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diff --git a/58324-0.txt b/58324-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..90c9d7c --- /dev/null +++ b/58324-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,18599 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58324 *** + + + + + + + + + +CHASTE AS ICE, PURE AS SNOW. + +A NOVEL. + + +BY + +MRS. M. C. DESPARD. + + + _Ham._ If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry: Be + thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny. + ----HAMLET, Act III. Scene I. + + +[1874] + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PART I. + + A WOMAN FACE TO FACE WITH THE WORLD. + + + CHAP. + + I. A PICTURE AND A FACE. + + II. ADÈLE AND MARGARET. + + III. A WOMAN FACE TO FACE WITH THE WORLD. + + IV. MORNING THOUGHTS--A RESOLVE TAKEN. + + V. FOUND--A FRIEND. + + VI. THE YOUNG HEIR. + + VII. A CUNNING TEMPTER. + + VIII. ARTHUR FALLS INTO THE SNARE. + + IX. ARTHUR'S SECRET. + + X. HOW ADÈLE RECEIVES THE DISCLOSURE. + + XI. A FACE AT THE WINDOW. + + XII. FLIGHT. + + XIII. LESSONS IN WORLD-WISDOM. + + XIV. LAURA. + + XV. A DREAM OF THE SEA. + + XVI. UNEXPECTED VISITORS AT MIDDLETHORPE. + + + PART II. + + A MAN AT WAR WITH HIMSELF. + + + I. MAURICE GREY. + + II. SOCIETY VERSUS SOLITUDE. + + + PART III. + + A DOUBLE MYSTERY. + + + I. PARTIAL DISCOVERIES. + + II. GO AND SEE HER. + + III. THE HOUSE IS EMPTY. + + IV. JANE'S REVENGE. + + V. THE LAWYER IN HIS OWN DOMAIN. + + VI. MR. ROBINSON PROMISES TO DO HIS BEST. + + VII. THE TWO FRIENDS. + + VIII. THE INDIAN SCARF. + + IX. ARTHUR ARRIVES AT MIDDLETHORPE. + + X. ON THE BRINK OF MADNESS. + + XI. THE ACCOLADE OF KNIGHTHOOD. + + XII. "I SHALL LIVE AND NOT DIE." + + XIII. ARTHUR AT WORK. + + XIV. TWO INTERVIEWS. + + XV. THE YOUNG PEOPLE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER AT LAST. + + XVI. A STORM. + + XVII. WHAT THE STORM BROUGHT. + + XVIII. LIGHT IN DARKNESS. + + XIX. GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-BYE. + + + PART IV. + + AT WORK WITH A WILL. + + + I. LAURA'S TASK. + + II. A WASTED LIFE. + + III. A TALE ABOUT THE STARS. + + IV. MOSCOW. + + V. A GLIMPSE OF MARGARET'S CHILD. + + VI. THE LIFE OF A SOLITARY. + + VII. THE WORK OF MARGARET'S MESSENGER BEGUN. + + VIII. A TÊTE-À-TÊTE DINNER AT THE HOTEL. + + IX. A TORMENTED SPIRIT. + + X. PEACE, BE STILL. + + XI. HAUNTING MEMORIES. + + XII. TOLD AMONG THE SNOWS. + + + PART V. + + THE MYSTERY SOLVED--THE WORKERS REWARDED. + + + I. WAITING. + + II. THE LAWYER GAINS HIS POINT. + + III. THREATENED SEPARATION. + + IV. A DREAM INTERRUPTED, AND A STRANGE REVELATION MADE. + + V. ES IST NUR EIN KINDLEIN--ONLY A CHILD. + + VI. HADST THOU THE SECOND SIGHT? + + VII. FOR A SECOND TIME SAVED FROM HIMSELF. + + VIII. A PARTING. + + IX. THE NEST IS EMPTY. + + X. LAURA AND HER FATHER. + + XI. UNITED AT LAST. + +XII. A LONG SLEEP. + + + + +PART I. + +A WOMAN FACE TO FACE WITH THE WORLD. + + * * * * * + +CHAPTER I. + +_A PICTURE AND A FACE._ + + There was a woman, beautiful as morning, + Sitting beneath the rocks upon the sand + Of the waste sea--fair as one flower adorning + An icy wilderness--each delicate hand + Lay crossed upon her bosom, and the band + Of her dark hair had fallen, and so she sat + Looking upon the waves. + + +London and May. What visions of gayety and beauty, of life and +brightness, the conjunction of those two words brings before the mind! +London in May, when, as it might almost seem, the first gleam of +sunshine had called forth, from the essential nothing of obscurity, +gay flutterers of a million colored hues, to spread their wings and +float joyously in an atmosphere of hope. + +For, let who will speak of the balmy breezes and deep azure skies of +the children of the South, there are some who would maintain that in +the resurrection of the fashionable corners of England's great city +from their winter sleep, in the sometimes keen wind that rouses the +island spirit of opposition and braces the nerves of the idlers, +even in the rapid changes that pass over the sky, there is more +exhilaration, more strong incitement to courage and hope, than in the +full flush of radiant summer which May often brings in climes held to +be more highly favored by Nature. + +London, in May, when the streets are filled with gay equipages, whose +prancing steeds seem to rejoice in the dignity of their position, +taking a part in the great saturnalia of rank and fashion--when the +dresses of the ladies are only eclipsed by the brilliancy of the +shop-windows which they daily haunt--when the artist and musician +bring forth their choicest wares to delight the senses and gratify the +perceptions of the great and the little who throng busy London in this +fairest season of the year. + +It was in London, then, and the month was May. So much being said, +little more description is needful: like bold divers, we must leave +the coast, and plunge at once into the great sea of humanity, drawing +thence, it may be, a pearl which but for our efforts had remained +there still. For all this humanity, which our vast London so fitly +represents, is composed of individuals; each individual has a separate +tale to tell, though all have not the voice to tell it; and in the tale +of the hidden life there is sometimes a beauty and pathos, a dignity +and wonder, that the dramatist and poet might do well to seize. But +it is seldom that they are caught and transferred. Beside the hidden +tragedies and heartrending emotions of the every-day life of humanity +these transcripts are often pale and colorless--a body that waits for +the breath of life to kindle it into beauty. + +It was early in the afternoon of a bright May day. Even for that season +London seemed unusually crowded. In Regent street the difficulty was to +move forward at all, and in Pall Mall and the Strand matters were not +much better. Woe to the unlucky foreigners or country cousins who found +crossing the street an absolute necessity! They might have been seen +generally at the most crowded spots, shivering on the brink of what for +the moment was worse than the vague, shadowy Jordan of the pilgrims, +and too often submitting ignominiously to the guidance of that being +almost superhuman in his callous indifference to rattling wheels and +horses' heads--the policeman. + +But in and about a certain corner of Charing Cross the crowd seemed +to culminate. To tell of the pedestrians of every shade and hue, the +carriages, the omnibuses, which kept up a constant stream in this +direction, would take volumes, for the Exhibition of the Royal Academy +had only been open a week, and had not, therefore, lost the first charm +of novelty. + +Thither many were hastening, mostly ladies of the fashionable class, +gayly dressed in all the freshness of early summer coloring. But those +who thronged to the Royal Academy on this May afternoon were not all +of the fashionable class; there were besides some who went from a true +love of art, a patient thirst for the beautiful--pale students, whose +eyes had long grown used to dusky streets, and to whom the yearly +vision of the something that always lies beyond was a revelation and a +power; governesses and female artisans who had taken a holiday for the +express purpose of enjoying the image of that which hard reality had +denied to them. Many of these were shabbily dressed, and pallid from +the wasting effects of hard work and care; they enjoyed, however, more +perhaps than their brilliant sisters, who could glibly criticise this +style and that, with the true art-jargon and an appearance of intimate +knowledge, but to whom this, that charmed those others, was only a +matter of course, a somewhat tiresome routine, that must of necessity +be performed as a part of the season's work. + +On a corner of a seat in a central hall one seemingly of this latter +class had found a place. She could not certainly have belonged to +the fashionable world, for her scanty black dress was made with no +pretension to style, and she wore a close bonnet, from under which a +plain white border, that resembled a widow's cap, was peeping. There +was one detail, however, in her dress that drew the attention of some +who passed her. She wore, fastened gracefully round her shoulders in +rather a foreign style, a silk Indian scarf of the richest coloring and +workmanship. It harmonized strangely with the rest of her dress and her +general appearance, but it was not unbecoming. Those who, attracted by +this incongruity, looked at her attentively, saw a face that was almost +startling in its pure beauty of outline, and a form whose refined +grace did not require the assistance of the toilet to add to its +charms. + +"That woman could wear anything," was the reflection of one or two who +glanced at her in passing. + +She knew nothing of their criticism. Hour after hour passed away, and +still she remained in the same place--a solitude to her, peopled by +the multitude of thoughts to which the sight of one small picture had +given rise. And that picture was, to many of those who had admired +her in their rapid transit from one flower of art to another, a very +commonplace affair. We see with such different eyes, for is not the +perception of beauty a birthright of spirit? Where soul illumines there +beauty lies, but only for the soul that sees. + +Her eyes saw the picture, and her _spirit_ saw beyond it. Hence the +beauty that drew and enchained her. Besides, the picture had a history. +From her own consciousness she translated its meaning. + +Probably few will remember the picture, for it did not write its name +on the art-history of the period, and its author is unknown to fame; +but it certainly possessed power. Perhaps it was one of those flashes +thrown off in the fire of youth by what might have been a grand genius +if it had not been swamped in the great ocean of modern realism, thus +losing for ever the divine breath of imaginative power. The picture was +small. In its quiet corner it lived its life unnoticed by the crowd. + +This is what it represented. In the background a sea just tinged with +the gold of sunset, and skirting it a barren, rocky shore; on the +shore a woman in an attitude of eager, waiting expectation; in the far +distance a sail that has gathered on its whiteness some of the bright +evening coloring; overhead a deepening sky, in which faint stars seem +to be struggling into sight. The woman's face is traced sharply against +the sky. It is beautiful, the blessed dawning of a new-born hope +seeming to glimmer faintly from the deep horrors of a past despair. +She leans over a projecting ledge of rock, not heeding in her rapt +eagerness the sharp point that seems to pierce her tender hand, only +gazing, as if her soul were in her eye, at the white point in the +distance, which holds, as she imagines, the object of her hope. + +There were pictures in the close neighborhood of this one that, to the +art-critic, possessed far greater claims to admiration, but the woman +with the shabby dress saw none of them. She sat on her crimson-covered +seat, her hands folded and her eyes fixed, looking at the one picture +that had touched her; she looked at it until she saw it no longer; a +film gathered over her eyes; the picture, the room, the crowds, all +her surrounding, had vanished. She was living in the region of thought +alone, busying herself with the problem which the picture had evoked. + +And as she sat rooted to the one spot, herself a fairer picture +than any which that roof covered, the afternoon waned away and the +galleries thinned. The fashionable crowd were beginning to think of +their dinner-toilet. The woman was left alone on her seat in the centre +of one of the halls, a somewhat conspicuous object, for her singular +style of dress and her strange beauty would have gained her observation +anywhere. + +It was at about this time that a young gentleman dressed in the height +of fashion, with an eye-glass carefully adjusted in his right eye, +strolled leisurely through the hall. He was evidently a very young man, +one who had not yet been aroused from the delusion so pleasing while it +lasts of his own vast superiority to--almost everything; it is scarcely +necessary to particularize--his own sex, with perhaps a few exceptions, +certainly all women and lesser creatures. His walk revealed this small +weakness to any one who chose to take the trouble of observing him +closely and the carriage of his head, which was held very erect, the +chin being slightly elevated. + +He held a catalogue in his hand, but he very seldom consulted it. To +have compared the number of the picture with that of its description +would have been, to use a pet phrase with young men, an awful bore. And +an awful bore he seemed to find the whole affair as he walked through +the picture-lined galleries, smothering a yawn from time to time. He +was evidently looking out for some one who had appointed this place +as a rendezvous, and as evidently he was rather more indignant than +disappointed at not finding directly the object of his search. + +At last, as it seemed, he had enough of it. Considering himself a +sufficiently conspicuous object not to be lightly passed by by any who +had once been favored with the honor of his acquaintance, he threw +himself on one of the seats, fully determined to take no more trouble +in the matter, but to leave the _dénouement_ to fate. + +There was one other on the seat he had chosen, but our young gentleman, +in spite of his small vanities, was too truly a gentleman to honor the +solitary woman who occupied it with that supercilious stare which, +unconsciously to herself, had more than once been cast on her that day. +In sheer idleness, and for want of something better to do, he looked +rather attentively at the picture which faced him, and presently he too +had fallen under its spell. + +The beauty of the woman by the sea-shore, her sadness, her desolation, +attracted him powerfully. Before many moments had passed he found +himself tracing every line of her face and form, and dreaming out the +tragedy which her face revealed. + +He was awoke from his reverie by a faint sobbing sigh, and looking +round he discovered that the woman who shared his seat was struggling +with a faintness that seemed gradually to be overpowering her. Before +he could rise to offer her assistance her head had fallen back upon the +crimson cushion, the little close bonnet had dropped off, and the white +face, in its chiselled beauty, lay stricken with a death-calm close to +his shoulder. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_ADÈLE AND MARGARET._ + + In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. + + +Very young men are not, as a rule, passionate admirers of the fair +sex. They like to be flattered and caressed by women, they delight +in imaginary conquests, treating the sex generally with a sort of +compassionate condescension. Their chief cultus is the _ego_ that is to +do and to dare such great things in the untried future. + +There are some who cherish this pet delusion through life, who are +always superior. Should such have women dependent upon them the fate +of those women is scarcely enviable. They are expected to walk through +life inferior. But in the lives of most men there is an awakening. +Sometimes the favorite pursuit--science, art, literature--rising +gradually into vaster proportions as it is more ardently followed, +dwarfs the man in his own estimation by contrast with what he seeks. +The ideal being ever so far in advance, he begins to take a truer +estimate of his powers and to try to enlarge them. Sometimes it is +the world of life, contact with other minds and the feeling of their +superiority; sometimes it is the world of nature, its beauty and its +mystery. These are the majority. + +To a few perhaps--a very few--the awakening comes from another power. +It _is_ a power, whatever may be said to the contrary, a great power +for good or for evil--the power of beauty, as it rests brooding on +God's last and fairest gift to man--woman. + +The mind, the imagination, the heart, all that had lain hidden under +the crust of self-seeking, rises into play in a moment, and the man is +changed. Such a man can never despise woman, for the one particular +star--distant, unattainable in all probability--sheds its lustre upon +all that partake of its nature. + +If the woman who has gained this power can only use it, not selfishly, +but grandly, truly, the change for the man is a resurrection into new +life. If not--Who shall say how many young souls have been ruined, +perhaps for ever, by this same "if not"? + +To return to the May afternoon and the scene in the picture-gallery. If +any painter had been near he could scarcely have chosen a more powerful +subject. The young man who had first discovered the fainting woman did +not consider himself a very emotional person, but for a moment he was +absolutely staggered. He had risen hastily to his feet and stooped +over her unconsciously. There he remained, helpless as a child in the +presence of a mystery it is unable to solve. It was only for a moment +that the stupor held him; then, with a feeling that was very strange +and new, he summoned courage to raise her head upon his arm, and with +trembling fingers to loosen her scarf and bonnet-strings. + +What was to be done next? Water, smelling-salts, a fan--he had not +one of these appliances to restore her, and he shrank painfully from +gathering a crowd by asking assistance; for as yet the back of the seat +had hidden her from the very few who were still walking through the +galleries, those few being mostly lovers of art, and too much absorbed +in the pictures to have ears or eyes for anything beyond them. + +If he could only manage the matter alone! and rapidly the various +modes of treating fainting-fits passed through his mind. He lifted the +beautiful head and laid it down upon the seat, raising her feet to the +same level; then, kneeling beside her, he opened her white fingers and +rubbed the palms of her hands, watching eagerly for a sign of life. +But it would not do: the dark eyelashes rested still on the pale, calm +face, no quivering of the eyelids showed dawning consciousness. If he +could have imparted to her some of his own exuberant life--for the +warm blood was throbbing and tingling through his veins till his very +finger-tips seemed instinct with consciousness--he would have stooped +and breathed into her lips; but he dared not: there was a majesty in +her helpless beauty that only a very coarse mind could have resisted. + +It takes long to relate, but in reality only a few moments had passed +from the time of the woman's first faintness to the instant when the +young man, finding his efforts fruitless, turned with a sigh to seek +assistance from any lady who might be passing through the gallery. +The first face that greeted him was one he knew. It was that of a +young girl, very bright and pleasant in appearance, decked out in +the brilliancy of light muslin and fluttering ribbons. She saw him +instantly, and went smilingly across the room with extended hand. "Oh, +Arthur, you naughty boy!" she began, but catching sight of the fainting +woman, she broke off hastily: "Some one in a faint? Heavens! what a +lovely face! Poor thing! it is the heat. Go off quickly and get some +water, Arthur; I should think you could get it at the door: you boys +are such helpless beings." + +She was down on her knees as she spoke, fluttering her fan gently and +applying her smelling-salts; but her volubility had already collected +in a little crowd the few people who remained in the galleries. She put +them off with pretty gestures and ready wit: "My friend wants air; I +assure you it is only a fainting-fit--nothing to alarm." + +But she was relieved when Arthur's appearance with the water put +the lookers-on to a sudden flight, and they were once more left to +themselves. + +"Oh, Arthur," said the young girl earnestly, "how beautiful she is! +I _must_ give her a little kiss before she awakes, as she will, I am +sure, with the water. There, there, my beauty!" for the kiss seemed to +be the most effectual remedy. Her eyelids quivered, causing thereby +such excitement to Arthur that part of the contents of the glass of +water he held fell over her feet, and Adèle--for that was the name of +the young lady who had given such timely assistance--told him with mock +indignation to go off, and not come again till he was called. Without +a word Arthur turned away. He would scarcely have been so obedient the +day before, but the incident of that afternoon seemed to have robbed +him of his power. He stood in the entrance of the hall, watching until +he should be sent for by the ladies. + +For the first time in his life Arthur wished he had been a girl. His +thoughts, to tell the truth, were rapidly becoming very sentimental. +Adèle, happy Adèle! he thought of her with a new respect. She could +carry on these gentle ministries impossible to the rougher hands of +men. With what tenderness and skill she had used her remedies! And then +the kiss! Yes, women, after all, possessed certain advantages. And her +first look would be for Adèle. If he had been more expert, it might +have been for him. Had any one told Arthur, even an hour before, that +he could ever have been jealous of his cousin, he would certainly have +scorned the idea: he had always considered himself so vastly superior +to women in general, and his pretty little playmate in particular. He +had not much time, however, to indulge in these brilliantly novel +ideas, for before many moments had passed Adèle appeared. "You may +offer her your arm," she said. "I want to get her out of this place as +quickly as possible." + +"Have you found out anything about her?" + +"Only that her name is Margaret Grey. A letter dropped out of her +pocket, and I saw the signature, or rather she pointed it out to me as +I handed it back to her. I fancy she is a widow, though she has not +actually told me so. She is staying in lodgings at some distance. Poor +thing! I am afraid she is very poor." + +Adèle's pretty face was clouded as she spoke, but she said no more, for +they were very near the spot where Margaret had been left. + +"Margaret!" thought Arthur, "Margaret!" and the one word seemed to +cling about his brain like a sweet, indefinable music as awkwardly +enough, it must be confessed, he approached her to offer his arm. + +She rose when she saw him, a slight blush on her cheek, but as she +looked up at his frank young face the blush faded and her composure +returned. + +"I have to thank you for great kindness, sir," she said with a gentle +dignity. "I cannot think what came over me just now. It must have +been the heat of the place; but I feel much stronger now, and if you +will add to your goodness the further favor of giving me your arm for +the length of the galleries, I can find my way home without any more +assistance." + +Her voice was almost as overpowering to Arthur as her face had been. +He tried to stammer out a reply, when Adèle came happily to his +assistance. Taking one of the lady's hands in her own, she said with +gentle earnestness, "Pray allow me to manage for you. My cousin will +tell you how much I like to arrange everything for my neighbors; it is +my pet weakness. Then, you know, you are my patient, and I expect you +to be obedient. Mamma has sent the carriage for me, for she was not +quite certain that I should meet Arthur. We can drive you to any point +you like to mention. Please do not deny me this pleasure." + +The lady blushed again, but Adèle's gentle delicacy triumphed. She +bowed her head in acquiescence, and took Arthur's arm, leaning on it +somewhat heavily, for she was still weak. Adèle walked on her other +side, slightly supporting her from time to time; and so they passed +through the gallery, with not many thoughts for the pictures, just as +the daylight was beginning to wane. + +"---- street, Islington," said Arthur to the stately coachman when, +having at last emerged from the galleries, the trio stood beside a +small, well-appointed carriage. + +The coachman looked dignifiedly astonished. He took note of an +exceedingly shabby person who was evidently connected with this +strange fancy. Had his young lady been alone, he might have +respectfully demurred; but as Mr. Arthur was a trusted person in the +establishment--one, moreover, whom it was not safe to offend--he +hazarded no remark, and after one protest in the shape of repetition, +in an inquiring key, of the obnoxious address, turned his horses' heads +in this very unwonted direction. + +He had to ask his way several times before he could find the +out-of-the-way street indicated by Arthur's brief order; but for at +least one of those inside the carriage the drive could not have been +too long. Arthur Forrest would have found it extremely difficult to +explain his feelings, even to himself. Happily, for the moment it was +not necessary. To analyze our enjoyment or its sources would be very +often to rob it of its charm. + +Why is the transparent greenness of spring or its first balmy breeze +so delicious to the senses? Why does a certain melody echo and re-echo +in the brain with a sweetness we cannot fathom? Why does beauty--pure +outline, graceful form, rich coloring--awaken a thrill of gladness in +our being? We cannot tell. We can only rejoice that such things are. + +And Arthur was very young, full of the freshness of youth and +inexperience. He would have been highly indignant could he have heard +such a remark applied to him, for he looked upon himself as a man +of the world whom it would be difficult to astonish in any way; but +nevertheless it was true. The very novelty of his sensations as he sat +on the back seat of the brougham, looking anywhere rather than in the +fair face before him, proved this. + +It was well for him that the vision came when it did, when his heart +was young and his life vigorous, when the chivalry of youth had not +passed away, with other beautiful things, in the numbing surroundings +of a fashionable life. + +At last the carriage stopped at the entrance of a dingy street in a +region where "apartments" looked out from almost every window. The lady +would not suffer her new friends to take her to her own door, and they +possessed sufficient refinement of feeling to refrain from pressing +the point. She seemed even to shrink from the prospect of any further +acquaintance. + +"We live in different worlds," she said with a sad smile when Adèle, +in her girlish enthusiasm, pressed her to allow them at least to +inquire after her. For Adèle was almost as much in love as her cousin, +certainly more gushingly so; but there was no possibility of resisting +the quiet firmness with which all efforts after further intimacy were +set aside by the lady they had helped. + +With warm thanks she bade them farewell, but they both noticed, with +youth's sympathetic insight, that her eyelids drooped as though she had +been weary, and her lips slightly quivered before she turned away. + +Adèle's eyes filled with tears, and Arthur had to swallow a most +uncomfortable lump that seemed to impede his utterance. Then the +cousins became more sympathetic than they had ever been before in +discussing their adventure and forming theory after theory about the +mysterious stranger. + +But Adèle was the talker, Arthur the listener, and perhaps his cousin's +conversation had never before been so much to his mind. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_A WOMAN FACE TO FACE WITH THE WORLD._ + + How tedious, false, and cold seem all things! I + Have met with much injustice in this world. + + +Choking back the tears that seemed as if they _would_ well forth +from a fountain that had long been sealed, Margaret Grey turned from +her companions of an hour to go home. To a very desolate home in +truth. Walled in and bricked out from the fair sights and sounds of +Nature, even the sunbeams as they touched it seemed only to reveal its +dinginess. + +But four walls cannot make a home, any more than a casket can enrich +its jewelled contents. The most desolate exterior may be endeared by +what it holds. It might be so with Margaret's home, yet no light came +into her pale face as she caught sight of her dwelling. For a moment +she even hesitated--it seemed bitter to meet its dull blankness--only a +moment; then with a half smile at her own weakness she walked languidly +up a few dirty steps and rang the bell. + +It was answered by a servant in keeping with the steps, and passing +her by, Margaret went into her rooms. They consisted of a bed- and +sitting-room, separated by folding doors. The sitting-room was very +much what the exterior of the house had promised--very dull, very +shabby. A cracked mirror was over the chimney-piece, its frame +carefully veiled by yellow muslin that had lost its primal brightness. +A chandelier in the centre of the room was also enveloped with the same +dingy covering. A few shells and gay china ornaments were scattered +about on unsteady stands. On a table beside the window was a group of +dusty-looking paper flowers. + +Tea was laid, the one cup and saucer telling their pathetic tale of a +lonely life. Margaret had left her lodgings that morning, desperate +with the feeling that either her eyes and her senses must have some +relief or her mind must give way. When she returned and looked round +her once more, she began to fear that her experiment had been worse +than useless. The force of contrast had increased the bitterness of her +lot. + +She sank wearily into a stiff pretence of an arm-chair, and began again +thinking out the problem that beauty and dreariness alike presented to +her mind--the uncertain future. And then came over her like a flood the +vision of days and years without hope, without joy. Burying her face +in her hands, she gave way for a few moments to unrestrained weeping. +It was an unwonted exercise, for Margaret was brave, and none of the +last and deepest bitterness, that of remorse, cast its shadow on her +retrospect of the past. Thoughtless she might have been, sinning she +was not: of this thing the secret court of her inner consciousness, so +pitiless to the true offender, had freely acquitted her. + +It would be a long story to tell what it was that overcame Margaret +Grey till she sobbed out her sadness alone in the stillness of the May +evening. Partly, perhaps, the squalor of her present surroundings, +for the beautiful face and form encased a soul attuned to highest +harmonies; partly the sweet womanly sympathy, which she had looked upon +only and then put resolutely away from her; partly the daily pinpricks +of disappointment and repulse that she had encountered in prosecuting +the business which had led her to London. For, like a multitude of +helpless women, Margaret was on the look-out for employment. + +She had one little girl, a child about six years of age. With such a +sweet tie children-lovers might wonder at her utter desolation. Strange +to say, this tie, so sweet to many, was to her more of a care than a +pleasure. The future of her little one weighed heavily on her mind. + +In the lonely seaside village where she had left her it would be +scarcely possible to educate her to fill the position that might be +hers in the future. Margaret's scanty means did not allow her to think +of a residence in town, or of the expenses of a school education for +her daughter, unless, indeed, she could earn the necessary money. + +Hence her visit to London. She had been well educated herself; of +course her first thought was that by educating others she could pay +for the education of her child. If she had loved her little one very +much, perhaps she would have judged differently. She might have thought +it better to make a home for her child in any spot, however lonely, +feeling that the lack of some accomplishment would be well compensated +by the refining influence of a mother's constant love and care. + +But Margaret did _not_ love her child so deeply as to find her presence +a sweet necessity. There was a cloud over her motherhood, which robbed +it of some of its fair charm. Duty to her child, not pleasure in her, +was her one idea of the tie that alone, at this period of her history, +bound her to life. It was _this_ made her anxiety that, whatever +her own lot might be, Laura should have every advantage in the way +of education and training. And with the anxiety came the need for +exertion. Up to the moment when the child's growth and development made +the mother think of that bugbear of mothers--her education--Margaret +had not been troubled with any money difficulties. She had lived in +her retirement, the one trouble of her life wrapping her in its gloomy +folds, but with no care for the provision of herself and her child in +the future. Suddenly, inexplicably, one source of income had failed. +Margaret had not been accustomed to trouble herself about money: the +sufficient came to her--that was all she required to know--and this +poverty was a new and dreadful thing which she found it very difficult +to realize. + +She tried to fathom the mystery, but it eluded her; only this remained +as a hard fact: eighty pounds a year was all she received or seemed +likely to receive, and Laura had to be educated. + +The spirit of self-sacrifice is strong in some women; it was very +strong in Margaret. She had loved her solitude by the great sea, and +had succeeded in making it almost pleasant. There she pondered and wept +and hoped; there, if anywhere, she thought that her trial must end. +She would not enter the great world, to be swamped and lost in its +multitude. Hiding her loss where none could know and none would blame, +she would live in the midst of a savage loneliness which seemed almost +sympathetic to her mood. + +This suited her, but would it do for Laura? Was she a fit companion +for her child, already dreamy and imaginative beyond her years? No, +Margaret told herself; and, leaving the little one in the care of the +woman from whom she hired their little cottage, she went to London +alone, to try and find some occupation for herself. + +She had been directed to Islington as a cheap neighborhood; and there +she had stayed in a wretched lodging-house for about three weeks--three +ages to poor Margaret, filled with dismal memories of humiliation and +disappointment. She was reviewing it all that evening--the rudeness, +the repulses, the cruel cross-examinations; for with these came the +fresher scenes which that day had brought--the chivalrous admiration +that had shone out of Arthur's young eyes, the gentle, womanly +tenderness of Adèle. + +Employers--so it seemed to poor Margaret; they were a very new class +to her--were cast in a different mould. It was their duty to ask +disagreeable questions and to probe unhealed wounds; it was their +duty to be stiff and cross, and not at all impressed with the outward +advantages which Margaret knew she possessed. It seemed very hopeless, +but she felt it necessary to persevere, at least for a little while +longer. The thought aroused her. She raised her head, and became +suddenly conscious of the fact of hunger. She had not eaten a morsel +since breakfast. No wonder, she thought, that faintness had overpowered +her. So she went into her bedroom and washed away the traces of tears, +that the dirty maid-of-all-work might not read her weakness, then rang +the bell to order an egg or something a little more substantial than +usual for her tea. + +The girl came in, holding out a card that had not been improved, in +point of coloring, by its transit through her fingers. She informed +Margaret that a lady had left it half an hour ago with a message. + +The message, not very lucidly delivered, was to the effect that the +lady whose name appeared in minute letters on the card would, in all +probability, call again in the course of the evening. + +Poor Margaret! she looked at the card. "Mrs. Augustus Brown." It had +not a very encouraging sound, but it might mean business, and business +meant provision for Laura's needs. But the thought of the impending +interview had robbed her of all appetite; so, after hastily swallowing +a cup of tea with a dry biscuit, she again rang the bell, had the +tea-apparatus cleared away, and then sat by the window trying to read. + +The apparition of a yellow chariot which seemed to fill the narrow +street interrupted her, and before many minutes a thundering rap at the +door made her aware of the fact that the dreaded visitor was at hand. +Margaret's cheek burned. For one moment she longed desperately for a +refuge where she could hide her head from these intrusions, then she +remembered that she had invited them, and strove to brace her nerves +to endurance. When, therefore, the door was thrown open to its fullest +extent by the servant, who, never having seen so grand a person in her +life as Mrs. Augustus Brown, thought it necessary to give her plenty of +room, Margaret was herself again--the heightened color the struggle had +called forth alone testifying to her recent emotion. + +Mrs. Augustus Brown was a little round individual, almost as broad as +she was long, decked out in flounces and laces and ribbons: it was one +of the chief trials of her life that none of these things made her look +important. Mrs. Augustus Brown was governess-hunting, for she possessed +no less than seven small likenesses of herself, who began to be unruly, +and to require, as she would have expressed it, a stricter hand over +them. + +And this governess-hunting was by no means an uncongenial occupation +to Mrs. Brown. It could not but be pleasing, especially as the yellow +chariot and its attendant luxuries were of comparatively recent origin, +to dash up to registry-offices and through quiet streets, and to watch +the effect produced on the untutored minds of inferior persons by her +brilliant _tout ensemble_. But as yet she had not suited herself. In +a governess, as she said, "tong" was essential; _her_ children would +have to be brought up suitably, that they might adorn the position +Providence had evidently prepared for them, and "tong" seemed to be a +rare article in the market of female labor. + +On the previous day Mrs. Augustus had dilated very largely upon this +point at a registry-office. She had been directed, in consequence, to +Mrs. Grey--a prize, as she was assured, in point of appearance and +manner. Curiosity was strong in Mrs. Brown. Certain allusions and hints +about Mrs. Grey's antecedents attracted her, and she lost no time in +looking her up; hence the apparition of the yellow chariot. + +But Mrs. Augustus Brown has been left in the doorway to introduce +herself to Mrs. Grey. As she entered Margaret rose, with the true +instinct of a lady, and went forward to meet her, with a bow to which +her visitor did not deign to respond. + +Mrs. Augustus Brown flattered herself that she had tact enough to put +people in their own places and keep them there--a notable piece of +wisdom, truly; the only difficulty being as to certain doubts about +what is the "own place." Were those rightly solved, perhaps a few +fine ladies would be slightly astonished by finding a level at some +unexpected layer of the social crust. + +It was not Mrs. Brown's way to trouble herself with doubts. She waddled +across the room with great satisfaction to herself, but in a manner +that to the uninitiated could hardly have been called dignified, sank +down on a chair which directly faced Margaret, and began divesting +herself quietly of some of her wraps. + +Never to appear too eager with any of these people was, in the code +of Mrs. Augustus, an essential point in their management. When this +business had been performed, and she had settled herself as comfortably +as might be in a not very luxurious arm-chair, Mrs. Brown felt for a +pair of gold-rimmed eye-glasses, adjusted them and looked Margaret +over from head to foot. "Bless me, how handsome!" was her mental +ejaculation: "my word for it, _she's_ no good." + +It was not wonderful that this coarse mind found it difficult to +understand the strange anomaly, for Margaret was one of those rarely +beautiful beings who seem only made for the tenderest handling. Her +face might have been a poet's ideal, for the traces of suffering and +conflict it only too plainly revealed had removed it far from the +meaningless glory of mere form and coloring; and yet she was too young +perhaps for these to have bereft her of any charm; they rather endowed +her pale fair beauty with a certain refinement, an appealing pathos, +which spoke powerfully to the imagination. + +She possessed a form, too, whose every line was perfect, well +developed, yet fragile--womanly, yet full of grace. And the deep +crimson which Mrs. Brown's studied rudeness had called to her face +heightened the effect of her beauty. + +She sat before her visitor, her eyes cast down, her hands crossed in +her lap, like a fair Greek slave in the barbarian's market-place, +waiting for the decree of fate. + +It was a relief when Mrs. Augustus Brown began to give her attention to +the ponderous carriage-bag in her hand. Some of its fastenings, being +the latest patents and the height of convenience, were difficult to +manage. + +"Your name," she said, hunting for a letter--"ah, here it is!--_Mrs._ +Grey." + +Margaret bowed, shivering slightly. That fatal emphasis. This was the +way in which the inquisitions generally began. + +Mrs. Augustus here coughed slightly, and looked over her gold-rimmed +spectacles in a way intended to be severe. Alas! how we deceive +ourselves! The look was only comic. "A married woman, I presume?" + +Margaret bowed again. + +Here Mrs. Brown consulted a set of ivory tablets: "With one little +girl, I am told, and small income, anxious to make enough for her +education. Is this correct?" + +"Perfectly so, madam." + +"A very laudable object: then, Mrs. Grey, you are, I presume, a widow?" + +There was a moment's hesitation. Margaret pressed her hand to her side +as if she were in pain, and Mrs. Augustus eyed her suspiciously: "My +question, Mrs. Grey, is a simple one." + +"And my answer, madam, can be equally simple. I am _not_ a widow." + +"_Not_ a widow!" Mrs. Brown drew back her chair and took another long +look--one that expressed incredulous horror. "Not a widow! And pray, +Mrs. Grey, where is your husband?" + +In spite of herself, Margaret smiled feebly, but the smile was a +nervous one. She looked up and shook her head: "I am sorry to say, +madam, that I cannot tell." + +"Then," and Mrs. Brown again receded, as if to put as much space as +possible between herself and this naughty person--"then, Mrs. Grey, you +are separated from your husband?" + +"I am." + +The answer was spoken in a low, clear voice, very calmly, but with +a certain intonation of sadness that would have struck upon a more +sensitive ear. To Mrs. Augustus Brown this very quietness of demeanor +was in the highest degree brazen. She fluttered her fan, drew herself +up to her full height, and looked virtuous as a Roman matron (in her +own opinion, be it said parenthetically). + +"You seem strangely forgetful, Mrs. Grey, of the importance of the +position which you seek to fill in my household. With the utmost +coolness you describe yourself as a woman living separated from her +husband. Goodness knows why. For all I can tell, you may have done +something very wrong." Here Mrs. Brown coughed and hid an imaginary +blush behind her fan. "And yet," she continued, when the blush had +been given time to fade, "you wish to take the entire charge of little +innocents, the eldest of whom is only ten, and seven of them. I had +my children so quick." Here Mrs. Brown lost her thread. To mothers of +large families these reminiscences are always bewildering. + +Margaret's eyes were looking very weary; she filled up the pause: +"Perhaps it would be better then to inquire no farther. From what you +say I fear that I shall scarcely suit you." She rose as she spoke. + +Mrs. Brown did not take the hint; she remained where she was, rooted to +the place by sheer astonishment. For a young woman to make so light of +such a position as that of governess in _her_ family was an unheard-of +thing. But Mrs. Grey rose in her estimation from that moment. Then she +was curious. "Sit down again, my dear," she said in a manner that was +intended to be gracious. "Mrs. Townley spoke highly of you, and you +certainly _look_ a respectable person. I'm not one always to blame my +own sex. I believe in these affairs the men are very often in fault. +You may not be aware that Mr. Augustus Brown and myself consider salary +no object, and masters for every branch. Rudiments and style, Mrs. +Grey, and of course character with children, you understand. If it +were as my confidential maid, now, I might not be so particular; but, +unfortunately, the young person I have I brought from Paris, and can't +get rid of her under three months. Not half so handy as I was given to +understand." + +She fluttered her fan again, and waited for an answer. Margaret +hesitated. Had she consulted her own inclinations she would have +refused decidedly to have anything further to do with this vulgar +woman. Already she felt by anticipation what the yoke of servitude +in such a house as hers would be; but Laura--the high salary. The +servitude, though bitter, might be shortened. It ended in a compromise. +"Will you be kind enough to allow me a day or two's delay?" she asked. +"I have friends who will certainly not refuse to give me the necessary +references; but I have not seen many of them for some time, and they do +not know of my present position." + +Mrs. Augustus Brown got up, her dignity gone for the time in her +anxiety to make this striking-looking person one of her household. + +"Yes, yes," she said, "that's the best plan; I'm sick of looking up +governesses--one more pasty-looking and unstylish than the other--and +I fancy you'll suit. Let me hear soon, for the children get more +headstrong every day. I'm too gentle with them. And then so much in +society. Why, we have three engagements of an evening sometimes, +turning night into day, _I_ say. And the servants can no more manage +them than fly. I shall lose my health, as I tell Mr. Brown, if I'm +referred to every hour of the day by servants and children. Too great a +strain, Mrs. Grey. Well, good-bye, my dear." + +She waddled off to the yellow chariot, and Margaret was left +alone--headstrong children, references, explanations, pictures and +unexpected kindness making one great riot in her brain. She went to bed +early that night, and the events of the day grouped themselves together +into fantastic dreams. + +In the brain of Mrs. Augustus Brown one thought was pre-eminent; it +haunted her among the cream-colored cushions of the yellow chariot, +was present in the drawing-room, slightly interfering with her mild +contemplation of the sleeping face of a sandy-haired individual on the +sofa; it followed her even to the marital couch, mingling with her +dreams. + +"She's mighty handsome: I hope to goodness Brown won't fall in love +with her." + +Brown was calmly unconscious of this want of conjugal trust. Had he +known to what it bore reference, he might have been slightly excited, +for Mr. Augustus, though his hair was sandy and his nose a decided +snub, was an admirer of female beauty, and considered himself highly +irresistible. Mrs. Brown was totally unaware of this fact. + +"After years of life together" they were, on this point at least, +"strangers yet." + +Sentimental young ladies, who croon over these pathetic words, thinking +perhaps, with an approach to soft melancholy, of the desolation +reserved for themselves in the future, when, their finest feelings +unappreciated, they must shut themselves up in mystery, might learn a +lesson from Mr. and Mrs. Augustus. + +To be "strangers yet" on some points with that nearest and dearest, +the unappreciative husband of the future, may possibly be conducive to +harmony rather than desolation. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_MORNING THOUGHTS--A RESOLVE TAKEN._ + + Soul of our souls and safeguard of the world, + Sustain--Thou only canst--the sick of heart! + Restore their languid spirits, and recall + Their lost affections unto Thee and Thine. + + +Margaret awoke early the next morning. It was a sad waking. For the +first moment she could have wished to shut her eyes again, never to +open them more in this world. Life looked so blank. And what wonder? + +However brave the spirit, it must be affected by its surroundings, +and to open one's eyes in a stifling room, with the consciousness +that the raised blind will show nothing but a dingy yard, and beyond +and on every side of it deserts of dingy yards, the yards shut in +by black-looking houses, in all of which the like stifling rooms +may reasonably be expected to be found, is, to say the least of it, +disheartening. + +Margaret's troubles in the little cottage by the seaside, of which she +fondly thought as home, had not been less; but there was something in +the wide breadths of sea, in its fresh curling waves and in the grand +expanse of sky to soothe the dull aching of heart and brain, to give +scope to the great doctrine of possibilities, and freedom to dreams +that sometimes appeared wild and unreal. + +Here it was different. In the narrowness of wall and enclosure life +itself was narrowed down till it seemed nothing but a dreary blank of +good; in the dull monotony of wood and brick what had been melancholy +became bitterness, what had been prayers for help and guidance became +one passionate outcry against Providence--one bitter complaint against +what the tortured heart too often calls cruel fate. + +Young curates are fond of preaching about resignation, notifying to +their aged friends the desirability of persevering to the end. I think +if ever they come to feel this, that Fate and all her myrmidons are +against them, that life is cruel beyond measure, that even faith itself +can find no standing-point, they will speak less on this strange, sad +theme; but when the victory has been won, when fate and necessity have +taken a true place for them in the economy of nature, what they say +will be worth far more. + +The first discouragement gone by, Margaret felt that she must act, and +then came the consciousness that something very disagreeable was before +her. She had promised Mrs. Brown to set herself right with her as far +as character was concerned, and for this it would be necessary to give +references. + +A new trouble, and, strange to say, unthought of before. Margaret +was little used to the ways of the world: she had hitherto cherished +a vague notion that to present herself would be sufficient for the +attainment of her object. That she was a lady she imagined (and in this +she was not mistaken) could be seen at a glance. + +That a lady's character should be looked into like a servant's had not +entered into her mind as a necessary part of that to which those who +seek for employment must subject themselves. And yet her common sense +told her, as she thought it all over in the gray of early morning, that +this was perfectly right, and only what she ought to have expected. + +The necessity might certainly have been more delicately revealed than +by Mrs. Augustus Brown; but Margaret, in her morning review of ways +and means, thoroughly recognized the justice of the demand. To answer +it was none the less a great difficulty to one of her nature. The long +separation from all her friends, who before and after her marriage had +been very numerous; the solitary nature of her life during the last +four years; above all, that cloud, barely acknowledged even to herself, +which rested on her fair fame (she could not tell if _it_ had affected +her in the opinion of her former world, if many-tongued Rumor had +magnified it),--all these things made her task a very difficult one, +and as she thought she felt inclined to give up the struggle, to return +to her lonely lot and do her best for her child herself. + +She had almost come to this conclusion, even the note refusing Mrs. +Brown's magnanimous offer was written in her mind, when suddenly an +idea flitted across her brain which caused her to hesitate. The thought +was of one who in all probability would stand her friend, whose word +was worth something, and who knew enough of the circumstances of her +history to render it unnecessary for her to enter into painful details. + +The friend was a lawyer, the man who managed her affairs. He was well +known to her, not so much personally as in a business capacity, and she +felt great confidence in his friendliness and judgment. Then she knew +that he held a high position, especially in the religious world. Before +she rose she had decided at least to consult Mr. Robinson. + +If he thought his reference would be sufficient guarantee of +respectability to ensure her an entrance into the carefully guarded +fold of Mrs. Augustus Brown, she would try to obtain the position; if +not, she would make no further effort. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +_FOUND--A FRIEND._ + + Most delicately hour by hour + He canvassed human mysteries, + And trod on silk, as if the winds + Blew his own praises in his eyes, + And stood aloof from other minds + In impotence of fancied power. + + +Mr. Robinson was a man whom women trusted almost instinctively, for, in +the first place, he was tall and well made, possessing the advantage of +strong, square shoulders and straight, capable-looking legs. + +A rogue, especially in the lawyer world, is apt to be thought of as a +man of small type, with sharp features, sallow complexion and little, +piercing eyes. + +Mr. Robinson was florid in complexion, large and muscular in type, +fair and frank in manner. He had a way of speaking about business +as if everything he did might, with no drawback to himself, remain +open for the inspection of men and angels; perhaps best of all, at +least so far as ladies and clergymen were concerned, was the pleasing +habit he possessed of throwing religion into everything: testamentary +dispositions, settlements, conveyancing, chancery suits, all could +be conveniently ticketed with a text, and laid away in the capacious +recesses of Mr. Robinson's memory, to be brought out on some suitable +occasion as notable proofs of his own high position in the favor of +Providence. + +Mr. Robinson was married. He had thought it incumbent on him to leave +progeny on the earth when, to use his lightly-spoken phrase, "himself +should be gathered to his fathers." That he possessed, or had once +possessed, a father, was a self-evident fact. With regard to the +plural number some might be tempted to ejaculate, "The fathers! where +are they?" but these were skeptical individuals, verging no doubt on +infidelity, for Mr. Robinson considered faith a cardinal virtue, and +possessed a genealogical tree which threw its branches far and wide, +and traced back to unknown antiquity, or at least to William the +Conqueror and Rollo the Norman, the ancestors of the Robinson family, +and of those who had been so happy as to form any connection with it. + +This famous specimen of art hung up in Mr. Robinson's office, and was +frequently exhibited in all its fulness of detail to lady-clients. +They were often obliging enough to interest themselves specially in +the lowest branch, where Mr. Robinson had written in a small clear +handwriting the names of six boys, happy fruit of wedlock, destined +no doubt to be illustrious, and--not elevate; that would scarcely be +possible, considering their antecedents, but--preserve the character of +the Robinson family and honor its traditions. + +"In the mean time," Mr. Robinson would say, opening the account-book, +settlement or will which his lady-client had come to consult, and +laughing out a clear hearty laugh which told of no _arrière-pensée_, "I +keep the young beggars in good order." + +Mr. Robinson was always very busy. If clients, ladies principally, +did not happen to be with him during the whole morning, he had a +vast arrear of letters to finish. He therefore possessed a large +gloomy-looking room, where applicants for the favor of admission to a +private interview generally waited until he could be disengaged. + +It was into this room that Margaret was shown when, her determination +having outlasted dressing and breakfast, she presented herself to ask +if she might see Mr. Robinson. + +The clerk said that a gentleman was with Mr. Robinson, but no doubt +he would be disengaged presently. He took up her card, and Margaret +sat down in the waiting-room, rather glad of the opportunity afforded +her of collecting her thoughts, and considering how she could open the +subject, for, now that she was actually bound on the errand of asking a +guarantee of respectability from the man she had hitherto looked upon +simply as the person who sent her money and transacted her business, it +seemed rather harder than she had imagined. + +She had a longer time for preparation than she could have desired. Mr. +Robinson, as he afterward informed her, was literally overwhelmed with +work. + +He rose when she entered, set a chair for her, then resumed his own. +His manner was nonchalant, even, some might have said, unpolished in +its freedom, as he expressed his pleasure at seeing Mrs. Grey, and his +hope that nothing unpleasant had brought her so far from home. + +Mr. Robinson was much commended for his easy natural manners, but +on this occasion, as on a few others, an acute observer might have +detected something of nervousness underlying his expansive gestures. + +When he had exhausted his vocabulary, Mrs. Grey spoke. Lifting her +veil, she fixed her soft brown eyes on Mr. Robinson's face. "I have +come to consult you," she said. + +"Most happy, I am sure," he replied briskly--"any assistance in my +power. It was an unfortunate business. Happily, we secured enough for +maintenance." + +"You allude to my losses, Mr. Robinson. I am, unfortunately, no woman +of business, so I have scarcely understood how it comes that my income +is so diminished; but I assure you that I have full confidence in your +judgment. Perhaps, as I have come, you will be able to explain these +matters to me." + +"And delighted," he answered with some eagerness; "it is one of my +peculiar crotchets in business to keep all my clients very conversant +with their own affairs. Others act differently, but 'Do unto others,' +you know, is one of my chief rules. I live by rule, Mrs. Grey--the +highest of all rules, I hope. See here, now," and he laid his hand on a +pile of account-books, "this is a case in point. Mrs. Herbert, a widow, +large estates, before consulting me scarcely knew what she possessed; +now looks regularly over the books, spends an hour here once a month. +Danvers, again: young lady about to be married, sent for me to draw up +the settlement. 'You know all about me, Mr. Robinson,' she said; 'draw +it up as you like.' 'Excuse me, Miss Danvers,' said I. 'I should prefer +you to use your own judgment in the matter.' She has done so, and in +the course of conversation on the subject has made some very sensible +suggestions." + +Mr. Robinson did not say to how many different interviews the sensible +suggestions had given rise; certainly, however, he had been no loser by +them. + +"I could quote hundreds of instances, all tending the same way," he +continued. + +Poor Margaret shook her head: "I am afraid I should find it very +difficult to understand." + +"Not at all, not at all. Look here, now. What are you anxious to know? +I venture to say I'll make it clear to you before you leave this room." + +Margaret smiled. This man's frankness pleased her. His manner, though a +little unpolished, was, she thought, anything but displeasing; then he +seemed to understand business thoroughly. Perhaps he would show that, +after all, her affairs were not so desperate as they seemed. + +"I am first anxious to know what you mean by writing to me that one of +the mortgages has turned out badly," she said. + +"Easy to explain," he answered, with a self-satisfied smile. "Only, +perhaps, by the bye, I shall have to begin with the A B C, as one may +say, and acquaint you with the nature of a mortgage." + +"If you please, Mr. Robinson; I am afraid I am ignorant even to that +extent." + +"So much the better, Mrs. Grey, so much the better: 'A little +knowledge'--you know the proverb. Ladies take up _such_ ideas when they +know, as they imagine, something of business! I had far rather deal +with total ignorance on these points; but don't be discouraged. We must +begin at the very beginning. Forsaking business terms altogether for +the moment, I will, if you please, put this to you simply. You take me, +Mrs. Grey?" He smiled with a frankness that was charming to behold. "Do +at Rome as Rome does. With ladies talk of business as they are able to +understand." + +Mrs. Grey smiled her acquiescence. + +"Agreed," cried the lawyer effusively. "Well, then, to work. Say now, +by way of illustration"--he took a pencil as he spoke and drew a line, +writing A at the one end, B at the other and C in the centre--"A +represents a person who has a landed estate, houses, what not; B has +no landed property, but the value of A's estate in money. B wants +to put out his money in some safe way; A, who does not care to sell +his property, wants money; steps in C, the intermediate person--a +lawyer, we shall say--known to both parties. He negotiates between +them, finally arranging for B to lend his money to A on the security +of A's property. A deed of mortgage is then drawn up, which makes +the agreement binding. A has B's money, pays a half-yearly interest, +and if, after a six months' notice, the sum originally lent is not +forthcoming, A's property may be sold to make good the default. Do you +follow me, Mrs. Grey?" + +"Perfectly, Mr. Robinson. You have made clear to me what I never +understood before; but under these circumstances I cannot see how my +money was actually lost. The property would always be there." + +"True, Mrs. Grey." Mr. Robinson gave a somewhat peculiar smile. "I am +glad to see that you understand me so thoroughly; your suggestion is +in the highest degree practical; there is one consideration, however, +which we have not taken into account. Land, unfortunately, depreciates +in value, so that at times it would be highly dangerous to the +interests of the mortgagee to press a sale. At other times the title +of the mortgagor is not perfectly clear. All these things should be +carefully looked into beforehand. In your case everything was done, but +one cannot be always certain. However, excuse me for correcting your +slight inaccuracy. I _think_ I never said that this sum of money was +lost. I like to be perfectly certain on these points. Perhaps you can +refer to the passage in my letter in which I announced this unfortunate +business." + +He looked at her with some anxiety--nervousness perhaps an acute +observer might have said, but Margaret was not an acute observer. + +She smiled and shook her head: "Quite impossible, Mr. Robinson. I never +keep my letters, especially business ones. I _have_ been told that this +habit is a bad one; but _à quoi bon?_ It is really too much trouble." + +The lawyer showed his teeth. "A lady's view of matters," he said +briskly; "and, after all, full of common sense. Why _should_ you +trouble yourself? However, to return _à nos moutongs_, as the French +would say" (Mr. Robinson had spent a year in a French school, and +considered himself a perfect master of the language), "I am happy to +say that your affairs are likely to take a favorable turn. I have +a hold on the fellow for another little matter; indeed, I may say +that he is completely in my power. With your permission I will open +proceedings against him." + +Mr. Robinson always spoke the truth--at least, as some one said in +the House of Commons lately, "what he thought the truth." But, though +his affairs were open to the inspection of men and angels, he did not +consider mental reservation a sin, even where it would seriously affect +the character of a truth which he had ingenuously stated. He guarded +himself from telling Mrs. Grey that the other little business was a +large sum owed to himself by Mrs. Grey's debtor, and that he was fully +determined to screw this out of him before another debt should be paid. + +The knowledge of want or of something approaching it--want rather of +the refinements of life than of its necessities--had made Margaret +look with far more interest on money than she had ever done before. +Formerly, it had been a certain something that always came at the right +moment--for Mr. Robinson was as regular as clockwork in the transaction +of his business--and that came in amounts amply sufficient to meet +every need. What wonder that she thought little of how it came, and was +tolerably lavish in its expenditure? + +Now, everything was changed. Money meant education for Laura, the +refinements and amenities of life for herself; above all, independence. +The want of it meant servitude, drudgery, perhaps even the squalor +of poverty. But she was not sufficiently acquainted with business to +imagine that some one might be to blame for the failing mortgage--that +it could be possible to call her solicitor to account. + +She trusted Mr. Robinson implicitly. For was he not a good man? +Righteous overmuch, some people said; one who conducted his business in +an open, off-hand kind of way, which savored more of the harmlessness +of the dove than of the wisdom of the serpent? Did not his frank smile +and cheerful greeting speak of a quiet conscience? Did not worthy +people of all denominations consult him in the management of their +affairs? + +Margaret could not have suspected Mr. Robinson, and his cheerful way of +suggesting proceedings and their mysterious effect filled her with new +hope. She looked up eagerly: "Oh, Mr. Robinson, then you really think +there is hope?" + +"My dear lady," he answered in his peculiarly lively way, "I have not +the smallest doubt of it. Be content, for the time being, with your +small income, and, take my word for it, before six months have passed +over our heads we shall (by the Divine assistance--of course, we must +never forget that, Mrs. Grey) be able to pay back into your account the +larger part, if not all, of the sum in question." + +The tears filled Margaret's eyes. Had she grown so very mercenary, +then? I scarcely think so. _Her_ delight was that of the escaped +captive. There would be no necessity now to prosecute her painful +search for employment. The yoke that already, by anticipation, was +galling her might be thrown off with a clear conscience. Mr. Robinson's +word meant more than that of most people, and he gave six months as +the duration of her penury. During that time her little daughter would +scarcely require more instruction than she could give; they had still +sufficient to enable them to live quietly; and even should she be a +loser to some extent, there would no doubt be sufficient left for +Laura's education. If not, it would be time enough then to think of +ways and means. + +She gave a sigh of intense relief, then looked up, smiling through a +mist of gathering tears: "I am very foolish, Mr. Robinson, but your +words have taken _such_ a load from my mind! I had come here to-day to +consult you about taking a situation as governess. They wanted--that +is, I mean," she blushed as she spoke, "a reference, you know, was +necessary, so I came to you about it." + +"To give you a reference," replied he, with a smile that made Margaret +wince, there was so much assurance in its cordiality. "You could not +have come to a better person. My connection is very large, and, I may +say without unduly boasting (these earthly gifts must all be looked +upon as coming from above), where the name of Robinson is known it +is respected. A curious proof of this occurred yesterday." Here Mr. +Robinson was interrupted by one of his clerks, who brought up the +intimation that Lord ---- was waiting to see him. "Say I am with a +lady-client; beg his lordship to wait a few moments." Then, as the +clerk went down with the message, "You see," he continued, turning to +Mrs. Grey, "all my clients stand on the same footing. If the prince +of Wales came here to consult me on business-matters, I should request +him to wait his turn. But as we need not keep any one unnecessarily +in suspense, my little anecdote must be narrated on another occasion. +Remarkable circumstance, too--fresh proof, if that were needed, of the +existence of an overruling Providence." + +Margaret rose from her seat, scarcely perhaps so impressed as she might +have been with the noble impartiality of her solicitor. + +"One moment," he said, drawing out his cheque-book. Now, Mr. Robinson +loved his cheque-book. It was his sceptre, the insignia of his power. +He always produced it with a certain consciousness of superiority, and +made over the trifling pieces of paper which his name had rendered +valuable as if they had been princely gifts. + +"While this affair is pending," he continued pompously, "you are no +doubt somewhat straitened. I shall be glad to relieve you from undue +embarrassment. I will write out a cheque for twenty pounds. And you may +draw upon me--from time to time--always in moderation, of course." + +A blush dyed Margaret's cheek. For a moment she felt disinclined to +put herself under any obligation to this man, whose style of offering +assistance was not very palatable to her high spirits. Then she +remembered that this was business--a thing, no doubt, done every day. +And his manner--Well, it was simply that of a man not quite accustomed +to polite society. It arose from ignorance, and was a proof, if any +were needed, of his honesty. His worst faults lay evidently on the +surface, covering over, as in many cases, a good and noble nature. + +These, allow me to say, were Margaret's reflections; it does not, +therefore, follow that they were absolutely correct. Women have a trick +of rushing to conclusions. A man weighs and balances, sets this quality +against that, thinks out the effect of one upon the other, and in many +cases comes to a conclusion slowly and with difficulty. It is well. He +is not so often deceived. A woman has generally a preconceived idea, a +prejudice for or against. This being so, it is more than natural that +some expression of countenance, some tone of voice, some trick of +manner, should fall in with her preformed judgment, and cause, in the +shortest time imaginable, a conclusion which scarcely anything will +shake. She believes even against proof self-evident to the rest of the +world. This, no doubt, is partly the reason why helpless, lonely women +are so often cheated and robbed. + +Margaret was in this position. I do not mean to say that she had been +cheated and robbed. Her position was that of full confidence in the man +who transacted her business. She had thought of him as a friend: she +had found him frank and honest, no suspicion of the legal rogue in his +face or manner. Therefore she came to this conclusion: Mr. Robinson +was her friend, he looked after her interests very carefully, he would +set her affairs right if any one could. This being so, what mattered a +little want of polish? She could very well afford to dispense with it. + +"Thank you," she said as Mr. Robinson handed her the cheque; "I cannot +deny that this will be of present assistance to me." + +Mr. Robinson then rose in his turn, shook his fair client's hand with +perhaps more than necessary empressement, and escorted her to the door. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_THE YOUNG HEIR._ + + But the ground + Of all great thoughts is sadness. + + +Arthur Forrest was certainly developing a taste for art--not at all a +bad taste, his friends said one to the other, for a young man who had +amply sufficient to live upon. It would fill up his time, keep him +from the dangers of idleness, give him, in fact, something to think +about. For art could easily be pursued in a most gentlemanlike manner. +A person who fills the position, not of an artist indeed, but of an +intelligent patron of the fine arts, is not only a useful member of +society, but one who is held in some estimation by the world. + +There were many who took a very close interest in the affairs of +young Arthur Forrest, for he was, or would be in a few weeks--that +was all the period that divided him from his majority--a young man of +property. Then he was an orphan. What more natural than that tender, +sympathetic young ladies and pious, well-conducted matrons should watch +his proceedings with affectionate interest, and strive to do what lay +within their power to save him from the evil influences which were +popularly supposed to be immediately surrounding him? + +Unfortunately for the pious matrons and sympathetic young ladies, +Arthur was well taken care of. + +Mrs. Churchill was his aunt. She had tended him in his infancy, as she +often said pathetically to a circle of admirers; she had the first +claim on his love and gratitude. The gratitude Mrs. Churchill was +anxious to keep as her inalienable right in Arthur: the love she had +already passed on to her daughter and representative, pretty Adèle. + +And hitherto Arthur had shown himself dutifully content with the +arrangement. He did not think much of girls as a class, and certainly +Adèle was as good a specimen of them as he had ever met. Then he was +accustomed to her; she generally knew how to keep him amused; she was +pretty, lively and well dressed. Till Arthur met Margaret he had never +admired a shabby person. In fact, he was languidly grateful to Aunt +Ellen and the Fates for having arranged matters so comfortably, because +matters were actually arranged. + +Mrs. Churchill knew the world she lived in too well to allow such a +thing as a tacit understanding between the cousins, which a young +man's whim could break through in a moment. She did not intend that +her daughter's first youth and beauty should be spent in a devotion +which was destined to meet with no adequate return. Adèle was rich +and pretty--she would have no difficulty in meeting with a suitable +partner; only to keep Arthur and his money in the family was desirable. +Besides, he was young; he would make an amenable son-in-law; then +he was already accustomed to the yoke--no small point this, in Mrs. +Churchill's estimation. + +When, therefore, Adèle had reached the age of eighteen and Arthur +that of twenty--events which had happened almost simultaneously +shortly before my story opens--Mrs. Churchill, as she fondly hoped +and believed, put the finishing stroke to the edifice she had been +forming. It had been her aim, during the few years that had passed +since Arthur had emerged into young manhood, to make her house the most +agreeable place in the world to him, and in this she had been eminently +successful. Adèle had ably assisted her, for she, poor child! had +always cherished affection for her handsome cousin--an affection which +the dawn of womanhood and her mother's fostering influence ripened +without much difficulty into a tenderer feeling. + +She found it not easy, then, when wise eighteen had arrived, to +understand her mother's tactics, for Arthur the welcome guest began +from that date to be less warmly received, and obstacles were thrown +in the way of their meetings, which had been so delightfully frequent +and unembarrassed. They came notably from Mrs. Churchill, and yet her +personal affection for her nephew seemed only to have increased; there +was a tinge of gentle regret in her manner even while she appeared to +be sending him from them. + +It was almost more inexplicable to Arthur than to Adèle and at last he +could bear it no longer. + +With the love of universal popularity so common to his age, he hated +the idea of being in his relative's bad graces; besides, the charms +of his cousin's society increased tenfold in his imagination as +difficulties cropped up to interfere with his quiet enjoyment of them. + +"By Jove!" he said to himself in the course of a cigar-fed meditation, +"I must have it out with Aunt Ellen at once." + +That was a memorable moment in his history. With the impulsiveness +of youth he extinguished his cigar and repaired in haste to Mrs. +Churchill's handsome residence. He found her alone in her drawing-room, +pensive but loftily kind, and soon extracted from her what she +would so much rather have kept to herself--that she was acting in +Adèle's interests; the dear girl was impressionable, the relationship +dangerous; much as she loved her nephew, she must not forget that a +mother's first duty was to watch over her child; and much more of a +like nature, to all of which Arthur listened dutifully. Of course +he was no match for his aunt; before the evening of that day had +arrived he occupied the position of an accepted lover, blessed by +a happy parent, and possessed what perhaps, on some future day, he +might possibly be led to imagine the dear-bought privilege of a free +_entrée_ into Aunt Ellen's house. Since then matters had progressed +satisfactorily, as far as Mrs. Churchill was concerned, though Adèle, +who took almost a motherly interest in her lover and future husband, +was inclined to lament the absolute aimlessness of his life. + +Women, generally speaking, have a quicker mental growth than men. The +mind of a girl of eighteen is in many cases more mature than that +of a man of twenty. Arthur had passed his twenty years without much +thought beyond himself. Adèle, with the like luxurious surroundings, +had already begun to look past herself--to feel that there was a world +of which she knew nothing, but with which, nevertheless, she was very +closely connected--a world of want and suffering, where wrong was too +often triumphant. + +She was fond of reading. Perhaps some of these thoughts had crept in +through the medium of poet and historian. For Adèle's insight told her +that there were many higher and nobler lives for a man and woman to +lead than that of self-pleasing. She sometimes longed to be a man, that +she might do something worth doing in a world that wanted the active +and the strong. But the little she could do she did, and had she known +how many blessed her for her gentle words and timely aid, she might +have been less desponding about a woman's ability to take some place in +the world. + +For the rest she looked to Arthur, the hero of her imagination. +Poor Adèle! Her hero did not quite see as she did the necessity for +exertion. He took life languidly, and could not conceive why people +should excite themselves about what did not concern them; at least this +was what he always said when she tried to instill into him some of her +ideas about human wrongs and human service. + +But Adèle did not despair; she had a woman's supreme faith in "the +to-come." Something would arouse Arthur's dormant energies and bring +out the latent fire of his nature. + +In the mean time she, with the rest of his world, was pleased to +notice his growing interest in the fine arts, though she, wiser +than they, felt inclined to put down his constant haunting of the +picture-galleries to a growing restlessness that meant uneasiness +with the aimless life of self-gratification he was leading and a +stretching-out after something higher. + +And Adèle was partially right. Arthur was changed. Perhaps it was more +the sadness than the beauty of that fair woman's face which haunted him +so strangely, mingling with all his thoughts a certain self-reproach +which he found it very difficult to understand. + +It may have been that in the pale, calm face, resolute in endurance, +he saw for one moment what was going on for ever around him; he read +the mystic law of nature--sacrifice of self. For life is glad; where +gladness is not life may be borne, but not loved or rejoiced in, and in +the calm surrender of life's gladness to the call of life's necessity +there is a surrender of life itself, the most beautiful part of life. + +Something of this he had seen in Margaret's pale face. A joy put away, +surrendered, a burden taken up and patiently borne. This it was that +filled his mind when the first impression of her loveliness had in a +manner passed. He saw the suffering, and beside the suffering he saw +himself, self-indulgent, careless, free of hand, light of spirit, with +no thought, in a general way, beyond the enjoyment of the present hour. + +Often before Arthur had expressed something of this: lolling in a +luxurious arm-chair with his feet on the fender, while Adèle amused him +by a song or read to him something that had been charming her, he would +say with a comfortable sigh, "What a good-for-nothing sort of fellow I +am, Adèle!" + +But then he had scarcely felt it, or if he had it had been only with a +kind of impression that the good-for-nothingness sat elegantly on the +shoulders of a young man of property. + +Clever Mrs. Churchill rather encouraged the impression. Young men with +ideas are apt to become unmanageable, and she was earnestly desirous of +keeping Arthur in her invisible leading-strings. + +But this time Arthur felt it. There was suffering, sorrow, wrong in +the world; he was doing nothing but vegetate on its surface, keeping +his comforts, his gladness, his fresh young life for his own selfish +gratification. And the worst of it all was that he did not see a way +out of it. In the days of chivalry young knights went out armed to +fight for defenceless women and redress human wrongs. Arthur felt sure +that his mysterious lady had been in some way cruelly wronged, and he +longed to constitute himself her protector and knight; but in the first +place she had persistently denied herself to him; in the second place +her wrongs might prove to be such as he would find himself utterly +unable to redress. + +He was bound to Adèle, and if it had not been so he felt instinctively +that he was scarcely a suitable husband for the beautiful widow. +(Arthur had made up his mind that Margaret _was_ a widow.) Under +such circumstances, even if so minor an evil as poverty were her +trouble, there would be a certain incongruity in offering her half his +fortune, and she would probably resent such a step. He could offer it +anonymously, but even in such case it would be quite possible that she +might think it right to decline acceptance, and Mrs. Churchill would +reasonably consider Adèle and any children she might have wronged by +the proceeding. Arthur, in fact, had wandered into a maze whence there +really seemed to be no exit. His only hope was to see Margaret again. +One more glimpse of her fair face might do more toward unravelling the +mystery than hours of lonely pondering. This, then, it was, rather more +than love of art, that led him to haunt the picture-galleries, and +especially the one where he had first seen her. + +But if it were this that led him, something else kept him. Wandering +hither and thither by these trophies of mind, with this new earnestness +in his spirit, he began to feel in them a power unsuspected in his +former languid visits. They represented work, conflict, triumph. Each +picture had its history, into each were wrought the mingled threads +of human experience. In the dim glory that shone from one or two of +these transcripts of Nature Arthur read the struggle of soul to express +itself worthily, and his young spirit was stirred within him. + +In the loving detail, all beautiful of its kind, with which the artist +surrounded the fair queen of his homage, he saw the earnestness of +genius, and bowing his head he worshipped in the great temple of +Humanity. + +The young man's thoughts began to run, not on his own elegance and +superiority, but on the great problems of Nature and Art. Self was +removed from its lofty pedestal. What the fair woman's face had begun +human genius carried on. Arthur Forrest was changed. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +_A CUNNING TEMPTER._ + + Thou art woman; + And that is saying the best and worst of thee. + + +Margaret's business in London was over. The more she thought about +her visit to Mr. Robinson, the more certain she felt that her affairs +were in capable hands, and that her money difficulties would very soon +disappear. + +She wrote, therefore, to Mrs. Augustus Brown, declining the honor of +becoming a member of her household. + +That lady was considerably annoyed at first. Afterward she consoled +herself by the reflection that her own presence of mind had saved her +sweet innocents from a terrible danger. It was only too evident, she +remarked to the passive Brown, that Mrs. Grey's antecedents would not +bear looking into. It was a fresh instance of the danger to which the +inexperienced were subjected in London. Had she not been very watchful +she might have been misguided by that woman's remarkable appearance. + +Mr. Augustus pricked up his ears at this. + +"In what way was she remarkable, my love?" he blandly inquired. + +To which civil question Mrs. Brown, recalling her former uneasiness, +only replied by shaking her fat shoulders and descanting volubly on the +fruitful theme of male curiosity. + +It is highly probable that Margaret had a happy escape, in spite of +"salary no object, and masters for every branch." + +As soon as the letter had been despatched she began to think of +home and Laura, and to lay her plans for return. But, first, various +articles of wearing apparel would have to be procured, for Margaret was +not at all fond of shabbiness for its own sake, and her little girl's +wardrobe was, she knew, sadly in need of replenishment. + +So she put off her departure for a day or two, that this business, so +much more pleasing than what had hitherto been occupying her, might be +satisfactorily accomplished. Between shopping and needlewomen the next +few days passed by with considerable rapidity and far more brightness +of spirit; and then Margaret thought that before leaving London she +might pay a farewell visit to the pictures, and, especially, to the one +which had so powerfully attracted her. + +Dressing herself with far more care than on the previous occasion--for +the black stuff was replaced by silk, and over it the rich Indian +scarf, for which Margaret seemed to cherish a peculiar affection, +looked more in keeping--she started on a bright afternoon in an omnibus +that took her to the very door of the Exhibition. + +For this once Margaret wished to enjoy without fatigue. And she +certainly _did_ enjoy. Coming from the brightness and life of the May +day into the cool shade of the galleries (it was too early in the day +for the fashionable crowd), with the wealth of coloring and suggestive +beauty on every side, nothing to do but to wander from one gem of art +to the other,--all this was really delightful to Margaret. It was easy +work at first, but as the day wore on the usual crowds began to pour +into the galleries, and moving about became somewhat more difficult. + +Margaret was there to see the pictures and refresh herself with their +beauty. She did not, therefore, pay much attention to the many who were +coming and going, and was in consequence perfectly unconscious of the +notice she herself attracted; for many who caught a glimpse of her fair +face in passing turned instinctively and looked again. There was one +who admired her specially. + +He was a little sandy-haired individual who had been wandering about +rather disconsolately with his wife. Having at last been able to escort +her to a seat, he was venturing to look round when he caught sight of +Margaret Grey. It was a happy moment. She was looking up at one of +Millais' suggestive pieces; the full appreciation of its meaning gave a +certain spirituality to her face, and her lips were parted in a smile +of calm enjoyment. + +He was struck dumb with astonishment. Had it not been for the presence +of his wife and a snub-nosed olive-branch he would have improved the +occasion by trying to find out something about this new beauty. + +As it was, he turned away his eyes from beholding vanity, and looked +down on the opposite virtue, his wife, whose eyes, strange to say, were +beholding vanity too. With the assistance of her eye-glasses they were +scanning the object that had previously attracted the attention of her +lord. + +The heart of the sandy-haired throbbed with unusual excitement, but +(oh the treachery of the male sex!) he smothered excitement under an +appearance of utter indifference. + +"Do you know that lady, my love?" he inquired in his blandest tones. + +"Lady, indeed!" replied Mrs. Brown, for the moment forgetting her +prudence in her indignation. "It's Mrs. Grey, who _was_ to have been my +children's governess, Mr. Brown. Now I hope you _see_!" + +Mr. Augustus did _not_ precisely see, but for the sake of peace and +quietness he professed to be very much enlightened, and proceeded with +a man's temerity to make some other trifling observation about the +pseudo-governess. + +He met with a smart rebuke for his pains, and then Mrs. Brown, feeling +no doubt that the locality was dangerous, requested that her carriage +should be found. + +When the unhappy Brown returned dutifully to escort her to where it was +in waiting for its dainty burden the vision of female loveliness had +vanished, and though he paid more visits to the Exhibition of the Royal +Academy than he had ever done before, the vision never returned. Alas, +the cruelty of human nature as exemplified by watchful wives! + +Margaret did not know what mischief she was causing. She had found her +way to the little sea-piece which had already spoken so powerfully to +her imagination. And there it was that at last Arthur Forrest's eyes +were gladdened once more with a sight of the face that had haunted him. + +He was standing near the entrance of the room, lost in the crowd, which +was every moment increasing, when she passed by him so closely that her +silk dress touched him. He had been watching for her daily, but at the +fateful moment her appearance took him by surprise. + +He had formed plans without number for addressing her, without showing +himself obtrusive or inquisitive. The very words of polite inquiry +after her health, the manner in which, by courtesy and chivalrous +deference, all her fears would be set at rest, had been rehearsed again +and again in colloquy between himself and a Margaret evoked by his +dream; but when the moment had come, when the real Margaret was near, +all his plans vanished like mists before the sun--he was bashful and +timid as a young _débutante_. Instead of emerging from the crowd which +seemed to swallow up his identity and claiming acquaintance with her, +he drew farther back into its friendly shelter. He could not address +her yet, he said to himself; he must seize the opportunity of gazing +once more on her fair face. + +He saw her walk quietly through the gallery and pause near one of +the seats, the scene of their memorable rencontre only a few days +previously. It was full, so she stood beside it, gazing with dreamy +pleasure at the picture of the westering sea. + +_She_ looked at the picture, and Arthur in his safe retirement looked +at her; indeed, he was so absorbed in the contemplation that it needed +a very smart tap on the shoulder from a gentleman who had come up +behind him, and who had already addressed one or two remarks to him +utterly in vain, to awake him to a sense of things as they were, and +to the consciousness of the existence of some few people in the world +besides himself and Margaret Grey. + +As he looked round he reddened with annoyance, and yet Captain +Mordaunt, the gentleman who had broken in upon his reverie, was a man +with whom most young men liked to be seen. Not that he was particularly +attractive, for his hair was turning gray, his face was blotchy, his +neck red and long, and his nose beginning to take the hue of the purple +grape. Then, too, his manner was apt to be snappish and sarcastic, +especially to young men. But what was all this when it was a certain +fact that he knew, as they would have said, "an awful lot;" that he +was the fashion; that he counted his intrigues by the hundred? Indeed +it was whispered, and not without foundation, some said, that not only +actresses and inferior people of that description were concerned in +them; the names of ladies of high rank had been associated with that of +Alfred Mordaunt. But this of course may have been only rumor, for rumor +is thousand-tongued and not particularly charitable. In any case, the +gallant captain did not seem to care to deny the soft imputations. He +considered it his chief mission in life to be a lady-killer. + +Arthur was not above the weaknesses of his day and generation; he had +often courted Captain Mordaunt in the past. The past! How soon those +few days had become the past, the great blank of existence, when he had +lived without having seen _her_! + +What annoyed Arthur so particularly was this. He saw in a moment that +he had betrayed his secret by his own folly--that Captain Mordaunt, the +last person in the world to whom he would have spoken of his romantic +devotion, had traced the direction of his glance, and with eye-glass +fixed was taking a look on his own account. The look was followed by +another tap, a congratulatory one, on Arthur's shoulder. "By Jove, +Master Arthur! you have taste! The finest woman I've seen for some +time, 'pon my solemn word and honor! And beauties are something in my +line too. Not of the pink-and-white sort either, that generally goes +down with you young fellows. There's refinement, intelligence, and what +d'you call it, that painters make a fuss about, in that face." + +His comments sent the indignant blood to the very roots of young +Arthur's hair. He made an heroic effort at indifference. "I am really +at a loss to understand you, Captain Mordaunt," he stammered. + +The gallant captain laughed, holding his sides as if the merriment +overpowered him utterly. + +"_Very_ good! _Very_ good!" he cried between the paroxysms. "Sly boy! +Didn't know you were so deep. Want to keep all to yourself, eh? I'll +warrant the fair cousin knows nothing." + +The color faded from Arthur's face, but there came a dangerous light +into his eyes. "I wish you would keep your remarks and your ill-timed +jokes to yourself, Captain Mordaunt," he said sullenly. + +The captain looked astonished, and whistled softly for a moment. +"Gently, gently, young spitfire!" he said lightly. "But come, who +is she? Let an old friend into the secret. Why, I declare, ----" +(mentioning a lady of more repute for beauty than character) "couldn't +hold a candle to her." + +This was almost too much for Arthur. He turned round with flashing +eyes, and there was a subdued force in his voice as he answered, using +the first rash words that came to his lips, "How _dare_ you speak +of _her_ in such a connection? I am a younger man than you, but, by +Heaven! if you should repeat such an insult I could strike you down +where you stand." + +The captain laughed again, with a trifle of uneasiness this time, and +he turned a little pale. Rumor said that he was a coward, but probably +his fear in the present instance was of a row in this public place. +However that might be, he certainly took Arthur's challenge rather +coolly. "Calm yourself, young man," he said more seriously than he had +yet spoken. "I scarcely knew I was treading on such dangerous ground, +and certainly could not mean to insult any friend of yours. You know +this lady, I presume, since you are so hot in her defence?" + +Again Arthur blushed. What a fool he felt himself! Captain Mordaunt in +this mood was less easy to escape than in his former one. "I know her," +he answered after a pause, "only very slightly." + +"Very slightly, I imagine so," replied the other satirically. "It is +not the first time _I_ have seen her, though," he added _sotto voce_. + +Arthur was all attention in a moment: "_Where_ have you met her, +Captain Mordaunt?" + +"Oh, that is _my_ secret. We can all be close when it suits our +turn. A word in your ear, young man. Ultra modesty, faith in the +immaculate--you take me?--never goes down with women. I know something +of them, and they're all alike. There! don't look indignant. Follow up +your advantage, if you've gained any, and before long you may find out +that I am right, and thank me for the hint." + +Margaret had found a place at last on the crimson seat. As the last +words were spoken she was leaning forward, her head resting on one of +her hands, from which she had taken the glove. There was marvellous +grace in her position. The long white fingers, the flushed cheek, the +dark weary eyes and the slender bowed form made such a picture as few +could have looked upon unmoved. + +Captain Mordaunt, whose eyes had never stirred from her face, smiled +softly (a smile that made Arthur writhe mentally), and clapped his +thumb-nails together as though he had been applauding some favorite +actress. + +"Bravo!" he said in a low tone to his companion: "there's a pose for +you--knows she's being admired. Bless you, lad! it's women's way; and +so innocent all the time, the pretty pets! By ----, I'd like awfully +to follow this up on my own account. But," and he gave a deep sigh, +"I've too many on hand already--won't do. Like the Yankee, I shall be +'crowded out.' I leave the field clear for a younger knight. By-bye, +old fellow--best wishes. I must be off--was due at Lady ----'s an hour +ago." + +In another moment he was gone, but before he left the hall he turned +and looked at his young companion, and as he looked his lips curled. +Arthur did not see him, nor did he hear his muttered comment: "Poor +fool! he'll have his wings singed for him, but serve him right for his +impertinence. Knock _me_ down, indeed!" + +In Arthur's mind very different thoughts and feelings were struggling +for ascendency. Indignation, disgust, loathing of this world-sated man +and his wisdom--these the better side of his nature prompted, rejecting +with spiritual insight the unholy poison; but there was a lurking demon +within him, the _ego_ Arthur had been striving to trample upon, and to +it all this was sympathetic. + +Perhaps, after all, Captain Mordaunt was right. Chivalry and its +attendant virtues belonged rather to the region of the imagination +than to the matter-of-fact life of humanity. It was the way of the +world for men to amuse themselves while they could. It had been Captain +Mordaunt's way, and what a pleasant life _he_ led! Petted, caressed, +flattered, at home in some of the noblest mansions in England, his word +law in all matters of etiquette, grand ladies considering it an honor +to entertain him. He had not gained this position by squeamishness: +_that_ point he allowed every one to know. + +Arthur's heart told him that all this was false--that whatever or +whoever the light loves of Captain Mordaunt might have been, the +lady whom he admired was pure, true, unconscious of evil. He felt +instinctively, with the insight lively sympathy often gives to the +young, that to take advantage in any way of her lonely position would +be to shut himself out from the place he had been so happy as to gain +in her kindly remembrance, and to preclude himself from all hope of +rendering her any further assistance in the future. + +But the demon of self is strong, and the voice of the heart when +opposed to it is weak. The pathetic voice of Arthur's heart was soon +silenced by the echo which self-love gave to Captain Mordaunt's words +of falsest wisdom. He looked at his fair ideal, but his feelings had +changed. The animal within him was loudly asserting its right to be +heard; the self-indulgent nature, which a life of luxury had fostered, +persuaded itself easily that all was right, and his fair woman only +as others. Cherishing such feelings, he could not look calmly on her +face. With a new fire in his veins he turned away to wait outside the +building until Margaret should make her appearance. + +The waiting seemed long, but it did not cool his ardor or recall +his former wisdom. Backward and forward he paced, up and down, with +careful observation of all who left the building, until at last he +began to fear either that he had suffered her to escape him, and thus +lost all chance of finding out more about her--this was the vague +way in which his plans were laid--or that something had delayed her, +another fainting-fit perhaps. The bare idea maddened him; he put his +hand to his head, he felt dizzy; this was very different from his +nonchalant waiting for Adèle a few days previously, even from that +daily hope--calm through all its earnestness--of looking once more on +the face of his ideal. + +That fatal tree! How many young souls are lost by the passionate +craving for its fruit! The man of the world had held its beautiful +poison to the young man's lips, and he could not tell that beneath the +glory lay dust and ashes. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +_ARTHUR FALLS INTO THE SNARE._ + + Let me not think I have thought too well of thee. + Be as thou wast. + + +She came out at last. Arthur saw her, and began with feverish anxiety +to trace every line of her face and form. Her veil was thrown back, he +noticed that, and even while he did so hated himself for his suspicion. +"She knows her beauty," said the false self within him; "it will not be +difficult to show her that others know it too." + +But he noticed something more, something that aroused the warm +sympathies of his nature: the face that a few moments ago had glowed +with excitement was very pale, and the sweet lips were quivering +slightly--it might be with fatigue, it might be with nervousness. A +woman feels so lonely in great London, and loneliness in a crowd is the +bitterest kind of loneliness to a sensitive nature. + +In a very few moments Arthur's measures were taken. Waiting until she +had passed on her way, he hailed a hansom, shouted out to the driver +the address of the shabby street which he had visited with his cousin +a few days previously, and was presently on his way to Margaret's +temporary home. + +With what view? She had requested him expressly not to follow up the +acquaintanceship--she was living by herself in close retirement. She +might very probably be offended at his visit. + +Arthur was young and impulsive: he said nothing of all this to +himself, or rather, with Captain Mordaunt's hateful hints in his +mind, he persuaded himself that it would be only too easy to gain her +forgiveness for his disobedience. As he was whirled along through the +streets the young man's heart throbbed. Be it remembered that he was +inexperienced in the world's ways, and had lived up to this time under +strict petticoat-government. The very breaking free was exhilarating to +his senses--so much so, indeed, that he did not even stop to reflect +on the course he should pursue when, as he hoped and trusted, he would +meet her face to face. + +And Margaret in the mean time, knowing nothing of the temporary madness +her face had caused, was making her way as quickly as she could through +the throng and bustle of London to her lodgings in Islington. + +Arthur had purposely delayed, and she arrived at the house before him. +As the hansom dashed into the street, the young man caught a glimpse of +her black dress disappearing behind one of the dingiest doors. + +Now first he began to tremble a little at the thought of his own +impulsive folly. He stood irresolute; he half made up his mind to +return at once. But the voice of the tempter, "I know something of +women, and they're all alike," rang in his ear. + +"I will at least try," said the foolish young man to himself, and with +a certain tremor at his heart he rang the door-bell. + +The dirty maid-servant looked at him in astonishment. Mrs. Grey had +received some distinguished visitors, notably the brilliant owner of +the yellow chariot, but as yet no handsome, fashionably-dressed young +gentleman had presented himself. + +Margaret, as we know, had only one sitting-room. Judging from the +elegance of his appearance that this visitor would be surely welcome, +the girl took upon herself, without waiting for Mrs. Grey's permission, +to usher the young gentleman into the dingy parlor. + +Margaret was seated there. She had thrown off her bonnet, and smiling +half pleasantly, half sadly, was examining a little frock, which had +just been sent home by the dressmaker she employed. + +Instinctively, Arthur paused on the threshold. This rapid crowning +of his hopes was so unexpected as almost to take his breath away. +But looking at her he dared not presume. There was in the solitary +woman's face at the moment that beautiful mother-look, that calm +Madonna tenderness, which makes the human charm of Raphael's divine +conceptions of the Virgin. Feeling that he had been presumptuous and +vain, Arthur would fain have turned and fled from this calm woman's +presence, but now it was too late. + +The opening of the door had disturbed Margaret's dream. She turned +round, the tender mother-look changed into utter astonishment. Poor +Arthur! She did not even seem to know him. Certainly, the room was +rather dark, and his appearance had taken her completely by surprise; +still, this swift forgetfulness was a terrible blow to his youthful +vanity. + +Scarcely knowing what to do with himself or how to account for his +visit, he advanced, awkwardly enough, into the little dull room, and +Margaret rose from her seat. To the excited imagination of the young +man the lonely, shabby woman had passed suddenly into a stately queen +of society. + +As if awaiting his explanation she stood, but now his lips were sealed, +his fine phrases deserted him, he could not stammer out a word of +explanation. + +It was Margaret who broke the embarrassing silence: "Sir, to what do I +owe--" + +He broke her short: "Mrs. Grey, you are cruel. Surely you must +remember, you must know, I mean--understand--the interest, the +enthusiasm--" + +She was looking at him fixedly as he spoke, and at last his confusion +became so overpowering that he stopped short. Then he could have bit +out his tongue for his audacity, for the astonishment in her face was +replaced by a keen and bitter pain. + +"I remember you now," she said very slowly. "Yes, you are the young +gentleman who some few days ago received the fervent thanks of a lonely +woman for his chivalrous kindness." + +The red blood mounted to Arthur's cheek. Unable longer to bear the gaze +of those mournful eyes, he threw himself down on the nearest chair and +covered his face with his hands. + +"You did not understand me then," she continued very sadly; "you +thought that--" + +"Stop, for pity's sake, stop!" cried the young man, lifting up an +agitated face. "I know all you would say. I am a weak, miserable fool, +not worthy of having even been allowed to assist you; but if you only +knew." + +His penitence seemed to subdue her indignation. "Foolish boy!" she said +with one of her rarely beautiful smiles. "I know perfectly well, and +therefore it is that I forgive this impertinence. A little experience +of the world will teach you your mistake. Three days ago I read in +your young frank face that you judged me rightly, and I thanked you in +my heart. I will not retract the judgment I formed of you then; but +remember, what you have done is foolish and ought never to be repeated." + +"I know it--I know it," moaned Arthur; "but may I never see you again? +Ah! if by any service, however hard, I could make you happier than you +are!" + +She put out her hand, smiling kindly into his earnest face: "The best +service you can render me now is to shake hands and say good-bye. As I +said to you before, we move in different worlds. You will soon forget +this infatuation, or only remember it as a warning against taking any +advantage, however slight, of an unprotected woman. In that case I +shall have rendered you a service." + +Where was Captain Mordaunt's wisdom? Banished by a few words from a +weak but noble woman. Happy for Arthur that the fair face hid a fairer +soul! The poison was drawn out of his heart, and youth's own chivalry +took its right place in his nature. + +Bowing low over the offered hand, he answered in a broken voice, "I +obey you, and I thank you. I cannot promise to forget, but from this +time all my thoughts of you shall be tinged by the deep respect which +is your due." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +_ARTHUR'S SECRET._ + + And I loved her--loved her, certes, + As I loved all heavenly objects, with uplifted eyes and hands-- + As I loved pure inspiration, loved the Graces, loved the Virtues, + In a love content with writing his own name on desert sands. + + +A luxurious drawing-room, furnished with all the taste and elegance +that money can command; flowers here, there and everywhere--flowers in +the deep recesses of lace-veiled windows, flowers on the multitude of +tables that stood in every corner, flowers--and these the sweetest of +them all--in the lap of a young fair-haired girl who filled a corner of +one of the sofas. + +She was paying no great attention to the flowers, only bathing one +of her hands in them from time to time, as though to refresh herself +with their cool fragrance. The other hand, her eyes and her whole soul +appeared to be given to the book she held, an elegant little volume +bound in fawn-colored calfskin. + +She was so deeply engrossed that she did not hear the door open, and +her cousin had time to cross the long room, sit down by her side and +take possession of the hand that was trifling with the flowers before +she was aware of his presence. + +Then she looked up, blushed charmingly and closed her book: "Arthur +dear, how delightful! I began to think you were never coming near us +again, and I wanted particularly to speak to you about something that +has been in my head ever since our visit to the Academy." + +"Four days!" answered Arthur, languidly, throwing himself back on the +sofa--"an enormous time, as young ladies would say, for one subject to +engross them, especially in this age of progress." + +"I suppose it would be absurd to imagine that _you_ even remember, +Master Arthur," replied Adèle, quite equal to the occasion--"_boys_, as +mamma always says, are _so_ volatile." + +"Boys!" Arthur shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. "You are very +polite to-day, Adèle." + +There was a shade of annoyance in his voice, which made Adèle look up +at him, for she was a kind little lady who never carried her jokes too +far. The result of the look was a rapid movement from her side of the +sofa to Arthur's, and an earnest inquiry: "Arthur dear, something is +wrong with you, you must surely be ill." + +For Arthur's face was pale, and there was a wan, anxious contraction on +his broad white brow. + +His only answer was a faint smile. Then, after a pause, "You were +reading, Adèle. Oh!" lifting the book from the small reading-table +that stood conveniently near the sofa, "_The Faërie Queene_. I thought +it would be something of the kind. Read some of it aloud, like a good +girl; I'm too done up with this hot weather to talk just now." + +"Poor old fellow!" Adèle smoothed back his curly hair and imprinted +a kiss, that did not seem to excite her cousin particularly, between +his temples. "Your forehead is so hot, dear, let me bathe it with +eau-de-cologne for you." + +She opened a little bottle of richly-cut, ruby-colored glass, and +pouring some of its sweet contents on her handkerchief pressed it again +and again to his brow, Arthur submitting with the delicate grace of an +invalid. + +"There," he said at last, "that'll do, dear; you can read now." + +And the obedient Adèle, having first carefully lowered one of the +Venetian blinds that no glare might offend her cousin's eyes, proceeded +to read her favorite book in a soft, measured cadence that suited it +admirably. There was no stumbling over the old English words. Adèle was +so thoroughly acquainted with the style that the quaint language came +naturally from her lips, even with a kind of delicate grace. Love had +given her the art, for she loved, more than any book she had ever read, +this dreamy, old-world poem, with its fair women, its armed knights, +its dragons and its myths. Perhaps the force of contrast made these +things specially dear to the young girl's soul, for there was not much +romance in the fashionable life her mother taught her to think the best +and wisest of all lives for a nineteenth-century young lady to lead. + +Her voice sounded like the echo of a dream in the wide room, and she +herself, in her light summer dress, might well have answered to the +description of one of the fair "maydes" whose woes and joys the gentle +poet of another age has illumined with his silvery pen, while Arthur, +as he rested on the sofa in an attitude of careless grace, his dark, +lazy-looking eyes half closed, his head thrown back upon the cushions, +might have been one of the brave young knights refreshing himself in +his lady's bower after some terrible encounter with the many-headed, +many-handed monster from whom it was his grand mission to free humanity +in general, fair womankind in particular. + +But the afternoon wore away. Adèle had just finished the account of a +mighty encounter between Arthur of the magic sword and three unknightly +knights who had attacked him together. + +It had apparently aroused Arthur, for he rose suddenly and stood by her +side, looking down upon her with a certain earnestness. + +"Shut the book for the present, Adèle," he said, "I am ready to talk +now; it has awoke me." + +"What has awoke you, dear?" + +"Your favorite poet, I suppose, my little cousin; but come, what were +you so anxious to say to me when I came in just now?" + +"Oh, Arthur, you cannot surely have forgotten. I wanted to speak to you +about that beautiful fainting lady in the Academy." + +"Perhaps I have _not_ forgotten, Adèle." Arthur turned away from his +cousin as he spoke, for he did not wish her to see the sudden flush +which not all the proud consciousness of manhood and superiority had +been strong enough to restrain. + +"Well," he continued after a pause, as his cousin remained thoughtfully +silent, "I _do_ remember; but what of her?" + +"I have been thinking of her, Arthur." Adèle's eyes looked sorrowful. +"And whenever I think of her I remember those miserable houses, the +shabby black dress and the quiet sadness in her face. Oh, Arthur, _do_ +you think it would be possible to help her in any way?" + +"For you it might be," said Arthur with an appearance of sudden +interest. "Unfortunately," he added bitterly, "women have the habit of +looking upon any attempt at friendliness in one of the opposite sex as +a species of insult." + +This was rather too much for Adèle. With every respect for her cousin +and fiancé, he was still too young, in her estimation, to be capable of +exciting indignation in the breast of any woman. She laughed merrily: +"I like your vanity, sir. As if any one could be insulted with you! You +would have to pin on a false moustache, draw your hat over your brows +to hide those ingenuous-looking eyes of yours, and button an enormous +rough great coat up to your chin, before any one--any stranger, I +mean--could imagine you even grown up. Why _I_ look ages older than +you!" + +Adèle got up and looked at herself in the mirror. + +"Yes, _ages_!" she repeated, with provoking emphasis and in eager +expectation of a delightful torrent of self-vindication from her +cousin. They often indulged in this kind of wordy war, and Adèle's +feminine volubility and quickness of wit generally gave her the +advantage. + +No answer came from Arthur to the rash challenge. He was standing +behind her, not looking into the mirror, but, as though utterly +unconscious of her light words, gazing away into vacancy. Adèle caught +sight of his face in the mirror, and a sudden silence seized her, for +even as she spoke she saw that in her young cousin's face which warned +her he was a boy no longer. + +He had drawn himself up to his full height, and stood seemingly rapt +in earnest thought, for his brows were slightly contracted, and his +ingenuous-looking eyes had taken a deep, fixed look that strangely +moved his cousin. With the quickness of a woman's insight she saw that +her jest had been ill-timed, that a certain indescribable change, +perhaps that for which she had hoped and longed, had come to the +beautiful boy whom she had loved and caressed with almost maternal +tenderness, for manhood's strength of purpose was written on his face. +Her first feeling was a sense of foreboding. If Arthur was indeed +changed, would he be changed to her? + +The next was a determination, strong as the womanhood which with her +love the young girl had put on early, to share his secret, whatever it +might be. + +She was too young and too inexperienced to understand all that +this change, which she certainly felt, might mean; she could not +reason about the new earnestness, nor trace it to any cause which +he might think it well to hide, for Adèle was eminently generous +and unsuspicious. She was accustomed to her cousin's light, boyish +affection, and did not expect him to be a passionate lover; she was +therefore ready with all her soul to rejoice in anything that would +make him less frivolous, less absorbed in self and the mere enjoyment +of life. + +For a few moments she stood silently at the mirror, looking into it, +but looking absently, for her mind was engaged in the problem of how to +approach him, how to gain his confidence at this time which the young +girl instinctively felt to be critical in her cousin's history. If he +had ambitious dreams, was it not right that she should share them? She +had always been his confidante; the bare idea, indeed, of being shut +out from any of Arthur's secrets gave Adèle keen pain. + +Deciding at last that frankness was her best policy, she turned to her +cousin and putting both hands on his shoulders looked earnestly into +his eyes. "Arthur," she said with a slight tremor in her voice, "what +are you thinking about? Tell me." + +He might have been called from a distant land, so great was the +interval that separated his mind from hers at that moment, and at first +he seemed even to have difficulty in recalling his scattered ideas. + +She repeated the question, with an added earnestness that lent pathos +to her voice. + +Then he looked down upon her: + +"Why do you wish so much to know, Adèle?" + +"Oh, Arthur, how can you ask?" Her voice trembled, she was very near +tears. "Dear," she continued in a lower voice, taking his hand in +hers, "if I thought you had _one_ corner in your heart of which I knew +nothing, I scarcely know what I should do. 'Trust me all in all,' +Arthur. I say it in all sincerity." She smiled faintly. "I promise not +to be like that naughty Vivien, wrapping you up in spells, even if--if +you should have any secret--" + +"That would pain you very much to know, little cousin." + +Adèle looked up bravely: "I should prefer to know it, Arthur--indeed +I should; I think, dear--I _think_--I could put myself out of the +question altogether, and help you as a sister might." + +He did not notice the tremulousness, the slight choking of voice with +which her brave little sentence ended. + +"I wish with all my heart that you were my sister, Adèle: then I could +tell you without any hesitation." + +Adèle turned a little pale: "I _am_ your sister, Arthur. Tell me." + +He looked down upon her kindly: "I will tell you, Adèle, for in these +matters I believe frankness to be the best policy; and, after all, it +may be only a dream. I was thinking of Margaret Grey." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +_HOW ADÈLE RECEIVES THE DISCLOSURE._ + + The woman who loves should indeed + Be the friend of the man that she loves. She should heed + Not her selfish and often mistaken desires, + But his interest whose fate her own interest inspires. + + +And this, then, was the awakening? Like almost every thing in this +wayward world of ours, it scarcely chimed in with the ideas and plans +that had been formed concerning it. + +Adèle had often mourned her cousin's frivolity, but she was young and +hopeful. He was only a boy, she had told herself. Some of the great +things in the world--its art, its literature, its science, the grand +sphere of politics or the grander field of benevolence--would sooner or +later throw chains about his spirit, so that, following where it led, +he too, with herself perhaps as a twin attendant star, like the "Laon +and Laone" of Shelley, might take a place in the poet's divine temple +of genius, and live a life not utterly in vain in its influences on +humanity. + +She had even thought to arouse him herself, that by love he might rise, +as others had done before him, to something higher than the fashionable +life of self-pleasing. But of this she had never thought--that love +indeed, but the love of another woman, should be the motive-power +rousing his soul to earnestness. For she could not be mistaken. The +change that had come to him--which change, she could not but remember +as she cast her thoughts over the past few days, had dated from that +memorable afternoon at the Academy--the impressive way in which he +had told her of his thought, the quiet earnestness of his manner, all +tended to the revelation of a fact--one that she would have put away +indignantly had she not been forced to look it in the face. Arthur was +in love, and not with her. + +The beautiful woman whom in her youthful enthusiasm she had +admired--loved even for her very loveliness--had won her cousin's +heart. He loved Margaret Grey as he had never loved her, his cousin, +the friend of his youth and childhood: with _her_ he had remained a +boy; her beautiful rival had roused the dormant fire within him, and +suddenly the boy had put on his manhood. + +These were some of the thoughts that crowded bewilderingly on Adèle's +brain as they sat together on the sofa--she and her cousin--with his +strange confession between them. _He_ was waiting to hear what she +would say; _she_ was for the first few moments unable to speak. On the +table before them lay the forgotten volume of the _Faërie Queene_; at +their feet, in sweet confusion, were the scattered flowers fallen from +Adèle's lap. She sat perfectly still, her hands crossed and her eyes +cast down; he looked at her with some earnestness, and perhaps a little +surprise. + +Arthur's affection for Adèle was of a calm, brotherly kind, and he had +always imagined that she cared for him in very much the same manner. + +Hitherto, indeed, he had not been in a position to gauge the heights +and depths of that mysterious, volatile essence which young mortals +dignify by the fair name of love. But now, with this new light in his +own heart, he was better able to understand his cousin's, and in her +downcast face he thought he read her secret. + +It made him tender instantly. Young men and old men are alike in this. +Whether loving or not themselves, they are pleased when they find out, +by indubitable signs, that they have inspired the sentiment; and this +knowledge makes them, for the moment, strangely gentle and sympathetic. + +Arthur drew nearer to his cousin, and put his arm around her waist. To +his surprise again, she pushed his arm gently aside. + +"Not now, dear Arthur!" she said, in a soft, clear voice, lifting her +blue eyes to his face; "I want you to tell me all about it." + +"About what?" said Arthur, somewhat taken aback at the result of his +impulsive frankness. + +"Your love for Margaret Grey," she said gently, but not without a faint +tremor in her voice. + +"Did I say I _loved_ her, Adèle?" It was Arthur's turn to speak with +a trembling voice and flushed face, but these told his tale only too +eloquently. + +"Not in so many words," replied Adèle; "but, dear, you have revealed +your secret, and I am glad. It was like yourself, Arthur--frank and +true. I might have guessed it before, for she is beautiful as a dream, +like the lady Una; and I can imagine so well how a man's heart would go +out to that kind of sadness and helplessness. I wish I had been a man;" +Adèle sighed as she spoke; "but, perhaps, as a woman I shall be able +to help you more. Strange--isn't it?--I was thinking of her, her face +haunted me so, and longing to find out more about her--all for her own +sake; now I will do it for yours." + +The words were spoken very quietly and with a certain determination, +that Arthur found it very difficult to understand. + +"But, Adèle," he stammered out, "you forget--" + +"That you and I are betrothed in a kind of way--is that what you mean? +Thank you for thinking of it; but I should be grieved for _that_ to +stand in your way." She smiled a rather watery smile. "I promised not +to be like Vivien, so, rather than make a prison of my spells, I shall +cast them all to the winds." Then, more gravely, "We were too young, +Arthur--I told my mother so--too young to know our own minds, as people +say--at least you were." Here Adèle stopped suddenly; she was on the +point of betraying the secret which--brave little maiden!--she thought +she had preserved so well. But her calmness had reassured Arthur. + +"You are right, Adèle," he answered gravely--and for the moment, with +the unreasoning impulse of womanhood, she hated him for his quick +acquiescence--"we were both too young; we had seen too little of the +world; and even now I scarcely know how we ought to act. Our engagement +has been announced; then my aunt--" + +Adèle smiled faintly: "It will be best to say nothing to mamma at +present, nor to anybody; we can surely be what we have been to one +another--brother and sister; we have never been more--we could not wish +to be less." + +There was a tinge of bitterness in Adèle's voice as she said the last +words, but the ears of very young men, when not quickened by any +stronger feeling than brotherly affection, are not swift to catch these +slight intonations. + +"You must let me be your friend and confidante, Arthur," she continued +more gently; "I shall still like to be the first to know everything +that nearly concerns you." + +Her gentleness touched Arthur. He took one of her hands in his: "You +shall always be what you are to me, Adèle--my dearest friend and +counsellor. I shall come to you for advice and sympathy." + +She rose, and stooping began to collect the fallen flowers--a pretext +only, for the tears were beginning to force their way to her eyes, and +she was determined to show no weakness in her cousin's presence. + +"My poor flowers!" she said lightly, "they have been forgotten: go and +fetch another vase from the breakfast-room, like a good old fellow. I +have filled all here, and I want these up stairs." + +By the time her cousin had returned with the vase Adèle was herself +again. Grouping the flowers delicately, with clever fingers well +accustomed to this kind of work, she began her gentle catechism: "Have +you seen her again, Arthur?" + +Perhaps it was a relief to him to unburden himself, to pour out to +another the torrent of self-condemnation that had been oppressing him. + +"Don't ask me, Adèle," he said, pacing the room excitedly. "I am a +wretch--a fool--an idiot! I mistook _her_--think of it! I wonder will +she ever be able to bear the sight of me again? I took the advice of a +villain, who knows nothing whatever about women like her." + +"What _can_ you mean, Arthur?" broke in Adèle, whose flowers had fallen +from her hands in her astonishment. + +He did not seem to hear the interruption. "I did knowingly what I knew +would offend her," he continued, clenching his fists and drawing his +brows together, as though challenging himself for his misconduct. + +Adèle sighed: "I _wish_ you would explain yourself, dear." + +"Explain myself!" Arthur came suddenly down from the heroic with a +little laugh: "Ah, yes, by the bye, you don't know, and really it's not +a very creditable story. Well--to make a clean breast of it--I went +to the Academy yesterday. _She_ was there, and I had the happiness of +seeing her. She didn't see me, but while I was looking at her with +feelings that you can imagine, Captain Mordaunt came up behind me." + +"Not at all a good companion for you, dear," interrupted Adèle with the +wise air of a little mother, but blushing, girl like, as she spoke, for +Captain Mordaunt was an admirer of hers: he had once or twice seized a +quiet opportunity of looking into her blue eyes in a way that offended +as much as it bewildered her. "Please have nothing to do with him, +Arthur," she continued pleadingly. + +"Why, Adèle, what have you against Captain Mordaunt? I thought you had +only met him once or twice." + +"That once or twice was enough. He is one of those men who believe in +nothing good, who seem to delight in the wickedness of the world. I +always think such people must be particularly bad themselves. But it's +no use reasoning about it. I dislike Captain Mordaunt." + +"A case, in fact, of 'I do not like you, Doctor Fell,'" put in Arthur +provokingly. "I shall send him to you when he wants a character, Adèle; +but, do you know, amongst ladies your opinion would be considered +rather singular? I certainly have never been able to see what they find +to admire in him." + +"Nor I, and I must say I pity their taste; he's ugly and conceited. +But what did he say about her--Margaret Grey, I mean?" + +Arthur's manner grew excited again: "What he said was not so bad as +what he implied with his odious hints. I was idiot enough to listen to +him, to believe him partially. I disobeyed her, Adèle, and called on +her in that wretched place at Islington." + +Adèle looked up bewildered: "But I can't see why that should offend +her. Of course you were never properly introduced, but then the +circumstances were peculiar, and she must have seen that we were +tolerably respectable people." + +"What a simple, innocent little girl you are, Adèle!" said Arthur +rather grandly. "You see what I say is quite true--with all your +romantic notions you know nothing whatever of the world. I can't very +well explain, as you don't seem to understand; but, anyway, what I did +was very stupid and wrong, and she showed me that in a moment. Oh, if I +could tell you how she looked--so beautiful, so sad!" + +The remembrance was overpowering. Arthur hid his burning face in both +his hands, and Adèle was silent. To her pure young heart this passion, +which an older and more experienced woman would certainly have laughed +to scorn, was a sacred thing. + +"She forgave me," he continued after a pause. "She said I would soon +_forget_ the infatuation." + +There was a mournful incredulity in the boy's voice to which the young +girl's heart responded. That he could ever _forget_ the infatuation +seemed, for the moment, as impossible to one cousin as to the other. + +Neither of them spoke for some minutes, then Adèle raised to her cousin +a face that was streaming with tears. "I can't help it, Arthur," she +said simply, "and please don't think it's for myself. I have everything +to make me happy. I was thinking of you and of her. You know they say +women's wits are sharper than men's in these matters. I will try and +help you in some way, for you _must_ meet her again, dear; but just +now everything seems confused. Mamma expects you to dinner, so you had +better go home at once and dress. I can easily arrange for a quiet talk +in the course of the evening, and then perhaps I shall have thought of +some plan, for we must lose no time, as I know she is only staying +temporarily in London." + +She said it all in a broken way through the tears she could not keep +back. He tried to kiss her then, but she slipped out of his arms. + +Poor child! The aching at her heart was too great to be borne any +longer. She finished her cry in her own room, but what she had said was +true--it was not all for herself. + +The beautiful lonely stranger and her cousin's passion, which her +woman's insight told her was not very hopeful, had their share in +causing her sorrow. She could not indulge long, however, in the luxury +of tears. She too had to make her dinner-toilet, and that evening her +mother was not the only person at the dinner-table who thought she +looked even fairer than usual. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +_A FACE AT THE WINDOW._ + + Sympathy + Must call her in love's name, and then, I know, + She rises up and brightens as she should, + And lights her smile for comfort, and is slow + In nothing of high-hearted fortitude. + + +Adèle kept her word. She set her wits to work with such good effect +that the next morning found her and her cousin in the carriage, under +the conduct of the stately coachman, on their way to that unfashionable +locality, the neighborhood of Islington. + +They had started, presumably, on a shopping excursion, the delusion +being maintained by two or three stoppages in Regent street, after +which, by Arthur's direction, they drove to the vicinity of The Angel, +where carriage and coachman were left in waiting, the remainder of the +way being made on foot for the sake of the preservation of their secret. + +It had been agreed between them that Adèle should pay a visit to +Margaret, Arthur waiting for her at the entrance of the narrow street +where she lodged. The object of her visit was in the present instance +only to inquire after Mrs. Grey's health, to take a kindly interest +in her welfare, and to try and persuade her to accept their offer of +friendship: it had been decided between them that upon this occasion +Arthur's name should not be mentioned. Adèle had taken upon herself the +office of simply paving the way for further intercourse--of preventing +Mrs. Grey from escaping them altogether. This, with her quiet tact +and gentle sympathy, she did not despair of accomplishing, if fate +would only be commonly propitious, for Adèle was really in earnest. +Putting self out of the way, she had thrown herself heart and soul into +her cousin's scheme, and all the more readily, it may be, from the +affection which had arisen spontaneously in her own heart at the sight +of Margaret's pure, calm beauty. + +Adèle was only eighteen, and eighteen is an impressionable age, open +not only to accesses of what is called the tender passion, but to +feelings perhaps much tenderer and fairer, for the souls of the very +young, especially among women, are keenly susceptible to the subtle +influences of beauty and grace; it is not uncommon for a young girl +to be deeply, jealously enamored of one of her own sex; to experience +the delights, the tremors, the anxieties of love itself, and far more +palpably than in any of the necessary flirtations that diversify her +budding womanhood. Beauty is the embodiment of the young girl's dream, +and beauty she finds more visibly in her own sex than in the other. + +The first loving emotion of Milton's Eve was for the fair watery +image that represented herself in all the radiant charms of female +loveliness. It was only afterward that she discovered + + "How beauty is excelled by manly grace, + And wisdom, which alone is truly fair." + +Adèle was in this first stage, and Margaret seemed to her the living +embodiment of all that had so often won and fascinated her in poetry +and romance. The evident mystery that surrounded the fair stranger, her +sadness, her lonely friendless position, all added to the spell. + +The first emotion of wounded self-love over, Adèle ceased to wonder at +Arthur's desertion, or even to grieve over it, and was ready to go +through fire and water for their common divinity. + +In spite of her grand resolutions, however, she felt rather nervous +when, Arthur having been left at the top of the dull-looking row of +houses, she stood alone on the doorstep of the one indicated by him, +inquiring for Mrs. Grey. + +Mrs. Grey was at home. The servant-girl threw open the door of the +small sitting-room without previous warning, and showed Margaret +herself on her knees before an obstinate trunk, which apparently +refused to be fastened. At the sound of the opening door she rose in +some embarrassment, looked at the card which the girl had thrust into +her hand, and then at Adèle, who was standing, with some hesitation in +her manner, on the threshold of the room. The card had been an enigma, +but Adèle's pleasant girlish face solved it in a moment. + +"Come in," she said warmly, going forward to meet her. "It is +exceedingly kind of you to have thought of paying me a visit; but you +find me in great disorder. Let me see," looking round the room; "I must +try and find you an unoccupied chair." + +"Forgive me," said Adèle with gentle courtesy. "I know it is too early +for a call, but ever since we met the other day I have been so anxious +to see you once more, and this is the only time in the day when I can +manage to come so far." + +She blushed as she spoke, and Margaret was too kind to add to her +embarrassment by any expression of surprise at her unexpected visit. +She smiled pleasantly, and sat down by her side. "I am only too +delighted to see you, my dear Miss Churchill; my visitors are never +numerous, and they do not always come on such pleasant errands as +yours. You see I am preparing for flight; I can really stand London no +longer." + +Adèle's sympathetic eyes were fixed on Margaret's face. She gave a +little sigh: "Yes, I am sure it must be very lonely for you, living all +by yourself here." + +"Sometimes it is, I must confess. In my present home, a seaside +village, I know most of the country-people, and I have my little +Laura to go about with me. Then (at least this is _my_ feeling) the +loneliness of the country is very different from the loneliness of +towns." + +"I can _quite_ understand that," said Adèle earnestly, "although I have +very little experience of loneliness of any kind. I sometimes wish, +indeed, to have a little more time to myself. But I must not forget +what specially brought me here to-day. My cousin and I have been very +anxious about you, Mrs. Grey, for your fainting-fit lasted so long we +feared it was the commencement of a serious illness." + +Margaret smiled: "Thanks to your timely help, my dear Miss Churchill, +I have felt no after ill effects whatever. I scarcely know how it +might have been with me had I had to find my way home alone; but it +all arose from my own stupidity. The time passed so rapidly in the +picture-galleries that I forgot all about lunch. When I reached home I +remembered that breakfast had been my only meal that day. My faintness +must have been caused by want of food, so you see it was not very +interesting after all." + +She spoke the words lightly, but Adèle wondered with a sudden pang +whether the want of food had anything to do with her poverty, for the +interior of the shabby-looking house confirmed her worst fears. To put +up with such a miserable place could be the result of nothing but dire +necessity. + +Her voice was very tender as she spoke again after a little pause, +laying her hand affectionately on Margaret's arm and looking up +earnestly into her pale, sad face: "Dear Mrs. Grey, you look very +delicate, indeed you do; you should take more care of yourself." + +Perhaps it was the sympathy that shone out of the young girl's +glistening eyes, a human longing for something like this warm young +love, that seemed to be offering itself so spontaneously, or a sudden +sickness of the self-contained life she had been leading, for Adèle's +gentle words and gestures broke the crust of calm reserve with which +Margaret had striven to surround herself. "Ah, child," she said, tears +in her eyes and in her voice, "it is for the young and happy to take +care of themselves; their lives are precious. From mine too much of +the sweetness has gone to make it worthy of preservation. How strange +it is! I used to live and to enjoy life; now, even pleasures are like +apples of Sodom--they turn to dust and ashes in my mouth. I feel +inclined to write 'Vanity of vanities' upon everything." She smiled +through her tears: "I should not speak of such things to you." + +But tears, real, large, glistening tears, were in Adèle's eyes. "Why +not?" she said impetuously. Then, after another pause, for though the +young can give tears to sorrow, they are helpless very often to give +words (if they only knew it, how much more eloquent those tears are +than the after commonplaces with which the world teaches them to treat +suffering!), "Oh, Mrs. Grey, I wish I could help you in some way. Will +you let me be your friend?" + +Margaret smiled: "You have done me good already, dear; your sympathy is +very sweet, and especially, I think, to me, for it brings back to my +mind a time when sympathy was never wanting. I had a friend once, but +she has gone, like other beautiful things, out of my life." + +"Tell me about her," said Adèle. + +Margaret shook her head: "No, no; enough of miseries for one day. I +scarcely know when I have talked so much about myself; and do you know +I am the least bit in the world curious?" + +"What about, Mrs. Grey?" + +"I want you to tell me honestly what brought you here to-day." + +Adèle blushed. "Please don't be vexed with me, or think that my visit +was from idle curiosity. What I say is really true," her admiration +shone out of her eyes as she spoke: "ever since I saw you in the +Academy, your face has haunted me. You know one reads of those kinds of +attraction. Have you any spells, Mrs. Grey? I could not rest, in fact, +until I had seen you once more." + +Margaret was sitting near the window, a faint smile, half of pleasure, +half of surprise, on her lips as she listened to Adèle's impulsive +words, but before she could frame an answer they both became aware by a +sudden intuition--the effect of that inexplicable mesmeric power which +the human eye possesses--that they were being watched. Instinctively +they looked out. A tall, dark-looking man, somewhat of an _élégant_ in +his appearance, was leaning quietly on the small iron railings that +skirted the area and kitchen steps. In this position his chin was on a +level with the top of the muslin blind; he could have a full view of +all that took place in the room. + +He was availing himself without stint or scruple of the advantage. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +_FLIGHT._ + + Next a lover--with a dream + 'Neath his waking eyelids hidden, + And a frequent sigh unbidden, + And an idlesse all the day, + And a silence that is made + Of a word he dares not say. + + +Adèle gave a little scream. She looked at Margaret. Her face had turned +as pale as ashes. She had not generally much color, but this was no +ordinary pallor: a gray, livid look seemed to spread itself gradually +over her features till even her lips were blanched. For a moment she +seemed to be stunned. Then she rose, apparently with difficulty, and +leaning forward on the window-sash seized the blind to put it between +themselves and the audacious watcher. + +He did not wait for it to be drawn down. Turning slowly, he passed away +down the quiet street, but before he did so, Adèle saw that his lips +curled themselves into a mocking smile. Astonishment and a vague sense +of alarm had rendered her helpless for the moment. When the blind was +drawn down and the man had gone, she leapt to her feet and threw both +her arms round Margaret's waist, for, leaning still as if for support +against the window-sash, Adèle saw that her friend was tottering, and +that in her widely-opened eyes there was a dazed, bewildered look. She +drew her down gently to the nearest seat, then, kneeling by her side, +rubbed one of her cold hands in both her own. "Mrs. Grey, what is it?" +she cried almost piteously. "Can I do anything for you?" + +Her voice seemed to arouse Margaret. She passed one of her hands over +her forehead. "Was it a dream?" she said in a faint, low voice. "I +thought I saw him; and I had vowed, sworn that he should never set +eyes on me again; and he was smiling, I thought, a mocking, triumphant +smile, such as--" Then suddenly she caught sight of the lowered blind: +"Why did I draw down the blind? the sun is not on the street. Ah yes," +with a heavy sigh, "I remember now. He was standing there--he has +tracked me; but, thank God! I am not at home. I am in big, endless +London. He shall find out no further; I will leave this place at once. +Oh! Maurice, Maurice!" + +It might have been the cry of a tormented spirit passed away for ever +from hope and peace and joy. The misery of those last words was so deep +and poignant that the young girl shuddered. + +She could not speak: she knelt helpless by her friend's side, not even +attempting consolation, while Margaret, covering her face with both +hands, wept hot tears, that streamed through her fingers and on to +Adèle's hand, which rested still upon her knees. And so they remained +for a few moments--moments that seemed ages to poor Adèle; then, unable +to bear it longer, she rose to her feet, and putting her arms round +Margaret's neck kissed her on the brow. It was the impulsive movement +of a helpless sympathy, a girl-like action. She could not help, but she +could comfort. + +Mrs. Grey had forgotten her presence. The touch aroused her. She looked +up suddenly, and shaking off the flowing tears took the young girl's +hands in hers. "Poor child!" she said gently, "it is too bad of me to +frighten you like this. I fear I am very selfish and forgetful; but +you know nothing--God grant you never may!--of miseries like mine. And +now--will you think me ungrateful?--I fear I must ask you to leave me. +It is necessary for me to go from here at once. And yet," she continued +meditatively, "if you _could_ stay till the last; he might return--" + +"I shall not think of leaving you till I see you out of this place, +Mrs. Grey," said Adèle authoritatively. "Listen," she continued, more +rapidly; "I can arrange it all. I told you before of my talent for +management, and now it has all come into my head quite suddenly. Ah, I +should have made a first-rate diplomatist. You want to escape this rude +man, and no wonder. If you do as I say we shall be off in a quarter +of an hour. Leave your boxes with their address; I can see to their +being sent after you. I see they are nearly packed. My cousin is at the +end of the street waiting for me; he will fetch the carriage, which +is only a few yards distant, and we can drive you to any station you +like to mention. There you can take a ticket--not, if you like, to your +own village, but to some place at no great distance, in case this man +should follow us, and to-morrow you can go on to your own home." + +There was something enlivening in Adèle's energy. Margaret's face +brightened, she wiped away the remaining tears, and turning aside +renewed the struggle which Adèle's entrance had interrupted with the +obstinate trunk. + +"Your plan would be perfection but for one thing," she said with the +quiet dignity which had characterized her before this excitement had +come. "My dear Miss Churchill, forgive me, you are young. I am a +total stranger to you. Your mother, your friends--would they not be +displeased? Is it right for you to do this?" + +"It is, it is," said Adèle eagerly; "indeed, dear Mrs. Grey, mamma +allows me to go everywhere with Arthur. She has full confidence in him." + +"And Arthur?" + +"Is my cousin. You saw him the other day. He is waiting for me now." In +spite of herself Adèle blushed as she spoke. + +Margaret looked at her in some surprise, but the ingenuous young face +told its own tale. In her turn she was filled with admiration and +love. She held out her hand. "Thank you," she said. That was all for +a moment, as the tears were ready to flow; then after a pause, "What +you have seen to-day will tell you more eloquently than I could that +neither you nor your friends need have any fear on my account. If +Arthur should become unmanageable at any future time, send him to me; +I promise to cure him. And now, dear, I suppose we must be setting to +work; I will accept your kind offer: it seems, after all, the best +course to pursue." + +It was done without the slightest awkwardness. + +Margaret might have been a queen accepting a favor from one of her +courtiers, and it was in this light that Adèle thought of the service +she was rendering to her friend, for Margaret was, in her young, +inexperienced eyes, a very queen by means of her beauty and charm. +And then they set themselves to work without further delay. In a very +few moments Margaret's hasty toilette was complete--a black shawl, +the little close bonnet, a crape veil, the bright Indian scarf, +from which she did not seem to care to separate herself, a tiny +morocco-leather case, which might contain valuables of some kind, and +a carpet-bag, which by Adèle's aid had been hastily filled with a few +necessaries,--these were all; then the boxes were locked and labelled, +the landlady's account was settled, and orders given to her to keep +the boxes until they should be called for, Adèle promising that Arthur +should perform this little service. It did not take very long. Adèle +had scarcely been half an hour in the house when they left it together, +Margaret closely veiled and not venturing to look around, Adèle gazing +right and left to assure herself that they were not followed. Not a +person was in sight on either side of the way, and she breathed more +freely. + +Arthur meanwhile had been pacing the thoroughfare upon which the +street in which Mrs. Grey had been lodging opened out. He was not very +impatient, for his head had been full of Margaret; he had been forming +and reforming, always unsuccessfully to himself, her image in his +brain, and dreaming all kinds of mad dreams about the services he would +render her in the future, and the sweet returns of love and gratitude +he might be blest enough to gain. Adèle's concurrence in his plans was, +he felt, a grand step in the right direction; thenceforth everything +would go swimmingly, for it was not possible that she could set aside +Adèle's offered friendship--indeed, the very length of time that was +elapsing was a favorable sign. + +But, not even in his wildest dreams, had he imagined that he should see +her again that very day, that the means of doing her a service would +immediately be put into his hands; when, therefore, he saw two ladies +instead of one emerging from ---- street, he was beyond measure +astonished. + +They stopped to let him reach them, and, rather embarrassed through +all his delight, he offered his greeting to Margaret Grey. She was +herself calm and quiet, only the heightened color in her beautiful face +betraying in any way a sign of her recent emotion. + +Adèle was by far the more excited of the two. "Fetch the carriage, +Arthur," she said, "as quickly as ever you can. We shall follow slowly +to the place where we left it; you can come back with it to meet us. +Don't stop to ask why, like a good old fellow. There's no time to lose." + +It was evidently for Margaret, so Arthur started off at such headlong +speed that many of the foot-passengers stood still to look after him, +wondering at his excitement. If some of his languid friends in that +other world, London of the West, could have seen him, I greatly fear he +would have been degraded for ever in their estimation; undue activity +or a public display of ultra eagerness is not among the list of +fashionable failings; in fact, it is bad form. But Arthur did not think +at the moment of his position in the world of fashion, and it was not +likely that any of his friends would have been benighted enough to put +such a space as that which separates Islington from Hyde Park between +themselves and their daily haunts. + +Breathless he hailed the coachman, who crossed the street with unusual +alacrity. He could only imagine from Mr. Arthur's state of excitement +that Miss Adèle had fallen down in a fit or that some similar +misfortune had happened. He was an old servant, and took, as he often +said in the servants' hall, "a deep hinterest in the family." + +"Nothing wrong sir, I 'ope," he said, stooping down confidentially from +his exalted position on the top of the coach-box. + +"No," replied Arthur impatiently. "Drive me along this road until I +tell you to stop." + +He jumped in, and the mystified coachman obeyed, stopping instinctively +at the sight of his young mistress with a person carrying a carpet-bag. +Even if Arthur had not used the check-string vigorously, astonishment +would have brought the worthy man to a stand-still. Imagination was not +his strong point, and it was difficult for him even to conceive what +all this meant. + +"The Great Northern Station, and then home," said Adèle, not wishing +to mystify him too far; "and _please_ drive quickly." + +He obeyed, and as easily and rapidly they drove along the streets +Margaret leant back among the cushions, closed her eyes and +sighed deeply. It was a sigh of intense relief. "To-morrow," she +said--"to-morrow I shall be at home." + +Very little more passed between the three until the carriage stopped +before the station; there Adèle held out her hand very reluctantly. +"I am afraid I must say good-bye," she said gently; "I ought to be at +home. Mamma will be expecting me. I shall leave Arthur to take care of +you and see you into your carriage." With a glance Margaret thanked +Adèle for her noble trustfulness. + +"We shall meet again?" said the young girl earnestly. + +"I trust so, dear; you know my address. If anything should bring you in +my direction I shall be only too delighted to see you; but," and her +voice grew low and tender, "if we never should meet again, remember +this--I shall _never_ cease to thank you in my heart for the way in +which you have acted to-day." + +She had got out of the carriage and was standing near the door, one +hand still in Adèle's, who seemed to wish to retain it to the last +moment. Arthur was beside them, looking interested but helpless, and +once more tempted to indulge in that very vain and foolish wish that +Providence had made him a woman. + +Here was his cousin already Margaret Grey's dear friend: he was nothing +to her--a lacquey who might be permitted to see after luggage, to get +her ticket, to wait upon her. Nothing! Was that nothing? he asked +himself suddenly as Adèle closed the carriage door, waved her last +farewell and left him alone with Margaret in the busy station. Alone +and in a crowd, he her protector, she dependent upon him, he was a man +at once, gentle, thoughtful, considerate, ready for any emergency. Only +there was one drawback. All his attentions were received so pleasantly, +in such a matter-of-fact way--not as a something that was offered +personally, a tribute of homage to her whom he admired above all other +women, but as the most commonplace thing in the world, a lady's right +from the gentleman who has taken upon himself the task of helping her. + +The fact was that Margaret Grey knew more of the world than her shabby +black dress and general want of style might have seemed to indicate. +Certain it is that she had hit upon the very best method of keeping her +young knight in his true place. + +His heart was burning to show in some way the enthusiasm that devoured +him as he stood by her side on the platform, only venturing to glance +at her furtively from time to time, but abundantly laden with her small +items of property, of all of which she had allowed him to possess +himself without the smallest demur. None of this did he dare to show. +He could feel in anticipation the look of quiet surprise with which she +would greet any presumptuous speech. + +Curious glances were cast on them by those who were not too busy in +the important stages of arrival and departure to give a thought to +anything but their own concerns, for Margaret was one of those women +who always attract notice, and once or twice, when she became conscious +of such observation, Arthur saw that she started painfully and turned +to scan the watcher. He cast his scowls to the right hand and to the +left, being quite ready to pick a quarrel with any one for the sake +of his divinity; but his scowls were shed abroad in vain; they did +not seem to have the slightest effect upon the situation, and at last +all necessity for such exercise of his faculties was over. The train, +longed for so eagerly by the one, dreaded by the other of these two +companions of an hour, came slowly, with majestic quiet, into the +station; porters, with anything but majestic quiet, began to bundle and +bustle the unfortunate luggage into the vans, lady passengers rushed +madly from various corners of the station, gentlemen passengers walked +leisurely with a defiant look at the engine (it could not start without +them) from the refreshment-rooms, where they had been taking in a stock +of strength that might enable them to live through the ennui of a six +hours' journey; parties that were about to part gathered woefully +together, tears in the eyes of some, an appearance of put-on sadness, +covering satisfaction, in the faces of others, and sounding along the +line came the voice of the stately guard, "Take your places, ladies and +gentlemen." + +Then Margaret put out her hand. They had stopped together before a +second-class carriage, in which, with all the deference of a young +courtier, Arthur had taken her seat, arranged her parcels, placed +everything she might need within her reach, even to the little packet +of delicate ham sandwiches, flask of sherry and magazine of light +reading which he had obtained surreptitiously to add to her comfort +during the journey. + +She smiled when she got in and saw what he had done. "Thank you," she +said, still in the same easy, pleasant way, a queen addressing her +subject; "I chose my knight well; and now good-bye. Tell your cousin +that I will send her a few lines to let her know of my safe arrival." + +Arthur pressed the hand she held out to him. He could not resist it, +and then, shriek! puff! the waving of a flag, and the train was gone, +carrying her away from his lingering gaze. He turned aside with a +sigh and a singular contraction of heart; she, looking round at his +thoughtful arrangements, smiled faintly, then, leaning back on the hard +seat, closed her eyes and murmured almost audibly, "Thank God! escaped!" + +Her thanksgiving, perhaps, was premature, for in her late +dwelling-place this was what was happening in the mean time. + +She and Adèle had scarcely reached the top of ---- street before the +landlady, anxious to lose no time, ordered "Apartments" to be hoisted +in its usual place, the front-parlor window. + +A tall, dark-looking man, who was walking in a leisurely manner down +the street with a cigar in his mouth, stopped suddenly and looked at +it with some attention. From below the landlady looked at him, and +feeling his earnestness prophetic arrayed herself hastily in clean cap +and apron, and smoothed from her brow the unquiet look which Betsy's +awkwardness had caused. She did not get herself up in vain; he rang the +bell and asked to see her rooms. + +The landlady dropped a curtsey. This was a grand-looking gentleman +in her opinion, with a fine commanding manner--"looked a mili_tairy_ +hofficer retired," she said afterward to a neighbor, describing +the interview. "They're not in the best of horder, sir," she said +deprecatingly--"not for a gentleman the likes of you to see; but +there," fearful of losing a lodger, "it _hain't_ all gold as glitters, +and if so be has you'll make hallowances, the lady--quite a lady and +lived very quiet, not gone above half an hour--says she, a going out of +that door, and a givin' me of her hand--" + +"Show me the rooms as they are," broke in the gentleman, frowning with +impatience; but even this did not check the flow of the landlady's +eloquence. + +"The lady as has gone--" she began. + +"Show me the rooms, woman, without any more jabber," interrupted he so +fiercely that, as Mrs. Jones said afterward to a neighbor, "she was all +of a tremble, and her feet as nigh as possible giv' way under her from +fright." + +She did not hazard another remark, but threw open the door of +Margaret's sitting-room, still warm, as it were, with the evidences of +her presence. The sight appeared to excite the gentleman; he breathed +hard and his eyes sparkled; then, not appearing to notice the landlady, +who stood respectfully in the doorway, he cast round the room one +searching glance. + +It seemed to satisfy him. He turned to the landlady, took out his +pocket-book and pencil, as if to make a note of her answers, and asked, +"Your name, Mrs.--" + +"Jones, sir, at your service," she answered, curtseying. + +"Mrs. Jones? ah!" He wrote down something in his pocket-book, then +looked at her again: "Your rent?" + +"Thirty shillin's _hand_ hextras," she replied, audaciously clapping on +ten shillings for the military appearance. + +"Ah!" he answered once more, nothing else; no bargaining, as Mrs. +Jones informed her next-door neighbor, nothing of the kind; he only +shut up his pocket-book with a snap and turned aside, apparently quite +satisfied. Mrs. Jones flattered herself that his satisfaction arose +from prepossession with her rooms and her personal appearance. Quite +other was the consideration that caused the prospective lodger such a +pleasant glow of satisfaction. + +Something indeed was written down in his note-book by that busy-looking +pencil. It was not Mrs. Jones's name and address, nor even her +exceedingly moderate terms. + +If the solitary lady who was leaving London that day to hide her sorrow +and loneliness could only have known what was written there, her +satisfaction would have flown, for she had left her secret behind her, +tacked in large letters to the boxes that were to follow her the next +day, and the secret had been transferred to the pocket-book of the man +she thought she had escaped. + +Poor Adèle's diplomacy! It had given way at only one point, but +unhappily that point was all important. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +_LESSONS IN WORLD-WISDOM._ + + With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daughter's heart; + They were dangerous guides, the feelings: she herself was not exempt. + + +"Well, Adèle, what have you done with Arthur?" + +The speaker was a comely, elderly lady who had sailed, in the full +magnificence of brocade and lace, into the dining-room of her handsome +house. A substantial lunch was on the table, an obsequious butler was +in waiting, a fair-haired girl was seated in one of the arm-chairs, her +head resting on her hand. + +At the sound of her mother's voice she looked up. "Dropped him _en +route_, mamma," she said pleasantly. + +"And why did you not bring him in?" + +"He had business, I believe, in town." + +"Business, indeed! You should be his first business. Mark my words, +Adèle--though it seems impossible to instill worldly wisdom into _your_ +brain--boys are volatile and require keeping in hand. A girl ought to +be tolerably _exigeante_ if she would either make or keep a conquest, +especially when a boy of Arthur's age and character is in question." +Then to the butler: "Take the covers, James; after that you can go +down stairs. Miss Churchill and I will wait upon ourselves to-day. One +always forgets James," she continued as he retired, "he is so quiet and +unobtrusive; but then--faithful creature!--I feel very sure _he_ could +make no mischief of anything he hears." + +"I wish, all the same, mamma," said Adèle rather fretfully, "that you +would not always talk of my affairs and Arthur's before the servants. +Burton, James, Elizabeth, it seems not to matter at all before which of +them you speak." + +"My dear Adèle, you are a child. These people know your character and +mine, and are pretty well acquainted with all our affairs, without our +taking the trouble of informing them. I wonder who leaves Arthur's +letters about sometimes." + +"Arthur's letters?" Adèle shrugged her shoulders almost imperceptibly. +"All the world is at liberty to see them." + +"There it is again, my dear; we return to the subject we were +discussing a few minutes ago. When do you intend to make a lover +of your cousin? You know you cannot possibly remain in this +brother-and-sisterly stage. You must give him one or two lessons or +he'll slip through your fingers yet." + +Adèle was accustomed to her mother's style of conversation, so it did +not particularly shock her; she only smiled rather strangely: "Arthur +wants no lessons from _me_, mamma." + +"Ah! then you are further advanced than I thought; but really, Adèle, +you have been brought up so simply I wonder sometimes if you know at +all what it means to have a lover. _I_ was very different with _my_ +first lover, a cousin too, though we didn't marry after all. A very +good thing; he was poor and idle: I should have been a wretched woman. +Now, Arthur is well off, and not at all extravagant; no strong tastes +either; just the kind of man whom a woman can mould to her will; but +then she must know how, and I fear, Adèle, you are a sad baby in these +matters." + +"It's not for want of instruction, mamma," said Adèle rather +maliciously. + +But the good-natured Mrs. Churchill scarcely saw the point of her +daughter's satire. "You are right," she said. "I have done my very +best to instill into your mind some knowledge of the world you live +in, Adèle. I considered it a duty," she sighed faintly. "Had your poor +father been alive, the case might have been different. Women who are +thrown on their own resources, like you and me, my child, _must_ be +equal to the task of taking care of themselves." + +It was a task in which, apparently, Mrs. Churchill had never failed: +she did not certainly look the worse for care and anxiety. She pressed +her handkerchief to her eyes--a habit, simply, for not the faintest +moisture was there to remove, but to mention the departed Mr. Churchill +without paying this tribute of regard to his dear memory would have +been most unseemly. A pause for this trivial operation then Mrs. +Churchill continued: "I have wished for some time to speak to you about +this matter, Adèle. I have managed for you so far; I can do so no +further." + +The last words seemed to astonish the young girl. She looked up: "_You_ +have managed, mamma? What _can_ you mean?" + +"Why, little goose! to whom do you think you owe your lover? Not to +Arthur, certainly. He would have gone on droning about the house for +ever, without the slightest consideration for your feelings or mine, +engrossing you and shutting out others. I brought him to book and +showed him his duty." (The fond mother showed her white teeth at the +remembrance.) "When they were all laying themselves out to entrap +him, too! Lady Lacy and her pretty nieces, Mrs. Campbell and her ugly +daughters; even gaunt Mr. Godolphin, with that extensive motherless +child of his. Ha! ha! it was _too_ good!" + +But Adèle did not seem to join in her mother's mirth. She had dropped +her knife and fork in a kind of despair, while a sudden pallor, quickly +succeeded by a vivid flush, showed her distress. + +"Good gracious, child! what is wrong?" cried her mother. + +Her answer was given through a flood of tears: "Oh, mamma! mamma! how +could you? And I was so happy, and I thought he liked me a little--only +a very little--and that, in spite of everything, it might be all right +some day? Now--now--" + +The last part of the sentence was lost in the folds of her +pocket-handkerchief. + +Poor Adèle was rather upset with the events of the morning, following +as they did upon the knowledge of what she looked upon as Arthur's +desertion; to hear now that even their engagement, in which she had +rejoiced as a proof of his real affection for her, as a kind of pledge +for his return, was due not to his own unbiassed freedom of choice, +but to her mother's machinations,--this was a kind of finishing-stroke +to her misfortunes. She continued to sob, somewhat to her mother's +annoyance. + +"What a perfect baby you are still, Adèle!" she said; "it's well, after +all, that I sent James out of the room. Come, dry up your eyes, and +tell me what is the meaning of this. To say that anything I told you +just now could have caused such an outburst is perfectly absurd. What +has Arthur been saying or doing? _I_ shall have to take him in hand." + +Adèle lifted up her glistening eyes and carmine cheeks from the +grateful shade of her pocket-handkerchief. "You must do nothing of the +kind, mamma," she said indignantly--she was quite unlike herself for +the moment--"you have done mischief enough already." + +"Mischief enough!" Mrs. Churchill's glass paused half-way between the +table and her lips; she was absolutely petrified with surprise. Adèle +was an only daughter, and something of a spoilt child; but hitherto +she had always been gentle and obedient, for she was naturally docile; +then she and her mother had such different tastes that their wills very +seldom clashed. This vigorous assertion of personality was a new thing, +and for the moment clever, good-natured Mrs. Churchill, with all the +knowledge of human nature upon which she plumed herself, scarcely knew +how to treat it. + +"This is what comes of romantic notions," she said severely. "I always +thought the poetry-reading bad; if this kind of thing goes on I shall +have to put a stop to it altogether. Now-a-days it seems to be the idea +for young ladies and gentlemen to fall desperately in love, indulge in +pretty poetic love-scenes and do a little wasting away for the benefit +of one another. I suppose something of this has got into your silly +little head, Adèle. You and Arthur should have been moved spontaneously +to fall into one another's arms, like the hero and heroine of a play. +Bah, child! there's a behind-the-scenes to life as well as the stage, +and lovers are generally only puppets; they _act_ the drama and +other people pull the strings. Don't look so very woebegone: I tell +you more than half the marriages in the world would never have taken +place without some such helping hand as mine. You ought to be grateful +instead of indignant." + +Adèle had dried her eyes. She was rather ashamed of her outburst; she +ought to have known long ago that her mother's matter-of-fact nature +and keen common sense would never chime in with her own ultra-refined, +high-flown notions of life and action; and hers, after all, were +the ideas of a young girl to whom the great world was still a land +of visions and dreams; her mother's were those of a woman who knew +something of the world, who had passed through very varied experiences, +who, with all her good-nature--for Mrs. Churchill was what might +have been called a comfortable matron--had grown a little hard and +unsympathetic by reason of the rubs and raps she had encountered, +making some of her fine gold dim. + +"We need not discuss the matter," said Adèle; "what is done _is_ done, +and after all perhaps it makes very little difference in the end. I am +sorry if I was rude to you, mamma, as no doubt you do what you think +best for me; but in these matters I do wish that you would let me have +_some_ voice. If I had known Arthur's proposal was brought about by +you, I should have certainly refused him without any hesitation." + +"So I supposed, my dear; therefore I was wise enough not to let either +of the wise young people see my hand. Why, you romantic child! without +me you would soon float on to misery. Grand notions are all very well +in their way, but they can scarcely carry one through the world with +any satisfaction to one's self, Adèle; you'll find that out sooner or +later. But come, enough of worldly wisdom for one day. Wash your eyes +and make yourself look nice; I want you to pay some visits with me this +afternoon." + +Poor little Adèle! she obeyed, but it was with a languid step. A few +days before her life had been all sunshine; her love, her pleasant +tastes, her bright hopes--everything had combined to make her happy; +now, a change seemed impending--unreality was around her; what she +had thought to be a firm standing-point turned out only shifting +quicksands; the love was departing, and the revelation of how it had +come robbed its past of all charm; even her pleasant tastes seemed +deceptive, for if her mother's views of life were correct, farewell +to the _Faërie Queene_, farewell to poetic imagery: it was the mirage +that betrays the unwary soul, and in spite of the poet's vision the sad +knowledge which that day's glimpse of another life had brought showed +too clearly that beauty and joy were only too often divorced. + +Adèle appeared in the drawing-room in the course of half an hour +dressed in pale silk, a rose-colored bonnet crowning her fair hair +and pink-tinted gloves on her small hands, but nothing for the moment +could remove the gloomy veil through which she viewed life and its +surroundings. + +Her mother was obliged to reprove her a little sharply. "My dear +Adèle," she said as they left one of the houses to which they had +been bound, "you must really make an effort to be more agreeable and +sprightly; melancholy does not suit you. Dark girls, with chiselled +features and creamy complexions, may be allowed to move through society +like beautiful mutes, but with golden hair and bright blue eyes like +yours vivacity, let me tell you, is the only rôle. Sulking makes you +look absolutely plain." + +No girl likes to look "absolutely plain," and although Adèle loudly +disclaimed any sort of regard for what would or would not suit her +style, she made an effort, and that evening Arthur, who came back, pale +and exhausted, from the parting scene at the station, and who looked to +Adèle for sympathy, was rather hurt with what he was pleased to term +her frivolity. Young men are so selfish! + +Mrs. Churchill saw the little by-play--Adèle's forced gayety, Arthur's +sentimental-looking eyes following her inquiringly, and somewhat +reproachfully, round the room. She congratulated herself on the success +of her lesson. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +_LAURA._ + + Thou art a dew-drop which the morn brings forth, + Not framed to undergo unkindly shocks, + Or to be trailed along the soiling earth-- + A gem that glitters while it lives. + + +Margaret was at home. In a little village on the coast of Yorkshire, +far from any town, not fashionable even in the season, and somewhat +dull at all times, was the cottage to be found which she fondly looked +upon as home. The village consisted of one street running up into the +land, where butcher and baker and grocer, who all of them sold a medley +of articles, displayed their small wares; a collection of fisher-huts +on the coast, and some few respectable little houses, whitewashed and +green-shuttered, which were only tenanted in the summer months. It was +not even a particularly pretty place. Of course there was the sea, the +grand wide ocean, stretching its interminable breadths away to the +horizon, and it crept up upon yellow sands that were a perfect delight +to the eye and to the feet, they were so bright and clean and smooth. +But for this the scenery was somewhat monotonous; no mountains or hilly +grounds were to be seen far or near, save, indeed, the few sand-cliffs +that rose up gradually from the borders of the sea to a vast table-land +of moor and meadow, stretching into the distance with scarcely a tree +to break the line. A few huge boulders carved by time and water into +fantastic shapes, a little scanty herbage on the sandhills, some +stunted shrubs and trailing yellow flowers,--these were all that broke +the monotony of sea and moor; in fact, it was a desolate place, but +its desolation in no way resembled that of a city like London, the +dreary monotony of a human desert. It was Nature's desolation, grand +and weird, and, to the soul that could understand, full of ever-varied +mystery and charm. + +The sunrise over the moor when, itself purple with the rich tints of +autumn coloring, it blushed into mistlike dreamy splendor; the mellower +sunset over the ocean, and after the sunset the pale streaks of +horizon-light and the broad ribbons of silvery moonbeams; the black +mystery of a winter night, space above, space around, space infinite on +every side; the clash and flash of foam-crowned waves shining through +the darkness,--these were some of the charms this little seaside +village possessed, these were what Margaret had missed in her miserable +visit to great, lonely London. She slept at a hotel in York on the +first night after leaving town. On the next day, partly by rail, partly +by carriage, she reached her own home. + +They did not expect her. She wondered plaintively as she drove in the +little chaise, hired at the nearest station, along the low road that +skirted the sea, whether her little Laura would be pleased to see her +again--would have found the time long without her. Laura was not so +dear to her mother as she might have been, but she was her only tie to +life, the one creature who was dependent on her, to whom she was, in a +certain sense, a necessity. In the course of that long drive Margaret +began to reproach herself for having loved her child so little. Her +heart yearned over the tiny creature whose fate was bound up with her +own, fatherless, or worse than fatherless, in the tender dawning of +life--mysteries around her that her poor little soul might perhaps +already be trying to fathom, and trying in vain; for, as Margaret +recalled with a sudden pang, it was not an ordinary child's soul that +had looked at her once or twice out of Laura's dark, pensive eye. It +was a soul upon which the shadow seemed to have fallen--the shadow that +so early falls upon some, chilling their life in its first glad spring. +Margaret had shrunk from looking into this mystery; she had answered +the inquiring earnestness with which her little daughter had seemed to +look into her sadness by sweetmeats, toys and diversions, and the child +had gone back upon herself, dreaming her dreams alone. + +Perhaps it is little known in the wise, busy world of grown-up people +how keen and sensitive are the sympathies and feelings of a child, how +easily the little soul can be driven in upon itself, and in some cases, +rare it may be, how great the suffering that follows. + +Margaret had a vague consciousness of all this, but there was something +so bitter in her sadness that it shrank even from the light touch +of her child, and then the dark, pensive eyes that sometimes looked +so melancholy under their deep fringe veiled a memory--a memory that +cut and wounded, and that in some moods she felt herself absolutely +powerless to bear. So had another pair of eyes, dark too, and wistful +and infinitely sad, looked out at her on a stormy night long ago--the +night when her trouble had begun. Long ago--it looked long ago, yet +as mortals reckon time perhaps it could only have been said to be +short--one, two, three, four, long years. The remembrance of that +strange sadness in her little daughter's face had brought Margaret to +this again, as what did not? She reckoned the time and marvelled at its +flight. + +As she pondered the little chaise progressed, with abundant clacking of +the whip and plunges forward and vigorous shouts from the boy-driver, +and scarcely a corresponding rate of speed, for Middlethorpe was an +out-of-the-way village, and no very stately vehicle of the hired +species would have been permitted, under some very large gratuity, to +explore its wilds. Evening was beginning to fall before the outskirts +of the village had been sighted, and between the jolting of the +carriage, the energy of the driver and the haunting thoughts that +tormented her, Margaret began to feel that any change would be a relief. + +Her little cottage was rather out of the village. It lay at some little +distance, near the edge of one of the sandhills. When they entered the +village she stopped her driver and told him to take on her carpet-bag; +she would do the remainder of the way on foot. The boy listened to her +directions, nodded his head good-humoredly, and leaving her upon the +sands, started off in the direction indicated--to a little white point +at some distance reached by a road winding up through the village. +Margaret proceeded leisurely along the coast toward a narrow path that +led up the cliff to her cottage by a nearer way. + +She gazed over the wide sea, for the gray which had been its abiding +characteristic through the not very brilliant May day was blushing +gradually into golden brightness under the magic touch of sunset, and +Margaret paused in the full enjoyment of its rich coloring. Then, with +the light still in her eyes, she looked landward on to the sandhills. + +There was a little figure crouching under one of them, evidently that +of a child, and a child in sorrow, for the face was hidden by a pair of +tiny hands and the little frame was shaken with sobs. It looked like a +blot in the dazzle the sunset radiance had cast over Margaret's sight. +But the child was at her feet; her heart was moved for its little +trouble. She stooped to ask about the sorrow, and with a sudden shock +recognized in the weeping little one her own Laura. The child's dress +was in disorder; the pretty, fair hair was uncovered by hat or bonnet +and flying wildly over her face and neck; her cheeks were stained with +tears which seemed to have been flowing abundantly; her little hands +were red and sore. + +She looked up, and a faint smile came into her weary little face as +she recognized her mother. "I thought you were never coming back, +mamma," she said in a voice so sad and low that it pierced her mother's +heart. "I am glad you're come, because now perhaps I sha'n't always be +naughty." + +"Naughty! my little Laura naughty? Who says so?" The tears were in +Margaret's eyes, and a passion of penitence and love was welling +up in her heart. It was like the opening of a sealed-up fountain. +All the sweet motherliness that untoward circumstances seemed to +have stifled in Margaret's heart awoke suddenly at the sight of her +daughter's sorrow. She kissed the little flushed face, smoothed back +the disordered hair, and lulled the child to rest in her arms with the +pretty baby-language that mothers know. And at first the little Laura +looked surprised, then her tears ceased, she clasped her arms round her +mother's neck, and into the dark, wide-open, pensive eyes there came a +look of rest. + +So they remained for a few moments--the mother and the child, with +the soft, cool yellow sand around them and the westering seas before +them; Margaret thinking only of these little clinging arms, of this +sweet child-love--of the blessing that was still left her; the little +one rejoicing, with the unreasonable delight of childhood, in the soft +pressure of her mother's arms. She had always been given a morning and +evening kiss, but this warm, protecting tenderness was, she could not +tell why, something new to her. + +She looked up languidly at last from her mother's breast where her +head had been resting. "Jane says I've been very naughty, mamma," she +murmured; "she whipped me for telling a story, but I know I didn't take +the sugar." + +Laura's tears began to break out afresh at the remembrance, but her +little simple story had aroused her mother, and indignation began to +mingle with sorrow in her heart. She started up: "_Who_ whipped you, +Laura? Jane? How could she have dared to do such a thing? There! there! +my sweet," for her vehemence had alarmed the child, "dry your eyes. +Mamma will never leave her little darling again; no one else shall have +anything to do with Laura." + +Laura's tears gave place to a smile of contentment. "Yes, mamma dear, +it will be nice. I cried the day you went to London, a long time +ago, and Jane said it was naughty, and she locked the door and left +me by myself--oh, _such_ a long time! And she said you had gone away +because I was tiresome, and you didn't love me one little bit; and I +thought"--Laura wound her arms tightly round her mother's neck--"I +thought perhaps you'd never come back, and I was always to stay with +Jane. And oh, mamma, I was looking at the sea to-night--you know +gardener's little boy fell in, and when he came out I saw him; he was +white and quite cold, and they put him in the churchyard--and I thought +it would be better to fall in like poor little Jimmy than to live with +Jane." + +"Poor little darling!" Margaret's tears were flowing fast. She rose +from her seat, but she would not loosen the pressure of those tiny arms. + +Laura put her hand up to her mother's face: "Mamma, _you're_ crying +now. Is it about Jane? Poor mamma! never mind." + +"Mamma is crying because they told her little daughter such dreadful +things," said Margaret as quietly as she could. "Listen, my child: you +must _never_ believe them. I love my Laura more than I can say. You are +_all_ that is left me, dear. It was for you I went to London, that you +might grow up wise and good, and learn like other little girls; and I +was going to such a wretched, miserable place or I would have taken my +child with me; but I will never leave her behind again, wherever I may +go." + +Perfectly satisfied and with a little sigh of full content, Laura put +down her head again, and so they went back to the house, the child in +her mother's arms. + +Jane Rodgers met them on the threshold of the front door. She had +looked forward to something like this when the boy had arrived with the +carpet-bag, notifying that the mistress was to follow, and she blamed +herself severely for her short-sightedness, which had arisen in this +way. + +She had been shrewd enough to see that although Mrs. Grey never +neglected her daughter, yet there was none of that warm devotion +which mothers so often cherish for an only child; in fact, that the +very presence of her little one was sometimes a burden to her. The +circumstances of her lodger being peculiar and utterly unknown, so far +as she could learn, to any of her neighbors, Jane had come to certain +conclusions not very creditable to her ordinary good sense or knowledge +of human nature. When, therefore, for three weeks Mrs. Grey had +remained absent from her daughter, although her rent was fully paid up, +and amply sufficient had been left for the little Laura's maintenance, +Jane Rodgers, acting on her previous supposition, had come to this +conclusion: "The mother had left her child altogether. It would fall to +her" (Jane Rodgers's) "lot to take care of her and bring her up." + +Now, Jane was by no means a cruel woman. Had any one told her that even +under such untoward circumstances she could have been absolutely unkind +to any child of seven years old, she would have indignantly repelled +the accusation. But Jane was a scrupulously conscientious woman (that +is, she thought herself so); she was unmarried, and hard by nature. +She had been a fine-looking girl in her youth--had been disappointed +in love, and as a domestic servant had perhaps had her full share +of the temptations incident to her position. She had preserved her +respectability, saved her money, and some years before the time when my +story opens had returned to her native village, the owner of a small +furnished house. Her living she was given in return for the service she +rendered, and the rent of the house was ample to keep her in clothes +and pocket-money, with a small sum accumulating year by year at the +savings bank. + +Jane was a highly respectable person, and in this consisted her pride. +How people could ever be brought into the world the wrong way, or how +the hundred and one wicked actions so common in all societies, high +and low, could ever come to be committed, she professed herself wholly +unable to understand. _She_ had no sympathy for the tempted: her +theory was, that if they suffered in consequence of error, so much the +better--it served them right. + +When, therefore, the little Laura was left on her hands--for Mrs. +Grey had scarcely been gone a week before Jane had made up her mind +that she would never return--a strict and stern course of education +was begun. That evil was very specially rooted in the heart of her +self-imposed charge was Jane's theory--that no indulgence should ever +be permitted her was the fit corrective. Laura very naturally resented +this treatment. She had been allowed to wander about as she liked; she +had never in her life been struck, and seldom punished. When she found +herself watched, corrected and snapped-up--her little sayings, that had +been admired and thought clever, snubbed and reproved--Laura became +first very angry, and then very miserable. The anger was punished by +whipping and bed--such perfectly new experiences to the lonely child +that her little heart throbbed with the agony of humiliation; the +misery was treated as sulkiness, and at last poor little Laura began to +think it was all true. As she plaintively said to her mother, she was +always naughty. + +Jane had done it in good faith. She thought she was acting well, taking +a mother's part with the child--that when the evil in her heart had +been rooted out by strict discipline, she might in spite of her pretty +face and form, and the bad precedent of a mother whose antecedents +were not precisely known, turn out a good woman and a useful member of +society. + +In the mean time she took the child into her own part of the house, +cleaned out Mrs. Grey's apartments, and was ready to offer them in the +summer time on moderate terms to that portion of the bathing public who +might find Middlethorpe a desirable watering-place. + +These being her plans and ideas, the arrival of the boy and carpet-bag +on this May evening was somewhat disconcerting to Jane Rodgers. The +child was out sulking. She was ready with a rod in pickle, as she would +have said, to chastise her for running away without hat or bonnet after +she had been ordered to her room; but Mrs. Grey, should she find her on +the sands, might probably fail to take Jane's view of matters. + +There would be time for revelations too, and Jane could scarcely +explain to her lodger all the reasons that had moved her to the mode of +treatment she had employed with her daughter in her absence. However, +matters being so, it was best to put a bold face on them. Jane prided +herself on her independence. Mrs. Grey was certainly a yearly lodger--a +rare kind of article at the seaside, and especially at Middlethorpe; +still, if she should choose to take offence she might go. + +None of these latter reflections appeared in her face as she went +forward to meet Mrs. Grey, white-capped and aproned, the very picture +of quiet respectability. + +"Glad to see you back, ma'am," she said respectfully, "and sorry you +should find Miss Laura in such a plight. She run out when my back was +turned. I was in such a fidget about putting on my bonnet to look after +her, when--" + +"That will do, Jane," said Margaret quietly. "Bring up our tea and pay +the boy. When I have put Miss Laura to bed I will speak to you in the +parlor." + +"As you please, ma'am." + +Jane turned away with a slight toss of the head, quite determined to +let her lodger go. She was not a servant, she said to herself, to be +treated in such a way. But the sight of her comfortable kitchen and the +hour of delay brought calmer and more prudent thoughts to Jane's mind. +Instinctively she recalled the fate of Mrs. Brown and Miss Simpson, two +ladies of her calling, who, after trying in vain to make a living out +of their houses, had been obliged finally to sell their furniture and +take to service again; Mrs. Short, who let, indeed, in the summer, but +generally to large families, and had her things knocked about in such +a way that no charge for breakages could cover the necessary outlay +which followed their departure; Mrs. Dodd, who had taken in unaware a +lady recovering from the small-pox, and whose servant had taken the +disease, thus necessitating a general turn-out and white-washing before +her rooms could be considered habitable. + +Whatever the antecedents or private history of _her_ lodger might +be, Jane Rodgers could not but recognize that she lived a quiet life +and gave wonderfully little trouble. Then, though she paid her rent +monthly, she was in reality a yearly lodger; she had already taken +Jane's house for more than a year, her rent having been all the time +regularly paid. It would manifestly be a pity to give her up by any +over-hastiness. + +Jane resolved upon a compromise. She took up the tea, arranged the +bedrooms scrupulously, and then sat down in her kitchen to await Mrs. +Grey's summons. + +Some time passed before it came, for Margaret would not leave her child +that evening until she had seen her in the quiet, peaceful sleep that +ought to come so readily at her age; and she noted with ever-increasing +indignation that her little daughter was feverish and restless, that +she started painfully now and then, and clung nervously to her hand. + +Nothing calmed her like her mother's voice; so, after trying various +other methods, Margaret sang to her in a low, sweet undertone some of +the children's hymns she had taught her at different times. + +It was long, long since Margaret had lifted her voice in song of any +kind, and tears once or twice almost choked her utterance as the "Sweet +Story of Old" and "Gentle Jesus" came falteringly from her pale lips. + +She had sung them at her child's cradle with all the proud joy of a +young mother happy and beloved. Now all was changed--she and her child +were alone in the wide world. But the sweet old words were suggestive. +As she sang the spirit of the lonely woman grew calmer and her voice +faltered less. + +_Then_--in that fair long ago--she had loved the words for their music, +their sweet, pleasant harmony; now she loved them for themselves, for +the healing rest they seemed to bring to her. Like the cool touch of a +loving mother on the fevered brow of a sick little one were the words +of these child-utterances to Margaret that evening. _She_ grew calmer +and her daughter slept. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +_A DREAM OF THE SEA._ + + We dream what is + About to happen to us. + + +The language in which Margaret condemned Jane Rodgers's conduct to her +daughter was not very bitter, but it was effective. She would listen +to no excuses, no recapitulation of the grievous faults of children in +general, and of Miss Laura (Jane was very respectful when addressing +her mother) in particular--of the urgent necessity for some kind of +discipline. All this she set aside with a quiet dignity that severely +impressed Jane. + +"No one but myself," she said, "shall have power to correct my child. +If you cannot make up your mind to promise never to attempt anything +of the kind for the future, I will leave your house to-morrow, and +_you_ know very well that under the circumstances I might refuse even a +month's notice." + +"I only acted for the best," replied Jane. "Miss Laura was that +unmanageable! For the future I won't try to look after her." + +"That's all I require, Jane. I need not tell you that my confidence in +you is severely shaken: I could never trust you with such an important +charge again. I cannot even tell you whether I shall be able to make +up my mind to remain in your house. But I shall narrowly watch your +behavior, and may hope to be convinced that ignorance rather than +downright badness of heart was the cause of your cruelty to my little +daughter." + +Jane's mouth was open to reply, but Margaret stopped her: "You have +said quite enough; you may leave me now. Only remember this: I must +never be forced to complain of you in this way again." + +She turned to her writing-table as she spoke, and Jane with heightened +color walked to the door. + +She did not attempt to answer, for Margaret's severity of manner awed +her; but if Mrs. Grey had looked her way she might have seen an ominous +frown on her brow and a gleam of anger in her cold gray eye. + +Jane prided herself on her spirit. It was next to respectability in her +estimate of necessary virtues, but she seldom displayed it imprudently. +When the door was between her and her mistress she clenched her fist +and shook it at the senseless boards. "Her and her beggar's brat!" she +muttered; "but mayhap I'll teach them yet." And with that she retired +to the kitchen, leaving Margaret, very spent and sad, undisputed +mistress of the field. + +Perhaps it was a dear-bought victory. It might have been better for +herself and Laura if she had acted upon her first determination, and +left Jane Rodgers's house on the next day. But we cannot know all our +kind, its varieties are so infinite, and Margaret believed in Jane +still to a great extent; then the difficulties of a change of residence +were very great. + +Moving was an expensive business, one she could not well afford, and +so far as that village was concerned (she had a certain repugnance +to going elsewhere) she did not know of another place that would +suit them; so the matter was decided. Margaret went to bed fully +determined to remain where she was. Her bedroom window commanded the +sea. She lifted the blind that night, as her habit was, and looked away +wistfully over the waters. How she longed sometimes for the freedom of +the white sea-gull, that skims those restless waves and passes on, on, +through the light and through the darkness till it reaches the haven +where it would be! + +There was a haven for which _she_ longed so passionately that at times +the longing was a bitter pain: her haven was not in the heavenly +country. In those days Margaret seldom thought of that, for even the +passing away from things visible might not possibly put an end to her +pain. It was a haven in which she had once rejoiced, but from which she +had passed out into the black darkness of a dreary, shoreless ocean. +The love and confidence of _one_ poor human heart--that was the whole +of her desire; and day by day, night by night, the wished-for haven +seemed drifted farther away, till even hope died down, and she ceased +to think she could ever reach it. + +She had a dream that night: with the strange perversity of nightly +visions it seemed to mingle in one and confuse inextricably the +experiences and thoughts of those last few days. She saw the sea as she +had seen it that evening, streaked with night-born radiance, and on +it a small boat--in the boat the dark form of the man she dreaded; in +her dream she loved him, and was stretching out her arms for a place +by his side in the tiny skiff. Then a gradual change: the gleaming +silver passed into ruddy gold, which tinged ocean and sands and rock, +and she knew that it was the hour of sunset. She was sitting on the +yellow sands gazing out to sea, and suddenly as she looked into the +flood of color a white speck rose from its midst--a sail, which grew +larger and whiter till she saw that it was no sail, but the vast wings +of a gigantic bird that was leisurely skimming the water till it rested +at last at her feet. And its eyes were dark and lustrous, full of +love and confidence. Ah, how well she knew them! Another change: she +thought that she looked up again, and the bird was gone, but in its +place Laura's father stood before her stretching out his arms to her +longingly. And then she woke with a start and a shiver, to see the gray +dawning begin to struggle with the darkness, and to feel at her heart a +cold, cold chill. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +_UNEXPECTED VISITORS AT MIDDLETHORPE._ + + And in pleading for life's fair fulfilment, I plead + For all that you miss and all that you need. + + +After this the days passed on in the little village by the sea somewhat +slowly and lingeringly. Spring blushed into summer, the bright early +freshness of grass and foliage deepened into summer's maturity, the +gray ocean wore a mild blue appearance as it rolled in on the yellow +sands, and began to reveal its depths to those who skimmed it in the +boats--some bound on pleasure and some on business--that left the +shore from time to time. Over the dim, vast distance Summer cast her +misty veil, shutting in earth and sea with her soft halos and vapors, +and to the yellow sands came women and children, vanguard of the great +army that later in the season would swoop down upon this village and +others of the same type. + +Margaret was often there with a book in her hand or a piece of work, +and her child by her side; but generally she was unoccupied, her +hands listless, her eyes growing daily deeper and more weary. For the +strain on heart and spirit was rapidly becoming more than her physical +strength could bear. She was fading visibly, but there was no loving +eye near to note how her step grew more languid and her white fingers +thinner, and her beautiful face more worn and sad till its very beauty +seemed to be passing away. One noted the change, however, and took full +advantage of it. + +Jane Rodgers was becoming a kind of household tyrant; not that she ever +again attempted the management of Laura--_that_ would have aroused what +little spirit Margaret still possessed; her tyranny was exhibited in +other ways. She would do precisely what she chose, leaving everything +else undone--would spend days visiting her friends under the plea of +change being an absolute necessity, and leave Mrs. Grey, who could +not afford extra help, to manage matters for herself in the house; +she would even reply insolently at times to some simple request made +by her lodger, for she saw her power. A kind of indifference to life +and its comforts was creeping gradually over Margaret, a numbing sense +of weakness, a languid desire for rest--only rest. In such a frame +she could scarcely have roused herself to undertake the exertion of +moving. She felt that between herself and her landlady matters were not +so pleasant as they had formerly been, but Laura was happy, and for +herself she cared very little. The _one_ great sorrow, like an open +wound whose throbbing engrosses every sense, made her comparatively +indifferent to the little pin-pricks of her daily life. + +She had one joy in these dark days. It was in the clinging affection of +her daughter. Since the day of her return Laura and her mother had been +far more to one another than ever before. The child opened her heart +to her mother, told of all her little dreams and fancies, and Margaret +began to talk to the little one even about the long sealed-up subject; +not indeed her trouble and its origin--that would have been impossible +as yet--but about the vague hope toward which in her darkness her +thoughts ever turned. She spoke to Laura about her father, drew from +her the story of her recollections, and tried to awaken and nourish in +her young heart a reverent love for the parent she might perhaps never +see. + +For sometimes when Margaret felt her strength failing, a sudden fear +for Laura's future would take possession of her. If--if--God should +take her too from the little one! But that was a possibility at which +she dared not glance. To live as she was living, lonely, unloved, was +bad enough, but through all its darkness was a gleam of something +bright, the hope of a vague, dim to-come, that might possibly bring +back her joy. To die was to shut even this out, and for ever; to pass +away unforgiven, misunderstood, a stain on her fair fame. + +Would not that be past endurance? + +Margaret could not face the idea of death, but with the bitter +consciousness that it might come she did her duty to her child, and, +though painful at first, it became sweet after a time. She trained her +to think of the father who seemed to have cast her off--to love his +memory, to look forward to his return: then, in any case, if indeed +he too were in the land of the living, Laura would have a refuge. She +would not pass from her mother's care and tenderness to the protection +of one of whom she knew nothing; her father would _be_ her father, +the longed, the looked-for, and perhaps in after days (it was seldom +Margaret had strength to carry her thoughts so far), when she would +have long been cold, he might hear from the lips of his daughter the +tale of her ever-faithful love. + +It was one of those warm, languid June days. The very sea seemed lazy +as ripple after ripple crept in sighing to the shore. There was a blue, +hazy vapor on even the near horizon, and scarcely a breath of air was +stirring. + +Margaret and Laura had found an approach to shelter from the fierce +midday sun far up on one of the sand-cliffs, under a stunted shrub. +They were sitting there together, the little Laura rather stiller than +usual. + +She had been running about on the sands with some small friends picked +up among the visitors, and the heat had tired her. She sat at her +mother's feet, with her head buried in her lap to hide it from the sun. + +"Mamma," she cried from her safe retreat, "I had _such_ fun just now." + +Margaret's thoughts were far away. She recalled them to interest +herself in her child's amusements: "Had you, darling? Who were you +playing with?--those little children in blue frocks?" + +"One of them's bigger than me, mamma," said Laura reprovingly. "You saw +me _then_, but you didn't see the tall gentleman with a big dog, for we +were far away along the sands. He made his dog go in the water for his +stick, oh, ever so many times! and then--Mamma, are you listening?" + +"Yes, dear; what then?" + +"He took me up on his shoulder and carried me a long way." + +Margaret smiled languidly: "He must have taken a fancy to my little +girl." + +"But wasn't it funny?" said Laura meditatively; then starting up +suddenly in her eagerness: "Mamma, do you know what I thought when he +was so kind?" + +"No, darling, how can I?" + +"I thought"--Laura's eyes were sparkling with excitement--"that perhaps +it was papa come back." + +Her eager voice roused Margaret from her languor. She rose from her +improvised couch among the branches, and resting one hand on the +child's shoulder said as quietly as she could, "What brought such an +idea into your little head?" + +"Why, mamma, don't you see? I always think papa will come like that; +he'll want to surprise us and see if we remember him. This gentleman +asked me about my papa, and if he lived here. And when I said no, but +he was coming back, he looked at me so funnily; then, before he let me +go, he kissed me--a big kiss, mamma, like my papa used to give me long +ago, when he lived here." + +Margaret's heart had been swelling as the little voice flowed on. She +could never have told why the childish fancy took such a hold upon her +mind, but so it was; with Laura, she could not help feeling that the +gentleman took more than a common interest in her. Was it true, then? +Had he come back to them? Was her trouble to end? for she did not fear +her Maurice; one short half hour, face to face, would be sufficient for +them both--sufficient to break the icy barrier that lay between them, +and to make them one again. + +"Laura," she said, still with that forced quiet in her voice, "try and +tell me what the gentleman was like." + +This was a difficult task for the little one. She looked up to the +sky for inspiration. "He was tall, mamma," she said at last, "and I +think--I think there was something funny about his eyes; but he looked +kind, and I haven't seen anybody like him before. Of course I don't +remember what papa was like. He had a great big dog--_so_ big" (she +extended both her arms by way of illustration)--"with a curly black +coat and brown eyes, and a tail that wagged so funnily." + +The dog was evidently easier to describe than the gentleman. Perhaps +Laura was not singular in finding it rather difficult to string +together his merits and demerits, even physically considered. He had +been a puzzle to more than one in his transit through the world. + +Margaret smiled at her child's enthusiasm. She was not much clearer +about the identity of the stranger than she had been before, but a +longing came over her to unravel the little mystery. She was ready to +ridicule her own folly for seeing any mystery in the matter. Probably +the gentleman was only some stray visitor at Middlethorpe's small hotel +who had been pleased with Laura's fair, childish beauty; and yet the +feeling was there. She must find him out and satisfy herself that he +_was_ a stranger. + +"Run home, darling," she said to her little girl, "and tell Jane to +give you your dinner; afterward sit quietly in the parlor with your +new story-book; before tea-time I shall be at home." + +Laura hesitated: "You won't go to London, mamma?" + +"Certainly not, my little daughter; now run away like a good child." + +There was no disputing this. Laura returned to the little cottage, and +Margaret remained alone on the cliff. She was anxious to find out her +daughter's friend, and thus put out of her mind at once the haunting +thoughts that Laura's simple fancy had implanted there. + +It could not be a difficult task; there were few gentlemen with big +dogs at Middlethorpe, for the lords of creation had not begun to +indulge in the luxury of seaside idleness. They had sent some of their +womenkind before; themselves were still busy on the world's highways. +The gentleman who had taken so kindly an interest in her little +daughter would certainly be identified with ease. + +With a view to his discovery Margaret looked below. The sands, so busy +a few minutes before, were dull and silent, for the flocks of little +ones, with their nurses and mammas, had gone in for the early dinner, +a necessary part of seaside life, and Middlethorpe might have been +perfectly empty. + +It was the stillness of a summer noontide, strangely oppressive to a +restless heart. This way and that Margaret looked, up and down the +sands, across the sea; no gentleman or big dog was in sight, and with a +little sigh she turned to look for the book that had been lying by her +side, to while away in its company the hour of forced inaction. + +She turned, and became suddenly conscious of the startling fact +that she was not alone--that while she had been looking down at the +sands and across over the sea she had been joined by an unlooked-for +companion, and he must have been there some minutes, for he had found +time to settle himself satisfactorily. He looked perfectly at his ease, +very near her in a reclining posture, his elbows on the sands and his +head in his hand; he was not looking at her. He seemed to be watching +the feathery clouds that were passing over the blue depths above or +counting the insects that flitted past unceasingly; but she, when she +caught sight of him, was not so calm. Her face blanched suddenly; she +covered it with her hands, and a low cry--it might be of anger, it +might be of dismay--came from her quivering lips. + +At the sound he turned his gaze in her direction, showing as he did so +a broad square brow, deep-set eyes and a dark, strongly-lined face, its +plainness only relieved by the mouth, which was full yet delicately +formed, the lips soft and ripe as those of any woman. It was partially +veiled by a dark moustache, contrasting rather strangely with his +head, which was covered by a crop of short gray hair. He did not look +an Englishman; indeed, there was something strange in his appearance +which would have rendered the classification of his type a difficult +matter to the most skilful physiognomist. Only one point seemed to +be tolerably evident: he belonged to the ardent South rather than +the cold North, for even at the moment of her discovery, when he was +striving, with all the strength of a strong nature, to show nothing but +cool indifference, his breath was coming quick and hot, his eyes were +sparkling, his fine mouth was quivering with excitement, and in his +voice there was an unmistakable quiver as he spoke after a few moments' +silence, spent by her in averting her face from his gaze, by him in +watching curiously her every movement: "Marguerite!" + +A deep musical voice and a slightly foreign accent. It seemed to excite +her. She trembled from head to foot, and tried to rise from her seat. +He put out his hand to detain her. "Not yet," he said sternly. "I must +know first what all this means." + +She looked up wonderingly. + +"Ah! you know well," he continued more rapidly, and his voice taking +a firmer timbre. "Why have you hid yourself? Why have you fled to the +outskirts of creation to avoid me? Why are you shocked, terrified, when +in my tenderest voice I speak the dear name you used to love to hear +from my lips? Have I grown so very monstrous, or do you wish to kill +yourself with this savage loneliness that your English nation so dearly +loves? Speak! speak!--or rather speak not at all. Let me sit here for +ever and feast my eyes on the loveliness a woman's whim has hid from me +so long. Marguerite! Marguerite! my white pearl, it will be difficult +for you to hide from me again." + +She had risen to her feet, the angry color coming and going on her fair +face, but, crouching before her, he held her by the dress and refused +to let her stir. + +"Marguerite," he cried, bitter pain in his voice, "I know I speak +folly; you are not one of _my_ warm race; you are a cold daughter of +proud England. But see, love, I will be patient. Sit down again. I +am not near you now; only," and his brow contracted into a frown so +fierce that it might mean a menace, "I am here now, and I must and +will be heard." + +Margaret reseated herself, but her face grew pale with suppressed +anger. "If it is the manner of your race to insult the unprotected," +she said bitterly, "I must congratulate myself on the fact that I do +_not_ belong to it." + +His face kindled. "Spoken like yourself, _ma reine_," he said softly. +"I kiss your hands. I am, what I have ever been, your devoted servitor." + +"If so, Mr. L'Estrange," she said, slowly and distinctly, but as if +speaking with some difficulty, "I must beg you to leave me at once." + +He smiled--a smile that irradiated his face like sunshine: "I was rash, +_ma belle_; sometimes obedience is an impossibility. But see! what are +you afraid of? Look at me, devoted to you body and soul, your friend, +ready to do you the smallest service; only asking this in return, that +I may be permitted to stay where I can see you, can offer you kindly +greeting from time to time--a common acquaintance, nothing more." + +She would not look at him. Her eyes were fixed on a distant speck +on the horizon--the sail of a ship or the long line of smoke from a +passing steamer. + +"You have forced yourself upon me," she said in a low, constrained +voice; "you know your presence is distasteful, and you know why. But +for you these years of what you are pleased to call savage loneliness +would never have been." + +He did not seem to hear her; he was carrying on a kind of soliloquy. +"She is changed," he said, gazing at her still, "yes, and fading. The +rich bloom in her cheek, the laughing sparkle in her eye, the fair +roundness of form, it is passing--passing; but, _hélas! mon Dieu!_ is +she not fairer than ever in her pure, sad whiteness? Ah, Marguerite, my +pearl! how could he ever have doubted you?" + +Almost fiercely she answered, the fire of indignation giving back to +her eyes the sparkle of the olden days: "And _you_ can ask that--you +from whom all the misery came? _He_ knew what had passed between you +and me before our marriage. _He_ trusted me, my life was blest; _you_ +came between us and destroyed my happiness." + +"Gently, gently, my fair Marguerite," he said, pleadingly; "you English +are a justice-loving people. Is it not your law that allows what they +call extenuating circumstances? That meeting between you and me need +never have taken place. If you remember, I warned you. I received no +answer. Silence gives consent. Was I less or more than human not to +avail myself of it?" + +It was true--too true. Margaret hid her face in her hands, and when she +next spoke her voice was low and pleading: "Mr. L'Estrange, you are +cruel. Yes--God forgive me!--I was to blame, and He has punished me +sorely; but have pity on me--leave me here." + +A smile played over his lips, but she could not see it; he drew nearer +to her and touched the folds of her dress with a hand that was burning. + +"It is time it should end," he said, trying to gaze into her hidden +face, "It was all a mistake, a grand mistake. I should never have +allowed it, only I wanted faith. I dared not drag _you_ into any +uncertain future. Ah, my white pearl! who understands you so well as I? +Do you remember--shall I, can I, ever forget?--those few blessed days? +We were happy, Margaret--happy as children to whom the present is all; +the future was not even named between us, for when a cloud, born of the +North, your childhood's home, passed over your gentle mind, I was able +to dispel it. Those moonlight excursions on the silver water of fair +Venice--your friends were with us, yet we were alone, for the kindly +darkness made us almost forget their presence; the serenades--ah! I see +your memory is no worse than mine; the soft harmonies dying away in the +far distance as we sat together in our gondola, our hands clasped, our +souls rapt to ecstasy; the lessons in astronomy on those clear spring +evenings when you and _notre chère fillette_ scanned in turns the deep, +star-spangled sky; that day spent in exploring, Margaret--your pretty +coquetry had vexed me, but the soft golden radiance of pictured glass, +the sculptured marbles in that beautiful church, the Scalzi, soothed +my soul and I was at rest, your softly gleaming eyes telling of your +sympathy in my joy; the pictures, Margaret--our delight when we were +able to trace the hand of the greatest masters, and pronounce, without +guide or cicerone, on the authorship of one of our favorites,--yes, +these were pleasures. I sometimes think that they were pleasures too +pure, too high, for any but the gods, and in their jealousy they +dashed the cup of bliss from our lips. But," his voice deepened; he +drew so near to her that his hot, passionate breath fanned her cheek, +"they have given us one more chance. Shall we be wise and seize it? +Ah, _ma belle_! I see it passing. Happiness! think what that is; it +is not often offered to the dull sons and daughters of humanity, and, +Margaret, we have once rejected it." + +He spoke, and gradually the bitterness seemed to pass from Margaret's +face. There came into her eyes a lustrous shining to replace the fierce +light with which she had greeted his first words; she even leant over +toward him and allowed him to touch her pale face with his strong, +nervous hand. For all was on his side for the moment. The strange, +wellnigh overpowering fascination he possessed--memory, imagination, +present loneliness and a certain bitter rising of indignation which the +readiness of her husband's mistrust and desertion could not but cause +her at times. + +He saw his advantage. "It is not all forgotten, then, _ma bien-aimée_?" +he whispered tenderly. "That past beautiful time is still there--there +in the shrine of your pure heart. Tell me once for all, shall it +return? _He_ has forsaken you, insulted you by his mistrust; you owe +him no duty; and what is it that I ask of you? The restoration of your +friendship--nothing more." + +The voice was soft, thrilling, full of an unspeakable pathos, and at +first as she heard her brain felt dizzy and a delicious languor seemed +to steal over her senses. It would be so sweet to yield, to renew in +her dull prime some of the fair joys of youth. Could she not accept his +friendship, for that, after all, is an every-day matter? He knew her +too well to presume. + +And while she pondered, with a weakness utterly new to this fair, proud +woman, he stood before her, looking down upon her fixedly. Her eyes +fell before his. What met them? Nothing more novel than the Indian +scarf she usually wore. It had dropped from her shoulders and was +hanging on her arm. + +A trifle at such a time, but do not life and its issues hang +sometimes on a thread? The scarf recalled Margaret to herself, for it +brought another past to her mind. It had been her husband's gift to +her--presented on the occasion of the little Laura's birth--and as +she glanced on it there came to her mind a host of gentle memories. +_His_ words, _his_ looks, his pride in her, the glad confidence of his +strong, young manhood,--she felt them once more around her like the +pale ghosts of a happy time gone by for ever; but they had been real +once, warm, living flesh and blood; and with their holy power they +warded off the tempter's influence. + +Her first feeling was of burning shame and penitence. Was she then so +absolutely weak? Should it be possible for misery and loneliness even +to degrade her, to take from her that in which, through all her misery, +she had rejoiced--the proud consciousness of unshaken rectitude? For +even to listen to this man's blandishments was infinite degradation, +the dragging down of her white soul to the base level of his. + +Thoughts like these rushed tumultuously into her mind as she looked +down still upon her husband's gift; and suddenly she drew herself back +shivering, as one might do who had been standing unconsciously close to +the edge of a great abyss. + +He did not understand her gesture. The soft look was still in his eyes, +and he made a movement to take her in his arms. But the new strength of +her soul, born of the agonizing penitence for that _one_ weak thought, +seemed to have given to her the power she needed. She thrust out both +her hands before her, pushing him back so rudely that he stumbled some +steps down the sand-cliff; but he soon recovered his footing. With +a look in which pleading and indignation were mingled he tried to +approach her; she kept him off still. + +"Leave me! leave me!" she cried "What have I said, what have I done, +that you should look at me like this?" And then she covered her face +with both hands. "My God! my God!" she moaned, piteously; "has even +good forsaken me?" + +Middlethorpe dinner-hour was over. The sun had passed its meridian +height, the shadows of shrub and cliff were beginning to lengthen, +and with the drawing on of evening came a moaning, sighing wind that +ruffled the pale waters at their feet. It seemed an echo of Margaret's +wail. + +Her persecutor had turned from her; apparently he could control himself +no longer. Taking a stone, he threw it far out into the sea: it was +the angry gesture of a child whose will has been crossed. He walked a +few steps along the path that skirted the cliff, but it seemed as if +he could not go finally. He went back to where he had left her sitting +mute and helpless. + +"I thought you had gone," she said, flashing up at him a glance that +was not pleasant to meet. + +He looked down upon her with apparent calmness, though all his pulses +were quivering with rage and disappointment: "I have not much more to +say, _ma belle_, for I fear you are in earnest this time. What a fool I +was to imagine for one moment that you possessed a heart! Go your own +way, then; starve yourself of all happiness, die, for the sake of your +husband, the man who has cast you off. But--you remember the old days; +I was always something of a prophet, and my predictions came to pass--I +tell you this: a trouble--one _I_ could have averted--is hanging over +you still. You shake your head, you have suffered to the extent of +suffering. Bah! in all hearts there is one assailable point. You are +not superhuman, _ma reine_. It is possible that your husband, the man +who loved you once, may be nearer than you dream, and thinking other +thoughts than yours." + +What could he mean? Margaret looked up wildly, for he was turning from +her to the winding path that led down the sand-cliff to the sea. "Stay, +stay!" she cried. + +He looked round at her. "Madam," he said politely, with the bow of +a courtier, "it is my turn to be obdurate. I would fain obey you--I +cannot: your refusal of all friendly offices has sealed my lips, and +time presses. Farewell! The humblest of all your devotees kisses your +hands and wishes you joy." + + + + +PART II. + +A MAN AT WAR WITH HIMSELF. + + * * * * * + +CHAPTER I. + +_MAURICE GREY._ + + But the living and the lost-- + For _them_ our souls must weep; + For them we suffer a yearning pain + That will not let us sleep. + + +A change. From the shores of the gray British seas to those of the +grayer Baltic--from the yellow sands and purple moors of Yorkshire to +the wellnigh boundless forests and plains of Western Russia--thousands +of miles of wood, lake and river, only diversified by some few castles +and villages. + +It was July, hot and radiant, but in the depths of those woods coolness +is always attainable. By one of the broad silver lakes, under a group +of birches that rose gracefully from its shores, a young man was +resting through the noontide. + +He appeared to be a hunter, for his horse was tethered to one of the +trees and a brace of fine hounds were baying out their impatience at +his side. But for these dumb companions he seemed to be alone, and +yet all the accessories spoke of comfort. A kind of table had been +extemporized at his feet, and on it a large meat-pasty, some bread and +salt, a knife and fork and a flask of sherry were lying. He had not +done much justice to the provisions; he was leaning back against the +tree and looking out over the lake, a kind of disgust in his fine face. +Suddenly, bethinking himself, he raised two fingers to his lips and +gave a prolonged whistle. + +It brought from the surrounding woods two stately-looking Russians, +long-bearded and sedate. Their master pointed to the provisions before +him--a gesture which was evidently understood without difficulty, for +they carried away the food, retired respectfully to some distance, and +soon made a great inroad into both pasty and bread, packing up what was +left in a small haversack which one of them carried on his back. The +other then approached his master and made a low bow. + +"Time to mount?" said the young man, evidently English from his +appearance and accent. "Ha! so much the better." + +The horse was untethered, wiped down admiringly, and held in readiness +by the bearded Russian, his companion in the mean time bringing out +two stout little ponies from the trees. And in a few moments the small +cavalcade was ranging the woods. + +The black eagle was flapping its great wings above them, feathered +fowl of a thousand varieties were twittering on the branches of the +trees. Many of the coverts might harbor the wolf or lynx; in the reach +of meadow to which a forest-glade might lead the gigantic elk would +probably be resting with her young. + +It was a position to exhilarate the coldest brain, and the Englishman, +who took the lead into the forest, did not look particularly torpid. + +He was monarch, too, of all he surveyed, for one of the hospitable +nobles of Courland had given his guest a free permission to shoot not +only through his estates, which were sufficiently vast, but through +those of his neighbors; indeed, the whole province was free to Maurice +Grey. With gun and dogs he might traverse the wilds of Courland in all +their length and breadth. + +To an Englishman, a lover of sport for its own sake, could any position +be more delightful? He seemed to feel this. Mounted on his horse, a +fine little mare of Arab extraction, his keen sportsman's eye scanning +the depths of wood, his ear intent on the faintest sound, he looked +another man from the jaded, weary traveller resting listlessly on the +shores of the silver lake. + +But the dogs looked uneasy; there was a rustling in the underwood; the +dry fallen leaves crackled ominously. He cocked his gun. Hist! a long, +gray-looking animal, gliding ghost-like out of the bush, but not within +range. It was a fierce she-wolf--the terror of the neighborhood; this +the Englishman discovered, and then the chase began. The wily dogs +urged her out into the open; bewildered she fled before them--long, +swift, seemingly untiring. With bellies to the ground, and legs that +seemed barely to skim it, followed the noble hounds, and after them +their master, urging them on by his voice, till dogs, wolf and horseman +seemed to fly over the plain. + +On, on, leaving the Russian servants and ponies in the far distance, +the forest behind, the blue distance before them, till at last the wolf +grew weary, her pace perceptibly flagged: she tried to stand at bay, +but exhaustion overcame her; the hounds were on her haunches; they +pinned her to the ground till the voice of their master called them +off, and a shot put an end for ever to the robber of Russian hen-roosts +and the terror of Russian babies. + +Various other feats were performed that day, each exciting in its kind; +and when the young Englishman, who had ridden far into the short, +bright night of that season, rested at last in a kind of log-built +hunting-lodge, where the hospitable owner of the estate had always a +few necessaries in readiness for the guests of the hunt, he was quite +ready for refreshment and repose. He partook of the provisions put +before him by his servants, bathed in the river that flowed at no great +distance, and laid himself down to rest, rejoicing in the glorious +solitude, in the freedom from anxiety, in the triumph of having found +one pursuit that could put to flight, even for a time, haunting care +and cruel retrospect. + +But the triumph was short. The few hours of night passed, and kindly +sleep would hold his restless spirit no longer. With the gray dawning +Maurice lifted his head from his couch and looked around him. The +Russian servants, wrapped in sheepskins, were lying on mats at his +feet, fast asleep; even the hounds were silent and motionless, wearied +with their day of hard work. The neighborhood of the sleepers was +oppressive. He rose and wandered out into the little clearing in the +midst of which the hut was built. + +Yes, this was solitude, true solitude, without excitement of any kind +to fill it; and as Maurice looked listlessly at the sun rising over the +woods he tried to persuade himself that it was delightful. Far from the +babble of false men and falser women, not even the rising of a thin +wreath of smoke in the far distance telling of their existence,--this +was what he had been seeking, and hitherto seeking in vain. He seated +himself on the trunk of a fallen tree to look this great loneliness in +the face and realize the comfort of his position, but it would not do. + +Insensibly, as he thought and gazed, came visions of the past, dreams +of the future, like weird, shapeless demons whom memory had robed in +horrors to rob him of his peace and fill his solitude with care. For +Maurice Grey had loved as some men can and do love, throwing all the +strength of their nature into this one thing. And he had lost, not by +the hand of death--so pitiless when put forth to take the loved--but +by a something more dread, more pitiless still--the discovery of his +lady's falsehood. Oh, he had honored her, trusted her, given her his +all; and what had he found? That through the long years they had passed +together in such perfect harmony her heart had been not his, but +another's. He had given all; she had given nothing--worse than nothing. +And in the bitter revulsion of feeling consequent on the discovery he +had not waited for explanations; he had left her, vowing, in a vow that +came from the very depths of his stricken heart, not to look upon her +fair, false face again. + +Since then he had been striving after forgetfulness. He would not hear +of her, he would not ask about her. In the various business letters +that necessarily passed between him and his solicitor in England--for +he was a man of some property--_her_ name was never mentioned. He had +left amply sufficient for her maintenance. The property she had brought +was paid over to her without the slightest reference to him. Thus, he +considered, bare duty was fulfilled, and for anything further--bah! +woman-like, would she not rejoice in the absence of restraint? It was +possible that he might desire to have a voice in the education of his +child; about his wife he would trouble himself no further. + +But the mind is volatile and independent; it receives not the "Thou +shalt not" with which poor mortals would fetter it. Over flood and +field, through cities and solitudes, Maurice had been wandering with +this one idea--to banish for ever from his mind the beautiful, haunting +face of his lost Margaret--and all was in vain. More persistently than +ever it returned on this morning in the wilds, looking at him with her +lustrous eyes, speaking to him with her sweet, low voice, maddening him +with the cruel recollections it brought of loss and shame. + +For in a case of this kind the man is, perhaps, a greater sufferer than +the woman. True, he can wander hither and thither, throwing himself +into the stirring life of the world--business, pleasure, excitement; +but in the deep, strong nature the sting remains, bitter, poignant, +ever present; not the soft sadness of the weaker sex, which in many +cases, stooping down under the stroke, reaps the reward of submission +in a certain gradual dulling of the pain; but the fierce, angry +plunging of a soul that will not yield to dire necessity--that will not +look its sorrow in the face and bear it. + +And no trial is fitter to raise this ceaseless tempest in the spirit +than that under which Maurice was smarting. He had trusted in her as he +trusted in his God; she had been to him the embodiment of all that is +good, pure, beautiful in womankind, and the discovery of her treachery +was like the breaking away of solid ground from beneath his feet. + +From that moment he believed in nothing. Writhing under the bitter pain +of the wound inflicted on him, he would yet show no signs of weakness. +He would forget; he would cut the ties that bound him to the past; he +would tear her from his heart. In the struggle his nature seemed to +change. He whom Margaret had loved for his gentle thoughtfulness, his +manly courage, his geniality, his bright, joyous spirit, became another +man. Irritable, morose, cynical, gayest among the gay at the festive +season, though of his laughter it might have been said that it was mad, +of his mirth that it was "the crackling of thorns under a pot;" at +other times dull and listless, uneasy, changeable, passionate. These +were some of his characteristics after many months' wandering. And +he felt the change; sometimes he professed to rejoice in it. He told +himself that he was getting hardened--that soon, soon, the past would +be as though it had not been; but there was a secret consciousness +within which told him that this could not be. + +Such was the feeling which spoke to him on that still July morning +through the solitude till he could bear his own society no longer. +He returned to the hut, awoke his servants with some roughness, and +intimated to them, in the best Russian he could command, that he was +tired of wandering; he would return to their lord's castle that day, +and then join him and his family in St. Petersburg. + +The Russians bowed simultaneously. They were accustomed to the caprices +of their lord, and did not show the least surprise at this sudden +termination, after two or three days, of an excursion that was to have +lasted at least a fortnight. + +They escorted their lord's guest to the castle, and on the same evening +Maurice Grey left it for a St. Petersburg mansion. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_SOCIETY VERSUS SOLITUDE._ + + Come, let us to the hills, where none but God + Can overlook us; for I hate to breathe + The breaths and think the thoughts of other men. + + +A few days later and the wilds of Courland were given up, as far as +Maurice Grey was concerned, to the animals that ranged them; he was in +St. Petersburg, installed as a welcome guest in the grand city mansion +of Count ----, one of the Courland nobles, his son, who had mixed in +the best society of both London and Paris, having been for some time +one of Maurice Grey's warmest friends. + +Into the gay life of his brilliant city the young man welcomed his +English friend with the utmost cordiality, and Maurice was soon +immersed in a round of gayeties. It was a good time to see St. +Petersburg, for all the misery of the spring melting of ice and snow +was over. The stately Neva, clear as crystal and covered with craft of +every description, was flowing in full magnificence after its winter +sleep through the streets and piazzas of the city. The highways were +full of vehicles, from the grand carriage-and-four of the general or +prince to the plain hired droshki that seemed ubiquitous. Pleasure was +the order of the day in the city, for all, high and low, rich and poor, +were revelling in the charms of the short-lived summer-time. + +Maurice threw himself into this new life with the utmost eagerness. +French is the language of the _crème de la crème_ in St. Petersburg, +and as he was master of the seductive mistress of conversation, his +ignorance of Russian by no means interfered with any of his amusements. +And he entered into them thoroughly. Lounging about on the Prospekt or +Grand English Quay in the morning with a few young Russians; flirting +with pretty French coquettes, or rarer Russian beauties, in the ladies' +afternoon receptions; floating at night in the grand barge of one of +the princes on the wide Neva, in company of the fair and gay and to the +sounds of delicious music; dancing far into the morning and supping +with the dawn;--this was the life of St. Petersburg, and for some days +he enjoyed it thoroughly. One thing was certain: it allowed very little +time for thought. But he had not the constitution or power of endurance +of some of his Russian friends. A week or two of this hard life knocked +him up. He was compelled to rest, whether he would or no. And then +reaction came. The crowd and bustle were once more hateful to him. +Biliousness, that great foe of the fashionable, cast its jaundiced veil +over his eyes. He began to loathe the luxurious saloons and crowded +rooms and made-up beauties--to long again for his own society, for the +scenes of Nature, for the solitude from which he had only just escaped. + + "Be thine own heart thy palace, or the world's a jail," + +said the great Shakespeare. The world was a jail to Maurice Grey +because of the bitterness his heart contained; and, unhappily, go where +we will, we cannot escape the world, or that throbbing, torturing +consciousness of good and evil, of pain and delight, that mortals call +the heart. He could not hide his cynicism; like the thorn that the +rose-leaves conceal, it peeped out when it was least expected, and +the fair ladies with whose society he pleased himself began gayly to +question him on the mysterious cause of his gloomy ideas. + +This alarmed Maurice. His wound was of such a kind as to be sensitive +to the lightest touch. He could not bear that what he looked upon as +his dishonor should be the common talk of his associates. It was this +that had made him leave England and break all connection with those +who had known him there. When, therefore, it became the custom of his +fair St. Petersburg friends to question him curiously about his past, +to suggest a probable history in his dark, melancholy eyes, to speak +to him with sentimental pathos about life and love, he took fright; +and to the grief of his many friends--for the Englishman had become +the fashion in St. Petersburg--announced his intention of departure. +Loud and long was the opposition, and Maurice grew weary of the delay +and sick of the great city before his friends would allow him to go; +but at last they were left behind him. With no companion, not even a +servant this time, he was travelling through the length and breadth of +Russia, by her scattered cities and vast plains, to Moscow, the ancient +capital; there only a few hours, and then on once more, for Russia had +become distasteful to him. + +He would scarcely pause, for he was in a fever to be on, on and away, +far from the vexations of "towered cities" and their "busy hum"--far, +if it were possible, even from men. There was a little village that he +had known in happier days. It was far up in the Swiss mountains; it was +lonely, save for the coming and going of tourists, and even these did +not honor it with their presence for long. Two glaciers stooped down +into its valley, and it was watched evermore by pillars of purest snow. +There, perhaps, in the savage grandeur of holy Nature, he might find +the rest for which he craved, and with a feverish anxiety he pressed on +to his goal. + +Switzerland at last!--a mountain-pass, snow-crowned hills, land-locked +lakes and white foaming torrents. A certain satisfaction glowed in the +breast of the world-weary man as he looked out upon it all. + +He and his sorrow seemed dwarfed, for the moment, by the grand +magnificence of the world as God made it--not the world of cities, but +the world of Nature. _His_ hand was visible in the grouping of the +Alpine giants, in the variegated beauty of their hidden vales, and +beneath that hand the traveller felt himself. + +Of carriages and mules he would have none. With his staff in his hand +he crossed the mountains, courting the healthy physical weariness, +sure precursor of that which denies itself to the brain overwrought by +excitement--blessed sleep. And with the exertion and consequent rest +his health returned, his muscles played freely, Life carried on her +great functions with ease. By the time he had reached Grindelwald, the +little village in which he intended to stay for some time, even some +of his cynicism had melted. Doubtless it was only for the time. Nature +can do much, but she cannot really draw the sting of bitter aching from +the heart, or give back to the spirit the brightness and elasticity of +that fresh time when men are divine and women are earth-angels, and +the world is a region of enchantment, a "palace of delights;" even the +eternal snows and the grand sights and sounds of the mountain-country +may pall upon the eyes and sicken the disappointed heart. For in human +nature are the elements of the divine--its infinite cravings only the +Infinite can fill. Beautiful as God's world may be, it is powerless to +fill the heart or satisfy the soul of man. Hither and thither he may +wander; like the dying poet Shelley's marvellous creation, + + "Nature's most secret steps + He, like her shadow, may pursue;" + +and yet for the haunting vision, the great unfound loveliness, the +unfelt joy, his spirit may sicken unceasingly. + + + + +PART III. + +A DOUBLE MYSTERY. + + * * * * * + +CHAPTER I. + +_PARTIAL DISCOVERIES._ + + She seemed to be all nature, + And all varieties of things in one; + Would set at night in clouds of tears, and rise + All light and laughter in the morning; fear + No petty customs nor appearances, + But think what others only dreamed about, + And say what others did but think, and do + What others would but say, and glory in + What others dared but do. + + +"I have no sympathy for you, Adèle--not the slightest." + +So spoke Mrs. Churchill, standing by a sofa in her boudoir with a glass +of port in the one hand and a bottle of quinine in the other, giving +careful attention to the dripping of a certain number of drops from the +bottle to the glass. + +Her young daughter was on the sofa, looking rather languid and worn. +She raised her head, supporting it on her elbow, and her voice was a +little peevish as she answered, "I have told you, mamma, that I don't +want either sympathy or medicine." + +"In the name of all that's sensible try and tell me what you _do_ want, +child!" + +"I want to see Arthur." Adèle blushed as she spoke. + +"To see Arthur, indeed!" Here Mrs. Churchill passed the +carefully-prepared dose to her daughter. "You are a pretty pair! I +imagine he wants quinine and sea-air as much as you do. And now, +forsooth, he must turn studious, ambitious of literary distinction, +and what not. The next thing I shall hear about him is that he has +taken to the editing of a popular journal. Really, young people of +the present day are past my comprehension altogether, and, Adèle, you +and Arthur carry matters to the verge of absurdity. You fall in love +simultaneously with a pretty widow--whether a widow or not, Goodness +alone knows--you suspend your own engagement for a time, as you assure +one another, by mutual consent, and then begin the process of fading +away, Arthur throwing himself into literature, and you into so-called +charity; but, my dear"--here Mrs. Churchill grew severe--"_I_ have +always heard that charity begins at home. If charity consists in making +your mother's life miserable, and allowing all kinds of absurd notions +in the head of the man who is to be your husband (for I believe that +these new follies can't possibly outlive your teens), then, so far as I +am concerned, the less of charity the better." + +Adèle during this harangue had turned her face from her mother. The +answer came from the depths of the sofa-cushion in which she had buried +her face: "I wish I hadn't told you, mamma." + +"Happily, I found out the greater part for myself." Mrs. Churchill was +still severe. "Upon my word, Adèle, it was dutiful to begin such a +correspondence without your mother's consent or knowledge; but perhaps +I have spoken and thought enough on that subject already. Apropos of +this Mrs. Grey of yours, I have heard something which will probably +interest you. Of course it is not for me to say whether her name is +really Mrs. Grey, but some of the incidents in the stories I heard seem +to fit in rather strangely." + +"Mamma!" In Adèle's excitement she rose to a sitting posture on the +sofa and her cheeks flamed suddenly into an angry crimson. "You may say +what you like; _I_ know that Margaret Grey is good and true, and it's +too bad to believe in nobody." + +Her excitement rather alarmed good Mrs. Churchill. "Adèle! Adèle!" she +said, "_do_, like a good child, make an effort to be reasonable. The +next thing will be brain fever if you excite yourself in this way. +Silly little goose! try and believe that your mother knows more of the +world than you do. Some of these days you will be wiser." + +"Never so wise, I hope, as to think ill of everybody," said Adèle, half +sobbing after her excitement. + +"Well! well!" said her mother soothingly, "only be patient and I will +admit that everybody is angelic; indeed, after all, why should I take +the trouble of pointing out the fallacy? Circumstances will do that +for you before you have lived many more years in the world. But about +this Mrs. Grey. Very good I must call her to spare your feelings, and +doubtless very beautiful, or she could not have taken such violent +possession of the heart and head of my impulsive little daughter. It +is a pity, by the bye, Adèle, that Providence did not see fit to make +you a boy. It would have been possible then for you to have devoted +life and fortune to this interesting person, only I'm not so sure that +there's not a lingering weakness for Arthur in your contradictory +little heart. There, my dear! don't blush about it; you will certainly +have no roses for the evening if you expend them so liberally now, and +pale cheeks don't suit your style." + +"As if I cared about my style, mamma!" + +"Well, if you don't, Adèle, I do; and as, at your age, rouge would be +rather absurd, I must beg you to give us some of those pretty little +blushes this evening. Perhaps you may be able to persuade Arthur to +leave his books for a few hours and escort us to Lady C----'s. Is +music, by the bye, among the vanities to which he has sworn undying +hatred? Signor Mario has promised her a song, and--ah! I am so bad at +names!--the great violinist--you remember, Mr. Godolphin was so wild +about him--has promised to attend. But really, Adèle," Mrs. Churchill +gave an impatient sigh, "one might think you a worn-out woman of the +world, or six seasons out at least; you take not the slightest interest +in anything I tell you." + +Adèle reddened: "I beg your pardon, mamma. No doubt it will be +pleasant, and the beautiful new necklace you gave me to-day will be the +very thing to wear. If Arthur comes in I shall ask him; but what were +you saying a few minutes ago about Mrs. Grey?" + +"That interests you far more than either soirée or necklace, I do +believe. I wonder how it is, Adèle, that you are so _very_ different +from other girls at your age? What I have heard is, after all, not +much; and mind, if it excites you I shall leave off telling you _at +once_. It does not redound particularly to the credit of your friend." + +Again Adèle buried her face in the sofa-pillow: "Who told you, mamma?" + +"You remember that handsome young Russian at Mrs. Gordon's the other +night. He took me in to supper, and we got into conversation. Very +frank and open these foreigners are--there is none of that English +reserve about them. He told me at once what brought him to London. It +seems he is in search of an English friend, a certain Maurice Grey, +who, after having made himself quite the rage in St. Petersburg (he +was staying with the young count's father), suddenly disappeared, +leaving no trace behind him. He would not let his friends know where +he was going, nor did he write a single line to tell of his safe +arrival at any point in his journey. It appears that one and another +in St. Petersburg began talking about him, and it came out that he had +let fall certain mysterious hints about a great sorrow, weariness of +life, and so on--in your romantic style, Adèle. Whether he only wished +to make himself interesting to the ladies--who seem to have been the +chief movers of the rumor--does not precisely appear: I should think +it highly probable. However, St. Petersburg society took a different +view. When a week passed and nothing was heard of Maurice Grey, his +friends killed him--that is, they determined among themselves that he +had killed himself. There seems to have been quite a fever of anxiety +about the young man's fate. At last the young count, to satisfy his +fair relatives and friends--himself also, for he firmly believes in his +English guest, mystery and all--came over here, thinking that in London +he might find some clue to his whereabouts. And now comes the part of +the story which may perhaps fit in with yours. There are a good many +Greys, so I did not particularly interest myself until Count ---- +informed me by way of sequel that during a former visit of his to London +his friend, Maurice Grey, had married one of the most beautiful women he +had ever seen. It was, of course, the prevailing idea in St. Petersburg +that a woman had something to do with the Englishman's gloom, and as +he never made the faintest allusion to his wife, it had been presumed +that her conduct after marriage had caused a separation or a scandal +of some kind. Count ---- has set on foot an inquiry about this person. +Mrs. Grey--Margaret, he told me, was her Christian name--must certainly +be still living. He heard of her from her man of business, but her +place of residence is, for some reason, kept a profound secret." + +Adèle had risen from the sofa. She was listening to her mother's tale +with earnest eyes fixed on her face. When it was over she gave a low, +deep-drawn sigh: "Maurice, mamma? Are you sure his name was Maurice?" + +"The Englishman's, Adèle? Yes, Count ---- called him by that name once +or twice in the course of our conversation." + +Adèle clasped her hands: "Then there can be no doubt it is the same. +That will explain her sadness. Some fearful misunderstanding has come +between them. Oh how I wish I could see Count ----! or if Arthur would +only come! Perhaps--mamma, how delightful it would be!--perhaps we +shall be able to set it all right--to make her happy again!" + +Mrs. Churchill groaned: "I thought my story would have had the effect +of curing you, Adèle; and now I believe you are actually farther gone +than ever with your enthusiasm and your poetic notions. _When_ shall +I teach you that all this is childish? '_Perhaps_ you will set all +right'--'make her life happy!' Perhaps, rather, you will obey your +mother, and have nothing further to do with a person who has deceived +her husband and is otherwise not at all correct. Why, if I don't very +much mistake--and I can say, without boasting, I think that I am always +pretty well up in these matters--before the season is over your Mrs. +Grey will be the talk of every dinner-table in London, for Count ---- +tells his story freely, and he seems to have the _entrée_ everywhere. +'Miss Churchill's particular friend'--that would be a pleasant addition +to the tale when repeated with sundry additions, my dear, in our circle +of acquaintance. Thank Goodness! Arthur is the only person who knows +anything of your absurd adventure, and his tongue is happily tied." + +Adèle looked up indignantly: "Don't think that _I_ shall hide from +anybody my friendship for Margaret Grey," she said; "_you_ may feel +ashamed--_I_ glory in it. All I regret is that I did so little for her +when I had the opportunity." Then, softening, "If you had once seen +her, mamma, you could never have believed these cruel tales." + +"I should have instantly fallen under the spell, no doubt, like you +and Arthur? No, Adèle, it is long since a pretty face affected me so +powerfully; indeed, I never remember being so absurdly romantic as +you are. But, dear me! there are visitors; you look rather pale, so I +suppose, for this one afternoon, I must let you off and leave you here +with your book." + +Mrs. Churchill really loved her daughter, though she did not quite +understand her, but she was certainly tolerably gentle toward what she +looked upon as her follies. She stooped and kissed her on the brow +before she left the room, saying, with something between a smile and a +sigh, "Ah, my dear, perhaps some day you will understand your mother +better." + +Adèle returned the caress affectionately, but it was a relief to her +when the door of her mother's boudoir closed behind her and she was +left alone to think and plan, for the story of the Russian had thrown a +new light on the subject that had engrossed her so much since that May +afternoon in the Academy. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_GO AND SEE HER._ + + Love's very pain is sweet. + + +Miss Churchill was not allowed to indulge long in the luxury of +solitude. Her mother had scarcely left her before there was a +well-known knock at the hall door, followed after a few moments' +interval by a short, intimate tap at the door of the sitting-room, and +Adèle rose from her sofa and held out both hands eagerly to greet her +cousin. + +Perhaps he did not respond with sufficient warmth to her impulsive +welcome, for the light of pleasure died quickly out of her face, she +sank languidly into a chair and plunged headlong into commonplaces. +"Are you going to Lady C----'s to-night, Arthur?" she asked; "I hear +there's to be some first-rate music." + +"That means, I suppose, that you and Aunt Ellen want an escort." + +"That _means_ nothing of the kind, Arthur. Surely mamma is old enough +to take care of herself and me without _your_ assistance." + +"Pray don't take offence at such a small thing, Adèle. They say, you +know, that people who take offence lightly are in want of a real +grievance." + +"Heaven knows I needn't look far for a grievance when you are +concerned," said Adèle bitterly. + +"You are the most forbearing of your sex, my fair cousin," returned he +with provoking coolness. "In humble emulation of your patience behold +me a willing listener to this list of grievances." + +He spoke with a half smile, then threw himself back in an arm-chair +and assumed an appearance of rapt attention; but Adèle turned away to +hide a treacherous tear. "I wonder how it is that we never meet without +quarrelling now," she said plaintively. + +He shrugged his shoulders: "That, I fancy, is your affair, my little +cousin; you seem to take a delight in snapping me up, now-a-days; which +being the case, what can I do but submit and give your woman's wit +material to work upon?" + +Adèle pouted: "Of course it is anybody's fault but your own, Arthur; +but that's always the way with boys--_they_ can't possibly be in fault." + +Arthur rose from his seat: "This may be, and no doubt is, highly +interesting to you, Adèle. I can't say that I feel the charm of +sparring; but then, as you politely observe, I am only a boy, and boys +are often unappreciative of women's fine sallies, therefore I think the +_boy_ must beg to be excused." + +He held out his hand. Adèle was on the point of taking him at his +word and allowing him to leave her, but when she looked up at him +her mood changed suddenly, for, after all, only her affection had +made her peevish. It was a difficult task Adèle had set herself on +that day when Arthur first let her into the secret of his love. She +had begun grandly. In her, as in many of her sisters, the spirit of +self-sacrifice was strong. On the altar of her great love for her +cousin, her enthusiastic admiration for the woman of his choice, +she had been ready to immolate everything; she would throw her own +wishes, her hopes, her future joy to the winds, so that they might +be happy; and if in that first moment she could have consummated her +sacrifice, could have given them one to the other, she would have done +it freely, whatever it might have cost herself. But the daily annoyance +her sacrifice entailed; the obligation of listening to her cousin's +rhapsodies; the knowledge that though with her in body his mind was far +away; even the light way in which he treated her unselfish exertions in +his interest,--all these were somewhat hard to bear. + +In the conflict Adèle's health was giving way; she grew peevish and +irritable. Her gayety and lightheartedness departed, she was not the +amusing companion she had once been, and her cousin's visits were in +consequence fewer. When he _did_ come, it was only to pour out his +heart on the subject which engrossed him--Margaret Grey. Generally she +listened patiently, with an appearance of interest and sympathy; and +this was all he desired. Arthur did not mean to be unkind--he was one +of the most good-natured of his sex--but he had been so much accustomed +to consider that what interested him would of necessity interest Adèle +that he could not have thought he was giving her pain, and with his +every visit planting pin-pricks in her poor little heart. + +When, therefore, as sometimes happened in these days--for Adèle's +weakness was beginning to prey upon her nerves--she showed herself +impatient, was unsympathetic or irritable, Arthur was, as on this +occasion, surprised and offended, and deprived her for some days of the +pleasure of his society. + +But this time Adèle would not let him go off in ill-temper. She looked +up, and her woman's heart was moved to self-forgetfulness. "Don't go +yet, dear," she said, her voice trembling in spite of strenuous efforts +to be calm; "you must forgive my pettishness. I think what mamma says +is true. I can't be very well just now. And _you_ look pale and ill, +my poor old fellow; you shut yourself up too much with your books. You +should leave London and go to some seaside place for a time." + +"I scarcely think the _books_ are to blame, Adèle." Arthur gave a +little sigh and glanced furtively at the mirror. Through all his new +earnestness he had preserved the boyish weakness of a certain pleasure +in interesting delicacy. "One must do something," he continued, pacing +the room restlessly, "and I've been too long an idle good-for-nothing. +I think I have literary tastes. I have been looking up the classics +with a view to a novel--something in Bulwer's style, you know, the +scene laid in Athens during her palmy days; or perhaps Palmyra, with +all the details in the true antique. My heroine must be Greek, fine +classic features, and that kind of thing. I have a grand description in +my head. Shall I give it to you?" + +Adèle smiled: "I think I could give it myself. Certainly I know the +model. Am I right?" + +Arthur had taken a seat again; he buried his head in his hands: "I +have had such a mad idea, Adèle. But no; to do _her_ justice in any +description would be impossible, absolutely impossible. It's easy +enough to write about dark eyes and fine features and golden hair, but +that would not be Margaret. It is the wonderful look in her face, that +kind of spiritual beauty belonging neither to form nor coloring, which +gives it its chief charm." + +"You are eloquent, dear," said Adèle with a little sigh; "if you write +your book in that way, I think it must certainly be a success." + +"Yes," said he pensively, "the public like reality, but, you see, one +can't always give it. These kinds of things look cold on paper. If I +could show you my multitudinous attempts in prose and verse to give +some idea of her! but they were all poor and wishy-washy. The greater +number enriched the ashes of my grate. I am a good-for-nothing, and I +_shall be_ a good-for-nothing to the end of the chapter." + +There was something of weariness and bitter self-contempt in Arthur's +voice. It made Adèle's heart ache for him. She knelt down by his side +and put one of her arms round his neck. It was more the gesture of a +tender little mother with her child than of a woman with the man she +loves, for this protecting motherliness was one great element in the +affection of Adèle for her cousin. No doubt it was this in a great +measure that rendered it so unselfish. As a little child she had taken +upon herself the punishment of his small faults--as a grown-up girl she +sought to shield him from every kind of ill. + +"Don't despair, dear," she said gently; "there is something for you to +do--to do for _her_, if you can be wise and generous, and put yourself +out of the way altogether. Do you remember, Arthur" (Adèle's voice +grew soft and the tears were in her eyes), "how you used to come and +sit here in the afternoon while I read to you from the _Faërie Queene_ +about those grand young knights going out in search of adventures--to +rescue women and kill dragons and evil things? And sometimes we used +to wish that those days would come back, and I imagined how I would +send you out, all clothed in bright armor, to do great deeds in the +world. Dear, I think your time for this has come. You are a true +knight, you will forget yourself, you will burn to redress a great +wrong--especially when she, your Margaret, is the victim." + +Adèle's words were exciting. Arthur could barely listen with patience +to the end of her tender little harangue, for a great light was burning +behind it which set his spirit on flame. "Adèle," he cried eagerly, +"you have heard something new about her. Tell me at once." + +"I heard it from mamma," she answered. And then, in as few words as +possible, she repeated the story of the young Russian. "I have no doubt +whatever about Margaret Grey being the Mrs. Grey in question," she +said in conclusion. "You remember what I told you about her strange +cry when she thought she was alone in the room. Maurice Grey must be +her husband. My idea is this: a misunderstanding is at the bottom of +their misery--for _he_ is evidently as miserable as she is--brought +about by some one who was in love with her before--that tall man, +very likely, who looked in at the window and frightened her so much. +A person who knew them both might possibly remove this and restore +them to happiness. Arthur, _you_ must be that person. There is only +_one_ drawback: _if_ the people in St. Petersburg should be right? if +he has killed himself? Can you conceive anything more dreadful, she +loving him all the time, as I know she does?" The idea turned Adèle +pale, but the hopefulness of youth reasserted itself. "I can't bring +myself to believe it," she said earnestly. "He got tired of all his +friends and the gayety, and they teased him, I dare say. It's not like +an Englishman to put an end to himself in that kind of way. No; I feel +convinced that he will be found yet; and, Arthur, _you_ must find him." + +While Adèle had been speaking Arthur had turned away from her. He was +standing by the window, apparently watching the passers-by, but she +could see, by the glimpse of his face that was still visible, that he +was listening with intense interest. + +A fierce struggle was going on in his heart. Adèle had often let him +know that in her earnest belief all his hopes were futile. Arthur had +hoped against hope. In spite of all she could say--in spite even of the +cruel facts that supported her theory--he reared in secret his airy +fabric of hopes and dreams. He would work--work day by day and hour by +hour. He should be known for a student, an author, a man of genius; not +as a boy, but as a man, with an acknowledged place in the world--a man +worthy of her, if that were possible (which fact the ardent lover of +both sexes is wont to doubt)--he would present himself before her with +the tale of his ever-faithful love. + +She would be weary of solitude, she would be touched with his +perseverance, she would grant him all he could desire. It was thus he +always crowned his edifice, though the number of ways to its summit +might have been named Legion. Now painting, now poetry, now science, +now politics, would be the friendly genius that might bring him at last +to her feet. + +And in one moment the whole was changed. He was called upon to forget +his dream or to expunge his own name from the fluted columns of his +mansion in the clouds--never an easy task. I wonder who builds these +_châteaux en Espagne_ without self for at least one of the habitants. + +Unhappily, Adèle's tale carried conviction. But "None are so blind +as those who _will_ not see." Arthur _could_ not believe, because +he would not. He did not answer for a few moments, then he turned, +with a light laugh that sorely belied a certain haggard look in his +young face: "_You_ had better turn novelist, Adèle. Your _plots_ would +certainly be first-rate. Why, you have reared a mountain of certainty +out of a grain of conjecture. I don't believe it," he continued +fiercely. But in his very fierceness was the contradiction of his +words. "You pretend to care for her, and yet you can listen to all +these foolish tales!" + +It was rather an unkind accusation, since Adèle had been doing her very +utmost to show how implicitly she believed in Margaret's innocence and +truth; but pain blinded Arthur for the moment, and made him cruel and +unjust. + +Adèle saw how it was with him, and she did not even appear to resent +his words. "Sit down again, Arthur dear," she said gently. "I am as +anxious as you can be to get to the bottom of this mystery, but if we +would do anything we must be calm and have our wits about us." + +"Say, rather, _I_ must," returned Arthur, throwing himself down on a +small chair at her feet and seizing one of her hands in a sudden access +of penitence. "What a brute I am, exciting you in this way, my poor +pale little cousin! Adèle, you are wise and kind: I put myself in your +hands. What shall I do?" + +Adèle's lips quivered as if with a sudden pain, but the answer came +out clear and firm: "Go and see her, Arthur; find out the truth about +all this. I think when you have once heard her story you will be in no +further difficulty." + +Arthur started up, his eyes glittering: "Shall I, Adèle? Can I? What if +I offend her?" + +"You will not, Arthur. Take my advice; this time, I think, it coincides +with your own will. Pass me my writing-desk, dear. Here! this is the +address I have kept from you so long. Take it, my poor old fellow, and +go." + +He took it up and looked at it with gleaming eyes, for behind it he +seemed to see the vision for which he had been thirsting so long. Adèle +had thrown herself back upon the sofa; she looked pale and exhausted. +From the little piece of paper Arthur had been studying so earnestly +he turned his eyes to her. Something in her pale face touched him. He +felt a sudden pang of self-reproach, and kneeling down by her side he +pressed one of her hands to his lips: "Adèle, you are an angel! I say +it in sober earnest, worthy of one far better and worthier and nobler +than I. Dear little cousin, I will take your advice. You shall see me +again only when my fate is sealed--when I have seen her. Forgive me, +and keep a little corner of your heart for me till my return." + +"Good-bye, dear." + +It was all Adèle could say for the tears that would not be restrained. +But she was happier. There was a feeling of settled calm in her heart +to which it had long been a stranger. She had done what she could; she +was willing to leave the rest. + +He left her then, and she rose from the sofa to prepare for dinner and +the gayeties of the evening. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_THE HOUSE IS EMPTY._ + + All within is dark as night, + In the windows is no light, + And no murmur at the door, + So frequent on its hinge before. + + +And in the mean time what was _she_ doing, the object of all this +solicitude, the unconscious origin of so many storms of feeling? + +We left her on the sea-shore, the wide ocean before her, the cool +sands around her, with a white face and quivering nerves, and a heart +that was sick with aching. For the interview had tried her sorely, and +it left behind it no luminous trail, but rather a deep shadow that +seemed for the moment to kill even the faint hope which her spirit had +cherished through all its woe. + +What she looked upon as her own miserable weakness terrified +her--filled her with a certain vague fear of such depths of darkness +before her as hitherto she had never known. Pitfalls seemed yawning +on every side. She was to herself like one who was drifting on alone, +unprotected--not even shielded by her woman's weakness--to meet +some terrible fate. Sitting there, her head buried in her hands, she +shivered and moaned, for the remembrance of that moment of weakness, +when, as it seemed, only a trifle had saved her from listening to the +honeyed words of the tempter, and putting herself partially, at least, +in his power, filled her with the bitterest humiliation. + +Another remembrance agitated her cruelly as she cast her thoughts over +the interview. His last words had implied a mystery which her tortured +brain strove in vain to fathom. + +Her husband, Laura's father! had the child's instinct been true? Could +he be near them? and if so, what did the threat mean? Could he, her +Maurice, have sought her with any but a friendly object? Yet this was +what her tormentor had foreshadowed in his mysterious words. She could +not cast them aside as unmeaning, the poison thrown out in the anger of +disappointment, for she knew L'Estrange. He never spoke meaninglessly, +and therefore his words had weight. Besides, he was one who understood +his kind--who could trace with the keen eye of a master the purposes of +those with whom he came into contact. + +Observation and deduction had been carried by this strange man to such +an extent in the course of his ceaseless wanderings, that at last they +had reached almost the rank of a science. In ancient days his acuteness +would have earned for him the unenviable notoriety of the wizard; men +would have imagined that he had dealings with the powers of darkness. +Indeed, as it was, Margaret and her friends had often been perfectly +astounded by the accuracy of his predictions, based on grounds to them +undiscoverable, for they never failed of verification. + +Connecting the past with the present, Margaret's brain--unhealthily +active in this her hour of deepest misery--began to trace for itself +a theory to account for the mysterious words, which clung to it like +a subtle poison. He had met her husband, she said to herself; he had +found out, by the marvellous power he possessed, that no friendly +purpose had brought him to the vicinity of his wife--that he was +hostile to her still, that some new misery was in store for her. + +But what could it be? _Could_ her sufferings be increased? She had +risen from her seat. In the restlessness of her spirit movement +seemed a necessity. She had walked with unconscious rapidity to some +distance along the shore. Suddenly, as she reached this point in her +theory of possibilities, she stopped; covering her face with both +hands, she uttered a low cry and sank down upon the grassy edge of the +cliff. There had come to her mind, like a fatal knell, one sentence +of her tormentor's speech--"In all hearts there is _one_ assailable +point"--and it brought a picture to her mind. + +She seemed to see the pensive, half-melancholy eyes, the golden curls, +the graceful, childish form of her little Laura, and as she saw she +realized what her affection for the child had become during the last +few weeks--how the little one was her hope, her joy, the sheet-anchor +of her soul. + +But Laura was his. Could it be that he would take away her treasure +and punish her afresh by an added loneliness--by letting her know that +he felt her unworthy to be the guardian of his child after the age +when the young soul is plastic and open to impressions? It was unlike +Maurice. Ah, how unlike! pleaded the weary heart; but misery had been +known to change men utterly was the answer of the brain, grown morbid +by lonely pondering; and that Maurice, with his earnest craving for +sympathy, could have been anything but miserable through those long +months was impossible. + +But he could not remove her without warning. He would see his wife, +he would speak to her; Heaven, in its mercy, would give her one more +opportunity. This she said to herself as she sat almost helpless by the +cliff, crushed by the dreary possibilities which this new presentiment +of evil had brought to her mind. And with this idea came a desire for +action. Even at that moment, as she sat there inert, he might be at the +cottage waiting with impatience for her return, wondering at her long +absence from his child. + +She sprang to her feet and began rapidly to retrace her steps, skirting +the sand-cliff that rose up from the shore. By this time evening had +come. The little ones were being marshalled by their nurses for home +and bed, two or three loving pairs were pacing the yellow sands, the +sun was stooping down in ruddy glory to the rest of his ocean bed, +there was a fragrant steam from the fields of clover and cowslip, a +hush as of coming repose upon everything; but what can stay the tumult +of the soul? + +Like the fabled Io of the Greek, she may wander hither and thither, the +lulling sounds and the restful sights of Nature may wrap their calm +around her, but only externally. When the gad-fly of stinging misery +follows evermore in her track, what are all these? Nothing, less than +nothing, or a mocking echo of that to which she can never attain. + +Something of this Margaret felt that evening as, through the torturing +consciousness of a new possibility of anguish, she looked upon the fair +outer world. Nature was too calm, too fair--she was antagonistic to the +mood of the lonely, suffering woman. + +Margaret had wandered farther than she thought, and the sun had +already dipped below the western horizon before she saw her cottage. +It was lying in the shadow, not touched by the sunset glory. To her +imagination, distraught by the experiences of the day, it looked cold +and blighted. + +She stopped when she saw it. Almost it appeared to her as if she could +not go farther to meet the realization of her dread. Everything looked +so still--no little white fairy at the garden gate watching for mamma, +not a sound among the trees. How could she go on into the desolate +solitude? But, after a moment's pause, her strength returned. If the +blow had indeed fallen no delay could avert it. On then, up to the +little gate, through the garden, with still the same chilling silence. +No little face at the window, no sound of merry laughter, no light +bounding steps. The hall door was open; she passed in. With haggard +face she peered into the rooms, hoping against hope for a sight of that +tiny figure. + +The child would be asleep perhaps, wearied out by the pleasant +fatigue of the bright day: she would be found behind sofa or ottoman +or curtains, curled up like a kitten, or tired out with watching for +mamma, she had thrown herself down on her little bed. Like one who +seeks thirstily for hid treasure, Margaret looked, her soul in her +eyes, into every nook and corner of her little domain: corners possible +and impossible she searched, for the mother's heart within was crying +out, and she could not despair until nothing else would be possible. +She was so absorbed in her hopeless task that she did not know she was +being watched, that a pair of lynx eyes, in which cool triumph was +shining, noted her every movement; that when at last, worn out and +despairing, she crept, like one who has received a death-wound, into +her sitting-room and threw herself down, almost lost to the knowledge +of what she was doing, upon hands and knees to the ground in her +exceeding agony, her servant was glorying in her fall, triumphing at +her expense; but so it was. Jane Rodgers's hour had come. Her lodger +was paying, and paying dearly, for her insolence. + +She did not wish to be discovered, and she had seen enough to assure +herself that the blow had told. Retreating softly from the hall, with +a smile on her lips that was not a pleasant one to look upon, she +returned to her comfortable kitchen, leaving her mistress alone in her +agony. + +Jane Rodgers had one anxiety. She muttered its import to herself as +she stooped over the fire to turn a piece of bacon which was frizzing +merrily for her tea. "Trouble _do_ sometimes kill people; it wouldn't +do to have a death in the house, and she looked queer; but there! +_she'll_ get over it, and perhaps be a trifle civiller for the future." + +So even this anxiety, as it appeared, did not affect Jane very +severely. She lifted the frying-pan carefully from the fire, placed its +contents in a plate that had been warming in the oven, and sat down to +enjoy her tea in peace. + +To Margaret it seemed as if all the glory had gone from earth. True, +her desolation had been grievous at times, but she had ever possessed +_some_ consolation; now in a moment all seemed rent from her. _Hope_, +for if he had ever wished to see her again in this world he would not +have taken away her little one; _love_, for the clinging affection +which had become so precious would nevermore surround her--Laura would +be taught to forget, perhaps even to despise, her mother; _peace_, for +if her husband was so terribly changed, how would he bring up their +daughter? and, doing his very best, _could_ he surround her with the +watchful care of a woman--a mother?--Laura, as her mother had learned, +was so sensitive and tender; _joy_, for she was alone, uncared for, a +widowed wife, a childless mother. + +One after another came these cruel thoughts to crush her as she +crouched down upon the ground, plucking with nervous, aimless fingers +at the sofa-trimmings. For the last stroke had told. The poor heart +was incapable of bearing more. Margaret's mind was in danger. She was +standing, though she knew it not, on the border-land which skirts the +dark region of insanity. A little more of this heart-dissecting torture +and that numbing, more to be dreaded than the keenest pain, would +of necessity be the result, and the beautiful, fair-souled woman be +changed, by the mysterious action of disease, into a maniac, a pitiable +object in the sight of God and men. Was this last, this bitterest woe +reserved for her? + +No: suddenly the consciousness of the new danger dawned upon her. She +caught the wild, wandering thoughts and sternly brought them to bay; +then, shuddering, she threw herself on her knees. + +"My God," she cried piteously, "send me death in thy mercy--death +before madness--for I can bear no more, no more." + +Her voice sank to a sobbing sigh, but the prayer seemed to have stayed +the fever of her brain. The white terror left her face; she even smiled +to feel the pain deadening, though with the deadening came a chill +that froze the warm life-blood in her veins. Her satisfaction was but +momentary. She staggered to her feet. Was this, then, the death she +had craved? And with a pang she recognized her folly, she would fain +have recalled her prayer; for life, sweet life, is precious, even to +the wretched, when they are called upon to face the dark reality we +call death. Life cannot be utterly reft of hope. To the most forlorn +it holds out a future, and what is this future but the possibility of +better things to come? The time might yet come when Margaret would be +able to look for another and more certain future--a future to which +death is but the prelude. That time had not yet arrived. Her treasures, +though swept from her grasp by the hand of a wayward fate, were still +in the warm lap of earth; and warm is that lap to the heart when its +withdrawal is threatened as a something not vaguely distant, but near +and certain. + +It took but a moment for these thoughts to flash through Margaret's +brain, for stealthily the chill crept over her. She made a few steps +forward to gain the window, but it was too rapid for her. Gasping, she +fell back heavily to the ground. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_JANE'S REVENGE._ + + For very fear unnethës may she go, + She weeped, wailed, all a day or two, + And swooned, that it ruthe was to see. + + +Jane Rodgers had discussed the bacon, and, as she was a tidy woman, the +plate was put carefully aside for washing while she ruminated quietly +over her last cup of tea--a particularly good one, black as ink, hot as +an earthenware pot that had been some time on the hob could make it, +rendered delicate by a few drops of rich, yellow cream, and extremely +palatable by two lumps of white sugar. + +Jane was not always so extravagant, but tea was her weak point. Her +hard face looked almost pleasant for the moment, she was so thoroughly +comfortable. + +Apparently the meditations that enlivened the kindly cup were of an +agreeable nature, for she smiled once or twice, and occasionally cast +a glance of infinite content on the dresser, where, nestling among the +bright crockery, lay a little knitted purse, from the meshes of which +something closely resembling yellow gold was gleaming. A large black +cat was purring by the fire; in her satisfaction Jane stooped and +stroked its soft fur caressingly. But nothing in the house seemed to be +stirring, and, in spite of her pleasant reflections and the abundant +comfort that surrounded her, Jane began to feel, as the darkness +gathered, a certain creeping sense of uneasiness. She addressed the +cat, for when people feel this loneliness even a dumb creature seems +a companion. "Pussy," she said, stooping again to caress it, "it's +lonesome here to-night. What's _she_ doing, I wonder, up there by +herself? We'll light the candles and take them up." + +As Jane spoke she rose from her seat and stretched out her hand to take +the lucifer matches from the chimney-piece. But she did not draw it +back so quickly. Her hand was stayed by a sudden horror. The stillness +in the house was broken. There came from overhead the sound of a dull +thud, as if a body had fallen heavily to the ground. The sound was +followed by a silence more oppressive even than before. + +Jane Rodgers was a coward, and like many uneducated people extremely +superstitious. The sound came from the room where she had left her +mistress about half an hour before, "looking," as she had expressed +it, "rather queer." She was the only person in the room; the sound had +come from a heavy fall. It must, then, have been Mrs. Grey herself who +had fallen. Had the trouble crushed her utterly? Was she dead? The bare +supposition sent every particle of blood from Jane's face. She turned +as pale as death. There rose up, in a grim host before her mind, some +of the many ghost-stories that are the terror of the ignorant. If she +were dead she would certainly return again to haunt the unfaithful +servant, for Jane had a vague idea that death could clear up mysteries. +And in what form would the injured lady come? Perhaps every evening at +nightfall that sound of heavy falling would be heard, only muffled and +terror-laden; perhaps as a sheeted ghost she would haunt the bedside +of her unfaithful servant; perhaps--But Jane could scarcely bear to +conjecture further; even certainty, however dreadful, would be better +than this vague sense of horror. + +With a hand made tremulous by fear she lit a candle. From Ajax downward +human nature is the same. Whatever be the danger, darkness gives it an +added horror. Jane Rodgers with her candle in her hand felt much braver +than Jane Rodgers in the dark. + +She paused for a moment on the threshold of Mrs. Grey's sitting-room, +and applied first her ear and then her eye to the keyhole. Her ear told +her that there was within the room a silence as of death; her eye could +distinguish nothing through the gloom. In her superstitious horror she +was on the point of running away from the door and from the house, but +there came another dim perspective of future uneasiness to delay her. + +If the lady were indeed dead--and Jane had almost come to this +conclusion--it was a fact that could not be hidden. Her body would +be found, then the neighbors would talk, the inquest would follow, +and the cross-examination about her own whereabouts, as the landlady +and servant, at the time of the accident. How would she be able to +stand this? Then, if it should be found out that she, the pattern of +strong-mindedness, she who talked in the village about her experience +and knowledge of the world, who was known far and near as a person +equal to any emergency--that she had turned tail like a frightened dog +and fled from imaginary dangers, how would she bear the ridicule and +contempt of her fellows? + +These last considerations decided her; she opened the door of her +mistress's sitting-room and peered in cautiously. + +What she saw realized for the moment her worst fears. Margaret was +stretched on the carpet rigid and motionless, her hands were clenched, +her feet were drawn up under her; the attitude was that of one who had +suddenly yielded in a struggle with dire agony. + +Shading her candle with her hand, for the night-winds were sweeping +through the room, and with a face almost as white as that she +looked on, Jane Rodgers crept near to the prostrate lady. Jane had +seen something of illness, and in her days of domestic service +had been considered a good nurse; indeed, she had looked, and +looked unflinchingly, on the face of death itself more than once +in her life. What alarmed her so much on this occasion was the +attendant circumstances, which had called into play the cowardly +and superstitious side of her nature. The white face of her wronged +mistress seemed to call for vengeance, while something whispered to +Jane that the vengeance would come, and in a terrible form. + +But as she drew near to Margaret her terror grew less. Her experienced +eye, as soon as she was sufficiently herself to look at the matter +calmly, told her that this was not death, but only a kind of +fainting-fit, produced probably by strong mental excitement. Her first +feeling was one of intense relief--her second, of indignation against +the unconscious cause of her alarm. + +"A body would think," she muttered, "that she'd done it a purpose." + +As she spoke she lifted the fainting lady--without much difficulty, +for Margaret had grown very thin, and Jane's physical strength was +extraordinary--and laid her on the bed in the next room. Then with some +roughness she proceeded to use the various remedies--splashed water in +unnecessary quantities into her mistress's face, and rubbed Margaret's +soft palms with her bony fingers. + +It was a rough and ready mode of proceeding, but it proved effectual. +Margaret opened her eyes and looked round her, perfectly bewildered at +her position. Jane Rodgers's hard face was the first object that met +her gaze; feeling round her, she discovered that water was dripping +from her face and hair. + +She tried to rise. "Where am I?" she said faintly. + +"Lie still," replied Jane authoritatively, holding her down with that +vice-like grasp which is so irritating to the weak. "You've been +and fainted," she continued sullenly--"Goodness knows for why--and +frightening the very breath out of my body; but if this kind of thing +is to go on, you must find some other place, or else get a woman in. +I've too much to do in the house to be giving _my_ time continual to +nurse-tending." + +The rude speech was almost lost upon Margaret, for memory was awaking +from its sleep; the events of the day were returning gradually to her +mind. "Yes," she said slowly; "I remember now. I suppose I fainted." +Then rising to a sitting posture she fixed her large eyes on her +servant's face. + +The face was so white in its strange chiselled beauty, the eyes were +so wild and mournful, that for the moment Jane's superstitious fears +returned. + +"Lor!" she said hastily, "_don't_ look at a body like that, there's a +dear. Come--Miss Laura'll come back, never you fear. Children isn't +lost in that way." + +"Where _is_ Miss Laura gone?" Margaret's voice was very low, her eyes +were still fixed on her servant's face. + +Jane placed the candle on the table and turned aside to pull down the +window-blind and arrange the curtains. "I'll tell you all about it," +she said soothingly, "if you'll lie down quiet. Miss Laura, she came +in alone, and I give her her dinner; after dinner she sits down with +her picture-book. Presently a gentleman came in at the garden-gate; +I, as it might be in the kitchen, see Miss Laura, from the window, a +running out, quite pleased like to meet him. Them two go into the +sitting-room, and then Miss Laura, she come running down into the +kitchen. 'Jane,' she says, 'my hat, quick; it's my papa, and we're +going to meet mamma on the sands,' Miss Laura, as your orders is, +mustn't never be contradicted, so I get her hat, and off they go +together through the garden-gate. I see them walk along the sands, and +thinks I to myself, 'I'll get tea ready, for they'll find missis, and +all come in together.' So now you know as much as I do, for Miss Laura +ain't come back all the afternoon." + +As Jane spoke she turned her face, which expressed nothing but +conscious virtue, to her mistress. Margaret was writhing on the bed as +if she had been suffering from some keen physical pain. + +"What was he like--this gentleman who came in I mean?" she asked in a +low, weak voice. A last hope, a very faint one, was struggling with her +misery. + +"Difficult to say _exact_," replied Jane, rather hesitatingly; then, +as though repeating a lesson, "He be tall, as far as I remember, and +good-looking, dark hair and whiskers, and eyes like Miss Laura's own." + +It was all Margaret wanted to know. "Thank you, Jane," she replied +quietly, "you may go now. Don't be alarmed," she continued, half +smiling, as the woman hesitated on the threshold, "I shall not faint +again." + +"But you'll take something," said Jane, a certain feeling of +compunction pricking the small remnant of a heart she still possessed; +"come, have a glass of wine, like a dear." + +"You may bring a glass and put it down by the bedside," she replied, +so calmly that Jane went away quite bewildered and a little frightened +still. "There," when she returned with the glass, "that will do; thank +you. Now good-night." When Jane had left her Margaret looked round, and +her worst enemy would have felt a pang of remorse could he have noted +the white, haggard desolation which that day's suffering had left upon +her face. Holding by the bed-post for support, she raised herself and +felt along by the bits of furniture till she came to Laura's little +cot. There she paused. Kneeling down beside it, she kissed the pillow +where the child's head had rested only the night before. + +"My Laura," she murmured faintly, "my child--mine--mine;" and then +again, "His, not mine--mine no longer. God forgive me! I did not prize +my treasure, and now it is taken from me for ever." + +The little pillow was clasped to the breast of the bereaved mother as +if it had been her child, for she scarcely knew what she was doing; +that torpor of brain had seized her once more. Sinking to the ground, +she rocked it to and fro in her arms, murmuring over it soft words of +endearment. + +And thus at last sleep, the nursing-mother of the wretched, found +Margaret Grey. Well for her that it came when it did, for her mind +could scarcely have borne at this time a more continued pressure. With +her cheek resting on the pillow, which was wet with her abundant tears, +and her back against the iron supports of her child's bed, Margaret +forgot all her sorrow for the time in the arms of "Nature's sweet +restorer, balmy sleep." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +_THE LAWYER IN HIS OWN DOMAIN._ + +_Overreach._ 'Tis a rich man's pride! there having ever been + More than a feud, a strange antipathy, + Between us and true gentry. + + +Mr. Robinson had not forgotten Mrs. Grey, nor the little business +which she had confided to him. With his usual tact and judgment he had +secured his bird, the bird in this case being their common debtor. Like +a clap of thunder, one fine morning the news reached this worthy that +his account had been attached at the bank by the man who for some time +had acted as his solicitor. + +He was on his knees at once with abject entreaties, and Mr. Robinson, +who was too Christian-hearted to wish to crush a fellow-creature, +consented to act for him again, thereby in a measure restoring his +credit, but only on one condition--that he should receive without delay +the amount owing for his somewhat exorbitant lawyer's bill. + +"But what am I to do, my good sir?" faltered the man; "all I possess is +in your hands." + +"And nothing much to boast about," replied the lawyer quietly; "but, +sir, you will not presume to tell me that all you possess is in the +hands of your banker? Pray reflect a moment. In the dealings between +man and man, especially when they hold the relation of solicitor and +client--a relation which I trust will be resumed between us when this +matter is adjusted--there must be frankness, honesty. Come now"--he +spoke jovially--"about that fine house of furniture?" + +"My wife's, I assure you--bought with her money." + +The lawyer's face fell perceptibly: "Settled then?" + +"Not precisely, but the same thing; you see it was in fact a +wedding-present from her father, a man in an excellent position, Mr. +Robinson." + +"Ah!" Mr. Robinson showed his teeth. "Law doesn't recognize sentiment, +my dear sir--a pity, clearly, but so it is. The furniture is yours to +dispose of as you will." + +The unfortunate man first flushed, then turned pale. "And what has this +to do with it?" he asked rather angrily. + +The lawyer raised his hand: "Calmly, calmly. These matters should be +looked in the face, sir--looked in the face. I only speak in your +own interest: that little balance at the bank--very little indeed, +I think--is all you have to look to if you wish to set up again. I +(remember, sir, I too have a wife and children) must be firm in this +matter. A bill of sale on this furniture of yours--or of your wife's, +if you will--can be given to me as security; I will then release your +account and set you on your feet again. What do you say?" + +"If it must be, it must be," replied the man with something between a +groan and a sneer. + +Mrs. Grey's name, or that unfortunate mortgage of the interest on which +not a penny had been seen for the last year, was not, as it will be +noticed, mentioned between them. One allusion only was made to it. + +"We'll allow you to make a start," said Mr. Robinson benevolently, +"and after that it will be time enough to look into those other little +matters that are between us still." + +"Those other little matters!" The bare mention of them made the +unfortunate wince, especially when the reference was made to the +accompaniment of Mr. Robinson's hard smile and cold, blue-steel gaze; +but he hoped on, as men in his position will hope, for a stroke of +luck, a good speculation, something to raise his status in the monetary +world. + +He drew on his gloves hurriedly: "Yes, yes, my good friend, as you so +kindly say, time enough; I must feel my legs before I disburse, and to +pay up at present would be out-and-out ruin. In the mean time _you_ may +rely upon me. My affairs are in your hands." + +So Mr. Robinson felt, and he rubbed his hands pleasantly. The +consciousness of power was always agreeable to him. "I hope so, I hope +so," he replied briskly. "Let me assure you, sir, that I shall watch +you narrowly. In my client's interests you know it is incumbent on me +to be firm." + +"But in your own firmer," muttered the man between his teeth as he +went down stairs. "What precious humbugs these lawyers are! If I were +only out of this one's hands!" He clenched his fist and his brows +contracted. That "bill of sale" was rankling in his mind, but moaning +could not mend matters, and he was by no means the only one whom Mr. +Robinson held that day, writhing but submissive, under his cunning hand. + +He smiled when the door closed behind his client. This man's +tastefully-decorated house had often awakened in the lawyer's mind not +envy, malice, guile and all uncharitableness, for Mr. Robinson was a +consistent man, but a certain keen admiration that perhaps, looking at +it in the light of the sequel, might have passed very well for their +counterfeit. + +The furniture he had admired was in his power; this made the lawyer +smile, but the smile passed into a business frown as a timid rap at the +door announced the approach of one of his clerks. + +He was bringing in the letters from the last post, and presenting +those that had been written for the signature of the head of the firm. +Mr. Robinson proceeded slowly to inspect his letters, the young man +standing near him in a quietly respectful attitude. + +"Mr. Moon been written to?" he inquired curtly. + +"Yes, sir." + +"And Mrs. Grey?" + +"A letter from her, sir, on the table." + +"Right!--wait a moment." + +Mr. Robinson did everything in a quiet, business-like way. He proceeded +with great deliberation to open his letters one by one, using a +paper-cutter for the purpose, until he came to the one in question. + +"Have you got Mrs. Grey's letter there? Ah!" He tore it across, and +threw the pieces into the waste-paper basket at his side. "Tell Wilson +I will write myself--something wrong there. What are you waiting for? +Do you want anything?" + +"Only to say, sir, that you promised--that is, I mean--" + +"Say what you mean--can't you?--and don't stand there wasting my time +and your own." + +The young fellow's features twitched nervously. He was of good birth +and breeding, though so poor as to accept, and accept thankfully, the +miserable pittance of a lawyer's clerk. + +"I have been with you three years, sir," he said with some dignity; +"you promised my mother that if I gave you satisfaction you would give +me my articles. My mother has requested me to ask you whether this +promise is to be fulfilled. My poor father--" + +The young man spoke easily now; he was warming to his theme. His poor +father had made Mr. Robinson's fortunes. + +As a man of the world he had taken him up, introduced him to his +circle, a large one and influential, and by his recommendations gained +for him clients innumerable. + +He was dead, and before his death, by an unfortunate series of +speculations, had ruined his family. His sons had been trained at +school and college, they were at home in the hunting-field, they +excelled in all kinds of manly sports, their pleasant accomplishments +and gentlemanly ease made them welcome in every society, but as men of +business they were practically useless. + +Mr. Robinson had been accustomed, only when their father's back was +turned, to sneer at them for fine gentlemen. Nothing aroused his +jealous ire so much as the sight of what he was pleased to call a fine +gentleman, for Mr. Robinson had a certain innate consciousness which +more of his class possess than we generally imagine. It was this: he +knew that in the world he might do his own will, coin money by the +handful (for in his temperament and constitution were all the elements +of success), become rich, powerful, sought out: _one_ distinction +he could never reach. The quiet ease, the graceful nonchalance, the +tone of high breeding which a fine gentleman possesses, as it were, +by instinct, was and would always remain beyond him. And therefore he +professed to despise the class. + +"Tush! tush!" he said, breaking short the young man's allusion to him +who had been his friend in those days when he, the great Mr. Robinson, +had been climbing painfully; "don't you attempt to bring home tales to +me or I'll make short work with you. There shall be no snivelling here. +Mind you, it is only respect for your father's memory that induces me +to keep you at all. You're not worth your salt. As to giving you your +articles, what good do you suppose that would do you? Be off! mind your +work, and let me have no more of such whining." + +James Robinson was enjoying himself. His blue-gray eyes flashed and +a smile curled his lips. To put down a fine gentleman was the finest +piece of fun in the world, but this time he had gone too far. Suddenly +the boy changed; manhood and manly purposes seemed to look out from +his eyes, the obsequious attitude had gone, he approached his master, +and dared to look him fully and fearlessly in the face: "Then, Mr. +Robinson, hear me. I will sit down no more to your desk; I will bear +your insolence no longer. My mother and I believed you had offered me +a situation out of kindness and gratitude; yes--glare at me if you +will; I repeat it--gratitude to my father's memory. We thought your +intentions honest, and the peculiar ungentlemanliness of your conduct +to be attributed only to your want of good breeding. I may tell you +that yesterday I was offered, and offered pressingly, what you refuse +so insultingly to-day, and by a far better and older firm than yours. I +thought I owed you a certain duty, and would not accept it until I had +put you in mind of your promise. Now I have heard you, and once and for +ever I shake myself free of you, only humiliated that for three long +years I should have associated daily with so base and low a nature." + +He turned on his heel, he was gone, leaving Mr. Robinson in a white +heat of rage and indignation. He had been hearing home-truths for once, +and, what was still worse, hearing them in his own domain, the kingdom +he had been accustomed to rule with a rod of iron. For a moment he was +utterly taken aback, breathless, but lest the contagion should spread +self-control and swift action were necessary. + +"Let him go, the insolent young beggar!" he muttered; then turning +he rang his bell. The office-boy appeared: "Send Mr. Wilson here." +There was a notable change in his voice; the bully had gone from it, +preparation was being made for the impressive chapel tone. + +Mr. Wilson, the head-clerk of the firm, found his chief rather pale and +exhausted, leaning back in his chair. + +"Sit down, Wilson," he said with unusual urbanity; "I must have a few +words with you." + +The flattered Wilson obeyed. + +"You noticed, I dare say," he continued after a pause, "that young +McArthur went out in something of a hurry just now?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"I am sorry to say that I have been obliged to perform a very +painful duty. I will not enter into details. My deep respect for the +unfortunate youth's family, and especially the memory of his father--a +true Christian, Wilson, one who sleeps in peace--makes me wish that as +far as possible this should be kept a profound secret. Of course I have +dismissed McArthur. It was a duty, and _from_ duty, however painful, +the Christian never shrinks." Mr. Robinson paused to draw his white +handkerchief over his brow. The force of habit is strong. He imagined +himself for the moment on the platform of a gospel-hall. "If he had +been my own son"--Mr. Robinson's face expressed proud consciousness +that a Robinson could never demean himself in so mysterious a way--"if +he had been my own son I could not have felt the matter more keenly; +nor indeed could I have acted differently; the position I hold enforces +upon me a certain responsibility. But this is all to no purpose--a +few words drawn from me, as I might say, by excess of feeling on this +painful occasion. What I particularly wished to say to you, Wilson, +is this: it is my desire that no questions shall be asked in the +house about this unfortunate boy or his sudden dismissal. You may +say, if you like, that he was discontented, tired of the monotony of +office-life--anything; my only wish is that he should be shielded from +exposure. I would give him a chance of buckling to once more. Heaven +grant, if only for his poor mother's sake, that he may see the error +of his ways! But we are wasting time over this unhappy youth. Well, +human nature _is_ human nature, and my feelings toward him were those +of a father. Ah! I remember one thing more. It is my special wish +that none of my clerks shall have intercourse of any kind with young +McArthur. You will understand me, Wilson. The young man is indignant at +discovery--not as yet, I fear, truly penitent. He may wish to injure +the firm. We must be on our guard." + +Mr. Wilson was clever as a man of business, but he did not possess +much penetration. He cherished a blind admiration for his chief, and +was quite ready to look upon his every statement as gospel. On this +occasion he did not even stop to consider how very vague and guarded +was all that Mr Robinson had said about the young man he professed to +have dismissed; he was satisfied in his own mind that something dark +lay behind these vague phrases, and was ready to help his chief to +neutralize the mischief. + +"All right, sir," he replied quietly; "I will see to the young fellows, +but I scarcely think Mr. McArthur will venture to show his face here. +A pity, too--a fine young man, and tolerably smart, his bringing-up +considered." + +"Ah! there it is," replied Mr. Robinson, with unction. "Pride, Wilson, +pride, the crying sin of our fallen nature. His bringing-up was his +ruin. But enough about him. Anything particular for me to-morrow?" + +"No, sir; we can manage very well. You think of going into the country?" + +"On business. Mrs. Grey is in some new trouble. Unfortunate woman! I +suppose I had better see after the matter myself. I verily believe she +has no friend in the wide world but me. Queer person, too--can't quite +make her out. Send up the rest of the letters, Wilson, and if there +should be anything of importance, telegraph to this address. I may +probably be two or three days away." + +Wilson retired, and Mr. Robinson proceeded to inspect the time tables +of the Great Northern. A little change in the early summer weather +would do him a world of good, and Mrs. Grey's business could easily be +prolonged. + +Before the letters came in for signature he had decided on an +early-morning train, and was already enjoying by anticipation the +luxury of a series of drives along the coast. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_MR. ROBINSON PROMISES TO DO HIS BEST._ + + But all was false and hollow; though his tongue + Dropp'd manna, and could make the worse appear + The better reason, to perplex and dash + Maturest counsels. + + +"Let us look at the matter in this light, Mrs. Grey." The speaker was +Mr. Robinson, and his tone was particularly lively. "Your husband has +cause, fancied or real--for the sake of argument we must put that +part of the question aside--your husband, we shall say, has cause of +complaint against you. He has ceased to consider you a fit guardian for +his daughter after the first unconsciousness of childhood. What ought +to be his method of proceeding in such a case? Why, clearly this. He +should advertise you, through your solicitor, of his desire, and allow +him to negotiate between you. Had he done so, my advice no doubt would +have been of some service. I should have suggested that Miss Laura +should be placed, for the time being, in some educational establishment +where both parents could have had access to her, even, if Mr. Grey had +insisted upon this point, under certain restrictions on your side." + +Mr. Robinson paused at this point as if for consideration. Mrs. Grey +shivered slightly, and drew her shawl more closely round her shoulders. +It was a beautiful July day. The sun was shining brightly, the birds +were singing, there was the warm breath of summer upon everything, but +Margaret was like one stricken with a chill. Her face was pale and +haggard, her dark mournful eyes were sunken, her long white fingers, +almost transparent, twitched nervously from time to time. + +"But Mr. Grey has _not_ acted in this way," she said with some +fretfulness in her tone. + +"Patience, my dear lady," he answered in the lively manner with +which he had entered upon the subject; "we are coming to that point +presently. Affliction, you know, cometh not forth of the dust. Job +suffered grievously, but held fast his integrity. In _this_ world +tribulation; your trials are sent; you must ask for the grace of +patience, that you may be enabled to bear them worthily. But to return. +The first point we should consider is this: Who was actually the person +that removed your daughter from your care? the second, How and in +what method was such removal accomplished? In this you must help me. +Will you try and make a concise statement of the events of the day +in question--what your occupations were, how your child came to be +alone--giving me also the grounds of your suspicion that Mr. Grey is a +party to the kidnapping of his child?--Rather amusing, by the bye, when +one comes to think of it--a father running away with his own daughter." +Mr. Robinson laughed pleasantly at his own joke, which did not seem to +impress his companion so agreeably. + +Margaret rose from her chair impatiently, rang the bell and walked to +the door of the room: "I shall send you the servant, Mr. Robinson; she +was the only person in the house when my daughter was taken away." + +She went out into the garden and stood under the trees. The sun was +falling on her hair, the soft wind swept it back from her brow, but +her pale lips quivered, and from her eyes came no responsive gladness +to meet the beauty of the summer morning. She was wondering why she +had sent for this man, why she had laid bare her bleeding heart. Would +it not have been better, a thousand times better, to have hidden this +last anguish as she had hidden the others--to have suffered and wept +in silence? For the lawyer's keen criticism and unsparing common sense +had been like a kind of analysis of her torture--had added to her +sorrow the agony of undeserved humiliation. Her husband _had_ insulted +her. This was the bitterest drop in her cup of anguish, and this Mr. +Robinson, a representative of the world, which is given to harsh +judgment of the weak, had not failed to bring clearly before her mind. +It was bitterly hard to be borne. + +She thought, and bowed her head upon her breast with a sigh that seemed +to drain the life-blood from her heart. How was it that everything +grated upon her, wounded her? What had she expected, then? she +asked herself. That this man, a man of business, with interests and +affections of his own, would enter tenderly and religiously into the +sanctuary of her grief, would touch her wound lightly, would bring help +without adding suffering? Was it not folly, madness? But she would cast +this morbid sentimentality aside; Heaven would grant her in time the +hardness she needed. + +She sat down on a seat under the tree. She could see through the +parlor-window that Jane was taking full advantage of her position. +She was interviewing the lawyer to some effect, talking volubly and +illustrating her statement with expressive gestures. + +Margaret could not help smiling faintly. As a calmer mood returned +she felt she had put herself in a somewhat ridiculous position. She +returned to the house, breaking in upon a florid account of Jane's +terror on the night following Laura's disappearance. "That's quite +enough, Jane," she said, some of her old dignity in her voice and +manner; "you may go down stairs now." + +The landlady by no means approved of the interruption. She had been +giving the lawyer her statement, in keen and hungry expectation of his. +He would probably, she thought, unfold to her some of the mysteries +that had been perplexing her, and now she was summarily dismissed. + +There was some malignity in the glance she cast upon her mistress, but +Margaret was too much engrossed in the business upon which she was bent +to take the slightest notice of her. Jane retired--as far as the next +room, that is to say, hoping some fragments of the conversation would +reach her. + +She was disappointed. Mrs. Grey opened the French window and led her +solicitor into the garden. + +"That's a most sensible woman," Mr. Robinson said when they had seated +themselves outside; "she has a good head and evidently a good heart; +her feeling for you is quite remarkable. You see, Mrs. Grey, the +goodness of Providence?--friends raised up for the friendless. We are +all apt to overlook our mercies and over-estimate our trials. You don't +agree? Ah! one day I trust you will come round to my opinion. But to +business. Will you be kind enough to tell me what you wish me to do in +this matter?" + +"I thought I had explained it already, Mr. Robinson." Mrs. Grey looked +tired and spoke with a certain languor. "I do not wish to dispute my +husband's will. If it is his desire to remove my daughter from my care +altogether, I submit. I wish simply to communicate with him on my own +account, and for this reason I want you to find out his address for me. +It cannot surely be a very difficult matter. These affairs, I know, +are sometimes expensive. I desire that no expense shall be spared. Let +any capital I may still possess be sold out and used. I believe I have +this power. I have some jewelry too; I had wished to keep it, but that +desire has gone entirely." She drew off two or three rings, one of +diamonds and emeralds apparently very valuable, and placed a casket in +his hands, saying as she did so, "Do what is to be done as quickly as +possible; there is no time to lose." Her cheek flushed painfully, and +she pressed her hand to her side. + +Mr. Robinson had taken the jewelry with some empressement. He looked +at it curiously: "I shall have these trifles valued on my return, Mrs. +Grey. We shall hope to have no occasion for the use of them. Of course +these inquiries, especially when time is a matter of such moment, cost +something, and capital can scarcely be realized at so short a notice. +However, set your mind at rest: everything that lies in human power +to accomplish shall be done; the result we must leave to higher hands +than ours. And, by the bye, as we _are_ on the subject of business, you +will be glad to hear that your debtor the mortgagee--you will remember +if you cast your mind back to our last interview--is completely in my +power. I shall certainly realize the greater part of the sum lent. Do +you follow me, Mrs. Grey?" for Margaret's attention seemed to flag. +She had forgotten the mortgage, the debt, the threatened poverty, for +her whole force of mind was centred on the one anxiety--to find out +her husband, to appeal to his memories of the past, to persuade him at +least to see her; and that fainting-fit with the succeeding weakness +had frightened her, making her feel that possibly her time on earth +might be short. + +"Yes," she said absently; "but, Mr. Robinson, tell me how soon you will +be likely to hear of Mr. Grey?" + +"Impossible to say accurately, my dear lady, and it is quite against +my principles to encourage false hope. If I were a doctor, I should +frankly tell my patients of their danger, relying on a higher power +than mine to temper the wind and prepare the mind of my patient for the +shock, though, indeed, if we all lived in a state of preparation, the +approach of death would be little or no shock--shuffling off the mortal +coil, going home. But to return: I was saying, I think, that I make it +a rule never to encourage false hopes. I have lost clients by it, Mrs. +Grey; you would really be amazed at the pertinacity of some folks. It +is in this way: A man comes to me. 'Shall I succeed if I go to law in +this matter?' he asks. If hopeless, I answer candidly, No. Sometimes +my client will insist upon my taking up the business. If not against +the dictum of my conscience--an article, by the bye, which we lawyers +are not supposed to possess--I submit and do my best, leaving the +result. Sometimes he will go off to a more unscrupulous practitioner. +It matters very little. What, after all, is so much worth having as the +answer of a good conscience?" + +Mrs. Grey sighed. This torrent of words wearied her beyond measure. +"You have not answered my question, Mr. Robinson," she said; "under +favorable circumstances how long would such an inquiry take?" + +"And who is to guarantee us favorable circumstances?" replied the +lawyer, smiling pleasantly. "My dear lady, I must beg you to be +patient. We _may_ fail absolutely. Mind you, I do not mean to assert +that I apprehend we _shall_ fail. Come! a promise. As soon as ever +I receive intelligence of _any_ kind I will transmit it to you by +telegraph. Will that satisfy you?" + +"I suppose it _should_," she replied sadly, but there was a feeling of +dissatisfaction at her heart that belied her words. + +She had not quite the same confidence in Mr. Robinson as she had once +had. + +In the light of that fever of anxiety which consumed her his trite +commonplaces, his rapidly-given assurances looked hollow and vague. She +felt as if another standing-point were being cut ruthlessly from under +her feet, and yet what could she do? She had no friend, no hope in the +wide world, but this man. + +She looked up at him, fixing on his rather hard face her mournful eyes, +in which unshed tears were swimming. "Mr. Robinson," she said, "you are +a Christian man. I can trust you; you will do your very best for me." + +He answered by a frank smile and a cordial hand-grip: "You are a little +upset, Mrs. Grey, or I should be apt to resent the want of confidence +which those words imply. Of course you can rely on me. Now good-bye: I +must be off to my wife. I left her at the hotel here, close at hand. +She came along with me merely for the trip, and is particularly anxious +for a drive before her return; but duty first, pleasure afterward, I +told her." + +"Good-bye," said Mrs. Grey. + +She was reassured once more, ready to blame herself for the momentary +distrust. + +Mr. Robinson went away with a light swinging step and a cheerful smile. +He was no villain, at least in his own eyes, for his small villainies +were disguised under such pleasing names that he really thought himself +a very good man. + +"Poor woman!" he said to himself as he walked along, "what an absurd +notion! She'll never find that husband of hers; and if she did, where +would be the use?" + +And all this meant, "I shall take no particular pains to find him, and +certainly not yet; it might be awkward." + +Thought is strange in its working. There is the surface action, +employed on that which holds it for the moment--the book, the work, the +occupation; that which flows under, memory of what has just passed, +planning for something in the new future; and often, beneath both +these, a deeper undercurrent, its existence scarcely acknowledged even +to the mind itself. + +It was in this undercurrent that James Robinson hid thoughts which +would not hear the light, and thus to the world, to his family, and +even to himself, he continued to be an upright and strictly honorable +man. + +It was a dangerous game. Thought has a volcanic tendency. It is apt to +force its way upward, to cleave suddenly the superincumbent strata that +holds it from the surface. + +Many such a man as James Robinson, quiet, respectable and respected, +even to all appearance devout, has been astonished by waking up some +fine morning and finding himself a villain. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +_THE TWO FRIENDS._ + + Friend of my heart! away with care, + And sing and dance and laugh. + + +On the day succeeding that of the interview between Margaret and her +solicitor, Arthur Forrest was preparing in his chambers for a short +absence from town. The memorable conversation with his cousin had taken +place on the previous afternoon. Since then he had made all needful +arrangements, and was to start by the afternoon mail for York. He was +busy about his room, his portmanteau open before him, picking out the +few necessaries he would require. + +He looked rather different from the moonstruck individual who had so +sorely tried his good little cousin's patience only a few hours before, +for determination and action have a certain power. They can brace the +nerves and give courage to the spirit. There was fresh, buoyant life +in young Arthur's face; there was light in his eyes; there was healthy +activity in his movements. + +He was whistling lightly over his task and the pleasing meditations +induced, when he was interrupted by a knock at the door. The knock was +followed by the appearance on the threshold of a young man probably +of about his own age, only that the pallor of his face and a general +delicacy of appearance made him seem younger. + +Arthur leapt over the portmanteau, upset in his transit two or three +chairs laden with linen and clothing of various kinds, and grasping +the new-comer warmly by the hand drew him into the room: + +"Why, Mac, old boy! who would have thought of seeing you, and in the +middle of the day, too? Has your old tyrant played the truant, or have +discipline and responsibility run wild in his establishment?" + +The young man laughed: "Neither. But the fact is this--I have grown +tired of my master at last; and yesterday--or the day before it must +have been--I told him a few wholesome truths and turned my back on the +firm, leaving my last few pounds of salary in his hands as a parting +gift." + +Arthur had been gathering some of his shirts together. He dropped them +suddenly and gave a rapturous bound: "At last! You don't surely mean to +say so? All my prophecies come true. Bravo, old fellow! I congratulate +you heartily. But come, I am all impatience. I must have a full, true +and particular account of the whole. What was the last drop? How did +you resent its introduction? For, upon my word, Mac, you took him so +patiently that I began to fear your old spirit had gone. I longed at +times to show all those muffs in that confounded hole of an office what +you could do when the blood was up. But why don't you say something?" + +"Because, old fellow, you won't let a man get in a word edgeways. And +then, you see, my memory's short. I was never good at learning by +heart, especially my own efforts at composition. He spoke insultingly +when I asked him to keep his word to my mother and give me my articles. +In reply I let him know, in good strong English, what I thought of him +generally and of his present conduct in particular. Finally, I left his +place in a fine rage, I can assure you. I imagine Robinson was ditto, +but his after-thoughts he didn't reveal. There! will that satisfy you?" + +Arthur gave a long whistle: "Spoke insultingly, did he? I wonder who +that fellow thinks himself? Well, I needn't enter into particulars; +you're well aware of my sentiments. And now, old man, what's to be the +next step?" + +"Perplexing," replied young McArthur, knitting his brows. "There's +_your_ man of business--Golding. You heard of the kind offer he made me +the other day. I was scarcely, as I thought, in a position to accept +it. I wish to Goodness I had, though; my cutting remarks would have had +double force. By the bye, Arthur, that was prompted by you, I imagine. +Do you think he would renew it?" + +"Not the faintest doubt in the world. Golding is an excellent old +fellow, and honester, I sincerely believe, than the ordinary race of +lawyers. Then, don't you see, it would scarcely suit his book to break +with me just now. I shall be of age in a few weeks, and he takes a +fatherly interest in my affairs. Joking apart, though, I believe he +does. It's a better firm altogether than Robinson's. But come, I was +just off to lunch. Take a little something with me and we can talk it +over by the way. Then, if you like, I shall have time to go with you as +far as Golding's. I know your mind will be easier when this matter is +settled. Now, don't be a humbug. I can see in your face that you have +not lunched, and for once in the way you are, like myself, an idle man." + +McArthur smiled, and pointed to the chairs and table. + +"But what about all this? Do you intend to leave it so? And--you're off +somewhere?" + +"Only to York on a little matter of business," replied Arthur, who +had turned to the mirror, and was occupying himself in imparting a +certain air of fascination to the set of his budding moustache. "I +must get the old woman here--a motherly body in her way, and useful +when a fellow can get out of reach of her tongue--to finish for me. +Yes, that's decidedly the best plan. Come along, Mac! If my coming of +age is worthy of being made a festival, certainly your breaking loose +from that rascal--whose whining is enough to sicken the healthiest +person--is trebly so. We must have a bottle of champagne and a general +jollification on the strength of it; then we can go to Golding's +together, and after that I shall still have time to catch the afternoon +mail." + +"I didn't know you had friends in York." + +"Did I _say_ I had friends there?" + +"No, but what can _your_ business be? I always thought it consisted in +carrying out and bringing to a successful end a rather laborious system +of amusement." + +"Come, Mac, don't be severe. I'm turning over a new leaf, and am fast +becoming a most useful member of society. I have already two pictures, +a score of elaborate novels, a series of scientific works and books of +travel innumerable in my eye." + +"As your own performance or your neighbor's?" + +"My own, of course. Do you mean to be insulting, Mac, or have you +fallen so low as to imagine a solicitor's office the _only_ path to +fame? But don't apologize, old fellow; I forgive you in consideration +of a certain derangement of brain, the result, no doubt, of your late +experiences." + +"What have _you_ been doing to yourself, Forrest?" The young man looked +at his friend with some curiosity. Arthur's face was flushed and his +eyes were beaming with excitement. "Your spirits have been at rather +a low ebb whenever I have had the opportunity of seeing you lately; +now they are perfectly exuberant. I think there must be something more +in this visit to York than is quite apparent to the casual observer. +Blushing, too! Why, old fellow, I thought your blushing days were over +long ago, like mine." + +Arthur turned away in some impatience: "Don't be absurd, Mac, +or I shall certainly be cross, and at present I feel generally +genial--sympathetic, as I shall remark in my first novel, with the +sweet influences of the balmy breezes. By the bye, that would be rather +neat, wouldn't it?" + +"Uncommonly. You're improving, old fellow. Heigh-ho! _my_ sentimental +days are gone by. Nothing like office-life for rubbing off that kind of +bloom. Do you remember the girls' school, and my deep indignation when +you would insist upon singing about 'the merry little maiden of sweet +sixteen'?" + +"An awfully good song, by the bye," put in Arthur. + +His friend did not notice the interruption. "I am not so sure, after +all," he said thoughtfully, "that hard work is not the best thing +at our age. Everybody could not pass as you have done through the +temptations of an idle youth." + +Arthur laughed, but he looked at his companion affectionately: "Come, +come, Mac, that kind of thing won't quite fit in, you know--philosophy +and compliment in one breath. But here we are. Now, if you're not +hungry I am; so a truce to reflections. They shall come, if you still +feel anxious for them, in the shape of dessert." + +The young men sat down to dinner together, and Arthur took care it +should be a particularly good one. He and McArthur had been chums at +Eton, and although the very different circumstances of their after-life +had necessarily thrown them apart, they had still kept up their +friendship in a certain spasmodic way. + +It had been broken at times by a slight want of consideration on the +one side, and a certain pride, the growth of poverty, on the other; +but real mutual affection and respect had been strong enough to heal +the different little breaks, and the young men had reached the point +of understanding each other, and of making mutual allowance for the +weaknesses engendered by circumstances. + +They did not often meet, for their lives were very differently spent, +and McArthur was wise enough to know that for him to enter at all into +his friend's pursuits or to frequent his circle would be sheer folly. +This it was that occasionally hurt and fretted Arthur. But a meeting +such as that of this day was a source of real pleasure to both. + +During the short hour everything life held of weariness and discontent +was forgotten. They rattled on as if they had been still school-boys, +with no present care to oppress their lives and a brilliant future +before them. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +_THE INDIAN SCARF._ + + A man in love sees wonders. + + +A few hours later, and Arthur Forrest was lodged for the night in an +hotel which looked out upon one of the quaint, old-fashioned streets in +the ancient city of York. + +The journey had by no means diminished his excitement. He was literally +aflame with the fever of anxiety and suspense that consumed him, +for this was his first young dream, and it mastered him with an +absoluteness which only that first in the series that often diversifies +the adolescence of humanity, male and female, can possess. + +Afterward we know what to expect; then everything is new, wonderful, +incomprehensible--the sweet waking up to a heavenly mystery. And +it comes generally at a time when life is at its fullest; when +imagination, passion, sentiment reign in the soul with undisputed +sway; when the heart is uncontaminated--at least partially so--by the +influences which those to whom youth's Eden is a forgotten land delight +to throw round the inexperienced, giving them lessons, they would say, +in the great art of living--lessons, alas! which the young are only too +ready to receive and put into practice. + +Arthur was in this first ecstatic stage. No doubt to the experienced +onlooker it might appear highly ridiculous; to himself it was intensely +real. His very existence seemed to have changed in the dazzling glamour +that the treacherous little god had cast over his vision. He saw all +his past, his present, his future in relation to this _one_ thing--his +chances of success with the fair Margaret. + +It was late when he reached York--too late for him to think of going +farther that night. + +He ordered a private sitting-room, for no particular reason but the +necessity he felt for quiet meditation, that he might unravel the +tormenting problems of the how, the why and the wherefore which, in +spite of Adèle's encouraging assurance, had begun to embarrass him +sorely. How should he present himself to Mrs. Grey? What could he give +as a reason for having left London to seek her out? In what light would +she look upon his intrusion? These thoughts perplexed him as far into +the night he paced the floor of his sitting-room, resting himself by +the continual movement, but sorely interfering with the rest of the +gentleman who occupied the room below his. He had taken many turns +up and down before any light had dawned upon his mind, and in final +despair he was about to retire to his bedroom and try the effect of +darkness, when suddenly his eyes fell on something that had hitherto +escaped them. It was an Indian scarf of great brilliancy which had been +left lying on a small low chair in one of the corners of the room. + +It brought a certain memory to Arthur's mind. He took it up, handling +it with reverential tenderness. Where had he seen it before? Why +did the sight of it affect him so strangely? He looked at it, he +touched it; he laid it down and retiring to some distance examined +it again. Then by degrees the sought-for link returned. The pictures, +the crimson-covered seat, the pale woman, her shabby dress, and in +striking contrast with it, the costly fabric on her shoulders. It was +a coincidence, he said to himself--a very strange one--that here, +when he was seeking Margaret, he should find the fac-simile of what +she had worn on the occasion of their first meeting. Could it be the +same--hers, left behind her? If so, here was an opening thrown by kind +Fate into his lap. + +The silken scarf should be his excuse; with it he would present himself +to Mrs. Grey. It was valuable in itself, and she had evidently had some +other reason besides its intrinsic worth for prizing it. She would be +grateful for its preservation, and the bearer of her treasure would +have a certain claim on her consideration. + +Arthur determined to discover the history of the scarf on the next +day, and if he should find it at all fit in with his ideas to take +it back to its owner in triumph. For that night it was too late to +do anything. He looked despairingly at the little French clock over +the chimney-piece. It was two o'clock A. M., and an absolute silence +reigned in the house. + +But he possessed the sanguine nature of youth. He could not doubt that +he had found a solution to the problem which had been agitating his +mind. His anxieties being thus partially set at rest, he began to feel +tired. With the silk scarf close to his hand he fell asleep; its colors +mingled in confusion inextricable with all his dreams; it was the first +object that met his gaze on the following morning. + +He felt inclined to ring at once and make inquiries, but on second +thought he decided that to take such a step would scarcely be wise. +Young men in Arthur Forrest's position are keenly susceptible to +ridicule. Undue anxiety might possibly seem suspicious. He controlled +himself so far as to dress, to walk into his sitting-room, and to +restore the scarf to the place it had occupied on the previous evening; +then he rang for breakfast. + +While the waiter was busy about the table he looked across the room as +though for the first time the appearance of the scarf had struck him; +then he took it up and examined it with apparent curiosity. + +The waiter noticed his movement. "Ah! sir," he said briskly, "queer +thing that." + +"This scarf?" said Arthur carelessly; "it's certainly a very handsome +one." + +"I didn't mean the scarf, sir, but the tale, as one may say, that hangs +on to it. It was left in this very room, identical, some four or five +days ago, it may be, and I was the waiter as attended on the gentleman +and little girl: a pretty creature she was too, with--" + +"A gentleman and little girl?" broke in Arthur, forgetful of his +prudence in his astonishment. + +"Yes, sir; a gentleman not young, as one might say, to be the father +of the little lady; and a lady she was, every inch of her, so pretty +and well-behaved. It's _my_ belief"--here the waiter lowered his voice +and looked confidential--"there was somethink there over and above what +met the eye, as one might say, sir." Then he disappeared to fetch the +tea-pot. + +Arthur was strangely interested in the little tale. "Stop," he said as +the waiter was about to leave the room again; "what makes you think +there was something mysterious about these people?" + +The waiter smiled pleasantly. His loquaciousness was natural to +him, but it had so often received rude checks that he had long ago +been taught to control it. "It interests you, do it, sir?" he said +cheerfully. "Well, now, to speak confidential, it's _my_ belief as +that gentleman wasn't father at all to that there little lady. She +cried considerable that first night, for the chambermaid had been given +somethink a little extra by the gentleman when he came into the hotel +that every care might be taken of the little lady. And it was all on +and off, so she says, the little lady a-crying and a-sobbing, and 'Oh, +my mamma! I want my mamma; take me home.' Not much sleep had the little +lady, or Jane either, for the matter of that. She has an uncommon soft +heart, has Jane, and the little lady's sobs, she says, would have +melted a heart of stone, let alone hers. Well, sir, as I was a-saying, +it looked queer; but next morning the gentleman--He was a fine man, +sir, he was, but had a look with him as if from foreign parts, which, +as one may say, looked queer again, the little lady being very fair, +with hair the color of that there frame, sir, all in curls over her +face, and the loveliest complexion you ever see. What was I a-telling +you of? Oh! The next morning the gentleman, he ordered breakfast, and +he _and_ the little lady had it in this very room, as it might be now, +sir, and certainly it wasn't no later, I being the waiter, Jane coming +in now and again to see if little missy wanted for anythink. Seemed to +us, Jane and me, that the gentleman said somethink in private, as it +might be, to the little lady, for they seemed more friendlier-like, +and after a bit little missy she write a letter and she look a deal +cheerfuler, as one might say. The poor little dear hadn't so much--not +as a change with her, sir." Again the waiter lowered his voice: "Looked +queer, it did, and so says Jane to me in that very passage out there. +Strange to tell, sir, the words is scarcely so much as out of our +mouths before the bell rings violent-like, and Jane is sent out by +that there gentleman, twenty pounds in her hand, and cart blank to +get everythink ready made, and expense no object, as might be thought +necessary for a young lady. It didn't take her long, I can answer for +that. She come back with the things packed in a small portmanter, and +her accounts made out all proper and business-like. It's Jane all over, +sir. She do like to have everythink square and correct. 'But,' says +the gentleman as grand as you please, 'I didn't want no accounts, and +divide the change between yourself and the garçong;' by which he meant +me, sir. It's the French way. They started that morning, and the little +lady tell Jane, 'I shall come back very soon, I shall,' and then she +puts her arms round her neck, 'Thank you,' she says in such a pretty +way that Jane was quite upset like. And when she and the gentleman's +gone there's this kind of shawl, as you have just remarked upon, sir, +a-lying here in this room, and here it's been ever since. That's the +story, sir, and I think you'll agree with me that it looks queer." + +"It _is_ strange," said Arthur very thoughtfully, "I can't understand +it at all. Do you know," he continued, turning to the waiter, "I am +almost sure I know the owner of this scarf. It is, I see, a thing of +some value, but if the proprietor of the hotel will put it in my charge +for a time, I will leave a deposit to any amount he may think fit in +its place, and restore it to him faithfully if I should prove to have +been mistaken." + +"I can't see for myself as how he can make any objection, sir; however, +with your permission I must leave you now--there's my bell." + +The waiter did not stay away longer than he could possibly help. +Arthur's interest in the scarf seemed to him a new link in the story +which had so powerfully excited the curiosity of various members of the +establishment. On his return he found the young man still holding the +scarf in his hand, with a thoughtful look on his face. But his patient +receptivity of the waiter's good-humored chat seemed to have passed. "I +wish to speak to the proprietor of the hotel," he said shortly. + +"At once, sir?" asked the man in a disappointed tone. He was full to +the brim of fresh particulars, hastily set in order during his journey +from one breakfast-table to another. + +"As soon as possible," was the reply, "I must leave York by an early +train." + +For Arthur Forrest could scarcely control his impatience. The waiter's +dramatic little tale had awakened his interest. He had a kind of fancy +that it was connected in some way with Margaret. + +The proprietor found him pacing the room excitedly. He was politely +surprised at the interest taken by the young gentleman in this small +item of property left in his house, agreed with him that it was an +article of some value, but refused to receive any deposit in exchange +for it, with the exception of the young gentleman's card, and his +assurance that they should hear whether or no the owner had been found, +and finally presented his little bill, swollen in various items to +fit in reasonably with the importance the young gentleman appeared +to attach to the discovery he had made in the establishment. The +landlord might have asked for double the amount; Arthur would have +been perfectly unconscious. He was only anxious to get away with his +treasure--to unearth the mystery it seemed to hide. + +In all haste he sent for the friendly waiter, pressed half a sovereign +into his willing hand, urging him to order a fly and get his traps +together without delay. + +In an incredibly short space of time the lumbering vehicle, as light as +any that could be found in the ancient city, was bearing him through +the narrow streets and overhanging gates to the station--a fresh stage +on his journey to _her_. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +_ARTHUR ARRIVES AT MIDDLETHORPE._ + + Thank God, bless God, all ye who suffer not + More grief than ye can weep for. + + +Margaret Grey was sitting in her garden. It was a warm day. A faint +haze, born of the vapor, paled the deep blue of the sky; not a breath +of wind stirred the languid foliage of the trees; the flowers were +bathed in light and color; through a gap in the trees came the glimmer +of the sea, and faintly on the still air rose the murmur of lulling +waves--scarcely waves, perhaps only movement, stir, the manifestation +of ocean's ceaseless life. It was a day to rejoice in--a day when the +pulses quicken and the heart is glad with unconscious, unreasoning +gladness; when lovers look into one another's eyes and creep more +closely together; when children laugh and sing, and even the dumb +creatures seem to rejoice in being. + +In _her_ face was no sense of gladness. She sat under the trees, a book +in her hand, a shawl wrapt closely round her shoulders. + +Every particle of color had left her face, even her lips were pale. +The golden coronal of hair with which Nature had endowed her seemed +to throw a ghastly shade over her face. It looked unnatural, like +the glory of youth when its life and gladness have gone by. Only her +eyes retained their beauty, for through their mournful wistfulness, +their sometimes wild eagerness, the beautiful soul still shone, and in +the week of hope, of beauty, of life itself, that soul was learning, +slowly and painfully, it is true, but learning still, the lesson +that, consciously or unconsciously, all must learn,--submission to the +Supreme Will first and above all; not the mild sentimental "Thy will +be done" of which hymnists and sermon-coiners discourse so glibly, nor +even that "grace of patience" which her solicitor had recommended her +to seek as a panacea for all her ills, but a something far above and +beyond these--a something that, perhaps, only those who have suffered +keenly can ever know--the laying down of self-will altogether, the +recognition, through sorrows and contradictions manifold, of a Divine +Love + + "Shaping the ends of life." + +A book was in Margaret's hand, but she did not often look at it, at +least not for long. There seemed to be a disturbing cause at work that +prevented her from fixing her attention on anything but the absorbing +anxiety which held her. + +It was toward the afternoon of the long day, and she had been sitting +there since early morning waiting and watching. From time to time she +would take out her watch and consult it, and once she pressed her hand +to her side, murmuring, "Patience, patience! My God, shall I ever learn +it?" + +And the song-birds flitted backward and forward over her head, and the +sea smiled and the earth rejoiced. There was no answer to the cry of +the lonely heart. Patience; yes, patience, poor stricken one! for "when +night is darkest, then dawn is near." I wonder who thinks of it when +the black darkness is closing around them? Certainly Margaret did not. + +She was sitting in the back part of the little garden; from her +position she could hear the door-bell and the click of the latch of the +front gate, but she could not see those who came in or went out, and +through that long day there had been no sound of outside life to break +in upon her solitude. It had begun to sicken her as she sat under the +trees looking out upon the sunshine. + +There was a sound at last--the stopping of wheels at the garden-gate, +the latch pushed back with something of impatience, a ring at the +door-bell that echoed through the house. + +Margaret leapt to her feet and tried to rush forward. It was surely +that for which she had been looking--a telegram to tell her something +had been done. He had promised to use all possible despatch. + +Alas, poor Margaret! The "he" in question was at that moment exciting +himself very little about her or her concerns. He was not very far from +her. He could have been seen by any who had chosen to take the trouble +of looking for him, seated on a strong little black pony, jogging along +with great contentment--a conspicuous object on the yellow sands. + +In moments of strong excitement physical power sometimes abandons us: +perhaps it is that the spirit would master the body, and forgetting its +bonds rush forward alone to meet the coming fate, and that then the +weakness of its natural home draws it back to its humanity. + +It was something like this Margaret experienced. She rose, she would +have pressed forward. In an incredibly short time she would have had +the message in her hands, but her limbs refused to bear her. She +sank back on the garden-seat, compelled, whether she would or no, to +wait--to wait. + +The delay was not long, but it seemed to her as if the moments were +ages, each laden with an agony of suspense, while she sat still in her +forced inaction. + +Jane crossed the lawn at last with something in her hand, and Margaret +covered her face and moaned faintly. If this should be disappointment, +how could she bear it? It _was_ disappointment. The message turned out +to be a card which Jane put into her hands, explaining as she did so +that the young gentleman had come on important business, and wished +particularly to see her, if only for a few moments. + +"A young gentleman--important business," said Margaret faintly; "then +it is not a telegram?" + +"Who said it were?" asked Jane rather rudely. She knew very well that +speak as she might her mistress would take very little notice of her +now. "I said a young gentleman was in the parlor," she continued in a +higher key, as if Margaret had been deaf, "and I've too much to do to +be wasting _my_ time argufying. Everybody can't set doing nothing all +day like _some_ folk I could tell of. Are you going to see him or are +you not?" + +"I will see him," replied Margaret quietly. "Ask him to wait a few +minutes." + +She had wondered only a moment before how she could bear the +disappointment. It came, and she neither fainted nor wept, only there +fell a chiller shadow over her heart--the darkness of her lot on earth +seemed to deepen. + +She watched with eyes from which all the light had gone out until +Jane had re-entered the house, then she rose again, and this time no +ultra-impetuousness delayed her. The name on the card puzzled her. She +had a vague notion she had seen it somewhere before, but in her trouble +her London remembrances were partially swamped. She scarcely knew even +why she had decided to grant this young man an interview. She was only +obeying a secret impulse: he might possibly be the bearer of a message. + +She had not thought at the moment she left her seat that the +parlor-window looked out upon the little garden; but so it was, and as +languidly and with apparent pain she crossed the lawn its temporary +occupant was gazing upon her. + +Her appearance shocked him terribly. He had been in no way prepared for +the change which that week of misery and loneliness had brought about. +She did not look the same. Then, indeed, she had been sad, but the +sadness had not absorbed her utterly--had not written on her face the +haggard, weary hopelessness which it now bore. + +The young man's heart contracted painfully; a sudden dismay seized +him. He would have turned and fled. How could he bear to face this +suffering? In its presence he felt weak and helpless as a child. + +But he looked at her again, the white patient face with its halo of +golden color, the weak languid steps, the beautiful outlines, the +never-failing, unconscious grace, and as he looked the love of his +heart surged in a great wave over his being. Unconsciously he clasped +his hands, his brows knit, his form dilated. + +"God helping me," he said in a low impassioned voice that swept upward +from the innermost depths of his spirit--"God helping me, I will help +her!" + +Scarcely was the vow made before the door opened and Margaret and he +were face to face. She looked at him for a moment, then held out her +hand, smiling her recognition. "Sit down," she said with the quiet +graciousness Arthur remembered so well, taking a seat herself at the +same time; then suddenly she caught sight of what he brought, for +Arthur had the scarf on his arm. Her quietness fled, she rose to her +feet, and seizing his arm pointed to it eagerly: "Where did you find +it? Whose is it? Why did you bring it here?" + +She spoke and fell back on her chair, gasping for breath. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +_ON THE BRINK OF MADNESS._ + + My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love; + My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim, + And I am all aweary of my life. + + +Arthur's instinct had not erred. There was something more than the +recovery of what she valued that made the sudden reappearance of her +scarf a matter of great moment to Mrs. Grey. The facts of the case were +these: The voice of many-tongued Rumor had been busy in the village +with the wonderful history of the disappearance of the pretty child, +whose vivacity and pleasant friendly ways had made her well known in +the neighborhood. Through the medium of her laundress and a little girl +from the National School, who came in the morning to help Jane, some of +these little bits of gossip had made their way to Margaret. + +The laundress poured into her ears the tale of how the little one had +been met on the sands with a gentleman and a big dog on the afternoon +of the day of her disappearance; the little girl chimed in with a true, +full, and particular account of every item of the dress and appearance +of both. One of these items puzzled Margaret. The girl declared +positively that Miss Laura had carried her mamma's scarf upon her arm. +Now, Margaret could not but remember that on that ever-memorable day +she had worn the scarf herself. She had reason for connecting it with +the interview between herself and L'Estrange. Strangely enough, from +that very moment she had missed it. + +In her first horror at the discovery of Laura's departure the lesser +loss had naturally escaped her; when the girl mentioned the scarf, +however, she remembered that she had not brought it home with her. +But how could Laura have obtained possession of it? Margaret wearied +herself with conjectures, but at last she came to this conclusion--she +had left it on her seat among the bushes, Laura had gone there with her +father anxious to find her, they had seen the scarf, and the little one +had picked it up to take it back, for that Laura had willingly left +her Margaret never imagined for a moment. Either this or else that the +girl had been mistaken altogether. It was thus she had dismissed the +subject of the scarf from her mind. It did not afford any clue; it did +not alter in the remotest degree the fact of the child being lost to +her, of her husband having cruelly and wantonly wronged her. But when +the scarf reappeared in this strangely unexpected manner it was like a +message from her child, a link by which it might be possible to trace +her, and the first revulsion of feeling which its sight occasioned was +so great as almost to deprive Margaret of her small remnant of strength. + +She did not faint, though Arthur, when he saw the deadly pallor of her +face, was about to spring to the door and call out for assistance. +She warned him by a rapid gesture to do nothing of the kind. This was +her first impulse; she pointed then to a caraffe of water. He poured +some into a glass and brought it to her. It revived her partially. The +color struggled back into her pale cheeks, she sat up and tried to +smile--such a faint watery attempt at a smile that her companion could +have gone on his knees, then and there, imploring her only to weep. + +"I am very foolish," she said faintly, "but since we last met I have +suffered, and suffering has made me weak. Have patience with me for one +moment. Give me your arm, that will be best; the fresh air may revive +me; and--walls have ears." + +She looked round with a sudden terror in her eyes. To describe the +effect of her words, of her weakness, on the inflammable heart of the +young man would be impossible. He was beside himself with the longing +to take her to his heart, to proclaim himself, once and for ever, +her protector and champion. But love had taught him self-control. +Trembling from head to foot, he still preserved an apparent composure. +He took the hand she offered and raised it reverently to his lips, then +placed it on his arm. + +"Be calm, dear lady," he said gently, "I have come here with this +express purpose to find some way out of your troubles, and, God helping +me, I will." + +The boy spoke slowly, deliberately. In his words there was all the +fervor of a vow, all the hallowed binding power of a sacramental +utterance; and to her for the moment it did not seem unnatural. He +spoke again, after a short pause: "Mrs. Grey, do you think you can +trust me?" + +She looked up. There was a dreamy softness in her eyes and her voice +was low: "Yes, I think I can. God knows I was sorely in need of a +friend. But" (her voice changed, she looked round in a bewildered +manner), "come out; I cannot speak to you here. I have a kind of +feeling--dear me! how weak and childish I have become!--I hear voices, +I see faces. I fancy sometimes I am being watched." + +"You are weak and ill, Mrs. Grey; you should not be here alone. Let us +go out to the shore; the sea-air will do you good. See! your hat is +lying here." + +She obeyed him. It almost seemed as if his voice had a certain power +over her for the moment. He took her hand again and led her from the +room and from the house, half supporting her from time to time. Neither +spoke until the cottage was left far in the background, and then they +were on the sands close by the sea. + +"Shall we sit down here?" asked Arthur. + +"Yes," she said, "we are alone; sea and sky--sea and sky." Then she +paused with a bewildered look: "What am I saying? I know I wanted to +speak to you, and now everything has gone." + +This was far more bewildering to Arthur than her former state, for +there was a wild, appealing look about her eyes which made him fear for +her reason; but with the emergency came a certain power. It was truly a +transformation. The boy was changed into a man. He stood up and taking +both of Margaret's hands into his own, looked steadfastly into her +eyes. + +"Mrs. Grey," he said slowly and distinctly, "try and remember what has +brought you here. Your child, little Laura!" + +She put her hand to her head: "Laura! Laura! Do you know where she is, +poor child? The heat has tired her; she must be lying down." + +Arthur trembled, but he kept his eyes still fixed on those of his +companion, which wandered hither and thither like restless stars. + +"Mrs. Grey," he said again, "do you wish to find your child?" + +Her eyes had begun to feel the power of his; they were falling under +the spell of his steadfast gaze. Now was Arthur's time of trial, for +the unmeaning wildness grew gradually into surprised displeasure. "Dear +lady!" he said pleadingly, but not for a moment removing his gaze, "you +have been patient; be so still. Do not let your sorrow overcome you +utterly." + +There spread a faint color over the dead whiteness of her face. The +young man saw that for this time the danger had gone by. He had the +tact to release her suddenly and to turn away for a walk along the +shore. His true, unselfish love had given him eyes to see and a heart +to understand. He knew that the return to a sense of her position +would be painful to Margaret for more reasons than one. He left her to +recover herself alone. Presently she called him. He went to her, and +took his place by her side as if nothing had happened to disturb their +conversation. + +"Thank you," she said, gently raising her dark, troubled eyes to his +face, "I understand you--you are my true friend;" and then a few tears +that she could not keep back flowed over her pale cheeks. "Oh," she +said, slowly and painfully, "if God will I shall learn; but, young man, +it is a dreary time for learning. In our days of happiness and youth we +put all this away, and the hour of trouble finds us without a refuge. +You see I bore all the trouble," she continued, smiling faintly; "it is +the glimmer of hope you have brought me that so nearly upset my poor, +weak brain. But tell me, have you seen my little one?" + +In reply Arthur gave, as clearly as possible, the story given to +him by the waiter at the hotel in York, to all of which Margaret +listened with rapt attention. Once or twice she was on the point of +interrupting him, but she controlled herself to the end, and there +was disappointment in the heavy sigh with which she answered him. +"It is certainly my scarf," she said, taking it up and examining it +attentively; "I could not possibly be mistaken, and as certainly +that little child was my daughter--my lost Laura. Yes, it is all so +probable. My little one's grief, the love of those around her, and her +letter--it was to me--he never sent it. I am deceived, betrayed. Oh, +Maurice! Maurice!" + +Her grief seemed to overcome her. She covered her face with her hands, +and once more, in his perplexity and distress, Arthur was on the point +of throwing himself at her feet, of declaring his boundless love. + +Before he could decide she looked up again and spoke with apparent +calm: "There are some difficulties in the story. Are you sure the +waiter said he was old and like a foreigner?" + +"Perfectly certain; I could not possibly be mistaken." + +"Then he must have changed wonderfully in the short time." + +"Forgive me for asking, Mrs. Grey, but whom do you suspect of this +atrocity? I would not be intrusive for the world; I only wish to be +your friend." The young man's voice trembled; he went on more rapidly: +"You must know, you must have seen, that I take no common interest +in your concerns. I feel this is neither the time nor the place to +force my own feelings upon you; but, Margaret, when I see you alone, +friendless, when I know it is in my power to give you everything, to +devote myself to you utterly, even to bring back perhaps those days +of happiness of which you spoke, how can I resist the temptation +of letting you know all? Since first I saw you your fair, sad face +has haunted me; I can think of nothing else. Ah! I have been idle, +good-for-nothing, but all that has passed away. Give me hope, and I +will yet make myself worthy of you." + +He spoke with such impetuosity that it was almost impossible to stop +him. But when he paused for lack of breath, Margaret drew herself away, +putting back gently his pleading hand. Perhaps it was well for her that +this new excitement came. It seemed to restore her strength of mind, +her gentle, womanly dignity. "Hush!" she said quietly; "you must not +speak to me in this way. If you really care for me you will respect my +lonely position. Arthur, I am married, and my one absorbing anxiety is +to see my husband again before I die. Come, I do not mean to lose you +as a friend; you have shown yourself a man, and a noble man, to-day; +you will soon overcome this weakness." + +Arthur was looking away over the sea. He was staggered for a moment, +and yet he was not really surprised. His voice was a little husky as he +answered, for after all he was only a boy, and he had taught himself to +hope. "Forgive my folly and presumption," he said. + +She put her hand on his shoulder with the caressing gesture of an elder +sister. "I want a friend," she said, smiling into his downcast face. +"You shall be my brother, Arthur. I have never had a brother, for I was +an only child, and my sole friend in the wide world is my solicitor. He +is a man of position and character, and yet--do you know? my loneliness +makes me so sensitive--I sometimes feel inclined to distrust even him." + +"Can you tell me his name?" + +"It is rather a common one. Very likely you will not know it. Mr. +Robinson--James, I think, is his Christian name." + +"Of the firm of Robinson and ----?" + +"Yes." + +"Then, Mrs. Grey, your suspicions were only too well founded." He +gnashed his teeth. "The old hypocrite! I trust you have not given him +your confidence to any great extent." + +Margaret turned pale: "Everything I have is in his hands. Only two days +ago I gave him some valuable jewelry to ensure the speedy carrying out +of my instructions." + +"And he took it away with him, I suppose," Arthur smiled +sardonically--"recommended patience and resignation. Ah! I know him +well. But forgive me; I am allowing my feelings to run away with me and +frightening you. The fact is that I happen to know something of your +solicitor, and the very mention of his name excites me. Mrs. Grey, we +must save you from him. Tell me once more, do you trust me?" + +Margaret looked up into his frank, open face and smiled. "As I would +my own brother," she replied heartily; "and in proof of it, if you can +listen to a long, painful story, I will tell you my history, and how it +is that you find me here in this little village alone and unprotected. +You have given me the full confidence of your young, true heart; you +have trusted in me, Arthur, in spite of much that must have seemed +strange and mysterious. I will give you my confidence in return. But I +think for to-day the exertion would be almost too much for me. Can you +come again to-morrow, or must you go away at once?" + +"I shall not leave this place until I have found out some way of +helping you, Mrs. Grey; but if you really mean to trust me as your +brother, will you let me say that I don't like the idea of your staying +by yourself in this solitary house? You want some one with you upon +whom you can thoroughly depend. I rather distrust your landlady; I +can scarcely say why." They had risen from their seat on the sands, +and were walking toward the little cottage. "As I came in," continued +Arthur, "she entertained me--a perfect stranger, at least as far +as she knew--with the story of your child's disappearance and your +fainting-fit of that evening, seeming to expect me to give my errand in +return." + +"I rather distrust her myself," replied Margaret; "but one cannot +always tell. Her manner certainly is unfortunate. I believe, however, +that she is really a good kind of person, and her character stands +high in the neighborhood. I do not like the idea of a change just now, +but thank you all the same for the kind thought. You saw me, you must +remember, at a weak moment; I am not always so foolish, and to-night I +shall have something to think about. Here we are at the gate. Come in +and have a cup of tea. By the bye, where are you staying?" + +"At the hotel, Mrs. Grey; it's not very far from here. I think if you +even called out to me from the window of your dining-room, I should +hear you." + +Margaret smiled: "I shall have no occasion, I hope, for the assistance +of my champion till to-morrow; then you must hear my story, and help +me to devise some plan for communicating with my husband and child." + +"You think your husband has taken the child?" said Arthur, stopping +suddenly. + +"To-morrow, Arthur, to-morrow; before we discuss that point I must +rest." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +_THE ACCOLADE OF KNIGHTHOOD._ + + We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths; + In feelings, not in figures on a dial: + We should count time by heart-throbs. + + +And Margaret rested that night, for the first time since the evening +when exhausted Nature had failed utterly and she had slept at the foot +of her lost child's bed. There was a new feeling of rest and hope in +her spirit; the events of the day had stimulated her; there was an +uprising of the dormant courage and energy in her nature; she began to +feel that something might yet be done. Jane was astonished that evening +to find some small impertinence on her part rebuked by her mistress +with all her old dignity, and to hear that if matters did not mend +very considerably she would run the chance of losing her lodger. She +was slightly alarmed, not only on this account, but also because this +sudden resurrection of spirit might notify a change in her lodger's +circumstances; but she kept her own counsel. + +Breakfast was to be prepared for two. "Strange goings on," muttered +Jane to herself, but this time she did not dare to express her feelings. + +Arthur arrived early in the morning. He was excited and restless. +With the impulsiveness of youth he had thrown himself heart and soul +into the task that appeared to be opening out before him, and until +some light had been thrown upon it he could not rest. He and Margaret +breakfasted together, but by mutual consent nothing was said about the +subject which engrossed them both until they had again left the house +behind them, and were able to talk quietly, without need for caution, +under the broad open sky. + +She seemed so quiet, so self-contained, that Arthur began at last to +fear that she had forgotten her promise, or rather that it had been +given impulsively and withdrawn after calmer thought. And something +of curiosity--which, by the bye, is pretty highly developed in the +male portion of humanity--mingled with the true interest he took in +Margaret's concerns. But she had not forgotten. + +They had been sitting for a few moments by the sea-shore, talking of +indifferent matters, when all at once she turned to him. "You ask me no +questions," she said; "you are not curious to know more about me?" + +Arthur reddened: "Not curious, Mrs. Grey. I am ready to hear whatever +you wish to tell me. I know it can be nothing unworthy of yourself, and +pray do not imagine that I wish to hear anything you care to conceal or +that would give you pain to tell. I only desire to help you to the best +of my ability." + +For Arthur was a little hurt by the question. She smiled and rested +her hand on his shoulder as she had done the day before, and her touch +stirred the young man's heart to a strange mixture of feelings--pride, +for it seemed to show that she depended on him, that his presence was a +comfort to her, and yet a certain mortification. "She would not treat +him in this way," he said to himself with somewhat of bitterness, "if +she could understand in the slightest degree the feelings that had +brought him to her--if she felt the remotest danger to her own heart in +the companionship. He was a boy to her, nothing more." + +But Margaret spoke, and her voice had a salutary effect. In its sweet +sadness, the remnant of selfishness was rebuked. + + "Love took up the harp of life and smote on all the chords with might-- + Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight." + +Thus it was with Arthur. Self trembled, but self passed. He was ready +to do everything for the sake alone of _her_ loveliness, of his love. + +"You don't seem to care to ask me questions," she said gently, "so I +suppose I must take the matter into my own hands, and unasked let you +know something of my past life. I feel very old, Arthur--more fit to +be your mother than even your elder sister, as I called myself just +now; for life"--she looked across the sea, and her voice was low--"life +should be reckoned not by the years, the days, the moments, but by the +heart-pulses, the living, the battling, that the years and moments +hold. I am not really old. I married at the age of nineteen, and then +I had lived, I was older than my years; my little one was born when +I was twenty, just seven years ago; that gives you my age--an easy +piece of arithmetic. Many women are young at twenty-seven. I am old, +old; hush, Arthur! you must not protest. When life has lost all its +beauty and gladness, what can it be but dreary? And dreary days pass +slowly. The last eighteen months might have been eighteen years, and +that would make me old, even according to your reckoning. But I do not +seem to get on very fast with my story. Ah! I must go back--such a +long way--to the time when I was a girl, with a girl's freshness and +ignorance of life, and fervent belief in herself and the future. I lost +my parents even before that. I scarcely remember my mother. After her +death my father left me at school and took to wandering. He did not +survive her very long. But I was not left alone to battle with life. +An aunt, my mother's only sister, took her place with me. She, too, +had one daughter, and my cousin and I became like sisters; more than +sisters--friends. She was younger than I, but she was everything to me. +I don't think it can often be said of any woman that she loves another +verily better than herself, but this was actually the case with my poor +Laura. My loves, my accomplishments, my success were far more to her +than her own. We were one, absolutely one--never a breath of discord +between us; and now," Margaret paused and sighed deeply, "she has gone, +and my after-sorrows have been so bitter that I have not even a tear +to give to the memory of my first grief, the worst, I thought then, +that I could ever encounter. We had a passion for travelling--Laura and +I--and when she was about sixteen and I seventeen my aunt, who was then +a widow, indulged us by a six months' trip on the Continent. It was to +be strictly educational. My poor aunt! I can hear her now talking about +all we should do, the regular hours of study, the steady application. +Music was to be taken up in Germany, singing in Italy, languages +everywhere. She was too gentle for the management of such volatile +young ladies as we were. Laura and I had pretty much our own way. It +was a pleasant time. How intensely we enjoyed the fresh, new life, the +constant variety, the enlargement of ideas! Ah, if that could have been +all! But I must hasten on. You see," she smiled faintly, "I am like a +shivering mortal; afraid of the first plunge into icy waters, I hover +about the brink." + +"If it is painful to you, say no more, Mrs. Grey," said Arthur +earnestly; "nothing you could possibly tell me would alter my feelings +toward you." + +She shook her head: "It is kind of you to wish to spare me, but I +_must_ go on. You know you are to be my friend, and if you are ever +to help me you must know all. Laura and I were admired. Young English +ladies are thought much of abroad. And very innocently, I think, we +enjoyed the attention we excited. One of our admirers was continually +appearing and reappearing. He seemed to find out our plans as if by +intuition, was always on the spot when we wanted assistance, and on +more than one occasion saved us much trouble and annoyance by a little +timely help. A strange man who interested and puzzled us all, though +to this day I fail to understand him. As far as we could make out, he +was half Spanish, half French. Certainly he had the ease and grace +belonging so peculiarly to France, with the fire and enthusiasm of the +Spaniard. My aunt, I imagine, had full confidence in him, because his +hair was gray, though at that time he could not have been more than +forty, and his face was particularly plain. She could not have thought +of his cherishing anything but friendly feelings for girls like Laura +and me; indeed, I always have a kind of suspicion that she took his +manifold attentions to our party as a tribute of homage to herself, +for my aunt was a pretty woman, and by no means old to be Laura's +mother. M. L'Estrange did everything he could to foster this feeling. +How clever he was! his delicate flatteries! his personal kindnesses! +his assiduous courtesy! Laura and I enjoyed them often, for we were +wiser: _we_ knew that he thought himself neither too old nor too ugly +to fascinate _les demoiselles Anglaises_. And we both fell in love with +him, though in different ways. Laura had no scruple in speaking of her +affection. He was her 'bon père, her frère ainé;' she liked him better +than any one she had ever seen; and he in return petted and caressed +her, brought her cakes and bon-bons, took and demanded a thousand +and one little daughterly attentions, at all of which my good aunt +smiled complacently. But _she_ did not know what _Laura_ knew--that +he seized every opportunity for speaking to me of love. She made +opportunities--my sweet little cousin--for in her beautiful, unselfish +way she could imagine nothing more delightful than this love-making +ending in marriage, her sister and her _bon père_ living together, with +her for their little one, their 'chère fillette'--this last being one +of his pet names for Laura. + +"We met in Paris, we met again in many of the Italian towns, and he and +I corresponded. I was very young; I knew nothing whatever of the world; +it seemed to me strange that with all his professions of devotion +he never mentioned marriage; but I believed his mode of living was +precarious and that as soon as something settled should be offered him +he would ask me to pledge myself. This was Laura's view, too, for my +little darling was older than her years, and she and I discussed the +matter frequently. But at last we--or I should say I--found out what he +was. Laura would scarcely believe anything against her bon père, but +_I_ knew that of him which I could not tell her. He and I parted, and +were to one another as if we never had been even so much as friends. +_I_ suffered, for though I believe now that my imagination rather than +my heart had been touched, still he had formed so large a part of my +life that the parting could not but be painful for the time. I should +have told you that all this had filled about two years; we had been +twice in England, and twice again on the Continent, before I could make +up my mind to break finally with my lover. + +"It was in the course of the winter following my second visit, when +my heart was still aching with the kind of loneliness which the +withdrawal from my life of the one who had made all its romance for so +many months could not but cause, that I met my husband, Maurice Grey. +There could not have been a greater contrast. He had the fire of the +Frenchman, but he lacked his dissimulation. He was in those days--God +only knows how this trial may have changed him!--a true gentleman, +frank, manly, courageous, but with none of the delicate finish, the +courtly ease, the wily fascination of L'Estrange. I soon saw he loved +me--so deeply that my refusal to become his wife would cause him the +intensest pain--And when he made me an offer I accepted him at first +only because I was sorry for him and tired of my solitary position; but +I came to love him, and with a _far_ deeper, truer love than the former +had been, for that had a certain sense of dissatisfaction about it. I +never thoroughly understood M. L'Estrange; Maurice I honored as well +as loved, and with my whole heart. Ah!"--she covered her face with her +hands and moaned--"_if_ he could only have known! But to return: I told +him the whole story of my former love. It did not affect his feelings +toward me. We were married, and two, three years passed by happily. +I don't say we had _never_ little breaks. I suppose in every married +life these occur; and Maurice had one fault: he loved me too much--he +was inclined to be jealous of my affection. I think, when I look back +over that time, that the old story rankled in his mind; he could not +quite shake off the idea that my duty was his, my love still another's. +There came a time when our little child took ill. It was scarlet fever, +and after it was over the doctors recommended sea-air. This was in the +height of the London season, and my husband could not leave town. He +took lodgings for us in Ramsgate, and came to see us whenever it was +possible. + +"Now comes the strange part of my story. Up to that time I had neither +seen Monsieur L'Estrange nor heard of him since my marriage. + +"Of course I thought of him sometimes, and my poor Laura before she +died spoke of him often with lingering affection. At times I had a +kind of morbid curiosity about him. I felt as if I should like to meet +him, only to know whether I was perfectly cured--whether in my mature +age he could exercise the same strange fascination over me as in my +girlhood. This idea I never ventured to mention to Maurice. Would to +God I had! I was walking one day on the Ramsgate pier when suddenly I +saw him. My little girl and her nurse were with me. He recognized me +instantly, looked at me in his curious way and lifted his hat politely. +This chance meeting made a tumult in my brain, but I tried to treat +it as a matter of very small importance. On the next day Maurice was +to arrive, and here was my first false step. I said nothing to him of +the meeting. I noticed him once or twice look at me strangely, as if +trying to read my heart; but he said nothing and I said nothing. He +went away, and on that very morning arrived a letter in the small, +well-known handwriting. I knew it was from _him_, and yet, and yet--God +forgive me!--I opened and read it. It was a simple matter, after all, +claiming common acquaintanceship, asking permission to call on me. +He was waiting at the hotel; if I chose to forbid him he would go no +further; if he received no answer he would be with me in the course of +the afternoon. I persuaded myself that this meant nothing; we should +meet once more--meet as strangers. I should have the opportunity of +proving to myself how foolish my girlish weakness had been. And to +forbid his coming, what would it be but a tacit acknowledgment that he +still possessed a certain power over my heart? I decided to allow him +to come, and through the afternoon I sat indoors, waiting with (I will +always maintain) no stronger feeling than curiosity in my mind. It was +nearly evening before he arrived. I was in some trepidation, but he +behaved perfectly; his manner was easy and natural; he seemed to forget +there had been anything but simple friendship between us. We chatted +pleasantly for about half an hour, and then he rose to take his leave. +The room was in half darkness; I had sent my little one to bed. I put +out my hand carelessly, as I would have done to any ordinary stranger, +but a sudden change seemed to have come over him. To this day I have +never been able to account for it. He who had been so calm only a few +moments before was trembling with excitement. He seized my offered +hand, and before I knew where I was he was kneeling at my feet, pouring +out words that he had no right to speak nor I to hear. Before I could +thrust him away, before I could give voice to my indignation--ah! shall +I ever, ever forget that moment?--the door opened slowly, and I saw +my husband's face as I had never seen it before--dark, threatening, +suspicious. It all passed in a moment. I was conscious of sinking down +in a chair, and covering my face with my hands to hide my burning +shame, for my husband suspected me. I heard high words, and when I +looked up again Maurice and I were alone. + +"'That man has escaped with his life,' he said sternly; 'he has you to +thank for it.' I tried to explain, but he stopped me harshly. It was a +stormy night. The wind was blowing about the house in fierce gusts. Oh +how every detail of that terrible time clings about my brain! + +"My husband left me in the room alone. I sat there for it might be +an hour, as darkness had come before he returned. When he came in a +carpet-bag was in his hand; he was evidently dressed for travelling. +I sprang to my feet. I threw my arms around him; I implored him to +stay and listen to me, but he only answered with that dark suspicious +look. He loosened my hold at last--he reached the door; as he opened +it there swept a great blast of wind into the room. I shall always +feel thankful for that, for he saw me shivering as I lay exhausted on +the sofa, and he came back suddenly to cover me from head to foot in +his travelling-rug; then he kissed me--my poor Maurice!--and I saw +something like relenting in his sad eyes, but I was too weak to tell +him all: the soft moment passed, and I have never seen him since." + +Margaret's voice sank into a wail. Her story had carried her away, so +much so that she had almost forgotten her companion, and when Arthur, +who had been listening intently, sprang suddenly to his feet, she was +almost startled. + +"It is as we thought," he cried impetuously--"my cousin's very words; +she said it was some dreadful misunderstanding. But it shall be set +right. Mrs. Grey, you have given me your confidence nobly and truly. It +shall not be in vain. I have a kind of feeling that it will be given to +me to disentangle this coil." + +And then he knelt down before her on the sands. "Margaret," he +said--and as he spoke the name with all a boy's timidity his young +face flushed and his eyes seemed to burn with a steady, lustrous +shining--"long ago, in the days of chivalry, ladies used to send out +their knights wearing their colors to fight for them and for truth and +for justice. Make me your knight, let me fight your battles. So help +me God, I will stand by you as your own brother might do; I will seek +through the world till I find your husband, I will never rest till I +have righted you! Will you accept my service?" + +She smiled, and bending forward kissed him on the brow. + +"It is the accolade of knighthood," she said. Then they rose together +and went toward the cottage, for the sun was high in the heavens. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +_"I SHALL LIVE AND NOT DIE."_ + + This world is the nurse of all we know, + This world is the mother of all we feel, + And the coming of death is a fearful blow + To a brain unencompassed with nerves of steel. + + +They had further discussion that evening. Margaret told her young +protector, after she had rested a little, how from that day she had +been persecuted by the attempts of L'Estrange to force himself upon +her. How at last she had found this little seaside village, and had +rested there with her child, hoping its isolation and retirement would +hide her. She told of her adventures in London, of the escape so +ably managed by Adèle, of the discovery of her hiding-place, of that +interview, and of her persecutor's concluding words, which, as she +believed, had foreshadowed her present trouble. + +"This is the mystery," said Mrs. Grey in conclusion, looking down at +the scarf, "for a vague idea begins to dawn on me that I did _not_ +leave it on that seat on the sandhills. I remember, or I think I +remember--all that night is in a kind of maze--looking for it, and +being annoyed by the belief that M. L'Estrange had taken it away with +him for some reason best known to himself." + +"What!" said Arthur eagerly; "then, after all, this might be explained. +Mrs. Grey, do you know I begin to have a dawning suspicion that your +husband was not the person who took away your child? In the first +place, to act in this way would be very unlike an English gentleman, +such as, from your account, I imagine Mr. Grey to be; then that threat +of the villain who was annoying you was _un peu fort_--one might +possibly see daylight through it; then--" + +He stopped, for Margaret was giving no attention to his reasons. "_Not_ +my husband!" she cried, and there came a sudden light into her face. +"If I could only think so, but even to wish it would be wrong. Think of +my poor little darling in strange hands!" + +"That need scarcely alarm you. The person with whom your child was +seemed to take every care of her." + +"And you think that person was--?" Margaret fixed her eye on Arthur. +The dreadful wildness was gathering there once more. + +"Dear Mrs. Grey," he said earnestly, "I only say I have my suspicions. +Trust me, I will leave no stone unturned to find your husband and +child. I _have_ a clue to both." + +"What do you mean?" + +Arthur gave in answer the story of the Russian, omitting, of course, +the suspicion of the fair St. Petersburgers. + +"My first step," he said, "shall be to look up Count Orloff. He has +set the Russian police to work, and I believe has found out something +through Mrs. Grey's solicitor in England. Your child and the gentleman +with whom she is will certainly be conspicuous travellers. I made +inquiries at York, at the hotel and station, and found that about a +week ago they must have taken the train from York to Southampton, so +it is highly probable they were bound for some foreign port. We must +set agents to work at Cherbourg, Havre, Lisbon and Gibraltar, for I +think it scarcely likely they can have left Europe. Courage, my dear +Mrs. Grey! I think we shall light upon them. _I_ will follow the track +most likely to have been taken by your husband, leaving the recovery of +the child in the hands of my solicitor--a very different person, I can +assure you, from Mr. Robinson--for if, as I suspect, this villain has +taken his revenge by depriving you of your child, remember, it is an +offence punishable by law, and he shall be hunted down till his crime +is discovered and himself traced." + +The young man's form dilated, he stood erect, he looked what he was--an +Englishman, strong, vigorous, full of noble impulse, of physical +power, of untiring energy. The languor of the fashionable, the elegant +good-for-nothingness, the nonchalant indifference, had all gone; he had +found an object and was ready to throw himself heart and soul into its +pursuit. + +Margaret listened to his hope-inspiring words, and she felt herself +animated with a new courage. She turned to her young protector with +glistening eyes: "And you are ready to do all this for me? How shall I +thank you?" + +"By being strong and courageous," he answered; "but, Mrs. Grey, it +is I who should talk of gratitude. You have changed me from an idle +good-for-nothing into a man with an object before him, an aim to +which all his soul is given. I know it is a good thing. I feel it. It +will be my first battle with the world's injustice. God grant it may +succeed! I believe it will. There is one thing more. You tell me that +your landlady, in relating the story of your child's disappearance, +described your husband. Now, either one of two things. My theory, +supported by the waiter at York and suggested by the man's own words, +is wrong altogether, or else she has been bribed to give you false +information. In the latter case--which, I must say, rather fits in with +my own ideas--she ought to be watched; and certainly this is no place +for you. Who knows what she might not do in dread of discovery? Here +you are more or less in her power. Think a moment. Have you no friends?" + +Margaret turned pale. "Jane has certainly acted strangely of late," +she said, after a pause; "she has even been insolent once or twice +when, as she thought, I was too weak to notice it; but I cannot think +her quite so bad as you seem to imagine. I do not wish to leave this +place yet; you see, I have become accustomed to it. Then I have a kind +of feeling that here, if anywhere, my trouble is to end. You remember +that picture which was the first link between you and me? Do you know +why it appealed to me so strangely? It was like a kind of dream I have +often had. I used to say in the old days that I had what Goethe called +the second sight. Sometimes at superstitious moments I was inclined +to think this dream a kind of vision of the future, and it comforted +me beyond measure. It has come so often and in such different forms, +but it always ends in the same way--Maurice coming back to me over the +sea, and living here in my quiet corner. If I could tell you how much I +have built on this small foundation! But the dream only comes with the +sea-sounds. In those miserable London days I used even to pray for it +at night, I was so utterly hopeless; it never came." + +Arthur looked thoughtful: "I shall see my cousin before I go; she has +been very delicate lately, and my aunt, I believe, is very anxious for +her to have change of air. Perhaps she would allow her to come here and +stay with you for a time." + +Margaret shook her head: "I cannot hope for that, though of all things +I think it would be the pleasantest; but do not be uneasy on my +account. No doubt I shall manage very well by myself; and you will let +me hear whenever any trace has been found?" + +"Indeed I will, Mrs. Grey; and cheer up, for I believe that will be +soon." + +"God grant it!" + +Margaret clasped her thin hands together. She looked so frail, so +shadow-like in the failing light, that Arthur's heart gave a sudden +bound. What if she were fading--if, before he could gladden her by the +news she craved, her spirit should have passed from earth? The thought +made him impatient. He longed to be up and doing, taking the first step +at least in his self-set task. And here would be a plea to urge with +her husband. If he had ever loved her, surely, surely he would forget +everything and fly back to her side when he should hear of her state. + +Arthur was ready with youth's burning eloquence to plead for her. He +felt he could paint her in such colors that not the stoniest heart +could resist him. And while he was thinking it all out, already at his +goal, pouring into the ears of the man he sought the history that had +come upon his own youth like a life-giving power, of the beautiful, +patient lady wasting her fair life away in faithful solitude, she +turned from the open window, crossed the little room and sat down by +his side. + +"God has been good to me," she said gently. "I thought He would take me +away in my sadness, life's broken entangled threads lying loosely in my +hands, but now He has given me back my hope. I shall live and not die, +at least not yet. Young man, there is something in the Bible about the +'blessing of those who are ready to perish.' Surely in the sight of the +All-pitiful that must be a good thing. It is yours. Poor that I am, I +can offer you no more." + +Arthur's eyes glistened. "I hold it more precious than gold," he said, +stooping over her hand and raising it to his lips; "with this I think I +could engage the world." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +_ARTHUR AT WORK._ + + Wait, and Love himself will bring + The drooping flower of knowledge, changed to fruit + Of wisdom. + + +And so Arthur Forrest's little love-dream was dispelled. In Margaret's +presence, with her calm, saddened beauty before him, her gentle +words in his ears, he had not seemed to feel it; for as at the first +her beauty had come upon him like a heaven-sent message, arousing +dormant emotion, awaking his spirit from youth's self-worship, so now +it continued its work by slaying absolutely the still dominant self +within him. He had thought and hoped and longed and chafed through +the weeks of London life, haunted by her presence and by the dream +of gaining her. He saw her again, he recognized that she was not for +him, and he submitted, without a single wish to drag down the goddess +of his idolatry from her seat in the clouds to a lower seat by his +side. Arthur was young. Had the dream come later he might have acted +differently, but as yet he was tolerably free from the world-wisdom +which so many able teachers were ready to impart; besides, there was +that in her quiet dignity, in her ready confidence, in her natural way +of accepting his knight-errantry, that would have effectually checked +any presumption. She did not even seem to imagine that the passion she +had inspired in the breast of this man, so much her junior, could be +anything but transitory, and in her presence he acquiesced calmly. + +The reaction came when he was alone in the hotel that night. To lose no +time he had started for York in the evening, and the officious waiter, +his friend of the day before, had procured for him the same rooms which +he had occupied then. Peopled they had been with the creations of his +fancy evoked by her, and the prospect of seeing her again; he returned +to them disappointed, denuded of hope, and there was a rue look in his +young face as once more he inflicted the echo of his restlessness on +the innocent occupant of the room below. For when all had been said and +done--when he should have compassed heaven and earth to restore her to +happiness and peace--when (for Arthur never dreamt of failure) through +his efforts, and his alone, she should be enjoying once more the +position from which by no fault of her own she had been torn--when her +husband should return to his faith and devotion, and her child be given +back to her arms,--then for himself, what? A grateful remembrance at +most. Their lives would drift apart, ever more widely: he who believed +he should be able to make her joy would yet form no part of it. His +very love would have to be smothered--to be as if it had not been. With +all the grand sentiments in the world to set against it, this is not an +easy thing to bear. + +The greatest hero, the most self-abnegating being that ever lived, +must, I think, have had these moments of reaction--moments when the +heart, looking inward, aches a little for the poor trembling self which +must be buried, hidden away out of sight, if the life would be whole +and consistent. + +And Arthur Forrest was no hero; only a young gentleman trained in the +school of luxury and self-pleasing, and for the first time brought +face to face with necessity. One thing in his favor was that it was +necessity--that there could be no beating about the bush, no half +measures. As a gentleman and a man of honor he was bound to serve the +lady of his choice, and to serve without hope of recompense--such +recompense, at least, as he had pictured to himself only twenty-four +hours before. + +Perhaps nothing better could have happened to the young man than this +early enforced lesson of submission to the law of necessity. Young men +start off on life's race like well-fed stallions, scenting the goal +afar off, and if the world be moderately submissive they ride over her +rough-shod till her weeds and nettles sting them and they fall back +panting from the course. But if the yoke be borne early, submission +becomes a habit and its difficulty is infinitely less. Arthur, however, +could not be expected to be thankful for the salutary lesson, and +what wonder that when the first excitement of planning and scheming, +of playing the grand _rôle_ of disinterested benefactor was over, he +looked a trifle blue and crestfallen, called himself hard names, and +quarrelled with what he was for the moment pleased to look upon as his +"ridiculous age!" + +There is something in the forced inaction of night, when it is not +occupied entirely with its legitimate tenant, Sleep, to nurture morbid +thoughts and gloomy ideas. Like misshapen ghosts they flee with the +daylight--when, that is to say, their sources are not very deep in the +spirit, imbedded there by cruel, unbending circumstance, for then night +is the relief-bringer, morning has the pale terrors of reality in its +train. Arthur's woes were rather of the imagination than the heart. +Morning and action dissipated them. + +He was up early, and before midday had satisfied the proprietor of +the hotel about the ownership of the Indian scarf, had gathered fresh +particulars from the waiter, had cross-examined Jane, the soft-hearted +chambermaid, with all the acumen of a barrister, had caught the morning +mail, and was far on his way to London. + +The fruit of his first day's exertions--for he could not rest until +something had been done--was that he had obtained the permission of his +guardians (merely nominal, for he was within three weeks of attaining +his majority) for a lengthened absence from England, and that by the +next morning's mail a messenger was ready to start for Middlethorpe, +with a hopeful missive from himself and a little casket containing +the jewelry which had been left to the grasping hands and predatory +instincts of Mr. Robinson. + +The messenger was an elderly woman, with gray hair and a pleasant, +homely face. She had been Arthur Forrest's nurse, and his mother had +left her a pension amply sufficient to keep her in comfort and supply +her few wants. The old woman's affection for her nursling was so great +that she had never lost sight of him, and the young man, who knew how +much he owed to her tender care, had gratified her in his youth and +manhood by visiting her from time to time. + +Old Mrs. Foster had been the recipient of Arthur's confidence more +than once, and she had helped him out of many a boyish scrape. In this +dilemma he thought of her. The kind old woman took an interest in his +tale, especially because there seemed to be no scheme attached to it +for the entrapping of her darling. That he should be led away by the +snares of womankind was a subject of constant terror to Mrs. Foster. + +"Tak' tent of the lassies, my bairn," she would say to him at times; +"they're an awfu' sight tae deep for the lads." + +But on this occasion there seemed to be no lassie in the question; only +a suffering lady, who, in the very teeth of her bairn's most dangerous +admissions (over these the old woman shook her head solemnly), had +confessed to a husband still, as it seemed, in the land of the living. + +She consented readily--all the more so, perhaps, because of the power +it would give her of watching the matter--to what Arthur had been +almost afraid to mention, that she herself should become for the time +being a kind of confidential servant to the lady, supposing Margaret +herself would permit it. In any case she would not shrink from the +office of messenger and from the task of observation, for with her +young master she was of opinion that the landlady was a dangerous +person. + +It was a tolerable amount of work for one day, and Arthur was +satisfied. He felt that the stone was set rolling at all points, and +that it would reach its destination in time if human skill and human +energy could accomplish anything. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +_TWO INTERVIEWS._ + + One equal temper of heroic hearts, + Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will + To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. + + +Mr. Robinson was virtuously indignant and highly incensed at the turn +matters had taken. He talked loudly at home and among his religious +friends--who were accustomed to small roughnesses in his style, but +attributed them to the manly nature of his Christianity--about the +young jackanapes, another of your fine gentlemen, who impudently +meddled with what could not possibly concern him; but in presence of +Arthur Forrest's young chivalry he was rather more subdued than usual. +Not that he appeared to be crestfallen--that would have been a tacit +acknowledgment of feeling himself to be in the wrong: he only took the +matter as was becoming to a man and a Christian to take it, laying +himself down ostentatiously for his young friend to tread upon, but +bringing in from time to time unexpected hints about the youthfulness +of the course of conduct he was pursuing, about the necessity for +common sense in dealing with the world, and the certainty he felt that +sooner or later his young friend would find out his mistake. + +Arthur left him with no victory but such as was represented by the +casket, which Mr. Robinson had willingly surrendered. + +The lawyer assured Arthur Forrest, showing his teeth and smiling +pleasantly, that when he knew more of the world he would be aware that +what Mrs. Grey had done was a thing done every day. He could show--and +he opened drawer after drawer to substantiate his statement--pounds' +worth of jewelry left, and left wisely, by ladies who had no need for +it for the moment, in the keeping of their solicitor. If Mrs. Grey had +ceased to repose confidence in him--he shrugged his shoulders to prove +his entire indifference--he could only say that the sooner she took +charge of her own valuables the better, both for her and for himself. +Certainly, she had acted rather strangely after all the trouble he had +taken in the affair for very inadequate remuneration--and _his_ time, +as all the world knew, was valuable; but one must not expect gratitude +in this world. He only trusted--for he could not help still taking a +certain interest in the matter--that everything would be far better +managed. + +Arthur left the office, in fact, with a very bewildered feeling about +his brain. He had known Mr. Robinson well by rumor, but hitherto he +had not been brought into very close contact with him. This interview +shook him considerably. He was at a loss to account for the strange +mixture in the man--his apparent frankness and bonhomie, his real +selfishness and hypocrisy. Before men and women know the world well +they find it difficult to understand mixtures. People, with them, are +ranged into two vast classes, each class bearing written on its brow +in legible characters the legend of its belonging. The good are in +their imagination all frankness, courage, ingenuity; the bad have the +malignant scowl of a villain in a play. They are totally unprepared for +the frank address, the words of common sense and true wisdom, which men +whose hearts are bad have picked up in intercourse with their betters, +and which they use daily in the world as a kind of current coin whose +worth is incalculable. Mr. Robinson had plenty of this, and it somewhat +staggered Arthur. But the recollection of his friend strengthened him, +and he cast aside as unworthy all the lawyer's hints. + +Quietly he requested Mr. Robinson to use neither time nor money in the +effort to find Mr. Grey, and to prepare for having Mrs. Grey's affairs +most thoroughly looked into, as she had friends who would see justice +done to her. The lawyer's parting shrug and voluble assurance of entire +indifference were lost on the young man. He had a more satisfactory +interview later in the same day. His own man of business, Mr. Golding, +was shrewd and well versed in character. He knew where his own +interests lay, and when it was possible he guarded them carefully; but +he was actually--what Mr. Robinson made a loud profession of being--a +God-fearing, conscientious man. He, or the firm he represented, and +which had succeeded to him from his father, had taken charge of the +property inherited by Arthur Forrest for some generations. Naturally, +then, he took a deep interest in it, and it was a matter of some moment +to him that the young heir should place the same confidence in the firm +as his father had done before him. + +When, therefore, he came with his tale--a tale that to the man of the +world sounded rather romantic and far-fetched--Mr. Golding listened +patiently. He did not fail to represent to his client that the business +on which he was embarking was of a highly delicate nature; that +action of his might very possibly be looked upon as an impertinent +interference; that in any case his success--in one at least of the +objects he had set before him--was extremely doubtful. Not that there +could be much difficulty in finding Mr. Grey. If he should still be +above ground he would be found; if not, the fact could easily be +ascertained. The question was, whether, in the first place, there had +not been some motive beyond that imagined for his long absence (it was +difficult for a hard-headed man of business like Mr. Golding even to +imagine how any man could behave so impulsively in such an emergency), +and in this case his return was certainly improbable; whether, in the +second place, should he have left England solely on this account, his +belief in his wife's unworthiness would not be too deeply rooted to +yield to a few enthusiastic words; whether, in the third place, granted +even that his mood toward his wife had softened in the interval, he +would not resent the intervention of a stranger, and be inclined to +feel annoyance at a stranger's intimate knowledge of his affairs. + +To all this Arthur only answered, "I know there are difficulties: I am +prepared for them. I will set to work with great prudence, but set to +work I _must_. The question is this, Do you feel inclined to help me?" + +The shrewd man of law saw that his young client was in earnest, and +he demurred no longer. "I will help you willingly," he said. "I +only wished to prepare you for certain difficulty and very probable +disappointment. And now to work. This gentleman was last heard of at +St. Petersburg?" + +"Yes. He left there ill and evidently dissatisfied. His friends feared +he had some intention of committing suicide." + +The lawyer's lip curled ever so slightly: "The ladies were in want +of a bit of sensation. Probably Mr. Maurice Grey is forgotten by +this time. More likely, I should say, late hours and a gay life had +knocked him up. There is no city where a man can live faster than in +St. Petersburg. He left, probably, to get a little rest, and would not +write for fear of another pressing invitation. But he can't live on +air, wherever he may be. Can you tell me if he derives his income from +property in England?" + +"I believe he does, and that he communicates from time to time with his +solicitor in London. I have _his_ name too. But I believe he is close, +or has been recommended to secrecy by his client." + +Arthur passed a card to Mr. Golding, who glanced at it and gave a +sudden exclamation: "_That_ Grey! Why, I know all about him. You have a +mortgage on his property, Mr. Forrest, and a very first-rate security +it is, too; we could not wish for better. I will write at once to my +friend Edwards appointing an interview. There's a little matter of +business between us, so he will suspect nothing. Then I shall draw him +on to Mr. Grey. He has once or twice entertained me with an account +of his eccentricities. You must not be _too_ sanguine. I believe Mr. +Grey has a kind of objection to letting any one know his true address; +so, even upon the authority of Edwards, I may be sending you off on a +wild-goose chase. However, if we hear something of his whereabouts, we +shall have less difficulty in tracing him." + +"How strange," said Arthur meditatively, "that I should have had +something to do with him all this time without knowing it! But about +the other matter, Golding--the child?" + +"There I disagree with you entirely. That any man can have taken so +stupid a revenge is really absurd, even to imagine. No: Mrs. Grey's +first impression was correct. Her husband wished to overlook the +education of his daughter. He carried out his purpose in a most +unwarrantable manner; but evidently the man is soured--_I_ should say +scarcely responsible. Perhaps he sent an agent to secure the child, +and this would account for the gray hair and foreign appearance. More +probably still, a good deal of this was put on for effect by your +informant." + +"I don't think so," returned Arthur. "It is just possible, as you say, +that Mr. Grey deputed some one to fetch his child, but it would be a +very strange kind of proceeding." + +"Not half so strange as your foreigner encumbering himself with such a +charge out of mere jealousy. However, all this remains to be proved. +Southampton, you say? I will send a clerk there to make inquiries--a +sharp fellow; he has often done me good service in this line. He +shall start this afternoon. It's a pity it has been delayed so long. +If Robinson had understood his duty, he would have set this search +on foot at once. In eight days no one knows what can be done with a +child. However, I have great hope of a clue from Southampton. As you +say, they must be conspicuous travellers. And now, my dear sir, you +are interesting yourself very much about your neighbors, but are you +aware that in three weeks' time we shall have to give an account of our +proceedings during your minority? It is quite necessary that you should +make some provision for the transaction of your business, especially +as, if you follow out your present plans, your whereabouts for the next +few months may be doubtful." + +"I have thought of it," replied Arthur gravely, "and I hope I am +not totally unaware of the responsibilities of my position. For the +present, however, I shall ask you to continue to take the entire +management. When this affair which occupies me so much is over, I shall +be ready to receive your statement, which I know will be satisfactory +in every way." He smiled as he spoke and held out his hand. + +Mr. Golding was surprised as well as touched. It was pleasant to the +man of business--whose labor in the cause of young Forrest's family had +been to a certain degree a labor of love--to find his client able to +take a practical, common-sense view of his position, and to appreciate +his upright and assiduous care. + +He smiled in return, and shook the young man's hand warmly: "You +gratify me, my dear sir. Yes, indeed, I have done my best, my very +best, for the estate, as my father did before me; and the day upon +which I shall deliver up my accounts and those of your guardians +into your hands is one to which I have long looked forward with +pleasant anticipation. In the mean time I may say, in the name of +your guardians, that you can draw upon us in excess of your ordinary +allowance. There are certain accumulations of income which we always +thought would serve for some such purpose as this projected journey. We +could have wished, of course, that it had been delayed, but as matters +stand for you to anticipate their receipt by a few days can be an +affair of no great moment to us." + +And thus it was arranged. Arthur's way was smoothed, and nothing +remained to be done but the attainment of some clue to Maurice Grey's +place of refuge. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +_THE YOUNG PEOPLE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER AT LAST._ + + If that there be one scene in life wherefrom + Evil is absent, it is pure early love. + + +Adèle's languor increased with the summer. The heat, which had grown +intense in and about London, the fatigues of the season, the anxiety +about Arthur and their mutual friend Mrs. Grey,--all these worked upon +a constitution in which the seeds of delicacy were deeply rooted. + +Mrs. Churchill began to be anxious, and to cast about for some suitable +method of giving her daughter change of air. Nothing presented +itself for the moment. It was too early for Scarborough or Whitby; +only plebeians frequented Brighton in July; against the Continent, +Switzerland, Germany or the Italian lakes Adèle protested loudly, and +the good Mrs. Churchill felt a certain sinking of heart at the prospect +of putting the breadth of the Channel between herself and England +during the London season. The little gossip of society, the _projets +de mariage_, the whispers of political complications, the scandals of +high life were dear to Mrs. Churchill's soul. And at this special time, +when the air was rife with rumor, it would have been irritating, to say +the least of it, to go out into the blank of an existence from which +the _Morning Post_ and _Court Journal_ would of necessity be excluded. +But none of these things could alter the fact. Adèle was pining in the +great city; she wanted change of air. + +Indecision and anxiety are not improving to the temper. The +good-natured Mrs. Churchill became sharp and irritable. She was annoyed +with Adèle for being ill, and with Fate for not delaying her illness by +a few weeks, when London could be left without a pang, and the bracing +climate of Scarborough would have been open to them; she was angry +with Arthur for his new independence and mysterious course of conduct, +and especially with that absurd Mrs. Grey, who seemed, by means of her +romantic story and inexplicable power of fascination, to be at the +root of all the inconvenience. The worst of it was that this internal +effervescence could be allowed very little external vent, for Arthur +and Mrs. Grey were out of reach, and the doctors, several of whom had +been consulted, had given express orders that Adèle should be kept as +quiet as possible. Of course it was idle to rave against Fate, for Fate +is calm and impersonal, and only bruises the breasts of the tumultuous. +The servants were the only sufferers, but they took their mistress's +ill-temper with great equanimity, knowing their personal comforts would +not be one jot diminished, and that this storm would pass as others +had passed before it. But Mrs. Churchill could not always keep her +annoyance from her daughter, and on one of these hot days her feelings +became quite too much for her. + +Adèle was on the sofa again, deeply engrossed in one of her pet volumes +with the calf-skin binding. Her mother had been wandering about from +one position to another in the vain effort to cool herself; she had +tried at least a dozen different fans, she had bathed her face and +hands again and again in eau-de-cologne, she had read a little and +worked a little, had taken up the paper and thrown it down again, had +sighed and fumed and bustled till her state was really pitiable. + +"Adèle," she cried at last, "for Goodness' sake put down that book. +Whatever the doctor may say about your not being crossed, I'm quite +sure--and so I told him only yesterday--that so much reading is very +bad for the mind, especially in hot weather. Why, _I_ can't even get +through the paper; and you look as pale as a ghost. Oh," wringing her +hands in desperation, "if I only knew what to do with you!" + +"Only don't excite yourself, mamma," said Adèle languidly. + +"Excite myself? That is not a very dutiful way of addressing your +mother, Adèle, especially when what you call my excitement is solely on +your account." + +"I know it, mamma dear," said Adèle gently, putting down the obnoxious +volume. "Forgive me if I annoyed you, but really I wish so much that +you would cease being anxious about me. I shall be better as soon as +ever the weather is a little cooler." + +"And how long may we suppose that will be?" Mrs. Churchill panted, and +began again agitating desperately the latest fan, a feathered one. "I +tell you what it is, if this goes on I shall shut up the house and +leave London altogether." + +She spoke defiantly, as if London would be greatly the sufferer by such +a step. + +Adèle shook her head: "You would certainly not like it, dear. No: I'll +tell you what to do. You must get Mary Churchill to stay with you here. +It will be pleasant for her to see a little of London, and you know +Aunt Mary will be charmed. Send me away somewhere for a fortnight. I +have a kind of longing for the sea." The young girl closed her eyes. +"I can imagine it, mamma, always so fresh and beautiful--Lord Byron's +'deep and dark blue ocean.' How nice it would be after the tiresome, +dusty streets and squares! I shall get better there directly; I feel +it." + +Mrs. Churchill sighed impatiently: "One would think to hear you, Adèle, +that a young lady could live at the seaside by herself, without any +protection. Pray, little Miss Wisdom, how am I to send you to this sea +which you describe so romantically? I do believe those poetry-books are +at the root of all the mischief. I wish they were all drowned in that +same blue ocean. Blue, indeed! _I_ never see it anything but a dirty +gray. I suppose I want the fine poetic insight. And instead of helping +me you have started another difficulty. I promised your aunt Mary to +show your cousin a little of the world this season; of course it would +have been pleasanter for you to have gone out together; you are such +different styles that it might have been very safely done. I must say +it is extremely tiresome to have all one's plans upset. I wouldn't mind +so much if I could see any way out of all this, but really and truly I +was never so utterly at sea in my life." + +"Write to Aunt Mary," said Adèle cheerfully, "and leave me to manage +the rest." + +"Leave you, indeed! I might as well leave a baby. I know your +unpractical schemes of old. Dear me! I wish I could think of some +feasible plan." + +"Only don't fret yourself, dear," said Adèle, kissing her mother +affectionately; "and listen! is that not Arthur's knock? I dare say he +can help us." + +"_Very_ likely!" said Mrs. Churchill in a manner that was meant to be +splendidly satirical. "However," she continued, "I must dress now, but +I shall come down again before I go out; and remember, Adèle, if I find +he has excited your mind by any of his absurd romances, I shall forbid +him the house at once." + +Adèle's eyes twinkled pleasantly at this awful threat. She knew her +mother too well to have even the faintest fear of its fulfilment. + +When Arthur came in she saw in a moment that he was changed. The +languid, quasi-sentimental look had gone from his face, his step was +brisk and vigorous, he held himself erect; he even seemed to his +cousin's partial eyes to have grown since she saw him last. For the +moment as she gazed she trembled. It was all over, then. He had come to +tell her of success; but, reproving herself for the selfishness of the +thought, she held out her hand with a smile: "The sea-air has done you +good, Arthur; you look a different person." + +He looked down upon her kindly: "I think I am better, Adèle, and in +more ways than one; but, my poor little cousin, I can't return the +compliment; you look as pale as a ghost. What in the world has Aunt +Ellen been doing with you?" + +Adèle flushed painfully, for she was impatient to know what his +experience had been: "Please don't mind my looks, Arthur. Remember I am +curious. Be kind to me, dear," she smiled faintly; "keep me no longer +in suspense. Your eyes tell me something has been done." + +Arthur sat down, and took one of her hands in his: "What do you read in +them, Adèle?" + +She looked away, shading her face with her hand: "That you have +something to live for at last--that she, the woman whom you love--and I +believe she is worthy of your love"--it was bravely said, though there +was a certain rebellious rising in the poor little throat; she paused +a moment to choke it down, then continued very calmly--"that Margaret +has chosen you for her protector, that you are already busy planning to +restore her to happiness." + +Arthur smiled again, then stooped over his cousin's sofa: "Why do you +look away, Adèle? If I should say that all this is true, that you are +the most penetrating little lady in the world, would you not be glad, +seeing that I have only obeyed you?" + +"Don't, Arthur, don't," was the stifled answer, for he was struggling +with the hand which hid her averted face, and tears were in her eyes, +tyrannous exponents of a secret she would have died rather than +reveal. Arthur might have descanted with reason on the capriciousness +of woman's character, but he did not; he only smiled very tenderly, +and drew the tear-stained face to a surer shelter as he told in a few +earnest, manly words of the experiences of the last few days, and of +the task he had set himself. + +"Adèle," he whispered in conclusion, "I am cured. When I left you my +brain was full of mad ideas. _She_ showed me their folly, and now I can +admire her, I can honor her, I can even love her, as a brother might, +with the purest desire for her happiness, which I still earnestly hope +to restore by giving her back her husband. For myself, my dream has +changed. Listen, Adèle, dear. Look up at me once: my present hope is +this--to strive by every means in my power to make myself worthy of the +gentlest, the most womanly, the noblest--" + +She read the rest in his eyes, and with a smile that irradiated her +face till it was absolutely beautiful she looked up and put her finger +on his lips: "Hush, dear, hush! say no more; you make me ashamed of +myself, I have been so impatient and foolish. But, Arthur, I am happy +now, _so_ happy!" + +She rested her head on the sofa and looked up at him, her blue eyes +shining and her cheeks glowing with soft excitement; a little smile of +contentment was playing about her lips, her golden hair fell back from +her forehead in rippling waves; she was fairer than ever before, for +nothing is so beautifying as happiness, especially to women of Adèle's +type. + +Her cousin felt it. He looked at her with a smile. "Do you know, +Adèle," he said gently, "I never thought you beautiful before, but you +_are_ beautiful. What is it that is new to me in your face, little +cousin?" + +She shook her head: "I can't tell, dear, unless perhaps it may be that +never in all my life have I been so _very_, very happy." + +By which answer it will be seen that Adèle was but a novice in the ways +of the world. She was not afraid, now she knew her love was returned, +of letting its fullness be seen. + +Let him love her little or much, that he loved her was enough. From the +moment that was known she could not help letting him see she was his +without reserve. + +And Arthur's was not a nature to abuse such confidence "She trusts +me fully. She shall never regret it," he said to himself. The +consciousness of love and confidence unreservedly given is ennobling to +some natures. His cousin's simple trust was a new rock of strength to +the young man. + +He stooped and kissed the young girl's ruddy lips, and there went +from her warm, glowing life and love a thrill of something reciprocal +through his being. He loved her, not with the first unreasoning love of +the boy throwing his wilful soul into a dream that has come he knows +not how--that is beautiful, fascinating, enthralling, he knows not +why--but with a riper, better feeling, for those weeks' experience had +served to form the young man's character, and it may be that for the +time he was even in advance of his years. + +He loved his cousin for herself, with a love founded on the sure basis +of unwavering respect. He had seen her as she was, and he admired her +with all his soul for her beautiful unselfishness. Besides, _she_ loved +him with a force of loving that only a few weeks before would have +been utterly incomprehensible to him. Arthur's suffering had taught him +something, and he was able to understand his cousin. + +After the mutual revelation they chatted together pleasantly, formed +plans by the thousand for Arthur's guidance in the difficult task that +was before him and for Adèle's demeanor in his absence. They were as +happy as two birds in a nest, for Arthur was at rest in his heart and +in his conscience, and in the light of her own happiness and pride +Adèle could not even be distressed at the indefinite separation before +them. For with the sanguine nature of youth she could not bring herself +to believe it would be long. + +But as they talked the glow faded from her face. She was still weak, +and the glad excitement that had lent so soft a bloom to her cheek for +a time was itself exhausting. + +Arthur was alarmed as he looked at her, she was so pale and fragile. +This friend, whose affection he had almost despised, was becoming +infinitely dear to him, and with a sudden pang he thought that perhaps +this delicacy might mean more than they had imagined. + +"Adèle," he said in a startled tone, leaning over her sofa and gazing +anxiously into her eyes, "you must keep nothing from me; remember I am +to be your husband. Tell me the whole truth, or I shall go away from +you with a haunting fear. Is anything seriously wrong with you? Does +the doctor seem alarmed?" + +She smiled a glad smile. It was sweet to be so cared for. + +"In all honesty I believe not, dear. All I want is change of air. You +see I am weak," she sighed, "and all these people coming and going tire +me. Oh, Arthur, if you knew how I long for the sea sometimes! It is +like a kind of home-sickness. I feel as if I should be well at once if +I could only hear the waves. Don't you know--that nice, fresh, restful +sound?" + +"I can't conceive why Aunt Ellen keeps you here," said Arthur with the +indignant impatience of youth. A few days before he had not been so +boundlessly considerate for his cousin himself. But human nature is +ever the same. We would wish all our neighbors to view the landscape +from our own standpoint; indeed, we are sometimes highly incensed if +they persist in looking at it from theirs. + +"Poor mamma!" said Adèle, "she is quite put out and puzzled about me. +You see, she never likes to leave London at this time; and then she +promised to have Cousin Mary here, and there is so much going on." + +"But why need _she_ go?" persisted Arthur. "Now, if she would only +agree to the arrangement, and if you could stand the journey, I would +willingly see you as far as Middlethorpe. Mrs. Grey has plenty of spare +room, she would be delighted to see you, and old Martha is travelling +there to-day, so that you would be well taken care of; then later in +the year Aunt Ellen could pick you up on her way to Scarborough." + +Adèle shook her head: "_I_ should like it very much, but I fear mamma +won't. She will call it one of our unpractical schemes." + +"But that's all nonsense," said Arthur impatiently; "she must either +take you away herself or let some one else do it, and surely I am as +fit a person as any one to decide on what is fitting for my future +wife." + +Adèle laughed out merrily then, for as the last words were spoken in a +tone of indescribable importance, the door opened and Mrs. Churchill +appeared, radiant with smiles and good-humor. She had caught the +latter part of Arthur's sentence, and its decisive tenor set her mind +completely at rest. Evidently these ridiculous young people had at last +settled matters to their own satisfaction and hers. + +"Treason in the camp!" she said, gayly, repulsing her nephew's offered +hand. "No, no, sir; before I have anything whatever to say to you I +must hear the burden of your complaint, and understand from your own +lips _what_ is fitting for your future wife." + +"Mamma!" "Aunt Ellen!" Adèle and Arthur were covered with confusion in +a moment. + +"Blushing, too!" said that lady unpityingly. "Come, Master Arthur, your +confusion is becoming, and Adèle's blushes particularly charming, but +_I_ am not answered. What are your lordship's commands? for I suppose +they must be obeyed." + +"Must they, Aunt Ellen? _tant mieux_," answered the young man lightly; +"then I shall lay them upon you without delay. This young lady"--he +took one of Adèle's hands and held it in his--"my future wife, as you +observe, is looking wretchedly ill and worn; she requires change of air +at once." + +Mrs. Churchill's face clouded: "Easily stated, my dear nephew; the +difficulty is at the present moment to give it to her." + +"The difficulty can easily be overcome, Aunt Ellen, if you will only +have confidence in my judgment. You have heard something about Mrs. +Grey--" + +"And quite enough, Arthur; pray don't begin upon _that_ old story." + +"But I must, indeed, Aunt Ellen, if you are to understand what I want. +Mrs. Grey has been good enough to put all her affairs in my hands. +I have learned from her that the separation between herself and her +husband was brought about by a misunderstanding which she has been +allowed no opportunity of explaining. _My_ business now is to find out +her husband and make him understand the true state of affairs." + +"All very well," broke in Mrs. Churchill impatiently; "and I'm glad to +hear she had the good taste and honesty to let you know at least that +her husband is living. But, pray, what has this to do with Adèle?" + +"Patience for one moment, Aunt Ellen. I only trouble you with all these +details that you may know my scheme for my cousin is not so unpractical +as it may seem. Mrs. Grey, I am firmly convinced, is an honorable, +high-minded lady, or else indeed I could not wish to entrust her, even +for one day, with the keeping of any one so near and dear to me as +Adèle must be under any circumstances; for (_please_ let me go on for +one more moment) my scheme is this: Mrs. Grey has a charming little +house on the Yorkshire coast; the air is splendid, the neighborhood is +quiet." + +Mrs. Churchill could not help smiling: "_Don't_ take a leaf out of +_Murray_, Arthur." + +But the young man continued seriously: "She will be delighted to +receive Adèle for a time. If you agree to this, I can take her to +Middlethorpe before I go abroad, and you, on your way to Scarborough in +the autumn, can bring her on with you. Old Martha will be there, for +I sent her on to-day with some jewelry belonging to Mrs. Grey which I +have reclaimed from her lawyer. You know Martha will look after Adèle's +comfort as well as you could. Come now, Aunt Ellen, is this such a very +unpractical scheme?" + +"Perhaps not, since your Mrs. Grey has turned out to be a respectable +matron after all; but what warrant have we that her story is true?" + +"Mamma!" began Adèle indignantly, but Arthur stopped her: + +"My moral conviction of her truth is enough for me, Aunt Ellen, and +for Adèle; I believe it would be for you if you had once seen her. But +for your satisfaction I can tell you that her story has been rather +strangely confirmed. I went to see Golding about it this morning, for I +wished to set him on the track of Mrs. Grey's child, who, I should tell +you, was mysteriously stolen away from her about a week ago. He knows +Mrs. Grey's solicitor, and had heard from him all the leading points of +the story." + +Mrs. Churchill sighed: "Ah, well! I hope no harm will come of it. I +must say it's a queer state of affairs altogether, but as far as I can +see it seems the best plan. Adèle is certainly old enough to take care +of herself, and Mrs. Grey could scarcely have any ulterior design in +asking her to stay at the house. Then old Mrs. Foster being there is +a great thing; she is a most trustworthy person. I suppose it will be +necessary for me to write to Mrs. Grey, but how am I to put it? Is she +supposed to have sent an invitation by you?" + +Adèle's eyes were glistening with delight at this happy termination. +"Never mind about that, mamma," she said gayly. "I will write a little +note to Margaret to prepare her for my coming, and, let me see, if you +like, Arthur, I can start the day after to-morrow." + +"My dear child, how impetuous you are!" + +"The day after to-morrow, Aunt Ellen," said Arthur decisively; "that +will give me to-morrow for further inquiries in town, the day after for +our journey, then on the day following, if at all possible, I shall +start for the Continent." + +"Well, well," said Aunt Ellen, good-humoredly, "you young people have +taken the law into your own hands, so all I have to do is to submit." +And thus the matter was arranged to the mutual satisfaction of the +cousins. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +_A STORM._ + + There's somewhat in this world amiss, + Shall be unriddled by and by. + + +The sultry afternoon was closed by a stormy evening. As Arthur and +Adèle sat together in the library--for Mrs. Churchill, who was herself +at a large dinner-party, had been graciously pleased to leave them +alone together in this coziest corner of the comfortable house--the +clouds began to gather and a moaning, sighing wind to sweep up the +street. + +"There is going to be a storm," said Adèle with a little shiver; "close +the curtains, like a good old fellow, and come to tea." + +"Don't you like storms, Adèle? I thought you were so brave." + +"Sometimes, but not to-night." + +She rose from her seat at the table and stood by his side, leaning her +hand on his shoulder and her little rounded chin on her hand. + +"How the clouds are driven about, and how wild they look! Oh come away, +Arthur. I am so glad I am not alone!" + +"Why, my little cousin? Is lightning more dangerous in solitude?" + +"Everything _seems_ more dangerous when one is alone; but you don't +understand me, Arthur. I never feel as if a storm were dangerous. It's +not fear, but a kind of feeling rather difficult to explain, as though +bad things were about and near us." + +"Witches on broomsticks and malignant fairies," suggested Arthur. + +Adèle laughed: "Not exactly. I lost my faith in them a few years ago; +indeed, by the bye, I never believed in them. My fairies were always +pretty and good. This storm makes me think of wicked people more than +wicked spirits. There! look! That yellow, sinister-looking flash +brought before me as distinctly as if I had seen him at the moment the +face of Margaret Grey's tormentor, the tall dark man who smiled in at +the window so insolently. Oh, I do hope and trust I shall never meet +him anywhere!" + +"How funny!" said Arthur lightly: "the storm made me also think of some +one connected with Mrs. Grey. That horrid old landlady's face came in +a most contorted manner before my mind. I fear that woman is no better +than she ought to be; however," he drew out his watch, "if Martha has +followed out my directions she ought to be at the cottage now. Let me +see: the train is due in York at half-past four, by six she should be +at Middlethorpe Station, then a two hours' drive. I hope it is all +right, but I can't help wishing I had got the old woman to start last +night." + +"What are you afraid of, dear?" said Adèle nervously. + +Arthur laughed, but there was something forced in his mirth: "We'll +draw the curtains, Adèle. You have infected me with your fancies. I +really feel as if something uncanny were abroad to-night." They sat +down together to the tea-table luxuriously spread with rich plate and +china. There were no hot fumes of gas to poison the atmosphere, but a +silver reading-lamp cast its warm light upon the table, leaving the +heavy crimson curtains in their long folds, the tall stately bookcases +and the oaken cabinet in shadow. It was a pleasant room, restful to the +senses. Adèle looked round her. "How comfortable we are here to-night, +Arthur! and," as a sullen crash of thunder and the splash of falling +rain came from outside, "how desolate it must be out there! Oh, Arthur, +why can't every one be as happy and comfortable as we are?" + +For the sound of the tempest had brought the eternal shadow that lurks +in the background of every human joy to the young girl's soul, and she +was ready to reproach herself for her own exuberant gladness. + +"It's much better not to think of it at all," said Arthur lightly--"at +least not to disturb one's self;" and then he added more gravely, "I +think if we each do our best to lessen the amount of human suffering, +we may safely enjoy our own happiness." + +"And you are doing yours," said Adèle, looking admiringly at the young +face ennobled by its transient gravity; "if you succeed in bringing +back happiness to that _one_ life, it will be something to have lived +for." + +"If I succeed!" Arthur sighed; some of the rebellious thoughts of the +preceding evening were troubling him once more. He rose and paced the +room. "I feel so restless, Adèle," he said in explanation. "When this +storm has cleared off a little I shall go out for a stroll." + +Was there a reason for his restlessness? Had some electric current, +flashing through the troubled air, notified him of the terrible scene +that was being enacted under the storm-sounds in the distant little +village, where the woman to whom the first love of his boyhood had +been given was, as he fondly believed, resting calmly in her dwelling, +cheered by the hope and confidence he had brought her? + +Who can tell? for life has many chords, and Nature has agents infinite +and varied to work her strange will, and humanity is a complex thing +that no philosopher has yet been able to resolve into all its component +parts. Matter he may hold, but mind defies him, and these strange +coincidences, these half-revelations, are all of the impalpable spirit, +humanity's crown and power. + +It will be remembered that in the course of the last conversation +between Margaret Grey and her young protector he had expressed in very +strong terms his distrust of her landlady, and had even hinted some +suspicion of her false dealing in the information she had given about +the lost child. + +That conversation had been overheard by Jane Rodgers. Something of this +she had suspected, and with ear applied to the keyhole she had been +listening to every syllable of the conversation. Much of it had been +inexplicable. It required the disclosures of the morning, which had +been given on the sea-shore utterly out of reach of her ears, to give +any meaning to much that passed between Mrs. Grey and her visitor; but +this one thing clung to Jane's mind with a sullen persistency. The +young man had seen through her--her lodger distrusted her. + +Jane was conscious of this: that she had been guilty of double-dealing, +that she had received a bribe for carrying out a certain purpose, +that she had given the cunning of a clever brain to helping forward +the commission of what she knew to be a crime. And this she had done, +not for the money's sake, though Jane was fond of gold, but for +the gratification of a hatred which was daily strengthening in her +narrow mind. Jane had not many passions or affections; she had, as +she thought, outlived the gentler ones, she had grown hard in a hard +school; and this hatred had taken all the deeper root. It grew, in +fact, till it absorbed her, and drowned in its turbid depths every +other emotion. + +She had long disliked her mistress--at first she could scarcely have +told why. Perhaps it was Mrs. Grey's peculiar beauty and grace and +the quiet dignity of her manner that made her so utterly antipathetic +to her landlady. Little natures are apt to be jealous in a wild, +unreasonable kind of way. Jane in the course of her life as a servant +had come often into close contact with beauty, wealth, happiness, but +none of these had affected her so strongly as the constant presence +of this patient lady, who, she had taught herself to believe, was +"no good," and yet whose quiet dignity and calm superiority made her +universally respected and admired. + +Another element went to the forming of this deadly hatred. Her mistress +was kind and gentle, but she never descended to Jane's level. The +landlady might think as she would of her lodger's antecedents; there +remained in spite of all as immeasurable a distance between them as had +ever separated Jane Rodgers the servant from her haughtiest mistress. +It was a something that daily fretted the woman's spirit--in a great +measure, it may be, because it was incomprehensible. + +Jane was no communist or republican; the barriers of rank and fashion +she could thoroughly understand. She had never bruised herself by +attempting to beat against those iron bars. "Providence," she would +piously remark to such of her equals as complained in her presence of +inequality of lots--"Providence had ordained as there should be rich +and poor, high and low, which, as far as she could see, was judicious, +for what would a servant do as a fine lady, and how could a fine lady +do for herself?" + +But in the refinement that independently of circumstances and +surroundings raises one above another, Jane could not see the hand of +Providence so directly. + +Mrs. Grey seemed to have no particular position in the world, few +people knew her, her clothes were often shabbier than Jane's. The +landlady believed, and probably with reason, that she could have bought +up her mistress's possessions with very little trouble. Where, then, +was the difference between them? Why was it that Jane had instinctively +stood in the presence of her lodger, and treated her (until the last +access of rage and hatred) with the same respect as she had treated +mistresses who were high in the scale of the world's honor? She could +not understand it, and it galled her proud spirit till dark, brooding +evil took full possession of her. + +This it was that had prompted her strange behavior in Mrs. Grey's +absence. This it was that had caused her last and basest treachery. + +Jane had not, indeed, objected to the bribe, which had been tolerably +large, but for the money's sake she would not have compromised +herself. It was against Jane's principles. That she had gone through +life tolerably clean-handed was chiefly owing to this. She had a mind +capable of looking beyond the paltry bribe to the consequences involved +in its reception. Anxiety of mind, care, terror of discovery,--she +was given to comparing the relative value of these with that of the +gold which would buy her concurrence in some underhand scheme, and +generally the decision was against the gold. But this time the danger +of discovery was not great and the service rendered was small, scarcely +amounting, so Jane reasoned with herself, to complicity in the deed. +The money was acceptable and the revenge was sweet. + +It was very bewildering to Jane's mind and rather destructive to her +peace that as soon as ever the affair had occurred Mrs. Grey's friends +came flocking to the place. First the lawyer; but Jane was shrewd +enough to see that _he_ was not dangerous to her--rather, perhaps, to +her mistress. After him, however, came the young Arthur, a man of very +different type, and even before the overheard conversation Jane had +caught the young man watching her very closely. She knew then that +Margaret had told her troubles to a sympathizing listener, who was +ready to devote himself to her service. She had a shrewd suspicion, +too, that he would succeed in unearthing the mystery. And then her +share in the abduction of the child might very possibly come to light. + +Her suspicions were confirmed by the few decided words in which Arthur +alluded to his fears for Margaret and his earnest desire that she +should choose another residence. If they had seen the white look of +fear and hatred which overspread the face of the listener, Margaret +would probably have come to a very different decision. Jane's hatred +had been great before. The penetration of the young man and the quiet +acquiescence of her lodger increased it tenfold; while joined to these +was a sudden fear lest the salutary advice should be followed, lest +Mrs. Grey should leave the house and the schemes of her young protector +be carried on wholly out of her reach. + +Her fears were set at rest, but Margaret's calm answer inflamed +her once more. She read in it a quiet contempt at the bare idea of +Jane being able to inflict any kind of annoyance upon her, with the +exception of a stupid insolence. + +The woman crept from the door with the spirit of evil in her heart. She +spent the next day brooding. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +_WHAT THE STORM BROUGHT._ + + I said that I was dying. God is good: + The heavens grow darker as they grow the purer; + And both as we do near them; so near death + The soul grows darker and diviner hourly. + + +The storm that had looked so wild among the streets and terraces of +London broke in absolute fury over the northern ocean. The waves +were lashed into violence under the fierce rushing of the winds, the +great yellow clouds sent out vivid flashes that lit up the desolate +scene, and ever and anon came the sullen crash of thunder through the +darkness. + +The sun had gone down, the twilight had passed into the storm-darkness; +it was about the time when Adèle and Arthur had been discussing the +mental effects produced by tempest in the closely-curtained library, +and sending out the warm compassion of their young souls to the world's +great army of mourners. Margaret Grey sat beside her parlor-window +looking out upon the storm. She looked very desolate in the silent, +half-dark room, with its white curtains and ghostly holland draperies. +Her hands were folded listlessly, her eyes were full of sadness. She +had been much happier and far more hopeful since Arthur's visit, but +on this evening, she could not have told why, the deep depression from +which his presence and her own strenuous exertions had aroused her +seemed to be settling down upon her once more. + +She felt so absolutely alone and uncared-for in the dreary tumult upon +which she gazed that she began to feel as if it were impossible for +anything but this to be her lot. Every sweet human tie that had once +rejoiced her had been loosened, and she told herself she only was to +blame, and therefore they might never, never be reknit. It was a curse +upon her, and she could not believe it would be removed. + +She bowed her head upon her hands as she thought of the past--as she +felt within herself the rich, boundless capabilities of loving--as she +looked out upon her own desolation. + +And while she was brooding the darkness gathered. In the distance the +white foam of the waves gleamed through it, and from time to time it +was disturbed by the lightning; but for that it was deep indeed. A +dark night has terrors for the imaginative: Margaret looked out with a +shudder. + +"It was into such a darkness that he went out," she murmured. "Oh, my +darling! my darling!" + +And then she turned, and began to feel with a certain creeping sense of +uneasiness that the house was very still. She drew down the blind with +a hasty impulse. The outside world made her think too painfully of that +wanderer in his first desolation. Alas! he would have recovered from +that--perhaps he was even rejoicing in his liberty. The thought was too +bitter. She felt her overstrained mind must have relief. A book might +bring it, so she rose to ring for lights. + +But before she could reach the bell-handle the door opened slowly, +stealthily, as if ashamed of its own creaking, and a figure that in the +half darkness she did not recognize crossed to the window, and taking +a seat gazed at her across the interval of shadow. There was something +defiant in the action, and for a moment Margaret was frightened. Who +was this that had dared to intrude upon her? + +But she and her landlady were alone in the house. Her fears, she told +herself, were puerile; crossing the dark room, she looked her intruder +in the face. By the faint light which still struggled through the +window-blind she recognized Jane Rodgers. But could she be right? Was +not this rather a distorted creature of her own imagination that had +taken the landlady's face and features to mock her? This being was +very unlike the quiet and eminently respectable landlady, for the +face was so livid that it seemed to gleam out of the darkness, the +eyes were wild and lurid, and the lips and tongue seemed to be moving +convulsively, as though the woman were agitated with burning thirst. + +Margaret started back in momentary alarm; but she was naturally +brave--she would assure herself that this was no dream conjured up by a +diseased imagination, but actual, living flesh and blood. She put her +hand on her landlady's shoulder. "Jane," she said, "is this you? My +good woman, what is wrong? Has the storm alarmed you?" + +Her touch was flung off with such violence that she staggered and +nearly fell, for the torrent of this woman's wrath and hatred had been +so long suppressed that now no bounds would hold it. "Leave me alone!" +she cried. "How dare you put a finger on me? No," with a wild laugh as +Margaret retreated quietly to the door. She thought the woman was mad, +and so Jane was in a sense. "I've turned the key. We're alone together, +at last, my fine lady; you shall hear me out; you shall know what's in +my power--what I'll do, by ----! It's a fine night, dark as pitch; a +body could be easily put out of the way--made quiet and then tossed out +there!" + +She lifted the blind, and even as she did so came a lurid flash. It +showed the outside tumult, the black, restless waves, seeming in their +unrest to hunger for a victim, and for one moment it showed in bold +relief what was more dreadful still, a dark human face distorted with +hideous passion. The eyes of the landlady seemed to be starting from +their sockets, her strong sinewy hands were clenched, her body was +stooping forward; the attitude was that of a cat about to spring upon +its prey. Margaret saw and shrank back in sudden terror, the sight was +so repulsive. But she recovered herself. They were woman to woman. +Why should she fear? Again she touched the landlady on the shoulder. +"Jane," she said in a low voice that trembled in spite of her strong +effort to be calm, "you must be mad or dreaming. What does all this +mean?" + +"It means ----." The woman hissed _one_ word into her ear, and then +for the first time Margaret realized her position. She had not much +physical strength, for the severe mental struggles through which she +had been passing had slowly but surely sapped at the springs of her +life. Alone! She had thought of it with sadness only a few moments +since; now she felt herself alone, and in the power of a hatred +rendered strong and brutal by human passion. In the presence of the +dark reality her small remnant of strength deserted her. She felt weak +and faint with sheer terror of what might be before her. + +In one moment it all seemed to flash upon her--the horror, the mystery, +the sickening details. She closed her eyes and instinctively cried out +for help to the one Presence that alone was near her in this awful +moment. The lightning flashed in again upon the strange scene. It +showed her kneeling, with clasped hands and calm face and eyes raised +up to heaven. + +Heaven! God! We think of them little in our hours of peace and +gladness, but in the storm-sounds, in the terrors of darkness, in +physical weakness brought home to our souls, perhaps we are all +somewhat alike. Weak women and strong, self-dependent men instinctively +look up, involuntarily call on the awful name. How often, how often, +the Name has proved a Power! Even in this case it seemed for a moment +effectual. + +The woman with the deadly purpose in her eyes shrank back, awed by the +secret witness evoked by prayer. But darkness hid the calm, resolute +face, and the cruel heart was steeled once more. "What's the use of +praying?" she cried in a transport of fury; "them as prays should +practice--that's _my_ creed; and, look you here! if there's a heaven +and hell, as the pious says, you've killed my soul, for I was never +wicked till _you_ came our way; and _curse_ you for it, I say, with +your milk-white face and your smooth ways and your pride! But I'll +do for you yet. I didn't intend it," she continued, her voice rising +almost to a shriek, "leastways, not to-night; but the look of you, the +feel of you, makes me _mad_." She had seized Margaret's delicate wrists +and was holding them in a vice-like grasp as she glared into her eyes. +"Your fine young gentleman suspects me--you haven't that confidence. I +was insolent, was I? but not nothing to be afraid of. Perhaps you'll +cry another cry now, if I let you cry at all." + +She laughed a savage laugh that made Margaret shiver, but she had not +lost all her power; with a sudden wrench she threw off the woman's +grasp, and springing to the window unloosened and opened it. It was +on the ground floor, but even a fall would have been better than this +life-and-death struggle in the darkness. The cool, keen night-air was +refreshing. She drew a long breath and threw herself forward. It was in +vain. + +Jane had recovered from the momentary paralysis which Margaret's +unexpected effort had caused her. She caught her round the waist, and +dragging her back into the room threw her down upon the ground. + +Then for a moment Margaret's consciousness deserted her. With a deep +sigh she closed her eyes, but not even her weakness would come to her +relief. Horror kept her senses alert. She opened her eyes to feel the +cool night-air bathing her face, and to see the face of her enemy very +close to her own. + +Jane's knees were on Margaret's chest, her hand was uplifted to strike, +but her victim opened her eyes and the hand fell. "You're not quite +gone," she said--"only a sham, like t'other night. No more shams for +you, fine lady; but, listen! a big one for me, and it'll help your +last moments to hear it. You've destroyed yourself is to be my story +to-morrow when the neighbors inquire--went out in the storm unbeknown +to me--wasn't heard of no more." + +Margaret closed her eyes again, but no cry for mercy came from her +lips. + +Jane Rodgers waited. It would have been a triumph to have heard the +passionate prayers for which she had prepared herself to answer with +mocking reference to former times. She stooped down. "Have you nothing +to say?" she asked. + +Still not a word, only the dark eyes opened, and the pure spirit seemed +to look out calmly on the passionate, sin-stained mortal. + +And still Jane waited. It seemed almost as if an invisible power had +held back her hand. + +In the moment given her Margaret was preparing to die. She looked +her position calmly in the face. She could not struggle. All her +strength seemed to have gone out of her in that last effort. Nothing +was left but submission. It was hard. For the sake of others, for the +sake of the future which was beginning to take fairer colors, she +would have wished to live; and then in this kind of death there was +something so revolting. To be put out of sight, to be cast like a dog +into the waters, to leave behind her as a memory either the stain of +self-destruction or the horrible nine days' wonder of a sickening +murder. But would not words be thrown away? and strength she had none. + +She could only pray with passionate intensity for help. With the prayer +came calmness, and after it a strange thought that utterly absorbed her. + +For the moment Margaret Grey forgot herself, forgot even the horror of +her situation. She looked up into the haggard, desperate face bending +over her, and her very soul was filled with a deep, boundless pity. Her +thought was no more to save herself; it was to save this woman from the +commission of a crime. A sudden sense of responsibility seemed to crush +her down, a feeling that if this woman's soul were lost she would be to +blame. It was a madness, a noble madness, but it gave her strength. + +With an irresistible force she threw off the knees that were pressing +out her life, and rising to her feet looked in her turn into the eyes +of her bitter foe--a look that so astonished Jane as to render her for +the moment helpless, for she saw her mistress's face as the face of +an angel. Through the semi-darkness of the room those kind, sad eyes +looked into hers, and seemed to draw away half her venom. + +Then Margaret spoke in a soft, low tone that contrasted strangely with +the fierce, savage words to which she had been forced to listen: "Poor +foolish woman! why do you hate me so?" + +Her words fell clear and unanswered in the silence. She went on gently, +"If I have suspected you wrongfully, if I have caused you any kind of +evil, I am heartily sorry; but oh, for your own sake, for the sake +of all you hold dear, pause now before you do a deed that can never, +through all eternity, be undone." + +She paused a moment to gather strength: "I did not intend to ask +you to spare me, but as I lay there helpless it came into my mind +that if I suffered this deed to be done your blood-guiltiness would +be on my head. You cannot hurt me much," she continued with a noble +truthfulness, "for what is death? I have looked it in the face more +than once--a bitter pang, no doubt, but a short one. I plead not for +_my_ sake, but for yours--for your poor soul, which is perishing this +night. In God's name I beseech you to spare it. Be wise in time, or at +least--for the long night is before us--take an hour to consider. I +will not escape--I will sit here in your sight. You were mad for the +moment--these feelings of hatred had taken possession of you--God would +not suffer--" She broke off suddenly, "Hark! what is that?" + +"A knocking at the gate," said Jane, turning very pale. "Now's your +time. You have gained time with your false tongue. I sha'n't be able to +escape. You will have your revenge." + +"Stop," said Margaret, holding her back, and there was heavenly +forgiveness in her face. "Believe that I wish you no ill. Look at me, +Jane. Do you see hatred or vengeance in my face? Forget these few awful +moments. I will forgive, and we shall both thank God for ever for +having saved as from an unspeakable horror. This is His hand; go down +an your knees and thank Him." + +"It is--it is!" said Jane, shivering, for her superstitious nature had +been touched by the strange coincidence. Governed by a stronger will +than her own, she knelt, while the tears rained down her face. + +But the knocking began to grow desperate. + +"You had better go," said Margaret quietly; "our visitor is impatient." + +Obedient as a child, the woman who but a few moments before had been +foaming with rage got up and went out. The cause of the noise was +soon explained. A chaise was standing at the gate, the sound of whose +approach had been unheard in the tumult of the night: an elderly woman +had dismounted. + +"Sae ye're not all deed and buried," she said briskly as the landlady +showed her scared face at the gate. "I was rating the laddie here +for misguiding o' an auld wife that micht hae bin his mither, for, +thinks I to myself, sure and certain there's not a soul within, and a +awfu' nicht it is to keep a body outside"--the old woman spoke quite +reproachfully--"but noo I think on't," she continued, "ye're not living +here your lane. One Mrs. Grey is lodgin' wi' you, for, as I tak it, +you're the landleddy." + +Jane was scarcely able to speak, but as silence gives consent the old +woman proceeded to pay the boy, to gather up her parcels and to walk +rapidly along the garden-path. + +"An' here _is_ Mrs. Grey her ainsel', as I canna doobt," she continued +cheerfully, for Margaret had lighted the hall-lamp and was standing +underneath it. + +The old Scotchwoman looked round her scrutinizingly as she passed +into the lighted hall. There was a certain appearance of repressed +excitement about both Margaret and the landlady that did not escape +her shrewd old eyes. "Bless me, how wild they look!" was her mental +ejaculation, but she refrained from all expression of her feelings. + +Mrs. Foster understood her manners. She prided herself on this, that +she knew a lady the moment she set her eyes upon her. Whatever Mrs. +Grey might turn out to be, old Martha was satisfied at once that +she was a lady, and she acted accordingly. She dropped a little +old-fashioned curtsey, and the excitement of her first arrival having +in a measure passed, brought forward her best English to do honor to +the occasion: + +"You'll be astonished, madam, and with reason, to see an old woman drop +down from the skies, as we may say, and at this hour of the night, too. +But I've brought my credentials with me, and, like mony anither, my +young gentleman likes to do everything in a hurry. Here's the letter +which will explain a sight better than I can." + +"Come in, come in," said Margaret; then to Jane, who was looking at her +in a strange scrutinizing manner, "Bring the candles into the parlor, +Jane; then come in and consider how we are to provide for our guest. I +am sure she is heartily welcome, for I see Mr. Forrest has sent her." + +Margaret's words had the desired effect. They set Jane's mind at rest. +She saw it was not her mistress's intention to make any revelation +about the scene that had preceded the old woman's arrival. Bewildered +and dazed, she found her way to the kitchen, mechanically did as she +was told, and returned to the parlor to find the old woman quietly +divesting herself of bonnet and shawl and looking round with the air of +one who had taken possession. + +Old Martha seemed in fact to be the only capable person in the house, +for Margaret had fallen back on the sofa white and trembling. Up to +the moment of the old woman's arrival she had been sustained by her +overpowering excitement. In the pleasant, warm security she began to +feel a certain reaction, a sudden collapse of power. + +And the landlady, notwithstanding her vigorous efforts to recover her +self-possession, looked rather scared. It was such a contrast--from the +horror and darkness to the light and pleasant security. But our life +is strange; the common things seize and silence the dramatic crises, +and we drop naturally into the old channels. The first access of +alarm over, Jane Rodgers put on her apron, smoothed back her hair and +set about the common tasks of relighting the kitchen fire, preparing +tea and airing sheets for the old woman's bed, just as if that awful +night's experience had never been. And Margaret swallowed a glass +of wine, fought down her longing for tears, and found herself in a +few moments looking with tranquil pleasure at her old treasures, the +rings and bracelets which Martha Foster had returned, and listening +quietly to the old woman's lively description of Mr. Arthur's babyhood +and early youth. Martha never imagined this could be anything but +interesting, and to have begun so soon on her pet subject was a high +mark of the old woman's favor. + +Margaret believed she had conquered Jane Rodgers's fierce hatred--for +the moment at least--yet it was with a feeling of devout thankfulness +that she noticed how, of her own accord, the landlady had arranged +for Martha Foster to sleep in the little closet which opened from her +bedroom. + +They all retired early, and the stormy evening closed in peace. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +_LIGHT IN DARKNESS._ + + Oh, trust me, never fell + By love a spirit or earthly or of heaven: + Rather by love they are regenerate. + Love is the happy privilege of mind-- + Love is the reason of all living things. + + +Margaret's work was not over. In that transcendent moment when death +was staring her in the face she had made a certain resolution, and +the security that followed the danger did not make her shrink from +carrying it out. Strange but true; the words in which she had striven +with the desperate spirit of evil that had taken possession of Jane +Rodgers actually represented her state of mind at the time. Margaret +had thrown herself out of herself. With the renovating power of the +intensest pity she had looked into the troubled spirit which was +revealing itself in all its unutterable depths of misery, and she had +resolved to save it even from itself. Hence it was that instead of the +abject cries self-pity would have drawn from the proudest heart at this +supreme crisis, her words had been calm, self-contained, spoken with an +authority which to the half-crazed brain of the desperate woman was so +strange as to seem mysterious and supernatural. + +This it was that had saved Margaret at least from severe bodily harm. +In sheer astonishment the woman's hand had been stayed, and before the +wicked impulse could return help was at the door. The help had come so +strangely that Jane's superstitious fears were confirmed. She began to +think her mistress possessed some secret power. The idea cowed her. She +became abject in her dread. She looked upon the woman she had injured +as one surrounded by invisible protectors, ready at a moment's notice +to come to her assistance. + +Even on that first evening Margaret had read a part at least of this in +her landlady's face. The sullen frown did not leave Jane's brow, but +the defiance had gone. It was a change for the better, yet Margaret +was not satisfied; she wanted more than this. She had felt on that +night like one in actual contact with the wild powers of darkness, +struggling at the very mouth of the bottomless pit for a lost soul; and +the impression continued. With the perseverance of a dominant idea that +haunts the mind it followed her through her sleep. She seemed to hear +the despairing cries of a dying soul; she seemed to see the mocking +smiles of fiends who were waiting, like the vultures of the sandy +wastes, till the last convulsive throes should be over to claim the +lost thing for their own; she seemed to feel the last speechless agony, +the outer darkness of despair. + +Once she awoke, for the oppression was choking her, and when the waking +reality of the dream came back in all its fulness she rose and knelt +by her bed. "Thou hast saved _me_, my God," she prayed; "give _me_ the +power of saving, of helping to salvation, this wandering spirit." After +that she was calmer; she was able to lie and watch, as she scarcely +cared to sleep again, for the breaking of the morning, and to think and +plan about the best method of carrying out her noble work. + +"Love is the antidote of hatred," thought Margaret; "I will teach this +woman to love, and perhaps love may be a ladder of life to her soul." + +The morning broke slowly. She threw open her window and watched how it +spread itself over sea and sky. Then there was a stir in the village. +Windows and doors were opened, carts began to move heavily in the +streets, and the steps of passing laborers could be distinctly heard. + +Margaret bowed her head upon her hand. "They come from homes," she +murmured; "they will go back to them to-night. My home is not." + +But a rosy light spread itself over the sea; the waves that were +rolling steadily in to the shore caught on their rebound a glow as +of sapphire. It was the sun, and the sun brought hope. Then came +movement in the house; it showed that Jane was astir. Margaret's mind +went back to its planning. After a few moments' thought she wrapped +her dressing-gown round her and crept on tip-toe to the door of the +room where Martha Foster slept. The old woman was sleeping the sleep of +the righteous. Margaret closed the door of communication; and then she +rang the bell. Before her landlady could harden her heart against her +Margaret wished to make some impression. While the scene of the past +night was still fresh in her mind she might be more ready to hear the +words of love and forgiveness Margaret had prepared herself to utter. + +Some minutes passed before Jane appeared. She was at a loss to imagine +what the object of her mistress could be. Jane had awoke that morning +like one who has been under the power of a fearful nightmare. She could +scarcely believe at first that she _was_ herself, and that she was +actually free from crime. But when she did, she felt for the first time +in her life an emotion of earnest thankfulness to the Power, visible or +invisible, which had withheld her hand. + +For Jane had always been a prudent woman. As a general rule her +passions had been kept in check by some stronger motive-power. +Cupidity, self-love, interest, a strong desire for that paradise of a +certain class, respectability and independence, keen common sense that +showed the folly of a momentary gratification of passion, followed by a +life-long repentance,--these had hitherto kept her from all the grosser +forms of sin. + +But this time they had all been too weak. The hatred had been +nourished in her heart till it had grown into a master-passion; fear +of her treachery being discovered, indignation and disgust at the +new happiness that seemed to be opening out before the object of her +hatred, had added their fearful impulse to her heated soul, and then +came the storm, the darkness, the opportunity. + +In the cool clear morning Jane shuddered. If she had carried out her +dark purpose, what would she have been that morning? In all probability +a hunted criminal. She was thankful for her escape, but not yet truly +penitent for the sin. The soul from which one baffled demon has been +banished is ready for the seven if it be not occupied and filled with +some better guest. + +Jane obeyed Margaret's call after a few moments' delay. She knocked +at the bedroom door, opened it and stood on the threshold, a quiet, +respectable-looking person, but there was a sullen frown on her brow. +"Did you please to want anything, ma'am?" she asked. Her broom was in +her hand--a hint, as it were, that she was in no mood to be delayed. + +"Only to speak to you, Jane," said Margaret. "Come here; Mrs. Foster +seems to be fast asleep and I have shut the door, or if you like I +can speak to you in the next room, but we may not have so good an +opportunity again." + +Jane looked down: "What might you wish to say to me, ma'am?" + +There was a forced unconcern in her manner that was not particularly +encouraging, but Margaret would not despair. She held out her hand with +a smile: "I fear you distrust me, Jane. Why," she continued in a tone +of such deep sadness that the landlady's heart, in spite of herself, +was touched--"why will you persist in being my enemy? God is my witness +that I would do you good." + +"You ain't got nothing to do with me," said Jane, in a stifled voice. +"If I choose to go to the bad, what's that to you or anybody else? I +won't try to hurt _you_ again, if that's what you want to know, and +only that I was mad I wouldn't have done it last night." + +"I know you were mad--I felt it then; and then I resolved that I would +save you from yourself. You are mistaken, my poor woman; it is much, +very much, to me, whether, as you express it, you go to the bad. Jane, +I believe it has been given to me to save you, and, God helping me, I +will do it." + +She spoke with a quiet determination that had marvellous power. Her +dream was with her once more. She seemed to see the wild, unholy +tumult; she seemed to be holding, clinging to the wretched life that +death in death was swallowing up. + +And Jane watched her with a curious emotion, very strange and utterly +incomprehensible to herself. + +The hard, selfish side of life had chiefly presented itself to the +landlady, both as regarded her own nature and the nature of those +with whom she had come into contact. This divine self-forgetfulness, +this pure love of the erring even because of its miserable errors, was +something so new as to be a kind of revelation to her soul. A good she +had conceived impossible seemed to be opening itself out as not only +possible, but real. And the revelation had a renovating power. There +came over her a remembrance of the time when she had been "joyful and +free from blame." + +It brought a sudden softness to her heart. But she would not give +way to it. She seized her broom and half turned, so as to hide her +face from Margaret's gaze. "What's the use of talking?" she said in a +stifled voice; "talking won't make me no better. I hated you; why can't +you hate me and be done with it?" + +"Because I do _not_ hate you, Jane; because, on the contrary, my soul +is filled with earnest longing for your good. It came to me here in +last night's darkness as I thought of your words that perhaps I had +given some cause for these feelings of yours. I have wrapped myself up +in my own sorrows and have neglected to enter with a woman's sympathy +into your troubles and joys. For--I know it--we must not and cannot +live to ourselves. Selfishness brings its own punishment." + +Jane looked down: "I have no troubles in particular, not to interest +anybody but--" + +It had come over her in an irresistible flood, the remembrance of her +_one_ happy time. Ah! it is a great fact, mysterious but true--misery +and hopeless wretchedness make half the criminals that fill our jails, +that prowl undetected about our streets. To the happy goodness is easy. + +Jane broke down suddenly, and throwing herself on her knees buried her +face in the bed-clothes: "If _he_ had been true to me I'd have been +another woman. Oh! God was cruel. I was getting soft when he was coming +and going with his pleasant ways: it was too short--" Her voice was +choked with sobs. "I've been bad--bad from that day. I'm getting worse, +and God has left me. What'll I do? what'll I do?" + +Margaret's eyes filled with tears. She stooped down and drawing one of +the woman's reluctant hands from the hidden face, held it in her own. + +"I thought so," she said gently, as if speaking to herself: "there is +always a background." Then to the weeping woman: "Think of it--you and +I, my poor Jane, living here together, and shutting up our troubles in +our own hearts. No wonder we grew hard and selfish. But it is over, is +it not? You will help me to bear, and I will teach you to love. This is +what you want to take you out of yourself. Look up, Jane; be of good +courage." + +But she only wept the more bitterly. "I can't," she said; "my heart is +like stone." + +Margaret touched the heated face with cool, soft fingers. + +"What do these tears mean?" she said gently. "They come from a heart +that is becoming soft, if it is not soft already. Yes, I feel it +too. We ought to be drawn out of ourselves. It is necessary to our +happiness, to the healthy life of our souls. We grow morbid here in our +solitude, with our thoughts toward inward. Since my darling little one +was taken from me I too have been getting hard, Jane, or perhaps you +and I might have understood each other better. But I thank God there is +still time before us. You must let me into the secrets of your life. I +will tell you what my sufferings have been, that there may be a true +sympathy between us; then we must look out from our own sorrows to +the great world of suffering around us, and whether the future bring +happiness or grief, it need not be altogether bereft of the treasures +of love and sympathy." + +Jane listened, and her tears ceased. The words of Margaret were like +oil on the troubled waters. They brought hope, they suggested possible +comfort in a future that but a few moments before had been black with +the utter blackness of despair. + +For humanity is not ever entirely bad. I think no living, breathing +creature can be said to be hopelessly depraved. Sin, it is said, brings +its own punishment, but the heaviest punishment sin can bring is the +agonizing suffering it inflicts upon the soul. To be without hope of +that beautiful attribute we call goodness would be misery unimaginable. + +Yet this was what Jane had been feeling that morning, and Margaret's +words were like rays of light pointing to a possible redemption. "If +I'd aught in the whole world to care about," she said, "I'd try and be +better, but--" + +And then she stopped suddenly, for Jane was eminently practical, and an +idea had flashed in upon her brain. + +"Have you no friends?" asked Margaret. + +"I was thinking of the child," she said. + +"What child?" + +"He married my young sister," she answered, speaking slowly and with +apparent difficulty, "and I hated him and her too; but afterward I was +glad, for he treated her bad. She died of a broken heart, they say. I +never went nigh her, though she sent to beg me hard. That's three years +agone next Whitsuntide. They had three or four children; all died but +one, a boy two years old when sister died. The father, he went off, +no one knows where, and Willie--that's his name, they say--was put in +the workhouse. I seen him once"--her voice grew broken again--"a fine +little chap, like his father, and for a bit I felt inclined to bring +him home, but that look of his made me hard and I came away." + +Margaret smiled a brooding, motherly smile: "God is good to you, Jane. +He has not left you, as you said. He has given you little Willie. You +must find him, and I think he will soon teach you to love." + +Jane had almost forgotten, in the new sweetness of speaking about her +own feelings, to whom she had been addressing herself. Margaret's words +reminded her, and she was struck with a sudden sense of wonder, almost +of awe. + +"Why do you care for me?" she said in a low tone. "I've insulted you, +I've acted wrong by you, I've tried to do you a mischief, and you +listen to me, you take an interest that nobody ever did before, and +you're not afraid of me, either," she continued confusedly. "There's +them, I believe, as won't allow a hair of your head to fall. There must +be a reason for it." + +"Only the reason that I told you, Jane. I want to save you from +yourself; but Mrs. Foster is moving, and I don't wish our conversation +to be overheard. I must hear more about little Willie at another time." +She held out her hand: "We are friends, are we not?" + +Jane took it in an awkward, bewildered kind of way. Then, as she looked +into her mistress's face and read nothing but forgiveness there, her +feelings became quite too much for her. Throwing her apron over her +head, she rushed out of the room crying like a little child. For the +spirit of a little child had come into the hard heart. + +Her night had been dark as pitch, but already the fair dawning had +gleamed out of the east. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +_GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-BYE._ + + Behold in yon skies + This wild night is passing away while I speak. + Lo! above us the day-spring beginning to break! + Something wakens within me, and warms to the beam. + Is it hope that awakens? + + +"My bairn was unco' fashed aboot naething," said Nurse Martha to +herself as she trotted about the cottage that day, trying to be very +busy, but finding the process hard. + +The fact was this: Martha was considerably perplexed. She had been sent +to Middlethorpe because her young master was anxious about this lady, +in whom he had taken so deep an interest; he had given the old woman +as a reason for his anxiety that he had a strong suspicion about her +landlady--the only other person in the house--believing her to be not +only an untrustworthy person, but specially antagonistic to Mrs. Grey. + +Martha Foster had been requested to watch this person. She _had_ +watched, and what had she found out? Only an almost superfluous +devotion on Jane Rodgers's part. + +Through the whole of that day Mrs. Grey had been suffering from a kind +of nervous depression. The thoughtful kindness of her attendant, which +seemed to be offered as a tribute of affection, could not possibly be +exceeded. Nothing was left for Martha to do. The landlady was even +inclined to resent her interference in any personal attendance on Mrs +Grey. + +Her cold, quiet way of saying that, having known Mrs. Grey some time, +it was only natural she should understand her ways better than a +stranger, quite surprised the old woman. + +"Gang yer ain gait, my gude woman," she had answered. "I'm blithe to +hear ye ken your wark and love yer bonny leddy sae weel." + +And then the landlady had looked at her with a kind of suspicion. +Turning away, she had said in a low, constrained voice, "I should love +her if any one should." + +What, perhaps, appeared still more mysterious to Nurse Martha was that +Mrs. Grey seemed thoroughly to understand, and even to return, the +feelings her landlady cherished for her. + +When she was at her worst--and in the early part of the day the pain +in her head had been maddening--she could look up with a smile that +was almost one of pleasure at the anxious, hard-featured face leaning +over her, and receive with a sweet gratitude services which to the old +woman, experienced in nursing, seemed unnecessary and obtrusive. + +The landlady and her lodger appeared, in fact, to understand each +other so perfectly that in the evening Mrs. Foster began to think +herself _de trop_. Not that Mrs. Grey was anything but most kind and +hospitable; she was even too grateful for her obedience to her young +gentleman's wishes; but there was nothing for her to do. Jane kept her +house in excellent order, and certainly, as far as Mrs. Grey's personal +requirements went, it did not seem as if she could have a more devoted +attendant. + +Mrs. Foster made up her mind to write to her young master and point out +to him that her further presence would be unnecessary. But the next +morning brought a change. There were two letters--one for Margaret and +one for the old woman. Adèle and Arthur had both written to announce +the pleasing fact of their arrival. + +Margaret was in bed when her letters came, but the sight of them +revived her. Her new champion was more active than the lawyer; he had +news, Adèle said, and he would bring it. For although the strange +events of the last few days had had the effect of dividing Margaret's +thoughts in a measure, yet this was still her one haunting desire--to +see Maurice once more, to let him at least hear of her, to have him +know that she was faithful to him in heart and conscience. Even the +recovery of her child was second to that. + +"They will be here this evening," she said to old Martha, her face +radiant with hope. "I wish the evening were here." + +And the old woman wondered, thinking within herself that this eagerness +was rather suspicious. + +But further remarks were stopped by a knock at the door. The landlady +was there holding a fair-haired child by the hand. "Excuse me, ma'am," +she said in that constrained tone which was always a puzzle to Martha; +"but I thought you might perhaps like to see my nephew." + +A light which was very like most unfeigned joy spread itself over +Margaret's face. "Bring him to me, Jane," she said softly. "There, put +him up on the bed; he won't be frightened." For the child was looking +round bewildered at the strangeness of the scene. + +"He's not properly dressed," said the woman falteringly. + +Willie still wore the coarse workhouse suit, but his fair skin was as +white as snow, and his yellow curls might have been the pride of any +mother's heart. + +"Never mind his clothes. Give him to me for one moment," said Margaret +pleadingly. + +"If you really wish it, ma'am," said Jane, and her harsh voice was +husky, but she stooped over the child, and no one knew that the cold, +gray eyes were dim with tears. + +"So this is little Willie?" said Margaret, passing her hand caressingly +over his curls, while the child looked up with blue eyes of wonder. +"Should you like to live with us, dear?" she said, in her soft motherly +voice. + +The little boy had never taken his eyes from her face. "Stay wid you," +he replied decisively. + +"So you shall," said Margaret smiling; and then to his aunt, "I have +some little things that will almost fit him, Jane. My child's frocks +and petticoats two or three years ago would suit Willie very well. We +could alter them a little, and you might easily get a belt of some kind +in the village to keep him from looking too much like a girl." + +"Thank you, ma'am," said Jane. She could not have spoken another word. + +"How pleasant!" said Margaret almost gleefully. "I wanted something to +help me to pass the tiresome hours of this long day, and now my pretty +little Willie has come, and we must help him into prettier clothes. +Come, Mrs. Foster you know all about little ones. We must press you +into the service." + +"Willingly," said the old woman, producing a monstrous thimble from her +pocket and popping it on her finger. And soon, united by the pleasant +mutual interest, even awkwardness was forgotten among the three women +as they worked together with a will to clothe the little one suitably. +They were all benefited: Martha had found an occupation, and she began +dimly to understand Mrs. Grey's tactics; Margaret was happy in seeing +the fruits of her efforts come even more fully than she could have +hoped; and Jane felt all the hardness melting away from her heart. Mrs. +Grey insisted she should join them in the afternoon to give her advice +and assistance in the serious task of changing a girl's clothes into +a boy's, but once or twice she was forced to make her escape. These +outbursts of feeling, however, made her better. They taught her that +she was not all bad. They showed her that in the heart she had thought +past redemption were yet the seeds of good; and unconsciously she +rejoiced, blessing the kindly hand which out of misery and blackness +had brought light, and even a measure of peace. + +The day passed rapidly in this pleasant work, but Willie had long been +asleep before the welcome sound of wheels notified the approach of the +travellers. + +The cottage and its surroundings certainly presented a more smiling +appearance than on the preceding evening. Indeed, the contrast could +not have been greater, for this was a kind of gala, and Jane Rodgers, +in deference to the wishes of her mistress, determined nothing should +be wanting that could produce a pleasing impression on the mind of the +visitor. + +Jane was not, and never could be, a person of many words. She was +naturally self-contained. The business of preparation, from which she +spared neither labor nor thought, was a kind of outlet for the feelings +which could not find expression in words. If she could say nothing +about her gratitude, she would prove it. + +She knew Margaret's love of flowers, so she had gathered them together +from every available corner. Roses, geraniums, fragrant heliotrope and +mignonette were literally scattered in the rooms, which were full of an +abundance of light. Some of Jane's cherished savings had been expended +in plants that lined the hall and peeped from the windows. The cottage, +indeed, looked very pleasant. The front door, thrown wide open, showed +the lighted hall, and even allowed a glimpse of the small sitting-room, +in which a substantial tea-table, spread with all kinds of dainties +and decorated with Jane's wealth of plate and china, seemed to invite +the entrance of the weary travellers. Outside was the moon, throwing +its white beams on the little plot of grass as it shone persistently +through the branches of the stately cedar which flanked the little +house on one side, while through the fragrant limes on the other side +came the glimmer of the starlit sea. + +"How pretty and quiet it all looks!" said Adèle to her cousin as they +approached the cottage. "And that's the place, I feel sure; it is just +what I expected to see. Now I know I shall get well soon." + +She leant back in the carriage with a little sigh, for Arthur was +paying scarcely any attention to her words. She could see his face in +the moonlight rapt and eager, and Adèle felt almost sick for a moment +with the longing that _she_ might ever be able to call that look into +his face. He turned to her at last. "It is all right," he said in a +tone of intense relief; "I see her." + +Adèle looked at him in simple wonder: "And whom did you expect to see, +Arthur?" + +Arthur turned away in slight confusion. He did not wish Adèle to know +that the kind of uneasiness aroused by the storm had never left his +mind--that he had been haunted by a certain inexplicable fear which +nothing but the sight of Margaret herself could take away. He did not +answer Adèle's question, but proceeded to gather together the bags and +parcels. + +The landlady was at the gate, with curtseyed welcome, ready for any +consignment; Margaret was on the steps of the front door; the old woman +was behind her. Arthur for the first few moments had to be contented +with her and with a nod and a smile from Margaret, whose warmest +welcome was for Adèle. "Come in, come in," she said, holding out both +her hands; "I thought it almost too good to be true when I read your +letter this morning. But you have come, my poor, pale child, and we +must take care of you and make you strong." She drew her into her own +room: "Will you share this with me for the present, dear? I can look +after you better so." + +Adèle was weak and tired. She could scarcely keep from tears as she +threw her arms round Margaret's neck in her impulsive girlishness. "I +am so glad to come," she said. "And oh! I wanted to thank you!" Adèle +was thinking of the little scene in the library. + +"Thank me, dear!" replied Margaret, gently removing the young girl's +hat as she spoke, and smoothing back her hair with a loving hand. "What +shall I say to you, then, my faithful friend, who has believed in me +through everything?" She spoke lightly, but there was an undertone of +deep emotion in her voice. "We shall have plenty to talk about, Adèle, +but this evening is to be given to rejoicing. I feel as if it were the +opening of a new era in our lives--as if happiness, that capricious +little deity, were hiding somewhere very near us. Come into the +dining-room; your cousin will become impatient if we shut ourselves up +_too_ long." + +They went together into the little parlor; and when Arthur saw Adèle's +glistening eyes and noted Margaret's loving little attentions to her +guest, he felt sorely inclined once more to be jealous of his cousin; +but he did not allow this to be seen, and the evening passed away +very happily. Harmony, that sweet, rare guest, seemed to reign in the +little household. Every one was comfortable and happy. The undisguised +satisfaction of the old woman, who began dimly to see through some +of the mysteries that had been perplexing her; the happiness of +Adèle, wavering between smiles and tears, and taking a final refuge +in the former; the confidence and peace which seemed for the moment +to have taken possession of Margaret; Arthur's apparent contentment +and overflowing merriment; the quiet, respectful attentions of the +landlady,--made a pleasing whole. + +When the tea-things were cleared away, and Jane and Martha had finally +retired for a gossip in the kitchen, Arthur got up and closed the door +with great care. "Now, Mrs. Grey," he said, crossing over to where she +sat looking out upon the moonlight, "I must really have it out with +you. Are you a magician? _Please_ give us the secret of your power?" + +Margaret smiled: "A serious accusation, Sir Knight. Before committing +myself in any way, I must hear upon what it is founded." + +"You have bewitched that wretched old landlady of yours. Why, I declare +I never in my life saw the like of it. When I was last here I felt +once or twice an insane desire to say something that would astonish +her, I was so angry at the cool impertinence of her manner. Now, good +gracious! no humble slavey could be more obsequious. She seems actually +affectionate--has the appearance of a devoted family servant. What have +you done to arouse enthusiasm? Come, Mrs. Grey, confess!" + +"You must confess, first," answered Mrs. Grey, more gravely, it seemed, +than the occasion warranted, "that such a thing is possible as to be +mistaken, even when we think our observation has been of the keenest. +You thought and I thought that Jane Rodgers was wholly without a +heart. I have discovered my mistake, and found a way to her heart; +that is all the mystery. Thank you, a thousand times, for your kind +thoughtfulness in sending Mrs. Foster. She is a charming old woman, and +I was delighted to receive her, but my landlady and I are perfectly +_d'accord_." + +Arthur shrugged his shoulders: "The mystery remains a mystery still, +however; even in her changed attitude your landlady is not a lively +subject, to me especially, for she was the cause of a severe nightmare +which kept me awake for hours only a very short time ago. We'll change +it. What I want to tell you is, that all being well I start for Moscow +to-morrow night." + +Margaret clasped her hands and looked straight before her into the +night. "Then you have heard of him?" she said in a low voice. + +"I have heard something, dear Mrs. Grey." Arthur spoke slowly, a +certain sadness in his voice. It was as it should be. She loved her +husband. He was nothing to her but an intermediary, an instrument. +"But do not raise your hopes too high," he continued. "It may be a +long and tedious business. The last address given by Mr. Grey to his +solicitor--who, I suppose you know, is not the same as yours--for +letters and remittances, was that of an agent in Moscow. It is more +than probable he has left that place himself. He seemed to wish to keep +his ultimate destination a secret. I shall go to Moscow myself, and see +this agent. He will probably be able to give me some information." + +"And what if he refuse?" + +"I have a key. Russians are proverbially open to bribery and +corruption." + +Margaret shivered a little: "It seems almost wrong, but I can't help +it. Oh, if I only knew!" + +"We are working for him as well as for you," said Arthur quietly. He +felt for the moment an insane inclination to do something desperate to +this "_him_" for whom he was working so disinterestedly. For Margaret +looked more beautiful than ever--at least he thought so as she sat +there in the moonlight. The young man in his boyish enthusiasm could +have fallen before her, and, holding her feet, have worshipped her. +But she was so utterly unconscious. Adèle meanwhile was lying on the +sofa, listening and watching. She was trying to acquiesce in it all, +trying to feel it right that her Arthur should take so deep an interest +in another woman--for she knew his face well, she had read that sudden +longing--she was trying to rejoice in Margaret's unconsciousness and +her cousin's truth; but the little aching was at her heart. Margaret +had been, for the moment, absorbed in her own hopes and fears; as +Arthur spoke the last words, however, she thought suddenly of Adèle, +and crossing to the sofa she sat down by her side. + +"Forgive me," she said softly. + +"What for, Mrs. Grey?" + +Adèle lifted her eyes to her friend's face, and Margaret saw that tears +were not far off. + +"For sending _your_ Arthur away on this wild search," she whispered. +And Arthur, who had been standing at the window gazing regretfully at +the stars, and thinking with some discontent of life's contradictions, +heard what she said. The words were like a reproach. They made him +think of Adèle's self-forgetfulness; they brought back to him the +gentle scene of that stormy night. + +He turned resolutely from the window, and placing himself at the head +of the sofa looked down upon his cousin's young fair face. She put out +her hand with a smile; he took it and held it in both his own. "She is +not to be pitied, Mrs. Grey," he said lightly, "for this is all her +own doing. I am only obeying, like a faithful knight, the orders of my +liege lady. She filled my mind with her grand poetic ideas about doing +good, and the rest of it; she was always making me ashamed of my idle, +aimless life; then after we first met you, and she and I had made up +our minds you had some great sorrow, she tried to bring me near to you; +and finally, the other day, when, as I told you, part of your history +came to us, she sent me off to see you and find out the truth; her +orders were--Shall I repeat them, Adèle?" + +He had succeeded in making her pale cheeks a "celestial rosy red." + +"You have said quite enough, dear, and too much. Have you discovered, +Mrs. Grey, that my cousin is rather given to exaggeration?" + +"Am I to believe all this is exaggeration?" replied Margaret. And +then she stooped and kissed the young girl's glowing face. "It is so +very like the truth, Adèle, that you must allow me the happiness of +believing it. I shall take the services of your knight as your gift, +and we shall watch together for his safe return." + +"And remember, Adèle," said Arthur impressively, "no flirting in my +absence. Mrs. Grey, I shall make you responsible." + +Margaret laughed, and Adèle answered gayly, for her bright spirits were +rapidly returning, "Pray, sir, with what am I to flirt? As far as I can +see already, there are no objects but stones and waves, and I fear that +on them my fascinations would be thrown away. Mrs. Grey, have you many +visitors in this place in the summer?" + +"Principally nurses and babies; I fear it will be dull for you." + +"Dull!" said Adèle rapturously, "with you and the sea! Why, this is +the kind of dulness I have been craving for. If you only knew how +delightful it is to escape from soirées and dinner-parties, and, more +hateful still, afternoon callers! But have you nothing else to tell +Mrs. Grey, Arthur?" + +"Very little more, Adèle. I think I told you, Mrs. Grey, that we had +traced your little girl to Southampton. We sent an agent there, and +to-day my solicitor, Golding, had a telegram from him. Travellers +answering exactly to our description seem to have taken tickets to +Paris. A sailor in one of the steam-packets remembers the child +perfectly. He seems to have been struck with her beauty and the +peculiar appearance of her companion. Paris is a large city, but I do +not despair. Our man has his wits about him. We have communicated with +the French police too, and they are on the alert." + +Margaret sighed: "It is _so_ difficult to be patient. I long to be off +myself--my poor little darling!--but I suppose it would be useless." + +"Worse than useless. You see we must proceed with great caution, and +the man we suspect knows you. If he found out that you were personally +on the track, he might take alarm and hide the child; but our agent is +unknown to him. By the bye, have you a picture or anything of the kind +of either or of both of them, your little Laura and this foreigner? If +you have it may be useful." + +Margaret turned pale: "Wait a moment," she said. She went with her +candle into the next room, and opening a drawer took from it a little +old leather box. The key was on her watch-chain, but her hand trembled +as she fitted it into the lock. The lid flew open, revealing a little +velvet-lined case, which seemed to contain only two or three yellow +envelopes, a withered flower and two likenesses. + +Sitting down, Margaret leant her head upon her hand, and two or three +tears fell into the box. It was like the opening of a grave. The +likenesses were miniatures, delicately painted and set in gold. She +took up the one that lay uppermost, and looked at it through a mist of +blinding tears. It was the portrait of a young girl; the face was not +so beautiful as that which looked down upon it, for the features were +irregular, but the artist had hit happily upon its principal charm: it +was in the eyes, which were dark and lustrous, and in the low, broad +brow, from which the hair swept back in soft waving lines. + +"My Laura," said Margaret half aloud, "forgive me--he is unworthy." + +She laid down the miniature softly, and taking up the other looked at +it silently, then turning it she touched a clasp at the back. Between +the gold and the ivory lay a scrap of yellow paper. With a sudden +impulse she crushed it in her hand, then smoothing it out carefully she +read it by the candlelight. The words written were few and simple: "A +Mddles. Marguerite et Laure, des amitiés bien sincères--L'ESTRANGE;" +but the strong man's hand that had traced them had trembled visibly, +and as the woman whose dignity he had outraged, whose treasure, as she +believed, he had stolen, looked on them that night, she remembered how +her heart had warmed at the thought of those trembling fingers, and of +what that trembling told. + +It was not this, however, that brought the softness to her face at +that moment. Slowly she put down the paper and the opened miniature; +taking up the other, she held it against her heart. "Laura, my darling, +forgive me!" she murmured; "I would have kept your treasure; I cannot." +With the other hand she took the piece of yellow paper and held it in +the flames till it was consumed. Then replacing the first miniature, +she shut and locked the box, put it back in its place with scrupulous +care, and returned to Adèle and Arthur. + +There was no trace of agitation in Margaret's manner as she held out +the miniature. + +"This was a common treasure of my cousin's and mine," she said with a +sad smile. "I kept it only in obedience to her dying wishes, but I must +find my child, and my poor Laura would forgive me." + +Arthur took it. "I think you are right," he said; "but about your +child?" + +"I have plenty of likenesses of her. You had better take the last; it +is wonderfully good: I have never seen a better photograph of a child. +But, Arthur, before you send this miniature away, look at it carefully; +_you_ may possibly come across them." + +"If I do--!" said Arthur from between his clenched teeth. + +Margaret laid her hand on his arm and looked at him anxiously: "You +would do nothing rash, I hope, Arthur; you know my history; you will be +able to understand me when I say that for the sake of those old days, +for my darling's memory, I would not have a hair of his head touched. I +only want my child." + +"Be of good courage," said Arthur cheerily; "if she is in the land of +the living, we shall find her, Mrs. Grey, and bring her back to you in +triumph. Thank you for these; they will be of great use to us. But now, +ladies, it is getting late, and I shall have to be up early to-morrow, +so I think I shall say good-night and good-bye. I have taken a room at +the hotel, and as I find the first train to York leaves this--or rather +the station--at half-past seven in the morning, it will be best to make +my adieus to-night." + +"How soon shall we hear from you?" said Adèle, her lip trembling. + +"As soon as ever I can send a letter. I mean to travel night and day, +therefore you must not be surprised if some days pass." + +Arthur was himself again; the thoughts of action had been invigorating. +He shook hands with Margaret, kissed his cousin and then took his +departure. _They_ stood together under the moonbeams silent, for their +hearts were full. _He_, with never a backward look, walked steadily +away along the sounding sea. + + + + +PART IV. + +AT WORK WITH A WILL. + + * * * * * + +CHAPTER I. + +_LAURA'S TASK._ + + O source of the holiest joys we inherit! + O Sorrow, thou solemn, invisible spirit! + Ill fares it with man when through life's desert sand, + Grown impatient too soon for the long-promised land, + He turns from the worship of thee. + + +It will long ago have been suspected that Margaret was wrong in her +suspicion about her husband. Maurice Grey was not the person who had +taken forcible possession of her child. Jane, in her new capacity of +friend and protector (for the landlady had never done anything by +halves; hers was one of the world's strong natures--great in good as in +evil), had opened out, with much shame and contrition, everything that +concerned the transactions of that fatal day. + +Her story was this: In the course of the afternoon a gentleman had +come up the garden-path, and proceeding to the back instead of to the +front door, had requested to have a few words with her. He had begun by +asking some trivial questions about her mistress, and Jane said that as +he asked them he looked at her in a searching kind of way. Apparently +it did not take him many minutes to discover a certain amount of +animus in her state of mind, and with the more readiness he revealed +to her the object of his visit, persuading her that the service she +was desired to render was very small. He was careful enough of her +conscience not to tell her in so many words what he intended to do. All +he asked her was to keep the fact of his having been there at all a +secret as long as possible, and if she should be questioned to give a +certain description of his personal appearance. + +L'Estrange's revenge was perfect in its kind. In his angry bitterness +he had determined to punish, and not only to punish but to humiliate, +the woman who had kept him at arm's length, who offended him by her +dignity, who openly showed her contempt and loathing for his character; +and he had succeeded. + +It was a bold scheme. Had it been deliberately planned, it might have +been said to be diabolical in its clever wickedness; but the fact, +though strange, was true: it was _not_ deliberately planned. + +When L'Estrange found Margaret's address and followed her to +Middlethorpe, he had not the vaguest idea of being in any way inimical +to her. He had a passionate admiration for her beauty, and he believed +her to be weak. Even the persistent way in which she had hidden herself +from him had nurtured this idea in his mind. He thought she was afraid +of him, and his aim was to conquer this fear, to persuade her by his +specious reasoning that it was foolish and vain. + +He was a man who believed he understood women perfectly, and as, +unhappily for himself, his experience had been rather with the weak and +erring than with the strong and pure, he had a rooted contempt for the +female character. The height and purity of such a soul as Margaret's it +was impossible for him to understand. + +It must not be supposed that L'Estrange was any monster of +wickedness--he possessed, on the contrary, many good and noble +traits--but his foreign training, the wandering life he had led and +the strange notions he had picked up from modern sectaries had sorely +impaired his moral sense. Truth was a mere name to him. To cling to +it at an inconvenient season he would have considered the supreme of +folly. And yet he had a kind of honor of his own. To help the weak and +defend the oppressed were articles in his strange creed. If Margaret +had given herself up to him and followed him in his wanderings, he +would have been faithful to her even unto death. + +In fact it was only tenderness for _her_, an instinctive feeling of +unfitness, that had prevented him from marrying the warm-hearted, +impulsive English girl who had given him her love so unreservedly. + +Fortune had come to L'Estrange late in life, and unexpectedly; with +it came the desire for the renewal of old ties. He did not look upon +marriage as the insuperable barrier which it is happily considered +here. He believed Margaret's marriage to have been one of convenience, +not inclination, and that she would be rather thankful to him than +the reverse for interfering with its smooth tranquillity. Hence the +scene at Ramsgate, which, in reliance on Maurice's impulsive character +and his English repugnance to anything approaching a scandal, he had +deliberately planned. + +It had succeeded beyond his hopes. Margaret was separated from her +obnoxious husband, and L'Estrange believed that all he had to do was +to go in and win. But for a long time she baffled him, and, as it has +been seen, he misinterpreted her motives, attributing to superstitious +fear of an unknown evil what really arose from disgust and horror. The +success of L'Estrange with women had been so unfailing that he could +not but have unbounded confidence in his own power of fascination. +That the heart which had once been unreservedly his could have been +transferred--and, above all, transferred to a husband--was a thing the +Frenchman failed to realize. + +When he fell upon the traces he had been so long seeking, his +determination was this--to enlighten the fair Englishwoman, to lead +her out into what he looked upon as the true land of freedom, to +destroy her foolish prejudices, and then when the education was fairly +begun--what? The usual fools' paradise. + +It was in his surprise and indignation at finding himself utterly +baffled, in the light, hateful to him, of her last strong words of +contempt and loathing, that he hastily formed the scheme of cruel +revenge which he carried out so cleverly. The idea was flashed in upon +his brain by the very inspiration of madness. + +It will be well, perhaps, to return to that afternoon when, penetrating +into Margaret's sanctuary, he carried away her treasure. + +The little Laura was unsuspecting. When L'Estrange entered the parlor +he found her curled up, with her favorite story-book in her hand, in a +corner of the sofa. She recognized him instantly as the stranger whose +kindness to her on the sands had made her think he might be her lost +father. His appearance confirmed her in the idea. Throwing down her +book she ran to him and took his hand with confiding frankness "Then +you _are_ my papa after all?" she said. + +"Who told you I was your papa, Laura?" he asked gravely. + +"I told myself," replied the little one; "but come, poor mamma will be +_so_ pleased. I left her sitting on the sands, for she wanted to find +you too, and now you've come here instead. Shall we go out and tell +her?" + +She did not wait for denial or assent, but dashed out of the room for +her hat, while L'Estrange, rather astonished at his reception, sat and +pondered for a few moments. + +"She has taught her child to love him, the man who wronged and doubted +her," he thought with a growing wonder. "I must have been mistaken. +Does she care for him, after all?" + +But the bare idea made him clench his teeth and knit his brows, till +the reappearance of the child forced him to dissimulate. L'Estrange was +a consummate actor. He could be all things to all men, but I think that +never in his life had he set himself a harder task than this. The child +was so confiding, so simple in her trust. Not much dissimulation was +necessary, however. The strong emotion he felt as he took up the little +one and felt her small arms round his neck was very real of its kind. +For, she was Margaret's; here lay the spell. + +"Laura, my child!" he murmured, and his heart turned with sudden +loathing from the deed he was doing. He felt inclined to put her down +and to run from the house and from the place. + +But as he spoke she smiled. It was her mother's beautiful smile, such +as had lit up her face in those bygone days when Margaret and he +had been one in heart and mind. He hesitated no longer. "Laura," he +said, putting her down and looking at her with a tenderness that was +certainly not altogether put on, "I know where your mother is. She is +not on the sands; she has walked so far that it would tire her to +walk back. We shall have to take a carriage to find her. You are not +frightened, little one? See, she has sent her scarf, that you may know +I have come from her." + +"Is mamma ill?" said Laura with a quivering lip. + +"No, only a little tired." + +"Well, then, let's go at once! But how funny of mamma to walk so far! I +suppose she was talking and forgot." + +A carriage which L'Estrange had already hired was waiting for them at +some little distance from the house. They got into it and drove away. + +For the first half hour Laura was very happy. She did not speak much, +for she was a little shy of this new relation of whom she had heard so +often, and for whose return she was accustomed to pray at her mother's +knees. + +She sat by his side, his arm round her, looking up into his face now +and then to point out something they were passing or to make a simple +remark, mostly about "mamma." _He_ was very silent. But still they went +on, up hills and down them, through villages, past trees and fields, +till at last all the well-known landmarks had disappeared and Laura +grew uneasy. + +"Where _is_ mamma?" she asked with a half inclination to tears; "she +_can't_ have walked so far." + +He drew her on to his knees, so tenderly that she smiled again, and +resting her head on his shoulder repeated the question in a quieter +tone. Still no answer, and still they drove on, till not even the +shelter of those loving arms could do away with the child's uneasiness; +she lifted up her dark eyes pleadingly: "_Please_ tell me, shall we +soon get to mamma?" Then he took both her small hands and looked at her +for a moment. "My poor Laura!" he said, "what will you say to me when I +tell you that you are going away from mamma?" + +"Away from mamma!" replied the child, and there came a sudden terror +into her eyes. But Laura was a peculiar child. The life she had lived +with those much older than herself, the shadow of her mother's sorrow +and the influence of her mother's life and character, had made her +unlike others of her own age. + +L'Estrange had been prepared for a passion of tears and cries. It did +not come. Only the child drew herself out of his arms, and crouching +down in a corner of the carriage looked round as though searching for +a means of escape. Her case seemed hopeless, so she clasped her small +hands together. "Take me back," she said, earnestly; "oh what will +mamma say?--poor mamma!" + +And then she cried, but it was like a woman's weeping--a still +noiseless grief. + +L'Estrange was a disciple of Rousseau's. He could understand the +beautiful pathos of a situation, and the child's quiet tears affected +him so painfully that he could scarcely refrain from giving vent to his +own sentiments in some such way, but they did not persuade him to alter +his purpose. He let the child weep for some time, then stooping down +he drew the cold little hands from her face, and holding them in his, +looked at her earnestly for a few moments. + +"Come to me, Laura," he said. She half rose, but, as if bethinking +herself, drew back: "It's wrong to take me away from mamma. And _why, +why_ did you say we were going to her?" + +Yes, there lay the sting. He had deceived her, and the child distrusted +him. He drew her to him. "This is a strange child," he thought, "and +must be strangely treated." + +"Listen to me, Laura," he said gently, "and try to trust me. I know it +was wrong, very wrong, but I had a reason. I want to do good to your +mamma and to you. Your mother is unhappy." + +"Yes," sobbed the child; "but it's only because papa is away; if you--" +She looked at him suddenly, then turned away, literally trembling with +a new fear. "Are you _really_ my own papa that mamma tells me stories +about?" she asked with unchildlike earnestness, fixing her dark, +mournful eyes on his face. + +There followed a few moments of silence. L'Estrange was thinking. +For the first time in all his life he was staggered. Falsehood had +hitherto always befriended him, but he had never before been in such a +situation as this. Mentally he cursed his own folly, and cast about in +his usually ready mind for something to say, for in this pure child's +presence he felt as if he dared not lie. An inspiration came. "Laura," +he said earnestly, "you are much better and wiser than other children +of your age or I should not say this to you. I am _not_ your father. +Remember, I never told you I was, but I love you as much as if I were, +and I love your mother. I want to make her happy, and you, her little +daughter, must help me." + +L'Estrange did not mean precisely what he said, but for the moment he +persuaded himself that he did. The child held her breath and listened. + +"Laura," he continued after a pause, "what would make your mother +happy?" + +"For papa to come back," she said with a sigh, which he echoed. Only +a few hours before he had thought to make her happiness in a very +different way. But this should not interfere with his scheme. + +"What if _you_ found your father, Laura, and told him this--that your +mother was unhappy, I mean, and wanted him back? Do you think he would +come?" + +The child looked up eagerly: "Oh, I'm certain he would." + +"Well, petite, if you consent to come away with me, I will try and take +you to your father. Do you understand me?" + +Laura understood, certainly. She clasped her hands, but suddenly her +face fell. "You said you would take me to mamma, and you didn't," she +said; "perhaps this is just the same." + +L'Estrange was right. She was a strange child and not easy to manage. +As he hesitated for an answer she spoke again: "Take me back to mamma, +and we can ask her about it." + +"No, Laura," he said as firmly as he could, for he was easily moved and +the child had touched him to the heart. And then he took her in his +arms again, and smoothing back her hair kissed the tears from her eyes. +For the first time he was really in earnest. Instinctively the child +felt it and was soothed. + +"Trust me, petite, and try to be calm. I do not mean you anything but +good, my fair child, for you are dear to me as my own soul." + +There was a wonderful power of fascination about this man which had +seldom failed him. It had its effects on this girl-child. She looked +up into his strong face convulsed with emotion, and she was comforted. +Her tears ceased. She lay back silently, and he rocked her to and fro +in his arms while they drove on through the gathering darkness. Was +the child wrong? Had her heaven-sent gift of instinct failed her in +her hour of need? I think not. Rather, in that moment this strange, +complex-natured man was what he appeared--good and true. The pure +child-presence, the simple words, the dark, searching eyes seemed +to have drawn away his evil for the time. It was as though an angel +had looked into his soul's darkness and with a ray of living light +dispelled it utterly. + +It must be remembered that L'Estrange was not an Englishman. There +is, I think, a certain oneness of nature about the Anglo-Saxon race +that renders it very difficult for its members to understand the +emotional, impulsive, two-sided character of the Celt, the Latin or +the Greek. An Englishman is eminently straightforward. He does not +stop to analyze. Be his object good or bad, he is given to carrying +it out perseveringly, leaving to the future thoughts of compunction +or self-gratulation. This is doubtless sweeping, as indeed all +generalities must be, but possibly a truth underlies it--a truth +which may explain the extreme lack of sympathy between ourselves and +our southern neighbors. With Englishwomen the case is different. +There is always something in the female character that answers to +this two-sidedness. Its very weakness challenges a woman's sympathy. +Muscular Christianity, strong, manly straightforwardness, is very +attractive in its way, but not so dangerous, I am inclined to imagine, +to the female heart as this emotional impulsiveness, ready at one +moment with tears of sentiment and tender analysis of feeling, and at +the next with passionate indignation and deep-breathed curses. + +L'Estrange was a son of the South, a pupil of the great philosopher +of Nature. From his childhood upward he had indulged in every emotion +that ruffled the calm of his strong spirit. From Jean Jacques he had +learnt to invert the eternal unity of beauty and goodness, calling that +fair which is wanting in truth. Therefore, when involuntarily, as he +gazed on the child, who had sobbed herself to sleep on his shoulder, +the moisture dimmed his eyes and his heart softened before her fair +innocence, he felt a certain glow of self-approbation. "I am certainly +becoming a better man," he thought, but he did not make up his mind to +restore the child to her mother--the woman he had once loved, the woman +he had robbed of every joy. + +His heart ached for her sadness as in the soft emotion of that evening +her pale face came before his mind; but if he would do her good at all, +it should be in his own way. + +And so they drove on--Laura, wearied out with her tears and the +excitement, fast asleep in the arms of the man who had taken her from +her mother; L'Estrange scarcely daring to stir. In his strange way he +thanked God for this sleep. + +The stopping of the carriage aroused the child. They were at a station +some miles distant from the one by which they usually went from +Middlethorpe to York. + +The night was dark; only a few stars shone through the cloud-rents. +Laura started up. "Mamma!" she cried; then looking round her, she +remembered and said no more. L'Estrange was watching her narrowly. He +had dreaded this awakening, for he feared a passionate outburst of +grief, but it did not come. + +The child looked out and around her with that far-seeing look that some +children have, as if they can see into the invisible, and then, as they +entered the dimly-lighted station--for the little lady had insisted +upon being put down to the ground--she looked up again into his face. +It was the same, mournful, searching gaze that had already touched him +so deeply. + +Apparently the scrutiny satisfied her, or it may be her woman's +instinct showed her the uselessness of resistance, for she gazed away +again into the night and said no more till she found herself wrapped +up tenderly and laid amongst the cushions of a first-class railway +carriage. L'Estrange took his seat beside her and the train began to +move. + +Then first the child's lip trembled, and there came a look of distress +into her small face. L'Estrange stooped over her: "Are you frightened, +darling?" + +"Not frightened," said the little girl; "but--" + +"But what? Tell me." + +Then came the trouble with a burst of tears: "I want mamma to tuck me +up and hear my prayers. We say them--mamma and I--when the stars come +in the sky; and the stars are up there now, and--and I want mamma." + +For Laura was only a very little girl, and this want made her first +realize what it was to be without her mother. + +Her companion did not answer, and the child went on in her simplicity: +"God is up there above the stars a very long way away, but I know He +hears, for when mamma was in London and Jane was cross, I told Him and +He brought her back after a long time. Oh, please, will it be a _great_ +many nights before we go back to mamma?" + +As she spoke those silent tears so pitiful from a little child began to +flow, and her companion once more felt inclined to curse himself for +his short-sighted folly. He knelt down beside her in the carriage, and +she saw that his face was very pale and that real tears were in his +eyes. + +"Ma fillette, ma chèrie," he whispered, for in his emotion the English +endearments sounded hard and cold, "be patient--trust me." + +For a few moments Laura was soothed, but still, as there came the gleam +of the stars through the darkness, the childish wail was repeated: "I +want mamma! I want mamma!" + +L'Estrange was perplexed. Passionate sorrow he had expected, and he had +not despaired of curing it by distractions, but this quiet pathos of +grief cut him to the very soul. In its presence he was helpless. How +could he comfort her? + +He pondered, but for a long time in vain. At last his own childish days +returned to his mind, and the stories he had learnt at his nurse's +knee. "It was in parables," thought this master of human nature, +"that the Great Teacher taught the world; and what were the myths of +antiquity but parables to prepare the nations in their childhood for +the reception of truth? By a parable I may perhaps make this little one +believe that her present suffering is for a future good." + +By which it will be seen that he still thought, in some vague way, of +redressing the great wrong he had committed, and by means of the child, +whom he had stolen in an access of bitter revenge, restoring Margaret +to happiness by giving her back her husband. + +"Laura," he said, lifting her from the cushions and holding her in his +arms, "can you listen to a story?" + +"Yes," said the child wearily. + +"Listen, then, ma fillette, and try to understand me. It is long ago +that I heard this story, when I was a little child like you, and +perhaps you have heard it many times, for it comes from a book that +English people read. There was a man who had a great many sons--twelve, +I think--and he loved one of them more than all the others; we do not +know why--perhaps he was beautiful and good. This boy was of course +very happy at home, because he was always with his father, who gave him +everything he wanted. But at last his brothers grew angry---jealous, I +think you call it in English." + +Laura drew in her breath with a sigh of contentment. "Why," she +interrupted, "you are telling me about Joseph!" + +"Yes," he replied gravely, "and ma fillette knows that Joseph was sent +to a country a long way off, far from his father who loved him." + +"Like me," said Laura sighing. + +"And ma fillette knows, too, that Joseph saw his father again." + +"After a long, long time," said the child. + +"After a long time, it is true; but what did he do then?" + +Laura looked away at the stars: "Gave his father bread and a house and +sheep, and everything he wanted." + +For she knew all about this, her favorite Bible story. + +There was a pause then. The child and her companion were thinking. + +At last L'Estrange spoke: "And was he sorry afterward, this good +Joseph, that he had been taken away from his father?" + +"I think he was glad," said Laura in a low tone; "only it was such a +very, very long time. But if I thought what you say I wouldn't mind the +long time." + +"Think it, then, ma fillette," he said, stooping over her with his own +peculiar smile, which seemed to shine like light on his dark face. And +the child believed him. + +It was a strange doctrine to take root in so young a mind, for the +subtle parable wrought powerfully. The great fact of self-sacrifice, +the suffering of some for the good of others, began to dawn upon the +child's mind. It was real suffering to be separated from her mother, +to be wandering with this stranger through the night instead of lying +in her warm white bed in her mother's room; but Laura neither wept +nor complained. Her tears ceased, and her dark eyes grew large with +thought. For she had overcome her distrust of her companion; she +believed with the simple faith of childhood that what he told her was +true. Her strong imagination idealized him into a guide (like Great +Heart in the bit of the _Pilgrim's Progress_ she loved the best) come +to put an end to her mother's troubles by bringing her father back to +them; and for her part in the great work the child, with unchildlike +calm and thoughtfulness, was ready. + +It was late before they reached York, but rooms were ready at an hotel +to which L'Estrange had telegraphed, and the good-natured chambermaid +took every care of the little lady. Going to bed so far from mamma +was hard work for the poor child, and her sobs and tears and sudden +startings from sleep were subject of much speculation to the attendant; +but at this time she said nothing, as her services were very liberally +remunerated. + +L'Estrange passed a very different night. He had been longing for +its deep solitude, that he might think out undisturbed the unwonted +thoughts to which the experiences of that day had given rise. And the +night came--heavy, dark, brooding, suitable to his spirit's mood. + +He went to his room, but there he could not rest; under its narrow roof +even thought would not come to him; he rose and went out. The town was +silent in the darkness, and utterly undisturbed he walked through the +quaint, narrow streets, under low-browed gates and arches, till in +a few minutes he gained the open country. A wide, grassy expanse it +seemed to be, as far as he could see by the faint light that struggled +now and then through the clouds--undulating here and there, and +bordered in the distance by a fringe of wood, behind which a line of +light that told of either twilight or dawn was lying low down on the +horizon. + +A gate opened on to the smooth turf. He unlatched it, and, after a few +more rapid steps, threw himself down on the grass with his face to +heaven. A sudden craving for rest of some kind--rest of conscience, +rest of heart, rest of soul--had come to him, and in the night's +stillness he had set himself the task of thinking out the problem. + +In the morning of the long day he had thought to rest in love. That +hope had gone by. It did not require so consummate a master of human +nature as himself to recognize clearly that this was vain; and strive +as he would he could not forget Margaret; her beauty haunted him as +the vision of impossible good must follow the lost--a torment, because +unattainable for ever. Later, he had imagined that revenge in its +bitter satisfaction might rest his spirit. His scheme had succeeded, +but this too was vanity, or worse, for the child whom he had looked +upon merely as the instrument of his vengeance had opened his eyes, +and instead of rest came the stinging pang of remorse to harass his +tormented soul. + +And thus it had ever been with him. The beautiful "spirit of delight" +he had been seeking from his youth up; always with the same result--to +find under the beauty, ashes; under the glory, dull despair. + +At first, as he lay there under the canopy of cloud, the thoughts +of this strange man were nothing higher than self-pity and bitter +complaining of wayward fate. His being seemed for the moment a thing +apart from himself. He took it in his hand and reasoned on it. Why +was it formed to enjoy when enjoyment was a thing unattainable? Why +was it tortured with longings which for ever were destined to remain +unsatisfied? Why was beauty so fair and good so lovely when always they +looked on it from afar? What was this superior fate that fed its slave +with mocking visions--removing evermore and ever farther the cup of +bliss for which his thirsty soul was panting? + +The soft sensualist felt the tears brimming to his eyes as he pondered +on his calamities. It was the remembrance of his own parable that +first aroused him, for the man was not naturally weak. Brought up in a +different school, he might have been different. Education had made him +a formalist and from forms he had turned away in his manhood, thinking +in the direct opposite to find freedom and truth. + +The formalist had cast off every tie of faith, only to fall into the +closer bondage of fatalism. And the worst of it all was that there +seemed no opening for him into the light. But, though he little +suspected it, he had found a teacher, and in the stillness of that +night the lessons fallen from the lips of one of God's little ones +began to take effect upon his mind. + +It was not so much his own parable as its effect upon Laura that struck +suddenly to the root of his selfish murmuring. His sensuous soul had +been hitherto seeking with all its power for beauty as a resting-place. +He had thought to find it in the gratification of his senses, but it +had always eluded him. The child's earnest look that night as she took +up at his command the burden of suffering for the good that was to +come--not so much to herself as to another--made a new idea dawn upon +his mind. Was there, then, an unsuspected beauty even in suffering when +sanctified by high ends? If so, he had been all his life seeking in +vain. + +Suddenly as the idea flashed in upon his brain--with the vision of that +patient little face, from which something more than a child's spirit +seemed to look--he sprang to his feet and walked rapidly forward into +the night. Like a dream his former life seemed to map itself out before +him in those few moments of intense feeling. The days, the years that +had, in spite of his efforts, furrowed his face and sprinkled their +gray ashes on his head, how had he spent them? In seeking the good +which ever eluded him, in fleeing from the shadow that ever pursued +him. The good had been happiness, beauty--the evil had been pain, +suffering. Physical suffering, mental suffering, sympathetic suffering, +vicarious suffering,--this he had striven to blot out from the story +of his life; he would believe that it did not exist, and when in +unmistakable evidence it had presented itself to his senses, he would +forget its presence or drown its influence in distractions. + +And now came this child-messenger to tell him that all this time he had +been banishing a holy thing, a soul-purifier. It had ennobled the young +face that night till an angel's pure beauty seemed to rest upon it. +Even his peerless Margaret had gained in calmness and strength by those +years of desolation; and he who had cast it aside as abhorrent, what +was he becoming? + +He asked himself this with an involuntary shudder. He had always +rejoiced in the tenderness of his heart. His very objection to the +sight of suffering had been laid to this account in the self-analyses +which with him had been so frequent: and now what did he find himself +doing? Coolly inflicting torture on a woman and child--two of the +weakest of God's creatures--and all for the gratification, not of the +best but of the worst feelings of his nature. Once more L'Estrange +threw himself to the ground, but this time his face was turned +earthward and buried in his hands, while wave after wave of bitterness +passed over his troubled soul. + +When he looked up the white dawn was beginning to struggle with the +darkness. Gray clouds and intermediate patches of pale blue had become +visible, and heavy, bead-like drops of dew stood on the blades of +grass. His face was wan, like that of one who had passed through a +death-agony, but it looked better. He rose to his feet and paced slowly +back to the town. At the railway-station he stopped, knocked up a +telegraph-clerk, and sent a message apparently to London, then returned +to his room at the hotel, arousing the astonishment of two or three +sleepy waiters who were up in expectation of an early train. + +There he sat down before the table, opened his desk and taking from it +a sheet of paper began a letter. It seemed a difficult one to write, +for sheet after sheet was destroyed before he could satisfy himself. It +was accomplished at last, however, and the words written seemed to be +very few, but a smile flitted over his face as he read them. Then he +pressed the paper to his lips, enclosed it in an envelope, and wrote +the address with a trembling hand. + +L'Estrange's method of spelling English words was very eccentric. He +could speak the language well enough, as he had lived long in England, +but he could never bring himself to write it. Why words should be spelt +in such an arbitrary way he could not or would not understand. All he +could suppose was that the English would keep in this, as in everything +else, to their national characteristic of eccentricity. + +English eccentricity had always been a fruitful theme with L'Estrange. +On the point of spelling he was obstinate. He persisted in spelling +phonetically, and as a natural consequence his letters very often went +astray. + +It will be as well to say at once that this was the unhappy fate of +the letter in which his mental struggles culminated. It was written in +French and addressed to Margaret. She never got it. Three weeks later, +after vain endeavors had been made to procure it some destination, it +was returned to the hotel from which it had been written. There it +awaited the return of its writer. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_A WASTED LIFE._ + + A glorious Devil, large in heart and brain, + That did love Beauty only (Beauty seen + In all varieties of mould and mind), + And Knowledge for its beauty; or if Good, + Good only for its beauty, seeing not + That Beauty, Good and Knowledge are three sisters + That doat upon each other--friends to man, + Living together under the same roof, + And never can be sundered without tears. + + +The heavy rings round Laura's eyes and her general languor when she +appeared in the private sitting-room her protector had taken deeply +grieved him. + +For a few moments he felt inclined to act upon his natural impulse +of kindliness--to take the child back to her mother, and pursue his +strange scheme of setting Margaret right with her husband by himself. +But a remnant of selfishness withheld him. Laura, in her sweet, +childish innocence and in the unchildlike development of her inner +life, was a beautiful problem, the like of which had never before, in +all his wanderings through the fields of humanity, been presented to +him. He longed to study her more closely, and this could only be done +by following out his original scheme. He determined, therefore, to +leave the decision to her. + +He said very little during breakfast-time, only watched her with a +certain curiosity. He was grateful to this child who had opened a door +of light in his soul, though he was not near enough to her in purity +and beauty to know how great was the service she had rendered him. + +Breakfast was something of a pretence to both of them. The longing for +her mother, and the brave determination to choke it down in her heart +till she had done what was required of her--found this unknown father +and brought him back--made the child too excited for eating to be any +pleasure to her; and L'Estrange at the best of times could not eat so +early. + +When it was over the child got up. "Please," she said hesitatingly. She +was in a great perplexity about what she should call her new protector. + +He read her thought: "Come here, Laura." + +She went quietly to his side, and he drew her on to his knees. "I knew +another Laura once," he said quietly, stroking back her hair; "she +was the sister of your mother; but she is dead now, pauvre enfant!" +And then he continued, as if talking to himself: "Comme elle était +gentille, la chère petite!" + +"That must be my aunt Laura," said the child; "mamma has a picture of +her, and I kiss it sometimes." + +"Yes, she would be your aunt, ma fillette; you are like her. Ah! I +remember now--it is of her that your eyes make me think. Turn round to +the light." + +"But why do you talk about Aunt Laura?" said the child impatiently. +"Please, I want a sheet of paper. I can only write big letters, but I +think mamma would understand." + +"Patience, ma mie. _I_ have written a letter to your mother. See, it is +here, all ready to be sent, and if you like some of your big letters +can go inside. You shall put it in the postbox yourself, that you may +trust your old friend as the other Laura did. I told you about her +because of what she used to call me. I should like you to do the same. +It was _mon père_. Can you say that?" + +"Mon père," said Laura, in her small childish voice. Then she thought +a few moments: "That means my father, doesn't it? But you are not my +papa." + +"I must be your father till you find your own, Laura," he said gravely. +"Shall it be so?" + +"Yes, mon père," said the child, smiling up into his face. + +And from that moment she never doubted her protector. He on his part +became more determined than ever in the pursuit of his new object. +Little by little the child was doing childhood's Heaven-given work, +drawing away selfishness and bringing pure love in its place. It was +this that brought him to try his experiment. He watched the child as +she sat down before a large sheet of paper with a pencil, writing +painfully her letter to her mother. L'Estrange had all the innate +delicacy of a refined mind; he would not attempt to see what the words +were that the child was tracing. + +She brought the paper to him when the letter was done, and stood +beside him as he folded it up; but before it was finally put away he +hesitated: "Which would you rather, Laura--for this letter to go to +your mother, or to go back yourself?" + +For a moment the child's face looked bright and joyous, but only for a +moment. The flush faded, she clasped her small hands together: "We must +find papa first; but, oh, I hope it will be soon!" + +The strong man turned away; he had difficulty in keeping himself from +weeping like a child. When he spoke again his voice was calm: "We must +lose no time then, Laura." He rang the bell, and the waiter appeared. +"Send the chambermaid here." + +When after a few moments the soft-hearted Jane came in, he gave her +money, ordering, in those imperative tones which always gained a +hearing with his inferiors, that the little lady should be supplied +without delay with every necessary for a long journey. He did not +deign to explain, nor did Jane venture to remonstrate. She went to an +outfitter's, procured all that was necessary, and in half an hour from +that time they were ready for another start. + +There followed a long and wearisome day, for the heat and dust were +excessive, and before it was over, L'Estrange for the hundredth time +repented as he looked on the patient little flushed face that would yet +show no sign of weariness. + +Arthur had been right in his conjecture. They were remarkable +travellers, and many were the comments of those who journeyed with +them--the man, with his dark face and foreign appearance and imperious +conduct, and the fair English child, at the very sight of whom his face +seemed to melt into tenderness and his manners to take the softness +of those of a woman. And no woman could have watched over her child +more lovingly or tended it with greater care than he watched over +and tended his little charge. Food and drink he brought her with his +own hands when it was possible to obtain them; whenever her position +grew wearisome she rested in his arms, the imperious voice sinking to +lulling murmurs as he told her long nursery-tales which he made out +of everything they passed. A house, a stream, the cows in a meadow +would be sufficient material for his fertile brain. Once even, when +the black grimy dust had literally overpowered the fastidious little +lady, and her timidity prevented her from appealing to the attendant +in a waiting-room, he took her himself to a kind of pump, and dipping +his cambric handkerchief into the cool water washed her hands and face +so effectually that she laughed for pleasure. It was her first laugh +since the moment when she had discovered that she was going away from +her mother, and it caused L'Estrange as sincere a throb of gladness +as he had ever known in all his life, for this child was gradually +becoming to him something more than a child--something more even than +the offspring of the woman who through all his lovings and longings had +most entirely held his heart. He began to look upon her, in his strange +fatalistic way, as a mysterious thing, sent to him at the very darkest +hour of all his dark career to touch his blackness with fingers of +light and bring good near to his soul. + +And perhaps it was partly the truth. There is, for those who can +understand the mystery, something divine in childhood; certainly, if +not nearer to God than we, children have the power of drawing out the +divine that is in us. L'Estrange felt this in a very peculiar way; he +treated the child with a loving reverence, watching jealously her every +word and movement as one who looks for an inspiration. + +And so the long hours of the day wore away. When they reached London it +was already late in the afternoon. Laura was tired, but she would not +hear of remaining there for the night, she was too anxious to press on. + +They were met at the Great Northern Station by a gentleman who appeared +to have been expecting them. This man gave them a boisterous welcome, +shook hands warmly with L'Estrange, who did not seem to reciprocate +his cordiality, and, chucking Laura under the chin in a familiar way, +asked her where she was going. The child's lady-like instincts were +offended. She answered quietly that she did not know, and clung to her +protector's hand. + +The stranger laughed in a peculiar way, and turned to L'Estrange: "I +didn't know you had a daughter, mossou." + +"_Monsieur_," replied he, emphasizing the French word, "was mistaken, +as he very often is." + +"Well! well!" answered the other rapidly--he was our friend Mr. +Robinson--"I can't stand here wasting my time. I gather from the +telegram, which duly arrived this morning, that you sent for me about a +certain subject. I _may_ have information for you--I _may_ not." + +"It shall be worth Monsieur Rob_ee_nson's while to give me his +information," replied L'Estrange quietly, but with a kind of sarcastic +courtesy. + +The courtesy struck Mr. Robinson's mind, the sarcasm glanced over +him harmlessly. "Of course, of course!" he protested volubly. "You +foreigners put things strangely, mossou; ignorance of English ways, no +doubt. Allow me to explain myself. In expectation of this (you gave me +reason a little while ago to believe it might possibly be wanted) I +have kept myself acquainted with the movements of the party discussed +between us. You will doubtless remember the occasion. Naturally +the firm is slightly out of pocket. These investigations, you must +understand, are costly, but everything shall be done in due form +between us. In the mean time, if I can be of any service--" + +"Oblige me," said L'Estrange with the same manner, that might be either +courtesy or its semblance, "by taking this as an instalment." He handed +him a paper packet. "The firm I can settle with when your lawyer's bill +comes in. _Your_ services, monsieur, are for the moment personal." + +Mr. Robinson bowed. His fingers itched to get to the inside of the +packet, but it would have been unprofessional to show anxiety, so it +rested quietly in his palm. L'Estrange looked at Laura to see how much +of all this she had understood. The little girl was still holding +his hand, but her thoughts seemed to be elsewhere, and he addressed +himself again to the lawyer: "Tell me, in as few words as can be, +where was he heard of last?" + +"The last remittances were sent to Moscow. A few weeks ago he was +certainly there--probably is so still." + +"Moscow!" L'Estrange repeated the word in a dismayed tone, looking down +as he did so at the child whose hand he held. + +Mr. Robinson guessed his thought, and broke in volubly: "You surely +don't think of going there yourself, and with that child too! Why, it +would be preposterous, and not the smallest necessity. Give us time and +we can gain further information. If necessary, I could go there myself, +though of course it would be an expensive business. In any case, +leave your little girl. My wife would be delighted to look for a nice +school--conducted, you know, on Christian principles--where every care +would be taken, both in the way of physical and mental training." + +Mr. Robinson would have his say out. He affected to consider that duty +required him to give salutary advice in season and out of season; +and as duty, in his sense of the term, was always closely connected +with business, he had already in his own mind fixed upon a temporary +residence for the child. A lady who owed him a long outstanding bill +was anxious to take in pupils. This new client was evidently a liberal +payer; through the profits made out of the child a part, at least, of +that just debt might be paid off. + +But his client did not look at matters in the same light. He tried to +stop his voluble utterances, for the little hand he held was trembling. +Laura, hearing herself discussed, had taken a sudden interest in the +proceedings. She looked up at her protector and saw that his brows were +knit angrily. This alarmed her. She burst into tears. "Oh! please don't +leave me with him," she sobbed; "take me with you or let me go back to +mamma." + +How his face changed as he heard the child's cry! It became suddenly +soft as that of a woman. He stooped down to her and wiped away her +tears, whispering all kinds of gentle assurances. Then he turned again +to the lawyer with that ominous frown: "You see what you have done. Be +so good, monsieur, as in the future to preserve business relations in +our necessary intercourse, nor presume to advise me at all on matters +that do not concern you." + +Another man would have been struck dumb or else have retired offended, +but the lawyer was of the tough sort. This was too valuable a client +to be sacrificed to feelings. "No offence meant, I assure you, sir," +he hastened to say--"only interest; but" (seeing the frown gather) "to +return to business. I have a few more details that may be useful--the +address of an agent in Moscow, the--" + +"Write them out for me, and send them to the usual address in Paris by +to-morrow morning's mail. At the present, monsieur, we have no more +time for delay. It is necessary to dine before taking the train again +to Southampton." + +"You leave, then, this evening? Can I be of any further--" + +"No, thank you, Mr. Robeenson." He bowed in his stately manner and +turned away to the refreshment-rooms with Laura, leaving the lawyer on +the platform, still grinning his contentment. + +As they distanced him the child gave a sigh: "I'm so glad he's gone!" + +"Why, then, did you not like him, ma mie?" + +"No, mon père, not at all; he doesn't look good." + +"I think the bébé is right," he said in a low tone; "mais que faut il +faire?--Little wise one," he continued aloud, "we must take the people +as we find them, some good and some bad, making our own use of them +all. Is that too hard a philosophy for the little brain?" + +Apparently it was, for the child made no answer. + +In the mean time L'Estrange had seated her at one of the marble-topped +tables, and before thinking about his own dinner was trying to find +out what would best suit her appetite. The well-feed waiter was flying +about to supply all her wants; dainty after dainty, which she scarcely +touched, was put upon her plate. It was such a new scene to Laura that +her appetite fled with the excitement. + +Many looked at her curiously in the crowded room, for Laura was a +peculiarly beautiful child. Her golden curls and her dark, lustrous +eyes, with the transparent delicacy of complexion she had inherited +from her mother, and the childish grace which is the gift of God to +her age of helplessness, made her very attractive. She was rather +embarrassed at the attention she excited, noticing which her protector +stood up and folding his arms looked right and left so haughtily that +the most compassionate and least curious of the many beholders felt as +if their admiration of the fair child had been an indiscretion. + +After dinner the wearied little one fell asleep in his arms, and +only awoke to find herself in the train, which was far on its way to +Southampton. She was getting accustomed to her new friend and to these +sudden wakings; so this time, to his great relief, she did not cry out +for her mamma, but clung to him still more closely. They stopped at +Southampton. It was a lovely night, the sea still as glass and the dark +blue sky alight with moonshine and studded with stars. + +Laura and her protector stood together on the steamer's deck. "Will ma +fillette go to bed?" he asked. + +The child shook her head. "Oh! _please_ let me stay out here," she +pleaded. "I promise not to be a trouble, and the stars are so nice." + +Without another word he wrapped her up in his own fur-lined overcoat +and made a bed for her on one of the seats, himself watching beside her. + +But this time Laura could not sleep, the position was too strange. +"What is that noise?" she asked nervously as the plash of the water +against the great paddle-wheels came to her ears. + +"The water and the wheels," he answered. "The wheels are rolling along +through the waves, taking us over the sea." + +The child raised herself on her elbow and looked round: "Where are we +going? There's only sky and clouds out there. But, oh!" clasping her +hands in delight, "look at the moon on the water. I see it like that +at home sometimes. Once, when I could not go to sleep, mamma took me +to the window, and a little bit of the sea was all white as it is +to-night. She said it was the moon, and now we're going to catch the +moon in the water. Oh! _why_ didn't mamma come?" + +For this was the ever-recurring trouble of the child. Her love for +her mother was stronger and more enduring than it generally is among +those of her age. A mother gives; but very often years pass before she +receives any return to her devotion. Laura's love was strong, because, +in the first place, there was nothing to divide it: her young life had +never held another affection. Then her love and childish sympathy had +for some time been partially checked, and, it may be, had therefore +grown stronger in their secret place. Only during the last weeks had +her young affection had its free course in the light of her mother's +comprehending love. + +Her plaint made her companion wince, but he would not answer it. After +a few moments he looked at her again and saw that tears were in her +eyes. They were reflecting, in their moistness, the white shimmering +moonlight; in its pure unearthly shining the little face seemed almost +transfigured. + +L'Estrange had been superstitious from his youth up. He was the very +creature of those dreams and inspirations to which the glowing South +gives birth. Perhaps they had weakened his strong intellect. At any +rate they had kept it in the shadowy twilight, giving little chance for +living truth to make its entrance into his soul. + +The look on the child's face startled him. "_Does_ she belong to this +earth?" he asked himself. + +"Laura," he whispered, "look away from the stars. Doubtless they are +thy sisters and brothers, little one, but look for one moment from +them to me, and say what thoughts are in the busy little brain at this +moment?" + +The child smiled: "I was thinking about the moon and about mamma, mon +père. I was wondering if she is looking at the moon now, and if she got +my letter, and if she misses me very much." + +Her simple reflections did not satisfy her friend. I think at the +moment he would scarcely have been surprised if the child had developed +budding wings and floated away into the sympathetic moonshine; his +superstition, it may be, specially as displayed by one whose sex might +have been supposed to lift him above such weakness, will seem strange +and improbable to the majority of readers. A _man allow_ himself to +think seriously of such follies? Yes--a _man_, and not the first nor +the last, by a great many. The inhabitants of our island are not +alone on the face of the earth. In the glow of the sunny South, where +generations have lapped their souls in sunshine and indolently lived +on the abundant gifts of lavish Nature, where life can be sustained by +a little, and the struggle for existence is less painful and bitter, +there has been time for dreaming; and perhaps this has enervated the +moral sense and loosened the sinews of mind, till pleasure has become a +god and the mind receptive of strange things. + +In the early days of civilization, before these things had wrought +fully on the character, pure reason, law and its cold abstractions, +divine art and severe philosophy made the South their centre, for when +we think of these first Athens and then Rome come before the mind. And +at that age in the gray formless North the legend flourished, with many +a wild superstition. But all that has changed. A light dawned upon the +mighty tribes; their superstitions fell, and they girded themselves +with strength, while evermore in the sunny lands dreams gained ground, +and weakness followed in their train, till at last what is it that we +see? In the city where Pericles ruled, where Socrates taught, where +Plato reasoned, they dream and do not; in imperial Rome a shadow, an +old mediæval fiction, has kept the people from freedom as they gloried +in the past and dreamed about the future, and in the mean time we of +the gray North are rapidly casting from us almost everything but what +we can see, taste, hold and understand. + +Be practical! is the watchword of the age, and sentiment is repudiated, +and imagination cried down or relegated to extreme youth and the +weakest of weak womanhood. Are there many, I wonder, who find the +medium--whose strong souls are strong enough to allow that there is +something which passes their ken--who think it no shame to be at +certain moments swayed by sentiment, governed by a dream of ideal +loveliness, and yet who work on in their daily calling unsickened and +undismayed? + +There are some such souls, and to no climate are they peculiar. +L'Estrange might have been one of them. There was in his imaginative +faculty, in his receptivity to beauty and sentiment, in his sympathetic +tenderness, a something that marked him out as one born to a higher +life than that of self-gratification. His success among women was +chiefly owing to this. For it is the good, not the bad in a character, +that draws and enchains the loving worship of womanhood. + +Where a man reads weakness a woman's keen eye beholds what underlies +that weakness, and if _it_ be lovable she is ready to adore. + +What L'Estrange wanted was this: A soul to understand the beauty and +glory of truth--truth on the lips and truth in the life. To indulge +his love of beauty he had wrapped himself in the rose-colored mists of +dreams; to preserve himself and others from pain he had never hesitated +to resort to falsehood. He might have been very different. Some of the +misery of that "might have been" was in his soul that evening as he +turned from the child and paced up and down the steamer's deck, for a +dark hour had come and he could not bear to face his good genius. With +arms folded and brows knit, his dark face looking forward into the +moonlight, he thought until thinking was pain. But the influence of the +child had begun to work. He would not, as he usually did, cast aside +the painful thinking because of the pain that was in it; rather he +looked it in the face, trying to touch its centre, and so, it might be, +find a cure. + +Oh, it was a hard task! For his was the misery of a wasted life, and +a life that had brought desolation. True his innate refinement, the +self-respect of a high intellect, had kept him tolerably free from +what is gross and degrading, but that midnight retrospect was bitter +notwithstanding. Pleasure sought and taken at the expense of truth; +blighted lives, to which he had brought the warm beauty of love, +leaving them when the mood had changed to find it where they could; +good that he might have done and did not; wasted talents, used-up +powers,--these came before his conscience in an accusing throng. And +there was no help for it. He had one life only, and the best of that +life had gone. L'Estrange, though he professed to believe in a futurity +to the soul, was that saddest of all beings, a practical infidel. In +the misery of self-communion his thoughts turned suddenly to the memory +of his boyhood's faith, to the days when heaven had been a reality and +the saints robed in white, the pure queen of the skies, the fair infant +in her breast, had formed part of his hopes and dreams for the future. +They had vanished like myths born of the early vapor. They had been +too shadowy to bear the inroad of hot, lurid noon. Tried, they had +been found wanting, and what had he left in the hour when his heart +and spirit craved for something unearthly as their rest? Nothing. All +he found within, as he ventured shudderingly to lift the curtain that +hides the unseen from the seen, was a "certain fearful looking-for of +judgment and fiery indignation," which no man, if ten times over an +infidel, can escape when the hour comes. + +His dark face darkened. If all were hopeless, then why should he pause? +Why had the good that was in him made him hesitate at last? He would +crush it down and gain his own ends, even through suffering itself. He +stopped in his rapid walk and looked over the vessel's side. It was a +real blackness, for clouds had covered the face of the moon, and had +gathered here and there in heavy masses on the horizon. + +A moaning wind swept across the sea, ruffling the waters till the +vessel rocked to and fro. Then the dark face relaxed. The desolation of +the watery waste had been responsive to his mood. "So be it, then," he +muttered, looking out into the darkness. He was for the moment like the +grand creation of Milton, that ideal Lucifer, when his last struggles +after goodness have culminated in the fatal cry, "Evil, be thou my +good!" + +But L'Estrange was not yet absolutely God-forsaken. As he spoke +something touched his knees. He looked down impatiently. But suddenly +his impatience changed. He drew himself away with a murmured +exclamation and a strange contraction of heart. Was it a miracle? For +this was what he saw. The kneeling figure of a child, the hands clasped +and the eyes lifted up to his. On the face was a bright shining that +made the golden hair like a saint's halo, and brought out the picture +in every small detail--the tremulous lips, the fair soft brow, the +lustrous eyes under their silken fringe. The face was Laura's. In +her companion's mood it seemed transfigured, like that of an angel +lamenting over his sins and follies. Involuntarily he bowed his head. +The strong man trembled like a child at the evidence of all he had +imagined, and yet the phenomenon was very commonplace. This was what +had caused it. The faithful child had read his trouble, and as she +had already allowed him to find his way to her heart, it made that +little heart sad. In her mother's sadness Laura had sometimes proved a +comforter, and the thought came into her head that she might comfort +her friend. So when he had stopped by the vessel's side the little +child had risen noiselessly, and kneeling by his side had clasped her +small hands about his knees. Then came the partial darkness, which +with her friend's seeming indifference frightened her so much that she +loosened her hold and looked up pleadingly. A sailor who was walking +about with a lantern looking after the rigging had been watching this +little episode. In his curiosity he caused its light to shine full +upon the child's face, so that when L'Estrange turned round he saw it +irradiated, while, as the sailor stood behind him, the source of the +sudden radiance was hidden. + +The illumination did not last longer than a few minutes. The man +turned away to his business, his heart softer for this glimpse of +innocent beauty; Laura and her protector were left in the darkness. But +until the day of his death L'Estrange believed that the light which +irradiated the child came down from heaven. + +He was recalled to his belief in Laura's mortality by a little wailing +cry. She put out her hands to feel for her friend, as the darkness and +silence alarmed her. Then he stooped down reverently and lifted her up +in his arms. The sorrowing angel was his own little Laura, fair and +pure in her habitation of flesh and blood, for, clasping her small arms +about his neck, she burst into a passion of tears. The darkness, the +sense of loneliness, the over-excitement had wrought upon the child's +nerves, and L'Estrange forgot all his wild thoughts in the effort to +comfort her. Instead of seeking evil as a good, he became tender as the +tenderest of fathers while he strove to make her forget her fears. + +He succeeded at last. She lay on his knees, quiet, only for a sob +or two at intervals, her golden head against his breast, one hand +round his neck, the other lost in his large grasp--she was afraid of +losing her friend again--and he soothed her by murmuring low, crooning +melodies that he thought he had forgotten long ago. Then when the +morning came and they were near their destination, he took her to the +stewardess for all needful combing and dressing. But from that time +L'Estrange treated the mortal child with a strange reverence. + +Later in that day, when they were wandering through the quaint streets +and corners of old Rouen, and the child had almost forgotten her +sorrows in wonder and delight, he brought his trouble to his young +oracle. "Have you ever been naughty, Laura?" he asked, looking down +upon her with a smile that was almost one of incredulity. + +The child smiled: "Oh yes, mon père--a number of times." + +"And what did you do, ma fillette?--when you were naughty, I mean." + +"I told mamma about it," said the child simply, "and she always said +something to make me good again." + +"But, Laura, when people are grown up and have no mamma to tell, what +must they do then?" + +For a moment the child looked troubled and thoughtful; then, as a light +seemed to dawn upon her, she smiled. "I should think they might tell +God," she said. + +The wayworn man bowed his head, and that evening in the solitude he +told God. For the child was making him believe in the actual goodness +(for only the Good could have made anything so good and pure) and in +the possibility of goodness for himself, as he was still able to love +and reverence it. + +Slowly the light dawned upon his benighted soul, and only after many +struggles with the darkness that was in him: this telling God was the +beginning. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_A TALE ABOUT THE STARS._ + + Could we but deem the stars had hearts, and loved, + They would seem happier, holier, to us even than now; + And ah! why not?--they are so beautiful. + + +The strange travellers continued their wanderings. News reached them at +Paris about the object of their journey, but news so indefinite that +L'Estrange thought it well to proceed with caution. In any of the +places through which they passed it was possible Maurice Grey might +be found. He did not seem to be in Moscow, although for the time all +communications were to be addressed to an agent there. + +He told as much as was possible of his plans and ideas to the child, +and her impatience was stayed while they wandered through the English +quarter of Paris and appeared in the galleries and public places--her +friend, who knew the city well, making every inquiry about the +stranger's residence there. + +And in the mean time L'Estrange enjoyed his peculiar position and the +kind of mystery that the beautiful, fair-haired child excited among the +few of his friends whom he could not avoid meeting. Mystery had always +been one of his chief tools. He delighted in wrapping himself up in +this misty obscurity. It challenged curiosity and excited interest. +He was given to appearing and disappearing without rendering to any +one an account of his motives, and the rumors current about him were +many. Even his nationality was a matter of doubt to some of his nearest +associates. The general idea was that he travelled here and there as a +secret emissary from one of the societies which work under ground in +Europe, or else that he was an agent from some one of its governments. +L'Estrange enjoyed this curiosity. It suited his purposes, and he +never, or very seldom, lifted the veil. To say the truth, the aims of +his journey were as varied and complex as himself. This was not the +first that had been undertaken with a good object, though never before, +perhaps, had self been so entirely set aside. + +Maurice Grey was his enemy. He had taken his treasure. He had possessed +himself--for the fact was slowly dawning on his mind through the +child's innocent prattle--not only of the person, but of the heart +and affections, of the one woman in all the world for whom he had +ever cherished a perfect sympathy. For although L'Estrange had felt +many times a certain power in womanhood, although his senses had been +enchained and his self-love flattered, yet it was true that this time +only had his whole being been surrendered, this once only had love +become one with his life--entered into him as a thing from which +nothing but death could free him. + +Sometimes, as with _his_ child beside him he wandered through the gay +city, it came over him like a flood what it would be to come upon this +man, to look into his face, to behold in it the workings of that soul +which for an apparent weakness could have cast off Margaret; and then +to do what? To take his revenge by proclaiming in words that could +not be denied the purity of his forsaken wife--by giving up into his +keeping the child whose young love he had despised. And if, after all, +he should be unworthy of this happiness? L'Estrange was walking through +the Champs Elysées with Laura late in the afternoon of a sultry day +when this thought dawned upon him. + +He stopped, and sitting down on one of the chairs drew the child to +his knees. There was a fierce determination in his face that half +frightened her. + +"Mon père!" she said gently. + +He turned his face from her and hid it with his hand. L'Estrange was +vowing a great vow with himself. + +"By Heaven!" he muttered, but so low that she could not hear, "I will +watch him, and if I read this weakness in his face he shall never know." + +Then he looked forward down the avenue. + +A tall, well-shaped and well-dressed man, English evidently, from +his carriage and general appearance, was sauntering leisurely in the +direction of the Place de la Concorde with a young French girl, who +seemed to be chattering volubly and making good use of her eyes, +hanging on his arm. There was a carelessness in his manner to her +that seemed to mark her out as not precisely of his own position in +the social scale, and this, as well as a certain resemblance, tempted +L'Estrange to follow the pair. + +"Stay where you are till I come back," he whispered to the child. In +the gathering twilight he followed till he was close on the heels of +the young Englishman. + +His companion was at that moment looking up coaxingly into his face. + +"But how close you Englishmen are!" she was saying in a wheedling +tone. "I am dying of curiosity, mon ami. Tell me, then, about this +immaculate, this runaway husband, this milord Anglais, who finds +nothing better to do than pine away, perhaps die, for the wife he +has left behind. Mon Dieu! what a nation! You are great, vous autres, +in love as in war; but why does he hide? One might find a method of +consoling him; pas vrai?" + +L'Estrange, who had crept under the shadow of the trees, and was now +walking parallel with the pair, could see by the light of one of the +scattered lamps that the young man's brow darkened. + +"He doesn't want such consolation as yours, Laurette. But why do you +persist in questioning me? I have told you a dozen times that Maurice +Grey will never be game for us--for _us_," he continued with a strange +emphasis. "If I had taken _his_ advice--" + +She smiled--a smile that looked rather dangerous: "Your associates +would not have been the same. Continue then, mon ami. Are we not +friends?" + +"Of course, of course," he said hastily. "Ma chère, what a little goose +you are, taking up a fellow in this serious kind of style! You see, +it's all your own fault--you put me out of temper by talking about that +prig. I believe he has buried himself in the wilds. I saw him last in +St. Petersburg; then he said he was going to the mountains. But, good +gracious! how should this interest you? I shall be jealous presently, +Laurette, and think you in love with my saintly cousin." + +Laurette laughed--a clear, ringing laugh, but to the watchful listener +it sounded hollow. + +"There is sadness under that mirth," he said to himself; "she has tried +her wiles on the Englishman, and tried them in vain; so much the better +for him." + +After a few more light words, Laurette and her companion turned into +a brilliantly-lit and decorated _café_. L'Estrange walked slowly back +to the seat where he had left Laura. His face was very pale and his +fine mouth was quivering. A fear had been partially laid to rest, but +it might be that even in the fear a hope, the shadow of self-love, had +rested. + +As he drew near to the seat where Laura had been left his steps +quickened, for the murmur of her sweet voice reached his ears. Some one +was speaking to her, and his unquiet conscience filled him with fear. +Perhaps they were trying to steal away his treasure. + +His fears were realized. A man was leaning over the child's chair and +speaking to her earnestly. Laura looked troubled and irresolute, but +all her hesitation fled when she saw her friend. She rose suddenly, +eluding with the agility of a child the grasping hand that sought to +detain her, and took refuge in his arms. + +The darkness and his knowledge of Paris favored L'Estrange. He +caught her up and disappeared among the shadows with the rapidity +of lightning, leaving the man, who was Golding's agent and had been +triumphing in his discovery, altogether baffled. He had certainly +shown very little judgment, for he had not even mentioned that he had +come from her mother. The first thing he had done was to bewilder the +child by cross-examination, to test the truth of his discovery. Then +he had told her, in the directest way possible, that the man with whom +she was travelling was a bad man, and that it was her duty to leave +him at once. This, Laura, who had given her faith to her companion, +entirely disbelieved. She rather feared the stranger who had come in +the darkness to steal her away from her friend. + +But all these contradictions puzzled her brain; she felt alarmed, and +in her bewilderment the sight of her friend was reassuring. It was rest +for the weary child to be gathered up into his strong arms, and his +sudden flight through the cool night-air was rather satisfactory than +the contrary. The dry manner of this man of business was so different +from the tender reverence, the deep emotion, of the man she called +her father!--what wonder then that the little girl, woman-like in her +instincts, trusted the one and was glad to flee from the other? + +With long strides L'Estrange passed on through the darkness, for, +though the child was in his arms, he did not grow weary. His love +prevented him from feeling her a burden. + +"I shall only give thee up to one, my treasure," he whispered; and +Laura was quite content. + +If she was becoming unspeakably dear to her friend, he was also +becoming dear to her. In his tenderness and devotion he seemed to clasp +her round like a providence. The little one began to think that he must +be her father, whatever he might say to the contrary. + +And while she was thinking they went on together more slowly, as the +darkness deepened and the danger of pursuit became less, into the very +heart of Paris, among its network of streets and lanes. L'Estrange knew +every inch of the way as well by night as by day. This was not his +first midnight flight. + +They stopped at last before a small house in a little side street. +L'Estrange rang the bell, and there came a respectable middle-aged +woman to the door. She smiled her recognition, then put out her hand +and drew them in. + +"C'est toi, donc, mon ami? et, mon Dieu! un bébé! Comment! Mais entre +toujours." + +She took the candle from the concierge, and preceded them up stairs +to a little room furnished partly as a bedroom and partly as a +sitting-room. Then, when they had seated themselves and she had +removed Laura's hat and jacket, she began bustling about, helpful as a +Frenchwoman generally is, to prepare everything for their further stay. +L'Estrange stopped her: + +"A thousand thanks, ma bonne Marie: we go on to-night." + +She shrugged her shoulders, a significant gesture. Marie was a very old +friend, and L'Estrange had been her benefactor. She knew his weakness. +"As you will, mon ami," she answered, "but this bébé wants rest," she +continued in English, approaching the child and stroking her fair hair +caressingly. + +The bébé had been sitting in a large arm-chair, looking curiously +about her. She was perfectly happy and comfortable, for her friend was +with her, and Marie's benevolent face and pleasant cheerful voice had +inspired her with confidence. + +"I'm not at all tired, thank you," she said; "mon père carried me a +long way." + +The woman turned round abruptly: "This is not yours, Adolphe?" + +"Pour le moment," he answered; and she did not dare to question him +further, for this man, when he liked, could be repellant even to his +friends. But the shadow passed. He chatted gayly with Marie upon a +variety of subjects, sent a messenger to their hotel to settle their +account and bring their portmanteau, and partook with Laura of coffee +of Marie's making, and of such few substantials as she could get +together in a hurry. + +The Frenchwoman was commissioned, sorely to Laura's perplexity, to take +her to the station from which they were to start for Vienna according +to L'Estrange's plans. But she had full confidence in her friend, and +made no demur. He went in a separate conveyance, meeting them in the +waiting-room. Before he joined them he looked round searchingly. The +train was on the point of starting, and the first-class passengers, +penned up in expectation of the signal to take their places, were not +many. L'Estrange seemed to breathe more freely as at last he sat down +by Laura, and there was a light of triumph and hope in his face, which +the keen-eyed Frenchwoman remarked. She kept her own counsels, but +her eyes were moist as she bade them heartily farewell. Laura and her +companion sped onward for another weary journey. Travelling was life +to him, it had become his second nature, and the child was so tenderly +cared for, so constantly amused, that she scarcely knew how long the +time was. + +A night and a day and another night, with only a few hours' +interval--for she cared no more for rest than her companion--and at +last Vienna was reached. There L'Estrange determined to rest for a few +days, because he feared that in spite of all his efforts the child's +health might suffer from the constant movement; besides, he had given +orders that letters should be addressed to a hotel in that city. Some +of these might possibly contain information which would greatly affect +their further movements. + +L'Estrange was beginning to be cautious, for he saw he was +watched--that an effort was being made to follow him. This puzzled him +considerably. He could not imagine how the search had arisen. He had +thought that his letter would have explained everything to Margaret, +and that with the hope before her of the child being instrumental in +bringing back the father she would have acquiesced in his certainly +rather wild proceedings. She knew him well enough to be aware that, +heavy as his sins had been, from this sin he was free. He had never +hurt a weak thing. She had known and seen how in the past his +tenderness had carried him even too far sometimes, and she could not +believe him so utterly changed. He had imagined that when she knew +of his sudden repentance she would have been ready even to trust her +treasure in his hands, in full faith that he meant well by her and by +her child. And so far L'Estrange was right. If Margaret had received +that strange letter, penned, as it were, with his heart's life blood, +she would have been woman enough to have read its reality--she would +have waited patiently, trustfully for the issue. The misfortune was +that she did _not_ receive it. + +He had written to her again from Paris, but this time he had been +still more bewildered about the address. Laura could not assist. Like +her friend, she could have found her way to her mother's cottage even +in the night, but she had never thought much about the name of the +place where she lived, and its spelling was quite beyond her. Fate was +inexorable. His second letter went astray like the first, and Laura, +who was hoping for an answer to her big letters, and L'Estrange, who +was looking passionately for one line to tell him that he was forgiven +and understood, were both destined to disappointment. There was a +letter, however, an English letter, which partially explained the +mystery of the attempt to recapture Laura on the Champs Elysées. + +Mr. Robinson, that most respectable of solicitors, had been highly +satisfied with the contents of the mysterious little packet which +his foreign client had put into his hands at the Great Northern +Station. It confirmed him in his opinion that the Frenchman was +likely to be valuable. He determined at once to make himself useful. +And no one understood better how to make himself useful without +needlessly disturbing his conscience or compromising his character +for rectitude. He had scented a mystery in the fair-haired English +child, and Margaret's story, related to him on the day following his +meeting with L'Estrange, made him imagine that he saw through it. +Hence his lukewarmness in the pursuit entrusted to him. But the young +Arthur's vigorous championship alarmed him for his client. He saw that +everything would be done for the recovery of the child, whom it was +his firm conviction the Frenchman had stolen, from some motive utterly +unguessed at by himself. + +After Arthur had left him the lawyer cogitated for a while. It would +not do for him, in his capacity of family lawyer to Mrs. Grey, and more +especially still in his character for even ultra-scrupulousness, to +appear to connive at such a deed as this of his client's, but he might, +by warning him of the search which was being set on foot, buy his +gratitude, and, what was better still, bind him to himself. + +After much planning he resolved to give the little episode of Arthur's +visit and the search that was being inaugurated for the lost child as +a piece of gossip which might be interesting to his client on account +of his supposed connection with Laura's father. The letter was a grand +piece of lawyer's art, and Mr. Robinson chuckled over it with delight. + +L'Estrange saw through the artifice, and as he read the letter his dark +face looked grim. Opposition was like food to his determined soul. He +set his teeth together, vowing inwardly that he would carry out his +project in spite of them all. + +They were detained at Vienna. It was as he had feared: the constant +movement, the over-excitement, the strange, new life, had been too +much for Laura. She had a slight feverish attack, but her friend, who +knew a little of everything, had studied medicine in his early years, +not with a view of entering the profession, for as a profession he +despised it, but simply to increase and intensify his power over his +fellows. He knew how to treat the child, and was not even alarmed at +her sudden weakness. Rest and quietness were the best remedies, and +these he gave her, with some simple medicine whose efficacy he had +often tested. The child was inclined to be sorely fretted at the delay. +On the sixth day of their stay in Vienna (she was lying on a sofa in a +splendidly-furnished room that looked out upon the broad, grand Danube +flowing majestically through the city, and her friend for the first +time had left her a few minutes alone) this impatience grew almost too +great to be borne. She buried her head in the sofa-pillows, and the +wailing plaint for mamma came now and then, with heavy sobs, from her +child's heart. This continued for some little time. When she looked up +again, trying with the vain endeavor of a troubled child to stay her +weeping and think no more of her sorrow, L'Estrange was standing at the +head of the sofa looking down on her. His arms were folded, he stood +perfectly still, and there was on his face a look of such fixed and +hopeless sadness that, child as she was, she recognized it suddenly. +Her own tears ceased to flow, and for a moment she looked back into his +face as if, with the angelic intuition of her age (I wonder if angels +do whisper these secrets to the little ones?), she would find out and +understand what was the great woe that oppressed him. Then, as if she +had come to a partial understanding, she raised herself on the sofa and +tried with all her small strength to draw down his dark, weary-looking +face to the level of hers. He yielded to the sweet compulsion; kneeling +beside her, he suffered her to lay his head on the sofa-pillow and draw +his cheek to hers. + +It was a very simple mode of consolation. She only whispered again and +again the name he had taught her to call him, and pressed her childish +lips to his forehead, and stroked back his hair with her small, hot +fingers; but it was very effectual. The dark look left her friend's +face. It was as though "a spirit from the face of the Lord" had visited +him. + +He lifted the little one into his arms and held her there for a few +minutes, then, with a softness of tone and manner which none but the +pure child could awake in him, he told her a part, at least, of his +trouble. It was in the form of a parable. "Laura," he murmured--the +darkness was gathering, and two or three stars had begun to shine out +in the sky--"look up: what do you see?" + +"The sky, mon père; and now, ah, see! the stars are beginning to +shine--one, two, three. I can see them in the water too." + +"Do you know what it is that makes them so bright, fillette?" + +The child shook her head. + +"No, ma mie, nor do I very well, except that it is a transparent, +beautiful something we in this world call light: what this something is +I know not; I can only tell that the light is very good. Now, shall I +tell you a story that came into my head a little minute ago, about the +stars out there and the light?" + +"Yes, yes!" Laura clasped her hands with delight. + +In the joy of one of her friend's own stories even the trouble about +her mother was for the time forgotten. + +He stopped as if to think. How often in the long after-time, when +L'Estrange was to the child only the memory of a strange dream, when +the knowledge that womanhood brought threw its light on this part +of her life, did Laura remember his look that evening. Even then, +in her childhood's ignorance, it touched and charmed her, till all +unconsciously she clung to him more closely and trusted him more +fully. He was looking up. The fitful twilight was playing on his +broad, massive brow, and on that brow was rest. But in the deep-set, +passionate eyes, in the quivering lips, the struggle could still be +read. A longing seemed to look out from his face--a longing that held +and enchained him till it could be satisfied. + +They sat by the window, L'Estrange in a deep arm-chair, the child in +her favorite position on his knee. And after a pause, during which +they were both looking up, watching how one star after another lit its +small lamp in the sky, he began in a dreamy tone, rather as if he were +speaking to himself than to any listener: "They are all alive; yes, +must it not be so? for every body has a soul. Those bright ones that +walk in light amid the ceaseless music of the spheres are instinct with +the mystery that we of this world call Life. And why should this not +be? for life consists in the power of movement and volition. Surely +they move. Science proves that they revolve evermore in their grand +orbits, and surely they _will_ to shine, for it is only when we need +their light that the light appears. Yes, it is true--these bright +things live. They suffer pain, they know delight as well as we." + +Then, as the clasping arms of the little one recalled him to the +remembrance of her presence, he smiled: "I promised a story, and ma +fillette will scarcely understand such philosophy yet. It was a prelude +to the tale. Listen, then, ma mie. Those bright things up there are +alive. Each one has its spirit, a being more beautiful than we of earth +can conceive. I must describe them, must I? Hélas, bébé! I fear it +is beyond me. I must tell, then, of things that have not for me the +beauty they once had--the golden dawn, and the silver twilight, and +the freshness of early youth, and the mildness of sunset skies. Put +all these together and thou hast a part only of the fairness of these +beings, who were placed by God thousands of ages since in the bright +stars up there. The spirits were given a work to do. They were to shine +when the sun, who was made to be king over them all, had gone away to +rest behind the sky. The stars were glad when they were told to shine, +for they were all good, and this shining, which is for the good of our +dark world down here, made them happy. Little children who look, as ma +fillette is doing now, at those stars up there, feel glad when they see +the light, but they do not know that the stars are glad too--that when +they shine out in the night they are singing aloud for joy." + +Laura looked delighted, and put out her hand to stop her friend for a +moment: "They must be singing now. Oh listen! Perhaps we shall hear +them." + +But he shook his head and smiled: "No, petite: long ago, when there +were very few people, this music was heard. Now there are too many +noises; but if any one could hear it would be such as thee." + +Then he stopped again, and there came a sad look into his eyes. "There +are more stars up there than we can see," he went on, "for some are not +allowed to shine. They lie in the night like dead things, but still +they are alive, for sadness is in their hearts, and this sadness is +greatest now when all the others are shining and singing out for joy." + +Laura's eyes looked sorrowful. "Why do they sing so loud?" she asked; +"they might be sorry for the poor little dead stars." + +"Some of them are so far away that it would take them thousands of +years even to know that the light of the poor dead stars had gone out, +and so they cannot tell that their singing makes the dead stars sad; +but those who are near are sad, and sometimes even try to help. My +story is about one of the dead stars. He was meant to be a beautiful +star, for his spirit was great and strong, with mighty wings and eyes +piercing like those of an eagle. Every day he knelt before God's white +throne, which is quite in the middle of those stars, and every night +he shone out into the darkness with a fair and glorious shining, and +sang more loudly and sweetly than any. But there came a time when +the star-spirit grew tired of this happy life: his light shone less +brightly than it had done, his voice was sometimes missed from the +night-chorus. A change had come over him, and this was what had caused +it. There had come to him at a time when he was resting idly on his +wings in that dark azure above--it was too early for his light to be +shining, and he had left the crystal throne--a being until then unknown +to him. It was dark and mournful, with black plumes covering it from +head to foot, and nothing of light about it but a last remnant that +shone from its eyes. This was the spirit of darkness, whose dominions +had been invaded and conquered by light. The spirit of the night let +her black plumes fall, and the star saw she was beautiful--with a +beauty that did not belong to the light, it is true, but that still +possessed a wild charm of its own. It was fascinating to him, perhaps, +because unlike anything he had ever seen before." + +L'Estrange was getting past Laura, but he had almost forgotten the +child, and she listened, not understanding much, but entranced as she +might have been by some bewitching melody. Her friend paused for a +moment; when he continued his voice was low, and its tones were more +sad than they had been: + +"The star-spirit and the spirit of the night met many times, and at +each time of their meeting the light of the star waned fainter. At +last, when the fascination with which she surrounded him had reached +its full force, he forgot, or omitted purposely, to light his lamp and +shine with his companion-spheres in the midnight heavens. Terrible +things happened that night, for our star, which was very bright and +large, had been well known upon the earth. + +"Sailors had given it a name of their own, and often, when the sea was +all round them and they could not tell where they were, looking up they +had seen this star, and its light had guided them. On this night the +sea was running high, and as usual the sailors had looked up for their +star, that they might know no rocks were near. Think of their despair +when they found it not! Ah! there was one great ship full of women and +little children. The sailors had lost their way. They looked up for +the star which had guided them so often: hélas! its bright shining was +swallowed up by the darkness. They took a wrong path in the waters, +the big ship struck upon a rock, the women and little children were +drowned. The star-spirit did not know this. He felt no sadness that +night, for the spirit of darkness was with him; yet the next night, +when he would have shone out in his place, he found that the power of +shining had gone from him--that his star was a dead star in the sky. +Ah, mon Dieu! to tell of his sadness! He would have no more to say to +the night-spirit who had tempted him; he shut himself up in his dark +star; he waited, waited, night after night, thinking that the power +and gladness of shining might come back. It did not come; even, it +seemed, his star grew blacker as the ages passed, as if the dark spirit +were wrapping it round in her heavy plumes. So sad a change! No little +children looking up to him, no weary traveller blessing him for his +help, no pleasant music sounding from him in the evening; nothing but +darkness, sorrow, misery. The stars went singing about him, and he lay +there still, all his gladness gone out of him--a dead star in heaven. +At last there came a night when the singing was louder and more joyous, +and the spirit of the dead star, who had been hiding his head for shame +at his darkness, looked out to see what it meant. A baby-star had been +born into the sky, and all its sisters and brothers were rejoicing over +its birth. The spirit of the dead star saw that its light was very +near where his had been. It was feeble, but clear as dawn. The sight +of the tiny light recalled to him the time when he too had shone out, +a new joy and gladness, into the sky, and folding his wings he wept, +as only spirits can weep, for a time that we on earth should call +years. Perhaps his weeping made him better. It is impossible to say; +but suddenly in the midst of it he heard a sound. It was clear, like +the dripping of water from a fountain; it was silvery, like the ringing +of bells in the distance. The spirit lifted his head from his folded +wings, and there--even in his habitation, in the dead star whose light +he had been--stood a beautiful child-spirit, her head drooping, her +snowy wings folded over her breast, a small lamp in her hand. When the +spirit of the dead star looked at the child she trembled, as if with +fear at her own boldness; so the spirit could not be angry, although +he knew this was the baby-light that had caused his weeping through +those long dark years. Indeed, as he looked up he began to feel love +stirring in his heart; the child-spirit was so beautiful and good, and +her voice was like music. For she spoke when she saw she needed not to +fear. 'I have come to stay with thee,' she whispered, 'for thy darkness +and silence made my heart ache, and I have been praying to come for +all these years. At last I have been allowed. Must I go away into the +darkness?' + +"He was moved with the child-spirit's humility and love. He rose, and +towering above her in his grandeur gathered her up into his breast. +'Thou shalt stay with me for ever,' he answered. It was the night-time. +Even as the spirit spoke he became conscious of a certain gladness +unknown to him for the ages of darkness that had passed, and the +everlasting song and music grew suddenly louder and more joyous. The +child had broken the spell of night's spirit, she had brought him of +her light, and he was born again, feebly but truly, into the sky." + +L'Estrange stopped and looked down with a half smile, then his brow +contracted. Laura had been listening breathlessly. She could not +understand his tale, but its strangeness charmed her. "Is that all?" +she said with a long-drawn sigh. + +"Not quite all," he answered; then, as if to himself, "the end has +yet to come. They were very happy together," he continued after a few +moments' silence, "the spirit of the star that had been dead, but was +gradually being restored to life and gladness, and the child whose +presence had wrought the wonder. Once more the spirit of the star bowed +down by day before the great white throne, and the child went with +him; her angelic purity made her welcome there. But one day when they +returned there was sadness at the heart of the spirit of the star, for +he had learned that the child who had restored him was not to be left +with him for ever; she had another work to do. He looked at her. _She_ +could not be sad, for, unlike the other spirit, she had never sinned, +and perhaps this made his sadness the greater. Then it had been sweet +to shine and sing with his companion-spheres, and he hardly knew how +he would be able to shine and sing alone. But he would not keep her +back. Another one, sad, it might be, in his darkness, wanted her, +and with the life and gladness his child-messenger had brought him +love. So"--L'Estrange's voice sank--"he let her go, his beautiful, his +God-given--he let her go." + +He said no more. For a few moments there was deep silence between them. +Something of his sadness and a knowledge of its cause had penetrated +the child's soul through his parable. Her eyes filled with tears. She +looked up at the starry multitude, shining out now in their full glory +above her, with a new love. At last she spoke, laying her head against +his breast: "But, mon père, the spirit of the star shone out still?" + +He answered sadly: "Mon enfant, I know no more." + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_MOSCOW._ + + Mind's command o'er mind, + Spirit o'er spirit's, is the close effect + And natural action of an inward gift + Given of God. + + +Laura was much better the next day; indeed, the improvement was so +great that her protector considered himself justified in pressing on +for another stage of their journey. She was not so joyful as might +have been expected. Perhaps his parable had calmed the little girl, +making her impatience less by the hint of possible separation. Laura +cared very much for her friend. She had become so united to him in +thought and affection that she could scarcely imagine a future without +him. We must remember that with little ones, especially when their +natures are impressionable like Laura's, it does not take long for +these attachments to be formed. With them habit passes quickly into +a necessity. It was thus with Laura. She had become so accustomed to +her friend's protecting tenderness that she could not bear to think of +being separated from him. But Laura was not untrue to her mother. She +thought as much as ever of her return to the little cottage by the sea. +Only in thus far her dreams and ideas were changed. She could not and +would not think of that return, of those pleasant days when mamma would +be happy and papa at home, without including in them all this kind +guide who was planning their happiness. + +Her friend's look at the end of his tale had been so sad that she dared +not ask for an explanation, and indeed her own little heart had been +almost too full of sympathy with the bereaved star-spirit for her to +think of much else at the moment. But to this one thing in her after +reflections Laura made up her mind: her friend should go back with her +to her mother, he should not look so sad, they would make him as happy +as they would be. In fact, the child mapped out the future, as many of +her elders will do, in those long days of travelling that succeeded +their stay in Vienna. + +They were very long and very wearisome, unbroken by incident of any +kind; the very passengers became few, and the towns scattered as +they advanced. It was not difficult to get a carriage to themselves, +but certainly some comforts were necessary to make the long journeys +tolerable. Laura, however, had no relapse. At every possible +resting-place her companion watched narrowly to see if fatigue were +taking any effect upon her. He was reassured. The child slept, ate and +made herself happy. + +L'Estrange was not so fortunate. Anxiety, suspense, and a certain vague +uneasiness of conscience concerning even this late delight--which +seemed to have aroused the latent good that was in him--kept him +wakeful, and by the time Moscow was nearly reached the faithful child +noticed that he looked pale and ill. She told him so with a sweet +womanly concern that sat strangely on her child's face. But he only +smiled, and said rest would set him right. Evening had fallen on the +earth when at last Moscow the long-desired dawned on the sight of the +wanderers. It was from the midst of a desolate country, bleak and +half cultivated, that it rose suddenly, almost, as it were, by magic, +its glittering cupolas and myriad towers visible long before the city +itself came in sight. + +L'Estrange, who knew all about this strange appearance (he had +travelled through Russia before), pointed it out to the child. Very +little could have surprised Laura much at this time; she had been +living ever since she had left quiet Middlethorpe in an atmosphere +of wonders; but amongst them all this arrival had been looked to as +something pre-eminent. For Moscow was the city where this wonderful +father was hiding. Laura was fully convinced that he would be the first +person they should meet in the streets, and it did not seem unnatural +that Moscow itself should be strange as any of the wonders in the +Arabian tales. Perhaps, Laura reasoned with herself, it was because it +was so beautiful and wonderful that her father had remained there. She +had heard of people who had gone to heaven, not wishing to come back, +and vaguely she blent the two ideas together till the feeling in her +mind was something like this: Moscow was like heaven, so beautiful and +delightful that those who went there never wanted to go home again. + +The first sight of the ancient city was enough to justify her dreams. +It was to the child like a glimpse of Fairyland. Once at the window, +watching the gradual approach, out of the pale evening light, of +those dim, ghostly giants that lifted their stately heads from the +surrounding dimness, nothing would persuade her to leave it. + +They drew nearer and the darkness gathered, so that Laura, though +straining her eyes into it, could see nothing. When they arrived +finally, and drove into the enchanted city, its wonders were hidden +by the dim, gray night of the North. From the magic and dazzle that +through the twilight had shone many-colored on the background of sky, +they passed to a hotel exceedingly like the others at which they had +put up. + +It was a death to the child's first illusion. Her companion watched +her curiously. He noted how the dazzle of expectation and wonder died +out of her eyes, and how the real, growing weariness began to assert +itself after the excitement which had veiled it for the time. They were +together in the handsome, stately saloon--alone, for travellers at this +season were few; the short, bright summer of the North was nearly over, +the evenings were becoming gray, the nights black and dreary. There was +a large square black monument in the room they occupied that emitted a +close heat, and the process of shutting out carefully all external air +had begun. + +L'Estrange seated himself on one of the massive couches and drew the +child to his side. "What is it, petite?" he asked as he noted her +disappointment. + +"Where is papa?" she questioned sadly. + +"We shall look for him to-morrow." + +He threw off his hat as he spoke, and the child saw that his face was +very weary-looking and sad. Fatigue, anxiety and want of sleep were +gradually taking their effect on his strong frame, while the close air +of the room in his weak condition almost overpowered him. + +"Mon père," she said, clinging to him, "how pale you look!" + +He tried to rouse himself: "I am tired, fillette." + +But suddenly the pallor spread till his very lips were blanched. He +sank back on the couch with a faint moan, yet even then the soul of +the man was strong enough to conquer partially the physical weakness. +He thought of her through the pain that was striving to master him; he +saw her face of despair, though a film seemed to be gathering over his +sight, and with a strenuous effort he half raised himself, his pale +lips parted in a reassuring smile: "I shall be better soon--water." + +She brought it to him in a moment, all the woman in her risen to meet +the emergency, and then she placed a pillow under his head and chafed +his cold hands. By the time the waiter arrived to lay the cloth for +dinner L'Estrange was better. It was a kind of spasm that had robbed +him of his power for the moment. He had experienced something of this +kind before, and it alarmed him; understanding a little about the +science of medicine himself, he knew the danger of mysterious pains, +and he felt that it would not answer for him to be laid up until his +work was done. + +When dinner was over they went out into the night together, and the +cool air revived him; but afterward, when real solitude had fallen over +everything, and the child had been committed to the care of one of the +women of the house, the fear of what might come quite mastered him. + +L'Estrange was no coward, to shrink from physical pain. Whenever it was +possible he would escape suffering (though perhaps his real horror was +rather of mental than physical pain); when it was impossible he met it +like a man. But this time he felt his frame was weakening. The mental +rest he had craved so passionately would never come till his work was +over, and in the mean time another such paroxysm as the one through +which he had passed might lay him prostrate. In this case what would +become of Laura? How would he prove to his wronged Margaret that his +intentions with regard to her were good and true? + +Even as he thought he felt the pain approaching with stealthy creeping, +like a thief come to rob him of his power. He rose with difficulty from +the couch on which he had been lying, and opening one of his packages +drew from it the small medicine-chest he always carried. His hand shook +as he turned the key, for he knew what he was doing, and had it not +been for his strange position would have dreaded it far more than the +physical pain, which he felt it could not cure, only put away for a +time. For L'Estrange had once been in the habit of putting into him +this enemy to steal away his soul. He had felt then that his intellect +was being weakened--that his bodily and mental powers were being +destroyed; he had fought with the weakness and had conquered it. + +But as he took out the little well-known phial, with its dark liquid, +once so precious, he felt that another victory would be still more +dearly bought, and he trembled. Necessity, however, is strong and knows +no law. While he hesitated the pain gained ground. + +Hastily he poured out a strong dose, drank it, and slept a heavy, +uneasy sleep, broken by dreams and distorted images of reality, while +through them all the keen finger of pain found its way, touching his +heart and chilling its warm life. But even this semblance of sleep was +better than the dismal wakefulness. + +He got up better, and found that the pain whose ravages he had been +dreading had left him. He sighed as he rose. An inner consciousness +told him it was only for a time. Through that day the effects of +the potion of the night followed him. Even Laura, child as she was, +remarked the change. There was about her friend a certain languor, an +absence of vital energy. He could scarcely rouse himself, even to take +the steps needful for the accomplishment of the object that had brought +them so far. + +Toward the next evening, however, the effects of his dose began to +lessen. He regained something of his physical energy, and in the +gathering twilight started, without the child, for the address of the +agent who held the information they required. + +Laura had been restless and uneasy during the whole day, startled with +the slightest noise, watching curiously all who came in and went out; +for now that the time, as she believed, was very near for her meeting +with this unknown father, she began to feel vaguely afraid. + +"You are going to find him," she said as her companion came booted and +cloaked into the room where she was sitting. + +He looked at her earnestly: "And to give up my treasure." + +She clung to him: "He won't take me away, mon père. We shall all go +home to mamma together." + +Her friend smiled, but he shook his head, and Laura's heart sank and +the tears filled her eyes. She was too young for all this conflict of +feeling. L'Estrange felt it with a sudden sense of compunction. He +tried to comfort her as he would have comforted any ordinary child +under the circumstances: "No doubt it shall be all as my little girl +wishes." + +But Laura looked up into his face with those mournful, searching eyes, +and then turned away from him. In her simplicity she had read the +hollowness of his efforts at consolation, and she was hurt that he +should tell her anything but the truth. Her friend stooped down to her +and took both her hands in his: + +"You are a little witch, Laura. What am I to say to you, then?" + +"I don't want you to say what I like," she answered in a low, tearful +voice; "I want you to say what is _really_ true." And then she began to +cry: "I love you, and I love mamma--oh, so much!--and I think I shall +love my papa when I see him. _Why_ can't we all be happy together?" + +"Why, little wise one?" He settled his hat upon his brows and turned +away, leaving her unconsoled. "Ask the stars," he said from the door, +and Laura was left alone to think and wonder, for young as she was the +shadow that rests evermore on things human was closing her in its dark +embrace. The why, the dark mystery of human fate, had already begun in +her young soul its restless questioning. + +Her friend felt this, and his heart ached for her, but the mischief was +wrought--he could do nothing. Action was the only cure for their common +sadness, therefore he would delay no longer. Hiring a droshki, he drove +through the modern Moscow, while ever before him rose that mighty +circlet of walls and battlements, enclosing, its forest of towers, +steeples and cupolas, gorgeous as an Eastern tale, fantastic as the +dream of a diseased imagination, that city within a city--the Kremlin. + +He was gathering together the forces of his mind, and this helped +him in his task, for L'Estrange had ever been specially alive to the +influence of externals. Beauty of form and coloring had always been +able to sway his moods. This mighty monument, by strength formed and +endowed, seemed to brace his spirit as he looked out upon it and +thrilled to the memories it enshrined. The great impregnable, before +whom Napoleon and his legions melted, the strong abode of the Muscovite +giants--Ivan the Terrible and his court--the treasure-house of the +Czars, the representative of the history of a nation destined to great +things,--as he gazed upon it he felt the softness leave his heart. He +was trying to be great, and this monument of human greatness helped +him. He could not meet his enemy, although his words were to be, in +a certain sense, peace, with the tender voice of a child ringing its +sweet sadness into his ears, with the languor of sorrow and pain +stealing away his strength. + +And gradually as he drove through the shadowy streets, by the walled +gardens and stone buildings, with the Kremlin rising ever before him +in the distance, his mind took a stronger tone. Not as the wrong-doer, +but as the representative of the wronged, he would stand before the +man he sought, arraigning his enemy for the crime to which, as he well +knew, his own conduct had lent a colorable pretext. L'Estrange could +scarcely believe that it was anything but a pretext. Margaret's fault, +if fault there had been, was so venial, her manner of life after the +separation--and L'Estrange was too much given to intrigue himself to +be able to understand how Maurice Grey could know nothing whatever of +that--had been so pure, so single in its aims, that the harshness of +her husband's judgment became great and vindictive in comparison. + +L'Estrange found it by no means difficult to work himself up into +a state of suitable indignation, and as he reached the door of the +house indicated as that of the agent who held the knowledge of Maurice +Grey's hiding-place, he was once more the dark, stern man, strong and +self-contained. + +His newly-formed resolutions were not yet destined to be fulfilled. +Time and distance still separated him from Maurice Grey. + +He had gathered from the conversation overheard in the Champs Elysées +an approximation to the truth, though some diplomacy was necessary +before anything could be wormed out of the crafty Russian. + +The golden key opened his lips at last, and L'Estrange applied it +liberally, but with a certain amount of caution, for he wished to be +sure his information was accurate. + +At last, however, the man was conquered, and perhaps gold was not the +only or even the most potent agent. After many twistings and turnings +and sundry circumlocutions, which their common tongue, the French +language, so supple and delicate, could ably render, the wily Russian +told his visitor all he wanted to know. The English milord--so he +styled Maurice, probably because his pockets were well lined--had been +in Moscow, but had only remained there two days. He had put up at his +house, for he and the Englishman had met before, and their relations +one with the other were of the most friendly character; also, Mr. Grey +disliked hotels: for some reason he had seemed to desire the incognito. +Monsieur had unfolded to his friend his intention of wandering, and +under these circumstances had appeared to be in some perplexity about +his letters, which he wished sent to another address than his own. He +(M. Petrovski) had come to the help of monsieur (his readiness to help +travellers, more especially, perhaps, the English, had always been very +great), proposing that all communication with England should be carried +on through himself. + +He did not say that as he was a kind of property-agent this was +altogether in his line of business, and that for everything he did +he was amply paid. Probably the Russian thought it well to leave +something to the imagination. And in this he was wise. L'Estrange's +imagination was all-embracing, in his species more especially. He +understood the position at once, and added so largely to the profit +on the transaction--demonstrated so clearly how in the whole matter +he would be a gainer--that the Russian's tongue, as by a species of +intoxication, wagged more freely than ever. + +His small black eyes glittering above his hawk-like nose and long, dark +beard--he was a Russian Jew--he proceeded to assure his guest that +nothing but his full assurance of the fact that only friendliness was +intended to his dear friend Monsieur Grey would have persuaded him to +open his lips on the subject. + +And L'Estrange entering into his motives and approving heartily of +his reticence, he showed his sincerity by leading him to a little +side-window which commanded the ante-room, and bidding him look out +carefully without allowing himself to be seen. + +L'Estrange obeyed. He looked out, and treasured up what he saw for +further use. + +It was a large, bare room, containing only a table and two or three +chairs. On one of these, in full relief, for the light from a small +oil-lamp shone on his face, sat a young man. He was evidently English, +and very young, almost a boy, for his face was clean shaven and his +short fair hair curled over a broad, open brow, upon which time had as +yet written no wrinkles. But what L'Estrange chiefly remarked in those +few moments of intense study was this: the earnestness of his face, the +purpose that shone out of his eyes, the manliness of his bearing and +attitude. + +He turned from the window to find out how it was that this young +Englishman had been shown to him so mysteriously, and the Russian, who +had been observing him narrowly, took him by the arm: "The young man +has come by appointment on the same errand as yourself: apparently he +is very anxious--for some time since he has pestered me with letters. +Mark my confidence. I ask _you_ how I am to treat him?" + +For a moment L'Estrange was perplexed, then suddenly came back to his +mind the remembrance of the lawyer's letter. This was Margaret's +messenger. He looked out again. Perhaps the manliness of the young +face pleased him; perhaps he saw in this strange search an access to +his strength--an instrument that he might use to confirm the absolute +truthfulness of what he was about to tell the mistaken husband; perhaps +he had a certain compunction at the idea of sending on a fruitless +search this young, disinterested champion of the woman who seemed to +win all hearts. Whatever might be the cause, the effect of his second +look was this. He turned from the window with a half smile: "Tell him +what you have told me, my good friend, but keep him about here for some +days." + +The Russian bowed his assent, and after a few more courteous words +preceded his visitor to the door. How had L'Estrange obtained this +power over a nature so mercenary? Not by money alone, for others could +hold out the same inducement--Arthur had been ready to pour out gold at +his feet--nor indeed altogether by his superior diplomacy, though that +no doubt had contributed to bring about the result. + +That there are certain men who have an extraordinary power over their +fellows is indisputable. Strength of purpose and character may be an +element in the formation of this power, but it is not altogether alone. +Such knowledge of the workings of the human mind as L'Estrange had +gained by means of keen observation and long study of his fellows is +perhaps the strongest element of all. For L'Estrange knew how to take +men, what chord to strike in their natures, often strange and complex, +to make them answer to his hand--how to render them actually desirous +of doing his will. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +_A GLIMPSE OF MARGARET'S CHILD._ + + To look upon the fair face of a child + Feels like a resurrection of the heart. + Children are vast in blessings; kings and queens + According to the dynasties of love. + + +Arthur, then, had found his way to Moscow. After days of wandering, +after vain efforts to entrap the wily Russian into sending him by +letter the information he desired, after keen and hungry searching in +the English quarter of every city through which he had passed, he had +gained the dim metropolis of the North, but only to be forestalled, +to have a watch set upon his movements, to play into the hands of the +man for whom, in his youthful enthusiasm, he cherished the bitterest +contempt, the most undying enmity. + +Perhaps under any circumstances it would have been impossible for the +impulsive, straightforward young Englishman, headlong in his pursuits, +whether good or evil, to understand the complex, two-sided nature of +such a man as L'Estrange. Knowing what he did of him, it is scarcely a +matter of surprise that he felt his strong young arm tingle at times +to fell him to the earth, and if he should never rise again, so much +the better--there would be one villain the less in the world. All he +desired was to meet him face to face. + +But Margaret had laid her commands upon him. His enemy, her enemy, was +to be respected. The remembrance of her words made Arthur tremble, for +in the holy indignation of his youth he felt that if they should meet +it would be difficult to restrain himself from dealing the well-merited +blow. + +He consoled himself with the reflection that words have power to slay. +And words were ready on his lips for the disturber of Margaret's peace, +the maker of her misery, which in his inexperience he believed must go +to the heart of the worst villain that ever lived. + +Arthur did not confine his search to Maurice. Wherever he went strict +inquiry had been instituted for the dark foreigner and fair-haired +English child. At Paris, as has been already seen, his agent was upon +the traces of the pair. There they had been lost altogether, for +L'Estrange's ruse had succeeded, and never again had Arthur or the +agent he employed been able to recover them. + +The only consolation that could be derived from the chance encounter in +the Champs Elysées was in the relation that appeared to exist between +the child and this man. He was evidently kind to her, for the agent, +who reported their conversation accurately, told of her indignation +when he so foolishly began to abuse her friend, and also of her little +cry of delight when she saw him reappear. + +In the long letter which Arthur was writing to Middlethorpe that +evening he related this incident, scarcely knowing whether or no it +would be a comfort to the bereaved mother--whether she would fear +the strange influence which this man seemed to have acquired over +her child, or be thankful that at least he was treating her kindly. +In any case, of one blessed fact she might rest assured--for the +child's companion had been seen, and dark as the night was the agent +had recognized the original of Margaret's miniature--her husband was +innocent of this last, this bitterest wrong and humiliation. _He_ had +not removed his child from her care. The letter was addressed to Adèle, +but it was written for Margaret. It told of that evening's interview, +of his wanderings up to that moment and of his further hopes. + +He had ascertained Maurice Grey's hiding-place--that is to say, +the address was promised--but days of travelling would probably be +necessary before he could reach it. Arthur, however, was full of +courage and hope. He looked upon the success of his enterprise as only +delayed, not put from him altogether. And his young, strong spirit +of devotion shone out in every line of the letter which was to find +the two lonely women watching and hoping--_their trust in him_. To +know this was enough to brace the young man's mind, to drain him of +self-love, to make and keep him strong and pure. + +He was in the heat of composition that evening (it must be confessed, +in spite of Arthur's literary dreams, the pen was not his strong +point), laboring to express enough, and not too much, of the hope his +partial success had generated in his mind--to give his friends new +courage without buoying them up with false hope; striving to give his +devotion to Margaret the delicate expression that might mean what it +really was, and yet not offend or alarm her; trying to consider duly +the feelings of his cousin and future wife--to prevent her from being +in any way hurt by his absorption in that which concerned another; and +through it all making his travels and adventures appear in the most +interesting and favorable light. + +The combination was anything but easy, and once or twice Arthur threw +down his pen in despair. To frame a letter satisfactory in every way +seemed a hopeless task. On one of these occasions, as he was casting +his eyes round the room for inspiration, he was startled by the sound +of the door being softly opened. He looked round. A little girl, +dressed for travelling, was standing on the threshold and looking at +him earnestly. When she saw his face a cloud came over hers, and she +looked very much inclined to cry. + +Arthur got up and went to the door, the kindliness of his nature +aroused by the sight of the child's distress. She threw off her hood +then, and shaking back her golden curls showed him one of the loveliest +child-faces he had ever seen; but it was not its loveliness that made +him start back with a sudden exclamation; it was a memory which that +face recalled. + +In a moment he gathered his ideas together--where had he seen her +before?--and then, with the rapidity of thought, that last evening in +England, Margaret, the miniature, the child's likeness, came before his +mind. Fate had been kind to him. Margaret's treasure was within his +grasp. + +Unfortunately, the idea agitated him so much that he could scarcely act +with the necessary coolness. + +Laura had come into his room by mistake. She had lost her way in the +great house, and was looking for her friend, whose room, though in +another wing of the building, resembled in position that which Arthur +occupied. + +Already the child was alarmed by his sudden exclamation. She retreated +hastily to the door, but Arthur caught her by the arm and tried +forcibly to detain her. + +Then Laura really cried, and the young man, between his earnest desire +to secure her and his distress at her tears, scarcely knew how to act. +He tried gentleness, coaxing her by all kinds of bribes to remain with +him, only for a few minutes; but the child grew the more frightened; +crying bitterly, she tried with all her small strength to loosen his +grasp on her arm. It was in vain, and Laura in her despair called aloud +for help: "Mon père! mon père!" + +Arthur began to think they had all been mistaken, that her father +had actually taken her away, but he had scarcely time to come to any +conclusion, for as he was still struggling with the child, drawing her +into the room with gentle entreaty, there came a dark figure into the +gloomy, unlit passage. Arthur was too much absorbed to see him; Laura +did, and with a sudden wrench she tore herself free from the young +man's grasp. The strong right arm of her friend received her, while +before the young man could recover from his surprise (he was at the +moment stooping forward to catch the small retreating form) the left +hand thrust him back with such violence that he fell, and lay at full +length on the floor of his room. Before he could leap to his feet he +had the mortification of hearing the key turned in the lock, and of +knowing that as his room was in a remote part of the house, Laura and +her protector, whoever that protector might be, would have time during +his forced inaction to put at least some of the tortuous streets of old +Moscow between themselves and his pursuit. + +Arthur's position was ignominious in the extreme, and very difficult of +explanation. Rubbing his bruised shins, he thought over it woefully. +But thinking would not mend matters. He rang the bell violently. + +No one came. Probably his violence defeated its own object. A long hour +passed, in which, his letter forgotten, he paced the floor of his room, +stamping and fuming like an imprisoned lion. + +At last a waiter came. He was a Russian, naturally rather timorous, to +whom even French was an unknown tongue; and Arthur, from the other side +of the locked door, had great difficulty in making him understand in +what consisted the obstruction to its opening. + +To tell the truth, his stamping and fuming and stormy gestures of +impatience had alarmed the poor man considerably. He had always +possessed a strong opinion about the violence of the English character, +and it was only with many an inward tremor that, seeing the thing was +inevitable, he slowly turned the key in the lock and released the young +man from his prison. + +His alarm was almost justified by Arthur's subsequent behavior. The +delay, the ignominious failure, the blow from the hand of the man he so +keenly despised, had nearly maddened the unfortunate young Englishman. +Thrusting the waiter to one side with such violence that he staggered +back against the wall of the passage, Arthur rushed down the wide +staircase, three steps at a time, and demanded an interview with the +proprietor of the hotel. + +The head man waited upon him, respectful in attitude, fluent in speech, +but chuckling inwardly at the Englishman's discomfiture. + +L'Estrange had given his explanation of the little scene, and it had +been by the order of the head-waiter himself that the young man had +been detained so long in his prison. + +The flood of bad French in which Arthur poured out his indignation +was listened to with quiet deprecation, and answered by a multitude +of well-turned apologies; but when the young man moderated his tone, +and began to think prudence would be advisable if he wished to get +anything from the people of the house about the movements of those who +had escaped him, he could scarcely be surprised that diplomacy, bribery +and a harrowing tale of wrong proved alike unavailing. He was obliged +to give up the effort in despair. Through all the polite assurances, +the smooth phrases, the courteous attention of the head-waiter he could +read incredulity and indifference. + +Arthur spent that night in haunting the railway-stations to extract +information from the officials, and in knocking up the drivers of +droshkies, trying to make them understand that he wished to find out +whom they had driven that evening. It was hopeless. They were very +civil; Arthur made it worth their while to be communicative. They were +ready with highly-colored accounts of their passengers of the evening, +but amongst them all he could find none answering to the description +of those he sought. He returned to the hotel baffled and worn-out, +longing to leave Moscow at once (the hotel and the smooth-faced +head-waiter had become so utterly distasteful to him), but detained +by an interview for the following day. M. Petrovski had promised him +some further details about the residence of his client. He professed +to expect letters which would let him know the Englishman's final +resting-place. + +That letter whose commencement had caused Arthur such pleasant tremors +of anxiety was abruptly concluded. He could not make up his mind to +relate to his friends in all its ignominious details the incident of +that evening, although he longed to let Margaret know that he had +actually seen and held her child. Several times he even tried to frame +an account of this his first meeting with the little one, but always in +vain. He sent off the letter as it was, and curses not loud but deep +followed the swiftly-retreating enemy who had foiled him. + +L'Estrange did not altogether deserve them. He had purposely treated +the young man gently. He might have dealt him a far severer blow, but +that glimpse of his face had taught the man of the world something +about his character and purposes, had made him respect the boy, and so +long as he did not interfere with himself he was ready to spare him. +Laura, however, and her share in the task of restoring the wanderer +to his home and wife, L'Estrange reserved to himself. He would bring +her forward at his own time, and in the mean while he would show this +young man, brave with the temerity of youth, that his guardianship, if +tenacious, was strong. + +Laura had acted instinctively in the occurrence of the evening, +but when it was over, when she and her protector were once more in +the train, travelling rapidly southward, she was agitated at the +remembrance of what had passed. + +"Mon père," she said, clinging to him fearfully, "why do they all try +to take me away from you?" + +He looked down at her earnestly: "Because they know not how much I love +thee." + +The child clasped her hands: "I hope, oh I hope, papa will know." + +"Why, Laura?" + +"Because then he won't wish to take me away." + +"But you, ma belle enfant--you will wish to go back with your father. +Is it not so?" + +"Back to mamma?" said the child. "Oh yes, mon père, but you must go +too." + +He looked down upon her with a sudden pain in his eyes: "Kiss me, +fillette, put your arms round my neck. There, so--it is easier now. +Little wise one, what shall I do without thee?" + +Laura did not answer, only with her gentle womanly ways she soothed her +friend, while in her small heart rose a certain determination. It was +this. Not even for her father would she leave her friend. He should +go back with them to her mother, for her mother could do him good. It +was the determination of a woman, for a woman's tenderness and depth +of feeling were becoming prematurely developed in the young girl, who +would never perhaps in all her life be a thoughtless child again. Had +she gained or lost by the exchange? It was for the future to say. + +But my readers will be impatient; and truly it seems that in looking +back on this strange story, which the past has evolved out of its +mists, an undue prominence has been given to this part. It has been +altogether unconsciously done, and only because of the enchaining +nature of the subject. + +There was something so touching in the confidence and affection of this +innocent child's heart, that with the instincts of truth itself found +beauty where others might have only been able to find its opposite; +there was something so beautiful in the surrender of the strong man's +soul to the guiding influence of the poor child, in whose tenderness +the heavenly side of him had read a possibility of salvation for his +whole nature; and in all the sweet mystery there was so evidently +present the working of an unseen Power, preparing this man, who had +missed his right aim in the world, for the reception of a pure ideal, +for the vision of undying truth. Time presses. We must linger no more +over the tender scenes that marked the intercourse between Laura and +her strange protector, but pass on our way, leaving them together. + +On the following day, while Laura and L'Estrange were putting +vast tracts of country between themselves and the ancient city of +Moscow, Arthur Forrest, jaded and worn-out by a sleepless night, and +considerably discouraged at the total failure of this his first effort +to restore Margaret to her own, prepared himself for another interview +with Petrovski. + +He wished to be calm and cool, for what, he said to himself, if he +were to be sent on a fool's errand?--what if the man who had dealt him +that mysterious blow could have been really Laura's father? He found +it difficult on such a supposition to assign a motive for his conduct, +unless indeed he could have heard of his search, and have believed he +was simply an agent sent by his wife to entice the child back to her. +On the other hand, what could have led L'Estrange, if it should be he, +to Moscow? + +Arthur was very much perplexed. He determined to call the calmest, +clearest judgment to his aid in sifting the information which the +agent was ready to proffer. Alas! when did an old head sit upon young +shoulders? If ever they have been united, the combination has not +produced such a pleasing whole as Arthur Forrest, who, in spite of +the knowledge of this world on which he prided himself, was above all +things young and confiding. + +Petrovski might have deceived him, might have sent him to the +antipodes, if he had seen fit, but his master in the art of +dissimulation had advised him to be truthful. Arthur, therefore, +after some days' delay, was told the simple truth--that Maurice Grey, +disgusted with his life in St. Petersburg, had made up his mind to +turn his back on society altogether. With this view he had sought the +mountains, and had established himself, one servant his only companion, +in a chalet hastily fitted up with a few necessaries in one of the +higher Swiss valleys. + +The agent professed to have just received letters from this +remote point. In them Mr. Grey had directed that his money and +business-letters from England should be sent to the hotel nearest to +his temporary home, and this was the address which was given to Arthur, +which had previously been given to L'Estrange. + +By the following night's mail Arthur left Moscow. As may well be +supposed, he lost no time on the way. + +Of this strange flight through almost the entire breadth of Europe +he never thought afterward save in the light of a feverish dream. It +seemed like a vision. Sleeping and waking he was flying still, with +all manner of various impressions, multitudes of scenes and strange +faces, flitting before him like a kind of phantasmagoria. Glimpses of +grand cities, appearing but to vanish, vast solitudes, uncultivated and +barren wastes, mountain-country and soft pastoral scenes passed before +him in an ever-varying succession. At last the train had to be left +behind; he had gained the mountains, and with them a mode of travelling +that seemed painfully slow and wearisome to his brain, in a whirl with +swift movement and tumultuous thought. + +Arthur was haunted through those long days, and, strange to say, it +was not Margaret's face that haunted him, nor even that of his gentle +cousin who was pining in distant England for his return. The lovely +child's face followed him day after day and night after night. It +reminded him of failure, brought back in vivid colors the memory +of what he looked upon as a species of ignominy, and yet, do what +he would, he could not banish it. The bright golden hair, the dark +mournful eyes, the fair contour, the childish grace returned again and +again. + +At times it was like a nightmare. He would see the child, even touch +her, and as he touched her she would vanish. Once or twice during those +long nights of travelling Arthur seriously interfered with the comfort +of his fellow-voyagers by his strange proceedings. Reaching forward at +one time, he would seize upon the hand or knee of the person who sat +in front of him, laying himself open, if the individual were of the +feminine order, to serious misconception--if of the masculine, to a +rude rebuff and rough awakening; at another he would passionately grasp +the window-blind, giving rise to an irresistible titter among those of +his companions who did not find sleeping in a train such easy work as +he did. But whenever Laura's face came before his mind, in sleeping or +waking moments, Arthur looked at it with a strange reverence. To him it +was scarcely a child's face. It seemed almost as if behind the fairness +and beauty there was a meaning. + +Arthur could not analyze character. He did not sufficiently understand +human nature's diversity to be able to explain to himself why this +child was so different from other children, but he felt it; and +stronger almost than his longing to restore Maurice Grey to faith in +his wife's perfections became his desire to rescue that child from him +who had taken her, he firmly believed, with some bad motive, and to +lead her back to her mother. + +The strange thing was that she loved this man (for Petrovski had so +impressed Arthur with a belief in his veracity that once more he had +settled with himself the identity of Laura's companion). Could it be, +then, that there was some good even in him? But Arthur would not follow +out this line of reasoning. He was more than ever confirmed in his +hatred of L'Estrange. + +"There is something in the Bible," he said to himself, "about Satan +putting on the form of an angel of light. This man has only followed +the example of his forerunner in all evil. He is deceiving the innocent +darling, and she thinks him good." + +He was driving in an open sledge--for the season was late and snow had +begun to fall on the mountains--when these thoughts crowded in upon his +brain. + +It was tolerably cold in these high latitudes, but the young man was +wrapped up in a fur-lined travelling cloak, the thick leather apron +of the sledge covered his knees, and a cigar emitting fragrant blue +clouds, whose ascent into the pure air he watched curiously, was +between his lips. + +Arthur Forrest had not been bred in Belgravia altogether in vain. He +understood very thoroughly how to make himself comfortable. + +In this thing he considered himself fortunate. The crowd of Britons +that yearly fill the Swiss solitudes with their all-engrossing presence +had fled at the first breath of winter, "like doves to their windows." + +Two or three hardy Swiss returning to their mountains, an adventurous +German desirous of studying the aspect of Switzerland in winter, a +Pole who wished to put the mountains, soon to be an almost impassable +barrier, between himself and his enemies, the vigilant and all-powerful +Russian police,--these, with a conductor and driver, formed the whole +of the small cavalcade that crossed the St. Gothard on this bleak +autumnal day. + +In spite of the glorious scenes through which they had been passing, +the beauty of Italy rising into the grand desolation of the country +that belongs to the snow-kingdom, and that again descending into the +awful grandeur of rugged precipices, hissing torrents and shaggy +pines, the little party was gloomy. The Pole shivered, and folding his +fur-cloak around him cursed the ancestral enemies of his race; the +Swiss rubbed their hands, stamped their feet and looked defiantly at +a threatening storm-cloud that was rising up behind them; the German +tried to get up a shadow of enthusiasm. He stared, with what was +meant to be earnestness, through his spectacles, emitted a series of +"wunderschöns and wunderhübschs," and strove dutifully to think that +this was seeing life and entering sympathetically into Nature's most +secret joys--the joy of the torrent, the delight of the snow-whirl. +Perhaps it was scarcely matter for surprise that his enthusiasm left +rather a dreary effect upon the minds of his companions. + +Arthur was the only one who really enjoyed, for this was novelty to +him, and in his fashionable life he had long been craving for something +out of the common. Then, too, there was about this kind of travelling a +certain necessity for endurance which braced his nerves. He was doing +this for Margaret, and as each keen blast of wind, sweeping with biting +force from the ice-fields, touched his young face, he felt the blood +tingle in his veins. He was full of satisfaction, strong to endure. + +With an Englishman's insight into possibilities he had forgotten +nothing that could possibly conduce to an approximation to comfort in +such a situation as that in which he found himself. This being so, +he was able to enter more thoroughly into Nature's strange caprices, +as exhibited in this land of wonders, than the sentimental German, +who shivered in a threadbare coat. For--there can be no doubt about +it--physical comfort frees the mind: when the body is irritated by +discomfort, the mind, sympathetic, is occupied by itself. + +In the intervals of meditation on his plans and further attempts for +Margaret, and efforts to take in and write upon his brain some at +least of the wonderful combinations of form and coloring through +which they were passing, Arthur looked with a dreamy philosophy at his +fellow-travellers. + +The young man was inclined, from the depths of his magnificent cloak, +to wonder lazily why Providence had bestowed the world's allowance of +common sense upon our nation. The experience of foreigners which he had +been gaining during those weeks of travelling had only confirmed Arthur +in his preconceived idea. One and all they were absurd. The absurdities +might differ in kind and degree--this the young man would not attempt +to deny--and no doubt there were clever people among them; still, as a +rule, were they to be compared to Englishmen? + +He looked at the sturdy, commonplace Swiss, the shivering Pole (only +half a man he pronounced him), the sentimental German, trying so +conscientiously to enjoy, and with a feeling of self-gratulation that +actually helped to send a warm glow through his frame answered the +question by a decided negative. No wonder they pronounced the young +Englishman supercilious; he had intended to be very condescending. From +the heights of his superior nationality it was so easy to look with a +calm pity upon those who had been less highly favored by Nature. It +need scarcely be considered matter for surprise that they regarded +his condescension in another light, and were inclined to repel his +spasmodic efforts to be very pleasant and friendly. + +All the travellers were glad when the foot of the mountain was reached. +Even the indefatigable Arthur, when he found himself so near his +destination, thought it well to take a night's rest at Amsteg, where +he broke off from the St. Gothard route for Meyringen and Grindelwald. +It was somewhere between these two places that the chalet occupied by +Maurice Grey was supposed to be situated. + +Once in the neighborhood, the young man felt that it would not be +difficult to find it. The very fact of a stranger having made for +himself a lonely habitation in the mountains would be sufficient to +render his home a celebrated place. + +Arthur's only difficulty now was what it had been at York before his +interview with Margaret--the framing of some reason which might account +for his seeming intrusiveness. He formed a thousand plans. He would +wander in the direction of the chalet, he would put himself in the +position of a benighted traveller thrown on the hospitality of the +hermit; finally, he determined to torment himself no longer--Fate would +perhaps befriend him as before. That evening Arthur sent another letter +to Margaret and his cousin. There was not much in it of the impressions +which the grand scenes among which he was sojourning had written on his +mind, but it held a courage and hope that might inspire the lonely wife +and bereaved mother with a kindred sentiment. + +Arthur was an inexperienced traveller, and the plan of his route had +been principally traced in obedience to the suggestions of the few +English people he had met. It is more than possible, therefore, that +the route chosen was not the most direct; for although it had not +been possible for L'Estrange in any way to emulate his swiftness in +travelling (he was obliged to suit himself to Laura's capabilities), +yet on that night when, from the small village in the valleys, Arthur +sent his second letter to Margaret, the child and her protector were +already at the address given by Petrovski, in the close vicinity of the +child's father, of her friend's most bitter and unrelenting enemy. She +was utterly unconscious of the strange position, though a change had +come over her in those last days of travelling. There was about her +even more of the sedateness of the thoughtful woman, still less of the +child's merry unconcern. For the shadows that had threatened this young +life's joy were gathering thickly around her. She was in the centre of +emotions too strong, of a life too earnest, for her tender youth, and +her friend saw with concern how the color faded from her face, how her +brow grew transparent, how the quiet gestures of a woman became more +and more habitant. + +But he could do nothing; the mischief had been wrought in that hour +when his passion had overpowered his judgment, when he had consummated +the rash deed of taking a tender little one from the mother's fostering +care. He had done what he could to obviate the evil, and in the +interval the child had grown dear to him as his own soul. This it +was that added a tenfold poignancy to the pain with which L'Estrange +sometimes looked at her. + +Once or twice in the course of this later journey L'Estrange had +further accesses of the pain he dreaded, and more than once he had been +forced to resort to his kindly enemy, entrancing opium, to stay his +fierce pangs for a time. It produced its true effect upon him. Moments +he had of joys too great for earth--moments when his imagination played +freely, when his heart expanded, when all the dark places of his past +life's journey were irradiated with a golden light, and when the +growing uneasiness of the present strangeness and the certain future +pain passed into calm security and pleasant rosy dreams. But the false +potion brought other moments in its train--moments when his whole being +seemed weak and nerveless, when deep depression possessed his soul, +when even the higher life and nobler possibilities of existence which +he had been learning in the child's pure presence became to his languid +soul unattainable as the dreams of a weak visionary. + +At such times he would sit with folded arms and knit brows looking out +and away to the far stretches of horizon that were fleeing evermore +before them. Only the child had power to arouse him from one of these +gloomy fits of abstraction, though sometimes his mood was so dark that +even she scarcely ventured to break in upon it. But she never really +feared him; there was a strange sympathy between the two that made her +understand him in some wonderful way. + +As they neared the end of their journey and rest became a possibility, +L'Estrange once more tried to refrain from his death-winged potion. He +felt that languor and weakness were possessing themselves of his being, +and strength of mind would be more needful than strength of body for +the work he had to do. + +Only those who have known what this refraining means can understand +his sufferings. Racked with pain, that reckless gnawing pain which +seems to be verily eating into life, he lay for two nights and days +on a bed in the hotel at Grindelwald, where he had decided to remain +for a few days. And still during the long hours the patient child, his +ministering angel in very truth, sat by his bedside helping her friend +to bear, and waiting for him to be better. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_THE LIFE OF A SOLITARY._ + + And soon we feel the want of one kind heart + To love what's well, and to forgive what's ill + In us. + + +Maurice Grey had at last been successful in his weary seeking after +loneliness. Whether he had gained happiness thereby is scarcely so easy +to say; certainly his surroundings could not possibly have been more +beautiful or peace-inspiring. + +On an Alpine meadow green with a vivid brightness, spangled in the +spring and early summer with many-colored fragrant flowers, bounded on +one side by a wood, the home of ferns and moss and lovely things of +every shape and hue, overtopped on the other by a ridge of mountains +that, rising sheer from the soft greenness, towered into white +ice-fields and shoulders and pinnacles of virgin snow, he had found +in the summer of that year a tumble-down chalet. It was large and +tolerably commodious, evidently intended to be something superior to +the ordinary dwelling of the Swiss herdsman. + +Maurice Grey was tired of hotel-life when he came upon this treasure +trove. Life in the mountains, with the constant companionship of +ignorant tourists, would-be enthusiasts and _blasé_ fashionables (for +Maurice, though touched and charmed by Nature's beauty, had not arrived +at the higher point of seeing beauty in humanity), was scarcely the +life of solitude he had been seeking. + +In the inane vapidity of travellers' talk all the impressions which +Nature's loveliness had been writing on his soul seemed to pass +into cynicism and irritability. He would get away from the charmed +circle--he would break loose once and for ever from the galling fetters +with which his kind would chain him. This chalet was the very thing to +suit him. He had come upon it in the course of a long, solitary ramble +which was taking him into ground untrodden apparently by the ordinary +tourist. It led to no point of special interest, there was nothing +remarkable to distinguish it from thousands of Alpine meadows in the +vicinity, it was intersected by no well-frequented path. + +Maurice Grey set inquiries on foot. He found that the neglected chalet +had been intended for a small pension; that the proprietor, who was a +farmer, had sustained an unexpected loss in cattle, and had thus been +unable to complete and furnish it; that he would be only too delighted +to let it on very moderate terms to any one who would take the trouble +of making it habitable. + +On the very next day Maurice found out the farmer, and an arrangement +was entered into highly to the satisfaction of both. It took a very +short time to fit up the small abode, or two rooms on the ground floor, +with the few articles an Englishman would find necessary--a wooden bed +and a large bath, a table and chair, one leather-backed arm-chair, +rough shelves with a selection of books that he had ordered in one of +the German towns through which he had passed, writing-materials and his +beloved pipe, sole companion of his solitude. + +These were all, save the kitchen utensils, which his new servant, a +German who could do everything, had procured for him, and with these +Maurice Grey settled down to a hermit's life. It was scarcely the life +to suit him. There was too much vigor and manhood in his frame, too +many cravings in the heart he had thought dead, for the death-in-life +of one cut off from the society of his fellows to be bearable for any +length of time. During the long hours of the day, when even his servant +was absent seeking at the nearest village for the daily necessaries +of their life, Maurice Grey, the sociable, lively Englishman, would +sit like a patriarch at the door of his tent and look out--not on his +children and children's children playing on the green sward, but on the +savage grandeur of the mountains, on shaggy pines rising head above +head like a great army on the hillside, on the flash of torrents, their +fall scarcely heard in the far distance, scattering their white foam +into the sunshine, on radiant ice-rivers sweeping down between dark +gray rocks. And the wonder entered into his soul. But the illusion +faded, for, all grand and glorious as it was, there was yet in it +nothing to lay hold upon the heart or satisfy its wants. + +Sometimes the stillness would grow so oppressive that even the tinkling +of the cattle-bells, notifying the approach of the sleepy, quiet +animal, would be a relief to the man's brain And then he would rush +into the wood. There was sound enough there--the rustling of leaves, +the chirping of grasshoppers, the movement and ceaseless murmur of life +various and multiform. + +At times Maurice Grey would enjoy it, but not always, for in the midst +of this rich profusion of Nature his was a life apart. More than once +he was mortified, even in those first days, when solitude had a certain +novelty, to discover how instinctively his step would quicken and his +heart grow lighter when in the evening, his hour for dinner drawing +near, he could look forward to seeing at the door of his chalet the +familiar face of his servant and only companion. He was too proud, +however, to betray himself even to Karl, and in spite of everything +was determined to persevere. He would give the new life a fair trial. +Happily, Maurice had a resource in his pen. In his youth he had +cherished ambitious dreams of distinguishing himself in the world of +letters. In these hours of solitude the desire returned--not, indeed, +with a like force, for the cry of the miserable, the _cui bono?_ of a +sick soul, was at the heart of it. + +If the grandeur of Nature could inspire him with high thoughts--if as a +poet he could breathe out any one of these, sending it forth a living +image of beauty into the world--why and for whom should he do it? For +men and women? For _their_ enjoyment, _their_ false praise? Maurice +Grey, as it will be seen, had not lost his cynicism in his solitude. +But he wrote as he had never written before. He transcribed his +strange, wild dreams that were formed in the ice-caverns, and clothed +the woods and hills with legends, dismal, gloomy, awe-inspiring, that +had drunk from the bitter waters of his own dark soul. + +As days and weeks passed on that soul grew darker. Even the faithful +Karl, who was strongly attached to his English master, began to fear +his strange moods and wonder vaguely at his caprices, recalling the +weird märchen that had fed his boyhood in his Black Forest home--of +men haunted with the spirit of evil, condemned to wander for ever, +seeking rest and finding none; of ghosts that had taken to themselves +a fleshly home, and living with human beings had been considered human +themselves, till the dark fear of betraying their origin in some +unwary moment had driven them to the wilds, there to batten on horrors +till the startled flesh should forsake, once and for ever, the naked, +shivering ghost. + +Karl grew afraid of his own shadow. Indeed, only his visits (and he +took care they should be of daily recurrence) to inhabited places kept +him sane and capable. So absolute is the truth, old as humanity itself, +that "it is not well for man to dwell alone." + +For Maurice Grey where was the helpmate to be found? Not upon earth, +if perfection such as he sought in his lofty idealism was to be its +necessary accompaniment. He had broken his idol for a flaw in its +fair whiteness, and what wonder that he found it difficult--nay, +impossible--to replace it? + +Not that Maurice, to do him justice, had ever sought to replace his +idol by any creature outside of him in the world of men and women. It +may be, however, that his dream was wilder and more vain. For he looked +within instead of without--looked to the poor trembling self for that +satisfaction and peace which life with one who was (though he had not +known it) verily his other self, by reason of her tenderness and warm +womanly sympathy, might have brought him. + +Maurice and Margaret had been alike wrong in this, that they had +sought in the transitory and fleeting what is impalpable and enduring. +Happiness springs not from the dust, and happiness abiding is only to +be found outside of ourselves, outside of humanity, outside even of the +world. + +This they were learning, the husband and wife, each in the secret place +of a stricken heart--learning it with stormy seas and vast plains and +snow-clad mountains between them. Sometimes it would dawn upon Maurice, +in the midst of a dream of impossible bliss, that he had been seeking +the good in a wrong channel--that perhaps it might be found when and +where he least thought to meet it. And the idea would make him tremble +as with a sudden inspiration his eyes would seek the blue vault above, +so restful in its calm transcendent purity. + +And so the long summer months, laden with beauty, passed by him. Days +he had of musing, when his soul, entering in upon itself, would +strive painfully for the secret of Nature's abiding joy--days of +inspiration, when after a restless night dreams and imaginings would +shape themselves into burning words which he would trace with a poet's +tremulous joy--days of moody abstraction, when even the blue heavens +irritated him by their calm beauty, when the white snow-peaks glared +and dazzled and robed themselves in dark palls: days too he had when a +better spirit seemed to be taking possession of him, when the spirit of +good brooded over his soul, when from the everlasting pæan of hill and +vale, of rustling leaves, rushing torrents and tuneful birds the shadow +of a peace that might yet be his descended on his soul. And still Karl +came and went, leaving the hermit in the morning, returning with early +evening, ministering to his necessities and preventing him from feeling +the hardships that might have been his lot in the strange life he had +chosen. + +If the truth must be told, the imaginative German half expected +at times, as he entered the dark gorges which led to his master's +dwelling, to find that in his absence companion-ghosts had spirited him +away. But such an occurrence never happened, and the man began to take +heart and breathe more freely. + +Unhappily, the summer-time could not last for ever. Autumn came, and on +this particular occasion an early autumn fell upon the valley. Bleak +winds began to moan and sigh among the hills, the mountains robed +themselves in gray, impenetrable mist, the leaves shuddered and fell by +myriads. + +Maurice Grey was an Englishman. He had always prided himself on his +independence of externals, but hitherto he had been well occupied, +mentally or physically, in such a season. This coming on of autumn was +very different from any former experience. To be absolutely alone, +or shut up with a servant who only at intervals shows a scared face; +a blanket, damp, white, clinging, about the house, and entering in +by every nook and cranny; nothing visible but walls of chilly vapor +rising in billowy folds about dark, formless giants, that are known +to be snow-mountains only because they have been visible before,--is +sufficiently depressing; but add to all this a mental life unhealthily +alive and sensitive, an absence of present joys, with the memory of +past happiness rising at times to mock the heart by its fairness, the +sting of a remorseful conscience, physical powers fast decaying under +the unspeakable horrors of a lonely, unloved life, and I think it will +be allowed that Maurice Grey would have been more than human if even +his intellect had not begun to fail him. + +It was such a morning as that I have been describing; he sat before his +desk; his pipe was on the table before him, books were scattered on +every side, a manuscript was open, the pen was in the ink; but he was +doing literally nothing, not even attempting to beguile his dreariness +with that friend of the forlorn--a pipe. His folded arms rested +listlessly on the table; he was looking out into the thick mists with a +dreary hopelessness that in a man seemed miserable beyond compare. He +was not even thinking. It was as though a gloomy abstraction had seized +upon his soul. + +The door grated on its hinge--it was not particularly well hung--but +Maurice did not hear the sound. He was like a man who was under the +influence of some strong narcotic, plunged in visions that shut out +the external world. Karl was the intruder. He peeped cautiously into +the room, took a back-view of his master's position, then steered +noiselessly round to the front (Maurice was painfully irritable in +these moods) and gained a side-view of his face. It resulted in an +ominous shake of the head and a bold move. Creeping still nearer, Karl +touched his master on the arm, then sprang back, for the angry frown +gathered on his brow. + +Karl had been observing him, and Maurice had a vague fear that in his +moody fit he had been ridiculous. An Englishman hates to be absurd, +even to a valet, and Maurice Grey, as he glanced at the repentant +German brimful of apologies that were only waiting a suitable outlet, +felt his choler rising. "How many times have I ordered you," he said +angrily, "not to come in here without knocking?" + +"Meinherr did not hear," replied the submissive youth. + +"Then you should have knocked again or gone away. By Heaven! do you +think me incapable of taking care of myself? Speak, idiot! what is the +meaning of this intrusion?" + +The frightened German extended his arms apologetically: "Meinherr must +condescend to hear that, as this weather has lasted some days, we are +nearly out of provision." + +"Go to Grindelwald to-day." + +"Impossible. Meinherr will please to take the trouble of observing how +thick are these mists." + +"Then why, in the name of all that's sensible, do you annoy me? Can I +make provisions?" + +"No, but meinherr might wish to know why his table shall be so poorly +provided this day, and--" The man hemmed. + +"And--what? Go on, can't you?" + +"Meinherr should also know that weather like this at present never +lasts very long about here." + +"So much the better. Is that all you wished to tell me?" + +"Meinherr would for the few days be so much better at the hotel. If he +should please we might go there to-morrow and rest till the weather +shall be a little more clear. There are not a great many people +travelling just now. Meinherr would have a good apartment and would be +very little annoyed." + +The poor man's voice trembled with fear and anxiety. It was one word +for his master and several for himself. Karl was beginning to feel +that he could scarcely bear another week of such horrors as those to +which he had lately been exposed. His master himself, by his dark +moodiness and mysterious surroundings, peculiarly awe-inspiring, his +only companion; the dark gorges and mountain-caverns yawning round him +like so many graves; no creature to whom he could unfold the tale of +the fears that beset him,--nothing less than such a combination could +have emboldened the submissive Karl to make the proposition which he +had advanced in so timorous a manner. + +After the murder was out he stood silent, aghast at his own audacity, +waiting for the torrent of angry words with which the Englishman would +answer him. + +To his surprise no such answer came. Maurice rose from his seat and +burst into a loud laugh. The diversion had been salutary: "You would +make a first-rate special pleader, Karl. A word for me and a dozen for +yourself, eh? Well, what are we to do? Some one must be left in charge +here. Since you are so anxious about my welfare, I had better go to +Grindelwald and leave you behind me." + +Karl smiled pleasantly. Matters were taking a favorable turn. + +"Meinherr is pleased to joke. He would most certainly require the +services of a valet in Grindelwald as well as here, and no one else +would understand his ways so well. I spoke--it is perhaps a few days +since--to an old woman who is well known in the village. She would +be very glad for a small sum to look after the chalet. Meinherr will +excuse this liberty. I feared for him the severity of the winter +season." + +"All right, Karl. Poor fellow!" he added, gently, "I fear you lead a +hard kind of life here, and you are a faithful servant. Well, let it be +so. You shall have a little change." + +By these sudden flashes of kindliness, these glimpses of a better +nature, Maurice had endeared himself to his servant. To be harshly +treated was too common to the German to be in any way food for +complaint, but for a master to consider him, to take a kindly interest +in his feelings, was something quite new. His heart warmed to this +proud Englishman who was considerate enough to give him his due meed of +thanks and praise. + +At Maurice's last remark he pressed eagerly forward, his eyes +glistening: "Not for worlds if at all inconvenient to meinherr. What is +good enough for him should, it is quite certain, be good enough for his +servant." + +Maurice smiled: "I begin to think you are right, my good Karl; a change +will do me good, as well as you. I left a portmanteau at the hotel, so +we shall not require to take anything with us. If by to-morrow the mist +has at all cleared we shall start for Grindelwald." + +The next day rose bright and clear. Maurice and his servant left the +chalet early in the morning, locking the door carefully, as Maurice had +a deep regard for his books and manuscripts, and taking with them the +key, which was to be given to the old Swiss woman, destined heiress to +the horrors of the lonely place. + +Happily, Marie was endowed neither with an overflow of imagination nor +highly-strung nerves. With her small grandchild to wait upon her, and +plenty of coffee, sausage and black bread, she could be happy anywhere. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +_THE WORK OF MARGARET'S MESSENGER BEGUN._ + + Sometimes we feel the wish across the mind + Rush like a rocket tearing up the sky, + That we should join with God and give the world + The slip; but while we wish the world turns round, + And peeps us in the face--the wanton world! + We feel it gently pressing down our arm. + + +Maurice and his servant reached the hotel in safety. Its situation was +fine, though not to be compared with that of the Englishman's chosen +dwelling. It was perhaps too much shut in with the great giants that +enclosed the valley in their apparently indissoluble embrace, too +much under their shadow for their true grandeur to be felt. In the +summer and early autumn it was a busy place, for it was a favorite +resting-point and suitable centre for many excursions. But at this +time, as Karl had wisely predicted, it was nearly empty. The flock of +guides who during the summer months had been accustomed to haunt its +approach had gone home to their families and their winter-life among +the herds of cattle and goats; the _dépendances_ were entirely closed, +and many of the windows of the hotel itself showed white blinds and a +general appearance of being shut up for the time. + +Nevertheless, in the village of Grindelwald a slight commotion seemed +to be on foot, of which the hotel was apparently the centre. Curious +men in white ties were discussing volubly with the few rough outsiders +who, in the vague hope of further spoil, were haunting the outskirts +of the hotel with bare-backed mules and alpenstocks; from the little +shop where carvings and views were temptingly exhibited the ancient +proprietor was looking curiously across at the hotel; and the village +people were gathered together in small knots, evidently discussing some +object of common interest. Into the midst of this excitement Maurice +Grey and his servant walked quietly about noon on this bright autumnal +day. + +Karl pricked up his ears. "Something has happened, meinherr," he +ventured with the familiarity of a favorite attendant; then, perceiving +no sign of disapproval, "Travellers lost in yesterday's mist. Ach! wie +schrecklich!" he continued, lapsing into German as exciting scraps of +one of the many conversations reached his ears. "Meinherr has without +doubt heard. 'II ne peut pas se consoler.' An Englishman, it may well +be, who has lost his son, perhaps even two. Will meinherr permit that I +make inquiry?" + +Maurice could not help laughing at the man's overweening curiosity. +"Ask about my room and luggage first," he said, "then you may do as you +like." + +But by this time the landlord had seen the Englishman, and had +advanced, hat in hand, to ask his pleasure. The rarity of new arrivals +in this season made an extra coating of politeness desirable. + +"Is anything wrong?" asked Maurice when the trivial matter of +accommodation had been settled. + +The landlord answered in French; he had never been able to acquire +English: "Ah, monsieur, a sad event indeed; but come within and you +shall hear of it. We are idle now, and my people have nothing better +to do than to talk about these things. Better not--better not," and he +shook his head seriously. + +"But why?" asked Maurice, his curiosity aroused. "Is there anything +particularly mysterious about this event, which seems to have excited +you all so much?" + +"Mysterious! Monsieur has truly chosen a right word to describe this +occurrence." + +And he proceeded to pour into Maurice's ear some account of the +sensational event which had that day formed the one topic of +conversation in the little village. + +It will be as well, perhaps, to take the story out of his hands and +to give in a few words a _résumé_ of what, with interruptions and +circumlocutions manifold, the landlord made comprehensible at last to +his new guest. + +It seemed that a few days before the Englishman's arrival several +travellers had put up at the hotel, apparently with the intention of +staying there some time. + +The first party consisted of only two, an elderly gentleman who +appeared to be in a bad state of health, and a child strikingly lovely +if the impassioned description of the landlord was at all worthy of +belief. + +They took three rooms _en suite_, and the little lady was to be +constantly attended by one of the chambermaids. + +Later in the same day the second party arrived. It consisted of two +gentlemen and a lady, all of whom gave Austria as their country. The +lady, a peculiarly proud and beautiful woman, seemed to be the wife of +one of the gentlemen, but they both treated her with a tolerable amount +of carelessness. + +For two days these different families had remained in the hotel without +meeting or having any intercourse one with the other, for the elderly +gentleman had been suffering so acutely that he never left his room, +and the child would not leave his side. + +On the third or fourth day he appeared at the _table d'hôte,_ +accompanied by the little girl, and seats were placed for them exactly +opposite to those occupied by the Austrians. The lady and one of the +gentlemen were already seated when they entered. + +One of the waiters, it appeared, was a particularly observant +character, though, indeed, there are always observant characters at +hand when such are found convenient, and a waiter's life at some large +hotel is specially favorable to the cultivation of this habit of mind. +Many a waiter might frame exciting romances, the materials drawn simply +from the sphere of his own observations. The waiter in question was +German, a man of an inquiring turn of mind, and specially given to the +study of character. Some peculiarity of countenance, as he afterward +declared, led him to look rather attentively at the dark, handsome face +of the Austrian lady. Lost in his favorite study, he forgot to notice, +by the necessary bustle, the drawing out of chairs and readjustment +of knives and forks, the entry of the elderly Frenchman and his +fair-haired child. He could not, therefore, have been mistaken in his +assertion that as the lady lifted her eyes from her plate and caught +a glimpse of the new arrival, her face became suddenly convulsed. She +started violently, first flushed crimson, then turned as pale as death. + +This circumstance made the intelligent waiter think. He turned his +attention instantly from the strangely-affected lady to the apparent +cause of her agitation, but here he was partially baffled. There +seemed to have been a kind of flash of recognition in the face of the +gentleman with the iron-gray hair as he seated himself opposite to her; +even this, however, was so slight that possibly he might only have +imagined it, for the Frenchman's conduct during the time allotted to +dinner was absolutely natural. Once or twice he even looked across at +his companions with that quiet species of scrutiny which is allowable +between perfect strangers meeting in this way, and several times he +addressed himself in French to one or other of the gentlemen who faced +him. The lady made no further sign, only to the far-seeing German she +seemed to be making a violent effort to control herself. On the evening +of that day something--he did not explain what--led this particular +waiter to the part of the house in which the suite of rooms taken by +the gentleman (who will have been recognized as M. L'Estrange) was +situated. He stated afterward that he had been chained to the spot--the +spot being the outside of the door of the Frenchman's apartment--by +strange and unusual sounds. He heard a woman's voice, interrupted +often with tears and sobs; she was speaking in tones of entreaty or +expostulation, raising her voice violently from time to time as her +excitement grew with her theme. What that was the waiter could not +precisely say. He was an exact man, who never liked to go beyond +his authority. In fact, as he was eminently practical and had never +cultivated his imaginative faculties, perhaps he chose the easiest +course. + +Stern, low tones answered from time to time the woman's impassioned +appeals, and at last, very suddenly as it seemed, the door was thrown +violently open, and cloaked and hooded, her face covered by a thick +black veil, there walked out the proud Austrian lady. He recognized her +by her exceptional height and her stately carriage. + +The door was closed softly from the inside, and the lady walked rapidly +through the passage to her own rooms, which were situated in another +part of the house. + +This happened two days before the arrival of Maurice. In the night the +lady had disappeared. A French waiter went at the same time, whether +as her attendant or not no one could discover. One thing alone was +certain--the deed had been cleverly done. During the whole of those +days the lady had been sought, but sought in vain. + +"We thought her husband careless," said the landlord in conclusion, +"but ever since he has been like a madman. We dare not tell him what +monsieur knows about the conversation that has been overheard: the +life of the French gentleman, who seems still very ill, would scarcely +be safe; and, after all, who can say? He seems to have acted well. A +woman's caprice, an old attachment. Monsieur will doubtless be of my +advice. It would be useless to arouse ill feeling without just cause." + +And so saying, the landlord shrugged his shoulders. Why should he +affect himself at all with the miseries of forsaken husbands or runaway +wives? It is an ill wind that blows nobody good, and the landlord, to +speak truly, was not discontented with the kind of notoriety which this +romantic tale, told and retold as it might very probably be--especially +if the _dénouement_ should turn out to be tragic--would bring upon his +house. + +Maurice Grey read something of this in the man's eyes, and in his turn +he shrugged his shoulders, a sign with him of bitter contempt. + +Not "What fools," but "What knaves these mortals be!" was the constant +cry of his sick soul. It was meeting him again as he emerged from his +solitude. + +When the landlord left him to answer some summons, Maurice Grey looked +out upon the mountains, and laughed a laugh that was sad to hear, for +under the mirth lay a weary weight of misery and bitterness. Women +inconstant, man faithless--everywhere self-interest the great ruling +motive of life, and in all the green earth no spot where he could lay +his head, feeling "Here I may rest with a perfect confidence." The +man's heart contracted painfully; from such a standpoint as his the +outlook on humanity is gloomy indeed. He felt for a moment that he +would fain be out of it all. The frank, round face of Karl aroused him +to a sense of his position, and to the recollection that while such +simple souls as his were left all honesty had not passed away from the +earth. It was certainly a relief. + +"Meinherr's rooms are ready, his fire lit and his clothes airing. Will +he please to see if everything is to his liking?" said the German. + +"Where is my room?" + +"In the best part of the house, eccellenz, close to the apartments +occupied by the gentleman of whom he has doubtless heard." + +"The inconsolable husband?" Maurice's lips were curled into a kind of +sneer as he asked the question. + +"No, meinherr; the other person concerned, as they say, in this sad +business--a Frenchman, I believe." + +"So all these details are the common talk of the place," said Maurice +to himself. "Unfortunate man!" And then he set his teeth together. "I +acted wisely," he muttered; "such a scandal as this would have killed +me." + +He said nothing more to Karl, and the honest soul, who had rejoiced +in the interest his master was taking in sublunary affairs, who had +been congratulating himself, in fact, on the very rapid success of his +plan for drawing his master out of his dark moods, was distressed and +perplexed to see the old frown gather on his brow, to hear his fierce, +impatient sigh, and to find himself banished summarily from his room +with the curt abruptness to which Karl had become accustomed. + +Left alone, Maurice sat down by the little wood-fire, which had been +kindled solely in consideration for his feelings as an Englishman, +and returned to his sad pondering. He was playing a dangerous game +with himself, for he was in that mood which has often tempted a man to +tamper with his humanity--to put out his rash hand and experimentalize +on the nature whose fearful beauty and hidden mystery it is impossible +for him to understand. It would have been better, a thousand times +better, for the Englishman at such a moment as this to have thrown +himself into any kind of work, to have sought society, however +humble, to have looked for some interest in the outer world; anything +would have been better, indeed, than this giving way to the spirit +that possessed him--this looking for and searching into what no son +or daughter of humanity may fathom. Like a fiend's temptation ran +backward and forward through his mind, haunting him with its dull +rhythm, the burden of a song that he remembered to have heard in some +bygone time: + + "A still small voice, it spake to me-- + Thou art so full of misery, + Were it not better not to be?" + +And again, with an added force-- + + "Thou art so steeped in misery, + Surely 'twere better not to be--better not to be." + +As he repeated these words half aloud, Maurice rose and paced the room +excitedly. + +"Yes," he said to himself, "a wise counsel. Men, women, what are they?" +He knit his brows and his eyes looked fierce. "What are we?--miserable, +and our misery makes us bad. God!--if there be a God!"--he lifted +his pale, agitated face, but underlying his wretched, wild doubts +might have been read there the reverence of a fine soul--"why are we +miserable, seeking good for evermore, and finding evil, inconstancy, +falsehood? Why is our fair world the abode of fiends incarnate, who +burden the ages with their folly? And if we were happy"--again he +lifted his pale face, and the dazzling snow-peaks against their azure +background met his gaze--"if we were happy," he repeated slowly--"if +_she_ had been happy--O God! she would have been good, for the soul of +purity was in her; but misery brings madness to the blood and thoughts +of evil to the heart; and for misery there is no cure under the sun." + +For a few moments he remained perfectly still and silent, his arms +folded, his brow contracted, looking out upon the snow-fields; then +added, this time half aloud, "_But one!_" + +He turned from the window and cast a rapid, hungry glance round the +room. It was comfortably arranged, the small wood-fire crackling +merrily, the clothes he was about to wear hanging on a chair beside it +carefully brushed, his bed turned down, exhibiting the whitest of white +linen; but what specially drew Maurice's attention was his portmanteau, +which, after the necessary articles had been taken from it, Karl had +left open, that the expediency of further unpacking might be decided +by his master. It was a large travelling portmanteau, evidently full +of a miscellaneous collection of articles--books, dressing-apparatus, +clothes, curiosities picked up in wandering from place to place. On one +of these curiosities, which was lying near the top of the open side, +Maurice's eyes finally rested. + +For a moment he gazed silently, then crossing the room took it up in +his hand to examine it more closely. A case containing a pair of small +pocket-pistols, the barrels of silvered metal richly chased with gold. +One of these Maurice removed from its covering. He handled it with a +certain curiosity, took it to pieces to examine its condition, cleaned +it with the most delicate care, then, after putting it together again, +spent a few moments in listening to its click. It looked more like an +elegant toy than a dangerous weapon. Maurice put it down and returned +it to the case, which contained, besides the companion pistol, a small +flask of gunpowder and some bullets. These he took out, then in a +quiet, leisurely manner proceeded to load the pistol. His attitude was +rather that of a man who is amusing himself, trying to kill time, than +of one who has any serious purpose in view. And perhaps at this moment +Maurice was scarcely serious. In any case, when his work was done he +did not proceed farther; he put the pistol down again. It almost seemed +as if this quiet, ordinary occupation (for Maurice's firearms had +always been treated by him with minute personal care--he did not allow +a servant to touch them) had quieted the tone of his mind and banished +some of his dark thoughts. He put down the pistol then, and turned back +to the fireside to resume his unhealthy musing. + +For here lay Maurice Grey's error. Instead of mastering his morbid +feelings, driving them away by stress of hard work and diversity of +thought, he, like many a strong man before and since, suffered them to +master him. + +Again and again he would return to the old mystery, bringing the +energy of his soul to bear upon it. Again and again it would elude +him, till, mortified and baffled, tied down to the narrow circle of +self-knowledge, a broad outlook on humanity impossible by reason of +his self-chosen fate, he had come to loathe his very life as an evil +thing. + +It is easier to meet a foe in fair fight than a giant formed by a +diseased imagination--blurred, indistinct, but awful with the terrors +of the unknown. + +With his small pistol within reach, Maurice set to work once more +thinking over humanity's woes and wrongs, gloomily seeking for the +shadow of a reason why life should be thought worth having--why it +would not be well to pass out from it once and for ever through the +lurid portals of self-destruction. What wonder that his unhealthy +pondering should point out to him no ray of light, no gleam of hope? + +But happily for Maurice, and for the many who were interesting +themselves in his welfare, his mind at the time could bear no further +tension. Rather to his own surprise, he found it wandering from +the solemn question of life versus death to the common things that +surrounded him. How strange it is that at the solemnest moments the +trivial and commonplace intrude the most perseveringly! And yet it is a +fact that might be proved by numberless instances. + +Maurice's window looked out upon the hotel garden; gradually, as +the tension on his nerves grew less, he caught himself counting and +remarking curiously the very few who from time to time passed up and +down the snow-shrouded paths and alleys. A woman-servant, apparently +looking for some kind of herb; two waiters, who walked rapidly up and +down as if enjoying the keen air and glittering sunshine; the landlady, +in morning undress, crossing to the _dépendance_ in the grounds, and +returning with some utensil which had been left there accidentally; +finally--and this it was that riveted Maurice's attention--a traveller, +probably a new arrival, for the landlord had given Maurice a detailed +account of all those who were in his house at the time, especially +giving him to understand that no English visitors remained. And this +young man was certainly from England. What other country could have +produced the faultless exterior with regard to form, the fair freshness +of face, the well-bred nonchalance of manner? + +The young man held a cigar lightly in the tips of his fingers, his +lively whistle penetrated to Maurice's retreat, he walked up and down +on the crystallized snow with a resolute, energetic step; there was, to +the eyes of the jaded man of the world, something peculiarly pleasant +and attractive about his general appearance. + +"I wonder who he is?" said Maurice to himself. "It would be rather +pleasant to meet anything so fresh; he has a good face, too. That young +fellow is no scamp." + +Inconsistency of human nature, or rather, perhaps, adaptability to +circumstances. Maurice a few moments before had been condemning his +generation indiscriminately, calling men and women by the harshest +names in the vocabulary, longing passionately to escape from them for +ever. Appears upon the scene a young man with a fair, fresh face, and +he endows him immediately with the qualities in which all his kind had +been pronounced deficient! Strange, but true, for such is life, so +complex a thing, driven hither and thither by trifles light as air. + +Maurice Grey turned away from the window, looked with a half smile, +half tremor at the loaded pistol, put it in a safe place lest Karl +should see fit to meddle with it, and proceeded to dress himself +carefully for the early _table-d'hôte_ dinner. + +And thus, though he himself was all unconscious of the fact, the work +of Margaret's messenger was begun. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +_A TÊTE-À-TÊTE DINNER AT THE HOTEL._ + + For how false is the fairest breast! + How little worth, if true! + And who would wish possessed + What all must scorn or rue? + Then pass by beauty with looks above: + Oh seek never--share never--woman's love. + + +Maurice Grey's costume was as faultless as that of the young man whom +he had admired in the hotel-garden when at the strange hour of two +o'clock P. M. he, in obedience to the summoning bell, peered into +the long dining-room, at the extremity of which was a small table +spread with two or three covers. Karl, his face beaming all over as he +recognized his master, was standing behind the chair destined for him, +the young Englishman was brushing his feet vigorously on the mat before +the door that stood midway in the room, two waiters were hovering about +helplessly. + +Maurice took his place at one side, Arthur Forrest seated himself at +the other side of the table. They were Englishmen and total strangers +one to the other, therefore it is scarcely necessary to say that +the places they chose were as far apart as the small size of the +table would permit. And yet the two men were anxious to know one +another--Maurice, because he felt that his companion's freshness would +be a relief to his jaded soul; Arthur, because he had recognized in +Maurice Grey the husband of Margaret, the man for whom he had been +searching through the length and breadth of Europe. + +Burning with anxiety to unfold his mission, he could scarcely preserve +his composure now the fatal moment had arrived, now he and the man +he had been seeking were at last face to face. For he could not be +mistaken; he had ascertained from the landlord the name of this only +other Englishman besides himself who had not fled from the valleys at +the first breath of winter, and Maurice's likeness, confided to him by +Margaret, had been too often studied in its every lineament for him not +to be able at once to know its original. With the knowledge came an +excitement that threatened to overpower him utterly; but he controlled +himself. That calm self-possession and a certain amount of diplomacy +were absolutely necessary if he would bring his mission to a successful +issue, he felt most keenly. + +Once Maurice caught the young men's eye scanning his face, and as +the eyes met Arthur blushed; he felt, too much for his comfort and +composure, that the slightest false move might be fatal. Maurice was +utterly unsuspicious; he attributed his young companion's confusion to +embarrassment at being caught exhibiting a little too much curiosity, +and ne was simply amused, determining in his own mind to find out more +about the young fellow, so evidently a gentleman, yet so frank and +transparent in his ways. + +A few moments of delay passed by; then, as there was no further +accession to the company, soup was served. Arthur, too full of +tremulous excitement to be able to find a single commonplace, began +to eat in total silence; Maurice looked across at him between the +spoonfuls. + +"Apparently we are to dine alone together," he said at last with a +pleasant smile; "rather a different scene from the one I looked in upon +a few weeks ago." + +"I suppose this place is very full in the season," was Arthur's not +very brilliant reply. + +"Especially so this year; it is gaining in renown, and certainly the +situation is good. But to me hotel-life is _so_ distasteful." + +Arthur was beginning to gain confidence. "Do you think so?" he said. +"Now, I like it--abroad, that is to say; the people one meets are +off their stilts, and generally inclined to be friendly; there is +no bother, something approaching to comfort, and plenty of life and +gayety." + +"I'm afraid present circumstances will scarcely answer to your +description," said Maurice. + +Arthur laughed: "No, indeed, you and I seem to be the only sane people +in the establishment. I gather from the waiters--one of whom, happily +for me, speaks English--that the present company consists of an elderly +gentleman, ill or out of his mind, certainly peculiar; his daughter, an +angel of beauty and goodness; a fuming Austrian, scouring the mountains +for his lost wife; attendant brother, similarly occupied; landlord, +landlady, staff of servants." + +Maurice smiled: "I think you have omitted nobody, only, for fear your +expectations should have risen too high, even under circumstances so +meagre, I should inform you that the angel of beauty is a child, a mere +baby; but my arrival only preceded yours by a few hours, so, like you, +I speak from rumor. Now, may I venture to ask how long you will be +likely to stand out against such an atrocious state of things? I have +an interest in the question, as I believe I am a fixture for some time." + +It was by no means an easy question for Arthur to answer. He might +have said that the time of his stay depended entirely upon Maurice +himself. Not being able to give the true answer, he treated the +question as lightly as possible: "Oh I I can scarcely say, exactly. I +was recommended to come--mountains in winter, snow, and that kind of +thing; they certainly look very well, but, you see, I am not precisely +an enthusiast in that line." + +"Was it for your health?" asked Maurice with grave interest, looking +compassionately at the fresh young face, whose brilliant coloring might +possibly hide disease. + +This question made Arthur turn as red as fire. The knowledge of +what his errand really was rendered him painfully self-conscious. +"Why, no--yes--no, I mean," he answered, his confusion growing as he +advanced.--"What a fool I must be!" he muttered to himself angrily; +then, as he caught a faint smile, polite but perplexed, on the lips +of his questioner, he controlled himself suddenly. "The fact is," he +said rapidly, "I've been so desperately chaffed about this midwinter +journey--But, you see, I rather like cold weather, and the air here is +bracing." + +Maurice saw his questions had been ill-timed, and with true courtesy +proceeded to change the subject: "You would not have said so yesterday. +Then, and for some days previously, it was anything but bracing up +here. We had a fine blanket of cold mist about us--not a tree to be +seen beyond the distance of a handsbreadth." + +"I thought you had only arrived yesterday," said Arthur, a tremor in +his voice. He knew perfectly well whence Maurice had come, but it was +his plan to feign ignorance; he wished to draw him on to speak about +himself. + +Maurice smiled: "I don't come from very far. You must have heard from +the people about here of the peculiar Englishman who shuns civilized +places--I believe this is the form the rumors take--and lives by +himself in a chalet among the mountains. That strange individual is +before you now." + +Arthur bowed, as in acknowledgment of this peculiar kind of +introduction. "I must confess," he replied, "that Mr. Grey is known to +me by fame, and being so far in advance of you I must ask you to be +obliging enough to accept my card. If, as I suppose, we are to dine in +this way tête-à-tête for some few days to come, it is as well that we +should at least know each other by name." + +"Thank you," replied Maurice cordially. He was at a loss to account for +the timidity, the hesitation, the evident constraint of this young man, +who was yet, to all appearance, no novice in the ways of the world; but +he liked him and wished to set him at his ease. + +"You have just come from England, I presume?" he said after a short +pause, looking kindly into Arthur's flushed face. "_I_ have been a +wanderer for many years. How do you like this kind of life?" + +"It has been pleasant enough," replied the younger man, reassured once +more by his companion's friendliness; "but, do you know, I find nothing +to compare with the comfort, the convenience--in fact, you know the +kind of thing that one finds at home. Here one can't get even decent +tobacco; there is nothing to be had in the way of drink but sour wine. +As for the cooking, some people praise it very highly; but--" As he +spoke there came up a little dish of vegetables swimming in butter. +"Bah! they call _that_ an _entrée_, I suppose." + +Maurice laughed, and helped himself to the obnoxious dish: "You see +what wandering does. _I_ have become cosmopolitan in my tastes. From +the sauerkraut of Germany to the caviare of Russia I am tolerably at +home, able at least to pick up a living; but come, you are right about +the wine, which I really think grows in sourness with the added degrees +of frost; we might have better tipple than this, and it is an occasion. +I have not done the social for many a long day. The 'Wein kart,' Karl. +Let us order up the best bottle of champagne the landlord has in his +cellar, though I greatly fear his stock is low. Karl, inquire for +me--any first quality champagne left?" + +The landlord's cellar was not absolutely empty. In a few moments a +bottle of very excellent champagne stood on the table between the two +young men. Maurice drained a brimming glass; Arthur would scarcely do +more than wet his lips. He had not forgotten his purpose, and to bring +it to a successful issue he knew it would be necessary to have all his +wits about him. Laughingly, Maurice reproached his young companion for +his abstemiousness, and filled and refilled his own glass with the +glittering draught. For after the dull weight of loneliness, after the +terrible experiences of the morning, after the gloomy musing that had +oppressed him with its horror, this return, even transitory as he felt +it to be, to some of life's amenities was a boundless relief to the +man's soul. In the old happy days society had been Maurice Grey's life; +it had intoxicated him like wine. Among his peers, when, soul meeting +soul, the sparkles of wit, the flashes of gay humor had been struck out +in the heat of social intercourse, he had reigned as a king: brilliant, +vivacious, boundlessly hospitable, his society had been courted by +the world, and he had met the world courteously, drawing out from its +pleasures the extreme of good that was in them. + +But misery had changed Maurice woefully, and it was only when the wine +was in his blood, when its liquid fire was coursing through his veins, +that he could return in any degree to his former self--that he could +become once more the fascinating, brilliant, cordial man of society. On +this particular occasion he had determined to forget himself. It was +the flying back of the bow that had been bent nigh to breaking. Wine +could make him forget, and he poured out glass after glass, draining +them rapidly, as a man might do who was consumed with burning thirst. +Gradually his eyes began to shine and his words to flow more readily. +The haughty, self-contained man spoke freely of himself, and made a +friend and companion of the youth whom hazard had thrown into his way. + +Arthur listened silently, with a tremulous joy. If Maurice would +confide in him his task was half done already. But love had taught +the young man prudence. He would hear before he would speak; he would +earnestly study the character of him he had come so far to seek +before he would determine how and when his object should be revealed. +Maurice, in this mood, was a marvellously agreeable companion. The +younger man, standing, as it were, on the threshold of life, listened, +entranced, to his descriptions of the great world, and Mr. Grey knew +the world better than most men. He had plunged into every kind of +society; he had feigned to be what he was not, that he might gain +access to that which would otherwise have been denied to him; he had +played upon the weaknesses of men and women, only to scathe them with +his biting ridicule. Then too, he had seen the world from a variety of +standpoints. During the first part of his life as a man he had taken +a part in the careers which the great world offers to its votaries; +afterward he had lived as a spectator: holding himself aloof from +the heartburnings, the jealousies, the ambitions, the intrigues, he +had been able more calmly to note and criticise. He had made undying +enemies, he had knit to himself faithful friends, he had been concerned +in strange histories; but all these things had been apart from himself. +As far as his own feelings were concerned, they were nothing, feathers +light as air, incidents _pour passer le temps_--nothing more. He was +in the midst of a brilliant series of anecdotes drawn from his life in +St. Petersburg, which had been fruitful in events, commenting lightly, +even with a kind of sarcasm--for these things could not move Maurice +Grey--on the enthusiasm he had excited in female breasts, and on the +confusion and dismay which his mysterious absence would create, when +the light began to wane, and the waiter came in to set a match to the +solitary oil-lamp which was the hotel dining-room's winter allowance of +light. + +Maurice stopped and drew out his watch: "By Jove! young gentleman, +your society is so fascinating that I had altogether forgotten the +time. Do you know we have been nearly three hours at table? Now tell +me candidly, have you any plan for this evening? I need scarcely ask," +he continued laughing; "amusements are not in this primitive corner; +if you went out to walk you would infallibly lose yourself, and as far +as I can make out there are in the hotel at present no fair ladies to +conquer; but so much the better for you. If I had my life to live over +again, I would flee woman as I would the plague." His brow contracted. +"I wonder why I talk about women at all. They are all alike false and +fickle." + +Arthur looked up. He was but a boy, and in presence of this man of the +world, steeped to the lips in cynicism, it was difficult to express +the strong faith of his young soul. But Margaret's face in its calm +beauty came suddenly like a sweet vision before his eyes, and he +answered, trembling slightly, "I am younger than you, Mr. Grey, and +have had much less experience of the world; but I know that in this +thing you are wrong. There may be some women who are bad and faithless, +and all that kind of thing--there are ever so many more who are good +and pure. Perhaps you have been unfortunate in your intercourse with +women--perhaps--" his voice shook, and there was a sudden light in his +blue eyes--"perhaps you have made some terrible mistake." + +Maurice was earnestly intent on the business of lighting his cigar from +the solitary oil-lamp, so that the look on Arthur's face escaped him, +but the earnestness, the apparent meaning in the boy's voice, impressed +him strangely. He turned round instantly, a slight appearance of +surprise in his manner; then as he caught sight of the flushed face and +gleaming eyes of his companion, he shook his head and his lips curled +into something like a sneer: "My dear fellow, you are young. Wait a +few years, and your vigorous championship will die down, withered by +circumstances." + +He laughed bitterly, and Arthur turned away, a cold feeling at his +heart. He could not understand this cynicism. To him who knew this +man's history it seemed cruel and wanton beyond compare. + +But Maurice was good-natured, and he liked the boy; his very freshness, +whose springs he had been trying to poison, pleased him. He took him +by the arm and looked into his averted face. "Have I frightened you +altogether?" he said kindly, "or will you listen to what I was about to +propose?" Arthur smiled his acquiescence, but it was with an effort; he +felt in no smiling mood. + +"If you like, then, let us adjourn to my quarters. This great place +looks desolate with the one oil-lamp they generously allow us. There +I have a jar of excellent whisky, and Karl will soon find us all +appliances and means to boot for the concoction of whisky-punch, which, +if you had lived so long in these inhospitable regions as I have, you +would know to be a real luxury." + +Arthur smiled: "I have not tasted a drop since I left England." + +"Then you agree to my proposal? Come!" + +The two men rose, Maurice linking his arm into that of his companion, +and leaving the long dining-room, threaded the ill-lit passages +which led to Maurice's apartment. The door of the room adjoining +his was ajar, and close to its threshold they paused involuntarily +for a second or two. What made them stop was nothing more than a +child's voice singing a child's hymn: an untaught, feeble voice, +thrilling with melody that made it tremble, there was yet in it that +which irresistibly drew and fascinated. Even in its weakness there +was something strange. To the imaginative it would have seemed like +a woman's heart trying to express itself through the feeble medium +of a child's voice. For there was soul and purpose in the quavering +treble that trilled against the air. With one accord the men stopped +to listen, holding their breath lest any of the sounds should escape +them. The voice paused a moment and they passed on, but before they +had reached their destination, Maurice, who had been looking back +toward the door whence the sound had proceeded, caught an instantaneous +glimpse of the owner of the childish voice. A little golden head and +fair face, on which light from within the room was shining, peered out +and looked up and down the passage. Only for a moment, but in that +moment the dark eyes of the golden-haired child and the dark eyes of +the world-weary man met. The child, frightened vaguely, retreated to +the inside of the room; the man staggered as if he had received a blow, +and sank down, to his companion's dismay, pale and speechless on the +nearest chair. + +Maurice, it must be remembered, had been drinking pretty freely and in +such a condition as his men are scarcely so well able to master their +sudden emotions as they may be at another time. + +The face of his child, the sound of the hymns her mother had sung at +her cradle, was to Maurice like the dim memory of a fair dream. He +did not for a moment recognize the child as his own; he was far from +imagining that the little Laura was near him, and the look in her eyes, +the expression of her features, the music of her voice, constituted a +haunting mystery that absolutely staggered him. + +He met her eyes, and suddenly, as in a vision, his wife's pure face, +his child's cradle, all the details in their utmost minuteness of a +home that had once been happy, flashed over his mind. He did not know +how it had come. He scarcely even connected this sudden revulsion of +feeling with the sight of the child's face; he only knew that it was +there, a haunting memory of past happiness, and that his present pain +was almost too great to be borne. Covering his face with his hands, +the strong, cynical man sat for some minutes--minutes that seemed ages +to Arthur--plunged in bitter thought. + +When he looked up, Arthur thought his face was more haggard than it had +been, and there was a certain excitement in his manner. He rang the +bell vigorously. "You will say I am a pretty host, Mr. Forrest," he +said lightly; "this is scarcely the entertainment I promised you." + +Then, as Karl, who had been in the close neighborhood of the room +expecting some such summons, appeared in the doorway, "Try and get a +small kettle, two tumblers and a lemon." + +In a very short time the required articles were in the room, and with +his favorite beverage before him the frown passed from Maurice's brow +and the gloomy abstraction from his manner. + +He returned to the descriptions which his adjournment to his own room +had interrupted, and Arthur was by turns convulsed with merriment, +thrilling with sympathy, absorbed in interest; but Maurice's tales +left a sad impression. There ran through them all the spirit of the +preacher's bitter cry, "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity." + +"Yes, Solomon was a wise man," cried Maurice at the end of one of his +vivid bits of description. "'One man in a thousand have I found, but a +woman have I not found.'" + +He flung down his glass with a laugh so bitter that it made his young +companion shudder. + +"You look incredulous," continued Maurice; "when the gray begins to +sprinkle your hair you will come to the same conclusion. Look!" he +bowed his head and showed the deep furrows that lined his brow, the +white that shone out here and there from his dark hair. "I _could_ have +done great things in the world: a woman made me what I am--a wreck in +every sense of the word." + +The whisky was rapidly mounting to the man's brain. Maurice's cheek was +flushed, his eyes glistened, but he recollected himself suddenly: "I am +a fool to prate about my own affairs, God knows it were best to hide +them; but, young man, you will understand it all some day." He laughed +harshly. "Lives there a man who has not suffered?" + +Arthur listened to his ravings, and as he did so the memory of +Margaret's pure life, the echo of her noble words, shone out to him +like light through the darkness of her husband's desperate words. + +At first he felt his heart swell with indignation, but he looked at +Maurice and the indignation changed to pity. "Yes," said the young man +to himself, "to believe such a woman false must be enough to kill a +man's faith in humanity." + +He rose from his seat, and stood up before the world-sated man strong +in the pure faith of his young soul. His companion had said he would +understand this some day. + +"Never!" said Arthur earnestly; "God grant that day may never come! I +know women on whose constancy and purity I would stake my life." He was +thinking of Margaret and Adèle. + +Maurice looked at him curiously. For the second time he saw that in +Arthur's face which made him think there might possibly be a meaning +under his vigorous assertions. + +"Life is not very much to stake," he said lightly--"more, no doubt, to +you than to me--but I confess I am curious." The cynical smile which +Arthur disliked was playing round his lips. "I have given you a chapter +out of my experience; return it by giving me one out of yours. I should +like to know more about those fair ladies--but perhaps they are _not_ +fair; that would make all the difference--upon whose integrity you +would be ready to stake your life." Then his voice deepened and his +brow contracted: "God knows I would have done the same once upon a +time, but that is past, with other things." + +There was silence between the two men for a few moments; then Maurice +looked across at the young face, on which a shade of weariness was +resting, with some compunction. + +"Poor fellow!" he said gently, "I have done wrong. Faith is such a +beautiful thing, and it lasts so short a time, I should have left you +yours." + +But Arthur looked up almost angrily: "You cannot surely think that _my_ +faith is weakened by anything you have said." + +Maurice smiled. "Youthful infatuation!" he muttered. "But let me hear +your story," he added aloud, "then perhaps I shall discover that unlike +mine your faith is founded on a rock." + +Arthur looked at his companion searchingly. The last words had been +carelessly spoken, for the excitement brought on by wine and whisky was +wearing Maurice out; fatigue and exhaustion were fast taking possession +of him. + +The young man read this, and he rose to his feet. + +"I cannot tell you my story to-night," he said; "it is rather long, +considering the lateness of the hour." + +"As you will, my dear fellow." Maurice's eyes were nearly closed. + +Arthur went to his own room, and when Karl appeared a few minutes +later to take his master's last commands, he had great difficulty in +persuading him of the desirability of undressing and lying down between +the sheets like a Christian. He succeeded at last, and Maurice slept +such a deep unbroken sleep as he had not known for days; but he woke +with a racking headache and a general sense of dissatisfaction. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +_A TORMENTED SPIRIT._ + + Yes, all the faithless smiles are fled + Whose falsehood left thee broken-hearted; + The glory of the moon is dead, + Night's ghosts and dreams have now departed: + Thine own soul still is true to thee, + But changed to a foul fiend through misery. + + +In the mean time, L'Estrange, in his enforced retirement, had not +forgotten to supply himself with a means of knowing everything that +went on in the house. In most places he had an agent of some kind; +where he had not his intimate knowledge of human nature made it not +difficult for him to find out the creature he needed. + +He had heard of the Austrian lady's flight. This small episode, which +in days gone by would scarcely have caused him a moment's thought, had +wrought upon his mind to such an extent that a serious relapse had been +the consequence. + +It was pretty much as the landlord had conjectured. The proud lady who +had put down her pride so woefully, trampling her own and her husband's +honor in the dust, was one of the many to whom this man had vowed +undying attachment. She had tired him, and he had abandoned her; and +from the day of their parting years before in sunny Italy to this time, +when L'Estrange and she found themselves strangely under the same roof, +they had never met. The fair Austrian had been forgotten, relegated in +his mind to the record of past absurdities, but she had never forgotten +him. + +Her life had been uneventful, lived out in a small German town, where +petty gossip is the sole excitement. She had married a man for whom +she cared little, simply because to marry had been rendered almost +necessary by the exigencies of her position. She had had no children. +What wonder, then, that her mind dwelt, ever more morbidly as the slow +years passed by, on this one warm, passionate episode in her otherwise +cold career? + +In any case, so it was. She believed that the man who had loved her +then--the man whose tender speeches rung ever in her ears--loved her +still with the same passion, and that only necessity, biting poverty +or unacknowledged ties, had forced him to leave her so cruelly. After +all, it was only a very commonplace and every-day matter. To the woman +this summer-day's love-making had been that one great epoch from which +everything past and future should thenceforward be dated--the era of +an awakening into life of feelings that had before lain dormant and +unsuspected in her being. To the man it was nothing more than one sweet +out of many--a sweet which, when it should cloy upon his fastidious +taste, could be put away without a sigh to the memory of its sweetness. + +With the idea in her mind of his continued faithfulness, the Austrian +lady had persuaded her husband to travel, only that she might search +for her lost lover through the length and breadth of Europe. But for +the greater part of two years they had been wanderers, and still +they had come upon no traces of him who had formerly seemed to be +ubiquitous. She had begun to mourn for him as the dead, when suddenly, +in this out-of-the-way corner, at this strange season, she saw his face +once more. + +It was seldom that this proud lady betrayed the emotions of her soul. +It may be that her inner consciousness of want of rectitude of purpose +had been one great agent in the formation of those barriers of steel +with which she sought to surround herself. But this time there was no +help for her. The pent-up torrent had grown in force and intensity, +until no bounds could restrain its impetuous overflow. She was a woman, +and the haggardness of the face of the man she loved, the stooping +walk, the whitened hair, spoke so powerfully to her imagination that +she could scarcely be calm. Was it for her he had been sorrowing? +And yet in that flash of recognition at the dinner-table she had +read nothing but cold indifference. She knew him to be a consummate +actor: was this, then, put on? In her hungry desire to know the whole +truth she prepared an interview for that evening; but before it her +measures had been taken. There was a person in the house--one she had +met before--who, her woman's instinct told her, would willingly lay +down his life in her service. She would take him into her counsels; +and if the presentiment which lay cold at her heart as she looked upon +the well-known face that evening should turn out to be true--if she +could never be consoled with this man's love--she would flee from the +place, leave her husband, give up her position in society and hide her +humiliation in a convent. + +And so it had all happened. What could L'Estrange say when she spoke to +him passionately of their former love, when she asked him plainly if +there remained any vestige of it in his heart? + +He thought to do what was best and wisest; he thought to kill the +madness in her soul by letting her see at once that all which had +passed between them was as though it had never been. For Laura's +unconscious influence and those struggles through which he had passed +had not been altogether in vain; L'Estrange was a better man than he +had been in almost any period of his strange, wild career. + +Deeply as he pitied the erring lady, he told her the truth--told her +that in his heart all such feelings as she would have striven to awaken +were for ever dead. It was painful to listen to her wild reproaches, +to hear that it was he who had made her life a desolation--painful, +with only the frail panels of a dividing door between them and the +pure child, to bow his head beneath the torrent of her well-deserved +anger. But it did not last long. In his dark eyes, made brilliant by +fever, in the stern lines written by trouble on his strong face, in +the determined tones of his voice, she read his resolve, and with +the coming on of darkness she fled over the snows to a hamlet in the +mountains, there to stay, under the roof of a poor herdsman, until the +first hue-and-cry should be over. Those who helped her flight were +faithful to her cause; their measures were well taken, and the drifting +of the snow obliterated all marks of footsteps. In time she reached the +distant convent, and the mystery of her disappearance was never solved. + +But into L'Estrange's soul the iron entered. At the threshold of a +new life past evil--evil irrevocable--was meeting him, and before the +irrevocable the spirit of the strong man sank. That night he would not +touch the beguiling potion. He almost hailed the bitter physical and +mental pain which this abstaining entailed. It seemed like a kind of +expiation for the follies of his life. He could not close his eyes. +Throughout the long watches of the night he paced his room, body and +soul racked with inconceivable anguish. The pain was beginning to tell +on his strong frame. + +When, early on the following morning, the little Laura went into her +friend's room, she found him stretched on the sofa pale and gaunt, like +one who has passed through a death-agony. She noticed the change at +once, and ran to his side: "Mon père is worse?" + +"Yes, Laura," he replied; then he took her small face in his hands, +and holding it there for a few moments gazed on it earnestly: "Petite +chèrie, we must lose no time." + +"In finding papa?" replied the little one seriously. "Mon père, I think +it will be soon. Last night I dreamt I saw him. Is he here, in this +house, I wonder?" + +But her friend turned away: "Little one, you are too much shut up here, +and this makes you imaginative. It is a fine day. We must ask the good +girl who waits on you to take you for a run on the crisp snow." + +The little girl clapped her hands. "Yes," she said, "it will be nice, +but mon père must have breakfast first." + +She rang the bell and proceeded to arrange everything, to have the +stove lighted, to set out the breakfast-things in their little +sitting-room, and to superintend the preparation of chocolate _à la +Française_, for Laura had become quite a little woman in her ways: +then, as she saw that her friend was still suffering, she sat by his +side and sang to him in her sweet, childish way till his eyes closed. +The little child-heart, by the outcome of its tenderness, had brought +rest to the weary brain, the pain-racked soul. + +It was nearly midday when, all radiant with color and life, Laura +returned from her ramble with the good-natured chambermaid. As she +entered the room one of the waiters left it. She found L'Estrange +dressed, and sitting in an easy-chair close by the stove, which showed +a little patch of glowing red. + +He called her to his side, and lifting her on to his knees took off her +warm cloak and hood with all the tenderness of a woman, then stroking +back her fair hair he kissed her on the brow. "Laura, petite chèrie," +he said in a low tone, as if speaking to himself rather than addressing +her, "the time has nearly come." + +She put her arms round his neck, and resting her fair head on his +shoulder looked up into his strong, pale face. "What time, mon père?" +she asked in an awed whisper. + +"When thou and I must part, fillette." + +But the child lifted her head and shook her golden curls. The clear, +bracing air, the brilliant sunshine, the glittering snow had breathed a +spirit of gladness into her heart. She could not see the necessity for +such sad forebodings. + +"Mon père," she answered eagerly, "you should not say things like that; +indeed, indeed, it's very wrong. You are going back with me to mamma, +who'll be ever so glad to see us; and my own papa is to be found: he +will thank you, mon père, for bringing me, and then we shall all be +_so_ happy together." + +For this was always the end of the child's plans. She could not +imagine anything else. Her friend smiled, and then he sighed. "Soit +donc, petite sage," he replied enigmatically, and Laura was perfectly +satisfied. + +Once or twice during that day the mysterious waiter interviewed +L'Estrange, and each time Laura was condemned to be mystified. They +spoke in a language which was a jargon to her; but she was accustomed +to mystery where this strange friend of hers was concerned. + +The waiter was keeping him _au courant_ in the most trivial details +that concerned those inhabitants of the house in whom L'Estrange was +interested. He heard of the hue-and-cry that followed the Austrian +lady, and of her husband's despair; he heard of the several arrivals, +first Maurice Grey's, and then Arthur Forrest's; he knew that they +had dined together tête-à-tête and sat a long time over their wine, +evidently in deep converse; finally, when the two men were closeted in +Maurice's room, his confidential emissary was hovering about, ready to +report the slightest extraordinary demonstration. For L'Estrange did +not credit Arthur Forrest with so much diplomacy as he had hitherto +used in his treatment of the delicate mission with which Margaret had +entrusted him, and he knew that fire lay hidden under Maurice Grey's +cold reserve. The name of his wife blundered out by a stranger, who +would appear to know the sad details of her history and his own, might +very possibly cause an explosion of some kind; indeed, during that +long evening, whose tedious hours not even Laura's gentle ministries +could beguile, the Frenchman was on the alert. From moment to moment +he expected to hear the door of the neighboring room pushed violently +open, and to understand from his well-feed observer that the young +peace-maker had been thrust out from the presence of the proud +Englishman, who would feel himself doubly injured by this interference. + +Laura did not tell her friend about the strange look which had met hers +that evening, though the child pondered it in her simple heart, trying +to find out what there was in it that had affected and fascinated her. +She would have asked L'Estrange if he thought that this man who had +looked at her with a kind of yearning in his sad face could be, indeed, +the father they were seeking; but one of his dark moods was on him, and +for the first time in all their intercourse she feared to break it. + +Since their dinner in the afternoon he had not stirred from the one +position, except when the mysterious informant had come in to report +progress, and then he had looked at him from under his shaggy eyebrows +with a glance that would have killed deceit at its very birth. At other +times he remained silent, his hands clasped over an ancient staff, on +his strong face a look of pain--but pain crushed down by indomitable +will--his lips and nostrils faintly quivering as any sound came +from outside, his eyes fixed on the small patch of glowing red that +was waning and fading out as the day passed away behind the western +mountains. + +But though Laura feared to break in upon his silence, she did not fear +him. She sat at his feet, curled up like a kitten wearied with play, +on a crimson cushion that belonged to the heavy-looking couch, trying +by the shimmering firelight to look over a book of very gaudy pictures +which the landlady, who pitied her apparent isolation, had lent her. + +Evening deepened into the early night of the season. Candles were +brought by Laura's friend, the good-natured Swiss chambermaid, and +before the little girl had succeeded in tracing a history for half of +the wonderful pictures in her book, she grew so sleepy that her friend +was moved from his abstraction to ring the bell and give her into +the care of Gretchen, after a most loving good-night and many tender +recommendations to the waiting-maid to take every care of his little +treasure. + +He did not leave his place by the fireside till his delicate ear told +him that there was nothing stirring in the house but himself. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +_PEACE, BE STILL._ + + But what time through the heart and through the brain + God hath transfixed us, we, so moved before, + Attain to a calm. Ay, shouldering weights of pain, + We anchor in deep waters, safe from shore, + And hear, submissive, o'er the stormy main + God's chartered judgments walk for evermore. + + +Was he to pass another night of racking pain, another night of restless +wandering? The little chest which held the only means by which +this question, to him so awful, could be answered in the negative, +lay at his feet; his very soul was yearning for rest. Outside, the +white mountains were sleeping, pure as angels undefiled, beneath the +moonbeams; from the next room, the door of which he had opened, came +the light sound of the child's regular breathing; in the house was +silence absolute. + +And his rest might be as absolute as any--nay, not only so, it might be +filled with sensuous pleasure, such pleasure as his brilliant youth, +that had gone by for ever, had often afforded him; it might be clothed +with images of beauty and delight. But, on the other hand, had he not +chosen suffering--suffering instead of delight--to be a soul-purifier, +to atone, if atonement might be, for some of the self-seeking of his +ruined life? + +And he could delay no longer; an act of expiation was to be wrought +which would demand all the force of his soul to carry to a successful +issue; the father of the child he loved was at hand; with all the +strong energies of his soul awake he must meet him, and make him own +that his enemy's words were the words of truth. + +Then--L'Estrange acknowledged it to himself with a sigh--the suffering +whose ravages he dreaded did not overcloud his intellect, did not +bewilder his brain, as its antidote had done; rather, like the purging +fire, it seemed to draw out and develop the greatness of the soul that +was in him. + +The strong man shivered as he turned from his only hope, and began +once again in the unhealthy activity of his heart and brain to +think and reason, to live an inner life that was gradually, by its +overpowering force, drawing away the life from his body. + +He bowed his face in his hands. Where was all this to end? he asked +himself. Was he to go down to the grave with the burden of his own +ruined life and of the lives he had ruined hanging like a millstone +about his neck, dragging him down to the nether hell, without a hope +save in the last vague dream of the infidel--an utter death, an eternal +sleep?--and this, in his very darkest moments, L'Estrange had never +brought himself to believe. + +So intense was his mental life during the first part of that night that +his physical sufferings were almost forgotten, but at last, as the +slow hours went by, pain came, twinge after twinge, that would not be +denied, and panting and exhausted, his great strength failing in the +struggle, the man threw himself down upon his bed, moaning faintly. + +A wild impatience followed. The spasms he experienced were of that +gnawing, craving kind more difficult, perhaps, than any other to be +borne. + +Not the sharp stinging which rends the frame, and then, spent by very +force, allows it to rest; but the dull, ceaseless throbbing that +nothing can stay, that gives no moment of respite to the overwrought +nerves. L'Estrange at the moment felt as if it would madden him. His +blood was coursing like liquid fire through his veins; his hands and +feet were burning; drops of agony stood on his brow. He crossed his +room suddenly, and throwing open the window leaned out into the night; +but first--for through everything this strange man did ran the tender +thoughtfulness that could only have been prompted by a fine soul--he +shut noiselessly the door of communication between his room and Laura's +lest the chill night-air should touch his darling. He looked out upon +a strange scene--the white earth, in shadow save where the moon had +touched it with an unearthly radiance; the mountains looking verily +like giants in the uncertain light, yet glistening and transparent +where the night-born light was resting; cloud-shadows, whose depth +seemed infinite as the outer darkness of despair, blotting out here +and there the transparent whiteness; behind one of the distant peaks +a pale line, faint and tremulous, that told of coming dawn; over all a +weird unreality. + +The face that looked out into the dim night was as strange as the +scene could be, though it lacked the utter stillness of the shrouded, +moonlit earth. The eyes were wild and wandering, with an impatient, +hungry look in them, as though they were searching, seeking, striving +to draw from the visible the secrets of that which no eye beholds; the +mouth quivered with the storms of feeling; the brow was contracted +by a mortal agony, and from time to time the pale lips moved as if +in pitiful appeal to some hidden power. But after a few moments of +earnest gazing some of all this passed by. It would almost have seemed +as though the influence of Nature's eternal calm had been breathed in +upon his soul through the medium of sense, or rather perhaps it was a +thought from within that swept over the tumult of the man's brain, so +that suddenly his agony was stayed. + +Was it so very strange? Long ago, in the far ages, a Man to whom +conflict and storm were known in all their fulness stood up on a dark +night and said to the angry billows and raging winds, "Peace, be +still." Was it altogether for the sake of that terror-stricken crew, +or was it not also a sublime parable? For, evermore, it is the same. +The Man, present in the midst of the soul's tumult, bids in His own +time--the best time for the stricken--that the storms which overwhelm +it shall sink to rest. + +Thus it was with L'Estrange. In the silence and solitude he was finding +the great Father, who, though we know it not, is never very far from +any one of us. "God is here" was the thought that swept over him +through the stillness of Nature, through the profound silence of the +night. He knelt before the window and stretched out his hands to the +midnight heavens. Who shall say what dreams, what possibilities, passed +in that moment through his soul? For with his errors and imperfections, +his falseness and his folly, this man was one of the mighty few, a son +of divine genius. Will they be judged by another code, I sometimes +wonder, than the common herd to whom their gigantic struggles, their +vast temptations, their agonies, their failures, must for ever be a +life unknown, a sealed-up book?--such a man as Shelley, peering in +his spirit's misery through the ages, then when nothing but the aching +void, the yawning nothing, answered his wild search, giving himself up +to the proclamation of a dark infidelity; or Byron, dying for a dream; +or Keats, breathing out his young life with the cry of a disappointed +soul? Will the misguided, distorted greatness find in the Hereafter a +better sphere? Have they, these mighty dead, even with the last breath +of a life tortured with earth's blackness, received as by inspiration +the fair beauty of undying truth into their souls? Who shall say? In +the presence of mysteries like these we can only bow our heads and pray +that so it may be. + +To L'Estrange a moment of such inspiration had come. He had prayed +before. Often during these last days, when gradually the fetters of +self-love had been falling off from his soul, he had cried out in the +darkness to the Father of spirits. But _then_ He had been a grand +abstraction; _now_, for the first time, He was near and real. + +First happiness, then vengeance, then atoning suffering and +self-abnegation, had been looked for as the life of his spirit's life. +In that hour of awful sweetness they all fell off from him. God looked +down into the man's heart; God was what, all unconsciously to itself, +that heart had been seeking, and there was a great calm. + +Sweetly the daughter of his affections had sung to him that evening +about the Crucified; to the man of the world her hymn had been an idle +tale; now all was changed. In the great stillness of God's calm upon +his heart he was able to listen more truly. + +Bowing his head, the stricken man wept as the Gospel-story in its +simple beauty surged in upon his heart. He had often reasoned about it. +Calmly and coolly he had torn to shreds the arguments which men weaker +but better than himself had brought to bear upon its truth. In this +transcendent moment reasoning was not--it could not be. + +True, in the craving need of his own heart, in the sudden, awful +revelation of his spirit's darkness, _there_ he read its truth, and +like a little child he wept before its unspeakable beauty and pathos. + +L'Estrange could never have told how long the time was that he passed +on his knees before the open window looking out upon the snow. It was +like a dream, but when he rose the white dawn was beginning to rise +over the mountains. + +The spasms had left him; he scarcely dreaded them now, for the mental +struggles that had rent his very being had merged into a great calm. +But as he shut the window and tried to cross the room his knees +trembled and he staggered strangely. + +Weakness as of a little child seemed to have come upon him, and +weariness too--a blessed weariness. He threw himself down upon the bed, +and for the time forgot all his woes in sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +_HAUNTING MEMORIES._ + + I am digging my warm heart + Till I find its coldest part; + I am digging wide and low, + Further than a spade can go, + Till that, when the pit is deep + And large enough, I there may heap + All my present pain and past. + + +It was late on the following morning when L'Estrange awoke. He felt +strangely refreshed, and wondered for the first few moments what was +this change which had come upon him. Then the remembrance of that +night's conflict and conquest returned. The calm was still in his +heart, drowning in its depths all earthly yearnings. + +But more urgently than before he felt the necessity for action. He rang +the bell, and his special attendant answered it. From him he learnt +that the child, fearful of disturbing him, had taken her morning run +with Gretchen while he slept, and that the two Englishmen had started +from the hotel with alpenstocks and knapsacks, stating that they would +probably not return that evening. From scraps of their conversation the +man had gathered that the elder of the two was desirous of showing +the younger his home among the mountains. It was therefore more than +probable that the chalet usually inhabited by Mr. Grey was their +destination. + +Mr. Grey's servant, somewhat to his own displeasure, had been left +behind at the hotel. + +To all this intelligence L'Estrange listened silently. He was +surprised, for he had not imagined Maurice Grey would have taken so +kindly to the young man who was interesting himself in his affairs; +he was disappointed, for on this very day he had determined to meet +Maurice, and now another necessary delay must intervene. But he did not +express any of his feelings to his attendant. He was accustomed to make +use of men, but to all whom he made thus useful himself, his motives +and his emotions were a sealed book. + +He rose, dressed with the help of the complaisant waiter, and went into +the hotel-garden to wait for the return of his darling, and to try, by +diligent exercise and exposure to the keen bracing air, to regain some +of his old strength. + +In the mean time, Maurice Grey and Arthur Forrest were finding their +way over the mountains to the chalet, which Arthur was curious to see. + +They were drawn together by a kind of mutual attraction that neither of +them could explain to himself. Arthur was occasionally very indignant +with Maurice's cynicism; he was almost afraid of his superior knowledge +of the world; he shrank painfully from his ready sneer, and while he +was with him lived in a constant state of agitation in his fear of +letting out anything before the time, and thus widening the breach +between husband and wife; yet he liked Maurice Grey, he admired his +fine proportions, endowed him with all kinds of knowledge and wisdom, +and was impatient of the hours that divided them. Maurice, on the other +hand, was inclined to despise this boy's rawness and simplicity, and to +despise himself for in any sense making a confidant of him, and yet he +liked him; he enjoyed his society; the bright expressive eyes of the +young man had the power of drawing him out, of making him talk about +himself and the troubles of his life. + +Perhaps the secret of this strange attraction on his side might have +been found in the young Arthur's sympathy and frank admiration, for +few men are above the pardonable weakness of liking to be admired and +sought out. + +The paths that led to Maurice's dwelling-place were tolerably steep, +and in some places the snow was soft, in others the frost made the +paths slippery; therefore during their walk Maurice and Arthur were +too much engrossed with the one necessity of keeping their footing to +find much breath for conversation. But they were both good walkers +and strong, stalwart men; therefore, although they had started +comparatively late in the morning, the sun had not dropped behind the +mountains that shut in the valley before they were seated in Maurice's +little room, a jug of whisky punch between them, and on the table the +white bread and the meat with which Maurice had taken care to provide +himself before leaving the hotel that morning. + +They found everything in first-rate order. On the previous day Marie +and her little grandchild had arrived. The stove had been kept alight +all night, according to Karl's strict orders, lest the books and +manuscripts should suffer from the damp, and the old woman had just +finished a general cleaning up when her master and his visitor arrived. + +The dinner was certainly plain, but the two Englishmen did justice to +it--Arthur perhaps appreciating it all the more for the absence of any +suspicious-looking _entrées_. + +"What do you think?" said Maurice when they both paused at last from +sheer exhaustion. "This is a very rough place; can you manage to put up +with it for a night or two? If so, I will undertake to show you some of +the finest points of view in the Alps, seeing which at this season, you +know, will render you for all the future a respectable traveller." + +Arthur laughed: "Put up with it! I should just think so. I never saw +anything so delightfully primitive. I quite envy you your little +snuggery." + +A sad smile played round Maurice's lips, it softened his face +marvellously: "I am scarcely a person to envy, and yet this had been my +dream for many a long day. I thought it would make me happy." + +There was a bitter ring, a kind of irony of self, in the last words. He +looked out meditatively over the snow. "Men are strangely constituted," +he continued sadly; "the dream and hope of to-day are the weariness +and disgust of to-morrow." He turned to his young companion: "People +will always insist upon buying their own experience at any cost, or +else I should prove to you, as a lesson that I have painfully gained, +how foolish it is to set one's heart too much on anything under the +sun. 'Light come, light go;' if we hold to our possessions lightly, the +loss of them grieves us little. I see in your eyes that my philosophy +is repugnant." + +For Arthur read all Maurice's cynicism in the light of his history. His +face flushed. "Depth of feeling is never wasted," he said earnestly; "I +ought to know that." + +Maurice had cleared away the remnants of their simple meal. They were +sitting, one on each side of the small stove, discussing some famous +cigars, a stock of which Arthur always had on hand. + +His remark made Maurice turn round to him suddenly: "That's rather +a deep doctrine for one of your age; but it reminds me you were to +tell me something to prove that Solomon, who professed, by the bye, +to understand human nature, was altogether wrong in that impolite +statement of his about women. Stop, let me see! I drank rather too much +last night; still, I don't think I am wrong." + +But Arthur turned away. His heart and courage had fallen suddenly. +It had been easy enough to think and plan, to imagine how with +heart-eloquence he would describe the woman he loved--how he could +tell of her quiet, self-denying life, of her constancy, of her undying +memory of the past--how, when his story had been triumphantly told, he +would give her name, and so dispel for ever the mist of falsehood which +had risen in dark clouds about her husband's idea of her. The moment +for all this had come, and he found that the heart-thrilling words +would not answer to his summons, that his feelings were too intense, +that the fear of failure paralyzed him. + +"Not now, not here," he said to himself, and then he rose and looked +out of the window. + +The sun was setting over the mountains, and on their summits a dark +cloud was resting, but above it and beyond in a vast circle of rays the +golden glory shone. It irradiated the pure snows till they blushed into +beauty, it lit up the heavens, it glistened from the torrents. The +whole landscape was transfigured--changed from the still fixity of the +snow-bound North into the voluptuous warmth of an Oriental dream; the +dark fir trees showed crimson stems; the reaches of billowy snow looked +warm and inviting under the golden radiance; the distant peaks glowed +and shone till to the excited fancy of the gazer they might have seemed +hewn out of fire. Arthur looked, and the narrow roof seemed to press +him down, the four walls of his friend's chalet were a prison. + +"I cannot tell it here," he said to himself; "out there under the +witness of the sky, in the presence of the pure snow-peaks, it may +perhaps be easier." + +Maurice was looking at him curiously. "I fear I have been showing +impertinent curiosity," he said lightly, "but you drew it on yourself. +Why did you interest me so strangely?" + +"I spoke impulsively," replied Arthur in the same light manner, "and, +I think, rather underrated the difficulties of what I was attempting. +For this once you must excuse me. I have a certain disinclination, for +which I really am at a loss to account, to telling my story (a very +simple one, after all) in this place. If you can preserve your interest +till to-morrow, I will promise not to disappoint you. Take me to the +point you mentioned just now, and there I will tell you as well as I +can." + +As he spoke the last words the young man's voice deepened, and +there was a certain solemnity in his manner which aroused Maurice's +curiosity; but he said nothing more on the subject, and the two men +smoked on in silence till the golden glory had passed from the earth, +and the snow lay pale once more under the gray mystery of a northern +night. Then Maurice looked at his young companion across the interval +of shadow, and saw, by the light which gleamed fitfully from the open +stove, that there was a deep thoughtfulness on his brow. + +Perhaps it was this that drew him on to speak as he did. "You have only +begun life," he said, "I have lived out mine, at least all the good +that is in it, and yet, I scarcely know how it is, I have been drawn +on to speak to you as I seldom speak to either men or women. I don't +say I have no friends. I have made many, and good ones too, in the +course of my wanderings, and I have appreciated their friendship, but +to the best of them all my life has been a sealed-up book." He paused +a little, puffing away silently, and Arthur did not speak, only the +earnestness on his face deepened as he literally trembled with hope. + +For Arthur's heart was as true as steel. He had thrown himself with a +self-denying ardor that nothing could curb into Margaret's cause. She +was still the queen of his heart, but since those first days, when her +regal beauty and apparent friendlessness had driven him nearly mad +with longing and desire, his queen had risen to a far loftier place in +his thoughts and dreams. There was something very beautiful and rare +in this unselfish devotion. Margaret _for himself_, even if he had +found that her husband was dead, Arthur never imagined for a moment; +in so far he had gained full victory over his own heart. Margaret +happy, Margaret raised to her true position, restored to her undoubted +rights, and by _his_ instrumentality,--this was the proud desire of his +soul. Therefore it was that he hung upon Maurice's words that evening, +rejoicing with trembling that so far he had been successful. + +Young and inexperienced as he was, he saw the world-weary man trusted +him. This was something gained, a step in the right direction. + +Arthur scanned his companion's face curiously during the silence that +followed his last words. It was a mobile face, though for years it had +been trained to express nothing but cynic indifference to life and its +concerns. On this special evening Maurice had given way, and emotions +for which few of his friends would have given him credit were writing +their impress on his brow. + +He got up suddenly, and crossing to the window shut out the pale snow. +"It is desolate," he said in a low tone; "it makes one shiver." Then he +lighted a small reading-lamp, that cast a warm yellow light over the +room, and sat down again. "I saw a picture once," he continued in the +same low voice, "and the snow out there makes me think of it. It was an +English scene, a bit out of a village, the church lit up from inside, +a house near it, the pleasant firelight shining from within crimson +curtains; outside, snow and desolation. There was a solitary figure +amongst it all--a woman with thin tattered clothes and haggard face in +which could be seen the remnants of beauty. She was shivering alone in +the cold and darkness, looking piteously in at the light. Some moral +was tacked on to it, for, if I remember rightly, I came across this +long ago in a book or magazine. The whole runs strangely in my mind +to-night." + +"And what was the moral?" asked Arthur. + +"An unloved life or some such sentimental rubbish." + +He tried to laugh off the impression, but Arthur, who was deeply +interested, said nothing to change the subject, and almost in spite of +himself, as it were, Maurice returned to it. + +"Strange how this haunts me!" he muttered. "'An unloved life!'--poets' +trash. Women can always console themselves, and the misery of the fair +is given rather to reclining on velvet and down than shivering out in +the snow." + +He laughed aloud, and raising his glass drained it at a draught; but +there came a sudden change over his face, his brows knit, his hands +worked convulsively. "If I had been mistaken--" he murmured, and +his head sank upon his breast. Then, as the futility of his vague +thoughts flashed over him, he raised it again. "There is no peace but +in forgetfulness," he cried, and pouring out a glass of raw spirit he +tossed it down his throat. + +There followed a few moments of silence which Arthur feared to break, +then Maurice looked across at him with a sad smile. "Young man," he +said, "it is a good thing to be happy. Misery and remorse change a +man woefully. Ah, it is wonderful," he continued, and there was a +plaintive ring in his voice--"wonderful to think how entirely they can +change us--how we become morose, dark, fretful--how we look for the +old landmarks and find them gone, vanished like a dream--how we become +absolutely others than ourselves!" + +Arthur's voice was husky as he questioned: "Remorse! what have you to +do with that?" + +"I once thought nothing. Great God!"--he lifted his gleaming eyes; in +the agony of the moment he seemed to have forgotten his companion--"we +cannot all have patience like to Thine; and I _thought_ I acted for +the best. I took away my obnoxious presence, I left her to her chosen +pleasures, I fled from my own disgrace." + +His head sank. Emotion, fatigue, strong drink had combined to unnerve +him utterly. "The face in the picture is hers," he continued in a low, +broken voice; "last night I saw her so--pale, wasted by misery, an +outcast--and I opened my arms to take her to a shelter, but she fled +from me with horror." + +Arthur was listening with an interest so deep and earnest that for +a moment he forgot his self-imposed caution. He started forward +impulsively, and gazing into the bloodshot eyes of the man who faced +him, "It was a lying dream," he cried. "She--" + +But he broke off suddenly, for Maurice looked at him in a strange, +questioning manner. He could have bitten off his tongue for its +betrayal. "I mean--I mean--" he explained falteringly, "it was a +strange dream." + +His explanation could not mend matters; the mischief was done. Maurice +was sufficiently himself to be able to detect a certain reality in +those first hasty words. He looked at Arthur with suspicion. Could it +be possible that the young man knew something of his history? The bare +idea made him hastily resume his cloak of proud reserve. + +He drew himself up, composed his face, and threw out his hands with a +yawn: "I really should crave your indulgence. Something has come over +me to-night. I feel as if I had been talking a considerable amount +of nonsense." He shook his fist at the whisky-bottle. "There's the +traitor. Then," bending his head courteously, "it is long since I +have enjoyed anything so pleasant as an evening gossip with a friend. +Really, the worst of this kind of life is the difficulty of passing +one's evening. Come! a recipe for killing the time: what do you advise?" + +"I know no means but endurance," replied Arthur, trying to speak +lightly, though his heart was full, for the earnestness had left +Maurice's face, the smile of the cynic was playing round his lips. + +Indignant and disappointed, Arthur turned away, in case his less +manageable features should betray him. The sphere of his experience was +narrow, and therefore it was that in this relapse to his indifferent +mood he failed to sympathize with Maurice. + +It is only when the world has given thrust upon thrust to the heart, +it is only when the dreary cry, "Vanity of vanities!" has written +itself in all its desolation on the spirit, that these rapid changes +from grave to gay, from deep earnestness to bitter cynicism, can be +understood; for they are the product of the world's harsh lessons, +the carrying out into practice of a creed taught by repeated +disappointments. They speak of the soul's fear of revealing itself. +Its best and its highest it would cover over with the frost-work of +frivolity and cynicism, lest the pearls of its spiritual being should +be trampled under the feet of swine. + +Too often, unhappily, the result is that the pearls are buried +irrecoverably and for ever, that the soul gains the indifference it +assumes--an undying heritage of bitterness. + +Ah! it is sad, infinitely sad, to think of a soul torn, ruined, in its +struggles with wayward fate--too sad, if there were no beyond. But if +man be weak, God is merciful. It may be that for the disappointed there +is a haven, after all, in the great Hereafter to which all humanity is +hastening. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +_TOLD AMONG THE SNOWS._ + + Oh, she was fair: her nature once all spring + And deadly beauty, like a maiden sword-- + Startlingly beautiful. I see her now! + + +That was the end of anything like confidential intercourse between +Maurice Grey and the young Arthur, so far as the evening passed in the +chalet was concerned. They were both tired, and Maurice had once more +allowed himself to take rather more strong drink than was good for him. + +It was a new fault. Hitherto, in all his dark moods, through his dreary +solitude, and, to him, almost as dreary times of gayety, he had always +respected himself so far as to refrain from drowning his sorrows in +so contemptible a way. Now, it seemed as though a crisis in his fate +had come, as though he were destined to be swept away utterly in the +numbing torrent of misery and loneliness. + +Arthur had to assist him to bed that evening, for he was almost +incapable of doing anything for himself. The young man recovered very +soon from the indignant displeasure into which Maurice's cynicism had +thrown him. He saw the weary man, overcome as much perhaps by emotion +and fatigue as by what he had taken, sink into a deep sleep, and a dim +idea of the truth dawned in upon his mind. It softened him so much +that he could scarcely keep from tears as he looked on the face of his +new friend, so fine in all its outlines, yet so evidently wasted by +care. And this was the long-sought, the earnestly-desired--Margaret's +husband, the arbiter of her destinies, the object of her changeless +love. + +Arthur felt a new love stirring in his heart; he treated his companion +with a tender reverence. + +He had some difficulty and met a few harsh words before he could +rouse Maurice so far as to half lead, half drag him, into his small +bedroom. When at last his efforts had been successful, when he saw +him resting in the death-like immobility of sleep upon the pillow, he +half trembled about the effect upon Maurice's morning mood of this +little night-episode. Would he be humiliated at the remembrance of the +weakness into which he had been betrayed, and shut up his heart still +more from his companion? + +Arthur might have spared himself the trouble of forming any conjecture +on the subject. Maurice the next morning remembered very little of his +strange revelations, and nothing whatever of the torpor that succeeded. + +"I must have been tolerably done up last night," he said lightly when +they met at the breakfast-table. "I don't really know how I got to bed. +I think I must have undressed in my sleep." + +"You seemed half asleep," said Arthur cautiously. "When we separated I +was pretty far gone myself. I dare say this strong air has something to +do with it." + +"It has the effect of champagne upon one's spirits--at least, so they +say. I feel anything but lively this morning. However, if you are +still in the same mind, we had better try what high latitudes can do +for us. Do you feel up to a good climb?" + +"Thoroughly--in the very mood for exertion." + +"Well, then, old fellow! set to work with a will, for if we intend to +sup on anything more inviting than black bread and sausages, we must +get back to the hotel this evening. That rascal Karl only half supplied +us with bread and meat." + +"I could sup on anything after a walk like yesterday's to give me an +appetite. However, Master Karl evidently intended that we should return +to-day. What a joke he is! If eyes could kill, I should certainly have +been slain yesterday when I suggested that we could dispense with +attendance." + +Maurice smiled: "Poor old Karl! Well, I believe he is one of the few a +man can trust. It is my chief reason for keeping him, for really, in +some ways, he's an immense bore. That big fellow is as frightened of +bogies as a baby. The dark weather we had sent him nearly out of his +wits. It was chiefly in consideration for his feelings that I put up at +the hotel the other day." + +"Then I ought, certainly, to be very thankful to him," said Arthur +warmly; "he will think I have made him a poor return. I suppose we +may leave our knapsacks under the care of your old woman here?" he +continued. "It's all very well to talk of their convenience and that +kind of thing; I can only say that my shoulders ached considerably +yesterday; they've not recovered yet." + +Maurice laughed: "You are a young traveller, my dear fellow; however, +I'll be merciful. Leave them here, by all means, and start this time +untrammelled. But come! Are you ready? Now, if you take my advice--and +I know something of the mountains--you should begin quietly. We can +quicken the pace when we get into the swing and get up the wind--two +very serious matters, I can assure you." + +There had been sufficient thaw to make the roads practicable, at least +to men with strong boots and leathern gaiters. Many of the steeper +paths were nothing better than watercourses. But this was a matter of +minor import to the two men. It took Arthur some time, as his friend +had predicted, to get into the swing, and they plodded on for some +miles in silence, Arthur turning over and over in his head that tale, +so oft told in the silence of his heart, of his first love, which +had come upon him like a kind of magic, awakening him to a truer +comprehension of life, a fuller appreciation of beauty--the tale which +he must tell, before many minutes should pass over, to another--to +a man unsympathetic perhaps, and hard. Once or twice he ventured to +steal a glance at Maurice. His face was inscrutable. For the moment +he was really nothing more than the quiet English gentleman, patient +and enduring, as becomes one of his race--manly in his way of meeting +difficulties, determined when it is necessary to overcome them. In +walking, more especially in climbing, there is abundant room for the +display of character, and in Switzerland a young Englishman of breeding +and degree may be known at once by his bearing. + +Their route was very lonely. It would have shocked an American +traveller, who does not care to pass over any but well-frequented +roads, where pedestrians, _chaises-à-porteur_ and heavily-laden +mules are to be met with in numbers. But with the early break-up of +the season these things had gone. Even the small sheds where light +refreshments are temptingly displayed in the summer months were +empty and deserted; the places of the men who for the small sum of +fifty centimes had been wont to awaken the echoes of the everlasting +hills, "knew them no more." Maurice and Arthur had the mountains to +themselves. They reached about midday the point of which Maurice had +spoken. He had not overpraised it. After a last little bit of climbing, +so steep that it had taken all their attention to keep a footing on the +slippery rock, they reached a kind of rocky plateau partly covered with +snow, partly patched with the emerald green which belongs peculiarly to +the Alps. Standing near a ragged pine tree, they looked up. The sky was +of a deep unruffled blue, and against it, clear as crystal, shone out +the dazzle of the snow-peaks; lower down, a glacier, rendered pure by +the late snow-falls, swept a radiant ice-river between gray, cloud-like +rocks, in whose crevices the rich soft moss had made a home; lower +still, tier above tier, rose the straight stems and green crowns of the +hardy pine; while far below, at an almost inconceivable depth, that +which could not be seen made itself felt--a torrent had been making +for its waters a way throughout the ages, and its roar and hiss rose +evermore into the daylight. + +Arthur gazed silently for a few minutes, then turned to his friend +a pale and earnest face. "Beautiful!" he said in a low, impassioned +voice. He bent his young head. "It make me think of _her_." + +Maurice smiled. He was pleased with the frank expression of enjoyment, +and in his answer there was an elder man's indulgence to the amiable +weakness of a younger: "Come! here's a forsaken shed looks as if it +had been left on purpose--faces the sunshine and sheltered from the +wind. We can sit down and rest if you like, take our brandy and water, +and eat the crusts we were provident enough to bring, for, by Jove! in +these regions, at least, a man can't live on air; then you must tell +me about this mysterious '_her_,' in whom I really begin to take an +alarming interest. Why, old fellow, what's come over you? Here, take +some brandy. You've been doing too much. One oughtn't to overdo this +kind of thing at first." + +But Arthur put away the brandy-flask with an attempt at a smile. Not +fatigue, but a sudden emotion had overcome him. Margaret's fate seemed +in his hands. It was trembling in the balance, and he felt, for the +moment, powerless by excess of feeling. + +"I will drink nothing, thank you," he said; and he sat down on a stone +bench in full view of the radiant snow-peaks. They were sheltered from +the bleak wind by one of the walls; the opening of the shed let in a +flood of sunlight. It might have been a summer's day. + +Maurice spread his overcoat on the ground and stretched himself out +luxuriously, with his face toward Arthur. "After labor, rest," he said +lightly; "but come, I am impatient; let the mystic lady appear." + +He laughed as he spoke, but there was no answering merriment in +Arthur's face. He looked away from Maurice toward the mountains. "I +wish to God she might!" he said earnestly. "If her sweet face were +here my poor words would be useless. It would tell its own tale of +long-suffering, of angelic patience, of truth, of purity. But--" he +felt, though he did not dare to look round, that the face of his +companion expressed calm philosophic wonder, that his lips were curled +into the faintest possible sneer--"I did not intend to rhapsodize. My +tale should speak for itself plain, unvarnished facts, which I defy the +falsest being that ever lived to gainsay." + +He paused, and Maurice sighed. "The young man is evidently cracked +on this point," was the burden of his thought. "I am in for a good +half hour of ecstasies. Well, I brought it on myself. Patience is the +only remedy.--Permit me," he said aloud; "this promises to be rather +exciting--I must hear it through the medium of my usual sedative." +He lit a cigar, and the blue wreaths of smoke curled up into the +sunshine, while Arthur, his task rendered all the more difficult by +his companion's nonchalance, struggled to find the truant words in +which he had thought to clothe his subject. "It is not very long since +I first met her," he said quietly, "but it seems a lifetime, for the +meeting changed me. In the light of her history I read that life has +a certain reality; in the depths of her sad eyes I saw that endurance +and self-denial are beautiful and good. It must have been early in the +month of May--yes, I remember, the Exhibition of the Royal Academy had +not long been open--I strolled in one day to amuse myself and pass an +hour or two of the afternoon. My cousin and fiancée was to have met me +there. She did not appear, and I was considerably indignant, for at +that time I believed that all womankind owed me a debt of gratitude, +simply for being and giving them the light of my countenance. You see, +women had spoiled me from my babyhood upward. But enough about myself. + +"As I was wandering about, discontented and cross, a picture took my +fancy. I sat down on the seat that faced it to examine it in detail. +There was only one other on the same bench (for it was tolerably late +and the rooms were thinning), a lady, but I paid little attention +to her, as her dress was shabby and she wore a close bonnet and +thick crape veil. It had been my habit to ogle only the well-dressed +ladies--others offended my fastidious taste; but when this stranger +fell back suddenly in a deep faint I did my duty as a gentleman (there +was no one else in the room at the moment)--I rose hastily to offer her +assistance. + +"Then for the first time I saw her face, as the bonnet and veil had +fallen back. Such a face! I wish I could describe it---its purity of +outline, its exquisite marble-like coloring, its deep sadness. She had +a quantity of golden hair: as I tried to raise her it fell down in a +perfect shower over my arm. I was paralyzed--a sudden fever possessed +me. I could have carried off the mysterious lady there and then, and +hidden her away from every eye. But do what I would I could not restore +her to consciousness, and I began to tremble. I had a kind of objection +to calling in the assistance of any passing stranger. At the critical +moment, however, like the good genius in a fairy-tale, my kind little +cousin appeared, and in a very few moments took the matter out of my +hands altogether. She was as enthusiastic as I had been, and far more +successful. In a few moments we had the pleasure of seeing our fair +lady restored, and of taking her back to her home, which turned out to +be only a miserable lodging in the gloomiest part of London. + +"If I had been in love with her in her fainting condition, I tell you +honestly that when I saw her eyes open, when I heard her voice--above +all, when I read that deep sadness in her face--I was ten times more +in love than before. But such was the influence of her gentle womanly +dignity I dared express nothing either by word or sign. She thanked us +with all the cordiality of a lady, but utterly and absolutely denied +herself to us for the future, and I could not think of disobeying. In +accepting our services she was like a queen dispensing her favors. +All I could hope was that kindly chance would favor me. For the +next few days I could think of nothing else: her face followed me +like a dream of beauty that haunts the soul. My one hope was in the +picture-galleries. As you may believe, I attended them daily, and some +days later I saw her again in the same place. This time she did not see +me. I watched her, myself unseen. Unhappily, a false counsellor was at +hand. He had traced the direction of my glance before I knew he was +near. I took his odious advice; I was weak enough to believe him. In +disobedience to her express commands I visited her at the address to +which we had taken her." + +Maurice's cigar had died down; he was listening with apparent interest. +"And you received a rebuff for your pains," he said lightly. + +Arthur flushed: "A rebuff! say rather a rebuke; and such a gentle, +womanly one that it cut me to the very soul. I felt that, _coûte que +coûte_, I must know more of her; but I could not do it in _that_ way, +you know. I was puzzled and baffled, doubtful how to act. Then came +in the gentle self-denial, the noble trustfulness of another woman +to my assistance. My cousin Adèle read my sadness, and was not long +in putting her finger on the cause. She helped me; she made herself +Margaret's friend--" + +Arthur stopped suddenly. He had let out the name, which he had intended +to bring in at the end of his tale--a grand finale. + +His sudden and evidently conscious pause gave the error significance. +In a moment Arthur saw what he had done. A tremor passed through +Maurice's frame. He turned round sharply and fixed the young man with +his stern eyes. "Why do you stop?" he said. "Go on, if your tale be +worth the telling." + +And Arthur continued falteringly: "We were able to give her some +assistance--that is, my cousin did. In her lonely and unprotected +condition she had been tortured by the persecutions of the man who, +as I afterward found out, had wrought the wrong from the effects of +which she had been suffering during those long years. To live out her +solitary life in peace, she had hidden herself in an out-of-the-way +seaside village. Her visit to London had been made for the purpose +of gaining some employment, her income proving insufficient for the +education of her only child, a daughter, whom she had brought up in +strict seclusion." + +Maurice's face was turned from Arthur, but as, almost insensibly to +himself, the young man's voice grew stern and deep, he saw that his +companion winced and cowered. It was almost as though he had received +some unlooked-for blow. + +"In London," continued Arthur, "the ruffian came upon her traces. +Mrs. Grey feared and hated him--the very sight of him was odious to +her. It was only to save her name--her husband's name, as I afterward +learnt--from public notice that she refrained at this time from calling +in the strong arm of the law. + +"To baffle him and preserve her privacy she took refuge in flight; my +cousin helped her, and from that day dated their warm friendship. She +returned then to her own home--the little village by the seaside. Adèle +knew her address. I was not taken into their confidence; I was suffered +to be useful, but I knew nothing, and yet even in that usefulness I +reckoned myself happy. + +"After this weeks passed by of which I can scarcely give an +account--weeks during which my life might have been summed up in one +short sentence--I was in love. I felt it was hopeless. My cousin, +who knew more of Mrs. Grey's history than I did, let me feel this +whenever--and it was very often--she was the topic of conversation +between us. She herself had not given me the faintest encouragement, +yet I hoped against hope. I thought, I studied, I planned, I put off my +idleness. My dream was to gain fame and distinction by my own efforts. +It was all for her. Ah!"--once more the young man was warming to his +subject--"words fail when I try to express what her influence was. +I became a different man; the memory of her goodness and beauty, of +her life of self-denial, changed me utterly. But at last the craving +to see her face again, to know more certainly that my hope was vain, +became almost too great to be borne. You see, I was young, and had not +been accustomed to this kind of thing. It preyed upon my health and +spirits. Besides all this, certain disagreeable and--as I must always +maintain--utterly unfounded rumors with regard to Mrs. Grey were flying +about." + +Again Maurice winced and shrank, but this time Arthur did not pause. + +He went on rapidly: "These things maddened me: if she had been an angel +from heaven I could not have believed more steadfastly in her truth. +I longed to make myself her champion, to gain from herself the right +to protect her. Then once more my cousin helped me. She gave me the +address I wanted, she sent me to find our friend, she told me to offer +her my services. + +"As you may imagine, it was not necessary to urge the matter. I found +my way to the seaside village. I entered the little cottage where her +quiet, lonely life had been lived out, and there I learned the secret +of her sadness. It had wrought upon her fearfully since we parted in +London. When first I saw her she was sitting in her garden; I was at +the window of her drawing-room. I thought that death was written on +her face, it was so worn and wasted, so utterly forlorn, but beautiful +still. Another trouble had come to overwhelm her: her little child, +a girl, in whom all the affection of her heart was centred, had been +stolen from her in some mysterious way." + +In his earnestness Arthur's voice grew husky: "I forgot my own desires; +all I had come to say passed away from my mind; only I threw myself +heart and soul at her feet, imploring her to use me for her service, +and"--the boy's voice sank--"she trusted me; she told me something of +her history; she let me know that she had _one_ craving, one longing +desire." + +He paused. Maurice had risen to a sitting position; his face was buried +in his hands, his great frame was convulsed. "It was--?" he asked, +fixing his eyes suddenly on his companion's face. "Speak, and at once." + +Arthur rose and stood before him. "Maurice Grey," he said, "your wife +is pure as an angel, white as the snow up there. Her one thought +through these long years has been of you. The name she teaches her +child to lisp is yours. She loves you only; her heart is single. All +she asks is this--to speak to you face to face, to see you again before +she dies. This is the quest that brought me here, for I have hunted for +you through the length and breadth of Europe--sought you as a man seeks +his enemy. It was to tell you this, to bring you a message from your +wife." + +He bowed his head: "God knows it has been done in singleness of heart. +All I wish or seek is her restoration to happiness. I have not said +half I intended. I greatly fear I am a poor pleader, but, Maurice Grey, +I call upon you to listen to me. Return to England, see your wife, +judge for yourself; you will find then that you have both been the +victims of some terrible mistake." + +He ceased, but Maurice did not answer, and once more his face was +averted. + +Arthur's heart sank. "It has been all in vain," he said to himself. +"Oh, how shall I tell Margaret?" + +Mechanically the two rose, and Maurice preceded Arthur, without a +single word passing between them, until they stood where two roads met. +There Maurice stopped and turned to his companion. "You must pardon +me," he said, "if I say very little just now; I must be alone." He +put his hand to his head. "I must think. The hotel is over there; you +cannot possibly miss the road. I must return to the chalet." He seemed +to be passing through some severe mental struggle, for he paused, then +added, "In the mean time, for your kind intention to her and to me I +thank you." + +He turned away, and in a few moments was lost to Arthur's following +gaze in the intricacies of the mountain-paths. Sadly, yet with a +certain rising of hope in his spirit, the young man went on to the +hotel. + + + + +PART V. + +THE MYSTERY SOLVED--THE WORKERS REWARDED. + + * * * * * + +CHAPTER I. + +_WAITING._ + + Look? I would rather look on thee one minute + Than paradise for a whole day--such days + As are in heaven. + + +Autumn had fallen upon the little village by the seaside where Margaret +was waiting and hoping and longing, with still no tidings, or but very +scant ones, of her lost. She and Adèle were left almost alone, for the +bleak winds and stormy seas had driven away the few visitors. It was +a very different scene from the one which Arthur had looked in upon +on that sunny August day not so many weeks before, for now the balmy +summer winds had given place to strong blustering gales; the trees, +almost bare, shivered in their nakedness; and instead of the soft, +continuous murmuring of rippling waters, there came ever and anon to +the ear the boom of waves breaking in upon the shore. It was a dreary +time. Chill mists and equinoctial gales divided the sea between them, +while the dank earth-smell of decaying leaves and dying blossoms made +the earth desolate. + +The two women in the little cottage, knit together by so strange a +tie, fought vigorously against the influence of the season, but there +were times when it was too strong for them--times when Adèle would +read danger in the stormy seas and long passionately for Arthur's safe +return--times when Margaret would fear that her hope had been vain, +that never, in all the long life that lay before her, would she see +her husband again or know the mystery of his long forgetfulness. + +Through it all Margaret and Adèle clung to one another; their mutual +friendship was a source of great comfort to both. Adèle was unlike +many others of her sex. The knowledge that Margaret was the woman +who had first called out her cousin's force of character, instead of +making her sick with jealousy, filled her soul with loving reverence +for her who had been the cause of this awakening. She never hid her +frank admiration, her untiring love and sympathy, from her companion; +and what wonder that Margaret returned her feelings, honored her as +she deserved, and reckoned her friendship the most precious thing her +years of suffering had brought her? They were different, these two who +had been thrown in so strange a manner upon one another's society--as +different in character as they were in appearance; and perhaps, strange +as it may seem, the younger of the two, who seemed little more than a +child with her flaxen hair and bright blue eyes and general fragility, +was stronger in some ways than the woman of queenly stature, of much +experience, of many woes. + +In any case, since that evening when Arthur left them the relations +between them were partially reversed, for now it was Margaret who +leaned upon Adèle for support and comfort. When her courage was about +to fail utterly; when, weary and heart-sick, she was ready to arraign +God himself for cruelty and injustice; when the long days which would +have to pass before anything certain could be known seemed so hard to +live through that she would clench her hands and pace up and down, +seeking rest and finding none,--then the younger and more inexperienced +would bring her strength, would speak with a calm assurance she was +far from feeling, would use a gentle authority in enforcing rest that +Margaret found it difficult to resist. + +"I wonder how it is, Adèle," she said one day when, after a paroxysm +of bitter weeping, the young girl had soothed her into something like +rest--"I wonder how it is that you have such power? A few moments ago +everything seemed hopeless. You tell me to hope, and my courage comes +back. What makes you so certain?" + +"I scarcely know," replied the young girl; she was silent for a few +moments, then added in a low tone, "I believe in God." + +Margaret put out her hand; it had grown thin and transparent during +these last days: "Darling, I know, but He allows wrong." + +"Not for ever," replied Adèle firmly, taking the offered hand in her +warm grasp. "Margaret, be patient--your wrong will end--the truth will +be known." + +"But if _he_ does not know it, what will be the use? And perhaps he is +dead. Ah, listen!" She raised her hands and pressed them against her +ears. + +"Only the wind, dear; but why need you mind that? October is a +stormy month, and those we love are far inland. Come! I see I must +read Arthur's last letter to convince you that the meeting has not +taken place on the stormy seas, with only a plank between them and +destruction. Confess, now, something like this was working in your +brain." + +"I _am_ very foolish--I know it." + +Adèle stooped and kissed her friend: "You are weak, darling. Remember +how patient you were with me when my strength seemed as if it would not +come. Now it is my turn to keep your courage up; you are wasting away +to skin and bone with fretting, Margaret. Have faith!" + +"In what, Adèle?" + +"In yourself--in God--in the future," replied the young girl quietly. + +She rose from her seat by Margaret's side and fetched her Bible. We +learn in very different ways. To this young girl, trained from her +babyhood to think of nothing better and higher than dress and gayety, +than self-pleasing in some form, religion had come of itself. + +Adèle had always loved to think of the something that for ever lies +beyond this world and its fleeting joys; so it was not strange that +in her hour of perplexity she should turn instinctively to this for +comfort and help. + +The afternoon of that chill October day waned, the last flickering rays +of light fled, while the young girl read softly of that beyond--the +city that hath no need of the sun, the fair land where night is not. + +"Patience," she had said. + +"I _will_ have patience," whispered Margaret, "even to the end," she +added faintly, "for the morning cometh." She paused for a few moments, +as if in enjoyment of new rest; but suddenly, as it were, the full +import of her thought broke over her: "Earth holds my treasures," she +cried passionately. "God forgive me! I _cannot_ wish to leave them yet. +Adèle, light the lamp and bring that green book from my table. An old +story is haunting me to-night. It has followed me in my strange life, +for sometimes it seems to me that I have loved the human too much. Will +you read it for me, dear?" + +She repeated some of the lines in a low tone: + + "Then breaking into tears, 'Dear God,' she cried, 'and must we see + All blissful things depart from us or e'er we go to Thee? + Ay, sooth we feel too strong in weal to need Thee on that road, + But woe being come, the soul is dumb that crieth not on God.'" + +Adèle's eyes filled with tears: "Not to-night, dear, it sounds so +dreary." + +"Yes, to-night. I feel as if the good and evil were struggling together +in my heart, and I have a certain craving to hear the old story, which +long ago, when I was an uncomprehending child, used to move me to tears: + + "'Onora! Onora! her mother is calling.'" + +Adèle said no more. She began to read the "Lay of the Brown Rosary" in +a soft low voice, that trembled often from excess of feeling. It seemed +real and possible in the tremulous half light of the little room, the +sound of boisterous winds and breaking waves running through it like a +vivid illustration of its imagery; Margaret's fair face, in its pure +delicate outline, her pale patient hands folded calmly, giving a kind +of witness to its truth. She listened with apparent calm, but once or +twice her face flushed, and now and then the tears would roll one by +one down her pale cheeks. + +Adèle read well. She knew how to put the true spirit of the scene +into the words that represented them. She came to the third part, the +spirits of good round the maiden's bed: + + "How hath she sinned? + In bartering love, + God's love, for man's," + +when she was suddenly interrupted. + +Margaret had started up, her eyes and cheeks on flame, "There are steps +outside. Adèle! Adèle! go and see." + +Adèle went to the window, while Margaret shaded the lamp. "A man +standing outside," she said, "hunting for the latch of the gate. Be +calm, dear; it's only the postman. He promised to come if there should +be any letter to-night. He's very good not to have forgotten. And such +a night, too! Poor old fellow! I must tell Martha to give him supper." + +"But the letter! the letter!" said Margaret, sinking back upon her +pillow. The flush of excitement had died out from her cheeks, leaving +them deadly pale. + +Adèle forgot the letter and the postman. She rushed to her friend's +side. + +"I thought _he_ had come back," said Margaret faintly. "Don't look so +frightened, dear; this is nothing," but she moaned as if in pain, "O +God! if this is to last much longer I _cannot, cannot_ bear it!" + +Adèle stooped to raise her friend, and her warm clasping arms spoke +boundless love and sympathy: "Be of good courage, Margaret; perhaps +this is to say that they are near." + +But the young girl's heart sank. What if, after all, their sacrifices +and suffering should be in vain? for Margaret was visibly sinking. + +It sometimes happens so. The brave heart that has borne unflinchingly +a weary weight of woe fails suddenly when hope--but hope that must be +waited for--succeeds. And Margaret had been tried almost past endurance +by her life of solitude. A glass of water revived her for the moment. +She did not faint, and in the interval Martha brought up three letters. +Two were from Arthur, the other from Mr. Robinson, who was still +acting, or professing to act, as Margaret's legal adviser. + +This was set aside for after-perusal. They did not reckon very much +upon his zeal and earnestness. But Margaret's letter from Arthur was +eagerly seized, almost too eagerly, for when she had opened it the +words swam before her eyes; she found it impossible to decipher it. + +"Read it, Adèle," she said; "my eyes are dim this evening." + +It was the letter that had been written in Moscow--the letter that had +begun so joyfully, that had ended in a cloud. Arthur had not let them +know in his letter the reason for the sudden discouragement, but the +two women read it and their hearts sank. + +They had received one letter before this. It had told of the meeting +with Laura in Paris. In it, too, Arthur had announced, with all the +sanguine assurance of youth, that the next letter, to be written in +Moscow, would certainly bring positive news. He could see no reason +for doubting this. The second letter had met with certain delays _en +route_, and the very length of the interval had in her most courageous +moods filled Margaret with hope. + +When, therefore, the long looked-for letter came, and heralded nothing +but another endless journey, another weary search, her heart sank, her +courage failed suddenly. + +She turned her face to the wall and wept. "I shall never live to see +it," she moaned. + +Adèle was bewildered; she scarcely knew how to comfort her friend, for +her own heart was sad. This unfolding of another weary age of suspense +and delay had disappointed her bitterly. In her despair she turned to +the lawyer's letter. It might possibly promise hope from another source. + +She read it hastily, then, stooping over her friend, "Listen, Margaret +dear; you must be brave and not give way. Mr. Robinson is to be here +to-morrow; perhaps he may bring news about Laura." + +But the mother shook her head: "No, no; my little one is lost--lost! +Child, I tell you, God is punishing me. I have sinned." + +"Margaret, be calm. How have you sinned?" + +But the young girl trembled as she spoke, there was so intense a +sadness in Margaret's face. + +She raised her head from the pillow, and throwing back the long waves +of yellow hair from her face and eyes looked wildly at her companion. +And then she laughed--a low hollow laugh that made Adèle shiver. + +"In bartering love, God's love, for man's!" she cried, and leaped from +the bed, for the madness of fever was on her. "And what is worse, +I do it still," she cried. "Yes, I would barter my soul--my soul, +do you hear?--only to see him once"--from a shriek her voice sank +into plaintive wailing--"to feel his hand upon my hair as in the old +days--to hear him call me love, wife. Oh, Maurice, Maurice!" + +Adèle was frightened, but she would not call for assistance. Her tears +falling fast, she threw her arms round her friend and tried by gentle +force to make her lie down again. + +But at first Margaret resisted. "Let me alone," she cried; "none of +them understand, for men cannot love like women. I must go myself and +tell him or he will never know. _He_ might have done wrong--_I_ should +have loved him still. Dear, I could never have left _you_ for these +long years without a word, a sign; and what had I done?" Her voice +sank, she fell back on the bed. "It was God's will. I loved him more +than Heaven--more than goodness." + +The paroxysm had exhausted her. Adèle covered her feet with a shawl. +Margaret closed her eyes and fell into a troubled sleep, which lasted +about half an hour. When she awoke the room was in darkness, only the +white moonlight streamed in under the raised blind, and there was the +sound of bitter weeping by her bed. She put out her hand: "Adèle, are +you there? What is it, dear?" + +"I thought you were fast asleep;" and the young girl choked back her +sobs courageously. + +"But what has happened, Adèle? what makes you cry like this?" + +"Don't ask me, please, but try to sleep again." + +"Child, you must think me very selfish. Was it on my account you were +crying? I think I must have said some strange things before I went to +sleep, but I forget what they were--indeed, I sometimes fear my brain +is giving way. But, Adèle dear, I can't allow you to grieve for me in +this way. Perhaps it was something else. Tell me. Come, I intend to +know." + +She drew one of Adèle's cold little hands from her face and held it +lovingly, then the young girl told out her trouble in a few simple +words. + +Her religion was the growth of her loving heart; she had no particular +doctrines, for so-called theology always seemed to her too hard to be +understood, but she believed, in the full simplicity and truth of her +young soul, what many religionists by their harsh doctrine practically +deny--that God, the Father of spirits, is a merciful God, "tender, +compassionate, boundless in loving-kindness and truth." She wept that +night because the friend whom she loved so deeply would not take to her +soul the comfort of the truth that God loved her. + +It had come over Adèle's sympathetic heart that evening like a kind +of agony that the loving God is for ever, through the long ages, +misunderstood and denied--that while He is calling in His tenderest +tones to the stricken, they will look to any comfort rather than His +for help in their trouble. "God is angry with them--God is punishing +them," when in reality "God is with them--God is loving them." She told +it all to Margaret in a voice often broken with tears, and her earnest +conviction gave a certain reality to her words. + +Margaret's sore heart was soothed. "It may be," she said. "God grant +it! Dear, I was beginning to feel Him near, but now the earthly things, +the longings of youth, have come back with this delayed hope. They +stand between my soul and God; I must long for them more than I long +for Him." + +"And who told you He would be angry, Margaret? Could He wish you to do +what is contrary to nature? He gave you these earthly desires, this +longing, this love. I sometimes think"--the young girl's voice sank, +she bowed her head reverently--"that Christ became a man for this, +not only that _He_ might understand us, but that we might know He +understands. It is such a good thing; it helps us to bear." + +Margaret smiled: "I think it will come. I am better already; but, dear, +where did you learn all this wisdom?" + +There was a knock at the door which prevented an answer. The landlady's +little nephew was standing in the passage, a few choice flowers in his +small hands. He wanted to say good-night to Mrs. Grey, and his auntie +had sent her some flowers. + +It was the best possible diversion. The child's blue eyes smiled up +into those of the weary woman, and they brought her pleasant memories. +She took the child up on the bed kissed him tenderly and listened to +his infant prattle. + +Then when the landlady appeared, quiet and respectful, but allowing +her honest sympathy to be seen, to ask whether the little boy were +troublesome and to say that it was his bed-time, Margaret turned to her +comforter with something like hope in her face. "Child," she said, "you +are right; God is merciful. I will trust Him." + +They slept together that night, for Margaret's nerves were unstrung, +she could not bear to be left alone; but both of them slept calmly, and +a peace, verily Heaven-born, brooded over the small company of women in +their temporary home within the circle of the sea-sounds. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +_THE LAWYER GAINS HIS POINT._ + + With lips depressed as he were meek, + Himself unto himself he sold: + Upon himself himself did feed-- + Quiet, dispassionate and cold. + + +Mr. Robinson in the mean time had not been idle. He could certainly +never have presented so unsullied a front before the world if he had +ever been idle where his own interests were concerned. During those +weeks, while L'Estrange and Margaret's child had been wandering--while +Arthur had been throwing himself into the task of unravelling the +mystery that surrounded Maurice Grey and his desertion--while Margaret, +sick at heart, had been waiting and watching--he had been putting all +his energy into the task of winding up her affairs in such a way as to +make it appear that in their management he had been guilty of nothing +but a little pardonable imprudence. He had been obliged to sacrifice +some of his own interests in the process, but this was a matter of very +small moment. + +Mr. Robinson was careful, even as regarded trivial sums, but he was too +clever a man of the world not to know the impolicy of the "penny-wise, +pound-foolish system." A small sacrifice that would have the effect of +impressing the world with his upright character would, he knew, bring +in returns fully commensurate to the outlay. He did not, therefore, +hesitate to pay up, out of his own pocket, as he magnanimously put +it to some highly-impressionable lady clients, that amount of Mrs. +Grey's capital which had been lent on insufficient security to the +bankrupt trader; but (and this he did not tell the ladies) for the +whole transaction he made both sides pay heavily. The man of business +was kept under the lawyer's thumb for further use, and Mrs. Grey, out +of the capital sum, had to pay not only the expenses, which were heavy, +but also certain sundries, including various advances of twenty pounds +at a time for maintenance, setting on foot of a search for Mr. Grey and +his daughter, letters innumerable, railway journeys and interviews. +Mrs. Grey had even the pleasure of defraying the expenses of a trip +to Paris taken by her lawyer at the moderate charge of five guineas a +day, for the purpose of personally investigating the city with a view +to the recovery of Mrs. Grey's daughter. That she had not been met +with, either in the Bois de Boulogne or on the Boulevards, was not Mr. +Robinson's fault. He carefully frequented both. "Honesty is the best +policy." One of the ladies to whom Mr. Robinson mentioned this matter +quite incidentally (it illustrated aptly some of her own affairs) put +his name down instantly in her will for one thousand pounds; another +reported the story to a lately-widowed friend, who at once appointed +this upright man her solicitor and confidential adviser. Mr. Robinson +held his head higher, and at the next cottage-meeting he attended gave +out for the text, "Godliness hath the promise of this life and of that +which is to come"--a fact, he proceeded to say, which was strangely +borne out by his own late experiences. But this was incidental, a +providential side-wind. The real object of his attention at this time +was to get rid altogether of Mrs. Grey's affairs, which, as she had +the power in her hands of appointing another trustee, he knew it was +possible to do. He was anxious, therefore, to press the matter forward, +that he might gain her signature acknowledging full satisfaction with +his proceedings before any sharper eyes than hers could look into the +business and so a contrary advice be given. + +It was to accomplish this purpose that Mr. Robinson had planned an +interview for the day succeeding that on which Arthur's letter had +been received. That morning Margaret was better. The first paroxysm +of disappointment had passed. Adèle's words of gentle wisdom had made +her almost ashamed of her own impatience. Better than all, perhaps, it +was a fine, clear October day. The sun was shining; the bare trees, +waving gracefully in the breeze, wrote their delicate tracery against +the clear blue sky, the sea had fallen to partial rest. Margaret's +excitement had exhausted her. She slept late. When she awoke the sun +was high in the heavens. Adèle had long left her side, but before she +could look round inquiringly the young girl had opened the door gently +and was creeping in to see if her friend were awake. + +"Come in, Adèle," said Margaret. "Why, it must be late. How is it that +you allowed me to sleep so long?" + +"I knew it would do you good, and I was right; you look better already. +Now, what do you intend to do? Mr. Robinson, you know, is to be here. +Do you feel able to see him, or shall I do it for you?" + +"No, no, Adèle. You are spoiling me. I must exert myself." + +But in spite of her brave words Margaret felt very weak. It was only +with old Martha's assistance that she could manage to make herself at +all presentable. + +The old woman shook her head once or twice as the task of dressing +proceeded. "It was pitiable," as she afterward remarked to Jane, "to +see a body fallen away like that. Bless the poor soul!" she continued, +wiping her eyes, "if they don't find and bring back her folks pretty +soon, it's precious little of her'll be left, what with fretting and +one thing and another." + +In these days Margaret would always be dressed with care. She had +a kind of feeling that her husband might return suddenly, and she +wished him to see her at her best. She had left off the black which +she had worn during her widowhood, and had returned to the pretty +morning-dresses, the soft flowing draperies that in the old days +Maurice had loved. + +On this morning Adèle thought she had never seen her friend look so +fair. Her dress was of gray cashmere. It fitted closely to her slight +form and flowed round her in ample folds. Her hair, gathered up at the +back into thick coils, rippled off in waves of shimmering gold from +her brow, so that the pure outlines of her face were clearly marked. +It was held back by a broad band of blue ribbon, over which fell +lappets of choice lace. Her face seemed perfectly transparent, it was +so delicately fair; and the absence of color, the brightness fever had +given to her eyes, the general fragility of her appearance, made her +look many years younger than she really was. + +When the tedious business of dressing was over she went into the little +sitting-room, and standing with her hands resting on the back of a +chair for support, looked earnestly into the mirror that hung over the +fireplace. + +"Adèle," she said, "I am changed. There are lines in my face, there are +dark shadows under my eyes. I am a poor, pale, colorless thing. If he +were to come back now, what would he say?" + +"That you are more beautiful than ever," replied the young girl +impulsively, looking at her friend with the enthusiastic admiration +that belonged to her susceptible nature and her eighteen years. +"Margaret, how can you say such things?" + +But Margaret did not answer. She still looked meditatively at the +mirror: "_If_ he cannot love me, _if_ he have not loved me for these +long years, I would almost rather he did not come at all. It would be +dreadful to meet his indifference. Adèle, duty might bring him." + +"And if it did, Margaret, something else would keep him." + +"But it is such a long time! He may have forgotten. He may have--" +"formed other ties," she was about to add, but she checked herself +suddenly. "I am talking nonsense," she said hastily, "I must find +something to do." + +She got her work. It was a child's frock, of the same delicate material +and color as that she wore. + +"Maurice's favorite color," she said. "I want to have it ready for +Laura when she comes back. It will go well with her golden curls, and +she wants something new. Dear little one! I wonder has she forgotten +me? I scarcely think so." + +Adèle walked to the window to hide her tears. In the vague uncertainty, +in the view of possible disappointment, there was something more +pathetic in this mood of Margaret's than in that of the preceding +night. She was just in time to meet Mr. Robinson's cold eyes. He +had found the garden-gate open, and was walking up the narrow +grass-bordered path. + +One of the windows of the parlor where they were sitting opened on to +the garden; the lawyer bowed politely when he saw the young lady, and +with his usual obtuseness cut short the ceremony of ringing and gaining +admittance in the usual way, by crossing the greensward and tapping in +his peculiarly lively manner at the window. + +Adèle turned round suddenly to prepare her friend for this summary +entrance and to recover her own inclination for tears. Margaret's +face reassured her. For the first time since Arthur had gone and the +fever of hope-deferred had taken possession of her, Margaret looked +really happy; her fingers, almost transparent, were flying backward and +forward with the busy needle; she was looking down upon her work, which +began to assume the appearance of a child's frock, with a smile. In her +whole attitude there was rest. + +The woman's work had taken its effect upon her mind. To be working for +her lost darling made her recovery and return seem real and near to +her. It brought back the quiet days when the child had been her one +comfort and joy. + +"Mr. Robinson is here," said Adèle, crossing the room. Margaret looked +up, and met a frank smile from the outside of the still closed window. +She rose, threw up the sash, and the lawyer entered, hat in hand. + +"Good-morning, ladies," he said cordially. "I was beginning to fear, +from the stern appearance of our young friend here, that I was to be +left out in the cold. Ha! ha! not a pleasant position on a frosty +day. Mrs. Grey, you look thin; not fretting, I hope, though indeed I +can scarcely wonder. The absurd way in which your affairs are being +conducted is really enough to worry you." + +At this point Adèle looked indignant and Margaret tried to protest. +But the lawyer waved his hand: "One moment, Mrs. Grey; I wish to make +no reflections. As I stated before, in my interview with Mr. Forrest +(he took up no less than two hours of my time on a very busy day; this +is the sole grudge I bear him);" the lawyer showed his teeth--"as I +stated before, Mrs. Grey, I wash my hands altogether of this part of +the business. I did my best; my poor services were rejected wholesale, +I may say. As a Christian I forgive; yes indeed, what I have come to +tell you of my after-conduct will prove that I bear no malice. But it +hit me hard--hit me hard." + +He touched the region of the body where the centre of feeling is always +supposed to reside, and looked sentimental. + +"Pray sit down, Mr. Robinson. I am sorry your feelings were hurt in +any way," said Margaret with gentle dignity; "and I know quite well +that my kind friend, Mr. Forrest, is apt to be a little impulsive. Let +me assure you that I am not ungrateful for the various services you +have rendered me." Poor Margaret! she was thinking, with a kind of +compunction, about that interview in London and the sundry advances for +maintenance which had been a great boon to her at the time. "His heart +is kind," she said to herself; "we may have judged him harshly." Then +to him: "I must honestly confess that I was inclined to blame you for +lukewarmness in the last matter I confided to you: I mean the search +for my husband and child." + +"Lukewarmness, Mrs. Grey!" Mr. Robinson lifted his hands in a kind +of holy horror; and surely it was a superabundance of honesty that +shone out from his eyes. "You really astonish me. In fact I am at a +loss to understand you at all. Let me pass the facts of the case in +review"--his voice grew stern--"perhaps then the blame will rest upon +the right shoulders. If I remember rightly--Be so good as to correct +any misstatements; I like to be accurate, but naturally my mind is so +full of other matters. Well, as I was saying, you consulted me--in this +very room, I think. I promised to do my best, letting you know results. +Thereupon you placed in my care certain trinkets. I took them simply +because I thought them safer in my strong box than here with you in +this lonely place. As to making any use of them, why, Mrs. Grey, facts +prove the contrary. Mr. Forrest had only to demand them on your part. +Without hesitation I restored them intact. To proceed: as soon as I +return (remember, I have not the faintest clue), I consult a detective, +put him, as far as possible, on the track, and, further, demand +an interview with Mr. Grey's solicitor--perfectly unsatisfactory, +professes to know nothing. I take various other measures--needless +to enter into detail. The principles of what one may call the +private-inquiry business are not easy to explain, especially to ladies. +I think I obtain a clue, but is it for me to torture you with half +revelations? I wait for a little more certainty, and in the interval +in dashes Mr. Forrest, states that you have given over these matters +into his hands, that your confidence is shaken, that affairs would be +strictly looked into." + +Here Mr. Robinson made a dramatic pause and looked sternly at his +repentant client. "Mrs. Grey," he continued, "do you know what was my +impulse at that moment? Your affairs, as you are well aware, are--or +I should say _were_--in a complicated condition. I felt inclined +to take no more trouble, to let your new friends have the burden +and responsibility; but"--he lifted his eyes sanctimoniously to the +ceiling--"I do nothing upon impulse. Further consideration showed +me that to act in so hasty a manner would be unworthy of myself, +inconsistent with my character as a Christian man. I _wish_ to 'adorn +my profession in all things.' Whether in this I am successful or no is +not for me to say." + +Through all her penitence Margaret was growing impatient of this long +harangue, and Adèle's face showed that she, at least, would not hear it +much longer. + +Mrs. Grey broke the little interlude short: "And pray, Mr. Robinson, +what did you do?" + +"Set to work immediately to disentangle your affairs. But, mind you, +a man may go to a _certain_ length; self-respect forbids him to go +further. What I said to myself was this: I am distrusted, I must resign +my position." + +Margaret was about to interrupt him. + +"Allow me. Before you answer, I must give my reasons, both from my side +of the question and from yours, for the advisability of the step which +I may say is irrevocably determined in my own mind. We shall take +the reasons from your point of view first. Mr. Forrest has your full +confidence. You acknowledge so far as this?" Margaret bowed. "You took +measures with him totally unknown to me--a breach of confidence--but +this I should have been content to waive. Ladies are naturally +impulsive. To proceed with our reasons. Mr. Forrest distrusts and +dislikes me--impossible to say why. He is a worldling. It may be that a +few words of warning and exhortation which I felt it my bounden duty to +give him on the occasion of our last meeting have something to do with +it. It is a matter of small import, except in so far as it concerns +you. Mr. Forrest has inspired you with distrust; he will do so further; +possibly your husband also, for I hear he has succeeded in finding out +something through Mr. Edwards. But of this you doubtless know more +than I. Under such circumstances it will be far wiser for you to allow +me at once to give up the management of your affairs. My reasons for +desiring it are many of them personal. I will not enter into them, as +I fear I have tired you already. If you like I can proceed to open out +my accounts and give a rapid sketch of my proceedings, that you may +sign this document with your eyes open. Your friend looks dissatisfied; +I know ladies often object to signing. Let me reassure her: this is +nothing but a deed of release, to pave the way for transfer papers +which are now being prepared." + +"You are quite right to withdraw, Mr. Robinson," replied Margaret +with dignity, "if you feel as you do, but in the mean time, until my +husband's return--" + +The lawyer looked at her curiously. Then he was only just in time. +Certain news had arrived. + +Margaret's face expressed nothing. "--Who," she continued, "will manage +my affairs?" + +"It is on this very matter that I desired to consult you." + +"Would it not be better to wait?" + +"For the actual conclusion of the business?--yes, if you see fit. We +could even have the papers ready, leaving the names a blank, until such +time as you can consult your friends. Still, I must beg you to conclude +the business that has brought me here to-day. I am anxious, without +delay, to pay into your account at the bank the sum which has been +matter of question between us--deducting from it, of course, as was +previously arranged, the few trivial sums forwarded, the expenses of +search and the inevitable legal charges. Of these I have brought you a +full account, and shall be much obliged by your looking over it." + +Margaret sighed: "I make no doubt it is all as it should be, Mr. +Robinson." + +She opened it listlessly, and the long rows of figures swam before her +eyes. + +"I should not have ventured to bring it had it not been so, Mrs. +Grey. Still, it would be satisfactory. You will observe that I have +myself paid up the sum so unfortunately invested. It may be I shall +be reimbursed out of the debtor's property--it may be not; this I am +content to leave. You will also observe that out of the capital sum I +have deducted the total of this account. All is clearly stated in this +document, which I am anxious for you to sign." + +Adèle, while the lawyer was stating his views, had been listening and +observing. At the moment when he brought his last harangue to a climax, +Margaret was sitting at her writing-table. The account lay open at her +side. The deed of release, fairly copied on parchment, was under her +hand. She felt too utterly indifferent to all these business-matters to +be able to question anything that was told her. All she desired was the +cessation of this wearisome importunity. She dipped her pen in the ink. +Adèle saw how it was with her. Her younger, stronger spirit recoiled +from the oppression. She leaned forward suddenly and drew the pen from +her friend's hand: + +"Margaret, take my advice--sign nothing." + +Margaret smiled, and then she sighed wearily. In this matter she would +have preferred taking her own way, but she gave in. + +"Impulsive child!" she said, a slight tone of irritation in her voice; +then, turning to the lawyer, "Perhaps, Mr. Robinson, even for form's +sake it will be wiser for me to try and make out what all this means. +But for the moment I feel slightly bewildered. You must allow me to +think over it. You are staying at the hotel, I suppose? If you will +give us the pleasure of your company to lunch we can further discuss +this in the afternoon." + +The lawyer rose. Margaret's invitation was a dismissal. He was obliged +to submit to the delay, although it was a matter of great importance +to him that the business which had brought him to Middlethorpe should +be settled at once; but Adèle's sharp eyes, rendered far-seeing by +love and anxiety, were watching him narrowly, and he would show no +sign of anxiety. "Take your own time, my dear Mrs. Grey," he replied +benignantly. "You must have seen and understood all along that my +special object in my business dealings with ladies is to persuade them +to do everything intelligently--comprehending, that is to say, the +why and the wherefore of the step they are advised to take. I find +some _too_ ready. They throw themselves entirely on their lawyer's +superior knowledge, increasing, of course, our responsibility, and this +I deprecate. Others"--he looked across at Margaret with his charming +smile--"are inclined to be too timorous. They take fright at the sight +of parchment, and when asked to sign imagine they are being defrauded +of some right. Your position, Mrs. Grey, is the wisest--indeed I +may say the most satisfactory to one's self, for when, by repeated +explanations, I have made all this perfectly clear to your mind, my +position will be the more tenable. Then if in the future subject of +discussion should arise--which, understand me, I do not apprehend--I +shall be able to call upon you and our young friend here as witnesses +to the truth of what I assert--namely, that you did everything with +your eyes open." + +The lawyer bowed himself out of the room. This time he had struck the +right chord. To Margaret, in her state of bewilderment, the "repeated +explanations" sounded like a kind of threat. Her thoughts and hopes +were all engrossed, given to the one absorbing subject, and this forced +attention to foreign matters was very irksome. + +"If Maurice come back," she said to herself, "he will manage everything +for me. If not"--and at the bare supposition all her life and energy +seemed to pass, leaving her cold and spiritless--"if not, what does +anything matter?" + +She turned to the table. Mr. Robinson, it should be observed, had +pocketed the papers. He had not thought it well, probably, that the +ladies should examine them without the commentary of his instructive +explanations. Mr. Robinson professed to think little of the female +intellect, probably because, as a general rule, he found ladies +gullible. + +Not finding the papers, Margaret arose and walked to the window. + +"Adèle, my dear," she said after a few moments' pause, "I _must_ sign +this." In her voice were the querulous tones of weakness. "That man's +explanations will send me wild. Can you give me any solid reason for +objecting?" + +"Only, that he has no right, in the present state of affairs, to ask +you to sign anything. It all sounds plausible enough, but _I_ think +that if the man were really honest he would wait for this 'winding up,' +as he calls it, until your husband's return." + +"You see he wishes to pay over this sum, whatever it may be, at once," +returned Margaret. She was inclined to take the lawyer's part. "I +really think the man is honest, and certainly until just lately he has +been a very kind friend to me--a friend in need." + +"But why does he come in this sneaking way," persisted the young girl, +"to make you write that you are satisfied with him? I may be wrong, +but it seems to me that he only wants to stop your mouth and prevent +accounts from being looked into by your friends." + +"My dear child, are you not a _little_ unjust? Confess, now, that +Arthur prejudiced you. Mr. Robinson's vulgarity is, I know, quite +enough to account for your cousin's dislike, and some of the things he +did had a bad appearance; still, that need not make us all put him down +as dishonest." + +"But, Margaret, what can be his motive?" + +"How can I tell?" Again Margaret's voice sounded querulous. She said +nothing more for some time, and Adèle forbore to press the subject; she +feared that already she had gone too far. It was Margaret who opened +it again, for her mind had been working. "Allowing," she said, almost +apologetically, "that this signature is unnecessary, I think I may +as well oblige Mr. Robinson, if only in acknowledgment of his former +kindness." + +"Kindness!" The young girl shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly, +but all further discussion was stopped by the return of Mr. Robinson +and the appearance of lunch. During the meal the lawyer made himself, +as he thought, perfectly charming, but after it was over he returned to +the attack. + +Margaret, as it will be seen, was predisposed in favor of what he +desired; Adèle had done her best to prevent it, but in vain. The wily +man gained his point. Margaret signed the deed with full knowledge of +its contents. Mr. Robinson was protected, and his mind was once more at +rest. + +It was thus with him always. His escapes were wonderful. As at this +point his connection with Margaret's history ended altogether, +for that cooked-up account and the transactions which led to its +concoction continued to be a sealed book, it may be as well, perhaps, +to let him once for all disappear from our pages. He is practicing +still, and it is more than probable that the Robinson name, on whose +lustre he prides himself, has never been dimmed by action of his, +although among solicitors of a higher class he has the name of being +a sharp practitioner. He may be known by his frank address, his manly +appearance, his deep and outspoken conviction of the necessity of not +living for this world alone. He has been an actor in the play so long +that at last he has almost come to believe he is what he makes so loud +a profession of being. + +Let him go on his way rejoicing. If other and more really honest people +understood, as he does, the grand art of taking care of themselves, +there would be less misery in the world. It may be, however, that it +would be a doubtful advantage. + +The poetry of chivalry and romance has died out in a great measure +from our "Merrie Land," but woe worth the day when selfishness becomes +the rule, and what Mr. Robinson would term "stupid Quixoterie" the +exception! + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +_THREATENED SEPARATION._ + + The rainbow dies in heaven, and not on earth; + But love can never die: from world to world, + Up the high wheel of heaven, it lives for aye. + + +Adèle was in despair. By that evening's post a letter had arrived from +her mother. Mrs. Churchill was on her way to Scarborough, and her niece +was travelling with her. They were sleeping at York that night. On the +following day they would call for Adèle at Middlethorpe, and take her +on with them. Again and again the date of her return to her mother's +care had been deferred, in obedience to her wishes repeatedly and +earnestly expressed. + +Mrs. Churchill, always indulgent to what she looked upon as Adèle's +whims, had in consequence spent the month of September in Brighton, but +her forbearance would extend no further. It was high time, she thought, +that her daughter's absurd seclusion should come to an end. Her letter +was written in a very decided manner. She wished to leave no loophole +for excuse or further delay. + +It seemed to Adèle that the announcement had come just at the wrong +time. In the long, heart-sickening anxiety of suspense, Margaret's +strength was failing, and the young girl knew she was her chief comfort +and help. She trembled to think how the much-tried endurance of her +friend might fail if she were thrown suddenly on her own resources. + +And Margaret had been given into her care by Arthur. The patient +fulfilling of her task was a pledge of her love. It was not a hard +task, for Adèle's affection, which had partaken of the fervid nature +of passion in the admiration of her young heart for Margaret's beauty, +in the pity which had arisen on that first day of their meeting at the +sight of her distress, had taken perhaps a calmer tone during these +weeks of close intimacy, but withal a much deeper and firmer root. + +Adèle loved her friend so truly that she would willingly have +sacrificed any happiness of her own for her good, and the idea of +leaving her, of returning to the old rounds of tedious gayety, of +knowing that in her absence the strong, brave heart was failing, the +weakened spirit was giving way, even when the end might be very near, +made her heart ache and throb. + +She would not tell Margaret that night, for the business and discussion +of the day had wearied her, but there was an almost unusual tenderness +in her manner, which Margaret attributed to her fear of having unduly +urged the non-signature of Mr. Robinson's papers. + +Old Martha was ready at her post to help Margaret to bed. Adèle sent +her away peremptorily. "No one shall touch you to-night but me," she +said, stooping over the arm-chair in which Margaret was sitting, and +loosening her hair with gentle fingers; then, as Margaret smilingly +protested, "Just for this once," she pleaded; and her friend did not +see, for the long, blinding tresses, that slow tears were falling one +by one from the young girl's eyes. + +There was exceeding comfort in the passing to and fro of those busy +fingers, for their every touch spoke eloquently of love. This it was +that Margaret felt. Once she caught one of the busy hands and pressed +it to her lips. + +"What should I do without you, Adèle?" she said softly. "Little one, +I begin to fear I am loving you too much. My loves are unfortunate. +It is the old story of the fair gazelle. Scold me well; I deserve it +for my sentimental folly; still, the feeling is here--I can't get rid +of it." + +Adèle had to choke back her tears before she could answer. When she +did her voice was slightly husky: "I don't think loves can ever be +unfortunate--quite altogether, I mean--for you know to lose for a time +is not to lose for always, and where there is love, real true love, +there must be lasting." She paused for a moment, as if in earnest +struggle to express herself worthily, and then her voice grew more +earnest and her eyes seemed to deepen: "It is charity--love--that +abideth--the only earthly feeling we can never do without." + +She had finished brushing and combing Margaret's long hair; she was +sitting on a stool at her feet gazing into the fire. + +"Adèle," said Margaret, "you are wiser than I, or perhaps there's +something altogether wrong about me. I cannot take the comfort you do +out of these generalities. Child, child," her voice grew intensely +earnest, "it is not this beautiful something, this 'charity which +abideth,' that I want; it is my personal loves--my husband, my child." + +The young girl looked up into her eyes; she answered with the calm +assurance of faith: "Margaret, be calm: you shall have them. But do you +know I never look upon all these things as generalities; if love is to +last, our personal loves are to last too." She sighed. "I know I express +myself badly. I wish I could make you understand what I mean." + +"I think I _do_ understand," said Margaret thoughtfully. "Adèle," she +said after a pause, during which perhaps almost the very same thought +had been passing through their minds, "our love, yours and mine and +your cousin's, the strange tangle which your straightforwardness and +self-forgetfulness unravelled, is certainly of the lasting kind. The +future may throw us widely apart, but I think that neither here nor +hereafter can it ever be the same as if we had not loved." + +This time Adèle did not answer, because she could not. The shadow +of that dreadful separation was on her spirit. After a few moments' +silence she said lightly that Margaret had talked quite enough--that +it was time for her to rest; which dictum Margaret obeyed with great +willingness. + +The next day was that fixed upon by Mrs. Churchill for her visit. +Adèle could no longer delay letting Margaret know that a summons from +her mother had come; but the morning is generally more favorable to +hopefulness than the evening. Adèle had begun to think matters were not +so desperate as they looked. Possibly she might obtain further respite. +She took in the unwelcome letter with Margaret's breakfast-tray, which +had been delicately arranged by her own hands. + +"Adèle, you must go," was Margaret's comment on the letter. And she +tried not to show how sorely she would miss her comforter. + +Adèle was slightly wounded: "Do you really mean it, Margaret?" + +"I do indeed, dear. Your mother is quite right; you have sacrificed +yourself too long." + +"And _you_ can think I have been sacrificing myself!" said the young +girl. "But no, you only mean to tease me." + +There was something of the disquieting jealousy of that feeling which +is always supposed to be more engrossing than mere friendship in her +further words: "Perhaps you would not even miss me, Margaret?" + +But the tears Margaret could not restrain, the sudden weariness in her +pale face, spoke more eloquently than words. Adèle threw herself down +on her knees by her friend's side: "Forgive me, darling, but if you +only knew--" + +"--All the tenderness of this warm young heart," and Margaret smiled +faintly, resting her hand, as if in silent blessing, on the bowed head. + +"But look, dear," she continued after a pause, "your mother is coming, +and I am anxious to see her, so she must not find me in bed. Will _you_ +help me to dress this morning?" + +Adèle rose and brushed away her tears. "How stupid I am!" she cried, +"and really I didn't intend to be so silly to-day, for, Margaret, I +was just thinking--Mamma is so good and kind, she generally lets me do +as I like; then, you see, she has never met you. I mean to dress you +as you were dressed yesterday, and I want you to put forth all your +fascinations. The result will be that mamma won't have the heart to +carry me off." + +"But, Adèle--" + +"But, Margaret. Put yourself in my hands, madam. Remember I am +responsible for your safe-keeping to somebody--my somebody, not yours, +Margaret. By the bye, I will urge Arthur's wishes. Mamma never likes to +offend _him_." + +And so Adèle rattled on to hide her true, deep feelings, while once +more she ministered tenderly to the friend she loved. + +Mrs. Churchill, impatient as the time drew nearer to see her daughter +again, had left York by an early train, and Margaret and Adèle had +not been long seated over their work in the little parlor before a +travelling carriage, heavily laden with luggage, drove up to the door. +She had brought her carriage and horses so far by rail, her intention +being to post for the remainder of the way. + +It was long since Margaret had met any stranger, and she felt a little +nervous when the rattle of wheels came to her ears; but as from her +station by the parlor-window she caught a sight of Mrs. Churchill's +pleasant, kindly face, some of her painful anticipations fled. + +Adèle had run down the garden-path. She brought her mother in to +introduce her to her friend. + +The good Mrs. Churchill had been rather curious to see Margaret. +Adèle's enthusiasm and Arthur's boyish admiration had made her look +for something remarkable, but she was scarcely prepared for the +refinement, the style, the exquisite grace of her daughter's friend. +It was a rare combination, even in those circles in which the rich and +highly-connected widow moved. + +Mrs. Churchill knew enough of the world to be quite sure at once that +she was in the house of a lady--not only highly born and bred, but +accustomed to the usages of society. Her good sense and kindly feeling +led her to treat her hostess with all due deference. + +"I have long wished to have the pleasure of making your acquaintance, +Mrs. Grey," she said when Margaret had persuaded her to divest +herself of bonnet and shawl, "I have heard so much about you from +these enthusiastic children of mine. I call them my children, because +Arthur has been almost like my own son, and I presume you are in the +confidence of this little girl, and that she has let out her secret." +Mrs. Churchill looked at Margaret rather curiously. + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Grey quietly, drawing down Adèle, who had been +hovering about her nervously, to a seat by her side. "I heard long ago, +both from your daughter and nephew, of this engagement; and much as I +admire Mr. Forrest, I cannot but think, knowing your daughter as I do, +that he is a very fortunate man." + +Adèle blushed: "Margaret, be quiet; you shouldn't say such things." But +her smile belied her words; it was so radiant that it transfigured her +face. + +Her mother turned to her: "Adèle, my dear, do you know that you ought +to be very much obliged to Mrs. Grey for her long hospitality? Now I +look at you I am surprised; I never saw such a change. When you left +London you were colorless and sickly." + +"Mamma, mamma!" protested Adèle, "how very uninteresting!" + +But Mrs Churchill persisted: "Yes, my dear, I speak the bare truth; now +your animation has come back, you have gained flesh and color, you are +_absolutely_ a different being. Mrs. Grey, what have you been doing +with her?" + +Margaret smiled: "I am so glad you think her looking well, and that +her visit here has done her good, for I was beginning to think myself +selfish for keeping her so long in this lonely place. I suppose the +fresh sea-air has worked the miracle." + +"The cure is not quite accomplished, mamma," said Adèle coaxingly; but +Margaret interrupted her: + +"We can talk about that presently, dear; just now your mother wants +rest and refreshment. Would you mind hurrying Jane on with lunch for +me?" + +She turned to Mrs. Churchill: "Our establishment is small, and I have +been delicate lately, so your daughter kindly helps me in many little +ways." + +"Small indeed!" thought Mrs. Churchill, but she would not have said so +for the world. She was far too much of the real lady to be able to take +upon herself any fine-lady airs of superiority, and then she began to +interest herself strangely in her daughter's friend. Mrs. Churchill +would have been very much displeased could she have heard herself +called impulsive; indeed, it was only in a certain way that she was so. +Her impulses were generally inspired by some tolerably solid reasons. +In this case her keen eye had instantly detected the lady, also the +absence of all those qualities which go to make up the _intriguante_. +This set her at ease at once, while the gentleness, the evident +weakness, the traces of profound suffering, moved her kind heart as it +had not been moved for long. She had not been in the cottage half an +hour before, with true motherliness of intent, she made up her mind to +take Mrs. Grey in hand. + +"I am glad to hear Adèle has been of any service to you," was her +answer to Margaret, cordially spoken, and then she looked at Mrs. +Grey as she had looked at her daughter. "I am sorry to hear of this +delicacy, Mrs. Grey; you certainly look far from well, but I think so +lonely a place as this would kill me in a few months. Why not try +a change--a little gayety, for instance? Now, if you would allow me +to return your hospitality to my daughter by taking you with us to +Scarborough, I really think you would find the change would do you +good. Then a little cod-liver-oil, quinine and port-wine, steel--But +perhaps you are taking some of these?" + +Margaret smiled: "Thank you very much for your kind interest in my +health. No, I take none of these things, and I scarcely think they +could do me good. As to a change, you are very good to propose it; I +fear at present I could enjoy nothing. I could not enter into general +society; I should only be a burden on your hands." + +Mrs. Churchill looked across at Margaret's pale face and warmed into +sympathy and interest: "But this is a dreadful state of things, Mrs. +Grey. Nothing so insidious, I can assure you, as the creeping on of +general ill-health; you ought to do something. Have you consulted a +doctor?" + +"A doctor could do me no good. My dear Mrs. Churchill, pray don't +distress yourself on my account; I think you know enough of my history +to understand me when I say that my illness is far more mental than +physical. These weeks, which are bringing me hope, have been almost +more trying to me than the years that went before." + +"And how long is this state of thing to be supposed to last?" cried the +impulsive and warm-hearted lady. "Now, Mrs. Grey, _will_ you take my +advice? I am many years older than you--old enough, I imagine, to be +your mother. You look incredulous. Well, have it your own way. They say +I bear my years well, and I believe that in this case the _on dits_ are +more correct than usual. You will allow, at least, that I have larger +experience of the world than you. Shall I give you my secret--the true +elixir of life, my dear? Never allow yourself to feel too deeply. +Feelings have been the ruin of some of the finest constitutions." + +"But what if they cannot be helped?" said Margaret, who was smiling +through a half inclination to tears. + +"My dear (_child_ I was about to say, but I don't wish to offend you), +an effort should be made, for what does all the crying over spilt milk +mean?" This was a favorite theme with Mrs. Churchill. "Why, as I have +told Adèle a thousand times, to fret one's self into a premature death +because things don't go altogether as one could wish is clearly nothing +more nor less than flying in the face of Providence; for how did we get +our health and strength, and all the rest of it? and if we acknowledge +that these are gifts of Providence, ought we to trifle with them? Come +now, Mrs. Grey, what have you to say?" Her voice softened as she looked +at the pale face and fragile form. "You must excuse me, my dear. You +see I am given to speaking my mind, and I am interested in you; so +it comes naturally somehow to speak to you as I might to this wilful +little girl of mine." For Adèle had come in during the latter part of +Mrs. Churchill's harangue. She was listening with real pleasure to the +energetic words, for she knew her mother well enough to be aware that +she never took the trouble of lecturing in this manner any one who had +not first made great way in her affections. + +"This is mamma's pet subject, Margaret," she said; "what have _you_ +to say? I always find her arguments unanswerable, but then they never +converted me." + +Margaret smiled: "I have to say, Adèle, that your mother is perfectly +right, that I deserve every word of her lecture, and that I intend to +make an effort in the way of getting rid of these tiresome feelings and +becoming strong again." + +"Only if you have me to help you, Margaret," pleaded Adèle. + +But Margaret shook her head: "No, no; I have no right to keep you +longer from your mother." + +Adèle turned pleadingly to Mrs. Churchill: "Mamma, mamma, leave me here +a _little_ longer." + +"Your 'littles' are elastic, Adèle. For how many weeks have you been +saying this?" + +"And I suppose I shall say the same"--the young girl looked up saucily +at her mother, blushing ever so slightly--"until Arthur comes back, +mamma. _He_ wishes me to stay and take care of Margaret." + +Mrs. Churchill was in a very good humor; she laughed outright: "You are +certainly a pretty pair, and very well adapted to the task of taking +care of yourselves. When that event, which you are always thrusting in +my face, really happens, I shall have to engage an elderly female of +strong common sense to look after you both and keep you in order--a +pair of babies!" + +"But, mamma, you haven't answered me." + +"Mrs. Grey says nothing, Adèle; perhaps she is tired of you, or +perhaps--which to my mind would be the best of all--you could persuade +her to change her mind and become our guest at Scarborough." + +Adèle's eyes glistened. Certainly her mother must have taken a strong +as well as sudden fancy to her friend: "Oh, mamma, you have asked +Margaret to stay with us? How good of you!" + +Mrs. Churchill turned to her hostess in mock despair: "I believe this +foolish child thinks I had nothing but her fancies in view. You must +excuse her, Mrs. Grey; the excitement seems to have put her slightly +off her head. Let me assure you once more that, purely for your own +sake, I shall be most delighted if you will become our guest until your +future is a little more decided." + +Margaret put out her hand; she was touched by Mrs. Churchill's delicate +kindness. "Thank you a thousand times," she said gently; "if I were +even in a fit state for travelling I should not hesitate to take +advantage of your kind offer, so attractive in every way. But Adèle +will tell you how it is with me at times; I cannot even dress myself. +No; I must say good-bye to Adèle, with many thanks both to her and to +you, and return to my lonely life. I hope it may soon be over." + +"_What_ may soon be over?" Mrs. Churchill turned round sharply, for +there was a sad ring in the voice, which Margaret had striven to render +absolutely calm. She met Mrs. Grey's quiet smile. "I see you mean +that you believe your husband will soon return, but I do wish people +would say what they mean." There was something of fretfulness in Mrs. +Churchill's voice; she did not like to be puzzled, and her daughter's +friend was puzzling her. + +"I really think," she continued meditatively, "that my best plan would +be to put up here at the hotel for a few days. By the bye, Adèle, +I left Mary there; I would not bring her on here until I knew more +certainly about your arrangements. Yes, I think that will do. You and +she could amuse yourselves together, and I should like very much to try +the effect of quinine and port wine on Mrs. Grey. I brought a hamper of +our own wine with me--exceedingly fortunate, as it turns out." + +Margaret was weak. Do what she would she could not prevent the tears +from filling her eyes. "You are too good to me," she said; "how shall I +thank you?" + +"By trying to get strong, my dear, and remembering first of all (you +see you begin by breaking my rules) to take things quietly is the best +policy. Now, Adèle, put on your hat and drive to the hotel. Make them +unload the carriage and bring Mary back in it. Are we trespassing too +much, Mrs. Grey? You young people will have plenty to talk about, so +you need not hurry back. Mrs. Grey in the mean time must give me some +account of her symptoms. It may be that the worldly wisdom of a worldly +old woman will do as much to help her as the romantic enthusiasm of the +young folk who in the present day rule the roast." + +Adèle obeyed her mother to the letter. She left her and Margaret alone +together for a good hour. She returned to find them fast friends. +The cheerful optimism of the elder lady had strengthened the younger +considerably, for Margaret wanted bracing, and Mrs. Churchill's sound +common-sense was like a blast of north wind: it swept away sundry +vapors, it invigorated the heart that a succession of evils had +rendered distrustful of good. And Margaret's pathetic story, her truth, +her goodness, her life of devotion--for all these had, insensibly to +herself, shone out in her simple narrative--filled her hearer with +admiration, elevated her conception of human nature, made her believe +(a humanizing belief to many natures), in looking back upon her own +mistrust, that her judgment was not always infallible. + +For a whole week--and it was a real act of self-sacrificing +friendship--Mrs. Churchill remained in the quiet village by the sea. +The season was late, so she made up her mind to give up Scarborough and +return from Middlethorpe to London. She dosed Margaret abundantly with +quinine and port wine, she braced her mind by vigorous common sense, +well-grounded cheerfulness and antipathetic banishment of any thing +approaching morbidness or so-called sentiment. When she left she had +the satisfaction of seeing her patient better. It is almost needless to +add that the kind-hearted lady had not the heart to deprive Margaret of +her friend. Adèle remained at the cottage till the chill winds of early +winter swept the waters, while still no certain tidings came to them of +their wanderers. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +_A DREAM INTERRUPTED AND A STRANGE REVELATION MADE._ + + Just as I thought I had caught sight of heaven, + It came to naught, as dreams of heaven on earth + Do always. + + +The Alpine mountains again--"silences of everlasting hills"--Nature and +man face to face in the quiet, stealthy creeping on of night! + +Maurice Grey sat in his little chalet alone; no friend was near to +catch the outflowings of his heart--no watcher, not even a faithful +servant, to note the changes that followed one another over his face. +The untouched meal, prepared by old Marie, was on the table; he sat +before his desk facing the little window, and looked out with sad, +weary eyes. + +For more than an hour he had been thinking, reviewing the tale Arthur +had told him, trying frantically to rend the net of mystery that +surrounded him, but trying in vain. A letter was under his hand. He had +read it over by the failing light, and then crushed it together in his +strong grasp. It was an old, faded, yellow paper which had evidently +lain for years in his desk, but the sting of that it contained was +still as fresh as on the first day when it had been read. The letter +was one of those anonymous productions which perhaps show up in more +lurid light than anything else the depths of cowardly spite that lie +hidden in the hearts of men. This particular one, to give it its due, +was well put together and plausible. + +The writer began by acknowledging cordially the apparent cowardice of +the step he had taken. Necessity and strong feeling were urged as the +excuse. He represented himself as one who owed a debt of gratitude to +Mr. Grey; it was therefore peculiarly painful to see him imposed upon. +For in purport it was an accusation, cleverly drawn up, implying more +than it revealed against Maurice Grey's wife. The history of stolen +meetings between her and her former lover, of whose residence in +England Mr. Grey was aware, was circumstantially given. They coincided +strangely, as Maurice remembered with a pang almost as bitter as that +first one had been, with Margaret's comings and goings; but further, +a certain test was offered. It was proposed that on that very evening +the husband should profess to leave his wife, that instead of returning +to London he should remain in Ramsgate, and that if, at a specified +time, he should not find her and the foreigner together, he might throw +aside all that the letter contained as unworthy of belief. Maurice was +naturally jealous. His wife's unusual beauty, the difficulty of winning +her, the knowledge that he had not been the first to possess her heart, +combined to make him distrustful. Instead of showing her the letter or +treating it with merited contempt, he was weak enough to fall into the +snare. + +The event had been planned with a fatal accuracy. He found L'Estrange +at Margaret's feet, and in the agony of wounded love, of despairing +rage, left her altogether. For four long years he had wandered +hopelessly and aimlessly, not daring, in case his worst fears should +receive terrible confirmation, to find out anything about the woman +whom through it all he loved so madly. And now, when, as he believed, +his heart had grown callous, when he thought his retreat was surely +hidden from all his former friends, this earnest champion came +forward, sent evidently by her to plead her cause, to assure him of +her continued love and unwearied faithfulness, to recall him to her +side. But the mystery was unexplained. All she offered was a simple +declaration of the falsehood of that of which Maurice believed he held +incontrovertible proof. + +What could it all mean? Was it, he asked himself--and his brows were +fiercely knit--a plot to betray him? Did she wish to regain her +position, only that she might the more surely carry on her intrigues? +Had her paramour wearied her, and in his turn been cast off? He +thought, but suddenly, as on the preceding evening, there came, like a +gleam of light through his dark thoughts, the memory of that pale, pure +face. + +The strong man bowed his head, and tears such as only men can weep +found their way to his burning eyelids. He covered his face with his +hands. "It is possible," he cried--"possible! O my God, I may have been +wrong." As he spoke he trembled like a child, this man who knew the +world, whose wide experience had made him a cynic. + +But if the thought held pain, it had also infinite sweetness. That +first spasm past, Maurice gave way to it. He looked up again and +the pale snows met his gaze. There was a soft, tender light in his +dark eyes. Between them and those pale snows that fair, sad face was +shining. "Margaret!" he whispered. + +The man was weary with his mental struggles, overwrought by the +physical exertions of the day. He allowed hope in its soft, tremulous +beauty to take possession of his soul, old memories to steal over +his heart. He leaned back in his arm-chair, folded his arms over his +breast and fell into a kind of trance. Gradually, as his senses lost +their hold upon the visible, the snow-laden pines, the white peaks, the +swollen torrents passed away from his gaze, till at last it seemed that +the sternness of winter had passed away--spring, life, green beauty +took its place. + +The four walls of his chalet fell; he was sitting on the green sward, +innumerable delicious odors filled the air with fragrance, bright-eyed +flowers were about him, the birds twittered gayly, everywhere was life +and gladness; but in the midst of all was a something incongruous, like +a minor chord in a fair melody--a sound of low, sad singing, the voice +as of one in pain. Maurice thought he knew the voice; turning suddenly, +he saw his wife. She was walking steadily forward with a gliding step; +a black robe covered her from head to foot; her eyes were fixed on the +distant horizon. He thought that he called her "Margaret!" but her eyes +did not move, only her lips stirred as if in prayer. She glided past +him, but before she had quite gone out of his reach he caught the hem +of her dress. Then, while her heaven-turned face was slowly moving, +while he was yearning to catch the gleam of her eyes, the vision +passed, as visions will. + +The whole had only lasted a few minutes, though it seemed to Maurice as +if he had been long insensible. When reality and consciousness began +slowly to assert their cold superiority it was absolute pain. At first +he tried to deny them, in the vain hope that closed eyes and utter +stillness would bring back the fair vision; then suddenly the vague +uneasiness a watchful presence brings awoke him fully. + +He started up, and saw by the failing light that he was not alone--he +was being watched. Between him and the window a dark form was standing; +keen, searching eyes scanned his face; they were those of his enemy. +L'Estrange had found his way to the chalet. At last these two were face +to face. + +It was a rude awakening from a pleasant dream, and the very contrast +between the fairness of the vision and the blackness of that reality +which to Maurice's inflamed heart this man personified made his hatred +more intense. It took him but a moment to start to his feet. His first +impulse was to seize the intruder by the throat and cast him out; his +very presence seemed a wanton insult. But L'Estrange met his gaze +calmly, and Maurice checked himself: "Before I touch him I will get to +the bottom of the mystery, and if he have betrayed her as well as me--" + +He clenched his teeth and involuntarily smote his knotted fists +together. For a few moments the men looked at one another in silence. +Maurice spoke first, and his voice was like the growl of an angry lion: +"What has brought you here?" + +A sneer curled the Frenchman's lips: "No love to you, Mr. Grey, +but--listen to me patiently, or I vow I will be silent for ever--a late +repentance for an old wrong." + +"_Then_--" There was a whole torrent of wrath pent up in the opening +syllable. + +"I tell you not to speak," cried his visitor, "or what I have come to +say shall never be told. Maurice Grey, you are my enemy. You married +the only woman I ever loved. This I could have forgiven; it was my +fault, it was in the course of Nature; but you won her heart, the +heart that once was mine. Yes, short-sighted Englishman, of this I +can speak, for you knew it; she told you, and this it was that filled +you with proud jealousy, that made you torment yourself. Yet it is +true your wife loved you as she never loved me. I did not believe it +then: now I know it. You gasp: well you may. That was my snare, and +you fell into it. I see the letter; give it to me. Is it true, then, +that with all your boasted knowledge of the world you could not read +jealousy and spite under these fine phrases, made for me by a lying +English servant? But yours is a strange nation. Clever and far-seeing +where your money is in question, you are in knowledge of character, in +all that touches your affections, easy to take in as little children. +You frown impatiently. I shall soon have done. I tell you, Monsieur +Grey, the meeting you interrupted that day was the first and only one +that had taken place between your wife and me since your marriage. And +the attitude in which you found me? Mon Dieu! nothing simpler--got up +for you--_un tableau vivant motivé_. She was more surprised than you, +la pauvrette!" His voice sank. "Since that day four long years have +passed by. I have spent them in seeking her--persecuting her, if you +like; so it was, so it must be. Her hatred is strong and bitter. I +deserve it for misunderstanding her. But women have been my study all +my life, and I never met _her_ like before. _You_ had less cause. What +do you deserve? But do not answer me yet. Never fear, proud Englishman; +your reckoning shall come by and by; my task must first be finished. +She hid herself from me for a long time, but at last I came upon her +in a miserable London lodging. The sight of me shocked and terrified +her. She left London at once, and returned to the lonely place where +she had lived in the closest retirement since your desertion. But, +woman-like, she had left her address behind her. I found it out, +followed her, forced myself upon her; and then at last, then first, I +understood her. It was in the midst of deep loneliness--a loneliness +which I saw by her face was killing her--that I found her out. She had +one joy and consolation, a little daughter whom she had trained to love +_you_, to wait and watch for your return. I spoke to her that day, but +she repelled me with scorn and abhorrence. Maurice Grey, I offer for +myself no excuse. I was mad with rage and pain. I determined to punish +her. I stole her little one, and in such a way that she might think it +had been done by you." + +The Englishman could bear it no longer. He sprang forward, and seizing +his enemy by the collar shook him vigorously: + +"Villain! do you know what you deserve?" + +"Patience!" replied the man when he had wrenched himself free from that +strong grasp. "You shall have my life. Mon Dieu! it is worth little. +But first you must listen to me." + +He retreated to the side of the little window, the evening light shone +full on his face. He fixed his enemy with his piercing eyes, to which +the fever of his brain had given strange brilliancy. "You want to know +what brought me here," he continued. "I have told you--no love to you, +albeit my hand and voice may restore you to life and happiness--to +all life holds most precious and dear. And yet it is love as well as +penitence that has brought me to this. Love--a truer love than I have +ever known--to the woman and child whom you have forsaken; for your +little daughter changed my mood. I dare not speak of _her_. It would +make me soft when I should be stern. She has been with me ever since; +she is with me now. See her for yourself. She is a living proof of +what I tell." The man bowed his head. "I give her up to you. I have +found you for this, that you may take my treasure. And now--for I +read the fierce hunger of your eyes; you Englishmen are all alike, +insatiate, uncontrolled--_la revanche_. Well! it is well. Monsieur +Grey, I understand your nature, and my hand shall supply you with an +instrument. I went into your room to-day. I found these; I have brought +them with me." + +He took from a chair on which he had laid them the pair of pistols, one +of which Maurice had loaded and prepared for action only a few days +before. + +The sight inflamed him. It recalled to his mind what this man had +done--how for these long years his life had been a blank of good--a +burden from which he had even sought to free himself. He seized the +offered case. "Yes," he said sternly, "it is well. Villain, it were a +good deed to rid the world of such as you." + +The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders. "Soit donc," he said calmly; then +folded his arms with the equanimity of a red Indian, who looks death +and all its horrors in the face without shrinking. + +It was too much for Maurice Grey's patience. He drew near to his +enemy and shook him roughly: "Do you take me for an assassin? Come +out, if you have any of the feelings of a man left in you, and defend +yourself," he said hoarsely, and led the way to the door. + +L'Estrange followed with a calmness that was no longer real, for his +nervous system had given way suddenly. The tension that had supported +him through these long weeks of wandering, the iron purpose, the +self-constraining force, had given way suddenly when the necessity had +gone by, when his tale had been told, when he had read in his enemy's +face that it was counted true. + +For this time Maurice could not help himself. Perhaps even in his +passionate longing for this, a restored belief in the truth and purity +of her who had once been to him the embodiment of all that was best and +fairest in womanhood, had kept him incredulous through Arthur's tale. +This strange confirmation of its every detail, wrung out from the very +torture of his enemy's heart, commended itself to him as true. + +He disbelieved her no longer. Rather, his soul was overflowing with +passionate repentance and pity--repentance for the cruel blow he had +dealt her, pity for those years of loneliness, anguish for his own +mistakes, for a past that would ever remain the past, that no future, +however blessed, could recall. All this was surging in his brain as he +listened to those few but fate-laden words, and the first impulse was +indignation against her betrayer. He could not detach his past from his +present; out of his own mouth he was condemned. Persecutor, villain, +torturer of weak women and helpless children (for Maurice had not seen +his child; how could he tell that _she_ had not suffered ill-treatment +at his hands?), he should die the death of a dog, be cast out into the +frozen valleys to sleep the sleep of bitter ignominy. + +It may be that in the glance cast at him by his enemy when he had +seized him, when his pale face was close to his own, L'Estrange had +read this wild determination, for as he followed his guide his knees +trembled. He was no more the accuser, but the accused, the condemned. + +Margaret was avenged. With head cast down and failing heart he followed +his stern guide, while still the fitful twilight, reflected from the +dazzling snow, shone cold and calm over the hills. The stricken man +groaned in spirit. "It is the bitterness of death," he said to himself. +"Mon Dieu! I am punished. I would have seen la petite. She will grieve +for me." + +His thoughts were broken in upon suddenly; they had reached the border +of a deep ravine, and Maurice stopped. He looked round: "The light is +uncertain, but we shall have the same chance. Whoever falls, falls +there." + +He pointed down to the abyss, fathomless in the dim evening light. + +"We have no seconds--allow me to arrange everything." + +He took out the pistols, examined their priming with minute care, and +handed one to L'Estrange. + +"I will give the word," he said; "we fire together." + +With steady, measured tread he paced the distance that was to divide +them, then took his place by the ravine, pale, calm, determined--the +avenger. + +Maurice Grey did not suppose for a moment that _he_ would fall, though, +a true Englishman, he would give his enemy a fair chance for life. +Evil as he believed this man to be, deserving death for the traitorous +wrong he had consummated, he would yet give him the power of defending +himself. But as this man of iron nerve counted out unfalteringly the +seconds that divided one of them from death, he showed his belief in +the issue by the defiance he shouted out across the shadows: "But +yesterday I would have taken my own life, and with this very weapon; +now I take yours. Traitor, coward, slanderer of the innocent, prepare +for death!" + +Was it the knell of fate? No answer came from the condemned man, but +before the fatal ball could cleave the air, before the word that +might have meant death to one of them had been spoken, he staggered +strangely, gave utterance to a gurgling cry and fell forward to the +ground. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +_ES IST NUR EIN KINDLEIN--ONLY A CHILD._ + + What wert thou then? A child most infantine, + Yet wandering far beyond that innocent age + In all but its sweet looks and mien divine? + + +Lights were glittering in the hotel at Grindelwald--something more than +the paltry allowance of which Arthur had feelingly complained was being +displayed, for, late as it was in the season, there had been arrivals, +and the landlord's heart was light. + +He could not understand this fancy of people for keen winds, frost and +snow, but it suited his purpose and he rejoiced. The dull season would +be rendered shorter, and his winter expenses proportionately lightened. +In the fulness of his heart he made a great display in the way of +illumination, lighted the large stove in the small saloon, and did all +he could to make his friends forget the dreariness and desolation that +reigned outside. + +For the evening that had fallen with a certain calm, autumnal beauty +had deepened into a blustering, stormy night. The wind whistled among +the hills, the loose snow-drifts were driven blindingly hither and +thither; it would not have been a pleasant night to face. Decidedly, +the fireside, or, as at Grindelwald, the stove-corner, was the +most comfortable resting-place. And so the new arrivals, two young +Englishmen and a German (the very same, by the bye, who had annoyed +Arthur by his vigorous "wunderschöns" and his dutiful "enthousiasmus" +in the course of their journey across the St. Gothard), appeared to +think. + +As the household was principally composed of men, sundry indulgences +were permitted, and unchecked they discussed their cigars and drank +their "lager bier" in the saloon, gathered together in a close circle +by the stove, their feet filling up by turns its narrow opening. But +apparently every one in the hotel was not of the same mind. Several +times in the course of one short hour the Englishmen were driven to +indulge in strong language, and the German to splutter and fume, by +the inroad of a blast of chill air. + +The hotel had not been constructed in such a way as to exclude +draughts, and whenever the outer door was opened the cold air sweeping +up the passages made itself felt in the saloon. + +"Donner wetter!" said the German at last as the blast of cold air came +in a continued stream, "I must find out all about zis. What can, zen, +be ze meaning of it?" + +"Some one out in the snow," suggested a mild young man with auburn hair +and pale whiskers. + +"But, my good friend, why not bring him in?" asked the puzzled German. + +"Lost, pewhaps," replied the young man, puffing calmly. + +"Lost, lost! but what may zat have to do wid ze door?" + +"Anxious fwiends," replied the Englishman calmly--"excitable +foweigners, I should say." + +The German looked at him in a helpless way, scarcely certain whether, +as a unit in that generic body known by the English under the name +of foreigners, he ought to take notice of the implied slight. His +indecision ended in a walk to the door of the room. It was clearly +useless to regard the eccentricities of those proud islanders, he +said to himself. If they _would_ persist in looking down on other and +worthier nationalities, why so they might; they would find out their +mistake some day. So absorbed was the German in his mental soliloquy +that in passing out from the room he left the unhappy door open, and +curses not loud but deep followed him from the proud islander he had +left behind. The German found out in the mean time that his sensitive +nature had not betrayed him. That the outer door was open became +evident to him at once by the blast of keen air which swept up the +dimly-lit passage. + +Two figures were standing in the doorway, faintly shown by the light of +the little oil-lamp that hung over the entrance. One was a fair-haired +child, wrapped from head to foot in a scarlet cloak, the other was the +landlord of the hotel. + +He was stooping over the child, his face very red in the extremity of +his effort to make her understand that it was impossible for her to go +out in the snow. + +"Mademoiselle--not go--snow cold--mademoiselle be wander--lose--nicht +finden--" he was saying spasmodically, holding the door shut, while +she, with her small strength, was struggling to open it. + +"But--we can no permit--" he began more fluently. + +The child interrupted him with tears and sobs: "Please let me only see +if they are coming. Mon père said he would come back to-night. He is +lost. I thought yesterday he was going to die. Oh, please, I know the +way he went. It's not very dark. I can always make him better." + +The landlord was in despair. He wanted the assistance of some +interpreter, and yet he was afraid to leave the child, lest she should +give him the slip and run out into the snow. + +The appearance of the German was a great relief, for this young man +had not been accustomed to hide his light under a bushel. Wherever +he went he exhibited his knowledge of English. Already that day the +landlord had been astonished by his fluency in this most intricate and +embarrassing tongue. + +In a few words he described the situation to the new-comer. The German +immediately addressed himself to the weeping child: "Your _papa_ is out +in ze snow, my leetle maid." + +The child's tears stopped; she raised her dark eyes pleadingly to his +face: "Not my papa--mon père. Oh, please take me to find him." + +This was rather embarrassing. The compassionate German looked out into +the snowy night: "Wid all my heart I would help you, liebe fräulein, +but you will no doubt perceive I know none of ze paths, and you--" He +looked down at the tiny figure. + +Almost unconsciously these two men had been answering that strange +womanliness in the little face by treating this child as if she had +been three times her age. + +The German smiled and looked at the landlord: "Es ist nur ein +kindlein." Then to Laura, with an assumption of sternness, "Leetle +maids are sometimes weelful. Zey should understand zat ze elders know +best. Come now wid me to ze fire." + +He put out his hand to lead her, but Laura shrank back, her eyes +growing large with fear. She did not understand being so treated by a +stranger. It made her long all the more for her friend's protecting +tenderness. She rejected the hand held out to her with all the dignity +of one double her age: then suddenly her child-heart failed. She threw +herself on her knees on the cold stones, pressed her forehead against +the door and wailed out her childish plaint: "Mon père! mon père! come +back to Laura." + +The landlord shook his head helplessly, but the young German, who had +always prided himself on a certain determination of character, looked +stern. "Dis ees all folly," he said; "as I said just now, leetle maids +must not be weelful. Komme mit, mademoiselle; or, as I should say, come +wid me, mees." + +He stooped to the little figure, all huddled together on the stones, +and tried to raise it in his arms, but with sudden agility the child +escaped him. She stopped crying and stood upright against the wall of +the passage, facing her tormentor, her eyes and cheeks on flame. + +"Go!" she cried, stamping her little foot. "Why do you speak to me? why +do you touch me?" + +And in spite of his boasted determination the German stood back abashed. + +Proceedings were at this stage--the landlord helpless, the German +doubtful about the next step that ought to be taken in the task of +subduing this child, who partook so early of that proud island-nature +which had already called for his reprobation, and Laura looking up +at them both with more than a child's determination in her small +face--when another actor appeared upon the scene. + +Arthur had been sitting during all that afternoon alone in his room, +thinking over the occurrences of the past days--now hoping, now +despairing, as he reviewed in all its minutest details the interview of +that day. He was torturing himself by recalling the eloquent words he +had intended to use, but had not--the conclusive reasons he might have +brought forward had he only remembered them at the right time--when +there came to his ears the sound of a child's cry. + +The voice was strangely familiar; at first he could not recall why it +was so, for the memory of his humiliating defeat at Moscow had been +swamped by the succession of exciting events that had followed it. + +Curiosity led him to investigate the matter. He went down stairs, and +the first sight of the little flushed face told its tale. This was +Margaret's child. The second prize he had been seeking was actually +within his grasp, and in his first excitement Arthur felt inclined +to seize the child and carry her off whether she would or not. But +experience, the two failures that preceded this most unlooked-for +meeting, had taught him caution. This time he would not attempt to +coerce the strange little being whom Fate had thrown in his way, but it +was quite possible that he might win her over to confidence. Acting on +this determination, he stood back in the shadow and bided his time. + +The German was half ashamed of his irresolution. "Leetle maids must be +sensible," Arthur heard him say, and as he spoke he tried once more to +raise the child in his arms. + +Laura gave a little frightened cry and turned hastily to run up the +staircase, but only to find her way blocked by one she looked upon +as another enemy. For even by that uncertain light she recognized in +Arthur the man who had made an attempt upon her liberty at Moscow. But +this time the child was desperate. She stood and faced him like a wild +animal at bay. + +"Let me pass, let me pass!" she cried. + +He did not attempt to touch her, but, standing aside on the staircase, +looked at her with kind, gentle eyes. "What is it, dear? is any one +hurting you?" he asked. + +The child looked up into the frank, boyish face and trusted him. +"Perhaps you can help Laura," she said; "but--" + +"I was foolish the other day," he said quietly; "I did not quite +understand; you must forgive me." + +"You wanted to take me away from mon père, and now"--the child burst +into tears--"mon père is lost. Please, please take me to find him!" + +"Come up stairs and tell me all about it, Laura. I will help you if I +possibly can." + +Then to the German, who was gazing at him open-mouthed, "Sir, this is +the child of one of my dearest friends; I take her under my protection." + +"As you like," replied he, and shrugged his shoulders. "Ze young man is +offended," he muttered, "because I did not treat ze bébé like one great +princess." + +He returned to the stove, while Arthur drew from Laura all he desired +to know. She had come there with "mon père," as she always called +L'Estrange. They were looking for papa. Early that day he had told her +that he knew where her father was--that he would go away alone, and +return in the evening to let her know if her father had been found. +He was not very far away, he had said, and the little Laura had been +waiting and watching all the evening. The evening had deepened into +night, and still her friend had not come back. He must be lost. + +This was the burden of her simple tale. It made Arthur think. What +could be the meaning of this? Had a sudden repentance seized this man? +Had he really determined to find Maurice Grey and tell him the actual +truth about his deserted wife? Or could any other motive have moved him +to seek his enemy? No, no; human wickedness could not surely go so far. +With this man's child in his grasp, this child, whose pure affection he +had undoubtedly won, it was not possible; and yet if the enemies had +met alone, face to face, in the great solitude--The young man shuddered. + +"Laura," he said, turning to the little one, "I must find them at once." + +The child clung about his knees: "Oh, take me with you! Please, please +take me! I can make mon père well when no one else can--he says so." + +Arthur did not answer at first. He was thinking. He rang the bell and +made inquiries about a guide, for it would have been dangerous on such +a night to have made the attempt alone. He ascertained that it would be +possible to obtain one with very little delay. + +The distance which separated them from the chalet was not great. They +would be two men. The child might easily be carried between them, and +it was more than probable that her presence would do more than anything +else to allay the fever-heat of the two men, one of whom must love her +instinctively, while the other evidently loved her deeply already. +The only fear--and it shot through Arthur's heart like a pain--was +that they might be too late--that already in the fierce anger of that +moment, in the awful solitude one of these two might have taken the +life of the other. + +"If I had only known, if I could only have guessed, I should never have +left him," he said to himself. + +But Laura was still looking up at him anxiously. He answered her with a +smile: "If you will wrap yourself up well, little one, and submit to be +carried." + +"Yes, yes," answered the child joyfully; "mon père carries me +sometimes; but"--she stopped, and there came a cloud over her face--"I +will tire you; I am heavy." + +She was answered by a knock at the door. There appeared on the +threshold the burly figure of one of the true sons of the soil. He +was accustomed to much heavier burdens than the little Laura, wraps +and all. The honest Swiss was at a loss to understand why this little +maiden should go with them on such a search, but he did not express +his feelings in any way. He lifted her as lightly as if she had been a +bird, placed her on his shoulder, and in a few moments the hotel, the +astonished landlord, the hurt German and the glimmering village-lights +were left in the distance. + +The little party--the two men and the child--were threading the dark, +lonely mountain-path that led to the chalet. + +It was a strange experience for a child like Laura, but happily for +herself she did not understand its strangeness. All she knew was that +her wish was being accomplished--that, guided and befriended, she was +hastening through the night to find her two fathers. + +Blessed is the faith of earth's little ones! + +I wonder if the reason for it is that "in heaven their angels do always +behold the face of the Father"? + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +_HADST THOU THE SECOND SIGHT?_ + + Digging thine heart and throwing + Away its childhood's gold, + That so its woman-depth might hold + His spirit's overflowing? + (For surging souls no worlds can bound + Their channel in the heart have found.) + + +Arthur would not allow his guide to do all the work. He wanted to know +this strange child--Margaret's child; he wanted to try and understand +what was this power, savoring to his mind of dark magic, that her +mother's enemy had gained over her. After they had walked in total +silence for about half an hour he insisted on a change. + +Laura wished to walk, but upon Arthur pointing out to her that her +small feet would be swamped in the snow, she submitted again. She +was very grateful to this new ally for his prompt carrying out of +her wishes, and with that strange woman-insight which belonged so +peculiarly to this child she read in the face of her new guide that in +submitting to his wishes she could best show her gratitude. + +In Arthur's manner to her there was something of the reverent devotion +that had been one means of drawing her heart so completely to the +friend she was seeking in the desolate Alpine solitudes. The German +had insulted Laura by treating her like a little child, for her +late experiences had drawn her on, not from the sweet simplicity of +childhood--for in this had consisted her power over the wild heart of +L'Estrange--but from many of its feelings; Laura had become sensitive +beyond her years, and this under the circumstances was scarcely +wonderful. She had shared, and probably understood, her mother's +sorrows; she had lived for her sake a life too intense for one of her +tender years; she had taken a part in struggles of whose existence she +ought to have known nothing; she had thought and dreamed and reasoned +till the woman-nature that lies hidden in the heart of every girl-child +had become unhealthily developed. Her childhood, in this sense, had +passed by; Laura would never return to the gay carelessness of early +youth. + +Gravely she allowed Arthur to gather her up into his arms, and as, in +their momentary stoppage, the light of the guide's lantern shone upon +her pale fair face and deep earnest eyes, the young man wondered. He +wondered at her unchildlike beauty--he wondered at his own instinctive +reverence. + +"Are you quite comfortable, Laura?" he inquired as he drew her cloak +over her tiny feet. + +"Quite, thank you," replied the child; "and you are very kind. Mon père +will thank you; but oh, I wonder shall we find him soon?" + +"Do you know that we are going to find some one else, Laura?" asked +Arthur, rather shocked to find her head so full of her false father +that she had no thoughts to spare for her true one. + +"Yes, I know," she answered gravely; "and sometimes I'm sorry that I +can't love my own papa so much as mon père; but, you see, I've never +seen him: at least, mamma says I have; I don't remember at all." She +paused a moment, then added in a grieved, puzzled tone, "Oh, _please_ +tell me--for I want so much to know--_ought_ I to love my own papa as +well as mamma and mon père?" The question had evidently been tormenting +her. + +"You _ought_ to put such ideas out of your little head," said Arthur +lightly. + +"But I _can't_," replied the child in a grieved tone; and Arthur, quite +perplexed, tried a new set of tactics: + +"What makes you love this person so much whom you call mon père?" + +"What _makes_ me?" Unconsciously Arthur had started another +bewildering question. She raised her head and knit her small brows: +"It's not because he's good to me, for other people have been good to +me, and I didn't love them. You know loving and liking are different. +Mamma told me I ought to love my papa, but you see there isn't any +_ought_ in love, and I must love mon père best. Oh, I wonder why!" + +This was certainly a strange child. Arthur had not laid his hand upon +the magic; her answer only made it appear the more mysterious. He put +another leading question: "Is he very good to you, Laura?" + +"Mon père, do you mean? Oh, he is so good! I want him to come back with +me to mamma, but when I talk about it he looks at me in that sad way, +like people do when they are going to say good-bye. Do you _think_ I +shall be able to get him to say he will come? Oh"--the child's face +brightened, a happy thought seemed to have struck her--"will _you_ +ask him to come? Perhaps he will do it for you." She went on rapidly, +for the child-nature was beginning to assert itself: "He left a great +big dog in the village--big enough to carry me on its back, mon père +says. And just fancy! it's to be all mine. I wonder how long we shall +be getting back to mamma, and _won't_ she be pleased?" For at the +thought of the great dog, the sea, the village and mamma the painful +questioning had passed away from Laura's mind. She was the child +again--her mother's darling--the tender little one whom Margaret loved. + +Arthur's throat contracted strangely as he listened. It was such a +contrast. The night, the darkness, the desolation around them, the +horror that might only too possibly be before them, and the child's +innocent dreams, her unconsciousness of evil, her calm certainty +of hope. The idea made him press forward almost fiercely for a +few moments, but his stolid guide called him back to reason. The +torch-bearer would not hasten; he went forward with quiet, plodding +step, and to distance him would have been in the highest degree +dangerous. + +Laura's question remained unanswered, for Arthur had not L'Estrange's +strength of muscle or iron nerve, and he was passing through a mental +experience intense enough to draw away some of his physical force. His +arms began to ache and his knees to tremble. He was obliged to give up +Laura to the guide, and to stop one moment to gather up his strength +for a new effort. + +Laura was concerned. "I knew I was too heavy," she said. + +But the young man answered with a smile, and again they plodded on +in silence. Their task was not an easy one. In some places the ice +had gathered in a thin frost-work over the snow, so that where they +thought to find sure footing they sank to their knees in the soft, +white mass; in others, the path intersecting a meadow was almost +undiscoverable by reason of the white unity that did away with all +known landmarks. But happily, their guide was a good one and the path +was well trodden. He knew it thoroughly; then, before midnight had +chimed from the village-clock the mists had partially risen, the wind +had fallen, and the glamour of moonlight shone cold over the snow. By +its light Arthur saw a thin wreath of blue smoke rising from beyond +the pine wood they were nearing. He pointed it out to Laura, his heart +almost standing still with the conflict of fear and hope that possessed +him. + +The child smiled up into his face. "Mon père is there," she said. + +"Your _father_ is there," was the answer sternly spoken, and the little +one was checked. She said no more, but watched till the dark pines, +looking weird and gaunt in the moonshine, rose high above their heads, +shutting out that first glimpse of Maurice Grey's dwelling. + +"I will go first," said Arthur; "I know the way." + +He began to think he had been wrong in bringing the tender child. He +feared the effect upon her mind of some terrible discovery, she was so +utterly unprepared for the horror that had been in his mind during the +latter part of that weary journey. + +The chalet was on the outskirts of the wood, just where an Alpine +meadow opened out. As Arthur drew near he looked up earnestly. No light +shone from the little window. He trembled, but there was no time for +delay; he knocked long and desperately, as one might do who had come on +an errand of life and death. + +Marie in her night-cap appeared at the window. Her face had a scared +look; she shook her head and refused to let him in. + +Arthur had forgotten, in his impatience to press on, that if those +he sought should not be within, the old woman, obtuse at the best of +times, might fail to recognize and refuse to admit him. + +He was obliged to wait until his guide, a person well known to Marie, +could come up with Laura. His decided summons brought out the old +woman again; she obeyed her countryman, and opened the door after very +little further delay. + +They entered, and Arthur found that his fears had been only too well +grounded. The chalet was empty. It was clear, further, from the excited +signs made by the old woman as she told her story to the guide, that +there had been some kind of quarrel, and that the enemies had gone out +together. + +Arthur wrung his hands. For the first time his heart failed him. Had +Maurice been found only for this--either that his own life should fall +a prey to his enemy, or that the stain of blood-guiltiness should rest +for ever on his head?--for their departure, their long absence, the +scared looks of the old woman, all pointed to one suspicion; the two +men had left the solitary dwelling with no friendly motive actuating +them. It was more than probable that a fierce conflict had taken +place--that the meeting in the snows had been fatal to one, perhaps to +both of them. And then--what then? He scarcely dared to think. + +The old woman had lit Maurice's lamp in the interval. Its light shone +upon the face of his child. She was gazing with lips parted, and eyes +in which a certain instinct of some unknown horror was gleaming, into +Arthur's face. She went up to him and touched his arm with her small +hand. "Why does the old woman look at me like that?" she whispered, +lifting up a pale, scared face. "And what have they done with mon père? +He's not here." And she looked round inquiringly. + +"I am afraid they have lost themselves in the snow," replied Arthur as +calmly as he could. "Laura, we must leave you here and go out again to +look for them." + +"_Them?_" repeated she in a low tone. "Then my own papa is with him. +But what's the matter? why do you all look so frightened? Is mon père +dead? Oh, please, please, let me go to him!" + +"Laura, you must be sensible. We cannot take you, my poor child! Stay +here with Marie! Listen, dear! We may go into dangerous places; we may +be lost." + +But the child did not seem to hear him. There had come a strange, +sudden look into her face, as though she could see more than others +saw. She held up her hand. "Hush!" she said in a tone that made Arthur +shiver, it was so unchildlike in its earnestness; and even as she spoke +that dawning consciousness of a certain mysterious horror paled her +cheek and made her dark eyes large and deep. "Mon père is calling me," +she said. "They are hurting him. Come, come!" + +She rushed to the door, and opening it stood for a moment on the +threshold, mute, in the attitude of deep attention, her hands plunged +forward into the darkness, as though she were appealing to some unseen +power, her golden hair thrown back from her uncovered head, her face +peering out into the night. + +Within, no one stirred. It almost seemed as if they were waiting for +the development of a mysterious power in this strange child. And as +they stood, silent, motionless, watchful, there came to their ears a +sound. It was distinct from the moaning of the wind among the trees, +distinct from the rush of the torrents, distinct from the rattle of the +leafless pine-branches. The sound was a groan. It spoke as plainly as +words of human anguish. + +For a moment none of them stirred, and yet the sound had fallen on the +ears of all, but this certainty of an unseen, nameless horror acted on +them like a spell. It was only when the child started forward into the +night that Arthur was aroused from the momentary inaction to a sense of +the necessity for immediate exertion. + +He rushed after Laura, caught hold of her, and for the second time +gathered her up into his arms. "My child," he said hoarsely, "you +_must_ come back. God only knows what we may find out there! Be calm. +We shall do our best to bring them to you." The child looked up at him; +she never struggled when she knew all struggling would be useless, and +there was wonder as well as a certain awe in her gaze. + +"What do you mean?" she asked; "none of you understand. Mon père is +ill, and papa is taking care of him; and it's cold out there in the +snow, but he won't leave him. He wants us to help him." + +"_Us!_" Involuntarily Arthur smiled as he held the tiny figure in his +grasp. + +"We can find them without you, Laura," he said. The guide had joined +them with the lantern. "Go in, like a good child." + +In her turn Laura smiled. "Which way will you go to find them?" she +asked. "Listen to me: I know all about it. Just now, when I wanted to +listen and you _would_ talk, God showed it to me in a dream. Mon père +is ill. He wants me--I'll take you to find him." + +Marie stood at the door holding out her arms; the guide motioned +peremptorily that the child should return to the chalet. Arthur +stood irresolute. He felt half inclined to trust to the little one's +instincts, and in the delay, while the precious moments that might mean +life or death to one of the two men in the snow were passing, _that_ +sound came to their ears again--a heavy groan, drawn, it would seem, +from a heart's agony. + +It was more than Laura could bear, for she, and she alone of that +little company, knew the sound; she had heard it before. + +In his excitement Arthur's hold on her hand relaxed. With a sudden cry +she wrenched herself free, and before the two men could seize her again +her white dress and scarlet cloak made a blot on the moonlit snow far +on in advance. What could they do but follow in her track? and when +they had come up with her, when she had allowed herself once more to +be caught, the light from the open door of the chalet gleamed far away +in the distance. The wilful little maiden was perched once more on the +shoulder of the stolid Swiss guide. She arrogated to herself the right +of directing her companions, and it was well. Once, at least, from her +tower of observation she scented danger and warned them away from the +brink of a ravine. But the men had a surer guide than the dreams of a +child. In a part of the meadow that was sheltered from the wind Arthur +had found the traces of footsteps in the snow. + +Strange to say, the discovery was made in the very direction which +Laura had taken when she started on her wild flight. Had her loving +instincts guided her, or was there really something supernatural in her +knowledge? + +Arthur asked himself this question repeatedly as he followed his guide +in silence. He never found an answer. The events of that night were +always wrapped in a partial mystery. + +Was it so very unnatural? Who that has looked into the far-seeing eyes +of some children, who that has carefully noted their strange ways, +will be able to answer unhesitatingly that it was? They are nearer +to heaven, nearer to the invisible, than those who have weathered +a hundred storms, who have lost their faith in humanity, who have +travelled for long years along the dusty highways of the world, +tarnishing much of their soul's beauty, and forgetting too often the +grandeur of their high destiny. + +What wonder that the little ones sometimes see farther than we? for the +invisible chord which binds their soul to heaven is, at their tender +age, free for the passage to and fro of the angels, and it may be that +they whisper to the children of the things that no eye can see. And the +child is ready for these beautiful intuitions. It does not question--it +believes. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +_FOR THE SECOND TIME SAVED FROM HIMSELF._ + + Oh, unsay + What thou hast said of man; nor deem me wrong. + Mind cannot mind despise--it is itself. + Mind must love mind. + + +The two men and the child pressed on. They had left the path behind +them, they were winding between huge boulders, the débris from some +devastating avalanche; like a mighty wall the mountains rose above +them, hedging them in on the one side, while on the other was the +continuation of the pine wood. + +The guide had given up the lantern to Arthur; he could not manage +both it and the child, and the young man, a few yards in advance, was +seeking on hands and knees for further traces of footsteps in the snow. + +The groans had not been repeated, and from this Arthur augured badly. +It might be that the dying had passed into the dead. The young man's +heart was sad. He had reckoned so entirely on the success of his +enterprise, he had been so full of hope, and now it seemed as if the +whole--all his hopes, all his efforts--was to be swamped in this sudden +horror. For even if Maurice had escaped unhurt, even if the life of +his enemy had fallen by his hand in his first horror at the discovery +of that enemy's dark treachery, what would the result be on his own +mind, on those of others?--to Margaret, who above all things had +entreated that this man should be unharmed; to Laura, who loved him +with all the strength of her young soul; to Maurice himself, who would +feel when the deed was done that it was wrongly done, for this man +had thrown himself, alone and helpless, into his hands, carrying as a +peace-offering the act of expiation for his past wrongs, the confession +of Margaret's spotless innocence. Arthur had gathered from Laura's +words, beyond the possibility of a doubt, that this, and only this, had +been the intention of L'Estrange in seeking an interview with Mr. Grey. + +If he could only have foreseen all this, he said to himself mournfully, +it might have been so different. + +The voice of the child awoke him from his sad musing. It was very low, +but in the stillness of that snowy night the slightest sound wrote its +impress on the air. The earth itself seemed to be listening. "We're +very near them now," she said; "I am sure we are. There, there! listen! +The trees are shaking." + +Almost instinctively the two men obeyed her imperative gestures. They +rounded a great shoulder of rock. It led them on to a kind of plateau, +studded here and there with stunted, snow-laden pines, ending abruptly +in a depth of darkness, for what lay beyond the ravine that bounded it +was hidden by the snow-vapors. + +At first they saw nothing, but a certain feeling warned them to pause +and look round attentively. + +"Put me down," cried the child, and as if in answer to her call the +branches of the pine that overhung the precipice crackled and stirred. + +This excited Laura. She broke loose from the guide, and once more +outstripping her companions rushed forward over the snow. A moment +more, and her cry, partly of joy, partly of pain, drew Arthur to the +spot. It was on the very brink of the ravine, under an overhanging +pine tree, whose black shadow on the moonlit snow had prevented them +from discovering what lay beneath it. + +L'Estrange was outstretched there, silent, motionless, to all +appearance dead. Laura was on her knees beside her friend, calling out +to him piteously to open his eyes and speak to her. In her excitement +the little one had not seen at first that there was another there--that +the head of her friend was on the knees of a man who sat upright on the +cold snow, his back resting against the stem of a pine tree. That man +was her father--Maurice Grey. + +Just before they came up he had fallen into that most dangerous of +all states, a sleep among the snows--a dull, numb insensibility +induced by the constrained posture, the long watching, the extreme +cold. His child's wail aroused him. He opened his eyes, but his first +thought was that he was dreaming, for as Arthur's lantern was turned +slowly on the little group he saw in the golden hair from which the +scarlet hood had fallen back, in the fair, delicately-chiselled face, +in the dark, mournful eyes, so like his own, the little one he had +deserted--Margaret's child. How had she come there? Gradually, as the +film passed from his senses, he began to remember the events of the +night, and the latter part of L'Estrange's strange confession flashed +over his mind. While horror withheld Arthur from speaking, while the +guide, whose movements were slower than his, was coming up to their +assistance, a glimmering of the truth dawned upon Maurice's mind. +_His_ child had come out to seek this man, his enemy--_his_ child was +pouring out on her mother's betrayer the treasures of her young heart's +affection. It smote him with a sudden pang. + +But no answer came from the stricken man to the child's impassioned +cries, and suddenly she raised her eyes. They met those of her father. +She looked at him for a moment in silence, and involuntarily Maurice +trembled. He was thinking of what might have been if the hand of God +had not forestalled his. + +In his first burst of anger against this man, the destroyer of his +peace, the slanderer of her who was dearer to him than life, it had +seemed no crime to avenge himself once and for ever of his enemy. But +with the silence of that solemn night other thoughts had come. In the +unlooked-for ending of their strife that evening God had rebuked him. +"Vengeance is mine!" seemed to be crying in his ears. What was he, that +he should arrogate to himself the functions that belong to the Divine? +And say what one will, under any circumstances it is an awful thing--a +thing that can never be forgotten or put away--to destroy human life. + +Maurice Grey was neither weak nor sentimental, but that night as he +hung over his enemy, tending as a brother might have done the man he +had intended to destroy, he shuddered at the remembrance of what might +have happened in the fever of his just indignation. And now, when the +child--his child--looked up at him, her eyes large with fear for his +enemy, asking him mutely for an account of this strangeness, Maurice +was thankful that his answer might be no revelation of a tragedy that +would have chilled her warm young blood and filled her with loathing of +him--her father. + +"Who has hurt mon père?" asked Laura. + +"Little one," replied Maurice gravely, "he is ill; he will be better +soon." + +By this time Arthur was close beside them. He stumbled over something +hard, stooped, and found a pistol at his feet. + +"Don't touch it!" cried Maurice hastily; "it is loaded." + +"Loaded!" repeated the young man slowly; "then--" + +"Foolish boy!" replied Maurice with meaning. "I tell you this man was +taken ill near my door. In the impossibility of getting assistance to +move him, I have been watching him ever since his first seizure; but, +for Goodness' sake, don't stand looking at us, or we shall die of cold +out here! Get your burly friend to help you, and between you perhaps +you may be able to carry this man as far as the chalet. As for myself, +I am so cramped and numb that it will be all I can do to creep." + +Maurice spoke cheerfully. It was as if a great load had suddenly been +lifted from his soul. + +Margaret pure, his hands free from blood-guiltiness, his little +daughter within his grasp! It was like the opening of heaven to a +spirit long tormented in the purifying fires. + +Laura looked up triumphantly as she heard her father's words. "Didn't I +say so?" she cried; "mon père was ill, and my own papa was taking care +of him?" She stooped over L'Estrange: "Mon père, pauvre, cher père!" +Then to Arthur and the guide: "Oh, please, lift him very gently. We +must put him beside the fire. It will make mon père better." + +She made an effort to raise his head on her small arm. And at her touch +L'Estrange opened his eyes. "Ma fillette!" he whispered. Laura was +satisfied. + +"I have done him good already," she said, looking round at Arthur; "I +said I could." + +It was only when she had seen her friend raised, the burly Swiss +supporting his head and shoulders, Arthur his feet, that she had eyes +or words for Maurice. He rose with difficulty, the little one standing +beside him and offering her small hand by way of assistance. + +"Have you nothing to say to me, Laura?" he asked rather sadly as he +walked, painfully at first, after Arthur and the guide, the little one +trotting joyfully through the snow by his side. + +She looked up at him: "You _are_ my own papa?" + +"Yes, Laura." + +"And you are coming back home with us?" + +"Yes." + +"And you really want to see mamma again?" + +"Yes." + +"Then"--the child gave a deep sigh--"I am very glad." + +That was the end of the first conversation between Laura and her +father. They were obliged to look carefully to their footing, for two +or three times the child had fallen upon the frozen snow. She did not +seem to care much, but her father did; when at last the congealed +blood began to flow through his veins, and his wonted vigor to return, +Maurice Grey stooped and in his turn gathered her up into his arms. + +Laura had found her true place at last. After her wanderings, her +strange adventures, her fears and her dreams, she was able to lay her +head on her father's breast. He was a stranger to the child. As yet her +love for her false father was much stronger than any feeling for the +true; but the consciousness perhaps of this, that he _was_ her father, +that her task was ended, her childish work accomplished, made a deep +rest steal over her. With her arms round Maurice's neck and her head +upon his shoulder the child fell fast asleep after her fatigues. It was +childhood's sleep, dreamless and unbroken. + +So Maurice brought her in to his house, solitary now no longer. He +would not give her up into Marie's care, but taking the blankets from +his bed, he arranged them with his pillows in a corner near the stove, +and laid the little one down. There was a soft look in his face as +he stooped over her. Where was all his cynicism? It had gone. He was +thinking of Laura's mother, and reckoning how long the time might be +before he could himself give back her child to her arms. + +And in the mean time the cold dawn was beginning to creep over the +snow. Maurice turned to his companions and held a council of war. They +examined L'Estrange carefully, and found that one of his arms and part +of his side were perfectly dead and helpless. He seemed to be partially +paralyzed. + +The question was, What should they do with him? In the solitude of +Maurice's little chalet it would be impossible for him to obtain the +necessary treatment, yet to move a man in his condition so far as the +hotel would be a serious matter, and required more hands than they +could muster. + +They had improvised a kind of bed on the floor of the small +sitting-room; they were standing round him, Maurice and Arthur talking +earnestly, the guide only waiting for a sign to do anything that might +be desired of him, when suddenly, to their astonishment, the man they +had thought utterly insensible looked up and tried to raise himself. +He fell back helpless. Then he opened his lips and tried to speak. +Maurice stooped over him to catch the words, for his voice was thick +and changed. "La fillette!" he murmured; "I saw her." Then, as Maurice +pointed out the child fast asleep among the pillows: "It is well," he +said quietly, and his head fell back again. He was thinking. + +Gradually the events of the night were shaping themselves out of +the mists which his long insensibility had thrown over his mind. "I +remember," he said at last in a faint, low tone. He beckoned to +Arthur, who wondered at the recognition which he read in the face of +the stricken man. But the dying have their privileges. Arthur overcame +his repugnance and stooped down to listen to his words. "Tell me--" was +all he said, pointing to the bed where Laura lay asleep. + +The young man understood what he wanted. In as few words as possible he +told of his discovery, of Laura's anxiety, of their midnight journey, +and once or twice, as his tale went on, a tear rolled down L'Estrange's +face, for in spirit as in body the man was overcome. + +When it was ended he called Maurice to his side, and held out the only +hand over which his will had any power, whispering as he did so, "Is it +peace?" + +Maurice took the hand and held it in his own. "Forgive me--" he began, +but the man interrupted him with something of his old imperiousness. + +"Young people," he said, "lie down--rest." + +It was, after all, the most sensible, suggestion. They gave him some +brandy and hot water, which seemed to revive him; then, as utter +weariness had taken possession of Arthur and the guide, they thought +it best to obey, Maurice, who had piled fuel on the stove, declaring +his intention of watching it and L'Estrange. But he too gave way before +long, and the morning light streamed in upon the little chalet parlor, +full of prostrate forms stretched out on the floor and wrapped in every +kind of material. + +Before the full morning light had aroused the weary men Laura had risen +from her bed, and had knelt down by her friend to place one of the +pillows her father had arranged for her under his head. + +He was awake, and he opened his eyes with a smile, but the smile passed +into a frown, and Laura feared she had offended him. The fact was, +L'Estrange was steeling his heart and hers. He wanted to detach himself +from his darling--to accustom himself to do without her--to teach her, +if possible to care for him less. + +But the little one put it down to pain, and tears filled her eyes "Mon +père is worse," she murmured. + +She remained by his side till the full light, breaking in upon the +room, had aroused the sleepers. + +Then another discussion took place. It was very strange. But the night +before Maurice Grey would have thought it no sin to deprive his enemy +of life. Another hand than his had smitten L'Estrange, and instead of +deserting him, as he might have done, leaving him to find his death +among the snows, Maurice Grey had risked his own life (for the numbness +which had been creeping over him when his friends came up might soon +have proved fatal) to watch over his. Perhaps the reason might be +found in his helplessness. On the previous evening he had stood before +Maurice as an accuser and a judge, arraigning him for the folly and +short-sightedness which, according to his showing, had been far more +instrumental than anything else in bringing about his suffering and +Margaret's. And his biting words had found their echo in Maurice's +own heart, being gifted with a double sting. In the man's attitude +there had been a certain power, and this it was that had inflamed his +opponent, till he had longed with a fierce, sudden passion of hatred to +punish him to the uttermost. + +For the second time Maurice Grey had been saved from himself, and now, +as the man he had hated lay helpless at his feet--the brain that had +conceived and the hand that had written that cruel letter torpid, the +tongue which had given forth its biting irony silent--all his feelings +changed. The helplessness of the strong man recommended him to his +compassion; the remembrance of the service he had rendered him, the +consciousness of his penitence for the wrong he had committed, softened +Maurice toward him. He saw, for the first time, in L'Estrange's strange +conduct the return to itself of a soul that had wandered from his own +nobility. Bowing his head, the man who had been known as a bitter cynic +confessed his wrong to humanity, his distrust of God. Maurice Grey +was a changed man. He felt it in the lightness of heart with which he +rose that morning; for, say what we will, it cannot but be that this +hatred of their kind on which some men pride themselves is a bad and +heart-degrading thing. It recoils upon itself. A man cannot despise his +own nature and be happy. Maurice during these wretched years had been +heaping up misery to himself. But it was over, once and for ever. In +Margaret's faithful devotion and forgiving love, in his enemy's return +to a better mind, in his child's simplicity, in Arthur's high-hearted +chivalry, Maurice saw the other side of the picture he had so long been +contemplating. + +In the course of his life of wandering he had been pleasing himself by +drawing out and marking the weaknesses of his fellows, and he had not +found his task difficult; but now in his God-given nature, the nature +he had despised, he began to see there was something underlying all +these superficialities For humanity had shown itself to him in its +beauty--the beauty which made God Himself pronounce it good on that +creation-dawn when "the morning stars sang together and all the sons +of God shouted for joy." Maurice Grey thanked God and took courage. +The discussion between himself and Arthur (for the guide was a silent +assistant) resulted in very little. + +Something in the way of a litter would be necessary to take the +sufferer over the hills, and at least four strong men who could relieve +one another. They were only three, and it seemed perfectly impossible +to construct a litter out of the materials at hand. + +The best plan seemed to be for the guide to return to the hotel and +bring back with him men and litter, also provisions of some kind, for +Marie's black bread and sausages had been so seriously besieged by her +numerous invaders that very little, even of this uninviting food, was +to be found in the small kitchen upon which Arthur made a raid. There +was fortunately enough coffee to supply them each with a strong cup, +only it had to be taken with goat's milk that had been standing for +some days in Marie's pans. + +Arthur and Laura, the two most fastidious of the little party, made +many a wry face over the poor fare. These two had become fast friends; +indeed, the child was in a fair way to be spoilt. She reigned like a +queen among these men, so strangely met together in the solitary's +dwelling. The general devotion did not much impress her. Most of her +thoughts were given to one, and he seemed to take very little notice of +his darling. Once or twice the tears filled Laura's eyes as she noticed +how he would refuse what nourishment he could take when she offered +it, and then receive it from another hand. It gave the young heart, +premature in its development, a bitter pang to feel that the affection +of this friend might possibly cease. But of all this the child said +nothing. Breakfast--if breakfast it might be called--was over, the +guide was about to start for Grindelwald, Arthur was busying himself +about domestic matters, trying by his rapid movements to quicken the +perceptions of old Marie, who had been rendered even more stupid than +usual by the strange events of the night; Maurice sat by the side of +his stricken guest, with his little daughter on his knees, when over +the snow outside there came the sound of voices. + +Laura ran to the window. "Four men," she cried, "and a mule, and one +of those chairs to carry people, and rugs, and a big bundle, and--Oh, +I hope there's some white bread; but perhaps they're not going to stop +here." + +She appealed to Arthur, the person with whom she felt most on terms of +equality: "_Do_ go out and see if they'd give us just one little bit." + +Her summons drew the whole of the little party to the door, just in +time to see the small cavalcade draw up, and to meet the questioning, +reproachful gaze of the good Karl. + +To explain his appearance on the scene, it will be necessary to relate +how the ungrateful Arthur had quite forgotten his friend's servant, +who according to his own showing had earned for him the favor of that +tête-à-tête dinner at the hotel with the man to find whom he had +traversed Europe in its length and breadth. + +It was only when the good German showed his round face, in which +sentiment and joy were struggling for the mastery, at the door of the +chalet that Arthur remembered his intention of letting him know of +his own return to the hotel and his master's whereabouts. The rapid +start with Laura and the guide, following on the interval of regretful +meditation in his own room, had put everything else out of his mind, +and Karl, who, as was his wont, had been making himself useful and +entertaining in the kitchen of the hotel, only found out when it was +too late to do any good that uneasy rumors were afloat in the house +about the two Englishmen, one of whom was his master. + +Karl was eminently practical. He lost no time in dreaming about their +probable fate. Something--perhaps an accident to his master, since the +younger man had returned for assistance--was detaining them at the +chalet. The chalet was ill-provided with food and necessary comforts. +As soon as it could be possible to gather together a company large +enough to be useful in any emergency, he would find his way to his +master. + +He spent the rest of the night in making every arrangement. Before +dawn he and his party of three stalwart men were on foot. Hence their +arrival at a comparatively early hour of the morning. + +Karl's astonishment at the appearance presented by the chalet was very +great, and it was blended with reproach. His master and his master's +friend were on their feet, apparently uninjured; they seemed to have +plenty of assistants, for the guide, Marie, Arthur, Maurice and the +child made an imposing show in the small doorway; it was impossible +to tell how many more might be behind them. Why, then, had he, the +Englishman's faithful servant, been forgotten in this strange jubilee? + +But his helpful nature reasserted itself when he found how very much +his services were needed. In the course of a few minutes he was +bustling about, acting as interpreter, preparing a substantial meal for +Maurice's half-starved little company, presenting everybody with shawl +or rug, and making himself generally useful. + +Laura had her white bread and some sugar and milk. Arthur and Maurice +rejoiced in the dissection of a fowl, and the guide had a fresh and +unlimited supply of sausages; they were therefore soon sufficiently +strengthened to think with equanimity of a new start. The poles of the +_chaise-à-porteur,_ brought up in case of emergency by the provident +Karl, formed, with mattresses and ropes, an excellent litter. On this +they laid L'Estrange, well wrapped up in rugs and blankets. + +Before the sun had risen very high in the heavens the little cavalcade +was in motion--Laura mounted on the mule which her father led; +L'Estrange, passive as an infant, in the litter they had prepared for +him; the rest of the party on foot. + +As they entered the pinewood, Maurice turned, and shading his eyes from +the morning sun, took one last look at his temporary dwelling. It had +been the home of his solitude, the mute witness of despair that had +reached its climax in those last days when his life had seemed a burden +too heavy to be borne, and he was leaving it--leaving it and the past +life for ever. + +His pride had been rebuked, his self-reliance had fallen. But a few +months before he had thought himself sufficient to himself: _that_ +madness had gone; human interests had already begun to throw their +sweet influence around him; from the hermit's dwelling he was going out +once more into the great world. It had done its work. The trial-time +was over. He was stronger and better. His faith in God and humanity +had returned. He could now look forward with hope--not, perhaps, the +sanguineness of youth, which hopes simply because to despair would be +impossible, but hope resting on a well-grounded confidence in himself, +in humanity, in God. + +Maurice Grey's after-life was not without its troubles, but through +them all he never lost sight of the lessons learnt in his hermit life. +Painfully gained, they were earnestly held. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +_A PARTING._ + + Thou whose exterior semblance doth belie + Thy soul's immensity; + Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep + Thy heritage; thou eye among the blind: + Thou over whom thy immortality + Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave, + A presence which is not to be put by! + + +In the hotel they returned, for the moment, to their old arrangements. +The faithful child would not forsake her friend; his illness had, if +possible, only endeared him to her. + +L'Estrange was better. The shock had only been very partial. On the +day following that of his return to the hotel he was already able to +speak intelligibly, and to understand everything that went on around +him. It was the morning of that day. Laura had been busy about the +room putting everything tidy, as she said in her childish way, for her +father had sent his servant to say that he would pay them a visit. +She noticed that the eyes of L'Estrange followed her painfully about +the room. There was a trouble in his face the child did not quite +understand. Except for his illness--which, childlike, Laura looked +upon as something very transient--she could not see in their present +circumstances any cause for sadness. Her mind was troubled with no +doubts about the right course to pursue. They were all to go back to +her mamma as soon as ever her friend could be moved. It had never +crossed her gentle mind that he was to be shut out of their happiness, +and, so far as she was concerned, she had no intention of leaving him. + +The heart of the little child was light. Everything had come about as +she had hoped. + +But Laura, young as she was, had been too often in the presence of +suffering not to recognize it, and her friend had taught her to +observe. She read the sorrow in his face and went to his bedside: "Mon +père, what is it? Are you worse?" + +"Come to me, fillette," he answered, and with his left hand he drew her +face to his. + +The child smiled: "Pauvre cher père, why do you look so sorry? You +ought to look glad, because we're all going back to mamma. Oh, I am so +happy! That night, mon père, you remember, when you were out in the +snow, and I thought you were lost, and I was to be left alone with +people who said cross things, I wasn't happy then; but now it's all +right. My papa is found--and," she lowered her voice as if speaking +in confidence, "I think I shall love him too--then we shall see mamma +again--" + +She stopped suddenly, for the tears were falling one by one over her +companion's face. To a stronger heart than Laura's the sight would have +been pitiful. This stern, self-contained man did not often express +his feelings. Even the child he loved had trembled sometimes as she +looked at his dark, strong face--even she had feared to intrude upon +his silence; now all was broken down. Weakness as of a little child +had taken hold upon him. Laura was very much distressed. With tears +of sympathy in her own eyes, she stroked the dark, passionate face, +murmuring gentle words. + +He spoke at last, and there was a sternness in his voice that might +have repelled the child had she not known her friend so well. "Laura," +he said, "you must not again say such things as these; you must try and +understand, little one. What must be, must be; and thou and I _must_ +part. Hush! hush!" + +For Laura's face was averted; she had hidden it in the bed-clothes; +she was weeping in the silent, unchildlike way that once or twice +before had moved L'Estrange so deeply. In his weakness the man had much +difficulty in preventing himself from giving way once more and weeping +with her, but he controlled himself, for he was determined that no one +but himself should make her understand. + +"Laura," he said very tenderly, laying his left hand on the soft, +golden head he loved so well, "it is necessary--you must go. I am not +worthy of this love, and your mother is waiting for you." + +"But, mon père--" Laura lifted up her tear-stained face and met his +deep, stern eyes. Her voice faltered, for, child as she was, she read +his resolve. "You will be better," she said, "and come too." + +"Never," he answered slowly. "Listen, little one." He put away the +hair from her face and looked at her long and tenderly: "In years to +come--ah, petite, long, long years--after your friend has been put away +under the ground, ma fillette will be a woman, tall and beautiful and +good; then she will know and understand that this thing is right; then +she will know that her friend, who loved her, acted for the best in +this--that what my Laura desires would not be possible. She must say to +her old friend good-bye; she must go away to those who love her; not +better--that could not be--but to those who have a greater right to her +love. Why do you care for me, fillette? Ah, mon Dieu! it is painful," +he added as if to himself, for the child's sobs had never ceased. + +He drew her face down to him again: "Little bird, it is not well. These +deep feelings give me grief. Thine is the age of laughter. Think then +of la pauvre maman--she is weeping too." + +"Yes," replied the child through her tears. "I want to go back; but +oh"--a happy thought had struck her; she clasped her hands and looked +up into her friend's face--"if papa and I go away now, at once, you'll +get well and come afterward. This won't be saying good-bye for always: +_please, please_, say it won't." + +He felt inclined to give her an indefinite answer, to let her think +that it should be as she wished; but when he looked into her dark, +imploring eyes--the eyes from which shone out the tenderest, most +innocent soul that had ever loved him in all his wild career--he felt +that to deceive her would be impossible. He answered slowly and calmly, +with the manner of one who for ever puts away some beautiful thing out +of his sight: "Thou hast said it, fillette. Good-bye for always." + +"Always! always!" The child repeated the word, her large dark eyes +dilating as if with some hidden awe. "Mon père," she said almost in +a whisper, "it is so long--always, for ever. Do you mean that I am +_never, never_ to see you again?" + +He looked at her curiously. In his old way he was analyzing. He was +trying to understand the sudden emotion that had blanched the little +one's cheek and brought that look of awe into her eyes. It was not +the first time that this vague terror of the unknowable had taken +possession of this strange child's mind. + +She shivered slightly as, standing by her friend's side, she reasoned +out the matter with herself: "Mon père, what does it mean? To-day ends, +and to-morrow will end; and this year and next year, and every year, +I suppose, till we die; and then--after then--there is heaven and for +ever--always, always, for ever. I _can't_ understand it. Oh, mon père, +is it true?" The child was in an agony. This was the mental torture +that had, several times, racked her brain. + +"And," she added under her breath, with the look and tone of one treble +her age, "in all this for ever--so long, so long--I must not see mon +père any more." + +It was L'Estrange's turn to tremble. Rapidly as in a dream the +remembrance came of that first day when for his own purpose he had +implanted into the little one's mind thoughts and ideas too great and +strong for one of her years. + +"Mon Dieu!" murmured the stricken man, "and must it always be thus? I +only love to blight and poison." + +"Laura," he answered aloud--and his voice was grave and earnest--"you +take things too much to heart. Try now to understand me, little one. +Words have a certain meaning of their own, but people may give them +too much meaning or too little. When ma fillette is older she will +know that 'always' may sometimes mean a day, a week, a year--sometimes +indeed this for ever of which she speaks so earnestly, but _very, very_ +seldom. Look up, petite. _My_ always is not at all so very terrible. +All I mean is this: you must go back home with your own father, and +leave your friend here. See! I have made a letter be written to Paris, +to the person whom you will remember there. Marie will come and help me +to move to her little house; then if ever ma fillette comes to Paris +she will know where to hear of her old friend." + +"Oh, please let me have it," cried the child. She took the letter +from the hand of L'Estrange, sat down before the table, and copied +the address, letter by letter, in her large childish handwriting, her +friend spelling it over for her that there might be no mistake. Then +she folded up the paper and clasped it in both hands. "Mon père," she +said, "I will never lose it." + +In the practical action Laura's dreamy fears had fled. Hope, the hope +of a young child, reasserted itself once more. "I will show it to +mamma," she said, "and we'll come together to see you; then perhaps--" + +She was interrupted by a knock at the door. Her father was outside +waiting for admittance. + +As might have been expected, Maurice Grey had lost no time in making +all needful preparation for their journey to England. He was in a fever +of anxiety to be moving once more, to be on his way to his injured +wife, to assure himself of her forgiveness and continued love. And +there had been certain points in the story told by Arthur which had +alarmed him. Margaret's poverty: the thought of this gave him perhaps +the keenest pang he had experienced. He could not understand it, +for, as has already been seen, Maurice Grey was not exactly to blame +for this; but in his after review of all the circumstances he blamed +himself bitterly for what he now looked upon as his own weak-minded +folly in preserving this total silence. He had thought of his own pain +in the event of all his fears receiving fatal confirmation, and his +wife, so tenderly reared, had been suffering. + +Then her delicacy, the sudden collapse of her powers. The thought +of this was almost too hard to be borne, for if--if there should be +disappointment before him--if he could never ask her forgiveness for +the cruel wrong he had committed, never hold her again to his heart, +never let her know how deeply through it all he had loved her--the +man felt as if it would be better even to die himself. The bare idea +maddened him. + +He would willingly have cut through the air to reach her, and the +necessary delay chafed his spirit. Since the moment of their return to +the hotel the Englishman had been busy in making every preparation for +departure. + +Happily for him, the season had not yet entirely closed. Sledges +would have to be used in various parts of the journey, and guides and +drivers would probably require to be highly feed; but this was a matter +of very small import. All he desired was speed. Arthur seconded his +efforts ably. As the diligence had ceased running between Grindelwald +and Interlachen, and the steamers no longer made their daily journey +on the lake, a visit to Interlachen had been necessary, that special +arrangements might be made as well for this as for their further +journey; the railway connecting Thun with Berne had not then been +completed. + +It was arranged that Arthur should act as courier, preceding them +to Thun to have relays prepared, and that Maurice should return to +Grindelwald for Laura. + +The child had not seen him since their journey through the snow from +his solitary chalet in the mountains. She was a little shy of this new +father, though inclined, as she had expressed herself to L'Estrange, to +think that she should love him. + +The fact was, that Laura, too much given to reason upon every point, +could not quite reconcile to herself his love for her mother and his +long absence. This had tormented the little one considerably during +these last days. She took his caresses that morning very calmly. +She would have run away then and left her father and friend alone +together, but L'Estrange detained her. She obeyed his gesture and sat +down again by his side. + +Maurice drew her toward him, "Laura," he asked, "are you ready to come +home?" + +"Now?" said the child, "at once?" + +"You want to go back to mamma, Laura?" he said gravely. + +The child stood silent, trembling from head to foot. She was afraid to +show what she felt before her father. + +"Come," said Maurice, "we must thank your friend who has been so kind +to you, and say good-bye to him." + +Laura looked at L'Estrange. The proud face was turned to the wall. Weak +as he was, he would yet show nothing before Maurice Grey. She went +close up to his side. He motioned her away from him, and the heart +of the little child could bear no longer. "Mon père will die if I go +away," she cried piteously. She covered her face with her hands and +began to cry. It was difficult for Maurice to know what to do. The +child's tears made him feel perfectly helpless. He was not accustomed +to little ones, and he felt inclined not only to wonder, but to feel +rather angry, at the strange power this man, her mother's bitterest +enemy, had gained over the child's mind. + +He answered her with a man's impatience. Like others, he forgot for +the moment, in her strange womanliness, that Laura was only a little +child. "My dear Laura," he said sternly, "I must have no more of this. +Leave off crying at once, and do as I tell you. Say good-bye to Mr. +L'Estrange, find your cloak and hat and come with me. I have told the +maid to put your things together, and a sledge is waiting at the door." + +Her father's voice checked the child so suddenly that the moment he had +spoken he reproached himself for having spoken too strongly. + +She left off crying at once, looked up with a pale, resolute face, and +went into her own room to get ready for the journey. Then, when the +scarlet cloak and hood had been put on by the sympathetic Gretchen, +Laura returned and stood once more beside her friend. + +"Papa," she said, turning to Maurice, "I'm quite ready, and you may go +down now. I shall come presently. Please, I want to say good-bye to mon +père alone." + +Maurice could not have been more astonished if he had suddenly seen his +little daughter put on her womanhood than he was at this calm demand. +He even hesitated a moment. But the little one stood her ground. + +Laura's instincts had told her what it was that had made her friend so +suddenly cold and distant. She could not leave him without _one_ more +kind word; then, on the other hand, the presence of her father, and +his stern forbidding of her ready tears, prevented her from letting +her friend see some at least of the love and gratitude that filled her +small heart. + +Maurice looked at the tiny figure and smiled: "My daughter has her +father's will. Well, little one, I suppose I must give in this time. It +is natural, perhaps, that you should feel this, only don't be too long +about your adieus." + +He turned to L'Estrange, thanked him for his kindness to the child, +asked if he could do anything for him before he went away; then, when +the question had received a decided negative, bade him a courteous +farewell. + +Once more, and for the last time, the child and the man--the +child so near heaven in her simplicity, the man world-weary and +travel-stained--were left alone together, and now the little one felt +that it was really for the last time. + +He turned his face toward her. She threw herself down on her knees by +his side, sobbing convulsively. "Mon père," she cried piteously, "is it +for ever?" + +For a few moments he was silent. In the sorrow of parting from this +only creature in the world who purely loved him, the memory of that +night when God's peace had been shed abroad in his soul, when the +tumult of his heart had been stayed by the consciousness of a presence +above and around him, returned to his mind. He was alone and hopeless +no longer. "Little one," he answered, drawing her soft cheek to his, +"you must look for me there--in heaven." + +"I will, I will," answered the sobbing child, for heaven at this moment +seemed near and real to her. + +She was about to rise, but he drew her down again: "Laura, remember, +if I go there ever it will be through thee. My child! my child!"--his +voice broke down suddenly--"the great God bless thee, now, every day of +thy life, and even for ever!" + +A knock at the door; the child's father was becoming impatient. Laura +rose, kissed her friend once more, smoothed his bed-clothes as she had +been accustomed to do, then turned away, choking back her sobs. The +little one could not trust her own father yet. She was afraid he would +be angry. She did not dare to look back at the door: she went, and +L'Estrange was left alone. + +The excitement had been almost too much for him in his weak state. +That night L'Estrange thought that he would die. They were very kind +and attentive to him in the hotel, did everything that could be done +to lighten his sufferings, but all he wished was to be left alone, +that he might die in peace. He was mistaken, however, as he had often +been before. This stroke did not mean death. A few days after Laura's +departure he was able to sit up, a day or two later he was trying +to teach his left hand to do the duties of the right, and before a +fortnight had passed his friend from Paris had arrived. + +Sorely in those days of enforced solitude he had missed his little +comforter, but Marie's bright, helpful presence did much toward +restoring him. He recovered in time to a certain measure of health and +strength, and yet the man was changed. + +The spirit that had faced the world's storms, that had made joys for +itself wherever fate had thrown him, was broken down. He had no aims, +and to begin again his life of wandering seemed desolate beyond measure. + +Perhaps his intercourse with Laura, and that parting which had wrung +both their hearts, had stung him in this: it had brought before +his mind the torment of that "might-have-been" which lurks in the +background of pleasure and self-seeking to seize upon the remnant of a +wasted life. It was his retribution, the portion he had prepared for +himself, but none the less was it bitterly hard to be borne. + +L'Estrange never regained his former vigor of body or strength of mind. +He spent the rest of his life in wandering, for no ties held him to +any particular place, and he was restless. + +He wrote to Margaret as soon as ever he had acquired sufficient power +over his left hand (the right remained for some time comparatively +helpless). The letter was a pouring out of his heart, a confession of +her wrongs. He took no merit to himself for having been instrumental +in restoring her to happiness. He only offered this as a proof of his +sincerity, he only asked for a line to let him know he was forgiven. + +They never met again; indeed, L'Estrange did not live very much longer, +but his end was peace. + + "After the burden and heat of the day, + The starry calm of night." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +_THE NEST IS EMPTY._ + + The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing, + The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, + And the year + On the earth, her deathbed, in a shroud of leaves dead, + Is lying. + + +One evening--it must have been in the month of November, when the days +had grown short and the nights long, when the autumn winds whistled +bleakly and the waves were given to lashing the shore--a young girl sat +alone at the window of a room which only the red fire and flickering +twilight redeemed from total darkness. She was looking out, gazing +with dreamy eyes that saw very little of that upon which they were +apparently fixed, at the desolation of the world that lay outside. And +yet that desolation was writing its impress on her brain, giving to +the inner life the images of dreary hopelessness that belonged for the +moment to the outer. + +The young girl scarcely saw the leafless giants shivering in their +nakedness, or the leaden clouds driving restlessly over the sky, or +the dark sea moaning, plunging like a mighty thing tied down--a power +compelled by a higher power to miserable inaction; yet these things +were with and around her; they helped to call that deep look into +her eyes, to cause the impatient sigh that escaped her now and then. +Inside, there was nothing to disturb her meditation. In the room and +in the house was an utter stillness. It was the stillness of watchers +engaged in a hand-to-hand struggle with man's last and darkest foe. +For that struggle had been going on in the little house during three +or four long days and nights, and now, at last, a lull had come. The +patient slept. + +Poor Adèle! It could scarcely be matter for wonder that her cheek +looked pale and her blue eyes deep, that impatient sighs broke from +her, that she was ready to sympathize with the gray desolation of a +winter night. For Adèle had been passing through a time of anxiety such +as she had never before experienced. + +Margaret dying, Arthur gone--no word, no line to let them know the fate +of the wanderers--no possibility of being able to give the sufferer +the news for which her soul was craving--nothing in all the here and +hereafter but vague uncertainty, but cruel delay. + +And Adèle, in the bitterness of her spirit, had begun to doubt about +everything. It had been so hard to watch the patient sufferer, to +know that in any moment she might be the prey of death--that the +pure, noble life, worn away by sorrow, might pass into the invisible +without one gleam of light to cheer it on its progress; it had been so +hard to listen in the sombre light of the sick room to the passionate +ravings of the faithful wife, and to realize the utter impossibility of +bringing her that for want of which her life was waning. + +These things preyed upon Adèle's mind. In the darkness and solitude, in +the suspension of immediate anxiety, her heart sank, her spirit began +with itself humanity's dreary questioning. + +Everywhere, everywhere--in the angry cries of the young child, in the +quiet sorrow of those of riper years, in the patient sadness of the +aged, in the pallor of young faces--_it_ can be read--the why that +rises evermore to Heaven, the great mystery of human woe. Shall it be +answered one day? Ah, who can doubt it? Else were we wretched beyond +compare. + +The _why_ was in Adèle's heart that evening, welling up from its +innermost depths, proving itself too strong and terrible for her young +brain to fathom. And still she sat there, her arms folded and her pale +face looking seaward, thinking, thinking. + +Once or twice she turned to look at her companion. Margaret was on the +sofa. For the first time since that attack of brain-fever which had so +terrified her devoted nurses she was dressed, and her dress was of the +soft, pale material which Maurice loved. + +They had been afraid of the fatigue, for Margaret was very ill. +Emotion, anxiety, suspense had told upon her to such a degree that at +last her life had been despaired of. + +For three days her mind had been wandering. Such strange, pathetic +wandering it was that often and often tears had poured down the cheeks +of those who watched over her. But early in this evening her senses +seemed suddenly to return. There came a light into her eyes; she sat +up and looked round her. And then she insisted upon being dressed and +taken into the little parlor. They could not refuse her, though the old +woman shook her head ominously. "It's well to be seen," she whispered +to Adèle, "what the end of it a' will be. Puir leddie!" and she wiped +her eyes, "the sair heart hae dune it. Humor her bit fancies, bairnie; +'twill be the same, ony gait." + +Weeping in spite of herself, Adèle obeyed the old nurse. They +dressed Margaret with minute care, combed the waving hair--short +now, alas!--from her white forehead, put on her the trailing +lavender-colored dress and the pretty lace ruffles, wrapped the Indian +scarf round her shoulders, and laid her down, exhausted but happy, on +the parlor sofa. + +She thanked them with her gentle smile, gave a sigh of intense +contentment; then, after a few moments, fell into a quiet, healthy +sleep. + +It was this sleep which Adèle had been watching in the dark room until, +so quiet and peaceful had been the sleeper's face, the tension on her +watcher's nerves was partially relaxed. She turned from that earnest +gazing at the pale face, so beautiful in its pure outlines, to look at +the outside world--to think and dream and hope. For in the heart of the +young hope is ever rampant. It is only when years of experience have +shown hope's futility that the radiant companion forsakes the soul. +Forsakes! Ah, in thousands of instances scarcely forsakes--rather takes +a higher ground, shows a larger prospect. In the dreariness of wintry +age hope is still busy, gilding not the transitory _here_, but the +lasting beyond. + +Adèle had not reached that stage of experience. Her young heart, though +ready at times to look forward even to that shadowy beyond, was yet +very busy with the _here_, the sweet earthly happiness which all young +humanity is earnestly craving. + +That evening there seemed very little to feed her persistent +hopefulness. Another day and yet another, with no line from Arthur, +the consciousness of his devotion, of his thoughtful affection, +making his silence the more strange and ominous; winter in its dreary +desolation looking in at her from sea and land, telling loudly of the +difficulty--even perhaps the danger--of travelling; the life of her +friend waning, passing in its miserable famine of all that makes a +woman's joy. These were the gloomy thoughts with which the hopefulness +of the young soul struggled that evening. + +For a few moments they overpowered her. In a dark phalanx rose before +her mind tales of sorrow and wrong; pallid faces passed her by, tones +of bitter misery rang in her ears. She covered her face with her hands. +"They are the many," she cried, "the great multitude! Why should any +think to be happy? God help us! for this is a dreary world." The words +were spoken half aloud, for in the momentary despair she had forgotten +everything but this--the aching of her own heart, the sadness of a +hope-forsaken world. + +She was aroused by a slight rustling among the leaves outside. + +The house was very solitary, and the lonely women had more than once +experienced that nervous terror which shudders at a sound and sees an +intruder in every shadow. However, they kept nothing of great value +in the house, and they had hitherto had no real cause for uneasiness. +But Adèle in all her night-terrors had never heard anything so meaning +as this stealthy rustling among the branches. She leaped to her feet +and peered out into the night. This time she had not been deceived. At +the gate there was a vision of fluttering garments. Adèle thought she +recognized the form that was passing out into the night. With blanched +face and trembling limbs she flew, rather than ran, across the room. +It was almost too dark to see, but feeling on hands and knees the +young girl discovered, to her horror, that the sofa was empty. Those +fluttering garments were Margaret's. An access of fever had come on. In +its delirium she had rushed out to meet certain death in the cold and +desolate night. + +For a moment Adèle was almost paralyzed by this new misfortune--fruit, +as she told herself bitterly, of her own carelessness; then gathering +her wits rapidly together, she threw a shawl round her head and rushed +out in pursuit of the fugitive. She did not even wait to let the +landlady and the old nurse know of their patient's flight. Time was the +great consideration. Margaret might be stopped and brought back before +any serious mischief should have happened. + +And thus it came about that the two elder women, who were in the lower +part of the house enjoying a cup of tea and a chat, in the pleasant +relaxation of that anxiety which had been oppressing them all, knew +nothing whatever of the strange commotion, of the mysterious flight of +the two younger, for whose safety either of them would have staked her +life. + +The little parlor was deserted, the red fire flickered and waned, the +door of the house stood open, through the dark hall the wind whistled +and shrieked; while all the time, outside in the darkness, by the +shores of the moaning sea, life and death, reason and madness, love and +folly were carrying on their fierce, impatient strife. + + * * * * * + +Had Adèle waited for one more moment, she might have been startled +by another sound. Scarcely had she left the little house, wild with +anxiety, to discover and bring back her friend, before there came from +the direction opposite to that she had taken the sound of horses' hoofs +that echoed through the silent night. + +For this was what had been happening in the mean time. A carriage had +been driving as rapidly as a very poor horse could take it in the +direction of the cottage. Inside it were a young man and a child, +neither of whom spoke a word for the intensity of their outlook into +the night. + +A horseman rode beside them, and at times it seemed as if his +impatience could scarcely be restrained, as if it were impossible for +him to suit himself to the slow movement of the carriage. + +There was a cry at last from the child, which the horseman heard. He +half stopped and bent over her, then rose again erect and vigorous, +for the little hand had pointed out his goal, and the dark spot, still +in the distance, but faintly showing against the background of sea by +the solitary lamp that shone before it, was the shrine that held his +treasure. A moment, and Maurice Grey was tearing wildly along the road. +Would that faint light ever grow nearer? Maurice was wont to say in +after years that those minutes spent in rushing through the darkness +were the longest he had ever known. + +But the longest minutes have an end. The panting horse was drawn up +at last before the solitary lamp. Blindly and madly, not thinking of +what might become of it, Maurice threw himself from his saddle, burst +open the little garden-gate, and trying, but in vain, to steady his +trembling nerves, walked up the path. + +But as he looked at the cottage his fierce pace slackened, and a sudden +horror seized him, for in its dreary solitude it looked like death. + +Maurice stopped for a moment. The heart of the strong man, the heart +that had borne so much, beat violently. He thought he must have fallen +to the ground, but gathering himself together he pressed forward, +trying to reassure his coward heart. + +"They are in the back part of the house, of course," he muttered. The +door of the cottage stood wide open. "Strange," he thought, "on so cold +a night!" + +Noiselessly the husband, who was a stranger in his wife's house, passed +into the little hall, and still that sickening silence, that dreariness +of solitude, met him. A faint light glimmered from the remnants of +the parlor-fire. He peered into the room; it was dark and seemingly +empty. Maurice struck a match and looked round him. The red ashes, the +position of the chairs, the tumbled covers, the crushed sofa pillow, +all told of recent occupation; and indeed the two fugitives could +scarcely have gone many yards from the house. As he gazed the haggard +face relaxed. Crossing to the sofa, he stooped and pressed his lips to +the pillow, for something told him that Margaret's head had been there. +But his match died down; he was left again in darkness. + +"Was anything stirring," he asked himself, "in this house of death? +Where was she the traces of whose presence he was finding in the +deserted room?" + +He decided to remain there for a moment. It could not but be that +before many moments should pass the music of her voice would meet +his ears, and then he could discover himself. But waiting met with +the same fate as searching. Not a sound, not a breath broke the +stillness. It was a strange coincidence. In the very room, by the very +spot where the deserted wife, the bereaved mother had thrown herself +down, almost lost, even to herself, in her anguish, he stood, he +waited, his heart sinking with vague dread, his spirit fainting in its +sickening suspense, the man who had deserted her, the husband who had +misunderstood, who had lightly judged her. + +The first sound which met Maurice's ear was the rattling of the wheels +that announced the approach of his companions. He rose and went to the +door of the room. Surely this new sound would be heard. In the little +hall, on the narrow staircase, he might catch the fluttering of her +dress. Before she knew of his coming he might clasp her in his arms. + +As the little Laura sprang from the carriage, and danced rather than +walked along the path, up the steps, through the hall, the driver rang +the outside bell with some violence, and this at last proved effectual. +Maurice's hungry ears detected movement, but it came from below. There +was the sound of chairs being pushed back, of steps on the lower +passages and stairs. + +The fact was this: Jane and the old nurse, worn out by nursing and +anxiety, having ascertained that Margaret was sleeping calmly, had +allowed themselves to be beguiled by the pleasant fumes of tea and +the kindly warmth of the kitchen fire into giving way themselves. +During Margaret's flight and Adèle's pursuit, during the arrival of +Margaret's husband and the subsequent drawing up of the carriage, they +had been sleeping, one on each side of the kitchen fire. + +Jane was the first to be aroused--the first, that is to say, to gain +full possession of her senses, for the violent ringing of the outside +bell had startled the old woman so much that at first she scarcely knew +where she was. Jane got up at once, straightened her sprightly figure, +smoothed her hair and apron and struck a light. "Who in the world may +it be?" she muttered indignantly: "I'd be bound it's one of them boys. +The mistress just gone off too, and frightening her out of her wits. +Them sort hasn't got a spark of feeling about them." + +She walked leisurely up the stairs with her candle, and opened the door +that led into the hall. She had scarcely done so before a blast of wind +sweeping through the hall put it out. In the next moment her arm was +seized, she was dragged into the semi-light outside and confronted with +Maurice's fierce eyes. For while Jane was preparing herself to answer +the importunate bell the child had been up and down; she had opened +the door of the different rooms, all well known to her; she had come +down trembling and weeping to say that they were dark and empty, and +where--where was mamma? + +There was reproach in the wailing cry; in her rapid journey, in her +enforced separation from L'Estrange, in her weariness, in her childish +sorrow, this had been the one consolation: at the end of it she should +see her mother, she should rest in her arms. And now, when the end +had come, when the home so intensely longed for had been found, the +promised remained unfulfilled. + +The blow to Laura was all the more cruel that it was utterly +unexpected. No sad forebodings had crossed _her_ young mind. She had +pictured the little parlor and the lighted lamp and her mother's gentle +face and open arms, and then the rest in those arms, the telling out of +her pent-up woes. + +The cottage had been found, but within it was only empty darkness. +Laura threw herself down on the sofa, and her wailing cry reached +the ears of her father as he dragged the landlady out into the +light: "Mamma has gone, and mon père is dead." That and his own +disappointment made him almost mad for the moment. Seizing Jane by the +shoulder, he shook her roughly as he looked down into her white face: +"What have you done with her, woman? Speak, or by Heaven I will make +you!" + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +_LAURA AND HER FATHER._ + + Oh, there is never sorrow of heart + That shall lack a timely end, + If but to God we turn and ask + Of Him to be our Friend. + + +It was an awful moment for the bewildered landlady. The wildness of the +night, the mystery of that empty room, the violence of the disappointed +man, brought vividly to her mind that other night when, but for the +interposing power of God, her hands might have been imbrued with the +ineffaceable stain of crime. It had passed, it had been forgiven, but +in this moment, her senses scarcely awake, the suddenness and mystery +around her, it seemed almost as if the deed had been done, as if the +accuser were before her. + +Instead of answering she cowered and shrank, while Maurice in his +agony, without ever relaxing that vice-like grasp, repeated his fierce +inquiries. "You know; I can read it in your coward face. Great God, +give me patience!" And as he spoke he shook her roughly, making the +poor woman all the more powerless to utter a word. + +Only a few moments had passed, but they seemed ages to them both, +before Arthur came out among the trees. His face was very pale, for +in the interval the old woman had been telling him all that had +happened--at least all she knew. It appeared that they were totally +unexpected, for although both Maurice and Arthur had written to +announce their arrival, in the uncertainty of the winter-post from +Switzerland they had preceded their letters. + +The continued suspense after Mrs. Churchill's cheerful presence was +withdrawn had been too much for Margaret to bear up against, but her +sudden disappearance was as much of a mystery to the old woman as it +had been to them; she connected it, however, with her illness, and the +conclusions she drew were very gloomy. In the whole circumstance there +was only one ray of hope--Margaret's faithful friend was with her, as +Adèle was missing too. But how had she allowed her to leave the house? +why had she not called for assistance? + +Arthur, as he went out to meet the disappointed man, felt hope sink +down in his heart. But though pale and sad his face was resolute. It +would be necessary to act, and to act at once. Taking Maurice by the +arm, he drew away from his grasp the terrified woman. "Mr. Grey," he +said, "listen to me. Your wife is out there in the night. Be calm or +nothing can be done. My cousin is with her." + +Maurice gave a sudden start. "What? how?" he gasped. + +"I tell you," replied the younger man, "you _must_ command yourself. +She has had a dangerous fever; it may be delirium--no one knows. In any +case they must be instantly followed. We certainly did not pass them +in the direction of the station. Take you the road to the sea; I with +Martha will go inland. Mr. Grey, do you hear?" for Maurice was staring +wildly about him. + +"In the night, by the sea," he muttered, staggering blindly against the +wall. + +Arthur was in despair. This was worse than all; _how_ could he make +him understand? But at that very moment help came from an unexpected +source. A little soft hand was put into that of the bewildered man, +large spiritual eyes looked up into his face. Laura had heard the last +words. Her father's emotion had for the first time brought him near to +her. + +"Dear papa, you will find mamma. Come!" + +He submitted to the leading hand, walked with the little one down +the garden-path to the gate, outside of which the saddled horse was +standing, quietly cropping the wayside grass. + +The fearless child caught the bridle and put it into her father's hand. +Then first Maurice seemed to understand what was wanted. He took the +bridle from the child's hand and stooped to kiss her on the brow. +"Pray for us, Laura," he whispered--"your father and mother." + +A moment, and the good horse was spurred forward again, this time on +the sandy road that led down to the sea. + +Happily, the moon came out from a rent in the clouds. + +The child looked up. "He will see mamma," she whispered; then, as the +horseman disappeared behind the trees, her strong little heart failed. + +She threw herself down on her knees in the wet grass by the +garden-gate, and clinging to its posts poured out her sorrow: "O God, +save mamma. O God, bring her back to Laura." + +It was the landlady who found her there. + +After her first terror about the strange events of the evening, Jane +vaguely remembered to have caught a glimpse of the little one, and her +first thought was to search for her in every direction, for she was +alone in the house, Nurse Martha having at once started off with Arthur +to look for the wanderers. + +She found Laura at last by the garden-gate, and in spite of resistance +carried her in to the warm fireside, for, practical in the midst of +her excitement, Jane had rekindled the parlor fire, and it was blazing +merrily. + +"Miss Laura, my dear, think what your mamma will say if you're ill too; +and you know you'll be ill if you stay out in the cold." + +This made her submit at last to be wrapped up warmly and laid on +the parlor sofa. It was well for her. The fatigue and subsequent +excitement, the exhaustion of her sorrow, and the pleasant warmth +combined to cause a drowsiness that could not be restrained. + +Laura forgot all her troubles. While the fate of her parents still +trembled in the balance she slept childhood's unbroken sleep, and Jane +was set free to run up to her own little charge, who had been aroused +by the commotion and was crying out for her lustily. + +She found him so excited that as it was impossible to divide herself +between parlor and bedroom, she thought it well to wrap him up warmly +and bring him down. + +The bright fire was as effectual with Willie as it had been with +Laura. Jane laid him down on the sofa, and the hard, unsympathetic +woman felt her eyes grow dim and her heart soft as she watched the +quiet sleep of the little ones--the one round and rosy as the day, the +other pale, with a troubled look even in sleep, but fair as one of +God's angels. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +_UNITED AT LAST._ + + One moment these were heard and seen--another + Past; and the two who stood beneath that night, + Each only saw or heard or felt the other. + + +Adèle had been swift--swift as the wind. Instinctively in her rapid +departure she had chosen their favorite road, that which led down to +the sea, but at first it seemed as if all her efforts were destined to +be in vain. The fluttering garments had disappeared; on the white road, +stretching away into the distance, was no sign of the wanderer. + +Choking down the horror which possessed her, the young girl tried to +collect her senses. A few moments ago their patient had been sleeping +so peacefully that their fears had been set at rest, they had believed +her out of danger; now--Adèle was inexperienced, but rapidly in her +despair old stories of disease, madness, delirium, unnatural strength +crowded in upon her mind. + +What if at last the long anguish had destroyed the fair mind? What if +a dull horror was to swamp their hopes for ever? If--if--She dared +not look this last woe in the face. Impulsively she pressed on, her +trembling limbs endowed with a new strength, her young heart breathing +out its resolves upon the night: "I will save her--I. Great God, in Thy +mercy help me." + +She had come to a turn in the road. Rounding it, she made an eager +bound forward, for there through the darkness she could distinguish at +last the outlines of Margaret's form. + +Pressing her hands to her head, Adèle tried to think. If only the old +nurse had been with her, or their landlady! How was she to act? how in +her single strength to arrest and bring back the fugitive? + +Yet there was something in Margaret's gliding movement which made the +girl think rather of somnambulism than of delirium. If this should +be the cause of her flight Adèle knew that a sudden awakening might +possibly be dangerous to health or reason. + +Struggling with her terror, trying to come to some right conclusion, +she at last reached her friend. Close by was a little path which Adèle +and Margaret know well. It led off from the road, through a wilderness +of stunted grass and tangled weeds, to the sea. + +Here Margaret paused a moment, as if in hesitation. During that +moment's pause Adèle looked at her fixedly. The young girl's last +suspicion had been true. By the wide-open, sightless eyes, by the +groping of the hands, by the soft, continuous murmuring of the lips, +she saw her friend was asleep. + +Straining her ears, she distinguished through the moaning wind and +sobbing sea some of the words that were falling from Margaret's lips. +"Which way?" And then groping forward, with that blind, pitiful +movement of the hands, "To the sea? Cold, so cold, but," with a smile +that made Adèle weep, "Maurice is there." + +As she spoke, Margaret turned into the winding path, and Adèle +shivered. What awful dream was bewildering her brain? + +Throwing her arm gently round the sleeper, she tried to draw her back +to the road. + +"Maurice is here," she said in a tone as dreamy as her own; "come." + +To her intense relief, Margaret obeyed her guidance, the shore was +left behind, they were passing on to their quiet home; but the relief +was transient. Scarcely had they lost sight of the sea before Margaret +stopped--the bewildered look returned to her face--there began that +dark, dreary groping of the hands. "I have lost him," she cried in a +voice pitiful as a child's wail, and turning once more she pressed +forward to the sands with a swift-gliding step. What could the young +girl do? In her powerlessness the tears rolled down her face. + +Her arms were still round her friend, but she did not dare to constrain +her. "Margaret," she whispered pleadingly, her lips close to her +friend's ear. + +Quietly Margaret turned her pale face, over which a strange, sweet +smile was beaming. "Coming, my beloved," she answered softly. + +They had left the grass and tangled weeds behind them; they were +treading the soft yellow sands; behind them was the warm earth, touched +by the light of a young crescent moon, set like a silver bow in the +parting clouds; before them, dark and hungry, roaring evermore like a +monster chained, lay the awful sea. + +Adèle groaned. If indeed a conflict were before them, she wished it +had taken place above, while those terrible waters were comparatively +distant, and Margaret was now pressing forward as though _they_ were +her goal. "Margaret, my darling! for pity's sake awake!" she cried in +her desperation. + +But Margaret only answered the voice of her dream. Again came that +strange, sweet smile--again her lips moved: "Coming, Maurice, coming." +Then, as Adèle with all her force tried to drag her back to the path, +"Patience, my beloved!" and as she spoke the young girl felt in her +quiet resistance the strength of madness. + +Lifting up her heart in a passionate prayer for help to the one Being +who seems in these awful moments near and real to weak humanity, Adèle +made another effort. "Margaret!" she cried, and the ring of her young +voice sounded clear above the tumult of wind and waves--"Margaret, +listen to me." + +Had she been understood at last? Was the terrible moment over? +Certainly her voice had pierced the films of sleep. Into the fixed eyes +came a sudden meaning. Margaret shivered, and pausing in her mad flight +looked before her wildly. But not yet was the danger over--rather it +was prolonged and intensified. The quiet somnambulism had given place +to the worst kind of delirium. + +With a shriek Margaret threw her hands above her head and tore herself +free from the detaining grasp. "Maurice!" she cried in the strange +exaltation of this madness. "I saw him there--they shall keep me from +him no longer. Beloved, wait for me; I am coming." + +One despairing glance Adèle threw around her; no human being was in +sight; she felt numb and powerless, while the frail being, the faint +pulsations of whose ebbing life they had been watching through those +anxious nights and days, seemed endowed suddenly with a giant's +strength. Sobbing convulsively, Adèle threw herself upon Margaret, and +seizing her by the waist dragged her backward with all her remaining +strength. A moment of struggle; then she felt herself being borne along +the sands, her arms still round Margaret, but all her weight as nothing +in comparison with this fierce energy of disease. Cooler and damper +blew the wind, nearer and nearer came the sound of beating waves; at +last the light foam began to sprinkle their faces; yet the faithful +girl would not loosen her grasp--rather she would die with her friend. + +A moment, and memory, grown acute in the death-agony, showed her +pleasant scenes and soft home-pictures, children's faces, blazing +fires, fair poetic dreams of beauty and use, Arthur and the to-come +which was to have been so bright,--all to pass away for ever in the +pitiless suction of those on-creeping waves. + +Another moment, and she felt the crawling foam about her; a wave fell +thundering even at their feet, throwing over them its cold salt spray; +and the young girl moaned. There would still be time to escape, to +return to life and its warm beauty. Would she draw back? A thousand +times no. In the numbing of every faculty, in the passing away of every +joy, that grasp of the slender arms grew only the mightier. She would +save her friend if she could. If not, all she had left was to die with +her. Like a black cloud that wave hung over them. What delayed its +onward sweep? Adèle used to say afterward that it was a miracle, for if +it had fallen they were lost, beyond the possibility of salvation. + +But while they stood, their feet in the foam and that ominous cloud +above them--for Margaret's impetuous rushing had ceased, and Adèle +lacked power to drag her backward--there was a shout, a cry. Another +of those long moments, and a strong arm was extended; they were drawn +on to the dry sands, and even as they stood there shivering the +mighty wave fell, sucking back into the watery waste that lay beyond +the treacherous foam where their feet had been. Margaret fell back +unconscious, while Adèle for the moment scarcely thought either of her +or their preserver. + +As she felt the solid ground beneath her feet and the cool air around +her she fell on her knees. "Saved, saved!" she cried, and the labored +hysteric sobs showed how terrible her excitement had been. + +But then came other thoughts. Had they escaped the sea only to meet +worse dangers? Who was this deliverer? She turned round to look at him. +By the light of the moon, which still struggled through the clouds, she +was able to see his face. There was about it a wildness that seemed +to confirm her worst fears, and his arms were about Margaret--he was +gazing into her face. + +She did not seem to be aware of it. She was all but inanimate, for, +although not alive to the terrible danger of her situation, Margaret +had been exhausted by the struggle. + +The sight aroused Adèle. Though her knees were trembling under her from +fatigue and exhaustion, though her bosom was heaving with sobs that +refused to be choked down, the brave little champion had still a work +to do. Her friend was helpless; she must defend her. + +Adèle got up, and showing a pale but resolute front touched the +stranger on the arm. He turned to her with a sudden start and muttered +apology for his neglect; he did not seem to have been aware of her +presence, and as she caught a nearer view of the dark face, lined with +suffering, convulsed with emotion, some suspicion of the truth began to +dawn upon her mind. + +A flutter of hope, more exciting than all the previous agitation, +nearly choked her; the dignified little sentence in which she had +intended, while thanking him for his timely assistance, to rebuke +his presumption and recall him to a sense of his duty as a man and +a gentleman, died away on her lips; she could only stammer out +incoherently, "Who are you? For pity's sake tell me!" + +The dark eyes which had been scanning the pale calm beauty of +Margaret's face were turned on her. "I am her husband," he said +simply; his voice trembled, he spoke with difficulty. "And you have +saved her," he added softly. But this Adèle scarcely heard. She had +turned away. She was passing as fast as her wearied limbs could carry +her along the path that led to the road. She would leave them alone +together, and--the cottage held her Arthur. + + * * * * * + +They were united at last. By the shores of the surging sea, the +desolate night around them, they stood together, and at first, so +overpowering were the emotions that swept over the man's soul, he +could think only of this--that they were together, that she was in his +arms, safe from harm and danger--that once more he was gazing into her +face--a face so calm and pure that even in this moment Maurice cursed +himself for not having understood better the strong purity, the beauty, +the loveliness of the soul it revealed. + +After the delirium which had so nearly been fatal a great calm had +fallen upon Margaret. With the touch of Maurice's hand, with the +encircling of his arms, the unrest seemed to have fled. She did +not look up, apparently she did not know him; but her eyes closed, +her breathing became soft and regular, she lay back in his arms +contentedly, like a weary child that has found its resting-place. + +In times of intense feeling a life seems to be condensed into a moment. +Scarcely more than a moment had Maurice been holding her to his +throbbing heart before he recovered from his stupor to a knowledge of +the necessity for immediate action. + +The winds of the wintry night were beating about his darling. She was +ill, unconscious, it might be dying. Her clothes were drenched with +the sea-foam that had besprinkled them in their wild flight, her hair, +damp with the night vapors, was clinging about her face, the shoes in +which she had started from the cottage had been carried out to sea, +the delicate lavender dress and soft lace ruffles with which she had +adorned herself that she might look fair in the eyes of the husband she +had gone out to meet in her delirium, were torn in the struggle that +had taken place, were bespattered with mud and sea-sand. It was not in +such a plight as this that Margaret had thought of presenting herself +to the long-absent. But when does anything in this world correspond +with those same dreams and ideas of ours? In Maurice's eyes she was +fair--perhaps all the fairer for her weakness. Hastily he took off his +fur-lined cloak and wrapped it round her, then he raised her in his +arms to carry her up the road. + +This time the horse had been tethered. Maurice had caught sight of +the light dresses in the moonlight just at the moment when Adèle had +succeeded in arousing Margaret from the dangerous sleep, and there +had been a moment's hesitation. Totally unprepared for the impetuous +rush upon the sea, he had taken the precaution, before following the +fugitives on foot, of tying up the horse, that it might be ready for +any emergency. + +He was glad he had done so, for the emotion of that evening seemed to +have affected his physical power. Under the weight of his wife, his +recovered treasure, he staggered and almost fell. + +Margaret remained unconscious, and Maurice fervently hoped that for +the moment she would continue in the same state. He was fearful of the +effect upon her mind of a sudden awakening in his arms: but it was not +to be. Just as they reached the point of junction between the path and +high-road a faint tremor convulsed her; she opened her eyes and turned +them on the dark face that was stooping over her. + +Maurice was afraid the delirium was about to return; but gazing at her +anxiously he saw, to his astonishment, that there was no bewilderment +in her eyes; only, as she met her husband's gaze, she glided from his +arms, and before he knew what she meant to do she was kneeling at his +feet on the moonlit road. Her hands were clasped, her pale face looked +haggard in its earnestness. "Maurice! Maurice, forgive me!" she cried. + +At the sight of her husband the memory of that one moment of weakness +had flashed over her soul with such a bitter force that until his +forgiveness had been gained, she could not forgive herself. + +But Maurice! If an angel had knelt to him he could scarcely have been +more astonished. In his agitation he seized her almost roughly, and +raising her from the ground pressed her once more to his breast, while +the hot tears fell on her face and neck. + +"Margaret, you will kill me! Beloved, it is I who should kneel--I who +should make my life one long repentance." + +Then she twined her arms about his neck and laid her head upon his +shoulder, but she was not altogether satisfied. To the craving of her +weakness his answer was like an evasion: she persisted in her demand: +"You are good to me, dear, but you have not answered. Tell me, tell me! +Is my miserable folly forgiven?" + +"Margaret, for pity's sake--" he began. + +But she stopped him, and in her look and tone there was some of the +wildness of disease. "I see how it is," she moaned; "he is too kind to +say it, but I know my folly was beyond forgiveness. Have I not felt it? +O God! O God! pity!" Her voice sank into a moan. Her head fell heavily +on her breast: she began to cry plaintively, like a child that has been +crossed in its whim. + +They were close now to the spot where the horse had been tethered; the +moon shone brightly above them; their dark shadows made a blot on the +whiteness of the moonlit road. Maurice paused a moment, and the drops +of agony stood on his brow. + +He felt the urgent necessity for getting her home with as little delay +as possible, but in the state in which she was he dared not put her +out of his arms. He bowed his head over her till his cheek touched +hers: "Be comforted, my wife, my own--mine now and for ever. Forgive +you?--yes, yes." And then looking up he turned his pale face to the +skies, as if calling Heaven for a witness to his extremity: "I have +forgiven her--I who wronged her, who tortured her, who vexed her pure +soul by mistrust! God preserve my reason!" + +But Margaret took his answer to her heart. She smiled again, the +wildness left her eyes, and a deep, restful calm took its place. She +said no more, but for the first time since their meeting by the waters +she pressed her lips to his. + +Without demur she allowed him to lift her into the saddle and to +support her with his one hand, while with the other he took the bridle +and led the horse at a quick walk to the cottage, which was about half +a mile distant from the little path that led down to the sea. + +Before they had gone very far Margaret had relapsed into total +unconsciousness, and Maurice was obliged to mount the horse himself, +taking her before him on the saddle. + +Meanwhile, Adèle had reached the cottage, just in time to stop Arthur +and the old nurse from starting on another fruitless search. + +As the horse with its double burden paced along the road, she and her +cousin, their arms lovingly intertwined, stood at the gate of the +cottage-garden waiting for its approach out of the shadows. They were +together and alone--Nurse Martha and the landlady being busy indoors, +making everything ready in Margaret's room, for the young girl had +told her tale of horrors, and they feared it would be impossible for +Margaret to survive so much. + +But Adèle had seen her calm face, and she answered the doleful +prophecies of the nurses by a smile: "You'll see, nurse; our Margaret +will soon be better now." + +They had been extremely anxious to seize the young girl, after her +breathless entry and thrilling tale, and put her to bed as an invalid, +but Adèle decidedly refused submission. The sight of Arthur was like +a tonic to her trembling nerves. She would only allow her poor little +wet feet to be dried and warmed by the parlor fire, close to which the +children were still sleeping, and her wet clothes to be changed. As to +shutting herself out from Arthur when she had just found him, it was +simply cruel to ask it. + +She was the heroine of the moment, for although her own tale had +barely done justice to the self-forgetfulness with which that terrible +struggle had been conducted, they yet heard enough to know that in her +faithful devotion she had risked her own life, and Arthur, the old +woman, the landlady looked upon the young girl with a new respect. + +"What did you think of, Adèle," asked her cousin as, wrapped up warmly, +she stood clinging to him by the garden-gate--"what did you think of +when that ugly wave was so close to you?" Doubtless, Arthur knew what +the answer would be. Of course the heroine had thought about her hero. +How could it possibly have been otherwise? + +"Dear," she replied softly, and the ready tears flowed down her cheeks, +"I thought of you, and how miserable and lonely you would be. Margaret +gone, and--and--" + +"My Adèle gone," he said very softly, filling up the pause. + +And then--ah yes--and then all kinds of foolish things no doubt were +said and done, for these young people were, as it will be seen, very +young, and what is more very much in love; and as we all know the kind +of things, perhaps it is scarcely necessary to put them down in black +and white. + +Black and white is not the dress for lovers' nothings, especially the +sweet almost childish nothings that would flow from lips like Adèle's +and Arthur's. They should be written in such colors as the blushing +east can give, inscribed by the pen of one of God's angels. + +For young as Adèle and Arthur were, they knew what they were doing. +They had passed through the hand of the Great Instructor, so terrible +in His aspect, so wise, even loving, in His ways of dealing with weak +humanity. In the furnace of suffering their hearts had been tried, and +they knew how to value their happiness, how to prize one another. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +_A LONG SLEEP._ + + O wind! + If winter comes, can spring be far behind? + + +Everything was ready in Margaret's room--warm blankets, steaming cans +of water, hot fomentations, cordials of many a different kind--for her +nurses were afraid that the unconsciousness of which Adèle had spoken +might, after her previous excitement, be very difficult to conquer. +They were surprised, then, when Maurice at last carried her in and laid +her down, to find that she bore every appearance of being wrapped in a +quiet, healthy sleep; indeed, so convinced was her husband that this, +and this only, was the cause of her unconsciousness, that he would +allow no means to be used for her restoration, at least until the +morning, when the doctor from the neighboring town had already promised +to look in upon them. + +Nurse Martha shook her head. There was something mysterious about it +all. "Who ever heard," she asked Jane in whispers, "of a body sleeping +awa' that gait, and she in a dangerous fever that had wellnigh ta'en +her life?" + +But in spite of protest Maurice's wishes were obeyed, Margaret's wet +things were removed as quietly as possible by the experienced old +woman, and she only stirred once during the process. Her husband +watched her sleep that night. Kindly but peremptorily he sent everyone +away, and sat himself by his wife's side, counting the very pulsations +of her heart as the hours of the night passed by. The old nurse and +the landlady (they had insisted upon sending the younger people to +bed) watched by turns during the night in the little parlor adjoining +the bedroom, for neither of them had much belief in the efficiency of +this new care-taker. But no sound came from the room where the husband +was watching the death-like repose of her he had wronged and deserted, +the woman who was suffering, as he told himself bitterly, for his +uncomprehending folly. Once or twice during that long watch he grew +alarmed, the rest was so deep; but putting his ear to her heart he +heard the pulsations, faint yet regular, and he was comforted. + +So the night went by, and in the morning he could no longer keep his +treasure to himself; they would all come in to know how she was, to +watch and wonder. The little Laura was the first to creep into the +room. She had been told on the preceding night that her mother had been +found, but was too ill to see her--that she would doubtless be better +in the morning. Submitting to the inevitable had become a habit with +Laura. She had allowed herself to be undressed and put to bed, but very +early, in night-dress and bare toes, she made a voyage of discovery to +find out where her mamma could be. + +When, as she softly opened the door of Margaret's room, the little +child saw her father sitting dressed on a chair by the bedside, and +her mother, so white and silent, in the bed, she stopped suddenly, +trembling from head to foot. Laura had heard of death, though she had +never seen it, and this solemn hush, this silent watching, struck like +a chill upon her heart; she turned very pale, and seemed half afraid to +cross the room, but her father called her: "Mamma is asleep, darling; +come here and see her." He took her up and laid her down on the bed +beside Margaret, telling her to be very still. Laura scarcely required +the warning. She crept close to her mother. The strange child could +not have spoken at that moment, she was so absolutely content. And +Maurice had to turn away from her searching gaze; he would not have his +child see that tears were gathering in his eyes at the sight of them +together--the mother and child united one to the other, given back to +his arms. + +But still that sleep went on, and all but Maurice grew uneasy. The +doctor came in at a tolerably early hour, but went away again after +giving utterance to a few commonplaces. It was evident that he was +puzzled. He asked repeatedly whether any narcotic had been given to +her, and when he was answered in the negative shook his head ominously. +She had better, he said, be left to herself; it might possibly be +dangerous to arouse her. Nature in some cases was the best guide; he +would call again. + +The hours of the day passed by--morning, noon, evening, and still +Maurice watched, and still he hoped, while still there was no cessation +of that death-like trance. Evening passed into night, and all but +Maurice gave up hope. They were allowed to come into the room and +share the watch, for there was not one in the little house who did not +enter deeply into the anxiety. The night deepened, and still no sign +of life from the sleeper. Adèle's cheeks became pale and her eyes red +with frequent weeping; this seemed so desolate an ending to their hopes +and anxieties. On the child's young face the shadow deepened. She had +found her mother, but that mother was deaf to her little one's voice, +unconscious even of her presence; the old nurse's gestures grew more +and more mysterious, only Maurice retained his quiet confidence. + +The hours of the night passed by; none of them would go to bed. If +those eyes were ever again to open, each one wished to be the first to +hear the joyful news. The night waned, and even Maurice grew restless. +His face resumed the old haggard look; oftener and oftener he applied +to her lips the testing mirror, which still at each trial gave the +answering dimness. The night passed into morning, the night-lamp showed +a yellow flame, the white dawn began to struggle with the darkness; +only Laura and her father were in the room. The child was watching her +mother's face, Maurice had turned away to draw up the blind; perhaps +the breaking of the morning-light might arouse the sleeper; they were +afraid as yet to use stronger means. Suddenly the child gave a cry. He +looked hastily at the bed; Margaret was in the same position. There was +the same death-like immobility of face, the same rigidity of attitude. + +But Laura's eyes were rapt and eager. "Mamma moved, she will soon +awake," she cried, and before her father could stop her she had danced +out of the room to proclaim the joyful news. + +Adèle was dozing on the parlor sofa, Arthur was pacing the room +restlessly. He saw the light in the little one's eyes and stopped. +Laura to Arthur was a kind of prophet, a superior being. + +"Mamma will soon awake," she said, and passed on to tell the old nurse, +who was in the kitchen preparing restoratives of various kinds, for she +had made up her mind that some means would have to be used to break +this death-like sleep. + +Adèle had heard the child's voice. She started from the sofa. "Let us +go to her," she cried, and Arthur and she went into the room together. + +They were joined after a few moments by the child, the nurse, the +landlady, all eager to find the happy news confirmed. + +The child was right. Margaret was certainly waking. The death-like +stillness had gone from her face, her hands moved, she sighed now and +then. + +Maurice hung over her, breathless in his anxiety; he would meet her +first glance. Adèle and Arthur stood together at the foot of the bed; +the child had crept on to it, and lay very silent close beside her +mother. It seemed a long time that they waited there together, but when +the end came it was like a shock to them all. + +A shiver convulsed her, her eyelids quivered; slowly she raised them, +and first fixed her eyes upon her husband, then looked in a bewildered, +half-frightened way about the room. + +Maurice raised her on his arm. "Margaret," he whispered, and she looked +at him again. + +"Is it morning?" she asked, and when he had answered in the +affirmative, "I knew it would come," she said, then lay silent, smiling +calmly. + +Evidently as yet she did not know where she was, and Maurice was +perplexed. + +Adèle came to the rescue. Motioning to him to give up his place, she +stooped over her friend. "Margaret darling," she whispered, "Maurice +has come, and little Laura and Arthur." + +The familiar face and well-known voice seemed to arouse her. "It is not +a dream, then," she said. "No," for the little Laura's clasping arms +were about her neck, "my child is here, and Maurice; I thought I saw +him last night and that he forgave me. Was it true, Adèle?" + +Her voice sank, for she was very weak, but the old nurse came forward +with a cordial, which restored her so much that her mind began +gradually to take in all that had happened. + +Later in the day they dressed her and laid her down once more on the +parlor sofa. Until then she had not spoken much, she had been in a +quiet, passive state, but with the familiar surroundings a full sense +of the reality of her dream-like happiness seemed to come to her. The +first person for whom she asked was Arthur. + +In his boyish timidity he had vanished as soon as ever he had become +certain that she was really awake. Adèle found him and brought him into +the room. Margaret held out her hand. "How can I ever thank you, my +best, my most untiring friend?" she said. + +And then--for he seemed as if he did not know how to answer--she drew +Adèle toward her and joined their hands. + +"You will be happy," she said smiling--"perhaps all the happier +for this. Maurice"--he was sitting close beside her, his arm round +her shoulders--"we shall be happier too, for if God will we shall +understand better." Her voice sank, she looked dreamily over the sea: +"Morning is all the fairer for the black night that goes before. Dear, +we should thank Him even for our darkness." + + +THE END. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Chaste as Ice, Pure as Snow, by Charlotte Despard + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 58324 *** |