefaced.
+
+"Well," he said, "I was only joking.  Don't take it seriously.  But it
+doesn't do any harm to be polite."  
+
+"I am always polite," she answered a little coldly.
+
+Honeymoons, after all, are matters of conjecture, and what proportion of
+them contain disenchantments will never be known.  Honora lay awake for a
+long time that night, and the poignant and ever recurring remembrance of
+her husband's remark sent the blood to her face like a flame.  Would
+Peter, or George Hanbury, or any of the intimate friends of her childhood
+have said such a thing?
+
+A new and wistful feeling of loneliness was upon her.  For some days,
+with a certain sense of isolation and a tinge of envy which she would not
+acknowledge, she had been watching a group of well-dressed, clean-looking
+people galloping off on horseback or filling the six-seated buckboards.
+They were from New York--that she had discovered; and they did not mix
+with the others in the hotel.  She had thought it strange that Howard did
+not know them, but for a reason which she did not analyze she hesitated
+to ask him who they were.  They had rather a rude manner of staring--
+especially the men--and the air of deriving infinite amusement from that
+which went on about them.  One of them, a young man with a lisp who was
+addressed by the singular name of "Toots," she had overheard demanding as
+she passed: who the deuce was the tall girl with the dark hair and the
+colour?  Wherever she went, she was aware of them.  It was foolish, she
+knew, but their presence seemed--in the magnitude which trifles are wont
+to assume in the night-watches--of late to have poisoned her pleasure.
+
+Enlightenment as to the identity of these disturbing persons came, the
+next day, from an unexpected source.  Indeed, from Mrs. Tyler.  She loved
+brides, she said, and Honora seemed to her such a sweet bride.  It was
+Mrs. Tyler's ambition to become thin (which was hitching her wagon to a
+star with a vengeance), and she invited our heroine to share her
+constitutional on the porch.  Honora found the proceeding in the nature
+of an ordeal, for Mrs. Tyler's legs were short, her frizzled hair very
+blond, and the fact that it was natural made it seem, somehow, all the
+more damning.
+
+They had scarcely begun to walk before Honora, with a sense of dismay
+of which she was ashamed, beheld some of the people who had occupied her
+thoughts come out of the door and form a laughing group at the end of the
+porch.  She could not rid herself of the feeling that they were laughing
+at her.  She tried in vain to drive them from her mind, to listen to Mrs.
+Tyler's account of how she, too, came as a bride to New York from some
+place with a classical name, and to the advice that accompanied the
+narration.  The most conspicuous young woman in the group, in riding
+clothes, was seated on the railing, with the toe of one boot on the
+ground.  Her profile was clear-cut and her chestnut hair tightly knotted
+behind under her hat.  Every time they turned, this young woman stared at
+Honora amusedly.
+
+"Nasty thing!" exclaimed Mrs. Tyler, suddenly and unexpectedly in the
+midst of a description of the delights of life in the metropolis.
+
+"Who?" asked Honora.
+
+"That young Mrs. Freddy Maitland, sitting on the rail.  She's the rudest
+woman in New York."
+
+A perversity of spirit which she could not control prompted Honora to
+reply:
+
+"Why, I think she is so good-looking, Mrs. Tyler.  And she seems to have
+so much individuality and independence."
+
+"There!"  cried Mrs. Tyler, triumphantly.  "Once--not so very long ago--I
+was just as inexperienced as you, my dear.  She belongs to that horribly
+fast set with which no self-respecting woman would be seen.  It's an
+outrage that they should come to a hotel like this and act as though it
+belonged to them.  She knows me quite as well as I know her, but when I
+am face to face she acts as though I was air."
+
+Honora could not help thinking that this, at least, required some
+imagination on Mrs. Maitland's part.  Mrs. Tyler had stopped for breath.
+
+"I have been introduced to her twice," she continued, "but of course I
+wouldn't speak to her.  The little man with the lisp, next to her, who is
+always acting in that silly way, they call Toots Cuthbert.  He gets his
+name in the newspapers by leading cotillons in New York and Newport.  And
+the tall, slim, blond one, with the green hat and the feather in it, is
+Jimmy Wing.  He's the son of James Wing, the financier."
+
+"I went to school at Sutcliffe with his sister," said Honora.
+
+It seemed to Honora that Mrs. Tyler's manner underwent a change.
+
+"My dear," she exclaimed, "did you go to Sutcliffe?  What a wonderful
+school it is!  I fully intend to send my daughter Louise there."
+
+An almost irresistible desire came over Honora to run away.  She excused
+herself instead, and hurried back towards her room.  On the way she met
+Howard in the corridor, and he held a telegram in his hand.
+
+"I've got some bad news, Honora," he said.  "That is, bad from the point
+of view of our honeymoon.  Sid Dallam is swamped with business, and wants
+me in New York.  I'm afraid we've got to cut it short."
+
+To his astonishment she smiled.
+
+"Oh, I'm so glad, Howard," she cried.  "I--I don't like this place nearly
+so well as New Orleans.  There are--so many people here."
+
+He looked relieved, and patted her on the arm.
+
+"We'll go to-night, old girl," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+"STAFFORD PARK"
+
+There is a terrifying aspect of all great cities.  Rome, with its
+leviathan aqueducts, its seething tenements clinging to the hills, its
+cruel, shining Palatine, must have overborne the provincial traveller
+coming up from Ostia.  And Honora, as she stood on the deck of the ferry-
+boat, approaching New York for the second time in her life, could not
+overcome a sense of oppression.  It was on a sharp December morning,
+and the steam of the hurrying craft was dazzling white in the early sun.
+Above and beyond the city rose, overpowering, a very different city,
+somehow, than that her imagination had first drawn.  Each of that
+multitude of vast towers seemed a fortress now, manned by Celt and Hun
+and, Israelite and Saxon, captained by Titans.  And the strife between
+them was on a scale never known in the world before, a strife with modern
+arms and modern methods and modern brains, in which there was no mercy.
+
+Hidden somewhere amidst those bristling miles of masonry to the northward
+of the towers was her future home.  Her mind dwelt upon it now, for the
+first time, and tried to construct it.  Once she had spoken to Howard of
+it, but he had smiled and avoided discussion.  What would it be like to
+have a house of one's own in New York?  A house on Fifth Avenue, as her
+girl friends had said when they laughingly congratulated her and begged
+her to remember that they came occasionally to New York.  Those of us
+who, like Honora, believe in Providence, do not trouble ourselves with
+mere matters of dollars and cents.  This morning, however, the huge
+material towers which she gazed upon seemed stronger than Providence, and
+she thought of her husband.  Was his fibre sufficiently tough to become
+eventually the captain of one of those fortresses, to compete with the
+Maitlands and the Wings, and others she knew by name, calmly and
+efficiently intrenched there?
+
+The boat was approaching the slip, and he came out to her from the cabin,
+where he had been industriously reading the stock reports, his newspapers
+thrust into his overcoat pocket.
+
+"There's no place like New York, after all," he declared, and added,
+"when the market's up.  We'll go to a hotel for breakfast."
+
+For some reason she found it difficult to ask the question on her lips.
+
+"I suppose," she said hesitatingly, "I suppose we couldn't go--home,
+Howard.  You--you have never told me where we are to live."
+
+As before, the reference to their home seemed to cause him amusement.  He
+became very mysterious.
+
+"Couldn't you pass away a few hours shopping this morning, my dear?"
+
+"Oh, yes," replied Honora.
+
+"While I gather in a few dollars," he continued.  "I'll meet you at
+lunch, and then we'll go-home."
+
+As the sun mounted higher, her spirits rose with it.  New York, or that
+strip of it which is known to the more fortunate of human beings, is a
+place to raise one's spirits on a sparkling day in early winter.  And
+Honora, as she drove in a hansom from shop to shop, felt a new sense of
+elation and independence.  She was at one, now, with the prosperity that
+surrounded her: her purse no longer limited, her whims existing only to
+be gratified.  Her reflections on this recently attained state alternated
+with alluring conjectures on the place of abode of which Howard had made
+such a mystery.  Where was it?  And why had he insisted, before showing
+it to her, upon waiting until afternoon?
+
+Newly arrayed in the most becoming of grey furs, she met him at that
+hitherto fabled restaurant which in future days--she reflected--was to
+become so familiar--Delmonico's.  Howard was awaiting her in the
+vestibule; and it was not without a little quiver of timidity and
+excitement and a consequent rise of colour that she followed the waiter
+to a table by the window.  She felt as though the assembled fashionable
+world was staring at her, but presently gathered courage enough to gaze
+at the costumes of the women and the faces of the men.  Howard, with a
+sang froid of which she felt a little proud, ordered a meal for which he
+eventually paid a fraction over eight dollars.  What would Aunt Mary have
+said to such extravagance?  He produced a large bunch of violets.
+
+"With Sid Dallam's love," he said, as she pinned them on her gown.
+"I tried to get Lily--Mrs. Sid--for lunch, but you never can put your
+finger on her.  She'll amuse you, Honora."
+
+"Oh, Howard, it's so much pleasanter lunching alone to-day.  I'm glad you
+didn't.  And then afterwards--?"
+
+He refused, however, to be drawn.  When they emerged she did not hear the
+directions he gave the cabman, and it was not until they turned into a
+narrow side street, which became dingier and dingier as they bumped their
+way eastward, that she experienced a sudden sinking sensation.
+
+"Howard!"  she cried.  "Where are you going?  You must tell me."
+
+"One of the prettiest suburbs in New Jersey--Rivington," he said.  "Wait
+till you see the house."
+
+"Suburbs!  Rivington!  New Jersey!" The words swam before Honora's eyes,
+like the great signs she had seen printed in black letters on the tall
+buildings from the ferry that morning.  She had a sickening sensation,
+and the odour of his cigarette in the cab became unbearable.  By an
+ironic trick of her memory, she recalled that she had told the clerks in
+the shops where she had made her purchases that she would send them her
+address later.  How different that address from what she had imagined it!
+
+"It's in the country!" she exclaimed.
+
+To lunch at Delmonico's for eight dollars and live in Rivington
+
+Howard appeared disturbed.  More than that, he appeared astonished,
+solicitous.
+
+"Why, what's the matter, Honora?"  he asked.  "I thought you'd like it.
+It's a brand new house, and I got Lily Dallam to furnish it.  She's a
+wonder on that sort of thing, and I told her to go ahead--within reason.
+I talked it over with your aunt and uncle, and they agreed with me you'd
+much rather live out there for a few years than in a flat."
+
+"In a flat!" repeated Honora, with a shudder.
+
+"Certainly," he said, flicking his ashes out of the window.  "Who do you
+think I am, at my age?  Frederick T. Maitland, or the owner of the
+Brougham Building?"
+
+"But--Howard," she protested, "why didn't you talk it over with me?"
+
+"Because I wanted to surprise you," he replied.  "I spent a month and a
+half looking for that house.  And you never seemed to care.  It didn't
+occur to me that you would care--for the first few years," he added,
+and there was in his voice a note of reproach that did not escape her.
+"You never seemed inclined to discuss business with me, Honora.  I didn't
+think you were interested.  Dallam and I are making money.  We expect
+some day to be on Easy Street--so to speak--or Fifth Avenue.  Some day,
+I hope, you can show some of these people the road.  But just now what
+capital we have has to go into the business."
+
+Strangely enough, in spite of the intensity of her disappointment, she
+felt nearer to her husband in that instant than at any time since their
+marriage.  Honora, who could not bear to hurt any one's feelings, seized
+his hand repentantly.  Tears started in her eyes.
+
+"Oh, Howard, I must seem to you very ungrateful," she cried.  "It was
+such a--such a surprise.  I have never lived in the country, and I'm sure
+it will be delightful--and much more healthful than the city.  Won't you
+forgive me?"
+
+If he had known as much about the fluctuations of the feminine
+temperament as of those of stocks, the ease with which Honora executed
+this complete change of front might have disturbed him.  Howard, as will
+be seen, possessed that quality which is loosely called good nature.
+In marriage, he had been told (and was ready to believe), the wind blew
+where it listed; and he was a wise husband who did not spend his time in
+inquiry as to its sources.  He kissed her before he helped her out of the
+carriage.  Again they crossed the North River, and he led her through the
+wooden ferry house on the New Jersey side to where the Rivington train
+was standing beside a platform shed.
+
+There was no parlour car.  Men and women--mostly women--with bundles were
+already appropriating the seats and racks, and Honora found herself
+wondering how many of these individuals were her future neighbours.  That
+there might have been an hysterical element in the lively anticipation
+she exhibited during the journey did not occur to Howard Spence.
+
+After many stops,--in forty-two minutes, to be exact, the brakeman
+shouted out the name of the place which was to be her home, and of which
+she had been ignorant that morning.  They alighted at an old red railroad
+station, were seized upon by a hackman in a coonskin coat, and thrust
+into a carriage that threatened to fall to pieces on the frozen macadam
+road.  They passed through a village in which Honora had a glimpse of the
+drug store and grocery and the Grand Army Hall; then came detached houses
+of all ages in one and two-acre plots some above the road, for the
+country was rolling; a very attractive church of cream-coloured stone,
+and finally the carriage turned sharply to the left under an archway on
+which were the words "Stafford Park," and stopped at a very new curbstone
+in a very new gutter on the right.
+
+"Here we are!" cried Howard, as he fished in his trousers pockets for
+money to pay the hackman.
+
+Honora looked around her.  Stafford Park consisted of a wide centre-way
+of red gravel, not yet packed, with an island in its middle planted with
+shrubbery and young trees, the bare branches of which formed a black
+tracery against the orange-red of the western sky.  On both sides of this
+centre-way were concrete walks, with cross-walks from the curbs to the
+houses.  There were six of these--three on each side--standing on a
+raised terrace and about two hundred feet apart.  Beyond them, to the
+northward, Stafford Park was still a wilderness of second-growth
+hardwood, interspersed with a few cedars.
+
+Honora's house, the first on the right, was exactly like the other five.
+If we look at it through her eyes, we shall find this similarity its main
+drawback.  If we are a little older, however, and more sophisticated, we
+shall suspect the owner of Stafford Park and his architect of a design
+to make it appear imposing.  It was (indefinite and much-abused term)
+Colonial; painted white; and double, with dormer windows of diagonal
+wood-surrounded panes in the roof.  There was a large pillared porch on
+its least private side--namely, the front.  A white-capped maid stood in
+the open doorway and smiled at Honora as she entered.
+
+Honora walked through the rooms.  There was nothing intricate about the
+house; it was as simple as two times four, and really too large for her
+and Howard.  Her presents were installed, the pictures and photograph
+frames and chairs, even Mr. Isham's dining-room table and Cousin
+Eleanor's piano.  The sight of these, and of the engraving which Aunt
+Mary had sent on, and which all her childhood had hung over her bed in
+the little room at home, brought the tears once more to her eyes.  But
+she forced them back bravely.
+
+These reflections were interrupted by the appearance of the little maid
+announcing that tea was ready, and bringing her two letters.  One was
+from Susan Holt, and the other, written in a large, slanting, and angular
+handwriting, was signed Lily Dallam.  It was dated from New York.
+
+"My dear Honora," it ran, "I feel that I must call you so, for Sid and
+Howard, in addition to being partners, are such friends.  I hesitated so
+long about furnishing your house, my dear, but Howard insisted, and said
+he wished to surprise you.  I am sending you this line to welcome you,
+and to tell you that I have arranged with the furniture people to take
+any or all things back that you do not like, and exchange them.  After
+all, they will be out of date in a few years, and Howard and Sid will
+have made so much money by that time, I hope, that I shall be able to
+leave my apartment, which is dear, and you will be coming to town."
+
+Honora laid down the sheet, and began to tidy her hair before the glass
+of the highly polished bureau in her room.  A line in Susan's letter
+occurred to her: "Mother hopes to see you soon.  She asked me to tell you
+to buy good things which will last you all your life, and says that it
+pays."
+
+The tea-table was steaming in the parlour in front of the wood fire in
+the blue tiled fireplace.  The oak floor reflected its gleam, and that of
+the electric lights; the shades were drawn; a slight odour of steam heat
+pervaded the place.  Howard, smoking a cigarette, was reclining on a sofa
+that evidently was not made for such a purpose, reading the evening
+newspapers.
+
+"Well, Honora," he said, as she took her seat behind the tea-table, "you
+haven't told me how you like it.  Pretty cosey, eh?  And enough spare
+room to have people out over Sundays."
+
+"Oh, Howard, I do like it," she cried, in a desperate attempt--which
+momentarily came near succeeding to convince herself that she could have
+desired nothing more.  "It's so sweet and clean and new--and all our
+own."
+
+She succeeded, at any rate, in convincing Howard.  In certain matters, he
+was easily convinced.
+
+"I thought you'd be pleased when you saw it, my dear," he said.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE GREAT UNATTACHED
+
+It was the poet Cowper who sang of domestic happiness as the only bliss
+that has survived the Fall.  One of the burning and unsolved questions of
+to-day is,--will it survive the twentieth century?  Will it survive rapid
+transit and bridge and Woman's Rights, the modern novel and modern drama,
+automobiles, flying machines, and intelligence offices; hotel, apartment,
+and suburban life, or four homes, or none at all?  Is it a weed that will
+grow anywhere, in a crevice between two stones in the city?  Or is it a
+plant that requires tender care and the water of self-sacrifice?  Above
+all, is it desirable?
+
+Our heroine, as may have been suspected, has an adaptable temperament.
+Her natural position is upright, but like the reed, she can bend
+gracefully, and yields only to spring back again blithely.  Since this
+chronicle regards her, we must try to look at existence through her eyes,
+and those of some of her generation and her sex: we must give the four
+years of her life in Rivington the approximate value which she herself
+would have put upon it--which is a chapter.  We must regard Rivington as
+a kind of purgatory, not solely a place of departed spirits, but of those
+which have not yet arrived; as one of the many temporary abodes of the
+Great Unattached.
+
+No philosophical writer has as yet made the attempt to define the change
+--as profound as that of the tadpole to the frog--between the lover and
+the husband.  An author of ideals would not dare to proclaim that this
+change is inevitable: some husbands--and some wives are fortunate enough
+to escape it, but it is not unlikely to happen in our modern
+civilization.  Just when it occurred in Howard Spence it is difficult to
+say, but we have got to consider him henceforth as a husband; one who
+regards his home as a shipyard rather than the sanctuary of a goddess;
+as a launching place, the ways of which are carefully greased, that he
+may slide off to business every morning with as little friction as
+possible, and return at night to rest undisturbed in a comfortable berth,
+to ponder over the combat of the morrow.
+
+It would be inspiring to summon the vision of Honora, in rustling
+garments, poised as the figurehead of this craft, beckoning him on to
+battle and victory.  Alas! the launching happened at that grimmest and
+most unromantic of hours-ten minutes of eight in the morning.  There was
+a period, indeterminate, when she poured out his coffee with wifely zeal;
+a second period when she appeared at the foot of the stairs to kiss him
+as he was going out of the door; a third when, clad in an attractive
+dressing-gown, she waved him good-by from the window; and lastly,
+a fourth, which was only marked by an occasional protest on his part,
+when the coffee was weak.
+
+"I'd gladly come down, Howard, if it seemed to make the least difference
+to you," said Honora.  "But all you do is to sit with your newspaper
+propped up and read the stock reports, and growl when I ask you a polite
+question.  You've no idea how long it makes the days out here, to get up
+early."
+
+"It seems to me you put in a good many days in town," he retorted.
+
+"Surely you don't expect me to spend all my time in Rivington!" she cried
+reproachfully; "I'd die.  And then I am always having to get new cooks
+for you, because they can't make Hollandaise sauce like hotel chefs.
+Men have no idea how hard it is to keep house in the country,--I just
+wish you had to go to those horrid intelligence offices.  You wouldn't
+stay in Rivington ten days.  And all the good cooks drink."
+
+Howard, indeed, with the aid of the village policeman, had had to expel
+from his kitchen one imperious female who swore like a dock hand, and who
+wounded Honora to the quick by remarking, as she departed in durance,
+that she had always lived with ladies and gentlemen and people who were
+somebody.  The incident had tended further to detract from the romance of
+the country.
+
+It is a mistake to suppose that the honeymoon disappears below the
+horizon with the rapidity of a tropical sun.  And there is generally an
+afterglow.  In spite of cooks and other minor clouds, in spite of visions
+of metropolitan triumphs (not shattered, but put away in camphor), life
+was touched with a certain novelty.  There was a new runabout and a horse
+which Honora could drive herself, and she went to the station to meet her
+husband.  On mild Saturday and Sunday afternoons they made long
+excursions, into the country--until the golf season began, when the
+lessons begun at Silverdale were renewed.  But after a while certain male
+competitors appeared, and the lessons were discontinued.  Sunday, after
+his pile of newspapers had religiously been disposed of, became a field
+day.  Indeed, it is impossible, without a twinge of pity, to behold
+Howard taking root in Rivington, for we know that sooner or later he will
+be dug up and transplanted.  The soil was congenial.  He played poker on
+the train with the Rivington husbands, and otherwise got along with them
+famously.  And it was to him an enigma--when occasionally he allowed his
+thoughts to dwell upon such trivial matters--why Honora was not equally
+congenial with the wives.
+
+There were, no doubt, interesting people in Rivington about whom many
+stories could be written: people with loves and fears and anxieties and
+joys, with illnesses and recoveries, with babies, but few grandchildren.
+There were weddings at the little church, and burials; there were dances
+at the golf club; there were Christmas trees, where most of the presents
+--like Honora's--came from afar, from family centres formed in a social
+period gone by; there were promotions for the heads of families, and
+consequent rejoicings over increases of income; there were movings; there
+were--inevitable in the ever grinding action of that remorseless law, the
+survival of the fittest--commercial calamities, and the heartrending
+search for new employment.
+
+Rivington called upon Honora in vehicles of all descriptions, in
+proportion to the improvidence or prosperity of the owners.  And Honora
+returned the calls, and joined the Sewing Circle, and the Woman's
+Luncheon Club, which met for the purpose of literary discussion.  In the
+evenings there were little dinners of six or eight, where the men talked
+business and the women house rent and groceries and gossip and the
+cheapest places in New York City to buy articles of the latest fashion.
+Some of them had actually built or were building houses that cost as much
+as thirty thousand dollars, with the inexplicable intention of remaining
+in Rivington the rest of their lives!
+
+Honora was kind to these ladies.  As we know, she was kind to everybody.
+She almost allowed two or three of them to hope that they might become
+her intimates, and made excursions to New York with them, and lunched in
+fashionable restaurants.  Their range of discussion included babies and
+Robert Browning, the modern novel and the best matinee.  It would be
+interesting to know why she treated them, on the whole, like travellers
+met by chance in a railroad station, from whom she was presently forever
+to depart.  The time and manner of this departure were matters to be
+determined in the future.
+
+It would be interesting to know, likewise, just at what period the
+intention of moving away from Rivington became fixed in Honora's mind.
+Honora circumscribed, Honora limited, Honora admitting defeat, and this
+chronicle would be finished.  The gods exist somewhere, though many
+incarnations may, be necessary to achieve their companionship.  And no
+prison walls loom so high as to appall our heroine's soul.  To exchange
+one prison for another is in itself something of a feat, and an argument
+that the thing may be done again.  Neither do the wise ones beat
+themselves uselessly against brick or stone.  Howard--poor man!--is
+fatuous enough to regard a great problem as being settled once and for
+all by a marriage certificate and a benediction; and labours under the
+delusion that henceforth he may come and go as he pleases, eat his
+breakfast in silence, sleep after dinner, and spend his Sundays at the
+Rivington Golf Club.  It is as well to leave him, at present, in blissful
+ignorance of his future.
+
+Our sympathies, however, must be with Honora, who has paid the price for
+heaven, and who discovers that by marriage she has merely joined the
+ranks of the Great Unattached.  Hitherto it had been inconceivable to her
+that any one sufficiently prosperous could live in a city, or near it and
+dependent on it, without being socially a part of it.  Most momentous of
+disillusions!  With the exception of the Sidney Dallams and one or two
+young brokers who occasionally came out over Sunday, her husband had no
+friends in New York.  Rivington and the Holt family (incongruous mixture)
+formed the sum total of her acquaintance.
+
+On Monday mornings in particular, if perchance she went to town, the huge
+signs which she read across the swamps, of breakfast foods and other
+necessaries, seemed, for some reason, best to express her isolation.
+Well-dressed, laughing people descended from omnibuses at the prettier
+stations, people who seemed all-sufficient to themselves; people she was
+sure she should like if only she knew them.  Once the sight of her school
+friend, Ethel Wing, chatting with a tall young man, brought up a flood of
+recollections; again, in a millinery establishment, she came face to face
+with the attractive Mrs. Maitland whom she had seen at Hot Springs.
+Sometimes she would walk on Fifth Avenue, watching, with mingled
+sensations, the procession there.  The colour, the movement, the
+sensation of living in a world where every one was fabulously wealthy,
+was at once a stimulation and a despair.  Brougham after brougham passed,
+victoria after victoria, in which beautifully gowned women chatted gayly
+or sat back, impassive, amidst the cushions.  Some of them, indeed,
+looked bored, but this did not mar the general effect of pleasure and
+prosperity.  Even the people--well-dressed, too--in the hansom cabs were
+usually animated and smiling.  On the sidewalk athletic, clear-skinned
+girls passed her, sometimes with a man, sometimes in groups of two and.
+three, going in and out of the expensive-looking shops with the large,
+plate-glass windows.
+
+All of these women, apparently, had something definite to do, somewhere
+to go, some one to meet the very next, minute.  They protested to
+milliners and dressmakers if they were kept waiting, and even seemed
+impatient of time lost if one by chance bumped into them.  But Honora had
+no imperative appointments.  Lily Dallam was almost sure to be out, or
+going out immediately, and seemed to have more engagements than any one
+in New York.
+
+"I'm so sorry, my dear," she would say, and add reproachfully: "why
+didn't you telephone me you were coming?  If you had only let me know we
+might have lunched together or gone to the matinee.  Now I have promised
+Clara Trowbridge to go to a lunch party at her house."
+
+Mrs. Dallam had a most convincing way of saying such things, and in spite
+of one's self put one in the wrong for not having telephoned.  But if
+indeed Honora telephoned--as she did once or twice in her innocence--Lily
+was quite as distressed.
+
+"My dear, why didn't you let me know last night?  Trixy Brent has given
+Lula Chandos his box at the Horse Show, and Lula would never, never
+forgive me if I backed out."
+
+Although she lived in an apartment--in a most attractive one, to be sure
+--there could be no doubt about it that Lily Dallam was fashionable.  She
+had a way with her, and her costumes were marvellous.  She could have
+made her fortune either as a dressmaker or a house decorator, and she
+bought everything from "little" men and women whom she discovered
+herself.  It was a curious fact that all of these small tradespeople
+eventually became fashionable, too.  Lily was kind to Honora, and gave
+her their addresses before they grew to be great and insolent and
+careless whether one patronized them or not.
+
+While we are confessing the trials and weaknesses of our heroine, we
+shall have to admit that she read, occasionally, the society columns of
+the newspapers.  And in this manner she grew to have a certain
+familiarity with the doings of those favourites of fortune who had more
+delightful engagements than hours in which to fulfil them.  So intimate
+was Lily Dallam with many of these Olympians that she spoke of them by
+their first names, or generally by their nicknames.  Some two years after
+Honora's marriage the Dallams had taken a house in that much discussed
+colony of Quicksands, where sport and pleasure reigned supreme: and more
+than once the gown which Mrs. Sidney Dallam had worn to a polo match had
+been faithfully described in the public prints, or the dinners which she
+had given at the Quicksands Club.  One of these dinners, Honora learned,
+had been given in honour of Mr. Trixton Brent.
+
+"You ought to know Trixy, Honora," Mrs. Dallam declared; "he'd be crazy
+about you."
+
+Time passed, however, and Mrs. Dallam made no attempt to bring about this
+most desirable meeting.  When Honora and Howard went to town to dine with
+the Dallams, it was always at a restaurant, a 'partie carree'.  Lily
+Dallam thought it dull to dine at home, and they went to the theatre
+afterwards--invariably a musical comedy.  Although Honora did not care
+particularly for musical comedies, she always experienced a certain
+feverish stimulation which kept her wide awake on the midnight train to
+Rivington.  Howard had a most exasperating habit of dozing in the corner
+of the seat.
+
+"You are always sleepy when I have anything interesting to talk to you
+about," said Honora, "or reading stock reports.  I scarcely see anything
+at all of you."
+
+Howard roused himself.
+
+"Where are we now?" he asked.
+
+"Oh," cried Honora, "we haven't passed Hydeville.  Howard, who is Trixton
+Brent?"
+
+"What about him?" demanded her husband.
+
+"Nothing--except that he is one of Lily's friends, and she said she knew
+--I should like him.  I wish you would be more interested in people.  Who
+is he?"
+
+"One of the best-known operators in the market," Howard answered, and his
+air implied that a lack of knowledge of Mr. Brent was ignorance indeed;
+"a daring gambler.  He cornered cotton once, and raked in over a million.
+He's a sport, too."
+
+"How old is he?"
+
+"About forty-three."
+
+"Is he married?" inquired Honora.
+
+"He's divorced," said Howard.  And she had to be content with so much of
+the gentleman's biography, for her husband relapsed into somnolence
+again.  A few days later she saw a picture of Mr. Brent, in polo costume,
+in one of the magazines.  She thought him good-looking, and wondered what
+kind of a wife he had had.
+
+Honora, when she went to town for the day, generally could be sure of
+finding some one, at least, of the Holt family at home at luncheon time.
+They lived still in the same house on Madison Avenue to which Aunt Mary
+and Uncle Tom had been invited to breakfast on the day of Honora's
+arrival in her own country.  It had a wide, brownstone front, with a
+basement, and a high flight of steps leading up to the door.  Within,
+solemnity reigned, and this effect was largely produced by the
+prodigiously high ceilings and the black walnut doors and woodwork.
+On the second floor, the library where the family assembled was more
+cheerful.  The books themselves, although in black-walnut cases, and the
+sun pouring in, assisted in making this effect.
+
+Here, indeed, were stability and peace.  Here Honora remade the
+acquaintance of the young settlement worker, and of the missionary, now
+on the Presbyterian Board of Missions.  Here she charmed other friends
+and allies of the Holt family; and once met, somewhat to her surprise,
+two young married women who differed radically from the other guests of
+the house.  Honora admired their gowns if not their manners; for they
+ignored her, and talked to Mrs. Holt about plans for raising money for
+the Working Girl's Relief Society.
+
+"You should join us, my dear," said Mrs. Holt; "I am sure you would be
+interested in our work."
+
+"I'd be so glad to, Mrs. Holt," replied Honora, "if only I didn't live in
+the country."
+
+She came away as usual, feeling of having run into a cul de sac.  Mrs.
+Holt's house was a refuge, not an outlet; and thither Honora directed her
+steps when a distaste for lunching alone or with some of her Rivington
+friends in the hateful, selfish gayety of a fashionable restaurant
+overcame her; or when her moods had run through a cycle, and an
+atmosphere of religion and domesticity became congenial.
+
+"Howard," she asked unexpectedly one evening, as he sat smoking beside
+the blue tiled mantel, "have you got on your winter flannels?"
+
+"I'll bet a hundred dollars to ten cents," he cried, "that you've been
+lunching with Mrs. Holt."
+
+"I think you're horrid," said Honora.
+
+Something must be said for her.  Domestic virtue, in the face of such
+mocking heresy, is exceptionally difficult of attainment.
+
+Mrs. Holt had not been satisfied with Honora's and Susan's accounts of
+the house in Stafford Park.  She felt called upon to inspect it.  And for
+this purpose, in the spring following Honora's marriage, she made a
+pilgrimage to Rivington and spent the day.  Honora met her at the
+station, and the drive homeward was occupied in answering innumerable
+questions on the characters, conditions, and modes of life of Honora's
+neighbours.
+
+"Now, my dear," said Mrs. Holt, when they were seated before the fire
+after lunch, "I want you to feel that you can come to me for everything.
+I must congratulate you and Howard on being sensible enough to start your
+married life simply, in the country.  I shall never forget the little
+house in which Mr. Holt and I began, and how blissfully happy I was."
+The good lady reached out and took Honora's hand in her own.  "Not that
+your deep feeling for your husband will ever change.  But men are more
+difficult to manage as they grow older, my dear, and the best of them
+require a little managing for their own good.  And increased
+establishments bring added cares and responsibilities.  Now that I am
+here, I have formed a very fair notion of what it ought to cost you to
+live in such a place.  And I shall be glad to go over your housekeeping
+books with you, and tell you if you are being cheated as I dare say you
+are."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Holt," Honora faltered, "I--I haven't kept any books.  Howard
+just pays the bills."
+
+"You mean to say he hasn't given you any allowance!" cried Mrs. Holt,
+aghast.  "You don't know what it costs to run this house?"
+
+"No," said Honora, humbly.  "I never thought of it.  I have no idea what
+Howard's income may be."
+
+"I'll write to Howard myself--to-night," declared Mrs. Holt.
+
+"Please don't, Mrs. Holt.  I'll--I'll speak to him," said Honora.
+
+"Very well, then," the good lady agreed, "and I will send you one of my
+own books, with my own system, as soon as I get home.  It is not your
+fault, my dear, it is Howard's.  It is little short of criminal of him.
+I suppose this is one of the pernicious results of being on the Stock
+Exchange.  New York is nothing like what it was when I was a girl--the
+extravagance by everybody is actually appalling.  The whole city is bent
+upon lavishness and pleasure.  And I am afraid it is very often the
+wives, Honora, who take the lead in prodigality.  It all tends, my dear,
+to loosen the marriage tie--especially this frightful habit of dining in
+hotels and restaurants."
+
+Before she left Mrs. Holt insisted on going over the house from top to
+bottom, from laundry to linen closet.  Suffice it to say that the
+inspection was not without a certain criticism, which must be passed
+over.
+
+"It is a little large, just for you and Howard, my dear," was her final
+comment.  "But you are wise in providing for the future."
+
+"For the future?" Honora repeated.
+
+Mrs. Holt playfully pinched her cheek.
+
+"When the children arrive, my dear, as I hope they will--soon," she said,
+smiling at Honora's colour.  "Sometimes it all comes back to me--my own
+joy when Joshua was a baby.  I was very foolish about him, no doubt.
+Annie and Gwendolen tell me so.  I wouldn't even let the nurse sit up
+with him when he was getting his teeth.  Mercy!"  she exclaimed, glancing
+at the enamelled watch on her gown,--for long practice had enabled her to
+tell the time upside down,--"we'll be late for the train, my dear."
+
+After returning from the station, Honora sat for a long time at her
+window, looking out on the park.  The afternoon sunlight had the silvery
+tinge that comes to it in March; the red gravel of the centre driveway
+was very wet, and the grass of the lawns of the houses opposite already a
+vivid green; in the back-yards the white clothes snapped from the lines;
+and a group of children, followed by nurses with perambulators, tripped
+along the strip of sidewalk.
+
+Why could not she feel the joys and desires of which Mrs. Holt had
+spoken?  It never had occurred to her until to-day that they were lacking
+in her.  Children!  A home!  Why was it that she did not want children?
+Why should such a natural longing be absent in her?  Her mind went back
+to the days of her childhood dolls, and she smiled to think of their
+large families.  She had always associated marriage with children--until
+she got married.  And now she remembered that her childhood ideals of the
+matrimonial state had been very much, like Mrs. Holt's own experience of
+it: Why then had that ideal gradually faded until, when marriage came to
+her, it was faint and shadowy indeed?  Why were not her spirit and her
+hopes enclosed by the walls in which she sat?
+
+The housekeeping book came from Mrs. Holt the next morning, but Honora
+did not mention it to her husband.  Circumstances were her excuse: he had
+had a hard day on the Exchange, and at such times he showed a marked
+disinclination for the discussion of household matters.  It was not until
+the autumn, in fact, that the subject of finance was mentioned between
+them, and after a period during which Howard had been unusually
+uncommunicative and morose.  Just as electrical disturbances are said to
+be in some way connected with sun spots, so Honora learned that a certain
+glumness and tendency to discuss expenses on the part of her husband were
+synchronous with a depression in the market.
+
+"I wish you'd learn to go a little slow, Honora," he said one evening.
+"The bills are pretty stiff this month.  You don't seem to have any idea
+of the value of money."
+
+"Oh, Howard," she exclaimed, after a moment's pause for breath, "how can
+you say such a thing, when I save you so much?"
+
+"Save me so much!" he echoed.
+
+"Yes.  If I had gone to Ridley for this suit, he would have charged me
+two hundred dollars.  I took such pains--all on your account--to find a
+little man Lily Dallam told me about, who actually made it for one
+hundred and twenty-five."
+
+It was typical of the unreason of his sex that he failed to be impressed
+by this argument.
+
+"If you go on saving that way," said he, "we'll be in the hands of a
+receiver by Christmas.  I can't see any difference between buying one
+suit from Ridley--whoever he may be--and three from Lily Dallam's 'little
+man,' except that you spend more than three times as much money."
+
+"Oh, I didn't get three!--I never thought you could be so unjust, Howard.
+Surely you don't want me to dress like these Rivington women, do you?"
+
+"I can't see anything wrong with their clothes," he maintained.
+
+"And to think that I was doing it all to please you!" she cried
+reproachfully.
+
+"To please me!"
+
+"Who else?  We-we don't know anybody in New York.  And I wanted you to be
+proud of me.  I've tried so hard and--and sometimes you don't even look
+at my gowns, and say whether you like them and they are all for you."
+
+This argument, at least, did not fail of results, combined as it was with
+a hint of tears in Honora's voice.  Its effect upon Howard was peculiar--
+he was at once irritated, disarmed, and softened.  He put down his
+cigarette--and Honora was on his knee!  He could not deny her
+attractions.
+
+"How could you be so cruel, Howard?"  she asked.
+
+"You know you wouldn't like me to be a slattern.  It was my own idea to
+save money--I had a long talk about economy one day with Mrs. Holt.  And
+you act as though you had such a lot of it when we're in town for dinner
+with these Rivington people.  You always have champagne.  If--if you're
+poor, you ought to have told me so, and I shouldn't have ordered another
+dinner gown."
+
+"You've ordered another dinner gown!"
+
+"Only a little one," said Honora, "the simplest kind.  But if you're
+poor--"
+
+She had made a discovery--to reflect upon his business success was to
+touch a sensitive nerve.
+
+"I'm not poor," he declared.  "But the bottom's dropped out of the
+market, and even old Wing is economizing.  We'll have to put on the
+brakes for awhile, Honora."
+
+It was shortly after this that Honora departed on the first of her three
+visits to St. Louis.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE NEW DOCTRINE
+
+This history concerns a free and untrammelled--and, let us add, feminine
+--spirit.  No lady is in the least interesting if restricted and
+contented with her restrictions,--a fact which the ladies of our nation
+are fast finding out.  What would become of the Goddess of Liberty?  And
+let us mark well, while we are making these observations, that Liberty is
+a goddess, not a god, although it has taken us in America over a century
+to realize a significance in the choice of her sex.  And--another
+discovery!--she is not a haus frau.  She is never domiciled, never
+fettered.  Even the French, clever as they are, have not conceived her:
+equality and fraternity are neither kith nor kin of hers, and she laughs
+at them as myths--for she is a laughing lady.  She alone of the three
+is real, and she alone is worshipped for attributes which she does not
+possess.  She is a coquette, and she is never satisfied.  If she were,
+she would not be Liberty: if she were, she would not be worshipped of
+men, but despised.  If they understood her, they would not care for her.
+And finally, she comes not to bring peace, but a sword.
+
+At quarter to seven one blustery evening of the April following their
+fourth anniversary Honora returned from New York to find her husband
+seated under the tall lamp in the room he somewhat facetiously called his
+"den," scanning the financial page of his newspaper.  He was in his
+dressing gown, his slippered feet extended towards the hearth, smoking a
+cigarette.  And on the stand beside him was a cocktail glass--empty.
+
+Howard," she cried, brushing his ashes from the table, "how can you be so
+untidy when you are so good-looking dressed up?  I really believe you're
+getting fat.  And there," she added, critically touching a place on the
+top of his head, "is a bald spot!"
+
+"Anything else?" he murmured, with his eyes still on the sheet.
+
+"Lots," answered Honora, pulling down the newspaper from before his
+face.  "For one thing, I'm not going to allow you to be a bear any more.
+I don't mean a Stock Exchange bear, but a domestic bear--which is much
+worse.  You've got to notice me once in a while.  If you don't, I'll get
+another husband.  That's what women do in these days, you know, when the
+one they have doesn't take the trouble to make himself sufficiently
+agreeable.  I'm sure I could get another one quite easily," she declared.
+
+He looked up at her as she stood facing him in the lamplight before the
+fire, and was forced to admit to himself that the boast was not wholly
+idle.  A smile was on her lips, her eyes gleamed with health; her furs--
+of silver fox--were thrown back, the crimson roses pinned on her mauve
+afternoon gown matched the glow in her cheeks, while her hair mingled
+with the dusky shadows.  Howard Spence experienced one of those
+startling, illuminating moments which come on occasions to the busy and
+self-absorbed husbands of his nation.  Psychologists have a name for such
+a phenomenon.  Ten minutes before, so far as his thoughts were concerned,
+she had not existed, and suddenly she had become a possession which he
+had not, in truth, sufficiently prized.  Absurd though it was, the
+possibility which she had suggested aroused in him a slight uneasiness.
+
+"You are a deuced good-looking woman, I'll say that for you, Honora," he
+admitted.
+
+"Thanks," she answered, mockingly, and put her hands behind her back.
+"If I had only known you were going to settle down in Rivington and get
+fat and bald and wear dressing gowns and be a bear, I never should have
+married you--never, never, never!  Oh, how young and simple and foolish
+I was!  And the magnificent way you talked about New York, and intimated
+that you were going to conquer the world.  I believed you.  Wasn't I a
+little idiot not--to know that you'd make for a place like this and dig a
+hole and stay in it, and let the world go hang?"
+
+He laughed, though it was a poor attempt.  And she read in his eyes,
+which had not left her face, that he was more or less disturbed.
+
+"I treat you pretty well, don't I, Honora?" he asked.  There was an
+amorous, apologetic note in his voice that amused her, and reminded her
+of the honeymoon.  "I give you all the money you want or rather--you take
+it,--and I don't kick up a row, except when the market goes to pieces--"
+
+"When you act as though we'd have to live in Harlem--which couldn't be
+much worse," she interrupted.  "And you stay in town all day and have no
+end of fun making money,--for you like to make money, and expect me to
+amuse myself the best part of my life with a lot of women who don't know
+enough to keep thin."
+
+He laughed again, but still uneasily.  Honora was still smiling.
+
+"What's got into you?" he demanded.  "I know you don't like Rivington,
+but you never broke loose this way before."
+
+"If you stay here," said Honora, with a new firmness, "it will be alone.
+I can't see what you want with a wife, anyway.  I've been thinking you
+over lately.  I don't do anything for you, except to keep getting you
+cooks--and anybody could do that.  You don't seem to need me in any
+possible way.  All I do is to loiter around the house and read and play
+the piano, or go to New York and buy clothes for nobody to look at except
+strangers in restaurants.  I'm worth more than that.  I think I'll get
+married again."
+
+"Great Lord, what are you talking about?" he exclaimed when he got his
+breath.
+
+"I think I'll take a man next time," she continued calmly, "who has
+something to him, some ambition.  The kind of man I thought I was getting
+when I took you only I shouldn't be fooled again.  Women remarry a good
+deal in these days, and I'm beginning to see the reason why.  And the
+women who have done it appear to be perfectly happy--much happier than
+they were at first.  I saw one of them at Lily Dallam's this afternoon.
+She was radiant.  I can't see any particular reason why a woman should be
+tied all her life to her husband's apron strings--or whatever he wears--
+and waste the talents she has.  It's wicked, when she might be the making
+of some man who is worth something, and who lives somewhere."
+
+Her husband got up.
+
+"Jehosaphat!" he cried, "I never heard such talk in my life."
+
+The idea that her love for him might have ebbed a little, or that she
+would for a moment consider leaving him, he rejected as preposterous, of
+course: the reputation which the majority of her sex had made throughout
+the ages for constancy to the marriage tie was not to be so lightly
+dissipated.  Nevertheless, there was in her words a new undertone of
+determination he had never before heard--or, at least, noticed.
+
+There was one argument, or panacea, which had generally worked like a
+charm, although some time had elapsed since last he had resorted to it.
+He tried to seize and kiss her, but she eluded him.  At last he caught
+her, out of breath, in the corner of the room.
+
+"Howard--you'll knock over the lamp--you'll ruin my gown--and then you'll
+have to buy me another.  I DID mean it," she insisted, holding back her
+head; "you'll have to choose between Rivington and me.  It's--it's an
+ultimatum.  There were at least three awfully attractive men at Lily
+Dallam's tea--I won't tell you who they were--who would be glad to marry
+me in a minute."
+
+He drew her down on the arm of his chair.
+
+"Now that Lily has a house in town," he said weakly, "I suppose you think
+you've got to have one."
+
+"Oh, Howard, it is such a dear house.  I had no idea that so much could
+be done with so narrow a front.  It's all French, with mirrors and big
+white panels and satin chairs and sofas, and a carved gilt piano that she
+got for nothing from a dealer she knows; and church candlesticks.  The
+mirrors give it the effect of being larger than it really is.  I've only
+two criticisms to make: it's too far from Fifth Avenue, and one can
+scarcely turn around in it without knocking something down--a photograph
+frame or a flower vase or one of her spindle-legged chairs.  It was only
+a hideous, old-fashioned stone front when she bought it.  I suppose
+nobody but Reggie Farwell could have made anything out of it."
+
+"Who's Reggie Farwell?" inquired her husband.
+
+"Howard, do you really mean to say you've never heard of Reggie Farwell?
+Lily was so lucky to get him--she says he wouldn't have done the house if
+he hadn't been such a friend of hers.  And he was coming to the tea this
+afternoon--only something happened at the last minute, and he couldn't.
+She was so disappointed.  He built the Maitlands' house, and did over the
+Cecil Graingers'.  And he's going to do our house--some day."
+
+"Why not right away?" asked Howard.
+
+"Because I've made up my mind to be very, very reasonable," she replied.
+"We're going to Quicksands for a while, first."
+
+"To Quicksands!" he repeated.  But in spite of himself he experienced a
+feeling of relief that she had not demanded a town mansion on the spot.
+
+Honora sprang to her feet.
+
+"Get up, Howard," she cried, "remember that we're going out for dinner-
+and you'll never be ready."
+
+"Hold on," he protested," I don't know about this Quicksands proposition.
+Let's talk it over a little more--"
+
+"We'll talk it over another time," she replied.  "But--remember my
+ultimatum.  And I am only taking you there for your own good."
+
+"For my own good!"
+
+"Yes.  To get you out of a rut.  To keep you from becoming commonplace
+and obscure and--and everything you promised not to be when you married
+me," she retorted from the doorway, her eyes still alight with that
+disturbing and tantalizing fire.  "It is my last desperate effort as a
+wife to save you from baldness, obesity, and nonentity."  Wherewith she
+disappeared into her room and closed the door.
+
+We read of earthquakes in the tropics and at the ends of the earth with
+commiseration, it is true, yet with the fond belief that the ground on
+which we have built is so firm that our own 'lares' and 'penates' are in
+no danger of being shaken down.  And in the same spirit we learn of other
+people's domestic cataclysms.  Howard Spence had had only a slight shock,
+but it frightened him and destroyed his sense of immunity.  And during
+the week that followed he lacked the moral courage either to discuss the
+subject of Quicksands thoroughly or to let it alone: to put down his foot
+like a Turk or accede like a Crichton.
+
+Either course might have saved him.  One trouble with the unfortunate
+man was that he realized but dimly the gravity of the crisis.  He had
+laboured under the delusion that matrimonial conditions were still what
+they had been in the Eighteenth Century--although it is doubtful whether
+be had ever thought of that century.  Characteristically, he considered
+the troublesome affair chiefly from its business side.  His ambition, if
+we may use so large a word for the sentiment that had filled his breast,
+had been coincident with his prenuptial passion for Honora.  And she had
+contrived, after four years, in some mysterious way to stir up that
+ambition once more; to make him uncomfortable; to compel him to ask
+himself whether he were not sliding downhill; to wonder whether living
+at Quicksands might not bring him in touch with important interests which
+had as yet eluded him.  And, above all,--if the idea be put a little more
+crudely and definitely than it occurred in his thoughts, he awoke to the
+realization that his wife was an asset he had hitherto utterly neglected.
+Inconceivable though it were (a middle-of-the-night reflection), if he
+insisted on trying to keep such a woman bottled up in Rivington she might
+some day pack up and leave him.  One never could tell what a woman would
+do in these days.  Les sacrees femmes.
+
+We are indebted to Honora for this view of her husband's mental
+processes.  She watched them, as it were, through a glass in the side of
+his head, and incidentally derived infinite amusement therefrom.  With
+instinctive wisdom she refrained from tinkering.
+
+An invitation to dine with the Dallams', in their own house, arrived a
+day or two after the tea which Honora had attended there.  Although Lily
+had always been cordial, Honora thought this note couched in terms of
+unusual warmth.  She was implored to come early, because Lily had so much
+to talk to her about which couldn't be written on account of a splitting
+headache.  In moderate obedience to this summons Honora arrived, on the
+evening in question, before the ornamental ironwork of Mrs. Dallam's
+front door at a few minutes after seven o'clock.  Honora paused in the
+spring twilight to contemplate the house, which stood out incongruously
+from its sombre, brownstone brothers and sisters with noisy basement
+kitchens.  The Third Avenue Elevated, "so handy for Sid," roared across
+the gap scarcely a block away; and just as the door was opened the
+tightest of little blue broughams, pulled by a huge chestnut horse and
+driven by the tiniest of grooms in top boots, drew up at the curb.  And
+out of it burst a resplendent lady--Mrs. Dallam.
+
+"Oh, it's you, Honora," she cried.  "Am I late?  I'm so sorry.  But I
+just couldn't help it.  It's all Clara Trowbridge's fault.  She insisted
+on my staying to meet that Renee Labride who dances so divinely in Lady
+Emmeline.  She's sweet.  I've seen her eight times."  Here she took
+Honora's arm, and faced her towards the street.  "What do you think of my
+turnout?  Isn't he a darling?"
+
+"Is he--full grown?" asked Honora.
+
+Lilly Dallam burst out laughing.
+
+"Bless you, I don't mean Patrick,--although I had a terrible time finding
+him.  I mean the horse.  Trixy Brent gave him to me before he went
+abroad."
+
+"Gave him to you!" Honora exclaimed.
+
+"Oh, he's always doing kind things like that, and he hadn't any use for
+him.  My dear, I hope you don't think for an instant Trixy's in love with
+me!  He's crazy about Lula Chandos.  I tried so hard to get her to come
+to dinner to-night, and the Trowbridges' and the Barclays'.  You've no
+idea how difficult it is in New York to get any one under two weeks.
+And so we've got just ourselves."
+
+Honora was on the point of declaring, politely, that she was very glad,
+when Lily Dallam asked her how she liked the brougham.
+
+"It's the image of Mrs. Cecil Grainger's, my dear, and I got it for a
+song.  As long as Trixy gave me the horse, I told Sid the least he could
+do was to give me the brougham and the harness.  Is Master Sid asleep?"
+she inquired of the maid who had been patiently waiting at the door.
+"I meant to have got home in time to kiss him."
+
+She led Honora up the narrow but thickly carpeted stairs to a miniature
+boudoir, where Madame Adelaide, in a gilt rococo frame, looked
+superciliously down from the walls.
+
+"Why haven't you been in to see me since my tea, Honora?  You were such a
+success, and after you left they were all crazy to know something about
+you, and why they hadn't heard of you.  My dear, how much did little
+Harris charge you for that dress?  If I had your face and neck and figure
+I'd die before I'd live in Rivington.  You're positively wasted, Honora.
+And if you stay there, no one will look at you, though you were as
+beautiful as Mrs. Langtry."
+
+"You're rather good-looking yourself, Lily," said Honora.
+
+"I'm ten years older than you, my dear, and I have to be so careful.
+Sid says I'm killing myself, but I've found a little massage woman who
+is wonderful.  How do you like this dress?"
+
+"All your things are exquisite."
+
+"Do you think so?" cried Mrs. Dallam, delightedly.
+
+Honora, indeed, had not perjured herself.  Only the hypercritical, when
+Mrs. Dallam was dressed, had the impression of a performed miracle.  She
+was the most finished of finished products.  Her complexion was high and
+(be it added) natural, her hair wonderfully 'onduled', and she had withal
+the sweetest and kindest of smiles and the most engaging laughter in the
+world.  It was impossible not to love her.
+
+"Howard," she cried, when a little later they were seated at the table,
+"how mean of you to have kept Honora in a dead and alive place like
+Rivington all these years!  I think she's an angel to have stood it.  Men
+are beyond me.  Do you know what an attractive wife you've got?  I've
+just been telling her that there wasn't a woman at my tea who compared
+with her, and the men were crazy about her."
+
+"That's the reason I live down there," proclaimed Howard, as he finished
+his first glass of champagne.
+
+"Honora," demanded Mrs. Dallam, ignoring his bravado, "why don't you take
+a house at Quicksands?  You'd love it, and you'd look simply divine in a
+bathing suit.  Why don't you come down?"
+
+"Ask Howard," replied Honora, demurely.
+
+"Well, Lily, I'll own up I have been considering it a little," that
+gentleman admitted with gravity.  "But I haven't decided anything.  There
+are certain drawbacks--"
+
+"Drawbacks!"  exclaimed Mrs. Dallam.  "Drawbacks at Quicksands!  I'd like
+to know what they are.  Don't be silly, Howard.  You get more for your
+money there than any place I know."  Suddenly the light of an inspiration
+came into her eyes, and she turned to her husband.  "Sid, the Alfred Fern
+house is for rent, isn't it?"
+
+"I think it must be, Lily," replied Mr. Dallam.
+
+"Sometimes I believe I'm losing my mind," declared Mrs. Dallam.  "What an
+imbecile I was not to think of it!  It's a dear, Honora, not five minutes
+from the Club, with the sweetest furniture, and they just finished it
+last fall.  It would be positively wicked not to take it, Howard.  They
+couldn't have failed more opportunely.  I'm sorry for Alfred, but I
+always thought Louise Fern a little snob.  Sid, you must see Alfred down
+town the first thing in the morning and ask him what's the least he'll
+rent it for.  Tell him I wish to know."
+
+"But--my dear Lily--began Mr. Dallam apologetically.
+
+"There!" complained his wife, "you're always raising objections to my
+most charming and sensible plans.  You act as though you wanted Honora
+and Howard to stay in Rivington."
+
+"My dear Lily!" he protested again.  And words failing him, he sought by
+a gesture to disclaim such a sinister motive for inaction.
+
+"What harm can it do?"  she asked plaintively.  "Howard doesn't have to
+rent the house, although it would be a sin if he didn't.  Find out the
+rent in the morning, Sid, and we'll all four go down on Sunday and look
+at it, and lunch at the Quicksands Club.  I'm sure I can get out of my
+engagement at Laura Dean's--this is so important.  What do you say,
+Honora?"
+
+"I think it would be delightful," said Honora.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+QUICKSANDS
+
+To convey any adequate idea of the community familiarly known as
+Quicksands a cinematograph were necessary.  With a pen we can only
+approximate the appearance of the shifting grains at any one time.
+Some households there were, indeed, which maintained a precarious though
+seemingly miraculous footing on the surface, or near it, going under for
+mere brief periods, only to rise again and flaunt men-servants in the
+face of Providence.
+
+There were real tragedies, too, although a casual visitor would never
+have guessed it.  For tragedies sink, and that is the end of them.  The
+cinematograph, to be sure, would reveal one from time to time, coming
+like a shadow across an endless feast, and gone again in a flash.  Such
+was what might appropriately be called the episode of the Alfred Ferns.
+After three years of married life they had come, they had rented; the
+market had gone up, they had bought and built--upon the sands.  The
+ancient farmhouse which had stood on the site had been torn down as
+unsuited to a higher civilization, although the great elms which had
+sheltered it had been left standing, in grave contrast to the twisted
+cedars and stunted oaks so much in evidence round about.
+
+The Ferns--or rather little Mrs. Fern--had had taste, and the new house
+reflected it.  As an indication of the quality of imagination possessed
+by the owners, the place was called "The Brackens."  There was a long
+porch on the side of the ocean, but a view of the water was shut off from
+it by a hedge which, during the successive ownerships of the adjoining
+property, had attained a height of twelve feet.  There was a little toy
+greenhouse connecting with the porch (an "economy "indulged in when the
+market had begun to go the wrong way for Mr. Fern).  Exile, although
+unpleasant, was sometimes found necessary at Quicksands, and even
+effective.
+
+Above all things, however, if one is describing Quicksands, one must not
+be depressing.  That is the unforgiveable sin there.  Hence we must touch
+upon these tragedies lightly.
+
+If, after walking through the entrance in the hedge that separated the
+Brackens from the main road, you turned to the left and followed a
+driveway newly laid out between young poplars, you came to a mass of
+cedars.  Behind these was hidden the stable.  There were four stalls, all
+replete with brass trimmings, and a box, and the carriage-house was made
+large enough for the break which Mr. Fern had been getting ready to buy
+when he had been forced, so unexpectedly, to change his mind.
+
+If the world had been searched, perhaps, no greater contrast to Rivington
+could have been found than this delightful colony of quicksands, full of
+life and motion and colour, where everybody was beautifully dressed and
+enjoying themselves.  For a whole week after her instalment Honora was in
+a continual state of excitement and anticipation, and the sound of wheels
+and voices on the highroad beyond the hedge sent her peeping to her
+curtains a dozen times a day.  The waking hours, instead of burdens,
+were so many fleeting joys.  In the morning she awoke to breathe a new,
+perplexing, and delicious perfume--the salt sea breeze stirring her
+curtains: later, she was on the gay, yellow-ochre beach with Lily Dallam,
+making new acquaintances; and presently stepping, with a quiver of fear
+akin to delight, into the restless, limitless blue water that stretched
+southward under a milky haze: luncheon somewhere, more new acquaintances,
+and then, perhaps, in Lily's light wood victoria to meet the train of
+trains.  For at half-past five the little station, forlorn all day long
+in the midst of the twisted cedars that grew out of the heated sand,
+assumed an air of gayety and animation.  Vehicles of all sorts drew up in
+the open space before it, wagonettes, phaetons, victorias, high wheeled
+hackney carts, and low Hempstead carts: women in white summer gowns and
+veils compared notes, or shouted invitations to dinner from carriage to
+carriage.  The engine rolled in with a great cloud of dust, the horses
+danced, the husbands and the overnight guests, grimy and brandishing
+evening newspapers, poured out of the special car where they had sat in
+arm-chairs and talked stocks all the way from Long Island City.  Some
+were driven home, it is true; some to the beach, and others to the
+Quicksands Club, where they continued their discussions over whiskey-and
+-sodas until it was time to have a cocktail and dress for dinner.
+
+Then came the memorable evening when Lily Dallam gave a dinner in honour
+of Honora, her real introduction to Quicksands.  It was characteristic of
+Lily that her touch made the desert bloom.  Three years before Quicksands
+had gasped to hear that the Sidney Dallams had bought the Faraday house--
+or rather what remained of it.
+
+"We got it for nothing," Lily explained triumphantly on the occasion of
+Honora's first admiring view.  "Nobody would look at it, my dear."
+
+It must have been this first price, undoubtedly, that appealed to Sidney
+Dallam, model for all husbands: to Sidney, who had had as much of an idea
+of buying in Quicksands as of acquiring a Scotch shooting box.  The
+"Faraday place" had belonged to the middle ages, as time is reckoned in
+Quicksands, and had lain deserted for years, chiefly on account of its
+lugubrious and funereal aspect.  It was on a corner.  Two "for rent"
+signs had fallen successively from the overgrown hedge: some fifty feet
+back from the road, hidden by undergrowth and in the tenebrous shades of
+huge larches and cedars, stood a hideous, two-storied house with a
+mansard roof, once painted dark red.
+
+The magical transformation of all this into a sunny, smiling, white villa
+with red-striped awnings and well-kept lawns and just enough shade had
+done no little towards giving to Lily Dallam that ascendency which she
+had acquired with such startling rapidity in the community.  When Honora
+and Howard drove up to the door in the deepening twilight, every window
+was a yellow, blazing square, and above the sound of voices rose a waltz
+from "Lady Emmeline" played with vigour on the piano.  Lily Dallam
+greeted Honora in the little room which (for some unexplained reason) was
+known as the library, pressed into service at dinner parties as the
+ladies' dressing room.
+
+"My dear, how sweet you look in that coral!  I've been so lucky
+to-night," she added in Honora's ear; "I've actually got Trixy Brent for
+you."
+
+Our heroine was conscious of a pleasurable palpitation as she walked with
+her hostess across the little entry to the door of the drawing-room,
+where her eyes encountered an inviting and vivacious scene.  Some ten or
+a dozen guests, laughing and talking gayly, filled the spaces between the
+furniture; an upright piano was embedded in a corner, and the lady who
+had just executed the waltz had swung around on the stool, and was
+smiling up at a man who stood beside her with his hand in his pocket.
+She was a decided brunette, neither tall nor short, with a suggestion of
+plumpness.
+
+"That's Lula Chandos," explained Lily Dallam in her usual staccato,
+following Honora's gaze, "at the piano, in ashes of roses.  She's stopped
+mourning for her husband.  Trixy told her to-night she'd discarded the
+sackcloth and kept the ashes.  He's awfully clever.  I don't wonder that
+she's crazy about him, do you?  He's standing beside her."
+
+Honora took a good look at the famous Trixy, who resembled a certain type
+of military Englishman.  He had close-cropped hair and a close-cropped
+mustache; and his grey eyes, as they rested amusedly on Mrs. Chandos,
+seemed to have in them the light of mockery.
+
+"Trixy!" cried his hostess, threading her way with considerable skill
+across the room and dragging Honora after her, "Trixy, I want to
+introduce you to Mrs. Spence.  Now aren't you glad you came!"
+
+It was partly, no doubt, by such informal introductions that Lily Dallam
+had made her reputation as the mistress of a house where one and all had
+such a good time.  Honora, of course, blushed to her temples, and
+everybody laughed--even Mrs. Chandos.
+
+"Glad," said Mr. Brent, with his eyes on Honora, "does not quite express
+it.  You usually have a supply of superlatives, Lily, which you might
+have drawn on."
+
+"Isn't he irrepressible?"  demanded Lily Dallam, delightedly, "he's
+always teasing."
+
+It was running through Honora's mind, while Lily Dallam's characteristic
+introductions of the other guests were in progress, that "irrepressible"
+was an inaccurate word to apply to Mr. Brent's manner.  Honora could not
+define his attitude, but she vaguely resented it.  All of Lily's guests
+had the air of being at home, and at that moment a young gentleman named
+Charley Goodwin, who was six feet tall and weighed two hundred pounds,
+was loudly demanding cocktails.  They were presently brought by a rather
+harassed-looking man-servant.
+
+"I can't get over how well you look in that gown, Lula," declared Mrs.
+Dallam, as they went out to dinner. "Trixy, what does she remind you of?"
+
+"Cleopatra," cried Warry Trowbridge, with an attempt to be gallant.
+
+"Eternal vigilance," said Mr. Brent, and they sat down amidst the
+laughter, Lily Dallam declaring that he was horrid, and Mrs. Chandos
+giving him a look of tender reproach.  But he turned abruptly to Honora,
+who was on his other side.
+
+"Where did you drop down from, Mrs. Spence?"  he inquired.
+
+"Why do you take it for granted that I have dropped?" she asked sweetly.
+
+He looked at her queerly for a moment, and then burst out laughing.
+
+"Because you are sitting next to Lucifer," he said.  "It's kind of me to
+warn you, isn't it?"
+
+"It wasn't necessary," replied Honora.  "And besides, as a dinner
+companion, I imagine Lucifer couldn't be improved on."
+
+He laughed again.
+
+"As a dinner companion!" he repeated.  "So you would limit Lucifer to
+dinners?  That's rather a severe punishment, since we're neighbours."
+
+"How delightful to have Lucifer as one's neighbour," said Honora,
+avoiding his eyes.  "Of course I've been brought up to believe that he
+was always next door, so to speak, but I've never--had any proof of it
+until now."
+
+"Proof!" echoed Mr. Brent.  "Has my reputation gone before me?"
+
+"I smell the brimstone," said Honora.
+
+He derived, apparently, infinite amusement from this remark likewise.
+
+"If I had known I was to have the honour of sitting here, I should have
+used another perfume," he replied.  "I have several."
+
+It was Honora's turn to laugh.
+
+"They are probably for--commercial transactions, not for ladies," she
+retorted.  "We are notoriously fond of brimstone, if it is not too
+strong.  A suspicion of it."
+
+Her colour was high, and she was surprised at her own vivacity.  It
+seemed strange that she should be holding her own in this manner with the
+renowned Trixton Brent.  No wonder, after four years of Rivington, that
+she tingled with an unwonted excitement.
+
+At this point Mr. Brent's eye fell upon Howard, who was explaining
+something to Mrs. Trowbridge at the far end of the table.
+
+"What's your husband like?" he demanded abruptly.
+
+Honora was a little taken aback, but recovered sufficiently to retort:
+"You'd hardly expect me to give you an unprejudiced judgment."
+
+"That's true," he agreed significantly.
+
+"He's everything," added Honora, "that is to be expected in a husband."
+
+"Which isn't much, in these days," declared Mr. Brent.
+
+"On the contrary," said Honora.
+
+"What I should like to know is why you came to Quicksands," said Mr.
+Brent.
+
+"For a little excitement," she replied.  "So far, I have not been
+disappointed.  But why do you ask that question?"  she demanded, with a
+slight uneasiness.  "Why did you come here?"
+
+"Oh," he said, "you must remember that I'm--Lucifer, a citizen of the
+world, at home anywhere, a sort of 'freebooter.  I'm not here all the
+time--but that's no reflection on Quicksands.  May I make a bet with you,
+Mrs. Spence?"
+
+"What about?"
+
+"That you won't stay in Quicksands more than six months," he answered.
+
+"Why do you say that?" she asked curiously.
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"My experience with your sex," he declared enigmatically, "has not been a
+slight one."
+
+"Trixy!" interrupted Mrs. Chandos at this juncture, from his other side,
+"Warry Trowbridge won't tell me whether to sell my Consolidated Potteries
+stock."
+
+"Because he doesn't know," said Mr. Brent, laconically, and readdressed
+himself to Honora, who had, however, caught a glimpse of Mrs. Chandos'
+face.
+
+"Don't you think it's time for you to talk to Mrs. Chandos?" she asked.
+
+"What for?"
+
+"Well, for one reason, it is customary, out of consideration for the
+hostess, to assist in turning the table."
+
+"Lily doesn't care," he said.
+
+"How about Mrs. Chandos?  I have an idea that she does care."
+
+He made a gesture of indifference.
+
+"And how about me?" Honora continued.  "Perhaps--I'd like to talk to Mr.
+Dallam."
+
+"Have you ever tried it?" he demanded.
+
+Over her shoulder she flashed back at him a glance which he did not
+return.  She had never, to tell the truth, given her husband's partner
+much consideration.  He had existed in her mind solely as an obliging
+shopkeeper with whom Lily had unlimited credit, and who handed her over
+the counter such things as she desired.  And to-night, in contrast to
+Trixton Brent, Sidney Dallam suggested the counter more than ever before.
+He was about five and forty, small, neatly made, with little hands and
+feet; fast growing bald, and what hair remained to him was a jet black.
+His suavity of manner and anxious desire to give one just the topic that
+pleased had always irritated Honora.
+
+Good shopkeepers are not supposed to have any tastes, predilections, or
+desires of their own, and it was therefore with no little surprise that,
+after many haphazard attempts, Honora discovered Mr, Dallam to be
+possessed by one all-absorbing weakness.  She had fallen in love, she
+remarked, with little Sid on the beach, and Sidney Dallam suddenly became
+transfigured.  Was she fond of children?  Honora coloured a little, and
+said "yes."  He confided to her, with an astonishing degree of feeling,
+that it had been the regret of his life he had not had more children.
+Nobody, he implied, who came to his house had ever exhibited the proper
+interest in Sid.
+
+"Sometimes," he said, leaning towards her confidentially, "I slip
+upstairs for a little peep at him after dinner."
+
+"Oh," cried Honora, "if you're going to-night mayn't I go with you?  I'd
+love to see him in bed."
+
+"Of course I'll take you," said Sidney Dallam, and he looked at her so
+gratefully that she coloured again.
+
+"Honora," said Lily Dallam, when the women were back in the drawing-room,
+"what did you do to Sid?  You had him beaming--and he hates dinner
+parties."
+
+"We were talking about children," replied Honora, innocently.
+
+"Children!"
+
+"Yes," said Honora, "and your husband has promised to take me up to the
+nursery."
+
+"And did you talk to Trixy about children, too?" cried Lily, laughing,
+with a mischievous glance at Mrs. Chandos.
+
+"Is he interested in them?" asked Honora.
+
+"You dear!"  cried Lily, "you'll be the death of me.  Lula, Honora wants
+to know whether Trixy is interested in children."
+
+Mrs. Chandos, in the act of lighting a cigarette, smiled sweetly.
+
+"Apparently he is," she said.
+
+"It's time he were, if he's ever going to be," said Honora, just as
+sweetly.
+
+Everybody laughed but Mrs. Chandos, who began to betray an intense
+interest in some old lace in the corner of the room.
+
+"I bought it for nothing, my dear," said Mrs. Dallam, but she pinched
+Honora's arm delightedly.  "How wicked of you!" she whispered, "but it
+serves her right."
+
+In the midst of the discussion of clothes and house rents and other
+people's possessions, interspersed with anecdotes of a kind that was new
+to Honora, Sidney Dallam appeared at the door and beckoned to her.
+
+"How silly of you, Sid!" exclaimed his wife; "of course she doesn't want
+to go."
+
+"Indeed I do," protested Honora, rising with alacrity and following her
+host up the stairs.  At the end of a hallway a nurse, who had been
+reading beside a lamp, got up smilingly and led the way on tiptoe into
+the nursery, turning on a shaded electric light.  Honora bent over the
+crib.  The child lay, as children will, with his little yellow head
+resting on his arm.  But in a moment, as she stood gazing at him, he
+turned and opened his eyes and smiled at her, and she stooped and kissed
+him.
+
+"Where's Daddy?" he demanded.
+
+"We've waked him!" said Honora, remorsefully.
+
+"Daddy," said the child, "tell me a story."
+
+The nurse looked at Dallam reproachfully, as her duty demanded, and yet
+she smiled.  The noise of laughter reached them from below.
+
+"I didn't have any to-night," the child pleaded.
+
+"I got home late," Dallam explained to Honora, and, looking at the nurse,
+pleaded in his turn; "just one."
+
+"Just a tiny one," said the child.
+
+"It's against all rules, Mr. Dallam," said the nurse, "but--he's been
+very lonesome to-day."
+
+Dallam sat down on one side of him, Honora on the other.
+
+"Will you go to sleep right away if I do, Sid?" he asked.
+
+The child shut his eyes very tight.
+
+"Like that," he promised.
+
+It was not the Sidney Dallam of the counting-room who told that story,
+and Honora listened with strange sensations which she did not attempt to
+define.
+
+"I used to be fond of that one when I was a youngster," he explained
+apologetically to her as they went out, and little Sid had settled
+himself obediently on the pillow once more.  "It was when I dreamed,"
+he added, "of less prosaic occupations than the stock market."
+
+Sidney Dallam had dreamed!
+
+Although Lily Dallam had declared that to leave her house before midnight
+was to insult her, it was half-past eleven when Honora and her husband
+reached home.  He halted smilingly in her doorway as she took off her
+wrap and laid it over a chair.
+
+"Well, Honora," he asked, "how do you like--the whirl of fashion?"
+
+She turned to him with one of those rapid and bewildering movements that
+sometimes characterized her, and put her arms on his shoulders.
+
+"What a dear old stay-at-home you were, Howard," she said.  "I wonder
+what would have happened to you if I hadn't rescued you in the nick of
+time!  Own up that you like--a little variety in life."
+
+Being a man, he qualified his approval.
+
+"I didn't have a bad time," he admitted.  "I had a talk with Brent after
+dinner, and I think I've got him interested in a little scheme.  It's a
+strange thing that Sid Dallam was never able to do any business with him.
+If I can put this through, coming to Quicksands will have been worth
+while."  He paused a moment, and added: "Brent seems to have taken quite
+a shine to you, Honora."
+
+She dropped her arms, and going over to her dressing table, unclasped a
+pin on the front of her gown.
+
+"I imagine," she answered, in an indifferent tone, "that he acts so with
+every new woman he meets."
+
+Howard remained for a while in the doorway, seemingly about to speak.
+Then he turned on his heel, and she heard him go into his own room.
+
+Far into the night she lay awake, the various incidents of the evening,
+like magic lantern views, thrown with bewildering rapidity on the screen
+of her mind.  At last she was launched into life, and the days of her
+isolation gone by forever.  She was in the centre of things.  And yet--
+well, nothing could be perfect.  Perhaps she demanded too much.  Once or
+twice, in the intimate and somewhat uproarious badinage that had been
+tossed back and forth in the drawing-room after dinner, her delicacy had
+been offended: an air of revelry had prevailed, enhanced by the arrival
+of whiskey-and-soda on a tray.  And at the time she had been caught up by
+an excitement in the grip of which she still found herself.  She had been
+aware, as she tried to talk to Warren Trowbridge, of Trixton Brent's
+glance, and of a certain hostility from Mrs. Chandos that caused her now
+to grow warm with a kind of shame when she thought of it.  But she could
+not deny that this man had for her a fascination.  There was in him an
+insolent sense of power, of scarcely veiled contempt for the company
+in which he found himself.  And she asked herself, in this mood of
+introspection, whether a little of his contempt for Lily Dallam's
+guests had not been communicated from him to her.
+
+When she had risen to leave, he had followed her into the entry.  She
+recalled him vividly as he had stood before her then, a cigar in one hand
+and a lighted match in the other, his eyes fixed upon her with a
+singularly disquieting look that was tinged, however, with amusement.
+I'm coming to see you," he announced.
+
+"Do be careful," she had cried, "you'll burn yourself!"
+
+"That," he answered, tossing away the match, "is to be expected."
+
+She laughed nervously.
+
+"Good night," he added, "and remember my bet."
+
+What could he have meant when he had declared that she would not remain
+in Quicksands?
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+GAD AND MENI
+
+There was an orthodox place of worship at Quicksands, a temple not merely
+opened up for an hour or so on Sunday mornings to be shut tight during
+the remainder of the week although it was thronged with devotees on the
+Sabbath.  This temple, of course, was the Quicksands Club.  Howard Spence
+was quite orthodox; and, like some of our Puritan forefathers, did not
+even come home to the midday meal on the first day of the week.  But a
+certain instinct of protest and of nonconformity which may have been
+remarked in our heroine sent her to St. Andrews-by-the-Sea--by no means
+so well attended as the house of Gad and Meni.  She walked home in a
+pleasantly contemplative state of mind through a field of daisies, and
+had just arrived at the hedge m front of the Brackens when the sound of
+hoofs behind her caused her to turn.  Mr. Trixton Brent, very firmly
+astride of a restive, flea-bitten polo pony, surveyed her amusedly.
+
+Where have you been?" said he.
+
+"To church," replied Honora, demurely.
+
+"Such virtue is unheard of in Quicksands."
+
+"It isn't virtue," said Honora.
+
+"I had my doubts about that, too," he declared.
+
+"What is it, then?" she asked laughingly, wondering why he had such a
+faculty of stirring her excitement and interest.
+
+"Dissatisfaction," was his prompt reply.
+
+"I don't see why you say that," she protested.
+
+"I'm prepared to make my wager definite," said he.  "The odds are a
+thoroughbred horse against a personally knitted worsted waistcoat that
+you won't stay in Quicksands six months."
+
+"I wish you wouldn't talk nonsense," said Honora, "and besides, I can't
+knit."
+
+There was a short silence during which he didn't relax his disconcerting
+stare.
+
+"Won't you come in?"  she asked.  "I'm sorry Howard isn't home."
+
+"I'm not," he said promptly.  "Can't you come over to my box for lunch?
+I've asked Lula Chandos and Warry Trowbridge."
+
+It was not without appropriateness that Trixton Brent called his house
+the "Box."  It was square, with no pretensions to architecture whatever,
+with a porch running all the way around it.  And it was literally filled
+with the relics of the man's physical prowess cups for games of all
+descriptions, heads and skins from the Bitter Roots to Bengal, and masks
+and brushes from England.  To Honora there was an irresistible and
+mysterious fascination in all these trophies, each suggesting a finished
+--and some perhaps a cruel--performance of the man himself.  The cups
+were polished until they beat back the light like mirrors, and the
+glossy bear and tiger skins gave no hint of dying agonies.
+
+Mr. Brent's method with women, Honora observed, more resembled the noble
+sport of Isaac Walton than that of Nimrod, but she could not deny that
+this element of cruelty was one of his fascinations.  It was very evident
+to a feminine observer, for instance, that Mrs. Chandos was engaged in a
+breathless and altogether desperate struggle with the slow but inevitable
+and appalling Nemesis of a body and character that would not harmonize.
+If her figure grew stout, what was to become of her charm as an 'enfant
+gate'?  Her host not only perceived, but apparently derived great
+enjoyment out of the drama of this contest.  From self-indulgence to
+self-denial--even though inspired by terror--is a far cry.  And Trixton
+Brent had evidently prepared his menu with a satanic purpose.
+
+"What! No entree, Lula?  I had that sauce especially for you."
+
+"Oh, Trixy, did you really?  How sweet of you!"  And her liquid eyes
+regarded, with an almost equal affection, first the master and then the
+dish.  "I'll take a little," she said weakly; "it's so bad for my gout."
+
+"What," asked Trixton Brent, flashing an amused glance at Honora, "are
+the symptoms of gout, Lula?  I hear a great deal about that trouble these
+days, but it seems to affect every one differently."
+
+Mrs. Chandos grew very red, but Warry Trowbridge saved her.
+
+"It's a swelling," he said innocently.
+
+Brent threw back his head and laughed.
+
+"You haven't got it anyway, Warry," he cried.
+
+Mr. Trowbridge, who resembled a lean and greying Irish terrier,
+maintained that he had.
+
+"It's a pity you don't ride, Lula.  I understand that that's one of the
+best preventives--for gout.  I bought a horse last week that would just
+suit you--an ideal woman's horse.  He's taken a couple of blue ribbons
+this summer."
+
+"I hope you will show him to us, Mr. Brent," exclaimed Honora, in a
+spirit of kindness.
+
+"Do you ride?" he demanded.
+
+"I'm devoted to it," she declared.
+
+It was true.  For many weeks that spring, on Monday, Wednesday, and
+Friday mornings, she had gone up from Rivington to Harvey's Riding
+Academy, near Central Park.  Thus she had acquired the elements of the
+equestrian art, and incidentally aroused the enthusiasm of a riding-
+master.
+
+After Mrs. Chandos had smoked three of the cigarettes which her host
+specially imported from Egypt, she declared, with no superabundance of
+enthusiasm, that she was ready to go and see what Trixy had in the
+stables."  In spite of that lady's somewhat obvious impatience, Honora
+insisted upon admiring everything from the monogram of coloured sands so
+deftly woven on the white in the coach house, to the hunters and polo
+ponies in their rows of boxes.  At last Vercingetorix, the latest
+acquisition of which Brent had spoken, was uncovered and trotted
+around the ring.
+
+"I'm sorry, Trixy, but I've really got to leave," said Mrs. Chandos.
+"And I'm in such a predicament!  I promised Fanny Darlington I'd go over
+there, and it's eight miles, and both my horses are lame."
+
+Brent turned to his coachman.
+
+"Put a pair in the victoria right away and drive Mrs. Chandos to Mrs.
+Darlington's," he said.
+
+She looked at him, and her lip quivered.
+
+"You always were the soul of generosity, Trixy, but why the victoria?"
+
+"My dear Lula," he replied, "if there's any other carriage you prefer--?"
+
+Honora did not hear the answer, which at any rate was scarcely audible.
+She moved away, and her eyes continued to follow Vercingetorix as he
+trotted about the tan-bark after a groom.  And presently she was aware
+that Trixton Brent was standing beside her.
+
+"What do you think of him?" he asked.
+
+"He's adorable," declared Honora.  Would you like to try him?"
+
+"Oh--might I?  Sometime?"
+
+"Why not to-day--now?" he said.  "I'll send him over to your house and
+have your saddle put on him."
+
+Before Honora could protest Mrs. Chandos came forward.
+
+"It's awfully sweet of you, Trixy, to offer to send me to Fanny's, but
+Warry says he will drive me over.  Good-by, my dear," she added, holding
+out her hand to Honora.
+
+"I hope you enjoy your ride."
+
+Mr. Trowbridge's phaeton was brought up, Brent helped Mrs. Chandos in,
+and stood for a moment gazing after her.  Amusement was still in his eyes
+as he turned to Honora.
+
+"Poor Lula!" he said.  "Most women could have done it better than that--
+couldn't they?"
+
+"I think you were horrid to her," exclaimed Honora, indignantly.  "It
+wouldn't have hurt you to drive her to Mrs. Darlington's."
+
+It did not occur to her that her rebuke implied a familiarity at which
+they had swiftly but imperceptibly arrived.
+
+"Oh, yes, it would hurt me," said he.  "I'd rather spend a day in jail
+than drive with Lula in that frame of mind.  Tender reproaches, and all
+that sort of thing, you know although I can't believe you ever indulge in
+them.  Don't," he added.
+
+In spite of the fact that she was up in arms for her sex, Honora smiled.
+
+"Do you know," she said slowly, "I'm beginning to think you are a brute."
+
+"That's encouraging," he replied.
+
+"And fickle."
+
+"Still more encouraging.  Most men are fickle.  We're predatory animals."
+
+"It's just as well that I am warned," said Honora.  She raised her
+parasol and picked up her skirts and shot him a look.  Although he did
+not resemble in feature the great if unscrupulous Emperor of the French,
+he reminded her now of a picture she had once seen of Napoleon and a
+lady; the lady obviously in a little flutter under the Emperor's
+scrutiny.  The picture had suggested a probable future for the lady.
+
+"How long will it take you to dress?" he asked.
+
+"To dress for what?"
+
+"To ride with me."
+
+"I'm not going to ride with you," she said, and experienced a tingle of
+satisfaction from his surprise.
+
+"Why not?" he demanded.
+
+"In the first place, because I don't want to; and in the second, because
+I'm expecting Lily Dallam."
+
+"Lily never keeps an engagement," he said.
+
+"That's no reason why I shouldn't," Honora answered.
+
+"I'm beginning to think you're deuced clever," said he.
+
+"How unfortunate for me!" she exclaimed.
+
+He laughed, although it was plain that he was obviously put out.  Honora
+was still smiling.
+
+"Deuced clever," he repeated.
+
+"An experienced moth," suggested Honora; "perhaps one that has been
+singed a little, once or twice.  Good-by--I've enjoyed myself immensely."
+
+She glanced back at him as she walked down the path to the roadway.  He
+was still standing where she had left him, his feet slightly apart, his
+hands in the pockets of his riding breeches, looking after her.
+
+Her announcement of an engagement with Mrs. Dallam had been, to put it
+politely, fiction.  She spent the rest of the afternoon writing letters
+home, pausing at periods to look out of the window.  Occasionally it
+appeared that her reflections were amusing.  At seven o'clock Howard
+arrived, flushed and tired after his day of rest.
+
+"By the way, Honora, I saw Trixy Brent at the Club, and he said you
+wouldn't go riding with him."
+
+"Do you call him Trixy to his face?" she asked.
+
+"What?  No--but everyone calls him Trixy.  What's the matter with you?"
+
+"Nothing," she replied.  "Only--the habit every one has in Quicksands of
+speaking of people they don't know well by their nicknames seems rather
+bad taste."
+
+"I thought you liked Quicksands," he retorted.  "You weren't happy until
+you got down here."
+
+"It's infinitely better than Rivington," she said.
+
+"I suppose," he remarked, with a little irritation unusual in him, "that
+you'll be wanting to go to Newport next."
+
+"Perhaps," said Honora, and resumed her letter.  He fidgeted about the
+room for a while, ordered a cocktail, and lighted a cigarette.
+
+"Look here," he began presently, "I wish you'd be decent to Brent.  He's
+a pretty good fellow, and he's in with James Wing and that crowd of big
+financiers, and he seems to have taken a shine to me probably because
+he's heard of that copper deal I put through this spring."
+
+Honora thrust back her writing pad, turned in her chair, and faced him.
+
+"How 'decent' do you wish me to be?" she inquired.
+
+"How decent?" he repeated.
+
+"Yes."
+
+He regarded her uneasily, took the cocktail which the maid offered him,
+drank it, and laid down the glass.
+
+He had had before, in the presence of his wife, this vague feeling of
+having passed boundaries invisible to him.  In her eyes was a curious
+smile that lacked mirth, in her voice a dispassionate note that added to
+his bewilderment.
+
+"What do you mean, Honora?"
+
+"I know it's too much to expect of a man to be as solicitous about his
+wife as he is about his business," she replied.  "Otherwise he would
+hesitate before he threw her into the arms of Mr. Trixton Brent.  I warn
+you that he is very attractive to women."
+
+"Hang it," said Howard, "I can't see what you're driving at.  I'm not
+throwing you into his arms.  I'm merely asking you to be friendly with
+him.  It means a good deal to me--to both of us.  And besides, you can
+take care of yourself.  You're not the sort of woman to play the fool."
+
+"One never can tell," said Honora, "what may happen.  Suppose I fell in
+love with him?"
+
+"Don't talk nonsense," he said.
+
+"I'm not so sure," she answered, meditatively, "that it is nonsense.  It
+would be quite easy to fall in love with him.  Easier than you imagine.
+curiously.  Would you care?" she added.
+
+"Care!" he cried; "of course I'd care. What kind of rot are you talking?"
+
+"Why would you care?"
+
+"Why?  What a darned idiotic question--"
+
+"It's not really so idiotic as you think it is," she said.  "Suppose I
+allowed Mr. Brent to make love to me, as he's very willing to do, would
+you be sufficiently interested to compete."
+
+"To what?"
+
+"To compete."
+
+"But--but we're married."
+
+She laid her hand upon her knee and glanced down at it.
+
+"It never occurred to me until lately," she said, "how absurd is the
+belief men still hold in these days that a wedding-ring absolves them
+forever from any effort on their part to retain their wives' affections.
+They regard the ring very much as a ball and chain, or a hobble to
+prevent the women from running away, that they may catch them whenever
+they may desire--which isn't often.  Am I not right?"
+
+He snapped his cigarette case.
+
+"Darn it, Honora, you're getting too deep for me!" he exclaimed.  "You
+never liked those, Browning women down at Rivington, but if this isn't
+browning I'm hanged if I know what it is.  An attack of nerves, perhaps.
+They tell me that women go all to pieces nowadays over nothing at all."
+
+"That's just it," she agreed, "nothing at all!"
+
+"I thought as much," he replied, eager to seize this opportunity of
+ending a conversation that had neither head nor tail, and yet was
+marvellously uncomfortable.  "There! be a good girl, and forget it."
+
+He stooped down suddenly to her face to kiss her, but she turned
+her face in time to receive the caress on the cheek.
+
+"The panacea!" she said.
+
+He laughed a little, boyishly, as he stood looking down at her.
+
+"Sometimes I can't make you out," he said.  "You've changed a good deal
+since I married you."
+
+She was silent.  But the thought occurred to her that a complete
+absorption in commercialism was not developing.
+
+"If you can manage it, Honora," he added with an attempt at lightness,
+"I wish you'd have a little dinner soon, and ask Brent.  Will you?"
+
+"Nothing," she replied, "would give me greater pleasure."
+
+He patted her on the shoulder and left the room whistling.  But she sat
+where she was until the maid came in to pull the curtains and turn on the
+lights, reminding her that guests were expected.
+
+                    .....................
+
+Although the circle of Mr. Brent's friends could not be said to include
+any university or college presidents, it was, however, both catholic and
+wide.  He was hail fellow, indeed, with jockeys and financiers, great
+ladies and municipal statesmen of good Irish stock.  He was a lion who
+roamed at large over a great variety of hunting grounds, some of which it
+would be snobbish to mention; for many reasons he preferred Quicksands: a
+man-eater, a woman-eater, and extraordinarily popular, nevertheless.
+Many ladies, so it was reported, had tried to tame him: some of them he
+had cheerfully gobbled up, and others after the briefest of inspections,
+disdainfully thrust aside with his paw.
+
+This instinct for lion taming, which the most spirited of women possess,
+is, by the way, almost inexplicable to the great majority of the male
+sex.  Honora had it, as must have been guessed.  But however our faith in
+her may be justified by the ridiculous ease of her previous conquests, we
+cannot regard without trepidation her entrance into the arena with this
+particular and widely renowned king of beasts.  Innocence pitted against
+sophistry and wile and might.
+
+Two of the preliminary contests we have already witnessed.  Others, more
+or less similar, followed during a period of two months or more.  Nothing
+inducing the excessive wagging of tongues,--Honora saw to that, although
+Mrs. Chandos kindly took the trouble to warn our heroine,--a scene for
+which there is unfortunately no space in this chronicle; an entirely
+amicable, almost honeyed scene, in Honora's boudoir.  Nor can a complete
+picture of life at Quicksands be undertaken.  Multiply Mrs. Dallam's
+dinner-party by one hundred, Howard Silence's Sundays at the Club by
+twenty, and one has a very fair idea of it.  It was not precisely
+intellectual.  "Happy," says Montesquieu, "the people whose annals are
+blank in history's book."  Let us leave it at that.
+
+Late one afternoon in August Honora was riding homeward along the ocean
+road.  The fragrant marshes that bordered it were a vivid green under the
+slanting rays of the sun, and she was gazing across them at the breakers
+crashing on the beach beyond.  Trixton Brent was beside her.
+
+"I wish you wouldn't stare at me so," she said, turning to him suddenly;
+"it is embarrassing."
+
+"How did you know I was looking at you?" he asked.
+
+"I felt it."
+
+He drew his horse a little nearer.
+
+"Sometimes you're positively uncanny," she added.
+
+He laughed.
+
+"I rather like that castles-in-Spain expression you wore," he declared.
+
+"Castles in Spain?"
+
+"Or in some other place where the real estate is more valuable.
+Certainly not in Quicksands."
+
+"You are uncanny," proclaimed Honora, with conviction.
+
+"I told you you wouldn't like Quicksands," said he.
+
+"I've never said I didn't like it," she replied.  "I can't see why you
+assume that I don't."
+
+"You're ambitious," he said.  "Not that I think it a fault, when it's
+more or less warranted.  Your thrown away here, and you know it."
+
+She made him a bow from the saddle.
+
+"I have not been without a reward, at least," she answered, and looked at
+him.
+
+"I have," said he.
+
+Honora smiled.
+
+"I'm going to be your good angel, and help you get out of it," he
+continued.
+
+"Get out of what?"
+
+"Quicksands."
+
+"Do you think I'm in danger of sinking?" she asked.  "And is it
+impossible for me to get out alone, if I wished to?"
+
+"It will be easier with my help," he answered.  "You're clever enough to
+realize that--Honora."
+
+She was silent awhile.
+
+"You say the most extraordinary things," she remarked presently.
+"Sometimes I think they are almost--"
+
+"Indelicate," he supplied.
+
+She coloured.
+
+"Yes, indelicate."
+
+"You can't forgive me for sweeping away your rose-coloured cloud of
+romance," he declared, laughing.  "There are spades in the pack, however
+much you may wish to ignore 'em.  You know very well you don't like these
+Quicksands people.  They grate on your finer sensibilities, and all that
+sort of thing.  Come, now, isn't it so?"
+
+She coloured again, and put her horse to the trot.
+
+"Onwards and upwards," he cried.  "Veni, vidi, vici, ascendi."
+
+"It seems to me," she laughed, "that so much education is thrown away on
+the stock market."
+
+"Whether you will be any happier higher up," he went on, "God knows.
+Sometimes I think you ought to go back to the Arcadia you came from.
+Did you pick out Spence for an embryo lord of high finance?"
+
+"My excuse is," replied Honora, "that I was very young, and I hadn't met
+you."
+
+Whether the lion has judged our heroine with astuteness, or done her a
+little less than justice, must be left to the reader.  Apparently he is
+accepting her gentle lashings with a meek enjoyment.  He assisted her to
+alight at her own door, sent the horses home, and offered to come in and
+give her a lesson in a delightful game that was to do its share in the
+disintegration of the old and tiresome order of things--bridge.  The
+lion, it will be seen, was self-sacrificing even to the extent of double
+dummy.  He had picked up the game with characteristic aptitude abroad--
+Quicksands had yet to learn it.
+
+Howard Spence entered in the midst of the lesson.
+
+"Hello, Brent," said he, genially, "you may be interested to know I got
+that little matter through without a hitch to-day."
+
+"I continue to marvel at you," said the lion, and made it no trumps.
+
+Since this is a veracious history, and since we have wandered so far from
+home and amidst such strange, if brilliant scenes, it must be confessed
+that Honora, three days earlier, had entered a certain shop in New York
+and inquired for a book on bridge.  Yes, said the clerk, he had such a
+treatise, it had arrived from England a week before.  She kept it looked
+up in her drawer, and studied it in the mornings with a pack of cards
+before her.
+
+Given the proper amount of spur, anything in reason can be mastered.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Happy the people whose annals are blank in history's book
+Resented the implication of possession
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A MODERN CHRONICLE
+
+By Winston Churchill
+
+
+Volume 4.
+
+VII.      OF CERTAIN DELICATE MATTERS
+VIII.     OF MENTAL PROCESSES-FEMININE AND INSOLUBLE
+IX.       INTRODUCING A REVOLUTIONIZING VEHICLE
+X.        ON THE ART OF LION TAMING
+XI.       CONTAINING SOME REVELATIONS
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+OF CERTAIN DELICATE MATTERS
+
+In the religious cult of Gad and Meni, practised with such enthusiasm at
+Quicksands, the Saints' days were polo days, and the chief of all
+festivals the occasion of the match with the Banbury Hunt Club--
+Quicksands's greatest rival.  Rival for more reasons than one, reasons
+too delicate to tell.  Long, long ago there appeared in Punch a cartoon
+of Lord Beaconsfield executing that most difficult of performances, an
+egg dance.  We shall be fortunate indeed if we get to the end of this
+chapter without breaking an egg!
+
+Our pen fails us in a description of that festival of festivals, the
+Banbury one, which took place early in September.  We should have to go
+back to Babylon and the days of King Nebuchadnezzar.  (Who turns out to
+have been only a regent, by the way, and his name is now said to be
+spelled rezzar).  How give an idea of the libations poured out to Gad and
+the shekels laid aside for Meni in the Quicksands Temple?
+
+Honora privately thought that building ugly, and it reminded her of a
+collection of huge yellow fungi sprawling over the ground.  A few of the
+inevitable tortured cedars were around it.  Between two of the larger
+buildings was wedged a room dedicated to the worship of Bacchus, to-day
+like a narrow river-gorge at flood time jammed with tree-trunks--some of
+them, let us say, water-logged--and all grinding together with an
+intolerable noise like a battle.  If you happened to be passing the
+windows, certain more or less intelligible sounds might separate
+themselves from the bedlam.
+
+"Four to five on Quicksands!"
+
+"That stock isn't worth a d--n!"
+
+"She's gone to South Dakota."
+
+Honora, however, is an heretic, as we know.  Without going definitely
+into her reasons, these festivals had gradually become distasteful to
+her.  Perhaps it would be fairer to look at them through the eyes of Lily
+Dallam, who was in her element on such days, and regarded them as the
+most innocent and enjoyable of occasions, and perhaps they were.
+
+The view from the veranda, at least, appealed to our heroine's artistic
+sense.  The marshes in the middle distance, the shimmering sea beyond,
+and the polo field laid down like a vast green carpet in the foreground;
+while the players, in white breeches and bright shirts, on the agile
+little horses that darted hither and thither across the turf lent an
+added touch of colour and movement to the scene.  Amongst them, Trixton
+Brent most frequently caught the eye and held it.  Once Honora perceived
+him flying the length of the field, madly pursued, his mallet poised
+lightly, his shirt bulging in the wind, his close-cropped head bereft of
+a cap, regardless of the havoc and confusion behind him.  He played,
+indeed, with the cocksureness and individuality one might have expected;
+and Honora, forgetting at moments the disturbing elements by which she
+was surrounded, followed him with fascination.  Occasionally his name
+rippled from one end of the crowded veranda to the other, and she
+experienced a curious and uncomfortable sensation when she heard it in
+the mouths of these strangers.
+
+From time to time she found herself watching them furtively, comparing
+them unconsciously with her Quicksands friends.  Some of them she had
+remarked before, at contests of a minor importance, and they seemed to
+her to possess a certain distinction that was indefinable.  They had come
+to-day from many mysterious (and therefore delightful) places which
+Honora knew only by name, and some had driven the twenty-five odd miles
+from the bunting community of Banbury in coaches and even those new and
+marvellous importations--French automobiles.  When the game had ended,
+and Lily Dallam was cajoling the club steward to set her tea-table at
+once, a group of these visitors halted on the lawn, talking and laughing
+gayly.  Two of the younger men Honora recognized with a start, but for a
+moment she could not place them--until suddenly she remembered that she
+had seen them on her wedding trip at Hot Springs.  The one who lisped was
+Mr. Cuthbert, familiarly known as "Toots": the other, taller and slimmer
+and paler, was Jimmy Wing.  A third, the regularity of whose features
+made one wonder at the perfection which nature could attain when she
+chose, who had a certain Gallic appearance (and who, if the truth be
+told, might have reminded an impartial eye of a slightly animated wax
+clothing model), turned, stared, hesitated, and bowed to Lily Dallam.
+
+"That's Reggie Farwel, who did my house in town," she whispered to
+Honora.  "He's never been near me since it was finished.  He's utterly
+ruined."
+
+Honora was silent.  She tried not to look at the group, in which there
+were two women of very attractive appearance, and another man.
+
+"Those people are so superior," Mrs. Dallam continued.
+
+"I'm not surprised at Elsie Shorter.  Ever since she married Jerry she's
+stuck to the Graingers closer than a sister.  That's Cecil Grainger, my
+dear, the man who looks as though be were going to fall asleep any
+moment.  But to think of Abby Kame acting that way!  Isn't it ridiculous,
+Clara?"  she cried, appealing to Mrs. Trowbridge.  "They say that Cecil
+Grainger never leaves her side.  I knew her when she first married John
+Kame, the dearest, simplest man that ever was.  He was twenty years older
+than Abby, and made his money in leather.  She took the first steamer
+after his funeral and an apartment in a Roman palace for the winter.  As
+soon as she decently could she made for England.  The English will put up
+with anybody who has a few million dollars, and I don't deny that Abby's
+good-looking, and clever in her way.  But it's absurd for her to come
+over here and act as though we didn't exist.  She needn't be afraid that
+I'll speak to her.  They say she became intimate with Bessie Grainger
+through charities.  One of your friend Mrs. Holt's charities, by the
+way, Honora.  Where are you going?"
+
+For Honora had risen.
+
+"I think I'll go home, Lily," she said; "I'm rather tired."
+
+"Home!" exclaimed Mrs. Dallam.  "What can you be thinking of, my dear?
+Nobody ever goes home after the Banbury match.  The fun has just begun,
+and we're all to stay here for dinner and dance afterwards.  And Trixy
+Brent promised me faithfully he'd' come here for tea, as soon as he
+dressed."
+
+"I really can't stay, Lily.  I--I don't feel up to it," said Honora,
+desperately.
+
+"And you can't know how I counted on you!  You look perfectly fresh, my
+dear."
+
+Honora felt an overwhelming desire to hide herself, to be alone.  In
+spite of the cries of protest that followed her and drew--she thought--an
+unnecessary and disagreeable attention to her departure, she threaded her
+way among groups of people who stared after her.  Her colour was high,
+her heart beating painfully; a vague sense of rebellion and shame within
+her for which she did not try to account.  Rather than run the gantlet of
+the crowded veranda she stepped out on the lawn, and there encountered
+Trixton Brent.  He had, in an incredibly brief time, changed from his
+polo clothes to flannels and a straw hat.  He looked at her and whistled,
+and barred her passage.
+
+"Hello!" he cried.  "Hoity-toity!  Where are we going in such a hurry?"
+
+"Home," answered Honora, a little breathlessly, and added for his
+deception, "the game's over, isn't it?  I'm glad you won."
+
+Mr. Brent, however, continued to gaze at her penetratingly, and she
+avoided his eyes.
+
+"But why are you rushing off like a flushed partridge?--no reference to
+your complexion.  Has there been a row?"
+
+"Oh, no--I was just--tired.  Please let me go."
+
+"Being your good angel--or physician, as you choose--I have a
+prescription for that kind of weariness," he said smilingly.
+"I--anticipated such an attack.  That's why I got into my clothes in such
+record time."
+
+"I don't know what you mean," faltered Honora.  "You are always imagining
+all sorts of things about me that aren't true."
+
+"As a matter of fact," said Brent, "I have promised faithfully to do a
+favor for certain friends of mine who have been clamouring to be
+presented to you."
+
+"I can't--to-day--Mr. Brent," she cried.  "I really don't feel like-
+meeting people.  I told Lily Dallam I was going home."
+
+The group, however, which had been the object of that lady's remarks was
+already moving towards them--with the exception of Mrs. Shorter and Mr.
+Farwell, who had left it.  They greeted Mr. Brent with great cordiality.
+
+"Mrs. Kame," he said, "let me introduce Mrs. Spence.  And Mrs. Spence,
+Mr. Grainger, Mr. Wing, and Mr. Cuthbert.  Mrs. Spence was just going
+home."
+
+"Home!" echoed Mrs. Kame, "I thought Quicksands people never went home
+after a victory."
+
+"I've scarcely been here long enough," replied Honora, "to have acquired
+all of the Quicksands habits."
+
+"Oh," said Mrs. Kame, and looked at Honora again.  "Wasn't that Mrs.
+Dallam you were with?  I used to know her, years ago, but she doesn't
+speak to me any more."
+
+"Perhaps she thinks you've forgotten her," said Honora.
+
+"It would be impossible to forget Mrs. Dallam," declared Mrs. Kame.
+
+"So I should have thought," said Honora.
+
+Trixton Brent laughed, and Mrs. Kame, too, after a moment's hesitation.
+She laid her hand familiarly on Mr. Brent's arm.
+
+"I haven't seen yon all summer, Trixy," she said.  "I hear you've been
+here at Quicksands, stewing in that little packing-case of yours.  Aren't
+you coming into our steeplechase at Banbury.
+
+"I believe you went to school with my sister," said young Mr. Wing.
+
+"Oh, yes," answered Honora, somewhat surprised.  "I caught a glimpse of
+her once, in New York.  I hope you will remember me to her."
+
+"And I've seen you before," proclaimed Mr. Cuthbert, "but I can't for the
+life of me think where."
+
+Honora did not enlighten him.
+
+"I shan't forget, at any rate, Mrs. Spence," said Cecil Grainger, who had
+not taken his eyes from her, except to blink.
+
+Mrs. Kame saved her the embarrassment of replying.
+
+"Can't we go somewhere and play bridge," Trixy demanded.
+
+I'd be delighted to offer you the hospitality of my packing-case, as you
+call it," said Brent, "but the diningroom ceiling fell down Wednesday,
+and I'm having the others bolstered up as a mere matter of precaution."
+
+"I suppose we couldn't get a fourth, anyway.  Neither Jimmy nor Toots
+plays.  It's so stupid of them not to learn."
+
+"Mrs. Spence might, help us out," suggested Brent.
+
+"Do you play?"  exclaimed Mrs. Kame, in a voice of mixed incredulity and
+hope.
+
+"Play!" cried Mr. Brent, "she can teach Jerry Shorter or the Duchess of
+Taunton."
+
+"The Duchess cheats," announced Cecil Grainger.  "I caught her at it at
+Cannes--"
+
+"Indeed, I don't play very well," Honora interrupted him, "and besides--"
+
+"Suppose we go over to Mrs. Spence's house," Trixton Brent suggested.
+"I'm sure she'd like to have us wouldn't you, Mrs. Spence?"
+
+"What a brilliant idea, Trixy!" exclaimed Mrs. Kame.
+
+"I should be delighted," said Honora, somewhat weakly.  An impulse made
+her glance toward the veranda, and for a fraction of a second she caught
+the eye of Lily Dallam, who turned again to Mrs. Chandos.
+
+"I say," said Mr. Cuthbert, "I don't play--but I hope I may come along."
+
+"And me too," chimed in Mr. Wing.
+
+Honora, not free from a certain uneasiness of conscience, led the way to
+the Brackens, flanked by Mr. Grainger and Mr. Cuthbert.  Her frame of
+mind was not an ideal one for a hostess; she was put out with Trixton
+Brent, and she could not help wondering whether these people would have
+made themselves so free with another house.  When tea was over, however,
+and the bridge had begun, her spirits rose; or rather, a new and strange
+excitement took possession of her that was not wholly due to the novel
+and revolutionary experience of playing, for money--and winning.  Her
+star being in the ascendant, as we may perceive.  She had drawn Mrs. Kame
+for a partner, and the satisfaction and graciousness of that lady visibly
+grew as the score mounted: even the skill of Trixton Brent could not
+triumph over the hands which the two ladies held.
+
+In the intervals the talk wandered into regions unfamiliar to Honora, and
+she had a sense that her own horizon was being enlarged.  A new vista, at
+least, had been cut: possibilities became probabilities.  Even when Mrs.
+Kame chose to ridicule Quicksands Honora was silent, so keenly did she
+feel the justice of her guest's remarks; and the implication was that
+Honora did not belong there.  When train time arrived and they were about
+to climb into Trixton Brent's omnibus--for which he had obligingly
+telephoned--Mrs. Kame took Honora's band in both her own.  Some good
+thing, after all, could come out of this community--such was the
+triumphant discovery the lady's manner implied.
+
+"My dear, don't you ever come to Banbury?" she asked.  I'd be so glad to
+see you.  I must get Trixy to drive you over some day for lunch.  We've
+had such a good time, and Cecil didn't fall asleep once.  Quite a record.
+You saved our lives, really."
+
+"Are you going to be in town this winter?"  Mr. Grainger inquired.
+
+"I,--I suppose so--replied Honora, for the moment taken aback, although I
+haven't decided just where."
+
+"I shall look forward to seeing you," he said.
+
+This hope was expressed even more fervently by Mr. Cuthbert and Mr. Wing,
+and the whole party waved her a cordial good-by as the carriage turned
+the circle.  Trixton Brent, with his hands in his pockets, stood facing
+her under the electric light on the porch.
+
+"Well?" he said.
+"Well," repeated Honora.
+
+"Nice people," said Mr. Brent,
+
+Honora bridled.
+
+"You invited them here," she said.  "I must say I think it, was rather--
+presumptuous.  And you've got me into no end of trouble with Lily
+Dallam."
+
+He laughed as he held open the screen door for her.
+
+"I wonder whether a good angel was ever so abused," he said.
+
+"A good angel," she repeated, smiling at him in spite of herself.
+
+"Or knight-errant," he continued, "whichever you choose.  You want to get
+out of Quicksands--I'm trying to make it easy for you.  Before you leave
+you have to arrange some place to go.  Before we are off with the old
+we'd better be on with the new."
+
+"Oh, please don't say such things," she cried, "they're so--so sordid."
+She looked searchingly into his face.  "Do I really seem to you like
+that?"
+
+Her lip was quivering, and she was still under the influence of the
+excitement which the visit of these people had brought about.
+
+"No," said Brent--coming very close to her, "no, you don't.  That's the
+extraordinary part of it.  The trouble with you, Honora, is that you want
+something badly very badly--and you haven't yet found out what it is.
+
+"And you won't find out," he added, "until you have tried everything.
+Therefore am I a good Samaritan, or something like it."
+
+She looked at him with startled eyes, breathing deeply.
+
+"I wonder if that is so!" she said, in a low voice.
+
+"Not until you have had and broken every toy in the shop," he declared.
+"Out of the mouths of men of the world occasionally issues wisdom.  I'm
+going to help you get the toys.  Don't you think I'm kind?"
+
+"And isn't this philanthropic mood a little new to you?" she asked.
+
+"I thought I had exhausted all novelties," he answered.  "Perhaps that's
+the reason why I enjoy it."
+
+She turned and walked slowly into the drawing-room, halted, and stood
+staring at the heap of gold and yellow bills that Mr. Grainger had
+deposited in front of the place where she had sat.  Her sensation was
+akin to sickness.  She reached out with a kind of shuddering fascination
+and touched the gold.
+
+"I think," she said, speaking rather to herself than to Brent, "I'll give
+it to charity."
+
+"If it is possible to combine a meritorious act with good policy, I
+should suggest giving it to Mrs. Grainger for the relief of oppressed
+working girls," he said.
+
+Honora started.
+
+"I wonder why Howard doesn't come she exclaimed, looking at the clock.
+
+"Probably because he is holding nothing but full hands and flushes,"
+hazarded Mr. Brent.  "Might I propose myself for dinner?"
+
+"When so many people are clamouring for you?" she asked.
+
+"Even so," he said.
+
+"I think I'll telephone to the Club," said Honora, and left the room.
+
+It was some time before her husband responded to the call; and then he
+explained that if Honora didn't object, he was going to a man's dinner in
+a private room.  The statement was not unusual.
+
+"But, Howard," she said, I--I wanted you particularly to-night."
+
+"I thought you were going to dine with Lily Dallam.  She told me you
+were.  Are you alone?"
+
+"Mr. Brent is here.  He brought over some Banbury people to play bridge.
+They've gone."
+
+"Oh, Brent will amuse you," he replied.  "I didn't know you were going to
+be home, and I've promised these men.  I'll come back early."
+
+She hung up the receiver thoughtfully, paused a moment, and went back to
+the drawing-room.  Brent looked up.
+
+"Well," he said, "was I right?"
+
+"You seem always to be right," Honora, sighed.
+
+After dinner they sat in the screened part of the porch which Mrs. Fern
+had arranged very cleverly as an outside room.  Brent had put a rug over
+Honora's knees, for the ocean breath that stirred the leaves was cold.
+Across the darkness fragments of dance music drifted fitfully from the
+Club, and died away; and at intervals, when the embers of his cigar
+flared up, she caught sight of her companion's face.
+
+She found him difficult to understand.  There are certain rules of thumb
+in every art, no doubt,--even in that most perilous one of lion-taming.
+But here was a baffling, individual lion.  She liked him best, she told
+herself, when he purred platonically, but she could by no means be sure
+that his subjection was complete.  Sometimes he had scratched her in his
+play.  And however natural it is to desire a lion for one's friend, to be
+eaten is both uncomfortable and inglorious.
+
+"That's, a remarkable husband of yours," he said at length.
+
+"I shouldn't have said that you were a particularly good judge of
+husbands," she retorted, after a moment of surprise.
+
+He acknowledged with a laugh the justice of this observation.
+
+"I stand corrected.  He is by no means a remarkable husband.  Permit me
+to say he is a remarkable man."
+
+"What makes you think so?" asked Honora, considerably disturbed.
+
+"Because he induced you to marry him, for one thing," said Brent.
+"Of course he got you before you knew what you were worth, but we must
+give him credit for discovery and foresight."
+
+"Perhaps," Honora could not resist replying, "perhaps he didn't know what
+he was getting."
+
+"That's probably true," Brent assented, "or he'd be sitting here now,
+where I am, instead of playing poker.  Although there is something in
+matrimony that takes the bloom off the peach."
+
+"I think that's a horrid, cynical remark," said Honora.
+
+"Well," he said, "we speak according to our experiences--that is, if
+we're not inclined to be hypocritical.  Most women are."
+
+Honora was silent.  He had thrown away his cigar, and she could no longer
+see his face.  She wondered whither he was leading.
+
+"How would you like to see your husband president of a trust company?" he
+said suddenly.
+
+"Howard--president of a trust company!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Why not?"  he demanded.  And added enigmatically, "Smaller men have
+been."
+
+"I wish you wouldn't joke about Howard," she said.
+
+"How does the idea strike you?" he persisted.  "Ambition satisfied--
+temporarily; Quicksands a mile-stone on a back road; another toy to
+break; husband a big man in the community, so far as the eye can see;
+visiting list on Fifth Avenue, and all that sort of thing."
+
+"I once told you you could be brutal," she said.
+
+"You haven't told me what you thought of the idea."
+
+"I wish you'd be sensible once in a while," she exclaimed.
+
+"Howard Spence, President of the Orange Trust Company!" he recited.
+"I suppose no man is a hero to his wife.  Does it sound so incredible?"
+
+It did.  But Honora did not say so.
+
+"What have I to do with it?"  she asked, in pardonable doubt as to his
+seriousness.
+
+"Everything," answered Brent.  "Women of your type usually have.  They
+make and mar without rhyme or reason--set business by the ears, alter the
+gold reserve, disturb the balance of trade, and nobody ever suspects it.
+Old James Wing and I have got a trust company organized, and the building
+up, and the man Wing wanted for president backed out."
+
+Honora sat up.
+
+"Why--why did he 'back out'?" she demanded.
+
+"He preferred to stay where he was, I suppose," replied Brent, in another
+tone.  "The point is that the place is empty.  I'll give it to YOU."
+
+"To me?"
+
+"Certainly," said Brent, "I don't pretend to care anything about your
+husband.  He'll do as well as the next man.  His duties are pretty well--
+defined."
+
+Again she was silent.  But after a moment dropped back in her chair and
+laughed uneasily.
+
+"You're preposterous," she said; "I can't think why I let you talk to me
+in this way."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+OF MENTAL PROCESSES--FEMININE AND INSOLUBLE
+
+Honora may be pardoned for finally ascribing to Mr. Brent's somewhat
+sardonic sense of humour his remarks concerning her husband's elevation
+to a conspicuous position in the world of finance.  Taken in any other
+sense than a joke, they were both insulting and degrading, and made her
+face burn when she thought of them.  After he had gone--or rather after
+she had dismissed him--she took a book upstairs to wait for Howard, but
+she could not read.  At times she wished she had rebuked Trixton Brent
+more forcibly, although he was not an easy person to rebuke; and again
+she reflected that, had she taken the matter too seriously, she would
+have laid herself open to his ridicule.  The lion was often unwittingly
+rough, and perhaps that was part of his fascination.
+
+If Howard had come home before midnight it is possible that she might
+have tried to sound him as to his relations with Trixton Brent.  That
+gentleman, she remembered, had the reputation of being a peculiarly
+hardheaded business man, and it was of course absurd that he should offer
+her husband a position merely to please her.  And her imagination failed
+her when she tried to think of Howard as the president of a trust
+company.  She was unable to picture him in a great executive office:
+
+This tram of thought led her to the unaccustomed task of analyzing his
+character.  For the first time since her marriage comparisons crept into
+her mind, and she awoke to the fact that he was not a masterful man--even
+among men.  For all his self-confidence-self-assurance, perhaps, would be
+the better word--he was in reality a follower, not a leader; a gleaner.
+He did not lack ideas.  She tried to arrest the process in her brain when
+she got as far as asking herself whether it might not be that he lacked
+ideals.  Since in business matters he never had taken her into his
+confidence, and since she would not at any rate have understood such
+things, she had no proof of such a failing.  But one or two vague remarks
+of Trixton Brent's which she recalled, and Howard's own request that she
+should be friendly with Brent, reenforced her instinct on this point.
+
+When she heard her husband's footstep on the porch, she put out her
+light, but still lay thinking in the darkness.  Her revelations had
+arrived at the uncomfortable stage where they began to frighten her,
+and with an effort she forced herself to turn to the other side of the
+account.  The hour was conducive to exaggerations.  Perfection in
+husbands was evidently a state not to be considered by any woman in her
+right senses.  He was more or less amenable, and he was prosperous,
+although definite news of that prosperity never came from him--Quicksands
+always knew of it first.  An instance of this second-hand acquisition of
+knowledge occurred the very next morning, when Lily Dallam, with much
+dignity, walked into Honora's little sitting-room.  There was no apparent
+reason why dignity should not have been becoming to Lily Dallam, for she
+was by no means an unimpressive-looking woman; but the assumption by her
+of that quality always made her a little tragic or (if one chanced to be
+in the humour--Honora was not) a little ridiculous.
+
+"I suppose I have no pride," she said, as she halted within a few feet of
+the doorway.
+
+"Why, Lily!" exclaimed Honora, pushing back the chair from her desk, and
+rising.
+
+But Mrs. Dallam did not move.
+
+"I suppose I have no pride," she repeated in a dead voice, "but I just
+couldn't help coming over and giving you a chance."
+
+"Giving me a chance?" said Honora.
+
+"To explain--after the way you treated me at the polo game.  If I hadn't
+seen it with my own eyes, I shouldn't have believed it.  I don't think I
+should have trusted my own eyes," Mrs. Dallam went so far as to affirm,
+"if Lula Chandos and Clara Trowbridge and others hadn't been there and
+seen it too; I shouldn't have believed it."
+
+Honora was finding penitence a little difficult.  But her heart was kind.
+
+"Do sit down, Lily," she begged.  "If I've offended you in any way, I'm
+exceedingly sorry--I am, really.  You ought to know me well enough to
+understand that I wouldn't do anything to hurt your feelings."
+
+"And when I counted on you so, for my tea and dinner at the club!"
+continued Mrs. Dallam.  "There were other women dying to come.  And you
+said you had a headache, and were tired."
+
+"I was," began Honora, fruitlessly.
+
+"And you were so popular in Quicksands--everybody was crazy about you.
+You were so sweet and so unspoiled.  I might have known that it couldn't
+last.  And now, because Abby Kame and Cecil Grainger and--"
+
+"Lily, please don't say such things!" Honora implored, revolted.
+
+"Of course you won't be satisfied now with anything less than Banbury or
+Newport.  But you can't say I didn't warn you, Honora, that they are a
+horrid, selfish, fast lot," Lily Dallam declared, and brushed her eyes
+with her handkerchief.  "I did love you."
+
+"If you'll only be reasonable a moment, Lily,--" said Honora.
+
+"Reasonable!  I saw you with my own eyes.  Five minutes after you left me
+they all started for your house, and Lula Chandos said it was the
+quickest cure of a headache she had ever seen."
+
+"Lily," Honora began again, with exemplary patience, when people invite
+themselves to one's house, it's a little difficult to refuse them
+hospitality, isn't it?"
+
+"Invite themselves?"
+
+"Yes," replied Honora.  "If I weren't--fond of you, too, I shouldn't make
+this explanation.  I was tired.  I never felt less like entertaining
+strangers.  They wanted to play bridge, there wasn't a quiet spot in the
+Club where they could go.  They knew I was on my way home, and they
+suggested my house.  That is how it happened."
+
+Mrs. Dallam was silent a moment.
+
+"May I have one of Howard's cigarettes?" she asked, and added, after this
+modest wish had been supplied, that's just like them.  They're willing to
+make use of anybody."
+
+"I meant," said Honora, "to have gone to your house this morning and to
+have explained how it happened."
+
+Another brief silence, broken by Lily Dallam.
+
+"Did you notice the skirt of that suit Abby Kame had on?", she asked.
+"I'm sure she paid a fabulous price for it in Paris, and it's exactly
+like one I ordered on Tuesday."
+
+The details of the rest of this conversation may be omitted.  That Honora
+was forgiven, and Mrs. Dallam's spirits restored may be inferred from her
+final remark.
+
+"My dear, what do you think of Sid and Howard making twenty thousand
+dollars apiece in Sassafras Copper?  Isn't it too lovely!  I'm having a
+little architect make me plans for a conservatory.  You know I've always
+been dying for one--I don't see how I've lived all these years without
+it."
+
+Honora, after her friend had gone, sat down in one of the wicker chairs
+on the porch.  She had a very vague idea as to how much twenty thousand
+dollars was, but she reflected that while they had lived in Rivington
+Howard must have made many similar sums, of which she was unaware.
+Gradually she began to realize, however, that her resentment of the lack
+of confidence of her husband was by no means the only cause of the
+feeling that took possession of and overwhelmed her.  Something like it
+she had experienced before: to-day her thoughts seemed to run through her
+in pulsations, like waves of heat, and she wondered that she could have
+controlled herself while listening to Lily Dallam.
+
+Mrs. Dallam's reproaches presented themselves to Honora in new aspects.
+She began to feel now, with an intensity that frightened her, distaste
+and rebellion.  It was intolerable that she should be called to account
+for the people she chose to have in her house, that any sort of pressure
+should be brought to bear on her to confine her friends to Quicksands.
+Treason, heresy, disloyalty to the cult of that community--in reality
+these, and not a breach of engagement, were the things of which she had
+been accused.  She saw now.  She would not be tied to Quicksands--she
+would not, she would not, she would not!  She owed it no allegiance.
+Her very soul rebelled at the thought, and cried out that she was made
+for something better, something higher than the life she had been
+leading.  She would permit no one forcibly to restrict her horizon.
+
+Just where and how this higher and better life was to be found Honora did
+not know; but the belief of her childhood--that it existed somewhere--was
+still intact.  Her powers of analysis, we see, are only just budding,
+and she did not and could not define the ideal existence which she so
+unflaggingly sought.  Of two of its attributes only she was sure--that
+it was to be free from restraint and from odious comparisons.  Honora's
+development, it may be remarked, proceeds by the action of irritants, and
+of late her protest against Quicksands and what it represented had driven
+her to other books besides the treatise on bridge.  The library she had
+collected at Rivington she had brought with her, and was adding to it
+from time to time.  Its volumes are neither sufficiently extensive or
+profound to enumerate.
+
+Those who are more or less skilled in psychology may attempt to establish
+a sequence between the events and reflections just related and the fact
+that, one morning a fortnight later, Honora found herself driving
+northward on Fifth Avenue in a hansom cab.  She was in a pleasurable
+state of adventurous excitement, comparable to that Columbus must have
+felt when the shores of the Old World had disappeared below the horizon.
+During the fortnight we have skipped Honora had been to town several
+times, and had driven and walked through certain streets: inspiration,
+courage, and decision had all arrived at once this morning, when at the
+ferry she had given the cabman this particular address on Fifth Avenue.
+
+The cab, with the jerking and thumping peculiar to hansoms, made a circle
+and drew up at the curb.  But even then a moment of irresolution
+intervened, and she sat staring through the little side window at the
+sign, T. Gerald Shorter, Real Estate, in neat gold letters over the
+basement floor of the building.
+
+"Here y'are, Miss," said the cabman through the hole in the roof.
+
+Honora descended, and was almost at the flight of steps leading down to
+the office door when a familiar figure appeared coming out of it.  It was
+that of Mr. Toots Cuthbert, arrayed in a faultless morning suit, his tie
+delicately suggestive of falling leaves; and there dangled over his arm
+the slenderest of walking sticks.
+
+"Mrs. Spence!" he lisped, with every appearance of joy.
+
+"Mr. Cuthbert!" she cried.
+
+"Going in to see Jerry?" he inquired after he had put on his hat, nodding
+up at the sign.
+
+"I--that is, yes, I had thought of it," she answered.
+
+"Town house?" said Mr. Cuthbert, with a knowing smile.
+
+"I did have an idea of looking at houses," she confessed, somewhat taken
+aback.
+
+"I'm your man," announced Mr. Cuthbert.
+
+"You!" exclaimed Honora, with an air of considering the lilies of the
+field.  But he did not seem to take offence.
+
+"That's my business," he proclaimed,--"when in town.  Jerry gives me a
+commission.  Come in and see him, while I get a list and some keys.  By
+the way, you wouldn't object to telling him you were a friend of mine,
+would you?"
+
+"Not at all," said Honora, laughing.
+
+Mr. Shorter was a jovial gentleman in loose-fitting clothes, and he was
+exceedingly glad to meet Mr. Cuthbert's friend.
+
+"What kind of a house do you want, Mrs. Spence?"  he asked.  "Cuthbert
+tells me this morning that the Whitworth house has come into the market.
+You couldn't have a better location than that, on the Avenue between the
+Cathedral and the Park."
+
+"Oh," said Honora with a gasp, "that's much too expensive, I'm sure.
+And there are only two of us."  She hesitated, a little alarmed at the
+rapidity with which affairs were proceeding, and added: "I ought to tell
+you that I've not really decided to take a house.  I wished to--to see
+what there was to be had, and then I should have to consult my husband."
+
+She gazed very seriously into Mr. Shorter's brown eyes, which became very
+wide and serious, too.  But all the time it seemed to her that other
+parts of him were laughing.
+
+"Husbands," he declared, "are kill-joys.  What have they got to do with
+a house--except to sleep in it?  Now I haven't the pleasure of knowing
+you as well as I hope to one of these days, Mrs. Spence--"
+
+"Oh, I say!" interrupted Mr. Cuthbert.
+
+"But I venture to predict, on a slight acquaintance," continued Mr.
+Shorter, undisturbed, "that you will pick out the house you want, and
+that your husband will move into it."
+
+Honora could not help laughing.  And Mr. Shorter leaned back in his
+revolving chair and laughed, too, in so alarming a manner as to lead her
+to fear he would fall over backwards.  But Mr. Cuthbert, who did not
+appear to perceive the humour in this conversation, extracted some keys
+and several pasteboard slips from a rack in the corner.  Suddenly Mr.
+Shorter jerked himself upright again, and became very solemn.
+
+"Where's my hat?"  he demanded.
+
+"What do you want with your hat?" Mr. Cuthbert inquired.
+
+"Why, I'm going with you, of course," Mr. Shorter replied.  "I've decided
+to take a personal interest in this matter.  You may regard my presence,
+Cuthbert, as justified by an artistic passion for my profession.  I
+should never forgive myself if Mrs. Spence didn't get just the right
+house."
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Cuthbert, "I'll manage that all right.  I thought you were
+going to see the representative of a syndicate at eleven."
+
+Mr. Shorter, with a sigh, acknowledged this necessity, and escorted
+Honora gallantly through the office and across the sidewalk to the
+waiting hansom.  Cuthbert got in beside her.
+
+"Jerry's a joker," he observed as they drove off, "you mustn't mind him."
+
+"I think he's delightful," said Honora.
+
+"One wouldn't believe that a man of his size and appearance could be so
+fond of women," said Mr. Cuthbert.  "He's the greatest old lady-killer
+that ever breathed.  For two cents he would have come with us this
+morning, and let a five thousand dollar commission go.  Do you know Mrs.
+Shorter?"
+
+"No," replied Honora.  "She looks most attractive.  I caught a glimpse of
+her at the polo that day with you."
+
+"I've been at her house in Newport ever since.  Came down yesterday to
+try to earn some money," he continued, cheerfully making himself
+agreeable.  "Deuced clever woman, much too clever for me and Jerry too.
+Always in a tete-a-tete with an antiquarian or a pathologist, or a
+psychologist, and tells novelists what to put into their next books and
+jurists how to decide cases.  Full of modern and liberal ideas--believes
+in free love and all that sort of thing, and gives Jerry the dickens for
+practising it."
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Honora.
+
+Mr. Cuthbert, however, did not appear to realize that he had shocked her.
+
+"By the way," he asked, "have you seen Cecil Grainger since the
+Quicksands game?"
+
+"No," she replied.  "Has Mr. Grainger been at Quicksands since?"
+
+"Nobody knows where he's been," answered Mr. Cuthbert.  "It's a mystery.
+He hasn't been home--at Newport, I mean-for a fortnight.  He's never
+stayed away so long without letting any one know where he is.  Naturally
+they thought he was at Mrs. Kame's in Banbury, but she hasn't laid eyes
+on him.  It's a mystery.  My own theory is that he went to sleep in a
+parlour car and was sent to the yards, and hasn't waked up."
+
+"And isn't Mrs. Grainger worried?" asked Honora.
+
+"Oh, you never can tell anything about her," he said.  "Do you know her?
+She's a sphinx.  All the Pendletons are Stoics.  And besides, she's been
+so busy with this Charities Conference that she hasn't had time to think
+of Cecil.  Who's that?"
+
+"That" was a lady from Rivington, one of Honora's former neighbours, to
+whom she had bowed.  Life, indeed, is full of contrasts.  Mr. Cuthbert,
+too, was continually bowing and waving to acquaintances on the Avenue.
+
+Thus pleasantly conversing, they arrived at the first house on the list,
+and afterwards went through a succession of them.  Once inside, Honora
+would look helplessly about her in the darkness while her escort would
+raise the shades, admitting a gloomy light on bare interiors or shrouded
+furniture.
+
+And the rents: Four, five, six, and seven and eight thousand dollars
+a year.  Pride prevented her from discussing these prices with Mr.
+Cuthbert; and in truth, when lunch time came, she had seen nothing
+which realized her somewhat vague but persistent ideals.
+
+"I'm so much obliged to you," she said, "and I hope you'll forgive me for
+wasting your time."
+
+Mr. Cuthbert smiled broadly, and Honora smiled too.
+
+Indeed, there was something ludicrous in the remark.  He assumed an
+attitude of reflection.
+
+"I imagine you wouldn't care to go over beyond Lexington Avenue, would
+you?  I didn't think to ask you."
+
+"No," she replied, blushing a little, "I shouldn't care to go over as far
+as that."
+
+He pondered a while longer, when suddenly his face lighted up.
+
+"I've got it!" he cried, "the very thing--why didn't.  I think of it?
+Dicky Farnham's house, or rather his wife's house.  I'll get it straight
+after a while,--she isn't his wife any more, you know; she married
+Eustace Rindge last month.  That's the reason it's for rent.  Dicky says
+he'll never get married again--you bet!  They planned it together, laid
+the corner-stone and all that sort of thing, and before it was finished
+she had a divorce and had gone abroad with Rindge.  I saw her before she
+sailed, and she begged me to rent it.  But it isn't furnished."
+
+"I might look at it," said Honora, dubiously.
+
+"I'm sure it will just suit you," he declared with enthusiasm.  "It's a
+real find.  We'll drive around by the office and get the keys."
+
+The house was between Fifth Avenue and Madison, on a cross street not far
+below Fifty-Ninth, and Honora had scarcely entered the little oak-
+panelled hall before she had forgotten that Mr. Cuthbert was a real
+estate agent--a most difficult thing to remember.
+
+Upstairs, the drawing-room was flooded with sunlight that poured in
+through a window with stone mullions and leaded panes extending the
+entire width of the house.  Against the wall stood a huge stone mantel of
+the Tudor period, and the ceiling was of wood.  Behind the little hall a
+cosey library lighted by a well, and behind that an ample dining-room.
+And Honora remembered to have seen, in a shop on Fourth Avenue, just the
+sideboard for such a setting.
+
+On the third floor, as Mr. Cuthbert pointed out, there was a bedroom and
+boudoir for Mrs. Spence, and a bedroom and dressing-room for Mr. Spence.
+Into the domestic arrangement of the house, however important, we need
+not penetrate.  The rent was eight thousand dollars, which Mr. Cuthbert
+thought extremely reasonable.
+
+"Eight thousand dollars!" As she stood with her back turned, looking out
+on the street, some trick of memory brought into her mind the fact that
+she had once heard her uncle declare that he had bought his house and lot
+for that exact sum.  And as cashier of Mr. Isham's bank, he did not earn
+so much in a year.
+
+She had found the house, indeed, but the other and mightier half of the
+task remained, of getting Howard into it.  In the consideration of this
+most difficult of problems Honora, who in her exaltation had beheld
+herself installed in every room, grew suddenly serious.  She was startled
+out of her reflections by a remark of almost uncanny penetration on the
+part of Mr. Cuthbert.
+
+"Oh, he'll come round all right, when he sees the house," that young
+gentleman declared.
+
+Honora turned quickly, and, after a moment of astonishment, laughed in
+spite of herself.  It was impossible not to laugh with Mr. Cuthbert, so
+irresistible and debonair was he, so confiding and sympathetic, that he
+became; before one knew it, an accomplice.  Had he not poured out to
+Honora, with a charming gayety and frankness, many of his financial
+troubles?
+
+"I'm afraid he'll think it frightfully expensive," she answered, becoming
+thoughtful once more.  And it did not occur to her that neither of them
+had mentioned the individual to whom they referred.
+
+"Wait until he's feeling tiptop," Mr. Cuthbert advised, "and then bring
+him up here in a hurry.  I say, I hope you do take the house," he added,
+with a boyish seriousness after she had refused his appeal to lunch with
+him, "and that you will let me come and see you once in a while."
+
+She lunched alone, in a quiet corner of the dining-room of one of the
+large hotels, gazing at intervals absently out of the window.  And by the
+middle of the afternoon she found herself, quite unexpectedly, in the
+antique furniture shop, gazing at the sideboard and a set of leather-
+seated Jacobean chairs, and bribing the dealer with a smile to hold them
+for a few days until she could decide whether she wished them.  In a
+similar mood of abstraction she boarded the ferry, but it was not until
+the boat had started on its journey that she became aware of a trim,
+familiar figure in front of her, silhouetted against the ruffed blue
+waters of the river--Trixton Brent's.  And presently, as though the
+concentration of her thoughts upon his back had summoned him, he turned.
+
+"Where have you been all this time?" she asked.  "I haven't seen you for
+an age."
+
+"To Seattle."
+
+"To Seattle!" she exclaimed.  "What were you doing there?"
+
+"Trying to forget you," he replied promptly, "and incidentally attempting
+to obtain control of some properties.  Both efforts, I may add, were
+unsuccessful."
+
+"I'm sorry," said Honora.
+
+"And what mischief," he demanded, "have you been up to?"
+
+"You'll never guess!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Preparing for the exodus," he hazarded.
+
+"You surely don't expect me to stay in Quicksands all winter?"  she
+replied, a little guiltily.
+
+"Quicksands," he declared, "has passed into history."
+
+"You always insist upon putting a wrong interpretation upon what I do,"
+she complained.
+
+He laughed.
+
+"What interpretation do you put on it?" he asked.
+
+"A most natural and praiseworthy one," she answered.  "Education,
+improvement, growth--these things are as necessary for a woman as for a
+man.  Of course I don't expect you to believe that--your idea of women
+not being a very exalted one."
+
+He did not reply, for at that instant the bell rang, the passengers
+pressed forward about them, and they were soon in the midst of the
+confusion of a landing.  It was not until they were seated in adjoining
+chairs of the parlour-car that the conversation was renewed.
+
+"When do you move to town?" he inquired.
+
+However simple Mr. Brent's methods of reasoning may appear to others, his
+apparent clairvoyance never failed to startle Honora.
+
+"Somebody has told you that I've been looking at houses!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Have you found one?"
+
+She hesitated.
+
+"Yes--I have found one.  It belongs to some people named Farnham--they're
+divorced."
+
+"Dicky Farnham's ex-wife," he supplied.  "I know where it is--
+unexceptionable neighbourhood and all that sort of thing."
+
+"And it's just finished," continued Honora, her enthusiasm gaining on her
+as she spoke of the object which had possessed her mind for four hours.
+"It's the most enchanting house, and so sunny for New York.  If I had
+built it myself it could not have suited me better.  Only--"
+
+"Only--"repeated Trixton Brent, smiling.
+
+"Well," she said slowly, "I really oughtn't to talk about it.  I--I
+haven't said anything to Howard yet, and he may not like it.  I ran
+across it by the merest accident."
+
+"What will you give me," he said, "if I can induce Howard to like it?"
+
+"My eternal friendship," she laughed.
+
+"That's not enough," said Trixton Brent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+INTRODUCING A REVOLUTIONIZING VEHICLE
+
+"Howard," said Honora that evening, "I've been going through houses
+to-day."
+
+"Houses!" he exclaimed, looking up from his newspaper.
+
+"And I've been most fortunate," she continued.  "I found one that Mrs.
+Farnham built--she is now Mrs. Rindge.  It is just finished, and so
+attractive.  If I'd looked until doomsday I couldn't have done any
+better."
+
+"But great Scott!" he ejaculated, "what put the notion of a town house
+into your head?"
+
+"Isn't it high time to be thinking of the winter?" she asked.  "It's
+nearly the end of September."
+
+He was inarticulate for a few moments, in an evident desperate attempt to
+rally his forces to meet such an unforeseen attack.
+
+"Who said anything about going to town?" he inquired.
+
+"Now, Howard, don't be foolish," she replied.  "Surely you didn't expect
+to stay in Quicksands all winter?"
+
+"Foolish!" he repeated, and added inconsequently, "why not?"
+
+"Because," said Honora, calmly, "I have a life to lead as well as you."
+
+"But you weren't satisfied until you got to Quicksands, and now you want
+to leave it."
+
+"I didn't bargain to stay here in the winter," she declared.  "You know
+very well that if you were unfortunate it would be different.  But you're
+quite prosperous."
+
+"How do you know?" he demanded unguardedly.
+
+"Quicksands tells me," she said.  "It is--a little humiliating not to
+have more of your confidence, and to hear such things from outsiders."
+
+"You never seemed interested in business matters," he answered uneasily.
+
+"I should be," said Honora, "if you would only take the trouble to tell
+me about them."  She stood up.  "Howard, can't you see that it is making
+us--grow apart?  If you won't tell me about yourself and what you're
+doing, you drive me to other interests.  I am your wife, and I ought to
+know--I want to know.  The reason I don't understand is because you've
+never taken the trouble to teach me.  I wish to lead my own life, it is
+true--to develop.  I don't want to be like these other women down here.
+I--I was made for something better.  I'm sure of it.  But I wish my life
+to be joined to yours, too--and it doesn't seem to be.  And sometimes--
+I'm afraid I can't explain it to you--sometimes I feel lonely and
+frightened, as though I might do something desperate.  And I don't
+know what's going to become of me."
+
+He laid down his newspaper and stared at her helplessly, with the air of
+a man who suddenly finds himself at sea in a small boat without oars.
+
+"Oh, you can't understand!" she cried.  "I might have known you never
+could."
+
+He was, indeed, thoroughly perplexed and uncomfortable: unhappy might not
+be too strong a word.  He got up awkwardly and put his hand on her arm.
+She did not respond.  He drew her, limp and unresisting, down on the
+lounge beside him.
+
+"For heaven's sake, what is the matter, Honora?" he faltered.  "I--I
+thought we were happy.  You were getting on all right, and seemed to be
+having a good time down here.  You never said anything about--this."
+
+She turned her head and looked at him--a long, searching look with
+widened eyes.
+
+"No," she said slowly, "you don't understand.  I suppose it isn't your
+fault."
+
+"I'll try," he said, "I don't like to see you--upset like this.  I'll do
+anything I can to make you happy."
+
+"Not things, not--not toys," Trixton Brent's expression involuntarily
+coming to her lips.  "Oh, can't you see I'm not that kind of a woman?
+I don't want to be bought.  I want you, whatever you are, if you are.
+I want to be saved.  Take care of me--see a little more of me--be
+a little interested in what I think.  God gave me a mind, and--other men
+have discovered it.  You don't know, you can't know, what temptations you
+subject me to.  It isn't right, Howard.  And oh, it is humiliating not to
+be able to interest one's husband."
+
+"But you do interest me," he protested.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"Not so much as your business," she said; "not nearly so much."
+
+"Perhaps I have been too absorbed," he confessed.  "One thing has
+followed another.  I didn't suspect that you felt this way.  Come, I'll
+try to brace up."  He pressed her to him.  "Don't feel badly.  You're
+overwrought.  You've exaggerated the situation, Honora.  We'll go in on
+the eight o'clock train together and look at the house--although I'm
+afraid it's a little steep," he added cautiously.
+
+"I don't care anything about the house," said Honora.  "I don't want it."
+
+"There!" he said soothingly, "you'll feel differently in the morning.
+We'll go and look at it, anyway."
+
+Her quick ear, however, detected an undertone which, if not precisely
+resentment, was akin to the vexation that an elderly gentleman might be
+justified in feeling who has taken the same walk for twenty years, and is
+one day struck by a falling brick.  Howard had not thought of consulting
+her in regard to remaining all winter in Quicksands.  And, although he
+might not realize it himself, if he should consent to go to New York one
+reason for his acquiescence would be that the country in winter offered
+a more or less favourable atmosphere for the recurrence of similar
+unpleasant and unaccountable domestic convulsions.  Business demands
+peace at any price.  And the ultimatum at Rivington, though delivered in
+so different a manner, recurred to him.
+
+The morning sunlight, as is well known, is a dispeller of moods, a
+disintegrator of the night's fantasies.  It awoke Honora at what for her
+was a comparatively early hour, and as she dressed rapidly she heard her
+husband whistling in his room.  It is idle to speculate on the phenomenon
+taking place within her, and it may merely be remarked in passing that
+she possessed a quality which, in a man, leads to a career and fame.
+Unimagined numbers of America's women possess that quality--a fact that
+is becoming more and more apparent every day.
+
+"Why, Honora!" Howard exclaimed, as she appeared at the breakfast table.
+"What's happened to you?"
+
+"Have you forgotten already," she asked, smilingly, as she poured out her
+coffee, "that we are going to town together?"
+
+He readjusted his newspaper against the carafe.
+
+"How much do you think Mrs. Farnham--or Mrs. Rindge--is worth?  "he
+asked.
+
+"I'm sure I don't know," she replied.
+
+"Old Marshall left her five million dollars."
+
+"What has that to do with it?" inquired Honora.
+
+"She isn't going to rent, especially in that part of town, for nothing."
+
+"Wouldn't it be wiser, Howard, to wait and see the house.  You know you
+proposed it yourself, and it won't take very much of your time."
+
+He returned to a perusal of the financial column, but his eye from time
+to time wandered from the sheet to his wife, who was reading her letters.
+
+"Howard," she said, "I feel dreadfully about Mrs. Holt.  We haven't been
+at Silverdale all summer.  Here's a note from her saying she'll be in
+town to-morrow for the Charities Conference, asking me to come to see her
+at her hotel.  I think I'll go to Silverdale a little later."
+
+"Why don't you?" he said.  "It would do you good."
+
+"And you?" she asked.
+
+"My only day of the week is Sunday, Honora.  You know that.  And I
+wouldn't spend another day at Silverdale if they gave me a deed to the
+property," he declared.
+
+On the train, when Howard had returned from the smoking car and they were
+about to disembark at Long Island City, they encountered Mr. Trixton
+Brent.
+
+"Whither away?" he cried in apparent astonishment.  "Up at dawn, and the
+eight o'clock train!"
+
+"We were going to look at a house," explained Honora, "and Howard has no
+other time."
+
+"I'll go, too," declared Mr. Brent, promptly.  "You mightn't think me a
+judge of houses, but I am.  I've lived in so many bad ones that I know a
+good one when I see it now."
+
+"Honora has got a wild notion into her head that I'm going to take the
+Farnham house," said Howard, smiling.  There, on the deck of the
+ferryboat, in the flooding sunlight, the idea seemed to give him
+amusement.  With the morning light Pharaoh must have hardened his heart.
+
+"Well, perhaps you are," said Mr. Brent, conveying to Honora his delight
+in the situation by a scarcely perceptible wink.  "I shouldn't like to
+take the other end of the bet.  Why shouldn't you?  You're fat and
+healthy and making money faster than you can gather it in."
+
+Howard coughed, and laughed a little, uncomfortably.  Trixton Brent was
+not a man to offend.
+
+"Honora has got that delusion, too," he replied.  He steeled himself in
+his usual manner for the ordeal to come by smoking a cigarette, for the
+arrival of such a powerful ally on his wife's side lent a different
+aspect to the situation.
+
+Honora, during this colloquy, was silent.  She was a little
+uncomfortable, and pretended not to see Mr. Brent's wink.
+
+"Incredible as it may seem, I expected to have my automobile ready this
+morning," he observed; "we might have gone in that.  It landed three days
+ago, but so far it has failed to do anything but fire off revolver
+shots."
+
+"Oh, I do wish you had it," said Honora, relieved by the change of
+subject.  "To drive in one must be such a wonderful sensation."
+
+"I'll let you know when it stops shooting up the garage and consents to
+move out," he said.  "I'll take you down to Quicksands in it."
+
+The prospective arrival of Mr. Brent's French motor car, which was looked
+for daily, had indeed been one of the chief topics of conversation at
+Quicksands that summer.  He could appear at no lunch or dinner party
+without being subjected to a shower of questions as to where it was, and
+as many as half a dozen different women among whom was Mrs. Chandos--
+declared that he had promised to bring them out from New York on the
+occasion of its triumphal entry into the colony.  Honora, needless to
+say, had betrayed no curiosity.
+
+Neither Mr. Shorter nor Mr. Cuthbert had appeared at the real estate
+office when, at a little after nine o'clock; Honora asked for the keys.
+And an office boy, perched on the box seat of the carriage, drove with
+them to the house and opened the wrought-iron gate that guarded the
+entrance, and the massive front door.  Honora had a sense of unreality
+as they entered, and told herself it was obviously ridiculous that she
+should aspire to such a dwelling.  Yesterday, under the spell of that
+somewhat adventurous excursion with Mr. Cuthbert, she had pictured
+herself as installed.  He had contrived somehow to give her a sense of
+intimacy with the people who lived thereabout--his own friends.
+
+Perhaps it was her husband who was the disillusionizing note as he stood
+on the polished floor of the sunflooded drawing-room.  Although bare of
+furniture, it was eloquent to Honora of a kind of taste not to be found
+at Quicksands: it carried her back, by undiscernible channels of thought,
+to the impression which, in her childhood, the Hanbury mansion had always
+made.  Howard, in her present whimsical fancy, even seemed a little
+grotesque in such a setting.  His inevitable pink shirt and obviously
+prosperous clothes made discord there, and she knew in this moment that
+he was appraising the house from a commercial standpoint.  His comment
+confirmed her guess.
+
+"If I were starting out to blow myself, or you, Honora," he said, poking
+with his stick a marmouset of the carved stone mantel, "I'd get a little
+more for my money while I was about it."
+
+Honora did not reply.  She looked out of the window instead.
+
+"See here, old man," said Trixton Brent, "I'm not a real estate dealer
+or an architect, but if I were in your place I'd take that carriage and
+hustle over to Jerry Shorter's as fast as I could and sign the lease."
+
+Howard looked at him in some surprise, as one who had learned that
+Trixton Brent's opinions were usually worth listening to.
+Characteristically, he did not like to display his ignorance.
+
+"I know what you mean, Brent," he replied, "and there may be something to
+the argument.  It gives an idea of conservativeness and prosperity."
+
+"You've made a bull's-eye," said Trixton Brent, succinctly.
+
+"But--but I'm not ready to begin on this scale," objected Howard.
+
+"Why," cried Brent, with evident zest--for he was a man who enjoyed sport
+in all its forms, even to baiting the husbands of his friends,--"when I
+first set eyes on you, old fellow, I thought you knew a thing or two,
+and you've made a few turns since that confirmed the opinion.  But I'm
+beginning to perceive that you have limitations.  I could sit down here
+now, if there were any place to sit, and calculate how much living in
+this house would be worth to me in Wall Street."
+
+Honora, who had been listening uneasily, knew that a shrewder or more
+disturbing argument could not have been used on her husband; and it came
+from Trixton Brent--to Howard at least--ex cathedra.  She was filled with
+a sense of shame, which was due not solely to the fact that she was a
+little conscience-stricken because of her innocent complicity, nor that
+her husband did not resent an obvious attempt of a high-handed man to
+browbeat him; but also to the feeling that the character of the
+discussion had in some strange way degraded the house itself.  Why
+was it that everything she touched seemed to become contaminated?
+
+"There's no use staying any longer," she said.  "Howard doesn't like it."
+
+"I didn't say so," he interrupted.  "There's something about the place
+that grows on you.  If I felt I could afford it--"
+
+"At any rate," declared Honora, trying to control her voice, "I've
+decided, now I've seen it a second time, that I don't want it.  I only
+wished him to look at it," she added, scornfully aware that she was
+taking up the cudgels in his behalf.  But she could not bring herself,
+in Brent's presence, to declare that the argument of the rent seemed
+decisive.
+
+Her exasperation was somewhat increased by the expression on Trixton
+Brent's face, which plainly declared that he deemed her last remarks to
+be the quintessence of tactics; and he obstinately refused, as they went
+down the stairs to the street, to regard the matter as closed.
+
+"I'll take him down town in the Elevated," he said, as he put her into
+the carriage.  "The first round's a draw."
+
+She directed the driver to the ferry again, and went back to Quicksands.
+Several times during the day she was on the point of telephoning Brent
+not to try to persuade Howard to rent the house, and once she even got
+so far as to take down the receiver.  But when she reflected, it seemed
+an impossible thing to do.  At four o'clock she herself was called to the
+telephone by Mr. Cray, a confidential clerk in Howard's office, who
+informed her that her husband had been obliged to leave town suddenly on
+business, and would not be home that night.
+
+"Didn't he say where he was going?" asked Honora.
+
+"He didn't even tell me, Mrs. Spence," Cray replied, and Mr. Dallam
+doesn't know."
+
+"Oh, dear," said Honora, "I hope he realizes that people are coming for
+dinner to-morrow evening."
+
+"I'm positive, from what he said, that he'll be back some time
+to-morrow," Cray reassured her.
+
+She refused an invitation to dine out, and retired shortly after her own
+dinner with a novel so distracting that she gradually regained an equable
+frame of mind.  The uneasiness, the vague fear of the future, wore away,
+and she slept peacefully.  In the morning, however; she found on her
+breakfast tray a note from Trixton Brent.
+
+Her first feeling after reading it was one of relief that he had not
+mentioned the house.  He had written from a New York club, asking her to
+lunch with him at Delmonico's that day and drive home in the motor.  No
+answer was required: if she did not appear at one o'clock, he would know
+she couldn't come.
+
+Honora took the eleven o'clock train, which gave her an hour after she
+arrived in New York to do as she pleased.  Her first idea, as she stood
+for a moment amidst the clamour of the traffic in front of the ferry
+house, was to call on Mrs. Holt at that lady's hotel; and then she
+remembered that the Charities Conference began at eleven, and decided to
+pay a visit to Madame Dumond, who made a specialty of importing novelties
+in dress.  Her costume for the prospective excursion in the automobile
+had cost Honora some thought that morning.  As the day was cool, she had
+brought along an ulster that was irreproachable.  But how about the hat
+and veil?
+
+Madame Dumond was enchanted.  She had them both,--she had landed with
+them only last week.  She tried them on Honora, and stood back with her
+hands clasped in an ecstasy she did not attempt to hide.  What a
+satisfaction to sell things to Mrs. Spence!  Some ladies she could
+mention would look like frights in them, but Madame Spence had 'de la
+race'.  She could wear anything that was chic.  The hat and veil, said
+Madame, with a simper, were sixty dollars.
+
+"Sixty dollars!" exclaimed Honora.
+
+"Ah, madame, what would you?" Novelties were novelties, the United States
+Custom authorities robbers.
+
+Having attended to these important details, Honora drove to the
+restaurant in her hansom cab, the blood coursing pleasantly in her veins.
+The autumn air sparkled, and New York was showing signs of animation.
+She glanced furtively into the little mirror at the side.  Her veil was
+grey, and with the hat gave her somewhat the air of a religieuse, an
+aspect heightened by the perfect oval of her face; and something akin to
+a religious thrill ran through her.
+
+The automobile, with its brass and varnish shining in the sunlight, was
+waiting a little way up the street, and the first person Honora met in
+the vestibule of Delmonico's was Lula Chandos.  She was, as usual,
+elaborately dressed, and gave one the impression of being lost,
+so anxiously was she scanning the face of every new arrival.
+
+"Oh, my dear," she cried, staring hard at the hat and the veil, "have you
+seen Clara Trowbridge anywhere?"
+
+A certain pity possessed Honora as she shook her head.
+
+"She was in town this morning," continued Mrs. Chandos, "and I was sure
+she was coming here to lunch.  Trixy just drove up a moment ago in his
+new car.  Did you see it?"
+
+Honora's pity turned into a definite contempt.
+
+"I saw an automobile as I came in," she said, but the brevity of her
+reply seemed to have no effect upon Mrs. Chandos.
+
+"There he is now, at the entrance to the cafe," she exclaimed.
+
+There, indeed, was Trixton Brent, staring at them from the end of the
+hall, and making no attempt to approach them.
+
+"I think I'll go into the dressing-room and leave my coat," said Honora,
+outwardly calm but inwardly desperate.  Fortunately, Lula made no attempt
+to follow her.
+
+"You're a dream in that veil, my dear," Mrs. Chandos called after her.
+"Don't forget that we're all dining with you to-night in Quicksands."
+
+Once in the dressing-room, Honora felt like locking the doors and jumping
+out of the window.  She gave her coat to the maid, rearranged her hair
+without any apparent reason, and was leisurely putting on her hat again,
+and wondering what she would do next, when Mrs. Kame appeared.
+
+"Trixy asked me to get you," she explained.  "Mr. Grainger and I are
+going to lunch with you."
+
+"How nice!" said Honora, with such a distinct emphasis of relief that
+Mrs. Kame looked at her queerly.
+
+"What a fool Trixy was, with all his experience, to get mixed up with
+that Chandos woman," that lady remarked as they passed through the
+hallway.  "She's like molasses--one can never get her off.  Lucky thing
+he found Cecil and me here.  There's your persistent friend, Trixy," she
+added, when they were seated.  "Really, this is pathetic, when an
+invitation to lunch and a drive in your car would have made her so
+happy."
+
+Honora looked around and beheld, indeed, Mrs. Chandos and two other
+Quicksands women, Mrs. Randall and Mrs. Barclay, at a table in the corner
+of the room.
+
+"Where's Bessie to-day, Cecil--or do you know?" demanded Mrs. Kame,
+after an amused glance at Brent, who had not deigned to answer her.
+"I promised to go to Newport with her at the end of the week, but
+I haven't been able to find her."
+
+Cecil doesn't know," said Trixton Brent.  "The police have been looking
+for him for a fortnight.  Where the deuce have you been, Cecil?"
+
+"To the Adirondacks," replied Mr Grainger, gravely.
+
+This explanation, which seemed entirely plausible to Honora, appeared to
+afford great amusement to Brent, and even to Mrs. Kame.
+
+"When did you come to life?" demanded Brent.
+
+"Yesterday," said Mr. Grainger, quite as solemnly as before.
+
+Mrs. Kame glanced curiously at Honora, and laughed again.
+
+"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Trixy," she said.
+
+"Why?"  he asked innocently.  "There's nothing wrong in going to the
+Adirondacks--is there, Cecil?"
+
+"No," said Mr. Grainger, blinking rapidly.
+
+"The Adirondacks," declared Mrs. Kame, "have now become classic."
+
+"By the way," observed Mr. Grainger, "I believe Bessie's in town to-day
+at a charity pow-wow, reading a paper.  I've half a mind to go over and
+listen to it.  The white dove of peace--and all that kind of thing."
+
+"You'd go to sleep and spoil it all," said Brent.
+
+"But you can't, Cecil!" cried Mrs. Kame.  "Don't you remember we're going
+to Westchester to the Faunces' to spend the night and play bridge?  And
+we promised to arrive early."
+
+"That's so, by George," said Mr. Grainger, and he drank the rest of his
+whiskey-and-soda.
+
+"I'll tell you what I'll do, if Mrs. Spence is willing," suggested Brent.
+"If you start right after lunch, I'll take you out.  We'll have plenty of
+time," he added to Honora, "to get back to Quicksands for dinner."
+
+"Are you sure?" she asked anxiously.  "I have people for dinner tonight."
+
+"Oh, lots of time," declared Mrs. Kame.  "Trixy's car is some unheard-of
+horse-power.  It's only twenty-five miles to the Faunces', and you'll be
+back at the ferry by half-past four."
+
+"Easily," said Trixton Brent.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+ON THE ART OF LION TAMING
+
+After lunch, while Mrs. Kame was telephoning to her maid and Mr. Grainger
+to Mrs. Faunce, Honora found herself alone with Trixton Brent in the
+automobile at a moment when the Quicksands party were taking a cab.  Mrs.
+Chandos parsed long enough to wave her hand.
+
+"Bon voyage!" she cried.  "What an ideal party!  and the chauffeur
+doesn't understand English.  If you don't turn up this evening, Honora,
+I'll entertain your guests."
+
+"We must get back," said Honora, involuntarily to Brent.  "It would be
+too dreadful if we didn't!"
+
+"Are you afraid I'll run off with you?" he asked.
+
+"I believe you're perfectly capable of it," she replied.  "If I were
+wise, I'd take the train."
+
+"Why don't you?" he demanded.
+
+She smiled.
+
+"I don't know.  It's because of your deteriorating influence, I suppose.
+And yet I trust you, in spite of my instincts and--my eyes.  I'm
+seriously put out with you."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"I'll tell you later, if you're at a loss," she said, as Mrs. Kame and
+Mr. Grainger appeared.
+
+Eight years have elapsed since that day and this writing--an aeon in this
+rapidly moving Republic of ours.  The roads, although far from perfect
+yet, were not then what they have since become.  But the weather was dry
+and the voyage to Westchester accomplished successfully.  It was half-
+past three when they drove up the avenue and deposited Mrs. Kame and
+Cecil Grainger at the long front of the Faunce house: and Brent, who had
+been driving, relinquished the wheel to the chauffeur and joined Honora
+in the tonneau.  The day was perfect, the woods still heavy with summer
+foliage, and the only signs of autumn were the hay mounds and the
+yellowing cornstalks stacked amidst the stubble of the fields.
+
+Brent sat silently watching her, for she had raised her veil in saying
+good-by to Mrs. Kame, and--as the chauffeur was proceeding slowly--had
+not lowered it.  Suddenly she turned and looked him full in the face.
+
+"What kind of woman do you think I am?" she demanded.
+
+"That's rather a big order, isn't it?" he said.
+
+"I'm perfectly serious," continued Honora, slowly.
+
+"I'd really like to know."
+
+"Before I begin on the somewhat lengthy list of your qualities,"
+he replied, smiling, "may I ask why you'd like to know?"
+
+"Yes," she said quickly.  "I'd like to know because I think you've
+misjudged me.  I was really more angry than you have any idea of at the
+manner in which you talked to Howard.  And did you seriously suppose that
+I was in earnest when we spoke about your assistance in persuading him to
+take the house?"
+
+He laughed.
+
+"You are either the cleverest woman in the world," he declared, "or else
+you oughtn't to be out without a guardian.  And no judge in possession of
+his five senses would appoint your husband."
+
+Indignant as she was, she could not resist smiling.  There was something
+in the way Brent made such remarks that fascinated her.
+
+"I shouldn't call you precisely eligible, either," she retorted.
+
+He laughed again.  But his eyes made her vaguely uneasy.
+
+"Are these harsh words the reward for my charity?  he asked.
+
+"I'm by no means sure it's charity," she said.  "That's what is troubling
+me.  And you have no right to say such things about my husband."
+
+"How was I to know you were sensitive on the subject?  he replied.
+
+"I wonder what it would be like to be so utterly cynical as you," she
+said.
+
+"Do you mean to say you don't want the house?"
+
+"I don't want it under those conditions," she answered with spirit.
+"I didn't expect to be taken literally.  And you've always insisted," she
+added, "in ascribing to me motives that--that never occurred to me.  You
+make the mistake of thinking that because you have no ideals, other
+people haven't.  I hope Howard hasn't said he'd take the house.  He's
+gone off somewhere, and I haven't been able to see him."
+
+Trixton Brent looked at her queerly.
+
+"After that last manoeuvre of yours," he said, "it was all I could do to
+prevent him from rushing over to Jerry Shorter's--and signing the lease."
+
+She did not reply.
+
+"What do these sudden, virtuous resolutions mean?  he asked.
+"Resignation?  Quicksands for life?  Abandonment of the whole campaign?"
+
+"There isn't any I campaign," she said--and her voice caught in something
+like a sob.  "I'm not that sordid kind of a person.  And if I don't like
+Quicksands, it's because the whole atmosphere seems to be charged with--
+with just such a spirit."
+
+Her hand was lying on the seat.  He covered it with his own so quickly
+that she left it there for a moment, as though paralyzed, while she
+listened to the first serious words he had ever addressed to her.
+
+"Honora, I admire you more than any woman I have ever known," he said.
+
+Her breath came quickly, and she drew her hand away.
+
+"I suppose I ought to feel complimented," she replied.
+
+At this crucial instant what had been a gliding flight of the automobile
+became, suddenly, a more or less uneven and jerky progress, accompanied
+by violent explosions.  At the first of these Honora, in alarm, leaped to
+her feet.  And the machine, after what seemed an heroic attempt to
+continue, came to a dead stop.  They were on the outskirts of a village;
+children coming home from school surrounded them in a ring.  Brent jumped
+out, the chauffeur opened the hood, and they peered together into what
+was, to Honora, an inexplicable tangle of machinery.  There followed a
+colloquy, in technical French, between the master and the man.
+
+"What's the matter?"  asked Honora, anxiously.
+
+"Nothing much," said Brent, "spark-plugs.  We'll fix it up in a few
+minutes."  He looked with some annoyance at the gathering crowd.  "Stand
+back a little, can't you?" he cried, "and give us room."
+
+After some minutes spent in wiping greasy pieces of steel which the
+chauffeur extracted, and subsequent ceaseless grinding on the crank, the
+engine started again, not without a series of protesting cracks like
+pistol shots.  The chauffeur and Brent leaped in, the bystanders parted
+with derisive cheers, and away they went through the village, only to
+announce by another series of explosions a second disaster at the other
+end of the street.  A crowd collected there, too.
+
+"Oh, dear!" said Honora, "don't you think we ought to take the train, Mr.
+Brent?  If I were to miss a dinner at my own house, it would be too
+terrible!"
+
+"There's nothing to worry about," he assured her. "Nothing broken.  It's
+only the igniting system that needs adjustment."
+
+Although this was so much Greek to Honora, she was reassured.  Trixton
+Brent inspired confidence.  There was another argument with the
+chauffeur, a little more animated than the first; more greasy plugs taken
+out and wiped, and a sharper exchange of compliments with the crowd; more
+grinding, until the chauffeur's face was steeped in perspiration, and
+more pistol shots.  They were off again, but lamely, spurting a little at
+times, and again slowing down to the pace of an ox-cart.  Their progress
+became a series of illustrations of the fable of the hare and the
+tortoise.  They passed horses, and the horses shied into the ditch: then
+the same horses passed them, usually at the periods chosen by the demon
+under the hood to fire its pistol shots, and into the ditch went the
+horses once more, their owners expressing their thoughts in language at
+once vivid and unrestrained.
+
+It is one of the blessed compensations of life that in times of
+prosperity we do not remember our miseries.  In these enlightened days,
+when everybody owns an automobile and calmly travels from Chicago to
+Boston if he chooses, we have forgotten the dark ages when these machines
+were possessed by devils: when it took sometimes as much as three hours
+to go twenty miles, and often longer than that.  How many of us have had
+the same experience as Honora!
+
+She was always going to take the train, and didn't.  Whenever her mind
+was irrevocably made up, the automobile whirled away on all four
+cylinders for a half a mile or so, until they were out of reach of the
+railroad.  There were trolley cars, to be sure, but those took forever to
+get anywhere.  Four o'clock struck, five and six, when at last the fiend
+who had conspired with fate, having accomplished his evident purpose of
+compelling Honora to miss her dinner, finally abandoned them as suddenly
+and mysteriously as he had come, and the automobile was a lamb once more.
+It was half-past six, and the sun had set, before they saw the lights
+twinkling all yellow on the heights of Fort George.  At that hour the
+last train they could have taken to reach the dinner-party in time was
+leaving the New York side of the ferry.
+
+"What will they think?" cried Honora.  "They saw us leave Delmonico's at
+two o'clock, and they didn't know we were going to Westchester."
+
+It needed no very vivid imagination to summon up the probable remarks of
+Mrs. Chandos on the affair.  It was all very well to say the motor broke
+down; but unfortunately Trixton Brent's reputation was not much better
+than that of his car.
+
+Trixton Brent, as might have been expected, was inclined to treat the
+matter as a joke.
+
+"There's nothing very formal about a Quicksands dinner-party," he said.
+"We'll have a cosey little dinner in town, and call 'em up on the
+telephone."
+
+She herself was surprised at the spirit of recklessness stealing over
+her, for there was, after all, a certain appealing glamour in the
+adventure.  She was thrilled by the swift, gliding motion of the
+automobile, the weird and unfamiliar character of these upper reaches of
+a great city in the twilight, where new houses stood alone or m rows on
+wide levelled tracts; and old houses, once in the country, were seen high
+above the roadway behind crumbling fences, surrounded by gloomy old trees
+with rotting branches.  She stole a glance at the man close beside her;
+a delightful fear of him made her shiver, and she shrank closer into the
+corner of the seat.
+
+"Honora!"
+
+All at once he had seized her hand again, and held it in spite of her
+efforts to release it.
+
+"Honora," he said, "I love you as I have never loved in my life.  As I
+never shall love again."
+
+"Oh--you mustn't say that!" she cried.
+
+"Why not?" he demanded.  "Why not, if I feel it?"
+
+"Because," faltered Honora, "because I can't listen to you."
+
+Brent made a motion of disdain with his free hand.
+
+"I don't pretend that it's right," he said.  "I'm not a hypocrite,
+anyway, thank God!  It's undoubtedly wrong, according to all moral codes.
+I've never paid any attention to them.  You're married.  I'm happy to say
+I'm divorced.  You've got a husband.  I won't be guilty of the bad taste
+of discussing him.  He's a good fellow enough, but he never thinks about
+you from the time the Exchange opens in the morning until he gets home at
+night and wants his dinner.  You don't love him--it would be a miracle if
+a woman with any spirit did.  He hasn't any more of an idea of what he
+possesses by legal right than the man I discovered driving in a cart one
+of the best hunters I ever had in my stables.  To say that he doesn't
+appreciate you is a ludicrous understatement.  Any woman would have done
+for him."
+
+"Please don't!" she implored him.  "Please don't!"
+
+But for the moment she knew that she was powerless, carried along like a
+chip on the crest of his passion.
+
+"I don't pretend to say how it is, or why it is," he went on, paying no
+heed to her protests.  "I suppose there's one woman for every man in the
+world--though I didn't use to think so.  I always had another idea of
+woman before I met you.  I've thought I was in love with 'em, but now I
+understand it was only--something else.  I say, I don't know what it is
+in you that makes me feel differently.  I can't analyze it, and I don't
+want to.  You're not perfect, by a good deal, and God knows I'm not.
+You're ambitious, but if you weren't, you'd be humdrum--yet there's no
+pitiful artifice in you as in other women that any idiot can see through.
+And it would have paralyzed forever any ordinary woman to have married
+Howard Spence."
+
+A new method of wooing, surely, and evidently peculiar to Trixton Brent.
+Honora, in the prey of emotions which he had aroused in spite of her,
+needless to say did not, at that moment, perceive the humour in it.  His
+words gave her food for thought for many months afterwards.
+
+The lion was indeed aroused at last, and whip or goad or wile of no
+avail.  There came a time when she no longer knew what he was saying:
+when speech, though eloquent and forceful, seemed a useless medium.  Her
+appeals were lost, and she found herself fighting in his arms, when
+suddenly they turned into one of the crowded arteries of Harlem.  She
+made a supreme effort of will, and he released her.
+
+"Oh!"  she cried, trembling.
+
+But he looked at her, unrepentant, with the light of triumph in his eyes.
+
+"I'll never forgive you!" she exclaimed, breathless.
+
+"I gloried in it," he replied.  "I shall remember it as long as I live,
+and I'll do it again."
+
+She did not answer him.  She dropped her veil, and for a long space was
+silent while they rapidly threaded the traffic, and at length turned into
+upper Fifth Avenue, skirting the Park.  She did not so much as glance at
+him.  But he seemed content to watch her veiled profile in the dusk.
+
+Her breath, in the first tumult of her thought, came and went deeply.
+But gradually as the street lights burned brighter and familiar sights
+began to appear, she grew more controlled and became capable of
+reflection.  She remembered that there was a train for Quicksands at
+seven-fifteen, which Howard had taken once or twice.  But she felt that
+the interval was too short.  In that brief period she could not calm
+herself sufficiently to face her guests.  Indeed, the notion of appearing
+alone, or with Brent, at that dinner-party, appalled her.  And suddenly
+an idea presented itself.
+
+Brent leaned over, and began to direct the chauffeur to a well-known
+hotel.  She interrupted him.
+
+"No," she said, "I'd rather go to the Holland House."
+
+"Very well," he said amicably, not a little surprised at this unlooked-
+for acquiescence, and then told his man to keep straight on down the
+Avenue.
+
+She began mechanically to rearrange her hat and veil; and after that,
+sitting upright, to watch the cross streets with feverish anticipation,
+her hands in her lap.
+
+"Honora?" he said.
+
+She did not answer.
+
+"Raise the veil, just for a moment, and look at me."
+
+She shook her head.  But for some reason, best known to herself, she
+smiled a little.  Perhaps it was because her indignation, which would
+have frightened many men into repentance, left this one undismayed.  At
+any rate, he caught the gleam of the smile through the film of her veil,
+and laughed.
+
+"We'll have a little table in the corner of the room," he declared, "and
+you shall order the dinner.  Here we are," he cried to the chauffeur.
+"Pull up to the right."
+
+They alighted, crossed the sidewalk, the doors were flung open to receive
+them, and they entered the hotel.
+
+Through the entrance to the restaurant Honora caught sight of the red
+glow of candles upon the white tables, and heard the hum of voices.  In
+the hall, people were talking and laughing in groups, and it came as a
+distinct surprise to her that their arrival seemed to occasion no remark.
+At the moment of getting out of the automobile, her courage had almost
+failed her.
+
+Trixton Brent hailed one of the hotel servants.
+
+"Show Mrs. Spence to the ladies' parlour," said he.  And added to Honora,
+"I'll get a table, and have the dinner card brought up in a few moments."
+
+Honora stopped the boy at the elevator door.
+
+"Go to the office," she said, "and find out if Mrs. Joshua Holt is in, and
+the number of her room.  And take me to the telephone booths.  I'll wait
+there."
+
+She asked the telephone operator to call up Mr. Spence's house at
+Quicksands--and waited.
+
+"I'm sorry, madam," he said, after a little while, which seemed like half
+an hour to Honora, "but they've had a fire in the Kingston exchange, and
+the Quicksands line is out of order."
+
+Honora's heart sank; but the bell-boy had reappeared.  Yes, Mrs. Holt was
+in.
+
+"Take me to her room," she said, and followed him into the elevator.
+
+In response to his knock the door was opened by Mrs. Holt herself.  She
+wore a dove-coloured gown, and in her hand was a copy of the report of
+the Board of Missions.  For a moment she peered at Honora over the
+glasses lightly poised on the uncertain rim of her nose.
+
+"Why--my dear!" she exclaimed, in astonishment.  Honora!"
+
+"Oh," cried Honora, "I'm so glad you're here.  I was so afraid you'd be
+out."
+
+In the embrace that followed both the glasses and the mission report fell
+to the floor.  Honora picked them up.
+
+"Sit down, my dear, and tell me how you happen to be here," said Mrs.
+Holt.  "I suppose Howard is downstairs."
+
+"No, he isn't," said Honora, rather breathlessly; "that's the reason I
+came here.  That's one reason, I mean.  I was coming to see you this
+morning, but I simply didn't have time for a call after I got to town."
+
+Mrs. Holt settled herself in the middle of the sofa, the only piece of
+furniture in the room in harmony with her ample proportions.  Her
+attitude and posture were both judicial, and justice itself spoke in her
+delft-blue eyes.
+
+"Tell me all about it," she said, thus revealing her suspicions that
+there was something to tell.
+
+"I was just going to," said Honora, hastily, thinking of Trixton Brent
+waiting in the ladies' parlour.  "I took lunch at Delmomico's with Mr.
+Grainger, and Mr. Brent, and Mrs. Kame--"
+
+"Cecil Grainger?"  demanded Mrs. Holt.
+
+Honora trembled.
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+"I knew his father and mother intimately," said Mrs. Holt, unexpectedly.
+"And his wife is a friend of mine.  She's one of the most executive women
+we have in the 'Working Girls' Association,' and she read a paper today
+that was masterful.  You know her, of course."
+
+"No," said Honora, "I haven't met her yet."
+
+"Then how did you happen to be lunching with her husband?
+
+"I wasn't lunching with him, Mrs. Holt," said Honora;
+
+"Mr. Brent was giving the lunch."
+
+"Who's Mr. Brent?" demanded Mrs. Holt.  "One of those Quicksands people?"
+
+"He's not exactly a Quicksands person.  I scarcely know how to describe
+him.  He's very rich, and goes abroad a great deal, and plays polo.
+That's the reason he has a little place at Quicksands.  He's been awfully
+kind both to Howard and me," she added with inspiration.
+
+"And Mrs. Kame?" said Mrs. Holt.
+
+"She's a widow, and has a place at Banbury.
+
+"I never heard of her," said Mrs. Holt, and Honora thanked her stars.
+
+"And Howard approves of these mixed lunches, my dear?  When I was young,
+husbands and wives usually went to parties together."
+
+A panicky thought came to Honora, that Mrs. Holt might suddenly inquire
+as to the whereabouts of Mr. Brent's wife.
+
+"Oh, Howard doesn't mind," she said hastily.  "I suppose times have
+changed, Mrs. Holt.  And after lunch we all went out in Mr. Brent's
+automobile to the Faunces' in Westchester--"
+
+"The Paul Jones Faunces?" Mrs. Holt interrupted.
+
+"What a nice woman that young Mrs. Faunce is!  She was Kitty Esterbrook,
+you know.  Both of them very old families."
+
+"It was only," continued Honora, in desperation, "it was only to leave
+Mr. Grainger and Mrs. Kame there to spend the night.  They all said we
+had plenty of time to go and get back to Quicksands by six o'clock.  But
+coming back the automobile broke down--"
+
+"Of course," said Mrs. Holt, "it serves any one right for trusting to
+them.  I think they are an invention of the devil."
+
+"And we've only just got back to New York this minute."
+
+"Who?" inquired Mrs. Holt.
+
+"Mr. Brent and I" said Honora, with downcast eyes.
+
+"Good gracious!" exclaimed the elder lady.
+
+"I couldn't think of anything else to do but come straight here to you,"
+said Honora, gazing at her friend.  "And oh, I'm so glad to find you.
+There's not another train to Quicksands till after nine."
+
+"You did quite right, my dear, under the circumstances.  I don't say you
+haven't been foolish, but it's Howard's fault quite as much as yours.
+He has no business to let you do such things."
+
+"And what makes it worse," said Honora, "is that the wires are down to
+Quicksands, and I can't telephone Howard, and we have people to dinner,
+and they don't know I went to Westchester, and there's no use
+telegraphing: it wouldn't be delivered till midnight or morning."
+
+"There, there, my dear, don't worry.  I know how anxious you feel on your
+husband's account--"
+
+"Oh--Mrs. Holt, I was going to ask you a great, great favour.  Wouldn't
+you go down to Quicksands with me and spend the night--and pay us a
+little visit?  You know we would so love to have you!"
+
+"Of course I'll go down with you, my dear," said Mrs. Holt.  "I'm
+surprised that you should think for an instant that I wouldn't.  It's my
+obvious duty. Martha!" she called, "Martha!"
+
+The door of the bedroom opened, and Mrs. Holt's elderly maid appeared.
+The same maid, by the way, who had closed the shutters that memorable
+stormy night at Silverdale.  She had, it seemed, a trick of appearing at
+crises.
+
+"Martha, telephone to Mrs. Edgerly--you know her number-and say that I am
+very sorry, but an unexpected duty calls me out of town to-night, and ask
+her to communicate with the Reverend Mr. Field.  As for staying with you,
+Honora," she continued, "I have to be back at Silverdale to-morrow night.
+Perhaps you and Howard will come back with me.  My frank opinion is, that
+a rest from the gayety of Quicksands will do you good."
+
+"I will come, with pleasure," said Honora.  "But as for Howard--I'm
+afraid he's too busy."
+
+And how about dinner?"  asked Mrs. Holt.
+
+"I forgot to say," said Honora, that Mr. Brent's downstairs.  He brought
+me here, of course.  Have you any objection to his dining with us?"
+
+"No," answered Mrs. Holt, "I think I should like to see him."
+
+After Mrs. Holt had given instructions to her maid to pack, and Honora
+had brushed some of the dust of the roads from her costume, they
+descended to the ladies' parlour.  At the far end of it a waiter holding
+a card was standing respectfully, and Trixton Brent was pacing up and
+down between the windows.  When he caught sight of them he stopped in his
+tracks, and stared, and stood as if rooted to the carpet.  Honora came
+forward.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Brent!" she cried, "my old friend, Mrs. Holt, is here, and she's
+going to take dinner with us and come down to Quicksands for the night.
+May I introduce Mr. Brent."
+
+"Wasn't it fortunate, Mr. Brent, that Mrs. Spence happened to find me?"
+said Mrs. Holt, as she took his hand.  "I know it is a relief to you."
+
+It was not often, indeed, that Trixton Brent was taken off his guard;
+but some allowance must be made for him, since he was facing a situation
+unparalleled in his previous experience.  Virtue had not often been so
+triumphant, and never so dramatic as to produce at the critical instant
+so emblematic a defender as this matronly lady in dove colour.  For a
+moment, he stared at her, speechless, and then he gathered himself
+together.
+
+"A relief?" he asked.
+
+"It would seem so to me," said Mrs. Holt.  "Not that I do not think you
+are perfectly capable of taking care of her, as an intimate friend of her
+husband.  I was merely thinking of the proprieties.  And as I am a guest
+in this hotel, I expect you both to do me the honour to dine with me
+before we start for Quicksands."
+
+After all, Trixton Brent had a sense of humour, although it must not be
+expected that he should grasp at once all the elements of a joke on
+himself so colossal.
+
+"I, for one," he said, with a slight bow which gave to his words a touch
+somewhat elaborate, "will be delighted."  And he shot at Honora a glance
+compounded of many feelings, which she returned smilingly.
+
+"Is that the waiter?" asked Mrs. Holt.
+
+"That is a waiter," said Trixton Brent, glancing at the motionless
+figure.  "Shall I call him?"
+
+"If you please," said Mrs. Holt.  "Honora, you must tell me what you
+like."
+
+"Anything, Mrs. Holt," said Honora.
+
+"If we are to leave a little after nine," said that lady, balancing her
+glasses on her nose and glancing at the card, "we have not, I'm afraid,
+time for many courses."
+
+The head waiter greeted them at the door of the dining-room.  He, too,
+was a man of wisdom and experience.  He knew Mrs. Holt, and he knew
+Trixton Brent.  If gravity had not been a life-long habit with him, one
+might have suspected him of a desire to laugh.  As it was, he seemed
+palpably embarrassed,--for Mr. Brent had evidently been conversing with
+him.
+
+"Two, sir?" he asked.
+
+"Three," said Mrs. Holt, with dignity.
+
+The head waiter planted them conspicuously in the centre of the room; one
+of the strangest parties, from the point of view of a connoisseur of New
+York, that ever sat down together.  Mrs. Holt with her curls, and her
+glasses laid flat on the bosom of her dove-coloured dress; Honora in a
+costume dedicated to the very latest of the sports, and Trixton Brent in
+English tweeds.  The dining-room was full.  But here and there amongst
+the diners, Honora observed, were elderly people who smiled discreetly as
+they glanced in their direction--friends, perhaps, of Mrs. Holt.  And
+suddenly, in one corner, she perceived a table of six where the mirth was
+less restrained.
+
+Fortunately for Mr. Brent, he had had a cocktail, or perhaps two, in
+Honora's absence.  Sufficient time had elapsed since their administration
+for their proper soothing and exhilarating effects.  At the sound of the
+laughter in the corner he turned his head, a signal for renewed merriment
+from that quarter.  Whereupon he turned back again and faced his hostess
+once more with a heroism that compelled Honora's admiration.  As a
+sportsman, he had no intention of shirking the bitterness of defeat.
+
+"Mrs. Grainger and Mrs. Shorter," he remarked, "appear to be enjoying
+themselves."
+
+Honora felt her face grow hot as the merriment at the corner table rose
+to a height it had not heretofore attained.  And she did not dare to look
+again.
+
+Mrs. Holt was blissfully oblivious to her surroundings.  She was, as
+usual, extremely composed, and improved the interval, while drinking her
+soup, with a more or less undisguised observation of Mr. Brent; evidently
+regarding him somewhat in the manner that a suspicious householder
+would look upon a strange gentleman whom he accidentally found in his
+front hall.  Explanations were necessary.  That Mr. Brent's appearance,
+on the whole, was in his favour did not serve to mitigate her suspicions.
+Good-looking men were apt to be unscrupulous.
+
+"Are you interested in working girls, Mr. Brent?" she inquired presently.
+
+Honora, in spite of her discomfort, had an insane desire to giggle.  She
+did not dare to raise her eyes.
+
+"I can't say that I've had much experience with them, Mrs. Holt," he
+replied, with a gravity little short of sublime.
+
+"Naturally you wouldn't have had," said Mrs. Holt.  "What I meant was,
+are you interested in the problems they have to face?"
+
+"Extremely," said he, so unexpectedly that Honora choked.  "I can't say
+that I've given as many hours as I should have liked to a study of the
+subject, but I don't know of any class that has a harder time.  As a
+rule, they're underpaid and overworked, and when night comes they are
+either tired to death or bored to death, and the good-looking ones are
+subject to temptations which some of them find impossible to resist, in a
+natural desire for some excitement to vary the routine of their lives."
+
+"It seems to me," said Mrs. Holt, "that you are fairly conversant with
+the subject.  I don't think I ever heard the problem stated so succinctly
+and so well.  Perhaps," she added, "it might interest you to attend one
+of our meetings next month.  Indeed, you might be willing to say a few
+words."
+
+"I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me, Mrs. Holt.  I'm a rather busy man,
+and nothing of a public speaker, and it is rarely I get off in the
+daytime."
+
+"How about automobiling?" asked Mrs. Holt, with a smile.
+
+"Well," said Trixton Brent, laughing in spite of himself, "I like the
+working girls, I have to have a little excitement occasionally.  And I
+find it easier to get off in the summer than in the winter."
+
+"Men cover a multitude of sins under the plea of business," said Mrs.
+Holt, shaking her head.  I can't say I think much of your method of
+distraction.  Why any one desires to get into an automobile, I don't
+see."
+
+"Have you ever been in one?" he asked.  "Mine is here, and I was about to
+invite you to go down to the ferry in it.  I'll promise to go slow."
+
+"Well," said Mrs. Holt, "I don't object to going that distance, if you
+keep your promise.  I'll admit that I've always had a curiosity."
+
+"And in return," said Brent, gallantly, "allow me to send you a cheque
+for your working girls."
+
+"You're very good," said Mrs. Holt.
+
+"Oh," he protested, I'm not in the habit of giving much to charities, I'm
+sorry to say.  I'd like to know how it feels."
+
+"Then I hope the sensation will induce you to try it again," said Mrs.
+Holt.
+
+"Nobody, Mrs. Holt," cried Honora, "could be kinder to his friends than
+Mr. Brent!"
+
+"We were speaking of disinterested kindness, my dear," was Mrs. Holt's
+reply.
+
+"You're quite right, Mrs. Holt," said Trixton Brent, beginning, as the
+dinner progressed, to take in the lady opposite a delight that surprised
+him.  "I'm willing to confess that I've led an extremely selfish
+existence."
+
+"The confession isn't necessary," she replied.  "It's written all over
+you.  You're the type of successful man who gets what he wants.  I don't
+mean to say that you are incapable of kindly instincts."  And her eye
+twinkled a little.
+
+"I'm very grateful for that concession, at any rate," he declared.
+
+"There might be some hope for you if you fell into the hands of a good
+woman," said Mrs. Holt.  "I take it you are a bachelor.  Mark my words,
+the longer you remain one, the more steeped in selfishness you are likely
+to become in this modern and complex and sense-satisfying life which so
+many people lead."
+
+Honora trembled for what he might say to this, remembering his bitter
+references of that afternoon to his own matrimonial experience.  Visions
+of a scene arose before her in the event that Mrs. Holt should discover
+his status.  But evidently Trixton Brent had no intention of discussing
+his marriage.
+
+"Judging by some of my married friends and acquaintances," he said,
+"I have no desire to try matrimony as a remedy for unselfishness."
+
+"Then," replied Mrs. Holt, "all I can say is, I should make new friends
+amongst another kind of people, if I were you.  You are quite right, and
+if I were seeking examples of happy marriages, I should not begin my
+search among the so-called fashionable set of the present day.  They are
+so supremely selfish that if the least difference in taste develops, or
+if another man or woman chances along whom they momentarily fancy more
+than their own husbands or wives, they get a divorce.  Their idea of
+marriage is not a mutual sacrifice which brings happiness through trials
+borne together and through the making of character.  No, they have a
+notion that man and wife may continue to lead their individual lives.
+That isn't marriage.  I've lived with Joshua Holt thirty-five years last
+April, and I haven't pleased myself in all that time."
+
+"All men," said Trixton Brent, "are not so fortunate as Mr. Holt."
+
+Honora began to have the sensations of a witness to a debate between
+Mephistopheles and the powers of heaven.  Her head swam.  But Mrs. Holt,
+who had unlooked-for flashes of humour, laughed, and shook her curls at
+Brent.
+
+"I should like to lecture you some time," she said; "I think it would do
+you good."
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"I'm beyond redemption.  Don't you think so, Honora?" he asked, with an
+unexpected return of his audacity.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm not worthy to judge you," she replied, and coloured.
+
+"Stuff and nonsense," said Mrs. Holt; "women are superior to men, and
+it's our duty to keep them in order.  And if we're really going to risk
+our lives in your automobile, Mr. Brent, you'd better make sure it's
+there," she added, glancing at her watch.
+
+Having dined together in an apparent and inexplicable amity, their exit
+was of even more interest to the table in the corner than their entrance
+had been.  Mrs. Holt's elderly maid was waiting in the hall, Mrs. Holt's
+little trunk was strapped on the rear of the car; and the lady herself,
+with something of the feelings of a missionary embarking for the wilds of
+Africa, was assisted up the little step and through the narrow entrance
+of the tonneau by the combined efforts of Honora and Brent.  An
+expression of resolution, emblematic of a determination to die, if
+necessary, in the performance of duty, was on her face as the machinery
+started; and her breath was not quite normal when, in an incredibly brief
+period, they descended at the ferry.
+
+The journey to Quicksands was accomplished in a good fellowship which
+Honora, an hour before, would not have dreamed of.  Even Mrs. Holt was
+not wholly proof against the charms of Trixton Brent when he chose to
+exert himself; and for some reason he did so choose.  As they stood in
+the starlight on the platform of the deserted little station while he
+went across to Whelen's livery stable to get a carriage, Mrs. Holt
+remarked to Honora:
+
+"Mr. Brent is a fascinating man, my dear."
+
+"I am so glad that you appreciate him," exclaimed Honora.
+
+"And a most dangerous one," continued Mrs. Holt.  "He has probably, in
+his day, disturbed the peace of mind of a great many young women.  Not
+that I haven't the highest confidence in you, Honora, but honesty forces
+me to confess that you are young and pleasure-loving, and a little
+heedless.  And the atmosphere in which you live is not likely to correct
+those tendencies.  If you will take my advice, you will not see too much
+of Mr. Trixton Brent when your husband is not present."
+
+Indeed, as to the probable effect of this incident on the relations
+between Mr. Brent and herself Honora was wholly in the dark.  Although,
+from her point of view, what she had done had been amply justified by the
+plea of self-defence, it could not be expected that he would accept it in
+the same spirit.  The apparent pleasure he had taken in the present
+situation, once his amazement had been overcome, profoundly puzzled her.
+
+He returned in a few minutes with the carriage and driver, and they
+started off.  Brent sat in front, and Honora explained to Mrs. Holt the
+appearance of the various places by daylight, and the names of their
+owners.  The elderly lady looked with considerable interest at the
+blazing lights of the Club, with the same sensations she would no doubt
+have had if she had been suddenly set down within the Moulin Rouge.
+Shortly afterwards they turned in at the gate of "The Brackens."  The
+light streamed across the porch and driveway, and the sound of music
+floated out of the open windows.  Within, the figure of Mrs. Barclay
+could be seen; she was singing vaudeville songs at the piano.  Mrs.
+Holt's lips were tightly shut as she descended and made her way up the
+steps.
+
+"I hope you'll come in,", said Honora to Trixton Brent, in a low voice.
+
+"Come in !" he replied, "I wouldn't miss it for ten thousand dollars."
+
+Mrs. Holt was the first of the three to appear at the door of the
+drawing-room, and Mrs. Barclay caught sight of her, and stopped in the
+middle of a bar, with her mouth open.  Some of the guests had left.  A
+table in the corner, where Lula Chandos had insisted on playing bridge,
+was covered with scattered cards and some bills, a decanter of whiskey,
+two soda bottles, and two glasses.  The blue curling smoke from Mrs.
+Chandos' cigarette mingled with the haze that hung between the ceiling
+and the floor, and that lady was in the act of saying cheerfully to
+Howard, who sat opposite,--
+
+"Trixy's run off with her."
+
+Suddenly the chill of silence pervaded the room.  Lula Chandos, whose
+back was turned to the door, looked from Mrs. Barclay to Howard, who,
+with the other men had risen to his feet.
+
+"What's the matter?"  she said in a frightened tone.  And, following the
+eyes of the others, turned her head slowly towards the doorway.
+
+Mrs. Holt, who filled it, had been literally incapable of speech.  Close
+behind her stood Honora and Trixton whose face was inscrutable.
+
+"Howard," said Honora, summoning all the courage that remained in her,
+"here's Mrs. Holt.  We dined with her, and she was good enough to come
+down for the night.  I'm so sorry not to have been here," she added to
+her guests, "but we went to Westchester with Mrs. Kame and Mr. Grainger,
+and the automobile broke down on the way back."
+
+Mrs. Holt made no attempt to enter, but stared fixedly at the cigarette
+that Mrs. Chandos still held in her trembling fingers.  Howard crossed
+the room in the midst of an intense silence.
+
+"Glad to see you, Mrs. Holt," he said.  "Er--won't you come in and--and
+sit down?"
+
+"Thank you, Howard" she replied, "I do not wish to interrupt your party.
+It is my usual hour for retiring.
+
+"And I think, my dear," she added, turning to Honora, "that I'll ask you
+to excuse me, and show me to my room."
+
+"Certainly, Mrs. Holt," said Honora, breathlessly.
+
+"Howard, ring the bell."
+
+She led the way up the stairs to the guest-chamber with the rose paper
+and the little balcony.  As she closed the door gusts of laughter reached
+them from the floor below, and she could plainly distinguish the voices
+of May Barclay and Trixton Brent.
+
+"I hope you'll be comfortable, Mrs. Holt," she said.  "Your maid will be
+in the little room across the hall and I believe you like breakfast at
+eight."
+
+"You mustn't let me keep you from your guests, Honora."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Holt," she said, on the verge of tears, "I don't want to go to
+them.  Really, I don't."
+
+"It must be confessed," said Mrs. Holt, opening her handbag and taking
+out the copy of the mission report, which had been carefully folded,
+"that they seem to be able to get along very well without you.
+I suppose I am too old to understand this modern way of living.  How well
+I remember one night--it was in 1886--I missed the train to Silverdale,
+and my telegram miscarried.  Poor Mr. Holt was nearly out of his head."
+
+She fumbled for her glasses and dropped them.  Honora picked them up, and
+it was then she perceived that the tears were raining down the good
+lady's cheeks.  At the same moment they sprang into Honora's eyes, and
+blinded her.  Mrs. Holt looked at her long and earnestly.
+
+"Go down, my dear," she said gently, "you must not neglect your friends.
+They will wonder where you are.  And at what time do you breakfast?"
+
+"At--at any time you like."
+
+"I shall be down at eight," said Mrs. Holt, and she kissed her.
+
+Honora, closing the door, stood motionless in the hall, and presently the
+footsteps and the laughter and the sound of carriage wheels on the gravel
+died away.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+CONTAINING SOME REVELATIONS
+
+Honora, as she descended, caught a glimpse of the parlour maid picking up
+the scattered cards on the drawing-room floor.  There were voices on the
+porch, where Howard was saying good-by to Mrs. Chandos and Trixton Brent.
+She joined them.
+
+"Oh, my dear!" cried Mrs. Chandos, interrupting Honora's apologies, "I'm
+sure I shan't sleep a wink--she gave me such a fright.  You might have
+sent Trixy ahead to prepare us.  When I first caught sight of her,
+I thought it was my own dear mother who had come all the way from
+Cleveland, and the cigarette burned my fingers.  But I must say I
+think it was awfully clever of you to get hold of her and save Trixy's
+reputation.  Good night, dear."
+
+And she got into her carriage.
+
+"Give my love to Mrs. Holt," said Brent, as he took Honora's hand, "and
+tell her I feel hurt that she neglected to say good night to me.  I
+thought I had made an impression.  Tell her I'll send her a cheque for
+her rescue work.  She inspires me with confidence."
+
+Howard laughed.
+
+"I'll see you to-morrow, Brent," he called out as they drove away.
+Though always assertive, it seemed to Honora that her husband had an
+increased air of importance as be turned to her now with his hands in his
+pockets.  He looked at her for a moment, and laughed again.  He, too, had
+apparently seen the incident only in a humorous light.  "Well, Honora,"
+he remarked, "you have a sort of a P.  T.  Barnum way of doing things
+once in a while--haven't you?  Is the old lady really tucked away for the
+night, or is she coming down to read us a sermon?  And how the deuce did
+you happen to pick her up?"
+
+She had come downstairs with confession on her lips, and in the agitation
+of her mind had scarcely heeded Brent's words or Mrs. Chandos'.  She had
+come down prepared for any attitude but the one in which she found him;
+for anger, reproaches, arraignments.  Nay, she was surprised to find now
+that she had actually hoped for these.  She deserved to be scolded: it
+was her right.  If he had been all of a man, he would have called her to
+account.  There must be--there was something lacking in his character.
+And it came to her suddenly, with all the shock of a great contrast, with
+what different eyes she had looked upon him five years before at
+Silverdale.
+
+He went into the house and started to enter the drawing-room, still in
+disorder and reeking with smoke.
+
+"No, not in there!" she cried sharply.
+
+He turned to her puzzled.  Her breath was coming and going quickly.  She
+crossed the hall and turned on the light in the little parlour there, and
+he followed her.
+
+"Don't you feel well?" he asked.
+
+"Howard," she said, "weren't you worried?"
+
+"Worried?  No, why should I have been?  Lula Chandos and May Barclay had
+seen you in the automobile in town, and I knew you were high and dry
+somewhere."
+
+"High and dry," she repeated.  What?"
+
+"Nothing.  They said I had run off with Mr. Brent, didn't they?"
+
+He laughed.
+
+"Yes, there was some joking to that effect."
+
+"You didn't take it seriously?
+
+"No--why should I?"
+
+She was appalled by his lack of knowledge of her.  All these years she
+had lived with him, and he had not grasped even the elements of her
+nature.  And this was marriage!  Trixton Brent--short as their
+acquaintance had been--had some conception of her character and
+possibilities her husband none.  Where was she to begin?  How was she to
+tell him the episode in the automobile in order that he might perceive
+something of its sinister significance?
+
+Where was she to go to be saved from herself, if not to him?
+
+"I might have run away with him, if I had loved him," she said after a
+pause.  "Would you have cared?"
+
+"You bet your life," said Howard, and put his arm around her.
+
+She looked up into his face.  So intent had she been on what she had
+meant to tell him that she did not until now perceive he was preoccupied,
+and only half listening to what she was saying.
+
+"You bet your life, he said, patting her shoulder.  "What would I have
+done, all alone, in the new house?"
+
+"In the new house?" she cried.  "Oh, Howard--you haven't taken it!"
+
+"I haven't signed the lease," he replied importantly, smiling down at
+her, and thrusting his hands in his pockets.
+
+"I don't want it," said Honora; "I don't want it.  I told you that I'd
+decided I didn't want it when we were there.  Oh, Howard, why did you
+take it?"
+
+He whistled.  He had the maddening air of one who derives amusement from
+the tantrums of a spoiled child.
+
+"Well," he remarked, "women are too many for me.  If there's any way of
+pleasing 'em I haven't yet discovered it.  The night before last you had
+to have the house.  Nothing else would do.  It was the greatest find in
+New York.  For the first time in months you get up for breakfast--a
+pretty sure sign you hadn't changed your mind.  You drag me to see it,
+and when you land me there, because I don't lose my head immediately, you
+say you don't want it.  Of course I didn't take you seriously--I thought
+you'd set your heart on it, so I wired an offer to Shorter to-day, and he
+accepted it.  And when I hand you this pleasant little surprise, you go
+right up in the air."
+
+He had no air of vexation, however, as he delivered this somewhat
+reproachful harangue in the picturesque language to which he commonly
+resorted.  Quite the contrary.  He was still smiling, as Santa Claus must
+smile when he knows he has another pack up the chimney.
+
+"Why this sudden change of mind?"  he demanded.  "It can't be because you
+want to spend the winter in Quicksands."
+
+She was indeed at a loss what to say.  She could not bring herself to ask
+him whether he had been influenced by Trixton Brent.  If he had, she told
+herself, she did not wish to know.  He was her husband, after all, and it
+would be too humiliating.  And then he had taken the house.
+
+"Have you hit on a palace you like better?" he inquired, with a clumsy
+attempt at banter.  "They tell me the elder Maitlands are going abroad--
+perhaps we could get their house on the Park."
+
+"You said you couldn't afford Mrs. Rindge's house," she answered
+uneasily, "and I--I believed you."
+
+"I couldn't," he said mysteriously, and paused.
+
+It seemed to her, as she recalled the scene afterwards, that in this
+pause he gave the impression of physically swelling.  She remembered
+staring at him with wide, frightened eyes and parted lips.
+
+"I couldn't," he repeated, with the same strange emphasis and a palpable
+attempt at complacency.  "But--er--circumstances have changed since
+then."
+
+"What do you mean, Howard?" she whispered.
+
+The corners of his mouth twitched in the attempt to repress a smile.
+
+"I mean," he said, "that the president of a trust company can afford to
+live in a better house than the junior partner of Dallam and Spence."
+
+"The president of a trust company!" Honora scarcely recognized her own
+voice--so distant it sounded.  The room rocked, and she clutched the arm
+of a chair and sat down.  He came and stood over her.
+
+"I thought that would surprise you some," he said, obviously pleased by
+these symptoms.  "The fact is, I hadn't meant to break it to you until
+morning.  But I think I'll go in on the seven thirty-five."  (He glanced
+significantly up at the ceiling, as though Mrs. Holt had something to do
+with this decision.) "President of the Orange Trust Company at forty
+isn't so bad, eh?"
+
+"The Orange Trust Company?  Did you say the Orange Trust Company?"
+
+"Yes."  He produced a cigarette.  "Old James Wing and Brent practically
+control it.  You see, if I do say it myself, I handled some things pretty
+well for Brent this summer, and he's seemed to appreciate it.  He and
+Wing were buying in traction stocks out West.  But you could have knocked
+me down with a paper-knife when he came to me--"
+
+"When did he come to you?" she asked breathlessly.
+
+"Yesterday.  We went down town together, you remember, and he asked me
+to step into his office.  Well, we talked it over, and I left on the one
+o'clock for Newport to see Mr. Wing.  Wonderful old man!  I sat up with
+him till midnight--it wasn't any picnic" .  .  .
+
+More than once during the night Honora awoke with a sense of oppression,
+and each time went painfully through the whole episode from the evening--
+some weeks past when Trixton Brent had first mentioned the subject of the
+trust company, to the occurrence in the automobile and Howard's
+triumphant announcement.  She had but a vague notion of how that scene
+had finished; or of how, limply, she had got to bed.  Round and round the
+circle she went in each waking period.  To have implored him to
+relinquish the place had been waste of breath; and then--her reasons?
+These were the moments when the current was strongest, when she grew
+incandescent with humiliation and pain; when stray phrases in red letters
+of Brent's were illuminated.  Merit!  He had a contempt for her husband
+which he had not taken the trouble to hide.  But not a business contempt.
+"As good as the next man," Brent had said--or words to that effect.  "As
+good as the next man!"  Then she had tacitly agreed to the bargain, and
+refused to honour the bill!  No, she had not, she had not.  Before God,
+she was innocent of that!  When she reached this point it was always to
+James Wing that she clung--the financier, at least, had been impartial.
+And it was he who saved her.
+
+At length she opened her eyes to discover with bewilderment that the room
+was flooded with light, and then she sprang out of bed and went to the
+open window.  To seaward hung an opal mist, struck here and there with
+crimson.  She listened; some one was whistling an air she had heard
+before--Mrs. Barclay had been singing it last night!  Wheels crunched the
+gravel--Howard was going off.  She stood motionless until the horse's
+hoofs rang on the highroad, and then hurried into her dressing-gown and
+slippers and went downstairs to the telephone and called a number.
+
+"Is this Mr. Brent's?  Will you say to Mr. Brent that Mrs. Spence would
+be greatly, obliged if he stopped a moment at her house before going to
+town?  Thank you."
+
+She returned to her room and dressed with feverish haste, trying to
+gather her wits for an ordeal which she felt it would have killed her to
+delay.  At ten minutes to eight she emerged again and glanced anxiously
+at Mrs. Holt's door; and scarcely had she reached the lower hall before
+he drove into the circle.  She was struck more forcibly than ever by the
+physical freshness of the man, and he bestowed on her, as he took her
+hand, the peculiar smile she knew so well, that always seemed to have an
+enigma behind it.  At sight and touch of him the memory of what she had
+prepared to say vanished.
+
+"Behold me, as ever, your obedient servant," he said, as he followed her
+into the screened-off portion of the porch.
+
+"You must think it strange that I sent for you, I know," she cried, as
+she turned to him.  "But I couldn't wait.  I--I did not know until last
+night.  Howard only told me then.  Oh, you didn't do it for me!  Please
+say you didn't do it for me!"
+
+"My dear Honora," replied Trixton Brent, gravely, "we wanted your husband
+for his abilities and the valuable services he can render us."
+
+She stood looking into his eyes, striving to penetrate to the soul
+behind, ignorant or heedless that others before her had tried and failed.
+He met her gaze unflinchingly, and smiled.
+
+"I want the truth," she craved.
+
+"I never lie--to a woman," he said.
+
+"My life--my future depends upon it," she went on.  "I'd rather scrub
+floors, I'd rather beg--than to have it so.  You must believe me!"
+
+"I do believe you," he affirmed.  And he said it with a gentleness and a
+sincerity that startled her.
+
+"Thank you," she answered simply.  And speech became very difficult.
+"If--if I haven't been quite fair with you--Mr. Brent, I am sorry.  I--I
+liked you, and I like you to-day better than ever before.  And I can
+quite see now how I must have misled you into thinking--queer things
+about me.  I didn't mean to.  I have learned a lesson."
+
+She took a deep, involuntary breath.  The touch of lightness in his reply
+served to emphasize the hitherto unsuspected fact that sportsmanship in
+Trixton Brent was not merely a code, but assumed something of the
+grandeur of a principle.
+
+"I, too, have learned a lesson," he replied.  "I have learned the
+difference between nature and art.  I am something of a connoisseur in
+art.  I bow to nature, and pay my bets."
+
+"Your bets?" she asked, with a look.
+
+"My renunciations, forfeits, whatever you choose to call them.  I have
+been fairly and squarely beaten--but by nature, not by art.  That is my
+consolation."
+
+Laughter struck into her eyes like a shaft of sunlight into a well; her
+emotions were no longer to be distinguished.  And in that moment she
+wondered what would have happened if she had loved this man, and why
+she had not.  And when next he spoke, she started.
+
+"How is my elderly dove-coloured friend this morning?" he asked.  "That
+dinner with her was one of the great events of my life.  I didn't suppose
+such people existed any more."
+
+"Perhaps you'll stay to breakfast with her," suggested Honora, smiling.
+"I know she'd like to see you again."
+
+"No, thanks," he said, taking her hand, "I'm on my way to the train--I'd
+quite forgotten it.  Au revoir!"  He reached the end of the porch,
+turned, and called back, "As a 'dea ex machina', she has never been
+equalled."
+
+Honora stood for a while looking after him, until she heard a footstep
+behind her,--Mrs. Holt's.
+
+"Who was that, my dear?" she asked, "Howard?"
+
+"Howard has gone, Mrs. Holt," Honora replied, rousing herself.  "I must
+make his apologies.  It was Mr. Brent."
+
+"Mr. Brent!" the good lady repeated, with a slight upward lift of the
+faint eyebrows.  "Does he often call this early?"
+
+Honora coloured a little, and laughed.
+
+"I asked him to breakfast with you, but be had to catch a train.  He--
+wished to be remembered.  He took such a fancy to you."
+
+"I am afraid," said Mrs. Holt, "that his fancy is a thing to be avoided.
+Are you coming to Silverdale with me, Honora?"
+
+"Yes, Mrs. Holt," she replied, slipping her arm through that of her
+friend, "for as long as you will let me stay."
+
+And she left a note for Howard to that effect.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Thinking that because you have no ideals, other people haven't
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A MODERN CHRONICLE
+
+By Winston Churchill
+
+
+
+BOOK III
+
+Volume 5.
+
+
+I.        ASCENDI
+II.       THE PATH OF PHILANTHROPY
+III.      VINELAND
+IV.       THE VIKING
+V.        THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+ASCENDI
+
+Honora did not go back to Quicksands.  Neither, in this modern chronicle,
+shall we.
+
+The sphere we have left, which we know is sordid, sometimes shines in the
+retrospect.  And there came a time, after the excitement of furnishing
+the new house was over, when our heroine, as it were, swung for a time in
+space: not for a very long time; that month, perhaps, between autumn and
+winter.
+
+We need not be worried about her, though we may pause for a moment or
+two to sympathize with her in her loneliness--or rather in the moods it
+produced.  She even felt, in those days, slightly akin to the Lady of the
+Victoria (perfectly respectable), whom all of us fortunate enough
+occasionally to go to New York have seen driving on Fifth Avenue with an
+expression of wistful haughtiness, and who changes her costumes four
+times a day.
+
+Sympathy!  We have seen Honora surrounded by friends--what has become of
+them?  Her husband is president of a trust company, and she has one of
+the most desirable houses in New York.  What more could be wished for?
+To jump at conclusions in this way is by no means to understand a heroine
+with an Ideal.  She had these things, and--strange as it may seem--
+suffered.
+
+Her sunny drawing-room, with its gathered silk curtains, was especially
+beautiful; whatever the Leffingwells or Allisons may have lacked, it was
+not taste.  Honora sat in it and wondered: wondered, as she looked back
+over the road she had threaded somewhat blindly towards the Ideal,
+whether she might not somewhere have taken the wrong turn.  The farther
+she travelled, the more she seemed to penetrate into a land of
+unrealities.  The exquisite objects by which she was surrounded, and
+which she had collected with such care, had no substance: she would not
+have been greatly surprised, at any moment, to see them vanish like a
+scene in a theatre, leaning an empty, windy stage behind them.  They did
+not belong to her, nor she to them.
+
+Past generations of another blood, no doubt, had been justified in
+looking upon the hazy landscapes in the great tapestries as their own:
+and children's children had knelt, in times gone by, beside the carved
+stone mantel.  The big, gilded chairs with the silken seats might
+appropriately have graced the table of the Hotel de Rambouillet.  Would
+not the warriors and the wits, the patient ladies of high degree and of
+many children, and even the 'precieuses ridicules' themselves, turn over
+in their graves if they could so much as imagine the contents of the
+single street in modern New York where Honora lived?
+
+One morning, as she sat in that room, possessed by these whimsical though
+painful fancies, she picked up a newspaper and glanced through it,
+absently, until her eye fell by chance upon a name on the editorial page.
+Something like an electric shock ran through her, and the letters of the
+name seemed to quiver and become red.  Slowly they spelled--Peter Erwin.
+
+"The argument of Mr. Peter Erwin, of St. Louis, before the Supreme Court
+of the United States in the now celebrated Snowden case is universally
+acknowledged by lawyers to have been masterly, and reminiscent of the
+great names of the profession in the past.  Mr. Erwin is not dramatic.
+He appears to carry all before him by the sheer force of intellect, and
+by a kind of Lincolnian ability to expose a fallacy: He is still a young
+man, self-made, and studied law under Judge Brice of St. Louis, once
+President of the National Bar Association, whose partner he is"....
+
+Honora cut out the editorial and thrust it in her gown, and threw the
+newspaper is the fire.  She stood for a time after it had burned,
+watching the twisted remnants fade from flame colour to rose, and finally
+blacken.  Then she went slowly up the stairs and put on her hat and coat
+and veil.  Although a cloudless day, it was windy in the park, and cold,
+the ruffled waters an intense blue.  She walked fast.
+
+She lunched with Mrs. Holt, who had but just come to town; and the light,
+like a speeding guest, was departing from the city when she reached her
+own door.
+
+"There is a gentleman in the drawing-room, madam," said the butler.  "He
+said he was an old friend, and a stranger in New York, and asked if he
+might wait."
+
+She stood still with presentiment.
+
+"What is his name?" she asked.
+
+"Mr. Erwin," said the man.
+
+Still she hesitated.  In the strange state in which she found herself
+that day, the supernatural itself had seemed credible.  And yet--she was
+not prepared.
+
+"I beg pardon, madam," the butler was saying, "perhaps I shouldn't--?"
+
+"Yes, yes, you should," she interrupted him, and pushed past him up the
+stairs.  At the drawing-room door she paused--he was unaware of her
+presence.  And he had not changed!  She wondered why she had expected him
+to change.  Even the glow of his newly acquired fame was not discernible
+behind his well-remembered head.  He seemed no older--and no younger.
+And he was standing with his hands behind his back gazing in simple,
+silent appreciation at the big tapestry nearest the windows.
+
+"Peter," she said, in a low voice.
+
+He turned quickly, and then she saw the glow.  But it was the old glow,
+not the new--the light m which her early years had been spent.
+
+"What a coincidence!" she exclaimed, as he took her hand.
+
+"Coincidence?"
+
+"It was only this morning that I was reading in the newspaper all sorts
+of nice things about you.  It made me feel like going out and telling
+everybody you were an old friend of mine."  Still holding his fingers,
+she pushed him away from her at arm's length, and looked at him.  "What
+does it feel like to be famous, and have editorials about one's self in
+the New York newspapers?"
+
+He laughed, and released his hands somewhat abruptly.
+
+"It seems as strange to me, Honora, as it does to you."
+
+"How unkind of you, Peter!" she exclaimed.
+
+She felt his eyes upon her, and their searching, yet kindly and humorous
+rays seemed to illuminate chambers within her which she would have kept
+in darkness: which she herself did not wish to examine.
+
+I'm so glad to see you," she said a little breathlessly, flinging her
+muff and boa on a chair.  Sit there, where I can look at you, and tell
+me why you didn't let me know you were coming to New York."
+
+He glanced a little comically at the gilt and silk arm-chair which she
+designated, and then at her; and she smiled and coloured, divining the
+humour in his unspoken phrase.
+
+"For a great man," she declared, "you are absurd."
+
+He sat down.  In spite of his black clothes and the lounging attitude he
+habitually assumed, with his knees crossed--he did not appear incongruous
+in a seat that would have harmonized with the flowing robes of the
+renowned French Cardinal himself.  Honora wondered why.  He impressed her
+to-day as force--tremendous force in repose, and yet he was the same
+Peter.  Why was it?  Had the clipping that even then lay in her bosom
+effected this magic change?  He had intimated as much, but she denied it
+fiercely.
+
+She rang for tea.
+
+"You haven't told me why you came to New York," she said.
+
+"I was telegraphed for, from Washington, by a Mr. Wing," he explained.
+
+"A Mr. Wing," she repeated.  "You don't mean by any chance James Wing?"
+
+"The Mr. Wing," said Peter.
+
+"The reason I asked," explained Honora, flushing, was because Howard is--
+associated with him.  Mr. Wing is largely interested in the Orange Trust
+Company."
+
+"Yes, I know," said Peter.  His elbows were resting on the arms of his
+chair, and he looked at the tips of his fingers, which met.  Honora
+thought it strange that he did not congratulate her, but he appeared to
+be reflecting.
+
+"What did Mr. Wing want?" she inquired in her momentary confusion, and
+added hastily, "I beg your pardon, Peter.  I suppose I ought not to ask
+that."
+
+"He was kind enough to wish me to live in New York he answered, still
+staring at the tips of his fingers.
+
+"Oh, how nice!" she cried--and wondered at the same time whether, on
+second thoughts, she would think it so.  "I suppose be wants you to be
+the counsel for one of his trusts.  When--when do you come?"
+
+"I'm not coming."
+
+"Not coming!  Why?  Isn't it a great compliment?"
+
+He ignored the latter part of her remark; and it seemed to her, when she
+recalled the conversation afterwards, that she had heard a certain note
+of sadness under the lightness of his reply.
+
+"To attempt to explain to a New Yorker why any one might prefer to live
+in any other place would be a difficult task."
+
+"You are incomprehensible, Peter," she declared.  And yet she felt a
+relief that surprised her, and a desire to get away from the subject.
+"Dear old St. Louis!  Somehow, in spite of your greatness, it seems to
+fit you."
+
+"It's growing," said Peter--and they laughed together.
+
+"Why didn't you come to lunch?" she said.
+
+"Lunch!  I didn't know that any one ever went to lunch in New York--in
+this part of it, at least--with less than three weeks' notice.  And by
+the way, if I am interfering with any engagement--"
+
+"My book is not so full as all that.  Of course you'll come and stay with
+us, Peter."
+
+He shook his head regretfully.
+
+"My train leaves at six, from Forty-Second Street," he replied.
+
+"Oh, you are niggardly," she cried.  "To think how little I see of you,
+Peter.  And sometimes I long for you.  It's strange, but I still miss you
+terribly--after five years.  It seems longer than that," she added, as
+she poured the boiling water into the tea-pot.  But she did not look at
+him.
+
+He got up and walked as far as a water-colour on the wall.
+
+"You have some beautiful things here, Honora," he said.  "I am glad I
+have had a glimpse of you surrounded by them to carry back to your aunt
+and uncle."
+
+She glanced about the room as he spoke, and then at him.  He seemed the
+only reality in it, but she did not say so.
+
+"You'll see them soon," was what she said.  And considered the miracle of
+him staying there where Providence had placed him, and bringing the world
+to him.  Whereas she, who had gone forth to seek it--
+
+"The day after to-morrow will be Sunday," he reminded her.
+
+Nothing had changed there.  She closed her eyes and saw the little dining
+room in all the dignity of Sunday dinner, the big silver soup tureen
+catching the sun, the flowered china with the gilt edges, and even a
+glimpse of lace paper when the closet door opened; Aunt Mary and Uncle
+Tom, with Peter between them.  And these, strangely, were the only
+tangible things and immutable.
+
+"You'll give them--a good account of me?"  she said.  "I know that you do
+not care for New York," she added with a smile.  "But it is possible to
+be happy here."
+
+"I am glad you are happy, Honora, and that you have got what you wanted
+in life.  Although I may be unreasonable and provincial and--and
+Western," he confessed with a twinkle--for he had the characteristic
+national trait of shading off his most serious remarks--"I have never
+gone so far as to declare that happiness was a question of locality."
+
+She laughed.
+
+"Nor fame."  Her mind returned to the loadstar.
+
+"Oh, fame!" he exclaimed, with a touch of impatience, and he used the
+word that had possessed her all day.  "There is no reality in that.  Men
+are not loved for it."
+
+She set down her cup quickly.  He was looking at the water-colour.
+
+"Have you been to the Metropolitan Museum lately?" he asked.
+
+"The Metropolitan Museum?" she repeated in bewilderment.
+
+"That would be one of the temptations of New York for me," he said.
+"I was there for half an hour this afternoon before I presented myself
+at your door as a suspicious character.  There is a picture there, by
+Coffin, called 'The Rain,' I believe.  I am very fond of it.  And looking
+at it on such a winter's day as this brings back the summer.  The squall
+coming, and the sound of it in the trees, and the very smell of the wet
+meadow-grass in the wind.  Do you know it?"
+
+"No," replied Honora, and she was suddenly filled with shame at the
+thought that she had never been in the Museum.  "I didn't know you were
+so fond of pictures."
+
+"I am beginning to be a rival of Mr. Dwyer," he declared.  "I've bought
+four--although I haven't built my gallery.  When you come to St. Louis
+I'll show them to you--and let us hope it will be soon."
+
+For some time after she had heard the street door close behind him Honora
+remained where she was, staring into the fire, and then she crossed the
+room to a reading lamp, and turned it up.
+
+Some one spoke in the doorway.
+
+"Mr. Grainger, madam."
+
+Before she could rouse herself and recover from her astonishment, the
+gentleman himself appeared, blinking as though the vision of her were too
+bright to be steadily gazed at.  If the city had been searched, it is
+doubtful whether a more striking contrast to the man who had just left
+could have been found than Cecil Grainger in the braided, grey cutaway
+that clung to the semblance of a waist he still possessed.  In him Hyde
+Park and Fifth Avenue, so to speak, shook hands across the sea: put him
+in either, and he would have appeared indigenous.
+
+"Hope you'll forgive my comin' 'round on such slight acquaintance, Mrs.
+Spence," said he.  "Couldn't resist the opportunity to pay my respects.
+Shorter told me where you were."
+
+"That was very good of Mr. Shorter," said Honora, whose surprise had
+given place to a very natural resentment, since she had not the honour
+of knowing Mrs. Grainger.
+
+"Oh," said Mr. Grainger, "Shorter's a good sort.  Said he'd been here
+himself to see how you were fixed, and hadn't found you in.  Uncommonly
+well fixed, I should say," he added, glancing around the room with
+undisguised approval.  "Why the deuce did she furnish it, since she's
+gone to Paris to live with Rindge?"
+
+"I suppose you mean Mrs. Rindge," said Honora.  "She didn't furnish it."
+
+Mr. Grainger winked at her rapidly, like a man suddenly brought face to
+face with a mystery.
+
+"Oh!" he replied, as though he had solved it.  The solution came a few
+moments later.  "It's ripping!" he said.  "Farwell couldn't have done it
+any better."
+
+Honora laughed, and momentarily forgot her resentment.
+
+"Will you have tea?"  she asked.  "Oh, don't sit down there!"
+
+"Why not?" he asked, jumping.  It was the chair that had held Peter, and
+Mr. Grainger examined the seat as though he suspected a bent pin.
+
+"Because," said Honora, "because it isn't comfortable.  Pull up that
+other one."
+
+Again mystified, he did as he was told.  She remembered his reputation
+for going to sleep, and wondered whether she had been wise in her second
+choice.  But it soon became apparent that Mr. Grainger, as he gazed at
+her from among the cushions, had no intention of dozing, His eyelids
+reminded her of the shutters of a camera, and she had the feeling of
+sitting for thousands of instantaneous photographs for his benefit.  She
+was by turns annoyed, amused, and distrait: Peter was leaving his hotel;
+now he was taking the train.  Was he thinking of her?  He had said he was
+glad she was happy!  She caught herself up with a start after one of
+these silences to realize that Mr. Grainger was making unwonted and
+indeed pathetic exertions to entertain her, and it needed no feminine eye
+to perceive that he was thoroughly uncomfortable.  She had, unconsciously
+and in thinking of Peter, rather overdone the note of rebuke of his
+visit.  And Honora was, above all else, an artist.  His air was
+distinctly apologetic as be rose, perhaps a little mortified,
+like that of a man who has got into the wrong house.
+
+"I very much fear I've intruded, Mrs. Spence," he stammered, and he was
+winking now with bewildering rapidity.  "We--we had such a pleasant drive
+together that day to Westchester--I was tempted--"
+
+"We did have a good time," she agreed.  "And it has been a pleasure to
+see you again."
+
+Thus, in the kindness of her heart, she assisted him to cover his
+retreat, for it was a strange and somewhat awful experience to see Mr.
+Cecil Grainger discountenanced.  He glanced again, as he went out, at the
+chair in which he had been forbidden to sit.
+
+She went to the piano, played over a few bars of Thais, and dropped her
+hands listlessly.  Cross currents of the strange events of the day flowed
+through her mind: Peter's arrival and its odd heralding, and the
+discomfort of Mr. Grainger.
+
+Howard came in.  He did not see her under the shaded lamp, and she sat
+watching him with a curious feeling of detachment as he unfolded his
+newspaper and sank, with a sigh of content, into the cushioned chair
+which Mr. Grainger had vacated.  Was it fancy that her husband's physical
+attributes had changed since he had attained his new position of dignity?
+She could have sworn that he had visibly swollen on the evening when he
+had announced to her his promotion, and he seemed to have remained
+swollen.  Not bloated, of course: he was fatter, and--if possible pinker.
+But there was a growing suggestion in him of humming-and-hawing
+greatness.  If there--were leisure in this too-leisurely chronicle for
+what might be called aftermath, the dinner that Honora had given to some
+of her Quicksands friends might be described.  Suffice it to recall, with
+Honora, that Lily Dallam, with a sure instinct, had put the finger of her
+wit on this new attribute of Howard's.
+
+"You'll kill me, Howard!" she had cried.  "He even looks at the soup as
+though he were examining a security!"
+
+Needless to say, it did not cure him, although it sealed Lily Dallam's
+fate--and incidentally that of Quicksands.  Honora's thoughts as she sat
+now at the piano watching him, flew back unexpectedly to the summer at
+Silverdale when she had met him, and she tried to imagine, the genial and
+boyish representative of finance that he was then.  In the midst of this
+effort he looked up and discovered her.
+
+"What are you doing over there, Honora?" he asked.
+
+"Thinking," she answered.
+
+"That's a great way to treat a man when he comes home after a day's
+work."
+
+"I beg your pardon, Howard," she said with unusual meekness.  "Who do you
+think was here this afternoon?"
+
+"Erwin?  I've just come from Mr. Wing's house--he has gout to-day and
+didn't go down town.  He offered Erwin a hundred thousand a year to come
+to New York as corporation counsel.  And if you'll believe me--he refused
+it."
+
+"I'll believe you," she said.
+
+"Did he say anything about it to you?"
+
+"He simply mentioned that Mr. Wing asked him to come to New York.  He
+didn't say why."
+
+"Well," Howard remarked, "he's one too many for me.  He can't be making
+over thirty thousand where he is."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE PATH OF PHILANTHROPY
+
+Mrs. Cecil Grainger may safely have been called a Personality, and one
+of the proofs of this was that she haunted people who had never seen her.
+Honora might have looked at her, it is true, on the memorable night of
+the dinner with Mrs. Holt and Trixton Brent; but--for sufficiently
+obvious reasons--refrained.  It would be an exaggeration to say that Mrs.
+Grainger became an obsession with our heroine; yet it cannot be denied
+that, since Honora's arrival at Quicksands, this lady had, in increasing
+degrees, been the subject of her speculations.  The threads of Mrs.
+Grainger's influence were so ramified, indeed, as to be found in Mrs.
+Dallam, who declared she was the rudest woman in New York and yet had
+copied her brougham; in Mr. Cuthbert and Trixton Brent; in Mrs. Kame; in
+Mrs. Holt, who proclaimed her a tower of strength in charities; and
+lastly in Mr. Grainger himself, who, although he did not spend much time
+in his wife's company, had for her an admiration that amounted to awe.
+
+Elizabeth Grainger, who was at once modern and tenaciously conservative,
+might have been likened to some of the Roman matrons of the aristocracy
+in the last years of the Republic.  Her family, the Pendletons, had
+traditions: so, for that matter, had the Graingers.  But Senator
+Pendleton, antique homo virtute et fide, had been a Roman of the old
+school who would have preferred exile after the battle of Philippi; and
+who, could he have foreseen modern New York and modern finance, would
+have been more content to die when he did.  He had lived in Washington
+Square.  His daughter inherited his executive ability, many of his
+prejudices (as they would now be called), and his habit of regarding
+favourable impressions with profound suspicion.  She had never known the
+necessity of making friends: hers she had inherited, and for some reason
+specially decreed, they were better than those of less fortunate people.
+
+Mrs. Grainger was very tall.  And Sargent, in his portrait of her, had
+caught with admirable art the indefinable, yet partly supercilious and
+scornful smile with which she looked down upon the world about her.  She
+possessed the rare gift of combining conventionality with personal
+distinction in her dress.  Her hair was almost Titian red in colour, and
+her face (on the authority of Mr. Reginald Farwell) was at once modern
+and Italian Renaissance.  Not the languid, amorous Renaissance, but the
+lady of decision who chose, and did not wait to be chosen.  Her eyes had
+all the colours of the tapaz, and her regard was so baffling as to arouse
+intense antagonism in those who were not her friends.
+
+To Honora, groping about for a better and a higher life, the path of
+philanthropy had more than once suggested itself.  And on the day of
+Peter's visit to New York, when she had lunched with Mrs. Holt, she had
+signified her willingness (now that she had come to live in town) to join
+the Working Girls' Relief Society.  Mrs. Holt, needless to say, was
+overjoyed: they were to have a meeting at her house in the near future
+which Honora must not fail to attend.  It was not, however, without a
+feeling of trepidation natural to a stranger that she made her way to
+that meeting when the afternoon arrived.
+
+No sooner was she seated in Mrs. Holt's drawing-room--filled with camp-
+chairs for the occasion--than she found herself listening breathlessly
+to a recital of personal experiences by a young woman who worked in a
+bindery on the East side.  Honora's heart was soft: her sympathies,
+as we know, easily aroused.  And after the young woman had told with
+great simplicity and earnestness of the struggle to support herself and
+lead an honest and self-respecting existence, it seemed to Honora that
+at last she had opened the book of life at the proper page.
+
+Afterwards there were questions, and a report by Miss Harber, a middle-
+aged lady with glasses who was the secretary.  Honora looked around her.
+The membership of the Society, judging by those present, was surely of a
+sufficiently heterogeneous character to satisfy even the catholic tastes
+of her hostess.  There were elderly ladies, some benevolent and some
+formidable, some bedecked and others unadorned; there were earnest-
+looking younger women, to whom dress was evidently a secondary
+consideration; and there was a sprinkling of others, perfectly gowned,
+several of whom were gathered in an opposite corner.  Honora's eyes,
+as the reading of the report progressed, were drawn by a continual and
+resistless attraction to this group; or rather to the face of one of the
+women in it, which seemed to stare out at her like the eat in the tree of
+an old-fashioned picture puzzle, or the lineaments of George Washington
+among a mass of boulders on a cliff.  Once one has discovered it, one
+can see nothing else.  In vain Honora dropped her eyes; some strange
+fascination compelled her to raise them again until they met those of the
+other woman: Did their glances meet?  She could never quite be sure, so
+disconcerting were the lights in that regard--lights, seemingly, of
+laughter and mockery.
+
+Some instinct informed Honora that the woman was Mrs. Grainger, and
+immediately the scene in the Holland House dining-room came back to her.
+Never until now had she felt the full horror of its comedy.  And then,
+as though to fill the cup of humiliation, came the thought of Cecil
+Grainger's call.  She longed, in an agony with which sensitive natures
+will sympathize, for the reading to be over.
+
+The last paragraph of the report contained tributes to Mrs. Joshua Holt
+and Mrs. Cecil Grainger for the work each had done during the year, and
+amidst enthusiastic hand-clapping the formal part of the meeting came to
+an end.  The servants were entering with tea as Honora made her way
+towards the door, where she was stopped by Susan Holt.
+
+"My dear Honora," cried Mrs. Holt, who had hurried after her daughter,
+"you're not going?"
+
+Honora suddenly found herself without an excuse.
+
+"I really ought to, Mrs. Holt.  I've had such a good time-and I've been
+so interested.  I never realized that such things occurred.  And I've got
+one of the reports, which I intend to read over again."
+
+"But my dear," protested Mrs. Holt, "you must meet some of the members of
+the Society.  Bessie!"
+
+Mrs. Grainger, indeed--for Honora had been right in her surmise--was
+standing within ear-shot of this conversation.  And Honora, who knew she
+was there, could not help feeling that she took a rather redoubtable
+interest in it.  At Mrs. Holt's words she turned.
+
+"Bessie, I've found a new recruit--one that I can answer for,
+Mrs. Spence, whom I spoke to you about."
+
+Mrs. Grainger bestowed upon Honora her enigmatic smile.
+
+"Oh," she declared, "I've heard of Mrs. Spence from other sources, and
+I've seen her, too."
+
+Honora grew a fiery red.  There was obviously no answer to such a remark,
+which seemed the quintessence of rudeness.  But Mrs. Grainger continued
+to smile, and to stare at her with the air of trying to solve a riddle.
+
+"I'm coming to see you, if I may," she said.  "I've been intending to
+since I've been in town, but I'm always so busy that I don't get time to
+do the things I want to do."
+
+An announcement that fairly took away Honora's breath.  She managed to
+express her appreciation of Mrs. Grainger's intention, and presently
+found herself walking rapidly up-town through swirling snow, somewhat
+dazed by the events of the afternoon.  And these, by the way, were not
+yet finished.  As she reached her own door, a voice vaguely familiar
+called her name.
+
+"Honora!"
+
+She turned.  The slim, tall figure of a young woman descended from a
+carriage and crossed the pavement, and in the soft light of the vestibule
+she recognized Ethel Wing.
+
+"I'm so glad I caught you," said that young lady when they entered the
+drawing-room.  And she gazed at her school friend.  The colour glowed in
+Honora's cheeks, but health alone could not account for the sparkle in
+her eyes.  "Why, you look radiant.  You are more beautiful than you were
+at Sutcliffe.  Is it marriage?"
+
+Honora laughed happily, and they sat down side by side on the lounge
+behind the tea table.
+
+"I heard you'd married," said Ethel, "but I didn't know what had become
+of you until the other day.  Jim never tells me anything.  It appears
+that he's seen something of you.  But it wasn't from Jim that I heard
+about you first.  You'd never guess who told me you were here."
+
+"Who?" asked Honora, curiously.
+
+"Mr. Erwin."
+
+"Peter Erwin!"
+
+"I'm perfectly shameless," proclaimed Ethel Wing.  "I've lost my heart to
+him, and I don't care who knows it.  Why in the world didn't you marry
+him?"
+
+"But--where did you see him?" Honora demanded as soon as she could
+command herself sufficiently to speak.  Her voice must have sounded odd.
+Ethel did not appear to notice that.
+
+"He lunched with us one day when father had gout.  Didn't he tell you
+about it?  He said he was coming to see you that afternoon."
+
+"Yes--he came.  But he didn't mention being at lunch at your house."
+
+"I'm sure that was like him," declared her friend.  And for the first
+time in her life Honora experienced a twinge of that world-old ailment--
+jealousy.  How did Ethel know what was like him?  "I made father give him
+up for a little while after lunch, and he talked about you the whole
+time.  But he was most interesting at the table," continued Ethel,
+sublimely unconscious of the lack of compliment in the comparison; "as
+Jim would say, he fairly wiped up the ground with father, and it isn't
+an easy thing to do."
+
+"Wiped up the ground with Mr. Wing!" Honora repeated.
+
+"Oh, in a delightfully quiet, humorous way.  That's what made it so
+effective.  I couldn't understand all of it; but I grasped enough to
+enjoy it hugely.  Father's so used to bullying people that it's become
+second nature with him.  I've seen him lay down the law to some of the
+biggest lawyers in New York, and they took it like little lambs.  He
+caught a Tartar in Mr. Erwin.  I didn't dare to laugh, but I wanted to."
+
+"What was the discussion about?" asked Honora.
+
+"I'm not sure that I can give you a very clear idea of it," said Ethel.
+"Generally speaking, it was about modern trust methods, and what a self-
+respecting lawyer would do and what he wouldn't.  Father took the ground
+that the laws weren't logical, and that they were different and
+conflicting, anyway, in different States.  He said they impeded the
+natural development of business, and that it was justifiable for the
+great legal brains of the country to devise means by which these laws
+could be eluded.  He didn't quite say that, but he meant it, and he
+honestly believes it.  The manner in which Mr. Erwin refuted it was a
+revelation to me.  I've been thinking about it since.  You see, I'd never
+heard that side of the argument.  Mr. Erwin said, in the nicest way
+possible, but very firmly, that a lawyer who hired himself out to enable
+one man to take advantage of another prostituted his talents: that the
+brains of the legal profession were out of politics in these days, and
+that it was almost impossible for the men in the legislatures to frame
+laws that couldn't be evaded by clever and unscrupulous devices.  He
+cited ever so many cases .  .  .  "
+
+Ethel's voice became indistinct, as though some one had shut a door in
+front of it.  Honora was trembling on the brink of a discovery: holding
+herself back from it, as one who has climbed a fair mountain recoils from
+the lip of an unsuspected crater at sight of the lazy, sulphurous fumes.
+All the years of her marriage, ever since she had first heard his name,
+the stature of James Wing had been insensibly growing, and the vastness
+of his empire gradually disclosed.  She had lived in that empire: in it
+his word had stood for authority, his genius had been worshipped, his
+decrees had been absolute.
+
+She had met him once, in Howard's office, when he had greeted her
+gruffly, and the memory of his rugged features and small red eyes, like
+live coals, had remained.  And she saw now the drama that had taken place
+before Ethel's eyes.  The capitalist, overbearing, tyrannical, hearing
+a few, simple truths in his own house from Peter--her Peter.  And she
+recalled her husband's account of his talk with James Wing.  Peter had
+refused to sell himself.  Had Howard?  Many times during the days that
+followed she summoned her courage to ask her husband that question, and
+kept silence.  She did not wish to know.
+
+"I don't want to seem disloyal to papa," Ethel was saying.  "He is under
+great responsibilities to other people, to stockholders; and he must get
+things done.  But oh, Honora, I'm so tired of money, money, money and its
+standards, and the things people are willing to do for it.  I've seen too
+much."
+
+Honora looked at her friend, and believed her.  One glance at the girl's
+tired eyes--a weariness somehow enhanced--in effect by the gold sheen of
+her hair--confirmed the truth of her words.
+
+"You've changed, Ethel, since Sutcliffe," she said.
+
+"Yes, I've changed," said Ethel Wing, and the weariness was in her voice,
+too.  "I've had too much, Honora.  Life was all glitter, like a Christmas
+tree, when I left Sutcliffe.  I had no heart.  I'm not at all sure that I
+have one now.  I've known all kinds of people--except the right kind.
+And if I were to tell you some of the things that have happened to me in
+five years you wouldn't believe them.  Money has been at the bottom of it
+all,--it ruined my brother, and it has ruined me.  And then, the other
+day, I beheld a man whose standards simply take no account of money, a
+man who holds something else higher.  I--I had been groping lately, and
+then I seemed to see clear for the first time in my life.  But I'm afraid
+it comes too late."
+
+Honora took her friend's hand in her own and pressed it.
+
+"I don't know why I'm telling you all this," said Ethel: "It seems
+to-day as though I had always known you, and yet we weren't particularly
+intimate at school.  I suppose I'm inclined to be oversuspicious.  Heaven
+knows I've had enough to make me so.  But I always thought that you were
+a little--ambitious.  You'll forgive my frankness, Honora.  I don't think
+you're at all so, now."  She glanced at Honora suddenly.  "Perhaps you've
+changed, too," she said.
+
+Honora nodded.
+
+"I think I'm changing all the time," she replied.
+
+After a moment's silence, Ethel Wing pursued her own train of thought.
+
+"Curiously enough when he--when Mr. Erwin spoke of you I seemed to get a
+very different idea of you than the one I had always had.  I had to go
+out of town, but I made up my mind I'd come to see you as soon as I got
+back, and ask you to tell me something about him."
+
+"What shall I tell you?" asked Honora.  "He is what you think he is, and
+more."
+
+"Tell me something of his early life," said Ethel Wing.
+
+                    .....................
+
+There is a famous river in the western part of our country that
+disappears into a canon, the walls of which are some thousands of feet
+high, and the bottom so narrow that the confined waters roar through it
+at breakneck speed.  Sometimes they disappear entirely under the rock, to
+emerge again below more furiously than ever.  From the river-bed can be
+seen, far, far above, a blue ribbon of sky.  Once upon a time, not long
+ago, two heroes in the service of the government of the United States,
+whose names should be graven in the immortal rock and whose story read
+wherever the language is spoken, made the journey through this canon and
+came out alive.  That journey once started, there could be no turning
+back.  Down and down they were buffeted by the rushing waters, over the
+falls and through the tunnels, with time to think only of that which
+would save them from immediate death, until they emerged into the
+sunlight of the plain below.
+
+All of which by way of parallel.  For our own chronicle, hitherto
+leisurely enough, is coming to its canon--perhaps even now begins to feel
+the pressure of the shelving sides.  And if our heroine be somewhat
+rudely tossed from one boulder to another, if we fail wholly to
+understand her emotions and her acts, we must blame the canon.  She had,
+indeed, little time to think.
+
+One evening, three weeks or so after the conversation with Ethel Wing
+just related, Honora's husband entered her room as her maid was giving
+the finishing touches to her toilet.
+
+"You're not going to wear that dress!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Why not?" she asked, without turning from the mirror.
+
+He lighted a cigarette.
+
+"I thought you'd put on something handsome--to go to the Graingers'.  And
+where are your jewels?  You'll find the women there loaded with 'em."
+
+"One string of pearls is all I care to wear," said Honora--a reply with
+which he was fain to be content until they were in the carriage, when she
+added: "Howard, I must ask you as a favour not to talk that way before
+the servants."
+
+"What way?" he demanded.
+
+"Oh," she exclaimed, "if you don't know I suppose it is impossible to
+explain.  You wouldn't understand."
+
+"I understand one thing, Honora, that you're too confoundedly clever for
+me," he declared.
+
+Honora did not reply.  For at that moment they drew up at a carpet
+stretched across the pavement.
+
+Unlike the mansions of vast and imposing facades that were beginning
+everywhere to catch the eye on Fifth Avenue, and that followed mostly the
+continental styles of architecture, the house of the Cecil Graingers had
+a substantial, "middle of-the-eighties" appearance.  It stood on a
+corner, with a high iron fence protecting the area around it.  Within, it
+gave one an idea of space that the exterior strangely belied; and it was
+furnished, not in a French, but in what might be called a comfortably
+English, manner.  It was filled, Honora saw, with handsome and priceless
+things which did not immediately and aggressively strike the eye, but
+which somehow gave the impression of having always been there.  What
+struck her, as she sat in the little withdrawing room while the maid
+removed her overshoes, was the note of permanence.
+
+Some of those who were present at Mrs. Grainger's that evening remember
+her entrance into the drawing-room.  Her gown, the colour of a rose-
+tinted cloud, set off the exceeding whiteness of her neck and arms and
+vied with the crimson in her cheeks, and the single glistening string of
+pearls about the slender column of her neck served as a contrast to the
+shadowy masses of her hair.  Mr. Reginald Farwell, who was there,
+afterwards declared that she seemed to have stepped out of the gentle
+landscape of an old painting.  She stood, indeed, hesitating for a moment
+in the doorway, her eyes softly alight, in the very pose of expectancy
+that such a picture suggested.
+
+Honora herself was almost frightened by a sense of augury, of triumph, as
+she went forward to greet her hostess.  Conversation, for the moment, had
+stopped.  Cecil Grainger, with the air of one who had pulled aside the
+curtain and revealed this vision of beauty and innocence, crossed the
+room to welcome her.  And Mrs. Grainger herself was not a little
+surprised; she was not a dramatic person, and it was not often that her
+drawing-room was the scene of even a mild sensation.  No entrance could
+have been at once so startling and so unexceptionable as Honora's.
+
+"I was sorry not to find you when I called," she said.  "I was sorry,
+too," replied Mrs. Grainger, regarding her with an interest that was
+undisguised, and a little embarrassing.  "I'm scarcely ever at home,
+except when I'm with the children.  Do you know these people?"
+
+"I'm not sure," said Honora, "but--I must introduce my husband to you."
+
+"How d'ye do!" said Mr. Grainger, blinking at her when this ceremony was
+accomplished.  "I'm awfully glad to see you, Mrs. Spence, upon my word."
+
+Honora could not doubt it.  But he had little time to express his joy,
+because of the appearance of his wife at Honora's elbow with a tall man
+she had summoned from a corner.
+
+"Before we go to dinner I must introduce my cousin, Mr. Chiltern--he is
+to have the pleasure of taking you out," she said.
+
+His name was in the class of those vaguely familiar: vaguely familiar,
+too, was his face.  An extraordinary face, Honora thought, glancing at it
+as she took his arm, although she was struck by something less tangible
+than the unusual features.  He might have belonged to any nationality
+within the limits of the Caucasian race.  His short, kinky, black hair
+suggested great virility, an effect intensified by a strongly bridged
+nose, sinewy hands, and bushy eyebrows.  But the intangible distinction
+was in the eyes that looked out from under these brows the glimpse she
+had of them as he bowed to her gravely, might be likened to the hasty
+reading of a chance page in a forbidden book.  Her attention was
+arrested, her curiosity aroused.  She was on that evening, so to speak,
+exposed for and sensitive to impressions.  She was on the threshold of
+the Alhambra.
+
+"Hugh has such a faculty," complained Mr. Grainger, "of turning up at the
+wrong moment!"
+
+Dinner was announced.  She took Chiltern's arm, and they fell into file
+behind a lady in yellow, with a long train, who looked at her rather
+hard.  It was Mrs. Freddy Maitland.  Her glance shifted to Chiltern, and
+it seemed to Honora that she started a little.
+
+"Hello, Hugh," she said indifferently, looking back over her shoulder;
+"have you turned up again?"
+
+"Still sticking to the same side of your horse, I see."  he replied,
+ignoring the question.  "I told you you'd get lop-sided."
+
+The deformity, if there were any, did not seem to trouble her.
+
+"I'm going to Florida Wednesday.  We want another man.  Think it over."
+
+"Sorry, but I've got something else to do," he said.
+
+"The devil and idle hands," retorted Mrs. Maitland.
+
+Honora was sure as she could be that Chiltern was angry, although he gave
+no visible sign of this.  It was as though the current ran from his arm
+into hers.
+
+"Have you been away?" she asked.
+
+"It seems to me as though I had never been anywhere else," he answered,
+and he glanced curiously at the guests ranging about the great, flower-
+laden table.  They sat down.
+
+She was a little repelled, a little piqued; and a little relieved when
+the man on her other side spoke to her, and she recognized Mr. Reginald
+Farwell, the architect.  The table capriciously swung that way.  She did
+not feel prepared to talk to Mr. Chiltern.  And before entering upon her
+explorations she was in need of a guide.  She could have found none more
+charming, none more impersonal, none more subtly aware of her wants
+(which had once been his) than Mr. Farwell.  With his hair parted with
+geometrical precision from the back of his collar to his forehead, with
+his silky mustache and eyes of soft hazel lights, he was all things
+to all men and women--within reason.  He was an achievement that
+civilization had not hitherto produced, a combination of the Beaux Arts
+and the Jockey Club and American adaptability.  He was of those upon whom
+labour leaves no trace.
+
+There were preliminaries, mutually satisfactory.  To see Mrs. Spence was
+never to forget her, but more delicately intimated.  He remembered to
+have caught a glimpse of her at the Quicksands Club, and Mrs. Dallam nor
+her house were not mentioned by either.  Honora could not have been in
+New York Long.  No, it was her first winter, and she felt like a
+stranger.  Would Mr. Farwell tell her who some of these people were?
+Nothing charmed Mr. Farwell so much as simplicity--when it was combined
+with personal attractions.  He did not say so, but contrived to intimate
+the former.
+
+"It's always difficult when one first comes to New York," he declared,
+"but it soon straightens itself out, and one is surprised at how few
+people there are, after all.  We'll begin on Cecil's right.  That's Mrs.
+George Grenfell."
+
+"Oh, yes," said Honora, looking at a tall, thin woman of middle age who
+wore a tiara, and whose throat was covered with jewels.  Honora did not
+imply that Mrs. Grenfell's name, and most of those that followed, were
+extremely familiar to her.
+
+"In my opinion she's got the best garden in Newport, and she did most of
+it herself.  Next to her, with the bald head, is Freddy Maitland.  Next
+to him is Miss Godfrey.  She's a little eccentric, but she can afford to
+be--the Godfreys for generations have done so much for the city.  The man
+with the beard, next her, is John Laurens, the philanthropist.  That
+pretty woman, who's just as nice as she looks, is Mrs. Victor Strange.
+She was Agatha Pendleton--Mrs. Grainger's cousin.  And the gentleman with
+the pink face, whom she is entertaining--"
+
+"Is my husband," said Honora, smiling.  "I know something about him."
+
+Mr. Farwell laughed.  He admired her aplomb, and he did not himself
+change countenance.  Indeed, the incident seemed rather to heighten the
+confidence between them.  Honora was looking rather critically at Howard.
+It was a fact that his face did grow red at this stage of a dinner, and
+she wondered what Mrs. Strange found to talk to him about.
+
+"And the woman on the other side of him?" she asked.  "By the way, she
+has a red face, too."
+
+"So she has," he replied amusedly.  "That is Mrs. Littleton Pryor, the
+greatest living rebuke to the modern woman.  Most of those jewels are
+inherited, but she has accustomed herself by long practice to carry them,
+as well as other burdens.  She has eight children, and she's on every
+charity list.  Her ancestors were the very roots of Manhattan.  She looks
+like a Holbein--doesn't she?"
+
+"And the extraordinary looking man on my right?" Honora asked.  "I've got
+to talk to him presently."
+
+"Chiltern!" he said.  "Is it possible you haven't heard something about
+Hugh Chiltern?"
+
+"Is it such lamentable ignorance?" she asked.
+
+"That depends upon one's point of view," he replied.  "He's always been a
+sort of a--well, Viking," said Farwell.
+
+Honora was struck by the appropriateness of the word.
+
+"Viking--yes, he looks it exactly.  I couldn't think.  Tell me something
+about him."
+
+"Well," he laughed, lowering his voice a little, here goes for a little
+rough and ready editing.  One thing about Chiltern that's to be admired
+is that he's never cared a rap what people think.  Of course, in a way,
+he never had to.  His family own a section of the state, where they've
+had woollen mills for a hundred years, more or less.  I believe Hugh
+Chiltern has sold 'em, or they've gone into a trust, or something, but
+the estate is still there, at Grenoble--one of the most beautiful places
+I've ever seen.  The General--this man's father--was a violent,
+dictatorial man.  There is a story about his taking a battery at
+Gettysburg which is almost incredible.  But he went back to Grenoble
+after the war, and became the typical public-spirited citizen; built up
+the mills which his own pioneer grandfather had founded, and all that.
+He married an aunt of Mrs. Grainger's,--one of those delicate, gentle
+women who never dare to call their soul their own."
+
+"And then?" prompted Honora, with interest.
+
+"It's only fair to Hugh," Farwell continued, "to take his early years
+into account.  The General never understood him, and his mother died
+before he went off to school.  Men who were at Harvard with him say he
+has a brilliant mind, but he spent most of his time across the Charles
+River breaking things.  It was, probably, the energy the General got rid
+of at Gettysburg.  What Hugh really needed was a war, and he had too much
+money.  He has a curious literary streak, I'm told, and wrote a rather
+remarkable article--I've forgotten just where it appeared.  He raced a
+yacht for a while in a dare-devil, fiendish way, as one might expect; and
+used to go off on cruises and not be heard of for months.  At last he got
+engaged to Sally Harrington--Mrs. Freddy Maitland."
+
+Honora glanced across the table.
+
+"Exactly," said Mr. Farwell.  "That was seven or eight years ago.  Nobody
+ever knew the reason why she broke it--though it may have been pretty
+closely guessed.  He went away, and nobody's laid eyes on him until he
+turned up to-night."
+
+Honora's innocence was not too great to enable her to read between the
+lines of this biography which Reginald Farwell had related with such
+praiseworthy delicacy.  It was a biography, she well knew, that, like a
+score of others, had been guarded as jealously as possible within the
+circle on the borders of which she now found herself.  Mrs. Grainger with
+her charities, Mrs. Littleton Pryor with her good works, Miss Godfrey
+with her virtue--all swallowed it as gracefully as possible.  Noblesse
+oblige.  Honora had read French and English memoirs, and knew that
+history repeats itself.  And a biography that is printed in black letter
+and illuminated in gold is attractive in spite of its contents.  The
+contents, indeed, our heroine had not found uninteresting, and she turned
+now to the subject with a flutter of anticipation.
+
+He looked at her intently, almost boldly, she thought, and before she
+dropped her eyes she had made a discovery.  The thing stamped upon his
+face and burning in his eyes was not world-weariness, disappointment,
+despair.  She could not tell what it was, yet; that it was none of these,
+she knew.  It was not unrelated to experience, but transcended it.  There
+was an element of purpose in it, of determination, almost--she would have
+believed--of hope.  That Mrs. Maitland nor any other woman was a part of
+it she became equally sure.  Nothing could have been more commonplace
+than the conversation which began, and yet it held for her, between the
+lines as in the biography, the thrill of interest.  She was a woman, and
+embarked on a voyage of discovery.
+
+"Do you live in New York?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," said Honora, "since this autumn."
+
+"I've been away a good many years," he said, in explanation of his
+question.  "I haven't quite got my bearings.  I can't tell you how
+queerly this sort of thing affects me."
+
+"You mean civilization?" she hazarded.
+
+"Yes.  And yet I've come back to it."
+
+Of course she did not ask him why.  Their talk was like the starting
+of a heavy train--a series of jerks; and yet both were aware of an
+irresistible forward traction.  She had not recovered from her surprise
+in finding herself already so far in his confidence.
+
+"And the time will come, I suppose, when you'll long to get away again."
+
+"No," he said, "I've come back to stay.  It's taken me a long while to
+learn it, but there's only one place for a man, and that's his own
+country."
+
+Her eyes lighted.
+
+"There's always so much for a man to do."
+
+"What would you do?" he asked curiously.
+
+She considered this.
+
+"If you had asked me that question two years ago--even a year ago--
+I should have given you a different answer.  It's taken me some time to
+learn it, too, you see, and I'm not a man.  I once thought I should have
+liked to have been a king amongst money changers, and own railroad and
+steamship lines, and dominate men by sheer power."
+
+He was clearly interested.
+
+"And now?" he prompted her.
+
+She laughed a little, to relieve the tension.
+
+"Well--I've found out that there are some men that kind of power can't
+control--the best kind.  And I've found out that that isn't the best kind
+of power.  It seems to be a brutal, barbarous cunning power now that I've
+seen it at close range.  There's another kind that springs from a man
+himself, that speaks through his works and acts, that influences first
+those around him, and then his community, convincing people of their own
+folly, and that finally spreads in ever widening circles to those whom he
+cannot see, and never will see."
+
+She paused, breathing deeply, a little frightened at her own eloquence.
+Something told her that she was not only addressing her own soul--she was
+speaking to his.
+
+"I'm afraid you'll think I'm preaching," she apologized.
+
+"No," he said impatiently, "no."
+
+"To answer your question, then, if I were a man of independent means, I
+think I should go into politics.  And I should put on my first campaign
+banner the words, 'No Compromise.'"
+
+It was a little strange that, until now--to-night-she had not definitely
+formulated these ambitions.  The idea of the banner with its inscription
+had come as an inspiration.  He did not answer, but sat regarding her,
+drumming on the cloth with his strong, brown fingers.
+
+"I have learned this much in New York," she said, carried on by her
+impetus, "that men and women are like plants.  To be useful, and to grow
+properly, they must be firmly rooted in their own soil.  This city seems
+to me like a luxurious, overgrown hothouse.  Of course," she added
+hastily, "there are many people who belong here, and whose best work is
+done here.  I was thinking about those whom it attracts.  And I have seen
+so many who are only watered and fed and warmed, and who become--
+distorted."
+
+"It's extraordinary," replied Chiltern, slowly, "that you should say this
+to me.  It is what I have come to believe, but I couldn't have said it
+half so well."
+
+Mrs. Grainger gave the signal to rise.  Honora took Chiltern's arm, and
+he led her back to the drawing-room.  She was standing alone by the fire
+when Mrs. Maitland approached her.
+
+"Haven't I seen you before?" she asked.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+VINELAND
+
+It was a pleasant Newport to which Honora went early in June, a fair city
+shining in the midst of summer seas, a place to light the fires of
+imagination.  It wore at once an air of age, and of a new and sparkling
+unreality.  Honora found in the very atmosphere a certain magic which she
+did not try to define, but to the enjoyment of which she abandoned
+herself; and in those first days after her arrival she took a sheer
+delight in driving about the island.  Narrow Thames Street, crowded with
+gay carriages, with its aspect of the eighteenth and it shops of the
+twentieth century; the whiffs of the sea; Bellevue Avenue, with its
+glorious serried ranks of trees, its erring perfumes from bright gardens,
+its massed flowering shrubs beckoning the eye, its lawns of a truly
+enchanted green.  Through tree and hedge, as she drove, came ever
+changing glimpses of gleaming palace fronts; glimpses that made her turn
+and look again; that stimulated but did not satisfy, and left a pleasant
+longing for something on the seeming verge of fulfilment.
+
+The very stillness and solitude that seemed to envelop these palaces
+suggested the enchanter's wand.  To-morrow, perhaps, the perfect lawns
+where the robins hopped amidst the shrubbery would become again the rock-
+bound, windswept New England pasture above the sea, and screaming gulls
+circle where now the swallows hovered about the steep blue roof of a
+French chateau.  Hundreds of years hence, would these great pleasure
+houses still be standing behind their screens and walls and hedges?  or
+would, indeed, the shattered, vine-covered marble of a balustrade alone
+mark the crumbling terraces whence once the fabled owners scanned the
+sparkling waters of the ocean?  Who could say?
+
+The onward rush of our story between its canon walls compels us
+reluctantly to skip the narrative of the winter conquests of the lady who
+is our heroine.  Popularity had not spoiled her, and the best proof of
+this lay in the comments of a world that is nothing if not critical.  No
+beauty could have received with more modesty the triumph which had
+greeted her at Mrs. Grenfell's tableaux, in April, when she had appeared
+as Circe, in an architectural frame especially designed by Mr. Farwell
+himself.  There had been a moment of hushed astonishment, followed by an
+acclaim that sent the curtain up twice again.
+
+We must try to imagine, too, the logical continuation of that triumph in
+the Baiae of our modern republic and empire, Newport.  Open, Sesame!
+seems, as ever, to be the countersign of her life.  Even the palace gates
+swung wide to her: most of them with the more readiness because she had
+already passed through other gates--Mrs. Grainger's, for instance.
+Baiae, apparently, is a topsy-turvy world in which, if one alights upside
+down, it is difficult to become righted.  To alight upside down, is to
+alight in a palace.  The Graingers did not live in one, but in a garden
+that existed before the palaces were, and one that the palace owners
+could not copy: a garden that three generations of Graingers, somewhat
+assisted by a remarkable climate, had made with loving care.  The box was
+priceless, the spreading trees in the miniature park no less so, and
+time, the unbribeable, alone could now have produced the wide, carefully
+cherished Victorian mansion.  Likewise not purchasable by California gold
+was a grandfather whose name had been written large in the pages of
+American history.  His library was now lined with English sporting
+prints; but these, too, were old and mellow and rare.
+
+To reach Honora's cottage, you turned away from the pomp and glitter and
+noise of Bellevue Avenue into the inviting tunnel of a leafy lane that
+presently stopped of itself.  As though to provide against the
+contingency of a stray excursionist, a purple-plumed guard of old lilac
+trees massed themselves before the house, and seemed to look down with
+contempt on the new brick wall across the lane.  'Odi profanum vulgus'.
+It was on account of the new brick wall, in fact, that Honora, through
+the intervention of Mrs. Grainger and Mrs. Shorter, had been able to
+obtain this most desirable of retreats, which belonged to a great-aunt of
+Miss Godfrey, Mrs. Forsythe.
+
+Mr. Chamberlin, none other than he of whom we caught a glimpse some years
+ago in a castle near Silverdale, owned the wall and the grounds and the
+palace it enclosed.  This gentleman was of those who arrive in Newport
+upside down; and was even now, with the somewhat doubtful assistance of
+his wife, making lavish and pathetic attempts to right himself.  Newport
+had never forgiven him for the razing of a mansion and the felling of
+trees which had been landmarks, and for the driving out of Mrs. Forsythe.
+The mere sight of the modern wall had been too much for this lady--the
+lilacs and the leaves in the lane mercifully hid the palace--and after
+five and thirty peaceful summers she had moved out, and let the cottage.
+It was furnished with delightful old-fashioned things that seemed to
+express, at every turn, the aristocratic and uncompromising personality
+of the owner who had lived so long in their midst.
+
+Mr. Chamberlin, who has nothing whatever to do with this chronicle except
+to have been the indirect means of Honora's installation, used to come
+through the wall once a week or so to sit for half an hour on her porch
+as long as he ever sat anywhere.  He had reddish side-whiskers, and he
+reminded her of a buzzing toy locomotive wound up tight and suddenly
+taken from the floor.  She caught glimpses of him sometimes in the
+mornings buzzing around his gardeners, his painters, his carpenters, and
+his grooms.  He would buzz the rest of his life, but nothing short of a
+revolution could take his possessions away.
+
+The Graingers and the Grenfells and the Stranges might move mountains,
+but not Mr. Chamberlin's house.  Whatever heart-burnings he may have had
+because certain people refused to come to his balls, he was in Newport to
+remain.  He would sit under the battlements until the crack of doom; or
+rather--and more appropriate in Mr. Chamberlin's case--walk around them
+and around, blowing trumpets until they capitulated.
+
+Honora magically found herself within them, and without a siege.  Behold
+her at last in the setting for which we always felt she was destined.
+Why is it, in this world, that realization is so difficult a thing?  Now
+that she is there, how shall we proceed to give the joys of her Elysium
+their full value?  Not, certainly, by repeating the word pleasure over
+and over again: not by describing the palaces at which she lunched and
+danced and dined, or the bright waters in which she bathed, or the yachts
+in which she sailed.  During the week, indeed, she moved untrammelled in
+a world with which she found herself in perfect harmony: it was new, it
+was dazzling, it was unexplored.  During the week it possessed still
+another and more valuable attribute--it was real.  And she, Honora
+Leffingwell Spence, was part and parcel of its permanence.  The life
+relationships of the people by whom she was surrounded became her own.
+She had little time for thought--during the week.
+
+We are dealing, now, in emotions as delicate as cloud shadows, and these
+drew on as Saturday approached.  On Saturdays and Sundays the quality and
+texture of life seemed to undergo a change.  Who does not recall the
+Monday mornings of the school days of youth, and the indefinite feeling
+betwixt sleep and waking that to-day would not be as yesterday or the day
+before?  On Saturday mornings, when she went downstairs, she was wont to
+find the porch littered with newspapers and her husband lounging in a
+wicker chair behind the disapproving lilacs.  Although they had long
+ceased to bloom, their colour was purple--his was pink.
+
+Honora did not at first analyze or define these emotions, and was
+conscious only of a stirring within her, and a change.  Reality became
+unreality.  The house in which she lived, and for which she felt a
+passion of ownership, was for two days a rented house.  Other women in
+Newport had week-end guests in the guise of husbands, and some of them
+went so far as to bewail the fact.  Some had got rid of them.  Honora
+kissed hers dutifully, and picked up the newspapers, drove him to the
+beach, and took him out to dinner, where he talked oracularly of finance.
+On Sunday night he departed, without visible regrets, for New York.
+
+One Monday morning a storm was raging over Newport.  Seized by a sudden
+whim, she rang her bell, breakfasted at an unusual hour, and nine o'clock
+found her, with her skirts flying, on the road above the cliffs that
+leads to the Fort.  The wind had increased to a gale, and as she stood on
+the rocks the harbour below her was full of tossing white yachts
+straining at their anchors.  Serene in the midst of all this hubbub
+lay a great grey battleship.
+
+Presently, however, her thoughts were distracted by the sight of
+something moving rapidly across her line of vision.  A sloop yacht, with
+a ridiculously shortened sail, was coming in from the Narrows, scudding
+before the wind like a frightened bird.  She watched its approach in a
+sort of fascination, for of late she had been upon the water enough to
+realize that the feat of which she was witness was not without its
+difficulties.  As the sloop drew nearer she made out a bare-headed figure
+bent tensely at the wheel, and four others clinging to the yellow deck.
+In a flash the boat had rounded to, the mainsail fell, and a veil of
+spray hid the actors of her drama.  When it cleared the yacht was tugging
+like a wild thing at its anchor.
+
+That night was Mrs. Grenfell's ball, and many times in later years has
+the scene come back to Honora.  It was not a large ball, by no means on
+the scale of Mr. Chamberlin's, for instance.  The great room reminded one
+of the gallery of a royal French chateau, with its dished ceiling, in the
+oval of which the colours of a pastoral fresco glowed in the ruby lights
+of the heavy chandeliers; its grey panelling, hidden here and there by
+tapestries, and its series of deep, arched windows that gave glimpses of
+a lantern-hung terrace.  Out there, beyond a marble balustrade, the
+lights of fishing schooners tossed on a blue-black ocean.  The same ocean
+on which she had looked that morning, and which she heard now, in the
+intervals of talk and laughter, crashing against the cliffs,--although
+the wind had gone down.  Like a woman stirred to the depths of her being,
+its bosom was heaving still at the memory of the passion of the morning.
+
+This night after the storm was capriciously mild, the velvet gown of
+heaven sewn with stars.  The music had ceased, and supper was being
+served at little tables on the terrace.  The conversation was desultory.
+
+"Who is that with Reggie Farwell?" Ethel Wing asked.
+
+"It's the Farrenden girl," replied Mr. Cuthbert, whose business it was to
+know everybody.  "Chicago wheat.  She looks like Ceres, doesn't she?
+Quite becoming to Reggie's dark beauty.  She was sixteen, they tell me,
+when the old gentleman emerged from the pit, and they packed her off to a
+convent by the next steamer.  Reggie may have the blissful experience of
+living in one of his own houses if he marries her."
+
+The fourth at the table was Ned Carrington, who had been first secretary
+at an Embassy, and he had many stories to tell of ambassadors who spoke
+commercial American and asked royalties after their wives.  Some one had
+said about him that he was the only edition of the Almanach de Gotha that
+included the United States.  He somewhat resembled a golden seal emerging
+from a cold bath, and from time to time screwed an eyeglass into his eye
+and made a careful survey of Mrs. Grenfell's guests.
+
+"By George! "he exclaimed.  "Isn't that Hugh Chiltern?"
+
+Honora started, and followed the direction of Mr. Carrington's glance.
+At sight of him, a vivid memory of the man's personality possessed her.
+
+"Yes," Cuthbert was saying, "that's Chiltern sure enough.  He came in on
+Dicky Farnham's yacht this morning from New York."
+
+"This morning!" said Ethel Wing.  "Surely not!  No yacht could have come
+in this morning."
+
+"Nobody but Chiltern would have brought one in, you mean," he corrected
+her.  "He sailed her.  They say Dicky was half dead with fright, and
+wanted to put in anywhere.  Chiltern sent him below and kept right on.
+He has a devil in him, I believe.  By the way, that's Dicky Farnham's
+ex-wife he's talking to--Adele.  She keeps her good looks, doesn't she?
+What's happened to Rindge?"
+
+"Left him on the other side, I hear," said Carrington.  "Perhaps she'll
+take Chiltern next.  She looked as though she were ready to.  And they
+say it's easier every time."
+
+"C'est le second mari qui coute," paraphrased Cuthbert, tossing his cigar
+over the balustrade.  The strains of a waltz floated out of the windows,
+the groups at the tables broke up, and the cotillon began.
+
+As Honora danced, Chiltern remained in the back of her mind, or rather an
+indefinite impression was there which in flashes she connected with him.
+She wondered, at times, what had become of him, and once or twice she
+caught herself scanning the bewildering, shifting sheen of gowns and
+jewels for his face.  At last she saw him by the windows, holding a
+favour in his hand, coming in her direction.  She looked away, towards
+the red uniforms of the Hungarian band on the raised platform at the end
+of the room.  He was standing beside her.
+
+"Do you remember me, Mrs. Spence?"  he asked.
+
+She glanced up at him and smiled.  He was not a person one would be
+likely to forget, but she did not say so.
+
+"I met you at Mrs. Granger's," was what she said.
+
+He handed her the favour.  She placed it amongst the collection at the
+back of her chair and rose, and they danced.  Was it dancing?  The music
+throbbed; nay, the musicians seemed suddenly to have been carried out of
+themselves, and played as they had not played before.  Her veins were
+filled with pulsing fire as she was swung, guided, carried out of herself
+by the extraordinary virility of the man who held her.  She had tasted
+mastery.
+
+"Thank you," she faltered, as they came around the second time to her
+seat.
+
+He released her.
+
+"I stayed to dance with you," he said.  "I had to await my opportunity."
+
+"It was kind of you to remember me," she replied, as she went off with
+Mr. Carrington.
+
+A moment later she saw him bidding good night to his hostess.  His face,
+she thought, had not lost that strange look of determination that she
+recalled.  And yet--how account for his recklessness?
+
+"Rum chap, Chiltern," remarked Carrington.  "He might be almost anything,
+if he only knew it."
+
+In the morning, when she awoke, her eye fell on the cotillon favours
+scattered over the lounge.  One amongst them stood out--a silver-mounted
+pin-cushion.  Honora arose, picked it up contemplatively, stared at it
+awhile, and smiled.  Then she turned to her window, breathing in the
+perfumes, gazing out through the horse-chestnut leaves at the green,
+shadow-dappled lawn below.
+
+On her breakfast tray, amidst some invitations, was a letter from her.
+uncle.  This she opened first.
+
+     "Dear Honora," he wrote, "amongst your father's papers, which have
+     been in my possession since his death, was a certificate for three
+     hundred shares in a land company.  He bought them for very little,
+     and I had always thought them worthless.  It turns out that these
+     holdings are in a part of the state of Texas that is now being
+     developed; on the advice of Mr. Isham and others I have accepted an
+     offer of thirty dollars a share, and I enclose a draft on New York
+     for nine thousand dollars.  I need not dwell upon the pleasure it is
+     for me to send you this legacy from your father.  And I shall only
+     add the counsel of an old uncle, to invest this money by your
+     husband's advice in some safe securities."  .  .  .
+
+Honora put down the letter, and sat staring at the cheque in her hand.
+Nine thousand dollars--and her own!  Her first impulse was to send it
+back to her uncle.  But that would be, she knew, to hurt his feelings--
+he had taken such a pride in handing her this inheritance.  She read the
+letter again, and resolved that she would not ask Howard to invest the
+money.  This, at least, should be her very own, and she made up her mind
+to take it to a bank in Thames Street that morning.
+
+While she was still under the influence of the excitement aroused by
+the unexpected legacy, Mrs. Shorter came in, a lady with whom Honora's
+intimacy had been of steady growth.  The tie between them might perhaps
+have been described as intellectual, for Elsie Shorter professed only to
+like people who were "worth while."  She lent Honora French plays,
+discussed them with her, and likewise a wider range of literature,
+including certain brightly bound books on evolution and sociology.
+
+In the eighteenth century, Mrs. Shorter would have had a title and a
+salon in the Faubourg: in the twentieth, she was the wife of a most
+fashionable and successful real estate agent in New York, and was aware
+of no incongruity.  Bourgeoise was the last thing that could be said of
+her; she was as ready as a George Sand to discuss the whole range of
+human emotions; which she did many times a week with certain gentlemen of
+intellectual bent who had the habit of calling on her.  She had never, to
+the knowledge of her acquaintances, been shocked.  But while she believed
+that a great love carried, mysteriously concealed in its flame, its own
+pardon, she had through some fifteen years of married life remained
+faithful to Jerry Shorter: who was not, to say the least, a Lochinvar or
+a Roland.  Although she had had nervous prostration and was thirty-four,
+she was undeniably pretty.  She was of the suggestive, and not the
+strong-minded type, and the secret of her strength with the other sex was
+that she was in the habit of submitting her opinions for their approval.
+
+"My dear," she said to Honora, "you may thank heaven that you are still
+young enough to look beautiful in negligee.  How far have you got?  Have
+you guessed of which woman Vivarce was the lover?  And isn't it the most
+exciting play you've ever read?  Ned Carrington saw it in Paris, and
+declares it frightened him into being good for a whole week!"
+
+"Oh, Elsie," exclaimed Honora, apologetically, "I haven't read a word of
+it."
+
+Mrs. Shorter glanced at the pile of favours.
+
+"How was the dance?" she asked.  "I was too tired to go.  Hugh Chiltern
+offered to take me."
+
+"I saw Mr. Chiltern there.  I met him last winter at the Graingers'."
+
+"He's staying with us," said Mrs. Shorter; "you know he's a sort of
+cousin of Jerry's, and devoted to him.  He turned up yesterday morning on
+Dicky Farnham's yacht, in the midst of all that storm.  It appears that
+Dicky met him in New York, and Hugh said he was coming up here, and Dicky
+offered to sail him up.  When the storm broke they were just outside, and
+all on board lost their heads, and Hugh took charge and sailed in.  Dicky
+told me that himself."
+
+"Then it wasn't--recklessness," said Honora, involuntarily.  But Mrs.
+Shorter did not appear to be surprised by the remark.
+
+"That's what everybody thinks, of course," she answered. "They say that
+he had a chance to run in somewhere, and browbeat Dicky into keeping on
+for Newport at the risk of their lives.  They do Hugh an injustice.  He
+might have done that some years ago, but he's changed."
+
+Curiosity got the better of Honora.
+
+"Changed?" she repeated.
+
+"Of course you didn't know him in the old days, Honora," said Mrs.
+Shorter.  "You wouldn't recognize him now.  I've seen a good deal of men,
+but he is the most interesting and astounding transformation I've ever
+known."
+
+"How?" asked Honora.  She was sitting before the glass, with her hand
+raised to her hair.
+
+Mrs. Shorter appeared puzzled.
+
+"That's what interests me," she said.  "My dear, don't you think life
+tremendously interesting?  I do.  I wish I could write a novel.  Between
+ourselves, I've tried.  I had Mr. Dewing send it to a publisher, who said
+it was clever, but had no plot.  If I only could get a plot!"
+
+Honora laughed.
+
+"How would I The Transformation of Mr. Chiltern' do, Elsie?"
+
+"If I only knew what's happened to him, and how he's going to end!"
+sighed Mrs. Shorter.
+
+You were saying," said Honora, for her friend seemed to have relapsed
+into a contemplation of this problem, "you were saying that he had
+changed."
+
+"He goes away for seven years, and he suddenly turns up filled with
+ambition and a purpose in life, something he had never dreamed of.  He's
+been at Grenoble, where the Chiltern estate is, making improvements and
+preparing to settle down there.  And he's actually getting ready to write
+a life of his father, the General--that's the most surprising thing!
+They never met but to strike fire while the General was alive.  It
+appears that Jerry and Cecil Grainger and one or two other people have
+some of the old gentleman's letters, and that's the reason why Hugh's
+come to Newport.  And the strangest thing about it, my dear," added Mrs.
+Shorter, inconsequently, "is that I don't think it's a love affair."
+
+Honora laughed again.  It was the first time she had ever heard Mrs.
+Shorter attribute unusual human phenomena to any other source.
+"He wrote Jerry that he was coming back to live on the estate,--from
+England.  And he wasn't there a week.  I can't think where he's seen any
+women--that is," Mrs. Shorter corrected herself hastily, "of his own
+class.  He's been in the jungle--India, Africa, Cores.  That was after
+Sally Harrington broke the engagement.  And I'm positive he's not still
+in love with Sally.  She lunched with me yesterday, and I watched him.
+Oh, I should have known it.  But Sally hasn't got over it.  It wasn't a
+grand passion with Hugh.  I don't believe he's ever had such a thing.
+Not that he isn't capable of it--on the contrary, he's one of the few men
+I can think of who is."
+
+At this point in the conversation Honora thought that her curiosity had
+gone far enough.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE VIKING
+
+She was returning on foot from the bank in Thames Street, where she had
+deposited her legacy, when she met him who had been the subject of her
+conversation with Mrs. Shorter.  And the encounter seemed--and was--the
+most natural thing in the world.  She did not stop to ask herself why it
+was so fitting that the Viking should be a part of Vineland: why his
+coming should have given it the one and final needful touch.  For that
+designation of Reginald Farwell's had come back to her.  Despite the fact
+that Hugh Chiltern had with such apparent resolution set his face towards
+literature and the tillage of the land, it was as the Viking still that
+her imagination pictured him.  By these tokens we may perceive that this
+faculty of our heroine's has been at work, and her canvas already
+sketched in.
+
+Whether by design or accident he was at the leafy entrance of her lane
+she was not to know.  She spied him standing there; and in her leisurely
+approach a strange conceit of reincarnation possessed her, and she smiled
+at the contrast thus summoned up.  Despite the jingling harnesses of
+Bellevue Avenue and the background of Mr. Chamberlin's palace wall;
+despite the straw hat and white trousers and blue double-breasted serge
+coat in which he was conventionally arrayed, he was the sea fighter
+still--of all the ages.  M. Vipsanius Agrippa, who had won an empire for
+Augustus, had just such a head.
+
+Their greeting, too, was conventional enough, and he turned and walked
+with her up the lane, and halted before the lilacs.  You have Mrs.
+Forsythe's house," he said.  "How well I remember it!  My mother used
+to bring me here years ago."
+
+"Won't you come in?" asked Honora, gently.
+
+He seemed to have forgotten her as they mounted in silence to the porch,
+and she watched him with curious feelings as he gazed about him, and
+peered through the windows into the drawing-room.
+
+"It's just as it was," he said.  "Even the furniture.  I'm glad you
+haven't moved it.  They used to sit over there in the corner, and have
+tea on the ebony table.  And it was always dark-just as it is now.  I can
+see them.  They wore dresses with wide skirts and flounces, and queer low
+collars and bonnets.  And they talked in subdued voices--unlike so many
+women in these days."
+
+She was a little surprised, and moved, by the genuine feeling with which
+he spoke.
+
+"I was most fortunate to get the house," she answered.  "And I have grown
+to love it.  Sometimes it seems as though I had always lived here."
+
+"Then you don't envy that," he said, flinging his hand towards an opening
+in the shrubbery which revealed a glimpse of one of the pilasters of the
+palace across the way.  The instinct of tradition which had been the
+cause of Mrs. Forsythe's departure was in him, too.  He, likewise, seemed
+to belong to the little house as he took one of the wicker chairs.
+
+"Not," said Honora, "when I can have this."
+
+She was dressed in white, her background of lilac leaves.  Seated on the
+railing, with the tip of one toe resting on the porch, she smiled down at
+him from under the shadows of her wide hat.
+
+"I didn't think you would," he declared.  "This place seems to suit you,
+as I imagined you.  I have thought of you often since we first met last
+winter."
+
+"Yes," she replied hastily, "I am very happy here.  Mrs. Shorter tells me
+you are staying with then."
+
+"When I saw you again last night," he continued, ignoring her attempt to
+divert the stream from his channel, I had a vivid impression as of having
+just left you.  Have you ever felt that way about people?"
+
+"Yes," she admitted, and poked the toe of her boot with her parasol.
+
+"And then I find you in this house, which has so many associations for
+me.  Harmoniously here," he added, "if you know what I mean.  Not a
+newcomer, but some one who must always have been logically expected."
+
+She glanced at him quickly, with parted lips.  It was she who had done
+most of the talking at Mrs. Grainger's dinner; and the imaginative
+quality of mind he was now revealing was unlooked for.  She was surprised
+not to find it out of character.  It is a little difficult to know what
+she expected of him, since she did not know herself the methods, perhaps;
+of the Viking in Longfellow's poem.  She was aware, at least, that she
+had attracted him, and she was beginning to realize it was not a thing
+that could be done lightly.  This gave her a little flutter of fear.
+
+"Are you going to be long in Newport?" she asked.
+
+"I am leaving on Friday," he replied.  "It seems strange to be here again
+after so many years.  I find I've got out of touch with it.  And I
+haven't a boat, although Farnham's been kind enough to offer me his."
+
+"I can't imagine you, somehow, without a boat," she said, and added
+hastily: "Mrs. Shorter was speaking of you this morning, and said that
+you were always on the water when you were here.  Newport must have been
+quite different then."
+
+He accepted the topic, and during the remainder of his visit she
+succeeded in keeping the conversation in the middle ground, although she
+had a sense of the ultimate futility of the effort; a sense of pressure
+being exerted, no matter what she said.  She presently discovered,
+however, that the taste for literature attributed to him which had seemed
+so incongruous--existed.  He spoke with a new fire when she led him that
+way, albeit she suspected that some of the fuel was derived from the
+revelation that she shared his liking for books.  As the extent of his
+reading became gradually disclosed, however, her feeling of inadequacy
+grew, and she resolved in the future to make better use of her odd
+moments.  On her table, in two green volumes, was the life of a
+Massachusetts statesman that Mrs. Shorter had lent her.  She picked it up
+after Chiltern had gone.  He had praised it.
+
+He left behind him a blurred portrait on her mind, as that of two men
+superimposed.  And only that morning he had had such a distinct
+impression of one.  It was from a consideration of this strange
+phenomenon, with her book lying open in her lap, that her maid
+aroused her to go to Mrs. Pryor's.  This was Tuesday.
+
+Some of the modern inventions we deem most marvellous have been fitted
+for ages to man and woman.  Woman, particularly, possesses for instance
+a kind of submarine bell; and, if she listens, she can at times hear it
+tinkling faintly.  And the following morning, Wednesday, Honora heard
+hers when she received an invitation to lunch at Mrs. Shorter's.  After a
+struggle, she refused, but Mrs. Shorter called her up over the telephone,
+and she yielded.
+
+"I've got Alfred Dewing for myself," said Elsie Shorter, as she greeted
+Honora in the hall.  "He writes those very clever things--you've read
+them.  And Hugh for you," she added significantly.
+
+The Shorter cottage, though commodious, was simplicity itself.  From the
+vine-covered pergola where they lunched they beheld the distant sea like
+a lavender haze across the flats.  And Honora wondered whether there were
+not an element of truth in what Mr. Dewing said of their hostess--that
+she thought nothing immoral except novels with happy endings.  Chiltern
+did not talk much: he looked at Honora.
+
+"Hugh has got so serious," said Elsie Shorter, "that sometimes I'm
+actually afraid of him.  You ought to have done something to be as
+serious as that, Hugh."
+
+"Done something!"
+
+"Written the 'Origin of Species,' or founded a new political party, or
+executed a coup d'etat.  Half the time I'm under the delusion that I'm
+entertaining a celebrity under my roof, and I wake up and it's only
+Hugh."
+
+"It's because he looks as though he might do any of those things,"
+suggested Mr. Deming.  "Perhaps he may."
+
+"Oh," said Elsie Shorter, "the men who do them are usually little wobbly
+specimens."
+
+Honora was silent, watching Chiltern.  At times the completeness of her
+understanding of him gave her an uncanny sensation; and again she failed
+to comprehend him at all.  She felt his anger go to a white heat, but the
+others seemed blissfully unaware of the fact.  The arrival of coffee made
+a diversion.
+
+"You and Hugh may have the pergola, Honora.  I'll take Mr. Deming into
+the garden."
+
+"I really ought to go in a few minutes, Elsie," said Honora.
+
+"What nonsense!" exclaimed Mrs. Shorter.  "If it's bridge at the
+Playfairs', I'll telephone and get you out of it."
+
+"No--"
+
+"Then I don't see where you can be going," declared Mrs. Shorter, and
+departed with her cavalier.
+
+"Why are you so anxious to get away?" asked Chiltern, abruptly.
+
+Honora coloured.
+
+"Oh--did I seem so?  Elsie has such a mania for pairing people off-
+sometimes it's quite embarrassing."
+
+"She was a little rash in assuming that you'd rather talk to me," he
+said, smiling.
+
+"You were not consulted, either."
+
+"I was consulted before lunch," he replied.
+
+"You mean--?"
+
+"I mean that I wanted you," he said.  She had known it, of course.  The
+submarine bell had told her.  And he could have found no woman in Newport
+who would have brought more enthusiasm to his aid than Elsie Shorter.
+
+"And you usually--get what you want," she retorted with a spark of
+rebellion.
+
+"Yes," he admitted.  "Only hitherto I haven't wanted very desirable
+things."
+
+She laughed, but her curiosity got the better of her.
+
+"Hitherto," she said, "you have just taken what you desired."
+
+From the smouldering fires in his eyes darted an arrowpoint of flame.
+
+"What kind of a man are you?" she asked, throwing the impersonal to the
+winds.  "Somebody called you a Viking once."
+
+"Who?" he demanded.
+
+"It doesn't matter.  I'm beginning to think the name singularly
+appropriate.  It wouldn't be the first time one landed in Newport,
+according to legend," she added.
+
+"I haven't read the poem since childhood," said Chiltern, looking at her
+fixedly, "but he became--domesticated, if I remember rightly."
+
+"Yes," she admitted, "the impossible happened to him, as it usually does
+in books.  And then, circumstances helped.  There were no other women."
+
+"When the lady died," said Chiltern, "he fell upon his spear."
+
+"The final argument for my theory," declared Honora.
+
+"On the contrary," he maintained, smiling, "it proves there is always
+one woman for every man--if he cars find her.  If this man had lived in
+modern times, he would probably have changed from a Captain Kidd into a
+useful citizen of the kind you once said you admired."
+
+"Is a woman necessary," she asked, "for the transformation?"
+
+He looked at her so intently that she blushed to the hair clustering at
+her temples.  She had not meant that her badinage should go so deep.
+
+"It was not a woman," he said slowly, "that brought me back to America."
+
+"Oh," she exclaimed, suffused, "I hope you won't think that curiosity"
+--and got no farther.
+
+He was silent a moment, and when she ventured to glance up at him one of
+those enigmatical changes had taken place.  He was looking at her
+gravely, though intently, and the Viking had disappeared.
+
+"I wanted you to know," he answered.  "You must have heard more or less
+about me.  People talk.  Naturally these things haven't been repeated to
+me, but I dare say many of them are true.  I haven't been a saint, and I
+don't pretend to be now.  I've never taken the trouble to deceive any
+one.  And I've never cared, I'm sorry to say, what was said.  But I'd
+like you to believe that when I agreed with with the sentiments you
+expressed the first time I saw you, I was sincere.  And I am still
+sincere."
+
+"Indeed, I do believe it!" cried Honora.
+
+His face lighted.
+
+"You seemed different from the other women I had known--of my generation,
+at least," he went on steadily.  "None of them could have spoken as you
+did.  I had just landed that morning, and I should have gone direct to
+Grenoble, but there was some necessary business to be attended to in New
+York.  I didn't want to go to Bessie's dinner, but she insisted.  She was
+short of a man.  I went.  I sat next to you, and you interpreted my mind.
+It seemed too extraordinary not to have had a significance."
+
+Honora did not reply.  She felt instinctively that he was a man who was
+not wont ordinarily to talk about his affairs.  Beneath his speech was
+an undercurrent--or undertow, perhaps--carrying her swiftly, easily,
+helpless into the deep waters of intimacy.  For the moment she let
+herself go without a struggle.  Her silence was of a breathless quality
+which he must have felt.
+
+"And I am going to tell you why I came home," he said.  "I have spoken of
+it to nobody, but I wish you to know that it had nothing to do with any
+ordinary complication these people may invent.  Nor was there anything
+supernatural about it: what happened to me, I suppose, is as old a story
+as civilization itself.  I'd been knocking about the world for a good
+many years, and I'd had time to think.  One day I found myself in the
+interior of China with a few coolies and a man who I suspect was a
+ticket-of-leave Englishman.  I can see the place now the yellow fog, the
+sand piled up against the wall like yellow snow.  Desolation was a mild
+name for it.  I think I began with a consideration of the Englishman who
+was asleep in the shadow of a tower.  There was something inconceivably
+hopeless in his face in that ochre light.  Then the place where I was
+born and brought up came to me with a startling completeness, and I began
+to go over my own life, step by step.  To make a long story short, I
+perceived that what my father had tried to teach me, in his own way, had
+some reason in it.  He was a good deal of a man.  I made up my mind I'd
+come home and start in where I belonged.  But I didn't do so right away
+--I finished the trip first, and lent the Englishman a thousand pounds to
+buy into a firm in Shanghai.  I suppose," he added, "that is what is
+called suggestion.  In my case it was merely the cumulative result of
+many reflections in waste places."
+
+"And since then?"
+
+"Since then I have been at Grenoble, making repairs and trying to learn
+something about agriculture.  I've never been as happy in my life."
+
+"And you're going back on Friday," she said.
+
+He glanced at her quickly.  He had detected the note in her speech:
+though lightly uttered, it was unmistakably a command.  She tried to
+soften its effect in her next sentence.
+
+"I can't express how much I appreciate your telling me this," she said.
+"I'll confess to you I wished to think that something of that kind had
+happened.  I wished to believe that--that you had made this determination
+alone.  When I met you that night there was something about you I
+couldn't account for.  I haven't been able to account for it until now."
+
+She paused, confused, fearful that she had gone too far.  A moment later
+she was sure of it.  A look came into his eyes that frightened her.
+
+"You've thought of me?"  he said.
+
+"You must know," she replied, "that you have an unusual personality--a
+striking one.  I can go so far as to say that I remembered you when you
+reappeared at Mrs. Grenfell's--" she hesitated.
+
+He rose, and walked to the far end of the tiled pavement of the pergola,
+and stood for a moment looking out over the sea.  Then he turned to her.
+
+"I either like a person or I don't," he said.  "And I tell you frankly I
+have never met a woman whom I cared for as I do you.  I hope you're not
+going to insist upon a probationary period of months before you decide
+whether you can reciprocate."
+
+Here indeed was a speech in his other character, and she seemed to see,
+in a flash, his whole life in it.  There was a touch of boyishness that
+appealed, a touch of insistent masterfulness that alarmed.  She recalled
+that Mrs. Shorter had said of him that he had never had to besiege a
+fortress--the white flag had always appeared too quickly.  Of course
+there was the mystery of Mrs. Maitland--still to be cleared up.  It was
+plain, at least, that resistance merely made him unmanageable.  She
+smiled.
+
+"It seems to me," she said, "that in two days we have become
+astonishingly intimate."
+
+"Why shouldn't we?"  he demanded.
+
+But she was not to be led into casuistry.
+
+"I've been reading the biography you recommended," she said.
+
+He continued to look at her a moment, and laughed as he sat down beside
+her.  Later he walked home with her.  A dinner and bridge followed, and
+it was after midnight when she returned.  As her maid unfastened her gown
+she perceived that her pincushion had been replaced by the one she had
+received at the ball.
+
+"Did you put that there, Mathilde?" she asked.
+
+Mathilde had.  She had seen it on madame's bureau, and thought madame
+wished it there.  She would replace the old one at once.
+
+"No," said Honora, "you may leave it, now."
+
+"Bien, madame," said the maid, and glanced at her mistress, who appeared
+to have fallen into a revery.
+
+It had seemed strange to her to hear people talking about him at the
+dinner that night, and once or twice her soul had sprung to arms to
+champion him, only to remember that her knowledge was special.  She
+alone of all of them understood, and she found herself exulting in the
+superiority.  The amazed comment when the heir to the Chiltern fortune
+had returned to the soil of his ancestors had been revived on his arrival
+in Newport.  Ned Carrington, amid much laughter, had quoted the lines
+about Prince Hal:
+
+                   "To mock the expectations of the world,
+                    To frustrate prophecies."
+
+Honora disliked Mr. Carrington,
+
+Perhaps the events of Thursday, would better be left in the confusion in
+which they remained in Honora's mind.  She was awakened by penetrating,
+persistent, and mournful notes which for some time she could not
+identify, although they sounded oddly familiar; and it was not until she
+felt the dampness of the coverlet and looked at the white square of her
+open windows that she realized there was a fog.  And it had not lifted
+when Chiltern came in the afternoon.  They discussed literature--but the
+book had fallen to the floor.  'Absit omen'!  If printing had then been
+invented, undoubtedly there would have been a book instead of an apple in
+the third chapter of Genesis.  He confided to her his plan of collecting
+his father's letters and of writing the General's life.  Honora, too,
+would enjoy writing a book.  Perhaps the thought of the pleasure of
+collaboration occurred to them both at once; it was Chiltern who wished
+that he might have her help in the difficult places; she had, he felt,
+the literary instinct.  It was not the Viking who was talking now.  And
+then, at last, he had risen reluctantly to leave.  The afternoon had
+flown.  She held out her hand with a frank smile.
+
+"Good-by," she said.  "Good-by, and good luck."
+
+"But I may not go," he replied.
+
+She stood dismayed.
+
+"I thought you told me you were going on Friday--to-morrow."
+
+"I merely set that as a probable date.  I have changed my mind.  There
+is no immediate necessity.  Do you wish me to go?"  he demanded.
+
+She had turned away, and was straightening the books on the table.
+
+"Why should I?"  she said.
+
+"You wouldn't object to my remaining a few days more?" He had reached the
+doorway.
+
+"What have I to do with your staying?" she asked.
+
+"Everything," he answered--and was gone.
+
+She stood still.  The feeling that possessed her now was rebellion, and
+akin to hate.
+
+Her conduct, therefore, becomes all the more incomprehensible when we
+find her accepting, the next afternoon, his invitation to sail on Mr.
+Farnham's yacht, the 'Folly'.  It is true that the gods will not
+exonerate Mrs. Shorter.  That lady, who had been bribed with Alfred
+Dewing, used her persuasive powers; she might be likened to a skilful
+artisan who blew wonderful rainbow fabrics out of glass without breaking
+it; she blew the tender passion into a thousand shapes, and admired every
+one.  Her criminal culpability consisted in forgetting the fact that it
+could not be trusted with children.
+
+Nature seems to delight in contrasts.  As though to atone for the fog
+she sent a dazzling day out of the northwest, and the summer world was
+stained in new colours.  The yachts were whiter, the water bluer, the
+grass greener; the stern grey rocks themselves flushed with purple.  The
+wharves were gay, and dark clustering foliage hid an enchanted city as
+the Folly glided between dancing buoys.  Honora, with a frightened glance
+upward at the great sail, caught her breath.  And she felt rather than
+saw the man beside her guiding her seaward.
+
+A discreet expanse of striped yellow deck separated them from the wicker
+chairs where Mrs. Shorter and Mr. Dewing were already established.  She
+glanced at the profile of the Viking, and allowed her mind to dwell for
+an instant upon the sensations of that other woman who had been snatched
+up and carried across the ocean.  Which was the quality in him that
+attracted her? his lawlessness, or his intellect and ambition?  Never,
+she knew, had he appealed to her more than at this moment, when he stood,
+a stern figure at the wheel, and vouchsafed her nothing but commonplaces.
+This, surely, was his element.
+
+Presently, however, the yacht slid out from the infolding land into an
+open sea that stretched before them to a silver-lined horizon.  And he
+turned to her with a disconcerting directness, as though taking for
+granted a subtle understanding between them.
+
+"How well you sail," she said, hurriedly.
+
+"I ought to be able to do that, at least," he declared.
+
+"I saw you when you came in the other day, although I didn't know who it
+was until afterwards.  I was standing on the rocks near the Fort, and my
+heart was in my mouth."
+
+He answered that the Dolly was a good sea boat.
+
+"So you decided to forgive me," he said.
+
+"For what?"
+
+"For staying in Newport."
+
+Before accepting the invitation she had formulated a policy, cheerfully
+confident in her ability to carry it out.  For his decision not to
+leave Newport had had an opposite effect upon her than that she had
+anticipated; it had oddly relieved the pressure.  It had given her a
+chance to rally her forces; to smile, indeed, at an onslaught that had so
+disturbed her; to examine the matter in a more rational light.  It had
+been a cause for self-congratulation that she had scarcely thought of him
+the night before.  And to-day, in her blue veil and blue serge gown, she
+had boarded the 'Folly' with her wits about her.  She forgot that it was
+he who, so to speak, had the choice of ground and weapons.
+
+"I have forgiven you.  Why shouldn't I, when you have so royally atoned."
+
+But he obstinately refused to fence.  There was nothing apologetic in
+this man, no indirectness in his method of attack.  Parry adroitly as she
+might, he beat down her guard.  As the afternoon wore on there were
+silences, when Honora, by staring over the waters, tried to collect her
+thoughts.  But the sea was his ally, and she turned her face appealingly
+toward the receding land.  Fascination and fear struggled within her as
+she had listened to his onslaughts, and she was conscious of being moved
+by what he was, not by what he said.  Vainly she glanced at the two
+representatives of an ironically satisfied convention, only to realize
+that they were absorbed in a milder but no less entrancing aspect of the
+same topic, and would not thank her for an interruption.
+
+"Do you wish me to go away?" he asked at last abruptly, almost rudely.
+
+"Surely," she said, "your work, your future isn't in Newport."
+
+"You haven't answered my question."
+
+"It's because I have no right to answer it," she replied.  "Although
+we have known each other so short a time, I am your friend.  You must
+realize that.  I am not conventional.  I have lived long enough to
+understand that the people one likes best are not necessarily those one
+has known longest.  You interest me--I admit it frankly--I speak to you
+sincerely.  I am even concerned that you shall find happiness, and I feel
+that you have the power to make something of yourself.  What more can I
+say?  It seems to me a little strange," she added, "that under the
+circumstances I should say so much.  I can give no higher proof of my
+friendship."
+
+He did not reply, but gave a sharp order to the crew.  The sheet was
+shortened, and the Folly obediently headed westward against the swell,
+flinging rainbows from her bows as she ran.  Mrs. Shorter and Dewing
+returned at this moment from the cabin, where they had been on a tour of
+inspection.
+
+"Where are you taking us, Hugh?"  said Mrs. Shorter.  "Nowhere in
+particular," he replied.
+
+"Please don't forget that I am having people to dinner to-night.  That's
+all I ask.  What have you done to him, Honora, to put him in such a
+humour?"
+
+Honora laughed.
+
+"I hadn't noticed anything peculiar about him," she answered.
+
+"This boat reminds me of Adele," said Mrs. Shorter.  "She loved it.
+I can see how she could get a divorce from Dicky--but the 'Folly'!  She
+told me yesterday that the sight of it made her homesick, and Eustace
+Rindge won't leave Paris."
+
+It suddenly occurred to Honora, as she glanced around the yacht, that
+Mrs. Rindge rather haunted her.
+
+"So that is your answer," said Chiltern, when they were alone again.
+
+"What other can I give you?"
+
+"Is it because you are married?" he demanded.
+
+She grew crimson.
+
+"Isn't that an unnecessary question?"
+
+"No," he declared.  "It concerns me vitally to understand you.  You were
+good enough to wish that I should find happiness.  I have found the
+possibility of it--in you."
+
+"Oh," she cried, "don't say such things!"
+
+"Have you found happiness?" he asked.
+
+She turned her face from him towards their shining wake.  But he had seen
+that her eyes were filled with sudden tears.
+
+"Forgive me," he pleaded; "I did not mean to be brutal.  I said that
+because I felt as I have never in my life felt before.  As I did not know
+I could feel.  I can't account for it, but I ask you to believe me."
+
+"I can account for it," she answered presently, with a strange
+gentleness.  "It is because you met me at a critical time.  Such-
+coincidences often occur in life.  I happened to be a woman; and, I
+confess it, a woman who was interested.  I could not have been interested
+if you had been less real, less sincere.  But I saw that you were going
+through a crisis; that you might, with your powers, build up your life
+into a splendid and useful thing.  And, womanlike, my instinct was to
+help you.  I should not have allowed you to go on, but--but it all
+happened so quickly that I was bewildered.  I--I do not understand
+it myself."
+
+He listened hungrily, and yet at times with evident impatience.
+
+"No," he said, "I cannot believe that it was an accident.  It was you--"
+
+She stopped him with an imploring gesture.
+
+"Please," she said, "please let us go in."
+
+Without an instant's hesitation he brought the sloop about and headed her
+for the light-ship on Brenton's reef, and they sailed in silence.  Awhile
+she watched the sapphire waters break to dazzling whiteness under the
+westerning sun.  Then, in an ecstasy she did not seek to question, she
+closed her eyes to feel more keenly the swift motion of their flight.
+Why not?  The sea, the winds of heaven, had aided others since the dawn
+of history.  Legend was eternally true.  On these very shores happiness
+had awaited those who had dared to face primeval things.
+
+She looked again, this time towards an unpeopled shore.  No sentinel
+guarded the uncharted reefs, and the very skies were smiling, after the
+storm, at the scudding fates.
+
+It was not until they were landlocked once more, and the Folly was
+reluctantly beating back through the Narrows, that he spoke again.
+
+"So you wish me to go away?"
+
+"I cannot see any use in your staying," she replied, "after what you have
+said.  I--cannot see," she added in a low voice, "that for you to remain
+would be to promote the happiness of--either of us.  You should have gone
+to-day."
+
+"You care!" he exclaimed.
+
+"It is because I do not wish to care that I tell you to go--"
+
+"And you refuse happiness?"
+
+"It could be happiness for neither of us," said Honora.  "The situation
+would be impossible.  You are not a man who would be satisfied with
+moderation.  You would insist upon having all.  And you do not know what
+you are asking."
+
+"I know that I want you," he said, "and that my life is won or lost with
+or without you."
+
+You have no right to say such a thing."
+
+"We have each of us but one life to live."
+
+"And one life to ruin," she answered.  "See, you are running on the
+rocks!"
+
+He swung the boat around.
+
+"Others have rebuilt upon ruins," he declared.
+
+She smiled at him.
+
+"But you are taking my ruins for granted," she said.  "You would make
+them first."
+
+He relapsed into silence again.  The Folly needed watching.  Once he
+turned and spoke her name, and she did not rebuke him.
+
+"Women have a clearer vision of the future than men," she began
+presently, "and I know you better than you know yourself.  What--what
+you desire would not mend your life, but break it utterly.  I am speaking
+plainly.  As I have told you, you interest me; so far that is the extent
+of my feelings.  I do not know whether they would go any farther, but on
+your account as well as my own I will not take the risk.  We have come to
+an impasse.  I am sorry.  I wish we might have been friends, but what you
+have said makes it impossible.  There is only one thing to do, and that
+is for you to go away."
+
+He eased off his sheet, rounded the fort, and set a course for the
+moorings.  The sun hung red above the silhouetted roofs of Conanicut, and
+a quaint tower in the shape of a minaret stood forth to cap the illusions
+of a day.
+
+The wind was falling, the harbour quieting for the night, and across the
+waters, to the tones of a trumpet, the red bars of the battleship's flag
+fluttered to the deck.  The Folly, making a wide circle, shot into the
+breeze, and ended by gliding gently up to the buoy.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+THE SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST
+
+It was Saturday morning, but Honora had forgotten the fact.  Not until
+she was on the bottom step did the odour of cigarettes reach her and turn
+her faint; and she clutched suddenly at the banisters.  Thus she stood
+for a while, motionless, and then went quietly into the drawing-room.
+The French windows looking out on the porch were, as usual, open.
+
+It was an odd sensation thus to be regarding one's husband objectively.
+For the first time he appeared to her definitely as a stranger; as much a
+stranger as the man who came once a week to wind Mrs. Forsythe's clocks.
+Nay, more.  There was a sense of intrusion in this visit, of invasion of
+a life with which he had nothing to do.  She examined him ruthlessly,
+very much as one might examine a burglar taken unawares.  There was the
+inevitable shirt with the wide pink stripes, of the abolishment or even
+of the effective toning down of which she had long since despaired.  On
+the contrary, like his complexion, they evinced a continual tendency
+towards a more aggressive colour.  There was also the jewelled ring, now
+conspicuously held aloft on a fat little finger.  The stripes appeared
+that morning as the banner of a hated suzerain, the ring as the emblem of
+his overlordship.  He did not belong in that house; everything in it
+cried out for his removal; and yet it was, in the eyes of the law at
+least, his.  By grace of that fact she was here, enjoying it.  At that
+instant, as though in evidence of this, he laid down a burning cigarette
+on a mahogany stand he had had brought out to him.  Honora seized an ash
+tray, hurried to the porch, and picked up the cigarette in the tips of
+her fingers.
+
+"Howard, I wish you would be more careful of Mrs. Forsythe's furniture,"
+she exclaimed.
+
+"Hello, Honora," he said, without looking up.  "I see by the Newport
+paper that old Maitland is back from Europe.  Things are skyrocketing in
+Wall Street."  He glanced at the ash tray, which she had pushed towards
+him.  "What's the difference about the table?  If the old lady makes a
+row, I'll pay for it."
+
+"Some things are priceless," she replied; "you do not seem to realize
+that."
+
+"Not this rubbish," said Howard.  "Judging by the fuss she made over the
+inventory, you'd think it might be worth something."
+
+"She has trusted us with it," said Honora.  Her voice shook.
+
+He stared at her.
+
+"I never saw you look like that," he declared.
+
+"It's because you never look at me closely," she answered.
+
+He laughed, and resumed his reading.  She stood awhile by the railing.
+Across the way, beyond the wall, she heard Mr. Chamberlin's shrill voice
+berating a gardener.
+
+"Howard," she asked presently, "why do you come to Newport at all?"
+
+"Why do I come to Newport?" he repeated.  "I don't understand you."
+
+"Why do you come up here every week?"
+
+"Well," he said, "it isn't a bad trip on the boat, and I get a change
+from New York; and see men I shouldn't probably see otherwise."  He
+paused and looked at her again, doubtfully.  "Why do you ask such a
+question?"
+
+"I wished to be sure," said Honora.
+
+"Sure of what?"
+
+"That the-arrangement suited you perfectly.  You do not feel--the lack of
+anything, do you?"
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"You wouldn't care to stay in Newport all the time?"
+
+"Not if I know myself," he replied.  "I leave that part of it to you."
+
+"What part of it?" she demanded.
+
+"You ought to know.  You do it pretty well," he laughed.  "By the way,
+Honora, I've got to have a conference with Mr. Wing to-day, and I may
+not be home to lunch."
+
+"We're dining there to-night," she told him, in a listless voice.
+
+Upon Ethel Wing had descended the dominating characteristics of the elder
+James, who, whatever the power he might wield in Wall Street, was little
+more than a visitor in Newport.  It was Ethel's house, from the hour she
+had swept the Reel and Carter plans (which her father had brought home)
+from the table and sent for Mr. Farwell.  The forehanded Reginald arrived
+with a sketch, and the result, as every one knows, is one of the chief
+monuments to his reputation.  So exquisitely proportioned is its simple,
+two-storied marble front as seen through the trees left standing on the
+old estate, that tourists, having beheld the Chamberlin and other
+mansions, are apt to think this niggardly for a palace.  Two infolding
+wings, stretching towards the water, enclose a court, and through the
+slender white pillars of the peristyle one beholds in fancy the summer
+seas of Greece.
+
+Looking out on the court, and sustaining this classic illusion, is a
+marble-paved dining room, with hangings of Pompeiian red, and frescoes of
+nymphs and satyrs and piping shepherds, framed between fluted pilasters,
+dimly discernible in the soft lights.
+
+In the midst of these surroundings, at the head of his table, sat the
+great financier whose story but faintly concerns this chronicle; the man
+who, every day that he had spent down town in New York in the past thirty
+years, had eaten the same meal in the same little restaurant under the
+street.  This he told Honora, on his left, as though it were not history.
+He preferred apple pie to the greatest of artistic triumphs of his
+daughter's chef, and had it; a glorified apple pie, with frills and
+furbelows, and whipped cream which he angrily swept to one side with
+contempt.
+
+"That isn't apple pie," he said.  "I'd like to take that Frenchman to the
+little New England hilltown where I went to school and show him what
+apple pie is."
+
+Such were the autobiographical snatches--by no means so crude as they
+sound that reached her intelligence from time to time.  Mr. Wing was too
+subtle to be crude; and he had married a Playfair, a family noted for
+good living.  Honora did not know that he was fond of talking of that
+apple pie and the New England school at public banquets; nor did Mr. Wing
+suspect that the young woman whom he was apparently addressing, and who
+seemed to be hanging on his words, was not present.
+
+It was not until she had put her napkin on the table that she awoke
+with a start and gazed into his face and saw written there still another
+history than the one he had been telling her.  The face was hidden,
+indeed, by the red beard.  What she read was in the little eyes that
+swept her with a look of possession: possession in a large sense, let it
+be emphasized, that an exact justice be done Mr. James Wing,--she was one
+of the many chattels over which his ownership extended; bought and paid
+for with her husband.  A hot resentment ran through her at the thought.
+
+Mr. Cuthbert, who was many kinds of a barometer, sought her out later in
+the courtyard.
+
+"Your husband's feeling tiptop, isn't he?" said he.
+
+"He's been locked up with old Wing all day.  Something's in the wind, and
+I'd give a good deal to know what it is."
+
+"I'm afraid I can't inform you," replied Honora.
+
+Mr. Cuthbert apologized.
+
+"Oh, I didn't mean to ask you far a tip," he declared, quite confused.
+"I didn't suppose you knew.  The old man is getting ready to make another
+killing, that's all.  You don't mind my telling you you look stunning
+tonight, do you?"
+
+Honora smiled.
+
+"No, I don't mind," she said.
+
+Mr. Cuthbert appeared to be ransacking the corners of his brain for
+words.
+
+"I was watching you to-night at the table while Mr. Wing was talking to
+you.  I don't believe you heard a thing he said."
+
+"Such astuteness," she answered, smiling at him, "astounds me."
+
+He laughed nervously.
+
+"You're different than you've ever been since I've known you," he went
+on, undismayed.  "I hope you won't think I'm making love to you.  Not
+that I shouldn't like to, but I've got sense enough to see it's no use."
+
+Her reply was unexpected.
+
+"What makes you think that?" she asked curiously.
+
+"Oh, I'm not a fool," said Mr. Cuthbert.  "But if I were a poet, or that
+fellow Dewing, I might be able to tell you what your eyes were like to-
+night."
+
+"I'm glad you're not," said Honora.
+
+As they were going in, she turned for a lingering look at the sea.  A
+strong young moon rode serenely in the sky and struck a path of light
+across the restless waters.  Along this shimmering way the eyes of her
+companion followed hers.
+
+"I can tell you what that colour is, at least.  Do you remember the blue,
+transparent substance that used to be on favours at children's parties?"
+he asked.  "There were caps inside of them, and crackers."
+
+"I believe you are a poet, after all," she said.
+
+A shadow fell across the flags.  Honora did not move.
+
+"Hello, Chiltern," said Cuthbert.  "I thought you were playing bridge..."
+
+"You haven't looked at me once to-night," he said, when Cuthbert had gone
+in.
+
+She was silent.
+
+"Are you angry?"
+
+"Yes, a little," she answered.  "Do you blame me?"
+
+The vibration of his voice in the moonlit court awoke an answering chord
+in her; and a note of supplication from him touched her strangely.  Logic
+in his presence was a little difficult--there can be no doubt of that.
+
+"I must go in," she said unsteadily, "my carriage is waiting."
+
+But he stood in front of her.
+
+"I should have thought you would have gone," she said.
+
+"I wanted to see you again."
+
+"And now?"
+
+"I can't leave while you feel this way," he pleaded.  "I can't abandon
+what I have of you--what you will let me take.  If I told you I would be
+reasonable--"
+
+"I don't believe in miracles," she said, recovering a little; "at least
+in modern ones.  The question is, could you become reasonable?"
+
+"As a last resort," he replied, with a flash of humour and a touch of
+hope.  "If you would--commute my sentence."
+
+She passed him, and picking up her skirts, paused in the window.
+
+"I will give you one more chance," she said.
+
+This was the conversation that, by repeating itself, filled the interval
+of her drive home.  So oblivious was she to Howard's presence, that he
+called her twice from her corner of the carriage after the vehicle had
+stopped; and he halted her by seizing her arm as she was about to go up
+the stairs.  She followed him mechanically into the drawing-room.
+
+He closed the door behind them, and the other door into the darkened
+dining room.  He even took a precautionary glance out of the window of
+the porch.  And these movements, which ordinarily might have aroused her
+curiosity, if not her alarm, she watched with a profound indifference.
+He took a stand before the Japanese screen in front of the fireplace,
+thrust his hands in his pockets, cleared his throat, and surveyed her
+from her white shoulders to the gold-embroidered tips of her slippers.
+
+"I'm leaving for the West in the morning, Honora.  If you've made any
+arrangements for me on Sunday, you'll have to cancel them.  I may be gone
+two weeks, I may be gone a month.  I don't know."
+
+"Yes," she said.
+
+"I'm going to tell you something those fellows in the smoking room to-
+night did their best to screw out of me.  If you say anything about it,
+all's up between me and Wing.  The fact that he picked me out to engineer
+the thing, and that he's going to let me in if I push it through, is a
+pretty good sign that he thinks something of my business ability, eh?"
+
+"You'd better not tell me, Howard," she said.
+
+You're too clever to let it out," he assured her; and added with a
+chuckle: "If it goes through, order what you like.  Rent a house on
+Bellevue Avenue--any thing in reason."
+
+"What is it?" she asked, with a sudden premonition that the thing had a
+vital significance for her.
+
+"It's the greatest scheme extant," he answered with elation.  "I won't go
+into details--you wouldn't understand'em.  Mr. Wing and some others have
+tried the thing before, nearer home, and it worked like a charm.  Street
+railways.  We buy up the little lines for nothing, and get an interest in
+the big ones, and sell the little lines for fifty times what they cost
+us, and guarantee big dividends for the big lines."
+
+"It sounds to me," said Honora, slowly, "as though some one would get
+cheated."
+
+"Some one get cheated!" he exclaimed, laughing.  "Every one gets cheated,
+as you call it, if they haven't enough sense to know what their
+property's worth, and how to use it to the best advantage.  It's a case,"
+he announced, "of the survival of the fittest.  Which reminds me that if
+I'm going to be fit to-morrow I'd better go to bed.  Mr. Wing's to take
+me to New York on his yacht, and you've got to have your wits about you
+when you talk to the old man."
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Regarding favourable impressions with profound suspicion
+She had never known the necessity of making friends
+Time, the unbribeable
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A MODERN CHRONICLE
+
+By Winston Churchill
+
+
+Volume 6.
+
+
+VI.       CLIO, OR THALIA?
+VII       "LIBERTY, AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS"
+VIII.     IN WHICH THE LAW BETRAYS A HEART
+IX.       WYLIE STREET
+X.        THE PRICE OF FREEDOM
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+CLIO, OR THALIA?
+
+According to the ordinary and inaccurate method of measuring time, a
+fortnight may have gone by since the event last narrated, and Honora had
+tasted at last the joys of authorship.  Her name was not to appear, to be
+sure, on the cover of the Life and Letters of General Angus Chiltern; nor
+indeed, so far, had she written so much as a chapter or a page of a work
+intended to inspire young and old with the virtues of citizenship.  At
+present the biography was in the crucial constructive stage.  Should the
+letters be put in one volume, and the life in another?  or should the
+letters be inserted in the text of the life? or could not there be a
+third and judicious mixture of both of these methods?  Honora's counsel
+on this and other problems was, it seems, invaluable.  Her own table was
+fairly littered with biographies more or less famous which had been
+fetched from the library, and the method of each considered.
+
+Even as Mr. Garrick would never have been taken for an actor in his coach
+and four, so our heroine did not in the least resemble George Eliot, for
+instance, as she sat before her mirror at high noon with Monsieur Cadron
+and her maid Mathilde in worshipful attendance.  Some of the ladies,
+indeed, who have left us those chatty memoirs of the days before the
+guillotine, she might have been likened to.  Monsieur Cadron was an
+artist, and his branch of art was hair-dressing.  It was by his own wish
+he was here to-day, since he had conceived a new coiffure especially
+adapted, he declared, to the type of Madame Spence.  Behold him declaring
+ecstatically that seldom in his experience had he had such hairs to work
+with.
+
+"Avec une telle chevelure, l'on peut tout faire, madame.  Etre simple,
+c'est le comble de l'art.  Ca vous donne," he added, with clasped hands
+and a step backward, "ca vous donne tout a fait l'air d'une dame de
+Nattier."
+
+Madame took the hand-glass, and did not deny that she was eblouissante.
+If madame, suggested Monsieur Cadron, had but a little dress a la Marie
+Antoinette?  Madame had, cried madame's maid, running to fetch one with
+little pink flowers and green leaves on an ecru ground.  Could any
+coiffure or any gown be more appropriate for an entertainment at which
+Clio was to preside?
+
+It is obviously impossible that a masterpiece should be executed under
+the rules laid down by convention.  It would never be finished.  Mr.
+Chiltern was coming to lunch, and it was not the first time.  On her
+appearance in the doorway he halted abruptly in his pacing of the
+drawing-room, and stared at her.
+
+"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," she said.
+
+"It was worth it," he said.  And they entered the dining room.  A
+subdued, golden-green light came in through the tall glass doors that
+opened out on the little garden which had been Mrs. Forsythe's pride.
+The scent of roses was in the air, and a mass of them filled a silver
+bowl in the middle of the table.  On the dark walls were Mrs. Forsythe's
+precious prints, and above the mantel a portrait of a thin, aristocratic
+gentleman who resembled the poet Tennyson.  In the noonday shadows of a
+recess was a dark mahogany sideboard loaded with softly gleaming silver--
+Honora's.  Chiltern sat down facing her.  He looked at Honora over the
+roses,--and she looked at him.  A sense of unreality that was,
+paradoxically, stronger than reality itself came over her, a sense of
+fitness, of harmony.  And for the moment an imagination, ever straining
+at its leash, was allowed to soar.  It was Chiltern who broke the
+silence.
+
+"What a wonderful bowl!"  he said.
+
+"It has been in my father's family a great many years.  He was very fond
+of it," she answered, and with a sudden, impulsive movement she reached
+over and set the bowl aside.
+
+"That's better," he declared, "much as I admire the bowl, and the roses."
+
+She coloured faintly, and smiled.  The feast of reason that we are
+impatiently awaiting is deferred.  It were best to attempt to record the
+intangible things; the golden-green light, the perfumes, and the faint
+musical laughter which we can hear if we listen.  Thalia's laughter,
+surely, not Clio's.  Thalia, enamoured with such a theme, has taken the
+stage herself--and as Vesta, goddess of hearths.  It was Vesta whom they
+felt to be presiding.  They lingered, therefore, over the coffee, and
+Chiltern lighted a cigar.  He did not smoke cigarettes.
+
+"I've lived long enough," he said, "to know that I have never lived at
+all.  There is only one thing in life worth having."
+
+"What is it?"  asked Honora.
+
+"This," he answered, with a gesture; "when it is permanent."
+
+She smiled.
+
+"And how is one to know whether it would be--permanent?"
+
+"Through experience and failure," he answered quickly, "we learn to
+distinguish the reality when it comes.  It is unmistakable."
+
+"Suppose it comes too late?" she said, forgetting the ancient verse
+inscribed in her youthful diary: "Those who walk on ice will slide
+against their wills."
+
+"To admit that is to be a coward," he declared.
+
+"Such a philosophy may be fitting for a man," she replied, "but for a
+woman--"
+
+"We are no longer in the dark ages," he interrupted.  "Every one, man or
+woman, has the right to happiness.  There is no reason why we should
+suffer all our lives for a mistake."
+
+"A mistake!" she echoed.
+
+"Certainly," he said.  "It is all a matter of luck, or fate, or whatever
+you choose to call it.  Do you suppose, if I could have found fifteen
+years ago the woman to have made me happy, I should have spent so much
+time in seeking distraction?"
+
+"Perhaps you could not have been capable of appreciating her--fifteen
+years ago," suggested Honora.  And, lest he might misconstrue her remark,
+she avoided his eyes.
+
+"Perhaps," he admitted.  "But suppose I have found her now, when I know
+the value of things."
+
+"Suppose you should find her now--within a reasonable time.  What would
+you do?"
+
+"Marry her," he exclaimed promptly.  "Marry her and take her to Grenoble,
+and live the life my father lived before me."
+
+She did not reply, but rose, and he followed her to the shaded corner of
+the porch where they usually sat.  The bundle of yellow-stained envelopes
+he had brought were lying on the table, and Honora picked them up
+mechanically.
+
+"I have been thinking," she said as she removed the elastics, "that it is
+a mistake to begin a biography by the enumeration of one's ancestors.
+Readers become frightfully bored before they get through the first
+chapter."
+
+"I'm beginning to believe," he laughed, "that you will have to write this
+one alone.  All the ideas I have got so far have been yours.  Why
+shouldn't you write it, and I arrange the material, and talk about it!
+That appears to be all I'm good for."
+
+If she allowed her mind to dwell on the vista he thus presented, she did
+not betray herself.
+
+"Another thing," she said, "it should be written like fiction."
+
+"Like fiction?"
+
+"Fact should be written like fiction, and fiction like fact.  It's
+difficult to express what I mean.  But this life of your father deserves
+to be widely known, and it should be entertainingly done, like Lockhart,
+or Parton's works--"
+
+An envelope fell to the floor, spilling its contents.  Among them were
+several photographs.
+
+"Oh," she exclaimed, "how beautiful!  What place is this?"
+
+"I hadn't gone over these letters," he answered.  "I only got them
+yesterday from Cecil Grainger.  These are some pictures of Grenoble which
+must leave been taken shortly before my father died."
+
+She gazed in silence at the old house half hidden by great maples and
+beeches, their weighted branches sweeping the ground.  The building was
+of wood, painted white, and through an archway of verdure one saw the
+generous doorway with its circular steps, with its fan-light above, and
+its windows at the side.  Other quaint windows, some of them of triple
+width, suggested an interior of mystery and interest.
+
+"My great-great-grandfather, Alexander Chiltern, built it," he said, "on
+land granted to him before the Revolution.  Of course the house has been
+added to since then, but the simplicity of the original has always been
+kept.  My father put on the conservatory, for instance," and Chiltern
+pointed to a portion at the end of one of the long low wings.  "He got the
+idea from the orangery of a Georgian house in England, and an English
+architect designed it."
+
+Honora took up the other photographs.  One of them, over which she
+lingered, was of a charming, old-fashioned garden spattered with
+sunlight, and shut out from the world by a high brick wall.  Behind the
+wall, again, were the dense masses of the trees, and at the end of a path
+between nodding foxgloves and Canterbury bells, in a curved recess, a
+stone seat.
+
+She turned her face.  His was at her shoulder.
+
+"How could you ever have left it?" she asked reproachfully.
+
+She voiced his own regrets, which the crowding memories had awakened.
+
+"I don't know," he answered, not without emotion.  "I have often asked
+myself that question."  He crossed over to the railing of the porch,
+swung about, and looked at her.  Her eyes were still on the picture.
+"I can imagine you in that garden," he said.
+
+Did the garden cast the spell by which she saw herself on the seat?
+or was it Chiltern's voice?  She would indeed love and cherish it.
+And was it true that she belonged there, securely infolded within those
+peaceful walls?  How marvellously well was Thalia playing her comedy!
+Which was the real, and which the false?  What of true value, what of
+peace and security was contained in her present existence?  She had
+missed the meaning of things, and suddenly it was held up before her,
+in a garden.
+
+A later hour found them in Honora's runabout wandering northward along
+quiet country roads on the eastern side of the island.  Chiltern, who was
+driving, seemed to take no thought of their direction, until at last,
+with an exclamation, he stopped the horse; and Honora beheld an abandoned
+mansion of a bygone age sheltered by ancient trees, with wide lands
+beside it sloping to the water.
+
+"What is it?" she asked.
+
+"Beaulieu," he replied.  "It was built in the seventeenth century, I
+believe, and must have been a fascinating place in colonial days."  He
+drove in between the fences and tied the horse, and came around by the
+side of the runabout.  "Won't you get out and look at it?"
+
+She hesitated, and their eyes met as he held out his hand, but she
+avoided it and leaped quickly to the ground neither spoke as they walked
+around the deserted house and gazed at the quaint facade, broken by a
+crumbling, shaded balcony let in above the entrance door.  No sound broke
+the stillness of the summer's day--a pregnant stillness.  The air was
+heavy with perfumes, and the leaves formed a tracery against the
+marvellous blue of the sky.  Mystery brooded in the place.  Here, in this
+remote paradise now in ruins, people had dwelt and loved.  Thought ended
+there; and feeling, which is unformed thought, began.  Again she glanced
+at him, and again their eyes met, and hers faltered.  They turned, as
+with one consent, down the path toward the distant water.  Paradise
+overgrown!  Could it be reconstructed, redeemed?
+
+In former days the ground they trod had been a pleasance the width of the
+house, bordered, doubtless, by the forest.  Trees grew out of the flower
+beds now, and underbrush choked the paths.  The box itself, that once
+primly lined the alleys, was gnarled and shapeless.  Labyrinth had
+replaced order, nature had reaped her vengeance.  At length, in the
+deepening shade, they came, at what had been the edge of the old terrace,
+to the daintiest of summer-houses, crumbling too, the shutters off their
+hinges, the floor-boards loose.  Past and gone were the idyls of which it
+had been the stage.
+
+They turned to the left, through tangled box that wound hither and
+thither, until they stopped at a stone wall bordering a tree-arched lane.
+At the bottom of the lane was a glimpse of blue water.
+
+Honora sat down on the wall with her back to a great trunk.  Chiltern,
+with a hand on the stones, leaped over lightly, and stood for some
+moments in the lane, his feet a little apart and firmly planted, his
+hands behind his back.
+
+What had Thalia been about to allow the message of that morning to creep
+into her comedy? a message announcing the coming of an intruder not in
+the play, in the person of a husband bearing gifts.  What right had he,
+in the eternal essence of things, to return?  He was out of all time and
+place.  Such had been her feeling when she had first read the hastily
+written letter, but even when she had burned it it had risen again from
+the ashes.  Anything but that!  In trying not to think of it, she had
+picked up the newspaper, learned of a railroad accident,--and shuddered.
+Anything but his return!  Her marriage was a sin,--there could be no
+sacrament in it.  She would flee first, and abandon all rather than
+submit to it.
+
+Chiltern's step aroused her now.  He came back to the wall where she was
+sitting, and faced her.
+
+"You are sad," he said.
+
+She shook her head at him, slowly, and tried to smile.
+
+"What has happened?" he demanded rudely.  "I can't bear to see you sad."
+
+"I am going away," she said.  The decision had suddenly come to her.  Why
+had she not seen before that it was inevitable?
+
+He seized her wrist as it lay on the wall, and she winced from the sudden
+pain of his grip.
+
+"Honora, I love you," he said, "I must have you--I will have you.  I will
+make you happy.  I promise it on my soul.  I can't, I won't live without
+you."
+
+She did not listen to his words--she could not have repeated them
+afterwards.  The very tone of his voice was changed by passion; creation
+spoke through him, and she heard and thrilled and swayed and soared,
+forgetting heaven and earth and hell as he seized her in his arms and
+covered her face with kisses.  Thus Eric the Red might have wooed.  And
+by what grace she spoke the word that delivered her she never knew.  As
+suddenly as he had seized her he released her, and she stood before him
+with gaming cheeks and painful breath.
+
+"I love you," he said, "I love you.  I have searched the world for you
+and found you, and by all the laws of God you are mine."
+
+And love was written in her eyes.  He had but to read it there, though
+her lips might deny it.  This was the man of all men she would have
+chosen, and she was his by right of conquest.  Yet she held up her hand
+with a gesture of entreaty.
+
+"No, Hugh--it cannot be," she said.
+
+"Cannot!" he cried.  "I will take you.  You love me."
+
+"I am married."
+
+"Married!  Do you mean that you would let that man stand between you and
+happiness?"
+
+"What do you mean?" she asked, in a frightened voice.
+
+"Just what I say," he cried, with incredible vehemence.  "Leave him--
+divorce him.  You cannot live with him.  He isn't worthy to touch your
+hand."
+
+The idea planted itself with the force of a barbed arrow from a strong-
+bow.  Struggle as she might, she could not henceforth extract it.
+
+"Oh!" she cried.
+
+He took her arm, gently, and forced her to sit down on the wall.  Such
+was the completeness of his mastery that she did not resist.  He sat down
+beside her.
+
+"Listen, Honora," he said, and tried to speak calmly, though his voice
+was still vibrant; "let us look the situation m the face.  As I told you
+once, the days of useless martyrdom are past.  The world is more
+enlightened today, and recognizes an individual right to happiness."
+
+"To happiness," she repeated after him, like a child.  He forgot his
+words as he looked into her eyes: they were lighted as with all the
+candles of heaven in his honour.
+
+"Listen," he said hoarsely, and his fingers tightened on her arm.
+
+The current running through her from him made her his instrument.  Did he
+say the sky was black, she would have exclaimed at the discovery.
+
+"Yes--I am listening."
+
+"Honora!"
+
+"Hugh," she answered, and blinded him.  He was possessed by the tragic
+fear that she was acting a dream; presently she would awake--and shatter
+the universe.  His dominance was too complete.
+
+"I love you--I respect you.  You are making it very hard for me.  Please
+try to understand what I am saying," he cried almost fiercely.  "This
+thing, this miracle, has happened in spite of us.  Henceforth you belong
+to me--do you hear?"
+
+Once more the candles flared up.
+
+"We cannot drift.  We must decide now upon some definite action.  Our
+lives are our own, to make as we choose.  You said you were going away.
+And you meant--alone?"
+
+The eyes were wide, now, with fright.
+
+"Oh, I must--I must," she said.  "Don't--don't talk about it."  And she
+put forth a hand over his.
+
+"I will talk about it," he declared, trembling.  "I have thought it all
+out," and this time it was her fingers that tightened.  "You are going
+away.  And presently--when you are free--I will come to you."
+
+For a moment the current stopped.
+
+"No, no!" she cried, almost in terror.  The first fatalist must have been
+a woman, and the vision of rent prison bars drove her mad.  "No, we could
+never be happy."
+
+"We can--we will be happy," he said, with a conviction that was unshaken.
+"Do you hear me?  I will not debase what I have to say by resorting to
+comparisons.  But--others I know have been happy are happy, though their
+happiness cannot be spoken of with ours.  Listen.  You will go away--for
+a little while--and afterwards we shall be together for all time.
+Nothing shall separate us: We never have known life, either of us, until
+now.  I, missing you, have run after the false gods.  And you--I say it
+with truth-needed me.  We will go to live at Grenoble, as my father and
+mother lived.  We will take up their duties there.  And if it seems
+possible, I will go into public life.  When I return, I shall find you--
+waiting for me--in the garden."
+
+So real had the mirage become, that Honora did not answer.  The desert
+and its journey fell away.  Could such a thing, after all, be possible?
+Did fate deal twice to those whom she had made novices?  The mirage,
+indeed, suddenly became reality--a mirage only because she had proclaimed
+it such.  She had beheld in it, as he spoke, a Grenoble which was
+paradise regained.  And why should paradise regained be a paradox?  Why
+paradise regained?  Paradise gained.  She had never known it, until he
+had flung wide the gates.  She had sought for it, and never found it
+until now, and her senses doubted it.  It was a paradise of love, to be
+sure; but one, too, of duty.  Duty made it real.  Work was there, and
+fulfilment of the purpose of life itself.  And if his days hitherto had
+been useless, hers had in truth been barren.
+
+It was only of late, after a life-long groping, that she had discovered
+their barrenness.  The right to happiness!  Could she begin anew, and
+found it upon a rock?  And was he the rock?
+
+The question startled her, and she drew away from him first her hand, and
+then she turned her body, staring at him with widened eyes.  He did not
+resist the movement; nor could he, being male, divine what was passing
+within her, though he watched her anxiously.  She had no thought of the
+first days,--but afterwards.  For at such times it is the woman who scans
+the veil of the future.  How long would that beacon burn which flamed now
+in such prodigal waste?  Would not the very springs of it dry up?  She
+looked at him, and she saw the Viking.  But the Viking had fled from the
+world, and they--they would be going into it.  Could love prevail against
+its dangers and pitfalls and--duties?  Love was the word that rang out,
+as one calling through the garden, and her thoughts ran molten.  Let love
+overflow--she gloried in the waste!  And let the lean years come,--she
+defied them to-day.
+
+"Oh, Hugh!" she faltered.
+
+"My dearest!" he cried, and would have seized her in his arms again but
+for a look of supplication.  That he had in him this innate and
+unsuspected chivalry filled her with an exquisite sweetness.
+
+"You will--protect me?"  she asked.
+
+"With my life and with my honour," he answered.  "Honora, there will be
+no happiness like ours."
+
+"I wish I knew," she sighed: and then, her look returning from the veil,
+rested on him with a tenderness that was inexpressible.  "I--I don't
+care, Hugh.  I trust you."
+
+The sun was setting.  Slowly they went back together through the paths of
+the tangled garden, which had doubtless seen many dramas, and the courses
+changed of many lives: overgrown and outworn now, yet love was loth to
+leave it.  Honora paused on the lawn before the house, and looked back at
+him over her shoulder.
+
+"How happy we could have been here, in those days," she sighed.
+
+"We will be happier there," he said.
+
+Honora loved.  Many times in her life had she believed herself to
+have had this sensation, and yet had known nothing of these aches and
+ecstasies!  Her mortal body, unattended, went out to dinner that evening.
+Never, it is said, was her success more pronounced.  The charm of
+Randolph Leffingwell, which had fascinated the nobility of three
+kingdoms, had descended on her, and hostesses had discovered that she
+possessed the magic touch necessary to make a dinner complete.  Her
+quality, as we know, was not wit: it was something as old as the world,
+as new as modern psychology.  It was, in short, the power to stimulate.
+She infused a sense of well-being; and ordinary people, in her presence,
+surprised themselves by saying clever things.
+
+Lord Ayllington, a lean, hard-riding gentleman, who was supposed to be on
+the verge of contracting an alliance with the eldest of the Grenfell
+girls, regretted that Mrs. Spence was neither unmarried nor an heiress.
+
+"You know," he said to Cecil Grainger, who happened to be gracing his
+wife's dinner-party, "she's the sort of woman for whom a man might
+consent to live in Venice."
+
+"And she's the sort of woman," replied, "a man couldn't get to go to
+Venice."
+
+Lord Ayllington's sigh was a proof of an intimate knowledge of the world.
+
+"I suppose not," he said.  "It's always so.  And there are few American
+women who would throw everything overboard for a grand passion."
+
+"You ought to see her on the beach," Mr. Grainger suggested.
+
+"I intend to," said Ayllington.  "By the way, not a few of your American
+women get divorced, and keep their cake and eat it, too.  It's a bit
+difficult, here at Newport, for a stranger, you know."
+
+"I'm willing to bet," declared Mr. Grainger, "that it doesn't pay.  When
+you're divorced and married again you've got to keep up appearances--the
+first time you don't.  Some of these people are working pretty hard."
+
+Whereupon, for the Englishman's enlightenment, he recounted a little
+gossip.
+
+This, of course, was in the smoking room.  In the drawing-room, Mrs.
+Grainger's cousin did not escape, and the biography was the subject of
+laughter.
+
+"You see something of him, I hear," remarked Mrs. Playfair, a lady the
+deficiency of whose neck was supplied by jewels, and whose conversation
+sounded like liquid coming out of an inverted bottle.  "Is he really
+serious about the biography?"
+
+"You'll have to ask Mr. Grainger," replied Honora.
+
+"Hugh ought to marry," Mrs. Grenfell observed.
+
+"Why did he come back?" inquired another who had just returned from a
+prolonged residence abroad.  "Was there a woman in the case?"
+
+"Put it in the plural, and you'll be nearer right," laughed Mrs.
+Grenfell, and added to Honora, "You'd best take care, my dear, he's
+dangerous."
+
+Honora seemed to be looking down on them from a great height, and
+to Reginald Farwell alone is due the discovery of this altitude; his
+reputation for astuteness, after that evening, was secure.  He had sat
+next her, and had merely put two and two together--an operation that is
+probably at the root of most prophecies.  More than once that summer Mr.
+Farwell had taken sketches down Honora's lane, for she was on what was
+known as his list of advisers: a sheepfold of ewes, some one had called
+it, and he was always piqued when one of them went astray.  In addition
+to this, intuition told him that he had taken the name of a deity in
+vain--and that deity was Chiltern.  These reflections resulted in another
+after-dinner conversation to which we are not supposed to listen.
+
+He found Jerry Shorter in a receptive mood, and drew him into Cecil
+Grainger's study, where this latter gentleman, when awake, carried on
+his lifework of keeping a record of prize winners.
+
+"I believe there is something between Mrs. Spence and Hugh Chiltern,
+after all, Jerry," he said.
+
+"By jinks, you don't say so!" exclaimed Mr. Shorter, who had a profound
+respect for his friend's diagnoses in these matters.  "She was dazzling
+to-night, and her eyes were like stars.  I passed her in the hall just
+now, and I might as well have been in Halifax."
+
+"She fairly withered me when I made a little fun of Chiltern," declared
+Farwell.
+
+"I tell you what it is, Reggie," remarked Mr. Shorter, with more
+frankness than tact, "you could talk architecture with 'em from now to
+Christmas, and nothing'd happen, but it would take an iceberg to write a
+book with Hugh and see him alone six days out of seven.  Chiltern knocks
+women into a cocked hat.  I've seen 'em stark raving crazy.  Why, there
+was that Mrs. Slicer six or seven years ago--you remember--that Cecil
+Grainger had such a deuce of a time with.  And there was Mrs. Dutton--
+I was a committee to see her, when the old General was alive,--to say
+nothing about a good many women you and I know."
+
+Mr. Farwell nodded.
+
+"I'm confoundedly sorry if it's so," Mr. Shorter continued, with
+sincerity.  "She has a brilliant future ahead of her.  She's got good
+blood in her, she's stunning to look at, and she's made her own way in
+spite of that Billycock of a husband who talks like the original
+Rothschild.  By the bye, Wing is using him for a good thing.  He's sent
+him out West to pull that street railway chestnut out of the fire.  I'm
+not particularly squeamish, Reggie, though I try to play the game
+straight myself--the way my father played it.  But by the lord Harry,
+I can't see the difference between Dick Turpin and Wing and Trixy Brent.
+It's hold and deliver with those fellows.  But if the police get anybody,
+their get Spence."
+
+"The police never get anybody," said Farwell, pessimistically; for the
+change of topic bored him.
+
+"No, I suppose they don't," answered Mr. Shorter, cheerfully finishing
+his chartreuse, and fixing his eye on one of the coloured lithographs of
+lean horses on Cecil Grainger's wall.  "I'd talk to Hugh, if I wasn't as
+much afraid of him as of Jim Jeffries.  I don't want to see him ruin her
+career."
+
+"Why should an affair with him ruin it?" asked Farwell, unexpectedly.
+"There was Constance Witherspoon.  I understand that went pretty far."
+
+"My dear boy," said Mr. Shorter, "it's the women.  Bessie Grainger here,
+for instance--she'd go right up in the air.  And the women had--well, a
+childhood-interest in Constance.  Self-preservation is the first law--of
+women."
+
+"They say Hugh has changed--that he wants to settle down," said Farwell.
+
+"If you'd ever gone to church, Reggie," said Mr. Shorter, "you'd know
+something about the limitations of the leopard."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+"LIBERTY, AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS"
+
+That night was Honora's soul played upon by the unknown musician of the
+sleepless hours.  Now a mad, ecstatic chorus dinned in her ears and set
+her blood coursing; and again despair seized her with a dirge.  Periods
+of semiconsciousness only came to her, and from one of these she was
+suddenly startled into wakefulness by her own words.  "I have the right
+to make of my life what I can."  But when she beheld the road of terrors
+that stretched between her and the shining places, it seemed as though
+she would never have the courage to fare forth along its way.  To look
+back was to survey a prospect even more dreadful.
+
+The incidents of her life ranged by in procession.  Not in natural
+sequence, but a group here and a group there.  And it was given her,
+for the first time, to see many things clearly.  But now she loved.
+God alone knew what she felt for this man, and when she thought of him
+the very perils of her path were dwarfed.  On returning home that night
+she had given her maid her cloak, and had stood for a long time
+immobile,--gazing at her image in the pierglass.
+
+"Madame est belle comme l'Imperatrice d'Autriche!" said the maid at
+length.
+
+"Am I really beautiful, Mathilde?"
+
+Mathilde raised her eyes and hands to heaven in a gesture that admitted
+no doubt.  Mathilde, moreover, could read a certain kind of history if
+the print were large enough.
+
+Honora looked in the glass again.  Yes, she was beautiful.  He had found
+her so, he had told her so.  And here was the testimony of her own eyes.
+The bloom on the nectarines that came every morning from Mr. Chamberlin's
+greenhouse could not compare with the colour of her cheeks; her hair was
+like the dusk; her eyes like the blue pools among the rocks, and touched
+now by the sun; her neck and arms of the whiteness of sea-foam.  It was
+meet that she should be thus for him and for the love he brought her.
+
+She turned suddenly to the maid.
+
+"Do you love me, Mathilde?"  she asked.
+
+Mathilde was not surprised.  She was, on the contrary, profoundly
+touched.
+
+"How can madame ask?" she cried impulsively, and seized Honora's hand.
+How was it possible to be near madame, and not love her?
+
+"And would you go--anywhere with me?"
+
+The scene came back to her in the night watches.  For the little maid had
+wept and vowed eternal fidelity.
+
+It was not--until the first faint herald of the morning that Honora could
+bring herself to pronounce the fateful thing that stood between her and
+happiness, that threatened to mar the perfection of a heaven-born love--
+Divorce!  And thus, having named it resolutely several times, the demon
+of salvation began gradually to assume a kindly aspect that at times
+became almost benign.  In fact, this one was not a demon at all, but a
+liberator: the demon, she perceived, stalked behind him, and his name was
+Notoriety.  It was he who would flay her for coquetting with the
+liberator.
+
+What if she were flayed?  Once married to Chiltern, once embarked upon
+that life of usefulness, once firmly established on ground of her own
+tilling, and she was immune.  And this led her to a consideration of
+those she knew who had been flayed.  They were not few, and a surfeit of
+publicity is a sufficient reason for not enumerating them here.  And
+during this process of exorcism Notoriety became a bogey, too: he had
+been powerless to hurt them.  It must be true what Chiltern had said that
+the world was changing.  The tragic and the ridiculous here joining
+hands, she remembered that Reggie Farwell had told her that he had
+recently made a trip to western New York to inspect a house he had built
+for a "remarried" couple who were not wholly unknown.  The dove-cote, he
+had called it.  The man, in his former marriage, had been renowned all up
+and down tidewater as a rake and a brute, and now it was an exception
+when he did not have at least one baby on his knee.  And he knew,
+according to Mr. Farwell, more about infant diet than the whole staff
+of a maternity hospital.
+
+At length, as she stared into the darkness, dissolution came upon it.
+The sills of her windows outlined themselves, and a blurred foliage was
+sketched into the frame.  With a problem but half solved the day had
+surprised her.  She marvelled to see that it grew apace, and presently
+arose to look out upon a stillness like that of eternity: in the grey
+light the very leaves seemed to be holding their breath in expectancy of
+the thing that was to come.  Presently the drooping roses raised their
+heads, from pearl to silver grew the light, and comparison ended.  The
+reds were aflame, the greens resplendent, the lawn sewn with the diamonds
+of the dew.
+
+A little travelling table was beside the window, and Honora took her pen
+and wrote.
+
+     "My dearest, above all created things I love you.  Morning has come,
+     and it seems to me that I have travelled far since last I saw you.
+     I have come to a new place, which is neither hell nor heaven, and in
+     the mystery of it you--you alone are real.  It is to your strength
+     that I cling, and I know that you will not fail me.
+
+     "Since I saw you, Hugh, I have been through the Valley of the
+     Shadow.  I have thought of many things.  One truth alone is clear--
+     that I love you transcendently..  You have touched and awakened me
+     into life.  I walk in a world unknown.
+
+     "There is the glory of martyrdom in this message I send you now.
+     You must not come to me again until I send for you.  I cannot, I
+     will not trust myself or you.  I will keep this love which has come
+     to me undefiled.  It has brought with it to me a new spirit, a
+     spirit with a scorn for things base and mean.  Though it were my
+     last chance in life, I would not see you if you came.  If I thought
+     you would not understand what I feel, I could not love you as I do.
+
+     "I will write to you again, when I see my way more clearly.  I told
+     you in the garden before you spoke that I was going away.  Do not
+     seek to know my plans.  For the sake of the years to come, obey me.
+
+                                        "HONORA."
+
+She reread the letter, and sealed it.  A new and different exaltation had
+come to her--begotten, perhaps, in the act of writing.  A new courage
+filled her, and now she contemplated the ordeal with a tranquillity that
+surprised her.  The disorder and chaos of the night were passed, and she
+welcomed the coming day, and those that were to follow it.  As though the
+fates were inclined to humour her impatience, there was a telegram on her
+breakfast tray, dated at New York, and informing her that her husband
+would be in Newport about the middle of the afternoon.  His western trip
+was finished a day earlier than he expected.  Honora rang her bell.
+
+"Mathilde, I am going away."
+
+"Oui, madame."
+
+"And I should like you to go with me."
+
+"Oui, madame."
+
+"It is only fair that you should understand, Mathilde.  I am going away
+alone.  I am not--coming back."
+
+The maid's eyes filled with sudden tears.
+
+"Oh, madame," she cried, in a burst of loyalty, "if madame will permit me
+to stay with her!"
+
+Honora was troubled, but her strange calmness did not forsake her.  The
+morning was spent in packing, which was a simple matter.  She took only
+such things as she needed, and left her dinner-gowns hanging in the
+closets.  A few precious books of her own she chose, but the jewellery
+her husband had given her was put in boxes and laid upon the dressing-
+table.  In one of these boxes was her wedding ring.  When luncheon was
+over, an astonished and perturbed butler packed the Leffingwell silver
+and sent it off to storage.
+
+There had been but one interruption in Honora's labours.  A note had
+arrived--from him--a note and a box.  He would obey her!  She had known
+he would understand, and respect her the more.  What would their love
+have been, without that respect?  She shuddered to think.  And he sent
+her this ring, as a token of that love, as undying as the fire in its
+stones.  Would she wear it, that in her absence she might think of him?
+Honora kissed it and slipped it on her finger, where it sparkled.  The
+letter was beneath her gown, though she knew it by heart.  Chiltern had
+gone at last: he could not, he said, remain in Newport and not see her.
+
+At midday she made but the pretence of a meal.  It was not until
+afterwards, in wandering through the lower rooms of this house, become so
+dear to her, that agitation seized her, and a desire to weep.  What was
+she leaving so precipitately?  and whither going?  The world indeed was
+wide, and these rooms had been her home.  The day had grown blue-grey,
+and in the dining room the gentle face seemed to look down upon her
+compassionately from the portrait.  The scent of the roses overpowered
+her.  As she listened, no sound brake the quiet of the place.
+
+Would Howard never come?  The train was in--had been in ten minutes.
+Hark, the sound of wheels!  Her heart beating wildly, she ran to the
+windows of the drawing-room and peered through the lilacs.  Yes, there
+he was, ascending the steps.
+
+"Mrs. Spence is out, I suppose," she heard him say to the butler, who
+followed with his bag.
+
+"No, sir, she's is the drawing-room."
+
+The sight of him, with his air of satisfaction and importance, proved an
+unexpected tonic to her strength.  It was as though he had brought into
+the room, marshalled behind him, all the horrors of her marriage, and she
+marvelled and shuddered anew at the thought of the years of that
+sufferance.
+
+"Well, I'm back," he said, "and we've made a great killing, as I wrote
+you.  They were easier than I expected."
+
+He came forward for the usual perfunctory kiss, but she recoiled, and it
+was then that his eye seemed to grasp the significance of her travelling
+suit and veil, and he glanced at her face.
+
+"What's up?  Where are you going?" he demanded.  "Has anything happened?"
+
+"Everything," she said, and it was then, suddenly, that she felt the
+store of her resolution begin to ebb, and she trembled.  "Howard, I am
+going away."
+
+He stopped short, and thrust his hands into the pockets of his checked
+trousers.
+
+"Going away," he repeated.  "Where?"
+
+"I don't know," said Honora; "I'm going away."
+
+As though to cap the climax of tragedy, he smiled as he produced his
+cigarette case.  And she was swept, as it were, by a scarlet flame that
+deprived her for the moment of speech.
+
+"Well," he said complacently, "there's no accounting for women.  A case
+of nerves--eh, Honora?  Been hitting the pace a little too hard, I
+guess."  He lighted a match, blissfully unaware of the quality of her
+look.  "All of us have to get toned up once in a while.  I need it
+myself.  I've had to drink a case of Scotch whiskey out West to get this
+deal through.  Now what's the name of that new boat with everything on
+her from a cafe to a Stock Exchange?  A German name."
+
+"I don't know," said Honora.  She had answered automatically.
+
+To the imminent peril of one of the frailest of Mrs. Forsythe's chairs,
+he sat down on it, placed his hands on his knees, flung back his head,
+and blew the smoke towards the ceiling.  Still she stared at him, as in a
+state of semi-hypnosis.
+
+"Instead of going off to one of those thousand-dollar-a-minute doctors,
+let me prescribe for you," he said.  "I've handled some nervous men in my
+time, and I guess nervous women aren't much different.  You've had these
+little attacks before, and they blow over--don't they?  Wing owes me a
+vacation.  If I do say it myself, there are not five men in New York who
+would have pulled off this deal for him.  Now the proposition I was going
+to make to you is this: that we get cosey in a cabin de luxe on that
+German boat, hire an automobile on the other side, and do up Europe.
+It's a sort of a handicap never to have been over there."
+
+"Oh, you're making it very hard for me, Howard," she cried.  "I might
+have known that you couldn't understand, that you never could understand
+--why I am going away.  I've lived with you all this time, and you do not
+know me any better than you know--the scrub-woman.  I'm going away from
+you--forever."
+
+In spite of herself, she ended with an uncontrollable sob.
+
+"Forever!"  he repeated, but he continued to smoke and to look at her
+without any evidences of emotion, very much as though he had received an
+ultimatum in a business transaction.  And then there crept into his
+expression something of a complacent pity that braced her to continue.
+"Why?" he asked.
+
+"Because--because I don't love you.  Because you don't love me.  You
+don't know what love is--you never will."
+
+"But we're married," he said.  "We get along all right."
+
+"Oh, can't you see that that makes it all the worse!" she cried.
+"I can stand it no longer.  I can't live with you--I won't live with
+you.  I'm of no use to you--you're sufficient unto yourself.  It was
+all a frightful mistake.  I brought nothing into your life, and I take
+nothing out of it.  We are strangers--we have always been so.  I am not
+even your housekeeper.  Your whole interest in life is in your business,
+and you come home to read the newspapers and to sleep!  Home!  The very
+word is a mockery.  If you had to choose between me and your business you
+wouldn't hesitate an instant.  And I--I have been starved.  It isn't your
+fault, perhaps, that you don't understand that a woman needs something
+more than dinner-gowns and jewels and--and trips abroad.  Her only
+possible compensation for living with a man is love.  Love--and you
+haven't the faintest conception of it.  It isn't your fault, perhaps.
+It's my fault for marrying you.  I didn't know any better."
+
+She paused with her breast heaving.  He rose and walked over to the
+fireplace and flicked his ashes into it before he spoke.  His calmness
+maddened her.
+
+"Why didn't you say something about this before?" he asked.
+
+"Because I didn't know it--I didn't realize it--until now."
+
+"When you married me," he went on, "you had an idea that you were going
+to live in a house on Fifth Avenue with a ballroom, didn't you?"
+
+"Yes," said Honora.  "I do not say I am not to blame.  I was a fool.  My
+standards were false.  In spite of the fact that my aunt and uncle are
+the most unworldly people that ever lived--perhaps because of it--I knew
+nothing of the values of life.  I have but one thing to say in my
+defence.  I thought I loved you, and that you could give me--what every
+woman needs."
+
+"You were never satisfied from the first," he retorted.  "You wanted
+money and position--a mania with American women.  I've made a success
+that few men of my age can duplicate.  And even now you are not satisfied
+when I come back to tell you that I have money enough to snap my fingers
+at half these people you know."
+
+"How," asked Honora, "how did you make it?"
+
+"What do you mean?" he asked.
+
+She turned away from him with a gesture of weariness.
+
+"No, you wouldn't understand that, either, Howard."
+
+It was not until then that he showed feeling.
+
+"Somebody has been talking to you about this deal.  I'm not surprised.
+A lot of these people are angry because we didn't let them in.  What have
+they been saying?" he demanded.
+
+Her eyes flashed.
+
+"Nobody has spoken to me on the subject," she said.  "I only know what I
+have read, and what you have told me.  In the first place, you deceived
+the stockholders of these railways into believing their property was
+worthless, and in the second place, you intend to sell it to the public
+for much more than it is worth."
+
+At first he stared at her in surprise.  Then he laughed.
+
+"By George, you'd make something of a financier yourself, Honora," he
+exclaimed.  And seeing that she did not answer, continued: "Well, you've
+got it about right, only it's easier said than done.  It takes brains.
+That's what business is--a survival of the fittest.  If you don't do the
+other man, he'll do you."  He opened the cigarette case once more.  "And
+now," he said, "let me give you a little piece of advice.  It's a good
+motto for a woman not to meddle with what doesn't concern her.  It isn't
+her business to make the money, but to spend it; and she can usually do
+that to the queen's taste."
+
+"A high ideal?" she exclaimed.
+
+"You ought to have some notion of where that ideal came from," he
+retorted.  "You were all for getting rich, in order to compete with these
+people.  Now you've got what you want--"
+
+"And I am going to throw it away.  That is like a woman, isn't it?"
+
+He glanced at her, and then at his watch.
+
+"See here, Honora, I ought to go over to Mr. Wing's.  I wired him I'd be
+there at four-thirty."
+
+"Don't let me keep you," she replied.
+
+"By gad, you are pale!" he said.  "What's got into the women these days?
+They never used to have these confounded nerves.  Well, if you are bent
+on it, I suppose there's no use trying to stop you.  Go off somewhere and
+take a rest, and when you come back you'll see things differently."
+
+She held out her hand.
+
+"Good-by, Howard," she said.  "I wanted you to know that I didn't--bear
+you any ill-will--that I blame myself as much as you.  More, if anything.
+I hope you will be happy--I know you will.  But I must ask you to believe
+me when I say that I shan't come back.  I--I am leaving all the valuable
+things you gave me.  You will find them on my dressing-table.  And I
+wanted to tell you that my uncle sent me a little legacy from my father-
+an unexpected one--that makes me independent."
+
+He did not take her hand, but was staring at her now, incredulously.
+
+"You mean you are actually going?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But--what shall I say to Mr. Wing?  What will he think?"
+
+Despite the ache in her heart, she smiled.
+
+"Does it make any difference what Mr. Wing thinks?" she asked gently.
+"Need he know?  Isn't this a matter which concerns us alone?  I shall go
+off, and after a certain time people will understand that I am not coming
+back."
+
+"But--have you considered that it may interfere with my prospects?"  he
+asked.
+
+"Why should it?  You are invaluable to Mr. Wing.  He can't afford to
+dispense with your services just because you will be divorced.  That
+would be ridiculous.  Some of his own associates are divorced."
+
+"Divorced!" he cried, and she saw that he had grown pasty white.  "On
+what grounds?  Have you been--"
+
+He did not finish.
+
+"No," she said, "you need fear no scandal.  There will be nothing in any
+way harmful to your--prospects."
+
+"What can I do?" he said, though more to himself than to her.  Her quick
+ear detected in his voice a note of relief.  And yet, he struck in her,
+standing helplessly smoking in the middle of the floor, chords of pity.
+
+"You can do nothing, Howard," she said.  "If you lived with me from now
+to the millennium you couldn't make me love you, nor could you love me--
+the way I must be loved.  Try to realize it.  The wrench is what you
+dread.  After it is over you will be much more contented, much happier,
+than you have been with me.  Believe me."
+
+His next remark astonished her.
+
+"What's the use of being so damned precipitate?" he demanded.
+
+"Precipitate!"
+
+"Because I can stand it no longer.  I should go mad," she answered.
+
+He took a turn up and down the room, stopped suddenly, and stared at her
+with eyes that had grown smaller.  Suspicion is slow to seize the
+complacent.  Was it possible that he had been supplanted?
+
+Honora, with an instinct of what was coming, held up her head.  Had he
+been angry, had he been a man, how much humiliation he would have spared
+her!
+
+"So you're in love!" he said.  "I might have known that something was at
+the bottom of this."
+
+She took account of and quivered at the many meanings behind his speech
+--meanings which he was too cowardly to voice in words.
+
+"Yes," she answered, "I am in love--in love as I never hoped to be--as I
+did not think it possible to be.  My love is such that I would go through
+hell fire for the sake of it.  I do not expect you to believe me when I
+tell you that such is not the reason why I am leaving you.  If you had
+loved me with the least spark of passion, if I thought I were in the
+least bit needful to you as a woman and as a soul, as a helper and a
+confidante, instead of a mere puppet to advertise your prosperity, this
+would not--could not--have happened.  I love a man who would give up the
+world for me to-morrow.  I have but one life to live, and I am going to
+find happiness if I can."
+
+She paused, afire with an eloquence that had come unsought.  But her
+husband only stared at her.  She was transformed beyond his recognition.
+Surely he had not married this woman!  And, if the truth be told, down
+in his secret soul whispered a small, congratulatory voice.  Although
+he did not yet fully realize it, he was glad he had not.
+
+Honora, with an involuntary movement, pressed her handkerchief to her
+eyes.
+
+"Good-by, Howard," she said.  "I--I did not expect you to understand.
+If I had stayed, I should have made you miserably unhappy."
+
+He took her hand in a dazed manner, as though he knew not in the least
+what he was doing.  He muttered something and found speech impossible.
+He gulped once, uncomfortably.  The English language had ceased to be a
+medium.  Great is the force of habit!  In the emergency he reached for
+his cigarette case.
+
+Honora had given orders that the carriage was to wait at the door.  The
+servants might suspect, but that was all.  Her maid had been discreet.
+She drew down her veil as she descended the steps, and told the coachman
+to drive to the station.
+
+It was raining.  Leaning forward from under the hood as the horses
+started, she took her last look at the lilacs.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+IN WHICH THE LAW BETRAYS A HEART
+
+It was still raining when she got into a carriage at Boston and drove
+under the elevated tracks, through the narrow, slippery business streets,
+to the hotel.  From the windows of her room, as the night fell, she
+looked out across the dripping foliage of the Common.  Below her, and
+robbed from that sacred ground, were the little granite buildings that
+housed the entrances to the subway, and for a long time she stood
+watching the people crowding into these.  Most of them had homes to go
+to!  In the gathering gloom the arc-lights shone, casting yellow streaks
+on the glistening pavement; wagons and carriages plunged into the
+maelstrom at the corner; pedestrians dodged and slipped; lightnings
+flashed from overhead wires, and clanging trolley cars pushed their
+greater bulk through the mass.  And presently the higher toned and more
+ominous bell of an ambulance sounded on its way to the scene of an
+accident.
+
+It was Mathilde who ordered her dinner and pressed her to eat.  But she
+had no heart for food.  In her bright sitting-room, with the shades
+tightly drawn, an inexpressible loneliness assailed her.  A large
+engraving of a picture of a sentimental school hung on the wall: she
+could not bear to look at it, and yet her eyes, from time to time, were
+fatally drawn thither.  It was of a young girl taking leave of her lover,
+in early Christian times, before entering the arena.  It haunted Honora,
+and wrought upon her imagination to such a pitch that she went into her
+bedroom to write.
+
+For a long time nothing more was written of the letter than "Dear Uncle
+Tom and Aunt Mary": what to say to them?
+
+     "I do not know what you will think of me.  I do not know, to-night,
+     what to think of myself.  I have left Howard.  It is not because he
+     was cruel to me, or untrue.  He does not love me, nor I him.  I
+     cannot expect you, who have known the happiness of marriage, to
+     realize the tortures of it without love.  My pain in telling you
+     this now is all the greater because I realize your belief as to the
+     sacredness of the tie--and it is not your fault that you did not
+     instil that belief into me.  I have had to live and to think and to
+     suffer for myself.  I do not attempt to account for my action, and I
+     hesitate to lay the blame upon the modern conditions and atmosphere
+     in which I lived; for I feel that, above all things, I must be
+     honest with myself.
+
+     "My marriage with Howard was a frightful mistake, and I have grown
+     slowly to realize it, until life with him became insupportable.
+     Since he does not love me, since his one interest is his business,
+     my departure makes no great difference to him.
+
+     "Dear Aunt Mary and Uncle Tom, I realize that I owe you much--
+     everything that I am.  I do not expect you to understand or to
+     condone what I have done.  I only beg that you will continue to--
+     love your niece,
+
+                                                  "HONORA."
+
+She tried to review this letter.  Incoherent though it were and
+incomplete, in her present state of mind she was able to add but a few
+words as a postscript.  "I will write you my plans in a day or two, when
+I see my way more clearly.  I would fly to you--but I cannot.  I am going
+to get a divorce."
+
+She sat for a time picturing the scene in the sitting-room when they
+should read it, and a longing which was almost irresistible seized her
+to go back to that shelter.  One force alone held her in misery where she
+was,--her love for Chiltern; it drew her on to suffer the horrors of
+exile and publicity.  When she suffered most, his image rose before her,
+and she kissed the ring on her hand.  Where was he now, on this rainy
+night?  On the seas?
+
+At the thought she heard again the fog-horns and the sirens.
+
+Her sleep was fitful.  Many times she went over again her talk with
+Howard, and she surprised herself by wondering what he had thought and
+felt since her departure.  And ever and anon she was startled out of
+chimerical dreams by the clamour of bells-the trolley cars on their
+ceaseless round passing below.  At last came the slumber of exhaustion.
+
+It was nine o'clock when she awoke and faced the distasteful task she had
+set herself for the day.  In her predicament she descended to the office,
+where the face of one of the clerks attracted her, and she waited until
+he was unoccupied.
+
+"I should like you to tell me--the name of some reputable lawyer," she
+said.
+
+"Certainly, Mrs. Spence," he replied, and Honora was startled at the
+sound of her name.  She might have realized that he would know her.
+"I suppose a young lawyer would do--if the matter is not very important."
+
+"Oh, no!" she cried, blushing to her temples.  "A young lawyer would do
+very well."
+
+The clerk reflected.  He glanced at Honora again; and later in the day
+she divined what had been going on in his mind.
+
+"Well," he said, "there are a great many.  I happen to think of Mr.
+Wentworth, because he was in the hotel this morning.  He is in the
+Tremont Building."
+
+She thanked him hurriedly, and was driven to the Tremont Building,
+through the soggy street that faced the still dripping trees of the
+Common.  Mounting in the elevator, she read on the glass door amongst
+the names of the four members of the firm that of Alden Wentworth, and
+suddenly found herself face to face with the young man, in his private
+office.  He was well groomed and deeply tanned, and he rose to meet her
+with a smile that revealed a line of perfect white teeth.
+
+"How do you do, Mrs. Spence?" he said.  "I did not think, when I met
+you at Mrs. Grenfell's, that I should see you so soon in Boston.  Won't
+you sit down?"
+
+Honora sat down.  There seemed nothing else to do.  She remembered him
+perfectly now, and she realized that the nimble-witted clerk had meant
+to send her to a gentleman.
+
+"I thought," she faltered, "I thought I was coming to a--a stranger.
+They gave me your address at the hotel--when I asked for a lawyer."
+
+"Perhaps," suggested Mr. Wentworth, delicately, "perhaps you would prefer
+to go to some one else.  I can give you any number of addresses, if you
+like."
+
+She looked up at him gratefully.  He seemed very human and understanding,
+--very honourable.  He belonged to her generation, after all, and she
+feared an older man.
+
+"If you will be kind enough to listen to me, I think I will stay here.
+It is only a matter of--of knowledge of the law."  She looked at him
+again, and the pathos of her smile went straight to his heart.  For Mr.
+Wentworth possessed that organ, although he did not wear it on his
+sleeve.
+
+He crossed the room, closed the door, and sat down beside her.
+
+"Anything I can do," he said.
+
+She glanced at him once more, helplessly.
+
+"I do not know how to tell you," she began.  "It all seems so dreadful."
+She paused, but he had the lawyer's gift of silence--of sympathetic
+silence.  "I want to get a divorce from my husband."
+
+If Mr. Wentworth was surprised, he concealed it admirably.  His attitude
+of sympathy did not change, but he managed to ask her, in a business-like
+tone which she welcomed:--
+
+"On what grounds?"
+
+"I was going to ask you that question," said Honora.
+
+This time Mr. Wentworth was surprised--genuinely so, and he showed it.
+
+"But, my dear Mrs. Spence," he protested, "you must remember that--that
+I know nothing of the case."
+
+"What are the grounds one can get divorced on?" she asked.
+
+He coloured a little under his tan.
+
+"They are different in different states," he replied.  "I think--perhaps
+--the best way would be to read you the Massachusetts statutes."
+
+"No--wait a moment," she said.  "It's very simple, after all, what I have
+to tell you.  I don't love my husband, and he doesn't love me, and it has
+become torture to live together.  I have left him with his knowledge and
+consent, and he understands that I will get a divorce."
+
+Mr. Wentworth appeared to be pondering--perhaps not wholly on the legal
+aspects of the case thus naively presented.  Whatever may have been his
+private comments, they were hidden.  He pronounced tentatively, and a
+little absently, the word "desertion."
+
+"If the case could possibly be construed as desertion on your husband's
+part, you could probably get a divorce in three years in Massachusetts."
+
+"Three years!" cried Honora, appalled.  "I could never wait three years!"
+
+She did not remark the young lawyer's smile, which revealed a greater
+knowledge of the world than one would have suspected.  He said nothing,
+however.
+
+"Three years!" she repeated.  "Why, it can't be, Mr. Wentworth.  There
+are the Waterfords--she was Mrs. Boutwell, you remember.  And--and Mrs.
+Rindge--it was scarcely a year before--"
+
+He had the grace to nod gravely, and to pretend not to notice the
+confusion in which she halted.  Lawyers, even young ones with white teeth
+and clear eyes, are apt to be a little cynical.  He had doubtless seen
+from the beginning that there was a man in the background.  It was not
+his business to comment or to preach.
+
+"Some of the western states grant divorces on--on much easier terms," he
+said politely.  "If you care to wait, I will go into our library and look
+up the laws of those states."
+
+"I wish you would," answered Honora.  "I don't think I could bear to
+spend three years in such--in such an anomalous condition.  And at any
+rate I should much rather go West, out of sight, and have it all as
+quickly over with as possible."
+
+He bowed, and departed on his quest.  And Honora waited, at moments
+growing hot at the recollection of her conversation with him.  Why--she
+asked herself should the law make it so difficult, and subject her to
+such humiliation in a course which she felt to be right and natural and
+noble?  Finally, her thoughts becoming too painful, she got up and looked
+out of the window.  And far below her, through the mist, she beheld the
+burying-ground of Boston's illustrious dead which her cabman had pointed
+out to her as he passed.  She did not hear the door open as Mr. Wentworth
+returned, and she started at the sound of his voice.
+
+"I take it for granted that you are really serious in this matter, Mrs.
+Spence," he said.
+
+"Oh!" she exclaimed.
+
+"And that you have thoroughly reflected," he continued imperturbably.
+Evidently, in spite of the cold impartiality of the law, a New England
+conscience had assailed him in the library.  "I cannot take er--the
+responsibility of advising you as to a course of action.  You have asked
+me the laws of certain western states as to divorce I will read them."
+
+An office boy followed him, deposited several volumes on the taule, and
+Mr. Wentworth read from them in a voice magnificently judicial.
+
+"There's not much choice, is there?" she faltered, when he had finished.
+
+He smiled.
+
+"As places of residence--" he began, in an attempt to relieve the pathos.
+
+"Oh, I didn't mean that," she cried.  "Exile is--is exile."  She flushed.
+After a few moments of hesitation she named at random a state the laws of
+which required a six months' residence.  She contemplated him.  "I hardly
+dare to ask you to give me the name of some reputable lawyer out there."
+
+He had looked for an instant into her eyes.  Men of the law are not
+invulnerable, particularly at Mr. Wentworth's age, and New England
+consciences to the contrary notwithstanding.  In spite of himself, her
+eyes had made him a partisan: an accomplice, he told himself afterwards.
+
+"Really, Mrs. Spence," he began, and caught another appealing look.  He
+remembered the husband now, and a lecture on finance in the Grenfell
+smoking room which Howard Spence had delivered, and which had grated on
+Boston sensibility.  "It is only right to tell you that our firm does
+not--does not--take divorce cases--as a rule.  Not that we are taking
+this one," he added hurriedly.  "But as a friend--"
+
+"Oh, thank you!" said Honora.
+
+"Merely as a friend who would be glad to do you a service," he continued,
+"I will, during the day, try to get you the name of--of as reputable a
+lawyer as possible in that place."
+
+And Mr. Wentworth paused, as red as though he had asked her to marry him.
+
+"How good of you I" she cried.  "I shall be at the Touraine until this
+evening."
+
+He escorted her through the corridor, bowed her into the elevator, and
+her spirits had risen perceptibly as she got into her cab and returned to
+the hotel.  There, she studied railroad folders.  One confidant was
+enough, and she dared not even ask the head porter the way to a locality
+where--it was well known--divorces were sold across a counter.  And as
+she worked over the intricacies of this problem the word her husband had
+applied to her action recurred to her--precipitate.  No doubt Mr.
+Wentworth, too, had thought her precipitate.  Nearly every important act
+of her life had been precipitate.  But she was conscious in this instance
+of no regret.  Delay, she felt, would have killed her.  Let her exile
+begin at once.
+
+She had scarcely finished luncheon when Mr. Wentworth was announced.  For
+reasons best known to himself he had come in person; and he handed her,
+written on a card, the name of the Honourable David Beckwith.
+
+"I'll have to confess I don't know much about him, Mrs. Spence," he said,
+"except that he has been in Congress, and is one of the prominent lawyers
+of that state."
+
+The gift of enlisting sympathy and assistance was peculiarly Honora's.
+And if some one had predicted that morning to Mr. Wentworth that before
+nightfall he would not only have put a lady in distress on the highroad
+to obtaining a western divorce (which he had hitherto looked upon as
+disgraceful), but that likewise he would miss his train for Pride's
+Crossing, buy the lady's tickets, and see her off at the South Station
+for Chicago, he would have regarded the prophet as a lunatic.  But that
+is precisely what Mr. Wentworth did.  And when, as her train pulled out,
+Honora bade him goodby, she felt the tug at her heartstrings which comes
+at parting with an old friend.
+
+"And anything I can do for you here in the East, while--while you are out
+there, be sure to let me know," he said.
+
+She promised and waved at him from the platform as he stood motionless,
+staring after her.  Romance had spent a whole day in Boston!  And with
+Mr. Alden Wentworth, of all people!
+
+Fortunately for the sanity of the human race, the tension of grief is
+variable.  Honora, closed in her stateroom, eased herself that night by
+writing a long, if somewhat undecipherable, letter to Chiltern; and was
+able, the next day, to read the greater portion of a novel.  It was only
+when she arrived in Chicago, after nightfall, that loneliness again
+assailed her.  She was within nine hours--so the timetable said--of St.
+Louis!  Of all her trials, the homesickness which she experienced as she
+drove through the deserted streets of the metropolis of the Middle West
+was perhaps the worst.  A great city on Sunday night!  What traveller has
+not felt the depressing effect of it?  And, so far as the incoming
+traveller is concerned, Chicago does not put her best foot forward.
+The way from the station to the Auditorium Hotel was hacked and bruised--
+so it seemed--by the cruel battle of trade.  And she stared, in a kind of
+fascination that increased the ache in her heart; at the ugliness and
+cruelty of the twentieth century.
+
+To have imagination is unquestionably to possess a great capacity for
+suffering, and Honora was paying the penalty for hers.  It ran riot now.
+The huge buildings towered like formless monsters against the blackness
+of the sky under the sickly blue of the electric lights, across the
+dirty, foot-scarred pavements, strange black human figures seemed to
+wander aimlessly: an elevated train thundered overhead.  And presently
+she found herself the tenant of two rooms in that vast refuge of the
+homeless, the modern hotel, where she sat until the small hours looking
+down upon the myriad lights of the shore front, and out beyond them on
+the black waters of an inland sea.
+
+                    .......................
+
+From Newport to Salomon City, in a state not far from the Pacific tier,
+is something of a transition in less than a week, though in modern life
+we should be surprised at nothing.  Limited trains are wonderful enough;
+but what shall be said of the modern mind, that travels faster than
+light? and much too fast for the pages of a chronicle.  Martha Washington
+and the good ladies of her acquaintance knew nothing about the upper
+waters of the Missouri, and the words "for better, for worse, for richer,
+for poorer" were not merely literature to them.
+
+'Nous avons change tout cela', although there are yet certain crudities
+to be eliminated.  In these enlightened times, if in one week a lady is
+not entirely at home with husband number one, in the next week she may
+have travelled in comparative comfort some two-thirds across a continent,
+and be on the highroad to husband number two.  Why travel?  Why have to
+put up with all this useless expense and worry and waste of time?  Why
+not have one's divorce sent, C.O.D., to one's door, or establish a new
+branch of the Post-office Department?  American enterprise has surely
+lagged in this.
+
+Seated in a plush-covered rocking-chair that rocked on a track of its
+own, and thus saved the yellow-and-red hotel carpet, the Honourable Dave
+Beckwith patiently explained the vexatious process demanded by his
+particular sovereign state before she should consent to cut the Gordian
+knot of marriage.  And his state--the Honourable Dave remarked--was in
+the very forefront of enlightenment in this respect: practically all
+that she demanded was that ladies in Mrs. Spence's predicament should
+become, pro tempore, her citizens.  Married misery did not exist in the
+Honourable Dave's state, amongst her own bona fide citizens.  And, by a
+wise provision in the Constitution of our glorious American Union, no one
+state could tie the nuptial knot so tight that another state could not
+cut it at a blow.
+
+Six months' residence, and a whole year before the divorce could be
+granted!  Honora looked at the plush rocking-chair, the yellow-and-red
+carpet, the inevitable ice-water on the marble-topped table, and the
+picture of a lady the shape of a liqueur bottle playing tennis in the
+late eighties, and sighed.  For one who is sensitive to surroundings,
+that room was a torture chamber.
+
+"But Mr. Beckwith," she exclaimed, "I never could spend a year here!
+Isn't there a--house I could get that is a--a little--a little better
+furnished?  And then there is a certain publicity about staying at a
+hotel."
+
+The Honourable Dave might have been justly called the friend of ladies in
+a temporary condition of loneliness.  His mission in life was not merely
+that of a liberator, but his natural goodness led him to perform a
+hundred acts of kindness to make as comfortable as possible the purgatory
+of the unfortunates under his charge.  He was a man of a remarkable
+appearance, and not to be lightly forgotten.  His hair, above all,
+fascinated Honora, and she found her eyes continually returning to it.
+So incredibly short it was, and so incredibly stiff, that it reminded her
+of the needle points on the cylinder of an old-fashioned music-box; and
+she wondered, if it were properly inserted, what would be the resultant
+melody.
+
+The Honourable Dave's head was like a cannon-ball painted white.  Across
+the top of it (a blemish that would undoubtedly have spoiled the tune)
+was a long scar,--a relic of one of the gentleman's many personal
+difficulties.  He who made the sear, Honora reflected, must have been a
+strong man.  The Honourable Dave, indeed, had fought his way upward
+through life to the Congress of the United States; and many were the
+harrowing tales of frontier life he told Honora in the long winter
+evenings when the blizzards came down the river valley.  They would fill
+a book; unfortunately, not this book.  The growing responsibilities of
+taking care of the lonely ladies that came in increasing numbers to
+Salomon City from the effeter portions of the continent had at length
+compelled him to give up his congressional career.  The Honourable Dave
+was unmarried; and, he told Honora, not likely to become so.  He was thus
+at once human and invulnerable, a high priest dedicated to freedom.
+
+It is needless to say that the plush rocking-chair and the picture of the
+liqueur-bottle lady did not jar on his sensibilities.  Like an eminent
+physician who has never himself experienced neurosis, the Honourable Dave
+firmly believed that he understood the trouble from which his client was
+suffering.  He had seen many cases of it in ladies from the Atlantic
+coast: the first had surprised him, no doubt.  Salomon City, though it
+contained the great Boon, was not esthetic.  Being a keen student of
+human nature, he rightly supposed that she would not care to join the
+colony, but he thought it his duty to mention that there was a colony.
+
+Honora repeated the word.
+
+"Out there," he said, waving his cigar to the westward, "some of the
+ladies have ranches."  Some of the gentlemen, too, he added, for it
+appeared that exiles were not confined to one sex.  "It's social--a
+little too social, I guess," declared Mr. Beckwith, "for you."  A
+delicate compliment of differentiation that Honora accepted gravely.
+"They've got a casino, and they burn a good deal of electricity first
+and last.  They don't bother Salomon City much.  Once in a while, in the
+winter, they come in a bunch to the theatre.  Soon as I looked at you I
+knew you wouldn't want to go there."
+
+Her exclamation was sufficiently eloquent.
+
+"I've got just the thing for you," he said.  "It looks a little as if
+I was reaching out into the sanitarium business.  Are you acquainted by
+any chance with Mrs. Boutwell, who married a fellow named Waterford?"
+he asked, taking momentarily out of his mouth the cigar he was smoking
+by permission.
+
+Honora confessed, with no great enthusiasm, that she knew the present
+Mrs. Waterford.  Not the least of her tribulations had been to listen to
+a partial recapitulation, by the Honourable Dave, of the ladies he had
+assisted to a transfer of husbands.  What, indeed, had these ladies to do
+with her?  She felt that the very mention of them tended to soil the pure
+garments of her martyrdom.
+
+"What I was going to say was this," the Honourable Dave continued.
+"Mrs. Boutwell--that is to say Mrs. Waterford--couldn't stand this hotel
+any more than you, and she felt like you do about the colony, so she
+rented a little house up on Wylie Street and furnished it from the East.
+I took the furniture off her hands: it's still in the house, by the way,
+which hasn't been rented.  For I figured it out that another lady would
+be coming along with the same notions.  Now you can look at the house any
+time you like."
+
+Although she had to overcome the distaste of its antecedents, the house,
+or rather the furniture, was too much of a find in Salomon City to be
+resisted.  It had but six rooms, and was of wood, and painted grey, like
+its twin beside it.  But Mrs. Waterford had removed the stained-glass
+window-lights in the front door, deftly hidden the highly ornamental
+steam radiators, and made other eliminations and improvements, including
+the white bookshelves that still contained the lady's winter reading
+fifty or more yellow-and-green-backed French novels and plays.  Honora's
+first care, after taking possession, was to order her maid to remove
+these from her sight: but it is to be feared that they found their way,
+directly, to Mathilde's room.  Honora would have liked to fumigate the
+house; and yet, at the same time, she thanked her stars for it.  Mr.
+Beekwith obligingly found her a cook, and on Thursday evening she sat
+down to supper in her tiny dining room.  She had found a temporary haven,
+at last.
+
+Suddenly she remembered that it was an anniversary.  One week ago that
+day, in the old garden at Beaulieu, had occurred the momentous event that
+had changed the current of her life!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+WYLIE STREET
+
+There was a little spindle-supported porch before Honora's front door,
+and had she chosen she might have followed the example of her neighbours
+and sat there in the evenings.  She preferred to watch the life about her
+from the window-seat in the little parlour.  The word exile suggests,
+perhaps, to those who have never tried it, empty wastes, isolation,
+loneliness.  She had been prepared for these things, and Wylie Street was
+a shock to her: in sending her there at this crisis in her life fate had
+perpetrated nothing less than a huge practical joke.  Next door, for
+instance, in the twin house to hers, flaunted in the face of liberal
+divorce laws, was a young couple with five children.  Honora counted
+them, from the eldest ones that ran over her little grass plot on their
+way to and from the public school, to the youngest that spent much of his
+time gazing skyward from a perambulator on the sidewalk.  Six days of the
+week, about six o'clock in the evening, there was a celebration in the
+family.  Father came home from work!  He was a smooth-faced young man
+whom a fortnight in the woods might have helped wonderfully--a clerk in
+the big department store.
+
+He radiated happiness.  When opposite Honora's front door he would open
+his arms--the signal for a race across her lawn.  Sometimes it was the
+little girl, with pigtails the colour of pulled molasses candy, who won
+the prize of the first kiss: again it was her brother, a year her junior;
+and when he was raised it was seen that the seat of his trousers was
+obviously double.  But each of the five received a reward, and the baby
+was invariably lifted out of the perambulator.  And finally there was a
+conjugal kiss on the spindled porch.
+
+The wife was a roly-poly little body.  In the mornings, at the side
+windows, Honora heard her singing as she worked, and sometimes the sun
+struck with a blinding flash the pan she was in the act of shining.  And
+one day she looked up and nodded and smiled.  Strange indeed was the
+effect upon our heroine of that greeting!  It amazed Honora herself.  A
+strange current ran through her and left her hot, and even as she smiled
+and nodded back, unbidden tears rose scalding to her eyes.  What was it?
+Why was it?
+
+She went downstairs to the little bookcase, filled now with volumes that
+were not trash.  For Hugh's sake, she would try to improve herself this
+winter by reading serious things.  But between her eyes and the book was
+the little woman's smile.  A month before, at Newport, how little she
+would have valued it.
+
+One morning, as Honora was starting out for her lonely walk--that usually
+led her to the bare clay banks of the great river--she ran across her
+neighbour on the sidewalk.  The little woman was settling the baby for
+his airing, and she gave Honora the same dazzling smile.
+
+"Good morning, Mrs. Spence," she said.
+
+"Good morning," replied Honora, and in her strange confusion she leaned
+over the carriage.  "Oh, what a beautiful baby!"
+
+"Isn't he!" cried the little woman.  "Of all of 'em, I think he's the
+prize.  His father says so.  I guess," she added, "I guess it was because
+I didn't know so much about 'em when they first began to come.  You take
+my word for it, the best way is to leave 'em alone.  Don't dandle 'em.
+It's hard to keep your hands off 'em, but it's right."
+
+"I'm sure of it," said Honora, who was very red.
+
+They made a strange contrast as they stood on that new street, with its
+new vitrified brick paving and white stone curbs, and new little trees
+set out in front of new little houses: Mrs. Mayo (for such, Honora's cook
+had informed her, was her name) in a housekeeper's apron and a
+shirtwaist, and Honora, almost a head taller, in a walking costume of
+dark grey that would have done justice to Fifth Avenue.  The admiration
+in the little woman's eyes was undisguised.
+
+"You're getting a bill, I hear," she said, after a moment.
+
+"A bill?" repeated Honora.
+
+"A bill of divorce," explained Mrs. Mayo.
+
+Honora was conscious of conflicting emotions: astonishment, resentment,
+and--most curiously--of relief that the little woman knew it.
+
+"Yes," she answered.
+
+But Mrs. Mayo did not appear to notice or resent her brevity.
+
+"I took a fancy to you the minute I saw you," she said.  "I can't say as
+much for the other Easterner that was here last year.  But I made up my
+mind that it must be a mighty mean man who would treat you badly."
+
+Honora stood as though rooted to the pavement.  She found a reply
+impossible.
+
+"When I think of my luck," her neighbour continued, "I'm almost ashamed.
+We were married on fifteen dollars a week.  Of course there have been
+trials, we must always expect that; and we've had to work hard, but--it
+hasn't hurt us."  She paused and looked up at Honora, and added
+contritely: "There! I shouldn't have said anything.  It's mean of me to
+talk of my happiness.  I'll drop in some afternoon--if you'll let me--
+when I get through my work," said the little woman.
+
+"I wish you would," replied Honora.
+
+She had much to think of on her walk that morning, and new resolutions to
+make.  Here was happiness growing and thriving, so far as she could see,
+without any of that rarer nourishment she had once thought so necessary.
+And she had come two thousand miles to behold it.
+
+She walked many miles, as a part of the regimen and discipline to which
+she had set herself.  Her haunting horror in this place, as she thought
+of the colony of which Mr. Beckwith had spoken and of Mrs. Boutwell's row
+of French novels, was degeneration.  She was resolved to return to
+Chiltern a better and a wiser and a truer woman, unstained by the ordeal.
+At the outskirts of the town she halted by the river's bank, breathing
+deeply of the pure air of the vast plains that surrounded her.
+
+She was seated that afternoon at her desk in the sitting-room upstairs
+when she heard the tinkle of the door-bell, and remembered her
+neighbour's promise to call.  With something of a pang she pushed back
+her chair.  Since the episode of the morning, the friendship of the
+little woman had grown to have a definite value; for it was no small
+thing, in Honora's situation, to feel the presence of a warm heart next
+door.  All day she had been thinking of Mrs. Mayo and her strange
+happiness, and longing to talk with her again, and dreading it.  And
+while she was bracing herself for the trial Mathilde entered with a card.
+
+"Tell Mrs. Mayo I shall be down in a minute," she said.
+
+It was not a lady, Mathilde replied, but a monsieur.
+
+Honora took the card.  For a long time she sat staring at it, while
+Mathilde waited.  It read:
+
+                         Mr. Peter Erwin.
+
+
+"Madame will see monsieur?"
+
+A great sculptor once said to the statesman who was to be his model:
+"Wear your old coat.  There is as much of a man in the back of his old
+coat, I think, as there is in his face."  As Honora halted on the
+threshold, Peter was standing looking out of the five-foot plate-glass
+window, and his back was to her.
+
+She was suddenly stricken.  Not since she had been a child, not even in
+the weeks just passed, had she felt that pain.  And as a child, self-pity
+seized her--as a lost child, when darkness is setting in, and the will
+fails and distance appalls.  Scalding tears welled into her eyes as she
+seized the frame of the door, but it must have been her breathing that he
+heard.  He turned and crossed the room to her as she had known he would,
+and she clung to him as she had so often done in days gone by when, hurt
+and bruised, he had rescued and soothed her.  For the moment, the
+delusion that his power was still limitless prevailed, and her faith
+whole again, so many times had he mended a world all awry.
+
+He led her to the window-seat and gently disengaged her hands from his
+shoulders and took one of them and held it between his own.  He did not
+speak, for his was a rare intuition; and gradually her hand ceased to
+tremble, and the uncontrollable sobs that shook her became less frequent.
+
+"Why did you come?  Why did you come?" she cried.
+
+"To see you, Honora."
+
+"But you might have--warned me."
+
+"Yes," he said, "it's true, I might."
+
+She drew her hand away, and gazed steadfastly at his face.
+
+"Why aren't you angry?" she said.  "You don't believe in what I have
+done--you don't sympathize with it--you don't understand it."
+
+"I have come here to try," he said.
+
+She shook her head.
+
+"You can't--you can't--you never could."
+
+"Perhaps," he answered, "it may not be so difficult as you think."
+
+Grown calmer, she considered this.  What did he mean by it? to imply a
+knowledge of herself?
+
+"It will be useless," she said inconsequently.
+
+"No," he said, "it will not be useless."
+
+She considered this also, and took the broader meaning that such acts are
+not wasted.
+
+"What do you intend to try to do?" she asked.
+
+He smiled a little.
+
+"To listen to as much as you care to tell me, Honora."
+
+She looked at him again, and an errant thought slipped in between her
+larger anxieties.  Wherever he went, how extraordinarily he seemed to
+harmonize with his surroundings.  At Silverdale, and in the drawing-room
+of the New York house, and in the little parlour in this far western
+town.  What was it?  His permanence?  Was it his power?  She felt that,
+but it was a strange kind of power--not like other men's.  She felt, as
+she sat there beside him, that his was a power more difficult to combat.
+That to defeat it was at once to make it stronger, and to grow weaker.
+She summoned her pride, she summoned her wrongs: she summoned the ego
+which had winged its triumphant flight far above his kindly, disapproving
+eye.  He had the ability to make her taste defeat in the very hour of
+victory.  And she knew that, when she fell, he would be there in his
+strength to lift her up.
+
+"Did--did they tell you to come?" she asked.
+
+"There was no question of that, Honora.  I was away when--when they
+learned you were here.  As soon as I returned, I came."
+
+"Tell me how they feel," she said, in a low voice.
+
+"They think only of you.  And the thought that you are unhappy
+overshadows all others.  They believe that it is to them you should have
+come, if you were in trouble instead of coming here."
+
+"How could I?" she cried.  "How can you ask?  That is what makes it so
+hard, that I cannot be with them now.  But I should only have made them
+still more unhappy, if I had gone.  They would not have understood--they
+cannot understand who have every reason to believe in marriage, why those
+to whom it has been a mockery and a torture should be driven to divorce."
+
+"Why divorce?" he said.
+
+"Do you mean--do you mean that you wish me to give you the reasons why I
+felt justified in leaving my husband?"
+
+"Not unless you care to," he replied.  "I have no right to demand them.
+I only ask you to remember, Honora, that you have not explained these
+reasons very clearly in your letters to your aunt and uncle.  They do not
+understand them.  Your uncle was unable, on many accounts, to come here;
+and he thought that--that as an old friend, you might be willing to talk
+to me."
+
+"I can't live with--with my husband," she cried.  "I don't love him, and
+he doesn't love me.  He doesn't know what love is."
+
+Peter Erwin glanced at her, but she was too absorbed then to see the
+thing in his eyes.  He made no comment.
+
+"We haven't the same tastes, nor--nor the same way of looking at things--
+the same views about making money--for instance.  We became absolute
+strangers.  What more is there to say?" she added, a little defiantly.
+
+"Your husband committed no--flagrant offence against you?"  he inquired.
+
+"That would have made him human, at least," she cried.  "It would have
+proved that he could feel--something.  No, all he cares for in the world
+is to make money, and he doesn't care how he makes it.  No woman with an
+atom of soul can live with a man like that."
+
+If Peter Erwin deemed this statement a trifle revolutionary, he did not
+say so.
+
+"So you just--left him," he said.
+
+"Yes," said Honora.  "He didn't care.  He was rather relieved than
+otherwise.  If I had lived with him till I died, I couldn't have made him
+happy."
+
+"You tried, and failed," said Peter.
+
+She flushed.
+
+"I couldn't have made him happier," she declared,
+correcting herself.  "He has no conception of what real happiness is.  He
+thinks he is happy,-he doesn't need me.  He'll be much more--contented
+without me.  I have nothing against him.  I was to blame for marrying
+him, I know.  But I have only one life to live, and I can't throw it
+away, Peter, I can't.  And I can't believe that a woman and a man were
+intended to live together without love.  It is too horrible.  Surely that
+isn't your idea of marriage!"
+
+"My idea of marriage isn't worth very much, I'm afraid," he said.
+"If I talked about it, I should have to confine myself to theories and--
+and dreams."
+
+"The moment I saw your card, Peter, I knew why you had come here," she
+said, trying to steady her voice.  "It was to induce me to go back to my
+husband.  You don't know how it hurts me to give you pain.  I love you--
+I love you as I love Uncle Tom and Aunt Mary.  You are a part of me.  But
+oh, you can't understand!  I knew you could not.  You have never made any
+mistakes--you have never lived.  It is useless.  I won't go back to him.
+If you stayed here for weeks you could not make me change my mind."
+
+He was silent.
+
+"You think that I could have prevented--this, if I had been less
+selfish," she said.
+
+"Where you are concerned, Honora, I have but one desire," he answered,
+"and that is to see you happy--in the best sense of the term.  If I could
+induce you to go back and give your husband another trial, I should
+return with a lighter heart.  You ask me whether I think you have been
+selfish.  I answer frankly that I think you have.  I don't pretend to say
+your husband has not been selfish also.  Neither of you have ever tried,
+apparently, to make your marriage a success.  It can't be done without an
+honest effort.  You have abandoned the most serious and sacred enterprise
+in the world as lightly as though it had been a piece of embroidery.  All
+that I can gather from your remarks is that you have left your husband
+because you have grown tired of him."
+
+"Yes," said Honora, "and you can never realize how tired, unless you knew
+him as I did.  When love dies, it turns into hate."
+
+He rose, and walked to the other end of the room, and turned.
+
+"Could you be induced," he said, "for the sake of your aunt and uncle, if
+not for your own, to consider a legal separation?"
+
+For an instant she stared at him hopelessly, and then she buried her face
+in her hands.
+
+"No," she cried.  "No, I couldn't.  You don't know what you ask."
+
+He went to her, and laid his hand lightly on her shoulder.
+
+"I think I do," he said.
+
+There was a moment's tense silence, and then she got to her feet and
+looked at him proudly.
+
+"Yes," she cried, "it is true.  And I am not ashamed of it.  I have
+discovered what love is, and what life is, and I am going to take them
+while I can."
+
+She saw the blood slowly leave his face, and his hands tighten.  It was
+not until then that she guessed at the depth of his wound, and knew that
+it was unhealed.  For him had been reserved this supreme irony, that he
+should come here to plead for her husband and learn from her own lips
+that she loved another man.  She was suddenly filled with awe, though he
+turned away from her that she might not see his face: And she sought in
+vain for words.  She touched his hand, fearfully, and now it was he who
+trembled.
+
+"Peter," she exclaimed, "why do you bother with me?  I--I am what I am.
+I can't help it.  I was made so.  I cannot tell you that I am sorry for
+what I have done--for what I am going to do.  I will not lie to you--and
+you forced me to speak.  I know that you don't understand, and that I
+caused you pain, and that I shall cause--them pain.  It may be
+selfishness--I don't know.  God alone knows.  Whatever it is, it is
+stronger than I.  It is what I am.  Though I were to be thrown into
+eternal fire I would not renounce it."
+
+She looked at him again, and her breath caught.  While she had been
+speaking, he had changed.  There was a fire in his eyes she had never
+seen before, in all the years she had known him.
+
+"Honora," he said quietly, "the man who has done this is a scoundrel."
+
+She stared at him, doubting her senses, her pupils wide with terror.
+
+"How dare you, Peter!  How dare you!" she cried.
+
+"I dare to speak the truth," he said, and crossed the room to where his
+hat was lying and picked it up.  She watched him as in a trance.  Then he
+came back to her.
+
+"Some day, perhaps, you will forgive me for saying that, Honora.  I hope
+that day will come, although I shall never regret having said it.  I have
+caused you pain.  Sometimes, it seems, pain is unavoidable.  I hope you
+will remember that, with the exception of your aunt and uncle, you have
+no better friend than I.  Nothing can alter that friendship, wherever you
+go, whatever you do.  Goodby."
+
+He caught her hand, held it for a moment in his own, and the door had
+closed before she realized that he had gone.  For a few moments she stood
+motionless where he had left her, and then she went slowly up the stairs
+to her own room .  .  .  .
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+THE PRICE OF FREEDOM
+
+Had he, Hugh Chiltern, been anathematized from all the high pulpits of
+the world, Honora's belief in him could not have been shaken.  Ivanhoe
+and the Knights of the Round Table to the contrary, there is no chivalry
+so exalted as that of a woman who loves, no courage higher, no endurance
+greater.  Her knowledge is complete; and hers the supreme faith that is
+unmoved by calumny and unbelief.  She alone knows.  The old Chiltern did
+not belong to her: hers was the new man sprung undefiled from the sacred
+fire of their love; and in that fire she, too, had been born again.
+Peter--even Peter had no power to share such a faith, though what he had
+said of Chiltern had wounded her--wounded her because Peter, of all
+others, should misjudge and condemn him.  Sometimes she drew consolation
+from the thought that Peter had never seen him.  But she knew he could
+not understand him, or her, or what they had passed through: that kind of
+understanding comes alone through experience.
+
+In the long days that followed she thought much about Peter, and failed
+to comprehend her feelings towards him.  She told herself that she ought
+to hate him for what he had so cruelly said, and at times indeed her
+resentment was akin to hatred: again, his face rose before her as she had
+seen it when he had left her, and she was swept by an incomprehensible
+wave of tenderness and reverence.  And yet--paradox of paradoxes--
+Chiltern possessed her!
+
+On the days when his letters came it was as his emissary that the sun
+shone to give her light in darkness, and she went about the house with a
+song on her lips.  They were filled, these letters, with an elixir of
+which she drank thirstily to behold visions, and the weariness of her
+exile fell away.  The elixir of High Purpose.  Never was love on such a
+plane!  He lifting her,--no marvel in this; and she--by a magic power of
+levitation at which she never ceased to wonder--sustaining him.  By her
+aid he would make something of himself which would be worthy of her.  At
+last he had the incentive to enable him to take his place in the world.
+He pictured their future life at Grenoble until her heart was strained
+with yearning for it to begin.  Here would be duty,--let him who would
+gainsay it, duty and love combined with a wondrous happiness.  He at a
+man's labour, she at a woman's; labour not for themselves alone, but for
+others.  A paradise such as never was heard of--a God-fearing paradise,
+and the reward of courage.
+
+He told her he could not go to Grenoble now and begin the life without
+her.  Until that blessed time he would remain a wanderer, avoiding the
+haunts of men.  First he had cruised in the 'Folly, and then camped and
+shot in Canada; and again, as winter drew on apace, had chartered another
+yacht, a larger one, and sailed away for the West Indies, whence the
+letters came, stamped in strange ports, and sometimes as many as five
+together.  He, too, was in exile until his regeneration should begin.
+
+Well he might be at such a time.  One bright day in early winter Honora,
+returning from her walk across the bleak plains in the hope of letters,
+found newspapers and periodicals instead, addressed in an unknown hand.
+It matters not whose hand: Honora never sought to know.  She had long
+regarded as inevitable this acutest phase of her martyrdom, and the long
+nights of tears when entire paragraphs of the loathed stuff she had
+burned ran ceaselessly in her mind.  Would she had burned it before
+reading it!  An insensate curiosity had seized her, and she had read
+and read again until it was beyond the reach of fire.
+
+Save for its effect upon Honora, it is immaterial to this chronicle.  It
+was merely the heaviest of her heavy payments for liberty.  But what, she
+asked herself shamefully, would be its effect upon Chiltern?  Her face
+burned that she should doubt his loyalty and love; and yet--the question
+returned.  There had been a sketch of Howard, dwelling upon the
+prominence into which he had sprung through his connection with Mr. Wing.
+There had been a sketch of her; and how she had taken what the writer was
+pleased to call Society by storm: it had been intimated, with a cruelty
+known only to writers of such paragraphs, that ambition to marry a
+Chiltern had been her motive!  There had been a sketch of Chiltern's
+career, in carefully veiled but thoroughly comprehensible language, which
+might have made a Bluebeard shudder.  This, of course, she bore best of
+all; or, let it be said rather, that it cost her the least suffering.
+Was it not she who had changed and redeemed him?
+
+What tortured her most was the intimation that Chiltern's family
+connections were bringing pressure to bear upon him to save him from this
+supremest of all his follies.  And when she thought of this the strange
+eyes and baffling expression of Mrs. Grainger rose before her.  Was it
+true?  And if true, would Chiltern resist, even as she, Honora, had
+resisted, loyally?  Might this love for her not be another of his mad
+caprices?
+
+How Honora hated herself for the thought that thus insistently returned
+at this period of snows and blasts!  It was January.  Had he seen the
+newspapers?  He had not, for he was cruising: he had, for of course they
+had been sent him.  And he must have received, from his relatives,
+protesting letters.  A fortnight passed, and her mail contained nothing
+from him!  Perhaps something had happened to his yacht!  Visions of
+shipwreck cause her to scan the newspapers for storms at sea,--but the
+shipwreck that haunted her most was that of her happiness.  How easy it
+is to doubt in exile, with happiness so far away!  One morning, when the
+wind dashed the snow against her windows, she found it impossible to
+rise.
+
+If the big doctor suspected the cause of her illness, Mathilde knew it.
+The maid tended her day and night, and sought, with the tact of her
+nation, to console and reassure her.  The little woman next door came and
+sat by her bedside.  Cruel and infinitely happy little woman, filled
+with compassion, who brought delicacies in the making of which she had
+spent precious hours, and which Honora could not eat!  The Lord, when he
+had made Mrs. Mayo, had mercifully withheld the gift of imagination.  One
+topic filled her, she lived to one end: her Alpha and Omega were husband
+and children, and she talked continually of their goodness and badness,
+of their illnesses, of their health, of their likes and dislikes, of
+their accomplishments and defects, until one day a surprising thing
+happened.  Surprising for Mrs. Mayo.
+
+"Oh, don't!" cried Honora, suddenly.  "Oh, don't!  I can't bear it."
+
+What is it?" cried Mrs. Mayo, frightened out of her wits.  "A turn?
+Shall I telephone for the doctor?"
+
+"No," relied Honora, "but--but I can't talk any more--to-day."
+
+She apologized on the morrow, as she held Mrs. Mayo's hand.  "It--it was
+your happiness," she said; "I was unstrung.  I couldn't listen to it.
+Forgive me."
+
+The little woman burst into tears, and kissed her as she sat in bed.
+
+"Forgive you, deary!" she cried.  "I never thought."
+
+"It has been so easy for you," Honora faltered.
+
+"Yes, it has.  I ought to thank God, and I do--every night."
+
+She looked long and earnestly, through her tears, at the young lady from
+the far away East as she lay against the lace pillows, her paleness
+enhanced by the pink gown, her dark hair in two great braids on her
+shoulders.
+
+"And to think how pretty you are!" she exclaimed.
+
+It was thus she expressed her opinion of mankind in general, outside of
+her own family circle.  Once she had passionately desired beauty, the
+high school and the story of Helen of Troy notwithstanding.  Now she
+began to look at it askance, as a fatal gift; and to pity, rather than
+envy, its possessors.
+
+As a by-industry, Mrs. Mayo raised geraniums and carnations in her front
+cellar, near the furnace, and once in a while Peggy, with the pulled-
+molasses hair, or chubby Abraham Lincoln, would come puffing up Honora's
+stairs under the weight of a flower-pot and deposit it triumphantly on
+the table at Honora's bedside.  Abraham Lincoln did not object to being
+kissed: he had, at least, grown to accept the process as one of the
+unaccountable mysteries of life.  But something happened to him one
+afternoon, on the occasion of his giving proof of an intellect which may
+eventually bring him, in the footsteps of his great namesake, to the
+White House.  Entering Honora's front door, he saw on the hall table a
+number of letters which the cook (not gifted with his brains) had left
+there.  He seized them in one fat hand, while with the other he hugged
+the flower-pot to his breast, mounted the steps, and arrived, breathless
+but radiant, on the threshold of the beautiful lady's room, and there
+calamity overtook him in the shape of one of the thousand articles which
+are left on the floor purposely to trip up little boys.
+
+Great was the disaster.  Letters, geranium, pieces of flower-pot, a
+quantity of black earth, and a howling Abraham Lincoln bestrewed the
+floor.  And similar episodes, in his brief experience with this world,
+had not brought rewards.  It was from sheer amazement that his tears
+ceased to flow--amazement and lack of breath--for the beautiful lady
+sprang up and seized him in her arms, and called Mathilde, who eventually
+brought a white and gold box.  And while Abraham sat consuming its
+contents in ecstasy he suddenly realized that the beautiful lady had
+forgotten him.  She had picked up the letters, every one, and stood
+reading them with parted lips and staring eyes.
+
+It was Mathilde who saved him from a violent illness, closing the box and
+leading him downstairs, and whispered something incomprehensible in his
+ear as she pointed him homeward.
+
+"Le vrai medecin--c'est toi, mon mignon."
+
+There was a reason why Chiltern's letters had not arrived, and great were
+Honora's self-reproach and penitence.  With a party of Englishmen he had
+gone up into the interior of a Central American country to visit some
+famous ruins.  He sent her photographs of them, and of the Englishmen,
+and of himself.  Yes, he had seen the newspapers.  If she had not seen
+them, she was not to read them if they came to her.  And if she had, she
+was to remember that their love was too sacred to be soiled, and too
+perfect to be troubled.  As for himself, as she knew, he was a changed
+man, who thought of his former life with loathing.  She had made him
+clean, and filled him with a new strength.
+
+The winter passed.  The last snow melted on the little grass plot, which
+changed by patches from brown to emerald green; and the children ran over
+it again, and tracked it in the soft places, but Honora only smiled.
+Warm, still days were interspersed between the windy ones, when the sky
+was turquoise blue, when the very river banks were steeped in new
+colours, when the distant, shadowy mountains became real.  Liberty ran
+riot within her.  If he thought with loathing on his former life, so did
+she.  Only a year ago she had been penned up in a New York street in that
+prison-house of her own making, hemmed in by surroundings which she had
+now learned to detest from her soul.
+
+A few more penalties remained to be paid, and the heaviest of these was
+her letter to her aunt and uncle.  Even as they had accepted other things
+in life, so had they accepted the hardest of all to bear--Honora's
+divorce.  A memorable letter her Uncle Tom had written her after Peter's
+return to tell them that remonstrances were useless!  She was their
+daughter in all but name, and they would not forsake her.  When she
+should have obtained her divorce, she should go back to them.  Their
+house, which had been her home, should always remain so.  Honora wept
+and pondered long over that letter.  Should she write and tell them the
+truth, as she had told Peter?  It was not because she was ashamed of the
+truth that she had kept it from them throughout the winter: it was
+because she wished to spare them as long as possible.  Cruellest
+circumstance of all, that a love so divine as hers should not be
+understood by them, and should cause them infinite pain!
+
+The weeks and months slipped by.  Their letters, after that first one,
+were such as she had always received from them: accounts of the weather,
+and of the doings of her friends at home.  But now the time was at hand
+when she must prepare them for her marriage with Chiltern; for they would
+expect her in St. Louis, and she could not go there.  And if she wrote
+them, they might try to stop the marriage, or at least to delay it for
+some years.
+
+Was it possible that a lingering doubt remained in her mind that to
+postpone her happiness would perhaps be to lose it?  In her exile she had
+learned enough to know that a divorced woman is like a rudderless ship at
+sea, at the mercy of wind and wave and current.  She could not go back to
+her life in St. Louis: her situation there would be unbearable: her
+friends would not be the same friends.  No, she had crossed her Rubicon
+and destroyed the bridge deep within her she felt that delay would be
+fatal, both to her and Chiltern.  Long enough had the banner of their
+love been trailed in the dust.
+
+Summer came again, with its anniversaries and its dragging, interminable
+weeks: demoralizing summer, when Mrs. Mayo quite frankly appeared at her
+side window in a dressing sacque, and Honora longed to do the same.  But
+time never stands absolutely still, and the day arrived when Mr. Beckwith
+called in a carriage.  Honora, with an audibly beating heart, got into
+it, and they drove down town, past the department store where Mr. Mayo
+spent his days, and new blocks of banks and business houses that flanked
+the wide street, where the roaring and clanging of the ubiquitous trolley
+cars resounded.
+
+Honora could not define her sensations--excitement and shame and fear and
+hope and joy were so commingled.  The colours of the red and yellow brick
+had never been so brilliant in the sunshine.  They stopped before the new
+court-house and climbed the granite steps.  In her sensitive state,
+Honora thought that some of the people paused to look after them, and
+that some were smiling.  One woman, she thought, looked compassionate.
+Within, they crossed the marble pavement, the Honourable Dave handed her
+into an elevator, and when it stopped she followed him as in a dream to
+an oak-panelled door marked with a legend she did not read.  Within was
+an office, with leather chairs, a large oak desk, a spittoon, and
+portraits of grave legal gentlemen on the wall.
+
+"This is Judge Whitman's office," explained the Honourable Dave.  "He'll
+let you stay here until the case is called."
+
+"Is he the judge--before whom--the case is to be tried?" asked Honora.
+
+"He surely is," answered the Honourable Dave.  "Whitman's a good friend
+of mine.  In fact, I may say, without exaggeration, I had something to do
+with his election.  Now you mustn't get flustered," he added.  "It isn't
+anything like as bad as goin' to the dentist.  It don't amount to shucks,
+as we used to say in Missouri."
+
+With these cheerful words of encouragement he slipped out of a side door
+into what was evidently the court room, for Honora heard a droning.
+After a long interval he reappeared and beckoned her with a crooked
+finger.  She arose and followed him into the court room.
+
+All was bustle and confusion there, and her counsel whispered that they
+were breaking up for the day.  The judge was stretching himself; several
+men who must have been lawyers, and with whom Mr. Beckwith was exchanging
+amenities behind the railing, were arranging their books and papers; some
+of the people were leaving, and others talking in groups about the room.
+The Honourable Dave whispered to the judge, a tall, lank, cadaverous
+gentleman with iron-grey hair, who nodded.  Honora was led forward.  The
+Honourable Dave, standing very close to the judge and some distance from
+her, read in a low voice something that she could not catch--supposedly
+the petition.  It was all quite as vague to Honora as the trial of the
+Jack of Hearts; the buzzing of the groups still continued around the
+court room, and nobody appeared in the least interested.  This was a
+comfort, though it robbed the ceremony of all vestige of reality.
+It seemed incredible that the majestic and awful Institution of the
+ages could be dissolved with no smoke or fire, with such infinite
+indifference, and so much spitting.  What was the use of all the pomp
+and circumstance and ceremony to tie the knot if it could be cut in
+the routine of a day's business?
+
+The solemn fact that she was being put under oath meant nothing to her.
+This, too, was slurred and mumbled.  She found herself, trembling,
+answering questions now from her counsel, now from the judge; and it is
+to be doubted to this day whether either heard her answers.  Most
+convenient and considerate questions they were.  When and where she was
+married, how long she had lived with her husband, what happened when they
+ceased to live together, and had he failed ever since to contribute to
+her support?  Mercifully, Mr. Beckwith was in the habit of coaching his
+words beforehand.  A reputable citizen of Salomon City was produced to
+prove her residence, and somebody cried out something, not loudly, in
+which she heard the name of Spence mentioned twice.  The judge said,
+"Take your decree," and picked up a roll of papers and walked away.
+Her knees became weak, she looked around her dizzily, and beheld the
+triumphant professional smile of the Honourable Dave Beckwith.
+
+"It didn't hurt much, did it?" he asked.  "Allow me to congratulate you."
+
+"Is it--is it all over?" she said, quite dazed.
+
+"Just like that," he said.  "You're free."
+
+"Free!" The word rang in her ears as she drove back to the little house
+that had been her home.  The Honourable Dave lifted his felt hat as he
+handed her out of the carriage, and said he would call again in the
+evening to see if he could do anything further for her.  Mathilde, who
+had been watching from the window, opened the door, and led her mistress
+into the parlour.
+
+"It's--it's all over, Mathilde," she said.
+
+"Mon dieu, madame," said Mathilde, "c'est simple comme bonjour!"
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Best way is to leave 'em alone.  Don't dandle 'em (babies)
+Every one, man or woman, has the right to happiness
+Fact should be written like fiction, and fiction like fact
+No reason why we should suffer all our lives for a mistake
+The days of useless martyrdom are past
+Those who walk on ice will slide against their wills
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A MODERN CHRONICLE
+
+By Winston Churchill
+
+
+Volume 7.
+
+
+XI.       IN WHICH IT IS ALL DONE OVER AGAIN
+XII.      THE ENTRANCE INTO EDEN
+XIII.     OF THE WORLD BEYOND THE GATES.
+XIV.      CONTAINING PHILOSOPHY FROM MR. GRAINGER
+XV.       THE PILLARS OF SOCIETY
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+IN WHICH IT IS ALL DONE OVER AGAIN
+
+All morning she had gazed on the shining reaches of the Hudson, their
+colour deepening to blue as she neared the sea.  A gold-bound volume of
+Shelley, with his name on the fly-leaf, lay in her lap.  And two lines
+she repeated softly to herself--two lines that held a vision:
+
+              "He was as the sun in his fierce youth,
+               As terrible and lovely as a tempest;"
+
+She summoned him out of the chaos of the past, and the past became the
+present, and he stood before her as though in the flesh.  Nay, she heard
+his voice, his laugh, she even recognized again the smouldering flames in
+his eyes as he glanced into hers, and his characteristic manners and
+gestures.  Honora wondered.  In vain, during those long months of exile
+had she tried to reconstruct him thus the vision in its entirety would
+not come: rare, fleeting, partial, and tantalizing glimpses she had been
+vouchsafed, it is true.  The whole of him had been withheld until this
+breathless hour before the dawn of her happiness.
+
+Yet, though his own impatient spirit had fared forth to meet her with
+this premature gift of his attributes, she had to fight the growing fear
+within her.  Now that the days of suffering were as they had not been,
+insistent questions dinned in her ears: was she entitled to the joys to
+come?  What had she done to earn them?  Had hers not been an attempt,
+on a gigantic scale, to cheat the fates?  Nor could she say whether this
+feeling were a wholly natural failure to grasp a future too big, or the
+old sense of the unreality of events that had followed her so
+persistently.
+
+The Hudson disappeared.  Factories, bridges, beflagged week-end resorts,
+ramshackle houses, and blocks of new buildings were scattered here and
+there.  The train was running on a causeway between miles of tenements
+where women and children, overtaken by lassitude, hung out of the
+windows: then the blackness of the tunnel, and Honora closed her eyes.
+Four minutes, three minutes, two minutes .  .  .  .  The motion ceased.
+At the steps of the car a uniformed station porter seized her bag; and
+she started to walk down the long, narrow platform.  Suddenly she halted.
+
+"Drop anything, Miss?" inquired the porter.
+
+"No," answered Honora, faintly.  He looked at her in concern, and she
+began to walk on again, more slowly.
+
+It had suddenly come over her that the man she was going to meet she
+scarcely knew!  Shyness seized her, a shyness that bordered on panic.
+And what was he really like, that she should put her whole trust in him?
+She glanced behind her: that way was closed: she had a mad desire to get
+away, to hide, to think.  It must have been an obsession that had
+possessed her all these months.  The porter was looking again, and he
+voiced her predicament.
+
+"There's only one way out, Miss."
+
+And then, amongst the figures massed behind the exit in the grill, she
+saw him, his face red-bronze with the sea tan, his crisp, curly head
+bared, his eyes alight with a terrifying welcome; and a tremor of a fear
+akin to ecstasy ran through her: the fear of the women of days gone by
+whose courage carried them to the postern or the strand, and fainted
+there.  She could have taken no step farther--and there was no need.  New
+strength flowed from the hand she held that was to carry her on and on.
+
+He spoke her name.  He led her passive, obedient, through the press to
+the side street, and then he paused and looked into her burning face.
+
+"I have you at last," he said.  "Are you happy?"
+
+"I don't know," she faltered.  "Oh, Hugh, it all seems so strange!
+I don't know what I have done."
+
+"I know," he said exultantly; "but to save my soul I can't believe it."
+
+She watched him, bewildered, while he put her maid into a cab, and by an
+effort roused herself.
+
+"Where are you going, Hugh?"
+
+"To get married," he replied promptly.
+
+She pulled down her veil.
+
+"Please be sensible," she implored.  "I've arranged to go to a hotel."
+
+"What hotel?"
+
+The--the Barnstable," she said.  The place had come to her memory on the
+train.  "It's very nice and--and quiet--so I've been told.  And I've
+telegraphed for my rooms."
+
+"I'll humour you this once," he answered, and gave the order.
+
+She got into the carriage.  It had blue cushions with the familiar smell
+of carriage upholstery, and the people in the street still hurried about
+their business as though nothing in particular were happening.  The
+horses started, and some forgotten key in her brain was touched as
+Chiltern raised her veil again.
+
+"You'll tear it, Hugh," she said, and perforce lifted it herself.  Her
+eyes met his--and she awoke.  Not to memories or regrets, but to the
+future, for the recording angel had mercifully destroyed his book.
+
+"Did you miss me?" she said.
+
+"Miss you!  My God, Honora, how can you ask?  When I look back upon these
+last months, I don't 'see how I ever passed through them.  And you are
+changed," he said.  "I could not have believed it possible, but you are.
+You are--you are finer."
+
+He had chosen his word exquisitely.  And then, as they trotted sedately
+through Madison Avenue, he strained her in his arms and kissed her.
+
+"Oh, Hugh!" she cried, scarlet, as she disengaged, herself, "you mustn't
+--here!"
+
+"You're free!" he exclaimed.  "You're mine at last!  I can't believe it!
+Look at me, and tell me so."
+
+She tried.
+
+"Yes," she faltered.
+
+"Yes--what?"
+
+"Yes.  I--I am yours."
+
+She looked out of the window to avoid those eyes.  Was this New York, or
+Jerusalem?  Were these the streets through which she had driven and trod
+in her former life?  Her whole soul cried out denial.  No episode, no
+accusing reminiscences stood out--not one: the very corners were changed.
+Would it all change back again if he were to lessen the insistent
+pressure on the hand in her lap.
+
+"Honora?"
+
+"Yes?" she answered, with a start.
+
+"You missed me?  Look at me and tell me the truth."
+
+"The truth!" she faltered, and shuddered.  The contrast was too great--
+the horror of it too great for her to speak of.  The pen of Dante had not
+been adequate.  "Don't ask me, Hugh," she begged, "I can't talk about it
+--I never shall be able to talk about it.  If I had not loved you, I
+should have died."
+
+How deeply he felt and understood and sympathized she knew by the
+quivering pressure on her hand.  Ah, if he had not!  If he had failed to
+grasp the meaning of her purgatory.
+
+"You are wonderful, Honora," was what he said in a voice broken by
+emotion.
+
+She thanked him with one fleeting, tearful glance that was as a grant of
+all her priceless possessions.  The carriage stopped, but it was some
+moments before they realized it.
+
+"You may come up in a little while," she whispered, "and lunch with me--
+if you like."
+
+"If I like!" he repeated.
+
+But she was on the sidewalk, following the bell boy into the cool,
+marble-lined area of the hotel.  A smiling clerk handed her a pen, and
+set the new universe to rocking.
+
+"Mrs. Leffingwell, I presume?  We have your telegram."
+
+Mrs. Leffingwell!  Who was that person?  For an instant she stood blankly
+holding the pen, and then she wrote rapidly, if a trifle unsteadily:
+"Mrs. Leffingwell and maid."  A pause.  Where was her home?  Then she
+added the words, "St. Louis."
+
+Her rooms were above the narrow canon of the side street, looking over
+the roofs of the inevitable brownstone fronts opposite.  While Mathilde,
+in the adjoining chamber, unpacked her bag, Honora stood gazing out of
+the sitting-room windows, trying to collect her thoughts.  Her spirits
+had unaccountably fallen, the sense of homelessness that had pursued her
+all these months overtaken her once more.  Never, never, she told
+herself, would she enter a hotel again alone; and when at last he came
+she clung to him with a passion that thrilled him the more because he
+could not understand it.
+
+"Hugh--you will care for me?" she cried.
+
+He kissed away her tears.  He could not follow her; he only knew that
+what he held to him was a woman such as he had never known before.
+Tender, and again strangely and fiercely tender: an instrument of such
+miraculous delicacy as to respond, quivering, to the lightest touch; an
+harmonious and perfect blending of strength and weakness, of joy and
+sorrow,--of all the warring elements in the world.  What he felt was the
+supreme masculine joy of possession.
+
+At last they sat down on either side of the white cloth the waiter had
+laid, for even the gods must eat.  Not that our deified mortals ate much
+on this occasion.  Vesta presided once more, and after the feast was over
+gently led them down the slopes until certain practical affairs began to
+take shape in the mind of the man.  Presently he looked at his watch, and
+then at the woman, and made a suggestion.
+
+"Marry you now--this of afternoon!" she cried, aghast.  "Hugh, are you in
+your right senses?"
+
+"Yes," he said, "I'm reasonable for the first time in my life."
+
+She laughed, and immediately became serious.  But when she sought to
+marshal her arguments, she found that they had fled.
+
+"Oh, but I couldn't," she answered.  "And besides, there are so many
+things I ought to do.  I--I haven't any clothes."
+
+But this was a plea he could not be expected to recognize.  He saw no
+reason why she could not buy as many as she wanted after the ceremony.
+
+"Is that all?" he demanded.
+
+"No--that isn't all.  Can't you see that--that we ought to wait, Hugh?"
+
+"No," he exclaimed,
+
+"No I can't see it.  I can only see that every moment of waiting would
+be a misery for us both.  I can only see that the situation, as it is
+to-day, is an intolerable one for you."
+
+She had not expected him to see this.
+
+"There are others to be thought of," she said, after a moment's
+hesitation.
+
+"What others?"
+
+The answer she should have made died on her lips.
+
+"It seems so-indecorous, Hugh."
+
+"Indecorous!" he cried, and pushed back his chair and rose.  "What's
+indecorous about it?  To leave you here alone in a hotel in New York
+would not only be indecorous, but senseless.  How long would you put it
+off?  a week--a month--a year?  Where would you go in the meantime, and
+what would you do?"
+
+"But your friends, Hugh--and mine?"
+
+"Friends!  What have they got to do with it?"
+
+It was the woman, now, who for a moment turned practical--and for the
+man's sake.  She loved, and the fair fabric of the future which they were
+to weave together, and the plans with which his letters had been filled
+and of which she had dreamed in exile, had become to-day as the stuff of
+which moonbeams are made.  As she looked up at him, eternity itself did
+not seem long enough for the fulfilment of that love.  But he?  Would the
+time not come when he would demand something more? and suppose that
+something were denied?  She tried to rouse herself, to think, to consider
+a situation in which her instinct had whispered just once--there must be
+some hidden danger: but the electric touch of his hand destroyed the
+process, and made her incapable of reason.
+
+"What should we gain by a week's or a fortnight's delay," he was saying,
+"except so much misery?"
+
+She looked around the hotel sitting-room, and tried to imagine the
+desolation of it, stripped of his presence.  Why not?  There was reason
+in what he said.  And yet, if she had known it, it was not to reason she
+yielded, but to the touch of his hand.
+
+"We will be married to-day," he decreed.  "I have planned it all.
+I have bought the 'Adhemar', the yacht which I chartered last winter.
+She is here.  We'll go off on her together, away from the world, for as
+long as you like.  And then," he ended triumphantly, "then we'll go back
+to Grenoble and begin our life."
+
+"And begin our life!" she repeated.  But it was not to him that she
+spoke.  "Hugh, I positively have to have some clothes."
+
+"Clothes!"  His voice expressed his contempt for the mundane thought.
+
+"Yes, clothes," she repeated resolutely.
+
+He looked at his watch once more.
+
+"Very well," he said, "we'll get 'em on the way."
+
+"On the way?" she asked.
+
+"We'll have to have a marriage license, I'm afraid," he explained
+apologetically.
+
+Honora grew crimson.  A marriage license!
+
+She yielded, of course.  Who could resist him?  Nor need the details of
+that interminable journey down the crowded artery of Broadway to the
+Centre of Things be entered into.  An ignoble errand, Honora thought; and
+she sat very still, with flushed cheeks, in the corner of the carriage.
+Chiltern's finer feelings came to her rescue.  He, too, resented this
+senseless demand of civilization as an indignity to their Olympian loves.
+And he was a man to chafe at all restraints.  But at last the odious
+thing was over, grim and implacable Law satisfied after he had compelled
+them to stand in line for an interminable period before his grill, and
+mingle with those whom he chose, in his ignorance, to call their peers.
+Honora felt degraded as they emerged with the hateful paper, bought at
+such a price.  The City Hall Park, with its moving streams of people,
+etched itself in her memory.
+
+"Leave me, Hugh," she said; "I will take this carriage--you must get
+another one."
+
+For once, he accepted his dismissal with comparative meekness.
+
+"When shall I come?" he asked.
+
+"She smiled a little, in spite of herself.
+
+"You may come for me at six o'clock," she replied.
+
+"Six o'clock!" he exclaimed; but accepted with resignation and closed the
+carriage door.  Enigmatical sex!
+
+Enigmatical sex indeed!  Honora spent a feverish afternoon, rest and
+reflection being things she feared.  An afternoon in familiar places; and
+(strangest of all facts to be recorded!) memories and regrets troubled
+her not at all.  Her old dressmakers, her old milliners, welcomed her
+as one risen, radiant, from the grave; risen, in their estimation, to
+a higher life.  Honora knew this, and was indifferent to the wealth of
+meaning that lay behind their discretion.  Milliners and dressmakers read
+the newspapers and periodicals--certain periodicals.  Well they knew that
+the lady they flattered was the future Mrs. Hugh Chiltern.
+
+Nothing whatever of an indelicate nature happened.  There was no mention
+of where to send the bill, or of whom to send it to.  Such things as she
+bought on the spot were placed in her carriage.  And happiest of all
+omissions, she met no one she knew.  The praise that Madame Barriere
+lavished on Honora's figure was not flattery, because the Paris models
+fitted her to perfection.  A little after five she returned to her hotel,
+to a Mathilde in a high state of suppressed excitement.  And at six, the
+appointed fateful hour, arrayed in a new street gown of dark green cloth,
+she stood awaiting him.
+
+He was no laggard.  The bell on the church near by was still singing from
+the last stroke when he knocked, flung open the door, and stood for a
+moment staring at her.  Not that she had been shabby when he had wished
+to marry her at noon: no self-respecting woman is ever shabby; not that
+her present costume had any of the elements of overdress; far from it.
+Being a woman, she had her thrill of triumph at his exclamation.  Diana
+had no need, perhaps, of a French dressmaker, but it is an open question
+whether she would have scorned them.  Honora stood motionless, but her
+smile for him was like the first quivering shaft of day.  He opened a
+box, and with a strange mixture of impetuosity and reverence came
+forward.  And she saw that he held in his hand a string of great,
+glistening pearls.
+
+"They were my mother's," he said.  "I have had them restrung--for you."
+
+"Oh, Hugh!" she cried.  She could find no words to express the tremor
+within.  And she stood passively, her eyes half closed, while he clasped
+the string around the lace collar that pressed the slender column of her
+neck and kissed her.
+
+Even the humble beings who work in hotels are responsive to unusual
+disturbances in the ether.  At the Barnstable, a gala note prevailed:
+bell boys, porters, clerk, and cashier, proud of their sudden wisdom,
+were wreathed in smiles.  A new automobile, in Chiltern's colours, with
+his crest on the panel, was panting beside the curb.
+
+"I meant to have had it this morning," he apologized as he handed her in,
+"but it wasn't ready in time."
+
+Honora heard him, and said something in reply.  She tried in vain to
+rouse herself from the lethargy into which she had fallen, to cast off
+the spell.  Up Fifth Avenue they sped, past meaningless houses, to the
+Park.  The crystal air of evening was suffused with the level evening
+light; and as they wound in and out under the spreading trees she caught
+glimpses across the shrubbery of the deepening blue of waters.  Pools of
+mystery were her eyes.
+
+The upper West Side is a definite place on the map, and full,
+undoubtedly, of palpitating human joys and sorrows.  So far as Honora was
+concerned, it might have been Bagdad.  The automobile had stopped before
+a residence, and she found herself mounting the steps at Chiltern's side.
+A Swedish maid opened the door.
+
+"Is Mr. White at home?" Chiltern asked.
+
+It seemed that "the Reverend Mr. White" was.  He appeared, a portly
+gentleman with frock coat and lawn tie who resembled the man in the moon.
+His head, like polished ivory, increased the beaming effect of his
+welcome, and the hand that pressed Honora's was large and soft and warm.
+But dreams are queer things, in which no events surprise us.
+
+The reverend gentleman, as he greeted Chiltern, pronounced his name with
+unction.  His air of hospitality, of good-fellowship, of taking the world
+as he found it, could not have been improved upon.  He made it apparent
+at once that nothing could surprise him.  It was the most natural
+circumstance in life that two people should arrive at his house in an
+automobile at half-past six in the evening and wish to get married: if
+they chose this method instead of the one involving awnings and policemen
+and uncomfortably-arrayed relations and friends, it was none of Mr.
+White's affair.  He led them into the Gothic sanctum at the rear of the
+house where the famous sermons were written that shook the sounding-board
+of the temple where the gentleman preached,--the sermons that sometimes
+got into the newspapers.  Mr. White cleared his throat.
+
+"I am--very familiar with your name, Mr. Chiltern," he said, "and it is
+a pleasure to be able to serve you, and the lady who is so shortly to be
+your wife.  Your servant arrived with your note at four o'clock.  Ten
+minutes later, and I should have missed him."
+
+And then Honora heard Chiltern saying somewhat coldly:--
+
+"In order to save time, Mr. White, I wish to tell you that Mrs.
+Leffingwell has been divorced--"
+
+The Reverend Mr. White put up a hand before him, and looked down at the
+carpet, as one who would not dwell upon painful things.
+
+"Unfortunate--ahem--mistakes will occur in life, Mr. Chiltern--in the
+best of lives," he replied.  "Say no more about it.  I am sure, looking
+at you both--"
+
+"Very well then," said Chiltern brusquely, "I knew you would have to
+know.  And here," he added, "is an essential paper."
+
+A few minutes later, in continuation of the same strange dream, Honora
+was standing at Chiltern's side and the Reverend Mr. White was addressing
+them: What he said--apart of it at least--seemed curiously familiar.
+Chiltern put a ring on a finger of her ungloved hand.  It was a supreme
+moment in her destiny--this she knew.  Between her responses she repeated
+it to herself, but the mighty fact refused to be registered.  And then,
+suddenly, rang out the words:
+
+     "Those whom God hath joined together let no man Put asunder."
+
+Those whom God hath joined together!  Mr. White was congratulating her.
+Other people were in the room--the minister's son, his wife, his brother-
+in-law.  She was in the street again, in the automobile, without knowing
+how she got there, and Chiltern close beside her in the limousine.
+
+"My wife!" he whispered.
+
+Was she?  Could it be true, be lasting, be binding for ever and ever?
+Her hand pressed his convulsively.
+
+"Oh, Hugh!" she cried, "care for me--stay by me forever.  Will you
+promise?"
+
+"I promise, Honora," he repeated.  "Henceforth we are one."
+
+Honora would have prolonged forever that honeymoon on summer seas.  In
+those blissful days she was content to sit by the hour watching him as,
+bareheaded in the damp salt breeze, he sailed the great schooner and gave
+sharp orders to the crew.  He was a man who would be obeyed, and even his
+flashes of temper pleased her.  He was her master, too, and she gloried
+in the fact.  By the aid of the precious light within her, she studied
+him.
+
+He loved her mightily, fiercely, but withal tenderly.  With her alone he
+was infinitely tender, and it seemed that something in him cried out for
+battle against the rest of the world.  He had his way, in port and out of
+it.  He brooked no opposition, and delighted to carry, against his
+captain's advice, more canvas than was wise when it blew heavily.  But
+the yacht, like a woman, seemed a creature of his will; to know no fear
+when she felt his guiding hand, even though the green water ran in the
+scuppers.
+
+And every day anew she scanned his face, even as he scanned the face of
+the waters.  What was she searching for?  To have so much is to become
+miserly, to fear lest a grain of the precious store be lost.  On the
+second day they had anchored, for an hour or two, between the sandy
+headlands of a small New England port, and she had stood on the deck
+watching his receding figure under the flag of the gasoline launch as it
+made its way towards the deserted wharves.  Beyond the wharves was an
+elm-arched village street, and above the verdure rose the white cupola of
+the house of some prosperous sea-captain of bygone times.  Honora had not
+wished to go ashore.  First he had begged, and then he had laughed as he
+had leaped into the launch.  She lay in a chaise longue, watching it
+swinging idly at the dock.
+
+The night before he had written letters and telegrams.  Once he had
+looked up at her as she sat with a book in her hand across the saloon,
+and caught her eyes.  She had been pretending not to watch him.
+
+"Wedding announcements," he said.
+
+And she had smiled back at him bravely.  Such was the first
+acknowledgment between them that the world existed.
+
+"A little late," he observed, smiling in his turn as he changed his pen,
+"but they'll have to make allowances for the exigencies of the situation.
+And they've been after me to settle down for so many years that they
+ought to be thankful to get them at all.  I've told them that after a
+decent period they may come to Grenoble--in the late autumn.  We don't
+want anybody before then, do we, Honora?"
+
+"No," she said faintly; and added, "I shall always be satisfied with you
+alone, Hugh."
+
+He laughed happily, and presently she went up on deck and stood with her
+face to the breeze.  There were no sounds save the musical beat of the
+water against the strakes, and the low hum of wind on the towering
+vibrant sails.  One moulten silver star stood out above all others.
+To the northward, somewhere beyond the spot where sea and sky met in the
+hidden kiss of night, was Newport,--were his relations and her friends.
+What did they think?  He, at least, had no anxieties about the world,
+why should she?  Their defiance of it had been no greater than that of
+an hundred others on whom it had smiled benignly.  But had not the others
+truckled more to its conventions?  Little she cared about it, indeed, and
+if he had turned the prow of the 'Adhemar' towards the unpeopled places
+of the earth, her joy would have been untroubled.
+
+One after another the days glided by, while with the sharpened senses
+of a great love she watched for a sign of the thing that slept in him--
+of the thing that had driven him home from his wanderings to re-create
+his life.  When it awoke, she would have to share him; now he was hers
+alone.  Her feelings towards this thing did not assume the proportions of
+jealousy or fear; they were merely alert, vaguely disquieting.  The
+sleeping thing was not a monster.  No, but it might grow into one,
+if its appetite were not satisfied, and blame her.
+
+She told herself that, had he lacked ambition, she could not have
+loved him, and did not stop to reflect upon the completeness of her
+satisfaction with the Viking.  He seemed, indeed, in these weeks, one
+whom the sea has marked for its own, and her delight in watching him as
+he moved about the boat never palled.  His nose reminded her of the prow
+of a ship of war, and his deep-set eyes were continually searching the
+horizon for an enemy.  Such were her fancies.  In the early morning when
+he donned his sleeveless bathing suit, she could never resist the
+temptation to follow him on deck to see him plunge into the cold ocean:
+it gave her a delightful little shiver--and he was made like one of the
+gods of Valhalla.
+
+She had discovered, too, in these intimate days, that he had the
+Northman's temperament; she both loved and dreaded his moods.  And
+sometimes, when the yacht glided over smoother seas, it was his pleasure
+to read to her, even poetry and the great epics.  That he should be fond
+of the cruel Scotch ballads she was not surprised; but his familiarity
+with the book of Job, and his love for it, astonished her.  It was a
+singular library that he had put on board the 'Adhemar'.
+
+One evening when the sails flapped idly and the blocks rattled, when they
+had been watching in silence the flaming orange of the sunset above the
+amethystine Camden hills, he spoke the words for which she had been
+waiting.
+
+"Honora, what do you say to going back to Grenoble?"
+
+She succeeded in smiling at him.
+
+"Whenever you like, Hugh," she said.
+
+So the bowsprit of the 'Adhemar' was turned homewards; and with every
+league of water they left behind them his excitement and impatience
+seemed to grow.
+
+"I can't wait to show it to you, Honora--to see you in it," he exclaimed.
+"I have so long pictured you there, and our life as it will be."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE ENTRANCE INTO EDEN
+
+They had travelled through the night, and in the early morning left the
+express at a junction.  Honora sat in the straight-backed seat of the
+smaller train with parted lips and beating heart, gazing now and again at
+the pearly mists rising from the little river valley they were climbing.
+Chiltern was like a schoolboy.
+
+"We'll soon be there," he cried, but it was nearly nine o'clock when they
+reached the Gothic station that marked the end of the line.  It was a
+Chiltern line, he told her, and she was already within the feudal domain.
+Time indeed that she awoke!  She reached the platform to confront a group
+of upturned, staring faces, and for the moment her courage failed her.
+Somehow, with Chiltern's help, she made her way to a waiting omnibus
+backed up against the boards.  The footman touched his hat, the grey-
+headed coachman saluted, and they got in.  As the horses started off at
+a quick trot, Honora saw that the group on the station platform had with
+one consent swung about to stare after them.
+
+They passed through the main street of the town, lined with plate-glass
+windows and lively signs, and already bustling with the business of the
+day, through humbler thoroughfares, and presently rumbled over a bridge
+that spanned a rushing stream confined between the foundation walls of
+mills.  Hundreds of yards of mills stretched away on either side; mills
+with windows wide open, and within them Honora heard the clicking and
+roaring of machinery, and saw the men and women at their daily tasks.
+Life was a strange thing that they should be doing this while she should
+be going to live in luxury at a great country place.  On one of the walls
+she read the legend Chiltern and Company.
+
+"They still keep our name," said Hugh, "although they are in the trust."
+
+He pointed out to her, with an air of pride, every landmark by the
+roadside.  In future they were to have a new meaning--they were to be
+shared with her.  And he spoke of the times--as child and youth, home
+from the seashore or college, he had driven over the same road.  It wound
+to the left, behind the mills, threaded a village of neat wooden houses
+where the better class of operatives lived, reached the river again, and
+turned at last through a brick gateway, past a lodge in the dense shade
+of sheltering boughs, into a wooded drive that climbed, by gentle
+degrees, a slope.  Human care for generations had given to the place
+a tradition.  People had lived here and loved those trees--his people.
+And could it be that she was to inherit all this, with him?  Was her
+name really Chiltern?
+
+The beating of her heart became a pain when in the distance through the
+spreading branches she caught a glimpse of the long, low outline of the
+house, a vision at once familiar and unreal.  How often in the months
+gone by had she called up the memory of the photograph she had once seen,
+only to doubt the more that she should ever behold that house and these
+trees with him by her side!  They drew up before the door, and a
+venerable, ruddy-faced butler stood gravely on the steps to welcome them.
+Hugh leaped out.  He was still the schoolboy.
+
+"Starling," he said, "this is Mrs. Chiltern."
+
+Honora smiled tremulously.
+
+"How do you do, Starling?"  she said.
+
+"Starling's an old friend, Honora.  He's been here ever since I can
+remember."
+
+The blue eyes of the old servant were fixed on her with a strange,
+searching expression.  Was it compassion she read in them, on this that
+should be the happiest of her days?  In that instant, unaccountably, her
+heart went out to the old man; and something of what he had seen, and
+something of what was even now passing within him, came to her
+intuitively.  It was as though, unexpectedly, she had found a friend
+--and a friend who had had no previous intentions of friendship.
+
+"I'm sure I wish you happiness, madame,--and Mr. Hugh, he said in a voice
+not altogether firm.
+
+"Happiness!" cried Hugh.  "I've never known what it was before now,
+Starling."
+
+The old man's eyes glistened.
+
+"And you've come to stay, sir?"
+
+"All my life, Starling," said Hugh.
+
+They entered the hall.  It was wide and cool, white panelled to the
+ceiling, with a dark oak floor.  At the back of it was an eighteenth-
+century stairway, with a band of red carpet running up the steps, and a
+wrought-iron guard with a velvet-covered rail.  Halfway up, the stairway
+divided at a landing, lighted by great triple windows of small panes.
+
+"You may have breakfast in half an hour, Starling," said Chiltern, and
+led Honora up the stairs into the east wing, where he flung open one of
+the high mahogany doors on the south side.  "These are your rooms,
+Honora.  I have had Keller do them all over for you, and I hope you'll
+like them.  If you don't, we'll change them again."
+
+Her answer was an exclamation of delight.  There was a bedroom in pink,
+with brocaded satin on the walls, and an oriel window thrust out over
+the garden; a panelled boudoir at the corner of the house, with a marble
+mantel before which one of Marie Antoinette's duchesses had warmed her
+feet; and shelves lined with gold-lettered books.  From its windows,
+across the flowering shrubbery and through the trees, she saw the
+gleaming waters of a lake, and the hills beyond.  From this view she
+turned, and caught her breath, and threw her arms about her husband's
+neck.  He was astonished to see that her eyes were filled with tears.
+
+"Oh, Hugh," she cried, "it's too perfect!  It almost makes me afraid."
+
+"We will be very happy, dearest," he said, and as he kissed her he
+laughed at the fates.
+
+"I hope so--I pray so," she said, as she clung to him.  "But--don't
+laugh,--I can't bear it."
+
+He patted her cheek.
+
+"What a strange little girl you are!" he said.  "I suppose I shouldn't be
+mad about you if you weren't that way.  Sometimes I wonder how many women
+I have married."
+
+She smiled at him through her tears.
+
+"Isn't that polygamy, Hugh?" she asked.
+
+It was all like a breathless tale out of one of the wonder books of
+youth.  So, at least, it seemed to Honora as she stood, refreshed with a
+new white linen gown, hesitating on the threshold of her door before
+descending.  Some time the bell must ring, or the cock crow, or the fairy
+beckon with a wand, and she would have to go back.  Back where?  She did
+not know--she could not remember.  Cinderella dreaming by the embers,
+perhaps.
+
+He was awaiting her in the little breakfast room, its glass casements
+open to the garden with the wall and the round stone seat.  The simmering
+urn, the white cloth, the shining silver, the big green melons that the
+hot summer sun had ripened for them alone, and Hugh's eyes as they rested
+on her--such was her illusion.  Nor was it quite dispelled when he
+lighted a pipe and they started to explore their Eden, wandering through
+chambers with, low ceilings in the old part of the house, and larger,
+higher apartments in the portion that was called new.  In the great
+darkened library, side by side against the Spanish leather on the walls,
+hung the portraits of his father and mother in heavy frames of gilt.
+
+Her husband was pleased that she should remain so long before them.  And
+for a while, as she stood lost in contemplation, he did not speak.  Once
+she glanced at him, and then back at the stern face of the General,--
+stern, yet kindly.  The eyes, deep-set under bushy brows, like Hugh's,
+were full of fire; and yet the artist had made them human, too.  A dark,
+reddish brown, close-trimmed mustache and beard hid the mouth and chin.
+Hugh had inherited the nose, but the father's forehead was wider and
+fuller.  Hugh was at once a newer type, and an older.  The face and
+figure of the General were characteristic of the mid-century American of
+the northern states, a mixture of boldness and caution and Puritanism,
+who had won his battles in war and commerce by a certain native quality
+of mind.
+
+"I never appreciated him," said Hugh at length, "until after he died--
+long after.  Until now, in fact.  At times we were good friends, and then
+something he would say or do would infuriate me, and I would purposely
+make him angry.  He had a time and a rule for everything, and I could not
+bear rules.  Breakfast was on the minute, an hour in his study to attend
+to affairs about the place, so many hours in his office at the mills, in
+the president's room at the bank, vestry and charity meetings at regular
+intervals.  No movement in all this country round about was ever set on
+foot without him.  He was one to be finally reckoned with.  And since his
+death, many proofs have come to me of the things he did for people of
+which the world was ignorant.  I have found out at last that his way of
+life was, in the main, the right way.  But I know now, Honora," he added
+soberly, slipping his hand within her arm, "I know now that without you
+I never could do all I intend to do."
+
+"Oh, don't say that!" she cried.  "Don't say that!"
+
+"Why not?" he asked, smiling at her vehemence.  "It is not a confession
+of weakness.  I had the determination, it is true.  I could--I should
+have done something, but my deeds would have lacked the one thing needful
+to lift them above the commonplace--at least for me.  You are the
+inspiration.  With you here beside me, I feel that I can take up this
+work with joy.  Do you understand?"
+
+She pressed his hand with her arm.
+
+"Hugh," she said slowly, "I hope that I shall be a help, and not--not
+a hindrance."
+
+"A hindrance!"  he exclaimed.  "You don't know, you can't realize, what
+you are to me."
+
+She was silent, and when she lifted her eyes it was to rest them on the
+portrait of his mother.  And she seemed to read in the sweet, sad eyes a
+question--a question not to be put into words.  Chiltern, following her
+gaze, did not speak: for a space they looked at the portrait together,
+and in silence .  .  .  .
+
+From one end of the house to the other they went, Hugh reviving at the
+sight of familiar objects a hundred memories of his childhood; and she
+trying to imagine that childhood, so different from her own, passed in
+this wonderful place.  In the glass cases of the gun room, among the
+shining, blue barrels which he had used in all parts of the world, was
+the little shotgun his father had had made for him when he was twelve
+years old.  Hugh locked the door after them when they came out, and
+smiled as he put the key in his pocket.
+
+"My destroying days are over," he declared.
+
+Honora put on a linen hat and they took the gravelled path to the
+stables, where the horses, one by one, were brought out into the
+courtyard for their inspection.  In anticipation of this hour there was
+a blood bay for Honora, which Chiltern had bought in New York.  She gave
+a little cry of delight when she saw the horse shining in the sunlight,
+his nostrils in the air, his brown eyes clear, his tapering neck
+patterned with veins.  And then there was the dairy, with the fawn-
+coloured cows and calves; and the hillside pastures that ran down to the
+river, and the farm lands where the stubbled grain was yellowing.  They
+came back by the path that wound through the trees and shrubbery
+bordering the lake to the walled garden, ablaze in the mellow sunlight
+with reds and purples, salvias and zinnias, dahlias, gladioli, and
+asters.
+
+Here he left her for a while, sitting dreamily on the stone bench.  Mrs.
+Hugh Chiltern, of Grenoble!  Over and over she repeated that name to
+herself, and it refused somehow to merge with her identity.  Yet was she
+mistress of this fair domain; of that house which had sheltered them race
+for a century, and the lines of which her eye caressed with a loving
+reverence; and the Chiltern pearls even then lay hidden around her
+throat.
+
+Her thoughts went back, at this, to the gentle lady to whom they had
+belonged, and whose look began again to haunt her.  Honora's superstition
+startled her.  What did it mean, that look?  She tried to recall where
+she had seen it before, and suddenly remembered that the eyes of the old
+butler had held something not unlike it.  Compassionate--this was the
+only word that would describe it.  No, it had not proclaimed her an
+intruder, though it may have been ready to do so the moment before her
+appearance; for there was a note of surprise in it--surprise and
+compassion.
+
+This was the lady in whose footsteps she was to walk, whose charities and
+household cares she was to assume!  Tradition, order, observance,
+responsibility, authority it was difficult to imagine these as a logical
+part of the natural sequence of her life.  She would begin to-day, if God
+would only grant her these things she had once contemned, and that seemed
+now so precious.  Her life--her real life would begin to-day.  Why not?
+How hard she would strive to be worthy of this incomparable gift!  It was
+hers, hers!  She listened, but the only answer was the humming of the
+bees in the still September morning.
+
+Chiltern's voice aroused her.  He was standing in the breakfast room
+talking to the old butler.
+
+"You're sure there were no other letters, Starling, besides these bills?"
+
+Honora became tense.
+
+"No, sir," she heard the butler say, and she seemed to detect in his
+deferential voice the note of anxiety suppressed in the other's.  "I'm
+most particular about letters, sir, as one who lived so many years with
+your father would be.  All that came were put in your study, Mr. Hugh."
+
+"It doesn't matter," answered Chiltern, carelessly, and stepped out into
+the garden.  He caught sight of her, hesitated the fraction of a moment,
+and as he came forward again the cloud in his eyes vanished.  And yet she
+was aware that he was regarding her curiously.
+
+"What," he said gayly, "still here?"
+
+"It is too beautiful!" she cried.  "I could sit here forever."
+
+She lifted her face trustfully, smilingly, to his, and he stooped down
+and kissed it .  .  .  .
+
+To give the jealous fates not the least chance to take offence, the
+higher life they were to lead began at once.  And yet it seemed at times
+to Honora as though this higher life were the gift the fates would most
+begrudge: a gift reserved for others, the pretensions to which were a
+kind of knavery.  Merriment, forgetfulness, music, the dance; the cup of
+pleasure and the feast of Babylon--these might more readily have been
+vouchsafed; even deemed to have been bargained for.  But to take that
+which supposedly had been renounced--virtue, sobriety, security, respect
+--would this be endured?  She went about it breathlessly, like a thief.
+
+Never was there a more exemplary household.  They rose at half-past
+seven, they breakfasted at a quarter after eight; at nine, young Mr.
+Manning, the farm superintendent, was in waiting, and Hugh spent two or
+more hours in his company, inspecting, correcting, planning; for two
+thousand acres of the original Chiltern estate still remained.  Two
+thousand acres which, since the General's death, had been at sixes and
+sevens.  The General's study, which was Hugh's now, was piled high with
+new and bulky books on cattle and cultivation of the soil.  Government
+and state and private experts came and made tests and went away again;
+new machinery arrived, and Hugh passed hours in the sun, often with
+Honora by his side, installing it.  General Chiltern had been president
+and founder of the Grenoble National Bank, and Hugh took up his duties as
+a director.
+
+Honora sought, with an energy that had in it an element of desperation,
+to keep pace with her husband.  For she was determined that he should
+have no interests in which she did not share.  In those first days it was
+her dread that he might grow away from her, and instinct told her that
+now or never must the effort be made.  She, too, studied farming; not
+from books, but from him.  In their afternoon ride along the shady river
+road, which was the event of her day, she encouraged him to talk of his
+plans and problems, that he might thus early form the habit of bringing
+them to her.  And the unsuspecting male in him responded, innocent of the
+simple subterfuge.  After an exhaustive discourse on the elements lacking
+in the valley soil, to which she had listened in silent intensity, he
+would exclaim:
+
+"By George, Honora, you're a continual surprise to me.  I had no idea a
+woman would take an interest in these things, or grasp them the way you
+do."
+
+Lordly commendations these, and she would receive them with a flush of
+gratitude.
+
+Nor was it ever too hot, or she too busy with household cares, for her to
+follow him to the scene of his operations, whatever these might be: she
+would gladly stand for an hour listening to a consultation with the
+veterinary about an ailing cow.  Her fear was lest some matter of like
+importance should escape her.  She had private conversations with Mr.
+Manning, that she might surprise her husband by an unsuspected knowledge.
+Such were her ruses.
+
+The housekeeper who had come up from New York was the subject of a
+conjugal conversation.
+
+"I am going to send her away, Hugh," Honora announced.  "I don't believe-
+--your mother had one."
+
+The housekeeper's departure was the beginning of Honora's real intimacy
+with Starling.  Complicity, perhaps, would be a better word for the
+commencement of this relationship.  First of all, there was an inspection
+of the family treasures: the table-linen, the silver, and the china--
+Sevres, Royal Worcester, and Minton, and the priceless dinner-set, of
+Lowestoft which had be longed to Alexander Chiltern, reserved, for great
+occasions only: occasions that Starling knew by heart; their dates, and
+the guests the Lowestoft had honoured.  His air was ceremonial as he
+laid, reverently, the sample pieces on the table before her, but it
+seemed to Honora that he spoke as one who recalls departed glories, who
+held a conviction that the Lowestoft would never be used again.
+
+Although by unalterable custom he submitted, at breakfast, the menus of
+the day to Hugh, the old butler came afterwards to Honora's boudoir
+during her struggle with the account books.  Sometimes she would look up
+and surprise his eyes fixed upon her, and one day she found at her elbow
+a long list made out in a painstaking hand.
+
+"What's this, Starling?" she asked.
+
+"If you please, madame," he answered, "they're the current prices in the
+markets--here."
+
+She thanked him.  Nor was his exquisite delicacy in laying stress upon
+the locality lost upon her.  That he realized the magnitude--for her--
+of the task to which she had set herself; that he sympathized deeply with
+the spirit which had undertaken it, she was as sure as though he had said
+so.  He helped her thus in a dozen unobtrusive ways, never once
+recognizing her ignorance; but he made her feel the more that that
+ignorance was a shameful thing not to be spoken of.  Speculations upon
+him were irresistible.  She was continually forgetting the nature of his
+situation, and he grew gradually to typify in her mind the Grenoble of
+the past.  She knew his principles as well as though he had spoken them--
+which he never did.  For him, the world had become awry; he abhorred
+divorce, and that this modern abomination had touched the house of
+Chiltern was a calamity that had shaken the very foundations of his soul.
+In spite of this, he had remained.  Why?  Perhaps from habit, perhaps
+from love of the family and Hugh,--perhaps to see!
+
+And having stayed, fascination had laid hold of him,--of that she was
+sure,--and his affections had incomprehensibly become involved.  He was
+as one assisting at a high tragedy not unworthy of him, the outcome of
+which he never for an instant doubted.  And he gave Honora the impression
+that he alone, inscrutable, could have pulled aside the curtain and
+revealed the end.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+OF THE WORLD BEYOND THE GATES
+
+Honora paused in her toilet, and contemplated for a moment the white
+skirt that her maid presented.
+
+"I think I'll wear the blue pongee to-day, Mathilde," she said.
+
+The decision for the blue pongee was the culmination of a struggle begun
+with the opening of her eyes that morning.  It was Sunday, and the time
+was at hand when she must face the world.  Might it not be delayed a
+little while--a week longer?  For the remembrance of the staring eyes
+which had greeted her on her arrival at the station at Grenoble troubled
+her.  It seemed to her a cruel thing that the house of God should hold
+such terrors for her: to-day she had a longing for it that she had never
+felt in her life before.
+
+Chiltern was walking in the garden, waiting for her to breakfast with
+him, and her pose must have had in it an element of the self-conscious
+when she appeared, smilingly, at the door.
+
+"Why, you're all dressed up," he said.
+
+"It's Sunday, Hugh."
+
+"So it is," he agreed, with what may have been a studied lightness--she
+could not tell.
+
+"I'm going to church," she said bravely.
+
+"I can't say much for old Stopford," declared her husband.  "His sermons
+used to arouse all the original sin in me, when I had to listen to them."
+
+She poured out his coffee.
+
+"I suppose one has to take one's clergyman as one does the weather," she
+said.  "We go to church for something else besides the sermon--don't we?"
+
+"I suppose so, if we go at all," he replied.  "Old Stopford imposes a
+pretty heavy penalty."
+
+"Too heavy for you?" she asked, and smiled at him as she handed him the
+cup.
+
+"Too heavy for me," he said, returning her smile.  "To tell you the
+truth, Honora, I had an overdose of church in my youth, here and at
+school, and I've been trying to even up ever since."
+
+"You'd like me to go, wouldn't you, Hugh?" she ventured, after a silence.
+
+"Indeed I should," he answered, and again she wondered to what extent his
+cordiality was studied, or whether it were studied at all.  "I'm very
+fond of that church, in spite of the fact that--that I may be said to
+dissemble my fondness."  She laughed with him, and he became serious.
+"I still contribute--the family's share toward its support.  My father
+was very proud of it, but it is really my mother's church.  It was due
+to her that it was built."
+
+Thus was comedy played--and Honora by no the means sure that it was a
+comedy.  Even her alert instinct had not been able to detect the acting,
+and the intervening hours were spent in speculating whether her fears had
+not been overdone.  Nevertheless, under the eyes of Starling, at twenty
+minutes to eleven she stepped into the victoria with an outward courage,
+and drove down the shady avenue towards the gates.  Sweet-toned bells
+were ringing as she reached the residence portion of the town, and
+subdued pedestrians in groups and couples made their way along the
+sidewalks.  They stared at her; and she in turn, with heightened colour,
+stared at her coachman's back.  After all, this first Sunday would be the
+most difficult.
+
+The carriage turned into a street arched by old elms, and flanked by
+the houses of the most prosperous townspeople.  Some of these were of
+the old-fashioned, classic type, and others new examples of a national
+architecture seeking to find itself,--white and yellow colonial,
+roughcast modifications of the Shakespearian period, and nondescript
+mixtures of cobblestones and shingles.  Each was surrounded by trim lawns
+and shrubbery.  The church itself was set back from the street.  It was
+of bluish stone, and half covered with Virginia creeper.
+
+At this point, had the opportunity for a secret retreat presented itself,
+Honora would have embraced it, for until now she had not realized the
+full extent of the ordeal.  Had her arrival been heralded by sounding
+trumpets, the sensation it caused could not have been greater.  In her
+Eden, the world had been forgotten; the hum of gossip beyond the gates
+had not reached her.  But now, as the horses approached the curb, their
+restive feet clattering on the hard pavement, in the darkened interior
+of the church she saw faces turned, and entering worshippers pausing in
+the doorway.  Something of what the event meant for Grenoble dawned upon
+her: something, not all; but all that she could bear.
+
+If it be true that there is no courage equal to that which a great love
+begets in a woman, Honora's at that moment was sublime.  Her cheeks
+tingled, and her knees weakened under her as she ran the gantlet to the
+church door, where she was met by a gentleman on whose face she read
+astonishment unalloyed: amazement, perhaps, is not too strong a word for
+the sensation it conveyed to her, and it occurred to her afterwards that
+there was an element in it of outrage.  It was a countenance peculiarly
+adapted to such an expression--yellow, smooth-shaven, heavy-jowled, with
+one drooping eye; and she needed not to be told that she had encountered,
+at the outset, the very pillar of pillars.  The frock coat, the heavy
+watch chain, the square-toed boots, all combined to make a Presence.
+
+An instinctive sense of drama amongst the onlookers seemed to create a
+hush, as though these had been the unwilling witnesses to an approaching
+collision and were awaiting the crash.  The gentleman stood planted in
+the inner doorway, his drooping eye fixed on hers.
+
+"I am Mrs. Chiltern," she faltered.
+
+He hesitated the fraction of an instant, but he somehow managed to make
+it plain that the information was superfluous.  He turned without a word
+and marched majestically up the aisle before her to the fourth pew from
+the front on the right.  There he faced about and laid a protesting hand
+on the carved walnut, as though absolving himself in the sight of his God
+and his fellow-citizens.  Honora fell on her knees.
+
+She strove to calm herself by prayer: but the glances of a congregation
+focussed between her shoulder-blades seemed to burn her back, and the
+thought of the concentration of so many minds upon her distracted her
+own.  She could think of no definite prayer.  Was this God's tabernacle?
+or the market-place, and she at the tail of a cart?  And was she not Hugh
+Chiltern's wife, entitled to his seat in the place of worship of his
+fathers?  She rose from her knees, and her eyes fell on the softly
+glowing colours of a stained-glass window: In memoriam--Alicia Reyburn
+Chiltern.  Hugh's mother, the lady in whose seat she sat.
+
+The organist, a sprightly young man, came in and began turning over his
+music, and the choir took their-places, in the old-fashioned' manner.
+Then came the clergyman.  His beard was white, his face long and narrow
+and shrivelled, his forehead protruding, his eyes of the cold blue of a
+winter's sky.  The service began, and Honora repeated the familiar
+prayers which she had learned by heart in childhood--until her attention
+was arrested by the words she spoke: "We have offended against Thy holy
+laws."  Had she?  Would not God bless her marriage?  It was not until
+then that she began to pray with an intensity that blotted out the world
+that He would not punish her if she had done wrong in His sight.  Surely,
+if she lived henceforth in fear of Him, He would let her keep this
+priceless love which had come to her!  And it was impossible that He
+should regard it as an inordinate and sinful affection--since it had
+filled her life with light.  As the wife of Hugh Chiltern she sought a
+blessing.  Would God withhold it?  He would not, she was sure, if they
+lived a sober and a righteous life.  He would take that into account,
+for He was just.
+
+Then she grew calmer, and it was not until after the doctrinal sermon
+which Hugh had predicted that her heart began to beat painfully once
+more, when the gentleman who had conducted her to her seat passed her
+the plate.  He inspired her with an instinctive fear; and she tried to
+imagine, in contrast, the erect and soldierly figure of General Chiltern
+performing the same office.  Would he have looked on her more kindly?
+
+When the benediction was pronounced, she made her way out of the church
+with downcast eyes.  The people parted at the door to let her pass, and
+she quickened her step, gained the carriage at last, and drove away--
+seemingly leaving at her back a buzz of comment.  Would she ever have the
+courage to do it again?
+
+The old butler, as he flung open the doors at her approach, seemed to be
+scrutinizing her.
+
+"Where's Mr. Chiltern, Starling?  "she asked.
+
+"He's gone for a ride, madame."
+
+Hugh had gone for a ride!
+
+She did not see him until lunch was announced, when he came to the table
+in his riding clothes.  It may have been that he began to talk a little
+eagerly about the excursion he had made to an outlying farm and the
+conversation he had had with the farmer who leased it.
+
+"His lease is out in April," said Chiltern, "and when I told him I
+thought I'd turn the land into the rest of the estate he tried to bribe
+me into a renewal."
+
+"Bribe you?"
+
+Chiltern laughed.
+
+"Only in joke, of course.  The man's a character, and he's something of a
+politician in these parts.  He intimated that there would be a vacancy in
+this congressional district next year, that Grierson was going to resign,
+and that a man with a long purse who belonged to the soil might have a
+chance.  I suppose he thinks I would buy it."
+
+"And--would you like to go to Congress, Hugh?"
+
+"Well," he said, smiling, "a man never can tell when he may have to eat
+his words.  I don't say I shouldn't--in the distant future.  It would
+have pleased the General.  But if I go," he added with characteristic
+vigour, "it will be in spite of the politicians, not because of them.  If
+I go I shan't go bound, and I'll fight for it.  I should enjoy that."
+
+And she was able to accord him the smile of encouragement he expected.
+
+"I am sure you would," she replied.  "I think you might have waited until
+this afternoon and taken me," she reproached him.  "You know how I enjoy
+going with you to those places."
+
+It was not until later in the meal that he anticipated, in an admirably
+accidental manner, the casual remark she had intended to make about
+church.
+
+"Your predictions were fulfilled," she answered; "the sermon wasn't
+thrilling."
+
+He glanced at her.  And instead of avoiding his eyes, she smiled into
+them.
+
+"Did you see the First Citizen of Grenoble?" he inquired.
+
+"I am sure of it," she laughed, "if he's yellow, with a drooping eye and
+a presence; he was kind enough to conduct me to the pew."
+
+"Yes," he exclaimed, "that's Israel Simpson--you couldn't miss him.
+How I used to hate him when I was a boy!  I haven't quite got over it
+yet.  I used to outdo myself to make things uncomfortable for him when he
+came up here--I think it was because he always seemed to be truckling.
+He was ridiculously servile and polite in those days.  He's changed
+since," added Hugh, dryly.  "He must quite have forgotten by this time
+that the General made him."
+
+"Is--is he so much?" said Honora.
+
+Her husband laughed.
+
+"Is it possible that you have seen him and still ask that?" said he.
+"He is Grenoble.  Once the Chilterns were.  He is the head of the
+honoured firm of Israel Simpson and Sons, the president of the Grenoble
+National Bank, the senior warden of the church, a director in the
+railway.  Twice a year, in the columns of the New York newspapers
+dedicated to the prominent arrivals at the hotels, you may read the
+name of Israel Simpson of Grenoble.  Three times has he been abroad,
+respectably accompanied by Maria, who invariably returns to read a paper
+on the cathedrals and art before the Woman's Club."
+
+Maria is his wife, I suppose."
+
+"Yes.  Didn't you run across Maria?  She's quite as pronounced, in her
+way, as Israel.  A very tower of virtue."
+
+"I didn't meet anybody, Hugh," said Honora.  "I'll--I'll look for her
+next Sunday.  I hurried out.  It was a little embarrassing the first
+time," she added, "your family being so prominent in Grenoble."
+
+Upon this framework, the prominence of his family, she built up during
+the coning week a new structure of hope.  It was strange she had never
+thought before of this quite obvious explanation for the curiosity of
+Grenoble.  Perhaps--perhaps it was not prejudice, after all--or not
+all of it.  The wife of the Chiltern heir would naturally inspire a
+considerable interest in any event, and Mrs. Hugh Chiltern in particular.
+And these people would shortly understand, if they did not now
+understand, that Hugh had come back voluntarily and from a sense of duty
+to assume the burdens and responsibilities that so many of his generation
+and class had shirked.  This would tell in their favour, surely.  At this
+point in her meditations she consulted the mirror, to behold a modest,
+slim-waisted young woman becomingly arrayed in white linen, whose cheeks
+were aglow with health, whose eyes seemingly reflected the fire of a
+distant high vision.  Not a Poppaea, certainly, nor a Delila.  No, it was
+unbelievable that this, the very field itself of their future labours,
+should be denied them.  Her heart, at the mere conjecture, turned to
+stone.
+
+During the cruise of the Adhemar she had often watched, in the gathering
+darkness, those revolving lights on headland or shoal that spread now a
+bright band across the sea, and again left the waters desolate in the
+night.  Thus, ceaselessly revolving from white hope to darker doubt, were
+her thoughts, until sometimes she feared to be alone with them, and
+surprised him by her presence in his busiest moments.  For he was going
+ahead on the path they had marked out with a faith in which she could
+perceive no flaw.  If faint and shadowy forms had already come between
+them, he gave no evidence of having as yet discerned these.  There was
+the absence of news from his family, for instance,--the Graingers, the
+Stranger, the Shorters, and the Pendletons, whom she had never seen;
+he had never spoken to her of this, and he seemed to hold it as of no
+account.  Her instinct whispered that it had left its mark, a hidden
+mark.  And while she knew that consideration for her prompted him to hold
+his peace, she told herself that she would have been happier had he
+spoken of it.
+
+Always she was brought back to Grenoble when she saw him thus, manlike,
+with his gaze steadily fixed on the task.  If New York itself withheld
+recognition, could Grenoble--provincial and conservative Grenoble,
+preserving still the ideas of the last century for which his family had
+so unflinchingly stood--be expected to accord it?  New York!  New York
+was many, many things, she knew.  The great house could have been filled
+from weekend to week-end from New York; but not with Graingers and
+Pendletons and Stranger; not with those around the walls of whose
+fortresses the currents of modernity still swept impotently; not with
+those who, while not contemning pleasure, still acknowledged duty; not
+with those whose assured future was that for which she might have sold
+her soul itself.  Social free lances, undoubtedly, and unattached men;
+those who lived in the world of fashion but were not squeamish--Mrs.
+Kame, for example; and ladies like Mrs. Eustace Rindge, who had tried
+a second throw for happiness,--such votaries of excitement would
+undoubtedly have been more than glad to avail themselves of the secluded
+hospitality of Grenoble for that which they would have been pleased to
+designate as "a lively time."  Honora shuddered at the thought: And, as
+though the shudder had been prophetic, one morning the mail contained a
+letter from Mrs. Kame herself.
+
+Mercifully Hugh had not noticed it.  Honora did not recognize the
+handwriting, but she slipped the envelope into her lap, fearful of what
+it might contain, and, when she gained the privacy of her rooms, read it
+with quickening breath.  Mrs. Kame's touch was light and her imagination
+sympathetic; she was the most adaptable of the feminine portion of her
+nation, and since the demise of her husband she had lived, abroad and at
+home, among men and women of a world that does not dot its i's or cross
+its t's.  Nevertheless, the letter filled Honora with a deep apprehension
+and a deeper resentment.  Plainly and clearly stamped between its
+delicately worded lines was the claim of a comradeship born of Honora's
+recent act.  She tore the paper into strips and threw it into the flames
+and opened the window to the cool air of the autumn morning.  She had a
+feeling of contamination that was intolerable.
+
+Mrs. Kame had proposed herself--again the word "delicately" must be used
+--for one of Honora's first house-parties.  Only an acute perception
+could have read in the lady's praise of Hugh a masterly avoidance of that
+part of his career already registered on the social slate.  Mrs. Kame had
+thought about them and their wonderful happiness in these autumn days at
+Grenoble; to intrude on that happiness yet awhile would be a sacrilege.
+Later, perhaps, they would relent and see something of their friends, and
+throw open again the gates of a beautiful place long closed to the world.
+And--without the air of having picked the single instance, but of having
+chosen from many--Mrs. Kame added that she had only lately seen Elsie
+Shorter, whose admiration for Honora was greater than ever.  A sentiment,
+Honora reflected a little bitterly, that Mrs. Shorter herself had not
+taken the pains to convey.  Consistency was not Elsie's jewel.
+
+It must perhaps be added for the sake of enlightenment that since going
+to Newport Honora's view of the writer of this letter had changed.  In
+other words, enlarging ideals had dwarfed her somewhat; it was strictly
+true that the lady was a boon companion of everybody.  Her Catholicism
+had two limitations only: that she must be amused, and that she must not
+--in what she deemed the vulgar sense--be shocked.
+
+Honora made several attempts at an answer before she succeeded in saying,
+simply, that Hugh was too absorbed in his work of reconstruction of the
+estate for them to have house-parties this autumn.  And even this was a
+concession hard for her pride to swallow.  She would have preferred not
+to reply at all, and this slightest of references to his work--and hers
+--seemed to degrade it.  Before she folded the sheet she looked again at
+that word "reconstruction" and thought of eliminating it.  It was too
+obviously allied to "redemption"; and she felt that Mrs. Kame could not
+understand redemption, and would ridicule it.  Honora went downstairs and
+dropped her reply guiltily into the mail-bag.  It was for Hugh's sake she
+was sending it, and from his eyes she was hiding it.
+
+And, while we are dealing with letters, one, or part of one, from
+Honora's aunt, may perhaps be inserted here.  It was an answer to one
+that Honora had written a few days after her installation at Grenoble,
+the contents of which need not be gone into: we, who know her, would
+neither laugh nor weep at reading it, and its purport may be more or less
+accurately surmised from her aunt's reply.
+
+     "As I wrote you at the time, my dear,"--so it ran "the shock which
+     your sudden marriage with Mr. Chiltern caused us was great--so great
+     that I cannot express it in words.  I realize that I am growing old,
+     and perhaps the world is changing faster than I imagine.  And I
+     wrote you, too, that I would not be true to myself if I told you
+     that what you have done was right in my eyes.  I have asked myself
+     whether my horror of divorce and remarriage may not in some degree
+     be due to the happiness of my life with your uncle.  I am,
+     undoubtedly, an exceptionally fortunate woman; and as I look
+     backwards I see that the struggles and trials which we have shared
+     together were really blessings.
+
+     "Nevertheless, dear Honora, you are, as your uncle wrote you, our
+     child, and nothing can alter that fact in our hearts.  We can only
+     pray with all our strength that you may find happiness and peace in
+     your new life.  I try to imagine, as I think of you and what has
+     happened to you in the few years since you have left us--how long
+     they seem!--I try to imagine some of the temptations that have
+     assailed you in that world of which I know nothing.  If I cannot, it
+     is because God made us different.  I know what you have suffered,
+     and my heart aches for you.
+
+     "You say that experience has taught you much that you could not
+     have--learned in any other way.  I do not doubt it.  You tell me
+     that your new life, just begun, will be a dutiful one.  Let me
+     repeat that it is my anxious prayer that you have not builded upon
+     sand, that regrets may not come.  I cannot say more.  I cannot
+     dissemble.  Perhaps I have already said too much.
+
+                                   "Your loving
+
+                                             "AUNT MARY."
+
+
+An autumn wind was blowing, and Honora gazed out of the window at the
+steel-blue, ruffled waters of the lake.  Unconsciously she repeated the
+words to herself:
+
+"Builded upon sand!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+CONTAINING PHILOSOPHY FROM MR. GRAINGER
+
+Swiftly came the autumn days, and swiftly went.  A bewildering, ever
+changing, and glorious panorama presented itself, green hillsides struck
+first with flaming crimsons and yellows, and later mellowing into a
+wondrous blending of gentler, tenderer hues; lavender, and wine, and the
+faintest of rose colours where the bare beeches massed.  Thus the slopes
+were spread as with priceless carpets for a festival.  Sometimes Honora,
+watching, beheld from her window the russet dawn on the eastern ridge,
+and the white mists crouching in strange, ghostly shapes abode the lake
+and the rushing river: and she saw these same mists gather again,
+shivering, at nightfall.  In the afternoon they threaded valleys, silent
+save for the talk between them and the stirring of the leaves under their
+horses' feet.
+
+So the Indian summer passed--that breathless season when even happiness
+has its premonitions and its pangs.  The umber fields, all ploughed and
+harrowed, lay patiently awaiting the coming again of the quickening
+spring.  Then fell the rain, the first, cold winter rain that shrouded
+the valley and beat down upon the defenceless, dismantled garden and made
+pools in the hollows of the stone seat: that flung itself against
+Honora's window as though begrudging her the warmth and comfort within.
+Sometimes she listened to it in the night.
+
+She was watching.  How intent was that vigil, how alert and sharpened her
+senses, a woman who has watched alone may answer.  Now, she felt, was the
+crisis at hand: the moment when her future, and his was to hang in the
+balance.  The work on the farms, which had hitherto left Chiltern but
+little time for thought, had relaxed.  In these wet days had he begun
+to brood a little?  Did he show signs of a reversion to that other
+personality, the Chiltern she had not known, yet glimpses of whom she had
+had?  She recalled the third time she had seen him, the morning at the
+Lilacs in Newport, that had left upon her the curious sense of having
+looked on a superimposed portrait.  That Chiltern which she called her
+Viking, and which, with a woman's perversity, she had perhaps loved most
+of all, was but one expression of the other man of days gone by.  The
+life of that man was a closed book she had never wished to open.  Was he
+dead, or sleeping?  And if sleeping, would he awake?  How softly she
+tread!
+
+And in these days, with what exquisite, yet tremulous skill and courage
+did she bring up the subject of that other labour they were to undertake
+together--the life and letters of his father.  In the early dusk, when
+they had returned from their long rides, she contrived to draw Chiltern
+into his study.  The cheerfulness, the hopefulness, the delight with
+which she approached the task, the increasing enthusiasm she displayed
+for the character of the General as she read and sorted the letters and
+documents, and the traits of his she lovingly traced in Hugh, were not
+without their effect.  It was thus she fanned, ceaselessly and with a
+smile, and with an art the rarest women possess, the drooping flame.  And
+the flame responded.
+
+How feverishly she worked, unknown to him, he never guessed; so carefully
+and unobtrusively planted her suggestions that they were born again in
+glory as his inspiration.  The mist had lifted a little, and she beheld
+the next stage beyond.  To reach that stage was to keep him intent on
+this work--and--after that, to publish!  Ah, if he would only have
+patience, or if she could keep him distracted through this winter and
+their night, she might save him.  Love such as hers can even summon
+genius to its aid, and she took fire herself at the thought of a book
+worthy of that love, of a book--though signed by him that would redeem
+them, and bring a scoffing world to its knees in praise.  She spent hours
+in the big library preparing for Chiltern's coming, with volumes in her
+lap and a note-book by her side.
+
+One night, as they sat by the blazing logs in his study, which had been
+the General's, Chiltern arose impulsively, opened the big safe in the
+corner, and took out a leather-bound book and laid it on her lap.  Honora
+stared at it: it was marked: Highlawns, Visitors' Book."
+
+"It's curious I never thought of it before," he said, "but my father, had
+a habit of jotting down notes in it on important occasions.
+It may be of some use to us Honora."
+
+She opened it at random and read: "July 5, 1893, Picnic at Psalter's
+Falls.  Temperature 71 at 9 A.M. Bar. 30.  Weather clear.  Charles left
+for Washington, summons from President, in the midst of it.  Agatha and
+Victor again look at the Farrar property.  Hugh has a ducking.
+P.S.  At dinner night Bessie announces her engagement to Cecil Grainger.
+Present Sarah and George Grenfell, Agatha and Victor Strange, Gerald
+Shorter, Lord Kylie--"
+
+Honora looked up.  Hugh was at her shoulder, with his eyes on the page.
+
+"Psalter's Falls!" he exclaimed.  "How well I remember that day!  I was
+just home from my junior year at Harvard."
+
+"Who was 'Charles'?" inquired Honora.
+
+"Senator Pendleton--Bessie's father.  Just after I jumped into the mill-
+pond the telegram came for him to go to Washington, and I drove him home
+in my wet clothes.  The old man had a terrible tongue, a whip-lash kind
+of humour, and he scored me for being a fool.  But he rather liked me,
+on the whole.  He told me if I'd only straighten out I could be anything,
+in reason."
+
+"What made you jump in the mill-pond?" Honora asked, laughing.
+
+"Bessie Grainger.  She had a devil in her, too, in those days, but she
+always kept her head, and I didn't."  He smiled.  "I'm willing to admit
+that I was madly in love with her, and she treated me outrageously.  We
+were standing on the bridge--I remember it as though it were yesterday--
+and the water was about eight feet deep, with a clear sand bottom.  She
+took off a gold bracelet and bet me I wouldn't get it if she threw it in.
+That night, right in the middle of dinner, when there was a pause in the
+conversation, she told us she was engaged to Cecil Grainger.  It turned
+out, by the way, to have been his bracelet I rescued.  I could have wrung
+his neck, and I didn't speak to her for a month."
+
+Honora repressed an impulse to comment on this incident.  With his arm
+over her shoulder, he turned the pages idly, and the long lists of guests
+which bore witness to the former life and importance of Highlawns passed
+before her eyes.  Distinguished foreigners, peers of England, churchmen,
+and men renowned in literature: famous American statesmen, scientists,
+and names that represented more than one generation of wealth and
+achievement--all were here.  There were his school and college friends,
+five and six at a time, and besides them those of young girls who were
+now women, some of whom Honora had met and known in New York or Newport.
+
+Presently he closed the book abruptly and returned it to the safe.  To
+her sharpened senses, the very act itself was significant.  There were
+other and blank pages in it for future years; and under different
+circumstances he might have laid it in its time-honoured place, on the
+great table in the library.
+
+It was not until some weeks later that Honora was seated one afternoon in
+the study waiting for him to come in, and sorting over some of the
+letters that they had not yet examined, when she came across a new lot
+thrust carelessly at the bottom of the older pile.  She undid the
+elastic.  Tucked away in one of the envelopes she was surprised to find a
+letter of recent date--October.  She glanced at it, read involuntarily
+the first lines, and then, with a little cry, turned it over.  It was
+from Cecil Grainger.  She put it back into the envelope whence it came,
+and sat still.
+
+After a while, she could not tell how long, she heard Hugh stamping the
+snow from his feet in the little entry beside the study.  And in a few
+moments he entered, rubbing his hands and holding them out to the blaze.
+
+"Hello, Honora," he said; "are you still at it?  What's the matter--a
+hitch?"
+
+She reached mechanically into the envelope, took out the letter, and
+handed it to him.
+
+"I found it just now, Hugh.  I didn't read much of it--I didn't mean to
+read any.  It's from Mr. Grainger, and you must have overlooked it."
+
+He took it.
+
+"From Cecil?" he said, in an odd voice.  "I wasn't aware that he had sent
+me anything-recently."
+
+As he read, she felt the anger rise within him, she saw it in his eyes
+fixed upon the sheet, and the sense of fear, of irreparable loss, that
+had come over her as she had sat alone awaiting him, deepened.  And yet,
+long expected verdicts are sometimes received in a spirit of
+recklessness: He finished the letter, and flung it in her lap.
+
+"Read it," he said.
+
+"Oh, Hugh!" she protested tremulously.  "Perhaps--perhaps I'd better
+not."  He laughed, and that frightened her the more.  It was the laugh,
+she was sure, of the other man she had not known.
+
+"I've always suspected that Cecil was a fool--now I'm sure of it.  Read
+it!" he repeated, in a note of command that went oddly with his next
+sentence; "You will find that it is only ridiculous."
+
+This assurance of the comedy it contained, however, did not serve to
+fortify her misgivings.  It was written from a club.
+
+     "DEAR HUGH: Herewith a few letters for the magnum opus which I have
+     extracted from Aunt Agatha, Judge Gaines, and others, and to send
+     you my humble congratulations.  By George, my boy, you have dashed
+     off with a prize, and no mistake.  I've never made any secret, you
+     know, of my admiration for Honora--I hope I may call her so now.
+     And I just thought I'd tell you you could count on me for a friend
+     at court.  Not that I'm any use now, old boy.  I'll have to be frank
+     with you--I always was.  Discreet silence, and all that sort of
+     thing: as much as my head is worth to open my mouth.  But I had an
+     idea it would be an act of friendship to let you know how things
+     stand.  Let time and works speak, and Cecil will give the thing
+     a push at the proper moment.  I understand from one of the
+     intellectual journals I read that you have gone in for simple life
+     and scientific farming.  A deuced canny move.  And for the love of
+     heaven, old man, keep it up for a while, anyhow.  I know it's
+     difficult, but keep it up.  I speak as a friend.
+
+     "They received your letters all right, announcing your marriage.
+     You always enjoyed a row--I wish you could have been on hand to see
+     and hear this one.  It was no place for a man of peace, and I spent
+     two nights at the club.  I've never made any secret, you know, of
+     the fact that I think the Pendleton connection hide-bound.  And you
+     understand Bessie--there's no good of my explaining her.  You'd have
+     thought divorce a brand-new invention of the devil, instead of a
+     comparatively old institution.  And if you don't mind my saying so,
+     my boy, you took this fence a bit on the run, the way you do
+     everything.
+
+     "The fact is, divorce is going out of fashion.  Maybe it's because
+     the Pendleton-Grenfell element have always set their patrician faces
+     against it; maybe its been a bit overdone.  Most people who have
+     tried it have discovered that the fire is no better than the frying-
+     pan--both hot as soon as they warm up.  Of course, old boy, there's
+     nothing personal in this.  Sit tight, and stick to the simple life--
+     that's your game as I see it.  No news--I've never known things to
+     be so quiet.  Jerry won over two thousand night before last--he made
+     it no trumps in his own hand four times running.
+
+                              "Yours,
+
+                                        "CECIL."
+
+
+Honora returned this somewhat unique epistle to her husband, and he
+crushed it.  There was an ill-repressed, terrifying savagery in the act,
+and her heart was torn between fear and pity for this lone message of
+good-will.  Whatever its wording, such it was.  A dark red flush had
+mounted his forehead to the roots of his short curly hair.
+
+"Well?" he said.
+
+She was fighting for her presence of mind.  Flashes of his temper she had
+known, but she had never seen the cruel, fiendish thing--his anger.  Not
+his anger, but the anger of the destroyer that she beheld waking now
+after its long sleep, and taking possession of him, and transforming him
+before her very eyes.  She had been able to cope with the new man, but
+she felt numb and powerless before the resuscitated demon of the old.
+
+"What do you expect me to say, Hugh?" she faltered, with a queer feeling
+that she was not addressing him.
+
+"Anything you like," he replied.
+
+"Defend Cecil."
+
+"Why should I defend him?" she said dully.
+
+"Because you have no pride."
+
+A few seconds elapsed before the full import and brutality of this insult
+reached her intelligence, and she cried out his name in a voice shrill
+with anguish.  But he seemed to delight in the pain he had caused.
+
+"You couldn't be expected, I suppose, to see that this letter is a d--d
+impertinence, filled with an outrageous flippancy, a deliberate affront,
+an implication that our marriage does not exist."
+
+She sat stunned, knowing that the real pain would come later.  That
+which slowly awoke in her now, as he paced the room, was a high sense of
+danger, and a persistent inability to regard the man who had insulted her
+as her husband.  He was rather an enemy to them both, and he would
+overturn, if he could, the frail craft of their happiness in the storm.
+She cried out to Hugh as across the waters.
+
+"No,--I have no pride, Hugh,--it is gone.  I have thought of you only.
+The fear that I might separate you from your family, from your friends,
+and ruin your future has killed my pride.  He--Mr. Grainger meant to be
+kind.  He is always like that--it's his way of saying things.  He wishes
+to show that he is friendly to you--to me--"
+
+"In spite of my relations," cried Chiltern, stopping in the middle of the
+room.  "They cease to be my relations from this day.  I disown them.  I
+say it deliberately.  So long as I live, not one of them shall come into
+this house.  All my life they have begged me to settle down, to come up
+here and live the life my father did.  Very well, now I've done it.  And
+I wrote to them and told them that I intended to live henceforth like a
+gentleman and a decent citizen--more than some of them do.  No, I wash my
+hands of them.  If they were to crawl up here from the gate on their
+knees, I'd turn them out."
+
+Although he could not hear her, she continued to plead.
+
+"Hugh, try to think of how--how our marriage must have appeared to them.
+Not that I blame you for being angry.  We only thought of one thing--our
+love--" her voice broke at the word, "and our own happiness.  We did not
+consider others.  It is that which sometimes has made me afraid, that we
+believed ourselves above the law.  And now that we have--begun so well,
+don't spoil it, Hugh!  Give them time, let them see by our works that we
+are in earnest, that we intend to live useful lives.
+
+"I don't mean to beg them," she cried, at sight of his eyes.  "Oh, I
+don't mean that.  I don't mean to entreat them, or even to communicate
+with them.  But they are your flesh and blood--you must remember that.
+Let us prove that we are--not--like the others," she said, lifting her
+head, "and then it cannot matter to us what any one thinks.  We shall
+have justified our act to ourselves."
+
+But he was striding up and down the room again.  It was as she feared--
+her plea--had fallen on unheeding ears.  A sudden convulsive leaping of
+the inner fires sent him to his desk, and he seized some note-paper from
+the rack.  Honora rose to her feet, and took a step towards him.
+
+"Hugh--what are you going to do?"
+
+"Do!" he cried, swinging in his chair and facing her, "I'm going
+to do what any man with an ounce of self-respect would do under the
+circumstances.  I'm going to do what I was a fool not to have done three
+months ago--what I should have done if it hadn't been for you.  If in
+their contemptible, pharisaical notions of morality they choose to forget
+what my mother and father were to them, they cease to exist for me.  If
+it's the last act of my life I'm going to tell them so."
+
+She stood gazing at him, but she was as one of whom he took no account.
+He turned to the desk and began to write with a deliberation all the more
+terrible to her because of the white anger he felt.  And still she stood.
+He pressed the button on his desk, and Starling responded.
+
+"I want a man from the stable to be ready to take some letters to town in
+half an hour," he said.
+
+It was not until then that she turned and slowly left the room.  A mortal
+sickness seemed to invade her vitals, and she went to her own chamber and
+flung herself, face downward, on the lace covering of the bed: and the
+sobs that shook her were the totterings of the foundations of her
+universe.  For a while, in the intensity of her anguish, all thought was
+excluded.  Presently, however, when the body was spent, the mind began to
+practise its subtle and intolerable torture, and she was invaded by a
+sense of loneliness colder than the space between the worlds.
+
+Where was she to go, whither flee, now that his wrath was turned against
+her?  On the strength of his love alone she had pinned her faith,
+discarded and scorned all other help.  And at the first contact with that
+greater power which he had taught her so confidently to despise, that
+strength had broken!
+
+Slowly, she gazed back over the path she had trod; where roses once had
+held up smiling heads.  It was choked now by brambles that scratched her
+nakedness at every step.  Ah, how easily she had been persuaded to enter
+it!  "We have the right to happiness," he had said, and she had looked
+into his eyes and believed him.  What was this strange, elusive
+happiness, that she had so pantingly pursued and never overtaken? that
+essence pure and unalloyed with baser things?  Ecstasy, perhaps, she had
+found--for was it delirium?  Fear was the boon companion of these; or
+better, the pestilence that stalked behind them, ever ready to strike.
+
+Then, as though some one had turned on a light--a sickening, yet
+penetrating blue light--she looked at Hugh Chiltern.  She did not wish
+to look, but that which had turned on the light and bade her was stronger
+than she.  She beheld, as it were, the elements of his being, the very
+sources of the ceaseless, restless energy that was driving him on.  And
+scan as she would, no traces of the vaunted illimitable power that is
+called love could she discern.  Love he possessed; that she had not
+doubted, and did not doubt, even now.  But it had been given her to see
+that these springs had existed before love had come, and would flow,
+perchance, after it had departed.  Now she understood his anger; it was
+like the anger of a fiercely rushing river striving to break a dam and
+invade the lands below with devastating floods.  All these months the
+waters had been mounting .  .  .  .
+
+Turning at length from the consideration of this figure, she asked
+herself whether, if with her present knowledge she had her choice to
+make over again, she would have chosen differently.  The answer was a
+startling negative.  She loved him.  Incomprehensible, unreasonable, and
+un reasoning sentiment!  That she had received a wound, she knew; whether
+it were mortal, or whether it would heal and leave a scar, she could not
+say.  One salient, awful fact she began gradually to realize, that if she
+sank back upon the pillows she was lost.  Little it would profit her to
+save her body.  She had no choice between her present precarious foothold
+and the abyss, and wounded as she was she would have to fight.  There was
+no retreat:
+
+She sat up, and presently got to her feet and went to the window and
+stared through the panes until she distinguished the blue whiteness of
+the fallen snow on her little balcony.  The night, despite the clouds,
+had a certain luminous quality.  Then she drew the curtains, searched for
+the switch, and flooded the room with a soft glow--that beautiful room in
+which he had so proudly installed her four months before.  She smoothed
+the bed, and walking to the mirror gazed intently at her face, and then
+she bathed it.  Afterwards she opened her window again, admitting a
+flurry of snow, and stood for some minutes breathing in the sharp air.
+
+Three quarters of an hour later she was dressed and descending the
+stairs, and as she entered the library dinner was announced.  Let us
+spare Honora the account of that repast or rather a recital of the
+conversation that accompanied it.  What she found to say under the eyes
+of the servants is of little value, although the fact itself deserves to
+be commended as a high accomplishment; and while she talked, she studied
+the brooding mystery that he presented, and could make nothing of it.
+His mood was new.  It was not sullenness, nor repressed rage; and his
+answers were brief, but he was not taciturn.  It struck her that in spite
+of a concentration such as she had never in her life bestowed on any
+other subject, her knowledge of him of the Chiltern she had married--
+was still wofully incomplete, and that in proportion to the lack of
+perfection of that knowledge her danger was great.  Perhaps the Chiltern
+she had married was as yet in a formative state.  Be this as it may, what
+she saw depicted on his face to-night corresponded to no former
+experience.
+
+They went back to the library.  Coffee was brought and carried off, and
+Honora was standing before the fire.  Suddenly he rose from his chair,
+crossed the room, and before she could draw away seized and crushed her
+in his arms without a word.  She lay there, inert, bewildered as in the
+grip of an unknown force, until presently she was aware of the beating of
+his heart, and a glimmering of what he felt came to her.  Nor was it an
+understandable thing, except to the woman who loved him.  And yet and yet
+she feared it even in that instant of glory.
+
+When at last she dared to look up, he kissed away the tears from her
+cheeks.
+
+"I love you," he said.  "You must never doubt it--do you understand?"
+
+"Yes, Hugh."
+
+"You must never doubt it," he repeated roughly.
+
+His contrition was a strange thing--if it were contrition.  And love--
+woman's love--is sometimes the counsellor of wisdom.  Her sole reproach
+was to return his kiss.
+
+Presently she chose a book, and he read to her.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+THE PILLARS OF SOCIETY
+
+One morning, as he gathered up his mail, Chiltern left lying on the
+breakfast table a printed circular, an appeal from the trustees of the
+Grenoble Hospital.  As Honora read it she remembered that this
+institution had been the favourite charity of his mother; and that Mrs.
+Chiltern, at her death, had bequeathed an endowment which at the time had
+been ample.  But Grenoble having grown since then, the deficit for this
+year was something under two thousand dollars, and in a lower corner was
+a request that contributions be sent to Mrs. Israel Simpson.
+
+With the circular in her hand, Honora went thoughtfully up the stairs to
+her sitting-room.  The month was February, the day overcast and muggy,
+and she stood for a while apparently watching the holes made in the snow
+by the steady drip from the cap of the garden wall.  What she really saw
+was the face of Mrs. Israel Simpson, a face that had haunted her these
+many months.  For Mrs. Simpson had gradually grown, in Honora's mind, to
+typify the hardness of heart of Grenoble.  With Grenoble obdurate, what
+would become of the larger ambitions of Hugh Chiltern?
+
+Mrs. Simpson was indeed a redoubtable lady, whose virtue shone with a
+particular high brightness on the Sabbath.  Her lamp was brimming with
+oil against the judgment day, and she was as one divinely appointed to
+be the chastener of the unrighteous.  So, at least, Honora beheld her.
+Her attire was rich but not gaudy, and had the air of proclaiming the
+prosperity of Israel Simpson alone as its unimpeachable source: her nose
+was long, her lip slightly marked by a masculine and masterful emblem,
+and her eyes protruded in such a manner as to give the impression of
+watchfulness on all sides.
+
+It was this watchfulness that our heroine grew to regard as a salient
+characteristic.  It never slept--even during Mr. Stopford's sermons.
+She was aware of it when she entered the church, and she was sure that
+it escorted her as far as the carriage on her departure.  It seemed to
+oppress the congregation.  And Honora had an idea that if it could have
+been withdrawn, her cruel proscription would have ended.  For at times
+she thought that she read in the eyes of some of those who made way for
+her, friendliness and even compassion.
+
+It was but natural, perhaps, in the situation in which our heroine found
+herself, that she should have lost her sense of proportion to the extent
+of regarding this lady in the light of a remorseless dragon barring her
+only path to peace.  And those who might have helped her--if any there
+were--feared the dragon as much as she.  Mrs. Simpson undoubtedly would
+not have relished this characterization, and she is not to have the
+opportunity of presenting her side of the case.  We are looking at it
+from Honora's view, and Honora beheld chimeras.  The woman changed, for
+Honora, the very aspect of the house of God; it was she who appeared to
+preside there, or rather to rule by terror.  And Honora, as she glanced
+at her during the lessons, often wondered if she realized the appalling
+extent of her cruelty.  Was this woman, who begged so audibly to be
+delivered from pride, vainglory, and hypocrisy, in reality a Christian?
+Honora hated her, and yet she prayed that God would soften her heart.
+Was there no way in which she could be propitiated, appeased?  For the
+sake of the thing desired, and which it was given this woman to withhold,
+she was willing to humble herself in the dust.
+
+Honora laid the hospital circular on the desk beside her account book.
+She had an ample allowance from Hugh; but lying in a New York bank was
+what remained of the unexpected legacy she had received from her father,
+and it was from this that she presently drew a cheque for five hundred
+dollars,--a little sacrifice that warmed her blood as she wrote.  Not for
+the unfortunate in the hospital was she making it, but for him: and that
+she could do this from the little store that was her very own gave her a
+thrill of pride.  She would never need it again.  If he deserted her, it
+mattered little what became of her.  If he deserted her!
+
+She sat gazing out of the window over the snow, and a new question
+was in her heart.  Was it as a husband--that he loved her?  Did their
+intercourse have that intangible quality of safety that belonged to
+married life?  And was it not as a mistress rather than a wife that,
+in their isolation, she watched his moods so jealously?  A mistress!  Her
+lips parted, and she repeated the word aloud, for self-torture is human.
+
+Her mind dwelt upon their intercourse.  There were the days they spent
+together, and the evenings, working or reading.  Ah, but had the time
+ever been when, in the depths of her being, she had felt the real
+security of a wife?  When she had not always been dimly conscious of a
+desire to please him, of a struggle to keep him interested and contented?
+And there were the days when he rode alone, the nights when he read
+or wrote alone, when her joy was turned to misery; there were the
+alternating periods of passion and alienation.  Alienation, perhaps, was
+too strong a word.  Nevertheless, at such times, her feeling was one of
+desolation.
+
+His heart, she knew, was bent upon success at Grenoble, and one of the
+books which they had recently read together was a masterly treatise, by
+an Englishman, on the life-work of an American statesman.  The vast width
+of the country, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, was stirred with
+politics: a better era was coming, the pulse of the nation beating with
+renewed life; a stronger generation was arising to take the Republic into
+its own hands.  A campaign was in progress in the State, and twice her
+husband had gone some distance to hear the man who embodied the new
+ideas, and had come back moody and restless, like a warrior condemned to
+step aside.  Suppose his hopes were blighted--what would happen?  Would
+the spirit of reckless adventure seize him again?  Would the wilds call
+him? or the city?  She did not dare to think.
+
+It was not until two mornings later that Hugh tossed her across the
+breakfast table a pink envelope with a wide flap and rough edges.  Its
+sender had taken advantage of the law that permits one-cent stamps for
+local use.
+
+"Who's your friend, Honora?"  he asked.
+
+She tried to look calmly at the envelope that contained her fate.
+
+"It's probably a dressmaker's advertisement," she answered, and went on
+with the pretence of eating her breakfast.
+
+"Or an invitation to dine with Mrs. Simpson," he suggested, laughingly,
+as he rose.  "It's just the stationery she would choose."
+
+Honora dropped her spoon in her egg-cup.  It instantly became evident,
+however, that his remark was casual and not serious, for he gathered up
+his mail and departed.  Her hand trembled a little as she opened the
+letter, and for a moment the large gold monogram of its sender danced
+before her eyes.
+
+     "Dear Madam, Permit me to thank you in the name of the Trustees of
+     the Grenoble Hospital for your generous contribution, and believe
+     me, Sincerely yours,
+
+                                   "MARIA W. SIMPSON."
+
+
+The sheet fluttered to the floor.
+
+When Sunday came, for the first time her courage failed her.  She had
+heard the wind complaining in the night, and the day dawned wild and wet.
+She got so far as to put on a hat and veil and waterproof coat; Starling
+had opened the doors, and through the frame of the doorway, on the wet
+steps, she saw the footman in his long mackintosh, his umbrella raised to
+escort her to the carriage.  Then she halted, irresolute.  The impassive
+old butler stood on the sill, a silent witness, she knew, to the struggle
+going on within her.  It seemed ridiculous indeed to play out the comedy
+with him, who could have recited the lines.  And yet she turned to him.
+
+"Starling, you may send the coachman back to the stable."
+
+"Very good, madam."
+
+As she climbed the stairs she saw him gravely closing the doors.  She
+paused on the landing, her sense of relief overborne by a greater sense
+of defeat.  There was still time!  She heard the wheels of the carriage
+on the  circle--yet she listened to them die away.  Starling softly
+caught the latch, and glanced up.  For an instant their looks crossed,
+and she hurried on with palpitating breast, reached her boudoir, and
+closed the door.  The walls seemed to frown on her, and she remembered
+that the sitting-room in St. Louis had worn that same look when, as a
+child, she had feigned illness in order to miss a day at school.  With a
+leaden heart she gazed out on the waste of melting snow, and then tried
+in vain to read a novel that a review had declared amusing.  But a
+question always came between her and the pages: was this the turning
+point of that silent but terrible struggle, when she must acknowledge to
+herself that the world had been too strong for her?  After a while her
+loneliness became unbearable.  Chiltern was in the library.
+
+"Home from church?" he inquired.
+
+"I didn't go, Hugh."
+
+He looked up in surprise.
+
+"Why, I thought I saw you start," he said.
+
+"It's such a dreary day, Hugh."
+
+"But that has never prevented you before."
+
+"Don't you think I'm entitled to one holiday?" she asked.
+
+But it was by a supreme effort she kept back the tears.  He looked at her
+attentively, and got up suddenly and put his hands upon her shoulders.
+She could not meet his eyes, and trembled under his touch.
+
+"Honora," he said, "why don't you tell me the truth?"
+
+"What do you mean, Hugh?"
+
+"I have been wondering how long you'd stand it.  I mean that these women,
+who call themselves Christians, have been brutal to you.  They haven't so
+much as spoken to you in church, and not one of them has been to this
+house to call.  Isn't that so?"
+
+"Don't let us judge them yet, Hugh," she begged, a little wildly, feeling
+again the gathering of another destroying storm in him that might now
+sweep the last vestige of hope away.  And she seized the arguments as
+they came.  "Some of them may be prejudiced, I know.  But others--others
+I am sure are kind, and they have had no reason to believe I should like
+to know them--to work among them.  I--I could not go to see them first,
+I am glad to wait patiently until some accident brings me near them.
+And remember, Hugh, the atmosphere in which we both lived before we came
+here--an atmosphere they regard as frivolous and pleasure-loving.  People
+who are accustomed to it are not usually supposed to care to make friends
+in a village, or to bother their heads about the improvement of a
+community.  Society is not what it was in your mother's day, who knew
+these people or their mothers, and took an interest in what they were
+doing.  Perhaps they think me--haughty."  She tried to smile.  "I have
+never had an opportunity to show them that I am not."
+
+She paused, breathless, and saw that he was unconvinced.
+
+"Do you believe that, Honora?" he demanded.
+
+"I--I want to believe it.  And I am sure, that if it is not true now, it
+will become so, if we only wait."
+
+He shook his head.
+
+"Never," he said, and dropped his hands and walked over to the fire.
+She stood where he had left her.
+
+"I understand," she heard him say, "I understand that you sent Mrs.
+Simpson five hundred dollars for the hospital.  Simpson told me so
+yesterday, at the bank."
+
+"I had a little money of my own--from my father and I was glad to do it,
+Hugh.  That was your mother's charity."
+
+Her self-control was taxed to the utmost by the fact that he was moved.
+She could not see his face, but his voice betrayed it.
+
+"And Mrs. Simpson?" he asked, after a moment.
+
+"Mrs. Simpson?"
+
+"She thanked you?"
+
+"She acknowledged the cheque, as president.  I was not giving it to her,
+but to the hospital."
+
+"Let me see the letter."
+
+"I--I have destroyed it."
+
+He brought his hands together forcibly, and swung about and faced her.
+
+"Damn them!" he cried, "from this day I forbid you to have anything to
+do with them, do you hear.  I forbid you!  They're a set of confounded,
+self-righteous hypocrites.  Give them time!  In all conscience they have
+had time enough, and opportunity enough to know what our intentions
+are.  How long do they expect us to fawn at their feet for a word of
+recognition?  What have we done that we should be outlawed in this way
+by the very people who may thank my family for their prosperity?  Where
+would Israel Simpson be to-day if my father had not set him up in
+business?  Without knowing anything of our lives they pretend to sit in
+judgment on us.  Why?  Because you have been divorced, and I married you.
+I'll make them pay for this!"
+
+"No!" she begged, taking a step towards him.  "You don't know what you're
+saying, Hugh.  I implore you not to do anything.  Wait a little while!
+Oh, it is worth trying!" So far the effort carried her, and no farther.
+Perhaps, at sight of the relentlessness in his eyes, hope left her, and
+she sank down on a chair and buried her face in her hands, her voice
+broken by sobs.  "It is my fault, and I am justly punished.  I have no
+right to you--I was wicked, I was selfish to marry you.  I have ruined
+your life."
+
+He went to her, and lifted her up, but she was like a child whom
+passionate weeping has carried beyond the reach of words.  He could say
+nothing to console her, plead as he might, assume the blame, and swear
+eternal fealty.  One fearful, supreme fact possessed her, the wreck of
+Chiltern breaking against the rocks, driven there by her .  .  .  .
+
+That she eventually grew calm again deserves to be set down as a tribute
+to the organism of the human body.
+
+That she was able to breathe, to move, to talk, to go through the
+pretence of eating, was to her in the nature of a mild surprise.  Life
+went on, but it seemed to Honora in the hours following this scene that
+it was life only.  Of the ability to feel she was utterly bereft.  Her
+calmness must have been appalling: her own indifference to what might
+happen now,--if she could have realized it,--even more so.  And in
+the afternoon, wandering about the house, she found herself in the
+conservatory.  It had been built on against the library, and sometimes,
+on stormy afternoons, she had tea there with Hugh in the red-cushioned
+chairs beside the trickling fountain, the flowers giving them an illusion
+of summer.
+
+Under ordinary circumstances the sound of wheels on the gravel would have
+aroused her, for Hugh scarcely ever drove.  And it was not until she
+glanced through the open doors into the library that she knew that a
+visitor had come to Highlawns.  He stood beside the rack for the
+magazines and reviews, somewhat nervously fingering a heavy watch charm,
+his large silk hat bottom upward on the chair behind him.  It was Mr.
+Israel Simpson.  She could see him plainly, and she was by no means
+hidden from him by the leaves, and yet she did not move.  He had come to
+see Hugh, she understood; and she was probably going to stay where she
+was and listen.  It seemed of no use repeating to herself that this
+conversation would be of vital importance; for the mechanism that
+formerly had recorded these alarms and spread them, refused to work.
+She saw Chiltern enter, and she read on his face that he meant to
+destroy.  It was no news to her.  She had known it for a long, long time
+--in fact, ever since she had came to Grenoble.  Her curiosity, strangely
+enough--or so it seemed afterwards--was centred on Mr. Simpson, as though
+he were an actor she had been very curious to see.
+
+It was this man, and not her husband, whom she perceived from the first
+was master of the situation.  His geniality was that of the commander of
+an overwhelming besieging force who could afford to be generous.  She
+seemed to discern the cloudy ranks of the legions behind him, and they
+encircled the world.  He was aware of these legions, and their presence
+completely annihilated the ancient habit of subserviency with which in
+former years he had been wont to enter this room and listen to the
+instructions of that formidable old lion, the General: so much was plain
+from the orchestra.  He went forward with a cheerful, if ponderous
+bonhomie.
+
+"Ah, Hugh," said he, "I got your message just in time.  I was on the
+point of going over to see old Murdock.  Seriously ill--you know--last
+time, I'm afraid," and Mr. Simpson shook his head.  He held out his hand.
+Hugh did not appear to notice it.
+
+"Sit down, Mr. Simpson," he said.
+
+Mr. Simpson sat down.  Chiltern took a stand before him.
+
+"You asked me the other day whether I would take a certain amount of the
+stock and bonds of the Grenoble Light and Power Company, in which you are
+interested, and which is, I believe, to supply the town with electric
+light, the present source being inadequate."
+
+"So I did," replied Mr. Simpson, urbanely, "and I believe the investment
+to be a good one.  There is no better power in this part of the country
+than Psalter's Falls."
+
+"I wished to inform you that I do not intend to go into the Light and
+Power Company," said Chiltern.
+
+"I am sorry to hear it," Mr. Simpson declared.  "In my opinion, if you
+searched the state for a more profitable or safer thing, you could not
+find it."
+
+"I have no doubt the investment is all that could be desired, Mr.
+Simpson.  I merely wished you to know, as soon as possible, that I did
+not intend to put my money into it.  There are one or two other little
+matters which you have mentioned during the week.  You pointed out that
+it would be an advantage to Grenoble to revive the county fair, and you
+asked me to subscribe five thousand dollars to the Fair Association."
+
+This time Mr. Simpson remained silent.
+
+"I have come to the conclusion, to-day, not to subscribe a cent.  I also
+intend to notify the church treasurer that I will not any longer rent a
+pew, or take any further interest in the affairs of St. John's church.
+My wife was kind enough, I believe, to send five hundred dollars to the
+Grenoble hospital.  That will be the last subscription from any member of
+my family.  I will resign as a director of the Grenoble Bank to-morrow,
+and my stock will be put on the market.  And finally I wished to tell you
+that henceforth I do not mean to aid in any way any enterprise in
+Grenoble."
+
+During this announcement, which had been made with an ominous calmness,
+Mr. Simpson had gazed steadily at the brass andirons.  He cleared his
+throat.
+
+"My dear Hugh," said he, "what you have said pains me excessively-
+excessively.  I--ahem--fail to grasp it.  As an old friend of your
+family--of your father--I take the liberty of begging you to reconsider
+your words."
+
+Chiltern's eyes blazed.
+
+"Since you have mentioned my father, Mr. Simpson," he exclaimed, "I may
+remind you that his son might reasonably have expected at your hands a
+different treatment than that you have accorded him.  You have asked me
+to reconsider my decision, but I notice that you have failed to inquire
+into my reasons for making it.  I came back here to Grenoble with every
+intention of devoting the best efforts of my life in aiding to build up
+the community, as my father had done.  It was natural, perhaps, that I
+should expect a little tolerance, a little friendliness, a little
+recognition in return.  My wife was prepared to help me.  We did not ask
+much.  But you have treated us like outcasts.  Neither you nor Mrs.
+Simpson, from whom in all conscience I looked for consideration and
+friendship, have as much as spoken to Mrs. Chiltern in church.  You have
+made it clear that, while you are willing to accept our contributions,
+you cared to have nothing to do with us whatever.  If I have overstated
+the case, please correct me."
+
+Mr. Simpson rose protestingly.
+
+"My dear Hugh," he said.  "This is very painful.  I beg that you will
+spare me."
+
+"My name is Chiltern," answered Hugh, shortly.  "Will you kindly explain,
+if you can, why the town of Grenoble has ignored us?"
+
+Israel Simpson hesitated a moment.  He seemed older when he looked at
+Chiltern again, and in his face commiseration and indignation were oddly
+intermingled.  His hand sought his watch chain.
+
+"Yes, I will tell you," he replied slowly, "although in all my life no
+crueller duty has fallen on me.  It is because we in Grenoble are old-
+fashioned in our views of morality, and I thank God we are so.  It is
+because you have married a divorced woman under circumstances that have
+shocked us.  The Church to which I belong, and whose teachings I respect,
+does not recognize such a marriage.  And you have, in my opinion,
+committed an offence against society.  To recognize you by social
+intercourse would be to condone that offence, to open the door to
+practices that would lead, in a short time, to the decay of our people."
+
+Israel Simpson turned, and pointed a shaking forefinger at the portrait
+of General Augus Chiltern.
+
+"And I affirm here, fearlessly before you, that he, your father, would
+have been the last to recognize such a marriage."
+
+Chiltern took a step forward, and his fingers tightened.
+
+"You will oblige me by leaving my father's name out of this discussion,"
+he said.
+
+But Israel Simpson did not recoil.
+
+"If we learn anything by example in this world, Mr. Chiltern," he
+continued, "and it is my notion that we do, I am indebted to your father
+for more than my start in life.  Through many years of intercourse with
+him, and contemplation of his character, I have gained more than riches.
+--You have forced me to say this thing.  I am sorry if I have pained you.
+But I should not be true to the principles to which he himself was
+consistent in life, and which he taught by example so many others, if I
+ventured to hope that social recognition in Grenoble would be accorded
+you, or to aid in any way such recognition.  As long as I live I will
+oppose it.  There are, apparently, larger places in the world and less
+humble people who will be glad to receive you.  I can only hope, as an
+old friend and well-wisher of your family, that you may find happiness."
+
+Israel Simpson fumbled for his hat, picked it up, and left the room.  For
+a moment Chiltern stood like a man turned to stone, and then he pressed
+the button on the wall behind him.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Self-torture is human
+
+
+
+
+
+
+A MODERN CHRONICLE
+
+By Winston Churchill
+
+
+
+Volume 8.
+
+
+XVI.      IN WHICH A MIRROR IS HELD UP
+XVII.     THE RENEWAL OF AN ANCIENT HOSPITALITY
+XVIII.    IN WHICH MR. ERWIN SEES PARIS
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+IN WHICH A MIRROR IS HELD UP
+
+Spring came to Highlawns, Eden tinted with myriad tender greens.  Yellow-
+greens, like the beech boughs over the old wall, and gentle blue-greens,
+like the turf; and the waters of the lake were blue and white in
+imitation of the cloud-flecked sky.  It seemed to Honora, as she sat on
+the garden bench, that the yellow and crimson tulips could not open wide
+enough their cups to the sun.
+
+In these days she looked at her idol, and for the first time believed
+it to be within her finite powers to measure him.  She began by asking
+herself if it were really she who had ruined his life, and whether he
+would ultimately have redeemed himself if he had married a woman whom the
+world would have recognized.  Thus did the first doubt invade her heart.
+It was of him she was thinking still, and always.  But there was the
+doubt.  If he could have stood this supreme test of isolation, of the
+world's laughter and scorn, although it would have made her own heavy
+burden of responsibility heavier, yet could she still have rejoiced.
+That he should crumble was the greatest of her punishments.
+
+Was he crumbling?  In these months she could not quite be sure, and she
+tried to shut her eyes when the little pieces fell off, to remind herself
+that she must make allowances for the severity of his disappointment.
+Spring was here, the spring to which he had so eagerly looked forward,
+and yet the listlessness with which he went about his work was apparent.
+Sometimes he did not appear at breakfast, although Honora clung with
+desperation to the hour they had originally fixed: sometimes Mr. Manning
+waited for him until nearly ten o'clock, only to receive curt dismissal.
+He went off for long rides, alone, and to the despair of the groom
+brought back the horses in a lather, with drooping heads and heaving
+sides; one of them he ruined.  He declared there wasn't a horse in the
+stable fit to give him exercise.
+
+Often he sat for hours in his study, brooding, inaccessible.  She had the
+tennis-court rolled and marked, but the contests here were pitifully-
+unequal; for the row of silver cups on his mantel, engraved with many
+dates, bore witness to his athletic prowess.  She wrote for a book on
+solitaire, but after a while the sight of cards became distasteful.  With
+a secret diligence she read the reviews, and sent for novels and memoirs
+which she scanned eagerly before they were begun with him.  Once, when
+she went into his study on an errand, she stood for a minute gazing
+painfully at the cleared space on his desk where once had lain the papers
+and letters relative to the life of General Angus Chiltern.
+
+There were intervals in which her hope flared, in which she tasted,
+fearfully and with bated breath, something that she had not thought to
+know again.  It was characteristic of him that his penitence was never
+spoken: nor did he exhibit penitence.  He seemed rather at such times
+merely to become normally himself, as one who changes personality,
+apparently oblivious to the moods and deeds of yesterday.  And these
+occasions added perplexity to her troubles.  She could not reproach him--
+which perhaps in any event she would have been too wise to do; but she
+could not, try as she would, bring herself to the point of a discussion
+of their situation.  The risk, she felt, was too great; now, at least.
+There were instances that made her hope that the hour might come.
+
+One fragrant morning Honora came down to find him awaiting her, and to
+perceive lying on her napkin certain distilled drops of the spring
+sunshine.  In language less poetic, diamonds to be worn in the ears.  The
+wheel of fashion, it appeared, had made a complete revolution since the
+early days of his mother's marriage.  She gave a little exclamation, and
+her hand went to her heart.
+
+"They are Brazilian stones," he explained, with a boyish pleasure that
+awoke memories and held her speechless.  "I believe it's very difficult,
+if not impossible, to buy them now.  My father got them after the war and
+I had them remounted."  And he pressed them against the pink lobes of her
+ears.  "You look like the Queen of Sheba."
+
+"How do you know?" she asked tremulously.  "You never saw her."
+
+"According to competent judges," he replied, "she was the most beautiful
+woman of her time.  Go upstairs and put them on."
+
+She shook her head.  An inspiration had come to her.
+
+"Wait," she cried.  And that morning, when Hugh had gone out, she sent
+for Starling and startled him by commanding that the famous Lowestoft set
+be used at dinner.  He stared at her, and the corners of his mouth
+twitched, and still he stood respectfully in the doorway.
+
+"That is all, Starling."
+
+"I beg pardon, madam.  How--how many will there be at the table?"
+
+"Just Mr. Chiltern and I," she replied.  But she did not look at him.
+
+It was superstition, undoubtedly.  She was well aware that Starling had
+not believed that the set would be used again.  An extraordinary order,
+that might well have sent him away wondering; for the Lowestoft had been
+reserved for occasions.  Ah, but this was to be an occasion, a festival!
+The whimsical fancy grew in her mind as the day progressed, and she
+longed with an unaccustomed impatience for nightfall, and anticipation
+had a strange taste.  Mathilde, with the sympathetic gift of her nation,
+shared the excitement of her mistress in this fete.  The curtains in the
+pink bedroom were drawn, and on the bed, in all its splendour of lace and
+roses, was spread out the dinner-gown-a chef-d'oeuvre of Madame
+Barriere's as yet unworn.  And no vulgar, worldly triumph was it to
+adorn.
+
+Her heart was beating fast as she descended the stairway, bright spots of
+colour flaming in her cheeks and the diamonds sparkling in her ears.  A
+prima donna might have guessed her feelings as she paused, a little
+breathless on the wide landing under the windows.  She heard a footstep.
+Hugh came out of the library and stood motionless, looking up at her.
+But even those who have felt the silence and the stir that prefaces the
+clamorous applause of the thousands could not know the thrill that swept
+her under his tribute.  She came down the last flight of steps, slowly,
+and stopped in front of him.
+
+"You are wonderful, Honora !" he said, and his voice was not quite under
+control.  He took her hand, that trembled in his, and he seemed to be
+seeking to express something for which he could find no words.  Thus may
+the King have looked upon Rosamond in her bower; upon a beauty created
+for the adornment of courts which he had sequestered for his eyes alone.
+
+Honora, as though merely by the touch of his hand in hers, divined his
+thought.
+
+"If you think me so, dear," she whispered happily, "it's all I ask."
+
+And they went in to dinner as to a ceremony.  It was indeed a ceremony
+filled for her with some occult, sacred, meaning that she could not put
+into words.  A feast symbolical.  Starling was sent to the wine-cellar to
+bring back a cobwebbed Madeira near a century old, brought out on rare
+occasions in the family.  And Hugh, when his glass was filled, looked at
+his wife and raised it in silence to his lips.
+
+She never forgot the scene.  The red glow of light from the shaded
+candles on the table, and the corners of the dining room filled with
+gloom.  The old butler, like a high priest, standing behind his master's
+chair.  The long windows, with the curtains drawn in the deep, panelled
+arches; the carved white mantelpiece; the glint of silver on' the
+sideboard, with its wine-cooler underneath,--these, spoke of generations
+of respectability and achievement.  Would this absorbed isolation, this
+marvellous wild love of theirs, be the end of it all?  Honora, as one
+detached, as a ghost in the corner, saw herself in the picture with
+startling clearness.  When she looked up, she met her husband's eyes.
+Always she met them, and in them a questioning, almost startled look that
+was new.  "Is it the earrings?" she asked at last. "I don't know," he
+answered.  "I can't tell.  They seem to have changed you, but perhaps
+they have brought out something in your face and eyes I have never seen
+before."
+
+"And--you like it, Hugh?"
+
+"Yes, I like it," he replied, and added enigmatically, "but I don't
+understand it."
+
+She was silent, and oddly satisfied, trusting to fate to send more
+mysteries.
+
+Two days had not passed when that restlessness for which she watched so
+narrowly revived.  He wandered aimlessly about the place, and flared up
+into such a sudden violent temper at one of the helpers in the fields
+that the man ran as for his life, and refused to set foot again on any
+of the Chiltern farms.  In the afternoon he sent for Honora to ride with
+him, and scolded her for keeping him waiting.  And he wore a spur, and
+pressed his horse so savagely that she cried out in remonstrance,
+although at such times she had grown to fear him.
+
+"Oh, Hugh, how can you be so cruel!"
+
+"The beast has no spirit," he said shortly.  "I'll get one that has."
+
+Their road wound through the western side of the estate towards misty
+rolling country, in the folds of which lay countless lakes, and at length
+they caught sight of an unpainted farmhouse set amidst a white cloud of
+apple trees in bloom.  On the doorstep, whittling, sat a bearded, unkempt
+farmer with a huge frame.  In answer to Hugh's question he admitted that
+he had a horse for sale, stuck his knife in the step, rose, and went off
+towards the barn near by; and presently reappeared, leading by a halter a
+magnificent black.  The animal stood jerking his head, blowing and pawing
+the ground while Chiltern examined him.
+
+"He's been ridden?" he asked.
+
+The man nodded.
+
+Chiltern sprang to the ground and began to undo his saddle girths.  A
+sudden fear seized Honora.
+
+"Oh, Hugh, you're not going to ride him!" she exclaimed.
+
+"Why not?  How else am I going to find out anything about him?"
+
+"He looks--dangerous," she faltered.
+
+"I'm tired of horses that haven't any life in them," he said, as he
+lifted off the saddle.
+
+"I guess we'd better get him in the barn," said the farmer.
+
+Honora went behind them to witness the operation, which was not devoid of
+excitement.  The great beast plunged savagely when they tightened the
+girths, and closed his teeth obstinately against the bit; but the farmer
+held firmly to his nose and shut off his wind.  They led him out from the
+barn floor.
+
+"Your name Chiltern?"  asked the farmer.
+
+"Yes," said Hugh, curtly.
+
+"Thought so," said the farmer, and he held the horse's head.
+
+Honora had a feeling of faintness.
+
+"Hugh, do be careful!" she pleaded.
+
+He paid no heed to her.  His eyes, she noticed, had a certain feverish
+glitter of animation, of impatience, such as men of his type must wear
+when they go into battle.  He seized the horse's mane, he put his foot
+in the stirrup; the astonished animal gave a snort and jerked the bridle
+from the farmer's hand.  But Chiltern was in the saddle, with knees
+pressed tight.
+
+There ensued a struggle that Honora will never forget.  And although she
+never again saw that farm-house, its details and surroundings come back
+to her in vivid colours when she closes her eyes.  The great horse in
+every conceivable pose, with veins standing out and knotty muscles
+twisting in his legs and neck and thighs.  Once, when he dashed into the
+apple trees, she gave a cry; a branch snapped, and Chiltern emerged,
+still seated, with his hat gone and the blood trickling from a scratch on
+his forehead.  She saw him strike with his spurs, and in a twinkling
+horse and rider had passed over the dilapidated remains of a fence and
+were flying down the hard clay road, disappearing into a dip.  A
+reverberating sound, like a single stroke, told them that the bridge at
+the bottom had been crossed.
+
+In an agony of terror, Honora followed, her head on fire, her heart
+pounding faster than the hoof beats.  But the animal she rode, though a
+good one, was no match for the great infuriated beast which she pursued.
+Presently she came to a wooded corner where the road forked thrice, and
+beyond, not without difficulty,--brought her sweating mare to a stand.
+The quality of her fear changed from wild terror to cold dread.  A hermit
+thrush, in the wood near by, broke the silence with a song inconceivably
+sweet.  At last she went back to the farm-house, hoping against hope that
+Hugh might have returned by another road.  But he was not there.  The
+farmer was still nonchalantly whittling.
+
+"Oh, how could you let any one get on a horse like that?"  she cried.
+
+"You're his wife, ain't you?"  he asked.
+
+Something in the man's manner seemed to compel her to answer, in spite of
+the form of the question.
+
+"I am Mrs. Chiltern," she said.
+
+He was looking at her with an expression that she found incomprehensible.
+His glance was penetrating, yet here again she seemed to read compassion.
+He continued to gaze at her, and presently, when he spoke, it was as
+though he were not addressing her at all.
+
+"You put me in mind of a young girl I used to know," he said; "seems like
+a long time ago.  You're pretty, and you're young, and ye didn't know
+what you were doin,' I'll warrant.  Lost your head.  He has a way of
+gittin' 'em--always had."
+
+Honora did not answer.  She would have liked to have gone away, but that
+which was stronger than her held her.
+
+"She didn't live here," he explained, waving his hand deprecatingly
+towards the weather-beaten house.  "We lived over near Morrisville in
+them days.  And he don't remember me, your husband don't.  I ain't
+surprised.  I've got considerable older."
+
+Honora was trembling from head to foot, and her hands were cold.
+
+"I've got her picture in there, if ye'd like to look at it," he said,
+after a while.
+
+"Oh, no!" she cried.  "Oh, no!"
+
+"Well, I don't know as I blame you."  He sat down again and began to
+whittle.  "Funny thing, chance," he remarked; "who'd a thought I should
+have owned that there hoss, and he should have come around here to ride
+it?"
+
+She tried to speak, but she could not.  The hideous imperturbability of
+the man's hatred sickened her.  And her husband!  The chips fell in
+silence until a noise on the road caused them to look up.  Chiltern was
+coming back.  She glanced again at the farmer, but his face was equally
+incapable, or equally unwilling, to express regret.  Chiltern rode into
+the dooryard.  The blood from the scratch on his forehead had crossed his
+temple and run in a jagged line down his cheek, his very hair (as she had
+sometimes seen it) was damp with perspiration, blacker, kinkier; his eyes
+hard, reckless, bloodshot.  So, in the past, must he have emerged from
+dozens of such wilful, brutal contests with man and beast.  He had beaten
+the sweat-stained horse (temporarily--such was the impression Honora
+received), but she knew that he would like to have killed it for its
+opposition.
+
+"Give me my hat, will you?" he cried to the farmer.
+
+To her surprise the man obeyed.  Chiltern leaped to the ground.
+
+"What do you want for him?"  he demanded.
+
+"I'll take five hundred dollars."
+
+"Bring him over in the morning," said Chiltern, curtly.
+
+They rode homeward in silence.  Honora had not been able to raise her
+voice against the purchase, and she seemed powerless now to warn her
+husband of the man's enmity.  She was thinking, rather, of the horror of
+the tragedy written on the farmer's face, to which he had given her the
+key: Hugh Chiltern, to whom she had intrusted her life and granted her
+all, had done this thing, ruthlessly, even as he had satisfied to-day his
+unbridled cravings in maltreating a horse!  And she thought of that other
+woman, on whose picture she had refused to look.  What was the essential
+difference between that woman and herself?  He had wanted them both, he
+had taken them both for his pleasure, heedless of the pain he might cause
+to others and to them.  For her, perhaps, the higher organism, had been
+reserved the higher torture.  She did not know.  The vision of the girl
+in the outer darkness reserved for castaways was terrible.
+
+Up to this point she had, as it were, been looking into one mirror.  Now
+another was suddenly raised behind her, and by its aid she beheld not a
+single, but countless, images of herself endlessly repeated.  How many
+others besides this girl had there been?  The question gave her the
+shudder of the contemplation of eternity.  It was not the first time
+Honora had thought of his past, but until today it had lacked reality;
+until to-day she had clung to the belief that he had been misunderstood;
+until to-day she had considered those acts of his of the existence of
+which she was collectively aware under the generic term of wild oats.
+He had had too much money, and none had known how to control him.  Now,
+through this concrete example of another's experience, she was given to
+understand that which she had strangely been unable to learn from her
+own.  And she had fancied, in her folly, that she could control him!
+Unable as yet to grasp the full extent of her calamity, she rode on by
+his side, until she was aware at last that they had reached the door of
+the house at Highlawns.
+
+"You look pale," he said as he lifted her off her horse.  The demon in
+him, she perceived, was tired.
+
+"Do I?"
+
+"What's the matter?"
+
+"Nothing," she answered.
+
+He laughed.
+
+"It's confoundedly silly to get frightened that way," he declared.
+"The beast only wants riding."
+
+Three mornings later she was seated in the garden with a frame of fancy
+work.  Sometimes she put it down.  The weather was overcast, langourous,
+and there was a feeling of rain in the air.  Chiltern came in through the
+gaffe, and looked at her.
+
+"I'm going to New York on the noon train," he said.
+
+"To New York?"
+
+"Yes.  Why not?"
+
+There's no reason why you shouldn't if you wish to," she replied, picking
+up her frame.
+
+"Anything I can get you?" he asked.
+
+"No, thank you."
+
+"You've been in such a deuced queer mood the last few days I can't make
+you out, Honora."
+
+"You ought to have learned something about women by this time," she said.
+
+"It seems to me," he announced, "that we need a little livening up."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+THE RENEWAL OF AN ANCIENT HOSPITALITY
+
+There were six letters from him, written from a club, representing the
+seven days of his absence.  He made no secret of the fact that his visit
+to the metropolis was in the nature of a relaxation and a change of
+scene, but the letters themselves contained surprisingly little
+information as to how he was employing his holiday.  He had encountered
+many old friends, supposedly all of the male sex: among them--most
+welcome of surprises to him!--Mr. George Pembroke, a boon companion at
+Harvard.  And this mention of boon companionship brought up to Honora a
+sufficiently vivid idea of Mr. Pembroke's characteristics.  The extent of
+her knowledge of this gentleman consisted in the facts that he was a
+bachelor, a member of a prominent Philadelphia family, and that time
+hung heavy on his hands.
+
+One morning she received a telegram to the effect that her husband would
+be home that night, bringing three people with him.  He sent his love,
+but neglected to state the names and sexes of the prospective guests.
+And she was still in a quandary as to what arrangements to make when
+Starling appeared in answer to her ring.
+
+"You will send the omnibus to the five o'clock train," she said.  "There
+will be three extra places at dinner, and tea when Mr. Chiltern arrives."
+
+Although she strove to speak indifferently, she was sure from the way the
+old man looked at her that her voice had not been quite steady.  Of late
+her curious feeling about him had increased in intensity; and many times,
+during this week she had spent alone, she had thought that his eyes had
+followed her with sympathy.  She did not resent this.  Her world having
+now contracted to that wide house, there was a comfort in knowing that
+there was one in it to whom she could turn in need.  For she felt that
+she could turn to Starling; he alone, apparently, had measured the full
+depth of her trouble; nay, had silently predicted it from the beginning.
+And to-day, as he stood before her, she had an almost irresistible
+impulse to speak.  Just a word-a human word would have been such a help
+to her!  And how ridiculous the social law that kept the old man standing
+there, impassive, respectful, when this existed between them!  Her
+tragedy was his tragedy; not in the same proportion, perhaps;
+nevertheless, he had the air of one who would die of it.
+
+And she?  Would she die?  What would become of her?  When she thought of
+the long days and months and years that stretched ahead of her, she felt
+that her soul would not be able to survive the process of steady
+degradation to which it was sure to be subjected.  For she was a
+prisoner: the uttermost parts of the earth offered no refuge.  To-day,
+she knew, was to see the formal inauguration of that process.  She had
+known torture, but it had been swift, obliterating, excruciating.  And
+hereafter it was to be slow, one turn at a time of the screws, squeezing
+by infinitesimal degrees the life out of her soul.  And in the end--most
+fearful thought of all--in the end, painless.  Painless!  She buried her
+head in her arms on the little desk, shaken by sobs.
+
+How she fought that day to compose herself, fought and prayed!  Prayed
+wildly to a God whose help, nevertheless, she felt she had forfeited,
+who was visiting her with just anger.  At half-past four she heard the
+carriage on the far driveway, going to the station, and she went down
+and walked across the lawn to the pond, and around it; anything to keep
+moving.  She hurried back to the house just in time to reach the hall as
+the omnibus backed up.  And the first person she saw descend, after Hugh,
+was Mrs. Kame.
+
+"Here we are, Honora," she cried.  "I hope you're glad to see us, and
+that you'll forgive our coming so informally.  You must blame Hugh.
+We've brought Adele."
+
+The second lady was, indeed, none other than Mrs. Eustace Rindge,
+formerly Mrs. Dicky Farnham.  And she is worth--even at this belated
+stage in our chronicle an attempted sketch, or at least an attempted
+impression.  She was fair, and slim as a schoolgirl; not very tall, not
+exactly petite; at first sight she might have been taken for a
+particularly immature debutante, and her dress was youthful and rather
+mannish.  Her years, at this period of her career, were in truth but
+two and twenty, yet she had contrived, in the comparatively brief time
+since she had reached the supposed age of discretion, to marry two men
+and build two houses, and incidentally to see a considerable portion of
+what is known as the world.  The suspicion that she was not as innocent
+as a dove came to one, on closer inspection, as a shock: her eyes were
+tired, though not from loss of sleep; and her manner--how shall it be
+described to those whose happy lot in life has never been to have made
+the acquaintance of Mrs. Rindge's humbler sisters who have acquired--more
+coarsely, it is true--the same camaraderie?  She was one of those for
+whom, seemingly, sex does not exist.  Her air of good-fellowship with men
+was eloquent of a precise knowledge of what she might expect from them,
+and she was prepared to do her own policing,--not from any deep moral
+convictions.  She belonged, logically, to that world which is disposed
+to take the law into its own hands, and she was the possessor of five
+millions of dollars.
+
+"I came along," she said to Honora, as she gave her hand-bag to a
+footman.  "I hope you don't mind.  Abby and I were shopping and we ran
+into Hugh and Georgie yesterday at Sherry's, and we've been together ever
+since.  Not quite that--but almost.  Hugh begged us to come up, and there
+didn't seem to be any reason why we shouldn't, so we telephoned down to
+Banbury for our trunks and maids, and we've played bridge all the way.
+By the way, Georgie, where's my pocket-book?"
+
+Mr. Pembroke handed it over, and was introduced by Hugh.  He looked at
+Honora, and his glance somehow betokened that he was in the habit of
+looking only once.  He had apparently made up his mind about her before
+he saw her.  But he looked again, evidently finding her at variance with
+a preconceived idea, and this time she flushed a little under his stare,
+and she got the impression that Mr. Pembroke was a man from whom few
+secrets of a certain kind were hid.  She felt that he had seized, at a
+second glance, a situation that she had succeeded in hiding from the
+women.  He was surprised, but cynically so.  He was the sort of person
+who had probably possessed at Harvard the knowledge of the world of a
+Tammany politician; he had long ago written his book--such as it was--and
+closed it: or, rather, he had worked out his system at a precocious age,
+and it had lasted him ever since.  He had decided that undergraduate
+life, freed from undergraduate restrictions, was a good thing.  And he
+did not, even in these days, object to breaking something valuable
+occasionally.
+
+His physical attributes are more difficult to describe, so closely were
+they allied to those which, for want of a better word, must be called
+mental.  He was neither tall nor short, he was well fed, but hard, his
+shoulders too broad, his head a little large.  If he should have happened
+to bump against one, the result would have been a bruise--not for him.
+His eyes were blue, his light hair short, and there was a slight baldness
+beginning; his face was red-tanned.  There was not the slightest doubt
+that he could be effectively rude, and often was; but it was evident, for
+some reason, that he meant to be gracious (for Mr. Pembroke) to Honora.
+Perhaps this was the result of the second glance.  One of his name had
+not lacked, indeed, for instructions in gentility.  It must not be
+thought that she was in a condition to care much about what Mr. Pembroke
+thought or did, and yet she felt instinctively that he had changed his
+greeting between that first and second glance.
+
+"I hope you'll forgive my coming in this way," he said.  "I'm an old
+friend of Hugh's."
+
+"I'm very glad to have Hugh's friends," she answered.
+
+He looked at her again.
+
+"Is tea ready?" inquired Mrs. Kame.  "I'm famished."  And, as they walked
+through the house to the garden, where the table was set beside the stone
+seat: "I don't see how you ever can leave this place, Honora.  I've
+always wanted to come here, but it's even more beautiful than I thought."
+
+"It's very beautiful," said Honora.
+
+"I'll have a whiskey and soda, if I may," announced Mrs. Rindge.  "Open
+one, Georgie."
+
+"The third to-day," said Mr. Pembroke, sententiously, as he obeyed.
+
+"I don't care.  I don't see what business it is of yours."
+
+"Except to open them," he replied.
+
+"You'd have made a fortune as a barkeeper," she observed,
+dispassionately, as she watched the process.
+
+"He's made fortunes for a good many," said Chiltern.
+
+"Not without some expert assistance I could mention," Mr. Pembroke
+retorted.
+
+At this somewhat pointed reference to his ancient habits, Chiltern
+laughed.
+
+"You've each had three to-day yourselves," said Mrs. Rindge, in whose
+bosom Mr. Pembroke's remark evidently rankled, "without counting those
+you had before you left the club."
+
+Afterwards Mrs. Kame expressed a desire to walk about a little, a
+proposal received with disfavour by all but Honora, who as hostess
+responded.
+
+"I feel perfectly delightful," declared Mrs. Rindge.  "What's the use of
+moving about?"  And she sank back in the cushions of her chair.
+
+This observation was greeted with unrestrained merriment by Mr. Pembroke
+and Hugh.  Honora, sick at heart, led Mrs. Kame across the garden and
+through the gate in the wall.  It was a perfect evening of early June,
+the great lawn a vivid green in the slanting light.  All day the cheerful
+music of the horse-mowers had been heard, and the air was fragrant with
+the odour of grass freshly cut.  The long shadows of the maples and
+beeches stretched towards the placid surface of the lake, dimpled here
+and there by a fish's swirl: the spiraeas were laden as with freshly
+fallen snow, a lone Judas-tree was decked in pink.  The steep pastures
+beyond the water were touched with gold, while to the northward, on the
+distant hills, tender blue lights gathered lovingly around the copses.
+Mrs. Kame sighed.
+
+"What a terrible thing it is," she said, "that we are never satisfied!
+It's the men who ruin all this for us, I believe, and prevent our
+enjoying it.  Look at Adele."
+
+Honora had indeed looked at her.
+
+"I found out the other day what is the matter with her.  She's madly in
+love with Dicky."
+
+"With--with her former husband?"
+
+"Yes, with poor little innocent Dicky Farnham, who's probably still
+congratulating himself, like a canary bird that's got out of a cage.
+Somehow Dicky's always reminded me of a canary; perhaps it's his name.
+Isn't it odd that she should be in love with him?"
+
+"I think," replied Honora, slowly, "that it's a tragedy."
+
+"It is a tragedy," Mrs. Kame hastily agreed.  "To me, this case is one
+of the most incomprehensible aspects of the tender passion.  Adele's idea
+of existence is a steeplechase with nothing but water-jumps, Dicky's to
+loiter around in a gypsy van, and sit in the sun.  During his brief
+matrimonial experience with her, he nearly died for want of breath--or
+rather the life was nearly shaken out of him.  And yet she wants Dicky
+again.  She'd run away with him to-morrow if he should come within
+hailing distance of her."
+
+"And her husband?" asked Honora.
+
+"Eustace?  Did you ever see him?  That accounts for your question.  He
+only left France long enough to come over here and make love to her, and
+he swears he'll never leave it again.  If she divorces him, he'll have to
+have alimony."
+
+At last Honora was able to gain her own room, but even seclusion, though
+preferable to the companionship of her guests, was almost intolerable.
+The tragedy of Mrs. Rindge had served--if such a thing could be--to
+enhance her own; a sudden spectacle of a woman in a more advanced stage
+of desperation.  Would she, Honora, ever become like that?  Up to the
+present she felt that suffering had refined her, and a great love had
+burned away all that was false.  But now--now that her god had turned to
+clay, what would happen?  Desperation seemed possible, notwithstanding
+the awfulness of the example.  No, she would never come to that!  And
+she repeated it over and over to herself as she dressed, as though to
+strengthen her will.
+
+During her conversation with Mrs. Kame she had more than once suspected,
+in spite of her efforts, that the lady had read her state of mind.  For
+Mrs. Kame's omissions were eloquent to the discerning: Chiltern's
+relatives had been mentioned with a casualness intended to imply that no
+breach existed, and the fiction that Honora could at any moment take up
+her former life delicately sustained.  Mrs. Kame had adaptably chosen the
+attitude, after a glance around her, that Honora preferred Highlawns to
+the world: a choice of which she let it be known that she approved, while
+deploring that a frivolous character put such a life out of the question
+for herself.  She made her point without over-emphasis.  On the other
+hand, Honora had read Mrs. Kame.  No very careful perusal was needed to
+convince her that the lady was unmoral, and that in characteristics she
+resembled the chameleon.  But she read deeper.  She perceived that Mrs.
+Kame was convinced that she, Honora, would adjust herself to the new
+conditions after a struggle; and that while she had a certain sympathy in
+the struggle, Mrs. Kame was of opinion that the sooner it was over with
+the better.  All women were born to be disillusionized.  Such was the
+key, at any rate, to the lady's conduct that evening at dinner, when she
+capped the anecdotes of Mr. Pembroke and Mrs. Rindge and even of Chiltern
+with others not less risque but more fastidiously and ingeniously
+suggestive.  The reader may be spared their recital.
+
+Since the meeting in the restaurant the day before, which had resulted
+in Hugh's happy inspiration that the festival begun should be continued
+indefinitely at Highlawns, a kind of freemasonry had sprung up between
+the four.  Honora found herself, mercifully, outside the circle: for such
+was the lively character of the banter that a considerable adroitness was
+necessary to obtain, between the talk and--laughter, the ear of the
+company.  And so full were they of the reminiscences which had been
+crowded into the thirty hours or so they had spent together, that her
+comparative silence remained unnoticed.  To cite an example, Mr. Pembroke
+was continually being addressed as the Third Vice-president, an allusion
+that Mrs. Rindge eventually explained.
+
+"You ought to have been with us coming up on the train," she cried to
+Honora; "I thought surely we'd be put off.  We were playing bridge in
+the little room at the end of the car when the conductor came for our
+tickets.  Georgie had 'em in his pocket, but he told the man to go away,
+that he was the third vice-president of the road, and we were his
+friends.  The conductor asked him if he were Mr. Wheeler, or some such
+name, and Georgie said he was surprised he didn't know him.  Well, the
+man stood there in the door, and Georgie picked up his hand and made it
+hearts--or was it diamonds, Georgie?"
+
+"Spades," said that gentleman, promptly.
+
+"At any rate," Mrs. Rindge continued, "we all began to play, although we
+were ready to blow up with laughter, and after a while Georgie looked
+around and said, 'What, are you there yet?'  My dear, you ought to have
+seen the conductor's face!  He said it was his duty to establish
+Georgie's identity, or something like that, and Georgie told him to get
+off at the next station and buy Waring's Magazine--was that it, Georgie?"
+
+"How the deuce should I know?"
+
+"Well, some such magazine.  Georgie said he'd find an article in it on
+the Railroad Kings and Princes of America, and that his picture,
+Georgie's, was among the very first!"  At this juncture in her narrative
+Mrs. Rindge shrieked with laughter, in which she was joined by Mrs. Kame
+and Hugh; and she pointed a forefinger across the table at Mr. Pembroke,
+who went on solemnly eating his dinner.  "Georgie gave him ten cents with
+which to buy the magazine," she added a little hysterically.  "Well,
+there was a frightful row, and a lot of men came down to that end of the
+car, and we had to shut the door.  The conductor said the most outrageous
+things, and Georgie pretended to be very indignant, too, and gave him the
+tickets under protest.  He told Georgie he ought to be in an asylum for
+the criminally insane, and Georgie advised him to get a photograph album
+of the high officials of the railroad.  The conductor said Georgie's
+picture was probably in the rogue's gallery.  And we lost two packs of
+cards out of the window."
+
+Such had been the more innocent if eccentric diversions with which they
+had whiled away the time.  When dinner was ended, a renewal of the bridge
+game was proposed, for it had transpired at the dinner-table that Mrs.
+Rindge and Hugh had been partners all day, as a result of which there was
+a considerable balance in their favour.  This balance Mr. Pembroke was
+palpably anxious to wipe out, or at least to reduce.  But Mrs. Kame
+insisted that Honora should cut in, and the others supported her.
+
+"We tried our best to get a man for you," said Mrs. Rindge to Honora.
+"Didn't we, Abby?  But in the little time we had, it was impossible.  The
+only man we saw was Ned Carrington, and Hugh said he didn't think you'd
+want him."
+
+"Hugh showed a rare perception," said Honora.
+
+Be it recorded that she smiled.  One course had been clear to her from
+the first, although she found it infinitely difficult to follow; she was
+determined, cost what it might, to carry through her part of the affair
+with dignity, but without stiffness.  This is not the place to dwell upon
+the tax to her strength.
+
+"Come on, Honora," said Hugh, "cut in."  His tone was of what may be
+termed a rough good nature.  She had not seen him alone since his return,
+but he had seemed distinctly desirous that she should enjoy the
+festivities he had provided.  And not to yield would have been
+to betray herself.
+
+The game, with its intervals of hilarity, was inaugurated in the library,
+and by midnight it showed no signs of abating.  At this hour the original
+four occupied the table for the second time, and endurance has its
+limits.  The atmosphere of Liberty Hall that prevailed made Honora's
+retirement easier.
+
+"I'm sure you won't mind if I go to bed," she said.  "I've been so used
+to the routine of--of the chickens."  She smiled.  "And I've spent the
+day in the open air."
+
+"Certainly, my dear," said Mrs. Kame; "I know exactly how one feels in
+the country.  I'm sure it's dreadfully late.  We'll have one more rubber,
+and then stop."
+
+"Oh, don't stop," replied Honora; "please play as long as you like."
+
+They didn't stop--at least after one more rubber.  Honora, as she lay in
+the darkness, looking through the open square of her window at the silver
+stars, heard their voiced and their laughter floating up at intervals
+from below, and the little clock on her mantel had struck the hour of
+three when the scraping of chairs announced the breaking up of the party.
+And even after that an unconscionable period elapsed, beguiled,
+undoubtedly, by anecdotes; spells of silence--when she thought they had
+gone--ending in more laughter.  Finally there was a crash of breaking
+glass, a climax of uproarious mirth, and all was still.  .  .
+
+She could not have slept much, but the birds were singing when she
+finally awoke, the sunlight pouring into her window: And the hands of her
+clock pointed to half-past seven when she rang her bell.  It was a relief
+to breakfast alone, or at least to sip her coffee in solitude.  And the
+dew was still on the grass as she crossed the wide lawn and made her way
+around the lake to the path that entered the woods at its farther end.
+She was not tired, yet she would have liked to have lain down under the
+green panoply of the forest, where the wild flowers shyly raised sweet
+faces to be kissed, and lose herself in the forgetfulness of an eternal
+sleep; never to go back again to an Eden contaminated.  But when she
+lingered the melody of a thrush pierced her through and through.  At last
+she turned and reluctantly retraced her steps, as one whose hour of
+reprieve has expired.
+
+If Mrs. Rindge had a girlish air when fully arrayed for the day, she
+looked younger and more angular still in that article of attire known as
+a dressing gown.  And her eyes, Honora remarked, were peculiarly bright:
+glittering, perhaps, would better express the impression they gave; as
+though one got a glimpse through them of an inward consuming fire.  Her
+laughter rang shrill and clear as Honora entered the hall by the rear
+door, and the big clock proclaimed that the hour was half-past eleven.
+Hugh and Mr. Pembroke were standing at the foot of the stairs, gazing
+upward.  And Honora, following their glances, be held the two ladies,
+in the negligee referred to above, with their elbows on the railing of
+the upper hall and their faces between their hands, engaged in a lively
+exchange of compliments with the gentlemen.  Mrs. Kame looked sleepy.
+
+"Such a night!" she said, suppressing a yawn.  "My dear, you did well to
+go to bed."
+
+"And to cap it all," cried Mrs. Rindge, "Georgie fell over backwards in
+one of those beautiful Adam chairs, and there's literally nothing left of
+it.  If an ocean steamer had hit it, or a freight tram, it couldn't have
+been more thoroughly demolished."
+
+"You pushed me," declared Mr. Pembroke.
+
+"Did I, Hugh?  I barely touched him."
+
+"You knocked him into a cocked hat," said Hugh.  "And if you'd been in
+that kimono, you could have done it even easier."
+
+"Georgie broke the whole whiskey service,--or whatever it is," Mrs.
+Rindge went on, addressing Honora again.  "He fell into it."
+
+"He's all right this morning," observed Mrs. Kame, critically.
+
+"I think I'll take to swallowing swords and glass and things in public.
+I can do it so well," said Mr. Pembroke.
+
+"I hope you got what you like for breakfast," said Honora to the ladies.
+
+"Hurry up and come down, Adele," said Hugh, "if you want to look over the
+horses before lunch."
+
+"It's Georgie's fault," replied Mrs. Rindge; "he's been standing in the
+door of my sitting-room for a whole half-hour talking nonsense."
+
+A little later they all set out for the stables.  These buildings at
+Highlawns, framed by great trees, were old-fashioned and picturesque,
+surrounding three sides of a court, with a yellow brick wall on the
+fourth.  The roof of the main building was capped by a lantern, the home
+of countless pigeons.  Mrs. Rindge was in a habit, and one by one the
+saddle horses were led out, chiefly for her inspection; and she seemed to
+Honora to become another woman as she looked them over with a critical
+eye and discussed them with Hugh and O'Grady, the stud-groom, and talked
+about pedigrees and strains.  For she was renowned in this department of
+sport on many fields, both for recklessness and skill.
+
+"Where did you get that brute, Hugh?" she asked presently.
+
+Honora, who had been talking to Pembroke, looked around with a start.
+And at the sight of the great black horse, bought on that unforgettable
+day, she turned suddenly faint.
+
+"Over here in the country about ten miles," Chiltern was saying.
+"I heard of him, but I didn't expect anything until I went to look at
+him last week."
+
+"What do you call him?" asked Mrs. Rindge.
+
+"I haven't named him."
+
+"I'll give you a name."
+
+Chiltern looked at her.  "What is it?" he said.
+
+"Oblivion," she replied:
+
+"By George, Adele," he exclaimed, "you have a way of hitting it off!"
+
+"Will you let me ride him this afternoon?" she asked.
+
+"I'm a--a candidate for oblivion."  She laughed a little and her eyes
+shone feverishly.
+
+"No you don't," he said.  "I'm giving you the grey.  He's got enough in
+him for any woman--even for you:  And besides, I don't think the black
+ever felt a side saddle, or any other kind, until last week."
+
+"I've got another habit," she said eagerly.  "I'd rather ride him astride.
+I'll match you to see who has him."
+
+Chiltern laughed.
+
+"No you don't," he repeated.  "I'll ride him to-day, and consider it
+to-morrow."
+
+"I--I think I'll go back to the house," said Honora to Pembroke.
+"It's rather hot here in the sun."
+
+"I'm not very keen about sunshine, either," he declared.
+
+At lunch she was unable to talk; to sustain, at least, a conversation.
+That word oblivion, which Mrs. Rindge had so aptly applied to the horse,
+was constantly on her lips, and it would not have surprised her if she
+had spoken it.  She felt as though a heavy weight lay on her breast, and
+to relieve its intolerable pressure drew in her breath deeply.  She was
+wild with fear.  The details of the great room fixed themselves indelibly
+in her brain; the subdued light, the polished table laden with silver and
+glass, the roses, and the purple hot-house grapes.  All this seemed in
+some way to be an ironic prelude to disaster.  Hugh, pausing in his
+badinage with Mrs. Rindge, looked at her.
+
+"Cheer up, Honora," he said.
+
+"I'm afraid this first house-party is too much for her," said Mrs. Kame.
+
+Honora made some protest that seemed to satisfy them, tried to rally
+herself, and succeeded sufficiently to pass muster.  After lunch they
+repaired again to the bridge table, and at four Hugh went upstairs to
+change into his riding clothes.  Five minutes longer she controlled
+herself, and then made some paltry excuse, indifferent now as to what
+they said or thought, and followed him.  She knocked at his dressing-room
+door and entered.  He was drawing on his boots.  "Hello, Honora," he
+said.
+
+Honora turned to his man, and dismissed him.
+
+"I wish to speak to Mr. Chiltern alone."
+
+Chiltern paused in his tugging at the straps, and looked up at her.
+
+"What's the matter with you to-day, Honora?" he asked.  "You looked like
+the chief mourner at a funeral all through lunch."
+
+He was a little on edge, that she knew.  He gave another tug at the boot,
+and while she was still hesitating, he began again.
+
+"I ought to apologize, I know, for bringing these people up without
+notice, but I didn't suppose you'd object when you understood how
+naturally it all came about.  I thought a little livening up, as I said,
+wouldn't,  hurt us.  We've had a quiet winter, to put it mildly."  He
+laughed a little.  "I didn't have a chance to see you until this morning,
+and when I went to your room they told me you'd gone out."
+
+"Hugh," she said, laying her hand on his shoulder.  "It isn't the guests.
+If you want people, and they amuse you, I'm--I'm glad to have them.  And
+if I've seemed to be--cold to them, I'm sorry.  I tried my best--I mean I
+did not intend to be cold.  I'll sit up all night with them, if you like.
+And I didn't come to reproach you, Hugh.  I'll never do that--I've got no
+right to."
+
+She passed her hand over her eyes.  If she had any wrongs, if she had
+suffered any pain, the fear that obsessed her obliterated all.  In spite
+of her disillusionment, in spite of her newly acquired ability to see him
+as he was, enough love remained to scatter, when summoned, her pride to
+the winds.
+
+Having got on both boots, he stood up.
+
+"What's the trouble, then?" he asked.  And he took an instant's hold of
+her chin--a habit he had--and smiled at her.
+
+He little knew how sublime, in its unconscious effrontery, his question
+was!  She tried to compose herself, that she might be able to present
+comprehensively to his finite masculine mind the ache of today.
+
+"Hugh, it's that black horse."  She could not bring herself to pronounce
+the name Mrs. Rindge had christened him.
+
+"What about him?" he said, putting on his waistcoat.
+
+"Don't ride him!" she pleaded.  "I--I'm afraid of him--I've been afraid
+of him ever since that day.
+
+"It may be a foolish feeling, I know.  Sometimes the feelings that hurt
+women most are foolish.  If I tell you that if you ride him you will
+torture me, I'm sure you'll grant what I ask.  It's such a little thing
+and it means so much--so much agony to me.  I'd do anything for you--give
+up anything in the world at your slightest wish.  Don't ride him!"
+
+"This is a ridiculous fancy of yours, Honora.  The horse is all right.
+I've ridden dozens of worse ones."
+
+"Oh, I'm sure he isn't," she cried; "call it fancy, call it instinct,
+call it anything you like--but I feel it, Hugh.  That woman--Mrs.
+Rindge--knows something about horses, and she said he was a brute."
+
+"Yes," he interrupted, with a short laugh, "and she wants to ride him."
+
+"Hugh, she's reckless.  I--I've been watching her since she came here,
+and I'm sure she's reckless with--with a purpose."
+
+"You're morbid," he said.  "She's one of the best sportswomen in the
+country--that's the reason she wanted to ride the horse.  Look here,
+Honora, I'd accede to any reasonable request.  But what do you expect me
+to do?"  he demanded; "go down and say I'm afraid to ride him? or that my
+wife doesn't want me to?  I'd never hear the end of it.  And the first
+thing Adele would do would be to jump on him herself--a little wisp of a
+woman that looks as if she couldn't hold a Shetland pony!  Can't you see
+that what you ask is impossible?"
+
+He started for the door to terminate a conversation which had already
+begun to irritate him.  For his anger, in these days, was very near the
+surface.  She made one more desperate appeal.
+
+"Hugh--the man who sold him--he knew the horse was dangerous.  I'm sure
+he did, from something he said to me while you were gone."
+
+"These country people are all idiots and cowards," declared Chiltern.
+"I've known 'em a good while, and they haven't got the spirit of mongrel
+dogs.  I was a fool to think that I could do anything for them.  They're
+kind and neighbourly, aren't they?" he exclaimed.  "If that old rascal
+flattered himself he deceived me, he was mistaken.  He'd have been
+mightily pleased if the beast had broken my neck."
+
+"Hugh!"
+
+"I can't, Honora.  That's all there is to it, I can't.  Now don't cut up
+about nothing.  I'm sorry, but I've got to go.  Adele's waiting."
+
+He came back, kissed her hurriedly, turned and opened the door.  She
+followed him into the hallway, knowing that she had failed, knowing that
+she never could have succeeded.  There she halted and watched him go down
+the stairs, and stand with her hands tightly pressed together: voices
+reached her, a hurrah from George Pembroke, and the pounding of hoofs on
+the driveway.  It had seemed such a little thing to ask!
+
+But she did not dwell upon this, now, when fear was gnawing her: how she
+had humbled her pride for days and weeks and months for him, and how he
+had refused her paltry request lest he should be laughed at.  Her
+reflections then were not on his waning love.  She was filled with the
+terror of losing him--of losing all that remained to her in the world.
+Presently she began to walk slowly towards the stairs, descended them,
+and looked around her.  The hall, at least, had not changed.  She
+listened, and a bee hummed in through the open doorway.  A sudden
+longing for companionship possessed her-no matter whose; and she walked
+hurriedly, as though she were followed, through the empty rooms until she
+came upon George Pembroke stretched at full length on the leather-covered
+lounge in the library.  He opened his eyes, and got up with alacrity.
+
+"Please don't move," she said.
+
+He looked at her.  Although his was not what may be called
+a sympathetic temperament, he was not without a certain knowledge of
+women; superficial, perhaps.  But most men of his type have seen them in
+despair; and since he was not related to this particular despair, what
+finer feelings he had were the more easily aroused.  It must have been
+clear to her then that she had lost the power to dissemble, all the
+clearer because of Mr. Pembroke's cheerfulness.
+
+"I wasn't going to sleep," he assured her.  "Circumstantial evidence is
+against me, I know.  Where's Abby?  reading French literature?"
+
+"I haven't seen her," replied Honora.
+
+"She usually goes to bed with a play at this hour.  It's a horrid habit--
+going to bed, I mean.  Don't you think?  Would you mind showing me about
+a little?"
+
+"Do you really wish to?" asked Honora, incredulously.
+
+"I haven't been here since my senior year," said Mr. Pembroke.  "If the
+old General were alive, he could probably tell you something of that
+visit--he wrote to my father about it.  I always liked the place,
+although the General was something of a drawback.  Fine old man,
+with no memory."
+
+I should have thought him to have had a good memory," she said.
+
+"I have always been led to believe that he was once sent away from
+college in his youth,--for his health," he explained significantly.
+"No man has a good memory who can't remember that.  Perhaps the battle
+of Gettysburg wiped it out."
+
+Thus, in his own easy-going fashion, Mr. Pembroke sought to distract her.
+She put on a hat, and they walked about, the various scenes recalling
+incidents of holidays he had spent at Highlawns.  And after a while
+Honora was thankful that chance had sent her in this hour to him rather
+than to Mrs. Kame.  For the sight, that morning of this lady in her
+dressing-gown over the stairway, had seemingly set the seal on a growing
+distaste.  Her feeling had not been the same about Mrs. Rindge: Mrs.
+Kame's actions savoured of deliberate choice, of an inherent and
+calculating wickedness.
+
+Had the distraction of others besides himself been the chief business of
+Mr. Pembroke's life, he could not have succeeded better that afternoon.
+He must be given this credit: his motives remain problematical; at length
+he even drew laughter from her.  The afternoon wore on, they returned to
+the garden for tea, and a peaceful stillness continued to reign about
+them, the very sky smiling placidly at her fears.  Not by assuring her
+that Hugh was unusual horseman, that he had passed through many dangers
+beside which this was a bagatelle, could the student of the feminine by
+her side have done half so well.  And it may have been that his success
+encouraged him as he saw emerging, as the result of his handiwork, an
+unexpectedly attractive--if still somewhat serious-woman from the gloom
+that had enveloped her.  That she should still have her distrait moments
+was but natural.
+
+He talked to her largely about Hugh, of whom he appeared sincerely fond.
+The qualities which attracted Mr. Pembroke in his own sex were somewhat
+peculiar, and seemingly consisted largely in a readiness to drop the
+business at hand, whatever it might be, at the suggestion of a friend to
+do something else; the "something else," of course, to be the conception
+of an ingenious mind.  And it was while he was in the midst of an
+anecdote proving the existence of this quality in his friend that he felt
+a sudden clutch on his arm.
+
+They listened.  Faintly, very faintly, could be heard the sound of hoof
+beats; rapid, though distant.
+
+"Do you hear?"  she whispered, and still held his arm.
+
+"It's just like them to race back," said Pembroke, with admirable
+nonchalance.
+
+"But they wouldn't come back at this time--it's too early.  Hugh always
+takes long rides.  They started for Hubbard's--it's twelve miles."
+
+"Adele changes her mind every minute of the day," he said.
+
+"Listen!" she cried, and her clutch tightened.  The hoof beats grew
+louder.  "It's only one--it's only one horse!"
+
+Before he could answer, she was already halfway up the garden path
+towards the house.  He followed her as she ran panting through the
+breakfast room, the dining room, and drawing-room, and when they reached
+the hall, Starling, the butler, and two footmen were going out at the
+door.  A voice--Mrs. Kame's--cried out, "What is it?" over the stairs,
+but they paid no heed.  As they reached the steps they beheld the slight
+figure of Mrs. Rindge on a flying horse coming towards them up the
+driveway.  Her black straw hat had slipped to the back of her neck, her
+hair was awry, her childish face white as paper.  Honora put her hand to
+her heart.  There was no need to tell her the news--she had known these
+many hours.
+
+Mrs. Rindge's horse came over the round grass-plot of the circle and
+planted his fore feet in the turf as she pulled him up.  She lurched
+forward.  It was Starling who lifted her off--George Pembroke stood by
+Honora.
+
+"My God, Adele," he exclaimed, "why don't you speak?"
+
+She was staring at Honora.
+
+"I can't!" she cried.  "I can't tell you--it's too terrible!
+The horse--"  she seemed to choke.
+
+It was Honora who went up to her with a calmness that awed them.
+
+"Tell me," she said, "is he dead?"
+
+Mrs. Rindge nodded, and broke into hysterical sobbing.
+
+"And I wanted to ride him myself," she sobbed, as they led her up the
+steps.
+
+In less than an hour they brought him home and laid him in the room in
+which he had slept from boyhood, and shut the door.  Honora looked into
+his face.  It was calm at last, and his body strangely at rest.  The
+passions which had tortured it and driven it hither and thither through a
+wayward life had fled: the power gone that would brook no guiding hand,
+that had known no master.  It was not until then that she fell upon him,
+weeping .  .  .  .
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+IN WHICH MR. ERWIN SEEK PARIS
+
+As she glanced around the sitting-room of her apartment in Paris one
+September morning she found it difficult, in some respects, to realize
+that she had lived in it for more than five years.  After Chiltern's
+death she had sought a refuge, and she had found it here: a refuge in
+which she meant--if her intention may be so definitely stated--to pass
+the remainder of her days.
+
+As a refuge it had become dear to her.  When first she had entered it she
+had looked about her numbly, thankful for walls and roof, thankful for
+its remoteness from the haunts of the prying: as a shipwrecked castaway
+regards, at the first light, the cave into which he has stumbled into the
+darkness-gratefully.  And gradually, castaway that she felt herself to
+be, she had adorned it lovingly, as one above whose horizon the sails of
+hope were not to rise; filled it with friends not chosen in a day, whose
+faithful ministrations were not to cease.  Her books, but only those
+worthy to be bound and read again; the pictures she had bought when she
+had grown to know what pictures were; the music she had come to love for
+its eternal qualities--these were her companions.
+
+The apartment was in the old quarter across the Seine, and she had found
+it by chance.  The ancient family of which this hotel had once been the
+home would scarce have recognized, if they had returned the part of it
+Honora occupied.  The room in which she mostly lived was above the corner
+of the quiet street, and might have been more aptly called a sitting-room
+than a salon.  Its panels were the most delicate of blue-gray,
+fantastically designed and outlined by ribbings of blue.  Some of them
+contained her pictures.  The chairs, the sofas, the little tabourets,
+were upholstered in yellow, their wood matching the panels.  Above the
+carved mantel of yellowing marble was a quaintly shaped mirror extending
+to the high ceiling, and flanked on either side by sconces.  The carpet
+was a golden brown, the hangings in the tall windows yellow.  And in the
+morning the sun came in, not boisterously, but as a well-bred and
+cheerful guest.  An amiable proprietor had permitted her also to add a
+wrought-iron balcony as an adjunct to this room, and sometimes she sat
+there on the warmer days reading under the seclusion of an awning, or
+gazing at the mysterious facades of the houses opposite, or at infrequent
+cabs or pedestrians below.
+
+An archway led out of the sitting-room into a smaller room, once the
+boudoir of a marquise, now Honora's library.  This was in blue and gold,
+and she had so far modified the design of the decorator as to replace the
+mirrors of the cases with glass; she liked to see her books.  Beyond the
+library was a dining room in grey, with dark red hangings; it overlooked
+the forgotten garden of the hotel.
+
+One item alone of news from the outer world, vital to her, had drifted
+to her retreat.  Newspapers filled her with dread, but it was from a
+newspaper, during the first year of her retirement, that she had learned
+of the death of Howard Spence.  A complication of maladies was mentioned,
+but the true underlying cause was implied in the article, and this had
+shocked but not surprised her.  A ferment was in progress in her own
+country, the affairs of the Orange Trust Company being investigated, and
+its president under indictment at the hour of his demise.  Her feelings
+at the time, and for months after, were complex.  She had been moved to
+deep pity, for in spite of what he had told her of his business
+transactions, it was impossible for her to think of him as a criminal.
+That he had been the tool of others, she knew, but it remained a question
+in her mind how clearly he had perceived the immorality of his course,
+and of theirs.  He had not been given to casuistry, and he had been
+brought up in a school the motto of which he had once succinctly stated:
+the survival of the fittest.  He had not been, alas, one of those to
+survive.
+
+Honora had found it impossible to unravel the tangled skein of their
+relationship, and to assign a definite amount of blame to each.  She did
+not shirk hers, and was willing to accept a full measure.  That she had
+done wrong in marrying him, and again in leaving him to marry another
+man, she acknowledged freely.  Wrong as she knew this to have been,
+severely though she had been punished for it, she could not bring herself
+to an adequate penitence.  She tried to remember him as he had been at
+Silverdale, and in the first months of their marriage, and not as he had
+afterwards become.  There was no question in her mind, now that it was
+given her to see things more clearly, that she might have tried harder,
+much harder, to make their marriage a success.  He might, indeed, have
+done more to protect and cherish her.  It was a man's part to guard a
+woman against the evils with which she had been surrounded.  On the other
+hand, she could not escape the fact, nor did she attempt to escape it,
+that she had had the more light of the two: and that, though the task
+were formidable, she might have fought to retain that light and infuse
+him with it.
+
+That she did not hold herself guiltless is the important point.  Many of
+her hours were spent in retrospection.  She was, in a sense, as one dead,
+yet retaining her faculties; and these became infinitely keen now that
+she was deprived of the power to use them as guides through life.  She
+felt that the power had come too late, like a legacy when one is old.
+And she contemplated the Honora of other days--of the flesh, as though
+she were now the spirit departed from that body; sorrowfully, poignantly
+regretful of the earthly motives, of the tarnished ideals by which it had
+been animated and led to destruction.
+
+Even Hugh Chiltern had left her no illusions.  She thought of him at
+tunes with much tenderness; whether she still loved him or not she could
+not say.  She came to the conclusion that all capacity for intense
+feeling had been burned out of her.  And she found that she could permit
+her mind to rest upon no period of her sojourn at Grenoble without a
+sense of horror; there had been no hour when she had seemed secure from
+haunting terror, no day that had not added its mite to the gathering
+evidence of an ultimate retribution.  And it was like a nightmare to
+summon again this spectacle of the man going to pieces under her eyes.
+The whole incident in her life as time wore on assumed an aspect bizarre,
+incredible, as the follies of a night of madness appear in the saner
+light of morning.  Her great love had bereft her of her senses, for had
+the least grain of sanity remained to her she might have known that the
+thing they attempted was impossible of accomplishment.
+
+Her feeling now, after four years, might be described as relief.  To
+employ again the figure of the castaway, she often wondered why she of
+all others had been rescued from the tortures of slow drowning and thrown
+up on an island.  What had she done above the others to deserve
+preservation?  It was inevitable that she should on occasions picture to
+herself the years with him that would have stretched ahead, even as the
+vision of them had come to her that morning when, in obedience to his
+telegram, she had told Starling to prepare for guests.  Her escape had
+indeed been miraculous!
+
+Although they had passed through a ceremony, the conviction had never
+taken root in her that she had been married to Chiltern.  The tie that
+had united her to him had not been sacred, though it had been no less
+binding; more so, in fact.  That tie would have become a shackle.  Her
+perception of this, after his death, had led her to instruct her attorney
+to send back to his relatives all but a small income from his estate,
+enough for her to live on during her lifetime.  There had been some
+trouble about this matter; Mrs. Grainger, in particular, had surprised
+her in making objections, and had finally written a letter which Honora
+received with a feeling akin to gratitude.  Whether her own action had
+softened this lady's feelings, she never understood; she had cherished
+the letter for its unexpectedly charitable expressions.  Chiltern's
+family had at last agreed to accept the estate on the condition that the
+income mentioned should be tripled.  And to this Honora had consented.
+Money had less value than ever in her eyes.
+
+She lived here in Paris in what may be called a certain peace, made no
+demands upon the world, and had no expectations from it.  She was now in
+half mourning, and intended to remain so.  Her isolation was of her own
+choice, if a stronger expression be not used.  She was by no means an
+enforced outcast.  And she was even aware that a certain sympathy for her
+had grown up amongst her former friends which had spread to the colony of
+her compatriots in Paris; in whose numbers there were some, by no means
+unrecognized, who had defied the conventions more than she.  Hugh
+Chiltern's reputation, and the general knowledge of his career, had no
+doubt aided to increase this sympathy, but the dignity of her conduct
+since his death was at the foundation of it.  Sometimes, on her walks
+and drives, she saw people bowing to her, and recognized friends or
+acquaintances of what seemed to her like a former existence.
+
+Such had been her life in Paris until a certain day in early September,
+a month before this chapter opens.  It was afternoon, and she was sitting
+in the balcony cutting a volume of memoirs when she heard the rattle of a
+cab on the cobbles below, and peered curiously over the edge of the
+railing.  Although still half a block away, the national characteristics
+of the passenger were sufficiently apparent.  He was an American--of that
+she was sure.  And many Americans did not stray into that quarter.  The
+length of his legs, for one thing, betrayed him: he found the seat of the
+fiacre too low, and had crossed one knee over the other.  Other and less
+easily definable attributes he did not lack.  And as he leaned against
+the faded blue cushions regarding with interest the buildings he passed,
+he seemed, like an ambassador, to convert the cab in which he rode into
+United States territory.  Then she saw that it was Peter Erwin.
+
+She drew back her head from the balcony rail, and tried to sit still and
+to think, but she was trembling as one stricken with a chill.  The cab
+stopped; and presently, after an interval, his card was handed her.  She
+rose, and stood for a moment with her hand against the wall before she
+went into the salon.  None of the questions she had asked herself were
+answered.  Was she glad to see him? and what would be his attitude
+towards her?  When she beheld him standing before her she had strength
+only to pronounce his name.
+
+He came forward quickly and took her hand and looked down into her face.
+She regarded him tremulously, instinctively guessing the vital importance
+of this moment for him; and she knew then that he had been looking
+forward to it in mingled hope and dread, as one who gazes seaward after
+a night of tempest for the ship he has seen at dusk in the offing.  What
+had the tempest done to her?  Such was his question.  And her heart
+leaped as she saw the light growing in his eyes, for it meant much to her
+that he should see that she was not utterly dismantled.  She fell; his
+own hand tremble as he relinquished hers.  He was greatly moved; his
+voice, too, betrayed it.
+
+"You see I have found you," he said.
+
+"Yes," she answered; "--why did you come?"
+
+"Why have I always come to you, when it was possible?" he asked.
+
+"No one ever had such a friend, Peter.  Of that I am sure:'
+
+"I wanted to see Paris," he said, "before I grew too decrepit to enjoy
+it."
+
+She smiled, and turned away.
+
+"Have you seen much of it?"
+
+"Enough to wish to see more."
+
+"When did you arrive?"
+
+"Some time in the night," he said, "from Cherbourg.  And I'm staying at a
+very grand hotel, which might be anywhere.  A man I crossed with on the
+steamer took me there.  I think I'd move to one of the quieter ones, the
+French ones, if I were a little surer of my pronunciation and the
+subjunctive mood."
+
+"You don't mean to say you've been studying French!"
+
+He coloured a little, and laughed.
+
+"You think it ridiculous at my time of life?  I suppose you're right.
+You should have seen me trying to understand the cabmen.  The way these
+people talk reminds me more of a Gatling gun than anything I can think
+of.  It certainly isn't human."
+
+"Perhaps you have come over as ambassador," she suggested.  "When I saw
+you in the cab, even before I recognized you, I thought of a bit of our
+soil broken off and drifted over here."
+
+Her voice did not quite sustain the lighter note--the emotion his visit
+was causing her was too great.  He brought with him into her retreat not
+so much a flood of memories as of sensations.  He was a man whose image
+time with difficulty obliterates, whose presence was a shining thing: so
+she had grown to value it in proportion as she had had less of it.  She
+did inevitably recall the last time she had seen him, in the little
+Western city, and how he had overwhelmed her, invaded her with doubts and
+aroused the spirit which had possessed her to fight fiercely for its
+foothold.  And to-day his coming might be likened to the entrance of a
+great physician into the room of a distant and lonely patient whom amidst
+wide ministrations he has not forgotten.  She saw now that he had been
+right.  She had always seen it, clearly indeed when he had been beside
+her, but the spirit within her had been too strong, until now.  Now, when
+it had plundered her soul of treasures--once so little valued--it had
+fled.  Such were her thoughts.
+
+The great of heart undoubtedly possess this highest quality of the
+physician,--if the statement may thus be put backhandedly,--and Peter
+Erwin instinctively understood the essential of what was going on within
+her.  He appeared to take a delight in the fancy she had suggested; that
+he had brought a portion of the newer world to France.
+
+"Not a piece of the Atlantic coast, certainly," he replied.  "One of the
+muddy islands, perhaps, of the Mississippi."
+
+"All the more representative," she said.  "You seem to have taken
+possession of Paris, Peter--not Paris of you.  You have annexed the seat
+of the Capets, and brought democracy at last into the Faubourg."
+
+"Without a Reign of Terror," he added quizzically.
+
+"If you are not ambassador, what are you?" she asked.  "I have expected
+at any moment to read in the Figaro that you were President of the United
+States."
+
+"I am the American tourist," he declared, "with Baedeker for my Bible,
+who desires to be shown everything.  And I have already discovered that
+the legend of the fabulous wealth of the Indies is still in force here.
+There are many who are willing to believe that in spite of my modest
+appearance--maybe because of it--I have sailed over in a galleon
+filled with gold.  Already I have been approached from every side by
+confidential gentlemen who announced that they spoke English--one of them
+said 'American'--who have offered to show me many things, and who have
+betrayed enough interest in me to inquire whether I were married or
+single."
+
+Honora laughed.  They were seated in the balcony by this time, and he had
+the volume of memoirs on his knee, fingering it idly.
+
+"What did you say to them?" she asked.
+
+"I told them I was the proud father of ten children," he replied.  "That
+seemed to stagger them, but only for a moment.  They offered to take us
+all to the Louvre."
+
+"Peter, you are ridiculous!  But, in spite of your nationality, you don't
+look exactly gullible."
+
+"That is a relief," he said.  "I had begun to think I ought to leave my
+address and my watch with the Consul General .  .  .  ."
+
+Of such a nature was the first insidious rupture of that routine she had
+grown to look upon as changeless for the years to come, of the life she
+had chosen for its very immutable quality.  Even its pangs of loneliness
+had acquired a certain sweet taste.  Partly from a fear of a world that
+had hurt her, partly from fear of herself, she had made her burrow deep,
+that heat and cold, the changing seasons, and love and hate might be
+things far removed.  She had sought to remove comparisons, too, from the
+limits of her vision; to cherish and keep alive, indeed, such regrets as
+she had, but to make no new ones.
+
+Often had she thought of Peter Erwin, and it is not too much to say that
+he had insensibly grown into an ideal.  He had come to represent to her
+the great thing she had missed in life, missed by feverish searching in
+the wrong places, digging for gold where the ground had glittered.  And,
+if the choice had been given her, she would have preferred his spiritual
+to his bodily companionship--for a while, at least.  Some day, when she
+should feel sure that desire had ceased to throb, when she should have
+acquired an unshakable and absolute resignation, she would see him.  It
+is not too much to say, if her feeling be not misconstrued and stretched
+far beyond her own conception of it, that he was her one remaining
+interest in the world.  She had scanned the letters of her aunt and uncle
+for knowledge of his doings, and had felt her curiosity justified by a
+certain proprietorship that she did not define, faith in humankind, or
+the lack of it, usually makes itself felt through one's comparative
+contemporaries.  That her uncle was a good man, for instance, had no such
+effect upon Honora, as the fact that Peter was a good man.  And that he
+had held a true course had gradually become a very vital thing to her,
+perhaps the most vital thing; and she could have imagined no greater
+personal calamity now than to have seen him inconsistent.  For there are
+such men, and most people have known them.  They are the men who,
+unconsciously, keep life sweet.
+
+Yet she was sorry he had invaded her hiding-place.  She had not yet
+achieved peace, and much of the weary task would have to be done over
+after he was gone.
+
+In the meantime she drifted with astounding ease into another existence.
+For it was she, and not the confidential gentlemen, who showed Peter
+Paris: not the careless, pleasure-loving Paris of the restaurants, but of
+the Cluny and the Carnavalet.  The Louvre even was not neglected, and as
+they entered it first she recalled with still unaccustomed laughter his
+reply to the proffered services of the guide.  Indeed, there was much
+laughter in their excursions: his native humour sprang from the same well
+that held his seriousness.  She was amazed at his ability to strip a sham
+and leave it grotesquely naked; shams the risible aspect of which she had
+never observed in spite of the familiarity four years had given her.
+Some of his own countrymen and countrywomen afforded him the
+greatest amusement in their efforts to carry off acquired European
+"personalities," combinations of assumed indifference and effrontery, and
+an accent the like of which was never heard before.  But he was neither
+bitter nor crude in his criticisms.  He made her laugh, but he never made
+her ashamed.  His chief faculty seemed to be to give her the power to
+behold, with astonishing clearness, objects and truths which had lain
+before her eyes, and yet hidden.  And she had not thought to acquire any
+more truths.
+
+The depth of his pleasure in the things he saw was likewise a revelation
+to her.  She was by no means a bad guide to the Louvre and the
+Luxembourg, but the light in her which had come slowly flooded him with
+radiance at the sight of a statue or a picture.  He would stop with an
+exclamation and stand gazing, self-forgetful, for incredible periods, and
+she would watch him, filled with a curious sense of the limitations of an
+appreciation she had thought complete.  Where during his busy life had
+he got this thing which others had sought in many voyages in vain?
+
+Other excursions they made, and sometimes these absorbed a day.  It was a
+wonderful month, that Parisian September, which Honora, when she allowed
+herself to think, felt that she had no right to.  A month filled to the
+brim with colour: the stone facades of the houses, which in certain
+lights were what the French so aptly call bleuatre; the dense green
+foliage of the horse-chestnut trees, the fantastic iron grills, the Arc
+de Triomphe in the centre of its circle at sunset, the wide shaded
+avenues radiating from it, the bewildering Champs Elysees, the blue
+waters of the Seine and the graceful bridges spanning it, Notre Dame
+against the sky.  Their walks took them, too, into quainter, forgotten
+regions where history was grim and half-effaced, and they speculated on
+the France of other days.
+
+They went farther afield; and it was given them to walk together down
+green vistas cut for kings, to linger on terraces with the river far
+below them, and the roofs of Paris in the hazy distance; that Paris,
+sullen so long, the mutterings of which the kings who had sat there must
+have heard with dread; that Paris which had finally risen in its wrath
+and taken the pleasure-houses and the parks for itself.
+
+Once they went out to Chantilly, the cameo-like chateau that stands
+mirrored in its waters, and wandered through the alleys there.  Honora
+had left her parasol on the parapet, and as they returned Peter went to
+get it, while she awaited him at a little distance.  A group was chatting
+gayly on the lawn, and one of them, a middle-aged, well-dressed man
+hailed him with an air of fellowship, and Peter stopped for a moment's
+talk.
+
+"We were speaking of ambassadors the other day," he said when he joined
+her; "that was our own, Minturn."
+
+"We were speaking of them nearly a month ago," she said.
+
+"A month ago!  I can't believe it!" he exclaimed.
+
+"What did he say to you?"  Honora inquired presently.
+
+"He was abusing me for not letting him know I was in Paris."
+
+"Peter, you ought to have let him know!"
+
+"I didn't come over here to see the ambassador," answered Peter, gayly.
+
+She talked less than usual on their drive homeward, but he did not seem
+to notice the fact.  Dusk was already lurking in the courtyards and
+byways of the quiet quarter when the porter let them in, and the stone
+stairway of the old hotel was almost in darkness.  The sitting-room, with
+its yellow, hangings snugly drawn and its pervading but soft light, was a
+grateful change.  And while she was gone to--remove her veil and hat,
+Peter looked around it.
+
+It was redolent of her.  A high vase of remarkable beauty, filled with
+white roses, stood on the gueridon.  He went forward and touched it, and
+closed his eyes as though in pain.  When he opened them he saw her
+standing in the archway.
+
+She had taken off her coat, and was in a simple white muslin gown, with a
+black belt--a costume that had become habitual.  Her age was thirty.  The
+tragedy and the gravity of her life during these later years had touched
+her with something that before was lacking.  In the street, in the
+galleries, people had turned to look at her; not with impudent stares.
+She caught attention, aroused imagination.  Once, the year before, she
+had had a strange experience with a well-known painter, who, in an
+impulsive note, had admitted following her home and bribing the
+concierge.  He craved a few sittings.  Her expression now, as she
+looked at Peter, was graver than usual.
+
+"You must not come to-morrow," she said.
+
+"I thought we were going to Versailles again," he replied in surprise.
+"I have made the arrangements."
+
+"I have changed my mind.  I'm not going."
+
+"You want to postpone it?" he asked.
+
+She took a chair beside the little blaze in the fireplace.
+
+"Sit down, Peter.  I wish to say something to you.  I have been wishing
+to do so for some time."
+
+"Do you object if I stand a moment?"  he said.  "I feel so much more
+comfortable standing, especially when I am going to be scolded."
+
+"Yes," she admitted, "I am going to scold you.  Your conscience has
+warned you."
+
+"On the contrary," he declared, "it has never been quieter.  If I have
+offended; it is through ignorance."
+
+"It is through charity, as usual," she said m a low voice.  "If your
+conscience be quiet, mine is not.  It is in myself that I am
+disappointed--I have been very selfish.  I have usurped you.  I have
+known it all along, and I have done very wrong in not relinquishing you
+before."
+
+"Who would have shown me Paris?" he exclaimed.
+
+"No," she continued, "you would not have been alone.  If I had needed
+proof of that fact, I had it to-day--"
+
+"Oh, Minturn," he interrupted; "think of me hanging about an Embassy and
+trying not to spill tea!"  And he smiled at the image that presented.
+
+Her own smile was fleeting.
+
+"You would never do that, I know," she said gravely.
+
+"You are still too modest, Peter, but the time has gone by when I can be
+easily deceived.  You have a great reputation among men of affairs, an
+unique one.  In spite of the fact that you are distinctly American, you
+have a wide interest in what is going on in the world.  And you have an
+opportunity here to meet people of note, people really worth while from
+every point of view.  You have no right to neglect it."
+
+He was silent a moment, looking down at her.  She was leaning forward,
+her eyes fixed on the fire, her hands clasped between her knees.
+
+"Do you think I care for that?"  he asked.
+
+"You ought to care," she said, without looking up.  "And it is my duty to
+try to make you care."
+
+"Honora, why do you think I came over here?" he said.
+
+"To see Paris," she answered.  "I have your own word for it.
+To--to continue your education.  It never seems to stop."
+
+"Did you really believe that?"
+
+"Of course I believed it.  What could be more natural?  And you have
+never had a holiday like this."
+
+"No," he agreed.  "I admit that."
+
+"I don't know how much longer you are going to stay," she said.  "You
+have not been abroad before, and there are other places you ought to go."
+
+"I'll get you to make out an itinerary."
+
+"Peter, can't you see that I'm serious?  I have decided to take matters
+in my own hands.  The rest of the time you are here, you may come to see
+me twice a week.  I shall instruct the concierge."
+
+He turned and grasped the mantel shelf with both hands, and touched the
+log with the toe of his boot.
+
+"What I told you about seeing Paris may be called polite fiction," he
+said.  "I came over here to see you.  I have been afraid to say it until
+to-day, and I am afraid to say it now."
+
+She sat very still.  The log flared up again, and he turned slowly and
+looked at the shadows in her face.
+
+"You-you have always been good to me," she answered.  "I have never
+deserved it--I have never understood it.  If it is any satisfaction for
+you to know that what I have saved of myself I owe to you, I tell you so
+freely."
+
+"That," he said, "is something for which God forbid that I should take
+credit.  What you are is due to the development of a germ within you, a
+development in which I have always had faith.  I came here to see you, I
+came here because I love you, because I have always loved you, Honora."
+
+"Oh, no, not that!" she cried; "not that!"
+
+"Why not?" he asked.  "It is something I cannot help, something beyond
+my power to prevent if I would.  But I would not.  I am proud of it, and
+I should be lost without it.  I have had it always.  I have come over to
+beg you to marry me."
+
+"It's impossible!  Can't you see it's impossible?"
+
+"You don't love me?" he said.  Into those few words was thrown all the
+suffering of his silent years.
+
+"I don't know what I feel for you," she answered in an agonized voice,
+her fingers tightening over the backs of her white hands.  "If reverence
+be love--if trust be love, infinite and absolute trust--if gratitude be
+love--if emptiness after you are gone be a sign of it--yes, I love you.
+If the power to see clearly only through you, to interpret myself only by
+your aid be love, I acknowledge it.  I tell you so freely, as of your
+right to know.  And the germ of which you spoke is you.  You have grown
+until you have taken possession of--of what is left of me.  If I had only
+been able to see clearly from the first, Peter, I should be another woman
+to-day, a whole woman, a wise woman.  Oh, I have thought of it much.  The
+secret of life was there at my side from the time I was able to pronounce
+your name, and I couldn't see it.  You had it.  You stayed.  You took
+duty where you found it, and it has made you great.  Oh, I don't mean to
+speak in a worldly sense.  When I say that, it is to express the highest
+human quality of which I can think and feel.  But I can't marry you.  You
+must see it."
+
+"I cannot see it," he replied, when he had somewhat gained control of
+himself.
+
+"Because I should be wronging you."
+
+"How?" he asked.
+
+"In the first place, I should be ruining your career."
+
+"If I had a career," he said, smiling gently, "you couldn't ruin it.
+You both overestimate and underestimate the world's opinion, Honora.
+As my wife, it will not treat you cruelly.  And as for my career, as you
+call it, it has merely consisted in doing as best I could the work that
+has come to me.  I have tried to serve well those who have employed me,
+and if my services be of value to them, and to those who may need me in
+the future, they are not going to reject me.  If I have any worth in the
+world, you will but add to it.  Without you I am incomplete."
+
+She looked up at him wonderingly.
+
+"Yes, you are great," she said.  "You pity me, you think of my loneliness."
+
+"It is true I cannot bear to picture you here," he exclaimed.  "The
+thought tortures me, but it is because I love you, because I wish to take
+and shield you.  I am not a man to marry a woman without love.  It seems
+to me that you should know me well enough to believe that, Honora.  There
+never has been any other woman in my life, and there never can be.  I
+have given you proof of it, God knows."
+
+"I am not what I was," she said, "I am not what I was.  I have been
+dragged down."
+
+He bent and lifted her hand from her knee, and raised it to his lips, a
+homage from him that gave her an exquisite pain.
+
+"If you had been dragged down," he answered simply, "my love would have
+been killed.  I know something of the horrors you have been through, as
+though I had suffered them myself.  They might have dragged down another
+woman, Honora.  But they have strangely ennobled you."
+
+She drew her hand away.
+
+"No," she said, "I do not deserve happiness.  It cannot be my destiny."
+
+"Destiny," he repeated.  "Destiny is a thing not understandable by finite
+minds.  It is not necessarily continued tragedy and waste, of that I am
+certain.  Only a little thought is required, it seems to me, to assure us
+that we cannot be the judges of our own punishment on this earth.  And of
+another world we know nothing.  It cannot be any one's destiny to throw
+away a life while still something may be made of it.  You would be
+throwing your life away here.  That no other woman is possible, or
+ever can be possible, for me should be a consideration with you, Honora.
+What I ask of you is a sacrifice--will you make me happy?"
+
+Her eyes filled with tears.
+
+"Oh, Peter, do you care so much as that?  If--if I could be sure that I
+were doing it for you!  If in spite--of all that has happened to me, I
+could be doing something for you--!"
+
+He stooped and kissed her.
+
+"You can if you will," he said.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Sought to remove comparisons
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE "A MODERN CHRONICLE":
+
+Best way is to leave 'em alone.  Don't dandle 'em (babies)
+Blessed are the ugly, for they shall not be tempted
+Comparisons, as Shakespeare said, are odorous
+Constitutionally honest
+Conversation was a mockery
+Every one, man or woman, has the right to happiness
+Fact should be written like fiction, and fiction like fact
+Fetters of love
+Happy the people whose annals are blank in history's book
+He has always been too honest to make a great deal of money
+Her words of comfort were as few as her silent deeds were many
+How can you talk of things other people have and not want them
+Immutable love in a changing, heedless, selfish world
+Intense longing is always followed by disappointment
+Little better than a gambling place (Stock Exchange)
+No reason why we should suffer all our lives for a mistake
+Often in real danger at the moment when they feel most secure
+Providence is accepted by his beneficiaries as a matter of fact
+Regarding favourable impressions with profound suspicion
+Resented the implication of possession
+Rocks to which one might cling, successful or failing
+Self-torture is human
+She had never known the necessity of making friends
+Sleep!  A despised waste of time in childhood
+So glad to have what other people haven't
+Sought to remove comparisons
+Taking him like daily bread, to be eaten and not thought about
+That magic word Change
+The greatest wonders are not at the ends of the earth, but near
+The days of useless martyrdom are past
+Thinking that because you have no ideals, other people haven't
+Those who walk on ice will slide against their wills
+Time, the unbribeable
+Weak coffee and the Protestant religion seemed inseparable
+Why should I desire what I cannot have
+
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN CHRONICLE, ALL, BY CHURCHILL ***
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