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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Spring Days, by George Moore
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Spring Days
+
+Author: George Moore
+
+
+Release Date: July, 2004  [EBook #6029]
+This file was first posted on December 10, 2002
+Last Updated: March 16, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPRING DAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SPRING DAYS
+
+By George Moore
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+When Henry Vizetelly, that admirable scholar, historian, and journalist,
+was sent to prison for publishing Zola's novels mine were taken over by
+Walter Scott, and all were reprinted except “Spring Days.” This book was
+omitted from the list of my acknowledged works, for public and private
+criticism had shown it no mercy; and I had lost faith in it. All the
+welcome it had gotten were a few contemptuous paragraphs scattered
+through the Press, and an insolent article in _The Academy_, which I did
+not see, but of which I was notified by a friend in the Strand at the
+corner of Wellington Street.
+
+“Was the article a long one?”
+
+“No, I don't think they thought your book worth slashing. All I can tell
+you is that if any book of mine had been spoken of in that way I should
+never write another.”
+
+I left my friend, hoping that the number of _The Academy_ would not fall
+into the hands of the editor of the great London review, to whom I had
+dedicated the book after a night spent listening to him quoting from the
+classics, Greek, English, and Latin. “A very poor testimony, one which
+he won't thank me for,” I muttered, and stopped before St. Clement Danes
+to think what kind of letter he would write to me. But he did not even
+acknowledge through his secretary the copy I sent to him, and I accepted
+the rebuff without resentment, arguing that the fault was mine. “The
+proofs should have been submitted to him, but the printers were calling
+for them! There's no going back; the mischief is done,” and I waited,
+putting my trust in time, which blots out all unfortunate things, “even
+dedications,” I said.
+
+Three months later, on opening my door one day, I found him standing
+with a common friend on the landing. I remember wondering what his
+reason was for bringing the friend, whether he had come as a sort of
+chaperon or witness. He left us after a few minutes, and I sat watching
+the great man of my imagination, asking myself if he were going to speak
+of “Spring Days,” hoping that he would avoid the painful subject. The
+plot and the characters of my new book might please him. If he would
+only allow me to speak about it he might be persuaded to accept a second
+dedication as some atonement for the first.
+
+“You were kind enough to dedicate your novel---”
+
+“'Spring Days'?”
+
+“Yes, 'Spring Days.' I know that you wished to pay me a compliment, and
+if I didn't write before it was because----”
+
+“Was it so very bad?”
+
+A butty little man raised Oriental eyes and square hands in protest.
+
+“You have written other books,” he said, and proposed that we should go
+out together and walk in the Strand.
+
+“Yes, 'The Confessions of a Young Man' was much liked here and in
+France. Will you let me give it to you?” We stopped at a book shop. “It
+will please you and help you to forget 'Spring Days.'” He smiled. “Never
+mention that book again,” I added. “I wonder how I could have written
+it.”
+
+We were in a hansom; he turned his head and looked at me without
+attempting to answer my question; and from that day till six months ago
+my impulse was to destroy every copy that came my way. A copy of “Spring
+Days” excited in me an uncontrollable desire of theft, and whenever I
+caught sight of one in a friend's house I put it in my pocket without
+giving a thought to the inconvenience that the larceny might cause; the
+Thames received it, and I returned home congratulating myself that there
+was one copy less in the world of “Spring Days.”
+
+When the Boer War drove me out of London I said: “Dublin doesn't contain
+a copy of that book;” and for nearly eight years I was left in peace,
+only Edward Martyn teasing me, saying that one of these days he must
+read the book.
+
+“R---- always says, 'I like “Spring Days”.'”
+
+“Insolent little ass,” I answered, “I'll cut him dead when we meet
+again.”
+
+But Edward was not joking as I thought he was, and some time afterwards
+he told me that after a good deal of advertising he had succeeded
+in obtaining a copy of “Spring Days.” The moment he left the room I
+searched the table and bookcase for it, but he kept it at Tillyra, else
+it would have gone into the Liffey, which receives all things.
+
+“My dear George, I like the book better than any of your novels,” he
+said one day on his return from Galway. “It is the most original, it is
+like no other novel, and that is why people didn't understand it.”
+
+Of course it was impossible to quarrel with dear Edward, but I wondered
+if I ever should find pleasure in speaking to him again; and when A. E.
+told me a few weeks later that he had come upon a novel of mine which he
+had never read before--“Spring Days,” I said.
+
+“Edward gave it to you?”
+
+“No,” he answered, “I haven't seen him for many months.”
+
+“The worst book I ever wrote.” A. E. did not answer. “What do you think
+of it?” To my surprise I found him of the same opinion as Edward.
+
+“My dear A. E., you know how I rely on your judgment. For twenty-five
+years I have refused to allow this book to be reprinted. Shall I
+relent?”
+
+A. E. did not seem to think the book unworthy of me, and pressed me to
+read it.
+
+“I'll lend you my copy.”
+
+I received it next day, but returned it to him unread, my courage having
+failed me at the last moment.
+
+A few months later I met Richard Best, one of the librarians at the
+National Library. He had just returned from his holidays; he had been
+spending them in Wales for the sake of the language.
+
+“By the way,” he said, “I came across an old novel of yours--'Spring
+Days.'”
+
+“You didn't like it?”
+
+“On the contrary, I liked it as well, if not better, than any novel you
+have written. It is so entirely original. My wife... I think you value
+her opinion--”
+
+“She liked it?”
+
+“Come home with me, and she'll tell you how it struck her.”
+
+“I will, on one condition, that you don't mention that you spoke to me
+about the book.”
+
+Best promised, and we had not been many minutes in the house before
+Mrs. Best interrupted my remarks about the weather to tell me what she
+thought of “Spring Days.”
+
+“The matter is important. Sooner or later I shall have to think about a
+collected edition. Is it to be included?”
+
+Mrs. Best, like A. E., offered to lend me her copy, but I could not
+bring myself to accept it, and escaped from the book till I came to live
+in London. Then Fate thrust it into my hands, the means employed being a
+woman to whom I had written for “Impressions and Opinions.” She had lost
+her copy; there was, however, an old book of mine which she had never
+heard me speak of--“Spring Days”--and which, etc., she was sending me
+the book.
+
+“Omens are omens,” I muttered, “and there's no use kicking against the
+pricks eternally;” and cutting the string of the parcel I sat down
+to read a novel which I had kept so resolutely out of my mind for
+twenty-five years, that all I remembered of its story and characters was
+an old gentleman who lived in a suburb, and whose daughters were a great
+source of trouble to him. I met the style of the narrative as I might
+that of an original writer whose works I was unacquainted with. There
+was a zest in it, and I read on and on; I must have read for nearly two
+hours, which is a long read for me, laying the book aside from time to
+time, so that I might reflect at my ease on the tenacity with which it
+had clung to existence. Every effort had been made to drown it;
+again and again it had been flung into the river, literally and
+metaphorically, but it had managed to swim ashore like a cat. It would
+seem that some books have nine hundred and ninety and nine lives, and
+God knows how long my meditation might have lasted if the front door
+bell had not rung.
+
+“Are you at home, sir, to Mr.--?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+There is time for one word more, dear reader, and whilst my visitor lays
+his hat and coat on the table in the passage I will beseech you not
+to look forward to a sentimental story; “Spring Days” is as free from
+sentiment or morals as Daphnis and Chloe.
+
+G. M.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+
+“Miss, I'll have his blood; I will, miss, I will.”
+
+“For goodness' sake, cook, go back to your kitchen; put that dreadful
+pair of boots under your apron.”
+
+“No, miss; I'll be revenged. He has insulted me.”
+
+“You can't be revenged now, cook; you see he has shut himself in; you
+had better go back to your kitchen.”
+
+The groom, who was washing the carriage, stood, mop in hand, grinning,
+appreciating the discomfiture of the coachman, who was paying the
+penalty of his joke.
+
+“Cook, if you don't go back to your kitchen instantly, I'll give you
+notice. It is shameful--think what a scandal you are making in the
+stable-yard. Go back to your kitchen--I order you. It is half-past six,
+go and attend to your master's dinner.”
+
+“He has insulted me, he has insulted me. I'll have your blood!” she
+cried, battering at the door. The rattling of chains was heard as the
+horses turned their heads.
+
+“Put those boots under your apron, cook; go back to your kitchen, do as
+I tell you.”
+
+The woman retreated, Maggie following. At intervals there were
+stoppages, and cook re-stated her desire to have the coachman's blood.
+Maggie did not attempt to argue with her, but sternly repeated her order
+to go back to her kitchen, and to conceal the old boots under her apron.
+
+“What business had he to rummage in my box, interfering with my things;
+he put them all along the kitchen table; he did it because I told you,
+miss, that he was carrying on with the kitchenmaid. He goes with her
+every evening into the wood shed, and a married man, too! I wouldn't be
+his poor wife.”
+
+“Go back to your kitchen, cook; do as I tell you.”
+
+With muttered threats cook entered the house, and commanded the
+kitchenmaid to interfere no more with the oven, but to attend to her
+saucepans.
+
+“What a violent woman,” thought Maggie, “horrid woman. I am sure she's
+Irish. I'll get rid of her as soon as I can. The place is filthy, but I
+daren't speak to her now. She's stirring the saucepan with her finger.”
+
+At that moment quick steps were heard coming down the corridor, and
+Sally entered.
+
+“Cook, cook, I want you to put back the dinner half an hour. I have to
+go down the town.”
+
+“O Sally, I beg of you, what will father say?”
+
+“Father isn't everybody. I daresay the train will be a little late; it
+often is. He won't know anything about it, that is if you don't tell
+him.”
+
+“What do you want to go down the town for?”
+
+“Never you mind. I don't ask you what you do.”
+
+“You want to go down the slonk,” whispered Maggie.
+
+The cook stopped stirring the saucepan, and the kitchenmaid stood
+listening greedily.
+
+“Nothing of the kind,” Sally answered defiantly. “You're always trying
+to get up something against me. Cook, will you keep back the dinner
+twenty minutes?”
+
+“Cook, I forbid you. I'm mistress here.”
+
+“How dare you insult me before the servants! Grace is mistress here, if
+it comes to that.”
+
+“Grace has given me over the housekeeping. I am mistress when she is too
+unwell to attend to it.”
+
+“Nothing of the sort. Grace is the eldest, I would give way to her, but
+I'm not going to give way to you. Cook, the dinner won't be ready for
+another half hour, will it?”
+
+“I don't know when the dinner will be ready, and I don't care.”
+
+“It is a quarter to seven now, dinner won't be ready before seven, will
+it, cook? Keep it back a bit. Now I must be off.”
+
+And, as Maggie expected, Sally ran past the glass houses and the pear
+and apple trees, for there was at the end of the vegetable garden a
+door in the brick wall that enclosed the manor house. It was used by the
+gardeners, and it communicated with a path leading through some corn and
+grass land to the high road. There were five acres of land attached
+to the manor house, tennis lawn, shady walks, flower garden, kitchen
+garden, stables, and coach house at the back, and all this spoke in
+somewhat glaring fashion the wealth and ease of a rich city merchant.
+
+“There she goes,” thought Maggie, flaunting her head. “What a fool she
+is to bully father instead of humouring him. We shall never hear the
+end of this. His dinner put back so that she may continue her flirtation
+with Meason! I shall have to tell the truth. Why should I tell a lie?”
+
+“Please, miss,” said the butler as Maggie passed through the baize door,
+“I think it right to tell you about cook. We find it very hard to put
+up with her in the servants' hall. She is a very violent-tempered woman;
+nor can I say much for her in other respects. Last week she sold twenty
+pounds of dripping, and it wasn't all dripping, miss, it was for the
+most part butter.”
+
+“John, I really can't listen to any more stories about cook. Has the
+quarter-to-seven come in yet?”
+
+“I haven't seen it pass, miss, but I saw Mr. Willy coming up the drive a
+minute ago.”
+
+Willy entered, and she turned to him and said: “Where have you been to,
+Willy?”
+
+“Brighton. Has father come in yet?”
+
+“No. You came by the tramcar?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+With shoulders set well back and toes turned out, Willy came along the
+passage. His manner was full of deliberation, and he carried a small
+brown paper parcel under his arm as if it were a sword of state. Maggie
+followed him up the steep and vulgarly carpeted staircase that branched
+into the various passages forming the upper part of the house. Willy's
+room was precise and grave, and there everything was held under lock and
+key. He put the brown paper parcel on the table; he took off his coat
+and laid it on the bed, heaving, at the same time, a sigh.
+
+“Did you notice if the quarter-to-seven has been signalled?”
+
+“Yes, but don't keep on worrying; the train is coming along the
+embankment.”
+
+“Then there will be a row to-night.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Sally told cook to keep the dinner back; she has gone down the slonk to
+speak to Meason.”
+
+“Why didn't you tell cook that she must take her orders from you and no
+one else?”
+
+“So I did, but Sally said I was no more mistress here than she was. I
+said Grace had given me charge of the house, when she could not attend
+to it; but Sally will listen to no one, she'll drive father out of his
+mind. There's no one he hates like the Measons.”
+
+“What is the matter with Grace? Where is she?”
+
+“She's in her room, lying on the bed crying. She says she wants to die;
+she says that she doesn't care what becomes of her. She'll never care
+for another man, and father will not give his consent. What's-his-name
+has nothing--only a small allowance; he'll never have any more, he isn't
+a working man. I know father, he'll never hear of any one who is not a
+working man. I wish you'd speak to her.”
+
+“I've quite enough to do with my own affairs; I've had bad luck enough
+as it is, without running into new difficulties of my own accord.”
+
+“If she refuses Berkins, father'll never get over it. I wish you would
+speak to her.”
+
+“No, don't ask me. I never meddle in other people's affairs. I've had
+trouble enough. Now I want to dress.”
+
+When Maggie went downstairs, she found her father in the drawing-room.
+
+“The train was a little late to-night. Has Willy come back from
+Brighton?”
+
+“Yes, father.”
+
+“I've been looking over his accounts and I find he has lost nearly two
+thousand pounds in Bond Street, and I don't think he is doing any good
+with that agency in Brighton. I never approved of one or the other. I
+approve of nothing but legitimate city business. Shops in the West End!
+mere gambling. Where is Grace?”
+
+“She's in her room.”
+
+“In her room? I suppose she hasn't left it all day? This is very
+terrible. I don't know what to do with you. Since your poor mother died
+my life has been nothing but trouble and vexation. I can't manage you,
+you are too strong for me. So she hasn't left her room; crying her eyes
+out, because I won't consent to her marrying a penniless young officer!
+But I will not squander my money. I made it all myself, by my own
+industry, and I refuse to keep young fellows in idleness.”
+
+“I don't give you any trouble, father.”
+
+“You are the best, Maggie, but you encourage your sister Sally. I hear
+that you, too, were seen walking with young Meason.”
+
+“It is not true, I assure you, father. I met him as I was going to the
+post-office. I said, 'How do you do?' and I passed on.”
+
+“Where is Sally?”
+
+“She went out a few minutes ago.”
+
+“Didn't she know the time? She ought to be dressing for dinner. Do you
+know where she's gone?”
+
+“I think she went down the slonk.”
+
+His children had inherited his straight, sharp features and his small,
+black, vivid eyes. Their hair was of various hues of black. Maggie's was
+raven black and glossy; Sally's was coarse and of a hue like black-lead;
+Grace's was abundant and relieved with sooty shades; Willy's hair
+was brown. He was the fair one of the family, and his hair was always
+closely cut in military fashion, and he wore a long flowing military
+moustache with a tinge of red in it. His father and he were built on the
+same lines--long, spare bodies, short necks and legs, and short, spare
+arms, and if the father's white hair were dyed the years that separated
+him from his son would disappear, for although the son had only just
+turned thirty, he was middle-aged in face and feeling.
+
+Sally and Grace were both thickly built, the latter a little inclined
+to fat. Maggie was thin and elegantly angular, and often stood in
+picturesque attitudes; she stood in one now, with her hands linked
+behind her back, and she watched her father, and her look was subtle and
+insinuating.
+
+“When I came here,” he said, speaking rapidly, and as if he were
+speaking to himself, “the place was well enough; there was nothing but
+those wretched cottages facing the sea, the green, and a few cottages
+about it; but since those villas have been put up, Southwick has become
+unbearable. All my troubles,” he murmured, “originated in the Southdown
+Road.”
+
+Maggie turned aside, smiled, and bit her lip; she did not speak,
+however, for she knew her father did not care to be interrupted in his
+musings.
+
+“A hateful place--glass porticoes, and oleographs on the walls.” Here
+Mr. Brookes stopped in his walk to admire one of his favourite Friths.
+“Those ridiculous haberdashers, with a bas-relief of the founder of
+their house over the doorway. The proprietors of the baths, the Measons,
+poor as church mice, the son a mate of a merchant vessel--these are not
+proper associates for my daughters. I will not know them; I will not
+have them in my house.”
+
+“The Measons are quite as good as we are, father. They may be poor, but
+as far as family goes--”
+
+“You are just the same as the others, Maggie; once there is a young man
+to flirt with, you don't care what he is or where he comes from. When
+there are no young men, you will snub the old ladies fast enough; and as
+for Sally, she is downright rude. I didn't want to see the haberdashers,
+but while they were in my house I was polite to them.”
+
+“It was the Horlocks who told them to call.”
+
+“I know it was. If Mrs. Horlock likes to know these people, let her know
+them; but what does she want to force them upon us for? That's what I
+want to know. We might never have known any one in the Southdown Road; I
+mean we never should, we never could have known any one in the Southdown
+Road if Mrs. Horlock hadn't come to live there. We had to call upon
+her.”
+
+“Every Viceroy in India called upon her. She was the only woman whom
+every Viceroy did call upon.”
+
+“I know she was. Of course we had to call upon her. Most interesting
+woman; the General is very nice, too. I like them exceedingly. I often
+go to see them, although the smell of that mastiff is more than I can
+bear in the hot weather, especially if lilies or strong smelling flowers
+are in the room.”
+
+“She feeds the mice, she won't let them be destroyed, she lets the traps
+down at night.”
+
+“Don't let us go into the animal question. The constant smell of dogs
+is unpleasant, but I could put up with it--what I can't stand are her
+acquaintances in the Southdown Road, and when I think that we should not
+have known any of them if it hadn't been for her! Indirectly--I do not
+say directly--she is the cause of all my difficulties. It was at her
+house Sally met young Meason; it was at her house Grace met that
+young officer for whom she is crying her eyes out; and it was at her
+house--yes, I hadn't thought of it before--it was at her house that
+Willy met that swindler who induced him to put two thousand pounds into
+the Bond Street shop. The Southdown Road might have remained here for
+the next five hundred years, and we should have known nothing of it had
+it not been for Mrs. Horlock; if she likes to know these people let her
+know them, but why force them upon us? It was only the other day she was
+talking to me about calling on some new friends of hers who have come
+to live there. I dare say it is the custom to call on every one at
+Calcutta, but I say that Calcutta etiquette is not Southwick etiquette,
+and I don't care how many Viceroys called upon her, I will not know the
+Southdown Road.”
+
+The enunciation of this last sentence was deliberate and impassioned.
+Mr. Brookes walked twice across the room; then he stood, his hands
+crossed behind his back, looking at his admired Goodall. His anger
+melted, and he mused on the price he had paid, and the price he thought
+it was now worth. Fearing he would return to the Southdown Road trouble,
+Maggie said: “I am afraid we shall be obliged to get rid of the
+new cook. She is Irish. Just before you came in I found her in the
+stable-yard threatening to break Holt's head with a pair of dreadful old
+boots.”
+
+“I don't want to hear about the cook. The money you spend in
+housekeeping is enormous. Since your poor mother died I haven't had
+a day's peace. If it isn't one thing it is another. You are fit for
+nothing but pleasure and flirtation; there isn't a young man in the
+place or within ten miles you haven't flirted with. I am often ashamed
+to look them in the face at the station. It is past seven; why isn't
+dinner ready?”
+
+“Sally told the cook to put the dinner back half an hour.”
+
+“Sally told the cook to put my dinner back half an hour!”
+
+Mr. Brookes's face grew livid. The end of all things was at hand; his
+dinner had been put back half an hour! This was a climax in the affairs
+of his life, which for the moment he failed to grasp or estimate. Was a
+father ever cursed with such daughters as his? He had been in the City
+all day working for them; he did not marry because he wished to leave
+them his money, and this was the return they made to him. His dinner had
+been put back half an hour! Passion sustained him for a while; but he
+gave way, and, pulling out a silk handkerchief, he sank into a chair.
+
+“Don't cry, father, don't cry. Sally is thoughtless; she didn't mean
+it.”
+
+Mr. Brookes wept for a few minutes; Maggie strove to soothe him; he
+waved her away, he wiped his eyes and in a voice broken with anguish,
+“Ah, well,” he said, “I suppose it will be all the same a hundred
+years hence.” In moments of extreme trouble he sought refuge in such
+philosophy, but now it seemed inadequate and superficial, and Maggie had
+begun to fear the violence of the storm she had brewed. She did not
+mind stimulating ill-feeling, but she did not wish Sally to provoke her
+father recklessly.
+
+The possibility of his marrying again and having a second family was the
+one restraining influence Mr. Brookes still retained over his daughters,
+so Maggie, who was always keenly alive to the remotest consequences of
+her actions, took care that his home never became quite unbearable to
+him; and when Sally entered the room, dark and brilliant in red velvet,
+and in no way disposed to admit she had been guilty of heinous wrong in
+countermanding the dinner, Maggie attempted a gentle pouring of oil
+on the waters. But waving aside her sister's gentle interposition, she
+said: “You mustn't think of yourself only, father. I admit I told the
+cook to put back the dinner a few minutes. What then?”
+
+“You did it that you might finish your conversation with young Meason,”
+ said Mr. Brookes, but his words were weak, it being doubtful if even
+Meason could add to the original offence, so culminating and final did
+it seem to him.
+
+“Maggie didn't tell you that last week she met him on the sea road, and
+walked with him into Portslade.”
+
+“Father, father, I beg of you, now, don't cry; think of the servants.”
+
+And it was in such unity of mind and feeling that this family sat down
+to dinner in the great dining-room, rich with all comforts and adorned
+with pictures by Frith and Goodall. Sally, who unfortunately knew
+no fear, talked defiantly; she addressed herself principally to her
+brother, and she questioned him persistently, although the replies
+she received were generally monosyllabic. As he chewed his meat
+with reflection and precaution, broke his bread with deliberate and
+well-defined movements, and filled his mouth with carefully chosen
+pieces, he gradually ventured to decide that he would not speak to his
+father that evening of the scheme he had been hatching for some months.
+It was one of his strictest rules not to think while eating, so it may
+be said that it was against his will that he arrived at this conclusion.
+Willy suffered from indigestion, and he knew that any exercise of the
+brain was most prejudicial at meal times.
+
+After dinner Mr. Brookes and his son retired to the billiard-room to
+smoke.
+
+“Your sisters are a great trouble to me--a very great anxiety. Since
+your poor mother died I've had no peace, none whatever. Poor Julia,
+she's gone; I shall never see her again.”
+
+Willy made no answer. He was debating; he was still uncertain whether
+the present time could be considered a favourable one to introduce his
+scheme to his father's notice, and he had made up his mind that it was,
+when he was interrupted by Mr. Brookes, who had again lapsed into one of
+his semi-soliloquies.
+
+“Your sisters give me a great deal of trouble, a very great deal of
+anxiety. I am all alone. I have no one to help me since the death of
+your poor mother.”
+
+“My sisters are fitted for nothing but pleasure,” Willy replied
+severely.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+
+Mr. Brookes went to London every day by the five minutes to ten; Willy
+walked into Brighton. There he had been for some time striving to found
+an agency for artificial manures, and in the twilight of a small office
+he brooded over the different means of making money that were open to
+him. The young ladies worked or played as it struck their fancy. Sally
+admitted that she infinitely preferred walking round the garden with
+a young man to doing wool-work in the drawing-room. Maggie shared this
+taste, although she did not make bold profession of it. Grace was the
+gentlest of the sisters, and had passed unnoticed until she had fallen
+in love with a penniless officer, and tortured her father with tears
+and haggard cheeks because he refused to supply her with money to keep
+a husband. The doctor had ordered her iron; she had been sent to
+London for a change, but neither remedy was of much avail, and when
+she returned home pale and melancholy she had not taken the keys from
+Maggie, but had allowed her to usurp her place inthe house. Sally was
+supposed to look after the conservatories, but beyond her own special
+flowers she left everything to the gardeners.
+
+On Sundays Mr. Brookes walked through the long drawing-rooms aimlessly.
+Sometimes he would stop before one of his pictures. “There, that's a
+good picture, I paid a lot of money for it, I paid too much, mustn't do
+so again.” Passing his daughters, sometimes without speaking, he then
+stopped before one of the big chimney-pieces, and, pulling out his large
+silk pocket handkerchief, dusted the massive clocks and candlesticks.
+
+In the billiard-room, at a table drawn up close to the coke fire, Willy
+slowly and with much care made pencil notes, which he slowly and with
+great solemnity copied into his diary.
+
+“Your sisters are a great source of trouble to me, a source of deep
+anxiety,” said Mr. Brookes, and he flicked the rearing legs of a bronze
+horse with his handkerchief.
+
+“My sisters are only fit for pleasure,” said Willy and he finished the
+tail of the y, passed the blotting paper over, and prepared to begin a
+fresh paragraph.
+
+“I am afraid Grace is scarcely any better; she will not leave her room.
+I hear she is crying. It is too ridiculous, too ridiculous. What she can
+see in that man I can't think; he is only a man of pleasure. I've told
+her so, but somehow she can't get to see why I will not settle
+money upon her--money that I made myself, by hard work, judicious
+investments.”
+
+“That's a smack at the shop,” thought Willy, as he placed his full stop.
+
+“I'll not settle my money upon her,” said Mr. Brookes, as he resumed his
+dusting; “and for what? to keep an idle fellow in idleness. No, I'll not
+do it. She'll get over it--ah, it will be all the same a hundred years
+hence. But tell me, have you noticed--no, you notice nothing--”
+
+“Yes, I do; what do you want me to say, that she is looking very ill?
+I can't help it if she is. I've quite enough troubles of my own without
+thinking of other people's. I'm sure I am very sorry. I wish she'd never
+met the fellow.”
+
+“That's what I say, I wish she'd never met the fellow, and she never
+would had it not been for that horrible Southdown Road. Southwick has
+never been the same since those villas were put up.”
+
+“I know nothing about them; I won't know them. I don't go to the
+Horlocks because I may meet people there I don't want to know. If you
+hadn't allowed the girls to go there, she never would have met him.”
+
+“But we had to call on the Horlocks. Every Viceroy that ever came to
+India called upon her, and they're excellent people--titled people
+come down from London to see them: but I daresay their banking accounts
+wouldn't bear looking into. She walks about the green with the chemist's
+wife, and has the people of the baths to dinner. Mostextraordinary
+woman. I like her, I enjoy her society; but I can't follow her in her
+opinions. She says that only men are bad; that all animals are good;
+that it is only men who make them bad. Her views on hydrophobia are most
+astonishing. She says it is a mild and easy death, and sees no reason
+why the authorities should attempt to stamp it out. She quite frightened
+me with the story she told me of a mad dog that died in her arms. But
+that by the way. The point is not now whether she is right to feed mice
+in her bedroom instead of getting rid of them, but whether we should
+call on people we don't want to know because she asks us to do so. I say
+we should not. When she spoke to me the other day about the lady whose
+mother was a housemaid, I said, 'My dear Mrs. Horlock, it is very well
+for you to call on those people. I approve of, I admire magnanimity; but
+what you can do I cannot do. You have no daughters to bring out; every
+Viceroy that ever came to India called on you, your position in the
+world is assured, your friends will not think the less of you no matter
+how intimately you know the chemist's wife, but you could not do these
+things if you had daughters to bring out.'”
+
+“What did she say to that?”
+
+“She was just going out to walk with her pugs. Angel began to--you know,
+and for the moment she could think of nothing else; when the little
+beast had finished I had forgotten the thread of my argument. However,
+I spoke to her about Grace; and she promised that she shouldn't meet
+the fellow again. I can't think of his name, I get lost in the different
+names, and they are all so alike I scarcely know one from the other. I
+have had nothing but trouble since your poor mother died. Your sisters
+give me a great deal of trouble, and you have given me a great deal
+of trouble. We couldn't get on in business together on account of your
+infernal slowness. No man is more for keeping his accounts and letters
+straight than I, but your exactitude drives me mad; it drives me mad;
+there you are at it again. I should like to know what you are copying
+into that diary. One would think you were writing an article for the
+_Times_, from the care with which you're drawing out every letter; 'pon
+my word it isn't writing at all, it's painting. You can't write for a
+pair of boots without taking a copy of the letter, entering it into this
+book, and entering it into that book; 'pon my word it is maddening.”
+
+Willy laughed. “Each person has his own way of doing business; I don't
+see how it interferes with you, or what difference it makes to you, if I
+spend three minutes or three days writing a letter.”
+
+“Perhaps not, perhaps not; but I am terribly upset about Grace,” said
+Mr. Brookes, and he walked slowly across the room and stood looking at
+his Bouguereau; “she'll get over it, but in any case she'll miss her
+chance of marrying Berkins; that is what distresses me. The man stinks
+of money. I hear that he has been appointed manager of a colliery, that
+alone will bring him another thousand a year. His business is going up,
+he must be worth now between seven and eight thousand a year. And he
+began as an office boy, he hadn't a penny piece, made it all himself.”
+
+“So I should think; a purse-proud ass!”
+
+“Never mind, his eight thousand is as good an eight thousand as any in
+the land, better than a great many. I wouldn't give a snap of my fingers
+for your broken-down landowners; Berkins has always made excellent
+investments, and I hear he is now getting as much as fifteen per cent.
+for money invested.”
+
+Willy had been to Oxford, and the arrogance and pomposity of this
+purse-proud man shocked his sense of decorum. Berkins's vulgarity was
+more offensive than that of Mr. Brookes. Mr. Brookes was a simple,
+middle-class man, who had made money straightforwardly and honestly,
+and he had cultivated his natural taste for pictures to the limit of
+his capacities and opportunities. Berkins, however, had been born a
+gentleman, but had had to shift for himself, even when a lad, and he had
+caught at all chances; he was more sophisticated, he was a gentleman
+in a state of retrograde, and was in all points inferior to him whom he
+crossed in his descent. Berkins had bought a small place, a villa with
+some hundred acres attached to it, on the other side of Preston Park.
+There he had erected glass houses, and bred a few pheasants in the
+corner of a field, and it surprised him to find that the county families
+took no notice of him. Mr. Brookes had sympathised, but the young people
+laughed at him and Willy had told a story how he had been to shoot at
+----, and when a partridge got up right in front of his gun, Berkins
+turned round and shot it, exclaiming: “That's the way to bring them
+down!”
+
+And now whenever his name was mentioned, Willy thought of this incident,
+so very typical did it seem to him of the man, and he liked to twit his
+father with it. But Mr. Brookes could not be brought to see the
+joke, and he fell back on the plausible and insidious argument that,
+notwithstanding his manners, Berkins was worth eight thousand a year.
+
+“And very few girls get the chance of catching eight thousand a year;
+and she'll miss it, she'll miss it if she doesn't take care.”
+
+“You talk of it as if it were an absolute certainty; you don't know that
+Berkins wants to marry Grace; he hasn't been here for the last month.”
+
+“Mr. Berkins is not like the young good-for-nothings your sisters waste
+their time with, he is a man of means, of eight thousand a year; you
+don't expect him to come round here every evening to tea, and to play
+tennis, and to walk in the moonlight and talk nonsense. Berkins is a man
+of means, he is a man who can make a settlement.”
+
+“Has he spoken to you on the subject, then?”
+
+“No, Mr. Berkins is a man of tact, however you may laugh at him for
+having shot your partridge. He spoke to your Aunt Mary, or rather
+she spoke to him. Ah, clever woman, your Aunt Mary, wonderful manner,
+wonderful will, when she wants a thing done it must be done. Your poor
+mother--I mean no disparagement--but I must say she couldn't compare
+with her for determination; Sally reminds me of her, but Sally's
+determination is misdirected, deplorably misdirected; it is directed
+against me, entirely against me. She must be made submissive; when I
+spoke to Aunt Mary about her, she said her spirit must be broken; and
+if she were here she'd break it. If she were here things would be very
+different, your sisters wouldn't be flirting with all the little clerks
+in the Southdown Road; but I am alone. I have no one to turn to.”
+
+“You were telling me that Berkins had spoken to Aunt Mary about Grace.”
+
+“Your Aunt Mary spoke to Berkins about Grace; she told him he ought to
+be thinking of marrying; that he wanted a wife. Then the conversation
+turned on my daughters, and Mary no doubt mentioned that at my death
+they would all have large fortunes.”
+
+“Ah, so it is the money that Berkins is after.”
+
+“Money comes first. If a man can make a settlement he will naturally
+demand a--that is to say he will naturally look forward, he will
+consider what her prospects are; not her immediate prospects, that would
+be mercenary, but her future prospects.”
+
+Willy smiled. “And what did Berkins say?”
+
+“He said he wanted to marry, and he spoke of Grace; he said he admired
+her. I shouldn't be surprised if we saw him at church to-day.”
+
+“Are you going to ask him to lunch?”
+
+“Certainly, if he's there.” Then, after a long silence, Mr. Brookes
+said: “He'll come in here to smoke. Of course you'll leave us alone. Do
+you mind leaving out your cigars?”
+
+“I have only half a box left; I think really you might keep some in the
+house to supply your own guests with. You always object if I interfere
+with your things.”
+
+“I am out of my best cigars--it is so hard to remember. He won't smoke
+more than one.”
+
+“I'll put one in the cigar case then.”
+
+“You had better fill it; it will look so bad if there is only one; he
+won't take it.”
+
+“He'll take all he can get; he took my bird, I know that!”
+
+“This is a matter of great importance.”
+
+“To you and to Grace, not to me,” said Willy, and with very bad grace he
+unlocked a drawer, and placed a box of cigars on the table.
+
+“Thank you. Now what time is it? Half-past ten. By Jove! we must be
+thinking of starting; I suppose you aren't coming?”
+
+“I am afraid I've too much to do this morning.”
+
+The young ladies appeared in new dresses, and with prayer-books in their
+hands. Mr. Brookes took his hat and umbrella, and Willy watched them
+depart with undisguised satisfaction. “Now I shall be able to get
+through some work,” he said, untying a large bundle of letters. He wrote
+a page in his diary, tied up the letters, diary, and notebook in brown
+paper, and, with a sigh, admitting that he did not feel up to much work
+to-day, he took up the envelopes that had contained his letters and
+began tearing off the stamps, and he did this very attentively as if
+he did not trust his dry thick fingers. Somebody had told him that
+ten thousand old stamps were worth--he had forgotten the price of old
+stamps, and wondering he dozed off. When he awoke he cried: “Half-past
+twelve, they must be on their way back; I wonder if Berkins is with
+them!” And he strolled out on the gravel.
+
+A few spring flowers marked the brown earth about the trees, and a
+beautiful magnolia, white as a bride, shed its shell-like petals in an
+angle beneath a window; the gold of the berberis glowed at the end of
+the path; and the greenery was blithe as a girl in clear muslin and
+ribbons. The blackbirds chattered and ran, and in turn flew to the pan
+of water placed for them, and drank, lifting their heads with exquisite
+motion. The trees rustled in the cold wind; the sky was white along the
+embankment, where an engine moved slowly up and down the line.
+
+Willy was sensible that the scene was pleasant and pretty, and
+remembering he was fond of birds, he thrust his hands deeper in his
+pockets and walked slowly down the drive, his toes well turned out.
+“I wonder if they met Berkins at church?” was the question he put to
+himself gravely. “What a cad he is! No wonder the county people fight
+shy of us; a fellow like that is enough to close their doors against
+us for ever. My father pooh-poohs everything but riches; he positively
+flies in their faces, so what can I do? I don't care to ask my Oxford
+friends down here; one never knows how he will receive them. He can
+talk of nothing but his business. Had I a free hand, had I not been
+so hampered, we might have known all the best county families, even
+theduke.”
+
+The latch of the gate clicked, and Mr. Brookes and his family appeared.
+Maggie and Sally walked on the right and left of their father; Grace
+came on behind with Berkins, and it seemed to Willy that the city
+magnate bore himself with something even more than his usual dignity.
+At first sight he suggested that anomalous creature--a footman with a
+beard; and the slow, deliberate enunciation marked him as one accustomed
+to speak in public. His manner of sitting at a table suggested letters
+and dictation of letters, his manner of moving his glasses on his nose
+accounts, and at no moment would it have been surprising to see him
+place his strong finger at the bottom of a line of figures, and begin
+“Gentlemen,” etc.
+
+During lunch, Sally and Maggie spoke in undertones; they glanced
+occasionally at Grace, who sat by and received Berkins's bald remarks
+with deference. The girls trembled with excitement; they had pressed and
+extorted from Grace a hurried statement of what had happened. Berkins
+had proposed to her, he had told her he had never seen any one except
+her whom he would care to make his wife. What had she said? She didn't
+know. She couldn't really remember. She had been taken so suddenly, she
+was so upset, that she hadn't known what to say. She thought she had
+said something about the honour--but she really had not had time to say
+much, for at that moment they were at the gate. Did she intend to accept
+him? She didn't know; she could not make up her mind. It was a terrible
+thing to throw over poor Jack; she didn't think she could do it--no
+matter what father might say. However, she knew he would never give his
+consent, so it was no use thinking.
+
+“I hope she won't begin to cry,” whispered Sally, who had followed
+Maggie to the sideboard.
+
+“Father looks as if he were going to cry,” replied Maggie, moving the
+decanters and pretending to look for a glass.
+
+Seven thousand a year, ten thousand a year! Would Grace have him? What
+would father settle on her? The sum he settled on her he must settle
+on them when they married. As Berkins's wife Grace would have servants,
+jewels, rich dresses, and a house in London, and they thought of the
+advantage this marriage would be to them.
+
+The knives clattered; cheese and celery were being eaten. Mr. Brookes
+had drunk several glasses of port, and was on the verge of tears.
+Berkins's high shoulders and large voice dominated the dining-table;
+he was decidedly more than usually impressed by his own worth, and the
+worth of the money of which he was the representative. Willy chewed
+his cheese; there were many wrinkles about his eyes--deep lines turning
+towards the ears; and when he lifted his tumbler one noticed the little
+nails, almost worn away, of his lean hands.
+
+At last Mr. Brookes said: “I daresay you would like a cigar,
+Berkins--will you come into the billiard-room?”
+
+Berkins inclined to this suggestion. Willy, who had not quite finished,
+remained at table. The girls watched each other, and as soon as the
+elderly men turned their backs they fled upstairs to their rooms.
+
+“Will you try one of these?” said Mr. Brookes, offering a box of choice
+havannas.
+
+“Thank you. My tobacconist--I must ask you to visit his shop--receives
+just a few cases of a very special cigar; I have at least two-thirds of
+them, sometimes more; when you dine with me I'll give you one. This is
+Chartreuse, I think. My wine merchant knows a man whose cousin is one of
+the monks. Now the monks set aside the very cream of the liqueur, if I
+may so speak, for themselves. This liqueur cannot be bought in the
+open market. You may go up to London prepared to write a cheque for
+any figure you may like to name, and I will defy you to buy a bottle.
+I never have any other. It is really quite delicious. I daresay I could
+get you some.”
+
+Mr. Brookes expressed thanks for the amiable offer, and both men smoked
+on in silence.
+
+“Do you play billiards?”
+
+“No. Do you?”
+
+“No.”
+
+Inwardly they congratulated themselves. Presently Mr. Brookes said:
+“I hear you have been staying with my sister, Mrs. Haltom. You were
+shooting there, were you not?”
+
+“Yes, they were kind enough to ask me. Very nice shooting they have,
+too.”
+
+“I hear that you have gone in for rearing pheasants.”
+
+“Yes; we shot a hundred brace last year.”
+
+The conversation dropped, and in an impressive silence both men wondered
+what they had better say to lead honourably up to the subject they had
+come to speak on.
+
+“Is your house your own design? Did you build it entirely yourself?
+Iforget. I ought to know; you told me all about it when I dined with
+you.”
+
+“There was a house there, but I altered it considerably after my own
+idea, and not a bad idea, I flatter myself. I spent a good deal of money
+in laying out the grounds, putting up conservatories, and so forth.”
+
+“You are a single man?”
+
+“For a single man the house is, of course, too large; but I do not
+intend to remain always single, and--and now, Mr. Brookes, as we are on
+the subject, I had better tell you that I have asked Miss Brookes to be
+my wife.”
+
+Mr. Brookes grasped at the first words. “I am sure I am very pleased to
+hear it, Mr. Berkins, and I hope the answer was a favourable one.”
+
+“Miss Brookes is a modest girl. She has been well brought up, as a girl
+who is, I hope, to be my wife should be, and she was naturally a little
+overcome. I did not exactly catch what she said, and I didn't like to
+press her for an immediate answer. But suppose we assume for the moment
+that Miss Brookes's reply will be a favourable one--I have, I confess,
+much faith in her good sense--we might consider the business side.”
+
+Notwithstanding his admiration of a man who had made three thousand a
+year more than he had succeeded in doing, Mr. Brookes could not but feel
+irritated at Berkins, who, with increasing gravity, continued to assume
+all things to his own advantage. It had not occurred to him to consider
+that Grace might refuse him. Why should she refuse him? She could not
+hope to do better. She appeared to him as a very nice girl indeed,
+one entirely fitted for the position for which he intended her. He
+understood that all girls, at least those in society, were innocent and
+virtuous; he understood that when they married they made faithful and
+dutiful wives; and he had chosen her not because he had fallen in love,
+nor yet because he had noticed she was likely to make a better wife than
+her sisters, but because she was the eldest. Even so he would be twenty
+years his wife's senior, and he had chosen to marry one of the Brookes
+girls because he knew them and saw them constantly; because he knew that
+at their father's death his fortune would be divided between them. Grace
+was, therefore, an heiress in perspective. The prospect was agreeable,
+but he foresaw that it would be put forward as an excuse for fixing the
+sum of marriage settlements as low as possible. It would, however, be
+difficult for Brookes to settle less on his daughter than he, Berkins,
+was willing to settle on his wife; so partly in the hopes of forcing
+Mr. Brookes, and partly because of the pleasure it gave him to speak of
+himself, he continued talking of his position and possessions.
+
+“In dealing with me,” he said, “you are dealing, as you know, Mr.
+Brookes, with a man of means, a man who can afford to do the thing
+properly; you will not misunderstand me--you remember you told me that
+you had great difficulty in keeping the little folk who live here out of
+your house.”
+
+“The neighbourhood has never been the same since they put up that row of
+villas. A lot of indigent fortune-hunters, they know my girls will have
+large fortunes at my death, so they come sneaking round the place like
+so many wolves.”
+
+“I can readily sympathise with you; one doesn't make money to keep idle
+young fellows in the luxuries of life.”
+
+“That is what I say.”
+
+“But you aren't sufficiently firm, Mr. Brookes; had you been brought
+up in the hard school that I was you would be more firm; firmness is
+everything. You married early, I couldn't afford to do that. At sixteen
+I had to shift for myself. I was three years a clerk at two pounds a
+week, and not many chances to rise come in the way of a clerk at two
+pounds a week; he must be pretty sharp, and if he doesn't seize the
+little chance when it comes, he will remain a little clerk all his life.
+It is the first steps that are difficult, the rest are nothing. You
+don't know what the first steps are; I do. Once you've made a thousand
+pounds you can swim along a bit, but the first hundred, I shall never
+forget it! Afterwards it is just the same; the proportions are changed,
+that is all. The first twenty thousand is very uphill work, the second
+is on the flat, the third is going downhill--it brings itself along.”
+
+“A very good simile indeed. There's no doubt that it is money that makes
+money. When you have none you cannot make it. It is like corn; give
+a man a handful, and he must be a fool if he can't fill his barn. The
+beginnings are hard; none knows that better than I. But for the last ten
+years I've been doing fairly well.”
+
+“I had never intended to get married, but when money really begins to
+accumulate it pushes you along. It is curious how money takes you along.
+It is like a tide. You first begin thinking of a little place in the
+country where you can stay from Saturday till Monday. The little place
+grows; it is extraordinary how it grows. You find you want flowers, and
+you put up a glass house; then you begin to get interested in orchids or
+roses, and you put up two, maybe half a dozen glass houses. Suddenly you
+find the rabbits are breeding in the hedgerows, and you go out yonder
+ferretting, but the coachman does not know how to manage the ferrets,
+and you start a keeper. The keeper says one morning, 'It wouldn't
+require much to get up a stock of pheasants in that little wood.' You
+say, 'Very well;' and there you are before you know it, with glass
+houses, rabbit-shooting, and a pheasant preserve. You have friends
+to stay with you for the shooting, you get talked about in the clubs,
+people ask why you aren't married--the place where the wife ought to be
+stares you in the face: a man of money, of real money, must get married.
+The friends who come and stay with you suggest a little dance, you think
+it would be very pleasant; but you know no one in the neighbourhood,
+the county people won't visit you, so the thing comes about, and you are
+head over heels in settlements before you know where you are.”
+
+“Do you find the county people very standoffish over Preston Park way?”
+
+“I am not in a position to judge; they could not very well call on me
+situated as I am, a young--well, I will say, a marriageable--man, known
+to be wealthy; but I have no doubt when I am married they will call on
+us.”
+
+“Twirl them round my little finger, stuck-up lot; I should like to know
+what they have to be proud of, half of them are broken--their land is
+worthless. Give me good sound investments, five or six per cent. For
+some money I am getting seven; the waterworks pays fourteen.”
+
+The conversation suddenly dropped, they looked at each other blankly;
+they felt they had talked a good deal, but without approaching any
+nearer the subject they had met to speak on.
+
+“Our intention was,” said Berkins, in his most solemn and professional
+manner, “assuming that Miss Brookes is not averse from my suit,
+to discuss the business side, for there is a business side to all
+questions, as you, Mr. Brookes, will be the first to see.”
+
+Mr. Brookes had begun to anger; he would have liked to have answered
+that such a discussion was altogether premature, but he yielded before
+Berkins's authoritative manner, and he replied instead that he would be
+glad indeed to hear whatever proposal Mr. Berkins had to make.
+
+“I should like to say, then--I will assume that we stand as man to
+man, equal; you have probably more money invested than I; I am making
+possibly a larger income--you will forgive me if I am mistaken, but you
+told me the other day as we went up in the train that you had had a very
+bad year.”
+
+“Three thousand dead loss. It does not matter so much to me, my money is
+invested, but it would have gone hard with many a man who was relying on
+his business. Three thousand pounds dead loss!”
+
+“How was that? I suppose the temperance societies affect you; they must
+have had a great effect on the sale of liquor.”
+
+“No one who was not in the trade would believe in the falling off in the
+quantity of whisky drunk. But it was not that.”
+
+“What then?”
+
+“Trade generally, trade depression affects every one; the failure of one
+makes bad debts for the other. It was bad debts that did it. It was very
+stupid of me, but I was worried at home: those fortune-hunters from the
+villas--my daughters are very young, and since their poor mother died
+they have had no one to look after them. Willy, too, is a great trial
+to me. Poor boy, he is most anxious to do something, but things don't
+go right with him; he thought he was going to do a good thing in a Bond
+Street shop that was converted into a company, but he lost two thousand
+pounds.”
+
+“I thought he was in the distillery with you.”
+
+“He was for a while, but he irritated me; he is so confoundedly
+methodical, everything must go into his diary, he spends half the day
+filling it up. Besides after you have conducted a business so many years
+you don't want a partner; you have your own way of doing things, and
+don't want to be interfered with. He draws a certain income, but he has
+nothing now to do with the business. We were talking of settlements.”
+
+“You do not act as I should regarding the villa residences. I would
+put them down. I would not have it; but, as you say, we were talking
+of settlements. I think I said we stood as man to man. In round numbers
+your fortune equals mine, mine equals yours--very well, let us act
+equally. I will settle five hundred a year on Miss Brookes, do you
+likewise; what do you say to that?”
+
+“Pooh, pooh! I couldn't think of such a thing. Five hundred a year!”
+ said Mr. Brookes, and throwing his cigar into the fireplace, he walked
+up the room indignantly. “I was wrong to consent to discuss the matter;
+to say the least, it is premature; I never heard of such a thing. Five
+hundred a year! This is worse than the Southdown Road, many degrees
+worse.”
+
+“Sir, such insinuations are most uncalled for; I must beg of you to
+withdraw them. I must ask you to remember you are talking to one at
+least in the same position as yourself, to a man of seven thousand a
+year!”
+
+“Pooh, pooh! seven thousand a year--you are making that to-day,
+to-morrow you mayn't be making three. Yours isn't invested money.”
+
+Berkins had risen from the great leather armchair, and he stood
+expressionless as a piece of office furniture, his grave face divided
+by the green shade of the billiard lamp; Mr. Brookes remained with his
+back--his straight fat back bound in a new frock coat that defined the
+senile fatness of the haunches--turned to his guest. He stooped as if to
+examine his favourite Linnell, but, in his passion, he did not see it.
+The table, covered with a grey cloth, lay like an account spread out
+between the moneyed men.
+
+“Taking your words into due consideration, I think I had better wish you
+good-morning, Mr. Brookes.”
+
+“Mr. Berkins, I would not wish you to misunderstand me,” said Mr.
+Brookes, whom the prospect of losing seven thousand a year had suddenly
+cooled. “My daughter will have--my children, I should say--will have my
+fortune divided amongst them at my death, and when we come to go into
+figures you will find--”
+
+“But in the meantime, what do you propose to settle on her?”
+
+Mr. Brookes hesitated. He was angry at being pressed. Berkins's
+domineering tone irritated him; he would have liked to bundle him from
+the house.
+
+Presently he said: “I think, considering the very large sums of money my
+daughters will come into at my death, that a settlement of two hundred a
+year is ample.”
+
+“Very well, in that case I shall settle the same.”
+
+“I could not, I will not, consent to any such arrangement. The man my
+daughter marries must settle on her a sum of money equivalent--”
+
+“To what you settle on her.”
+
+“To her position, to her expectations,” replied Mr. Brookes, growing
+more and more angry.
+
+“But I don't know what her expectations are; you may marry again.”
+
+“I do not intend to marry again.”
+
+“Very possibly, but I know nothing of that; business is business, and I
+should be a fool if I settle five hundred to your two hundred.”
+
+Mr. Brookes stopped in his walk, and he looked at Berkins, who stood,
+his hand laid upon the billiard table as upon a huge balance sheet. The
+word business had carried the men back to their offices in London,
+and, quite forgetful of the subject of their bargaining, each strove to
+obtain an advantage over the other.
+
+“Well, let us say two hundred and fifty, that is my last word.”
+
+“Then, Mr. Brookes, I will not take your daughter.”
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+
+“Willy, make haste, I beg of you; I shall miss my train. It is now
+exactly half-past nine.”
+
+“You had better go without me; I cannot start now. I haven't nearly got
+my things together.”
+
+“Very well, very well.”
+
+Willy walked from room to room tying and untying brown paper parcels in
+his most methodical and most dilatory manner. His sisters stood watching
+him from the drawing-room door.
+
+“Did father tell you nothing when Berkins left? They had a row, hadn't
+they? It isn't off, is it?”
+
+“I wish you would not speak so loud, Sally; you can be heard all over
+the house.”
+
+“Do tell us.”
+
+“But I don't know. Father was very much upset. I couldn't speak to him
+about my own business, I know that.”
+
+“Well, I suppose we shall hear about it to-night. You are going to meet
+Frank in Brighton, aren't you?”
+
+“Yes; he is coming to lunch with me.”
+
+“Don't keep him all day; send him on here, we might have a game of
+tennis.”
+
+Willy did not answer; and he thought as he went upstairs, what a trouble
+young girls were in a house. “They think of nothing but pleasure,
+nothing but pleasure.”
+
+One, two, or three more delays, and he was ready, and with his brown
+paper parcel tucked under his arm he set forth. Upon the young blue of
+the sky, the fresh green of the buds melted. There were a few elms, but
+hardly enough to constitute an avenue. The house looked as if it had
+been repeatedly altered. It ran into unexpected corners and angles; but
+it was far enough from the road to justify a gate lodge. The swards were
+interspersed with shrubs in the most modern fashion, and the sumptuous
+glass-houses could be seen gleaming in the sun. It was a hot day,
+and the brick wall was dappled with hanging foliage, and further out,
+opposite the windows of the “Stag and Hounds,” where Steyning's ales
+could be obtained, the over-reaching sprays of a great chestnut tree
+fell in delicate tracery on the white dust. The road led under the
+railway embankment, and looking through the arched opening, one could
+see the dirty town, straggling along the canal or harbour, which runs
+parallel with the sea. A black stain was the hull of a great steamer
+lying on her side in the mud, but the tapering masts of yachts were
+beautiful on the sky, and at the end of a row of slatternly houses
+there were sometimes spars and rigging so strange and bygone that they
+suggested Drake and the Spanish main.
+
+Southwick is half a suburb, half a village. In the summer months the
+green seems a living thing. It is there the children talk and tumble
+when school is over. They are told to go to the green, they are
+forbidden to go to the green, and it is from the green the eldest girl
+leads the naughty boy howling. When they are a little older they avoid
+the green, it is too public then. It is to the green that elevens come
+from far and near to play their matches. All the summer through the
+green is a _fete_ of cricket. It is to the green the brass bands come on
+Saturday. On the green, bat and trap is played till the ball disappears
+in shadow. The green is common; horses and cows are turned out there.
+All profit by the green. It is on the edge of the green the housewives
+come to talk in the limpid moonlight. It is on the green the fathers
+smoke when the little cottage rooms are unbearable with summer heat. It
+is on the green that Mrs. Horlock walks with her pugs and the chemist's
+wife, to the enormous scandal of the neighbourhood.
+
+To the right, facing the embankment, and overlooking some fields, is
+the famous Southdown road, and parallel with the green is Mr. Brookes's
+property--a solid five acres, with all modern improvements and
+embellishments, and surrounded by a brick wall over six feet high.
+
+Willy hated Southwick. He thought it ugly and vulgar; he regretted
+deeply that his father would make no advances, and that they were as far
+from county society to-day as when they came to live in the place thirty
+years ago. “I knew the best people when I was at Oxford, why can I
+not know them now? Here we are doing the same thing from year's end
+to year's end; why, with our money we ought to be hob-nobbing with
+the duke.” In moments of dejection this was one of Willy's commonest
+thoughts. “I did my best, but I was opposed. Father doesn't care, and
+as for the girls, they'll take up with any man so long as he is young.
+Still, in spite of them I should have got on if I hadn't lost my nerve
+and had to give up hunting; and without hunting there is no way of
+making acquaintances.”
+
+Willy had relied on a hunter as Berkins had on pheasants and
+glass-houses. But he hated hunting, and finding he got no further than a
+few breakfasts, he had told a story of a heavy fall and sold his horses.
+He had then insisted on dinner-parties, and some few people more or less
+“county” had been collected; the pretext was politics, but Willy and
+politics were but a doleful mixture, and the scheme collapsed. The
+family was not endowed with any social qualifications, Willy least of
+all, and having failed to advance himself individually, and his family
+collectively, he threw up the game.
+
+We rarely cultivate for long things in which we may not succeed in--the
+lady with a small waist pinches it, the man with pretty feet wears
+pretty shoes, and in no circumstances could Willy have shone in society.
+He failed to interest the ladies he met on the King's Road, he knew
+this; and to sum up his deficiencies, let us say he was lacking in “go.”
+ He was too timid to succeed with the more facile loves whom he met in
+the evenings on the pier. All the same he had had his love affair.
+
+Oh! men of inferior aspect and speech, often in you a true heart abides;
+you, and you only, are faithful to the end.
+
+To this unromantic person a shred of pure romance was attached.
+None knew the whole story, and none spoke of it now; but his sisters
+remembered that Willy had fallen in love with a girl whom he had seen
+play “Sweet Anne Page.” They remembered long letters, tears and wild
+looks. He had sent her diamonds; and one night he had attempted suicide.
+All was now forgotten; at least it was the past, and nothing remained
+but one little melody which he had heard her sing, and which he
+sometimes whistled out of tune.
+
+But sooner or later a man's talents, and if not his talents, his tastes,
+appear through the mists of youth, and henceforth they lead him. Willy's
+efforts in society had resulted in abortive dinner-parties, his efforts
+in sport had been cut short by nerves, his efforts in dissipation had
+left him with a tolerably well-filled wardrobe, his efforts in love
+had brought him tears and a commonplace mistress, whom he kept in the
+necessaries of life in various lodging-houses. So his youth had passed;
+but in all this mediocrity a certain spirit of resistance endured.
+His taste for figures grew more pronounced; he surrounded himself with
+account books, letter books, and diaries; he took note of every
+penny that passed through his hands. Money-making, profitable
+investments--that was to be his aim in life; and as each year closed his
+thoughts fixed themselves more definitely and entirely on it; and it was
+natural that it should be so, since all other outlets for the passion of
+life were barred to him. His forced retirement from the distillery did
+not worry him. No one could please his father in business; his uncle
+had once threatened to throw his brother out of the window. Besides, the
+business was a declining one, and twelve thousand pounds for a junior
+partnership was not bad. Nor did his failure to make a success of the
+manure agency discourage him; the shop was a different matter, that was
+his own idea, he had thought of a fortune, and had lost two thousand
+pounds. It had crippled him for life. True enough, there were other
+things to do. Some stockbrokers make twenty per cent. on their money,
+not in wild speculation, but in straightforward genuine business. He
+might go up to London and learn the business--he had heard that it would
+not take more than six months or a year to pick it up--and start on his
+own account. A thousand pounds would be sufficient to begin with; or he
+might buy a partnership--he could do that for three or four thousand.
+Either of these courses would suit him, the latter for preference, but
+a certain amount of capital would be necessary before he could take
+either, and that he hadn't got, and to all appearances it would be very
+difficult to persuade his father to consent to drawany more money out of
+the distillery.
+
+So Willy's thoughts ran as he ascended the flight of wooden steps that
+led to the platform of the little country station. “The folk down here
+think there is nothing in me, that I am good for nothing but walking up
+and down the King's Road, but they little know what I have in my head.
+I'll make them open their eyes one of these days.” The sting of vanity
+is in us all. Our heads may be greed, our bellies lust, our limbs
+charity, faithfulness, truth, and goodwill, but in some cranny of our
+tails vanity always lies, only it may be marvellously well hidden, as in
+Willy. The keenest observer would not have detected it in him, and
+when he came out of his habitual reserve and lamented that bad luck had
+always followed him and spoke of his projects, one might have suspected
+him of greed, but hardly of vanity. Now he stood leaning on the wooden
+paling, and his movements showed the back and loins in strong outline,
+marking the thick calves. Without taking any heed, his eyes followed the
+cricket ball, which was in turn slogged into the horse-pond and cottage
+gardens. Through long familiarity, the green had faded from his notice,
+nor did the burnt-up crops on the Downs attract his thoughts, nor yet
+the sinuous lines of the hills. From the platform one saw the whole of
+Southwick. The green with its cricket match, Mrs. Horlock and her dogs,
+the forge, the stile, the various cottages, the long fields full of
+green wheat, and, far away, the carriages passing like insects along
+the road under the Downs; then on the right were the back gardens of the
+cottages, a large inscription announcing the different branches of the
+grocery business, a few fields with cows leaning their muzzles over the
+rough palings, some more cottages, a barn, and then the magnificent five
+acres of the Manor House, rich with glass-houses, and beautiful in a
+cloud of trees. From the platform of the station one could see the sea,
+not much of it, but one could see the sea; the slates of the street that
+went along the water's edge did not quite bar the view. The very small
+presence of Southwick contrived to hide the sea; even when one walked to
+the water's side the great mass of shingle which forms the outer bank of
+the canal allowed only one narrow rim of blue to appear. The inhabitants
+forget they live by the sea, and when the breeze fills their gardens
+with a smell of boats and nets they think of the sea with surprise.
+
+Tired of the monotonous running to and fro of the cricket players, Willy
+walked up the platform. Arrow-like, the line lay in front of him, and
+in the tinted distance, in faint lines and flashes of light and shade,
+Brighton stretched from hill to hill. Morning was still in the sky, and
+the sea was deep blue between the yellow chimney-pots. A puff of steam
+showed up upon a distant field, and the train came along from Portslade,
+one of the links of the great chain of towns that binds the south coast.
+“I hope Frank won't arrive in Brighton before me,” thought Willy.
+
+They had been big boy and little boy at school. The vivacity of the Celt
+amused the good-natured south Saxon, and when Lord Mount Rorke called to
+see his nephew, he found him talking with Brookes. Once Willy had been
+invited to spend part of his holidays at Mount Rorke. Afterwards they
+visited each other's rooms, and so their friendship had been decided,
+and, in spite of--or, perhaps, on account of--a very marked difference
+in their characters and temperaments, gathered strength as it matured.
+Another link between the men was that Escott had accompanied Willy to
+the theatre when he went to see the actress whom he had loved so madly.
+Frank had heard her sing the song which Willy whistled when his thoughts
+went wandering. Willy confided in no one--great sorrows cannot be and
+never are confided; but Frank had seen her, and he played her songs on
+the piano, and that was enough for Willy.
+
+The young men had not seen each other for two years. Frank had shown
+some taste for painting, and his uncle, whose heir he was, had sent him,
+if not to study, at least to think about art in Italy. From Italy he had
+gone to Greece and Russia, he had returned home through Germany, he had
+visited Holland and France.
+
+“Is the London train come in?” Willy asked when he arrived in Brighton.
+
+“Yes, sir, just come in, about five minutes,” said the man as he opened
+the door. Willy waited until the train had stopped dead, he got out
+carefully, and, looking through the confusion of luggage and bookstall
+trade, he saw Escott questioning a porter and hailing a carriage. “By
+Jove! I shall miss him,” cried Willy, and he hastened his steps and
+broke into a sharp trot. “Frank! Frank!” he cried.
+
+“Oh, there you are!” cried Frank, and he lifted his stick, and called
+sharply to a large black and white bull-dog that paddled about on its
+bow legs, saliva dripping from its huge jaws, looking in its hideousness
+like something rare and exquisite from Japan. He dismissed the porter
+and the carriage, which he had hailed with an arrogant wave of his
+stick. He was tall and he was thin. His trousers were extremely elegant,
+a light cloth, black and white check, hung on his legs in graceful
+lines, and he wore tiny boots with light brown cloth tops. The jacket
+and waistcoat were in dark brown cloth, and the odour of the gardenia
+in his buttonhole contrasted with that of the sachet-scented silk
+pocket-handkerchief which lay in his side pocket. His throat showed
+white and healthy in the high collar tied with a white silk cravat in a
+sailor's knot, fastened with a small diamond. His hands were coarse and
+brown; he wore two rings, and a bracelet fell out of his cuff when he
+dropped his arm. His chest was broad and full, but the shoulders were
+too square; the coat was padded. There was little that could be called
+Celtic in his face or voice, the admixture of race was manifested in
+that dim blue stare, at once vague and wild, which the eyes of the Celt
+so often exhibit. The nose was long, low, and straight, the nostrils
+were cleanly marked, the mouth was uncertain, the chin was uncertain,
+the face was long, deadly pale, rather large, the forehead was high,
+receding at the temples. The hair (now he removes his hat, for the air
+is heavy and hot, and the sun falls fiercely on the pavement) is pale
+brown, and it waves thinly over the high forehead, so expressive of a
+vague and ill-considered idealism. Frank Escott was of Saxon origin on
+his father's side, but the family had been in Ireland for the last two
+hundred years, and had married into many Irish families that had at
+different times received direct contributions of Celtic blood. Long
+residence in England had removed all Irish accent and modes of
+speech; but in hook, and book, and cook he lengthened the vowel sound.
+Occasionally a something strange grated on the ear, and declared him not
+of the south of England, suggested the north, and insinuated
+Cumberland; an actor could not reproduce these trifling differences with
+caricaturing them. He was absolutely good-looking, and he was too well
+dressed. He laughed a good deal, and his conversation was sprinkled with
+cynical remarks and cutting observations.
+
+“You don't seem to go in for dress now as you used to.”
+
+“I haven't the money to spend on it; but tell me, don't you like this
+suit?”
+
+“Well, pretty well; whose is it? Did Walpole make it? Do you deal with
+him still?”
+
+“Yes, it is one of Walpole's, but I have had it turned.”
+
+“Had it turned? I have heard of turning an overcoat, but a morning coat!
+I did not know it could be done; that's what makes it look so shaky.”
+
+“Now don't you get laughing at my coat, it looks very well indeed. I
+suppose you think I am not fit to walk with you. I daresay it doesn't
+look as smart as yours, which has just come out of Walpole's shop.”
+
+The young men had so much to say, and were so genuinely glad to see each
+other, that their thoughts hesitated and they were embarrassed.
+
+“I suppose you enjoyed your trip abroad very much,” Willy said drily and
+punctiliously; “you were more than a year away--nearly eighteen months,
+I think.”
+
+“About that. I enjoyed myself. I think I liked Italy best; it has
+been more painted and described than any country, and yet it is quite
+different from what one imagines; it is grey and dim and green and
+dusty. It looks--how shall I put it?--it looks worn out and faded.”
+
+“The women aren't worn out and faded if all one hears is true,” said
+Willy, with a short laugh.
+
+“The women are right enough. I must tell you about them one of these
+days, lots of stories. There was a little Italian girl I met at Milan.
+It was a job to get away from her; she followed me, 'pon my word, she
+did; she declared she would commit suicide. I was awfully frightened.
+Naples is really too shocking. I'm not a prude, but Naples is really--”
+
+“I suppose it is the same all over the Continent. One of these days I
+must go abroad and have a look round. You were a long time in Rome?”
+
+“No, only a few weeks, but I was too taken up with the pictures to think
+of anything else. The Michael Angelos are beyond anything any one can
+imagine. He is the only one who can compare with the Greeks, and I don't
+see why one shouldn't say he is as great. Of course there are things,
+the daughters of--I forget the name--the group of two women leaning back
+in each other's arms in the British Museum. But I don't know, Michael
+Angelo is quite different, and I can't see that anything can be said
+to be finer than the figures of Day and Night--how often I have drawn
+them--the figure of Night, the heavy breasts to show that she has
+suckled the Day.”
+
+“But which way are we going? I must go to Truefitt's to have my hair
+cut.”
+
+“You haven't forgotten the old place, I see. Do you still keep up your
+subscription?”
+
+“I suppose mine has run out, I have been abroad so long. Nothing like a
+good shampoo; for a guinea a year you can have it done as often as you
+like.”
+
+“I haven't subscribed lately. There used to be such a pretty girl at the
+counter. Do you remember?”
+
+“You dog, always thinking of them,” and laughing loudly they passed
+through the shop, and it was Frank that stared most at the young lady.
+They read _Punch_ aloud to each other; they cracked jokes with the
+hairdressers; they snorted and laughed through the soap and jets of hot
+and cold water. Frank allowed scent and ivories to be pressed upon him
+by the young lady at the counter; Willy declined to be led into such
+extravagances.
+
+As he stepped out into the shine of the street, and took step from his
+friend, he said: “By George! it makes me feel young again. It is just
+like old times.”
+
+“Yes, it does make one feel jollier, doesn't it?”
+
+“How jolly it is here; not too warm, just nice. What shall we do? Sit
+down on that bench in front of the pier?”
+
+“I'm agreeable. How jolly it is. Just look at those boats! One could
+make a picture of that.”
+
+Over the sea hung a white veil of mist, but the sun glowed through and
+melted into it, and harmonised it with the water green and translucent.
+The sea sucked about the shingle with little sudden sighs; the sails
+of the pleasure boat waved in the fairy-like depths, and all the
+little brown fishing-boats lay becalmed, heaving tremulously like
+tired butterflies upon the breast of a blue flower. The nursemaids lay
+together on the shingle, and their novels slipped down the stones to
+their feet. The children played with the tide and the sand. There were
+crowds of women--Jewesses with loud dresses: and the strange world of
+bath chairs! Ladies so old that they seem certain to fall to pieces when
+they are taken out; ladies with chestnut curls soft and fresh--why were
+they in bath chairs? General officers, mounted on white Arabs; acrobats
+and songs.
+
+The young men sat facing the sea. Frank called, “Triss, Triss. Splendid
+dog that is. If I were to let him he would guzzle the other dog in about
+two minutes.”
+
+“He looks a ferocious brute.”
+
+“You don't like dogs? You couldn't see a handsomer dog than that;
+unfortunately, he's the wrong colour; if he were brindle or white, he'd
+take a first prize. Come here, you brute.”
+
+Amid some little excitement and anxious looks, Triss came up, growling
+and showing his teeth. Frank explained that it was only his manner.
+Frank took the paw that was extended to him, but Triss's friendliness
+seemed somewhat dubious, for he still further uncovered his formidable
+fangs.
+
+“I really don't care to sit here with that ferocious brute.”
+
+“I assure you he won't bite, it is only his manner. Isn't it, Triss?
+Kiss me, kiss me at once,” and amid many growls of almost subterranean
+awfulness, the dog licked his master's face.
+
+“I wish you would tie him up--to oblige me.”
+
+Highly pleased at the fear and wonder his dog had struck in the gaudy
+Jewesses and the shaky generals, Frank threatened and finally forced
+the dog to lie down. He continued to expatiate on the dog's points--the
+number of wrinkles, the bandiness of the legs, etc. The conversation
+dropped in heat and glare, and the picturesqueness of the sea.
+
+“How horribly out of tune you do whistle--you go into a different key;
+this is more like it.”
+
+“Yes, how sweetly she used to sing it. Do you remember the night we went
+to see her, the last time the piece was played? I threw her a bouquet,
+a splendid one it was, too, cost me three guineas in Covent Garden. We
+went afterwards and had supper at Scott's in the Haymarket. How jolly
+those days were. I don't seem to be able to enjoy myself now as I used
+to then.”
+
+“What has become of her? One never hears of her.”
+
+“She died soon after.”
+
+“I am sorry I spoke of her; I didn't know.”
+
+“Oh, it doesn't matter.” Then after a long silence, Willy said: “I hear
+your engagement is broken off.”
+
+“Yes.” Frank drew a long and expressive breath, and, with melodramatic
+movements of the shoulders, he sighed. “I have not seen you since. Oh,
+I had terrible scenes with the father. They had a house up the river.
+I followed them, and put up at the Angler's Hotel. She told her father
+that I must be allowed to come to the house, and he had to give way. You
+don't know the river? Well, it is wonderful to awake at Maidenhead in
+the morning and hear the sparrows twittering in a piece of tangled vine;
+to see that great piece of water flowing so mildly in all the pretty
+summer weather. We used to live in flannels, and spent long afternoons
+together in the boat--we had such a spiffing boat, as light and as clean
+in the water as a fish--and we used to linger in the bulrushes, and come
+back when the moon was rising with our hands full of flowers.”
+
+“But why was it broken off?”
+
+“My uncle, old Mount Rorke, wants me to marry an heiress, and I have
+nothing except what he allows me, or scarcely anything. She used to wear
+a broad-brimmed straw hat, and the shadow fell over her face. I made a
+lot of sketches. I must show them to you one of these days when you come
+up to town, and I filled an album with verses. I used to write them at
+night. My window was right in front of the river, and the moon used
+to sail past, and in the morning I used to read her the poems I made
+overnight beneath the branches of the cedar, where we used to run the
+boat. But the father was a brute. I got the best of him once though. It
+was a private view day at the Academy, and he had forbidden Nellie to
+speak to me--even to notice me. I went straight up to her, and took her
+away under his very nose before he could stop us. We walked about all
+day. Oh! he was mad.”
+
+“If she was willing to brave her father in that way, why was your
+engagement broken off?”
+
+“My uncle was so very difficult to deal with. I didn't see her for some
+time.” Frank did not say--perhaps, he did not know--that his engagement
+had been broken off through his own instability and weakness of
+character. The young lady, whom he called Nellie, had told him she would
+wait if he would elect a profession and work for a place in it. But
+Frank had not been able to forego late hours and restaurants, and Nellie
+had married some one who could. “You know I converted her. Doesn't her
+father hate me for that! We used to go to high mass at the oratory. I
+explained to her the whole of the Catholic religion.”
+
+“But I thought you didn't believe in it yourself?”
+
+“I am talking of some time ago; besides, a woman, it isn't quite the
+same thing; and if I have saved her soul! I don't know if I told you
+that I was writing a novel; I don't think I did. The idea of it is
+this: A young man has loved three women. The first charmed him by her
+exceeding beauty; he lives with her for a time. The second captivates
+him, or rather holds him through his senses; his love for her is merely
+a sensuality; then he falls in love with a fair young girl as pure as
+falling snow of any stain in deed or in thought; he is engaged to marry
+her--or, I don't know, I haven't made up my mind on that point, perhaps
+it would be better if he did marry her. Well, the woman whom he has
+loved with a merely sensual passion comes back, and to revenge herself
+she tries to tempt the good girl to go wrong; she talks to her of men
+and pleasures; this is a good idea, I think, for I feel sure it is women
+far more than men who lead women astray. Then the first woman whom
+he has loved for her beauty merely, comes along and continues
+the diabolical work of the first, by suggesting--I don't know,
+anything--that the young girl should go in for dress; the young man
+finds out the scheme, and to save the girl he murders her, he is thrown
+into prison, he is tried, and in the crowded Court he makes a great
+speech--he tells how he murdered her to save her from sin, he tells the
+judge that on the Judgment Day a pure white soul will plead for him.
+What an opportunity for a piece of splendid writing! The Court would be
+filled with fashionable women, that weep and sob, they cannot contain
+themselves, the judge would wish to stop the young man, but he cannot.
+What a splendid scene to describe! And the young man goes to execution
+confident, and assured that he has done well. What do you think of it?”
+
+“It is really difficult for me to say; I never like giving an opinion on
+a subject I don't understand.”
+
+“I know; but what do you think?”
+
+Fortunately for Willy's peace, the conversation was at this moment
+violently interrupted by Triss. He rushed forth, and Frank was only in
+time to prevent a pitched battle. He returned leading the dog by his
+silk handkerchief, amid the murmur of nurse-maids and Jewesses.
+
+“That's the worst of him; he never can see a big dog without wanting to
+go for him. Down, sir, down--I won't have you growl at me.”
+
+“I can't see what pleasure you can find in a brute like that.”
+
+“I assure you he's very good-tempered; he has a habit of growling, but
+he does not mean anything by it. What were we talking about?”
+
+“I think we were talking about the ladies. Have you seen anything nice
+lately? What's the present Mrs. Escott like, dark or fair?”
+
+“There isn't one, I assure you. I met rather a nice woman at my uncle's,
+about two months ago, a Lady Seely. I don't know that you would call her
+a pretty woman; rather a turned-up nose, a pinched-in waist, beautiful
+shoulders. Hair of a golden tinge, diamonds, and dresses covered with
+beads. She flirted a great deal. We talked about love, and we laughed at
+husbands, and she asked me to come and see her in rather a pointed way.
+It is rather difficult to explain these things, but I think that if I
+were to go in for her--”
+
+“That you would pull it off?”
+
+The young men laughed loudly, and then Frank said: “But somehow I don't
+much care about her. I met such a pretty girl the other day at the
+theatre. There were no stalls, and as I wanted to see the piece very
+much, I went into the dress circle. There was only one seat in the
+back row. I struggled past a lot of people, dropped into my place, and
+watched the piece without troubling myself to see who was sitting next
+to me. It was not until the _entr'acte_ that I looked round. I felt my
+neighbour's eyes were fixed upon me. She was one of the prettiest girls
+you ever saw in your life--a blonde face, pale brown hair, and such
+wonderful teeth--her laughter, I assure you, was beautiful. I asked her
+what she thought of the piece. She looked away and didn't answer. It
+was rather a slap in the face for me, but I am not easily done. I
+immediately said: 'I should have apologised before for the way I
+inconvenienced you in crushing into my seat, but, really, the place is
+so narrow that you don't know how to get by.' This rather stumped her,
+she was obliged to say something. The girl on the other side (not half a
+bad looking girl, short brown curly hair, rather a roguish face) was the
+most civil at first. She wasn't as pretty as the one next to me, but
+she spoke the more willingly; the one next to me tried to prevent her.
+However, I got on with them, one thing led to another, and when the
+piece was over, I fetched their hats and coats and we walked a little
+way up the street together. I tried to get them to come to supper; they
+couldn't do that, for they had to be in at a certain time, so we went
+to Gatti's and had some coffee. I couldn't make out for a long time what
+they were; they were evidently not prostitutes, and they did not seem to
+me to be quite ladies. What do you think they were?”
+
+“I haven't an idea--actresses?”
+
+“No. They wouldn't tell me for a long time. I got it out of them at
+last; they're at the bar in the Gaiety Restaurant.”
+
+“Bar girls?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Some of those bar girls are very pretty; rather dangerous, though, I
+should think.”
+
+“They seemed to me to be very nice girls; you would be surprised if you
+heard them talk. I assure you the one that sat next to me spoke just
+like a lady. You know in these hard times people must do something. Lots
+of ladies have to buckle to and work for their bread.”
+
+Frank lapsed into silence. Willy sat apparently watching the blue and
+green spectacle of the sea. Frank knew that it interested him not the
+least, and he wondered if his friend had heard what he had been saying.
+Triss, seeing that smelling and fighting were equally vain endeavours,
+had laid himself out in the sun, and he returned his master's caresses
+by deep growls. One more menacing than the others woke Willy from his
+meditation, and he said: “What's the time? It ought to be getting on to
+lunch time.”
+
+“I daresay it is.”
+
+“Where shall we go? Do you know of a good place? What about that
+restaurant opposite the pier?”
+
+“Well,” said Willy, with a short, abrupt laugh, “the fact is, I must
+lunch at my office; but I shall be very glad if you will come.”
+
+“I didn't know you had an office--an office for what?”
+
+“I started an agency at the beginning of the year for artificial manure,
+but I think I shall drop it. I am arranging to go on the Stock Exchange.
+The difficulty is whether I shall be able to get my father to allow me
+to take enough money out of the business.”
+
+“What business?”
+
+“The distillery.”
+
+“Oh, but what about this office? Why are you obliged to lunch at your
+office? Are you expecting customers? I know nothing about that sort of
+thing.”
+
+“No, I wish I were. The fact is, my missis is staying in Brighton for a
+few weeks. The child has been ailing a good deal lately, and the doctor
+ordered change of air.”
+
+“Child! Missis! I know nothing of this.”
+
+“A very nice woman, I think you'll like her. She is devoted to me. We've
+been together now two years or more, I can't say exactly, I should have
+to refer to my diary.”
+
+“But the child?”
+
+“The child isn't mine. She had the child before I knew her.”
+
+“And what is the matter with it?”
+
+“Curvature of the spine. The doctor says she will outgrow it. Cissy will
+be quite strong and healthy although she may never have what you would
+call a good figure. But there is a matter on which I want to speak to
+you. The fact is, I am going to be married.”
+
+“To whom?”
+
+“To the lady whom you will see at lunch, Cissy's mother.”
+
+Frank said: “If you really love her I have nothing to say against it.”
+ Willy did not answer. Frank waited for an answer and then broke the
+silence: “But do you love her?”
+
+“Yes, I am very fond of her; she is a very good sort.”
+
+Frank was implacable. “Do you love her like the other one?” The question
+wounded, but Frank was absorbed in his own special sentimentalities.
+
+“I was younger then, it is not the same; I am getting old. How many
+years older am I than you--seven, I think? You are three-and-twenty, I
+am thirty. How time flies!”
+
+“Yes, I am three-and-twenty--you don't look thirty.”
+
+“I feel it, though; few fellows have had so much trouble as I have. Your
+life has been all pleasure.”
+
+“If a man really loves a woman he is always right to marry her. Why
+should we suppose that a woman may not reform--that true love may
+not raise her? I was talking to a novelist the other day; he told me
+thestory of a book he is writing. It is about a woman who leaves the
+husband she has never loved for the man she adores; she goes away with
+him, he marries her, and she sinks lower and lower, until she becomes a
+common prostitute.”
+
+“You are quite mistaken. I am sure that when you see the missis--”
+
+“My dear fellow, pray do not misunderstand me. I would not for worlds.
+I am only telling you about a book, if you will only listen. I told him
+that I thought the story would be ten times as interesting if, instead
+of being degraded, the woman were raised by the love of the man who
+took her away from her husband. He made the husband a snivelling little
+creature, and the lover good-looking--that's the old game. I would have
+made the lover insignificant and the husband good-looking. Nevertheless
+she loved the lover better. I know of nothing more noble than for a man
+to marry the woman he loves, and to raise her by the force of his love;
+he could teach her, instruct her. Nellie will never forget me. I gave
+her a religion, I taught her and explained to her the whole of the
+Catholic faith--”
+
+“I hope you won't try to convert my sisters.”
+
+“You do pull me up so! Don't you understand that I was very young then?
+I was only twenty, not much more; besides, I was engaged to Nellie.”
+
+“Come back to what we were talking about.”
+
+“Well, I have said that if you love her I believe you are quite right to
+marry her. But do you love her?”
+
+“Yes, I do; how many times more do you want me to say I do?”
+
+“Of _course_ if you are going to be rude--”
+
+“No--you understand what I mean, don't you? I am very fond of the
+missis; if I weren't I shouldn't marry, that goes without saying, but
+one likes to have things settled. I have been with her now more thantwo
+years. I've thought it out. There's nothing like having things settled.
+I'm sure I'm right.”
+
+The young men looked at each other in silence--Frank quite at a loss;
+he could nowise enter into the feelings of a man whom an undue sense of
+order and regularity compelled to marry his mistress, as it did to waste
+half his life in copying letters and making entries in a diary.
+
+“Then why did you consult me?” he said, for he came to the point sharply
+when his brain was not muddled with sentiment.
+
+“I am not heir to an entailed estate, like you.”
+
+“I am not heir to an entailed estate. Mount Rorke might marry
+to-morrow.”
+
+“He is not likely to do that. It is an understood thing that you are
+heir. My father might cut me off with a shilling if he were to hear
+I had married without his consent, and I should be left with the few
+hundreds which I draw out of the distillery, a poor man all my life.”
+
+“If that is so, why marry? You are not in love with her--at least not
+what I should call being in love.”
+
+“But can't you understand--”
+
+“No, I can't, unless you mean that you are down with marriage fever.”
+
+“I have considered the matter carefully, and am convinced I am right,”
+ he answered, looking at Frank as if he would say, but didn't dare,
+“don't let's talk about it any more, it only distresses me.” “The
+marriage must be kept a secret. If my father were to hear of it I should
+be ruined, whereas if Mary will consent to go on living as we are living
+now, one of these days she will be a rich woman. I daresay my share of
+his money will come to at least fifteen hundred a year, and then I shall
+be able to recompense her for the years she has waited for it. Do you
+understand?”
+
+“Perfectly. The only thing I don't see is how I am to influence
+her. You've no doubt told her and fully explained to her what the
+consequences would be if you were to publish the banns.”
+
+“I have, but it would strengthen my hand if you were to tell her all you
+know of my father. Tell her that he is very obstinate, pig-headed, and
+would certainly cut me off; tell her that he is sixty-six, that it is
+a hundred to one against his living till he is eighty, even if he did
+there would be only fourteen years to wait for fifteen hundred a year;
+tell her if she tells that I have married her it is just as if she threw
+fifteen hundred a year out of the window.”
+
+“And when shall I tell her all this?”
+
+“Now. We are going to have lunch at my offices, she'll be there. We'll
+talk the matter over after lunch.”
+
+“Very well, let's start. Come along, Triss.”
+
+With Triss tugging dangerously at the silk handkerchief whenever he saw
+a likely pair of legs or a dog that he fancied, the young men sauntered
+up West Street.
+
+“But tell me: how do you manage to have so many people to lunch in your
+office; your premises must be pretty extensive?”
+
+“I have the whole house; I was obliged to take it. I couldn't get
+another place that would suit me, and I thought I should be able to
+let the upper part; I did have a tenant for a little while, but he was
+obliged to leave. I believe I am the unluckiest fellow alive. Here's the
+place.”
+
+“Agency for Artificial Manure” was printed over the door. Willy asked
+the office-boy if there were any letters, and they went upstairs. The
+windows of the front room were in view of a church spire, and overlooked
+a little shadowy cemetery; and at one window Cissy sat, the little
+crutches by her side, watching the children playing amid the tombs.
+
+“Where's your mother, Cissy?”
+
+“In the back room cooking herrings, uncle.”
+
+Mrs. Brookes was a homely, honest-eyed woman, with dingy yellow hair.
+
+“Let me introduce you. This is my friend, Mr. Escott, you have often
+heard me speak of him.”
+
+“You must excuse my shaking hands with you, sir, I have been cooking.”
+
+“She is an excellent cook, too. Just you wait and see. What have we
+got?”
+
+“Some herrings and a piece of steak.”
+
+“Is that good enough for you?”
+
+“I love herrings.”
+
+“I am glad of that, these are quite fresh; they were caught this
+morning. You must excuse me, I must go back; they want a deal of
+attending to.” Presently she appeared with a tray and a beer jug. Willy
+called to the office-boy. “We have no cheese,” said Mrs. Brookes.
+
+Cissy begged to be allowed to fetch the cheese and beer.
+
+“No, dear, I am afraid you aren't well enough.”
+
+“Yes, I am, uncle; give me a shilling, and let me go with Billy.” Then,
+breaking off with the unexpected garrulity of children, she continued:
+“I am getting quite strong now; I was down on the beach this morning,
+and watched the little boys and girls building mounds. When I am quite
+well, uncle, won't you buy me a spade and bucket, and mayn't I build
+sand mounds, too?”
+
+“We'll see when the time comes.”
+
+“Well, let me go with Billy and fetch the cheese.”
+
+“No, you can't go now, dear, there are too many people about; this is
+not like London.”
+
+Cissy had the long sad face of cripples, but beautiful shining curls
+hung thickly, hiding the crookedness of the shoulders. She was nine
+years old, and was just beginning to awake to a sense of the importance
+of her affliction.
+
+After lunch she was sent downstairs to the office-boy. Willy sat rubbing
+his hands slowly and methodically. After some hesitation he introduced
+the subject they had come to speak on. “Mr. Escott will tell you, Mary,
+how important it is that our marriage should be kept secret; he will
+tell you how the slightest suspicion of it would ruin my prospects.”
+ He then spoke of his position in the county, and the necessity of
+sustaining it. Frank thought this rather bad taste; but he assured Mrs.
+Brookes, with much Celtic gesticulation, that her marriage must be kept
+a secret till her father-in-law's death. The young men and Mrs. Brookes
+remained talking till the rays trailed among the green grass of the
+graves, and the blue roofs that descended into the valley, and clung
+about the sides of the opposite hill. It had been arranged that Willy
+and Mrs. Brookes should go to London to-morrow to be married. Frank was
+convinced that she would not break her promise, and he hoped they would
+be very happy. She had only raised one objection. She had said: “What
+is the use of my being married if I shall have to live with him as his
+mistress?”
+
+“A great deal of good. Your position will be secured. Willy will not be
+able to leave you, even if he felt inclined, and you will know that only
+one life, that of an old man, stands between you and fifteen hundred a
+year.”
+
+“I want no assurance that my dear Willy will not leave me,” she said,
+going over and putting her arms about him; “but as you like. I shall
+never say anything about the marriage till Willy tells me. I hope I
+shall never do anything but what he tells me.” And she went over and sat
+on his knees.
+
+“You are a dear old thing,” he said, squeezing and planting a vigorous
+kiss on her neck.
+
+Frank's eyes filled with hot tears, his heart seemed like bursting.
+“What a beautiful thing love is!” he said to himself, and the world
+melted away from him in the happiness he drew from the contemplation of
+these who were about to bind themselves together for life.
+
+“Be most careful what you say to my sisters. I would not trust them.
+The temptation to get me cut out of everything might--I ought not to say
+that, but one never knows. I dare say no such accident could happen to
+any one else, but if I leave the smallest thing to chance I am sure to
+come to grief. They will question you. They will want to know what we
+did all day.”
+
+“I'll say we sat on the beach.”
+
+“That's it. Good-bye. I shall be home the day after to-morrow.”
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+
+When the young ladies at the Manor House did not get their dresses from
+London, a dressmaker came from Brighton to help them, and all together
+they sat sewing and chattering in the work-room. Maggie would take a
+bow or a flower, and moving it quickly, guided by the instinct of a bird
+building its nest, would find the place where it decorated the hat or
+bonnet best. Neither Sally nor Grace could do this, nor could they drape
+a skirt or fit a bodice, but they could work well and enjoy their
+work. But what they enjoyed more was the opportunity these working days
+afforded for gossip. Mrs. Wood had the Brighton scandal at her tongue's
+tip, and what she would not tell, her niece told them when her aunt left
+the room. Secrecy was enjoined, but sometimes they forgot, and in Mrs.
+Wood's presence alluded too pointedly to stories that had not yet found
+their way beyond the precincts of the servants' hall, and then the
+dressmaker raised her mild eyes, and looked through large spectacles at
+Susan, who sat biting her lips. Susan told the young ladies of her love
+affairs; they told Susan of theirs; and the different codes of etiquette
+gave added zest to the anecdotes, in themselves interesting. The story
+of the young man who had said, “I am afraid that parcel is too heavy for
+you, miss,” and had been promised a walk in the twilight on the cliff,
+evoked visions of liberty, and the story of the officer at the Henfield
+ball, with whom Sally had discovered a room that none knew of, did not
+fail to impress the little dressmaker. They talked a great deal
+about Frank. His face and manner called up the name, and after a few
+hesitations they used his Christian name as they did when he came to see
+them years ago.
+
+“He is a very good fellow--I don't say he isn't. No one could say he
+wasn't nice-looking, but somehow he doesn't make you feel--you know,
+right down, you know, through and through.”
+
+“Electricity,” said Maggie, with a low, subtle laugh, and her thread
+cracked through the straw of the hat.
+
+“Yes,” cried Sally boisterously. “Electricity, I never heard it called
+that before; but it isn't a bad name for it; it is like electricity.
+When a man looks at you--you know, in a peculiar way, it goes right down
+your back from the very crown of your head.”
+
+“No, not down my back; I feel it down my chest, just like forked
+lightning. Isn't it horrid? You know that it is coming and you can't
+help it. Some men fix their eyes on you.”
+
+“It is just when you meet a man's eyes--a man you like, but haven't seen
+much of.”
+
+“I don't think liking has anything to do with it. I hate it; don't you?”
+
+“No, I don't know that I do. I can't see anything so disagreeable as
+that in it. 'Tis rather a shock, a sort of pang.”
+
+Mrs. Wood raised her mild face and looked surprised through her thick
+spectacles; the merry niece bit her lips, and strove to stay her
+laughter. Then Maggie said: “Sue, have you ever felt electricity?”
+
+“Oh, miss! I don't think I understand,” and she glanced at her aunt over
+the hem she was running.
+
+“Now, come, tell the truth. You mean to say you never felt electricity?”
+
+“I don't think I ever did, miss.”
+
+“I don't believe you. Not when that nice young man you were telling us
+about looked at you? Come, now, tell the truth.”
+
+“Well, miss, I don't know--I thought it was very revolting.”
+
+Mrs. Wood said nothing; with her hand in suspended gesture and her
+spectacles a-glimmer with round surprise, she sat looking at Miss
+Maggie. Her reveries, however, were soon cut short, for Sally not
+only asked her if she had ever experienced the doubtful pleasure of
+electricity, but advised her when she returned home to try if her
+husband's looks could thrill her.
+
+“I don't think the conversation at all nice,” said Grace, who had up to
+the present taken no part either by looks, or words, or laughter.
+
+“Who cares what you think? You used to be fond enough of sitting out
+dances with him. You mean to say he never gave you electricity?”
+
+“No, never.”
+
+“Then I hope Berkins will,” said Sally, with a coarse laugh.
+
+The association of Berkins with electricity proved so generally
+ludicrous that Mrs. Wood, conscious of the respect she owed Miss
+Brookes, pretended to look for her handkerchief, and it was for a moment
+doubtful if the spectacles would preserve their gravity. Tears started
+to Grace's eyes, and she bent over her work to hide them from her
+sisters, which was unnecessary, for Maggie and Sally were absorbed in
+past experiences.
+
+“What about Frank?” Sally asked, and Susan looked up curious to hear
+Maggie's answer.
+
+“Well,” said Maggie, staring at the window, “Frank is very good-looking,
+but I don't think that he electrifies one... he did once.”
+
+“And when was that?” said Sally.
+
+“You remember the first time he came to stay here? Willy brought him
+down from London. We went to bed early and left them playing billiards;
+I lay awake waiting to hear them come up the stairs, and as he passed my
+room Frank stopped and I thought he was coming in. I felt it all down my
+spine, but never afterwards. You see, I didn't know him much then.”
+
+“And Jimmy?”
+
+“I never liked Jimmy.”
+
+“If you don't like him why trouble about him?” Sally replied in her
+usually defiant manner. “You always take good care to trouble about my
+men. You tried all you could to get Jimmy away from me, yet you pretend
+to father that you never flirted with him.”
+
+“I didn't flirt with him; once a young man looks at you you think no one
+must speak to him but yourself. If young Meason asks me to dance with
+him, I cannot refuse; I am not going to make myself ridiculous though
+you were to look all the daggers in the world at me, but as for flirting
+with him, I never cared enough about him.”
+
+“And what about meeting him in London?”
+
+Maggie coloured a little, and repudiated the accusation.
+
+“You told him you were going to London, and you asked him if he were
+going, and what he would be doing that day. I don't know what more you
+could say.”
+
+“I never said any such thing.”
+
+“I have it from his own lips.”
+
+“It isn't true; I will ask him to your face if he ever said such a
+thing; I will tell father that.”
+
+“Well, there's no use in quarrelling,” said Grace, “and I wouldn't
+advise you to worry father about it. You know he can't stand the name
+of Meason. It seems to me that neither of you care much whom you flirt
+with, you like so many young men.”
+
+“It is better to like a dozen young men than one old one.”
+
+“I shan't marry Mr. Berkins, no matter what you say. However, you can't
+accuse me of interfering in your affairs.”
+
+“No, _you_ don't.”
+
+“No more do I. If you want Frank, take him, only don't come sneaking
+after Charley. I don't want Frank; I don't care twopence about him. If
+you want to see it out with him, I shan't interfere; only don't you come
+interfering with me and Jimmy, or Charley either.”
+
+Maggie did not like the idea of Sally getting two to her one. She would
+have liked to have introduced a proviso about Alfred, but the title
+Mount Rorke slipped between her thoughts, and she refrained. She knew
+the present treaty secured her immunity from Sally only so long as
+the affections and attentions of Jimmy and Charley showed no signs of
+declension, and she was aware that her promise would only hold good so
+long as Frank interested and Charley remained away in London.
+
+The canary that had been twittering, now burst forth into long and
+prolonged shrillings. Grace folded up her work along her knees; and
+holding it in her hand like a roll of music, she said that they would
+never hear the end of this tennis party.
+
+“I don't see why father should ever know anything about it, he has taken
+that horrid old Joseph with him, he never says more than a few words
+to the footman, and he never sees the cook or housemaid. We have all
+to-morrow to get the house straight.”
+
+“It is not certain that he is going to stay the night in London.”
+
+“Yes it is. Don't fidget. Have you got the wine out? We should have a
+dozen of champagne. Mind you make no mistake; '80, that is the wine you
+must get. Jimmy is most particular what he drinks, and Alfred has the
+most frightful headaches if he drinks anything but the very best. I hope
+he'll find the '80 all right.”
+
+“That's father's favourite wine; you mean to say that he won't miss
+it? Then the port and Burgundy and cherry brandy--I won't take the
+responsibility.”
+
+“Nobody asked you. All you have to do is to return the keys to Maggie
+that you took from her.”
+
+“I don't think father will be as angry as you think, Grace; besides
+there's no drawing back now the invitations are out. I think it would be
+better to tell him that we had a few friends in for tennis. We needn't
+tell him who was there--we will suppress the name of the Southdown Road
+people; and we can take the bottles out from the back. The wine won't
+be missed for a long time, and we will invent some better excuse before
+then. We will say that two bottles were drunk at this party and three at
+that; and further than that we can't remember.”
+
+“And what about the peaches? There are only a few ripe, and Sally says
+she'll want them all. Father has been looking forward to them for weeks
+and weeks.”
+
+“He'll have to do without them; if he wants peaches, he had better bring
+some down from Covent Garden.”
+
+A knock was heard at the door. “Please Miss, Mr. Escott is in the
+drawing-room.”
+
+“Tell him I will be downstairs in a moment,” cried Maggie.
+
+“Now off you go, my Lady Mount Rorke,” said Sally, who had already begun
+to regret her promises, and to consider if she had not better break
+them.
+
+Maggie asked him what train he came down by, then she called the dog;
+“Come here, my beautiful boy, come and kiss me.” The bull-dog growled
+and wagged his tail.
+
+“He won't hurt you; 'tis only his way of talking.”
+
+Maggie laughed, and they walked out on the green sward. “I suppose
+you've been to a great many balls this season?”
+
+“I don't know that I have; a few, perhaps. I am glad to get away from
+town. I like no place like this. I don't know if it is the place or the
+associations.”
+
+“You are used to much finer places. I can fancy Mount Rorke--the lakes
+and the mountains; somehow I think I can see it. Isn't it strange,
+there are certain things and places you can realise so much better than
+others, and for no very understandable reason?”
+
+“Yes, that is so,” said Frank, obviously pleased by the remark. Then,
+after a pause, “Mount Rorke is a pretty place, and I don't think I could
+live long away from it. After a time I always find myself sighing for
+the bleakness and barrenness of the West. The hedgerows of England are
+pretty enough; but I hate the brick buildings.”
+
+“What kind of buildings do you have in Ireland?”
+
+“Everything is built of grey stone, a cold grey tint on a background of
+green pasture lands and blue mountains. I daresay you wouldn't like it.
+It would recall nothing to you, but when I think of it, much less see
+it, I re-live my childhood all over again. I am a great person for old
+times. That is the reason I like coming down here. I knew you all so
+long ago; how well I can remember you--three dark little things. You
+used to sit on my knee.”
+
+“And do you find nothing nice in the present?”
+
+“Of course I do; it is nice to walk in the garden with you, but it seems
+to me you have all moved away from me a little. Grace is engaged, you
+are engaged--”
+
+“Who said I was engaged?”
+
+“Ha, ha, you see I hear everything. What is his name--Alfred?”
+
+“I suppose Sally told you.”
+
+“I won't tell you who told me, I never betray secrets. You had a
+desperate flirtation two years ago, and the man had to go away, and you
+promised to wait for him.”
+
+“I don't mind telling you--I did meet a man about two years ago whom I
+rather liked; I used to see a great deal of him at tennis parties and
+balls; he used to ask me to marry him. He wanted me to engage myself to
+him, and I told him it would be much better to wait and see what father
+would say.”
+
+“And what did your father say?”
+
+“Father, he never knew anything about it. You may as well tell me, I
+know it was Sally. I suppose she told you I was very much in love with
+him?”
+
+“She said, at least, the person who told me said, that you would never
+care for any one else.”
+
+“So you've been talking about me though you promised you wouldn't talk
+any more,” Maggie said to herself, “All right, my lady--very well, we
+shall see.”
+
+“Grace is waving her parasol to us. Lunch must be ready.”
+
+Maggie and Grace had calculated that if they could limit the champagne
+to half a dozen bottles they would be able to hide the deficit from
+their father's scrutiny; but the servants seemed to be always filling
+the glasses of the Southdown Road people, and lunch was not half over
+when they heard the fourth bottle go pop. Maggie looked at Sally across
+the pile of peaches, but Sally had no ears for the report, only for
+Jimmy's voice. Her head wagged as she talked, and Maggie wondered if
+they were exchanging napkins or rings beneath the table.
+
+At that moment the servant handed a letter on a salver to Maggie,
+saying, “From Mrs. Horlock; the servant is waiting an answer, miss.”
+ Grace trembled. Sally whispered to Jimmy, “What can she want?” In a
+reassuring voice Maggie said, “She has heard we are having a few people
+in to tennis, and she wants to know if she may send us round a young
+man; she will come round herself with the General some time during the
+afternoon.” At the mention of a young man many eyes gleamed, and Sally
+said, “You had better go at once and write a note and say that we shall
+be delighted.” When they went into the verandah coffee was handed
+round, and Maggie, as the gentlemen lit their cigarettes, said to Grace,
+“Nothing could have happened better; father is sure to hear of this,
+we couldn't have kept it from him: now we can say Mrs. Horlock was our
+chaperon. None will know when she came, or when she went away.” Then
+turning to her company, Maggie said, “Now gentlemen, as soon as you have
+finished your cigarettes we will begin.”
+
+Sally not only insisted on playing, but on playing with Jimmy; and
+Grace, who was striving to struggle into the position of Miss Brookes,
+could do nothing but set the girl in the florid dress and the man who
+stood next to her to play against them. The garden seemed to absorb the
+girls, but Maggie, catching sight of Mrs. Horlock, went to meet her.
+
+Mrs. Horlock was sixty, but her figure was like a girl's. She led a
+blind pug in a complicated leading apparatus, and several other pugs
+in various stages of fat and decrepitude followed her. It was not long
+before she raised a discussion on hydrophobia, defending the disease
+from all the charges of horror and contagion that had been urged against
+it, narrating vehemently how a mad dog had died in her arms licking her
+hands and face, and appealing to the General, who denounced muzzling;
+but when the mangy mastiff came near him he whispered to Frank, “I wish
+they were all shot. You must come and see us; you must come and see us;
+I have a pretty little place in the Southdown Road (dreadful place to
+mention here, they don't like it; of course the people there aren't
+all quite the thing, but what are you to do, you know?). Lunch at two,
+dinner at eight--old Indians, you know. I have everything I want. Too
+many animals, perhaps, but that can't be helped.”
+
+“Do you live here all the year?”
+
+“Yes, all the year round. We don't go away much. We have everything
+here--coach-houses, horses, you'll see when you come. The only thing
+I want is a little occupation, a little something to bring me out,
+you know. I read the _Morning Post_ every morning, and I have the _St
+James's_ in the evening; but then there is the middle of the day,” and,
+with laughter full of genial kindness and goodwill, the General repeated
+this phrase: “I want a little something to bring me out, you know.”
+
+Forty years of Indian sun! Balls in the Government House in Calcutta!
+Viceroys, tigers, horse-racing, elephants, jealousies, flirtations,
+deaths, all now forgotten, and if not forgotten, at rest; and now glad
+to watch life unfolding itself again in an English village, this old
+couple sat in the calm sunlight of an English garden, relics of another
+generation, emblems of an England drawing to a close.
+
+At five o'clock Grace was busy at the tea-table; and very hot and moist
+Sally threw herself into a cane chair. Maggie, who had suddenly appeared
+upon the scene, arranged some fresh sets in which she and Frank did not
+take part--she having promised to walk with him; and they went towards
+the shade of the sycamores. She had neglected him nearly the whole day,
+and he was vexed with her. But she excused herself volubly, accusing
+Sally of indifference to all things except her own pleasures, and
+impressed upon him that it was her duty to show some politeness to Mrs.
+Horlock's friend.
+
+“Sally would play tennis, she played two sets, three if I am not
+mistaken, and she never left Jimmy's side. She took no notice of any
+one; for that reason I hate having people to the house when she is here;
+everything devolves upon Grace and me. It is really too bad. Father
+wouldn't mind our giving this party at all, if it weren't for him. If he
+hears that he was here, well, I don't know what will happen.”
+
+“He doesn't look quite a gentleman, does he? He is a ship's mate, isn't
+he?”
+
+“Yes, but it isn't that; father cannot bear those Southdown Road people.
+A lot of young men live there--quite as good as ourselves, no doubt, but
+they are all so poor, and father thinks of nothing but money. And Sally
+meets them. When she goes out driving in the cart she picks them up, and
+they go off together. Father doesn't know any of them, and he says they
+laugh at him when he goes to the station in the morning. 'Tisn't
+true, it is only his imagination; but I can quite well understand his
+feelings. You know Sally won't give way in anything. Once she ran into
+the kitchen, and told cook to put back the dinner, so that she might run
+down the slonk to finish her conversation with him. Of course father
+was mad at that, coming home tired from the City, and finding that his
+dinner had been put back. You saw the way they went on at lunch, sitting
+close together.”
+
+“We were all sitting close together.”
+
+“Yes, but not like they were. And all that nonsense with their napkins
+under the table. If you didn't see it, so much the better. I thought
+everybody saw it. I wish Sally wouldn't do it. Father, as you know, has
+a lot of money to leave, and if she did really go too far, I fear he
+would cut her off.”
+
+“But she never would go too far.”
+
+“No, I don't think so; I am sure Sally wouldn't do anything that was
+really wrong, but she is very imprudent.”
+
+“How do you mean?”
+
+“I don't know that I ought to tell you.”
+
+“I promise not to tell any one--you know you can trust me.”
+
+“Well, she brings people up to her room.”
+
+“You don't mean to her bedroom?”
+
+“She says you can't call it a bedroom, but she sleeps there for all
+that. She covers up the bed and makes it look like a couch; she keeps
+birds and dogs there; Flossie had her puppies there. That's her room,”
+ said Maggie, lifting one of the boughs. “I shouldn't be surprised if
+Jimmy were there with her now.”
+
+The foliage glinted in the sunset, and as Maggie stood pointing, still
+holding the bough, the picture flashed upon Frank, and he said: “Oh, how
+pretty you are now! How I should like to paint you!” And a moment
+after he said, interested, solely interested in sentimental affection,
+“Sally's ideas of love seem to me very funny; if she really loves
+Meason, why doesn't she marry him?”
+
+“He has no money, and father would never hear of it.”
+
+“Never hear of it! If I loved a girl, nothing in the world would prevent
+my marrying her.”
+
+“I wonder if that's true,” said Maggie, and she let go the bough and
+stood facing him, her hands clasped behind her back.
+
+“Of course it is. What is life for if it isn't to get the woman we
+love?”
+
+“It is nice to hear you say so; but I am afraid very few young men think
+like you nowadays. One woman is the same as another to them.”
+
+“I cannot understand any one thinking so. If it were so, the whole charm
+would be lost.”
+
+So the young people talked, and lost in the charm of each thrilling
+minute, they walked through the shadows and darkening leaves. The soft
+garden echoed with the sound of a girl's voice crying, “Cuckoo, cuckoo,”
+ and the white dresses flew over the sward, and the young men ran after
+them and caught them. They were playing hide and seek. Excited
+beyond endurance, Triss barked loudly, and forms were seen flying
+precipitately.
+
+“Tie him up to this tree,” said Maggie.
+
+“No, no, better take him to the house,” said Frank; “it would make him
+savage to tie him up.”
+
+When the ninth bottle of champagne had been opened, and the supper table
+was noisy, Frank whispered to Maggie, “Did you ever see _Macbeth_?”
+
+“Yes, but why?”
+
+“Because I can't help thinking what a splendid occasion it would be for
+Banquo's ghost to appear.”
+
+Maggie pressed his hand and laughed.
+
+Soon after the sound of wheels was heard. Grace turned pale, Sally said:
+“Who would have thought it?” A moment after Mr. Brookes, with Berkins
+and Willy behind him, entered. He stood amazed, and seeing that the
+tears were mounting to his eyes, Maggie said: “Father, how tired and
+faint you look. We thought you wouldn't be coming home to-night. Do sit
+down and have a glass of wine.” But neither winning words nor ways could
+soothe this storm, and in reply to a question from Berkins, Mr. Brookes
+declared passionately that he knew none of the young men who came to his
+house.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+
+“Father's just gone downstairs. I think we had better wait a minute or
+two. In that way we shall escape a scolding. Father won't miss the ten
+o'clock.”
+
+“Not a bad idea. You are always up to some cunning dodge. What's the
+time?”
+
+“Twenty minutes to nine. I'll slip down the passage and tell Grace to go
+down and give him his breakfast. He won't say anything to her; he knows
+well that since Fatty went to India she wouldn't see a soul if she could
+help it.”
+
+“Father never says anything to you either; you tell him a lot of lies,
+and leave him to understand that I do everything.”
+
+“That's not true; I never speak against you to father; but at the same
+time I must say that if it weren't for you we could do as we liked. You
+don't try to manage father.”
+
+“Manage him, indeed! that's what I can't bear in you, you're always
+trying to manage some one; I hate the word.”
+
+“You got out of bed the wrong side this morning. However, I must go and
+tell Grace to go down at once, or father will be ringing for us.”
+
+“What did she say?” said Sally, when Maggie returned.
+
+“'Tis all right; I got her to go, and she said she was always being made
+a cat's-paw of. I assure you it wasn't easy to persuade her to go down
+to father, but I told her she might be the means of averting a very
+serious row.”
+
+“I suppose you said there was no counting on what answers I might make
+to father?”
+
+This was exactly what Maggie had said.
+
+“Very well; you are always objecting to what I do, and the way I do it.
+I wish you would go and do things yourself. You think of nothing but
+yourself, or some young man you are after. I wouldn't do what you did
+yesterday. I wouldn't go sneaking round the garden with a young man I
+had never seen before.”
+
+Maggie shrugged her shoulders and went on dressing. Sally, who had taken
+a seat on the bed, watched her. She thought how she might best pursue
+the quarrel, but her stomach called her thoughts from her sister, and
+she said: “I don't know how you feel, but I am dying of hunger. What
+time is it now?”
+
+“Nine o'clock.”
+
+“Another half-hour. I suppose he won't start before the half-hour.”
+
+“Miss,” said the maid, knocking at the door, “Mr. Brookes wants to know
+if you are coming down to breakfast.”
+
+“Say that we are not nearly ready; that there's no use waiting for us.”
+
+“I think I had better go back to my room,” said Sally.
+
+“I think you had. I wish you wouldn't bring that horrid little dog into
+my room. She made a mess here the other day.”
+
+“That I am sure she didn't. Flossie is the cleanest dog in the world.”
+
+“Clean or unclean, I would rather not have her in my room. There she is
+trying to drink out of my jug. Get away, you little beast!”
+
+Sally caught up her dog, and marched out of the room, slamming the door
+after her.
+
+“At last I have got rid of her,” thought Maggie, and she rolled and
+pinned up the last plait of her black hair, but she did not go down to
+breakfast until the wheels grated on the gravel and the carriage was
+heard moving away. Then she begged Grace to tell her what her father had
+said.
+
+“He said his children were persecuting him, that he had not had an
+hour's peace since their poor mother died.”
+
+“Fudge! Mother knew how to keep him in order. Do you remember when she
+threw the carving knife?”
+
+“Sally, for shame! How can you speak of poor mother so?”
+
+“You know it is true, Hypocrisy. There is no harm in coming to the
+point.”
+
+“It was very nearly coming to the point,” said Maggie, giggling.
+
+“Well, what else did he say?”
+
+“He said he didn't know what course he should adopt, but that things
+couldn't go on as they were; he thought he should write to Aunts Mary
+and Hester, and just as he was going out of the door he said that he'd
+prefer to sell the whole place up than continue living here and be the
+laughing-stock of the neighbourhood.”
+
+At these words all looked frightened, even Sally. She flaunted her head,
+however, and said disdainfully: “I wonder he didn't speak of marrying
+again.”
+
+“Did he say nothing more?” asked Maggie, who determined to know how
+matters stood.
+
+“He spoke of Sally; he said it must be put a stop to. I don't know what
+he has found out, but I am sure he has found out something.”
+
+“Why didn't you ask him?”
+
+“I did. He said the way you were carrying on with young Meason was
+something too disgraceful, and that every one was talking of it; he said
+that you had been seen crossing the canal locks, and that you had spent
+hours with him on the beach, and he spoke about the cart and Bamber--I
+don't know if you ever drove there to meet him; I couldn't get anything
+more out of him, for he began to cry.”
+
+“Didn't he speak of the party?”
+
+“Oh, yes, a great deal. He said that henceforth he would have none of
+the Southdown Road people, male or female, at the Manor House. I thought
+he was going to curse the Horlocks; but I reminded him of the Viceroys.
+As for the Measons, I don't know what he would have said if he hadn't
+been crying.”
+
+“The Measons are just as good as we are, though they mayn't be so rich.
+I should like to know who has been talking to him about me; I wonder
+who told him I spent hours on the beach with Jimmy; I met him once there
+quite by accident, and we sat down for ten minutes. I daresay it was
+Berkins.”
+
+“No, Sally, don't,” said Grace, clasping her hands. “Father said that
+Maggie was nearly as bad, and was a great deal too much disposed towards
+young men.”
+
+“I should think she is indeed; I wonder what father would say if he had
+seen her walking round the garden out of sight of every one with that
+fellow, a man she had never seen before.”
+
+“There is no harm in walking round the garden with a man, but I should
+like to know what father would say if he knew that you brought Jimmy up
+to your bed-room.”
+
+“My bed-room isn't a bed-room. How dare you make such accusations, how
+dare you? I should not be surprised if you were at the bottom of all
+this. I know you are mad with jealousy. Do you think I don't know how
+you flirted with Jimmy? Do you think I didn't see how you shifted Frank
+on to me so that you might walk with Jimmy to the station? But I'll tell
+you what, I'll not stand it, and if you try to come between me and him
+I'll knock you down.”
+
+Sally sprang from her place and raised her fist. Maggie rushed from the
+room, or, more correctly speaking, into the arms of Willy.
+
+“What the deuce are you up to?” cried this staid young man, who had been
+twisted round and thrown against the wall.
+
+“Oh, save me! Sally says she'll knock me down,” cried the girl, clinging
+for a moment to her brother's shoulder, but as if conscious of the
+dubiousness of his protection, she loosed him and fled upstairs to her
+room.
+
+“What damned nonsense this is! The trouble young girls are in a
+house!--Nothing but pleasure; from one year's end to another, it is
+nothing but pleasure. I am sick of it.”
+
+Having by such unusual emphasis of manner reduced his sisters to
+silence, Willy sat down, and chewed with gravity and deliberation. Grace
+and Sally watched him. After a long and elaborate silence he put some
+brief questions, and appeared to devote to them the small part of his
+attention not already engaged in the judicious breaking of his bread.
+He did not answer nor did he comment; and when he had finished eating he
+commenced packing up his diary and letters in a brown paper parcel, and
+for three-quarters of an hour he walked up and down stairs collecting
+and forgetting; finally he left the house with many parcels.
+
+As some days are sweet and fugitive, others are obtuse, complex, and
+tortuous as nightmares--difficult to understand and well-nigh impossible
+to relate. And the day after the tennis party was such a day in the
+Brookes household, nor did its tumult cease when the lights were turned
+out in the billiard-room. It was revived with fierce gusts of passion
+and despair during several succeeding days.
+
+In the afternoon both Sally and Maggie wanted to go out in the cart. The
+wrangle was a long one, but the argument of the fist eventually brought
+it to a close, and Maggie was obliged again to shut herself into her
+room. Thence Grace's solicitations could not move her, and she remained
+there until she saw her father coming up the drive; then she ran down to
+meet him, and made a frank accusation of Sally's treatment of her.
+But he was enthralled by his own woes, and without even promising her
+protection and immunity, at least from her sister's right arm, the old
+gentleman launched forth into more than usual lamentations.
+
+He had had a stormy interview with Berkins going up in the train, and
+Berkins had so upset him that he had not been able to get through any
+business in the City. Berkins admitted of no equivocation. He had told
+him that he would not allow the young lady that was going to be his
+wife to spend her days feasting and skylarking with a lot of vulgar and
+penniless young men from the Southdown Road. He had declared that it was
+time to settle definitely the terms and the day of the marriage. He had
+been engaged now more than two months, and was prepared to do his share;
+Mr. Brookes must be prepared to do his, viz., to settle four hundred a
+year on his daughter.
+
+The idea of parting for ever with so much of his money convulsed Mr.
+Brookes. He burst into tears, and their bitterness was neither assuaged
+nor softened by Grace's rather haughty statement that she didn't care at
+all for Mr. Berkins, and was not at all sure whether she would have him
+or not.
+
+“So, father, you may be able to keep your money.”
+
+“But did any one ever know me to think of myself?” and he drew his silk
+handkerchief forth. In the new trouble, suddenly created, all
+other considerations were lost, and Grace became the centre of many
+conflicting interests; everybody asked if this marriage so long looked
+forward to was going to tumble into ruin among so many ruins? At dinner
+Willy seemed to consider himself called from the problem of perfect
+mastication, and he said a few words intended to allay this new family
+excitement; but his efforts were vain, for it had occurred to Mr.
+Brookes that he might find calm in a bottle of '34 port. There were a
+few bottles left which he appreciated at their right value. He rang
+for the wine, and old Joseph announced, with all the intolerable
+indifference of a well-trained servant, that the young gentleman had
+drunk it all up yesterday. Mr. Brookes kept his temper better than
+the girls anticipated, and it was not until he had drunk a bottle of a
+latter-day wine that he seemed to realise the wrong that had been
+done to him. He begged of Willy to listen to him, and he talked so
+vehemently, and cried so bitterly, and laughed so joyously, and declared
+so often that it would be all the same a hundred years hence, that
+letters and diary had to be packed away in the brown paper parcel, and
+all work abandoned for that evening. The next day and the next passed
+in continual quarrel and argument, and at the end of the week the aunts
+were summoned.
+
+Aunt Mary's features were sharp, her eyes were bright and she sat bolt
+upright on the sofa, her hands crossed over a shawl drawn tightly about
+her.
+
+“Now, my dear James,” she said, “I am very sorry for you; of course
+I am. I know it is very trying, but there is no use in sitting there
+lamenting. Put up your silk handkerchief and come to the point. We all
+know it will be the same a hundred years hence, but in the meantime
+you don't want your dinner put back, so that Sally may continue her
+flirtations in the slonk,” and Aunt Mary burst into a merry peal of
+laughter.
+
+“You are most unsympathetic, I never knew one so unsympathetic; you were
+always so, you'll never change.”
+
+“Unsympathetic,” said Aunt Mary, shaking with laughter; “how can you
+say so? I have never done anything all my life but listen to you and
+sympathise with you. When you were a boy and sold my books to the boys
+at your school, and when you were a young man and took my poor husband
+to oyster shops--you remember the stories you used to tell me?”
+
+Mr. Brookes waved his handkerchief, and Aunt Hester, who was a spinster,
+cast down her eyes and fidgeted with some papers which she had taken
+from her hand-basket.
+
+“Of course, if my afflictions are only a subject for laughter--”
+
+“I am not laughing at your afflictions, my dear James. I laughed because
+you said I was not a sympathetic listener. You used to think me so
+once.” Then becoming instantly serious, Aunt Mary said: “Of course I
+think this is a matter of great importance--the health, the welfare of
+my dear nieces, and your happiness.”
+
+“And their salvation,” murmured Aunt Hester.
+
+“If I did not think it important, do you think I would have left home,
+and at such a time, when I am most wanted? I always said that that big
+place would kill me, I never wanted to leave the Poplars; a little place
+like that is no trouble--my greenhouse, a few servants, and just as I
+had got everything to look nice--I could do it all in a few hours; but
+now I am never still, there is always something to be done. No one can
+take up my work. I am behindhand; oh, I assure you when I go back I
+shall be afraid to go into the greenhouse. I am worn out, I really am;
+it never ends. In a big house like Woborn one is always behindhand. The
+days aren't long enough, that's the fact of it; when one thinks one is
+getting through one thing one is called away to another. 'Please, mum,
+the cook would like to speak with you for a moment.' 'There is no tea in
+the house, mum.' 'What! is all the tea I gave out last week gone?' 'Yes,
+mum. There was, you remember, the dressmaker here three days, and we had
+Mrs. Jones in to help. And we shall want another piece of cheese for
+the servants' hall.' I don't know how it is with you, but at Woborn the
+cloth is never off the table in the servants' hall. They have five meals
+a day--breakfast at eight, and they won't eat cold bacon, they must have
+it hot; of course the waste is something fearful; at eleven they have
+beer and cheese; at one there is dinner; at five they have tea; and at
+nine supper. Five meals a day--it really is terrible, it is wicked,
+it really is! You have had none of these troubles, Hester, and you may
+think yourself very lucky.
+
+“We have just got rid of our cook; the trouble she gave us, it really
+is beyond words. She said she was troubled with fits, hysteria, or
+something of that sort--at least that is the reason she gave for her
+conduct. I knew there was something wrong, I could see it in her eyes.
+I said: 'This is not right; it can't be right.' One night she left the
+dinner half cooked and went roaming all over the country; she came back
+the next afternoon, and I found her baking. Then there was Robinson. Do
+you remember the pretty housemaid? You saw her when you were at Woborn.
+I am sure she must have had gentle blood in her veins; she wasn't a bit
+like a servant, so elegant and graceful. Those soft blue eyes of hers. I
+often used to look at them and think how beautiful they were. Well, she
+fell madly in love with West. Notwithstanding his bandy legs, there
+was something fascinating about him. He had a way about him that
+the maid-servants used to like; Robinson wasn't the first. Well, she
+completely lost her head, perfectly frantic--frantic; her eyes on fire.
+I saw it at once; you know I am pretty sharp. I just look round, one
+look round; I see it all, I take it all in. I said: 'This is not right;
+this cannot be right. Robinson is a respectable girl.' Her people I knew
+to be most respectable people in Chichester; I had heard all about them
+through the Eastwicks. I said, 'Robinson, you must go, I will give you
+a month's wages, but you must go back to your people. You know why I am
+sending you away; it is for your own good, otherwise I am sorry to part
+with you; but you must go.'
+
+“Robinson didn't say much, she was always rather haughty, a reserved
+sort of girl; but soon after--I always hear everything--I heard that she
+had not gone back to her people, but was living in lodgings in Brighton,
+and that West used to go and see her. I didn't say anything about it to
+West, but he saw there was something wrong. When I told him to put the
+carriage to, he said, 'Yes, mum, where to, mum?' 'Brighton.' I could
+see he saw there was something wrong, and when I told him not to put the
+carriage up, but to drive up and down the King's Road, and that I would
+meet him in about an hour at the bottom of West Street, he looked so
+frightened that I could hardly help laughing; he did look so comical,
+for he knew now that I was going to see Robinson. (Here the remembrance
+of West proved too much for Aunt Mary, and she shook with laughter.)
+Of course if I had let him put up the horses he would have run round to
+Robinson's and warned her that I was coming. Oh, I shall never forget
+that day! It was broiling, the sun came down on the flagstones in those
+narrow little back streets, and there was I toiling, toiling up that
+dreadful hill, inquiring out the way. I found the street, it was on the
+very top of the hill: such a poor, miserable place you never saw. Such a
+dreadful old woman opened the door to me, and I said, 'Is Miss Robinson
+in?' She said, 'Yes.' I could hear Robinson whispering over the
+banisters, saying, 'No, no, no, say I am out.' And then I said, 'It is
+no use, Robinson, I must see you, and I will not leave this place until
+I have seen you.' I went upstairs to her room. At first she was rather
+haughty, rather inclined to impertinence. She said, 'Mum, you have no
+right to come after me--you sent me away; I am looking out for a place
+in Brighton--I don't want to go back to my people.' I said, 'Robinson,
+it is no use trying to deceive me, I know very well why you are in
+Brighton; no good can come of this, it is nothing but wickedness.
+You must try to be good, Robinson. West has, as you know, a wife and
+children, and you must not think of him any more. You have taken this
+lodging so that you may see him. You must think of your future; this
+can't last.'”
+
+“No, indeed, this life is but a moment,” sighed Aunt Hester. “I wish you
+had had one of these books to give her.”
+
+“I did better, Hester. I told her some plain truths, and she put off her
+high and mighty airs and began to cry. I shall never forget it. Oh, how
+hot it was in that little room just under the slates, with one garret
+window and the sun pouring in. There was scarcely any furniture, and I
+was sitting on her bed. I said, 'Now, Robinson, you must give me back
+the presents West made you, and you must promise me to go back to
+Chichester.' And I didn't leave her until she promised me to go home
+next day.
+
+“When I stepped into the carriage you should have seen West's face. He
+didn't know what had happened; I didn't speak to him till next day. As
+I was going into the garden I called him. I said, 'West, I want to speak
+to you.' 'Yes, mum.' We went into the back garden; I was planting there.
+Edward was out riding, so I knew we shouldn't be disturbed. I said,
+'West, I saw Robinson yesterday, and I have a parcel for you; she has
+promised me not to see you, and you must promise me not to see her.'
+'Very well, mum, since you say it.' 'This is a very sad affair, West.'
+'A bad business, mum--a bad business, mum.' There was always something
+in West's stolid face that used to amuse me. You should have heard him.
+'I don't think she could help it, mum; she never loved another man--I
+really don't. But I was going to tell you, mum, I once knew a servant,
+a married man, he was in love with a young woman, and they waited long
+years, and when the wife died they married, mum.' 'That was all very
+well long ago, West, but wives don't die nowadays.'”
+
+So Aunt Mary talked, realising and giving expression to both the pathos
+and the comedy of her story. Then, feeling that she wasdigressing at
+too great length, she strove to generalise from the particular incident
+which she had related, and get back to the theme of the conversation.
+
+“I don't know what we shall do, I don't know what we are coming to;
+servants are getting too strong for us. My last cook gave us no end of
+trouble; the butler used to have to lock himself up in the pantry; and
+yet I had to give her a character. Of course it was very wrong of me to
+enable her to thrust herself upon another family, but what was I to do?
+I couldn't deprive her of the means of earning her living. She'll give
+trouble wherever she goes. There is no remedy, there really isn't; I
+don't know what's to be done unless we ladies combine and refuse to give
+them characters.”
+
+Here Aunt Mary's thoughts and words began to fail her, for she felt she
+was not getting back to the point where she had entered on her various
+digressions, and without further ado, and quite undisconcerted, she
+said, “But I forget where I was; what were we talking about?”
+
+“We were talking about dear Sally and Maggie, and the need they stand of
+counsel and help. Their conduct is to be deeply regretted; but theirs is
+only youthful folly. They have not done anything, I am sure, that--”
+
+“Quite so, Hester; of course. But at the same time a stop must be put
+to all this nonsense; it cannot be allowed. I have only to look round
+to take it all in. They are worrying their father into his grave. His
+position is a very trying one. He has no one whom he can depend on--no
+one.”
+
+“I am alone since poor Julia--”
+
+Aunt Mary and Aunt Hester looked at each other, and they wondered if the
+terrors of the carving knife were completely forgotten.
+
+“Poor James,” said Aunt Mary, recrossing her hands, “is obliged to go to
+London every morning, from ten till, I may say, half-past six.”
+
+“I am never home before seven.”
+
+“These girls are their own mistresses; they go out when they like, they
+order the carriage whenever they like, and they invite here every one it
+pleases their fancy to invite without consulting their father. I believe
+he doesn't even--”
+
+“I know none of the young men who come to my house. All I know of them
+is that they come from the Southdown Road.”
+
+“Don't be so silly, James, put up that handkerchief. Of course, the
+Southdown Road is one of the great disadvantages of the place. Those
+villa residences have brought into Southwick a host of people that a man
+living in a big place like the Manor House cannot know--little people
+who have--”
+
+“Not two hundred pounds invested--no, nor yet a hundred.”
+
+“Well, I don't wish to offend them, I'll say small incomes. They are all
+devoured with envy, and all they think of is what goes on at the Manor
+House.”
+
+“A lot of penniless young jackanapeses. Every morning I see them at the
+station watching me over the tops of their newspapers.”
+
+“You must understand, Hester, poor James up in London, toiling, not
+knowing what is going on in his own home; feasting and pleasure going
+on morning, noon, and, I may say, night, for when James returned home
+unexpectedly about ten o'clock at night, he found them--how many were
+there?”
+
+“About a dozen, the others had gone.”
+
+“Feasting, drinking his champagne--his very best.”
+
+“The last few bottles of '34 port were drunk; the peaches, that the
+gardener has been forcing so carefully for months past, were all eaten.
+I returned home unexpectedly; I had intended to spend the night in
+London--you know I went there to see about starting Willy on the Stock
+Exchange; he has drawn three thousand more out of the distillery; I hope
+he won't lose it. Well, I met Berkins in Pall Mall, and he said if I
+would return by the late train that he would spend the night here, and
+we would go up to town together in the morning. I suspected nothing; I
+went into my dining-room, and there I found them all at supper. Had it
+not been for Berkins it wouldn't have mattered. He was indignant when
+he saw one of those jackanapeses with his arm round the back of Grace's
+chair; he says that such company is not fit for the lady that is going
+to be his wife; and he now insists on fixing the day, the settlements,
+and everything, or of breaking off the match.”
+
+“Then why don't you fix the day and the settlements?”
+
+“Grace is not willing; she is quite undecided. She says she doesn't know
+whether she will have him or not. Sally tries to set her against him;
+she laughs at him, says he is pompous, and imitates him. Of course, it
+is quite true that he thinks everything he has is betterthan anybody
+else's. She says he is old, and says that kissing him would be like
+rubbing your face in a mattress.”
+
+“The fact is,” said Aunt Mary, “Sally ought to have been a man; had she
+been a man, it would have been all right.”
+
+Aunt Hester, who had spent her life in a vicarage, glanced uneasily at
+her sister, and fidgeted with the papers in her satchel.
+
+“I suppose it will be all the same a hundred years hence.”
+
+“No, James, it will not,” replied Aunt Hester, with unusual
+determination.
+
+The conversation dropped, and the speakers stared at each other at a
+loss how to proceed.
+
+“She is a very difficult girl to manage. If it were not for her we could
+get on very well; it is she who upsets everything. She can't agree
+with Maggie; they are always quarrelling. The day after the party she
+threatened to knock her down if she interfered with her young man.”
+
+“Is it possible! Did she say that? Well, when it comes to young ladies
+knocking each other down! Young ladies were very different in my young
+days. It only proves what I said about Sally--she ought to have been a
+man, she really ought to have been a man. I see it all; I have only to
+give one look round to take it all in one glance. When she came to meet
+me in Brighton I understood it all at once; I saw she could not restrain
+herself, no powers of self-restraint. Her eyes fixed on every man as
+if she couldn't see enough of him; her black eyes flashing. I wanted no
+telling--I saw it all; the moment a young man went by her eyes flashed.
+Here she was--'Aunt Mary, Aunt Mary, there's Meason, there's Meason,
+Aunt Mary, Meason, Meason, Aunt Mary.' It is not right, it can't be
+right; and to my thinking Maggie is just as bad--a little more sly
+perhaps.”
+
+“No, not dear Maggie.”
+
+“I say it is not right; girls in good health could not go on like
+that. If I were you, James, I would take them up to a first-rate London
+physician, the very best that can be had for money. Those girls are
+highly organised, highly sensitive; their nerves are highly strung. They
+want something to bring them down,” said Aunt Mary; but catching at that
+moment sight of her sister's face, she laughed consumedly, and, speaking
+through her laughter, said, “So-and-so, a first-rate man, I can't think
+of his name--he will give you the very best advice.”
+
+“I think if our dear nieces could be brought to understand the
+sinfulness of their disobedience. I have here one or two little books
+which I think it would be advisable for them to read.”
+
+“Later on, my dear Hester; the best thing that James can do is to see
+to their health. No girls in good health could act as they do; it is
+radically impossible.”
+
+“I suppose that is what I must do; I don't know if I shall succeed, but
+I will try to get them to come up to London and have medical advice.
+Since the death of poor Julia I have been all alone; my position is a
+very hard one. I have no one to talk to, to assist me, to take my place
+in any way. I am obliged to go to London every day, and I assure you my
+heart is all of a flutter in the morning when I take the train, for I
+don't know what may happen before I return. The girls can do what they
+like; they are mistresses of this big house, they take the carriage into
+Brighton when they like, Sally takes the cart. I have thought of getting
+rid of that cart.”
+
+Although passionately fond of talking, Aunt Mary would with patience,
+and even with pleasure, cross her hands and settle herself down to
+listen to one of Uncle James's interminable lamentations, but Aunt
+Hester, a nervous and timid creature who talked but little, not only
+declared that she could not bear to hear the same stories over and over
+again, but interrupted her brother with firmness and determination.
+Indeed, it was only on occasion of Uncle James's soliloquies that she
+had ever shown any strength of will.
+
+“We know very well, James, that your position is a trying one--that
+since the death of poor Julia you have no one whom you can look to.
+There is no use in telling us this over again; it is mere waste of time.
+What we have to do now is by all means in our power to convince dear
+Sally of the sinfulness of her conduct, and so strive to bring her back
+to a state of grace.”
+
+“Her spirit must be broken, she must be subdued,” interjected Aunt Mary.
+
+“Christ is the real healer, prayer is the true medicine, and by it alone
+is the troubled spirit soothed.”
+
+It being impossible to contravene these opinions, the conversation came
+to a pause, which was at length interrupted by Mr. Brookes, who through
+the folds of his handkerchief declared again that it would be all the
+same a hundred years hence. Even Aunt Mary's realism did not offend Aunt
+Hester as did this un-Christian philosophy; she gathered her strength
+for a grave reproof, but was cut short by her sister's laughter. All the
+teeth were glittering now, and peal after peal of laughter came. Aunt
+Hester's courage died, and her long, freckled face drooped like a sad
+flower.
+
+“Now let us hear something about Grace. What about this marriage?
+Is Berkins as amorous as ever? That man does amuse me--his waistcoat
+buttons are better than any other man's.”
+
+“Mary, Mary, I beg of you to remember Mr. Berkins is a man of eight
+thousand a-year.”
+
+“He may make eight thousand a-year, but he has very little money
+invested,” said Aunt Mary.
+
+“That is true,” Mr. Brookes replied reflectively, and he was about to
+rush off into a long financial statement when his sister, who already
+regretted her joke, checked him with an abrupt question.
+
+“My dear James, is this marriage to be or not to be? That is what I want
+to know.”
+
+“I really can't say, Mary; Sally has contrived to upset her sister; she
+would have been, I feel sure, glad to marry Mr. Berkins if she had not
+been upset by Sally.”
+
+“Upset by Sally, what do you mean?”
+
+“I told you that Sally tries to turn Berkins into ridicule, laughs at
+his beard among other things.”
+
+“I must see Grace about this,” said Aunt Mary; “you must excuse my
+laughing, but Sally is often very droll.”
+
+Choosing the first occasion when Maggie and Sally were absent from the
+room, Aunt Mary said, “Come, Gracie, dear, tell me about this marriage.
+I hear that your mind is not made up--that you are not at all decided.
+This is not acting fairly towards your father. You are placing him in a
+very false position.”
+
+“I don't think so, aunty. No one, so far as I can make out, is either
+decided or satisfied. Mr. Berkins is not satisfied with the society we
+see.”
+
+“The Southdown Road you mean,” interrupted Mr. Brookes, “and very
+properly, too.”
+
+“And father and he cannot agree upon money matters, and I don't like a
+beard--”
+
+“You never objected to a beard until Sally put you against it.”
+
+“Yes, I did, father; I always told you--”
+
+“Never mind the beard, tell me about the money matters that your father
+and Mr. Berkins can't agree upon.”
+
+“Mr. Berkins has offered to settle twelve thousand pounds upon me if
+father will settle the same amount. But father won't agree to this; he
+wants Mr. Berkins to settle twelve, but does not want to settle more
+than seven himself upon me.”
+
+“Is this so, James?” asked Aunt Mary.
+
+Mr. Brookes avoided answering the question, and entered into a long and
+garrulous statement concerning himself and his money: he had made it
+all himself! he spoke of his investments with pride, and pathetically
+declared that he would not marry again because he would not deprive his
+dear children of anything. Aunt Mary crossed her hands over her shawl,
+and set herself to listen to the old gentleman's rigmarole. Aunt Hester
+tried several times to cut him short, but this time he would not be
+silenced.
+
+Then Aunt Mary started the story of a girl whom she had known intimately
+in early life, which she no doubt thought would help Grace to a better
+comprehension of her difficulties; but the dear lady lost herself in
+the domestic entanglement of many families, on the subject of which she
+contributed much curious information, without, however, elucidating the
+matter in hand. She wandered so far that at length all hope of return
+became impossible, and she was obliged to pull up suddenly and ask what
+she had been talking about.
+
+“What was I talking about, James; you have been listening to me--what
+was I talking about?”
+
+Mr. Brookes made no attempt to give the information necessary for the
+blending of her many narratives, and she was forced to seek unaided for
+the lost thread. Soon after the girls came in with their gin and water.
+They drank their grog, kissed their relations, and retired to bed.
+
+And the next evening, and the next, and the next, so long as Aunt Mary
+and Aunt Hester remained at the Manor House, the evenings passed in
+a similar fashion; and, notwithstanding the doleful faces they
+occasionally assumed, they found pleasure in lamenting the follies of
+the young people. The same stories were told, almost the same words
+were uttered. The only malcontent was Willy. He had no interest in
+his sisters, and the hours after dinner in the billiard-room when
+his sisters were in the drawing-room were those he devoted to looking
+through his letters and filling up his diary; so when Sally's name was
+mentioned he caught at his short crisp hair and gnashed his teeth.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+
+“My dear fellow, just as I'm settling down to do some work, Aunt Mary
+comes along the passage; I know her step so well. And then it begins,
+the old story that I have heard twenty times before, all over again. You
+have no idea how worrying it is.”
+
+Frank laughed, and talked of something else. These discussions of
+Sally's character and general behaviour did not appeal to him in either
+a comic or serious light, and the havoc they made of Willy's business
+hours did not perceptibly move him; he was full of his good looks, his
+clothes, his affections, his bull-dog, and the fact that his youth was
+going by, as it should go by, among girls, in an old English village, in
+a garden by the sea.
+
+Aunt Mary was a woman that a rarer young man would have been attracted
+by; indeed the delicacy of a young man may be tested by the sympathy
+he may feel for women when age has drawn a veil over, and put sexual
+promptings aside. Her bright teeth and eyes, the winsome little face, so
+glad, would have at once charmed and led any young man not so brutally
+young as Frank Escott. It would have pleased another to watch her, to
+wait on her, to listen to her rambling stories all so full of laughter
+and the sunshine of kindness and homely wit; it would have pleased him
+to note that she was gratified by the admiration of a young man; it
+would please him to hear himself called by his Christian name, while he
+must address her as Mrs. So-and-so, and in maintaining this difference
+they would both become conscious of pleasing restraint.
+
+His comprehension of life was invariably a sentimental one, so the aunts
+were to him merely middle-aged women--uninteresting, and useful only
+so far as their efforts contributed to render the lives of young people
+easy and pleasurable. In abrupt and passing impressions he concluded
+that Aunt Mary was bright and pleasant, but tediously voluble, given
+to wasting that time which he would have liked to spend talking to the
+young ladies of poetry and Italy.
+
+He scorned poor Aunt Hester. She shrank from him, frightened by his
+harsh, blunt manners; she was afraid he led a sinful life in London.
+Aunt Mary had few doubts on the subject, and her comments made her
+sister tremble. She spoke of him as a most desirable husband for Maggie.
+“He will be a peer, my dear James. Lord Mount Rorke will never marry
+again. He is the acknowledged heir to the title and estates.”
+
+And the young man went as he came--full of himself, his clothes, his
+good looks; bumptious and arrogant, effusive in his love of his friends,
+and yet sincere. He looked out of the railway carriage window to seize
+a last look of the green, with its horse pond and its downs, and the
+cricketers all in white, running to and fro (young Meason had just made
+a three, and Sally was applauding). The porches of the Southdown Road
+he could just see over the fields, and Mr. Brooke's glass glittered amid
+the summer foliage. At that moment he loved the ugly little village,
+with its barren downs and all its anomalous aspects of town and country.
+He thought of his friends there, and his life appeared to be theirs, and
+theirs his, and he wished it might flow on for ever in this quiet place.
+He seemed to understand it all so well, and to love it all so dearly.
+He accepted it all, even its vulgarest aspects. Even pompous Berkins
+appeared to him under a tenderer light--the light of orange-flowers and
+married love. For Aunt Mary had smoothed away all difficulties, hirsute
+and monetary, and the wedding had been fixed for the autumn. The gaiety
+of the day he had spent with the girls, its feasting and its flirtation,
+arose, memorised in a soft halo of imagination--a day of fruit, wine,
+and light words, and the dear General, with his St James's politics and
+his only desire--“a little something to do--something to bring me out,
+you know.” The pugs, the mangy mastiff, the hospitable house always
+open, its ready welcome, and, above all, the air which it held of the
+lives of its occupants; its pictures of white arab horses, and elephants
+richly caparisoned; the wonderful goats in the field, and the tropical
+birds and animals in the back garden! Above all, the walks on the green
+with the chemist's wife, and the annoyance such familiarity caused Mr.
+Brookes--how funny, how charming, how amusing! He was smiling through
+the tears that rose to his eyes when the train rolled into Brighton.
+
+On arriving in London he drove straight to the Temple. The creaking,
+disjointed staircases, with the lanterns of old time in the windows,
+jarred his thoughts, which were still of Southwick; and when he entered
+his rooms their loneliness struck him with a chill. He pictured Maggie
+sitting in the arm-chair waiting for him, and he imagined how she would
+lay her book aside and say, “Oh, here you are!” He sat down to read his
+letters. One was from Lord Mount Rorke, enclosing a cheque, another a
+daintily cut envelope, smelling daintily, came from Lady Seveley.
+
+“DEAR MR ESCOTT,--I have not seen anything of you for a very long time;
+you promised to lunch with me before you left town, but I suppose amid
+the general gaieties and friends of the season you were carried far away
+quite out of my reckoning. However, I hope when you return you will come
+and see me. I got your address from Mr. ----, but you need not tell
+him that I wrote to you; he is, as you know, a dreadful chatterbox,
+and somehow or other, without meaning it, contrives to make gossip and
+mischief out of everything.
+
+“The weather here is delicious--perhaps a trifle too hot; and sometimes
+I envy you your cool sea-side resort. I wonder what the attraction is?
+It must be a very special one to keep you out of London in June.
+
+“Should you be in town next Thursday, come and dine; I have a box for
+the theatre. And as an extra inducement I will tell you that I have
+two very nice girls staying with me, who will interest you.--Yours very
+truly, HELEN SEVELEY.”
+
+Some men of thirty would have instantly understood Lady Seveley's
+letter. But age gives us nothing we do not already possess, the years
+develop what is latent in us in youth, and it is certain that Frank at
+thirty would have understood the letter as vaguely and incompletely as
+he did to-day. We read our sympathies and antipathies in all we look
+upon, and Frank read in this letter an old woman with diamonds and dyed
+hair. He had met her twice. The first time was at a ball where he knew
+nobody; the second was at a dinner party. She had fixed her eyes upon
+him; she had prevented him from talking after dinner to a young girl
+whom he had admired across the table during dinner. He did not like her,
+and he thought now of the young girls he would meet if he accepted
+her invitation. Lady Seveley was a shadow; and when the shadow defined
+itself he saw the slight wrinkling of the skin about the eyes, the
+almost imperceptible looseness of the flesh about the chin; but, worse
+to him than these physical changes, were the hard measured phrases in
+which there is knowledge of the savour and worth of life. He unpacked
+his portmanteau, and, dallying with his resolutions, he wondered if
+he should go to Lady Seveley's: conclusions and determinations were
+constitutionally abhorrent, self-deception natural to him. Were he asked
+if he intended to turn to the right or the left, although he were
+going nowhere and an answer would compromise him in nothing, he would
+certainly say he did not know; and if he were expostulated with, he
+would reply rudely, arrogantly. This is worthy of notice, for what was
+special in his character was the combination it afforded of
+degenerate weakness and pride, complicated with a towering sense of
+self-sufficiency. Youth's illusions would not pass from him easily; in
+his eyes and heart the hawthorn would always be in bloom, young girls
+would always be beautiful, innocent, true to the lovers they had
+selected; nor was there of necessity degradation nor forced continuance
+in any state of vice. Love could raise and purify, love could restore,
+love could make whole; if one woman were faithless, another would be
+constant; if to-day were dark, to-morrow would be bright. Life had
+no deep truth for him, no underlying mysteries; it was not a problem
+capable of demonstration, capable of definition; it was not a thing
+of limitations and goals and ends; he could feel nothing of this--the
+philosophic temperament was absent in him. Life had no deep truth for
+him, no underlying mysteries; he did not dream of past times, and he
+placed few hopes in the future; life was a thing to be enjoyed in the
+moment of living, and the present moment was a very pleasant one. He
+leaned over the doors of the hansom resting his gloved hand upon his
+crutched stick. He was struck with the pride we feel when we are dressed
+for amusement and contemplate those in workaday garb; and in these
+sensations of pride he leaned forward, proud of his good looks, his
+shirt front, his shirt cuffs, his glazed shoes; he pleasured in the
+knowledge that many saw he was going to elegant company, to amusement.
+He was full of scorn for the women loitering, for the clerks hurrying,
+and especially for the crowds pressing about the entrances of the
+theatres.
+
+London opened up upon a little black space of asphalt; crimson clouds
+moved over the many windowed walls of the great hotels, the black
+monumented square foamed with white water, children played, and the gold
+of the inscriptions over the shops caught the eye. London was tall on
+the heavens. Regent Street was full of young men as elegant as himself
+driving to various pleasures, and Frank wondered what sort of dinners
+they would eat, what kind of women they would sit by. Then as he drove
+through Mayfair he thought of his own party. He wondered what the girls
+would think of him.
+
+Lady Seveley lived in Green Street. When he had rung the bell he
+listened impatiently for approaching steps, for he tingled with
+presentiment that he would somehow be disappointed, and he dreaded
+dinner by himself and his lonely lodgings. Nor was he wholly wrong. The
+butler who opened the door seemed surprised at seeing him, and in reply
+to his question if Lady Seveley was at home, replied hesitatingly:
+
+“Her ladyship is at home, but she is not at all well, sir. She is, I
+think, in her room lying down, sir.”
+
+“Oh, but did she not expect me? I was to have dined here to-night.”
+
+“I heard nothing about it, sir; but I'd better ask. Will you come in,
+sir?”
+
+Lady Seveley's house was a house of scent and soft carpets. The
+staircase was covered with pink silk, and in the recess on the first
+landing, or rather where the stairs paused, there was an aviary in which
+either hawks screeched or owls blinked; generally there was a magpie
+there, and the quaint bird now hopped to Frank's finger, casting a
+thievish look on his rings. The drawing-room was full of flowers. There
+was a grand piano, dark and bright; the skins of tigers Lord Seveley
+had shot carpeted the floor, and on their heads, Helen rested her
+feet, showing her plump legs to her visitors. On the walls there were
+indifferent water-colours, there were gold screens, the cabinets were
+full of china, there were three-volume novels on the tea-table--it was
+the typical rich widow's house, a house where young men lingered. Frank
+stood examining a portrait on china of Lady Seveley, it was happily
+hung with blue ribbon from the top of the mirror. It represented a woman
+inclined to stoutness, about three and thirty. The chestnut hair was
+piled and curled with strange art about the head. Above the face there
+was a mask, roses wreathed, and a swallow carrying a love missive,
+butterflies and arrows everywhere, and below the face there was a skull
+profusely wreathed and almost hidden in roses. This portrait would have
+stirred the imagination of many young men, but Frank thought nothing
+of it--the theatrical display displeased him, it seemed to him even a
+little foolish. He crossed over to the flowers.
+
+“Lady Seveley will be down in a moment, sir,” said the maid. A few
+minutes after the door opened.
+
+“How do you do? I am so glad to see you. Won't you sit down? I have been
+suffering terribly to-day--neuralgia; nothing for it but to lie down in
+a dark room.”
+
+“I hope you are better now.”
+
+“Oh, when I have had some champagne I shall be quite well. Now tell me
+something; talk to me.”
+
+Helen was sitting thrown back on the little black satin sofa; she had
+crossed her legs, and her foot was set on a tiger's head. The ankle was
+too thick, the foot slightly fat, but stocking and shoe were perfect,
+and these drew Frank's eyes too attentively. Helen noticed this and was
+glad.
+
+“So you like Maggie the best?”
+
+“Oh, yes, I like her the best, Sally is too rough. How those girls do
+worry their father. He has to go up to town every day; he is in the
+City, and the girls give tennis parties, and drink his best wine. There
+was an awful row there the other day about the peaches; he had been
+going in for forcing, and was counting the days when they would be ripe.
+The young men ate them all.”
+
+Helen laughed. “A sort of comic King Lear.”
+
+“Just so, the girls will have large fortunes at their father's death. I
+have known them all my life. I used to spend my holidays with them when
+I was a small boy.”
+
+“And you haven't seen them for a long time?”
+
+“No, I was in Ireland two years, and then I went to Italy. This was the
+first time I saw them since they were really grown up.”
+
+“And you say they are beautiful girls and will have large fortunes.”
+
+“Yes, I suppose Maggie is a good-looking girl; she is more a fascinating
+girl than a beautiful girl.” A sudden remembrance of Lizzie Baker
+dictated this opinion of Maggie Brookes.
+
+“Dinner is on the table, my lady.”
+
+“I think you said in your letter that you were going to have two young
+girls staying with you.”
+
+“Yes, but they could not come; they were to have been here on Monday.
+I am very sorry; had I known for certain that you were coming, I would
+have arranged to have some one to meet you.”
+
+“I am very glad you didn't.” The conversation dropped. “You said you
+were going to the theatre. What theatre are you thinking of going to?”
+
+“My neuralgia put all thoughts of the theatre out of my head. I have a
+box for the Gaiety. We will go if you like.”
+
+The name of the theatre reminded him of Lizzie Baker, and he compared
+the pale, refined face of the bar girl with the over-coloured woman--his
+hostess. He had not seen Lizzie for a long time. Why had he not gone to
+the bar room the last time he was in London?
+
+“You have not answered me--would you like to go to the Gaiety?”
+
+“I am sure I beg your pardon,” and then, in a sudden confusion of
+memories and desires, he said: “I don't know that I care much about
+going to the theatre. You are not feeling well.”
+
+“My neuralgia is almost all gone. There's nothing like champagne for it.
+Hardwick, Mr. Escott will take some more champagne.”
+
+There were engravings after Burne Jones and Rossetti on the walls, and
+Frank stopped to look at them as he followed Lady Seveley upstairs. She
+went straight to the piano.
+
+“Are you fond of music?” she said.
+
+“Yes; there is nothing I like more than fiddling at the piano.”
+
+“Then do play something.”
+
+“Oh, no, not for worlds. I only strum, I don't know my notes. I strum on
+the piano as I strum on the violin.”
+
+“Do you play the violin?”
+
+“I can't call it playing, I was never taught.”
+
+“How did you learn, then? It is a most difficult instrument; I couldn't
+get on with it at all; I will get mine out if you will play something.”
+
+“If you promise not to laugh, I will try, but I assure you I know
+nothing about it. I borrowed a violin once, and I taught myself to play
+a tune; then I bought a violin, and I amuse myself when I am alone.”
+
+“How very clever of you. There, you will find it under the piano behind
+that music; do play something, it will be so good of you.”
+
+“What shall I play?”
+
+“Anything you like.”
+
+Frank had no knowledge of the instrument, but his ear was exquisitely
+just and appreciative; his artistic desire was febrile and foolish, but
+you thought less of this in his music than in his painting and poetry.
+His soul went out in the strain of melody sentimentally; and it leaned
+him in varying and beautiful attitudes. The sweeping, music-evoking arm
+was beautiful to behold, and the music seemed to cry for love; all about
+him was shadow; only the light fell on the long throat, so like a fruit
+to the eye; the charm was enervating and nervous. Helen looked at him
+again, and shuddering, she rose from the piano.
+
+“What did you break off like that for? Was I playing so badly?”
+
+“No, no--come and sit down here, come and sit by me. I want you to talk
+to me.” She stretched herself in a low wicker chair by the open window.
+There was a church opposite, the painted panes were now full of mitre
+and alb, and the vague tumult of the service came in contrast with the
+summer murmur of London and the light of the evening skies. The woman's
+body moved beneath the silk, and the faint odour of her person dilated
+the nostrils of the young man. “Talk to me.”
+
+“I don't know what to talk to you about. You would not care for my
+conversation any more than you do for my music--one is as bad as the
+other.”
+
+“No, pray--I assure you--I would not have you think that, no.” Helen
+made a movement as if she were going to lay her hand on his arm;
+checking herself, she said: “I do not think your playing bad; on the
+contrary, perhaps I think it too good. How shall I explain? There are
+times when I cannot bear music; the pleasure it brings is too near, too
+intense, too near to pain; and that 'Chanson d'Eglise' seems to bear
+away your very brain; you play it with such fervour, on the violin each
+phrase tears the soul.”
+
+“But it is so religious.”
+
+“Yes, that is just it; no sen--no; well, there is no other word; no
+sensuality is so terrible as religious sensuality.”
+
+“I don't know what you mean. I can understand any one saying that
+Offenbach is sensual, but I don't see how the term can be applied to a
+hymn.”
+
+“Perhaps not to a hymn, although--but 'La Chanson d'Eglise' is not a
+hymn.”
+
+Her arm hung along the chair, the flesh showing through the silk as soft
+as a flower. He might take it in his hands and bear it to his lips and
+kiss it; he might lean and loll and kiss her. He wondered if he might
+dare it; but her air of ladyhood was so marked that it seemed impossible
+that she would not resent. He could not quite realise what her looks and
+words would be afterwards.
+
+“I do not wish to flatter you, but I think you play beautifully. I
+do not mean to say that I have never heard any one play the violin
+better--that would be ridiculous. Your playing is full of emotion. That
+lovely passage thrilled me; I do not know why, nor can I exactly explain
+my feeling--nerves perhaps. Now I come to think of it I am ashamed. It
+was the summer evening, the perfume of those flowers; it was--” Helen
+fixed her eyes on Frank, as if she would like to say, “It was you.”
+ With a sigh she said: “It was the music.” Then as if she feared she was
+showing too plainly what was passing in her mind, she said: “But it is
+nearly nine o'clock. Perhaps you would like to go to the theatre, the
+ticket for the box is on the table. I should not be more than a few
+minutes changing my dress. Would you like to go?”
+
+“I don't much mind, just as you like. I heard that the new burlesque was
+very amusing.”
+
+“Then let us go.”
+
+Both regretted their words; and, embarrassed, each waited for the
+other to say No, let us stay here, it is far sweeter here. But it was
+difficult to draw back now without avowal. Helen had rung for her maid.
+She put on a white satin. Her opera cloak was edged with deep soft fur,
+and she came into the room putting on her long tan gloves.
+
+“Were you ever in love?” Helen asked, and she leaned back behind the
+curtain of the box out of sight of the audience.
+
+“I suppose I have been in love; but why do you ask?”
+
+“It just occurred to me.”
+
+“I have never been in love with a ballet girl, if you mean that.”
+
+In blue tights and symmetrical rows the legs of the chorus ladies were
+arranged about the stage; the low comedians cracked jokes close to the
+footlights; the stalls laughed, the pit applauded.
+
+“Haven't you? Is that really so? I shouldn't think it would be nice. And
+yet, if all we hear is true, young men do make love to low women; I'm
+not speaking now of ballet girls, but of cooks and housemaids. A lady,
+a friend of mine, cannot keep a housemaid under fifty in her house on
+account of her son, and she sent him to Eton.”
+
+“Yes, I know; I have heard of such things, but I never could
+understand.”
+
+“I am glad. But you say you have been in love. Tell me all about it. I
+want to know. What was she like? Was she fair or dark?”
+
+“Fair. She used to wear a Gainsborough hat.”
+
+“Did you like those great hats?”
+
+“I did on her.”
+
+“I suppose she was tall, then.”
+
+“No, she was short.”
+
+“Then I don't see how she would wear a Gainsborough hat.”
+
+“She did, and looked exquisite in it too.”
+
+“I suppose you were very much in love with her?”
+
+“Yes; we were engaged, and going to be married.”
+
+“Why was it broken off?”
+
+“Her father was a brute.”
+
+“Fathers generally are brutes on such occasions, and there are generally
+excellent reasons for their brutality.”
+
+“Husbands, too, are brutes, and if all I have heard is correct, there
+are excellent reasons for their brutality.”
+
+Lady Seveley turned pale. “I did not come to the theatre to be
+insulted,” she said, hesitating whether she should rise from her
+seat. Frank Escott was constantly guilty of such indelicate and stupid
+speeches, and it would be easy to cite instances in which his conduct
+was equally unpractical. Were friends to speak ill of any one he was
+especially intimate with, he would answer them in the grossest manner,
+forgetful that he was making formidable enemies for himself without
+in the least advancing the welfare of him or her whose defence he had
+undertaken. With some words and looks the storm was allayed, and they
+felt that the wind that might have capsized had carried their craft
+nearer the port where they were steering. Their eyes met, and for a
+moment they looked into each other's souls. Her arm hung by her side,
+white and pure, could he take it and press it to his lips the worst
+would be over--he would have admitted his desire. But the box curtain
+did not hide him, and the faces opposite seemed to watch; and then
+she spoke, and with her words brought a sense of distance, of
+conventionality.
+
+“Tell me, did you fall in love with her the first time you saw her?”
+
+“I think so.”
+
+“Tell me all about it. When did you see her for the first time?”
+
+“It was on the Metropolitan Railway. We were in the same carriage,
+she sat opposite to me; for some time we were alone, and I thought of
+speaking to her, but was afraid of offending her.”
+
+“Are you always afraid of offending people?”
+
+“I don't know--I don't think I am.” Then it struck him that she was
+alluding to his rudeness, which she declared she had forgiven, and he
+said: “I am sure I can't do more, I told you I was sorry--that I did not
+mean--”
+
+“Oh, never mind, that is forgiven; tell me about her.”
+
+A little perplexed, he continued: “She was dressed in white, and her
+face was like a flower under the great hat.”
+
+“It is clear that you can admire no one who doesn't wear a Gainsborough
+hat. What will you do now that they have gone out of fashion? I am sure
+I can't gratify you.”
+
+“I wondered where she was going. I wished I was going to the same house,
+I imagined what it would be like, and so the time went till we got to
+Kensington. She turned to the right, so did I; I hoped she did not think
+I was following her--”
+
+“You were both going to the same house?”
+
+“Yes. There were some carnations behind her in a vase, and you know
+how I love the perfume of a carnation--so did she. She told me of the
+flowers they had in their cottage at Maidenhead. I love the river,
+so did she, and we spoke of the river all the afternoon. And when the
+season was over I went up to Maidenhead too. I had my boat there (I must
+show you my boat one of these days, one of the prettiest boats on the
+river). We used to go out together, and, tying the boat under an alder,
+I used to read her Browning. Oh, it was a jolly time.” The conversation
+came to a pause, then Frank said “Were you ever in love?”
+
+“I suppose I was.”
+
+“With your husband?”
+
+“No, I was not in love with my husband, he was twenty years older than
+I. When I was eighteen I was very much in love with a young fellow who
+used to come to play croquet at our place. But my parents wouldn't hear
+of it. I was not at all strong when I was a girl; they said I wouldn't
+live, so I didn't care what became of me. Lord Seveley admired me; it
+was a very good match, I was anxious to get away from home, so I married
+him. You are quite wrong in supposing I treated him badly.”
+
+“Forgive me, don't say any more about that.”
+
+“We had rows, it is true; he said horrible things about my mother, and I
+wouldn't stand that, of course.”
+
+“What things?”
+
+“Oh, I can't tell you--no matter. Once I said that I wouldn't have
+married him only I thought I was going to die. He never forgave me that.
+It was, I admit, a foolish thing to say.”
+
+At that moment the curtain came down, and the young men moved out of the
+stalls. “There are two men I know,” she said, fixing her glass. “Do you
+see them? The elder of the two is Harding, the novelist, the other is
+Mr. Fletcher, an Irishman.”
+
+“I know Fletcher--or, rather, I know of him. His father was a shopkeeper
+in Gort, the nearest town to Mount Rorke Castle.”
+
+“He is a journalist, isn't he? I hear he is doing pretty well.”
+
+“In London, I know, you associate with that class, but in Ireland we
+wouldn't think of knowing them.”
+
+“I thought you were more liberal-minded than that. If they come up here,
+what shall I do? I mustn't introduce you?”
+
+“I don't mind being introduced. I should like to know Harding.”
+
+“I can't introduce you to Harding and not to his friend.”
+
+“I don't mind being introduced to Fletcher; I'll bow and slink off
+to smoke a cigarette. Is it true what they say about him, that he
+is irresistible, that no woman can resist him? I don't think he is
+good-looking--a good figure, that's all.”
+
+“He has the most lovely hands and teeth.”
+
+“I see; perhaps you are in love with him?”
+
+A knock came at the door; the young men entered. Lady Seveley introduced
+them to Frank; he bowed coldly, and addressed Harding. But Lady Seveley
+said: “O Mr. Harding, I want to speak to you about your last novel; I
+have just finished reading it.”
+
+“What do you think of this piece?” Fletcher asked Escott, in a
+hesitating and conciliatory manner.
+
+“I am afraid he will not be able to tell you; he hasn't ceased talking
+since we came into the theatre.”
+
+“I should have done the same had I been in his place.”
+
+Lady Seveley smiled, Frank thought the words presumptuous. “Who the
+devil would care to hear you talk--and that filthy accent.” And at
+that moment he remembered Lizzie Baker. Fletcher and Harding were now
+speaking to Lady Seveley, and taking advantage of the circumstance he
+slipped out, and, lighting a cigarette, entered the bar room. Behind
+the counter the young ladies stood in single file, and through odours of
+cigarettes and whisky their voices called “One coffee in order,” and
+the cry was passed on till it reached the still-room. Frank remembered
+having read a description of the place somewhere, he thought for a
+moment, and then he remembered that it was in one of Harding's novels.
+He could detect no difference in the loafers that leaned over the
+counter talking to the barmaids; they were dingy and dull, whereas the
+young men from the stalls of the theatre were black and white and clean;
+but the keenest eye could note nothing further, and a closer inspection
+showed that even a first division rested on no deeper basis than the
+chance of evening dress. Civilisation has given us all one face and
+mind. He walked to where Lizzie was serving; soldiers were ordering
+drinks of her, so he was obliged to apply to the next girl to her for
+his brandy and soda. He drank slowly, hoping her admirers would
+leave her, but one soldier was stationery, and this spot of red grew
+singularly offensive in Frank's eyes, from the clumsy, characterless
+boots, to the close-clipped hair set off with the monotonously jaunty
+cap. The man sprawled over the counter drinking a glass of porter.
+Frank tried to listen to what he was saying. Lizzie smiled, showing many
+beautifully shaped teeth, so beautifully shaped that they looked like
+sculpture. Behind her there were shelves charged with glasses and
+bottles, gilt elephants, and obelisks, a hideous decoration; she passed
+up and down with cups of coffee, she filled glasses from various taps,
+she saluted Frank.
+
+“How are you this evening? Come to see the piece again?”
+
+“Come to see you.”
+
+“Get along; I don't believe you,” she said, and she passed back to her
+place, and continued talking to the soldier as steadily as her many
+occupations would allow her.
+
+A few moments after the bell rang, and Frank went upstairs annoyed.
+
+“Oh, so it is you; you have come back,” said Helen, turning; “sit down
+here. Nellie Farren has just sung such an exquisitely funny song; they
+have encored it; just listen to it, do,” and Helen fixed her opera glass
+on the actress. The light and shadow played about her neck andarm in
+beautiful variations, but noticing nothing, Frank leaned forward.
+
+“Isn't it funny; isn't it delightfully funny?”
+
+“Yes, it is funny.”
+
+Having heard one song they listened to the rest of the act. “Now give
+me my cloak. Thank you, and now give me your arm.” Frank complied. “You
+will come home to Green Street with me, and have some supper?”
+
+“I am afraid, I am sorry I can't; I must get home early to-night.”
+
+“You have a key, you surely can get in at any hour.”
+
+“Yes, but I am afraid--the fact is I am dreadfully tired.”
+
+“Oh, just as you like.”
+
+Then at the end of an irritating silence, “I am afraid you will have to
+wait, I do not think I shall be able to get your carriage yet awhile; in
+a few minutes this crowd will disperse. No use getting crushed to death!
+What became of Harding and Fletcher? Did they remain long with you?”
+
+“No, not very, they went away just before you came. There is Mr.
+Harding. How did you like the piece, Mr. Harding?”
+
+“I always enjoy these pieces, they are so conscientiously illiterate;
+what I can't bear is unconscientious illiterateness. Nellie Farren has
+caught something of the jangle of modern life; she has something of the
+freshness of the music-hall about her that appeals to me very sharply.”
+
+“Do you like music-halls? I have always heard they were so vulgar.”
+
+“Vulgarity is surely preferable to popularity. The theatre is merely
+popular.”
+
+While Harding was thus exerting himself with epigram, Fletcher stood
+tall and slender, with a grey overcoat hanging over his arm, and his
+intense eyes fixed on Lady Seveley. His gaze troubled her, and when he
+withdrew his eyes she looked at him, anticipant and fearing. He spoke
+to her until Frank, feeling that he was receding out of all interest and
+attention, said abruptly, “If you will come now, Lady Seveley, I think
+I shall be able to get you your carriage. May I see you home?” he said,
+holding the door.
+
+“No thank you, I will not take you out of your way. Go home at once and
+get rested, and come and see me one of these days; don't forget.” Lady
+Seveley smiled, but Frank felt that she was annoyed.
+
+“I wonder if she wanted me to go home with her. That impertinent brute
+Fletcher daring to come up to speak to us! I was very nearly telling him
+to go and fetch the carriage.”
+
+He pushed open the swinging doors with violence, nearly upsetting the
+fat porter. The bar was nearly empty, and he found Lizzie disengaged.
+
+“You look very vexed. Has any one been pinching you?”
+
+“I am not vexed.”
+
+“What will you have to put you straight?”
+
+“Well, that is a question. Let me see. I don't care about another brandy
+and soda, and if I have coffee it may keep me awake.”
+
+“Have half milk.”
+
+“Very well.” He hesitated, but the inclination to speak soon overpowered
+him. “I call it bad form, when you are with a lady for another fellow to
+come up and speak to her.”
+
+“Three of Irish, miss.”
+
+“Why, didn't he know her?”
+
+“Of course he knew her, but that doesn't give him a right to come up and
+enter into a long conversation when I am with her. I wish I had knocked
+him down.”
+
+“He might have knocked you down.”
+
+“A glass of bitter, miss.”
+
+“I should have had to take my chance of that. In London people don't
+seem to me to mind whom they speak to--a low-bred Irishman, who never
+spoke to a lady until he left his own country.”
+
+“Oh! what a rage we are in.”
+
+“No, I am not in a rage,” said Frank, who at that moment felt the folly
+of these confidences. “I don't care a hang. It isn't as if it were a
+woman I cared about. Had it been you--”
+
+“Get along, don't you tell me.”
+
+“I assure you I speak only in a general way, and you must admit that if
+you go out with a fellow it would not be nice of you to begin talking to
+some one else.”
+
+“Oh! I never do that.”
+
+“There, then you admit I was right, I was sure you would; I don't care
+a hang for the lady I was with, but I don't intend to allow any one to
+insult me. But I wonder how you can speak to soldiers.”
+
+“They are no worse than the others. Besides, in our business we have to
+be polite to every one.”
+
+“Polite, yes--but I wanted to speak to you, I came down from my box on
+purpose to speak to you, and I couldn't, you were so engaged with that
+soldier.”
+
+“He was here before you; you would not like it if you were talking to
+me, and I were to rush off to speak to some one else.”
+
+“One Scotch and three Irish, miss, and out of the bottle please,
+our friend here's most particular, he would like it in a thin glass,
+too--wouldn't you, Ted? and if he could have a go at that pretty mouth
+he would like it better still. A rare one after the ladies is Teddy.
+Aren't you, old chap?”
+
+Full of scorn Frank watched this noisy group. Lizzie remained talking
+with them for some little time, and she did not return until he called
+to her twice for a cigar.
+
+“How very impatient you are,” she said, handing him the box.
+
+“You were talking to me, and you go away to talk to those cads.”
+
+“I must serve the customers, you naughty man. You can't have me all to
+yourself. I believe you would like to.”
+
+“That I should. I wish you would come out with me. I wish you would come
+to dinner.”
+
+“And what would the lady say who you went to the theatre with to-night,
+and were so mad because some one spoke to her?”
+
+“I assure you she is nothing to me, a mere acquaintance. I was angry
+because I thought it a piece of impertinence of the fellow to come
+intruding his conversation when it wasn't wanted; but as for the woman
+I don't care a snap for her; never did, I assure you: she is nothing to
+me. I suppose you don't get out much here.”
+
+“We are off duty for so many hours every day; but we must be in at a
+certain time.”
+
+“But you have got Sundays.”
+
+“We get Sunday in our turn.”
+
+“When will your turn come?”
+
+“I am going out next Sunday.”
+
+“I wish you would come with me; I would take you up the river. You know
+the river?”
+
+“No, I don't know even what you mean.”
+
+“You mean to say you have never been up the river, not even so far as
+Twickenham?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Well, then, you have a treat. The most beautiful thing in England is
+the Thames--perhaps in the world. Last year I spent nearly three months
+at Marlow and Maidenhead--we positively lived in a boat. I have a
+beautiful boat. I should like to take you out--you would enjoy it. Are
+you fond of boating?”
+
+“I love it. I haven't been in a boat since I left Wales.”
+
+“So you are a Welsh girl. My boat is now at Reading. If you could get
+away early in the morning we might manage to catch the nine o'clock
+express that takes us down in a little over the hour. I'd have the
+hamper packed, and we would have our lunch up in Pangbourne Woods. It
+would be so jolly. I wish you would come.”
+
+“I should like it immensely; I don't know if I could manage it.”
+
+“Do you say you will come, do.”
+
+Lizzie stood hesitating, her finger on her lip. A girl entered the bar
+and whispered something to her as she passed.
+
+“I must go away now, I'm off duty.”
+
+“Say you will come.”
+
+“I can't say yet; I shall see you again.”
+
+As Frank turned to go he caught sight of Harding and Fletcher. He did
+not see that they had been watching him, and when they called him he
+went over to their table.
+
+“What will you have?” said Harding.
+
+“Nothing, thanks, I could not drink anything more.”
+
+“Have a cigarette.”
+
+“Thanks, I will; I cannot smoke this beastly cigar. I do not know why I
+asked for it.”
+
+“Sit down.”
+
+The conversation turned on the play, but at the first pause in the
+conversation, Harding said: “Pretty girl, that girl you were talking to
+at the bar.”
+
+“Yes; is she not? I think she is one of the prettiest girls I ever saw
+in my life.”
+
+“Far better looking than Lady Seveley.”
+
+“I should rather think so; Lady Seveley is over thirty.”
+
+“The choice would be a nice test of a young man's moral character.”
+
+“Did you write that this morning, or are you going to write it to-morrow
+morning?”
+
+“You have not told me which, when you do--”
+
+“I see you are not in a hurry to bring your book out.”
+
+Harding laughed, and Frank was pleased at the idea of getting the better
+of Harding; Fletcher sat with his eyes glittering and his lips slightly
+parted. Who would hesitate between a lady of rank and a barmaid? She
+might be a pretty girl, but what of that? There are hundreds as pretty.
+He had never been the lover of a lady, and his heart was aflame. Soon
+after the men parted in the street, and Frank went from them, fearful of
+his lonely rooms, and longing for his friends at Southwick.
+
+He lunched every day at the Gaiety, and he at length succeeded in
+persuading Lizzie to come to Reading with him.
+
+Town was miserably Sunday when he drove up to Paddington at a quarter
+past eight. “If it should rain, if it should turn out a pouring wet day,
+what should I do? That would be too terrible!” He felt the boat alive
+beneath his oars, the river placid and gentle, and all the charm of
+the rushes, the cedars, the locks, and the blonde beautiful girl in the
+stern with the parasol he had bought her aslant. Let him have this day,
+and he didn't care what happened! He wanted to show her the river, he
+wanted to joy for a day in her presence.
+
+He was more than a half an hour in advance. Would she come? She had
+promised, but she might disappoint. That would be worse than the rain.
+He would wait till ten o'clock. There was another train at ten, but if
+they missed the ten to nine the day would be spoilt, lost. Supposing she
+did not come, what would he do?--drive back through dingy London and eat
+a lonely breakfast in that horrible brick Pump Court? He could scarcely
+do that. Would he go to Reading by himself? The light of the flowing
+stream, the secrets of the rushes and murmuring woods died; nature
+became voiceless.
+
+“It will be a pity if she doesn't come. We shall have a fine day, I
+am sure it is going to be a fine day, but we shall miss that train. I
+wonder if I can see anything of her. I don't know what side she will
+come from. I suppose she'll take a cab. Perhaps she won't come at all;
+will she come?--she promised me. By Jove, twenty minutes to nine. If she
+isn't here in five minutes we shall miss the train.” His passion grew in
+intensity, and hope was dead, when he heard sounds of running footsteps,
+and saw the great girl holding her hat with one hand and her dress with
+the other. The torture of expectation was worth the rapture of relief,
+and he said, delighted: “So you have come, have you? One minute more and
+you would have been late.”
+
+“Why, were you going?”
+
+“No, but the train is. We have three minutes. I'll run and get the
+tickets. How is it that you are so late?”
+
+“I just missed the train.”
+
+“What train?”
+
+“The Metropolitan.”
+
+“The Metropolitan? What nonsense! Why didn't you take a cab?”
+
+She had been afraid of spending the money, fearing she might not see him
+after all; and out of breath she followed him along the platform. “No,
+not in there; I don't like travelling alone with gentlemen.” Frank
+looked at her in amazement, and they got into a carriage where an old
+gentleman was sitting.
+
+“So you thought I wouldn't come, you naughty boy?”
+
+“Oh, I should have been so disappointed. I don't know what I should have
+done.”
+
+Lizzie watched the young aristocratic face; his earnestness drew her
+towards him, and she wondered she did not like him better. “Now tell me
+what we are going to do. I had such difficulty in getting away. It is
+against the rules; and the manageress (the fat woman who stands at the
+end of the bar and goes round and collects the money) hates me. She
+would have stopped me if she could, but I went to the manager; he is a
+friend of mine.”
+
+“That fellow with the long fair moustache that walks about at the rate
+of seven miles an hour, with his frock-coat all unbuttoned. Harding the
+novelist--the fellow I was sitting with the other night, said such a
+good thing--he said he was a sort of apotheosis of sherry and bitters.
+I don't know why it is good, but it is; whether it is the colour of his
+face and moustache--”
+
+“He is very proud of his moustache, and your friend is quite right; he
+is very fond of sherry and bitters--too fond. I have served him with as
+many as three in an afternoon, and I am sure he wouldn't have refused
+another if he could have found any one to stand it. Oh, look at the
+country! How pretty it is!--the cows, the corn growing, the birds and
+all the light clouds; we are going to have a lovely day. Shall we see
+much of the country at Reading? Tell me, where are you going to take me?
+Shall we go for a walk in the woods? Are there any woods? I hope there
+are.”
+
+“The most beautiful woods in England--Pangbourne Woods. We shall arrive
+in Reading about a quarter to ten. We'll walk down to the river, or
+drive if you like; it is only a few minutes to walk to the boat-house.
+My boat is there--such a beauty! We'll row up to the--and that reminds
+me, I ordered the luncheon basket at the best place in London, you know;
+it was to have been at my place last night at eight o'clock, and they
+never sent it. We shall have to lunch at the hotel. Such a beautiful
+hotel, high up, overlooking the river; I hope you are not disappointed,
+it really wasn't my fault. We shall have an excellent lunch, I assure
+you, at the hotel.”
+
+The miles fled away, and in the comfort and speed of the broad
+gaugeline, an hour and a half seemed to them like a minute.
+
+“What kind of town is Reading?” said Lizzie, springing from the
+carriage.
+
+“Not much more than a biscuit manufactory. A lot of red brick pill-box
+looking buildings scattered over a flat piece of ground. We shan't see
+the town. It is a mile from here. Huntley and Palmer, you know--”
+
+“Oh, yes, we deal with them.”
+
+“Catch hold of this rug while I get the tickets out. Shall we walk or
+drive?”
+
+“Let's walk.”
+
+They stepped along gaily, and they were soon standing on the wharf,
+Frank criticising the boats and the rowing, Lizzie all white in the
+sunlight, a little dumbfounded and astonished. Then he turned into the
+boat-house, and reappeared soon after, his arms bare, the sun on his
+neck.
+
+“You got my telegram? My boat is ready?”
+
+“Yes, sir, we got her out this morning.”
+
+“I suppose a lot of people wanted to have her, they all went for her,
+I'll bet.”
+
+“Yes, sir, a good many gentlemen asked if they could have her.”
+
+It seemed to please Frank that he had caused so many to be disappointed.
+“Well, get her out, we have no time to lose.”
+
+The man stepped from one fleet of skiffs to another, he caught at
+several boats with his boat-hook, but Frank's boat could not be found.
+He shouted to his man who was sculling towards an island opposite: “What
+has become of Mr. Escott's boat? I took her out myself this morning.”
+
+“I should like to know what is the use of my sending you telegrams if I
+am delayed in this way?”
+
+“My man will be here in a second, sir.”
+
+“Now, then, do be quick, stir yourself, I don't want to stand about here
+all day.”
+
+The assistant scratched his head. Finally it transpired that that party
+down the river--that party just gone away--must have had the boat. He
+didn't know anything about it, it wasn't his fault. They said they had
+engaged that boat over-night.
+
+“My boat let out for hire! How dare you do this? I never heard of such a
+thing; I shall write to the papers.”
+
+“I will give you just as good a boat, sir--”
+
+“As good a boat! You haven't a boat like it. How do I know you don't let
+my boat out for hire every day?”
+
+“No danger of that, sir; I will give you another boat, one that you will
+be pleased with.”
+
+“My boat knocked about by some cad! He won't be back till nine o'clock
+to-night, perhaps. I never heard of such a thing. Which is it?”
+
+“That one with the lady in the stern--the red parasol.”
+
+“He must be caught up, he must. Have you got an outrigger?” Assuring
+Lizzie that he would be back in less than half an hour, Frank bent to
+his work.
+
+“If he rows like that he will run down some one,” muttered the boatman.
+“Confound him and his boat!”
+
+The outrigger shot through the water; the various craft paused,
+surprised at such furious rowing. Lizzie watched the race, asking the
+boatman if there was danger.
+
+“Danger? No; but he'd better not say too much to that gent when he does
+catch him up, or there'll be a row, I expect. He's going round the bend;
+if he doesn't run into something, he'll catch them,” said the boatman.
+“Would you like to look through my glass, miss? They'll be coming back
+presently.”
+
+Angry language was indulged in, but the apologies of the boatmen saved
+the young men the unpleasantness of blows, and, elated at his success,
+Frank handed Lizzie into the truant boat and paddled out into the
+stream. When he had got out of earshot and out of the notice of the
+boat-house he rested on his oars. “Did you see me overhaul them?”
+
+“No, you passed out of sight round the bend.”
+
+“Yes, by George! I had a good pull for it. There are a lot of red
+parasols up higher, and I had to look out for my boat. What did they say
+about my rowing?”
+
+“They said you'd catch them if you didn't run into something.”
+
+“Did they? I was wild; and--would you believe it?--when I did catch
+them up the fellow began to object; he didn't want to come back, if you
+please. He said he had hired the boat, that he did not know the boat was
+mine--no proof. I said, 'I will give you proof,' and so I would have.”
+
+“I was afraid. I began to regret that I had come out with you.”
+
+“What nonsense! Done the fellow good if I had punched his head. Well, it
+has taken it out of me a bit. I had to put on a bit of a spurt to catch
+them; they had such a start, and they were going along a pretty fair
+pace, too. It has made me feel a bit peckish, a pull like that on an
+empty stomach; it must be close on twelve o'clock. What do you say, are
+you beginning to feel that it is lunch time?”
+
+“I am not very hungry, and you forgot the luncheon basket. I ought to
+have reminded you to get some sandwiches at the railway station.”
+
+“Sandwiches! I don't want sandwiches; I want something more substantial
+than sandwiches. I'll paddle on; we aren't more than a tenminutes'
+paddle from the 'Roebuck,' a ripping nice hotel, I can tell you.”
+
+“Couldn't we have something to eat without going to an hotel?”
+
+“I don't think so. I want a bottle of fizz, and the fizz there is
+excellent; one of the best hotels on the river; splendid gardens and
+tennis grounds, a great room overlooking the river; the best people go
+there; sometimes one can't get a table.”
+
+“I don't think I am well dressed enough.”
+
+“You look charming, a cotton dress and a parasol is all one wants for
+the river.”
+
+“You are not ashamed of me, then; you'll take me as I am?”
+
+“Ashamed of you! Steer straight for that post--that's it, bravo!” Frank
+shipped the oars, and when he felt the girl's arm laid on his as he
+helped her to land, it seemed to him that all the world was happiness.
+The spirit of the river, the fields and sky, leaped to his eyes. He
+assisted her to ascend the steps cut in the hillside. She laughed and
+laughed again, and stopped to rest. At last they stood on the railway
+line. It swept round another hill all overshadowed and dark with cedars.
+
+“Here comes a train, let's wait. I must see it go round the curve.”
+
+“You should see the Bath express come along the broad gauge at the rate
+of sixty miles an hour.”
+
+“This is not an express?”
+
+“No.”
+
+The luggage train came with an interminable rumble and jingle, and
+Lizzie waited till the last truck passed under the branches. Then they
+went to an hotel full of daylight and stained wood, with glimpses of
+barmaids far away, and waiters running about; the rooms glistened
+with table linen; the waiters carved at a sideboard covered with pies,
+sirloins, hams, tongues. Only one table was occupied, and the waiters
+were lavishing all attention upon it. Lady Seveley leaned back smoking a
+cigarette. Fletcher sat next to her, alternately affecting indifference
+and fixing her with his eyes. Harding was voluble and observant. There
+was about them an air of thirty and the dissipations of thirty. And,
+not in the least ashamed of Lizzie, Frank bowed to Lady Seveley; she
+returned his bow by a slight nod; and Lizzie, very much embarrassed,
+nodded to the men; they smiled in return.
+
+“Who is that lady you saluted?”
+
+“Lady Seveley; the lady I told you about, who I went to the theatre with
+the other night.”
+
+“Fancy a lady like that smoking a cigarette!”
+
+A waiter approached with the bill of fare. “We had better not have
+anything hot, we shall lose the whole day. What do you say?”
+
+“Cold sirloin of beef is excellent, sir; pigeon pie is also very
+good--young birds.”
+
+“Shall we try the pigeon pie? Get me the wine list. Take off your hat,
+Lizzie, do.”
+
+“I am afraid my hair will come down.”
+
+“Never mind, so much the better.”
+
+With some difficulty she extracted her hat from the hairpins, and the
+bright hair hung loose about her white plump face. Frank drank a glass
+of champagne; he was proud of her beauty.
+
+“By Jove, how this does pick one up! not half bad tipple, is it?”
+
+They hastened through their lunch, unconsciously avoiding the too
+critical looks of those at the far corner table; nor did they suspect,
+as they descended the hill and got into their boat and rowed away, that
+they were still the subject of conversation.
+
+“She is no doubt a very pretty girl. He seems very fond of her. I hope
+he won't make a fool of himself.”
+
+“I think he is 'mashed.' We saw him the other night in the bar. He
+was paying her a great deal of attention--the night we saw you at the
+theatre.”
+
+Lady Seveley's face slightly altered. Harding noticed the change of
+expression, and he said: “She is called the belle of the bar. Hers
+is the kind of prettiness that appeals to a young man, for somehow, I
+cannot explain, it is a thing you must feel; she epitomises as it were
+the beauty of the English girl; she is the typical pretty English girl;
+all that English girls have of charm, she has; and the co-ordination is
+an irresistible force against some young men; their natures demand the
+freshness the spontaneity, the innocence of--”
+
+“Of the Gaiety bar! I have never been there, but from what you tell me
+of it, it is the last place to find innocence and freshness.”
+
+“That may be or not be. We find a rose blooming in very out-of-the-way
+places; but, as a matter of fact, I made no accusation of virtue; vice
+does not rob a youth of its spontaneity. You may rouge the cheeks of May
+and blacken her eyes, but she is May nevertheless. I say that the lover
+of the young girl cannot love the woman of thirty. Her charms touch him
+not at all; but there are others who may love only the woman of thirty,
+and, strange to say, they are only loved by the woman of thirty. The
+universal Don Juan is a myth, and does not exist out of literature.
+There is the Don Juan who plays havoc among the women of thirty, there
+is the Don Juan who plays havoc among young girls, but--”
+
+“And you think our friend Frank Escott belongs to the latter class?”
+
+“No, I don't. He is good-looking; he is to all appearance a young man
+that any woman would like, but I don't think you'd find this to be so if
+it were given to you to see into his life. Every man of the world must
+have noticed that there are times when, speaking generally, every
+second woman will run after him--ladies of rank, prostitutes,
+maid-servants--when he may pick and choose his mistresses, and change
+his mind as often as he pleases; there are other times when he finds
+himself womanless, when none will look at him, when in fact without an
+allusion to rings, and sometimes a very direct allusion is required, he
+will not be able to persuade a chorus girl to come out to supper with
+him. He thinks he is getting old, he looks in the glass with fear.”
+
+“You mean to say there are men who look in the glass with fear?”
+
+“Of course, after five-and-thirty the glass whispers as awful truths to
+the man as to the woman--worse, for woman's youth is longer than man's.
+The contrary is the received opinion, but, like all popular opinions,
+it is wrong; a woman is frequently loved after forty, a man never. I was
+saying that a man often thinks he is getting old because the chorus
+girl took an early opportunity of speaking of rings, because the lady
+of fashion begged of the old gentleman who had taken up his hat to go
+to stay a little while longer, because the chamber-maid did not look
+lusciously round the corner when he passed her in the passage. He looks
+in the glass and imagines all kinds of monstrous changes in his person.
+His fears have no foundation in fact--or should I say in the flesh? A
+year after the duchess makes overtures, the chorus girl threatens to
+throw up her engagement for him, and the chambermaid pesters him with
+unnecessary questions concerning baths and towels. These facts tend
+to show, indeed I think they prove, that love is a magnetism, which
+sometimes we possess in almost irresistible strength, and which
+sometimes fades away into powerless and apparent extinction.”
+
+“Then you think that good looks have nothing to do with the faculty of
+making oneself beloved?” said Fletcher.
+
+“The phenomenon of love has hitherto eluded our most eager
+investigation; when we have traced each desire to its source, and
+classified--”
+
+“We women will have ceased to take any interest in the matter. What a
+humbug you are, Mr. Harding; one never knows when you are serious. But
+what has all this to do with that poor boy who has gone off with his
+barmaid?”
+
+“This: he is unquestionably good-looking, but I don't think he possesses
+at all the magnetism, the power--call it what you will--that I have been
+speaking of. He will never influence either men or women, he will never
+make friends; that is to say, he will never make use of his friends. He
+will, I should think, always remain a little outside of success. It will
+never quite come to him; he will be one of those muddled, dissatisfied
+creatures who rail against luck and bad treatment. I cannot see him
+really successful in anything; yes I can, though, I believe he would
+make an excellent husband. I have spoken a great deal to him. He has
+told me a lot about himself, and I can see that he asks and desires
+nothing but leave to devote himself to a woman, to pander to her
+caprices. All that violent exterior will wear off, and he will yield
+to and love to be led by a woman. He writes a little, and he paints. I
+don't know if he has any talent; but he never will be able to work until
+he is obliged to work for a woman.”
+
+“Then you think he will marry that barmaid?”
+
+“Most probably. He will struggle against it; but unless chance
+intervenes--she may die, she may run away with some one to-morrow, for
+she does not care for him--he will be sucked into the gulf.”
+
+“He is Lord Mount Rorke's heir; he will have twenty thousand a year one
+of these days.”
+
+“Mount Rorke will never forgive him a bad match. I know Mount Rorke,”
+ said Lady Seveley, “and you do, too, Mr. Fletcher.”
+
+“Yes, a little.”
+
+Unfearing prophecy and oracle launched from the windows of the hotel,
+the young people rowed, lost to all but each other, amazed at the
+loveliness of the river. They floated amid the bulrushes. Cries and
+regret when Frank's oar crushed the desired blossom. Never before were
+lilies as desirable as those that were gathered that day--that bud, it
+must be possessed, that blown flower must not be left behind. Lizzie
+dipped her arm to the elbow, and rejoiced in the soft flowing water. The
+river rose up into what beautiful views and prospects. The locks, the
+sensation of the boat sinking among the slimy piles with Frank erect
+holding her off with the boat-hook, or the slow rising till the banks
+were overflowed, and the wonderful wooden gates opened, disclosing a
+placid stream with overhanging boughs and a barge. And the charming
+discoveries they made in this water world, the moorhen's indolence, and
+the watchful rat swimming for its hole; each bend was a new picture.
+How beautifully expressive of the work of the field were the comfortable
+barns. If life is never very fair, a vision of life may be fair indeed,
+and once the tears came to the bar girl's eyes, for she, too, suddenly
+remembered her life of tobacco and whisky; long weary hours of standing,
+politeness, washing glasses, and listening to filthy jokes. Would
+there be no change? If she might live her life here! She thought of the
+morning light, and the home occupations of the morning, and then the
+languid and lazy afternoons in this boat, amid the enchantment of these
+river lands.
+
+Frank laid by his oars, and as regardless as a shopboy of observers, he
+took her hand and begged of her to confide in him. He thought, too, of
+seeing her daily, hourly, of her presence in his daily life; he saw her
+amid his painting and poetry, and this pleasant scenery. Then the vision
+vanished like the shine upon the stream, she withdrew her hands, a
+shadow had fallen.
+
+They passed a summer-house where three girls were sitting; one sat on
+the edge of a table and sang the ballad of “Biddy Malone.” There was a
+house so red, and so full of gables and narrow windows, that Frank said
+it was a perfect specimen of Elizabethan architecture; and he treated
+Lizzie to all he could pretend to know on the subject, and he condemned
+the owner for the glaringly modern garden benches with which the swards
+were interspersed. The sun was setting, there was lassitude in every
+passing boat, the girls leaned upon the arms of the young men, and the
+woods stood up tall and contemplative, as beautiful in the deep blue
+river as upon the pale sky.
+
+They landed at Pangbourne Woods by the wide grassy path between the
+reedy river and the spreading beeches. There a man was boiling a kettle.
+He spoke to them; he instructed them in the life of camping out, and
+he invited them to tea. Lizzie went into the tent and got out the
+tea-things. Two men came up, jolly fellows enough; and such little
+adventures endeared and memorised the day.
+
+They climbed, oh! what a climb it was, Lizzie's ankles and courage
+giving way alternately; but at last they reached a pathway, and they
+walked at ease into the green solitudes of the wood. It seemed endless,
+so soft and so still. He spoke to Lizzie, whom he now called Liz, of
+her past, of the reasons that had led her to leave home and “go
+to business.” Her brother, she said, was a painter, a celebrated
+bird-painter.
+
+“Then we should know each other, I am a painter.” He told her of his
+ideas and projects, of how he had been to France; he might go there
+again, unless something happened to keep him in England. He wrote
+a little too, in the papers, and he might do something to help her
+brother--a paragraph in _Fashion_, he could get one in. For fear of
+wounding her he did not ask if her brother was a decorative painter,
+employed by a firm, or an artist who exhibited pictures. Her father had
+married again. She did not like her stepmother, and that had determined
+her to go into business.
+
+Had she ever been in love? Yes, she supposed she had; but it was all
+over now. The last words sounded, and died away in a great abyss of
+soul.
+
+Parts of the path were marked “Dangerous.” The earth had given way,
+creating fearful chasms, over which trees leaned dangerously or hung
+out fantastically by a few roots. In the dell below there stood a small
+green painted table, and the young people leaning on the protecting
+railing wondered at this mysterious piece of furniture. There was in
+them and about them an illusive sense of death and the beauty of life.
+One slight push would hurl them headlong hundreds of feet down to the
+painted table.
+
+The silver of the river sparkled through silence and the foliage of
+June, and the songs of the boatmen came and went like voices in a dream.
+
+The days of youth are long, and in tender idleness the hours lingered,
+their charm unbroken in the rattle of London; and happy with love and
+tired with the great air of the river and its leafy scenery, Frank fell
+asleep that night.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+
+One of the French artists he had met in Rome wrote to him from Paris.
+Why should he not go there? There was nothing for him to do in London;
+Lizzie Baker had disappeared, and in the year and a half that he spent
+in Paris learning to draw he forgot her and his friends in Southwick.
+Nor did he remember them when he returned to London; not until one
+evening, strolling down Regent Street, he came upon Willy Brookes
+suddenly.
+
+“How do you do, my dear Willy? I haven't seen you for--for--how long?”
+
+“I should think it must be now, let me see, I have got it down
+somewhere; when I get home I'll look it up.”
+
+“Hang the looking up; better come and look me up.”
+
+The young men laughed.
+
+“It must be nearly a year and a half.”
+
+“I should think it must. Where are you staying? I am staying at Morley's
+Hotel, Trafalgar Square. Come and dine with me to-night.”
+
+Willy reflected. He stroked his moustache reflectively.
+
+“No,” he said, “I am afraid I can't. I have something to do.”
+
+“Nonsense! I don't believe you. What have you to do?”
+
+“I have some cheques to write.”
+
+“That won't take you a moment. You can do that at my place.”
+
+“I couldn't, I assure you. I must have my books and my own pen. I
+wouldn't write a cheque in that way for worlds.”
+
+“Why not? We'll go to a music-hall afterwards.”
+
+“I am very sorry, but I really couldn't--not to-night.”
+
+“You never go in for amusing yourself.”
+
+“Yes, I do; but what amuses you doesn't amuse me. I assure you I would
+sooner stay at home, write my cheques, and enter them carefully, than go
+to a music-hall.”
+
+Frank looked at Willy for a moment in mute amazement. Then he said: “But
+what's that you have under your arm in that brown paper parcel?”
+
+Willy laughed. “A leg of mutton; I have just been to the stores.”
+
+“You mean to say you buy legs of mutton at the stores, and carry them
+home? Supposing you met some one, if we were to--”
+
+“Not very likely, a foggy night like this. I have a small house in
+Notting Hill. I take the 'bus at the Circus. I shall be very glad if you
+will come with me; so will the missus.”
+
+“I forgot to ask about her, how is she?”
+
+“Very well. Come and see for yourself. Come and dine with us to-morrow.
+I can't give you one of your restaurant dinners, but if leg of mutton
+will suit, all I can say is that I shall be very happy.”
+
+“I'll come whenever you like.”
+
+“Can you come to-morrow?”
+
+“Yes. We might go to the theatre afterwards.”
+
+“We might. Be at my place at half-past six, that will give us plenty of
+time.”
+
+“What a queer fish he is,” thought Frank, as he walked down Regent
+Street, looking at the women. “Can't come and dine with me because he
+has two or three cheques to write, must have all his books out to make
+entries--what a clerk for the Government--an ideal clerk! What a genius
+for red tape!”
+
+Willy was standing on the steps of the little house, and he commented on
+his friend's extravagances as he welcomed him.
+
+“You might have come here for ninepence, third class. You paid that
+cabman three shillings, and you took, I don't mind betting, half an
+hour longer. Now, don't make a mess, do wipe your feet; we don't keep a
+servant, and it gives the missus a lot of trouble cleaning up.”
+
+Not a book nor a picture nor a single flower, and every worn carpet
+suggested the bare necessaries of life. There was the drawing-room, kept
+for show, never entered, barren and blank; there was the room--a little
+more alive--where Willy smoked his pipe and kept his accounts, but there
+the crumbs, three or four, seemed to speak of the dry, bread-like days
+that wore themselves away; life there was too obviously dry and bare,
+joyless and mean.
+
+Had Frank's mind been philosophic and deep-seeing, he would have mused
+on the admirable patience of the woman who lived here, seeing no one,
+making entire sacrifice of her life; he would have contrasted the
+humbleness, nay, the meanness, of this unknown house with the reception
+rooms of the Manor House; one life wasting in darkness and poverty,
+another burning out in light and riches; timeworn truths float on the
+surface of this little pool of life, and so modernised are they that
+they appear for a moment “new and original.” But further than a regret
+that there were no flowers in the window, and a sense of the horrible
+when his eyes fell on a piece of Swiss scenery, his thoughts did not
+wander; they soon were fixed and absorbed in the consideration of the
+happiness that Willy had attained by “doing the right thing by the
+woman.” He was hers, she was his. Dreams of things marital, the
+endearments of husband and wife, are the essence of the being of some
+men and women, and are to them a perennial delight. Frank was such a
+one.
+
+He had brought Cissy a doll, and the child came and sat on his knees,
+and put her arms round his neck. He kissed the long face, hollow-eyed,
+and stroked the beautiful gold ringlets that cloaked the shoulders.
+
+They went to the theatre in a 'bus. Frank carried Cissy, and he called
+indignantly to the crowd not to press him. “Did they not see that he
+was carrying a child?” He did not think that his friends might recognise
+him, nor would he have felt any shame had he caught sight of some face
+in the stalls he knew. He would not have put Cissy aside; nor would he
+have pretended that he was not with the pale, worn, shabbily-dressed
+woman by his side. He was wholly filled with his friends, their
+interests and concerns; so complete was the investment of himself that
+Lizzie Baker did not snatch a fugitive thought from them; and it was not
+until he sat smoking with Willy in the back parlour that he said:
+
+“I wonder what has become of her? She was a nice girl.”
+
+“You mean Lizzie Baker? You lost sight of her all of a sudden, didn't
+you? Do you think she went off to live with some one?”
+
+“No, I don't think she was a girl who would do that. By Jove, she was a
+pretty girl! Once I took her up the river, up to Reading. We had such
+a jolly day in the woods and on the water--amid the water-lilies and
+bulrushes, or the shade of the cedars. I wonder you never go up the
+river.”
+
+“I have no time. Besides, I hate the water. I never go on the water if I
+can help it--I am too nervous.”
+
+“How odd! Oh, we had a jolly day!”
+
+“But I never understood how it was you lost sight of her. You said in
+your letter that she had left the bar; but she must have gone somewhere.
+I am sure you didn't make sufficient enquiries. You are too impatient.”
+
+“I did all I could. One girl told me that a lot of them--Lizzie among
+the number--had suddenly been transferred to Liverpool Street. That was
+true, for I saw at Liverpool Street several girls I had known previously
+at the 'Gaiety.' Those poor bar girls, how pitiful they look! all over
+London they stand behind their bars! Breathing for hours tobacco smoke,
+fumes of whisky and beer, listening to abominable jokes, the subjects of
+hideous flirtations; and then the little comedy, the effort to appear as
+virtuous young ladies--'young ladies of the bar.' It is very pitiful. In
+such circumstances how do you expect a girl to keep straight? I do
+not think it is the men who do the harm. There are, of course, a few
+blackguards who crack filthy jokes over the counter, but if a girl likes
+she needn't listen--a girl can always keep a man in his place. Then if
+a man flirts with a girl he always loves her, likes her, if you
+think 'like' a better word; but you must admit that in the most
+beery flirtation there must be a certain amount of liking. There is,
+therefore, something to save a girl. I feel sure that it is girls, not
+men, who lead innocent girls astray. Those poor bar girls are quite
+unprotected; they have a sitting-room into which they may not bring a
+friend--a man, I mean. In the bedrooms there is always a lot of illicit
+talking and drinking going on. A girl who has gone wrong herself is
+never content until she has persuaded another girl to go wrong; a girl
+is so mean! I feel very much on this subject. I am thinking of writing
+a book on the subject. Did I ever tell you about the novel I intended to
+write?”
+
+“You told me once in Brighton about a novel you intended to write. I
+forget what it was about, but you said you were going to call it 'Her
+Saviour.'”
+
+“Oh, that is another book. I was thinking of writing the story of a
+woman who is led into vice. They get her to throw over the man who loves
+her; he follows her, never loses sight of her until at last, determined
+to save her, and although he knows that he is wrecking his own life, he
+marries her. What do you think?”
+
+Being pressed for an answer, Willy stroked his moustache with great
+gravity. “I really can't say, my dear fellow; you know I never like
+giving opinions on questions I do not understand.”
+
+The conversation came to a pause, and Willy began to whistle.
+
+“Just a little flat--quarter of a note wrong there and there!”
+
+“Do you whistle it? Oh, yes, that's it! I can hear the difference! I
+wish you had your violin. I should like to hear you play it.”
+
+“What, with the missus overhead?”
+
+“She doesn't know anything about it. How prettily _she_ used to sing it;
+a pretty tune, isn't it? Good old days they were! Do you remember when
+you used to come to the Princess's with me? Didn't she look pretty?”
+
+“You never told me why you didn't marry her; I never heard the end of
+that story.”
+
+“There is nothing to tell. It's all over now. Do you remember how I
+used to dress myself up to go to the theatre? We used to go to supper at
+Scott's afterwards. I did not mind what I ate in those days.”
+
+“You hardly ever go to the theatre now, do you?”
+
+“Hardly ever. I shouldn't have gone to-night if it had not been for you.
+I don't know how it is, but I don't seem to enjoy myself as I used to.”
+
+The men ceased talking. Presently Frank broke the silence.
+
+“I hope you are getting on all right on the Stock Exchange. You haven't
+mentioned the subject.”
+
+“I don't know that there is much to say. Times are very bad just now. I
+don't think any one is doing much good.”
+
+“But you are with a very good firm. Nothing is going wrong, I hope.”
+
+“I don't think any one is making money. We have all been hard hit
+lately--war scares. But I daresay it will all come right.”
+
+“I never understood what you ever wanted to go into the business for.
+What do you, with your handsome place at Southwick, and your father with
+his thousands and thousands, want to turn yourself into a city clerk
+for?”
+
+“You see, you don't care about making money; I do--it was bred in me.
+Besides, I am an unselfish fellow. I never think of myself; I like to
+think of others. If I were to make a good thing out of this, I should be
+able to leave the missus independent.” Then, after a slight pause, Willy
+said: “But, by the way, I was forgetting. I got a letter this morning
+saying that if I met you in London I was to tell you that you were to
+come to Southwick for a ball.”
+
+“What ball?”
+
+“A subscription ball at Henfield--a county ball. Will you come?”
+
+“Yes, I don't mind. It should be rather fun. Are you going?”
+
+“Yes, I must go, worse luck, to chaperon my sisters.”
+
+“How do you go? Will the governor let you have the horses?”
+
+“Not he! We generally have a large 'bus. I am going down to-morrow by
+the twelve o'clock train. Will that be too early for you?”
+
+“Not if I go home now and pack up.”
+
+“You won't like that. You had better sleep here and get up early in the
+morning; your room is all ready.”
+
+“I couldn't manage it. I never could get back to the Temple, pack up,
+and meet you at twelve at London Bridge.”
+
+“It will be rather a cold walk for you; you are too late for the train,
+and the last 'bus, I am afraid, has gone.”
+
+“I shall have a hansom. The only thing that worries me is not being able
+to say good-bye to the missus.”
+
+“She's fast asleep. She won't mind--I'll make that all right.”
+
+“Then, at twelve o'clock at London Bridge!”
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+
+Sally rushed down to meet him, and she took him off for a walk in the
+garden.
+
+“What a time it is since we have seen you. What have you been
+doing--amusing yourself a great deal, I suppose?”
+
+“I have been the whole time in Paris. I have been studying very hard. I
+only returned home about two months ago.”
+
+“I don't believe about the studying.”
+
+“I have been working at my painting. I worked morning and afternoon in
+the studio from the nude. Last summer I had a delightful time. I took
+a little place on the Seine--a little house near Bas Meudon. I had a
+garden; I used to breakfast every morning in the garden--fresh eggs, new
+bread, an omelette, such as only a Frenchwoman can make, a cutlet, or a
+piece of chicken. The wine, too, so fresh and generous. I don't know how
+it is, but Burgundy here is not the same as Burgundy on the banks of
+the Seine. I worked all day in my garden, or down by the river. I was
+painting a large picture. I haven't finished it yet. I must go back
+there in the summer to finish it.”
+
+“Why can't you finish it here? Haven't you got it here?”
+
+“Yes, but the Seine is not here.”
+
+“Wouldn't the Adour do? The river at Shoreham?”
+
+“No; but the Thames might. My picture is really more English than
+French. There were a lot of willow trees there, and my picture
+represents a girl lying in a hammock, foot hanging over, showing such a
+pretty piece of black stocking. There are two men there, they are both
+swinging the hammock, but while one is looking at her ankle the other
+only sees her face.”
+
+Sally laughed coarsely and evasively.
+
+“What are you laughing at?” he asked, feeling a little nettled.
+
+“Don't you think people will think it rather improper?”
+
+“Not at all. Why should they? The idea I wish to convey is that one man
+loves her truly for herself alone, the other only loves her because she
+is a pretty girl. I have composed some triolets for the picture, which
+will be printed in the catalogue--
+
+      “In a hammock I swing,
+        My feet hanging over;
+      'Neath Love's bright wing,
+        In a hammock I swing,
+      Loves come and they bring
+        A truth to discover,
+      In a hammock I swing,
+        My feet hanging over.
+
+“That is the first stanza. There are six, and they tell the story of the
+picture. I will copy them into your album, if you like.”
+
+“Will you? That will be so nice, if you will. The only thing is, I
+haven't an album.”
+
+“Haven't you? I'll get you one. I'll send you one from London.”
+
+Sally asked him to explain the triolets, and very loyally she strove to
+understand.
+
+“Ah, I see a thing when I am told, but I never can understand poetry or
+pictures until they are explained to me.”
+
+Mollified, Frank thought of going upstairs to fetch the copy book
+in which he wrote such things, but speaking out of an unperceived
+association of ideas, he said: “What a clever girl your sister is. I had
+once a long talk with her about pictures and poetry, and I was surprised
+to find how well she talked. She understands everything.”
+
+“Maggie is a clever girl; I know she is far cleverer than I am; but if
+you knew her as well as I do, you would find she did not understand all
+you think she understands.”
+
+“How do you mean?”
+
+“Maggie's cleverness lies in being able to pretend she understands what
+she knows nothing about; I have often caught her out.”
+
+“Really; but how do you get on together now?”
+
+“Pretty well! I don't think there is much love lost on either side. I
+don't know why--I never could understand Maggie. You have no idea of the
+reports she spreads about me all over the place--the stories she tells
+the Grahams, the Prestons, the Wells. She told Mrs. Wells that I fell in
+love with every young man that came to Southwick. She said awful things
+about me. As for that story about telling cook to put father's dinner
+back, I don't think I ever shall hear the last of it. What made father
+so angry was because he thought it was to talk to Jimmy in the slonk.”
+
+“You told me the last time I was here that you wanted to finish a
+conversation with him in the slonk.”
+
+“I may have told you that it was to speak to him about his sister
+Fanny,” Sally replied evasively. “I would not care if I never saw him
+again; but I couldn't get on if I weren't allowed to see Fanny. Father
+wanted me to promise never to enter the house again!”
+
+“But you have flirted with him?”
+
+“I don't know that I have; certainly not more than Maggie. Last summer
+she was hanging round his neck every evening under the sycamores. I
+caught them twice.”
+
+“I don't see any harm in going under the sycamores. I daresay Maggie has
+allowed him to kiss her; so have you!”
+
+“That I assure you I haven't.”
+
+“You mean to say a man never kissed you?”
+
+“I didn't say that. I haven't kissed any one for years.”
+
+“Who did kiss you?”
+
+“You don't know him. I was only eighteen. He was a married man; it was
+very wrong of me.”
+
+“I wish I had been he.”
+
+“Do you? I hate him; he was a beast for doing it.”
+
+Sally often indulged in these half confessions; one of her aunts used to
+call them her “side lights.” By their aid she succeeded in interesting
+Frank. “How candid she is to tell me--to confide in me!” Sally was
+handsome now; the evening suited her dark skin and coal black eyes, and
+her strong figure was rich and not ungraceful in a dress of ruby velvet.
+Should he kiss her? What would she say? He threwhis arm about her.
+
+“I am surprised. Certainly not!”
+
+“I don't see any harm.” Then, with a sensation of saying something
+foolish, he said: “You told me you kissed a married man.”
+
+“That was ages ago--I was very silly. I shouldn't think of doing sonow.”
+
+In the silence which followed Frank wondered why he had tried to kiss
+her. Decidedly he liked the other better.
+
+Now every evening Maggie went to the writing-table, and all knew what
+it meant. Mr. Brookes occasionally lamented in a minor key, but without
+having recourse to his handkerchief. Willy said nothing; his losses on
+the Stock Exchange had been heavy; and owing to a conversation Frank had
+drawn him into during dinner the other day, his digestion, he feared,
+was not quite up to the mark. So on the night of the ball he only
+answered with an occasional monosyllable the splendid young man of the
+embroidered waistcoats who related his pleasures in a deep bass; nor
+did he pretend to take any interest in the crude militia officer who
+sometimes broke the silence by a declaration that he did not care for
+politics or poetry, that he liked history better. The young ladies
+listened devoutly to all that the young men said; Mr. Brookes carved
+valiantly at the head of the table and appeared resigned. Bouquets were
+fixed in button-holes in the billiard-room and the 'bus was announced.
+A greasy oil-lamp hung from the roof. Sometimes Sally rubbed the
+windows and said she could tell by the bushes where they were, and
+the embroidered waistcoat continued to drone out the measure of his
+amusements. He would have to run up to London, then he must have a shy
+at _trente et quarante_ at Monte Carlo, then he must get back for the
+spring meeting at Newmarket. Frank asked him if he didn't think he
+could manage to amuse himself without talking it all out beforehand.
+But undaunted and unchecked he wandered from Homburg to Paris, and
+from Paris to Ross-shire, until the 'bus drew up among a small crowd of
+people.
+
+The ball was a failure. When they entered the rooms there were scarcely
+twenty people present. It was very cold, and the men said; “How can the
+women bear it with their naked shoulders?”
+
+“We shall never get near this fire,” said Sally, looking in dismay
+on the circle of damsels who stood warming themselves, their dresses
+relieved upon the masses of laurel with which the room was decorated;
+“there is a beautiful fire in one of those little rooms at the end.”
+
+“Very well, let us come and sit there; or shall we dance this waltz
+first?”
+
+“Let's dance it.”
+
+They danced, and Frank shuddered in his evening clothes as he danced.
+
+“Did you notice,” said Sally, as they hurried to the retiring room, “how
+upset father seemed at dinner? I thought he was going to cry, but he
+bore up to the end better than I expected.”
+
+“So he did, but I don't see what there was particularly to upset him
+this time. Meason is away at sea, and you have promised not to see him
+any more.”
+
+“Oh, I wasn't thinking about the Measons--but haven't you heard? I only
+heard it through a friend, but I know for a fact that Willy has lost
+nearly all his money on the Stock Exchange.”
+
+“You don't say so; I am so sorry.”
+
+“Father hasn't heard it all yet; if he had he wouldn't have come down to
+dinner. I don't fancy he knows more than that things have not been going
+well, and that Willy has been a loser.”
+
+“But how can he have lost? I thought he was junior partner in an old
+established business.”
+
+“So he is. I can't tell you how the mischief was done, but I know he has
+lost all his money.”
+
+“What do you mean by all his money?”
+
+“All the money--three thousand--that father let him draw out of the
+distillery.”
+
+“This is very sad.”
+
+“Yes, isn't it? And particularly for a fellow who has so few amusements,
+and only cares about making money. Just look at him now; he wanders
+about speaking to no one. Come, let's dance this dance--are you
+engaged?”
+
+“No!”
+
+This news about Willy fixed the Harfield ball in Frank's thoughts, and
+he remembered the pretty girl in white of whom he could make nothing,
+of the raw just-brought-out girl who had bored him, of the communicative
+girl who had amused him by her accounts of her dogs and horses; he
+remembered, too, how he had seen Maggie disappearing down the ends of
+certain passages with a young man whose name he did not catch, and whose
+face he had not noticed. He had danced twice with her, only twice; she
+was distracted, she did not look at him, her eyes wandered all over the
+room, she answered his questions indifferently. Sally, on the contrary,
+had devoted herself to him, and on several occasions he thought that her
+blunt straightforward manner was better than the other's slyness. The
+'bus came with its draughts, its sickly lamp and its doleful jolting.
+Sally was too tired to rub the windows and declare how far they were
+from home, and the dancers endured their discomforts almost in silence;
+even the embroidered waistcoat occasionally ceased to talk about
+Homburg; and in all the extreme bitterness and greyness of a March
+morning they pulled up before the door of the Manor House.
+
+“I beg of you not to make a noise. If you wake up father he will
+never let us go to a ball again. Is there a fire in the billiard-room,
+Gardner?”
+
+“Yes, miss, there's a lovely fire; the decanters are on the table and
+the kettle is on the hob.”
+
+“I think you would all like a glass of something hot,” said Maggie.
+
+“Rather!”
+
+“But don't make a noise, please.”
+
+They stole along the passages to the billiard-room shivering, their
+feet aching, feeling very uncomfortable indeed. The waistcoat was now
+considering if it would be good form to come forward in the Conservative
+interest at the next election; but every one was too tired, they could
+not laugh, and amid a few general remarks the young ladies drank their
+gin and water, casting sheep's eyes at the young men, and then, glad and
+yet loth to part, all retired limping to their rooms.
+
+Breakfast was a pleasant meal--full of laughter and anecdotes of the
+ball, and, laden with Gladstone bags, the young men departed in ones and
+twos. Frank was going with Willy to London, and when they disappeared
+among the laurels Sally and Maggie turned indoors, conscious of
+reaction, and wondering what they should do with the long day that
+stretched before them. Maggie walked upstairs; she lingered, undecided,
+and then went down the passage to Frank's room. He had forgotten a
+shirt stud; on the chest of drawers there was a crumpled white tie and a
+soiled pair of white gloves. “How careless he is!” she thought, “I must
+send him this,” and she put the stud in her pocket. She straightened out
+the gloves and determined to send the necktie to the wash. Next time
+he came down she would have it to give him, nice, clean, and white--she
+must see that it was beautifully made up. Then she found his ball
+programme. He had danced four times with Sally--only twice with
+her--what a fool she had been; she had wasted her whole evening with
+that other fellow. It did make her feel so angry. Then the housemaid
+entered and turned the bed down.
+
+“What a lot of washing there will be this week, Gardner.”
+
+“There will indeed, miss. Three pairs of sheets, and only slept in
+once.”
+
+“Yes, isn't it a pity? It seems absurd to send these sheets to the wash,
+doesn't it?”
+
+“It do, indeed, miss.”
+
+“Absurd!” said Sally, who had just come in. “I want a pair of fresh
+sheets for my bed. I'll have these.”
+
+“No you won't--I was going to take them.”
+
+“I should like to know what right you have to them more than I.”
+
+“You promised not to interfere with me, and you have done nothing else.
+You did nothing at the ball but ask him for dances.”
+
+“That's a lie! I didn't ask him for a dance. You went off to hide; no
+one saw anything of you all the evening.”
+
+“You mean to say you didn't promise?”
+
+“I never promised anything; if I did I should keep my promise. I am not
+like you. I want a pair of sheets, and I mean to have these.”
+
+“They are too big for your bed.”
+
+Sally seized the sheet and strove to drag it from Maggie, who, although
+the weaker, held her own bravely for some time. Finding her strength
+failing her, she loosed her hold, letting her sister fall against the
+wall, and taking up the pillow she launched it with her full force. “If
+you want what he slept in, you can have it all.”
+
+“I'll give it to you, my lady,” cried the bully, making a rush round the
+bed, but Maggie fled through the dressing-room, shutting the door behind
+her, and locked herself into her room.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+
+As Willy would not pay the extra fare, Frank had to travel second class.
+He was telling his friend of the Stock Exchange, and his losses--nearly
+four thousand pounds. He had suspected that the firm of which he was
+junior partner had not played fair with him. Anyhow, he was going to
+get out of the business, having something better in view--a shop in
+Brighton. Yes, a shop in Brighton, a greengrocer's shop. No one had any
+idea, until they went into the calculation, of the amount of profit that
+was made on vegetables. Lord This and Lord That, every one who had a
+handsome place with large gardens, counted on being able to pay his
+gardener's wages by the sale of the surplus carrots, artichokes,
+potatoes, parsley, onions, tomatoes, especially tomatoes--every one
+nowadays ate tomatoes. He had it all down in figures, and was perfectly
+astonished at the sums of money that could be made. Grapes had been
+overdone, that was true; but a profit could be made out of everything
+else. Flowers, especially gardenias, were sold in the London market at
+two shillings apiece. Now, there was he within five miles of a large
+town like Brighton; the rent of a shop in the Western Road would not
+come to more than seventy or eighty pounds a year; the missus he would
+put in as shopwoman, and, there was no doubt of it, she would make as
+good a shopwoman as you could find, after a little practice; the child
+could run on errands, so it should be all profit. “I shall have none of
+the expenses that other people have to contend with. In the garden at
+the Manor House about three times as much stuff is grown as required. I
+shall buy all the fruit, vegetables, and flowers from my father at cost
+price, or a little over, and shall sell in my shop at retail price, that
+is, twenty or thirty per cent more. There is, therefore, no reason
+why the shop should not bring in from three to four hundred a year.
+And--would you believe it?--my father, who will be benefited by my
+scheme, if not more, quite as much as I shall be, is opposed to it; he
+will get a fair price for a lot of things for which he now gets nothing.
+But no. He cannot, or will not, see it. I never saw any one like my
+father. He will not help himself and you can do nothing to help him. The
+distillery business is going very badly. He had a bad year last year.
+I know for a fact that he did not make five per cent on his capital.
+Putting these things together, I should have thought that he would have
+been glad to make a little money to retrench; but no! he prefers to go
+on in the old way. He made money in the old way, and he doesn't see
+why he shouldn't make money again in the old way. Odd man my father is,
+isn't he?”
+
+It appeared to Frank that Mr. Brookes had managed to help himself very
+liberally indeed to all the good things in life; but with his false,
+facile, Celtic nature, he had no difficulty in re-adjusting his ideas
+and adopting a view of Mr. Brookes more in harmony with Willy's. He was,
+as usual, enthusiastic about his friends, and was effervescing with love
+and goodwill. He saw nothing of their faults--they were the best and
+truest people he had ever known, and he could not love them too much.
+Indeed he was angry, and regretted the limitations that nature has
+set on the human heart, and would if he could have lost himself in one
+immense and eternal love of the Brookeses.
+
+When he bade Willy good-bye at London Bridge, and wished him well with
+his shop, these sentiments ceased to be active forces in him, and they
+lay latent in his life of restaurants and bar rooms until the summer
+returned, and he received an invitation from the Manor House to come
+down for a garden party at Mrs. Berkins's. When he opened the letter he
+basked in thoughts of them--of Maggie and her fascinating subtleties, of
+Sally's blunt speech and sturdy good looks, of Willy, and all the quiet
+talks they would have together. He counted the tunnels, and, striving
+to recall the landscape, guessed extravagantly the number of miles that
+separated him from them. He walked up the drive with a beating heart,
+looking for the girls between the laurel bushes. He found them, and
+their habits which endeared them to him, unchanged; and to slip back
+into the old ways without experiencing the slightest difficulty or jar
+was like waking from a dream and entering again on a pleasant reality.
+There was the excellent dinner and the usual complaints about the
+Southdown Road, the cigars in the billiard-room, conversation about
+pictures and investments, gin and water, and then a long yarn with
+Willy in his bedroom. Life moved at the Manor House without any spring
+creaking, without jolt or jar, and it was this beautiful regularity that
+made Frank feel so healthily and so unexpectedly happy. He loved the
+desolation of Ireland. This was the stronger sense, but there was
+another sense, a half stifled sense, that found an echo in these
+southern downs interwoven with suburban life--in other words, a faint
+resurrection of the original English mind in him. He enjoyed and he grew
+akin to this Saxon prosperity; he learned to recognise it as manifested
+in the various prospects of the weald and the wold, and he loved this
+medley of contradictory aspects--the spires of the village churches,
+the porches of the villas, the rich farmhouses and their elm trees, the
+orchards jammed between masses of chalk, the shepherds seen against the
+sky of the Downs. It is true that he felt that this country was alien
+to him, but he was not individually conscious that his love of suburban
+Sussex was a morbid affection, opposed to the normal and indissoluble
+bonds of inherited aspirations and prejudices, and the forms and colours
+that had filled his eyes in childhood. Consciousness in Frank Escott was
+always slow, and always so governed and coloured by the sentiment of
+the moment that his comprehension of things were always deformed or
+incomplete. In his mind the phenomenon of life was ever in nebulae, and
+though very often one thought would define itself, no group of
+thoughts, or part of a group, ever became clear, so there was no abiding
+principle, nothing that he might know and steer by. He was, of course,
+aware that the Brookes were not equal to him in rank, but he did not
+know, or, rather, he would not know, that they were vulgar; nor did he
+think that Mount Rorke might marry again, if he were to marry Maggie or
+Sally. All that was really alive and distinct in him was love of
+them; and this love thrived in a sensation of class which he would not
+acknowledge, even to himself, had any existence. The glass-houses, and
+swards, and laurels had a meaning and fascination for him that he could
+not account for or describe, and he found these feelings, which were
+mainly class feelings of an unusual kind, not only in the aspect of the
+country but in the accent and speech of his friends, in the expression
+of their eyes and very hands. The English servants pleased him, and he
+strove to detect qualities in the carriage and horses, and he compared
+them to their advantage with Mount Rorke's. He loved to wrap the rug
+about the young ladies' knees, and they seemed to him quite perfect and
+delightful as they lay back in their carriage, driving beneath a sky
+full of blue, and through the changing views of the Downs, all distinct
+with light and shade. Sally and Maggie made much of him, covered him up,
+and addressed to him pleasant speeches. His eyes and ears were open and
+eager for new impressions, and his heart panted with readiness to admire
+and praise all he saw. He was ready to think that he had never seen
+anything so lovely as the laurels and the numerous glass-houses; and he
+wondered why he had ever thought so little of Berkins, and he listened
+with interest to that gentleman's explanation of the superiority of his
+possessions over everybody else's possessions. He even allowed himself
+to be persuaded that there was no pheasant shooting in the kingdom--for
+its size--equal to that in the little wood. Sally, who did not attempt
+to conceal her dislike of her brother-in-law, whispered: “That's the way
+to bring them down,” and Frank was obliged to laugh. Then she and Maggie
+disappeared as if the earth had swallowed them for several hours. The
+Grenadier Guards played on the lawn, and Frank was introduced to ladies
+of all ages and sizes; and as these bored him, he began to see that the
+place was vulgar and the people shoddy, and he wondered what Mount Rorke
+would say if he were to come suddenly across him. Grace was the subject
+of much concern, and obviously _enceinte,_ she passed through the
+different groups. She had introduced Frank as Lord Mount Rorke's son,
+then as his nephew, then as his heir, and, fearing she might succumb to
+the temptation of introducing him as Mount Rorke himself, Frank escaped
+from her, and joined a party that Berkins was personally conducting
+through the grounds.
+
+The stables had been built by So-and-so on the most approved principles.
+There were no stables like them in Sussex--the fittings of the
+harness-room alone had cost him three hundred. The horses he had bought
+at the Duke's sale, the Duke would not have thought of parting with
+them had he known how they would turn out. He had driven them along the
+Brighton road at the rate of fifteen miles an hour; he would back them
+to do fifteen miles in the hour. There was not a pair of horses in
+England equal to them. That was Mrs. Berkins's riding horse--was it
+possible to imagine a more perfect cob? He could get a hundred for him
+any day, he did not know of anything like him. “Did any of you gentleman
+ever see anything like him?” They went to the kennels. A brace of
+Irish setters were declared to be the finest dogs that Ireland had
+ever produced, they had taken two prizes, one in Dublin and another in
+Brighton--and the little fox terrier was the gamest dog in Sussex. She
+would go into any hole after a fox, and never leave him till she
+brought him out. You couldn't find her equal. Then the glass-houses were
+perfect. They contained all the latest improvements, and all these were
+fully explained. “Berkins is excelling himself to-day,” thought Frank.
+
+Presently they came upon a basket of peaches.
+
+“These peaches were, of course, grown under glass, but I think I am
+right in saying, Jackson, that they were produced without artificial
+heat.”
+
+“Yes, sir, quite right, sir. It couldn't be done nowhere else, sir,
+but all the sun in Sussex seems to come down here--a regular little sun
+trap, I think that's what you called it the other day, sir, when you
+were speaking to me about them there peaches.”
+
+“Yes, I did. If you move nearer the sea you get fogs and cold winds,
+further inland you lose the sun, but just here the climate is equal
+to the south of Europe! I ask you to look at these peaches, it seems
+impossible--does it not?--to have peaches like these at the end of May,
+and without any heat, merely glass.”
+
+“It seems to me quite impossible,” declared a little fat man with flaxen
+hair. “I am devoted to peach-growing, and I confess I am quite at a
+loss. Gardener, did you say that those peaches were grown entirely
+without artificial heat?”
+
+The gardener pretended not to hear, and tried to slip away, but the
+little man, who had been taken on his hobby, was not to be baulked, and
+he pursued the wretched horticulturist.
+
+“You mean to say that these peaches ripened without any artificial heat,
+any?”
+
+“You have no idea what a sun we get here, sir. I have never seen
+anything like it. In my last situation, when I was living with Lord
+----, we couldn't get our fruit forward, use whatever heat he might,
+and Houghton is not more than fifty miles from here--the difference of
+climate is positively wonderful.”
+
+Jackson had reckoned that Mr. Berkins would move on, and that the
+inquisitive little man would find himself obliged to follow, but
+chance was against him, for Berkins, with his guests around him, stood
+listening to the discussion.
+
+“You mean to say that these peaches were grown without heat. I wouldn't
+mind giving you five-and-twenty pounds for the recipe for doing it.”
+
+“You must take a small place down here, sir, and then you will be able
+to do it.”
+
+This raised a laugh, but the little man was not to be beaten, and he
+said: “I should like to see some of those peaches of yours on the trees.
+You haven't plucked them all; let me see them.”
+
+“Yes, Jackson, show us the trees. Some will not believe without seeing;
+let us see the peaches on the trees.”
+
+Jackson appeared to be a little disconcerted; he murmured excuses, and
+strove to escape. Driven to bay he brought them into a glass-house where
+there were hot water-pipes, and when his tormentor pointed triumphantly
+to the pipes he attempted a faint explanation--he had meant to say that
+heat had only been used within the last three weeks.
+
+“So you see, Berkins,” exclaimed little flaxen-haired fatty, “your south
+of Europe is no better than my south of Europe, or anybody else's south
+of Europe.”
+
+“Jackson, you have told me many deliberate falsehoods about these
+peaches. I keep no one in my employment whose word cannot be depended
+upon. You take your warning.”
+
+“Falsehoods! What do you want a man to do, if you will have everything
+better than anybody else's?”
+
+Berkins turned suddenly on his heel, he drew himself up to his full
+height, and stood speechless with indignation. Never, not even on the
+most important Board meetings, did his friends wait to hear him speak
+with more anxiety; but at that moment a crash of flower pots was heard,
+and Sally and a young man were discovered hiding in the potting shed;
+and to make matters worse, in the very next house they visited, they
+suddenly came upon Maggie sitting with another young man in strangely
+compromising circumstances. Explanations were attempted, and some stupid
+remarks were made. Berkins was seriously annoyed, and he took the first
+opportunity of taking Mr. Brookes's arm and leading him away to a quiet
+path. Frank saw the men pass through the laurels, and ten minutes after
+he saw them return. Evidently Berkins had read Mr. Brookes an exhaustive
+lecture on the conduct of his daughters.
+
+“Now, Mr. Brookes, now Mr. Brookes, I must beg of you--calm yourself.
+What would my guests think if they found you in tears? What would
+they think I had been saying to reduce you to such a condition? It
+is veryunfortunate that Sally and Maggie should act as they do,
+particularly at my place; but really you must not give way.”
+
+“Since the death of their poor mother I am all alone. My position is
+a very trying one.” Then, with a sudden burst of laughter, “However, I
+suppose it will be all the same a hundred years hence!”
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+
+The girls walked to the station with Escott. A fleecy evening, with the
+clouds growing pale towards the sea, the sun like fire in the elms, and
+the woods showing upon a purple tinge.
+
+“How delightful!” exclaimed Frank. “How charming this is--this old
+English green, the horse pond at one end, the various houses, the inn,
+the grocery business, the linen drying in that yard, the smith, and the
+wheelwright. I don't like that modern Queen Anne school-house, and I
+wish I could remove the dead level of the embankment and see the sea.
+The green is better from this side with the view of the Downs--those
+lines waving against the sky, where the gorse grows and the sheep feed,
+and inclining to the road all the fields pale green and deep green. But
+what game are those men playing--what game do you call that?”
+
+“Bat and trap.”
+
+“I have passed the green twenty times before, and I never really saw it
+till now. It is charming--so thoroughly English. I should like to live
+here for a month--for two months. How nice it would be to breakfast in
+the morning looking out on the green, to see the cocks and hens and all
+the children and all this English life! How different from Pump Court!
+I am sick of Pump Court--dirt and smoke, a horrid servant, stale eggs.
+I suppose you can always get fresh eggs and new bread here? I would give
+anything to spend a month on the green.”
+
+“Well, you can!” cried Sally. “I wish you would, and you could come and
+play tennis with us every afternoon. Mrs. Heald has some rooms to let;
+why it was only last week I heard that she hadn't let her rooms this
+season, and was most anxious to do so.”
+
+“There's no use my coming here until I begin to write my novel. I am
+painting now, and I must see if I can get my picture finished for one of
+the autumn exhibitions.”
+
+“I knew you would find some excuse.”
+
+“No, I assure you, but I can't do anything without a studio, and I'm not
+likely to find a studio on Southwick Green.”
+
+“I don't suppose Mrs. Heald has a room large enough for a studio,” said
+Maggie; “but I don't see why you shouldn't find a place where you can
+paint.”
+
+“Where? Not in that eighteenth-century house where the two old ladies
+are standing! Supposing I were to go and ask them if they would let
+me have their drawing-room to paint in! That is the only house on the
+green, all the rest are cottages.”
+
+“I suppose you are not very particular where you paint,” said Maggie
+reflectively. “You don't mind appearances, I suppose? I wonder if you
+could manage to fit up a farm building.”
+
+“There is the famous barn where Charles the First hid himself, I don't
+suppose the authorities would allow me to turn that into a studio.”
+
+“No, probably not; but I think you might find a house that would do.”
+
+“What nonsense, Maggie,” said Sally, who began to grow jealous of her
+sister.
+
+“Why is it nonsense? I see no reason why Frank shouldn't come to some
+arrangement with the smith, and turn his house into a studio.”
+
+“Which is the smith's house? I'll tell you in a moment if it could be
+turned into a studio.”
+
+“That house standing quite by itself in the corner of the green.”
+
+“That tall narrow house with the bit of broken wall and the elder
+bushes?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“I daresay I could rig up a very nice studio out of that place, indeed
+it looks quite picturesque amid its elder bushes. There is the stile,
+and there is the cornfield. But I couldn't live there.”
+
+“No, you would live at Mrs. Heald's, and you could walk over every
+morning to the studio.”
+
+“Yes, I could do that. I prefer to live with my work. There is nothing
+like walking from the breakfast table across the room to the easel.”
+
+“Of course you can find fault with everything; nothing is perfect.”
+
+“There goes the train!” cried Sally. “No use in running now, you've
+missed it.”
+
+“How very provoking; the next isn't till half-past seven--just an hour
+to wait.”
+
+“Well,” said Maggie, “if you have missed the train we may as well go at
+once and ask Mrs. Heald if she has let her rooms.”
+
+They walked towards a block of cottages--at one end the “Cricketer's
+Arms,” at the other the grocery business; and the cottage that joined
+the grocery business was remarkable for a bit of green paling and wooden
+balcony, now covered with Virginia creeper. Frank thought at once
+of new-laid eggs, and the sunlight glancing through a great mass of
+greenery, and he resolved if a sacrifice were necessary to live at
+Southwick, he would put his picture aside and begin his novel. The
+people in the house pleased him, and he ran on in his way thinking how
+English and trustworthy they seemed, liking the green parrot that rubbed
+its head affectionately against the grey ringlets of a very ladylike old
+person; and Mrs. Heald, brisk as a bee, notwithstanding her lame leg,
+who led the way up the ladder-like cottage staircase.
+
+“How nice and clean everything is; books and engravings along the
+passages. How unlike Ireland!”
+
+But the sitting-room was full of horsehair sofas and chairs. These
+displeased Frank, but some handsome china--an entire tea service in
+Crown Derby--reconciled him to the room. In the bedroom they found
+a huge four-poster of old time, with a lengthy bolster and imposing
+pillows, and they were shown into another and a similar room. One looked
+out on the green, the other on the fields that lay between the green and
+the Manor House.
+
+“If that elm were cut down you could see my window,” said Sally.
+
+“Which room do you like the best?” said Maggie.
+
+“It is hard to say. The other room looks on the green, but here there
+is a nice large wardrobe, and I don't see how I can get on without a
+wardrobe.”
+
+“If you like the other room best, sir, I can turn out the chest of
+drawers.”
+
+“Oh, that would be very nice if you can manage it, the room will do very
+well. I can have a bath every morning?”
+
+“Yes, sir; there will be no difficulty about that.”
+
+Maggie had taken off her hat and was settling her hair before the glass.
+Sally opened the wardrobe, revealing various petticoats and skirts, but
+she thought of it as full of Frank's light overcoats, the scarves he
+wore round his throat when he went out in evening clothes, the patent
+leather shoes in the corner. Suddenly the conversation dropped, and
+after a pause Frank said: “I think these rooms suit me very well, but I
+can do nothing; it is impossible for me to say if I can take them until
+I find out if there is any place in the immediate neighbourhood that I
+could convert into a studio. Do you know of any such place?”
+
+“No, I do not, sir.”
+
+“Mr. Escott was thinking of seeing the smith about his house. I wonder
+if Town would let it to Mr. Escott for a consideration,” said Maggie.
+
+“Of course, I should have to get leave to make what alterations I
+pleased.”
+
+“I don't suppose the house belongs to Town, sir; I don't think he is
+more than a weekly tenant.”
+
+“If that's the case, we must see the landlord. Do you know who is the
+landlord?”
+
+“I can't say I do, sir.”
+
+“Well, Mrs. Heald, I will let you know in a day or two if I can take
+your rooms--you can give me a day or two?”
+
+“Yes, sir, but I should like to know as soon as possible; several people
+have been asking after my rooms.”
+
+“I'll let you know in a day or two.”
+
+“If Town is only a weekly tenant, you'll be able to get his house by
+paying a little more for it,” said Maggie, as they walked down the green
+towards the smith's forge.
+
+“That would be hardly fair; I should like to act squarely by the smith.
+What is his name?”
+
+“Town.”
+
+Town was cutting out the hoof of a shaggy grey cart horse when his
+visitors entered the cindery blackness.
+
+“Town, this gentleman would like to speak to you,” said Maggie, raising
+her voice above the wheezy bellows. He threw the hoof out of his apron,
+and, drawing his blackened arm across his forehead, he came forward.
+
+“Town, I am anxious to find a place on the green that I could convert
+into a studio; I think your house would suit my purpose very well. Do
+you think we could come to some arrangement? Of course I would give you
+a reasonable compensation.”
+
+“Well, I really hardly know, sir; I dunno that I hardly understand. You
+want my house to turn into a--”
+
+“A studio--a place where I can paint pictures.”
+
+“I don't see how I can do without my 'ouse.”
+
+“But I will compensate you--make it worth your while.”
+
+“You see it is so near my work. Was I to go and live at Ada Terrace,
+I should, you see, be out of the way. If people want a job done they
+always knows where to find me.”
+
+“Yes, but if I compensate you?”
+
+Seeing that Frank was exciting the smith with too wild hopes of wealth,
+Sally thought fit to interpose. “Mr. Escott would require permission
+to make any alterations in the building he thought proper--you couldn't
+give him permission; he would in any case have to see your landlord. Who
+is your landlord?”
+
+“I don't see how I can give up my 'ouse to be turned into a painting
+place; it wouldn't suit me at all.”
+
+“If I make you sufficient compensation--”
+
+Again the smith was reduced to silence. He scratched his head, and Frank
+watched the sparks fly, and heard the rhythmical sledge. “I wish he
+wouldn't talk so much about compensation,” thought Sally. “I don't know
+what the man won't be asking if Frank doesn't shut up.”
+
+“Do you think we shall be able to come to an understanding? I want to
+know.”
+
+“Well, you see, sir, my wife is delicate, and I'm that afraid she
+wouldn't like to give up her 'ome. But I'll speak to 'er if you like
+to-night, sir.”
+
+“Mr. Escott will have to see your landlord; he will have to arrange with
+him about the alterations.”
+
+“There will be no difficulty about the alterations.”
+
+“Very probably; but you are only a weekly tenant. It is a question
+your landlord must decide. If he agrees to allow Mr. Escott to make the
+alterations, Mr. Escott will no doubt compensate you for disturbance.”
+
+“It is all very well to talk about compensation. How do I know what your
+compensation will be? How do I know you will make it worth my while? I
+don't want no compensation. I want my 'ouse. Cheek I calls it, to come
+down here wanting to muck me out of my house.”
+
+“Now, sir, we want no impertinence. I shall do exactly as I please in
+the matter. Your landlord is the person I should have spoken to.”
+
+“Spoken to! Who are you, I should like to know, coming round here
+interfering in my business?”
+
+All Frank's discussions ended in angry words, and he never came to terms
+with any one without threatening blows. Town returned to the forge;
+Frank and the young ladies made their way across the green. At the
+corner of Southdown Road they found the General, the schoolmaster, and a
+retired farmer ardently gossiping; Mrs. Horlock, prim in her black gown
+and poke bonnet, waited with admirable patience, and Angel, the blind
+pug, in horrible corpulence, waddled and sniffed the grass. The story
+of Town's impertinence was told. The General was shocked--it was
+surprising. What are we coming to? The retired farmer said that Town was
+a hot-tempered man, but not a bad sort when you knew how to take him,
+and all, except Mrs. Horlock, agreed that the landlord was the person
+who should be consulted.
+
+“I really don't see why you should turn the poor man out of his house if
+he doesn't want to go. How would you like some one to come and turn you
+out of your house?” she said, turning to her husband.
+
+The General laughed. “My dear Lucy, whatever you say must be right.
+So you are coming to live at Southwick. Very glad to hear it. You know
+where to find us, the gate's always open; lunch at half-past one, dinner
+at eight--old Indians, you know; come in when you like. Pretty place
+I have here, everything I want--stables and horses, and (the General
+looked to see if Lucy was out of hearing) plenty of dogs, you know--a
+few too many; but my wife, you know--” The rest was lost in a burst of
+good-natured laughter.
+
+They bade the Horlocks good-night and walked up the Southdown Road,
+looking with its line of trees along the pavement like a little mock
+boulevard. Frank was particularly severe in his remarks on the trim
+privet hedges and the little bronze sphinxes standing before the portico
+of yellow glass; he declared that a man must be born to put up such
+things, and he clearly thought this sneer a very happy one, for he
+repeated it, fearing that Sally had not understood. The grocer who had
+placed a bas-relief of himself over his door was greatly wondered at,
+and Sally told an amusing anecdote regarding the invitations he sent
+out for the first dinner party. The conversation turned on the Measons.
+Jack's ship had gone to China, and he was not expected back much before
+Christmas.
+
+“That's very sad, Sally. How will you be able to live through so many
+months?”
+
+“I don't care for him. I don't care if I never saw him again--it was
+Fanny who was my friend. Some nice people have come to live in that
+corner house--a young man, who is learning farming. Mr. Berkins insists
+on father not allowing us to visit any one in the Southdown Road, and
+Mr. Berkins can turn father round his finger, he is so much richer. I'm
+not allowed to see Fanny at the Manor House. As for Jack, I daresay you
+won't believe me, but I shouldn't care if I never saw him again.”
+
+Maggie shrugged her shoulders. The gesture exasperated Sally, and she
+turned on her sister.
+
+“You needn't shrug your shoulders at me, miss; I never flirted with him;
+you did, and then you set father against me.”
+
+“Well, for goodness' sake don't quarrel; what does it matter? The idea
+of Berkins telling your father whom he should visit; and the idea of
+your father permitting it merely because he makes two or three thousand
+a year more! He surely doesn't object to your visiting Mrs. Horlock?”
+
+“No, he couldn't do that.”
+
+Still engaged in discussion, they entered the gates of the Manor House,
+and Mr. Brookes was told that Frank would stay at Southwick a few days
+longer, so that he might arrange about a studio. The news was not
+at first wholly pleasing to the old gentleman, but he remembered the
+anecdotes he should hear concerning his favourite painters, and was
+consoled. The evening passed away in the security and calm of habit,
+sweetened by the intimacy of familiar thoughts and customs. There was
+the usual expensive dinner; Mr. Brookes lit a cigar, handed the box to
+Frank, and said, puffing lustily, “That's a good picture, paid a lot of
+money for it, too much money, mustn't do it again. You were a pupil of
+Bouguereau; great painter; you have seen him paint; you would know his
+touch amid a thousand, I suppose?”
+
+About ten o'clock steps in the passage, then the squeak-squeak of the
+cork; then the goggle-guggle of the water, and the young ladies came in
+with their grog. They kissed their father and brother, shook hands with
+Frank, and went to bed. Further anecdotes concerning the painters were
+told; further condemnations of the Southdown Road were pronounced; the
+house was locked up; Mr. Brookes retired, and the young men continued
+the conversation in their rooms. Willy told Frank all about his shop,
+Frank told Willy all about his studio, and they went to sleep delighted
+with each other and at peace with the world.
+
+Mr. Brookes had gone when the young men came down next morning. Willy
+was down first, and when Frank finished breakfast he found him busy in
+the garden making purchases for his shop.
+
+“How much am I to charge for these peaches, sir?” said the gardener.
+
+“I intend to pay the market price for everything. I don't know what
+peaches are selling at in Covent Garden. I will look it up and let you
+know. I am taking two dozen.”
+
+“Yes, sir, there are only very few more ripe.”
+
+“It is a pity I can't have them all,” Willy whispered to Frank. “There
+is a tremendous profit to be made on peaches. Now, I want some new
+potatoes. How many can you let me have?”
+
+“Really, sir, we are very short; you see it is so early in the year. We
+have only a few, none too many for the house.”
+
+“I must have some, if it is only a sample. How much are potatoes selling
+at now?”
+
+“Well, sir, I hardly know. Last year we bought some off Hooper at--”
+
+“These are the things I have to contend with. How am I to keep my books
+right if I don't know exactly the price things are selling for? I may be
+paying more for his potatoes than they are selling in Brighton for. My
+father gets more out of the shop than any one, and he isn't satisfied.”
+
+The woes of this suburban Lear amused Frank. No sooner was the arch
+enemy Meason on the high seas, and the Southdown Road had quieted down,
+than another demon had risen up against him; his garden was ravished of
+its fairest fruits and vegetables, his carriages were turned into market
+carts, and all, as he said, for the sake of practising an elaborate
+system of book-keeping. Maggie, who had finished her house-keeping, came
+into the garden, and she went with Frank down the town in search of the
+landlord of the tall house amid the elder bushes. For a small increase
+in the rent, and a promise to undo all alterations before leaving,
+putting the house back in the same arrangement of rooms as it at present
+stood, the landlord agreed to allow Frank to do his will with the place.
+For twenty pounds the smith was silenced, and Frank explained to the
+local builder that the house was to be thrown into one room, and the
+ceilings of the upper rooms were to be removed. He had thought of having
+the rafters painted, but at the builder's suggestion he decided to have
+them lined with fresh timber and stained. This would look very handsome.
+A large window, some six feet by eight, would have to be put in the
+north wall. Of course, all the doors, windows, etc., would have to be
+taken away and replaced by new. He would have a book-case in stained
+wood. An estimate was drawn up. It came to a good deal more than he had
+intended to lay out, and Frank dreaded the expense. But he must live
+somewhere, he was sick of Pump Court, and his friends and this little
+south-coast village were now ardent in his mind; why not live here? True
+that the country was in no way beautiful and offered no temptations to a
+landscape painter, but he seldom painted landscapes, and if he wanted a
+bit of woodland he would find it over the Downs. Then there was the sea,
+and that was always interesting. Perhaps Mount Rorke would let him have
+the money. The old fellow had never refused him an extra hundred when he
+asked for it. Yes, he would risk it. So the order was given, and all
+the delays and broken promises of a builder began to be experienced and
+endured. Frank, who now lodged at Mrs. Heald's, hung around the workmen,
+counting each brick, and commenting on every piece of woodwork. He at
+once took to grumbling at their slowness, and he soon declared that all
+hopes of his being able to finish his picture for the Academy were at
+an end, and he paraded his misfortunes at the Manor House, at Mrs.
+Horlock's, and, indeed, at all the houses he went to for tea or tennis
+parties. The painters especially annoyed him, and he even went so far as
+to threaten them with an action.
+
+Long before they had finished his pictures had arrived from London, and
+several pieces of furniture from Brighton. The ideas of this young
+man were now in full revolt against oriental draperies and things from
+Japan. The furniture was, therefore, to consist of large cane sofas with
+pillows covered with a yellow chintz pattern which pleased him much.
+The selection of a carpet was a matter of great moment. He received with
+scornful smiles his upholsterer's suggestions of Persian rugs. Turkey,
+Smyrna, and Axminster were proposed and rejected, he even thought of
+an Aubusson--no one knew anything about Aubusson at Southwick, and the
+vivid blues and yellows and symmetrical design would have at least the
+merit of disturbing if not of wrecking the artistic opinions of
+his friends. He discovered one of these carpets in a back street in
+Brighton, and with some cleaning and mending he felt sure it could be
+made to look quite well. But no, if you have an Aubusson carpet you must
+have Louis XIV. furniture in the room, and Louis XIV. in Southwick would
+be too absurd. Clearly the Aubusson scheme must be abandoned--he would
+have a rich grey carpet, soft and woolly, and there should be a round
+table covered with a dark blue cloth, set off with a yellow margin, and
+the chairs drawn about the table should be covered with dark blue and
+painted yellow. A grand piano was indispensable in Frank's surroundings,
+both for its appearance in the studio and the relaxation it afforded in
+the various interludes. Several journeys to London were made before the
+lamps to be used were determined on (a modern design was essential), and
+the brass fittings to hang candles from the rafters required still more
+delicate and cautious consideration; at last it was decided to have
+none.
+
+All this while Willy was busy with his shop. He had taken a whole house,
+and at first he had thought of letting a room, but for many reasons this
+scheme had to be abandoned. He did not know who might take the room.
+“Who knows--perhaps one of my own friends, a member of my club, for
+instance?” Then it would give the missus a lot of bother and worry, and
+she had all she could do in looking after the shop. To make a thing a
+success you must think of nothing else. It was a pity, but it wasn't to
+be thought of. Otherwise he seemed fairly well satisfied. There was
+a back door leading on to a back lane, in turn leading on to a back
+street, so with his latch-key he could pop in and out unobserved. All
+his books and papers in the drawing-room, the ledger, the day-book,
+the cash-book all ready, all to hand, so that after dinner, when he had
+smoked his pipe, he could go to work. Frank alone was in the secret.
+And how the young men enjoyed going to Brighton together. Frank worried
+Willy, who ran up and down stairs collecting his brown paper parcels,
+calling upon him to make haste. They set forth, Willy firm and
+methodical, his shoulders set well back: Frank loose and swaggering,
+over-dressed. How to get to the shop was a matter of anxious
+consideration. Willy was fearful of detection, and all sorts of
+stratagems were resorted to. Sometimes they would walk down to the Old
+Steyne, and suddenly double and get back through a medley of obscure
+streets, or else they would publicly walk up and down the King's
+Road, and when they thought no one was looking, hurry up one of the
+by-streets, and so gain their haven, the lane. Once they were in the
+lane they slackened speed, all danger was then over, and they laughed
+consumedly at their escapes, and delighted in telling each other how
+So-and-so and his daughter had been successfully avoided. Willy always
+had his latch-key ready; in a moment they were inside, and Frank would
+rush upstairs and throw himself into the armchair, crying: “Here we
+are!” One day they were at the window, when, to their amazement, the
+Manor House carriage pulled up before the shop, and they had only just
+time to dodge behind the curtain and escape Sally's eyes. Never before
+had the carriage arrived later than five o'clock, and now it was nearly
+six. What could be the meaning of this? Begging of Frank not to move,
+Willy went out on the landing and listened to his sisters talking to his
+wife. The girls--who were, of course, ignorant of their relationship to
+the shop-woman--liked Mrs. Brookes very much, and were fond of a chat
+with her; and, looking through the blinds, Frank saw the footman in
+all the splendour of six feet and grey livery carrying a small pot of
+flowers worth sixpence from the carriage to the shop.
+
+On ordinary days the shop was shut at eight, but when Willy and Frank
+dined there it was closed an hour earlier. Frank enjoyed his evenings
+there; he enjoyed it all--the homeliness and the quiet. He enjoyed
+seeing Willy nurse the missus after dinner, and he found no difficulty
+in pretending a certain interest in the book-keeping, and an admiration
+for the lines of figures all carefully formed, and the beautifully ruled
+lines. Cissy adored him. He took her on his knee, and she leaned her
+hollow cheek against his handsome face. She would have probably rushed
+to death to serve him. His height, his brightness, his rings, his
+spotted neckties--all seemed so perfect, so beautiful, to her; and when
+he brought his fiddle she would sit and look at him, her little hands
+clasped with an intensity of love that was strange and pitiful. Swaying
+from side to side, he ran on from tune to tune--waltzes, reminiscences
+from operas, fragments of overtures, delightful snatches from Schubert;
+and when he introduced Willy to one tune--a tune in which all his
+_might-have-been_ was bound--the dry man seemed to grow drier: perhaps
+it brought a glow of pleasure to his heart: but be this as it may, he
+only sat and puffed more emphatically at his pipe.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+
+For Frank this pleasant English village was now a happy _fete_ of summer
+joys and occupations. Oh! the hill prospects and the shady gardens
+around the coasts. And when he went inland he would return by choice
+across the Downs, and in the patriarchal valleys where nothing is heard
+but the bell-wether he would stand in the great, lonely darkness,
+and see the lights of Brighton brighten the sky above the ridges, and
+climbing up the ridges, he gazed on the vague sea, and the long string
+of coast towns were like a golden necklace.
+
+His days went like dreams. The morning hours--bachelor hours--were full
+of intimacy and joy. The joy of waking alone with a strange and secret
+self that, like a shy bird, is all the day chased out of sight and
+hearing, but is with you when you awake in sweet health in the morning;
+that of waking alone with the sunlight in the curtains, that of being
+alone with your body as well as your mind, and no presence to jar the
+communion. There is a dear privacy in morning hours of single life.
+
+But although the desire to exchange these for the joys of wedlock was
+germinating in Frank, although it was inherent in him to understand the
+husband's happiness when he puts his arm round a dear wife's neck and
+draws her to him with marital kisses and affectionate words, he was
+certainly conscious that each hour seemed to bring its special pleasure.
+His room was airy and pleasant, the window full of the colour of the
+green and its aspects; the little water-course with its brick bridge,
+the trees along the embankment, the rigging of the ships in the harbour,
+the linen drying in the yard. Of these views Frank seemed never to grow
+tired; he noted them as he brushed his brown curls over his forehead,
+and when he sat at breakfast eating fresh eggs and marmalade. After
+breakfast he lay on the sofa, and read society papers and smoked
+cigarettes. He could not drag himself to the studio. “A man should live
+at his studio, impossible to settle down to work, if he doesn't,” he
+thought, and he watched Mrs. Horlock coming up the green accompanied by
+the chemist's wife and the pugs.
+
+“Dear old lady, how nice she looks in her black dress and poke bonnet!
+And there goes the General--he is giving all his coppers to the
+children.”
+
+Frank took up a volume of Browning, turned over the leaves, and laid the
+book down to watch a drove of horses that had suddenly been turned
+out on the green to feed, and he laughed to see the children throwing
+stones, making them gallop frantically. Very often the thunder of the
+hoofs alarmed Triss, and he stood on his hind legs and barked. “What is
+it, old dog? What is it? Like to have a go at the horses? Shall we go
+out and play with the pugs?” At the mention of going out Triss cocked
+his ears and barked. “I suppose I must make a move. I wonder what
+the time is--half-past eleven. Good Heavens! The post will be here at
+twelve. I had better wait for it.” On waking his first thoughts were for
+his letters, and almost before he had finished reading them he had begun
+to think of what the mid-day delivery would bring him. To see the boy
+pass and so have ocular proof that there was nothing for him seemed to
+lighten his disappointment. He saw him waste his time with the doctor's
+horse and then with the maid-servant, and if the old ladies were not
+about he would stand talking many minutes with their servants. Then he
+visited the short line of cottages, passed sometimes round the yard or
+open space at the back of the wheelwright's, where the linen hung on
+poles between the elms, and once Frank saw the provoking boy hide behind
+the cricketers' tent and remain watching the match. For half an hour the
+question--letters or no letters--hung in suspense, and when the loiterer
+came, stopping every minute to see where the ball was hit to, the
+joy, heightened by anticipation, was great in receiving a packet of
+newspapers and various correspondence. Frank often went to meet him.
+True, he might have nothing for him, he might be going to deliver at the
+grocer's shop, or at the “Cricketer's Arms.”
+
+“Any letters for me, to-day?”
+
+“Yes, sir, two postcards and a newspaper.”
+
+It was disappointing not to get a letter--postcards meant nothing.
+He only exchanged a few words with Mrs. Horlock, and passed on to the
+General, who, at the corner of the Southdown Road where the gossipers
+met, was discussing a local candidature.
+
+“So you are off to paint. You must come and see the model my wife has
+done of a horse I once had. I mustn't say much about him, though--it is
+a sore subject. After winning over a thousand with him I lost it all,
+and five hundred with it. She never would paint his picture for me; but
+yesterday was my birthday--I suppose she thought she would give me a
+treat, she began to model him from memory--wonderful likeness--she knows
+every bone and sinew in a horse--clever woman, never seen any one like
+her. Come in to-night, dinner always at eight--old Indians. She'll show
+it to you.”
+
+“Thanks, not to-night, General; to-morrow night, if you like.”
+
+“Very well, to-morrow night at eight. What a terrible dog that is of
+yours! You need fear nobody while you have him with you. You must ask
+my wife to paint him for you, but I forgot, I beg your pardon--you are a
+painter; you should paint him yourself.”
+
+“I don't paint animals. I shall be very glad if Mrs. Horlock will paint
+him; there is some beautiful drawing about him--those fore-legs.”
+
+Probably attracted by the dog, Mrs. Horlock came walking towards them.
+Triss went sidling after Rose, and when Mrs. Horlock called him, he
+growled.
+
+“I beg of you, Mrs. Horlock, do not touch him; he isn't safe, I assure
+you. He once bit a man's nose off who was trying to train him to do
+something or other. I will not be answerable.”
+
+“All nonsense! No dog ever bit me, they know I love them. 'Come to me,
+sir.' No dog ever bit me but once, and he was a poor mongrel that had
+been hunted by a lot of horrid men. I was dressing to go to a ball at
+the Government House, and I heard him under my bed. He had taken refuge
+under my bed, poor thing. He was frightened to death; he couldn't see
+me, and he bit me through the wrist. I went to the ball all the same.
+A dog died of hydrophobia in my arms. He died like a child, licking my
+hands and face. 'Come here, sir. Come to me.'”
+
+“I wish you wouldn't do it, Mrs. Horlock. I am afraid to call him, for
+fear he should think I intended to set him at you.”
+
+Triss showed a terrible set of teeth, and his nose seemed to curl back
+almost into his eyes; but stooping down Mrs. Horlock extended her hands
+to him. She looked so like herself in the poke bonnet and the black
+dress, and the kind, intelligent eyes softened the dog's humour, and he
+came to her.
+
+“You see--what did I tell you? Dogs know so well those that love them.
+No animal ever did bite me except that poor frightened creature, and
+he didn't mean it. We kept him for ten years after that, and how he did
+love me!”
+
+“Wonderful woman, my wife; she can do what she likes with animals. I was
+telling Mr. Escott that he must come in and see the model you are making
+of Snap-dragon.”
+
+“Only an amateur, I never had a lesson in my life. Mr. Escott would
+think nothing of it, I am sure. But I wish he'd come in and dine with
+us.”
+
+“He promised to come to-morrow, Lucy; but stay, isn't that the day we
+are going to have the Bath people in to dine?”
+
+“Never mind--Mr. Escott won't mind, I'm sure. They are very nice, good
+people, indeed. I'm sure you'll think so. They are all snobs about this
+place. I never heard of such snobbery in my life. Mrs. So-and-so--over
+there--once said to me, 'I believe you know all the people who live in
+those little houses.' She said she wouldn't allow her children even to
+walk across the green. Did you ever hear of such snobbery?”
+
+“Well, Mrs. Horlock, as I have always said, your position is made;
+you have your friends who will like you and value you just the same no
+matter whom you may walk about the green with. Every Viceroy that ever
+went to India called on you; your position is made.”
+
+“There are a lot of snobs about here; but I mustn't keep Angel waiting,
+he is never well unless he gets a little exercise. We shall see you then
+at eight.”
+
+“The cleverest woman I ever knew. I don't say the cleverest that you
+ever knew. But we have got too many animals; I often wish I could get
+rid of the brutes,” and the General laughed as he stumped along. “Five
+horses when two would be sufficient--five horses eating their heads
+off; then the Circassian goats that the neighbours complain of, and the
+parrots and the squirrels. There are a few too many, there's no doubt.
+But once an animal comes into the place she will cherish it for ever. I
+try to keep Prince out of the drawing-room as much as possible, she says
+she can't smell him. If that little beast Angel would only die!”
+
+“Why don't you poison him?”
+
+“I would if I dared; but just think, if my wife heard of it she would go
+out of her mind. I don't think she'd have me in the house.” The General
+laughed.
+
+“We all have our troubles, General. Good-bye, I'm off to work.”
+
+“Lucky man to have something to do. If I had a little something--just a
+little something to bring me out, I should be perfectly happy. Then at
+eight. Good-bye.”
+
+“Half-past twelve! Half the day gone, I really must make an effort to
+get to the studio earlier. It is, as I said, useless to hope to get
+through work unless you wake up where your work is. A man doesn't get a
+chance. I wonder if I could build a bedroom out at the back? I have let
+Mount Rorke in for three hundred extra this year; he would turn rusty if
+I spent any more. I must give him a rest; besides, I don't want to have
+the workmen in again. I wish I could get ivy to grow over those walls,
+they do look precious shabby.”
+
+He looked at the tall dilapidated walls showing above the dark green of
+the elder bushes, and lingered, for it was a soft blue summer's day with
+just a breeze stirring, and the corn waved yellow, and the dim expanses
+of the Downs extended in faint lines and dim tints.
+
+When he entered his studio his colour scheme pleased him, and looking
+at the rafters he thought that the stained wood was handsome and
+appropriate. The grey carpet was soft under foot, and the lustre and
+form of a grand piano suggested Chopin and Schubert. His studio seemed
+to him a symbol of his own refinement, and being moved, perhaps, by
+the silence and the quiet of the north light, he took his violin, and
+turning from time to time to look on himself on the glass or his picture
+on the easel, he played Stradella's “Chanson d'Eglise.”
+
+Then seeing, or rather thinking he saw, how he could improve his
+landscape, he took up his palette, and in a desultory and uncertain
+fashion he painted till five o'clock. “It is no use,” he thought, “I can
+do nothing with it until I get a model, but the devil of it is, there
+are no models in Brighton--at least, I don't know where to go and look
+for one, and it is no use asking Sally or Maggie to sit. They'll sit for
+five minutes, and then say they have some work to do at home, and must
+be off. You must have a professional model, a girl you pay a shilling
+an hour--I might sling the hammock from there to here--I wonder where I
+could get a girl who would do. I can't have a girl off the street; she
+must be more or less respectable--I wonder whom I can get. That girl in
+the bar-room at the station would do.” Putting his palette away with
+a lazy gesture, he thought for a few minutes of Lizzie Baker. What had
+become of her? And why had she disappeared?
+
+It was nearly a year and a half ago now. What a jolly day up the river!
+All the beauty of the flowing water, the crowning woods and whispering
+rushes filled his mind, and yielding to the moment's emotion he took
+some verses out of an escritoire and altered several lines. Another
+abandoning the search for a suitable rhyme he turned to a portrait of
+Maggie which he had begun a few days before. She stood in a pose that
+was habitual to her--her hands linked behind her, the head leaned on one
+side, the little black eyes--but not ugly eyes--fixed in a sweet subtle
+and enquiring look. The thinness, and, indeed, the angularity of her
+figure was almost powerfully indicated with broad lines of paint and
+charcoal. It was Frank's most successful effort. He knew this, and he
+said to himself, “Not half bad, very like her, quite the character; the
+drawing is right, if I could only go on with it; if I could only model
+the face. I see very well where I shall get into trouble--that shadow
+about the neck, the jawbone, the cheekbone, and then all that rich
+colour about the eyes.” Then he thought he would walk over to the Manor
+House, and he must hasten, for it was half-past five, and tea was always
+ready in the verandah.
+
+He stayed for dinner; he talked to Mr. Brookes about painters in the
+billiard-room; he strayed through the shadows and the perfumes of leaves
+and flowers through the gentle moonlight with his arms about the girls.
+And as they walked it seemed to Frank that his life was so mingled with
+theirs that he could not think of one sister apart from the other. The
+dusk gathered; the sky became a decoration in blue and gold; the scent
+of the sea came over the embankment, filling the garden. Day followed
+day, without anything happening to stay or check the gentle tide of
+their mutual affections; neither was jealous of her sister, for their
+desires were set upon others. Frank was but an ideal, a repose, a pious
+aspiration which joined their hands and hearts leaving them free of any
+stress of passion, Maggie claiming him a little more than Sally, and
+Sally yielding her claim to her without knowing that she was yielding
+it.
+
+It is only natures that are never gross--calm and tepid livers--that are
+really incapable of ideality, of real and adequate aspiration; nature
+works by flux and reflux; and if we waive the rough temper and the
+coarse edge of passion due to youth, it will not be impossible to
+conceive another picture of these girls. Sally, good-hearted and true,
+full of sturdy, homely sense, willing to take care of a man's money, and
+make him a straightforward wife; Maggie, gentle and sinuating--always
+a little false, but always attractive, the enchantment of a man's home.
+Frank, notwithstanding his genuine admiration of all that was young and
+sweet and pure, was of poor and separating fibre, and it is clear that
+it will take all the strength of society to support him and save him
+from sinking of his own weight.
+
+One day, as he was coming through the station from the post-office, he
+met Maggie with a young man. He was introduced, and they returned to the
+Manor House to play tennis. Instead of playing they talked, and the set
+fell through, and after tea they disappeared, and Sally proposed not to
+disturb them, for they had gone, she said, to sit in the shade at the
+end of the garden. The marked mystery of the new flirtation piqued
+Frank's curiosity, and, striving to veil his question, he asked Sally
+who the young man was, and if her father knew he was coming to the Manor
+House.
+
+“He! Don't you know? That's the fellow we often speak of--the only
+fellow Maggie ever really cared for. He has just come back from America.
+He is going to begin business in London.”
+
+A sickening pain rose from his heart to his eyes, and he longed to place
+his hand on his heart.
+
+“So that is the man she is engaged to,” he said, after a pause. “I
+remember, now, you have spoken to me of him.”
+
+“She is not exactly engaged to him. Father would never hear of it; he
+hasn't a cent, and I believe he lost the little he had in America--now
+mind you must take care not to let out to father that he has been here;
+there would be the deuce of a row, and I promised Maggie not to tell any
+one; she has been nice to me lately, and I want to play fair with her if
+she will play fair with me.”
+
+“Oh, I won't tell any one; I won't even let Maggie know that I know it
+was he.”
+
+“It doesn't matter about Maggie, she will tell you herself, no doubt;
+she doesn't mind your knowing. What do you think of him? Isn't he
+nice-looking?”
+
+“I confess I should never have thought of calling him handsome--would
+you? And do you think he is quite a gentleman?”
+
+“He seems to me to be all right.”
+
+“All right, yes, but isn't there a something? You can see he is in
+trade--all the trading people look alike, at least so I think.”
+
+“But we are in trade, and I think he is quite as good as we are. But you
+seem quite put out. Would you like to take his place? I didn't know you
+were in love with Maggie.”
+
+“I don't know that I am in love with her. I like her very much; but,
+love or no love, I don't think it is right for her to walk round the
+garden alone with that fellow the whole afternoon. I don't think it is
+very polite to me, and she knows her father does not like--”
+
+“But you mustn't say anything to father; mind you have promised me.”
+
+“Oh, I shan't say anything about it.”
+
+Frank longed to get up from the tea-table and rush after Maggie. His
+heart ached to see her. He trembled lest she loved the man she was
+with, and rejoiced and took courage from the knowledge that she had not
+formally pledged herself to him. Frank was the romantic husband, not
+the lover; he found neither charm nor excitement in change; his heart
+demanded one single, avowed, and binding faith. He could take a woman
+who had sinned to his heart, and admit her to all his trust, for stolen
+kisses and illicit love were unfelt and imperfectly understood by him,
+and were considered as shadows and thin fancies, and not as facts full
+of mental consequences. He answered Sally in monosyllables, and on
+the first opportunity he pleaded letters to write, and withdrew. The
+gladness he felt that Maggie was truly not engaged to this fellow
+quickened and dominated his regret that the girls were inclined to
+behave so indiscreetly. The moment Mr. Brookes turned his back it
+began--that perpetual going and coming of men--it really wasn't right.
+Sally was a coarser nature, but Maggie! He might speak to Mr. Brookes;
+no, that wouldn't do. He might speak to Willy; but Willy didn't care--he
+was absorbed in his wife and his speculations.
+
+His little dinner at Mrs. Heald's passed in irritation and discomfort,
+and after dinner he stood at the window, his brain full of Maggie--her
+graces, her fascinating cunning, and all her picturesqueness. He knew
+nothing yet of his passion, nor did he think he could not bear to lose
+her until he went from the stuffy cottage towards his studio thinking
+of his portrait of her. He wanted to muse on the little eyes as he had
+rendered them. He saw the faults in the drawing hardly at all, and his
+pain softened and almost ceased when he took up the violin, but when he
+put it down the flow of subjective emotion ceased, and he stared on the
+concrete and realistic image of his thought--Maggie passing through the
+shade with the young stranger.
+
+Who was he? By whose authority was he there? Was he one of those men
+whose only pleasure is to tempt girls, to corrupt them? Had he thought
+of this before his duty would have been to interpose; and he saw himself
+striding down the garden and telling Maggie that he insisted on her
+coming back to the verandah to her sister. It did not matter if he had
+no right, he was prepared to answer for his conduct to her father and
+brother. Did that man look like one of those men who are always sitting
+with girls in far corners out of sight? Ah, if he were sure that he
+was one of those dastardly ruffians he would seek him out, force him to
+speak his intentions. If a girl's father and brother will not look after
+her, a friend must say “I will.” Yes, he would have to thrash him, kill
+him, if it were necessary. She might hate him for it at first, but in
+the end she would recognise him as her saviour.
+
+It was too late now, the man was in Brighton. To-morrow? Elated with
+what he deemed “duty,” with what he deemed “for the sake of the girl,”
+ he strode about, thinking of “the ruffian”; no thought came to him of
+how much of the sin, if sin there was, had originated in Maggie; he saw
+her merely as a poor little thing, led like a lamb. Following the idea
+of saving came the idea of possession. When she clung to the husband she
+would tremble at the danger she had escaped. Their home, their
+table, their fireside; protection from evil, now all wild winds
+might rage--they would be safe. The vision was constitutional and
+characteristic of his soul. He was out of thought of all but himself,
+his dream evolved in pure idea, removed from and independent of all
+limitations--out of concern of the world's favour--Mount Rorke, Mr.
+Brookes, or even the girl's grace. As this temper passed, as reality
+again interposed, and as he saw the garden with Maggie leaving him for
+another, he viewed her conduct suddenly in relation to himself. What
+did she mean by treating him so, and for whom? One day he would be Lord
+Mount Rorke! The Brookes knew nobody. He had only met a lot of cads at
+their house; they did not know any one but cads. The Brookes were cads!
+The father was a vulgar old City man, who talked about money and bought
+ridiculous pictures. The girls, too, were vulgar and coarse. God only
+knew how many lovers they had not had. Willy was the best of the bunch,
+but he was a fool. His miserliness and his vegetable shop--hateful! The
+whole place was hateful; he wished he had never come there; since he had
+been there he had never been treated even as a gentleman. The Brookes
+had treated him shamefully.
+
+The skeleton of Frank's soul is easy to trace in this mental crisis--his
+quixotism, his wish to sally forth and save women, his yearning for
+a pretty little wife, who would sit on his knee and kiss him, saying,
+“Poor old boy, you are tired now;” therefore an emotional and distorted
+apprehension of things, a tendency to think himself a wronged and
+persecuted person, and under much bravado and swagger the cringe that is
+so inveterate in the Celt.
+
+Next morning he thought of her lightly, without bitterness and almost
+without desire; but after breakfast his heart began to ache again. He
+strove to read, he went to his studio, he went to Brighton; but he saw
+Maggie in all things. She was with him--a sort of vague pain that kept
+him strangely conscious of life.
+
+Once convinced he was a lover he became the man with a mission; his
+heart swelled with mysterious promptings, and felt the spur of duty. No
+longer was delay admissible. A day, an hour might involve the loss
+of all. Should he go round to the Manor House and tell Maggie of the
+message he had received to love her and save her? She would now be
+watering her flowers in the green-houses. But that other fellow might
+be there--he had heard something about an appointment. No, he had better
+write. If he wrote at once, absolutely at once, he would be in time for
+the six o'clock delivery. Snatching a sheet of paper he wrote:--
+
+“DEAREST MAGGIE,--I have loved you a long while, I remember many things
+that make me think that I have always loved you; but to-day I have
+learnt that you are the one great and absorbing influence--that without
+you my life would be stupid and meaningless, whereas with you it shall
+be a joy, an achievement.
+
+“I have frittered away much time; my efforts in painting and poetry
+have been lacking in strength and persistency. I have vacillated and
+wandered, and I did not know why; but now I know why--because you were
+not by me to encourage me, to help me by your presence and beauty. I
+will not speak of the position I offer you--I know it is unworthy of
+you. I would like to give you a throne; but, alas, I can but promise you
+a coronet.”
+
+His hand stopped and he raised his eyes from the paper. He recollected
+the day he saw her a child, the day they went blackberrying over the
+hills. He saw her again, she was older and prettier, and she wore a
+tailor-cut cloth dress. How pretty she looked that day, and also
+when she wore that summer dress, those blue ribbons. All the colour,
+innocence, and mirth of his childhood came upon him sweetly, like an
+odour that passes and recalls. He sighed, and he murmured, “She is mine
+by right, all this could not have been if she were not for me.” Ah! how
+he longed to sit with her, even at her feet, and tell her how his life
+would be but worship of her. He regretted that he was not poor, for to
+unite himself more closely to her he would have liked to win her clothes
+and food by his labour; and hearing himself speaking of love and seeing
+her as a maiden with the May time about her, his dreams drifted until
+the ticking of the clock forced him to remember that he could tell her
+nothing now of all his romance, so with pain and despair at heart he
+wrote,
+
+“Never before did I so ardently feel the necessity of seeing you, of
+sharing my soul with you, and yet now is the moment when I say, I must
+end. But let this end be the beginning of our life of love, devotion,
+and trust. I will come to-night to see you; I will not go into the
+billiard-room, but will walk straight to the drawing-room. Do be there.
+Dearest Maggie, I am yours and yours only.”
+
+He seized his hat and rushed to the post. He was in time, and now
+that the step had been taken, he walked back looking more than usually
+handsome and tall, pleased to see the children run out of school and
+roll on the grass, pleased to linger with the General.
+
+“Where are you going, sir?” said the old man.
+
+“I'm going to my studio to play the fiddle. Will you come? I'll give you
+a glass of sherry, and--”
+
+“Never touch anything, except at meals. I used to when I was as young as
+you, but not now. But I will go and hear a little music.”
+
+Glad to have a companion, Frank took out the violin, and he played all
+the melodies he knew; and his mind ran chiefly on Schubert and Gounod.
+The “Soir,” the “Printemps,” and “La Chanson du Printemps” carried his
+soul away, nor could he forbear to sing when he came to the phrase, “La
+Neige des Pommiers.” When musical emotion ran dry he tried painting, but
+with poor result. During dinner he grew fevered and eager to see Maggie,
+and mad to tell her that he loved her, and could love none but her. At
+half-past eight the torture of suspense was more than he could endure,
+and he decided that he would go to the Manor House. He passed round the
+block of cottages, and got into the path that between the palings led
+through the meadows. It was a soft summer evening--moonlight and sunset
+played in gentle antagonism, and in a garden hat he saw Maggie coming
+towards him. He noticed the pink shawl about her shoulders, and the
+thought struck him, “had she come to ask him to elope.” She stopped, and
+she hesitated as if she were going to turn back again.
+
+“Oh, I am so sorry,” she said, speaking with difficulty, “but I wanted
+you to get this before nine.”
+
+“Never mind, darling,” he answered, smiling; “you can tell me all about
+it--it will be sweeter to hear you talk. Which way shall we go?”
+
+“I really don't think I can now; father doesn't know I am out. This
+letter will--”
+
+“No, no; I cannot bear to part with you. How pretty you look in that
+hat! Come.”
+
+“No, Frank, I cannot now, and you had better leave me. I cannot walk
+with you to-night. Read this letter.”
+
+“Then am I--is it really so?” said Frank, growing suddenly pale. “You
+will not have me?”
+
+“You must read this letter, it will tell you all. I am truly sorry, but
+I did not know you cared for me--at least not like that. I don't think
+I could, I really don't. But I don't know what I am saying. How
+unfortunate it was meeting you. I but thought to run round and leave the
+letter, it would have explained all better than I could. We have known
+you so long. You will forgive me?”
+
+She stood with the letter in her hand. He snatched it a little
+theatrically and tore it open. She watched, striving to read the
+effect of her words in his face. They dealt in regrets. There was
+an exasperating allusion to engaged affections. There was a long and
+neatly-worded conclusion suggesting friendship. She had taken a great
+deal of trouble with the composition, and was very fearful as to the
+result. She felt she could not marry him--at least, not just at present,
+she didn't know why. Altogether Frank's proposal had puzzled and
+distressed her. She felt she must see her flirtation out with Charlie,
+but at the same time she did not want to utterly lose Frank, or worse
+still, perhaps, to hand him over to Sally. She was determined that Sally
+should not be Lady Mount Rorke, and she thrilled a little when she saw
+he would not give her up easily, and her heart sank when she thought
+of the difficulty of continuing her intrigue without prejudicing her
+future. If Frank would only leave Southwick for a little while.
+
+“Is this all? The meaning is clear enough; it means that you love the
+man I saw yesterday at the Manor House. But he shall not have you; I
+will save you from him. Listen to me--I swear he shall not have you;
+I will strive to outwit him by every means in my power. If I don't get
+you, none shall. I will shoot the man rather than he should get you.”
+
+“O Frank, you wouldn't commit murder!”
+
+“I would, for you; but it will not be necessary. I can challenge him to
+fight a duel, and if he is cowardly enough to refuse, I will horsewhip
+him before your face, and I don't suppose you will marry him after
+that.”
+
+Maggie struggled with feelings of laughter, fear, and delight; delight
+overpowered laughter, for Frank was young and handsome, and full of what
+he said. It was quite romantic to be talked to like that. She would like
+to see the men threaten each other. But then--the scandal--father might
+never get over it. And if he married again? Speaking slowly, and in an
+undertone so as not to betray herself, she said: “O Frank, I'm sure you
+would not do anything that would injure me.”
+
+“My darling, I love you better than the whole world. My whole life, if
+you will, shall be spent in striving to make you happy.”
+
+“You are very good.” She took his hand and squeezed it; he returned the
+pressure with rapturous look and motion. She drew from him a little, for
+there were some people coming towards them, and she said: “Take care.”
+ When the fisher folk had passed, she looked at him stealthily. She had
+always liked him in that necktie, and those cloth shoes were perfect.
+Had she never known Charlie, or if she had not gone so far with
+him!--There was something in Frank that was very nice--she could like
+the two. What a pity the two were not one! “If he were always as nice
+as he is now, and not lecture me!” Then she remembered she must return
+home. “I must really go home; I can't go any farther--”
+
+“No, no, I cannot leave you. I must see and hear you now. If you knew
+what I have endured waiting for you, you would not be so cruel. Come and
+let us sit on the beach.”
+
+“I couldn't. I must go back; father will miss me. Besides, what have
+we to say? If I were only free and could tell you that I loved you, it
+would be different.”
+
+“Free! then you regret; if a woman wills it she can always free
+herself.”
+
+“No, it is harder than you think for a girl to get out of an engagement
+she has entered into, even if no absolute promise has been given.”
+
+“What do you mean? If you have entered into no formal engagement you are
+surely free.”
+
+“I don't know. Do you think so? I am afraid men think that a promise may
+be broken after marriage as well as before.”
+
+“You are wrong. Women who are jealous, who are old, tell girls that men
+are always unfaithful, but I'm sure that if I loved a girl I could never
+think of another. Do you really think I could think of any girl but
+you?”
+
+“I don't know. I wonder if all you say is true.”
+
+“Do you think me different from other men?”
+
+“Yes, but I cannot go on the beach; some other evening I will walk there
+with you.”
+
+“No, now, now--I want to tell you how and when I began to love. Do you
+remember when I used to spend part of my holidays at the Manor House
+when I was only so high, and you were all in short frocks? Come, there
+is much I want to say to you; I cannot part with you. Come, and let us
+sit on the shingle. Oh, the beautiful evening!”
+
+She could love him a little when she looked at him, but when he talked
+she lost interest in him. She had allowed him to take her hand, he had
+bent towards her, and she had let him kiss her; and then they talked of
+love--she of its bitterness and disappointments; he of its aspirations,
+and gradually their souls approached like shadows in the twilight,
+paused for a few vague moments, seemed as if lost in dreams.
+
+“I shall never forget this night! O my love, tell me one day you will be
+mine!”
+
+“I cannot promise, you must not ask me.”
+
+“We are meant for each other. It was not blind fate that cast us
+together. Does no voice tell you this? I hear it in my heart.”
+
+The abandonment, the mystery of the gathering dusk, touched Maggie's
+fancy. They were alone in the twilight, and it was full of the romance
+of a rising tide.
+
+“Never did I know such happiness; I am supremely happy, alone with you
+beneath this sky, listening to the vague, wild voice of the sea. It
+would be bitter sweet to die in such a triumphant hour. Supposing wewere
+to lie here and allow the sea to take us away.”
+
+“No, I don't want to die. I want to live and enjoy my life.”
+
+The answer fell a little chillingly on Frank's rapture. Then after
+a pause, Maggie said: “I think I have read of that somewhere--in
+anovel--lovers caught by the tide.”
+
+“Yes, I daresay you have. I was thinking of two lovers who were so
+overcome with happiness that they decided that they would not trust
+themselves again to the waves and storms of life, but would let the
+calm, slow tide of death take them away with all their happiness
+unassoiled.”
+
+Maggie did not answer. The double fear had come upon her--first,
+that the tide might rise higher than usual and cut off their retreat.
+Secondly, that Frank--he was a poet--might insist on remaining there and
+being drowned. Getting up, she said: “I do not know what father will say
+when I get home, really it is quite dark. Come, Frank.”
+
+“Death is better than a life of abomination--loss of innocence, and of
+delight in simple things. I ask you,” he said, stopping her suddenly.
+
+“Yes, no doubt it is so; but I want to get home. Do go on, Frank.”
+
+“I will save you from a life of abomination--in other words I will save
+you from him; he shall not get you. I have sworn it; you did notknow
+that when you were lying down on the beach--you had ceased speaking, and
+in the silence my life seemed stirred to its very essence; and I knew
+that I must struggle against him, and conquer. I want to know this:
+Have you ever thought of what your life would be with him? Have you ever
+thought what he is?”
+
+“But you don't know him, Frank. You have never spoken to him. I am sure
+you misjudge him.”
+
+“Do you think I cannot see what he is? He is one of those men whose one
+ambition is to make themselves friendly in a house where there are women
+to wheedle. If the wife is young he will strive to wheedle her,
+and though he may not succeed he must degrade her. Or, if she have
+daughters, he will never cease to appeal to, to work upon, to excite
+latent feelings which, had it not been for him, would never have been
+developed into base and abnormal desire. I know what the foul-minded
+beast is. Such men as he ought to be killed; we don't want them in our
+society. I want to save you, I want to give you a noble, a pure life,
+full of the charms of a husband's influence, a home where there would be
+love of natural things. You are capable of all this, Maggie, your nature
+is a pure one, but your life is unwholesome and devoid of purity.”
+
+“Frank, how can you speak so? You have no right to say such things about
+us. I am sure you have always been well treated--”
+
+“You do not understand me, I will explain what I mean. Your life is rich
+and luxurious, but you are not happy, no one is happy in idleness; above
+all no woman is happy without love. A woman's mission in life is to
+love, she must have her home, her husband, and her children. These are
+the things that make a woman happy; and these are the things I want to
+give you--that I will give you; for, listen to me, I swear you shall not
+have that adventurer. He would degrade you with pleasure at first, and
+afterwards with neglect. You are too good for this, Maggie--it must
+not be, it shall not be. As I said before, death would be better.” They
+stood in front of the canal locks and Maggie looked with a beating heart
+on the deep water that a ray from a crescent moon faintly indicated.
+“A woman is helpless until she finds her lord, he who shall save, the
+saviour who shall bring her home safe to the fold. He exists! and all
+are in danger till they find him. Some miss him--they wander into misery
+and ruin; those that find him are led to happiness and content. I
+am yours. I would tell you how I became convinced that I am the one
+appointed by God to lead you to Him.”
+
+“I thought you didn't believe in God.”
+
+“Not as we have been taught to understand Him but I believe in a
+presiding power--call it luck, fate, or destiny that--that exists and
+wills; that is to say, watches over--rules out that this man is for that
+woman, and ordains that he shall protect her from danger, shall save her
+from those that seek her destruction. Much has happened to prove that I
+was intended for you. We have known each other since we were children.
+Do you not remember when I kissed you in the verandah as I was going to
+school? I was the first man who kissed you; you were the first woman who
+kissed me--have you never felt that we were for each other? Nor can I
+forget that when I thought we had drifted for ever apart, that I was
+brought back. Do you think it was accident--blind chance? I don't. Now
+I see this man striving to win you, and whether it be for your money,
+whether it be for yourself, or for both, it is my duty to say: No, this
+must not be.”
+
+“I think you are mistaken about Charlie. I admit that a man is often
+a better judge than a girl; and as for you, Frank, I am sure I am very
+fond of you. It is very good of you to take such interest in me--but we
+must get home. I don't know what father will think.”
+
+“No, before you go a step further you must promise me not to see that
+man again. I cannot tell you how, but I know no good can come of it. He
+is one of those creatures who cannot love, and only care for women for
+the excitement they afford. I know what sort of brute he is. It is more
+depraving to walk alone with him, than to be the mistress of a man who
+loved you.”
+
+“He is leaving Brighton in a few days.”
+
+“So much the better for all of us. But you must promise me. I would
+sooner see you lying drowned in that lock than his wife.”
+
+Maggie trembled. It was ridiculous to think of such a thing. Surely he
+did not mean to drown her if she refused to promise. Charlie was going
+to London in a few days; he would be away for three or four months.
+Heaven only knows what would happen in that time. She didn't see what
+right Frank had to bully her--to extort promises from her by night on
+the edge of a dangerous lock. But a promise wasn't much, and a promise
+given in such circumstances was not a promise at all.
+
+“If you are really in earnest--if you think it is for my good, I'll
+promise you not to see him again.”
+
+“O Maggie, if you only knew what a load of trouble you have taken off
+my mind! Thank you--give me your hand, and let me thank you. I know I am
+right. And now, tell me, can you love me? Will you marry me?”
+
+“I will promise nothing more to-night; we shall see how you behave
+yourself,” the girl replied winningly. “And now go on, sir, we have been
+here quite long enough.”
+
+He crossed the gate mechanically, she followed eagerly, and when she
+reached the other side her heart beat with pride at her pretty triumph.
+Now I'll twit him, she thought, as they ascended the shore and entered
+the town.
+
+“I wonder why you think Charlie so wicked; I think if you knew him you
+would change your opinion.”
+
+“I am very thankful indeed that I do not know him.”
+
+The conversation dropped, but a moment after he gave her the chance she
+wanted.
+
+“Mind you have promised me not to see him again. I trust you.”
+
+“But suppose he calls and if I should be in the drawing-room, I cannot
+walk out of the room without speaking to him.”
+
+“I think you had better write and say you do not wish to see him.”
+
+“I couldn't do that; we have known him a long time, and father has
+always said that we must be rude to no one. Besides, what reason could I
+give?”
+
+“You need not give a reason. But let that pass. I can't see why you
+should meet; you can surely tell your servant to say 'Not at home,' when
+he calls.”
+
+“I might be in the garden--Sally would not allow it. If John said 'Not
+at home,' she would run down and let him in.”
+
+“I see you are raising difficulties--I see you do not intend to keep
+your promise.”
+
+“You have been quite rude enough for one evening. You have kept me out
+on the beach by force till nearly ten o'clock at night, and you said
+that my life at the Manor House was not a pure one--I don't know what
+you mean. No man ever spoke to me like that before.”
+
+“You misunderstood me. If you knew how I loved you, you would not twit
+me with my own words. Heaven knows I would sooner go back and drown
+myself in the lock than do anything or say anything that would offend
+you. Remember also that I asked you to be my wife.”
+
+“You are not the first. I daresay it may appear strange to you, but
+others have asked me the same question before.”
+
+“It does not seem strange to me, it only seems strange to me that every
+one doesn't love you, but I daresay they do. O Maggie, remember that you
+gave me hope, you said that you might--”
+
+“Did I? Well, it's too late to talk any more. Goodnight. I suppose
+you're not coming in?”
+
+She left him in a cruel dispersal of hope. He avoided, and then he
+tenderly solicited a regret that he had not thrown her into the lock. To
+end on that hour by the sea would have been better than the trivial and
+wretched conclusion of a broken promise, and everything, even murder,
+were better than that a brute should have her woman's innocence to sully
+and destroy. His love of the woman disappeared in his desire to save,
+the idea which she represented at that moment; and lost in sentiment
+he stood watching the white sickle of the moon over against the dim
+village. The leaves of some pollarded willows whitened when the breeze
+shot them up to the light, and a moment after became quite distinct in
+the glare and the steam of an approaching engine. He might go and tell
+Willy all about it; he would ask him to interfere-could he catch that
+train? If he ran for it, yes. He ran full tilt across the green under
+the archway up the high stone steps. He just did it.
+
+It was the last train; he would sleep in Brighton. His plan, so far as
+he had a definite plan, was to ask Willy to come with him and tell “that
+brute” that his visits to the Manor House must end, and request him to
+pay his sister no further attentions. His other plans were--Willy must
+speak to Maggie and tell her all he knew of the man; Willy must speak to
+his father; Mr. Brookes must not be kept in ignorance. But of course
+the right thing to do would be for Willy and him to call at the brute's
+hotel, tell him what they thought, and give him a licking. The train
+jogged on, and Frank made plan after plan. It was now past eleven, and
+he would not be at East Street before twelve o'clock. As he hurried
+along the streets he doubted more than ever how Willy would receive him.
+He might just as well have waited till morning. However, it was too late
+now to think of going back, there was no train, and he rapped at first
+timidly and then noisily at the shop door. He had to wait some time, and
+then he heard a voice asking from the top windows who was there.
+
+“'Tis I, Frank; awfully sorry, but must see you--particular business.”
+
+There was no answer; he heard the voice grumbling, and more than ever
+doubtful of the cordiality of his reception, he listened. The door
+opened.
+
+“Who is it?” he said.
+
+“'Tis I, Cissy; but I'm in my nightdress.”
+
+“I won't look at you, Cissy, if that's what you mean. But won't yougive
+me a kiss?”
+
+“Stoop down, then.”
+
+“I am sorry for waking you up, Cissy.”
+
+“Never mind, I'd get up at any hour to see you.”
+
+“There, run upstairs, and take care you don't catch cold, or I shall
+never hear the end of it.”
+
+“Father is in bed with mother. He says you are to go up, for if he were
+to get out of bed it might give him cold. You know his room?”
+
+“Yes, here it is, now run along.”
+
+“Come in.”
+
+Frank was a little shocked, and he waited stupidly on the threshold. He
+could see a fragment of Mrs. Brookes's profile, and beneath the clothes
+the outline of Willy's bony body.
+
+“Come in, come in,” he said, “don't stand there filling the room with
+cold air. Now, what is it? Why the deuce do you come here waking us up
+at this ungodly hour? What has happened?”
+
+“I have proposed to your sister Maggie.”
+
+“I am sure I am delighted to hear it, old chap; but I can't help
+thinking that I could have congratulated you equally as well, if not
+better, in the morning.” Then, noticing the distressed look in Frank's
+face, he said: “I hope she has not refused you.”
+
+“No; she asked me to wait, she said it would depend--”
+
+“Then you may depend it is all right; now go away and let me go to
+sleep, we'll talk about it in the morning. You can't get back to-night.
+You are sleeping in Brighton, I suppose? You'll come and breakfast
+here?”
+
+“Yes, with pleasure, but it wasn't exactly to tell that I had proposed
+to Maggie that I came here to-night; there is something more than that.
+You know that fellow she calls Charlie? I don't know his other name.”
+
+“Stracey?”
+
+“I dare say. I mean the man you said you hated more than any man alive;
+I hate him, too.”
+
+“You don't mean to say she is still thinking of that fellow. Has he come
+back?”
+
+“He was at the Manor House all day yesterday.”
+
+“If she marries that fellow I'll never speak to her again, it will be
+dead cuts.”
+
+“It is only natural that I should love Maggie. You remember the first
+day I came down to the Manor House? How young I was then--how young we
+all were; there are no days like the old days! There is a beautiful poem
+by Wordsworth; I only remember one line now--
+
+    “'When every day was long
+       As twenty days are now'--
+
+Do you remember the poem?” Willy did not answer, and noticing that his
+eyes were blinking, Frank hastily returned to more recent events.” I
+wrote to her this afternoon telling her how much I loved her, and I said
+that I would call about nine in the evening at the Manor House, and
+that I hoped to find her in the drawing-room where we could talk without
+being disturbed. However, I was too excited, and could not hold out till
+nine; I thought I had better hear my fate at once, and as I was walking
+across the field--you know, at the back of Mrs. Heald's--I met her half
+way. She had a letter in her hand, which she said she was going to leave
+at Mrs. Heald's for me--She admitted that the letter was in point of
+fact a refusal, and when I questioned her she admitted that she was
+obliged to refuse me because she had half promised Charlie. We went for
+a walk on the beach; we sat on the beach and watched the sunset, and
+I told her all. I spoke to her about the past, how we had grown up
+together--how we had been, as it were, from the first fated for each
+other; for you must admit, Willy, that it is very curious--I don't know
+if you ever think of it, but I do--how we have met again even when the
+chances of life seemed to have put us for ever apart. “Here a slight
+sound warned Frank that the present moment was one as equally unfitted
+for psychological analysis as for poetry, and he hurried to his story,
+hoping that the incident of the lock would secure him attention. “Willy,
+I think I convinced her that I liked her better than that other fellow.
+We were standing by the lock--Willy, I really do think you might
+listen.”
+
+“My dear fellow, I am listening. You were both looking at the sunset.”
+
+“It really is too bad. Of course, if you don't want to hear, and would
+prefer to go to sleep, you have only to say so.”
+
+“My dear fellow, I assure you I wasn't asleep. I only closed my
+eyes because I can't bear the glare of that candle. I know where you
+were--you were looking at the sunset.”
+
+“No, we weren't.”
+
+“Weren't they, Jessie? Are you asleep?”
+
+“No, I am not asleep. Do hold your tongue, Willy, I want to hear the
+story. You were standing by the lock, Mr. Escott.”
+
+“Ah, yes, so they were.”
+
+“I felt it was my duty, so I told her that I felt it was my mission to
+save--to save her from that man, and I made her promise me not to see
+him again.”
+
+“Then it is all right. Nobody can be more glad than I am. I hate the
+fellow.”
+
+“She will not keep her promise. Of course she may only have done it to
+tease me; but as we were going home she said she could not walk out of
+the room if she happened to be there when he called, nor could she leave
+word with the servants to say that they were not at home. She made a lot
+of excuses. What are you laughing at, Mrs. Brookes?”
+
+“I am really very sorry, Mr. Escott, but I couldn't help wondering if
+she would change her mind again if you were to go back to the lock.”
+
+Frank took up the candle and turned to go.
+
+“Don't go,” Willy murmured faintly.
+
+“I am very sorry, Mr. Escott--if circumstances permitted, I would do all
+I could to help you.”
+
+This was delicate ground, and Willy woke up.
+
+“What do you want me to do? Have you anything to suggest?”
+
+“Yes, it struck me that we might both go round to the fellow's
+hotel--Stracey, you call him, I think--and you might tell him that his
+visits must cease at the Manor House, and that he must not speak to your
+sister if he should happen to meet her. That should bring the matter
+to an end. He is in Brighton--he is staying at the 'Grand.' We might go
+round there to-morrow morning.”
+
+“He might kick us out.”
+
+“I only hope he may try. I would give him such a hammering. But you need
+not be afraid of that. It wouldn't do to have Maggie's name mentioned in
+connection with a vulgar brawl--people are not too charitable. My idea
+is that this business should be conducted in the quietest and most
+gentlemanly manner possible.”
+
+“I think I had better speak to father first.”
+
+“No necessity; he will be only too glad to get rid of the penniless
+brute. Don't you think so, Mrs. Brookes?”
+
+“I do.”
+
+They then spoke of other things--of the shop, the profit they had
+made on tomatoes, and the losses that had resulted from over-stocking
+themselves with flour. At last a loud snore brought the conversation to
+a full stop, and Frank hurriedly bade them good-night.
+
+“Cissy will let you out,” said Willy, with a sigh of relief.
+
+The little girl had pulled on her stockings and tied a petticoat round
+her waist. “So you are going to be married.”
+
+“O Cissy, you have been listening!”
+
+“Is she very nice? She must be very nice for you to marry her. I should
+like to marry you.”
+
+“Would you, Cissy, and why?”
+
+“Oh, because you are so very handsome. But you will come and see us all
+the same, and let me sit on your knee?”
+
+“Of course I will, Cissy, and now good-night.”
+
+Next morning Willy declared himself ready to go and see Mr. Charles
+Stracey, and to tell him that he was not to call any more at the Manor
+House, or speak to Miss Brookes if he should happen to meet her. Frank
+wondered if this decision was owing to Mrs. Brookes's influence.
+
+“I slept last night at the 'Grand' It seemed odd sleeping in the same
+house--perhaps within a few doors of him. If you only knew how I love
+her, if I could only tell you, you would pity me. You ought to know what
+I feel--the anxiety, the heart-ache. I know you have gone through it
+all.”
+
+“Yes, I think I know what it is,” Willy replied thoughtfully.
+
+“Mr. Stracey is staying here?”
+
+“Will you enquire at the office, sir?”
+
+While the books were being searched the young men consulted together.
+Frank said: “Send up your card, and say you will be glad to speak to
+him on a matter of importance. Of course he will see you, but before you
+speak about Maggie you must apologise for my presence; you must say that
+I am a very particular friend, and that you thought it better that the
+interview should take place in the presence of a witness.”
+
+“I wish it were all over. I wouldn't do what I am doing for any one
+else, I can tell you, Frank.”
+
+“Mr. Stracey is in the hotel, sir.”
+
+“Will you give him my card, and say I should be glad to speak to him on
+a matter of importance?”
+
+“Very good, sir.”
+
+(In an undertone to Frank), “Was that right?”
+
+“Quite right.”
+
+“Oh, one thing I had forgotten to ask you--am I to shake hands with
+him?”
+
+“You mean if he offers you his hand?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“It is impossible to settle everything beforehand. One must act
+according as the occasion requires.”
+
+“That's all very well for you, but I am a slow man, and am lost if I
+don't arrange beforehand.”
+
+“Pretend not to see his hand, and apologise for my presence; he will
+then see that we mean business.”
+
+“The waiting is the worst part.”
+
+“Will you walk this way, sir?” said the page boy. “Mr. Stracey is not
+out of bed yet, but he said if you wouldn't mind, sir.”
+
+They shrank from their enterprise instinctively, but the door was thrown
+open, and they saw a bath, and a sponge, and a towel, and Mr. Stracey
+lying on his back reading _The Sporting Times_. He extended a long
+brawny arm. The strength of the arm fixed itself on Willy's mind, and he
+doubted if he had not better take the proffered hand.
+
+“I brought my friend Mr. Escott with me, for I thought a witness--I
+mean, that this interview should be conducted in the presence of a third
+party.”
+
+At this speech Charlie opened his eyes and dropped his paper. Willy
+leaned over the rail of the bed; Frank looked into the bath, but
+remembering himself suddenly, he examined the chest of drawers.
+
+“I have come to speak to you about my sister.”
+
+Charlie changed countenance, and both men noticed the change.
+
+“I mean to say I have come to tell you that you must discontinue your
+visits to the Manor House, and I must beg of you not to address my
+sisters should you meet them.”
+
+“May I ask if you are your father's representative, if you speak with
+his authority?”
+
+“I do not. I--”
+
+“Then I should like to know on what authority you forbid me a house that
+doesn't belong to you, and I should like to know, if your father doesn't
+disapprove of my knowing your sisters, why you should? I shall speak to
+Miss Brookes as long as she cares to speak to me. The very idea of a man
+like you coming here to bully me! You have got my answer.”
+
+“If, after this warning,” said Frank, who, seeing that things were
+going against them, thought he had better interfere, “you speak to Miss
+Brookes, you will do so at your peril.”
+
+“Peril! What do you mean?”
+
+“I mean that you must be prepared to take the consequences.”
+
+“Who are you? I should like to know what you have to do in this matter?”
+
+“I speak as Miss Brookes's future husband.”
+
+“Future husband be damned! She'll never marry you,” said Charlie,
+springing out of bed.
+
+Frank threw himself on his guard, and they would have struck each other
+if Willy had not cried out: “Frank, remember you promised me there must
+be no scandal.”
+
+“I had almost forgotten. For Miss Brookes's sake, I refrain. Do you
+also, for her sake, cease to provoke me.”
+
+Charlie hesitated for a moment, then rushing to the door, he said: “I,
+too, for Miss Brookes's sake, refrain, and I give you three seconds to
+clear out.”
+
+In attempting to carry out the injunction Willy nearly fell in the bath.
+Frank had to bite his lip to avoid a smile, and he stalked out of the
+room assuming his most arrogant air.
+
+“I think, on the whole, we got the best of it,” he said as they went
+down stairs.
+
+“Do you? He turned us out of his room!”
+
+“That's the worst of tackling a man in his own room--if he tells you to
+go, and you don't go, he can ring for the servants.”
+
+“I was as nearly as possible going into the bath.”
+
+“Yes, a touch more and down you'd have gone.” Frank laughed, and Willy
+laughed, “and that fellow in his nightshirt fishing you out!”
+
+“Oh, don't, don't--”
+
+Frank asked Willy to lunch with him at Mutton's, and he ordered a bottle
+of champagne in honour of the day.
+
+“I say, just fancy pulling you out of the bath, and wiping you with a
+towel. I can see you dripping!”
+
+“Don't set me off again. Let me enjoy my cutlets.”
+
+“By Jove! there's something I hadn't thought of.”
+
+“What's that?”
+
+“We must be off. We must tell Maggie what has happened before he has
+time to communicate with her. What is the next train to Southwick?”
+
+“There's one at half-past one.”
+
+“It was after twelve when we saw him, he won't have time to catch that.
+We must be off. Waiter, the bill, and be quick. Look sharp, Willy,
+finish the bottle, pity to waste it.”
+
+“What a nuisance women are, to be sure. Just as I was enjoying my
+cutlet! I can't walk fast in this weather, I should make myself ill.”
+
+“We must take a cab.”
+
+“What a fellow you are, you never think of the expense. I don't know
+where I should be if I were as reckless as you are.”
+
+“Supposing he were at the station. It would be rather a sell if we went
+down by the same train! What should we do? He would surely never attempt
+to force his way in!”
+
+“I don't think he would attempt that. If he did, we should have to send
+for the police.”
+
+The young men strove to decide how the news should be broken to Maggie.
+But they had arranged nothing before they arrived at Southwick, and
+Frank stopped Willy time after time by the footpath, until at last in
+despair the latter said: “We must make haste; there's another train in
+twenty minutes.”
+
+“By Jove! I had not thought of that; we must get on. Well, then, it is
+all arranged. You must tell her that you thought it your duty. Put
+it all down to duty, and it was your duty to do what you did--putting
+entirely out of the question the service you did me.”
+
+“I can tell you what, Frank, I am very sorry I ever meddled in the
+matter. Had I known the vexation and annoyance it would have caused--and
+mark my words, and see if they don't come true, we are only commencing
+the annoyances that the affair will cause us. Ah, had I only foreseen!
+What a fool I was; I ought to have known better; I have had nothing but
+bad luck all my life. It is perfectly wonderful the bad luck I have had;
+no matter what I did, nothing seemed to go right. I dare say if you had
+gone to see that fellow without me it would have turned out differently.
+But I don't see how I am to tell my sister point blank that I have
+forbidden him the house. What will she say? She may fly at me. Women
+have queer tempers, particularly when you interfere with their young
+men. My sisters have the very worst of tempers; you don't know them as I
+do. Fortunately it is not Sally. I assure you I wouldn't face Sally with
+such news for all the money you could give me.”
+
+“I am very sorry, old chap, but we must now go through it. You must
+forbid her to communicate with him.”
+
+“She won't heed what I say. It will only excite her. She will fly at me,
+and call me names, and burst into tears. I should not be surprised if
+she went off her head--she has been very strange once before. I don't
+mean to say she was ever wrong in her head, but she is a nervous,
+excitable girl--most excitable; my sisters are the most excitable girls
+I have ever known.”
+
+It was surprisingly soon over. Willy had not spoken a dozen words, when
+he was interrupted.
+
+“You mean to say you have been to call on him?”
+
+“Yes; and we told him he was never to speak to you again.”
+
+
+Frank expected her eyes to flash fire, but he only noticed a slight
+change in her face, a movement of the muscles of the lower jaw.
+
+“Then I will speak to neither of you again!” and she walked out of the
+room, and in dismay they listened to her going upstairs.
+
+“She didn't fly at me,” said Willy; and, looking a little terrified, he
+stroked his moustache softly. “I told you she would give no heed to what
+we said; nor do I see how we can prevent her seeing that fellow if she
+chooses. He cannot come into the house, it is true, but she can go out
+when she pleases.”
+
+“We must follow her.”
+
+Conscious of defeat, Willy desired compromise. He could not be
+induced to take a share of watching and following which Frank declared
+essential; and, dreading an encounter with Stracey, whose brawny arm it
+was impossible to forget, he shut himself up in the shop, and devoted
+himself to drawing up a most elaborate balance-sheet, showing how he
+would stand if he were obliged to close the business to-morrow, whereas
+Frank loitered about the roads, till Mrs. Horlock came along with her
+dogs, and engaged him in conversation; and no matter at what corner he
+stationed himself, he found he was not free from observation. A few days
+after he could not bring himself to return to his post, and contented
+himself with looking out of his window, and taking an occasional stroll
+by the embankment, when he saw a train signalled.
+
+A great weight seemed lifted from his shoulder the day he heard that
+his rival's holiday had come to an end, and that he had been forced to
+return to his counting-house in London. True it is that Mr. Brookes
+had in a certain measure approved of Willy's action in forbidding young
+Stracey the Manor House, and therefore of his, Frank Escott's, suit,
+but neither of these gains compensated him for the crowning loss of not
+being able to see his beloved, for although the Manor House was still
+theoretically open to him, practically it was closed. The sisters,
+although at variance on all subjects, had united in condemning him and
+Willy, and during one dinner, the misery of which he declared he could
+never forget, they had sat whispering together, refusing to address him
+either by look or word. Willy took all this calmly. It is an ill wind
+that blows no good, and the silence enabled him to thoroughly masticate
+his food. Mr. Brookes wept a little and laughed a little, and reminded
+them of the oblivion that awaited all their little quarrels.
+
+All this, like much else in life, was ridiculous enough; but because
+we are ridiculous, it does not follow that we do not suffer, and Frank
+suffered. He was five-and-twenty, and light love had him fairly by the
+throat; he winced, and he cried out, but very soon his dignity gave way,
+and he craved forgiveness. But Maggie passed without heeding him. For
+more than a week she resisted all his appeals, and it was not until she
+saw that she was taking the neighbourhood into her confidence, and to
+feel that if she did not relent a little he might leave Southwick, and
+not return, she answered him with a monosyllable. With what bliss did he
+hear that first “no,” and how passionately he pleaded for a few words;
+it did not seem to matter what they were, so long as he heard her speak
+one whole sentence to him. Feeling her power, she was shy of yielding,
+and with every concession she drew him further into the meshes of love.
+He dined now nearly every day at the Manor House, and he spent an hour,
+sometimes two, with her in the morning or afternoon; he followed her
+from greenhouse to greenhouse, but all his efforts were in vain, and he
+failed not only to obtain her promise to marry him, but even a renewal
+of the feeble and partial hopes which she had given him that night on
+the beach. He prayed, he wept, he implored pity, he openly spoke of
+suicide, and he hinted at murder. But Maggie passed him, pushing him out
+of the way with the watering-pot, threatening to water him too, until
+one day he drew a revolver. She screamed, and the revolver was put away,
+but on the next occasion a stiletto that he had brought from Italy was
+produced, and with a great deal of earnestness life was declared to be
+a miserable thing. It was absurd, no doubt, but at the same time it was
+not a little pathetic; he was so good-looking, and so sincere. Maggie
+put down the watering-pot, and she would probably have allowed him to
+take her hand and kiss her, if he had not spoken roughly about Charlie,
+and called her conduct into question. So she told him she would not
+speak to him again, and she continued watering the flowers in silence.
+Amid vague remembrances of murders she had read of, Frank's words and
+behaviour remained present in her mind, and that evening when Willy, who
+rarely took the trouble to speak, much less to advise his sisters, told
+her that she might never get such a chance again, she said: “I am not
+going to marry a madman to please your vanity.”
+
+“Marry a madman! What do you mean?”
+
+“Well, I call a man that who comes regularly to see a girl with a
+revolver in one pocket and a stiletto in the other, and threatens to
+leave himself wallowing in a pool of blood at her feet--”
+
+“You mean to say he does that? You are clearly determined to drive the
+poor fellow out of his mind with your infernal coquetry. Well, women
+are the most troublesome, and I believe in many cases, the wickedest
+creatures on the face of God's earth.”
+
+“You shut up. Men who don't get on with women always abuse them; you are
+soured since Miss ----, the actress, jilted you.”
+
+“If you ever dare mention that subject, I will never speak to you again.
+You know I don't break my word.”
+
+“Why do you interfere in my affairs? You don't think of me when you go
+down to browbeat Charlie Stracey; you don't think of what would have
+been said of me had Frank hit him, and it had all come out in the
+papers.” Maggie said no more; she saw she had gone too far. Willy sat
+puffing at his pipe; but when her father spoke of a certain investment
+that had not turned out as well as he had anticipated, he joined in the
+conversation, and she hoped her cruelty was forgotten.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+
+Frank uttered a cry of surprise when he opened the studio door to his
+friend. It was his favourite complaint that Willy never came to see him.
+
+“At last, at last! This is the second time you have been in the place
+since it was finished, faithless friend!”
+
+“My dear fellow, you know it is not my fault. I have been very busy
+lately trying to get on with my accounts. There's not a room in the
+Manor House where I can work in; my sisters' things are everywhere, and
+they must not be interfered with--their ball-dresses, their birds, their
+work. My sisters think of nothing but pleasure.”
+
+“Triss, go back, go to your chair, sir; I'll get the whip.”
+
+Showing his fangs, the bull-dog retired; then with a hideous growl
+sprang upon his chair, and sat eyeing Willy's calves.
+
+“I cannot think what pleasure it can give you to keep such a brute. Even
+if I had my accounts finished, I don't think I should care to come here
+much. It isn't safe.”
+
+“You are quite mistaken. There's not a better-tempered dog alive than
+Triss; he wouldn't bite any one unless he attacked me. Give me a slap,
+and you'll see--I won't let him come near you.”
+
+“Thank you, I'd rather not. But he sometimes growls even at you, and
+shows his teeth, too.”
+
+“That's only a way of his, and when he does it I kick him. Come here,
+Triss--come here, sir!” The dog approached slowly; he sat down and gave
+his paw to his master, but he did not cease to growl. “There! We have
+had enough of you, go back to your chair. What will you take--a glass of
+Chartreuse--a cigarette?”
+
+“Thanks, both if you will let me. I see you like pretty things,” he
+said, admiring the tall legs of the table--early English--and the quaint
+glasses into which Frank poured the liqueur. “You've got the place to
+look very nice.”
+
+“Very different from what is was when the smith and his boisterous brood
+were here,” and as if he intended an apt illustration of his words, he
+stretched his leg out on the white fur rug and surveyed his calf and red
+silk stocking. “Just look at that dog, isn't he a beauty? I always think
+he looks well in that attitude, leaning his head over the rail. I began
+a picture of him the other day in a pose somewhat like that. I'll show
+it you.” Frank propped his sketch against the leg of the sofa, and
+returned to his place on the sofa. “What do you think of it? Your father
+said it was very like.”
+
+“It is like him, but I can see no merit in it. I'm afraid of the brute.
+I can't help hating him, for he always looks as if he were going for my
+legs. What else have you been painting? Any pretty women about? I should
+admire them more.”
+
+“I haven't been painting lately,” he said, sighing a little
+melodramatically, as was his wont, “I think I have been playing the
+piano more than anything else. I have composed something too, I don't
+think it bad, I'll play it to you: a dialogue between a gentleman and a
+lady. He speaks first, then she answers, then I blend the two motives,
+and that is what they both say.”
+
+Willy sat enwrapped in his own thoughts, not having heard a note. Though
+he knew that Willy was incapable of judging of music, it disappointed
+him that his dialogue had passed unperceived. Then smiling, he struck
+a few notes, and Willy awoke. “You haven't been listening,” he said,
+reproachfully. “You don't care for any music, except that little tune.”
+
+“Yes, I do; I heard what you played, and I think it very pretty.”
+
+“Willy, I am the most miserable man in the world. Every hour, every
+minute of my life is a pain to me. I never knew before what you must
+have suffered, but I know now; it is a sickening feeling, it takes you
+by the throat, it rises in the throat, and you are almost suffocated.
+Last night I lay awake hour after hour thinking. I could see Maggie
+as plainly as I can see you--she looked down upon me out of space with
+strange, steadfast eyes, and my whole soul went out to her, and I cried
+to her that I loved her beyond all things; and we seemed to be so near
+each other; it seemed such an intimate and perfect communion of spirit
+and sense that I seemed, as it were, lifted out of actual life; I seemed
+to myself holier, purer, better than I had ever been before; I seemed to
+loose all that is gross and material in me, and to gain in all that
+is best and worthiest in man. Did you feel like that when you were in
+love?”
+
+“I don't know that I felt exactly like that. But never mind how I felt;
+you are too fond of alluding to that subject, it is a very painful one
+to me; you will make me regret that I ever told you anything about it.”
+
+“I am sorry I mentioned it. It is strange, but when one suffers one
+likes to speak of and to compare with one's own the suffering that
+another has endured. Your sister treats me most cruelly. She has
+forgiven me that miserable business, but she refuses to hold out any
+hope that she will ever be my wife. I don't understand--I am utterly at
+sea. I don't believe for a moment that she cares for that horrid brute;
+he is gone away. She tells me she never cared for him. If so, I should
+like to learn your explanation of her conduct.”
+
+Willy stroked his moustache, apparently declining the responsibility of
+apologist; but his manner showed he had something on his mind, and Frank
+sought more eagerly than ever to enlist his sympathy and support.
+
+“I have done everything I could to win her. I don't know why she should
+be so difficult to please. I am not bad looking, I am at least as good
+looking as that damned brute” (here he paused to glance at himself in
+the glass and smooth the curls above his forehead). “I am certainly
+quite as clever” (here he thought of his painting, and his eye sought
+one of his pictures), “and my position--I will not speak of that, it
+would be snobbish. Women have cared for me. I have told Maggie hundreds
+of times that I never could care for any but her. Fate seems to have
+specially marked us for each other. You must admit that there is
+something very remarkable in the way we have been brought together over
+and over again. I have told her that my life is worthless without her.
+The day before yesterday, when I was speaking to her, I burst into
+tears. That a man should cry, no doubt, seems to you very ridiculous but
+if you knew how I suffer you would pity me. I often think I shall commit
+suicide.” Frank took the stiletto from his pocket. “I don't mind telling
+you, when you knocked at the door I was lying on the sofa thinking it
+over. One stab just here and I should be at peace for ever. I told her
+so yesterday.”
+
+“I'm not fond of giving advice, as you know--I have quite enough to do
+to think about my own affairs--but as you have often spoken to me on
+this matter, and as you have asked me for my opinion and my help, I had
+better tell you that I differ entirely from you concerning the wisdom of
+the course you are pursuing.”
+
+“How's that?” said Frank, at first surprised and then delighted at
+Willy's breaking from his reserve.
+
+“What I mean is, that I think you would be more successful if you
+would lay aside daggers and revolvers, and try to win her affection by
+patience and gentleness. Maggie was talking to me about it no later than
+last night, and I could see clearly that you frighten her with bluster.
+I am sure there are times when she dreads you; it must be a positive
+terror to her to sit with you alone--so it would be to any girl.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Maggie is a very delicate and nervous girl, and it wouldn't surprise
+me if your threats to commit suicide seriously affected her health; you
+come with a revolver and a stiletto, and you ask her to marry you, and
+if she doesn't at once say yes, you abuse her, declaring all the time
+that you'll stab yourself with the revolver and shoot yourself with the
+stiletto--I beg your pardon, I mean--”
+
+“Of course, if you've come here only to turn me into ridicule--”
+
+“I assure you I didn't mean it--a slip of the tongue,” and as their eyes
+met at that moment, neither could refrain from laughter.
+
+“Admit that there is something in what I say. If you will behave a
+little more quietly--if you will talk to her nicely; leave off assuring
+her of your love, she knows all that already; have some patience and
+forbearance; you will see if before long she doesn't change towards
+you.”
+
+His interest in the matter was a desire that his sister should not miss
+this chance of marrying the future Lord Mount Rorke. But Maggie felt
+too sure of Frank to resist the temptation to tantalise him; besides
+her moods were naturally various, and the first relapse into her former
+coldness was answered by a sudden reversion to threats of murder and
+suicide, and one summer evening about six o'clock, when Mrs. Horlock
+took her dogs out and stood at the corner waiting for Angel, a rumour
+was abroad that Mr. Escott had stabbed himself to the heart, and had
+fallen weltering in his blood at Miss Brookes's feet.
+
+Dr Dickinson walked across the green, watched with palpitating anxiety
+from the corner of the Southdown Road. The General spoke to the farmer,
+and the farmer's pupil nudged the general dealer. Mrs. Horlock spoke to
+the grocers, and the owners of the baths declared they had just heard
+from their servant that the young man was not dead, but mortally
+wounded.
+
+There was, therefore, no doubt that Dr Dickinson was going to Mrs.
+Heald's, and would not turn to the right and walk to the station for the
+quarter-to-seven train; and expectation on this point ceasing, the
+group expressed its sympathy for the young man. Poor young man--and
+so good-looking too--what will she do if he should die?--and he
+must die--there was no doubt of it. Maria had met Mary--that was the
+housemaid at the Manor House--it was Mary who had mopped up the blood.
+She said there was a great pool right in the middle of the new carpet
+under the window--they were sitting there on the ottoman when he said
+suddenly, “I have come to ask you to marry me; if you won't I must die.”
+ Notwithstanding this she continued to play with him--the cruel little
+minx! He could stand it no longer, and he pulled out a dagger he had
+brought from the East, and stabbed himself twice close to the heart.
+What will she do?--she is his murderer--to all intents and purposes she
+is his murderer--she will have to go into a convent--she won't go into
+a convent--she'll brazen it out. No one thinks much of those girls--the
+way Sally carried on with young Meason--it was disgraceful--they say she
+used to steal her father's money and give it to him--Dr Dickinson could
+tell fine tales.
+
+Then gossip ceased, and they were in doubt if they might intercept the
+doctor and obtain news of his patient when he left Mrs. Heald's. Some
+strolled about the green, pretending to be taking the air. Mrs. Horlock,
+however, had no scruples, and picking up Angel and calling to Rose and
+Flora, she walked straight to Mrs. Heald's, and was seen to go in. Some
+five minutes after she came out with the doctor. Frank was not dead, nor
+mortally wounded, nor even dangerously wounded, but he had had a very
+narrow escape.
+
+“I said to him, 'You have had a very narrow escape.' The fact is--(I, of
+course, examined the weapon)--a small part of the point had been broken
+away; it was this that saved him. The first blow scarcely pierced his
+clothes; the second was more effective, it entered the flesh just above
+the heart, and I have no doubt if the steel had penetrated a quarter of
+an inch deeper that he would have killed himself. But so far as I can
+see at present, he will get over it without much difficulty.”
+
+“When did it occur?”
+
+“About an hour ago, at the Manor House. It appears that he has gone
+there every day for the last three weeks to ask Miss Brookes to marry
+him; she, however, would not give him any definite answer--”
+
+“Horrid girl!”
+
+“I never liked her; most deceitful; no doubt she flirted with him
+outrageously.”
+
+“I can't say. I hear that he often threatened to kill himself, and
+to-day, to conclude, he pulled out his stiletto.”
+
+“I thought it was a dagger he had brought from the East?”
+
+“No, the weapon they showed me was an Italian stiletto.”
+
+The grocer's daughter shuddered, her mother murmured, “And for that
+girl.”
+
+“We didn't know him. The Brookes never allow their friends to know any
+one in Southwick, but I have heard that he is an exceedingly nice--”
+
+“He will be Lord Mount Rorke, if his uncle doesn't marry again.”
+
+“He must have been desperately in love; no one ever heard of such a
+thing before. It sounds like the Middle Ages--a stiletto!”
+
+“But what could he see in her? That's what I can't make out; can you?”
+
+“Ah! there I can't assist you. I hope to be able to cure him of the
+stiletto wound, but Cupid's arrows are beyond me. They did not fly
+so thickly or strike so hard in my time.” And, laughing, the doctor
+withdrew.
+
+“I suppose that after this she will marry him; she never intended to
+let him slip through her fingers. I can see her face when she heard that
+another quarter of an inch and her chance of being Lady Mount Rorke was
+gone for ever.”
+
+“I daresay he won't marry her now. It would serve her right. I should be
+so glad.”
+
+And so pouring their gall out upon the unfortunate Maggie, the
+tradespeople returned to their homes. The stiletto was so utterly
+unprecedented, and so complete a reversal of all conception of
+the chances of life at Southwick, that every one felt puzzled and
+dissatisfied, even when gossip had brought to light every circumstantial
+detail of the romantic story. Had the deed been done with a knife, with
+anything but a stiletto; had he hanged himself, or cut his throat with
+a razor, or shot himself with his revolver, the wonder of the
+Southwickians would not have been so excited. But a stiletto! And for
+a week an Italy of brigands and bravoes, and stealthy surprises haunted
+shadows of picturesque archways, an Italy of chromo-lithographed skies
+and draperies in the Southdown Road. Maggie was spoken of with alternate
+fear and hate; her wickedness seemed more than natural, and had the
+Southdown Road known anything of Italian opera, there is little doubt
+that Miss Brookes would have been compared to Lucretia Borgia. The young
+women looked out of their windows at night, and wondered how they'd feel
+if a troubadour were suddenly to sing to them from behind the privet
+hedges. The young men were even more impressed than their womenfolk;
+they cursed their place of birth and habitation, knowing that it
+incapacitated them from knowing her; they wasted their mothers' candles
+sitting up till two in the morning writing odes to cruel women with
+raven hair; and all gazed sadly on the old ship in the harbour, and the
+Spanish main seemed nearer, and those gallant days more realisable than
+they had ever been before.
+
+The direct cause of this revival of romance lived, however, unconscious
+of it. She was genuinely frightened. She said her prayers with great
+fervour, begging God that He might save Frank, and that she might not
+be a murderess. She made him soups, she sent him wine, she brought him
+books, and she sat with him for hours. She thought he had never looked
+so nice as now--so pale, so aristocratic, so elegantly weak, his head
+laid upon a cushion, which she had brought him, and when he took her
+hand and said, “Will you, darling?” and she murmured, “Yes,” then it
+seemed that the happiness of his life was upon his face.
+
+Three days after Frank was sitting at his table writing to Mount Rorke,
+and on the following Sunday he walked to the Manor House to tell Mr.
+Brookes that he was engaged to his daughter, and to ask his consent. He
+did not think of his folly, he was too happy; he seemed like one in a
+quiet dulcet dream; he walked slowly, leaning from time to time against
+the wooden paling, for he wished to prolong this meditative moment; he
+saw everything vaguely, and loved all with a quiet fulness of heart;
+he took in the sense of this village and its life as he had never done
+before. He compared it with Ireland; Mount Rorke, with its towers, and
+lakes, and woods arose, and he was grateful that Maggie was going there,
+yet he was sure that he could not live without sometimes seeing this
+village where he had found so much happiness.
+
+His wound had sucked away his strength, the sunlight dazzled him, and
+feeling a little overcome, and not equal, without pause, to the long
+interview that awaited him, he stayed awhile in a shady laurel corner,
+and leaning against a piece of iron railing, watched Mr. Brookes and
+Mr. Berkins as they paced the tennis lawn to and fro. The old gentleman
+frequently stopped in his walk to point at the glass houses.
+
+“My dear Berkins, I wish you would try to get Willy some appointment;
+he would, I am sure, take anything over two hundred and fifty a year. He
+would do marvellously well in an office--he loves it. I assure you his
+eyes twinkle when one speaks of how books are kept, or alludes in any
+way to the routine of office work. You should see his accounts and his
+letter books, they would make the best clerk you ever had feel ashamed
+of himself; but left to himself I am afraid he will do no good; he has
+all the method, but nothing else. He lost money in Bond Street; I am
+afraid to tell you how much he dropped on the Stock Exchange, but that
+was not entirely his fault--the firm went bankrupt; nobody could have
+foreseen it, it was quite unheard of.”
+
+“I have always noticed that successful men do not buy partnerships in
+firms that go bankrupt.”
+
+“Very true, Berkins; I wish I had asked your advice on the subject.”
+
+“I wish you had, Mr. Brookes. You are no doubt a very clever man, but on
+one or two points you are liable to make mistakes; you are, if I may so
+speak, a little weak. You should come and live with me for a few months,
+I would put you right.”
+
+“This is really too much,” thought Mr. Brookes; and had it not been for
+the certain knowledge that Berkins had lately increased his income by
+a couple of thousands a year, he would have answered him tartly enough;
+but as this fact admitted of no doubt he bridled his anger and said: “If
+you could put my boy right it would be more to the point. He has all
+the method of the best clerk in London; he loves the work, he would do
+honour to any office, but on his own hook I am afraid he will never do
+anything but lose his money.”
+
+“Your money, you mean.”
+
+“Well, my money if you like. You are very provoking, Berkins. I don't
+know if you do it with the express purpose of annoying me. I was saying,
+when you interrupted me, that Nature had evidently intended my son for
+a clerk rather than for a speculator. I fear he is doing very badly
+with his shop in Brighton. The rents are very high in East Street, and I
+don't think he sells anything. He takes enough away from here, though. I
+don't remember if I ever told you that I was foolish enough to agree
+to his taking away, buying from me at the market price he calls it, the
+surplus produce of my garden and greenhouses. I dare say I shall get
+the money one of these days, but at present I see no sign of it. He is
+always making up the accounts, and, so far as we have gone, the result
+of this arrangement is that, when I complain that there is neither fruit
+nor vegetables on my table, I am told that everything went to Brighton.
+I am forced, I assure you, to send my carriage and my horses, that I
+paid two hundred guineas for, to fetch potatoes, and he, too, uses my
+carriage to take his vegetables to the shop. He gets his sisters to
+bring them when they go out driving, nor can I even buy my fruit and
+vegetables off him at cost price; he says that would interfere with his
+book-keeping, and so I am obliged to buy everything from Hutton, and you
+know what his prices are. I assure you, it is most annoying.”
+
+“Mr. Brookes, your fortune will not bear this constant drain; you must
+remember that we are living in very bad times--times that are not what
+they were. I have heard that your distillery--”
+
+“Yes, times are very bad. I have never known them worse, and no doubt
+you find them so too. They ought to affect you even more than they do
+me. My income is, as you know, all invested money, whereas yours is all
+in your business.”
+
+“Of course, I am affected by the times; had they remained what they
+were, even what they were towards the end of the seventies, I should be
+making now something over ten thousand pounds a year. But, thank God! I
+have not to complain. Next year I hope to invest another five thousand
+pounds. The worst of it is, that there is no price for money in
+legitimate securities.”
+
+“Everything is very bad; you never will invest your money as I did mine
+ten years ago. My business is not, of course, what it used to be, but I
+don't complain; if it weren't for troubles nearer home I should get on
+very well.”
+
+“I hope that Sally has commenced no new flirtation in the Southdown
+Road. I thought she had promised you--since she gave up Meason--that she
+would for the future know no one that lived there.”
+
+“I was thinking for the moment of Willy, not of Sally; she has not been
+so troublesome lately. But no sooner are we out of one trouble than we
+are in another. It is, of course, very regrettable that young Escott
+should have stabbed himself, and in my garden too. I, who hate scandals,
+seem always plunged in one. I hear they are talking of it in the clubs
+in Brighton. I hope Lord Mount Rorke will not hear of it; if he did, do
+you think it would prejudice him against the match?”
+
+“Then you're prepared to give your consent?”
+
+“Why not? Surely! I really don't see--Lord Mount Rorke is a very rich
+man.”
+
+“Possibly, but Irish peers are not always as rich as they would like us
+to believe they are. The connection is, of course, desirable, but I hope
+your anxiety to secure it will not lead you into making foolish, I will
+say reprehensible, monetary concessions. What I mean is this. I am a
+straightforward man, Mr. Brookes, brought up in a hard school, and I
+always come straight to the point. You are a rich man, Mr. Brookes--you
+have the reputation of being a richer man than you are--and it is
+possible, I don't say it is probable, that Lord Mount Rorke will expect
+you to make a large settlement. He will possibly--mind you, I do not say
+probably--taking the coronet into consideration--those people think as
+much of their titles as we do of our money--ask you to settle a thousand
+a year, may be fifteen hundred a year, upon your daughter.”
+
+“Settle a thousand--maybe fifteen hundred--a year on my daughter!” cried
+the horror-stricken Brookes.
+
+“He may even ask for two thousand a year. Remember, you are a
+distiller--he is a peer of the realm. And now I say,” continued Berkins,
+growing more emphatic as he reached the close of his declamation, “that
+in my wife's interest I will oppose any and all attempts to purchase a
+coronet for Maggie at her sister's expense.”
+
+Mr. Brookes stood for a moment stupefied--as if some great calamity
+had befallen him. The housekeeping bills, the loss of his fruit and
+vegetables, even the Southdown Road seemed as nothing in the face of
+this new misfortune. Troublesome as his daughters were, he preferred
+an occasional recrudescence of flirtation in his garden to settling the
+money that he had made himself and letting them go; no pen can describe
+the anguish that the surrendering of the ten thousand pounds which
+he had settled on Grace had caused him; but to be told now that the
+alliance with a lord which he so greedily coveted, and which had been so
+agreeably tickling him for the last few days, would cost him perhaps two
+thousand a year, was more than he could bear. He had avoided as much
+as possible even thinking of the money question. One hundred--two
+hundred--the shadow of three hundred had fallen for a moment on his
+mind, but he had successfully chastened these unpleasantnesses by
+thoughts of the liberality, the generosity of the aristocracy, and
+he had encouraged a hope that Mount Rorke would let him off with a
+statement of how much Maggie would have at his death. And now to hear
+these terrible prognostications, and from his own son-in-law, too. It
+was too bad--it was too cruel. “You don't know what you are talking
+about, Berkins. If it were business I would listen to you, but really
+when it comes to discussing the aristocracy it is more than I can stand.
+What do you know about the aristocracy--not that,” cried Mr. Brookes,
+snapping his fingers. “You were brought up in an office--what should you
+know? You were a clerk once at thirty shillings a week--what should
+you know? Lord Mount Rorke would never think of making such ridiculous
+proposals to me. You judge him by yourself, Berkins, that's it, that's
+it! I dare say he has heard of me in the City--many of your great lords
+do business in the City. I dare say he has heard of me, and if he has
+he'll not try any nonsense with me. Twist him round my finger, twist him
+round my finger.”
+
+Berkins liked a lord, but Berkins liked lords without thinking himself
+one jot their inferior, and he was sure that his horse and his dog and
+his house and everything belonging to him were better than theirs; and
+secure in the fact that his grandfather had been a field officer, he did
+not think it amiss to brag that he had begun life with thirty shillings
+a week, so he only smiled at his father-in-law's wrath, feeling now
+easy in his mind that Grace's future fortune would not be prejudiced for
+Maggie's glorification.
+
+The discussion had fallen, and Mr. Brookes went to meet the young man
+whom he caught sight of coming across the sward.
+
+“Most imprudent of you to come out to-day,” he said, scanning the white
+face.
+
+“Oh, I am very well now, thanks. The sun is a little overpowering, that
+is all. I want to speak to you, Mr. Brookes.”
+
+“Speak to me? Yes. Will you go into the billiard-room, my boy? I can see
+the heat has upset you. Take my arm.”
+
+Frank took the offered arm. He was feeling very faint, but the cool and
+dim colour of the billiard-room revived him, and when he had had some
+claret and water, he said that he felt quite strong, and listened
+patiently to Mr. Brookes.
+
+“Well, I never! No, I never heard of such a thing. A stiletto, too. You
+brought it from Italy? It makes me feel quite young again. Ah! 'tis hard
+to say what we won't do for a girl when Miss Right comes along. I was
+just the same--pretty keen on it, I can tell you, when I was your age;
+and I don't know, even now,--but a man with grown-up daughters must be
+careful. Still when I see a little waist, high heels, plump--you know,
+that's the way I used to like them when I used to go to the oyster
+shops; there was one at the top of the Haymarket. Ah! I was young then,
+young as you are; I was keen on it--Aunt Mary will tell you that--there
+was nothing I wouldn't do; I never went as far as stabbing--walking
+about at night, tears, torments as much as you like, but I never went so
+far as stabbing. Wonderful what love will make a man do! Supposing you
+had killed yourself; in my garden, too--awful! What would people say? I
+hear they are talking of it in the clubs--hope it won't go any further.
+Should Mount Rorke hear of it! Eh? Might set him against us; might not
+give his consent--eh? We should be up a tree, then.”
+
+“I don't think there is much danger of that. I came to-day, Mr. Brookes,
+to ask for your consent; am I to understand that you give it?”
+
+“Well, my dear Frank, I don't see why I should refuse it; I have known
+you since you were quite a small boy. I don't want to flatter you. I
+don't know that I care much about young men as a rule, but you, I
+have always found you--well, just what you should be. Of course the
+connection is very flattering. You will one day be Lord Mount Rorke, and
+to see my darling Maggie sharing your honours will be--that is to say if
+I live to see it--a great, a very gre--great hon--our.”
+
+Feeling much embarrassed Frank begged of him not to mention it. “I shall
+be writing to-morrow or next day to my uncle; shall I say that you have
+given your consent to my marriage with your daughter? I may say that I
+have already written to him on the subject.”
+
+“By all means, my dear boy. I think I can say you have my consent--that
+is to say, you have my consent if the money's all right. All is, of
+course, subject to that. Now you are for love in a cottage, bread and
+cheese romance; a man who will use a stiletto can't be expected to know
+much about money, but I am a father, my stiletto days are over, and
+I couldn't give my daughter without a settlement. You will, no doubt,
+be--of course you will be--Lord Mount Rorke one of these days; but in
+the meantime there must be a proper settlement. My daughter must be
+properly provided for; it is my duty to look after her interests, so you
+may as well tell your uncle that I shall be pleased to meet him and talk
+the matter over with him. I will meet him in London, when it suits his
+convenience; I need hardly say that if he should choose to come down
+here that I shall be pleased to see him. And now tell me--of course
+he will be prepared to act handsomely; I have no doubt he will, the
+aristocracy always do act handsomely, no one is so liberal as your
+aristocrat. I hope he will settle a good round sum on my daughter--money
+invested in first-class securities, not what Berkins would call
+first-class, but what I should call first-class securities; and should
+your uncle prove the liberal man that I have no doubt he is, I don't say
+that I won't behave handsomely. Of course you know that my dear children
+will have all my money at my death. I shall never marry again, that is
+a settled thing; but in the meantime I will do something. When Grace
+was married I behaved very generously--too generously--a lot of
+money--mustn't do it again, times are not what they were. But at my
+death I shall make no difference, all three will share and share alike.”
+
+Frank hoped when Brookes and Mount Rorke met, that the former would
+modify his demands, and what was still more important, his mode of
+expressing them. But why should Mr. Brookes appear to him in such a
+sudden glow of vulgarity? He had never thought of him as a refined and
+cultivated gentleman, but was unprepared for this latest manifestation.
+
+“Lord Mount Rorke allows me a certain annual income, he will no doubt
+double this income upon my marriage; I daresay he would--since he has
+recognised me as his heir--make this income legally mine by deed, I
+could then settle a certain sum on Maggie, in case of my death; but then
+further settlements would be required when I succeed to the title and
+the property. I had thought--and indeed I think still--that if my uncle
+makes me a sufficient allowance, that we might avoid touching on this
+matter at all. Lord Mount Rorke is an irritable man, and I am sure that
+if you were to speak to him as you--”
+
+“Pooh! pooh! Nonsense! nonsense! You don't suppose I am going to give
+my daughter to a man unless he can settle a sufficient sum of money upon
+her? Berkins wouldn't hear of it. He was only telling me just now--”
+
+“But I don't think you understand me, Mr. Brookes. I do not propose that
+you should give me any money with your daughter. Let what you give her
+be settled upon her, and let it be tied up as strictly as the law can
+tie it.”
+
+“Pooh! pooh! the man that marries my daughter must settle a sum of money
+at least equal to what I settle upon her; and it must be money invested
+in first-class security, otherwise I couldn't think of giving her one
+penny.”
+
+“I am sorry, Mr. Brookes, that you are so determined on this point.
+These matters generally arrange themselves if people incline to meet
+each other half way, and I am sure that my uncle will resent it if you
+insist on pounds, shillings, and pence as you propose doing. He is not
+accustomed to strict business--marriages in our family were never made
+on such principles; my happiness is bound up in Maggie. I hope you will
+consider what you are risking.”
+
+“I would do more for you than any one else, Frank, but business is
+business, and the man who has my daughter must settle a sum of money
+equivalent to what I settle.”
+
+“I am afraid I have talked too much, I am not very strong, yet with
+your permission we will adjourn this discussion to another day--in the
+meantime I will write to my uncle.”
+
+Mr. Brookes did not offer the assistance of his arm, and had he, Frank
+would certainly not have accepted it. Holding the door, the old man
+waited for his visitor to pass out. “Southdown Road or the heir to a
+peerage: it is all the same, my money is what is wanted--the money I had
+made myself,” thought Mr. Brookes. “Dreadful old man, he would sell his
+daughter for a settlement of a few hundred pounds a year. I never knew
+he was so bad, my eyes are opened,” thought Frank. Both were equally
+angry, and without secrecy or subterfuge they sought consolation in
+different parts of the garden. Mr. Brookes resumed his walk on the
+tennis ground with Berkins, and stopping frequently to point to his
+glass-houses, he described his misfortunes with profuse waves of his
+stick. Frank had found Maggie, and they now walked together in the shade
+and silence of the sycamores--he, vehement and despairing of the future;
+she, subtle and strangely confident that things would happen as she
+wished them.
+
+Having once yielded and felt the pang of possession she was wholly his,
+in all ramifications of spirit and flesh, both in her brain and blood,
+and the utmost ends of her sense mingled with him. But to him, she was
+the symbol of the desire of which he was enamoured, the desire which
+held together his nature and gave it individuality--love of _the_ young
+girl.
+
+“Oh! my darling, if he should speak so to Mount Rorke, we should be
+parted for ever--no, that could never be--nothing in heaven or earth
+would induce me to give you up, be true to me and I will be true to you;
+but our happiness--no, not our happiness, that is in ourselves--but all
+our prospects in life will be wrecked if he will not give way. Should he
+and Mount Rorke meet--”
+
+“But they won't meet; have patience--I know how to manage father. He
+doesn't like to part with his money, and I can understand it, he made it
+all himself; but he will get used to the idea in time, leave him to me;
+put your trust in me.”
+
+She extended her hand, he took it, pressed it to his lips; he took her
+in his arms and kissed her, and the leaves of the sycamores were filled
+with the sunset.
+
+“DEAR SIR,--I received a letter this morning from my nephew, apprising
+me of his engagement to your daughter. He has apparently obtained your
+consent, and he asks for mine, and he also asks from me not only an
+increase of income to meet the requirements of altered circumstances,
+but he tells me that you will expect me to settle some seven, eight, or
+ten thousand pounds upon your daughter.
+
+“I do not propose to discuss the reasonableness of his or your demands,
+but it seems that a statement of his prospects is owing to you.
+
+“Having never married when I was a young man, many have assumed--I among
+the number--that I never would marry; and I admit that I have allowed my
+nephew to grow up in the belief that he is my heir and the successor to
+the title of Mount Rorke; but beyond a general assumption existing in my
+mind, his mind, and the minds of those who know us, there is no reason
+to suppose that I shall not marry, or that I shall leave him a single
+sixpence, and I willingly make use of this opportunity to say that I
+have no faintest intention of entering intoany engagement either verbal
+or written with him upon this matter.--Yours very truly, MOUNT RORKE.”
+
+“MY DEAR FRANK,--The enclosed is a copy of the letter which I send by
+this post to Mr. Brookes. And I make no disguise of the fact that it
+was written with the full intention of rendering your marriage an
+impossibility. It will no doubt appear to you a harsh and cruel letter;
+it will no doubt grieve you, madden you--in your rage you may call me
+a brute. The epithet will be unjust; but knowing very well indeed what
+love is at twenty-five, I will forgive it. And now to the point. I know
+something about old Brookes, and I remember the lean boy you used
+to bring here, and judging from some slight traces that Eton had not
+succeeded in effacing, I think I can guess what the rest of the family
+is like; indeed, the old gentleman's preposterous demand that I should
+settle ten thousand pounds on his daughter throws a sufficient light on
+his character, and in some measure reveals what sort of manner of man he
+is. But let all this be waived. I admit that with some show of reason,
+you may say it is unjust, nay more, it is ridiculous, to pronounce
+judgment on people I have never seen, and it is cruelty worthy of a
+Roman Emperor to wreck the lifelong happiness of two young people for
+the sake of a prejudice that the trouble of a journey to Brighton will
+most certainly extinguish. I will not irritate you by assuring you that
+the world is full of desirable women-women that will appeal to you two
+years hence precisely as Miss Brookes appeals to you now. Were I to
+whisper that it is unwise to give up all women for one woman, you could
+not fail, in your present mood, to see in my philosophy only the nasty
+wisdom of a cynical old reprobate. Therefore I will not weary you with
+advice--what I have said must be considered not as advice, but rather
+as an expression of personal experience in the love passion, serving as
+illustration of the attitude of my mind towards you. I will limit myself
+to merely asking you--no, not to think again of Miss Brookes--that would
+be impossible, but to leave Southwick for London or Paris, the latter
+for preference. I will give you a letter of introduction to a charming
+lady (ah! were I thirty years younger). Put yourself in her hands, and I
+have no doubt in the world but that she will send you back cured in six
+months, as my bank-book will abundantly prove.
+
+“If you cannot do this--if so drastic a remedy should be too repugnant
+to your present feelings, I would remember, were I in your place, that
+my uncle had never refused me anything; that I could draw upon him for
+what money I liked--that is to say, for all pleasures and satisfaction
+save one. I would remember that at his death I was to inherit ten
+thousand a year and a title; and I would weigh (first examining each
+weight carefully, to see if it were true weight) all these present and
+future advantages against the gratification of possessing a woman I
+loved when I was twenty-five for a period of time extending perhaps
+over half a century; I would think--at least I think and hope I should
+hesitate--before I refused to obey one of whose affection I was sure,
+and I feel certain it would go hard with me before I refused to gratify
+the whim--call it a whim if you like--of one who had often given but
+never asked before.
+
+“Somehow I think you owe me this sacrifice; I have done much for you and
+am prepared to do more, and to speak quite candidly, I want something in
+return; I do not mean that I am desirous of striking a bargain with you,
+but we all expect to receive--of course not directly, but in some remote
+way--something for what we give, and I confess that I look forward to
+your companionship to assist me through the last course of life. I do
+not want you now--for the next few years I want you to see the world, to
+educate yourself; I want you to improve your taste in art and letters,
+and later on, if possible, to turn yourself to some public account.
+Besides other work, I am now working at my memoirs; they are to be
+published after my death, as I have arranged, under your supervision.
+I regard these memoirs as being of the first importance, and it is
+advisable that you should be in full possession of all my intentions
+respecting them. Hitherto I have always looked after everything myself,
+but the time will come when I shall not be able to do this, and shall
+require you to relieve me of the burden of business. Then I wish you to
+live here, so that you may learn to love Mount Rorke. I am very busy now
+with improvements, and I would wish you to be with me so that you might
+adequately enter into my views and ideas. To conclude, I do not marry
+for your sake; do you not marry for mine, at least do not marry for
+the present. I do not say that if I knew and liked the girl of your
+choice--if she were in your own set--that I could not be won over, but
+on the whole I would sooner you didn't marry. But I could not really
+endure a lot of new acquaintances--people who had never dined in a
+lord's house, and would all want to be asked--no, I could not endure it.
+I am an old man, and now I want to enjoy myself in my own way, and my
+desire is to get through the last years of my life with you.
+
+“You can do what you please, ask here whomever you please, give me a
+few hours of your time when I am particularly busy with my memoirs, and,
+above all, let us be alone sometimes after dinner, so that we can turn
+our chairs round to the fire and talk at our ease.--Your affectionate
+uncle, MOUNT RORKE.”
+
+“So he won't pay for a secretary, and wants me to do the work; that's
+about the meaning of that letter.” Frank re-read the letter sentence for
+sentence, and as he read new sneers and new expressions of scorn rose
+in his brain in tremulous ebullition. There was scarcely a plan for
+the chastisement of his uncle that he did not for some fleeting moment
+entertain, and one most ironical letter he committed to paper; but
+Maggie would not hear of its being sent, and he was surprised and glad
+to see that she was not depressed and disheartened at the turn affairs
+had taken.
+
+“I can do what I like with father; Sally can't, but I can. You leave it
+me.”
+
+“What's the good of that? You can't get round Mount Rorke.”
+
+“Never mind; we don't want to get married yet awhile. We'll be
+engaged, it is nearly the same thing. We shall be able to go anywhere
+together--up to town, if we only come back the same day. Write a nice
+letter to your uncle, saying you'll do nothing without his consent; that
+it is true your affections are very much engaged, but that your first
+thought is of him--”
+
+“Oh! but my darling, I want to make you mine.”
+
+“So you shall--we shall be engaged; father won't consent to our being
+married, but he can't prevent us being engaged. You'll see, I'll get
+round father sooner or later; he'll give in.”
+
+“But you won't get round Mount Rorke; if he would only come here and see
+you.”
+
+“He won't do that; but one of these days he'll be in London. I suppose
+he goes to the Park sometimes; we'll go too, you'll introduce me--a
+little impromptu, and I'll see if I can't get him to like me.”
+
+“How clever you are!”
+
+“I understand father.”
+
+Still it required all Maggie's adroitness to even partially reconcile
+Mr. Brookes to Lord Mount Rorke's letter. She accepted without argument
+that marriage in the present circumstances was out of the question. She
+even went so far as to cordially assent that a man would be a fool to
+give his daughter to a man who could not settle a substantial sum
+of money upon her, and she only ventured to suggest that it would be
+foolish not to give Lord Mount Rorke the opportunity of changing his
+mind. She spoke of his immense fortune, and exaggerated it until she
+made even Berkins seem a paltry creature in the old man's eyes.
+
+Frank was anxious to propitiate Sally. He returned from London with
+presents for her, and he always spoke to her, looking at her admiringly.
+
+He showed much anxiety, and, fearing that she found it dull at his
+studio, when the sisters came to tea he begged her to give him Meason's
+address. Sally tossed her head; she had had enough of Meason, and her
+manner left no doubt as to her sincerity. But happening to meet Meason
+a few days after in the train, Frank slipped easily into asking him
+to come and see him; and in the easy atmosphere of the studio the
+acquaintanceship soon ripened into intimacy, and after a preliminary
+ruffling of plumage, Sally restored her old sweetheart to all the rights
+of wrong. Life went well amid incessant secrets, letter-writing, and tea
+parties. Grace came to the studio to lunch sometimes, and she had been
+betrayed into a promise not to say a word about Meason. It was never
+ascertained whether, in the indiscretion of the marital night, she had
+betrayed this trust, or whether some jealous enemy had spoken or written
+to Mr. Brookes on the subject; but certain it is that one joyful day
+when Meason, Sally, and Maggie were eating oysters, and Frank was
+twisting the corkscrew into a bottle of Chablis, there came an ominous
+ringing at the door.
+
+“I wonder who that can be. Shut up, Triss.”
+
+“Perhaps it is father.”
+
+“He is in London.”
+
+“I'm not so sure about that.”
+
+“No matter--we don't want to see them.”
+
+“Rather not! They wouldn't have known we were here had it not been for
+that dog.”
+
+“I must go and see who it is. Come here, sir; come here, you brute.”
+
+“Supposing it is father?”
+
+“Get behind that piece of tapestry. I'll say that Meason and I were
+having some oysters.”
+
+“Come here, sir. I'd better tie up that dog--I wonder who it is?”
+
+“Open the door.”
+
+“Oh! Mr. Brookes, quite an unexpected pleasure.”
+
+“I have come, sir, for my daughters.”
+
+“Your daughters? Your daughters are not here. Mr. Brookes.”
+
+“I have reason to know they are here, and I will not leave without
+them.”
+
+“You will do well to let us in, Mr. Escott; we are determined--”
+
+“Who are you? What business is it of yours?”
+
+“Should you refuse us admission we are resolved to wait here till
+evening, till midnight if necessary!” exclaimed Berkins. “I say again
+you will do well to admit us, and so avoid a scandal on the green.”
+
+“You can come in if you like.”
+
+“Will you kindly chain up that dog of yours?”
+
+“Well, this is coming it too strong; this is a little too 'steep.' If
+Mr. Brookes refuses to believe my word that his daughters are not here
+he may come in and look for them, and to facilitate his search I will
+tie up the dog--(the dog is tied up). But you, what brings you here?
+What the devil, I should like to know, brings you here, poking your nose
+into other people's business?”
+
+“Mr. Brookes, will you answer him?”
+
+“I must decline your offer to admit me unaccompanied by my son-in-law.
+We shall not stay long.”
+
+“All this seems to me very extraordinary, but since you wish it, Mr.
+Brookes, pray enter.”
+
+“Is that dog tied up quite securely?”
+
+“Quite. I think you know Mr. Meason?”
+
+“Mr. Meason knows very well that I do not wish to know him.”
+
+“If you only come here to insult my guest, the sooner you go out the
+better. Had I known that you intended to behave in this fashion I should
+have left you standing outside till morning. I'll not have--”
+
+“Never mind, Escott; I'm off. Mr. Brookes and I are no longer on
+speaking terms, that's all! I'll see you later on.”
+
+“Don't go, pray.”
+
+“I think I must.”
+
+“I am surprised, Frank,” said Mr. Brookes, when Meason was gone, “that
+you should seek your friends among the enemies of my family.”
+
+“We will not discuss that question now. I never heard of such
+conduct--you force your way into my studio, and apparently for no
+purpose but to insult my guest. You see your daughters are not here.”
+
+“I am by no means satisfied with that,” said Berkins, opening a door. “I
+must see behind that piece of tapestry.”
+
+“No, you shall not. I have had just about enough of this. How dare you?
+God's truth--” and as Berkins seemed determined to continue his search,
+Frank caught him by the collar.
+
+But Berkins was tall and strong, and showed no intention of allowing
+himself to be thrown out. His long legs were soon extended here and
+there; his body was sometimes bent back by Frank's weight, once he had
+succeeded in nearly throwing Frank over on the sofa. Mr. Brookes had
+fled to the door, which, in his excitement, he failed to open, and
+the struggle was continued until at last, maddened by a most tight and
+tempting aspect of Berkin's thigh, Triss broke his collar, and in a
+couple of bounds, reached and fixed his teeth deep in the flesh.
+
+“Triss, you brute, leave go.” But Triss clung to the long-desired thigh.
+“I'll twist his tail, it will make him leave go.”
+
+With a savage yelp of pain the dog turned on his master and was hauled
+instantly off Berkins's thigh.
+
+“I need hardly say that so far as the dog is concerned, I regret, and I
+am truly sorry for what has occurred.”
+
+“Sir, do you not see what a state I am in; do not stand there making
+excuses, but lend me your handkerchief. I shall bleed to death if you
+don't.”
+
+“Shall I tie it up for you?”
+
+“If those girls there would only fetch a doctor.”
+
+Mr. Brookes could not refrain from foolish laughter, and in a moment of
+wretched despair he declared that it would be all the same in a hundred
+years time--a remark which would not have failed to irritate Berkins if
+he had not fainted.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+
+Next day Willy called at the studio, and Frank told him what had
+occurred.
+
+“But I don't see why you shouldn't come to the Manor House,” said Willy.
+“If you will only say something about the Measons, I think it can be
+made all right.”
+
+“No, I'm not going to turn against Meason; I have always found him a
+good fellow. I know nothing about his flirtation with Sally.”
+
+“No more do I; I think it has been exaggerated, but, as you know, I
+never interfere. I wish you would come in to dinner one night.”
+
+“Supposing I were to meet Berkins?”
+
+Willy stroked his moustache.
+
+“No, it is quite impossible that I could return to the Manor House. Your
+father behaved in a way--well, I will not say what I think of it.”
+
+“Berkins hasn't been to the City since. Grace was over here yesterday,
+she says he limps about the garden. He'll never forgive you; he says
+that you didn't call the dog off at once.”
+
+“That's a lie; and I said, 'So far as the incident with the dog is
+concerned, I am very sorry.'”
+
+“I think that made him more angry than anything else; he thought you
+were laughing at him.”
+
+“I was not. It was most unfortunate. I shall not give Maggie up. I am
+writing to-morrow or next day to Mount Rorke.”
+
+All were agreed that things must come right sooner or later. Maggie
+fought for her lover, and emphatically asserted her engagement. She
+yielded on one point only--not to visit the studio; but she maintained
+her right in theory and in practice to go where she liked with him in
+train or in cart, to walk with him on the cliff, to lunch with him
+at Mutton's. They found pleasure in thus affirming their love, and
+it pleased them to see they were observed, and to hear that they were
+spoken about. Nevertheless the string that sung their happiness had
+slipped a little, and the note was now not quite so clear or true. Frank
+could not go to the Manor House; Maggie could not go to the studio.
+Whether Mount Rorke would consent to their marriage perplexed them as it
+had not done before.
+
+The summer fades, the hills grow grey, and a salt wind blew up from
+the sea, blackening the trees, and the beauty of autumn was done. Frank
+thought of Ireland, and what personal intercession might achieve. She
+begged of him to go, and he promised to write to her every day.
+
+“Every day, darling, or I shall be miserable.”
+
+“Every day.”
+
+“Arrived safe after a very rough passage. Every one was ill, I most of
+all.”
+
+She received a post-card:--“It was raining cats and dogs when I got out
+of the train. Mount Rorke sent a car to meet me; the result is that I
+am in bed with a bad cold. The house is full of company--people I have
+known, or known of, since I was a boy; we shall begin pheasant-shooting
+in a few days. When I am out of bed I shall write a long letter. Do you
+write to me; I shall be awfully disappointed if I do not get a letter
+to-morrow morning.”
+
+Extract from a letter:--
+
+“Mount Rorke is considered to be a handsome place, but as I have known
+it from childhood, as my earliest memories are of it, I cannot see it
+with the eyes of a professed scenery hunter. I have loved it always, but
+I do not think I ever loved it more than now, for now I think that one
+day I shall give it to you. Should that day come--and it will come--what
+happiness it will be to walk with you under the old trees, made lovelier
+by your presence, to pass down the glades to the river, watching your
+shadow on the grass and your image in the stream. We will roam together
+through the old castle, and I will show you the little bed I used to
+sleep in, the school-room where I learned my lessons. When I entered
+the old room I saw in imagination--and oh, how clearly!--the face of
+my governess; and how easily I see her in the corridor she used to walk
+down to get to her room.
+
+“Poor, dear, old thing, I wonder what has become of her!
+
+“I saw again the pictures that stirred my childish fancy, and whose
+meaning I once vainly strove to decipher.
+
+“I came to live here when I was four, immediately after my father's
+death. I can just remember coming here. I remember Mount Rorke taking
+me up in his arms and kissing me. I will not say there is no place like
+home--I do not believe that; but certainly no place seems so real. Every
+spot of ground has its own particular recollections. Every bend of the
+avenue evokes some incident of childish life (in Ireland we call any
+road leading to a house an avenue, even if it is absolutely bare of
+trees; we also speak of rooks as crows, and these two provincialisms
+jarred on my ear after my long stay in Sussex). Mount Rorke is covered
+with trees--great woods of beech and fir--and at the end of every vista
+you see a piece of blue mountain. A river passes behind the castle,
+winding through the park; there are bridges, and swans float about the
+sedges, and there are deer in the glades. The garden,--I do not know if
+you would like the garden; it is old-fashioned--full of old-fashioned
+flowers--convolvuluses, Michaelmas daisies, marigolds; hedges clipped
+into all sorts of strange and close shapes. There is a beautiful avenue
+behind the garden (an avenue in the English sense of the word) where you
+may pace to and fro and feel an exquisite sense of solitude; for when
+the castle had passed out of the hands of Irish princes--that is to say,
+brigands--it was turned into a monastery, and I often think, as I look
+on the mossy trees--the progeny of those under whose leafage the monks
+told their beads--that all happened that I might throw my arm about you
+some beautiful day, and whisper, 'My wife, this is yours.'”
+
+“How beautifully he writes,” said Sally reflectively.
+
+“You never had a lover who wrote to you like that. Do you remember how
+Jimmy used to write?”
+
+“I don't know how he wrote to you, but his letters to me, I will say
+that, were quite as nice as anything Frank could write. You needn't toss
+your head, you are not Lady Mount Rorke yet.”
+
+Sally refused to hear, but presently, seeing a cloud on her sister's
+face, and thinking the letter contained some piece of unpleasantness,
+she relented, and pressed her to continue.
+
+“The house is full of people--people whom I have known all my life--and
+they make a great deal of me. I have to tell them about Italy, and they
+ask me absurd questions about Michael Angelo or Titian, Leonardo or
+Watteau.... The house party is a large one, and we have people to dinner
+every day; and in the evening the drawing-room, with its grim oak and
+escutcheons and rich modern furniture, is a pretty sight indeed. There
+is a lady here whom I knew in London, Lady Seveley; and I have had
+suspicions that Mount Rorke would like me to marry her. But she has
+the reputation of being rather fast, so perhaps the old gentleman is
+allowing his thoughts to wander where they should not. I hope not for
+his sake, for I hear she is devoted to a young Irishman, a Mr. Fletcher,
+a journalist in London. I met them at Reading once in most suspicious
+circumstances. He is the son of a large grazier, one of my uncle's
+tenants, and she is, I suppose, so infatuated that she could not resist
+the temptation of calling on his family. She was careful not to speak
+of her intentions to anybody, but waited until she got a favourable
+opportunity and slipped off to pay her visit. The Fletchers live about
+half a mile from the castle. I was riding that way, and met her coming
+out of their house. I got off my horse and walked back together. I hope
+Mount Rorke will not hear of her ladyship's escapade; he would be very
+angry, for the Fletchers are people who would be asked to have something
+to eat in the housekeeper's room if they called at the Castle. In London
+one knows everybody, but in the country we are more conservative.”
+
+ “I hope she won't cut you out,” said Sally. “It would be a sell for
+you if she did. Go on.”
+
+“No, I shan't, you are too insulting.”
+
+“Who began it? You told me that I didn't get such nice letters as you.
+Pray go on.”
+
+“I do not know if you would think her handsome. I don't. She is,
+however, an excellent musician; we play duets together every evening, to
+Mount Rorke's intense delight. You know my dialogue between a lady and a
+gentleman? She has written it down for me and corrected a few mistakes;
+I think I shall publish it. Darling, I love you better than any one in
+the world; you are all the world to me; try to love me a little--you
+will never find any one to love you as I do.”
+
+“Well, you can't find anything peculiarly disagreeable to say about
+that, I think.”
+
+Extract from another letter:--
+
+“All the visitors have gone; Mount Rorke and I are quite alone. He is
+kindness itself, and does not bother me about his memoirs; but from what
+I hear that book will make one of the biggest sensations ever made in
+the literary world. I want him to publish it now, but he only smiles and
+shakes his head. He says: 'What is the use of setting the world talking
+about you when you are alive; as long as I am alive I can see those
+I want to see, and be with them far more personally than I could by
+placing in their hands three volumes in 8vo; the 8vos are only useful
+when you have passed into darkness, and are not yet reconciled to dying
+quite out of the minds of men. I do not desire to be remembered by those
+who will live three hundred years hence, but I confess that I should
+like to modulate the pace of forgetfulness according to my fancy, and be
+remembered, let us say, for the next sixty or seventy years. I find
+no fault with death but its abruptness, and that I hope to be able to
+correct. The vulgar and most usual plan is children, but children are no
+anodyne to oblivion, whereas a good book in a certain measure is.'
+
+“These are almost the words Mount Rorke used, and I quote them as
+exactly as possible, so that you may see what kind of man he is. We
+pulled our chairs round to the fire and had a real good talk. I know
+no better company than Mount Rorke. He has seen everything, read
+everything, and known everybody worth knowing; he is a mine of
+information, and, what is far better, he is a complete man of the world;
+and long contact with the world has left him a little cynical, otherwise
+he is perfect. I told him the story about Berkins, and he laughed;
+I never saw him laugh so before; and when I told him that I had told
+Berkins, as he was tying up his leg, that so far as the incident with
+the dog was concerned, I regretted deeply what had occurred, he could
+not contain himself. He rang the bell, and we had old Triss up. He asked
+a great deal about you; I leave you to imagine what I said. How did he
+expect me to describe my darling? I told him of your subtle, fascinating
+ways, of your picturesque attitudes, and your exquisite little black
+eyes. 'I think I see her,' he said; 'little eyes that light up are
+infinitely more interesting than those big, limpid, silly eyes that
+everybody admires.' I am now doing a water-colour sketch from the
+photograph--the one in which you stand with your hands behind your back
+and your head on one side--for him. I am getting on with it pretty well.
+Ah! if only I had you here for an hour (I should like to have you here
+for ever, of course; but now I am speaking artistically, not humanly),
+I think I could get it really like you; there are one or two things
+that the photo does not give me. I shall send the sketch to Dublin to be
+framed; it will be a nice present for Mount Rorke.
+
+“My darling, you must not be anxious; all will come right in time--have
+a little patience. He is already much more reconciled to the match than
+he was when I arrived, and if your father will refrain from speaking too
+much about that hateful question, I am sure that all difficulties can be
+surmounted.”
+
+She wrote to him three or four times a week, and on beautiful hand-made
+paper, delicately scented.
+
+Extract from a letter:--
+
+“We went up to town yesterday by the ten o'clock train West Brighton;
+and so that we might have more money to spend, we went third class.
+Father doesn't like us going third class, but I don't think it matters
+if you get in with nice people. We were very jolly. The Shaws went with
+us. They are very nice girls. They had to leave us at Victoria, and
+I and my cousin, Agnes Keating, went shopping together. We met the
+Harrisons at Russell & Allen's. We saw there some lovely dresses--I wish
+you had been with us, for I have confidence in your taste, and when I
+choose a thing myself I am never sure that I like it. The assistant was
+so polite; she told me to ask for Miss ----; she said she would like
+to fit me. Sally was coming up with us, but she changed her mind and
+remained at home, I was very glad, for she is wretchedly cross, and
+not looking at all well. You would not admire her in the least; she is
+growing very yellow. But I don't mean to be ill-natured, so we'll let
+Sally bide, as we say in Sussex. After Russell & Allen's we went to
+Blanchard's, and had a nice lunch. Grace was in town; she chaperoned us,
+and paid for everything; it was very kind of her. Then we went to the
+theatre, and saw a play which we did not care about much. There was
+a very stupid 'tart' in it. I do like 'gadding,' don't I? But, oh, my
+darling Frank, gadding is not really gadding without you. How I miss
+you, how we all miss you, but I especially. The Keatings came over
+to tea to-day, and they asked about you. Blanche wants you to write
+something in her album, and she admired immensely the drawing you gave
+me. She is very artistic in her tastes; I think you would like her.
+
+“But I have a bit of news that I think will amuse you. You remember Mrs.
+Horlock's old dog--not the blind Angel; he's old too. But I mean
+the real old dog,--the one twenty years old, that once belonged to a
+butcher. He never smelt very sweet, as you know, but latterly he was
+unbearable, and the General resolved on a silent and secret destruction.
+He purchased in Brighton a bottle of chloroform. It was the dead of
+the night and pitch dark. However, he reached the end of the passage
+in safety; but suddenly he uttered a fearful shriek and dropped the
+chloroform. He thought he had seen a ghost; but it was only Mrs.
+Horlock, who was going her rounds, letting down the mouse-traps and
+supplying the little creatures with food. The General blurted out
+various excuses. He said that he had come to relieve the cock parrot's
+tooth-ache--that he feared the Circassian goat was suffering from spinal
+complaint and the squirrels from neuralgia. But his protestations proved
+unavailing, and now he eats his meals in silence. And to make matters
+worse, the old dog did die a few days after--the General says from old
+age, but Mrs. Horlock avows that his death resulted from fright. 'He
+was a sweet, cunning old thing, and no doubt knew all about that plan to
+destroy him.' I think this would make an excellent subject for a comic
+sketch; I wish you would do one--the General dropping the bottle; Mrs.
+Horlock, surrounded by closed mouse-traps and crumbs, sternly upbraiding
+him.
+
+“I see lots of Emily Pierce. Every Sunday I have tea with her, and
+sometimes lunch; but she doesn't come here. I am afraid I couldn't get
+on at all without her; we do everything together, and we hit it off so
+well.
+
+“Sally has been staying in Kent. I do not know what's up, but she seems
+to see everything _couleur de rose_; everything in Kent is better in
+her estimation than anywhere else. The men dance so much better for one
+thing. I am glad she is so happy, and I wish she would get married and
+stay there. Father says he has a cough that tears him to pieces, but I
+haven't heard it yet.”
+
+The elementary notion of a woman in love is to surround, to envelop the
+man she loves, with her individuality, and to draw him from all
+other influences. And the woman in love strives to accomplish this by
+ceaseless reiteration of herself or himself seen through herself. So
+Maggie with her nervous, highly-strung, febrile temperament could not
+refrain from constantly striking the lyre of love. Her hands were for
+ever on the chords. Letters and notes of all kinds; impetuous
+messages asking him when he would return; letters apologising for her
+selfishness--he had better remain with Mount Rorke until his consent
+had been obtained; resolutions and irresolutions, ardours, lassitudes,
+forgetfulness followed fast in strange and incomprehensible
+contradiction. And Frank was asked daily to perform some small task.
+There was always something; and Frank undertook all he was asked to do,
+for he loved to be as much as possible in that circle of life in which
+his sweetheart lived, and to feel her presence about him.
+
+Extract from a letter:--
+
+“Mount Rorke and I had a long and serious talk about you last night. He
+is against the marriage, but then he is against marriage in general. He
+said with his quiet, cynical laugh, 'I daresay she is a pretty girl--I
+can read the truth through your romantic descriptions. I am convinced
+that she is very charming. But are you quite sure that you will never
+meet another equally charming girl? Remember the world is a very big
+place, and the stock of women is large; are you sure that you will be
+able to enjoy the charm which now rules and enchants you for thirty,
+forty years without wearying of it? These are the questions you have to
+consider, which marriage entails.' I need hardly tell you what answer I
+made, and how I tried to convince him that your charms are those that
+a man capable of appreciating them could not weary of. Indeed I think I
+made him rather a neat answer--I said there are books in one volume,
+in two volumes, in three volumes, and there are books that you can take
+down and read at any time. He laughed; it rather tickled his fancy. And
+he said, 'Quite true, there are some books and some women that one never
+tires of--that is to say, that some people never tire of. I haven't been
+so fortunate or unfortunate, but that by the way. I admit such cases may
+occur. I will go further--I will admit that a man's life may be made
+or marred by his taking to himself a wife; and if Miss Brookes were a
+really nice girl--if she were the one girl in a million, and if I were
+sure that your passion for each other has its root in deeper and
+more lasting sympathies than those of the skin (these were his exact
+words)--believe me, my dear Frank, I should not think of opposing
+the marriage. I shall be in London during the season, and no doubt an
+occasion will arise, of which I promise you to avail myself, of making
+this model young lady's acquaintance. I will tell you what I think of
+her; she won't deceive me, let her try how she will. There is only one
+thing I bar--one thing must not be, one thing I will not tolerate--a bad
+marriage.' I lost my temper for a moment, but Mount Rorke did not lose
+his, and I soon came round. It is annoying to be spoken to in that way;
+but I remembered that he had not seen you, and I consoled myself by
+thinking of how great his conversion will be when he does. My only fear
+is that he'll want to marry you himself. So, you see, my own darling, my
+uncle is on the 'give,' and we shall win soon and easily. The only real
+obstacle is your father's pig-headedness on all matters in which money
+enters. I think with terror of his meeting with Mount Rorke. If he
+speaks to Mount Rorke as he spoke to me, my uncle will take up his hat
+and wish him good-morning. Do you exert all your influence. Do leave no
+stone unturned. All depends upon you.”
+
+Extract from another letter:--
+
+“I am weary of this place, and I long to see you. My longing is such
+that I can resist it no longer. Besides, nothing would be gained by
+remaining here. Mount Rorke will not say more than he has said. In a
+few days--think of that--I shall be with you. With what eagerness I look
+forward. How gladly I shall see the train leave the dreary bogs and the
+blue mountains of the West and pass into the pasture lands of Meath; how
+gladly I shall hail the brown, slobber-faced city of Dublin; with what
+delight I shall step on board the packet--I shall not think of sea
+sickness--and watch the line of the low coast disappear, then the
+Welsh mountains and castles, looking so like an illustrated history of
+England. I must spend two days in London, alas! I must order some
+new clothes. Victoria Station, with all its doors and cab stands, and
+book-stalls, the Sussex scenery, the woodlands, the Downs, the plunging
+through tunnels, and then you. Darling, I cannot believe that such
+happiness is in store for me.”
+
+All happened as he had anticipated. At Victoria the usual difficulties
+had arisen about the dog. Triss was growling, the guard was cringing,
+and, with reference to no stoppage before we come to Redhill, the
+necessity of a muzzle was being argued.
+
+“I am certain it is she,” and he followed with his eyes the tall,
+swinging figure in the black cloth dress. Then he saw the clear plump
+profile, so white, of Lizzie Baker.
+
+“Here, give me the chain, I'll tie the dog up.”
+
+“But the muzzle, sir.”
+
+A muzzle was procured, and Frank ran to the third class carriage where
+he had seen Lizzie enter.
+
+“Lizzie! Lizzie!”
+
+“Oh, Mr. Escott, who would have thought of seeing you! It is such a
+time--”
+
+“Yes, isn't it; how long? But are you going to Brighton?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“So am I; but--let me get you a first-class ticket. Guard, have I time
+to change my ticket?”
+
+“No, sir, the train is going to start; get in.”
+
+“Do you get out, Lizzie; I'll pay the difference at Brighton.”
+
+“No time for changing now, sir; are you getting into this carriage?”
+
+He could not forego the pleasure of being with Lizzie. An old woman with
+a provision basket on her lap drew her skirts aside and made way for
+him; there were three dirtily dressed girls--probably shop girls; they
+sat whispering together, a little troubled by the publicity; there were
+two youths, shabbily dressed, their worn boots and trousers covered with
+London mud. He was surprised, and he did not for a moment understand
+or realise his company. Frank had never been in a third-class carriage
+before.
+
+“I'm afraid you won't be comfortable here.”
+
+“Oh, yes, I shall; I'd just as soon travel in one class as another--much
+sooner when it means being with you.”
+
+“None of your nonsense; I see you haven't changed. Well, who'd have
+thought it? Just fancy meeting you, and after all this time.”
+
+“How long is it? It must be nearly two years. I haven't seen you
+sincethat day we went up the river.”
+
+“Yes, you have.”
+
+“No; where did I see you since?”
+
+“At the bar; I didn't leave the 'Gaiety' for several days after.”
+
+“No more you did; I remember now. But why did you leave without letting
+me know where you were going?”
+
+“I didn't know I was leaving till the morning, and I left in the
+afternoon. A lot of us were changed suddenly. The firm couldn't get
+enough young ladies to do the work at the Exhibition.”
+
+“But you didn't leave an address.”
+
+“Yes, I did.”
+
+“No, you didn't; I asked the manager, and he told me you had left no
+address. They didn't know where you had gone.”
+
+“Did he say so? You mean Mr. Fairlie, I suppose--now I come to think of
+it, it is the rule of the firm not to give information about the young
+ladies. I am sorry.”
+
+“Are you?”
+
+“I am, really. We had a very pleasant day up the river--Reading; you
+took me to Reading.”
+
+“Yes; but you would never come again.”
+
+“Wouldn't I? I suppose I couldn't find time--I did enjoy myself. What a
+lovely day it was.”
+
+“Yes; and do you remember how like a beautiful smile the river lay? And
+do you remember the bulrushes? I rowed you in among the rushes; you wet
+the sleeve of your dress plunging your arm in. I remember it, that white
+plump arm.”
+
+“Get along with you.”
+
+“I wanted to make a sketch of you leaning over the boatside with your
+lapful of water-lilies; I wish I had.”
+
+“I wish you had, too; you wrote a little poem instead. It was very
+pretty, but I should have liked the picture better. You gave me the poem
+next day when you came in to lunch. You had lunch at the bar, and I was
+so cross with you because you said I hadn't wiped the glass. It was all
+done to annoy me because I had been talking to that tall, rather stout
+young man, with the dark moustache, whom you were so jealous of. Don't
+you remember?”
+
+“Yes, I remember; and I believe it was that fellow who prevented you
+from coming out with me again.”
+
+“No, it wasn't; but don't speak so loud, all these people are listening
+to you.”
+
+Frank met the round stare of the girls; and, turning from the dormant
+curiosity of the old woman, he said--
+
+“Do you remember the locks, how frightened you were; you had never been
+through a lock before; and the beautiful old red brick house showing
+upon the lofty woods; and coming back in the calm of the evening,
+passing the different boats, the one where the girls lay back in the
+arms of the young men, the flapping sail, and the dreamy influences of
+the woods where we climbed and looked into space over the railing?”
+
+“At the green-table--don't you remember?”
+
+“Yes, I remember every hour of that day; we had lunch at the 'Roebuck.'”
+
+“You haven't spoken of the lady we saw there. Lady Something--I forget
+what you said her name was; you said she had been making up to you.”
+
+“I dined with her one night, and we went to the theatre.”
+
+“You may do that without it being said that you are making up to a
+gentleman.”
+
+“Of course; I should never think of saying you made up to me.”
+
+“I should hope not, indeed.”
+
+“I should never think of accusing you of having made up to me; you have
+always treated me very badly.”
+
+Lizzie did not answer. He looked at her, puzzled and perplexed, and he
+hoped that neither the girls nor the old lady had understood.
+
+“I am sorry; I really didn't mean to offend you. All I meant to say
+was that the lady we saw at the 'Roebuck' had been rather civil to me;
+had--well I don't know how to put it--shown an inclination to flirt with
+me--will that suit you?--and that I had not availed myself of my chances
+because I was in love with you.”
+
+Encouraged by a sunny smile, Frank continued: “You wouldn't listen to
+me; you were very cruel.”
+
+“I am sure I didn't mean to be cruel; I went out on the river with you,
+and we had a very pleasant day. You didn't say then I was cruel.”
+
+“No, you were very nice that day; it was the happiest day of my life.
+I was in love with you; I shall never care for any one as I cared for
+you.”
+
+“I don't believe you.”
+
+“I swear it is true. When you left the 'Gaiety' I searched London for
+you. If you had only cared for me we might have been very happy. As sure
+as a fellow loves a woman, so sure is she to like some other chap. Tell
+me, why did you go away and leave no address?”
+
+“I did leave an address.”
+
+“Well, we won't discuss that. Why didn't you write to me? You knew my
+address. It's no use saying you didn't.”
+
+“Well, I suppose I was in love with some one else.”
+
+“Were you? You always denied it. Ah! so you were in love with some one
+else? I knew it--I knew it was that thick-set fellow with the black
+moustache. I wonder how you could like him--the amount of whisky and
+water he used to drink.”
+
+“Yes, usen't he? I have served him with as many as six whiskies in an
+afternoon--Irish, he always drank Irish.”
+
+“How could you like a man who drank?”
+
+“But it wasn't he--I assure you; I give you my word of honour. It really
+wasn't. I'd tell you if it was.”
+
+“Well, who was it, then? It couldn't be the old man with the beard and
+white teeth?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Was it that great tall fellow, clean shaven?”
+
+“No, it wasn't; you'll never guess; There's no use trying. However, it
+is all over now.”
+
+“Why? Did he treat you badly? Whose fault was it?”
+
+“His. And the chances I threw away. He behaved like a beast. I had to
+give up keeping company with him.”
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Oh, I don't know. He changed very much towards me lately; he went
+messing about after other girls, and we had words, and I left.”
+
+“You will make it up. Perhaps you are mistaken.”
+
+“Mistaken--no; I found their letters in his pocket.”
+
+“There are always rows between sweethearts; and then they kiss and make
+it up, and love each other the more.”
+
+“No, I shall not see him again. We were going to be married; no, it is
+all over. It was a little hard at first, but I am all right now.”
+
+“I am sorry. Do you think there is no chance of making it up?”
+
+“I should have thought that you would be glad; men are so selfish they
+never think of any one but themselves.”
+
+“How do you mean? Why should I be glad that your marriage was broken
+off?”
+
+“You said just now that you liked me very much, I thought--”
+
+“So I do like you very much. Once I was in love with you--that day when
+we walked up the steep woods together.”
+
+“And you don't care for me any longer?”
+
+“I don't say that; but I am engaged to be married.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“Had you not snubbed me so I might have been married to you.”
+
+“Who are you going to be married to--to the lady we saw that day?”
+
+“Oh, no, not to her.”
+
+“I don't believe you. You mean to say you haven't been to see her
+since.”
+
+“I assure you---”
+
+“You mean to say you haven't seen her?”
+
+“I don't say that. I've just come from Ireland. I've been staying with
+my uncle. She spent a week with us; that's all I have seen of her. I am
+going now to see the young lady whom I am engaged to.”
+
+“And when will you be married?”
+
+“I don't know; there are a great many difficulties in the way. Perhaps I
+shall never marry her.”
+
+“Nonsense. I know better. You think it will take me in. I'll never be
+taken in again, not if I know it.”
+
+“I don't want to take you in.”
+
+“I don't know so much about that. Is she very pretty? I suppose you are
+very much in love with her?”
+
+“Yes, I love her very much. Dark, not like you a bit--just the
+opposite.”
+
+“And you met her since you saw me?”
+
+“No.”
+
+“Ah, I thought as much, and yet you told me the day we went up the river
+together that you never had and couldn't care for any one elsebut me.
+Men are all alike--they never tell the truth.”
+
+“Wait a minute; wait a minute. I knew her long before I knew you; I have
+known her since I was a boy, but that doesn't mean that I have been in
+love with her since I was a boy. I never thought of her until you threw
+me over, until long after; it was last summer I fell in love with her.”
+
+Lizzie's eyes were full upon him, and it seemed to them that each could
+see and taste the essence of the other's thought.
+
+“What have you been doing ever since? You have told me nothing about
+yourself.”
+
+“Well, after trying vainly to find you--having searched, as I thought,
+all Speirs and Pond's establishments in London, I tried to resign myself
+to my fate. I assure you, I was dreadfully cut up--could do nothing.
+My life was a burden to me. You have been in love, and you know what an
+ache it is; it used to catch me about the heart. There was no hope; you
+were gone--gone as if the earth had swallowed you. I got sick of going
+to the 'Gaiety' and asking those girls if they knew anything about you;
+so to cure myself I went to France, and I worked hard at my painting. In
+such circumstances there is only one thing--work.”
+
+“You are right.”
+
+“Yes; nothing does you any good but work. I worked in the
+_atelier_--that's the French for studio--all the morning, and in the
+afternoon I painted from the nude in a public studio. I had such a
+nice studio--such a jolly little place. I was up every morning at
+eight o'clock, my model arrived at nine, and I worked without stopping
+(barring the ten or twelve minutes' rest at the end of every hour) till
+twelve. Then I went to the cafe to have breakfast--how I used to enjoy
+those breakfasts--fried eggs all swimming in butter, a cutlet, after,
+nice bread and butter, then cock your legs up, drink your coffee, and
+smoke your cigarette till one.”
+
+“Did you like the French cafe better than the 'Gaiety'?”
+
+“It is impossible to compare them. I made a great deal of progress. I
+began one picture of a woman in a hammock, a recollection of you.
+You remember when we passed under those cedar branches, close to the
+'Roebuck,' we saw a hammock hung by the water's edge, and I said I would
+like to see you in it, and stand by and rock you. I had intended to send
+it to the Academy, but I never could finish it, the French model was not
+what I wanted--I wanted you; and I was obliged to leave France, and I
+could get no one in Southwick. Once a fellow changes his model he is
+done for; he never can find his idea again.”
+
+“Where's Southwick?”
+
+“A village outside Brighton, three or four miles, not more. I have a
+studio there; you must come and see it.”
+
+“You must paint me. But what would your lady love say if she found me in
+your studio? She'd have me out of it pretty quick. Tell me about her; I
+want to hear how you fell in love.”
+
+“It happened in the most curious, quite providential way. I have told
+you that I knew them since I was a boy. Maggie has often sat on my
+knee.”
+
+“Maggie is her name, then?”
+
+“Yes, don't you like the name? I do. Her brother was a school-fellow of
+mine. We were at Eton together, and one time when Mount Rorke was away
+travelling they asked me to spend my holidays at Southwick. That's how I
+got to know them. One day Maggie and Sally were at my studio; Sally has
+a sweetheart--”
+
+The sentence was cut short by a sudden roar. The train had entered a
+tunnel, and the speakers made pause, seeing each other vaguely in the
+dim light, and when they emerged into the cold April twilight Frank told
+the story of Triss and Berkins, Mr. Brookes struggling with the door,
+and the girls rushing screaming from their hiding-place; and Frank's
+imitation of Berkin's pomposity amused Lizzie, and she laughed till she
+cried. He continued till the joke was worn bare; then, fearing he had
+been talking too much of himself, he said: “Now, I have been very candid
+with you, tell me about yourself.”
+
+“There is nothing to tell; I think I have told you all.” Then she
+said, slipping, as she spoke, into minute confidences: “When I left the
+'Gaiety' I went for a few days to the Exhibition, but _he_ wanted to
+leave London, so I applied to the firm to remove me to Liverpool (not
+Liverpool Street; the girl--I suppose it was Miss Clarke, for I wrote to
+her--made a mistake, or you misunderstood her). We remained in Liverpool
+a year, and then we came back to London, and I went to the 'Criterion,'
+but I couldn't stop there long; he was so awfully jealous of me; he
+used to catechise me every evening--who had I spoken to? How long I
+had spoken to this man? Once I slapped a man's face in fun because he
+squeezed my hand when I handed him the change across the counter. There
+was such a row about it. I don't know how _he_ heard of it. I think he
+must have got some one to watch me. I often suspected the porter--the
+bigger one of the two; but you don't know the 'Criterion.' You used to
+go to the 'Gaiety.'”
+
+“Perhaps he saw you himself. I suppose he used to come to the bar?”
+
+“No, not unless--no, not very often. He banged me about.”
+
+“Banged you about, the brute! Good heavens! How could you like a man
+who would strike a woman? Who was he? Was he a gentleman--I mean, was he
+supposed to be a gentleman? Of course he wasn't really a gentleman, or
+he wouldn't have struck you.”
+
+“He was in a passion, he was very sorry for it afterwards. Then I left
+the firm and went to live in lodgings; he allowed me so much a week.”
+
+“He was a man of some means?”
+
+“No, but it didn't cost him much, he knew the people. We were going to
+be married, but he got ill, and we thought we had better wait; and I
+went to the 'Gaiety' again. I was a fool, of course, to think so much
+about him, for I had plenty of chances. One man who used to lunch there
+three times a week wanted me to marry him, and take me right away. I
+think he was in the printing business--a man who was making good money;
+but I could not give Harry up.”
+
+“Harry is his name, then?”
+
+“Yes; but it all began over again. It was just the same at the 'Gaiety'
+as it was at the 'Criterion.' He would never leave me alone, but kept
+on accusing me of flirting with the gentlemen that came to the bar.
+Now, you know as well as I do what the bar is. You must be polite to the
+gentlemen you serve. There are certain gentlemen who always come to me,
+and don't care to be served by any one else, and if I didn't speak to
+them they wouldn't come to the bar. The manager is very sharp, and would
+be sure to mention it.”
+
+“Whom do you mean? That fellow with the yellow moustache that walks
+about with his frock-coat all open--a sort of apotheosis of sherry and
+bitters?”
+
+“That's what you called him once before. You see I remember. He is very
+fond of sherry and bitters. But I was saying that Harry would keep on
+interfering with me, pulling me over the coals. We had such dreadful
+rows. He accused me of having gone with gentlemen to their rooms--a
+thing I never did. I could stand it no longer, and we agreed to part.”
+
+“How long is that ago?”
+
+“About three weeks. I could stand it no longer, I couldn't remain at the
+'Gaiety,' so I resolved to leave.”
+
+“Why couldn't you remain at the 'Gaiety,' the manager didn't know
+anything about it?”
+
+“No, he knew nothing about it, it wouldn't have mattered if he had, but
+after a break up like that you can't remain among people you know--you
+want to get right away; there's nothing like a change. Besides I
+mightn't get such a good chance again; I had the offer of a very good
+place in Brighton, and I took it--a new restaurant, they open to-morrow.
+I get thirty pounds a year and my food.”
+
+“And lodging?”
+
+“No, they are very short of accommodation, and I have taken a room in
+one of the streets close by--Preston Street. Do you know it?”
+
+“Perfectly, off the Western Road.”
+
+“The lady who has the house knew my poor mother--a very nice woman--will
+let me have a bedroom for five shillings a week, and I shall be allowed
+to use her sitting-room when I want it, which, of course, won't be very
+often, for I shall be at business all day.”
+
+The train rolled along the platform; Frank asked the porter when there
+would be a train for Southwick, and was told he would have half an hour
+to wait.
+
+“I shall have time to drive you to Preston Street.”
+
+“Oh, no, please don't! She will be waiting for you--you will miss your
+train.”
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+
+About four in the afternoon he left off painting, and went to Brighton
+for a couple of hours. The little journey broke up the day, he bought
+the evening papers, and it was pleasant to glance from the news to those
+who passed, and to look upon the sunny and hazy sea. He liked to go to
+Mutton's, and regretted Lizzie was not there, instead of behind a
+bar serving whisky and beer. But he went to the bar. It was a German
+establishment, decorated with the mythological art of Munich, and
+enlivened with a discordant band. The different rooms were fitted with
+bars of various importance. Lizzie was engaged at the largest--that
+nearest the entrance. At half-past five this bar was thronged with all
+classes. Beer and whisky were drunk hurriedly, with a look of trains on
+the face. The quietest time was from half-past three to half-past four,
+during these hours the dining-room was alone in the presence of the
+awful goddesses and a couple of drowsy waiters. Most of the girls were
+out, some two or three read faded novels in the sloppy twilight; a group
+of four or five men who had lingered from half-hour to half-hour turned
+their backs, and talked among themselves; sometimes a couple would
+condescendingly address Lizzie, and tease her with rude remarks; or else
+Frank found her having a little private chat with an old gentleman, a
+youth, or, may be, the waiter.
+
+Lizzie had her bar manners and her town manners, and she slipped on the
+former as she would an article of clothing when she lifted the slab and
+passed behind. They consisted principally of cordial smiles, personal
+observations, and a look of vacancy which she assumed when
+the conversation became coarse. From behind the bar she spoke
+authoritatively, she was secure, it was different--it was behind the
+bar; and she spoke with a cheek and a raciness that at other times were
+quite foreign to her. “I will not sleep with you to-night if you don't
+behave yourself,” so Frank once heard her answer a swaggering young man.
+She spoke out loud, evidently regarding her words merely in the light
+of gentle repartee. What she heard and said in the bar remained not
+a moment on her mind, she appeared to accept it all as part of the
+business of the place, and when Frank was annoyed she only laughed.
+
+“Men will talk improper--what does it matter? One doesn't pay attention
+to their nonsense, and it is only in the bar. Never mind all that, tell
+me what you have been doing. You didn't come into Brighton yesterday, I
+suppose?”
+
+“No, I had to go to the Manor House.”
+
+“And how is she--the only one? Are you as much in love with her as
+ever?”
+
+“I suppose I am; I have begun a portrait of her.”
+
+“What, another! You never finish anything. I shan't have that when I
+come and sit for you. I shall make you finish my portrait.”
+
+“Ah, yes; when you come and sit. But, joking apart, when will you come?
+I should so like to show you my studio. It really looks very nice now.
+When will you come?”
+
+“I have no time.”
+
+“Why not come next Sunday; it is your Sunday off.”
+
+“What would Maggie say if she found me there? She'd have my eyes out.”
+
+“If she did find it out she'd know you came to sit; but as a matter
+of fact she'd know nothing about it. You come and lunch with me about
+twelve--they're all in church about that time.”
+
+“And you never go to church, you wicked boy. I don't know that I dare
+trust myself with you.”
+
+A scruple jarred the even strain of his desire to paint Lizzie's
+portrait, but his scruple vanished in one of her sweet sunny smiles, and
+he gave her all information about the train she would have to take to
+reach Southwick by twelve o'clock.
+
+He ordered some delicacies in the way of potted meats, and there was a
+bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice when she arrived.
+
+“Do you keep your champagne in ice? We never do in the bar. When the
+gentlemen want it they have a piece to put in their wine.”
+
+“I wish you'd try to forget your gentlemen when you come here.”
+
+Lizzie began to cry, and it was hard to console her; she said that Frank
+had spoilt her lunch for her.
+
+“It is because you are so much superior to the men I see you speaking
+to. How can I help feeling annoyed that you should be serving drinks?”
+
+“But I've got to get my living. You don't suppose I serve in a bar
+because I like it?”
+
+“No, of course not; but don't let us talk any more about it. You're
+going to sit to me, and I want to do as pretty a portrait of you as I
+can. All that beautiful brown hair, and that hat! Let me take it from
+your head!” Frank had bought this hat for her and had handed it to her
+over the counter, thereby bringing censure upon her from the manager.
+“Let's forget what I said. The hat suits you. There, now against the
+light, just a three-quarter face.”
+
+At the end of half an hour he said she was a very good sitter and this
+pleased her, and she tried to keep the pose till the clock struck, but
+at the end of fifty minutes she said: “I must get up,” and she came
+round to see what he was doing.
+
+“Now you mustn't criticise it,” he said. “It's only a beginning. You've
+forgiven me my remarks about the bar?”
+
+“Don't remind me of it again.”
+
+But he could not get it out of his head that he had annoyed her, and
+was unable to apply himself to his painting; perhaps for this reason his
+drawing went wrong, and his colour became muddy, and the thought struck
+him that if Maggie were to find this portrait about the studio she would
+certainly ask him whose portrait it was.
+
+“I can't paint to-day,” he said, getting up from his easel.
+
+“And why can't you paint?” The question seemed to him at first a stupid
+one, and then she showed a perception that surprised him. “Are you
+afraid the young lady you're engaged to might come and catch me sitting
+to you?”
+
+The fear that this might happen had been floating in the back of his
+mind for the last half hour; he had kept Lizzie too long in the studio,
+and it was not improbable that the girls might knock at his door at any
+moment, and if they did it would be impossible for him not to answer.
+Triss would bark.
+
+“Well,” she said, “I won't keep you any longer.”
+
+“No, I assure you,” he said aloud, and within himself, “I'd give a
+sovereign if I could get her to the station without being seen.”
+
+And he thought he had done so as he returned half an hour afterwards
+across the green. Maggie was waiting for him. “Come to ask me to dine at
+the Manor House,” he thought; but she told him that she knew all about
+his visitor, and, despite all Frank's efforts to pacify her she grew
+more violent, more excited until at last she told him she didn't want to
+see him any more, that he was to go away, that she gave him his liberty.
+
+“What an excitable girl she is! I'll go there this evening and try to
+coax her out of her anger. I must try to explain to her that a painter
+must have models. If we were married we shouldn't have more than a
+thousand a year to live on at the outside--that is to say, if Mount
+Rorke and Brookes come to terms, which is not very likely, they might
+make up a thousand a year between them, that would not be enough for
+two, and I should have to work; and I couldn't work without a model.
+The thing is absurd! She'll have to learn that a model is absolutely
+necessary; we were bound to have a row over that model question, so it
+might as well come off now as later on, and we shall understand each
+other better when this has blown over. There is nothing, and never has
+been anything, between me and Lizzie--my conscience is clear on that
+score. How pretty she looked to-day--that pale brown hair, so soft
+and so full of colour. To-day was an unlucky day; I began by being
+unfortunate with my painting; I never made a worse drawing in my life,
+and the worst of it was that I did not see that my drawing was wrong
+until I had begun to paint.”
+
+A remembrance of Maggie's gracefulness came dazzling and straining his
+imagination, and in sharp revulsion of desire he assailed Lizzie with
+angry and contemptuous memory. She was always in low company--was never
+happy out of it; it was part of her. How this man liked six dashes of
+bitters in his sherry, and the other would not drink whisky except in a
+thin glass.
+
+As he was leaving the studio he received a letter from Maggie, and
+when he thought of the circumstances in which it was written, he grew
+genuinely alarmed, for there was no forgetting the seriousness of the
+letter, and she stated her reasons for the step she was taking without
+undue emphasis. In its severity and quiet determination the letter did
+not seem like her, and he suspected forgery, sisterly advice, paternal
+influence--a family conspiracy. There was but one thing to do. He looked
+through the various furniture for his hat; and with his head full of
+citations from the lives of artists illustrative of their conduct, he
+went to her. But Maggie would not see him.
+
+“Miss Brookes,” the servant said, “is in her room and cannot see you,
+sir.”
+
+“She will never be mine, she will never be mine,” he muttered as he
+passed into the town. “But why do I think she'll never be mine?” And
+looking at the grey sea with only a trace of the sunset left in the grey
+sky he asked himself if the thought that had crossed his mind were a
+conviction, a fore-telling or merely a passing fancy created by the
+difficulty of the moment. He asked himself if he had heard himself
+saying, “She'll never be mine” and mistaken his own voice for the voice
+of Fate. Over the shingle bank the sea faded, a thin illusion, dim and
+promiseful of peace, and as the darkness and the sea filled Frank's soul
+he, the lightest and most life-loving of men, was filled for once with
+a sense of failure of life, and as his sorrowing thoughts drifted on he
+remembered that he had stood with her in hearing of the rising tide, and
+all his pleading and passion came back to him.
+
+“What are you doing here?”
+
+It was Willy.
+
+“I don't know. Maggie has broken off her engagement; she will never
+speak to me again, she hopes we may never meet.”
+
+“I don't understand. When did she break off her engagement?”
+
+Frank told his story, and they walked across the green towards the
+studio.
+
+“Oh, you don't care. I don't believe you are listening to me.”
+
+“I am listening. You never think any one understands what is said to
+them if they do not instantly jump and call the stars to witness.”
+
+“I suppose I am like that--excitable--the difference between the Celt
+and the Saxon; and yet I don't know, your sisters are quite as excitable
+as I am.”
+
+“They take after their mother; I am more like my father.”
+
+“It wouldn't be a bad character for a play--a man who never would
+believe what you said, unless you threw up your arms and called on the
+stars.”
+
+“He can't be very bad if he can think about plays,” thought Willy.
+
+“Tell me, Willy, you won't offend me; tell me exactly what you think,
+did I do anything wrong? I swear to you there is nothing between me and
+Lizzie--I believe she is over head and ears in love with some fellow who
+has treated her very badly. She never would tell me who he was. In fact,
+she told me she had left London so that she might get over it. There
+would be no use my humbugging you, and I swear there is not, and never
+was, anything between me and Lizzie Baker. I never expected to see her
+again. It is very strange how people meet. I have told you all about it.
+When I go to Brighton I must go somewhere to get a drink, and I really
+don't see there is any harm in going to the 'Tivoli'; it didn't occur
+to me to think I should avoid the place merely because she was serving
+there. I have often been there, I don't deny it. Do you see there is any
+harm in my going there?”
+
+“I don't like giving an opinion unless I am fully acquainted with the
+facts; but it seems to me that you might have gone to the 'Tivoli' to
+have a drink without asking her to your studio.”
+
+“Stay a bit, we'll speak of that presently. I am now telling you how
+I see Lizzie when I go to Brighton. I often go to Brighton by the four
+o'clock train, I often go to the 'Tivoli,' and when she is not talking
+to some one else I talk to her about things in general; but I swear I
+have never been out with her, that I never saw her except in the bar,
+and yet Maggie accuses me of keeping a woman in Brighton, and won't hear
+what I have to say in my defence. This is what she says: 'I have it on
+unquestionable authority that you have been keeping this woman since you
+returned from Ireland, perhaps before, and that you go in by the four
+o'clock train almost daily to see her.' Now I ask you if it is fair to
+make such accusations--such utterly false and baseless accusations--and
+then to refuse to hear what a fellow has to say in his defence? By Jove!
+if I caught the fellow who has been telling lies about me, I'd let him
+have it. Some of those Southdown Road people have been writing to her,
+that's about the long and short of it.
+
+“As for having asked her to come to the studio, I assure you my
+intentions were quite innocent. Perhaps you won't understand what
+I mean; you don't care for painting, but very often an artist has a
+longing to paint a certain face, and the desire completely masters him.
+Well, I had a longing of this kind to paint Lizzie; hers is just the
+kind of head that suits me--she offered to give me a sitting, Idid
+not see much harm in accepting, and as I could not paint her in the
+bar-room, I asked her to the studio. But as for making out there was
+anything wrong--I assure you she is not that sort of girl. If we were
+married (I mean Maggie and I) I would have to have models; we'll have to
+come to an understanding on that point. Now what I want you to do is to
+explain to Maggie that there is nothing wrong between me and Lizzie, you
+can tell her there is nothing--I swear there is nothing; and then you
+had better explain that an artist must have models to work from.”
+
+“Don't ask me. I wish you wouldn't ask me. I make a rule never to
+interfere in my sisters' affairs. I did once, you remember, and I
+thought I should never hear the end of it.”
+
+“I think you might do this for me.”
+
+“Don't ask me. I wish you wouldn't, my dear fellow. I am an exceedingly
+nervous chap, and I have had nothing but bad luck all my life.”
+
+“You think of nothing but yourself. You certainly are the most selfish
+fellow I ever met. You take no interest in any affairs but your own.”
+
+Willy made no answer. He sat stroking his moustache softly with slow
+crumpled hand. After a long silence, he said: “Tell me, Frank, are you
+really in love with my sister, or is it only imagination? I know people
+often think they are in love when their fancy is only a little excited.
+Very little will pass for being in love, but the real thing is very
+different from such fancies.”
+
+“I assure you I never loved any one like Maggie. Yes, I am sure I love
+her.”
+
+“You may be in love, I don't say you aren't; but I am sure there's
+no more common mistake than to fancy one's self in love because one's
+imagination is a bit excited. When you do fall in love, you find out
+your mistake.”
+
+“You think no one was ever in love but yourself. Do you remember when
+you took me to see her, when we heard her sing 'Love was false as he was
+fair, and I loved him far too well'?”
+
+Frank knew no more of the story than that: Willy had loved this actress
+vainly. On occasions Willy had alluded to her, but he had never shown
+signs of wishing to confide.
+
+“Yes, I remember. How I loved that woman, and what a wreck it has made
+of my life. I daresay you often think me dull; I can quite understand
+your thinking me narrow-minded, selfish, and incapable of taking
+interest in other people's affairs: losing her took the soul out of my
+life. Now nothing really amuses me--now nothing really interests me. I
+often think if I were to die, it would be a happy release.”
+
+“You never told me anything about it before; wouldn't she marry you?”
+
+“I never knew her. I fell in love with her the first time I saw her,
+and my love swallowed up everything else. Then I wasn't wrapped up in
+account-books, although I was always a precise and methodical sort of
+chap; I was young enough then, now I am an older man than my father.
+Some fellows have all the luck; everything succeeds with them, every one
+loves them, men and women, they get all they ask for and more, others
+get nothing. No matter what I tried to do, something went wrong and
+I was baulked. I set my heart on that girl, she was the one thing I
+wanted. I saw her play the same piece fifty times. I knew my passion
+was hopeless, but I couldn't resist it. Had I known her I might have won
+her, but there were no means; I never saw her but once off the stage,
+and that was but a moment. I often sent her presents, sometimes
+jewellery, sometimes fans or flowers, anything and everything I thought
+she would like. I sent her a beautiful locket; I paid fifty pounds for
+it.”
+
+“Did she accept your presents?”
+
+“I sent them anonymously.”
+
+“Why did you not try to make her acquaintance?”
+
+“I knew nobody in the theatrical world. I was not good at making
+acquaintances. You might have done it. I am a timid man.”
+
+“Did you make no attempt? You might have written.”
+
+“At last I did write.”
+
+“What did you write?”
+
+“I tried to tell her the exact truth. I told her that I had refrained
+from writing to her for three years. That I quite understood the folly
+and the presumption of the effort; but I felt now, as drowning men that
+clutch at straws, that I must make my condition known to her. I told
+her I loved her truly and honourably, that my position and fortune would
+have entitled me to aspire to her hand if fate had been kind enough to
+allow me to know her. It was a very difficult letter to write, and
+I just tried to make myself clear. I told her I knew no one in the
+theatrical world, and that waiting and hoping for some chanceto bring
+us together would only result in misery long drawn out; that I had some
+faint hope that this letter might lead her to consider that there might
+be an exception to the rule that a young lady should not stop to speak
+to a young man she didn't know. I remember I said 'when men are in
+deadly earnest, truth seems to shine between the lines they write. I
+know I am in earnest, and may say that all I hold dear and precious in
+life is set in the hope that this letter may not appear to you in the
+light of one of those foolish and wicked letters which I believe men
+often write to actresses, and of which I suppose you have been the
+recipient.' Then I said that I would be at the stage door on the
+following night, and that I hoped she would allow me to speak a few
+words to her.”
+
+“And did she?”
+
+“I could not speak to her; I lost all courage in that moment. She walked
+close by me.”
+
+“You mean to say you did not speak to her after writing that letter?”
+
+“Call me a fool, an idiot, what you will; I could not do it. I can
+only compare my feeling to what Livingstone says he felt when he found
+himself face to face with a lion. He stood staring in the lion's eyes,
+unable to move.”
+
+“She must have thought your letter a practical joke. I wonder what she
+did think.”
+
+“I wrote explaining the unfortunate circumstances as well as I could,
+and telling her I would come the following night.”
+
+“Did you go?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Did you speak to her?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“And she wouldn't speak?”
+
+“She passed on with her maid, but I didn't lose hope until she married.
+It was always a sort of sad pleasure to go to the theatre to see her.
+I used to live at the Manor House for two or three months at a time,
+saving up my money so as to be able to make her some nice present. I
+wished her to remember me, although she would not speak to me. No one
+came to the Manor House; there was nothing to do except to read the
+paper and smoke my pipe. I was sick of my life, and I counted the days
+that would have to pass till I saw her again--only thirty more days,
+only nineteen days, only one more week--so I used to count, marking off
+each day in an almanac, until one day I read the announcement of her
+marriage; then I knew all hope was at an end. I went mad that night
+and rushed out of the house, and I should have drowned myself had I not
+fainted. When I came to, I was weak and delirious, and wandered along
+the beach, not knowing where I was going. Some fishermen brought me
+home. My sisters were at school at the time. I believe I was very near
+dying. I fainted three times one afternoon. I used to lie on the sofa
+and cry for hours. She married a stockbroker. I believe she didn't care
+for him at all. Then she died. She was buried in Kensal Green. Whenever
+I am in London I go and see her grave.”
+
+“This is awfully sad.”
+
+“Yes; it ruined my life. I never had any luck. Things always went wrong
+with me.”
+
+“I should like to see those letters.”
+
+“I haven't got copies. I didn't keep a letter-book in those days. Let's
+talk of something else. I have some news. I am going in for breeding
+race-horses.”
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“What I say. I have calculated it all out, and I find I shall make from
+fifteen to twenty per cent, on my money.”
+
+“By breeding race-horses! And where are you going to breed them?”
+
+“You know those stables on the Portslade Road where the veterinary
+surgeon used to live? I am going to take that place. The rent is three
+hundred pounds a year; there are fifty acres of pasture, and stabling
+for thirty horses. The dwelling-house is not a very aristocratic-looking
+place, but it will do for the present; when I begin to make money I
+shall go in for alterations. You can't do everything at once.”
+
+“You do astonish me. And where are you going to get the money to do all
+this? You will require at least twenty thousand pounds capital.”
+
+“More than that. You would not be able to work a place like that under
+twenty-five thousand pounds,” Willy replied sententiously. “I have got
+about eight thousand left of my own, and I came in for a legacy of three
+thousand at the beginning of this year--an aunt of mine left me the
+money; and my father has agreed to let me have fourteen thousand on
+condition of my abandoning all further claim upon him. The bulk of his
+fortune will now be divided among my sisters. Berkins advised him to
+accept my offer.”
+
+“I should think so indeed; your father is worth ten thousand a year.”
+
+“No, nothing like that. His business has been going down for years past.
+Last year he lost heavily again; if it weren't for his investments he
+wouldn't be able to go on with it. The business is done for; I knew
+that long ago. My father and I could never agree about how the accounts
+should be kept. That head clerk of his is an awful duffer.”
+
+“Yes, but what are you going to do with the shop?”
+
+“The shop was the origin of it all. If it hadn't been for the shop I
+dare say I never should have thought of the race-horses. My father and
+I could never work together. I offered to buy his surplus fruit and
+vegetables, and, without absolutely binding myself to deal with no
+one else, I had assured him of my chief custom. Naturally I expected
+something in return--I expected him to let me have peaches in April and
+strawberries in March. You cannot do this without using a good deal of
+heating power. I spoke to the gardener several times. Often when I went
+into the houses I found the pipes nearly cold. I got tired of this, and
+I paid a man out of my own pocket to keep the furnaces properly
+stoked, and--would you believe it?--my father actually raised
+objections--objected to my paying a man to look after his glass-houses
+as they should be looked after. He said he would not order in any more
+coke, that I'd have to get along with what there was in the garden; he
+said he wished the shop at the devil. I saw it was hopeless. You cannot
+help my father, and he won't help himself, so I threw the whole thing
+up.”
+
+“And when are you going to start the new scheme?”
+
+“Immediately. One of my reasons for accepting fourteen thousand pounds
+down as a settlement in full was because I was beginning to fear that
+he might get wind of my marriage. From one or two things I have heard
+lately, I have reason to suspect that the secret is beginning to ooze
+out, and I thought it might be as well to take time by the forelock.”
+
+“And you told him? What did he say?”
+
+“What people usually say when they criticise other people's lives
+without knowing anything of their temptations and sufferings. But I want
+to tell you about my scheme. I have bought Blue Mantle, the winner of
+the Czarewitch, and only beaten by a length for the Cambridgeshire, a
+three-year-old, with eight stone on his back; a most unlucky horse--if
+he had been in the Leger or Derby he would have won one or both. He
+broke down when he was four years old. By King Tom out of Merry Agnes,
+by Newminster out of Molly Bawn.”
+
+“I didn't know you knew so much about racing.”
+
+“I know more than you think. I don't let out all I know.”
+
+“And how much did you pay for Blue Mantle?”
+
+“Dirt cheap. I can imagine myself two years hence, when my first batch
+of yearlings is put up for sale--500, 650, 800, 1000, knocked down
+for 1000 guineas, brown colt by Blue Mantle out of Wild Rose, bred by
+William Brookes, Esq.”
+
+“I don't think money will come in quite so fast as that.”
+
+“Perhaps not; but can't you let a fellow enjoy himself? I never knew any
+one like you for throwing cold water. I believe you are jealous.”
+
+“What nonsense!”
+
+“Well, never mind. I shall be the deuce of a dog, see if I shan't. I
+always like to kill two birds with one stone if I can, and my
+business will bring me into connection with the very best in the land.
+Unfortunately! my people don't care about getting on; now I do. I like
+to know people who are better than myself--at all events, who are no
+worse. I shouldn't be surprised if I were dining at Goodwood and Arundel
+before long. When I go up to town I shall be calling on Lady This and
+Lady That, and later on I might get in somewhere in the Conservative
+interest.”
+
+“How long you may know a man, and then find you are mistaken in his
+character,” thought Frank. “So vanity is at the bottom of all these
+efforts to make money.”
+
+“When are you coming to the Manor House?”
+
+“Impossible. You know I can't go there so long as your father--”
+
+“Come in one afternoon; he'll ask you to stay to dinner. He has
+forgotten all about it.”
+
+“I cannot come to the Manor House until my engagement to your sister is
+sanctioned by him.”
+
+“The way to get that is to come to the Manor House and talk him into
+it. For my part, I think, even from his point of view, that it would
+be better that he should recognise the engagement; nothing can be more
+damaging than these clandestine meetings.”
+
+“What can I do? I will not give her up.”
+
+“I never interfere. I have quite enough worries of my own. I must be
+getting home. It is very late. Good-bye.”
+
+The green was as bright as day in the moonlight and Frank watched Willy
+walking, his shoulders thrown back. He sighed; an undefinable, but
+haunting melancholy hung about Willy; he often impressed Frank as an old
+book--a book whose text is trite--which no one will read, and which yet
+continues to make its mute appeal; a something that has always missed
+its way, that can hardly be said to be an adequate thing to offer for
+any man's money, that will soon disappear somehow out of all sight and
+reckoning.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+
+A few days after he got a letter from Lizzie, saying she was alone
+and ill, and asking him to come and see her. He took the next train to
+Brighton. The land-lady's daughter, a girl of about twelve, opened the
+door to him.
+
+“How is Miss Baker? Is she any better?”
+
+“Please, sir, she is not at all well, she has cold shivers; and mother
+went away yesterday.”
+
+“And who looks after Miss Baker?”
+
+“Please, sir, I do.”
+
+“You do! Is there no one else in the house?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“Is Miss Baker in bed?”
+
+“No, sir. She said she would get up a little while this afternoon,
+'cause she said she thought you was coming.”
+
+“Go and tell her I am here.”
+
+“Please, sir, she said you was to go upstairs--the back room on the
+second floor, please.”
+
+“Come in.”
+
+“I am so sorry you are ill, Lizzie. What is the matter?”
+
+“I don't know; I think I caught a severe chill. I stayed out very late
+on the beach.”
+
+“But why are you crying? Do tell me. Can I do anything?”
+
+“No no. What does it matter whether I laugh or cry? Nothing matters now.
+I don't care what becomes of me.”
+
+“A pretty girl like you; nonsense! Some one rich and grand will fall in
+love with you, and give you everything you want.”
+
+“I don't want any one to fall in love with me; I am done for--don't care
+what becomes of me.”
+
+“Do tell me about it. Have you heard anything further about him? Do tell
+me; don't cry like that.”
+
+“No, no, leave me, leave me! I am so miserable. I don't know why I wrote
+to you. I hope I shall die.”
+
+“It is very lucky you did write to me, for you are clearly very ill.
+What is the matter?”
+
+“I don't know; I can't get warm. This room is very cold--don't you think
+so?”
+
+“Cold? No.”
+
+“I feel cold; my throat is very bad--perhaps I shall be better in the
+morning.”
+
+“You must see a doctor.”
+
+“Oh, no! I don't want to see a doctor.”
+
+“You must see a doctor.”
+
+“No, no, I beg of you. I only wrote to you because I was feeling so
+miserable.”
+
+Lizzie stood between him and the door, imploring him not to fetch a
+doctor, but to go away at once, and to tell no one she had written
+to him, or that he had been to see her. “Nothing matters now--I am
+ruined--I don't care what becomes of me.” He marvelled; but soon all
+considerations were swept away in anxiety for her bodily health; and
+having extorted a promise from her that she would not leave the room
+until he came back, he rushed to the nearest chemist and hence to the
+doctor.
+
+“I want you to come at once, if possible, and see a young lady who,
+I fear, is dangerously ill. She has not been in Brighton long. She is
+quite alone. She sent for me. I live at Southwick. I came out at once.
+I have known her a long time. I may say she is a great friend of mine.
+I found her very ill--I must say her condition seems to me alarming. I
+should like her to see a doctor at once. Can you come at once?”
+
+“I am just finishing dinner. I will come in about ten minutes' time.
+What is the address?”
+
+“20 Preston Street.--I hope he does not think there is anything wrong,”
+ thought Frank. “He look's as if he did,” and with a view of removing
+suspicion, he said: “She is a young lady whom I have known for some
+years. We had lost sight of each other until we travelled down in the
+train together. I say this because I do not wish you to think there is
+anything wrong.”
+
+“My good sir, I should not allow myself to have any opinions on the
+matter. I am summoned to attend a patient, and I give the best advice in
+my power.”
+
+“Yes, but one can't help forming opinions--a beautiful young girl living
+alone in lodgings, and having apparently for sole protector a young man,
+are circumstances that might be easily misconstrued, and as I am engaged
+to be married, I think it right to tell you exactly how I stand in
+relation to this young woman.”
+
+The doctor bowed.
+
+“Do you not think I did well in making this explanation?”
+
+“It can do no harm; we medical men see so much that we take no notice
+of anything but our patient. But tell me something of this young lady's
+suffering. Can you describe the symptoms?”
+
+“She has a racking headache--she is shivering all over--she sits by the
+fire and cannot get warm. It looks to me as if it were fever.”
+
+“Does she complain of her throat?”
+
+“Yes; she cannot swallow.”
+
+“Probably an attack of quinsy.”
+
+“Is that dangerous?”
+
+“No; but it is infectious.”
+
+“I don't mind about that--she is alone. I will see her through it.”
+
+“I will go round to Preston Street immediately I have finished
+dinner--in about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour.”
+
+When the doctor had seen Lizzie, he said to Frank, who accompanied him
+downstairs: “Just as I expected--quinsy. She will take from eight to ten
+days to get well. We have taken it in time, that's one good thing. The
+throat is very bad. She must have a linseed poultice, and she must use
+the gargle. Is there any one in the house who can attend to her?”
+
+“I am afraid not; the landlady went away this morning, leaving no one in
+the house but that child. She will, I hope, be home to-morrow.”
+
+“In that case you had better have a nurse in; I will give you the
+address of one.”
+
+When Frank returned he found her lying on the bed weeping. As before,
+she refused to tell him the cause of her grief. She would make no other
+answer than that nothing mattered now, that she didn't care what became
+of her; and when he spoke of going to fetch a nurse, she waved her hands
+excitedly, declaring she would on no consideration stop in the house
+with a woman she didn't know. And, hardly able to decide what course he
+should take, he promised not to leave her; she clung about him, and he
+was forced to send the child (whose name he now found to be Emma) to
+the chemist for the linseed, and he wrote a note asking for explicit
+directions how it should be used. Then he had to persuade Lizzie to go
+to bed. She resisted him, and it was with great difficulty that he got
+her boots and stockings off; then she collected her strength, unbuttoned
+her dress, and took off her stays. Then she said: “Go out of the room
+for a moment.”
+
+He found his way into the kitchen, and guessing that hot water would
+be required, he lit a fire. But there was no muslin, and he had to send
+Emma for some. Lizzie smiled faintly when they entered--Frank with a
+basin, Emma with a kettle and a parcel of linen. Frank poured some rum
+into a glass, and beat an egg up with it.
+
+“What is that?” she asked; and her voice was so faint and hoarse that he
+turned, quite startled.
+
+“Something that will do your throat good and keep your strength up.
+Possibly you will not be able to eat much to-morrow.” He held the
+tumbler to her lips, and at length succeeded in getting her to drink it.
+“Emma, is the kettle boiling?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“You had better go downstairs and get some coals, and if you can't find
+any nightlights you must go out and buy a box. Have you got any money
+over?”
+
+“Yes, sir, sixpence.”
+
+“Now, Lizzie, let me put this on your throat. Throw your head well back.
+There, it isn't too hot?”
+
+And all that night he sat by her bedside. Often she could not get her
+breath, and he had to lift her and prop her up with pillows; and four
+times he lit the candle, and, with tired eyes, mixed the meal and placed
+it on her throat. The firelight played upon the ceiling, the kettle sang
+softly, the sufferer moaned, the light brought the rumble of a cart,
+and they awoke from shallow sleeps that blurred but did not extinguish
+consciousness of the actual present. “You must not uncover yourself; you
+will catch cold. Let me pin this shawl about you.” About eight o'clock
+Emma knocked at the door. Frank asked her to make him a cup of tea.
+The morning dragged along amid many anxieties, for he could see she was
+worse than she had been over night.
+
+“The disease must take its course,” said the doctor; “we shall be
+fortunate if by poulticing we can stop it; if we can't, it will come to
+a head in about eight or nine days' time, and then it will break. Did
+you see the nurse last night? Couldn't she come?”
+
+“She,” said Frank, pointing to the sufferer, “wouldn't allow me to send
+for her; she said she would not stay in the house with a strange woman.
+She was very excited; I fancy she has had some great mental trouble--a
+sweetheart, I suppose. I did not like to cross her. I thought I could
+nurse her; I did my best. Was the poultice all right?”
+
+“Quite right. But you will have to sit up with her to-night. You will be
+very tired; you had better get in a nurse.”
+
+“I think I shall be able to manage. The landlady is expected home this
+evening or to-morrow morning. What had she better have to eat?”
+
+“She won't be able to eat anything for some days. Try to get her to take
+an egg beat up in a wine-glass of rum.”
+
+Hourly she grew worse, and on the following day Frank stood by her bed
+momentarily fearing that she would suffocate; once her face blackened
+and he had to seize and lift her out of bed, and place her in a chair.
+When she seemed a little easier he called Emma, and they made the bed
+and cleaned up the room together. Then he ate a sausage and drank a
+glass of beer that had been brought from the public-house.
+
+The first night had seemed long and weary, but now the hours passed
+quickly; he had forgotten all but the suffering woman, and in the
+interest of inducing her to swallow some beef-tea, in the pride of such
+successes another and then another day fled lightly. Nor did he feel
+tired as he had done, and now a nap in an arm-chair seemed all that
+he required. So the landlady came as an unwelcome interruption of an
+absorbing occupation. Haggard and unshaven, he returned to Southwick,
+where he found a note on his table from General Horlock, asking him to
+dinner that evening.
+
+“I know the meaning of this: Maggie will be there--a reconciliation! Can
+I?” He turned his ear quickly from his conscience; he was frightened of
+the voice that would tell him that Maggie was nothing to him, never had
+been, never could be; that he had been born for Lizzie Baker, as the
+soldier is for the sword or the bullet that kills him; others had passed
+him, had been heard sharply, had gleamed dangerously in his eyes. They
+were but signs and omens meant for others, not for him, and they had
+passed. But this one had remained, though often lost, as that remains
+which is to be, and she was now no less for him than before, though
+now seemingly lost irrevocably to another; and in all the seeming of
+irrevocable loss was drawing nearer--not with the victory and destiny of
+old in her eyes, but with no less victory and destiny inherent in her.
+Though far from him, she had been for long a disintegrated influence,
+but what had been distant was now near, and all was yielding like a ship
+in the attraction of the fabulous loadstone mountain. That room!--the
+wash-hand-stand, the dirty panes of glass, the iron bed-there his fate
+had been sealed. That body which he had lifted out of bed still lay
+heavy in his arms. He still breathed the odour of the hair he had
+gathered from the pillow and striven to pin up; those eyes of limpid
+blue, pale as water where isles are sleeping, burned deep and livid in
+his soul; the touch and sight of that flesh, the sound of that voice,
+those tears, the solicitude and anxiety of those hours of night and day
+conspired against him, and his life was big with incipient overthrow.
+
+Lizzie was with him at all times. He saw her eyes, then her teeth, and
+the perfume and touch of her hair was often about him; and yet he was
+hardly conscious that a revolution of feeling was in progress within
+him; and when the time came for him to go to Horlock's he went there
+avoiding all thoughts of Maggie, although he knew he would be called
+upon that night to take a decisive step. He saw little of her before
+dinner, and during dinner the General's allusions to the quarrels of
+lovers being the renewal of love vexed him, and he thought, “Confound
+it! If I want to make it up I will; but I am not going to be bullied
+into it.” When the ladies left the room he found it difficult to pretend
+to the kind-hearted old soldier that he did not believe that Maggie
+would forgive him. “Forgive me for what? I have done nothing.”
+
+“To get on with women you must always admit you are in the wrong--ha,
+ha, ha!” laughed the General; “now I have it from my wife--women know
+everything--ha, ha, ha!” laughed the General. “Have another glass of
+sherry?”
+
+“No, thanks; couldn't take any more.”
+
+“I took I won't tell you how many glasses before I proposed to my wife,
+and then I was afraid; enough to make me--a clever woman like Mrs.
+Horlock, I believe you wouldn't find a woman in England like
+Mrs. Horlock. Look round; all that's her work. Look at that white
+Arab--exactly like him. I won five hundred pounds with that horse; but I
+wouldn't be satisfied, and I ran him again the following day and lost
+it all and five hundred more with it. I had another horse. My wife
+is modelling him in wax; she will show it to you in the next room.
+Marvellous woman!”
+
+Passing Maggie by who was sitting in the window, Frank inveigled Mrs.
+Horlock into an anatomical discussion. The General stretched out
+his feet, put on his spectacles, and took up the _St James's_.
+The conversation dropped, and, full of apprehension and expecting
+reconciliation, Frank went to Maggie and talked to her of the tennis
+parties he was going to, of the people he had seen--of indifferent
+things. The time was tense with the fate of their lives. Once she turned
+her head and sighed. Time slipped by, and still they talked of their
+friends--of things they knew perfectly. Maggie said: “I hope you are not
+angry; I hope we shall remain friends.” Frank replied: “I hope so,”
+ and again the conversation paused. The General denounced Gladstone, and
+praised his wife's sculpture. Ten o'clock! Angel was lifted out of his
+basket. If Maggie had been Helen and Southwick Troy, he would not be
+kept waiting; the dogs had to be taken out; Willy came to fetch Maggie;
+hands were tendered, lips said good-bye, and, with a sense of parting,
+they parted.
+
+Feeling adrift and strangely alone, he walked to his lodging. His future
+loomed up in his mind as vague and as illusive as the village that now
+glared through the mist, white and phantasmal. He did not regret--we can
+hardly regret the impossible. Then, falling back on a piece of prose,
+he said: “Where was the good? Mount Rorke would never have given his
+consent. Poor Lizzie; I hope she is better. I hope it has broken. She
+won't get any relief until it does.”
+
+And next day, towards evening, he went to Brighton. He found her
+shrinking over the fire, wrapped in a woollen shawl.
+
+“How are you to-day? You look a little better. I did not expect to find
+you out of bed.”
+
+“I am better, thank you; it broke yesterday, and I feel relieved. You
+are very good. I think I should have died if it had not been for you.
+Think of that landlady leaving me in the way she did.”
+
+“What was the reason? Why did she rush off in that way?”
+
+“She went to town to see her sister, and she says she was taken ill. She
+drinks.”
+
+“Does she? I hope she looked after you yesterday?”
+
+“Oh, yes.”
+
+“As well as I did?”
+
+“I don't know about that; you are a very good nurse. It was very good of
+you; no one else would have done it.”
+
+“What, not even _he_?”
+
+“You were with me for four days, and you never even went to bed--never
+took your clothes off.”
+
+“Never even washed myself. By George! I was glad to get home and have a
+good wash. I was a sorry-looking object--haggard and unshaven.”
+
+“Where did you say you had been to?”
+
+“Nobody asked me.”
+
+“Not Maggie?”
+
+“No; I didn't tell you our engagement is broken off.”
+
+“No; you didn't say nothing about it.”
+
+“On account of you. She discovered that you had been to my studio, and
+she said I was keeping a woman in Brighton.”
+
+“Keeping a woman in Brighton--she thinks you are keeping me! I will
+write to her and tell her that it is not true. What right has she to say
+such things about me?”
+
+“She doesn't say it about you. She says a woman.”
+
+“She means me.”
+
+“No, she doesn't; she doesn't know anything about you. Some one told her
+I went into Brighton every day by the four o'clock train, and she put
+two and two or rather two and three together, and said it was six.”
+
+“But I will write to her. I will not be the cause of any one's marriage
+being broken off.”
+
+“You need not trouble. I saw her last night, and I could have made it
+all right had I chosen--she was quite willing.”
+
+“You can't care for her!”
+
+“I suppose not. I don't think I ever really loved her. I thought I did.
+I was mistaken.”
+
+“You are very changeable.”
+
+“No, I don't think I am--at least not so far as you are concerned. I was
+mistaken. I was in love with some one else--with you.”
+
+“With me?”
+
+“Yes, with you. I was in love with you when we went to Reading, and
+never got over it. I thought I had, but when love is real we never get
+over it. I always loved you, and those four days I spent nursing you
+have brought it all out. I shall never love any one else. I know you
+don't care for me; you said once you couldn't care for me.”
+
+“I! I am too miserable to care for any one. I wish you had let me die;
+but that is ungrateful. You must excuse me, I am so miserable. Why speak
+of loving me? I can love no one. I don't care what becomes of me. I am
+ruined; nothing matters now.”
+
+“I wish you would confide in me; you can trust me. Has he forsaken you?
+Can you not make it up?”
+
+“No, never now; I shall never see him again.”
+
+“Has anything happened lately, since you came to Brighton?”
+
+Lizzie nodded.
+
+“Don't cry like that; tell me about it.”
+
+“What's the use? Nothing matters now.”
+
+“Has he been here?”
+
+Lizzie nodded, and Frank folded the shawl about her, and wiped her tears
+away with his pocket handkerchief. “Since you were ill?”
+
+“No, before I was ill; he was down here watching me. He found out I had
+gone to your studio, and he said the most dreadful things--that he would
+break your head, and that I had never been true to him, and that I was
+not fit to be the wife of an honest man.”
+
+“But I will tell him that you came to my studio to sit for your
+portrait.”
+
+“No, you mustn't write; it would only make matters worse. No use; he
+says he will never see me again.”
+
+“Where can I see him? Has he gone back to London? I will follow him and
+tell him he is mistaken.”
+
+“No, please don't, and please don't go to the 'Gaiety'; he is a violent-
+tempered man; something dreadful might occur. Please, promise me.”
+
+“Not go to the 'Gaiety'? He doesn't know me.”
+
+“Yes, he does.”
+
+“Have I seen him? Do tell me; you know you can trust me. I am your
+friend. Tell me--”
+
+“You have seen him in the 'Gaiety,' in the grill-room--the waiter,
+number two, the good-looking tall man.”
+
+“Oh!”
+
+“He wasn't always a waiter; his people are very superior. He has been
+unfortunate.”
+
+“And it was he you loved this long while?”
+
+“I never cared for another man.”
+
+“I must write and tell him he is committing an act of injustice. I will
+make this matter right for you, Lizzie.”
+
+“Do you think you can?”
+
+“I am sure of it.”
+
+He rang for the landlady, and asked for writing materials. She
+apologised for the penny bottle of ink, and spoke of getting a table
+from the next room, but he said he could write very well on the
+chimney-piece. “I suppose I had better begin, 'Sir'?”
+
+“Don't people generally begin, 'Dear Sir'?”
+
+“Not when they don't know the people they are writing to.”
+
+“But you do know him a little. He always said you were very haughty. You
+used to sit at his table.”
+
+“I think I had better begin the letter with 'Sir.'”
+
+“Very well. You know best. He was always very jealous.”
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+
+“SIR,--I hear from Miss Baker that you were in Brighton last week, and,
+drawing the inference from the fact that she came to my studio to sit
+for her portrait, you accuse her of very grievous impropriety. I beg to
+assure you that this is not so. At my urgent request, Miss Baker, whom
+I had better say I have known for some years, consented to give me a
+sitting. My intentions were purely artistic; hers were confined to a
+wish to oblige an old friend, and I deeply regret that they should have
+been misinterpreted, and I fear much unhappiness caused thereby.”
+
+“Do you think that will do?”
+
+“Yes, it is a beautiful letter.”
+
+“Do you think so--do you really think so? Do you think I have said all?”
+
+“You might say something--that I never even kissed you; and that you
+respected me too much.”
+
+“I will if you like, but don't you think that is implied?”
+
+“Perhaps so; but you see he does not read many books. He hasn't time
+for much reading, and you put things in a difficult way. They sound
+beautiful, but I--”
+
+“Show me.”
+
+“Well, this 'grievous impropriety.' I know what you mean, but I couldn't
+explain it.”
+
+“Shall I say 'serious impropriety'? but grievous is the right word. You
+say a grievous sin for a mortal sin. If we had done any wrong it would
+have been a grievous sin; but I'll change the word if you like.”
+
+“No, don't change it on my account; but I think he would understand an
+easier word better.”
+
+“A 'heinous impropriety'? No, that won't do. A 'serious impropriety.'
+That will do. Is there anything else you would like me to alter?”
+
+“No, I don't think there is.”
+
+“You think this letter will convince him that there was nothing wrong?”
+
+“I hope so; but he is a very suspicious man.”
+
+“I will post it when I go out.” Then after a long silence: “Do you know
+what time it is? It must be getting late.”
+
+“It must be getting on for nine.”
+
+“Then I must say good-bye; but I forgot, I want to ask you--you must be
+hard up, and want some money--do you? If you do, I assure you I shall be
+only too glad.”
+
+“Well, I am rather hard up, for you know that this illness has
+prevented my doing anything; and I am afraid I have lost my place at the
+'Tivoli.'”
+
+“What do you intend to do?”
+
+“I should like to go back to London. I shall see him there, and if the
+letter makes it right we may be married. I will write to you.”
+
+“You will?--Do. Here is five pounds. I have no more about me, but if
+anything should occur, you know where to write to.”
+
+“You are very good; I don't deserve it. I don't know why you take so
+much trouble about me. If he doesn't marry me I'll try to get another
+place; I shall go back to the firm.”
+
+“When do you intend to leave?”
+
+“As soon as I am well enough, in a day or two; but you will not come
+here again.”
+
+
+“I had thought that I might.”
+
+“I know; but if he were to hear that you had been here, it would be
+worse than ever. You don't mind, do you? You aren't angry, are you?”
+
+“No; good-bye, Lizzie. Write to me when you are married.” Frank walked
+into the street. There was neither rage nor will in him. He was a
+sorrowing creature in a bitter world. The sea was cruelly blue in the
+coming night; the sky was also blue, only deeper, a red streak like
+a red bar of iron stretched across the embaying land, relieving into
+picturesque detail the outlines of coast-towns and villages. His eyes
+rested on and drew grief from this dim distance so illusive; and for
+jarring contrast, the pier hung with gaudy and gross decoration in the
+blue night, and a brass band replied to the waves.
+
+Then the clouds lifted, and when he returned to Southwick the moon was
+shining and some boys pursued the resounding ball through the shadows.
+He undressed with an effort, and he lay down hoping never to rise again.
+Next morning he went to his studio full of resolve. His picture must
+be finished for one of the winter exhibitions. He did not take up his
+palette, nor did he sit at his piano for more than a few minutes; and
+when he met Willy he raged against Lizzie, jeered at her vulgarity,
+heaped ridicule upon her lover, the waiter; he spoke of writing a novel
+on the subject; he set out her character at length; and was alarmed when
+told that Maggie was ill. He must win her. She must be his wife. So he
+told Willy, so he assured himself that she would. He knew that Lizzie
+was nothing to him. She had left Brighton, thank God! He went to sleep,
+certain he had torn this page out of his life, and he awoke to find it
+still there; and day after day he continued to brood upon, and still
+unable to understand its meaning, he longed to turn it over and read,
+for there were other pages; but they were sealed, and he might only read
+this one page.
+
+“I'm afraid that our old friend Brookes is having a hard time of it,”
+ said the General, taking the spectacles from his nose, and laying down
+the _St James's_, “they are all at him tooth and nail,” and the General
+laughed gleefully. “You are the young man who has upset them. The young
+lady won't dress herself.”
+
+“My dear Reggie, you shouldn't talk like that. I do hate to hear
+scandal; you'll repent it,” said Mrs. Horlock, and she adroitly smoothed
+the wax on the horse's quarters.
+
+“I assure you, Mrs. Horlock, I never repeat what I hear; the guiding
+principle of my life is not to repeat conversations. Particularly in
+a village like Southwick, it is most essential that none of us should
+repeat conversations; I have always said that.”
+
+“Do tell me about Maggie; I hear she is very ill. What is the matter
+with her? What did you say--the young lady won't dress herself?”
+
+“My dear Reggie, I will not stay here and listen to scandal. Not a word
+of it is true, Mr. Escott.”
+
+“What is not true, Mrs. Horlock?”
+
+“What he told you about her walking about the house with her hair down.”
+
+“I don't think the General said anything about walking about the house
+with her hair down; he said some one wouldn't dress herself. I suppose
+he meant Maggie. I am sure I am sorry--I am most sorry--to hear she
+is ill, but it is unjust to assume that I had anything to do with her
+illness. We can speak freely among ourselves, you know. You know the
+circumstances; no one is more capable of understanding the case than
+you, for you are an artist. Maggie heard that I had had a model, that's
+what it amounts to, and she broke off the engagement; nothing could be
+more unjust, nothing could be more unwarranted.”
+
+“It could be brought on again, I know that,” said Mrs. Horlock, and she
+turned the shoulders of her horse to the light.
+
+“We will not go into that question, Mrs. Horlock. I confine myself to
+what has happened, and I say I was treated unjustly, most shamefully;
+and when I have been cast aside like an old hat, I hear indirectly that
+it can be made up again. I have borne quite enough, and will bear no
+more. Old Brookes came down to my studio with that cad Berkins, and
+forced his way in, and then forbade me the house because my dog bit
+Berkins's thigh. I couldn't help it. What did he attack me for? He
+didn't suppose a bull-dog would be still while his master was being
+knocked on the head.”
+
+“What should a common City man know about dogs? He wouldn't sign
+the petition when I asked him, to Sir Charles Warren, to cancel the
+regulations about muzzling.”
+
+“And then they set a report going that I had set the dog on, and if I
+hadn't set it on, that I hadn't called him off. As if I could! You know
+what a bull-dog is, Mrs. Horlock? Is a highly-bred dog likely to let go
+when he has fixed his teeth in the fleshy part of a thigh? The Brookes
+are old friends of mine, and I wouldn't say a word against them for the
+world; but of course it is as obvious to you as it is to me that
+they are not quite the thing. I mean--you know--I would not think of
+comparing them with the Southdown Road; but there is a little something.
+City people are not the Peerage; there's no use saying they are. Mount
+Rorke was upset; but I would not give in, and I think I should have won
+his consent in the long run. After all I have borne for her sake I think
+I might expect better treatment than to be thrown over, as I have said,
+like an old hat; and I don't mind telling you that I do not intend to be
+made a fool of in this matter; I shall turn a very deaf ear to stories
+of a broken heart and failing health. I shall not cease to think of
+Maggie. I loved her once very deeply, and I should have loved her always
+if--But tell me, General. You know I will not repeat anything.”
+
+“I advise you to say no more, Reggie. I will not be mixed up in any
+scandal. I shall leave the room. Sally is dining here to-night; she is
+only too anxious to talk of her sister. If Mr. Escott will stay and take
+pot-luck with us, he will no doubt hear everything there is to hear in
+the course of the evening.”
+
+“What have we got for dinner, Ethel? I know we have got a leg of mutton,
+and there is some curry.”
+
+“Your dinners are always excellent, Mrs. Horlock. I shall be delighted
+to stay. Here is Sally. Oh, how do you do, Sally? We were talking of
+you.”
+
+“I'm afraid every one is talking of me, now,” she whispered, and the big
+girl passed over to Mrs. Horlock and kissed her. “How is it that no one
+has seen anything of you lately?” she said, taking the seat next him.
+“What have you been doing?”
+
+“Nothing in particular. But I want to ask you about Maggie. I hear she
+is very ill.”
+
+Perceiving that his tone did not bespeak a loving mood, Sally's face
+brightened, and she became at once voluble and confidential.
+
+“Oh, we have been having no end of a time at home. Father has been
+speaking of selling the place and leaving Southwick.”
+
+“Speaking of selling the place and leaving Southwick! And where does he
+think of going to live, and what is the reason of this?”
+
+“Oh, the reason! I suppose he would say I was the reason; and where heis
+going to live, that is not settled yet--probably one of the big London
+hotels. He says everybody is laughing at him, and that when he meets
+the young men at the station he can see them laughing at him over their
+newspapers, for, according to father, they have all flirted with us.
+Maggie has been saying all kinds of things against me, and I am afraid
+that the Southdown Road people have been writing him anonymous letters
+again. Some one--I don't know who it is--I wish I did--has been telling
+him the most shocking things about Jimmy Meason and me; things in which
+I assure you there is not a word of truth. You know yourself that we
+have hardly spoken for nearly two years; last year, it is true, we made
+it up a bit in your studio, but it didn't last long. I don't think I saw
+him twice afterwards, and never alone--and now to have everything that
+happened two years ago raked up and thrown in my face! I don't say
+I haven't--I don't know what you'd call it, I suppose you'd call it
+spooning. I admit I infinitely preferred walking about the garden with
+a young man to sitting in the drawing-room and doing woolwork. I was a
+silly little fool then, but I do think it hard that all this should
+be raked up now. I don't know what will happen. Maggie pretends to be
+frightened at me; 'tis only her nonsense to set father against me. She
+won't dress herself, and she walks about with her hair down her back,
+wringing her hands.”
+
+“But what does she say? This is very bewildering. I don't understand--I
+am quite lost.”
+
+“The fact is that Maggie doesn't know what she is saying, so I suppose I
+oughtn't to blame her. She is a little off her head, that's the truth
+of it; but you mustn't say I said so, it will get me into worse trouble
+than I am already in. She was like that once before, and had to be put
+in the charge of a lady who was in the habit of dealing with excitable
+people. I don't mean lunatics, don't run away with that notion. I don't
+know what would happen if it got about that I was putting that about.
+Maggie is very excitable, and she has been exciting herself a great deal
+lately--you were the principal cause. She did all she could to get you
+to make it up when you met her here at dinner--the dinner was given
+for that--but you said nothing about it, and she came home in an awful
+state, accusing every one of combining to ruin her. She said I was
+jealous of her, that I was wild with fear that she would one day be
+Lady Mount Rorke. She said father had done everything to break off her
+marriage, because he did not like parting with his money. She had set
+her heart on being married, and it was a terrible disappointment. She
+has been disappointed two or three times. Father doesn't know what to
+do. Her thoughts seem to run on that one subject. She walks about the
+garden saying the most extraordinary things.”
+
+“But tell me about the illness.”
+
+“I don't know if I ought to tell you.”
+
+“Oh, do!”
+
+“I don't know how to say it. She used to say she longed to become a
+mother.”
+
+“Longed to become a mother? Well, that is the last thing--”
+
+“You know what I mean.”
+
+“But tell me about the illness.”
+
+“I should call it more than being a little excited, but of course she
+isn't mad. She has, however, the most curious notions. She is always a
+little too imaginative at the best of times; at least, I find her so,
+but now her delusions are really too absurd, and, as I have said, the
+worst of it is that her thoughts run on that one thing; it really is
+most unfortunate. Poor father.”
+
+“But what are her delusions?”
+
+“Well, I scarcely know how to tell you.”
+
+“Try; anything can be told. It depends how it is told.”
+
+“She thinks that the coachman has spread it all over Southwick--how
+shall I say it? I don't know that I ought to tell you. Well, that
+she has gone wrong with you and Berkins. I thought I should die of
+laughing--the idea of Berkins was too funny for words.”
+
+“But your father doesn't believe it?”
+
+“Of course not.”
+
+“He doesn't suspect me, I hope?”
+
+“No; I am sure he doesn't. He knows Maggie doesn't know what she is
+saying. But he was dreadfully put out about Berkins; he is frightened
+out of his wits lest he should hear of it. But for goodness' sake don't
+mention that I said anything to you about it; I am in trouble enough as
+it is. Father says he can stand it no longer. I am very much afraid that
+he will leave Southwick. It depends on what Aunt Mary says. He has sent
+for her; she will be here to-morrow.”
+
+These family councils were held in the billiard-room, and when Aunt Mary
+and Aunt Hester had had their tea they came along the passage, Aunt Mary
+of course in front, Aunt Hester timid and freckled and with her usual
+air of tracts. Uncle James stood with his back to the fire waiting
+for them. Willy caught at his hair, but an expression of resignation
+overspread his face, he packed his diary and accounts in brown paper and
+lit a pipe.
+
+“Now, James, let us hear about these new troubles. Something must be
+done, that is clear.”
+
+“Yes, something must be done, Mary, and I can think of nothing for it
+but to leave this place. It is no longer a place for me to live in. The
+Southdown Road has proved too strong for me, it has conquered me.”
+
+“Don't speak like that, James. We must try to bear our burdens, if not
+for our own sakes, for the sake of Him who died for us. He bore a very
+heavy cross for us.”
+
+“There's no use in talking to me like that, Hester, you only provoke me.
+You forget what a cross two daughters are, and the Southdown Road has
+become intolerable. It is more than any man can bear; I will bear it no
+longer. I have borne it long enough, and am determined to get rid of it.
+I am afraid there's nothing for it but to sell the place and go and live
+in London.”
+
+Aunt Hester cast her eyes into her satchel, afraid even to think that
+her brother had intentionally misinterpreted her words; but Aunt Mary
+laughed at the idea of the slonk-hill, as a latter-day Golgotha, with
+poor Uncle James staggering beneath the weight of the Southdown Road,
+young men and all, upon him. It was very irreverent. He burst into
+tears, Hester moved to leave the room, but was restrained by her sister.
+
+“My position is a most unfortunate one; since the death of poor Julia I
+have had no one to turn to, there has been no restraining influence in
+this house. Here am I working all day long in the City for those girls,
+and when I come home in the evening I find my house full of people I
+don't know. I assure you, Mary, I don't know any of the people who come
+to my house. I am consulted in nothing. It is not fair--I say it is
+not fair; and at my death those girls will have thirty thousand pounds
+a-piece.”
+
+“I knew you had the money, James, I knew you had,” exclaimed Aunt Mary,
+and even Aunt Hester could not help casting a look of admiration on her
+weeping brother.
+
+“I say it is not fair; a man of my money should have a comfortable
+home to return to. Even the Southdown Road people have that; but no
+consideration is shown to me. My dinner is put back so that Sally may
+continue her flirtation with Meason in the slonk. Did any one ever hear
+of such a thing? A man's dinner put back so that--that--that--”
+
+“Yes, we know all about the dinner being put back; that was three years
+ago.”
+
+“Why,” Mr. Brookes asked himself, “had he invited his sisters to his
+help?” He was only adding bitterness to his bitter cup. “You have no
+sympathy, Mary,” he went on; “you cannot understand the difficulties
+of my position--these two girls are for ever quarrelling and fighting;
+sometimes they are not even on speaking terms, but I think I prefer
+their sullen looks to their violence. Sally threatened to knock her
+sister down if she interfered with her young men.”
+
+“What, again?”
+
+“Oh, I don't know if she has threatened to beat her lately. I don't
+remember when was the last time. Their various rows are all jumbled up
+in my head. All I know is that Maggie says she cannot live in the house
+with Sally. Maggie is very ill, she is in a very excited state, as she
+was once before, when I would not consent to her marriage with--I have
+forgotten his name, but it doesn't matter. Now she won't dress herself,
+and she walks about the house with her hair hanging down. I know there
+is nothing for it but to send her away under the charge of some lady who
+has had experience in such matters. She can't remain here. She has the
+strangest delusions. Among other things, she fancies the coachman has
+spread it all over Southwick that she has gone wrong with Berkins
+and that fellow Escott. Just fancy if Berkins--a ten thousand a year
+man--should hear of it! I don't know what he would say. He would peg
+into me; he is at times very hard indeed upon me. I don't say he is
+not a first-rate man of business, I know he has made several excellent
+investments; but for all that I do not and cannot think him competent
+to advise me on all my affairs, and that's what he is always doing. He
+talks of putting down that Southdown Road. I should like to see how he
+would set about doing it.”
+
+“James, Maggie must go away; she is very highly organised, very
+sensitive, and if she were to remain here, Sally might have a real
+effect on her mind. It is clear the sisters don't get on together; have
+you had medical advice? I told you before that you should have medical
+advice about those girls; I told you to spare no expense, but to go to
+a first-rate London physician and take his opinion. I said before, and I
+say it again, that no girls in good health could carry on as dear Sally,
+and I will include dear Maggie; for although she does not defy you to
+the same extent, there is no doubt that she is too fast, too fond of
+young men; her thoughts run too much in that way, and now she is ill, of
+course she has delusions. You ought to have medical advice.”
+
+“Mary, dear, the body is not everything; to cure the flesh you must
+first cure the soul. I believe our dear nieces rarely, if ever, attend
+church, rarely, if ever, remember that this life is not eternal and that
+there is a hereafter.”
+
+The conversation came to a pause. Presently Aunt Mary asked Willy, who
+sat resigned to his fate, calm and solemn as a Buddha, his hands clasped
+over his rotund stomach, if he thought that Maggie's state was one
+to cause immediate anxiety, to which he replied: “My sisters think of
+nothing but pleasure. The trouble girls are in a house is more than any
+one would believe. Here I am, I can do nothing; every night it is
+the same thing, over and over again.” And the lean man lapsed into
+contemplation.
+
+“But to come to the point, James, I want to hear about Sally. You said
+in your letter that a great deal had come to light, and that you now
+find that her conduct has been worse than you had ever imagined it,
+even in your moments of deepest dejection. Now, I want to hear about all
+this. What has she done? Let's have it in plain English. What has she
+done?”
+
+“To put it plainly, Mary,” said Mr. Brookes, wiping his tears away,
+and turning his back upon his Goodall, “I don't know what she hasn't
+done--everything. She is at the present moment the talk of Southwick.
+The doctor here has seen her in the field at the back here with Meason
+at nine o'clock at night.”
+
+“Why did you allow her to leave the house at that hour? No young girl--”
+
+“She always takes her dogs out in the evening; I cannot prevent her
+doing that. It appears, too, that she has had Meason up in her bedroom.”
+
+“O James, you do not mean to say that my dear niece had a man in her
+bedroom!”
+
+“Hester, dear, you have lived in a rectory and know nothing of the
+world. She says it isn't a bedroom. She pushes the bed away in the
+daytime, and covers it up to make it look like a couch. Besides, she
+keeps birds in her room, and Flossy had her puppies there. I am not
+excusing her conduct, pray do not think that, I am only telling you what
+she says.”
+
+“This is very serious. Are you quite sure? Perhaps she only meant to
+show the young man her birds or puppies. Her spirit must be broken, I
+can clearly see that.”
+
+“I allow them, as you know, one hundred pounds a year apiece. Maggie
+keeps none, but Sally always keeps accurate accounts of what she spends.
+I asked to see those accounts, for I had heard she had been giving her
+money to Meason, and she refused to let me see them. There is a sum of
+twenty pounds for which she can give no explanation. Then it is well
+known she gave a set of diamond studs to that fellow, and that he
+pledged them for five pounds in Brighton. He boasted he had done so,
+and said he intended to get plenty of money out of me before he had done
+with me. After that I ask you, how can I live in this place? When I go
+to the station in the morning I see these young fellows laughing at me
+over the tops of their newspapers. When I come home of an evening after
+a hard day's work, I find that my dinner--”
+
+“Her spirit must be broken,” said Aunt Mary, drawing her shawl about
+her, and crossing her hands. “Her spirit must be broken; she cannot be
+allowed to remain here to drive dear Maggie into a lunatic asylum. I am
+with you in that, James, but I cannot think you did well to let Frank
+Escott slip through your fingers. Had you not talked so much about money
+your daughter might have been Lady Mount Rorke.”
+
+“Talked too much about my money? Who would talk about it, I should like
+to know, if I didn't? I made it all myself. What do I care for that
+lot--a stuck-up lot, pooh, pooh! twist them all round my finger. I am
+not going to give my daughter to a man who cannot make a settlement upon
+her.”
+
+Seeing he was not to be moved in anything that concerned his pocket,
+Aunt Mary returned to the consideration of what was to be done with
+Sally. “From what you tell me it is clear that Sally must not remain in
+Southwick a day longer than can be helped. I will take her with me to
+Woburn; and I think she had better go abroad as soon as we can hear
+of some one in whose charge we can place her. But it must not be a sea
+voyage--there is nothing more dangerous than to be on board a ship for
+a young girl who is at all inclined to be fast. All are thrown so much
+together. The cabins open out one into the other, and there is always
+a looking for something--a handkerchief, a bunch of keys, a lot of
+stooping and playing, twiddling of moustaches,” said Aunt Mary, with a
+peal of laughter.
+
+“Mary, dear, we should not speak lightly of wickedness.”
+
+“It was so that all the mischief was done when Emily Evans was sent out
+to the Cape--it was all done on board a ship. You remember the Evanses,
+James?--you ought to, you used to flirt pretty desperately with Lucy,
+the younger sister.” And then Aunt Mary rattled off into interminable
+tales concerning the attachment contracted on board a ship in
+particular, its unfortunate consequences, how it brought about a divorce
+later on by sowing the seeds of passion (Aunt Mary always pronounced
+the word “passion” in her narratives with strong emphasis), in the young
+girl's heart; and at various stages of her discourse she introduced
+fragments of the family history of the Evanses; she followed the
+wanderings of the different sisters from Homburg to Paris, from Paris
+to Scotland, from Scotland to the Punjab, explaining their different
+temperaments by heredity, which led her back into the obscure and
+remote times of grandfathers and grandmothers, and, having finally lost
+herself, she said: “What was I talking about? You have been listening to
+me, James, what was I talking about?”
+
+Till the end of a week the discussion was continued. Aunt Mary tried
+hard to reconcile all parties to their different lots, and, as is usual
+in such cases, without attaining any result. And yet Aunt Mary went with
+her sister to see Frank in his studio. Willy accompanied them, and when
+they left he complained bitterly of how his time was wasted. “Regularly
+every evening, just as I am sitting down to work, I hear them coming
+along the passage. First of all they go to get their grog--squeak,
+squeak, pop. I know it all so well. Then they come in with their
+tumblers, and they sit down on the sofa, and they begin.--I don't know
+what is to be done with dear Sally, unless we can send her abroad in the
+care of some relation. How is dear Maggie to-day? I hope I shall be able
+to induce her to put on her frock to-morrow, and come for a drive with
+me in the carriage. What a trouble young girls are in the house, to be
+sure. Then father begins to groan, and pulls out his handkerchief; he
+is quite alone, he has no one he can depend upon, then he laughs, 'Well,
+well, I suppose it will be all the same a hundred years hence.' So it
+goes on night after night. Here am I starting a big business, and I
+haven't a room to work in. Just as I am adding up a long column of
+figures, perhaps when I am within three of the top, Aunt Mary asks me
+a question, and it has to be gone over again. It is most provoking,
+there's no denying that it is most provoking.” Frank agreed that nothing
+could be more provoking than to be interrupted when you were within
+three of the top of a long column of figures. On the following day he
+heard that the aunts had left, taking Sally with them. They had promised
+their brother to find a lady who would take dear Maggie under her
+care--one who would soon wean her from dressing-gowns and delusions, and
+restore her to staid remarks and stays; and hopes were entertained that
+the Manor House would not have to be sold after all.
+
+But many days had not sped when an event occurred that precipitated
+the five acres into the jaws of the builders. Meason had sailed for
+Melbourne, and his sister, thinking that some of Sally's letters might
+be of use to Mr. Brookes, offered to surrender them upon the receipt
+of a cheque for one hundred pounds--a very modest sum, she urged,
+considering the character of the letters, most of which concerned
+artfully laid plans to meet in the train going or coming from London.
+Mr. Brookes called on the shade of dear Julia, but he was not a man to
+be blackmailed--he had made all his money himself, and on that point
+was immovable. He prepared to leave Southwick. He looked fondly on his
+glass-houses, and despairingly on his Friths, Goodalls, and Bouguereaus,
+and he wondered if they would look as well in the new rooms as in the
+old, and what sum they would realise if he were to include them in the
+auction; for an auction was necessary. Mr. Brookes did not thus decide
+to abandon his acres without many a sob, nor is it certain that the
+final step would have been taken if the gentle builder had not gilded
+his insidious hand, and if certain rumours were not about that the
+villas in the Southdown Road were not letting, and that Southwick would
+never be anything but what it was, a dirty little village--half suburb,
+half village.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+
+Frank was grieved and troubled at the sad accounts that came to him of
+Maggie's health; he was perplexed, too, for he knew himself to be the
+cause, and he longed to relieve and to cure her. It seemed to him that
+he would give his life to go to her, and comfort her with love, and yet
+he was impotent to make the least effort to attain the end he desired.
+He lay in the sad and cruel memory of Lizzie, his mind filled with
+ignoble visions of her life with the waiter, or with delicate fancies
+of her beauty amid the summer of the Thames. He mused on her gracious
+figure and face, illuminated by reflections from the water, set off by
+the bulrushes and floating blossoms which she so eagerly coveted, and
+varied by the movements of the waist and shoulders, the round white arm,
+the trailing scarf, and all the wistful charm of the slumbering evening.
+He thought of the country light, the sound and smell of cows, of the
+sparrows in the vine, the cottage looking so cosy amid the foliage, the
+bit of garden full of old-fashioned flowers, tall lilies, convolvuluses,
+and marigolds, and the sitting-room full of things belonging to her--her
+flowers, her books, her music, and he thought of this until his life was
+sick with desire, and there grew a burning pain about his heart.
+
+A man's struggles in the web of a vile love are as pitiful as those of
+a fly in the meshes of the spider; he crawls to the edge, but only to
+ensnare himself more completely; he takes pleasure in ridiculing her,
+but whether he praises or blames, she remains mistress of his life; all
+threads are equally fatal, and each that should have served to bear him
+out of the trap only goes to bind him faster. A man in love suggests the
+spider's web, and when he is seeking to escape from a woman that will
+degrade his life, the cruelty which is added completes and perfects the
+comparison. A man's love for a common woman is as a fire in his vitals;
+sometimes it seems quenched, sometimes it is torn out by angry hands,
+but always some spark remains; it contrives to unite about its victim,
+and in the end has its way. It is a cancerous disease, but it cannot be
+cut out like a cancer. It is more deadly; it is inexplicable. All good
+things, wealth and honour, are forfeited for it; long years of toil,
+trouble, privation of all kinds, are willingly accepted; on one side all
+the sweetness of the world, on the other nothing of worth, often vice,
+meanness, ill-temper, all that go to make life a madness and a terror;
+twenty, thirty, forty, perhaps fifty years lie a head of him and her,
+but the years and their burdens are not for his eyes any more than the
+flowers he elects to disdain. Love is blind, but sometimes there is no
+love. How then shall we explain this inexplicable mystery; wonderful
+riddle that none shall explain and that every generation propounds?
+
+Frank lingered in Southwick, for he had promised Willy to stay with him
+when he went to live at the stables on the Portslade Road. Summer was
+nearly over, hunting would soon commence, and he could keep a couple
+of hunters--Willy had calculated it out--for two and twenty shillings a
+week. He had ceased to paint, and when he went to the studio it was
+to play the piano or the violin. None knew of Lizzie, and all knew of
+Maggie. It was thought a little strange that he would not forgive her,
+but the obscurity of the story of this point and the delight felt in her
+misfortune helped to intensify and idealise Frank in the popular mind,
+and when he played Gounod in the still evenings the young ladies would
+steal from the villas and wander sentimentally through the shadows about
+the green. He got up late in the morning, he lingered over breakfast,
+and until it was time to go to Brighton he lay on the sofa watching the
+cricketers and the children playing, shaping resolutions, and striving
+with himself and deceiving himself. A dozen times, a hundred times, he
+had concluded he must see Maggie; he had decided he would write to
+Lord Mount Rorke, that he would go to Mr. Brookes and settle the matter
+off-hand. But, somehow, he did nothing. His mind was absorbed in a
+novel, which he narrated when Willy came to see him. It concerned the
+accident that led a man not to marry the woman he loved, and was in the
+main an incoherent version of his own life at Southwick.
+
+“I don't think I told you,” said Willy, “that they are removing the
+furniture to-day.”
+
+“You don't say so--to-day? And where is your father?”
+
+“He is in London, at the 'Metropole.'”
+
+The young men walked on slowly in silence, and when they came to the
+lodge gate, standing wide open, and saw the curtainless windows and
+the flowerless greenhouses, Willy said: “It is very sad to see all the
+things you have known since you were a child sold by auction.”
+
+“Oh, yes, it is. Look at the swards. Do they not look sad already? Those
+beautiful elms, under whose shade we have sat, will be cut down, and
+stucco work and glass porticoes take their places. Oh, it is very sad.”
+
+“My father never had any feeling, he never cared for the place. Had I
+been in his place I should have invested my money in land and gone in
+for the county families.”
+
+“How old was I when I came down to see you for the first time--fourteen,
+I think? How well I remember everything. It was there, look, through
+that glade, that I saw your sisters coming to meet me, they were then
+only ten or eleven years old. I can see them in my mind's eye, quite
+distinctly, walking towards me, Grace leading the way, and now she is a
+mother; and they were all so dark. I remember thinking I had never seen
+girls so dark, they were like foreigners. And do you remember how your
+father scolded Sally for carrying me round the garden on her back, and
+she used to wake me up in the mornings by rolling croquet balls along
+the floor into my room. Oh, what good, dear days those were, and to
+think they are dead and gone, and that the house is going to be pulled
+down; and the garden--oh! the moonlights in that garden, where I walked
+with the girls, with scarves round their shoulders, through the dreamy
+light and shade. We have sung songs, and talked of all manner of things.
+You don't feel as I feel.”
+
+“Yes I do, my dear fellow, I think I feel a great deal more, only I
+don't talk so much about it.”
+
+“I know it is infinitely sad. This dear old wall! There is Maggie's
+window: how often have I looked up to that window for her winsome face,
+and I shall never look again.”
+
+“You are as bad as my father. Cheer up; I suppose it will be all the
+same a hundred years hence.”
+
+“No, no, it won't be the same. Why should all I feel and love be
+forgotten. I suppose it will be all the same. There goes Berkins. I hate
+that man.”
+
+“So do I.”
+
+“If time takes away pleasant things it takes unpleasant things too,
+and those who live a hundred years hence will not be troubled with
+that fool. True, there will be other Berkinses, and there will be other
+gardens, and other girls, but that doesn't make it the least less sad to
+see this garden pass into bricks and mortar.”
+
+Two footmen approached Mr. Berkins, and with all solemnity helped him to
+take off his overcoat. He said a few words to Willy, and was soon loudly
+ordering the workmen who were taking the Goodalls and the Friths from
+the walls.
+
+“Take care, there! Hi, you! get on the ladder and take hold of this end
+of the picture. There, that's better! That's the way to do it!”
+
+“That's what he said when he shot my bird,” Willy whispered; and they
+tried to laugh as they went upstairs. But their footsteps sounded
+hollow, and the wardrobes, where they had so often put their clothes,
+stood wide open, desolately empty. They looked out of the windows, and
+heard the voices of the work-people.
+
+“How very sad it is,” said Frank; then, after a long silence: “How
+beautiful a scene like this would be in a book--a young girl leaving
+her home, straying through the different rooms musing on the different
+pieces of furniture, all of which recall the past. I think I shall write
+it. I wish you would tell me what you feel; I mean, I wish you would
+tell me what impresses itself most on your mind, and, as it were,
+epitomises the whole. You have known all this since you were a child.
+You have played in these passages; some spot, some piece of furniture,
+your toys--I suppose they are gone long ago; but something must stand
+out and assert itself amid conflicting thoughts. Do tell me.”
+
+Willy stroked his moustache. “Of course it is very sad, but it is
+difficult to put one's feelings into words. I should have to think about
+it; I don't think I could say off-hand.”
+
+At that moment there came a great crash.
+
+“What the devil is that?” cried Frank.
+
+“I hope they haven't broken the statue of Flora,” said Willy, and a look
+of alarm overspread his face. Frank felt that if such were the case
+he should feel no great sorrow. They ran down the echoing stairs. The
+workmen had got drunk in the cellars and in removing the statue they
+had let it fall, and it strewed the floor--an arm here, a fragment of
+drapery there.
+
+“I knew what would happen. I told Mr. Brookes so. All my statues are in
+marble.”
+
+“Come away, I can't listen to that cad. I wouldn't have had Flora broken
+for a hundred pounds. When I was a child I used to stand and look at
+her. I never could make out how she was made, and I always wanted to
+look inside. If you'd like to know what I feel most sorry for, it is
+Flora. She has stood amid the flowers in the bow window as long as I can
+remember.”
+
+They followed the high road by Windmill Inn, where they struck across
+the Downs, and when they reached the first crest they could see the
+paddocks and enclosures situated along the road in the valley, and
+the private house so trim and middle-class. “Splendid paddocks and
+first-rate stabling. The house is not much. When I am making fifteen per
+cent. on my money I shall go in for a little architecture. If I had a
+glass I could show you Blue Mantle's stable. Do you see two horses in
+the paddock, right away on the left, in the far corner--Apple Blossom
+and Astarte? Apple Blossom is by See-saw out of Melody, by Stockwell out
+of Fairy Queen. Is that good enough for you? Astarte is by Blue Gown out
+of Merry Maid, by Beadsman out of Aurora. What do you say to that?”
+
+“I see you have been looking up the Stud Book.”
+
+“Business, sir, business. And if I were to go in for owning a racer or
+two, just look and see what a magnificent training ground; miles upon
+miles of downland. Did you ever see a handsomer view? You must paint me
+some landscapes for my dining-room.”
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+
+“The pain is always here--just over the heart. You know what I mean?
+Suddenly, when I am thinking of other things, the sound of her voice and
+the sight of her face comes upon me, and then a dead, weary ache. I know
+I cannot have her, perhaps if I did I shouldn't be wholly glad; but glad
+or sorry, good fortune or ill, I cannot forget her. My life will not be
+complete. You have felt all this.”
+
+“Never mind how I felt, you know I don't like talking about it. I am
+sorry for you. We all have our troubles, I've had nothing else; I often
+think that if I were to die to-morrow it would be a happy release.”
+
+“If I had never seen her, or if I had married Maggie; if your father had
+not put obstacles in the way; if he had not raised the wretched
+money question, which you know as well as I do was dragged in quite
+unnecessarily, I should not be suffering now. For, once married, I
+should think of no one but my wife. I am sure I should make a good
+husband. I know I could make a woman happy; she'll never find a husband
+better than she'd have found in me, I don't believe if they were to be
+made that you could make a better husband than I should be--I feel it.”
+
+“I have always said that my father brings all his troubles on himself.
+He never went in for the country people; he never would have people
+at the Manor House. You can't shut up young girls as if they were in a
+convent, and if they don't get the right people they'll have the
+wrong people. My father thinks of nothing but his money, and he can't
+understand that he might go for an equivalent. How could he have
+expected it to have turned in your case but as it did? Lord Mount
+Rorke was not going to come over to Southwick to haggle over pounds,
+shillings, and pence with him--not likely. My sisters might have married
+very well if he had gone the right way to work, and he would have been
+saved a deal of worry and bother. I always say that my father brings all
+his troubles on himself.”
+
+“So far as I was concerned he certainly acted very stupidly. Ah, if I
+had married Maggie last summer, how different my life would be now.”
+
+“But you couldn't have really loved her; if you had you would never--”
+
+“Yes, I did love her.”
+
+“I heard from my father to-day. Maggie is better. This is, of course, a
+very delicate question, but we have been friends so long--would you like
+me to see if--if this matter could be arranged? I don't like, as you
+know, to meddle in other people's affairs, I have quite enough to do to
+look after my own; but if you would like--You, of course, do not think
+of marrying Lizzie Baker?”
+
+“Of course not.”
+
+“Then you would like me to speak to my father? Are you willing? Would
+you like to marry Maggie?”
+
+“Yes, of course I should.”
+
+“I don't say so because she is my sister, but I think it is the best
+thing you could do.”
+
+They had traversed the paddock, and were close to the stables. Picking
+a few carrots out of a heap, they opened the door of Blue Mantle's box.
+The horse came towards them, his large eyes glancing, his beautiful
+crest arched. His coat shone like satin, his legs were as fine as steel,
+and with exquisite relish he drew the carrots from their hands.
+
+The perspective of the hills was prolonged upon fading tints, and in the
+pale blueness the mares feeding in the paddocks grew strangely solitary
+and distinct; the trees about the coast towns were blended in shadow,
+and out of the first stars fell a quiet peace.
+
+Their dinner awaited them--a little dinner, simple and humble. After
+dinner, when the lamp was brought in, Willy nursed the missus with
+affection and sincerity. Cissy sat on Frank's knee, and he told her
+stories and stroked her hair. This household retired at eleven. At
+ten every morning Willy was busy with his letters, his cheques, his
+accounts, and in the afternoon the young men walked about the fields
+talking of possible successes of the forthcoming breeding season, and so
+the days went. But the secret forces were busy about Frank's life. There
+were mines and counter-mines. Every fort of prejudice, every citadel of
+reason rested now upon foundations that quaked, and would fall at the
+first shock. Doom was about him. As the silence rustles in the deadly
+hush of the storm that brings winter upon the forest, he waited
+unconscious as a leaf in the imminence of the autumn moment; and in
+such a stillness, awaiting a change of soul, he received a letter from
+Lizzie. It dropped from his hand, and such desire to go as comes on
+swallow and cuckoo came on him; he struggled for a moment, and was
+sucked down in his passion.
+
+The little village--a summary of English life and custom, a symbol of
+the Saxon, the church steeple pointing through the elm trees, the villas
+with their various embellishment in the line of glass porticos
+and privet hedges, the General, Mrs. Horlick, Messrs Brookes and
+Berkins--how complete it seemed, how individual and how synthetical--his
+eyes filled with tears of unpremeditated grief. The leaves were falling,
+the hills were shrouded in wreaths of floating mist. Some trees had been
+cut down and scaffolding had been reared about the Manor House, some of
+the walls had already fallen revealing the wall paper, the pattern of
+which he could almost distinguish. He was going to the woman he loved,
+but he was leaving his youth behind, and those whom he had known as
+children, as girls, as women; he remembered all the gossip, all the
+quarrels, all the to-do about nothing; and now, looking on the beautiful
+garden where he had played and passioned in all varying moments of grief
+and glee, he re-lived the past; and leaning out of the carriage window
+he gazed fondly, and cried out: “Alas, those were Spring Days.”
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Spring Days, by George Moore
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Spring Days, by George Moore
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    .side      { float: right; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em;
+               border-left: dashed thin; margin-left: 0.8em; text-align: left;
+               text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;
+               font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Spring Days, by George Moore
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Spring Days
+
+Author: George Moore
+
+
+Release Date: July, 2004  [EBook #6029]
+This file was first posted on December 10, 2002
+Last Updated: March 16, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPRING DAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team
+
+HTML file produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <div style="height: 8em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h1>
+      SPRING DAYS
+    </h1>
+    <h2>
+      By George Moore
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <b>CONTENTS</b>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> X </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XV </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVI </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p class="toc">
+      <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVIII </a>
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      PREFACE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When Henry Vizetelly, that admirable scholar, historian, and journalist,
+      was sent to prison for publishing Zola's novels mine were taken over by
+      Walter Scott, and all were reprinted except &ldquo;Spring Days.&rdquo; This book was
+      omitted from the list of my acknowledged works, for public and private
+      criticism had shown it no mercy; and I had lost faith in it. All the
+      welcome it had gotten were a few contemptuous paragraphs scattered through
+      the Press, and an insolent article in <i>The Academy</i>, which I did not
+      see, but of which I was notified by a friend in the Strand at the corner
+      of Wellington Street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was the article a long one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't think they thought your book worth slashing. All I can tell
+      you is that if any book of mine had been spoken of in that way I should
+      never write another.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I left my friend, hoping that the number of <i>The Academy</i> would not
+      fall into the hands of the editor of the great London review, to whom I
+      had dedicated the book after a night spent listening to him quoting from
+      the classics, Greek, English, and Latin. &ldquo;A very poor testimony, one which
+      he won't thank me for,&rdquo; I muttered, and stopped before St. Clement Danes
+      to think what kind of letter he would write to me. But he did not even
+      acknowledge through his secretary the copy I sent to him, and I accepted
+      the rebuff without resentment, arguing that the fault was mine. &ldquo;The
+      proofs should have been submitted to him, but the printers were calling
+      for them! There's no going back; the mischief is done,&rdquo; and I waited,
+      putting my trust in time, which blots out all unfortunate things, &ldquo;even
+      dedications,&rdquo; I said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Three months later, on opening my door one day, I found him standing with
+      a common friend on the landing. I remember wondering what his reason was
+      for bringing the friend, whether he had come as a sort of chaperon or
+      witness. He left us after a few minutes, and I sat watching the great man
+      of my imagination, asking myself if he were going to speak of &ldquo;Spring
+      Days,&rdquo; hoping that he would avoid the painful subject. The plot and the
+      characters of my new book might please him. If he would only allow me to
+      speak about it he might be persuaded to accept a second dedication as some
+      atonement for the first.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were kind enough to dedicate your novel&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Spring Days'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, 'Spring Days.' I know that you wished to pay me a compliment, and if
+      I didn't write before it was because&mdash;&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was it so very bad?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A butty little man raised Oriental eyes and square hands in protest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have written other books,&rdquo; he said, and proposed that we should go
+      out together and walk in the Strand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, 'The Confessions of a Young Man' was much liked here and in France.
+      Will you let me give it to you?&rdquo; We stopped at a book shop. &ldquo;It will
+      please you and help you to forget 'Spring Days.'&rdquo; He smiled. &ldquo;Never
+      mention that book again,&rdquo; I added. &ldquo;I wonder how I could have written it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      We were in a hansom; he turned his head and looked at me without
+      attempting to answer my question; and from that day till six months ago my
+      impulse was to destroy every copy that came my way. A copy of &ldquo;Spring
+      Days&rdquo; excited in me an uncontrollable desire of theft, and whenever I
+      caught sight of one in a friend's house I put it in my pocket without
+      giving a thought to the inconvenience that the larceny might cause; the
+      Thames received it, and I returned home congratulating myself that there
+      was one copy less in the world of &ldquo;Spring Days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the Boer War drove me out of London I said: &ldquo;Dublin doesn't contain a
+      copy of that book;&rdquo; and for nearly eight years I was left in peace, only
+      Edward Martyn teasing me, saying that one of these days he must read the
+      book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;R&mdash;&mdash; always says, 'I like &ldquo;Spring Days&rdquo;.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Insolent little ass,&rdquo; I answered, &ldquo;I'll cut him dead when we meet again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But Edward was not joking as I thought he was, and some time afterwards he
+      told me that after a good deal of advertising he had succeeded in
+      obtaining a copy of &ldquo;Spring Days.&rdquo; The moment he left the room I searched
+      the table and bookcase for it, but he kept it at Tillyra, else it would
+      have gone into the Liffey, which receives all things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear George, I like the book better than any of your novels,&rdquo; he said
+      one day on his return from Galway. &ldquo;It is the most original, it is like no
+      other novel, and that is why people didn't understand it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Of course it was impossible to quarrel with dear Edward, but I wondered if
+      I ever should find pleasure in speaking to him again; and when A. E. told
+      me a few weeks later that he had come upon a novel of mine which he had
+      never read before&mdash;&ldquo;Spring Days,&rdquo; I said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Edward gave it to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he answered, &ldquo;I haven't seen him for many months.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The worst book I ever wrote.&rdquo; A. E. did not answer. &ldquo;What do you think of
+      it?&rdquo; To my surprise I found him of the same opinion as Edward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear A. E., you know how I rely on your judgment. For twenty-five
+      years I have refused to allow this book to be reprinted. Shall I relent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A. E. did not seem to think the book unworthy of me, and pressed me to
+      read it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll lend you my copy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I received it next day, but returned it to him unread, my courage having
+      failed me at the last moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few months later I met Richard Best, one of the librarians at the
+      National Library. He had just returned from his holidays; he had been
+      spending them in Wales for the sake of the language.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By the way,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I came across an old novel of yours&mdash;'Spring
+      Days.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You didn't like it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On the contrary, I liked it as well, if not better, than any novel you
+      have written. It is so entirely original. My wife... I think you value her
+      opinion&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She liked it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come home with me, and she'll tell you how it struck her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will, on one condition, that you don't mention that you spoke to me
+      about the book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Best promised, and we had not been many minutes in the house before Mrs.
+      Best interrupted my remarks about the weather to tell me what she thought
+      of &ldquo;Spring Days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The matter is important. Sooner or later I shall have to think about a
+      collected edition. Is it to be included?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Best, like A. E., offered to lend me her copy, but I could not bring
+      myself to accept it, and escaped from the book till I came to live in
+      London. Then Fate thrust it into my hands, the means employed being a
+      woman to whom I had written for &ldquo;Impressions and Opinions.&rdquo; She had lost
+      her copy; there was, however, an old book of mine which she had never
+      heard me speak of&mdash;&ldquo;Spring Days&rdquo;&mdash;and which, etc., she was
+      sending me the book.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Omens are omens,&rdquo; I muttered, &ldquo;and there's no use kicking against the
+      pricks eternally;&rdquo; and cutting the string of the parcel I sat down to read
+      a novel which I had kept so resolutely out of my mind for twenty-five
+      years, that all I remembered of its story and characters was an old
+      gentleman who lived in a suburb, and whose daughters were a great source
+      of trouble to him. I met the style of the narrative as I might that of an
+      original writer whose works I was unacquainted with. There was a zest in
+      it, and I read on and on; I must have read for nearly two hours, which is
+      a long read for me, laying the book aside from time to time, so that I
+      might reflect at my ease on the tenacity with which it had clung to
+      existence. Every effort had been made to drown it; again and again it had
+      been flung into the river, literally and metaphorically, but it had
+      managed to swim ashore like a cat. It would seem that some books have nine
+      hundred and ninety and nine lives, and God knows how long my meditation
+      might have lasted if the front door bell had not rung.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you at home, sir, to Mr.&mdash;?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There is time for one word more, dear reader, and whilst my visitor lays
+      his hat and coat on the table in the passage I will beseech you not to
+      look forward to a sentimental story; &ldquo;Spring Days&rdquo; is as free from
+      sentiment or morals as Daphnis and Chloe.
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      G. M.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      I
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss, I'll have his blood; I will, miss, I will.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For goodness' sake, cook, go back to your kitchen; put that dreadful pair
+      of boots under your apron.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, miss; I'll be revenged. He has insulted me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't be revenged now, cook; you see he has shut himself in; you had
+      better go back to your kitchen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The groom, who was washing the carriage, stood, mop in hand, grinning,
+      appreciating the discomfiture of the coachman, who was paying the penalty
+      of his joke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cook, if you don't go back to your kitchen instantly, I'll give you
+      notice. It is shameful&mdash;think what a scandal you are making in the
+      stable-yard. Go back to your kitchen&mdash;I order you. It is half-past
+      six, go and attend to your master's dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has insulted me, he has insulted me. I'll have your blood!&rdquo; she cried,
+      battering at the door. The rattling of chains was heard as the horses
+      turned their heads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Put those boots under your apron, cook; go back to your kitchen, do as I
+      tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woman retreated, Maggie following. At intervals there were stoppages,
+      and cook re-stated her desire to have the coachman's blood. Maggie did not
+      attempt to argue with her, but sternly repeated her order to go back to
+      her kitchen, and to conceal the old boots under her apron.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What business had he to rummage in my box, interfering with my things; he
+      put them all along the kitchen table; he did it because I told you, miss,
+      that he was carrying on with the kitchenmaid. He goes with her every
+      evening into the wood shed, and a married man, too! I wouldn't be his poor
+      wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go back to your kitchen, cook; do as I tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With muttered threats cook entered the house, and commanded the
+      kitchenmaid to interfere no more with the oven, but to attend to her
+      saucepans.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a violent woman,&rdquo; thought Maggie, &ldquo;horrid woman. I am sure she's
+      Irish. I'll get rid of her as soon as I can. The place is filthy, but I
+      daren't speak to her now. She's stirring the saucepan with her finger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment quick steps were heard coming down the corridor, and Sally
+      entered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cook, cook, I want you to put back the dinner half an hour. I have to go
+      down the town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O Sally, I beg of you, what will father say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father isn't everybody. I daresay the train will be a little late; it
+      often is. He won't know anything about it, that is if you don't tell him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you want to go down the town for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never you mind. I don't ask you what you do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You want to go down the slonk,&rdquo; whispered Maggie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The cook stopped stirring the saucepan, and the kitchenmaid stood
+      listening greedily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing of the kind,&rdquo; Sally answered defiantly. &ldquo;You're always trying to
+      get up something against me. Cook, will you keep back the dinner twenty
+      minutes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cook, I forbid you. I'm mistress here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How dare you insult me before the servants! Grace is mistress here, if it
+      comes to that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grace has given me over the housekeeping. I am mistress when she is too
+      unwell to attend to it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing of the sort. Grace is the eldest, I would give way to her, but
+      I'm not going to give way to you. Cook, the dinner won't be ready for
+      another half hour, will it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know when the dinner will be ready, and I don't care.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a quarter to seven now, dinner won't be ready before seven, will
+      it, cook? Keep it back a bit. Now I must be off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And, as Maggie expected, Sally ran past the glass houses and the pear and
+      apple trees, for there was at the end of the vegetable garden a door in
+      the brick wall that enclosed the manor house. It was used by the
+      gardeners, and it communicated with a path leading through some corn and
+      grass land to the high road. There were five acres of land attached to the
+      manor house, tennis lawn, shady walks, flower garden, kitchen garden,
+      stables, and coach house at the back, and all this spoke in somewhat
+      glaring fashion the wealth and ease of a rich city merchant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There she goes,&rdquo; thought Maggie, flaunting her head. &ldquo;What a fool she is
+      to bully father instead of humouring him. We shall never hear the end of
+      this. His dinner put back so that she may continue her flirtation with
+      Meason! I shall have to tell the truth. Why should I tell a lie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please, miss,&rdquo; said the butler as Maggie passed through the baize door,
+      &ldquo;I think it right to tell you about cook. We find it very hard to put up
+      with her in the servants' hall. She is a very violent-tempered woman; nor
+      can I say much for her in other respects. Last week she sold twenty pounds
+      of dripping, and it wasn't all dripping, miss, it was for the most part
+      butter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;John, I really can't listen to any more stories about cook. Has the
+      quarter-to-seven come in yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven't seen it pass, miss, but I saw Mr. Willy coming up the drive a
+      minute ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy entered, and she turned to him and said: &ldquo;Where have you been to,
+      Willy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Brighton. Has father come in yet?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. You came by the tramcar?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With shoulders set well back and toes turned out, Willy came along the
+      passage. His manner was full of deliberation, and he carried a small brown
+      paper parcel under his arm as if it were a sword of state. Maggie followed
+      him up the steep and vulgarly carpeted staircase that branched into the
+      various passages forming the upper part of the house. Willy's room was
+      precise and grave, and there everything was held under lock and key. He
+      put the brown paper parcel on the table; he took off his coat and laid it
+      on the bed, heaving, at the same time, a sigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you notice if the quarter-to-seven has been signalled?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but don't keep on worrying; the train is coming along the
+      embankment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then there will be a row to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally told cook to keep the dinner back; she has gone down the slonk to
+      speak to Meason.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why didn't you tell cook that she must take her orders from you and no
+      one else?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I did, but Sally said I was no more mistress here than she was. I said
+      Grace had given me charge of the house, when she could not attend to it;
+      but Sally will listen to no one, she'll drive father out of his mind.
+      There's no one he hates like the Measons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is the matter with Grace? Where is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's in her room, lying on the bed crying. She says she wants to die;
+      she says that she doesn't care what becomes of her. She'll never care for
+      another man, and father will not give his consent. What's-his-name has
+      nothing&mdash;only a small allowance; he'll never have any more, he isn't
+      a working man. I know father, he'll never hear of any one who is not a
+      working man. I wish you'd speak to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've quite enough to do with my own affairs; I've had bad luck enough as
+      it is, without running into new difficulties of my own accord.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If she refuses Berkins, father'll never get over it. I wish you would
+      speak to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, don't ask me. I never meddle in other people's affairs. I've had
+      trouble enough. Now I want to dress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Maggie went downstairs, she found her father in the drawing-room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The train was a little late to-night. Has Willy come back from Brighton?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I've been looking over his accounts and I find he has lost nearly two
+      thousand pounds in Bond Street, and I don't think he is doing any good
+      with that agency in Brighton. I never approved of one or the other. I
+      approve of nothing but legitimate city business. Shops in the West End!
+      mere gambling. Where is Grace?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's in her room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In her room? I suppose she hasn't left it all day? This is very terrible.
+      I don't know what to do with you. Since your poor mother died my life has
+      been nothing but trouble and vexation. I can't manage you, you are too
+      strong for me. So she hasn't left her room; crying her eyes out, because I
+      won't consent to her marrying a penniless young officer! But I will not
+      squander my money. I made it all myself, by my own industry, and I refuse
+      to keep young fellows in idleness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't give you any trouble, father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are the best, Maggie, but you encourage your sister Sally. I hear
+      that you, too, were seen walking with young Meason.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not true, I assure you, father. I met him as I was going to the
+      post-office. I said, 'How do you do?' and I passed on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where is Sally?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She went out a few minutes ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't she know the time? She ought to be dressing for dinner. Do you
+      know where she's gone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think she went down the slonk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His children had inherited his straight, sharp features and his small,
+      black, vivid eyes. Their hair was of various hues of black. Maggie's was
+      raven black and glossy; Sally's was coarse and of a hue like black-lead;
+      Grace's was abundant and relieved with sooty shades; Willy's hair was
+      brown. He was the fair one of the family, and his hair was always closely
+      cut in military fashion, and he wore a long flowing military moustache
+      with a tinge of red in it. His father and he were built on the same lines&mdash;long,
+      spare bodies, short necks and legs, and short, spare arms, and if the
+      father's white hair were dyed the years that separated him from his son
+      would disappear, for although the son had only just turned thirty, he was
+      middle-aged in face and feeling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally and Grace were both thickly built, the latter a little inclined to
+      fat. Maggie was thin and elegantly angular, and often stood in picturesque
+      attitudes; she stood in one now, with her hands linked behind her back,
+      and she watched her father, and her look was subtle and insinuating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I came here,&rdquo; he said, speaking rapidly, and as if he were speaking
+      to himself, &ldquo;the place was well enough; there was nothing but those
+      wretched cottages facing the sea, the green, and a few cottages about it;
+      but since those villas have been put up, Southwick has become unbearable.
+      All my troubles,&rdquo; he murmured, &ldquo;originated in the Southdown Road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maggie turned aside, smiled, and bit her lip; she did not speak, however,
+      for she knew her father did not care to be interrupted in his musings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A hateful place&mdash;glass porticoes, and oleographs on the walls.&rdquo; Here
+      Mr. Brookes stopped in his walk to admire one of his favourite Friths.
+      &ldquo;Those ridiculous haberdashers, with a bas-relief of the founder of their
+      house over the doorway. The proprietors of the baths, the Measons, poor as
+      church mice, the son a mate of a merchant vessel&mdash;these are not
+      proper associates for my daughters. I will not know them; I will not have
+      them in my house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Measons are quite as good as we are, father. They may be poor, but as
+      far as family goes&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are just the same as the others, Maggie; once there is a young man to
+      flirt with, you don't care what he is or where he comes from. When there
+      are no young men, you will snub the old ladies fast enough; and as for
+      Sally, she is downright rude. I didn't want to see the haberdashers, but
+      while they were in my house I was polite to them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was the Horlocks who told them to call.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know it was. If Mrs. Horlock likes to know these people, let her know
+      them; but what does she want to force them upon us for? That's what I want
+      to know. We might never have known any one in the Southdown Road; I mean
+      we never should, we never could have known any one in the Southdown Road
+      if Mrs. Horlock hadn't come to live there. We had to call upon her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every Viceroy in India called upon her. She was the only woman whom every
+      Viceroy did call upon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know she was. Of course we had to call upon her. Most interesting
+      woman; the General is very nice, too. I like them exceedingly. I often go
+      to see them, although the smell of that mastiff is more than I can bear in
+      the hot weather, especially if lilies or strong smelling flowers are in
+      the room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She feeds the mice, she won't let them be destroyed, she lets the traps
+      down at night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't let us go into the animal question. The constant smell of dogs is
+      unpleasant, but I could put up with it&mdash;what I can't stand are her
+      acquaintances in the Southdown Road, and when I think that we should not
+      have known any of them if it hadn't been for her! Indirectly&mdash;I do
+      not say directly&mdash;she is the cause of all my difficulties. It was at
+      her house Sally met young Meason; it was at her house Grace met that young
+      officer for whom she is crying her eyes out; and it was at her house&mdash;yes,
+      I hadn't thought of it before&mdash;it was at her house that Willy met
+      that swindler who induced him to put two thousand pounds into the Bond
+      Street shop. The Southdown Road might have remained here for the next five
+      hundred years, and we should have known nothing of it had it not been for
+      Mrs. Horlock; if she likes to know these people let her know them, but why
+      force them upon us? It was only the other day she was talking to me about
+      calling on some new friends of hers who have come to live there. I dare
+      say it is the custom to call on every one at Calcutta, but I say that
+      Calcutta etiquette is not Southwick etiquette, and I don't care how many
+      Viceroys called upon her, I will not know the Southdown Road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The enunciation of this last sentence was deliberate and impassioned. Mr.
+      Brookes walked twice across the room; then he stood, his hands crossed
+      behind his back, looking at his admired Goodall. His anger melted, and he
+      mused on the price he had paid, and the price he thought it was now worth.
+      Fearing he would return to the Southdown Road trouble, Maggie said: &ldquo;I am
+      afraid we shall be obliged to get rid of the new cook. She is Irish. Just
+      before you came in I found her in the stable-yard threatening to break
+      Holt's head with a pair of dreadful old boots.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want to hear about the cook. The money you spend in housekeeping
+      is enormous. Since your poor mother died I haven't had a day's peace. If
+      it isn't one thing it is another. You are fit for nothing but pleasure and
+      flirtation; there isn't a young man in the place or within ten miles you
+      haven't flirted with. I am often ashamed to look them in the face at the
+      station. It is past seven; why isn't dinner ready?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally told the cook to put the dinner back half an hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally told the cook to put my dinner back half an hour!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes's face grew livid. The end of all things was at hand; his
+      dinner had been put back half an hour! This was a climax in the affairs of
+      his life, which for the moment he failed to grasp or estimate. Was a
+      father ever cursed with such daughters as his? He had been in the City all
+      day working for them; he did not marry because he wished to leave them his
+      money, and this was the return they made to him. His dinner had been put
+      back half an hour! Passion sustained him for a while; but he gave way,
+      and, pulling out a silk handkerchief, he sank into a chair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't cry, father, don't cry. Sally is thoughtless; she didn't mean it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes wept for a few minutes; Maggie strove to soothe him; he waved
+      her away, he wiped his eyes and in a voice broken with anguish, &ldquo;Ah,
+      well,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I suppose it will be all the same a hundred years hence.&rdquo;
+       In moments of extreme trouble he sought refuge in such philosophy, but now
+      it seemed inadequate and superficial, and Maggie had begun to fear the
+      violence of the storm she had brewed. She did not mind stimulating
+      ill-feeling, but she did not wish Sally to provoke her father recklessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The possibility of his marrying again and having a second family was the
+      one restraining influence Mr. Brookes still retained over his daughters,
+      so Maggie, who was always keenly alive to the remotest consequences of her
+      actions, took care that his home never became quite unbearable to him; and
+      when Sally entered the room, dark and brilliant in red velvet, and in no
+      way disposed to admit she had been guilty of heinous wrong in
+      countermanding the dinner, Maggie attempted a gentle pouring of oil on the
+      waters. But waving aside her sister's gentle interposition, she said: &ldquo;You
+      mustn't think of yourself only, father. I admit I told the cook to put
+      back the dinner a few minutes. What then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You did it that you might finish your conversation with young Meason,&rdquo;
+       said Mr. Brookes, but his words were weak, it being doubtful if even
+      Meason could add to the original offence, so culminating and final did it
+      seem to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maggie didn't tell you that last week she met him on the sea road, and
+      walked with him into Portslade.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father, father, I beg of you, now, don't cry; think of the servants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And it was in such unity of mind and feeling that this family sat down to
+      dinner in the great dining-room, rich with all comforts and adorned with
+      pictures by Frith and Goodall. Sally, who unfortunately knew no fear,
+      talked defiantly; she addressed herself principally to her brother, and
+      she questioned him persistently, although the replies she received were
+      generally monosyllabic. As he chewed his meat with reflection and
+      precaution, broke his bread with deliberate and well-defined movements,
+      and filled his mouth with carefully chosen pieces, he gradually ventured
+      to decide that he would not speak to his father that evening of the scheme
+      he had been hatching for some months. It was one of his strictest rules
+      not to think while eating, so it may be said that it was against his will
+      that he arrived at this conclusion. Willy suffered from indigestion, and
+      he knew that any exercise of the brain was most prejudicial at meal times.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After dinner Mr. Brookes and his son retired to the billiard-room to
+      smoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your sisters are a great trouble to me&mdash;a very great anxiety. Since
+      your poor mother died I've had no peace, none whatever. Poor Julia, she's
+      gone; I shall never see her again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy made no answer. He was debating; he was still uncertain whether the
+      present time could be considered a favourable one to introduce his scheme
+      to his father's notice, and he had made up his mind that it was, when he
+      was interrupted by Mr. Brookes, who had again lapsed into one of his
+      semi-soliloquies.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your sisters give me a great deal of trouble, a very great deal of
+      anxiety. I am all alone. I have no one to help me since the death of your
+      poor mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My sisters are fitted for nothing but pleasure,&rdquo; Willy replied severely.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      II
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes went to London every day by the five minutes to ten; Willy
+      walked into Brighton. There he had been for some time striving to found an
+      agency for artificial manures, and in the twilight of a small office he
+      brooded over the different means of making money that were open to him.
+      The young ladies worked or played as it struck their fancy. Sally admitted
+      that she infinitely preferred walking round the garden with a young man to
+      doing wool-work in the drawing-room. Maggie shared this taste, although
+      she did not make bold profession of it. Grace was the gentlest of the
+      sisters, and had passed unnoticed until she had fallen in love with a
+      penniless officer, and tortured her father with tears and haggard cheeks
+      because he refused to supply her with money to keep a husband. The doctor
+      had ordered her iron; she had been sent to London for a change, but
+      neither remedy was of much avail, and when she returned home pale and
+      melancholy she had not taken the keys from Maggie, but had allowed her to
+      usurp her place inthe house. Sally was supposed to look after the
+      conservatories, but beyond her own special flowers she left everything to
+      the gardeners.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On Sundays Mr. Brookes walked through the long drawing-rooms aimlessly.
+      Sometimes he would stop before one of his pictures. &ldquo;There, that's a good
+      picture, I paid a lot of money for it, I paid too much, mustn't do so
+      again.&rdquo; Passing his daughters, sometimes without speaking, he then stopped
+      before one of the big chimney-pieces, and, pulling out his large silk
+      pocket handkerchief, dusted the massive clocks and candlesticks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the billiard-room, at a table drawn up close to the coke fire, Willy
+      slowly and with much care made pencil notes, which he slowly and with
+      great solemnity copied into his diary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your sisters are a great source of trouble to me, a source of deep
+      anxiety,&rdquo; said Mr. Brookes, and he flicked the rearing legs of a bronze
+      horse with his handkerchief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My sisters are only fit for pleasure,&rdquo; said Willy and he finished the
+      tail of the y, passed the blotting paper over, and prepared to begin a
+      fresh paragraph.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid Grace is scarcely any better; she will not leave her room. I
+      hear she is crying. It is too ridiculous, too ridiculous. What she can see
+      in that man I can't think; he is only a man of pleasure. I've told her so,
+      but somehow she can't get to see why I will not settle money upon her&mdash;money
+      that I made myself, by hard work, judicious investments.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's a smack at the shop,&rdquo; thought Willy, as he placed his full stop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll not settle my money upon her,&rdquo; said Mr. Brookes, as he resumed his
+      dusting; &ldquo;and for what? to keep an idle fellow in idleness. No, I'll not
+      do it. She'll get over it&mdash;ah, it will be all the same a hundred
+      years hence. But tell me, have you noticed&mdash;no, you notice nothing&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I do; what do you want me to say, that she is looking very ill? I
+      can't help it if she is. I've quite enough troubles of my own without
+      thinking of other people's. I'm sure I am very sorry. I wish she'd never
+      met the fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what I say, I wish she'd never met the fellow, and she never would
+      had it not been for that horrible Southdown Road. Southwick has never been
+      the same since those villas were put up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know nothing about them; I won't know them. I don't go to the Horlocks
+      because I may meet people there I don't want to know. If you hadn't
+      allowed the girls to go there, she never would have met him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But we had to call on the Horlocks. Every Viceroy that ever came to India
+      called upon her, and they're excellent people&mdash;titled people come
+      down from London to see them: but I daresay their banking accounts
+      wouldn't bear looking into. She walks about the green with the chemist's
+      wife, and has the people of the baths to dinner. Mostextraordinary woman.
+      I like her, I enjoy her society; but I can't follow her in her opinions.
+      She says that only men are bad; that all animals are good; that it is only
+      men who make them bad. Her views on hydrophobia are most astonishing. She
+      says it is a mild and easy death, and sees no reason why the authorities
+      should attempt to stamp it out. She quite frightened me with the story she
+      told me of a mad dog that died in her arms. But that by the way. The point
+      is not now whether she is right to feed mice in her bedroom instead of
+      getting rid of them, but whether we should call on people we don't want to
+      know because she asks us to do so. I say we should not. When she spoke to
+      me the other day about the lady whose mother was a housemaid, I said, 'My
+      dear Mrs. Horlock, it is very well for you to call on those people. I
+      approve of, I admire magnanimity; but what you can do I cannot do. You
+      have no daughters to bring out; every Viceroy that ever came to India
+      called on you, your position in the world is assured, your friends will
+      not think the less of you no matter how intimately you know the chemist's
+      wife, but you could not do these things if you had daughters to bring
+      out.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did she say to that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She was just going out to walk with her pugs. Angel began to&mdash;you
+      know, and for the moment she could think of nothing else; when the little
+      beast had finished I had forgotten the thread of my argument. However, I
+      spoke to her about Grace; and she promised that she shouldn't meet the
+      fellow again. I can't think of his name, I get lost in the different
+      names, and they are all so alike I scarcely know one from the other. I
+      have had nothing but trouble since your poor mother died. Your sisters
+      give me a great deal of trouble, and you have given me a great deal of
+      trouble. We couldn't get on in business together on account of your
+      infernal slowness. No man is more for keeping his accounts and letters
+      straight than I, but your exactitude drives me mad; it drives me mad;
+      there you are at it again. I should like to know what you are copying into
+      that diary. One would think you were writing an article for the <i>Times</i>,
+      from the care with which you're drawing out every letter; 'pon my word it
+      isn't writing at all, it's painting. You can't write for a pair of boots
+      without taking a copy of the letter, entering it into this book, and
+      entering it into that book; 'pon my word it is maddening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy laughed. &ldquo;Each person has his own way of doing business; I don't see
+      how it interferes with you, or what difference it makes to you, if I spend
+      three minutes or three days writing a letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps not, perhaps not; but I am terribly upset about Grace,&rdquo; said Mr.
+      Brookes, and he walked slowly across the room and stood looking at his
+      Bouguereau; &ldquo;she'll get over it, but in any case she'll miss her chance of
+      marrying Berkins; that is what distresses me. The man stinks of money. I
+      hear that he has been appointed manager of a colliery, that alone will
+      bring him another thousand a year. His business is going up, he must be
+      worth now between seven and eight thousand a year. And he began as an
+      office boy, he hadn't a penny piece, made it all himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I should think; a purse-proud ass!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, his eight thousand is as good an eight thousand as any in the
+      land, better than a great many. I wouldn't give a snap of my fingers for
+      your broken-down landowners; Berkins has always made excellent
+      investments, and I hear he is now getting as much as fifteen per cent. for
+      money invested.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy had been to Oxford, and the arrogance and pomposity of this
+      purse-proud man shocked his sense of decorum. Berkins's vulgarity was more
+      offensive than that of Mr. Brookes. Mr. Brookes was a simple, middle-class
+      man, who had made money straightforwardly and honestly, and he had
+      cultivated his natural taste for pictures to the limit of his capacities
+      and opportunities. Berkins, however, had been born a gentleman, but had
+      had to shift for himself, even when a lad, and he had caught at all
+      chances; he was more sophisticated, he was a gentleman in a state of
+      retrograde, and was in all points inferior to him whom he crossed in his
+      descent. Berkins had bought a small place, a villa with some hundred acres
+      attached to it, on the other side of Preston Park. There he had erected
+      glass houses, and bred a few pheasants in the corner of a field, and it
+      surprised him to find that the county families took no notice of him. Mr.
+      Brookes had sympathised, but the young people laughed at him and Willy had
+      told a story how he had been to shoot at &mdash;&mdash;, and when a
+      partridge got up right in front of his gun, Berkins turned round and shot
+      it, exclaiming: &ldquo;That's the way to bring them down!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And now whenever his name was mentioned, Willy thought of this incident,
+      so very typical did it seem to him of the man, and he liked to twit his
+      father with it. But Mr. Brookes could not be brought to see the joke, and
+      he fell back on the plausible and insidious argument that, notwithstanding
+      his manners, Berkins was worth eight thousand a year.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And very few girls get the chance of catching eight thousand a year; and
+      she'll miss it, she'll miss it if she doesn't take care.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You talk of it as if it were an absolute certainty; you don't know that
+      Berkins wants to marry Grace; he hasn't been here for the last month.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Berkins is not like the young good-for-nothings your sisters waste
+      their time with, he is a man of means, of eight thousand a year; you don't
+      expect him to come round here every evening to tea, and to play tennis,
+      and to walk in the moonlight and talk nonsense. Berkins is a man of means,
+      he is a man who can make a settlement.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he spoken to you on the subject, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Mr. Berkins is a man of tact, however you may laugh at him for having
+      shot your partridge. He spoke to your Aunt Mary, or rather she spoke to
+      him. Ah, clever woman, your Aunt Mary, wonderful manner, wonderful will,
+      when she wants a thing done it must be done. Your poor mother&mdash;I mean
+      no disparagement&mdash;but I must say she couldn't compare with her for
+      determination; Sally reminds me of her, but Sally's determination is
+      misdirected, deplorably misdirected; it is directed against me, entirely
+      against me. She must be made submissive; when I spoke to Aunt Mary about
+      her, she said her spirit must be broken; and if she were here she'd break
+      it. If she were here things would be very different, your sisters wouldn't
+      be flirting with all the little clerks in the Southdown Road; but I am
+      alone. I have no one to turn to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were telling me that Berkins had spoken to Aunt Mary about Grace.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your Aunt Mary spoke to Berkins about Grace; she told him he ought to be
+      thinking of marrying; that he wanted a wife. Then the conversation turned
+      on my daughters, and Mary no doubt mentioned that at my death they would
+      all have large fortunes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, so it is the money that Berkins is after.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Money comes first. If a man can make a settlement he will naturally
+      demand a&mdash;that is to say he will naturally look forward, he will
+      consider what her prospects are; not her immediate prospects, that would
+      be mercenary, but her future prospects.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy smiled. &ldquo;And what did Berkins say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He said he wanted to marry, and he spoke of Grace; he said he admired
+      her. I shouldn't be surprised if we saw him at church to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you going to ask him to lunch?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certainly, if he's there.&rdquo; Then, after a long silence, Mr. Brookes said:
+      &ldquo;He'll come in here to smoke. Of course you'll leave us alone. Do you mind
+      leaving out your cigars?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have only half a box left; I think really you might keep some in the
+      house to supply your own guests with. You always object if I interfere
+      with your things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am out of my best cigars&mdash;it is so hard to remember. He won't
+      smoke more than one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll put one in the cigar case then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better fill it; it will look so bad if there is only one; he
+      won't take it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He'll take all he can get; he took my bird, I know that!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is a matter of great importance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To you and to Grace, not to me,&rdquo; said Willy, and with very bad grace he
+      unlocked a drawer, and placed a box of cigars on the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. Now what time is it? Half-past ten. By Jove! we must be
+      thinking of starting; I suppose you aren't coming?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid I've too much to do this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young ladies appeared in new dresses, and with prayer-books in their
+      hands. Mr. Brookes took his hat and umbrella, and Willy watched them
+      depart with undisguised satisfaction. &ldquo;Now I shall be able to get through
+      some work,&rdquo; he said, untying a large bundle of letters. He wrote a page in
+      his diary, tied up the letters, diary, and notebook in brown paper, and,
+      with a sigh, admitting that he did not feel up to much work to-day, he
+      took up the envelopes that had contained his letters and began tearing off
+      the stamps, and he did this very attentively as if he did not trust his
+      dry thick fingers. Somebody had told him that ten thousand old stamps were
+      worth&mdash;he had forgotten the price of old stamps, and wondering he
+      dozed off. When he awoke he cried: &ldquo;Half-past twelve, they must be on
+      their way back; I wonder if Berkins is with them!&rdquo; And he strolled out on
+      the gravel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few spring flowers marked the brown earth about the trees, and a
+      beautiful magnolia, white as a bride, shed its shell-like petals in an
+      angle beneath a window; the gold of the berberis glowed at the end of the
+      path; and the greenery was blithe as a girl in clear muslin and ribbons.
+      The blackbirds chattered and ran, and in turn flew to the pan of water
+      placed for them, and drank, lifting their heads with exquisite motion. The
+      trees rustled in the cold wind; the sky was white along the embankment,
+      where an engine moved slowly up and down the line.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy was sensible that the scene was pleasant and pretty, and remembering
+      he was fond of birds, he thrust his hands deeper in his pockets and walked
+      slowly down the drive, his toes well turned out. &ldquo;I wonder if they met
+      Berkins at church?&rdquo; was the question he put to himself gravely. &ldquo;What a
+      cad he is! No wonder the county people fight shy of us; a fellow like that
+      is enough to close their doors against us for ever. My father pooh-poohs
+      everything but riches; he positively flies in their faces, so what can I
+      do? I don't care to ask my Oxford friends down here; one never knows how
+      he will receive them. He can talk of nothing but his business. Had I a
+      free hand, had I not been so hampered, we might have known all the best
+      county families, even theduke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The latch of the gate clicked, and Mr. Brookes and his family appeared.
+      Maggie and Sally walked on the right and left of their father; Grace came
+      on behind with Berkins, and it seemed to Willy that the city magnate bore
+      himself with something even more than his usual dignity. At first sight he
+      suggested that anomalous creature&mdash;a footman with a beard; and the
+      slow, deliberate enunciation marked him as one accustomed to speak in
+      public. His manner of sitting at a table suggested letters and dictation
+      of letters, his manner of moving his glasses on his nose accounts, and at
+      no moment would it have been surprising to see him place his strong finger
+      at the bottom of a line of figures, and begin &ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; etc.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During lunch, Sally and Maggie spoke in undertones; they glanced
+      occasionally at Grace, who sat by and received Berkins's bald remarks with
+      deference. The girls trembled with excitement; they had pressed and
+      extorted from Grace a hurried statement of what had happened. Berkins had
+      proposed to her, he had told her he had never seen any one except her whom
+      he would care to make his wife. What had she said? She didn't know. She
+      couldn't really remember. She had been taken so suddenly, she was so
+      upset, that she hadn't known what to say. She thought she had said
+      something about the honour&mdash;but she really had not had time to say
+      much, for at that moment they were at the gate. Did she intend to accept
+      him? She didn't know; she could not make up her mind. It was a terrible
+      thing to throw over poor Jack; she didn't think she could do it&mdash;no
+      matter what father might say. However, she knew he would never give his
+      consent, so it was no use thinking.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope she won't begin to cry,&rdquo; whispered Sally, who had followed Maggie
+      to the sideboard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father looks as if he were going to cry,&rdquo; replied Maggie, moving the
+      decanters and pretending to look for a glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Seven thousand a year, ten thousand a year! Would Grace have him? What
+      would father settle on her? The sum he settled on her he must settle on
+      them when they married. As Berkins's wife Grace would have servants,
+      jewels, rich dresses, and a house in London, and they thought of the
+      advantage this marriage would be to them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The knives clattered; cheese and celery were being eaten. Mr. Brookes had
+      drunk several glasses of port, and was on the verge of tears. Berkins's
+      high shoulders and large voice dominated the dining-table; he was
+      decidedly more than usually impressed by his own worth, and the worth of
+      the money of which he was the representative. Willy chewed his cheese;
+      there were many wrinkles about his eyes&mdash;deep lines turning towards
+      the ears; and when he lifted his tumbler one noticed the little nails,
+      almost worn away, of his lean hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last Mr. Brookes said: &ldquo;I daresay you would like a cigar, Berkins&mdash;will
+      you come into the billiard-room?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Berkins inclined to this suggestion. Willy, who had not quite finished,
+      remained at table. The girls watched each other, and as soon as the
+      elderly men turned their backs they fled upstairs to their rooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you try one of these?&rdquo; said Mr. Brookes, offering a box of choice
+      havannas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you. My tobacconist&mdash;I must ask you to visit his shop&mdash;receives
+      just a few cases of a very special cigar; I have at least two-thirds of
+      them, sometimes more; when you dine with me I'll give you one. This is
+      Chartreuse, I think. My wine merchant knows a man whose cousin is one of
+      the monks. Now the monks set aside the very cream of the liqueur, if I may
+      so speak, for themselves. This liqueur cannot be bought in the open
+      market. You may go up to London prepared to write a cheque for any figure
+      you may like to name, and I will defy you to buy a bottle. I never have
+      any other. It is really quite delicious. I daresay I could get you some.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes expressed thanks for the amiable offer, and both men smoked on
+      in silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you play billiards?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. Do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Inwardly they congratulated themselves. Presently Mr. Brookes said: &ldquo;I
+      hear you have been staying with my sister, Mrs. Haltom. You were shooting
+      there, were you not?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, they were kind enough to ask me. Very nice shooting they have, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hear that you have gone in for rearing pheasants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; we shot a hundred brace last year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The conversation dropped, and in an impressive silence both men wondered
+      what they had better say to lead honourably up to the subject they had
+      come to speak on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is your house your own design? Did you build it entirely yourself?
+      Iforget. I ought to know; you told me all about it when I dined with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There was a house there, but I altered it considerably after my own idea,
+      and not a bad idea, I flatter myself. I spent a good deal of money in
+      laying out the grounds, putting up conservatories, and so forth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a single man?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For a single man the house is, of course, too large; but I do not intend
+      to remain always single, and&mdash;and now, Mr. Brookes, as we are on the
+      subject, I had better tell you that I have asked Miss Brookes to be my
+      wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes grasped at the first words. &ldquo;I am sure I am very pleased to
+      hear it, Mr. Berkins, and I hope the answer was a favourable one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Brookes is a modest girl. She has been well brought up, as a girl
+      who is, I hope, to be my wife should be, and she was naturally a little
+      overcome. I did not exactly catch what she said, and I didn't like to
+      press her for an immediate answer. But suppose we assume for the moment
+      that Miss Brookes's reply will be a favourable one&mdash;I have, I
+      confess, much faith in her good sense&mdash;we might consider the business
+      side.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Notwithstanding his admiration of a man who had made three thousand a year
+      more than he had succeeded in doing, Mr. Brookes could not but feel
+      irritated at Berkins, who, with increasing gravity, continued to assume
+      all things to his own advantage. It had not occurred to him to consider
+      that Grace might refuse him. Why should she refuse him? She could not hope
+      to do better. She appeared to him as a very nice girl indeed, one entirely
+      fitted for the position for which he intended her. He understood that all
+      girls, at least those in society, were innocent and virtuous; he
+      understood that when they married they made faithful and dutiful wives;
+      and he had chosen her not because he had fallen in love, nor yet because
+      he had noticed she was likely to make a better wife than her sisters, but
+      because she was the eldest. Even so he would be twenty years his wife's
+      senior, and he had chosen to marry one of the Brookes girls because he
+      knew them and saw them constantly; because he knew that at their father's
+      death his fortune would be divided between them. Grace was, therefore, an
+      heiress in perspective. The prospect was agreeable, but he foresaw that it
+      would be put forward as an excuse for fixing the sum of marriage
+      settlements as low as possible. It would, however, be difficult for
+      Brookes to settle less on his daughter than he, Berkins, was willing to
+      settle on his wife; so partly in the hopes of forcing Mr. Brookes, and
+      partly because of the pleasure it gave him to speak of himself, he
+      continued talking of his position and possessions.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In dealing with me,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;you are dealing, as you know, Mr. Brookes,
+      with a man of means, a man who can afford to do the thing properly; you
+      will not misunderstand me&mdash;you remember you told me that you had
+      great difficulty in keeping the little folk who live here out of your
+      house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The neighbourhood has never been the same since they put up that row of
+      villas. A lot of indigent fortune-hunters, they know my girls will have
+      large fortunes at my death, so they come sneaking round the place like so
+      many wolves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can readily sympathise with you; one doesn't make money to keep idle
+      young fellows in the luxuries of life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is what I say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you aren't sufficiently firm, Mr. Brookes; had you been brought up in
+      the hard school that I was you would be more firm; firmness is everything.
+      You married early, I couldn't afford to do that. At sixteen I had to shift
+      for myself. I was three years a clerk at two pounds a week, and not many
+      chances to rise come in the way of a clerk at two pounds a week; he must
+      be pretty sharp, and if he doesn't seize the little chance when it comes,
+      he will remain a little clerk all his life. It is the first steps that are
+      difficult, the rest are nothing. You don't know what the first steps are;
+      I do. Once you've made a thousand pounds you can swim along a bit, but the
+      first hundred, I shall never forget it! Afterwards it is just the same;
+      the proportions are changed, that is all. The first twenty thousand is
+      very uphill work, the second is on the flat, the third is going downhill&mdash;it
+      brings itself along.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A very good simile indeed. There's no doubt that it is money that makes
+      money. When you have none you cannot make it. It is like corn; give a man
+      a handful, and he must be a fool if he can't fill his barn. The beginnings
+      are hard; none knows that better than I. But for the last ten years I've
+      been doing fairly well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had never intended to get married, but when money really begins to
+      accumulate it pushes you along. It is curious how money takes you along.
+      It is like a tide. You first begin thinking of a little place in the
+      country where you can stay from Saturday till Monday. The little place
+      grows; it is extraordinary how it grows. You find you want flowers, and
+      you put up a glass house; then you begin to get interested in orchids or
+      roses, and you put up two, maybe half a dozen glass houses. Suddenly you
+      find the rabbits are breeding in the hedgerows, and you go out yonder
+      ferretting, but the coachman does not know how to manage the ferrets, and
+      you start a keeper. The keeper says one morning, 'It wouldn't require much
+      to get up a stock of pheasants in that little wood.' You say, 'Very well;'
+      and there you are before you know it, with glass houses, rabbit-shooting,
+      and a pheasant preserve. You have friends to stay with you for the
+      shooting, you get talked about in the clubs, people ask why you aren't
+      married&mdash;the place where the wife ought to be stares you in the face:
+      a man of money, of real money, must get married. The friends who come and
+      stay with you suggest a little dance, you think it would be very pleasant;
+      but you know no one in the neighbourhood, the county people won't visit
+      you, so the thing comes about, and you are head over heels in settlements
+      before you know where you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you find the county people very standoffish over Preston Park way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not in a position to judge; they could not very well call on me
+      situated as I am, a young&mdash;well, I will say, a marriageable&mdash;man,
+      known to be wealthy; but I have no doubt when I am married they will call
+      on us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twirl them round my little finger, stuck-up lot; I should like to know
+      what they have to be proud of, half of them are broken&mdash;their land is
+      worthless. Give me good sound investments, five or six per cent. For some
+      money I am getting seven; the waterworks pays fourteen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The conversation suddenly dropped, they looked at each other blankly; they
+      felt they had talked a good deal, but without approaching any nearer the
+      subject they had met to speak on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our intention was,&rdquo; said Berkins, in his most solemn and professional
+      manner, &ldquo;assuming that Miss Brookes is not averse from my suit, to discuss
+      the business side, for there is a business side to all questions, as you,
+      Mr. Brookes, will be the first to see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes had begun to anger; he would have liked to have answered that
+      such a discussion was altogether premature, but he yielded before
+      Berkins's authoritative manner, and he replied instead that he would be
+      glad indeed to hear whatever proposal Mr. Berkins had to make.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to say, then&mdash;I will assume that we stand as man to
+      man, equal; you have probably more money invested than I; I am making
+      possibly a larger income&mdash;you will forgive me if I am mistaken, but
+      you told me the other day as we went up in the train that you had had a
+      very bad year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three thousand dead loss. It does not matter so much to me, my money is
+      invested, but it would have gone hard with many a man who was relying on
+      his business. Three thousand pounds dead loss!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How was that? I suppose the temperance societies affect you; they must
+      have had a great effect on the sale of liquor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No one who was not in the trade would believe in the falling off in the
+      quantity of whisky drunk. But it was not that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Trade generally, trade depression affects every one; the failure of one
+      makes bad debts for the other. It was bad debts that did it. It was very
+      stupid of me, but I was worried at home: those fortune-hunters from the
+      villas&mdash;my daughters are very young, and since their poor mother died
+      they have had no one to look after them. Willy, too, is a great trial to
+      me. Poor boy, he is most anxious to do something, but things don't go
+      right with him; he thought he was going to do a good thing in a Bond
+      Street shop that was converted into a company, but he lost two thousand
+      pounds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought he was in the distillery with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was for a while, but he irritated me; he is so confoundedly
+      methodical, everything must go into his diary, he spends half the day
+      filling it up. Besides after you have conducted a business so many years
+      you don't want a partner; you have your own way of doing things, and don't
+      want to be interfered with. He draws a certain income, but he has nothing
+      now to do with the business. We were talking of settlements.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not act as I should regarding the villa residences. I would put
+      them down. I would not have it; but, as you say, we were talking of
+      settlements. I think I said we stood as man to man. In round numbers your
+      fortune equals mine, mine equals yours&mdash;very well, let us act
+      equally. I will settle five hundred a year on Miss Brookes, do you
+      likewise; what do you say to that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh, pooh! I couldn't think of such a thing. Five hundred a year!&rdquo; said
+      Mr. Brookes, and throwing his cigar into the fireplace, he walked up the
+      room indignantly. &ldquo;I was wrong to consent to discuss the matter; to say
+      the least, it is premature; I never heard of such a thing. Five hundred a
+      year! This is worse than the Southdown Road, many degrees worse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, such insinuations are most uncalled for; I must beg of you to
+      withdraw them. I must ask you to remember you are talking to one at least
+      in the same position as yourself, to a man of seven thousand a year!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh, pooh! seven thousand a year&mdash;you are making that to-day,
+      to-morrow you mayn't be making three. Yours isn't invested money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Berkins had risen from the great leather armchair, and he stood
+      expressionless as a piece of office furniture, his grave face divided by
+      the green shade of the billiard lamp; Mr. Brookes remained with his back&mdash;his
+      straight fat back bound in a new frock coat that defined the senile
+      fatness of the haunches&mdash;turned to his guest. He stooped as if to
+      examine his favourite Linnell, but, in his passion, he did not see it. The
+      table, covered with a grey cloth, lay like an account spread out between
+      the moneyed men.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Taking your words into due consideration, I think I had better wish you
+      good-morning, Mr. Brookes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Berkins, I would not wish you to misunderstand me,&rdquo; said Mr. Brookes,
+      whom the prospect of losing seven thousand a year had suddenly cooled. &ldquo;My
+      daughter will have&mdash;my children, I should say&mdash;will have my
+      fortune divided amongst them at my death, and when we come to go into
+      figures you will find&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But in the meantime, what do you propose to settle on her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes hesitated. He was angry at being pressed. Berkins's
+      domineering tone irritated him; he would have liked to bundle him from the
+      house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently he said: &ldquo;I think, considering the very large sums of money my
+      daughters will come into at my death, that a settlement of two hundred a
+      year is ample.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, in that case I shall settle the same.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I could not, I will not, consent to any such arrangement. The man my
+      daughter marries must settle on her a sum of money equivalent&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To what you settle on her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To her position, to her expectations,&rdquo; replied Mr. Brookes, growing more
+      and more angry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I don't know what her expectations are; you may marry again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not intend to marry again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very possibly, but I know nothing of that; business is business, and I
+      should be a fool if I settle five hundred to your two hundred.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes stopped in his walk, and he looked at Berkins, who stood, his
+      hand laid upon the billiard table as upon a huge balance sheet. The word
+      business had carried the men back to their offices in London, and, quite
+      forgetful of the subject of their bargaining, each strove to obtain an
+      advantage over the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, let us say two hundred and fifty, that is my last word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, Mr. Brookes, I will not take your daughter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      III
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Willy, make haste, I beg of you; I shall miss my train. It is now exactly
+      half-past nine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better go without me; I cannot start now. I haven't nearly got my
+      things together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy walked from room to room tying and untying brown paper parcels in
+      his most methodical and most dilatory manner. His sisters stood watching
+      him from the drawing-room door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did father tell you nothing when Berkins left? They had a row, hadn't
+      they? It isn't off, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you would not speak so loud, Sally; you can be heard all over the
+      house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do tell us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I don't know. Father was very much upset. I couldn't speak to him
+      about my own business, I know that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I suppose we shall hear about it to-night. You are going to meet
+      Frank in Brighton, aren't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; he is coming to lunch with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't keep him all day; send him on here, we might have a game of
+      tennis.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy did not answer; and he thought as he went upstairs, what a trouble
+      young girls were in a house. &ldquo;They think of nothing but pleasure, nothing
+      but pleasure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      One, two, or three more delays, and he was ready, and with his brown paper
+      parcel tucked under his arm he set forth. Upon the young blue of the sky,
+      the fresh green of the buds melted. There were a few elms, but hardly
+      enough to constitute an avenue. The house looked as if it had been
+      repeatedly altered. It ran into unexpected corners and angles; but it was
+      far enough from the road to justify a gate lodge. The swards were
+      interspersed with shrubs in the most modern fashion, and the sumptuous
+      glass-houses could be seen gleaming in the sun. It was a hot day, and the
+      brick wall was dappled with hanging foliage, and further out, opposite the
+      windows of the &ldquo;Stag and Hounds,&rdquo; where Steyning's ales could be obtained,
+      the over-reaching sprays of a great chestnut tree fell in delicate tracery
+      on the white dust. The road led under the railway embankment, and looking
+      through the arched opening, one could see the dirty town, straggling along
+      the canal or harbour, which runs parallel with the sea. A black stain was
+      the hull of a great steamer lying on her side in the mud, but the tapering
+      masts of yachts were beautiful on the sky, and at the end of a row of
+      slatternly houses there were sometimes spars and rigging so strange and
+      bygone that they suggested Drake and the Spanish main.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Southwick is half a suburb, half a village. In the summer months the green
+      seems a living thing. It is there the children talk and tumble when school
+      is over. They are told to go to the green, they are forbidden to go to the
+      green, and it is from the green the eldest girl leads the naughty boy
+      howling. When they are a little older they avoid the green, it is too
+      public then. It is to the green that elevens come from far and near to
+      play their matches. All the summer through the green is a <i>fete</i> of
+      cricket. It is to the green the brass bands come on Saturday. On the
+      green, bat and trap is played till the ball disappears in shadow. The
+      green is common; horses and cows are turned out there. All profit by the
+      green. It is on the edge of the green the housewives come to talk in the
+      limpid moonlight. It is on the green the fathers smoke when the little
+      cottage rooms are unbearable with summer heat. It is on the green that
+      Mrs. Horlock walks with her pugs and the chemist's wife, to the enormous
+      scandal of the neighbourhood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To the right, facing the embankment, and overlooking some fields, is the
+      famous Southdown road, and parallel with the green is Mr. Brookes's
+      property&mdash;a solid five acres, with all modern improvements and
+      embellishments, and surrounded by a brick wall over six feet high.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy hated Southwick. He thought it ugly and vulgar; he regretted deeply
+      that his father would make no advances, and that they were as far from
+      county society to-day as when they came to live in the place thirty years
+      ago. &ldquo;I knew the best people when I was at Oxford, why can I not know them
+      now? Here we are doing the same thing from year's end to year's end; why,
+      with our money we ought to be hob-nobbing with the duke.&rdquo; In moments of
+      dejection this was one of Willy's commonest thoughts. &ldquo;I did my best, but
+      I was opposed. Father doesn't care, and as for the girls, they'll take up
+      with any man so long as he is young. Still, in spite of them I should have
+      got on if I hadn't lost my nerve and had to give up hunting; and without
+      hunting there is no way of making acquaintances.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy had relied on a hunter as Berkins had on pheasants and glass-houses.
+      But he hated hunting, and finding he got no further than a few breakfasts,
+      he had told a story of a heavy fall and sold his horses. He had then
+      insisted on dinner-parties, and some few people more or less &ldquo;county&rdquo; had
+      been collected; the pretext was politics, but Willy and politics were but
+      a doleful mixture, and the scheme collapsed. The family was not endowed
+      with any social qualifications, Willy least of all, and having failed to
+      advance himself individually, and his family collectively, he threw up the
+      game.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We rarely cultivate for long things in which we may not succeed in&mdash;the
+      lady with a small waist pinches it, the man with pretty feet wears pretty
+      shoes, and in no circumstances could Willy have shone in society. He
+      failed to interest the ladies he met on the King's Road, he knew this; and
+      to sum up his deficiencies, let us say he was lacking in &ldquo;go.&rdquo; He was too
+      timid to succeed with the more facile loves whom he met in the evenings on
+      the pier. All the same he had had his love affair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! men of inferior aspect and speech, often in you a true heart abides;
+      you, and you only, are faithful to the end.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To this unromantic person a shred of pure romance was attached. None knew
+      the whole story, and none spoke of it now; but his sisters remembered that
+      Willy had fallen in love with a girl whom he had seen play &ldquo;Sweet Anne
+      Page.&rdquo; They remembered long letters, tears and wild looks. He had sent her
+      diamonds; and one night he had attempted suicide. All was now forgotten;
+      at least it was the past, and nothing remained but one little melody which
+      he had heard her sing, and which he sometimes whistled out of tune.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But sooner or later a man's talents, and if not his talents, his tastes,
+      appear through the mists of youth, and henceforth they lead him. Willy's
+      efforts in society had resulted in abortive dinner-parties, his efforts in
+      sport had been cut short by nerves, his efforts in dissipation had left
+      him with a tolerably well-filled wardrobe, his efforts in love had brought
+      him tears and a commonplace mistress, whom he kept in the necessaries of
+      life in various lodging-houses. So his youth had passed; but in all this
+      mediocrity a certain spirit of resistance endured. His taste for figures
+      grew more pronounced; he surrounded himself with account books, letter
+      books, and diaries; he took note of every penny that passed through his
+      hands. Money-making, profitable investments&mdash;that was to be his aim
+      in life; and as each year closed his thoughts fixed themselves more
+      definitely and entirely on it; and it was natural that it should be so,
+      since all other outlets for the passion of life were barred to him. His
+      forced retirement from the distillery did not worry him. No one could
+      please his father in business; his uncle had once threatened to throw his
+      brother out of the window. Besides, the business was a declining one, and
+      twelve thousand pounds for a junior partnership was not bad. Nor did his
+      failure to make a success of the manure agency discourage him; the shop
+      was a different matter, that was his own idea, he had thought of a
+      fortune, and had lost two thousand pounds. It had crippled him for life.
+      True enough, there were other things to do. Some stockbrokers make twenty
+      per cent. on their money, not in wild speculation, but in straightforward
+      genuine business. He might go up to London and learn the business&mdash;he
+      had heard that it would not take more than six months or a year to pick it
+      up&mdash;and start on his own account. A thousand pounds would be
+      sufficient to begin with; or he might buy a partnership&mdash;he could do
+      that for three or four thousand. Either of these courses would suit him,
+      the latter for preference, but a certain amount of capital would be
+      necessary before he could take either, and that he hadn't got, and to all
+      appearances it would be very difficult to persuade his father to consent
+      to drawany more money out of the distillery.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      So Willy's thoughts ran as he ascended the flight of wooden steps that led
+      to the platform of the little country station. &ldquo;The folk down here think
+      there is nothing in me, that I am good for nothing but walking up and down
+      the King's Road, but they little know what I have in my head. I'll make
+      them open their eyes one of these days.&rdquo; The sting of vanity is in us all.
+      Our heads may be greed, our bellies lust, our limbs charity, faithfulness,
+      truth, and goodwill, but in some cranny of our tails vanity always lies,
+      only it may be marvellously well hidden, as in Willy. The keenest observer
+      would not have detected it in him, and when he came out of his habitual
+      reserve and lamented that bad luck had always followed him and spoke of
+      his projects, one might have suspected him of greed, but hardly of vanity.
+      Now he stood leaning on the wooden paling, and his movements showed the
+      back and loins in strong outline, marking the thick calves. Without taking
+      any heed, his eyes followed the cricket ball, which was in turn slogged
+      into the horse-pond and cottage gardens. Through long familiarity, the
+      green had faded from his notice, nor did the burnt-up crops on the Downs
+      attract his thoughts, nor yet the sinuous lines of the hills. From the
+      platform one saw the whole of Southwick. The green with its cricket match,
+      Mrs. Horlock and her dogs, the forge, the stile, the various cottages, the
+      long fields full of green wheat, and, far away, the carriages passing like
+      insects along the road under the Downs; then on the right were the back
+      gardens of the cottages, a large inscription announcing the different
+      branches of the grocery business, a few fields with cows leaning their
+      muzzles over the rough palings, some more cottages, a barn, and then the
+      magnificent five acres of the Manor House, rich with glass-houses, and
+      beautiful in a cloud of trees. From the platform of the station one could
+      see the sea, not much of it, but one could see the sea; the slates of the
+      street that went along the water's edge did not quite bar the view. The
+      very small presence of Southwick contrived to hide the sea; even when one
+      walked to the water's side the great mass of shingle which forms the outer
+      bank of the canal allowed only one narrow rim of blue to appear. The
+      inhabitants forget they live by the sea, and when the breeze fills their
+      gardens with a smell of boats and nets they think of the sea with
+      surprise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Tired of the monotonous running to and fro of the cricket players, Willy
+      walked up the platform. Arrow-like, the line lay in front of him, and in
+      the tinted distance, in faint lines and flashes of light and shade,
+      Brighton stretched from hill to hill. Morning was still in the sky, and
+      the sea was deep blue between the yellow chimney-pots. A puff of steam
+      showed up upon a distant field, and the train came along from Portslade,
+      one of the links of the great chain of towns that binds the south coast.
+      &ldquo;I hope Frank won't arrive in Brighton before me,&rdquo; thought Willy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They had been big boy and little boy at school. The vivacity of the Celt
+      amused the good-natured south Saxon, and when Lord Mount Rorke called to
+      see his nephew, he found him talking with Brookes. Once Willy had been
+      invited to spend part of his holidays at Mount Rorke. Afterwards they
+      visited each other's rooms, and so their friendship had been decided, and,
+      in spite of&mdash;or, perhaps, on account of&mdash;a very marked
+      difference in their characters and temperaments, gathered strength as it
+      matured. Another link between the men was that Escott had accompanied
+      Willy to the theatre when he went to see the actress whom he had loved so
+      madly. Frank had heard her sing the song which Willy whistled when his
+      thoughts went wandering. Willy confided in no one&mdash;great sorrows
+      cannot be and never are confided; but Frank had seen her, and he played
+      her songs on the piano, and that was enough for Willy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young men had not seen each other for two years. Frank had shown some
+      taste for painting, and his uncle, whose heir he was, had sent him, if not
+      to study, at least to think about art in Italy. From Italy he had gone to
+      Greece and Russia, he had returned home through Germany, he had visited
+      Holland and France.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is the London train come in?&rdquo; Willy asked when he arrived in Brighton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, just come in, about five minutes,&rdquo; said the man as he opened
+      the door. Willy waited until the train had stopped dead, he got out
+      carefully, and, looking through the confusion of luggage and bookstall
+      trade, he saw Escott questioning a porter and hailing a carriage. &ldquo;By
+      Jove! I shall miss him,&rdquo; cried Willy, and he hastened his steps and broke
+      into a sharp trot. &ldquo;Frank! Frank!&rdquo; he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, there you are!&rdquo; cried Frank, and he lifted his stick, and called
+      sharply to a large black and white bull-dog that paddled about on its bow
+      legs, saliva dripping from its huge jaws, looking in its hideousness like
+      something rare and exquisite from Japan. He dismissed the porter and the
+      carriage, which he had hailed with an arrogant wave of his stick. He was
+      tall and he was thin. His trousers were extremely elegant, a light cloth,
+      black and white check, hung on his legs in graceful lines, and he wore
+      tiny boots with light brown cloth tops. The jacket and waistcoat were in
+      dark brown cloth, and the odour of the gardenia in his buttonhole
+      contrasted with that of the sachet-scented silk pocket-handkerchief which
+      lay in his side pocket. His throat showed white and healthy in the high
+      collar tied with a white silk cravat in a sailor's knot, fastened with a
+      small diamond. His hands were coarse and brown; he wore two rings, and a
+      bracelet fell out of his cuff when he dropped his arm. His chest was broad
+      and full, but the shoulders were too square; the coat was padded. There
+      was little that could be called Celtic in his face or voice, the admixture
+      of race was manifested in that dim blue stare, at once vague and wild,
+      which the eyes of the Celt so often exhibit. The nose was long, low, and
+      straight, the nostrils were cleanly marked, the mouth was uncertain, the
+      chin was uncertain, the face was long, deadly pale, rather large, the
+      forehead was high, receding at the temples. The hair (now he removes his
+      hat, for the air is heavy and hot, and the sun falls fiercely on the
+      pavement) is pale brown, and it waves thinly over the high forehead, so
+      expressive of a vague and ill-considered idealism. Frank Escott was of
+      Saxon origin on his father's side, but the family had been in Ireland for
+      the last two hundred years, and had married into many Irish families that
+      had at different times received direct contributions of Celtic blood. Long
+      residence in England had removed all Irish accent and modes of speech; but
+      in hook, and book, and cook he lengthened the vowel sound. Occasionally a
+      something strange grated on the ear, and declared him not of the south of
+      England, suggested the north, and insinuated Cumberland; an actor could
+      not reproduce these trifling differences with caricaturing them. He was
+      absolutely good-looking, and he was too well dressed. He laughed a good
+      deal, and his conversation was sprinkled with cynical remarks and cutting
+      observations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't seem to go in for dress now as you used to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven't the money to spend on it; but tell me, don't you like this
+      suit?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, pretty well; whose is it? Did Walpole make it? Do you deal with him
+      still?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it is one of Walpole's, but I have had it turned.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had it turned? I have heard of turning an overcoat, but a morning coat! I
+      did not know it could be done; that's what makes it look so shaky.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now don't you get laughing at my coat, it looks very well indeed. I
+      suppose you think I am not fit to walk with you. I daresay it doesn't look
+      as smart as yours, which has just come out of Walpole's shop.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young men had so much to say, and were so genuinely glad to see each
+      other, that their thoughts hesitated and they were embarrassed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose you enjoyed your trip abroad very much,&rdquo; Willy said drily and
+      punctiliously; &ldquo;you were more than a year away&mdash;nearly eighteen
+      months, I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About that. I enjoyed myself. I think I liked Italy best; it has been
+      more painted and described than any country, and yet it is quite different
+      from what one imagines; it is grey and dim and green and dusty. It looks&mdash;how
+      shall I put it?&mdash;it looks worn out and faded.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The women aren't worn out and faded if all one hears is true,&rdquo; said
+      Willy, with a short laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The women are right enough. I must tell you about them one of these days,
+      lots of stories. There was a little Italian girl I met at Milan. It was a
+      job to get away from her; she followed me, 'pon my word, she did; she
+      declared she would commit suicide. I was awfully frightened. Naples is
+      really too shocking. I'm not a prude, but Naples is really&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose it is the same all over the Continent. One of these days I must
+      go abroad and have a look round. You were a long time in Rome?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, only a few weeks, but I was too taken up with the pictures to think
+      of anything else. The Michael Angelos are beyond anything any one can
+      imagine. He is the only one who can compare with the Greeks, and I don't
+      see why one shouldn't say he is as great. Of course there are things, the
+      daughters of&mdash;I forget the name&mdash;the group of two women leaning
+      back in each other's arms in the British Museum. But I don't know, Michael
+      Angelo is quite different, and I can't see that anything can be said to be
+      finer than the figures of Day and Night&mdash;how often I have drawn them&mdash;the
+      figure of Night, the heavy breasts to show that she has suckled the Day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But which way are we going? I must go to Truefitt's to have my hair cut.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You haven't forgotten the old place, I see. Do you still keep up your
+      subscription?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose mine has run out, I have been abroad so long. Nothing like a
+      good shampoo; for a guinea a year you can have it done as often as you
+      like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven't subscribed lately. There used to be such a pretty girl at the
+      counter. Do you remember?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You dog, always thinking of them,&rdquo; and laughing loudly they passed
+      through the shop, and it was Frank that stared most at the young lady.
+      They read <i>Punch</i> aloud to each other; they cracked jokes with the
+      hairdressers; they snorted and laughed through the soap and jets of hot
+      and cold water. Frank allowed scent and ivories to be pressed upon him by
+      the young lady at the counter; Willy declined to be led into such
+      extravagances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he stepped out into the shine of the street, and took step from his
+      friend, he said: &ldquo;By George! it makes me feel young again. It is just like
+      old times.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it does make one feel jollier, doesn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How jolly it is here; not too warm, just nice. What shall we do? Sit down
+      on that bench in front of the pier?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm agreeable. How jolly it is. Just look at those boats! One could make
+      a picture of that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Over the sea hung a white veil of mist, but the sun glowed through and
+      melted into it, and harmonised it with the water green and translucent.
+      The sea sucked about the shingle with little sudden sighs; the sails of
+      the pleasure boat waved in the fairy-like depths, and all the little brown
+      fishing-boats lay becalmed, heaving tremulously like tired butterflies
+      upon the breast of a blue flower. The nursemaids lay together on the
+      shingle, and their novels slipped down the stones to their feet. The
+      children played with the tide and the sand. There were crowds of women&mdash;Jewesses
+      with loud dresses: and the strange world of bath chairs! Ladies so old
+      that they seem certain to fall to pieces when they are taken out; ladies
+      with chestnut curls soft and fresh&mdash;why were they in bath chairs?
+      General officers, mounted on white Arabs; acrobats and songs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young men sat facing the sea. Frank called, &ldquo;Triss, Triss. Splendid
+      dog that is. If I were to let him he would guzzle the other dog in about
+      two minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He looks a ferocious brute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't like dogs? You couldn't see a handsomer dog than that;
+      unfortunately, he's the wrong colour; if he were brindle or white, he'd
+      take a first prize. Come here, you brute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Amid some little excitement and anxious looks, Triss came up, growling and
+      showing his teeth. Frank explained that it was only his manner. Frank took
+      the paw that was extended to him, but Triss's friendliness seemed somewhat
+      dubious, for he still further uncovered his formidable fangs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really don't care to sit here with that ferocious brute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you he won't bite, it is only his manner. Isn't it, Triss? Kiss
+      me, kiss me at once,&rdquo; and amid many growls of almost subterranean
+      awfulness, the dog licked his master's face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you would tie him up&mdash;to oblige me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Highly pleased at the fear and wonder his dog had struck in the gaudy
+      Jewesses and the shaky generals, Frank threatened and finally forced the
+      dog to lie down. He continued to expatiate on the dog's points&mdash;the
+      number of wrinkles, the bandiness of the legs, etc. The conversation
+      dropped in heat and glare, and the picturesqueness of the sea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How horribly out of tune you do whistle&mdash;you go into a different
+      key; this is more like it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, how sweetly she used to sing it. Do you remember the night we went
+      to see her, the last time the piece was played? I threw her a bouquet, a
+      splendid one it was, too, cost me three guineas in Covent Garden. We went
+      afterwards and had supper at Scott's in the Haymarket. How jolly those
+      days were. I don't seem to be able to enjoy myself now as I used to then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What has become of her? One never hears of her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She died soon after.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry I spoke of her; I didn't know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, it doesn't matter.&rdquo; Then after a long silence, Willy said: &ldquo;I hear
+      your engagement is broken off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo; Frank drew a long and expressive breath, and, with melodramatic
+      movements of the shoulders, he sighed. &ldquo;I have not seen you since. Oh, I
+      had terrible scenes with the father. They had a house up the river. I
+      followed them, and put up at the Angler's Hotel. She told her father that
+      I must be allowed to come to the house, and he had to give way. You don't
+      know the river? Well, it is wonderful to awake at Maidenhead in the
+      morning and hear the sparrows twittering in a piece of tangled vine; to
+      see that great piece of water flowing so mildly in all the pretty summer
+      weather. We used to live in flannels, and spent long afternoons together
+      in the boat&mdash;we had such a spiffing boat, as light and as clean in
+      the water as a fish&mdash;and we used to linger in the bulrushes, and come
+      back when the moon was rising with our hands full of flowers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why was it broken off?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My uncle, old Mount Rorke, wants me to marry an heiress, and I have
+      nothing except what he allows me, or scarcely anything. She used to wear a
+      broad-brimmed straw hat, and the shadow fell over her face. I made a lot
+      of sketches. I must show them to you one of these days when you come up to
+      town, and I filled an album with verses. I used to write them at night. My
+      window was right in front of the river, and the moon used to sail past,
+      and in the morning I used to read her the poems I made overnight beneath
+      the branches of the cedar, where we used to run the boat. But the father
+      was a brute. I got the best of him once though. It was a private view day
+      at the Academy, and he had forbidden Nellie to speak to me&mdash;even to
+      notice me. I went straight up to her, and took her away under his very
+      nose before he could stop us. We walked about all day. Oh! he was mad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If she was willing to brave her father in that way, why was your
+      engagement broken off?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My uncle was so very difficult to deal with. I didn't see her for some
+      time.&rdquo; Frank did not say&mdash;perhaps, he did not know&mdash;that his
+      engagement had been broken off through his own instability and weakness of
+      character. The young lady, whom he called Nellie, had told him she would
+      wait if he would elect a profession and work for a place in it. But Frank
+      had not been able to forego late hours and restaurants, and Nellie had
+      married some one who could. &ldquo;You know I converted her. Doesn't her father
+      hate me for that! We used to go to high mass at the oratory. I explained
+      to her the whole of the Catholic religion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I thought you didn't believe in it yourself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am talking of some time ago; besides, a woman, it isn't quite the same
+      thing; and if I have saved her soul! I don't know if I told you that I was
+      writing a novel; I don't think I did. The idea of it is this: A young man
+      has loved three women. The first charmed him by her exceeding beauty; he
+      lives with her for a time. The second captivates him, or rather holds him
+      through his senses; his love for her is merely a sensuality; then he falls
+      in love with a fair young girl as pure as falling snow of any stain in
+      deed or in thought; he is engaged to marry her&mdash;or, I don't know, I
+      haven't made up my mind on that point, perhaps it would be better if he
+      did marry her. Well, the woman whom he has loved with a merely sensual
+      passion comes back, and to revenge herself she tries to tempt the good
+      girl to go wrong; she talks to her of men and pleasures; this is a good
+      idea, I think, for I feel sure it is women far more than men who lead
+      women astray. Then the first woman whom he has loved for her beauty
+      merely, comes along and continues the diabolical work of the first, by
+      suggesting&mdash;I don't know, anything&mdash;that the young girl should
+      go in for dress; the young man finds out the scheme, and to save the girl
+      he murders her, he is thrown into prison, he is tried, and in the crowded
+      Court he makes a great speech&mdash;he tells how he murdered her to save
+      her from sin, he tells the judge that on the Judgment Day a pure white
+      soul will plead for him. What an opportunity for a piece of splendid
+      writing! The Court would be filled with fashionable women, that weep and
+      sob, they cannot contain themselves, the judge would wish to stop the
+      young man, but he cannot. What a splendid scene to describe! And the young
+      man goes to execution confident, and assured that he has done well. What
+      do you think of it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is really difficult for me to say; I never like giving an opinion on a
+      subject I don't understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know; but what do you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Fortunately for Willy's peace, the conversation was at this moment
+      violently interrupted by Triss. He rushed forth, and Frank was only in
+      time to prevent a pitched battle. He returned leading the dog by his silk
+      handkerchief, amid the murmur of nurse-maids and Jewesses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's the worst of him; he never can see a big dog without wanting to go
+      for him. Down, sir, down&mdash;I won't have you growl at me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't see what pleasure you can find in a brute like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you he's very good-tempered; he has a habit of growling, but he
+      does not mean anything by it. What were we talking about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think we were talking about the ladies. Have you seen anything nice
+      lately? What's the present Mrs. Escott like, dark or fair?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There isn't one, I assure you. I met rather a nice woman at my uncle's,
+      about two months ago, a Lady Seely. I don't know that you would call her a
+      pretty woman; rather a turned-up nose, a pinched-in waist, beautiful
+      shoulders. Hair of a golden tinge, diamonds, and dresses covered with
+      beads. She flirted a great deal. We talked about love, and we laughed at
+      husbands, and she asked me to come and see her in rather a pointed way. It
+      is rather difficult to explain these things, but I think that if I were to
+      go in for her&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That you would pull it off?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young men laughed loudly, and then Frank said: &ldquo;But somehow I don't
+      much care about her. I met such a pretty girl the other day at the
+      theatre. There were no stalls, and as I wanted to see the piece very much,
+      I went into the dress circle. There was only one seat in the back row. I
+      struggled past a lot of people, dropped into my place, and watched the
+      piece without troubling myself to see who was sitting next to me. It was
+      not until the <i>entr'acte</i> that I looked round. I felt my neighbour's
+      eyes were fixed upon me. She was one of the prettiest girls you ever saw
+      in your life&mdash;a blonde face, pale brown hair, and such wonderful
+      teeth&mdash;her laughter, I assure you, was beautiful. I asked her what
+      she thought of the piece. She looked away and didn't answer. It was rather
+      a slap in the face for me, but I am not easily done. I immediately said:
+      'I should have apologised before for the way I inconvenienced you in
+      crushing into my seat, but, really, the place is so narrow that you don't
+      know how to get by.' This rather stumped her, she was obliged to say
+      something. The girl on the other side (not half a bad looking girl, short
+      brown curly hair, rather a roguish face) was the most civil at first. She
+      wasn't as pretty as the one next to me, but she spoke the more willingly;
+      the one next to me tried to prevent her. However, I got on with them, one
+      thing led to another, and when the piece was over, I fetched their hats
+      and coats and we walked a little way up the street together. I tried to
+      get them to come to supper; they couldn't do that, for they had to be in
+      at a certain time, so we went to Gatti's and had some coffee. I couldn't
+      make out for a long time what they were; they were evidently not
+      prostitutes, and they did not seem to me to be quite ladies. What do you
+      think they were?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven't an idea&mdash;actresses?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. They wouldn't tell me for a long time. I got it out of them at last;
+      they're at the bar in the Gaiety Restaurant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bar girls?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some of those bar girls are very pretty; rather dangerous, though, I
+      should think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They seemed to me to be very nice girls; you would be surprised if you
+      heard them talk. I assure you the one that sat next to me spoke just like
+      a lady. You know in these hard times people must do something. Lots of
+      ladies have to buckle to and work for their bread.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank lapsed into silence. Willy sat apparently watching the blue and
+      green spectacle of the sea. Frank knew that it interested him not the
+      least, and he wondered if his friend had heard what he had been saying.
+      Triss, seeing that smelling and fighting were equally vain endeavours, had
+      laid himself out in the sun, and he returned his master's caresses by deep
+      growls. One more menacing than the others woke Willy from his meditation,
+      and he said: &ldquo;What's the time? It ought to be getting on to lunch time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I daresay it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where shall we go? Do you know of a good place? What about that
+      restaurant opposite the pier?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Willy, with a short, abrupt laugh, &ldquo;the fact is, I must lunch
+      at my office; but I shall be very glad if you will come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't know you had an office&mdash;an office for what?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I started an agency at the beginning of the year for artificial manure,
+      but I think I shall drop it. I am arranging to go on the Stock Exchange.
+      The difficulty is whether I shall be able to get my father to allow me to
+      take enough money out of the business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What business?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The distillery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, but what about this office? Why are you obliged to lunch at your
+      office? Are you expecting customers? I know nothing about that sort of
+      thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I wish I were. The fact is, my missis is staying in Brighton for a
+      few weeks. The child has been ailing a good deal lately, and the doctor
+      ordered change of air.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Child! Missis! I know nothing of this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A very nice woman, I think you'll like her. She is devoted to me. We've
+      been together now two years or more, I can't say exactly, I should have to
+      refer to my diary.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the child?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The child isn't mine. She had the child before I knew her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what is the matter with it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Curvature of the spine. The doctor says she will outgrow it. Cissy will
+      be quite strong and healthy although she may never have what you would
+      call a good figure. But there is a matter on which I want to speak to you.
+      The fact is, I am going to be married.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To whom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To the lady whom you will see at lunch, Cissy's mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank said: &ldquo;If you really love her I have nothing to say against it.&rdquo;
+       Willy did not answer. Frank waited for an answer and then broke the
+      silence: &ldquo;But do you love her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I am very fond of her; she is a very good sort.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank was implacable. &ldquo;Do you love her like the other one?&rdquo; The question
+      wounded, but Frank was absorbed in his own special sentimentalities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was younger then, it is not the same; I am getting old. How many years
+      older am I than you&mdash;seven, I think? You are three-and-twenty, I am
+      thirty. How time flies!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I am three-and-twenty&mdash;you don't look thirty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel it, though; few fellows have had so much trouble as I have. Your
+      life has been all pleasure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If a man really loves a woman he is always right to marry her. Why should
+      we suppose that a woman may not reform&mdash;that true love may not raise
+      her? I was talking to a novelist the other day; he told me thestory of a
+      book he is writing. It is about a woman who leaves the husband she has
+      never loved for the man she adores; she goes away with him, he marries
+      her, and she sinks lower and lower, until she becomes a common
+      prostitute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are quite mistaken. I am sure that when you see the missis&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear fellow, pray do not misunderstand me. I would not for worlds. I
+      am only telling you about a book, if you will only listen. I told him that
+      I thought the story would be ten times as interesting if, instead of being
+      degraded, the woman were raised by the love of the man who took her away
+      from her husband. He made the husband a snivelling little creature, and
+      the lover good-looking&mdash;that's the old game. I would have made the
+      lover insignificant and the husband good-looking. Nevertheless she loved
+      the lover better. I know of nothing more noble than for a man to marry the
+      woman he loves, and to raise her by the force of his love; he could teach
+      her, instruct her. Nellie will never forget me. I gave her a religion, I
+      taught her and explained to her the whole of the Catholic faith&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you won't try to convert my sisters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do pull me up so! Don't you understand that I was very young then? I
+      was only twenty, not much more; besides, I was engaged to Nellie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come back to what we were talking about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I have said that if you love her I believe you are quite right to
+      marry her. But do you love her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I do; how many times more do you want me to say I do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of <i>course</i> if you are going to be rude&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No&mdash;you understand what I mean, don't you? I am very fond of the
+      missis; if I weren't I shouldn't marry, that goes without saying, but one
+      likes to have things settled. I have been with her now more thantwo years.
+      I've thought it out. There's nothing like having things settled. I'm sure
+      I'm right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young men looked at each other in silence&mdash;Frank quite at a loss;
+      he could nowise enter into the feelings of a man whom an undue sense of
+      order and regularity compelled to marry his mistress, as it did to waste
+      half his life in copying letters and making entries in a diary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why did you consult me?&rdquo; he said, for he came to the point sharply
+      when his brain was not muddled with sentiment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not heir to an entailed estate, like you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not heir to an entailed estate. Mount Rorke might marry to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is not likely to do that. It is an understood thing that you are heir.
+      My father might cut me off with a shilling if he were to hear I had
+      married without his consent, and I should be left with the few hundreds
+      which I draw out of the distillery, a poor man all my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If that is so, why marry? You are not in love with her&mdash;at least not
+      what I should call being in love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But can't you understand&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I can't, unless you mean that you are down with marriage fever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have considered the matter carefully, and am convinced I am right,&rdquo; he
+      answered, looking at Frank as if he would say, but didn't dare, &ldquo;don't
+      let's talk about it any more, it only distresses me.&rdquo; &ldquo;The marriage must
+      be kept a secret. If my father were to hear of it I should be ruined,
+      whereas if Mary will consent to go on living as we are living now, one of
+      these days she will be a rich woman. I daresay my share of his money will
+      come to at least fifteen hundred a year, and then I shall be able to
+      recompense her for the years she has waited for it. Do you understand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perfectly. The only thing I don't see is how I am to influence her.
+      You've no doubt told her and fully explained to her what the consequences
+      would be if you were to publish the banns.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have, but it would strengthen my hand if you were to tell her all you
+      know of my father. Tell her that he is very obstinate, pig-headed, and
+      would certainly cut me off; tell her that he is sixty-six, that it is a
+      hundred to one against his living till he is eighty, even if he did there
+      would be only fourteen years to wait for fifteen hundred a year; tell her
+      if she tells that I have married her it is just as if she threw fifteen
+      hundred a year out of the window.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And when shall I tell her all this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now. We are going to have lunch at my offices, she'll be there. We'll
+      talk the matter over after lunch.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, let's start. Come along, Triss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With Triss tugging dangerously at the silk handkerchief whenever he saw a
+      likely pair of legs or a dog that he fancied, the young men sauntered up
+      West Street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But tell me: how do you manage to have so many people to lunch in your
+      office; your premises must be pretty extensive?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have the whole house; I was obliged to take it. I couldn't get another
+      place that would suit me, and I thought I should be able to let the upper
+      part; I did have a tenant for a little while, but he was obliged to leave.
+      I believe I am the unluckiest fellow alive. Here's the place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Agency for Artificial Manure&rdquo; was printed over the door. Willy asked the
+      office-boy if there were any letters, and they went upstairs. The windows
+      of the front room were in view of a church spire, and overlooked a little
+      shadowy cemetery; and at one window Cissy sat, the little crutches by her
+      side, watching the children playing amid the tombs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where's your mother, Cissy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In the back room cooking herrings, uncle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Brookes was a homely, honest-eyed woman, with dingy yellow hair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let me introduce you. This is my friend, Mr. Escott, you have often heard
+      me speak of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must excuse my shaking hands with you, sir, I have been cooking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is an excellent cook, too. Just you wait and see. What have we got?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Some herrings and a piece of steak.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that good enough for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I love herrings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad of that, these are quite fresh; they were caught this morning.
+      You must excuse me, I must go back; they want a deal of attending to.&rdquo;
+       Presently she appeared with a tray and a beer jug. Willy called to the
+      office-boy. &ldquo;We have no cheese,&rdquo; said Mrs. Brookes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Cissy begged to be allowed to fetch the cheese and beer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, dear, I am afraid you aren't well enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I am, uncle; give me a shilling, and let me go with Billy.&rdquo; Then,
+      breaking off with the unexpected garrulity of children, she continued: &ldquo;I
+      am getting quite strong now; I was down on the beach this morning, and
+      watched the little boys and girls building mounds. When I am quite well,
+      uncle, won't you buy me a spade and bucket, and mayn't I build sand
+      mounds, too?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We'll see when the time comes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, let me go with Billy and fetch the cheese.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you can't go now, dear, there are too many people about; this is not
+      like London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Cissy had the long sad face of cripples, but beautiful shining curls hung
+      thickly, hiding the crookedness of the shoulders. She was nine years old,
+      and was just beginning to awake to a sense of the importance of her
+      affliction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After lunch she was sent downstairs to the office-boy. Willy sat rubbing
+      his hands slowly and methodically. After some hesitation he introduced the
+      subject they had come to speak on. &ldquo;Mr. Escott will tell you, Mary, how
+      important it is that our marriage should be kept secret; he will tell you
+      how the slightest suspicion of it would ruin my prospects.&rdquo; He then spoke
+      of his position in the county, and the necessity of sustaining it. Frank
+      thought this rather bad taste; but he assured Mrs. Brookes, with much
+      Celtic gesticulation, that her marriage must be kept a secret till her
+      father-in-law's death. The young men and Mrs. Brookes remained talking
+      till the rays trailed among the green grass of the graves, and the blue
+      roofs that descended into the valley, and clung about the sides of the
+      opposite hill. It had been arranged that Willy and Mrs. Brookes should go
+      to London to-morrow to be married. Frank was convinced that she would not
+      break her promise, and he hoped they would be very happy. She had only
+      raised one objection. She had said: &ldquo;What is the use of my being married
+      if I shall have to live with him as his mistress?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A great deal of good. Your position will be secured. Willy will not be
+      able to leave you, even if he felt inclined, and you will know that only
+      one life, that of an old man, stands between you and fifteen hundred a
+      year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want no assurance that my dear Willy will not leave me,&rdquo; she said,
+      going over and putting her arms about him; &ldquo;but as you like. I shall never
+      say anything about the marriage till Willy tells me. I hope I shall never
+      do anything but what he tells me.&rdquo; And she went over and sat on his knees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a dear old thing,&rdquo; he said, squeezing and planting a vigorous
+      kiss on her neck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank's eyes filled with hot tears, his heart seemed like bursting. &ldquo;What
+      a beautiful thing love is!&rdquo; he said to himself, and the world melted away
+      from him in the happiness he drew from the contemplation of these who were
+      about to bind themselves together for life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Be most careful what you say to my sisters. I would not trust them. The
+      temptation to get me cut out of everything might&mdash;I ought not to say
+      that, but one never knows. I dare say no such accident could happen to any
+      one else, but if I leave the smallest thing to chance I am sure to come to
+      grief. They will question you. They will want to know what we did all
+      day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll say we sat on the beach.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's it. Good-bye. I shall be home the day after to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      When the young ladies at the Manor House did not get their dresses from
+      London, a dressmaker came from Brighton to help them, and all together
+      they sat sewing and chattering in the work-room. Maggie would take a bow
+      or a flower, and moving it quickly, guided by the instinct of a bird
+      building its nest, would find the place where it decorated the hat or
+      bonnet best. Neither Sally nor Grace could do this, nor could they drape a
+      skirt or fit a bodice, but they could work well and enjoy their work. But
+      what they enjoyed more was the opportunity these working days afforded for
+      gossip. Mrs. Wood had the Brighton scandal at her tongue's tip, and what
+      she would not tell, her niece told them when her aunt left the room.
+      Secrecy was enjoined, but sometimes they forgot, and in Mrs. Wood's
+      presence alluded too pointedly to stories that had not yet found their way
+      beyond the precincts of the servants' hall, and then the dressmaker raised
+      her mild eyes, and looked through large spectacles at Susan, who sat
+      biting her lips. Susan told the young ladies of her love affairs; they
+      told Susan of theirs; and the different codes of etiquette gave added zest
+      to the anecdotes, in themselves interesting. The story of the young man
+      who had said, &ldquo;I am afraid that parcel is too heavy for you, miss,&rdquo; and
+      had been promised a walk in the twilight on the cliff, evoked visions of
+      liberty, and the story of the officer at the Henfield ball, with whom
+      Sally had discovered a room that none knew of, did not fail to impress the
+      little dressmaker. They talked a great deal about Frank. His face and
+      manner called up the name, and after a few hesitations they used his
+      Christian name as they did when he came to see them years ago.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a very good fellow&mdash;I don't say he isn't. No one could say he
+      wasn't nice-looking, but somehow he doesn't make you feel&mdash;you know,
+      right down, you know, through and through.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Electricity,&rdquo; said Maggie, with a low, subtle laugh, and her thread
+      cracked through the straw of the hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; cried Sally boisterously. &ldquo;Electricity, I never heard it called
+      that before; but it isn't a bad name for it; it is like electricity. When
+      a man looks at you&mdash;you know, in a peculiar way, it goes right down
+      your back from the very crown of your head.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not down my back; I feel it down my chest, just like forked
+      lightning. Isn't it horrid? You know that it is coming and you can't help
+      it. Some men fix their eyes on you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is just when you meet a man's eyes&mdash;a man you like, but haven't
+      seen much of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think liking has anything to do with it. I hate it; don't you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't know that I do. I can't see anything so disagreeable as that
+      in it. 'Tis rather a shock, a sort of pang.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Wood raised her mild face and looked surprised through her thick
+      spectacles; the merry niece bit her lips, and strove to stay her laughter.
+      Then Maggie said: &ldquo;Sue, have you ever felt electricity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, miss! I don't think I understand,&rdquo; and she glanced at her aunt over
+      the hem she was running.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, come, tell the truth. You mean to say you never felt electricity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think I ever did, miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe you. Not when that nice young man you were telling us
+      about looked at you? Come, now, tell the truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, miss, I don't know&mdash;I thought it was very revolting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Wood said nothing; with her hand in suspended gesture and her
+      spectacles a-glimmer with round surprise, she sat looking at Miss Maggie.
+      Her reveries, however, were soon cut short, for Sally not only asked her
+      if she had ever experienced the doubtful pleasure of electricity, but
+      advised her when she returned home to try if her husband's looks could
+      thrill her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think the conversation at all nice,&rdquo; said Grace, who had up to
+      the present taken no part either by looks, or words, or laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who cares what you think? You used to be fond enough of sitting out
+      dances with him. You mean to say he never gave you electricity?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, never.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I hope Berkins will,&rdquo; said Sally, with a coarse laugh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The association of Berkins with electricity proved so generally ludicrous
+      that Mrs. Wood, conscious of the respect she owed Miss Brookes, pretended
+      to look for her handkerchief, and it was for a moment doubtful if the
+      spectacles would preserve their gravity. Tears started to Grace's eyes,
+      and she bent over her work to hide them from her sisters, which was
+      unnecessary, for Maggie and Sally were absorbed in past experiences.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What about Frank?&rdquo; Sally asked, and Susan looked up curious to hear
+      Maggie's answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Maggie, staring at the window, &ldquo;Frank is very good-looking,
+      but I don't think that he electrifies one... he did once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And when was that?&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You remember the first time he came to stay here? Willy brought him down
+      from London. We went to bed early and left them playing billiards; I lay
+      awake waiting to hear them come up the stairs, and as he passed my room
+      Frank stopped and I thought he was coming in. I felt it all down my spine,
+      but never afterwards. You see, I didn't know him much then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And Jimmy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never liked Jimmy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you don't like him why trouble about him?&rdquo; Sally replied in her
+      usually defiant manner. &ldquo;You always take good care to trouble about my
+      men. You tried all you could to get Jimmy away from me, yet you pretend to
+      father that you never flirted with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't flirt with him; once a young man looks at you you think no one
+      must speak to him but yourself. If young Meason asks me to dance with him,
+      I cannot refuse; I am not going to make myself ridiculous though you were
+      to look all the daggers in the world at me, but as for flirting with him,
+      I never cared enough about him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what about meeting him in London?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maggie coloured a little, and repudiated the accusation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You told him you were going to London, and you asked him if he were
+      going, and what he would be doing that day. I don't know what more you
+      could say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never said any such thing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have it from his own lips.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It isn't true; I will ask him to your face if he ever said such a thing;
+      I will tell father that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, there's no use in quarrelling,&rdquo; said Grace, &ldquo;and I wouldn't advise
+      you to worry father about it. You know he can't stand the name of Meason.
+      It seems to me that neither of you care much whom you flirt with, you like
+      so many young men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is better to like a dozen young men than one old one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shan't marry Mr. Berkins, no matter what you say. However, you can't
+      accuse me of interfering in your affairs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, <i>you</i> don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No more do I. If you want Frank, take him, only don't come sneaking after
+      Charley. I don't want Frank; I don't care twopence about him. If you want
+      to see it out with him, I shan't interfere; only don't you come
+      interfering with me and Jimmy, or Charley either.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maggie did not like the idea of Sally getting two to her one. She would
+      have liked to have introduced a proviso about Alfred, but the title Mount
+      Rorke slipped between her thoughts, and she refrained. She knew the
+      present treaty secured her immunity from Sally only so long as the
+      affections and attentions of Jimmy and Charley showed no signs of
+      declension, and she was aware that her promise would only hold good so
+      long as Frank interested and Charley remained away in London.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The canary that had been twittering, now burst forth into long and
+      prolonged shrillings. Grace folded up her work along her knees; and
+      holding it in her hand like a roll of music, she said that they would
+      never hear the end of this tennis party.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see why father should ever know anything about it, he has taken
+      that horrid old Joseph with him, he never says more than a few words to
+      the footman, and he never sees the cook or housemaid. We have all
+      to-morrow to get the house straight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is not certain that he is going to stay the night in London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes it is. Don't fidget. Have you got the wine out? We should have a
+      dozen of champagne. Mind you make no mistake; '80, that is the wine you
+      must get. Jimmy is most particular what he drinks, and Alfred has the most
+      frightful headaches if he drinks anything but the very best. I hope he'll
+      find the '80 all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's father's favourite wine; you mean to say that he won't miss it?
+      Then the port and Burgundy and cherry brandy&mdash;I won't take the
+      responsibility.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody asked you. All you have to do is to return the keys to Maggie that
+      you took from her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think father will be as angry as you think, Grace; besides
+      there's no drawing back now the invitations are out. I think it would be
+      better to tell him that we had a few friends in for tennis. We needn't
+      tell him who was there&mdash;we will suppress the name of the Southdown
+      Road people; and we can take the bottles out from the back. The wine won't
+      be missed for a long time, and we will invent some better excuse before
+      then. We will say that two bottles were drunk at this party and three at
+      that; and further than that we can't remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what about the peaches? There are only a few ripe, and Sally says
+      she'll want them all. Father has been looking forward to them for weeks
+      and weeks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He'll have to do without them; if he wants peaches, he had better bring
+      some down from Covent Garden.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A knock was heard at the door. &ldquo;Please Miss, Mr. Escott is in the
+      drawing-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell him I will be downstairs in a moment,&rdquo; cried Maggie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now off you go, my Lady Mount Rorke,&rdquo; said Sally, who had already begun
+      to regret her promises, and to consider if she had not better break them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Maggie asked him what train he came down by, then she called the dog;
+      &ldquo;Come here, my beautiful boy, come and kiss me.&rdquo; The bull-dog growled and
+      wagged his tail.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He won't hurt you; 'tis only his way of talking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maggie laughed, and they walked out on the green sward. &ldquo;I suppose you've
+      been to a great many balls this season?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that I have; a few, perhaps. I am glad to get away from
+      town. I like no place like this. I don't know if it is the place or the
+      associations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are used to much finer places. I can fancy Mount Rorke&mdash;the
+      lakes and the mountains; somehow I think I can see it. Isn't it strange,
+      there are certain things and places you can realise so much better than
+      others, and for no very understandable reason?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that is so,&rdquo; said Frank, obviously pleased by the remark. Then,
+      after a pause, &ldquo;Mount Rorke is a pretty place, and I don't think I could
+      live long away from it. After a time I always find myself sighing for the
+      bleakness and barrenness of the West. The hedgerows of England are pretty
+      enough; but I hate the brick buildings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What kind of buildings do you have in Ireland?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everything is built of grey stone, a cold grey tint on a background of
+      green pasture lands and blue mountains. I daresay you wouldn't like it. It
+      would recall nothing to you, but when I think of it, much less see it, I
+      re-live my childhood all over again. I am a great person for old times.
+      That is the reason I like coming down here. I knew you all so long ago;
+      how well I can remember you&mdash;three dark little things. You used to
+      sit on my knee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And do you find nothing nice in the present?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I do; it is nice to walk in the garden with you, but it seems
+      to me you have all moved away from me a little. Grace is engaged, you are
+      engaged&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who said I was engaged?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, ha, you see I hear everything. What is his name&mdash;Alfred?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose Sally told you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't tell you who told me, I never betray secrets. You had a desperate
+      flirtation two years ago, and the man had to go away, and you promised to
+      wait for him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't mind telling you&mdash;I did meet a man about two years ago whom
+      I rather liked; I used to see a great deal of him at tennis parties and
+      balls; he used to ask me to marry him. He wanted me to engage myself to
+      him, and I told him it would be much better to wait and see what father
+      would say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what did your father say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father, he never knew anything about it. You may as well tell me, I know
+      it was Sally. I suppose she told you I was very much in love with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She said, at least, the person who told me said, that you would never
+      care for any one else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you've been talking about me though you promised you wouldn't talk any
+      more,&rdquo; Maggie said to herself, &ldquo;All right, my lady&mdash;very well, we
+      shall see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grace is waving her parasol to us. Lunch must be ready.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maggie and Grace had calculated that if they could limit the champagne to
+      half a dozen bottles they would be able to hide the deficit from their
+      father's scrutiny; but the servants seemed to be always filling the
+      glasses of the Southdown Road people, and lunch was not half over when
+      they heard the fourth bottle go pop. Maggie looked at Sally across the
+      pile of peaches, but Sally had no ears for the report, only for Jimmy's
+      voice. Her head wagged as she talked, and Maggie wondered if they were
+      exchanging napkins or rings beneath the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment the servant handed a letter on a salver to Maggie, saying,
+      &ldquo;From Mrs. Horlock; the servant is waiting an answer, miss.&rdquo; Grace
+      trembled. Sally whispered to Jimmy, &ldquo;What can she want?&rdquo; In a reassuring
+      voice Maggie said, &ldquo;She has heard we are having a few people in to tennis,
+      and she wants to know if she may send us round a young man; she will come
+      round herself with the General some time during the afternoon.&rdquo; At the
+      mention of a young man many eyes gleamed, and Sally said, &ldquo;You had better
+      go at once and write a note and say that we shall be delighted.&rdquo; When they
+      went into the verandah coffee was handed round, and Maggie, as the
+      gentlemen lit their cigarettes, said to Grace, &ldquo;Nothing could have
+      happened better; father is sure to hear of this, we couldn't have kept it
+      from him: now we can say Mrs. Horlock was our chaperon. None will know
+      when she came, or when she went away.&rdquo; Then turning to her company, Maggie
+      said, &ldquo;Now gentlemen, as soon as you have finished your cigarettes we will
+      begin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally not only insisted on playing, but on playing with Jimmy; and Grace,
+      who was striving to struggle into the position of Miss Brookes, could do
+      nothing but set the girl in the florid dress and the man who stood next to
+      her to play against them. The garden seemed to absorb the girls, but
+      Maggie, catching sight of Mrs. Horlock, went to meet her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mrs. Horlock was sixty, but her figure was like a girl's. She led a blind
+      pug in a complicated leading apparatus, and several other pugs in various
+      stages of fat and decrepitude followed her. It was not long before she
+      raised a discussion on hydrophobia, defending the disease from all the
+      charges of horror and contagion that had been urged against it, narrating
+      vehemently how a mad dog had died in her arms licking her hands and face,
+      and appealing to the General, who denounced muzzling; but when the mangy
+      mastiff came near him he whispered to Frank, &ldquo;I wish they were all shot.
+      You must come and see us; you must come and see us; I have a pretty little
+      place in the Southdown Road (dreadful place to mention here, they don't
+      like it; of course the people there aren't all quite the thing, but what
+      are you to do, you know?). Lunch at two, dinner at eight&mdash;old
+      Indians, you know. I have everything I want. Too many animals, perhaps,
+      but that can't be helped.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you live here all the year?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, all the year round. We don't go away much. We have everything here&mdash;coach-houses,
+      horses, you'll see when you come. The only thing I want is a little
+      occupation, a little something to bring me out, you know. I read the <i>Morning
+      Post</i> every morning, and I have the <i>St James's</i> in the evening;
+      but then there is the middle of the day,&rdquo; and, with laughter full of
+      genial kindness and goodwill, the General repeated this phrase: &ldquo;I want a
+      little something to bring me out, you know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Forty years of Indian sun! Balls in the Government House in Calcutta!
+      Viceroys, tigers, horse-racing, elephants, jealousies, flirtations,
+      deaths, all now forgotten, and if not forgotten, at rest; and now glad to
+      watch life unfolding itself again in an English village, this old couple
+      sat in the calm sunlight of an English garden, relics of another
+      generation, emblems of an England drawing to a close.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At five o'clock Grace was busy at the tea-table; and very hot and moist
+      Sally threw herself into a cane chair. Maggie, who had suddenly appeared
+      upon the scene, arranged some fresh sets in which she and Frank did not
+      take part&mdash;she having promised to walk with him; and they went
+      towards the shade of the sycamores. She had neglected him nearly the whole
+      day, and he was vexed with her. But she excused herself volubly, accusing
+      Sally of indifference to all things except her own pleasures, and
+      impressed upon him that it was her duty to show some politeness to Mrs.
+      Horlock's friend.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally would play tennis, she played two sets, three if I am not mistaken,
+      and she never left Jimmy's side. She took no notice of any one; for that
+      reason I hate having people to the house when she is here; everything
+      devolves upon Grace and me. It is really too bad. Father wouldn't mind our
+      giving this party at all, if it weren't for him. If he hears that he was
+      here, well, I don't know what will happen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He doesn't look quite a gentleman, does he? He is a ship's mate, isn't
+      he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but it isn't that; father cannot bear those Southdown Road people. A
+      lot of young men live there&mdash;quite as good as ourselves, no doubt,
+      but they are all so poor, and father thinks of nothing but money. And
+      Sally meets them. When she goes out driving in the cart she picks them up,
+      and they go off together. Father doesn't know any of them, and he says
+      they laugh at him when he goes to the station in the morning. 'Tisn't
+      true, it is only his imagination; but I can quite well understand his
+      feelings. You know Sally won't give way in anything. Once she ran into the
+      kitchen, and told cook to put back the dinner, so that she might run down
+      the slonk to finish her conversation with him. Of course father was mad at
+      that, coming home tired from the City, and finding that his dinner had
+      been put back. You saw the way they went on at lunch, sitting close
+      together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We were all sitting close together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but not like they were. And all that nonsense with their napkins
+      under the table. If you didn't see it, so much the better. I thought
+      everybody saw it. I wish Sally wouldn't do it. Father, as you know, has a
+      lot of money to leave, and if she did really go too far, I fear he would
+      cut her off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But she never would go too far.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't think so; I am sure Sally wouldn't do anything that was
+      really wrong, but she is very imprudent.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that I ought to tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I promise not to tell any one&mdash;you know you can trust me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, she brings people up to her room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't mean to her bedroom?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She says you can't call it a bedroom, but she sleeps there for all that.
+      She covers up the bed and makes it look like a couch; she keeps birds and
+      dogs there; Flossie had her puppies there. That's her room,&rdquo; said Maggie,
+      lifting one of the boughs. &ldquo;I shouldn't be surprised if Jimmy were there
+      with her now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The foliage glinted in the sunset, and as Maggie stood pointing, still
+      holding the bough, the picture flashed upon Frank, and he said: &ldquo;Oh, how
+      pretty you are now! How I should like to paint you!&rdquo; And a moment after he
+      said, interested, solely interested in sentimental affection, &ldquo;Sally's
+      ideas of love seem to me very funny; if she really loves Meason, why
+      doesn't she marry him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has no money, and father would never hear of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never hear of it! If I loved a girl, nothing in the world would prevent
+      my marrying her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder if that's true,&rdquo; said Maggie, and she let go the bough and stood
+      facing him, her hands clasped behind her back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course it is. What is life for if it isn't to get the woman we love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is nice to hear you say so; but I am afraid very few young men think
+      like you nowadays. One woman is the same as another to them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot understand any one thinking so. If it were so, the whole charm
+      would be lost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So the young people talked, and lost in the charm of each thrilling
+      minute, they walked through the shadows and darkening leaves. The soft
+      garden echoed with the sound of a girl's voice crying, &ldquo;Cuckoo, cuckoo,&rdquo;
+       and the white dresses flew over the sward, and the young men ran after
+      them and caught them. They were playing hide and seek. Excited beyond
+      endurance, Triss barked loudly, and forms were seen flying precipitately.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tie him up to this tree,&rdquo; said Maggie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, better take him to the house,&rdquo; said Frank; &ldquo;it would make him
+      savage to tie him up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the ninth bottle of champagne had been opened, and the supper table
+      was noisy, Frank whispered to Maggie, &ldquo;Did you ever see <i>Macbeth</i>?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I can't help thinking what a splendid occasion it would be for
+      Banquo's ghost to appear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maggie pressed his hand and laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Soon after the sound of wheels was heard. Grace turned pale, Sally said:
+      &ldquo;Who would have thought it?&rdquo; A moment after Mr. Brookes, with Berkins and
+      Willy behind him, entered. He stood amazed, and seeing that the tears were
+      mounting to his eyes, Maggie said: &ldquo;Father, how tired and faint you look.
+      We thought you wouldn't be coming home to-night. Do sit down and have a
+      glass of wine.&rdquo; But neither winning words nor ways could soothe this
+      storm, and in reply to a question from Berkins, Mr. Brookes declared
+      passionately that he knew none of the young men who came to his house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      V
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father's just gone downstairs. I think we had better wait a minute or
+      two. In that way we shall escape a scolding. Father won't miss the ten
+      o'clock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not a bad idea. You are always up to some cunning dodge. What's the
+      time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Twenty minutes to nine. I'll slip down the passage and tell Grace to go
+      down and give him his breakfast. He won't say anything to her; he knows
+      well that since Fatty went to India she wouldn't see a soul if she could
+      help it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father never says anything to you either; you tell him a lot of lies, and
+      leave him to understand that I do everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's not true; I never speak against you to father; but at the same
+      time I must say that if it weren't for you we could do as we liked. You
+      don't try to manage father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Manage him, indeed! that's what I can't bear in you, you're always trying
+      to manage some one; I hate the word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You got out of bed the wrong side this morning. However, I must go and
+      tell Grace to go down at once, or father will be ringing for us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did she say?&rdquo; said Sally, when Maggie returned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis all right; I got her to go, and she said she was always being made a
+      cat's-paw of. I assure you it wasn't easy to persuade her to go down to
+      father, but I told her she might be the means of averting a very serious
+      row.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose you said there was no counting on what answers I might make to
+      father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was exactly what Maggie had said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well; you are always objecting to what I do, and the way I do it. I
+      wish you would go and do things yourself. You think of nothing but
+      yourself, or some young man you are after. I wouldn't do what you did
+      yesterday. I wouldn't go sneaking round the garden with a young man I had
+      never seen before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maggie shrugged her shoulders and went on dressing. Sally, who had taken a
+      seat on the bed, watched her. She thought how she might best pursue the
+      quarrel, but her stomach called her thoughts from her sister, and she
+      said: &ldquo;I don't know how you feel, but I am dying of hunger. What time is
+      it now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nine o'clock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Another half-hour. I suppose he won't start before the half-hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss,&rdquo; said the maid, knocking at the door, &ldquo;Mr. Brookes wants to know if
+      you are coming down to breakfast.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say that we are not nearly ready; that there's no use waiting for us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I had better go back to my room,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you had. I wish you wouldn't bring that horrid little dog into my
+      room. She made a mess here the other day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I am sure she didn't. Flossie is the cleanest dog in the world.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Clean or unclean, I would rather not have her in my room. There she is
+      trying to drink out of my jug. Get away, you little beast!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally caught up her dog, and marched out of the room, slamming the door
+      after her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At last I have got rid of her,&rdquo; thought Maggie, and she rolled and pinned
+      up the last plait of her black hair, but she did not go down to breakfast
+      until the wheels grated on the gravel and the carriage was heard moving
+      away. Then she begged Grace to tell her what her father had said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He said his children were persecuting him, that he had not had an hour's
+      peace since their poor mother died.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fudge! Mother knew how to keep him in order. Do you remember when she
+      threw the carving knife?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally, for shame! How can you speak of poor mother so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know it is true, Hypocrisy. There is no harm in coming to the point.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was very nearly coming to the point,&rdquo; said Maggie, giggling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what else did he say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He said he didn't know what course he should adopt, but that things
+      couldn't go on as they were; he thought he should write to Aunts Mary and
+      Hester, and just as he was going out of the door he said that he'd prefer
+      to sell the whole place up than continue living here and be the
+      laughing-stock of the neighbourhood.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At these words all looked frightened, even Sally. She flaunted her head,
+      however, and said disdainfully: &ldquo;I wonder he didn't speak of marrying
+      again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he say nothing more?&rdquo; asked Maggie, who determined to know how
+      matters stood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He spoke of Sally; he said it must be put a stop to. I don't know what he
+      has found out, but I am sure he has found out something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why didn't you ask him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did. He said the way you were carrying on with young Meason was
+      something too disgraceful, and that every one was talking of it; he said
+      that you had been seen crossing the canal locks, and that you had spent
+      hours with him on the beach, and he spoke about the cart and Bamber&mdash;I
+      don't know if you ever drove there to meet him; I couldn't get anything
+      more out of him, for he began to cry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Didn't he speak of the party?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, a great deal. He said that henceforth he would have none of the
+      Southdown Road people, male or female, at the Manor House. I thought he
+      was going to curse the Horlocks; but I reminded him of the Viceroys. As
+      for the Measons, I don't know what he would have said if he hadn't been
+      crying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Measons are just as good as we are, though they mayn't be so rich. I
+      should like to know who has been talking to him about me; I wonder who
+      told him I spent hours on the beach with Jimmy; I met him once there quite
+      by accident, and we sat down for ten minutes. I daresay it was Berkins.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Sally, don't,&rdquo; said Grace, clasping her hands. &ldquo;Father said that
+      Maggie was nearly as bad, and was a great deal too much disposed towards
+      young men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think she is indeed; I wonder what father would say if he had
+      seen her walking round the garden out of sight of every one with that
+      fellow, a man she had never seen before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is no harm in walking round the garden with a man, but I should
+      like to know what father would say if he knew that you brought Jimmy up to
+      your bed-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My bed-room isn't a bed-room. How dare you make such accusations, how
+      dare you? I should not be surprised if you were at the bottom of all this.
+      I know you are mad with jealousy. Do you think I don't know how you
+      flirted with Jimmy? Do you think I didn't see how you shifted Frank on to
+      me so that you might walk with Jimmy to the station? But I'll tell you
+      what, I'll not stand it, and if you try to come between me and him I'll
+      knock you down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally sprang from her place and raised her fist. Maggie rushed from the
+      room, or, more correctly speaking, into the arms of Willy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What the deuce are you up to?&rdquo; cried this staid young man, who had been
+      twisted round and thrown against the wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, save me! Sally says she'll knock me down,&rdquo; cried the girl, clinging
+      for a moment to her brother's shoulder, but as if conscious of the
+      dubiousness of his protection, she loosed him and fled upstairs to her
+      room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What damned nonsense this is! The trouble young girls are in a house!&mdash;Nothing
+      but pleasure; from one year's end to another, it is nothing but pleasure.
+      I am sick of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having by such unusual emphasis of manner reduced his sisters to silence,
+      Willy sat down, and chewed with gravity and deliberation. Grace and Sally
+      watched him. After a long and elaborate silence he put some brief
+      questions, and appeared to devote to them the small part of his attention
+      not already engaged in the judicious breaking of his bread. He did not
+      answer nor did he comment; and when he had finished eating he commenced
+      packing up his diary and letters in a brown paper parcel, and for
+      three-quarters of an hour he walked up and down stairs collecting and
+      forgetting; finally he left the house with many parcels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As some days are sweet and fugitive, others are obtuse, complex, and
+      tortuous as nightmares&mdash;difficult to understand and well-nigh
+      impossible to relate. And the day after the tennis party was such a day in
+      the Brookes household, nor did its tumult cease when the lights were
+      turned out in the billiard-room. It was revived with fierce gusts of
+      passion and despair during several succeeding days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the afternoon both Sally and Maggie wanted to go out in the cart. The
+      wrangle was a long one, but the argument of the fist eventually brought it
+      to a close, and Maggie was obliged again to shut herself into her room.
+      Thence Grace's solicitations could not move her, and she remained there
+      until she saw her father coming up the drive; then she ran down to meet
+      him, and made a frank accusation of Sally's treatment of her. But he was
+      enthralled by his own woes, and without even promising her protection and
+      immunity, at least from her sister's right arm, the old gentleman launched
+      forth into more than usual lamentations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had had a stormy interview with Berkins going up in the train, and
+      Berkins had so upset him that he had not been able to get through any
+      business in the City. Berkins admitted of no equivocation. He had told him
+      that he would not allow the young lady that was going to be his wife to
+      spend her days feasting and skylarking with a lot of vulgar and penniless
+      young men from the Southdown Road. He had declared that it was time to
+      settle definitely the terms and the day of the marriage. He had been
+      engaged now more than two months, and was prepared to do his share; Mr.
+      Brookes must be prepared to do his, viz., to settle four hundred a year on
+      his daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The idea of parting for ever with so much of his money convulsed Mr.
+      Brookes. He burst into tears, and their bitterness was neither assuaged
+      nor softened by Grace's rather haughty statement that she didn't care at
+      all for Mr. Berkins, and was not at all sure whether she would have him or
+      not.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So, father, you may be able to keep your money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But did any one ever know me to think of myself?&rdquo; and he drew his silk
+      handkerchief forth. In the new trouble, suddenly created, all other
+      considerations were lost, and Grace became the centre of many conflicting
+      interests; everybody asked if this marriage so long looked forward to was
+      going to tumble into ruin among so many ruins? At dinner Willy seemed to
+      consider himself called from the problem of perfect mastication, and he
+      said a few words intended to allay this new family excitement; but his
+      efforts were vain, for it had occurred to Mr. Brookes that he might find
+      calm in a bottle of '34 port. There were a few bottles left which he
+      appreciated at their right value. He rang for the wine, and old Joseph
+      announced, with all the intolerable indifference of a well-trained
+      servant, that the young gentleman had drunk it all up yesterday. Mr.
+      Brookes kept his temper better than the girls anticipated, and it was not
+      until he had drunk a bottle of a latter-day wine that he seemed to realise
+      the wrong that had been done to him. He begged of Willy to listen to him,
+      and he talked so vehemently, and cried so bitterly, and laughed so
+      joyously, and declared so often that it would be all the same a hundred
+      years hence, that letters and diary had to be packed away in the brown
+      paper parcel, and all work abandoned for that evening. The next day and
+      the next passed in continual quarrel and argument, and at the end of the
+      week the aunts were summoned.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Mary's features were sharp, her eyes were bright and she sat bolt
+      upright on the sofa, her hands crossed over a shawl drawn tightly about
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, my dear James,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I am very sorry for you; of course I am.
+      I know it is very trying, but there is no use in sitting there lamenting.
+      Put up your silk handkerchief and come to the point. We all know it will
+      be the same a hundred years hence, but in the meantime you don't want your
+      dinner put back, so that Sally may continue her flirtations in the slonk,&rdquo;
+       and Aunt Mary burst into a merry peal of laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are most unsympathetic, I never knew one so unsympathetic; you were
+      always so, you'll never change.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unsympathetic,&rdquo; said Aunt Mary, shaking with laughter; &ldquo;how can you say
+      so? I have never done anything all my life but listen to you and
+      sympathise with you. When you were a boy and sold my books to the boys at
+      your school, and when you were a young man and took my poor husband to
+      oyster shops&mdash;you remember the stories you used to tell me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes waved his handkerchief, and Aunt Hester, who was a spinster,
+      cast down her eyes and fidgeted with some papers which she had taken from
+      her hand-basket.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, if my afflictions are only a subject for laughter&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not laughing at your afflictions, my dear James. I laughed because
+      you said I was not a sympathetic listener. You used to think me so once.&rdquo;
+       Then becoming instantly serious, Aunt Mary said: &ldquo;Of course I think this
+      is a matter of great importance&mdash;the health, the welfare of my dear
+      nieces, and your happiness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And their salvation,&rdquo; murmured Aunt Hester.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I did not think it important, do you think I would have left home, and
+      at such a time, when I am most wanted? I always said that that big place
+      would kill me, I never wanted to leave the Poplars; a little place like
+      that is no trouble&mdash;my greenhouse, a few servants, and just as I had
+      got everything to look nice&mdash;I could do it all in a few hours; but
+      now I am never still, there is always something to be done. No one can
+      take up my work. I am behindhand; oh, I assure you when I go back I shall
+      be afraid to go into the greenhouse. I am worn out, I really am; it never
+      ends. In a big house like Woborn one is always behindhand. The days aren't
+      long enough, that's the fact of it; when one thinks one is getting through
+      one thing one is called away to another. 'Please, mum, the cook would like
+      to speak with you for a moment.' 'There is no tea in the house, mum.'
+      'What! is all the tea I gave out last week gone?' 'Yes, mum. There was,
+      you remember, the dressmaker here three days, and we had Mrs. Jones in to
+      help. And we shall want another piece of cheese for the servants' hall.' I
+      don't know how it is with you, but at Woborn the cloth is never off the
+      table in the servants' hall. They have five meals a day&mdash;breakfast at
+      eight, and they won't eat cold bacon, they must have it hot; of course the
+      waste is something fearful; at eleven they have beer and cheese; at one
+      there is dinner; at five they have tea; and at nine supper. Five meals a
+      day&mdash;it really is terrible, it is wicked, it really is! You have had
+      none of these troubles, Hester, and you may think yourself very lucky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We have just got rid of our cook; the trouble she gave us, it really is
+      beyond words. She said she was troubled with fits, hysteria, or something
+      of that sort&mdash;at least that is the reason she gave for her conduct. I
+      knew there was something wrong, I could see it in her eyes. I said: 'This
+      is not right; it can't be right.' One night she left the dinner half
+      cooked and went roaming all over the country; she came back the next
+      afternoon, and I found her baking. Then there was Robinson. Do you
+      remember the pretty housemaid? You saw her when you were at Woborn. I am
+      sure she must have had gentle blood in her veins; she wasn't a bit like a
+      servant, so elegant and graceful. Those soft blue eyes of hers. I often
+      used to look at them and think how beautiful they were. Well, she fell
+      madly in love with West. Notwithstanding his bandy legs, there was
+      something fascinating about him. He had a way about him that the
+      maid-servants used to like; Robinson wasn't the first. Well, she
+      completely lost her head, perfectly frantic&mdash;frantic; her eyes on
+      fire. I saw it at once; you know I am pretty sharp. I just look round, one
+      look round; I see it all, I take it all in. I said: 'This is not right;
+      this cannot be right. Robinson is a respectable girl.' Her people I knew
+      to be most respectable people in Chichester; I had heard all about them
+      through the Eastwicks. I said, 'Robinson, you must go, I will give you a
+      month's wages, but you must go back to your people. You know why I am
+      sending you away; it is for your own good, otherwise I am sorry to part
+      with you; but you must go.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Robinson didn't say much, she was always rather haughty, a reserved sort
+      of girl; but soon after&mdash;I always hear everything&mdash;I heard that
+      she had not gone back to her people, but was living in lodgings in
+      Brighton, and that West used to go and see her. I didn't say anything
+      about it to West, but he saw there was something wrong. When I told him to
+      put the carriage to, he said, 'Yes, mum, where to, mum?' 'Brighton.' I
+      could see he saw there was something wrong, and when I told him not to put
+      the carriage up, but to drive up and down the King's Road, and that I
+      would meet him in about an hour at the bottom of West Street, he looked so
+      frightened that I could hardly help laughing; he did look so comical, for
+      he knew now that I was going to see Robinson. (Here the remembrance of
+      West proved too much for Aunt Mary, and she shook with laughter.) Of
+      course if I had let him put up the horses he would have run round to
+      Robinson's and warned her that I was coming. Oh, I shall never forget that
+      day! It was broiling, the sun came down on the flagstones in those narrow
+      little back streets, and there was I toiling, toiling up that dreadful
+      hill, inquiring out the way. I found the street, it was on the very top of
+      the hill: such a poor, miserable place you never saw. Such a dreadful old
+      woman opened the door to me, and I said, 'Is Miss Robinson in?' She said,
+      'Yes.' I could hear Robinson whispering over the banisters, saying, 'No,
+      no, no, say I am out.' And then I said, 'It is no use, Robinson, I must
+      see you, and I will not leave this place until I have seen you.' I went
+      upstairs to her room. At first she was rather haughty, rather inclined to
+      impertinence. She said, 'Mum, you have no right to come after me&mdash;you
+      sent me away; I am looking out for a place in Brighton&mdash;I don't want
+      to go back to my people.' I said, 'Robinson, it is no use trying to
+      deceive me, I know very well why you are in Brighton; no good can come of
+      this, it is nothing but wickedness. You must try to be good, Robinson.
+      West has, as you know, a wife and children, and you must not think of him
+      any more. You have taken this lodging so that you may see him. You must
+      think of your future; this can't last.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, indeed, this life is but a moment,&rdquo; sighed Aunt Hester. &ldquo;I wish you
+      had had one of these books to give her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did better, Hester. I told her some plain truths, and she put off her
+      high and mighty airs and began to cry. I shall never forget it. Oh, how
+      hot it was in that little room just under the slates, with one garret
+      window and the sun pouring in. There was scarcely any furniture, and I was
+      sitting on her bed. I said, 'Now, Robinson, you must give me back the
+      presents West made you, and you must promise me to go back to Chichester.'
+      And I didn't leave her until she promised me to go home next day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I stepped into the carriage you should have seen West's face. He
+      didn't know what had happened; I didn't speak to him till next day. As I
+      was going into the garden I called him. I said, 'West, I want to speak to
+      you.' 'Yes, mum.' We went into the back garden; I was planting there.
+      Edward was out riding, so I knew we shouldn't be disturbed. I said, 'West,
+      I saw Robinson yesterday, and I have a parcel for you; she has promised me
+      not to see you, and you must promise me not to see her.' 'Very well, mum,
+      since you say it.' 'This is a very sad affair, West.' 'A bad business, mum&mdash;a
+      bad business, mum.' There was always something in West's stolid face that
+      used to amuse me. You should have heard him. 'I don't think she could help
+      it, mum; she never loved another man&mdash;I really don't. But I was going
+      to tell you, mum, I once knew a servant, a married man, he was in love
+      with a young woman, and they waited long years, and when the wife died
+      they married, mum.' 'That was all very well long ago, West, but wives
+      don't die nowadays.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So Aunt Mary talked, realising and giving expression to both the pathos
+      and the comedy of her story. Then, feeling that she wasdigressing at too
+      great length, she strove to generalise from the particular incident which
+      she had related, and get back to the theme of the conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know what we shall do, I don't know what we are coming to;
+      servants are getting too strong for us. My last cook gave us no end of
+      trouble; the butler used to have to lock himself up in the pantry; and yet
+      I had to give her a character. Of course it was very wrong of me to enable
+      her to thrust herself upon another family, but what was I to do? I
+      couldn't deprive her of the means of earning her living. She'll give
+      trouble wherever she goes. There is no remedy, there really isn't; I don't
+      know what's to be done unless we ladies combine and refuse to give them
+      characters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here Aunt Mary's thoughts and words began to fail her, for she felt she
+      was not getting back to the point where she had entered on her various
+      digressions, and without further ado, and quite undisconcerted, she said,
+      &ldquo;But I forget where I was; what were we talking about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We were talking about dear Sally and Maggie, and the need they stand of
+      counsel and help. Their conduct is to be deeply regretted; but theirs is
+      only youthful folly. They have not done anything, I am sure, that&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite so, Hester; of course. But at the same time a stop must be put to
+      all this nonsense; it cannot be allowed. I have only to look round to take
+      it all in. They are worrying their father into his grave. His position is
+      a very trying one. He has no one whom he can depend on&mdash;no one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am alone since poor Julia&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Mary and Aunt Hester looked at each other, and they wondered if the
+      terrors of the carving knife were completely forgotten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor James,&rdquo; said Aunt Mary, recrossing her hands, &ldquo;is obliged to go to
+      London every morning, from ten till, I may say, half-past six.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am never home before seven.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These girls are their own mistresses; they go out when they like, they
+      order the carriage whenever they like, and they invite here every one it
+      pleases their fancy to invite without consulting their father. I believe
+      he doesn't even&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know none of the young men who come to my house. All I know of them is
+      that they come from the Southdown Road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't be so silly, James, put up that handkerchief. Of course, the
+      Southdown Road is one of the great disadvantages of the place. Those villa
+      residences have brought into Southwick a host of people that a man living
+      in a big place like the Manor House cannot know&mdash;little people who
+      have&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not two hundred pounds invested&mdash;no, nor yet a hundred.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I don't wish to offend them, I'll say small incomes. They are all
+      devoured with envy, and all they think of is what goes on at the Manor
+      House.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A lot of penniless young jackanapeses. Every morning I see them at the
+      station watching me over the tops of their newspapers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must understand, Hester, poor James up in London, toiling, not
+      knowing what is going on in his own home; feasting and pleasure going on
+      morning, noon, and, I may say, night, for when James returned home
+      unexpectedly about ten o'clock at night, he found them&mdash;how many were
+      there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About a dozen, the others had gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Feasting, drinking his champagne&mdash;his very best.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The last few bottles of '34 port were drunk; the peaches, that the
+      gardener has been forcing so carefully for months past, were all eaten. I
+      returned home unexpectedly; I had intended to spend the night in London&mdash;you
+      know I went there to see about starting Willy on the Stock Exchange; he
+      has drawn three thousand more out of the distillery; I hope he won't lose
+      it. Well, I met Berkins in Pall Mall, and he said if I would return by the
+      late train that he would spend the night here, and we would go up to town
+      together in the morning. I suspected nothing; I went into my dining-room,
+      and there I found them all at supper. Had it not been for Berkins it
+      wouldn't have mattered. He was indignant when he saw one of those
+      jackanapeses with his arm round the back of Grace's chair; he says that
+      such company is not fit for the lady that is going to be his wife; and he
+      now insists on fixing the day, the settlements, and everything, or of
+      breaking off the match.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then why don't you fix the day and the settlements?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Grace is not willing; she is quite undecided. She says she doesn't know
+      whether she will have him or not. Sally tries to set her against him; she
+      laughs at him, says he is pompous, and imitates him. Of course, it is
+      quite true that he thinks everything he has is betterthan anybody else's.
+      She says he is old, and says that kissing him would be like rubbing your
+      face in a mattress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fact is,&rdquo; said Aunt Mary, &ldquo;Sally ought to have been a man; had she
+      been a man, it would have been all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Hester, who had spent her life in a vicarage, glanced uneasily at her
+      sister, and fidgeted with the papers in her satchel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose it will be all the same a hundred years hence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, James, it will not,&rdquo; replied Aunt Hester, with unusual determination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The conversation dropped, and the speakers stared at each other at a loss
+      how to proceed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is a very difficult girl to manage. If it were not for her we could
+      get on very well; it is she who upsets everything. She can't agree with
+      Maggie; they are always quarrelling. The day after the party she
+      threatened to knock her down if she interfered with her young man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it possible! Did she say that? Well, when it comes to young ladies
+      knocking each other down! Young ladies were very different in my young
+      days. It only proves what I said about Sally&mdash;she ought to have been
+      a man, she really ought to have been a man. I see it all; I have only to
+      give one look round to take it all in one glance. When she came to meet me
+      in Brighton I understood it all at once; I saw she could not restrain
+      herself, no powers of self-restraint. Her eyes fixed on every man as if
+      she couldn't see enough of him; her black eyes flashing. I wanted no
+      telling&mdash;I saw it all; the moment a young man went by her eyes
+      flashed. Here she was&mdash;'Aunt Mary, Aunt Mary, there's Meason, there's
+      Meason, Aunt Mary, Meason, Meason, Aunt Mary.' It is not right, it can't
+      be right; and to my thinking Maggie is just as bad&mdash;a little more sly
+      perhaps.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not dear Maggie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say it is not right; girls in good health could not go on like that. If
+      I were you, James, I would take them up to a first-rate London physician,
+      the very best that can be had for money. Those girls are highly organised,
+      highly sensitive; their nerves are highly strung. They want something to
+      bring them down,&rdquo; said Aunt Mary; but catching at that moment sight of her
+      sister's face, she laughed consumedly, and, speaking through her laughter,
+      said, &ldquo;So-and-so, a first-rate man, I can't think of his name&mdash;he
+      will give you the very best advice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think if our dear nieces could be brought to understand the sinfulness
+      of their disobedience. I have here one or two little books which I think
+      it would be advisable for them to read.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Later on, my dear Hester; the best thing that James can do is to see to
+      their health. No girls in good health could act as they do; it is
+      radically impossible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose that is what I must do; I don't know if I shall succeed, but I
+      will try to get them to come up to London and have medical advice. Since
+      the death of poor Julia I have been all alone; my position is a very hard
+      one. I have no one to talk to, to assist me, to take my place in any way.
+      I am obliged to go to London every day, and I assure you my heart is all
+      of a flutter in the morning when I take the train, for I don't know what
+      may happen before I return. The girls can do what they like; they are
+      mistresses of this big house, they take the carriage into Brighton when
+      they like, Sally takes the cart. I have thought of getting rid of that
+      cart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Although passionately fond of talking, Aunt Mary would with patience, and
+      even with pleasure, cross her hands and settle herself down to listen to
+      one of Uncle James's interminable lamentations, but Aunt Hester, a nervous
+      and timid creature who talked but little, not only declared that she could
+      not bear to hear the same stories over and over again, but interrupted her
+      brother with firmness and determination. Indeed, it was only on occasion
+      of Uncle James's soliloquies that she had ever shown any strength of will.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We know very well, James, that your position is a trying one&mdash;that
+      since the death of poor Julia you have no one whom you can look to. There
+      is no use in telling us this over again; it is mere waste of time. What we
+      have to do now is by all means in our power to convince dear Sally of the
+      sinfulness of her conduct, and so strive to bring her back to a state of
+      grace.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her spirit must be broken, she must be subdued,&rdquo; interjected Aunt Mary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Christ is the real healer, prayer is the true medicine, and by it alone
+      is the troubled spirit soothed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It being impossible to contravene these opinions, the conversation came to
+      a pause, which was at length interrupted by Mr. Brookes, who through the
+      folds of his handkerchief declared again that it would be all the same a
+      hundred years hence. Even Aunt Mary's realism did not offend Aunt Hester
+      as did this un-Christian philosophy; she gathered her strength for a grave
+      reproof, but was cut short by her sister's laughter. All the teeth were
+      glittering now, and peal after peal of laughter came. Aunt Hester's
+      courage died, and her long, freckled face drooped like a sad flower.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now let us hear something about Grace. What about this marriage? Is
+      Berkins as amorous as ever? That man does amuse me&mdash;his waistcoat
+      buttons are better than any other man's.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mary, Mary, I beg of you to remember Mr. Berkins is a man of eight
+      thousand a-year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He may make eight thousand a-year, but he has very little money
+      invested,&rdquo; said Aunt Mary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is true,&rdquo; Mr. Brookes replied reflectively, and he was about to rush
+      off into a long financial statement when his sister, who already regretted
+      her joke, checked him with an abrupt question.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear James, is this marriage to be or not to be? That is what I want
+      to know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really can't say, Mary; Sally has contrived to upset her sister; she
+      would have been, I feel sure, glad to marry Mr. Berkins if she had not
+      been upset by Sally.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Upset by Sally, what do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told you that Sally tries to turn Berkins into ridicule, laughs at his
+      beard among other things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must see Grace about this,&rdquo; said Aunt Mary; &ldquo;you must excuse my
+      laughing, but Sally is often very droll.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Choosing the first occasion when Maggie and Sally were absent from the
+      room, Aunt Mary said, &ldquo;Come, Gracie, dear, tell me about this marriage. I
+      hear that your mind is not made up&mdash;that you are not at all decided.
+      This is not acting fairly towards your father. You are placing him in a
+      very false position.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think so, aunty. No one, so far as I can make out, is either
+      decided or satisfied. Mr. Berkins is not satisfied with the society we
+      see.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Southdown Road you mean,&rdquo; interrupted Mr. Brookes, &ldquo;and very
+      properly, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And father and he cannot agree upon money matters, and I don't like a
+      beard&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never objected to a beard until Sally put you against it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I did, father; I always told you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind the beard, tell me about the money matters that your father
+      and Mr. Berkins can't agree upon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Berkins has offered to settle twelve thousand pounds upon me if
+      father will settle the same amount. But father won't agree to this; he
+      wants Mr. Berkins to settle twelve, but does not want to settle more than
+      seven himself upon me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this so, James?&rdquo; asked Aunt Mary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes avoided answering the question, and entered into a long and
+      garrulous statement concerning himself and his money: he had made it all
+      himself! he spoke of his investments with pride, and pathetically declared
+      that he would not marry again because he would not deprive his dear
+      children of anything. Aunt Mary crossed her hands over her shawl, and set
+      herself to listen to the old gentleman's rigmarole. Aunt Hester tried
+      several times to cut him short, but this time he would not be silenced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then Aunt Mary started the story of a girl whom she had known intimately
+      in early life, which she no doubt thought would help Grace to a better
+      comprehension of her difficulties; but the dear lady lost herself in the
+      domestic entanglement of many families, on the subject of which she
+      contributed much curious information, without, however, elucidating the
+      matter in hand. She wandered so far that at length all hope of return
+      became impossible, and she was obliged to pull up suddenly and ask what
+      she had been talking about.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was I talking about, James; you have been listening to me&mdash;what
+      was I talking about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes made no attempt to give the information necessary for the
+      blending of her many narratives, and she was forced to seek unaided for
+      the lost thread. Soon after the girls came in with their gin and water.
+      They drank their grog, kissed their relations, and retired to bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And the next evening, and the next, and the next, so long as Aunt Mary and
+      Aunt Hester remained at the Manor House, the evenings passed in a similar
+      fashion; and, notwithstanding the doleful faces they occasionally assumed,
+      they found pleasure in lamenting the follies of the young people. The same
+      stories were told, almost the same words were uttered. The only malcontent
+      was Willy. He had no interest in his sisters, and the hours after dinner
+      in the billiard-room when his sisters were in the drawing-room were those
+      he devoted to looking through his letters and filling up his diary; so
+      when Sally's name was mentioned he caught at his short crisp hair and
+      gnashed his teeth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear fellow, just as I'm settling down to do some work, Aunt Mary
+      comes along the passage; I know her step so well. And then it begins, the
+      old story that I have heard twenty times before, all over again. You have
+      no idea how worrying it is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank laughed, and talked of something else. These discussions of Sally's
+      character and general behaviour did not appeal to him in either a comic or
+      serious light, and the havoc they made of Willy's business hours did not
+      perceptibly move him; he was full of his good looks, his clothes, his
+      affections, his bull-dog, and the fact that his youth was going by, as it
+      should go by, among girls, in an old English village, in a garden by the
+      sea.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Mary was a woman that a rarer young man would have been attracted by;
+      indeed the delicacy of a young man may be tested by the sympathy he may
+      feel for women when age has drawn a veil over, and put sexual promptings
+      aside. Her bright teeth and eyes, the winsome little face, so glad, would
+      have at once charmed and led any young man not so brutally young as Frank
+      Escott. It would have pleased another to watch her, to wait on her, to
+      listen to her rambling stories all so full of laughter and the sunshine of
+      kindness and homely wit; it would have pleased him to note that she was
+      gratified by the admiration of a young man; it would please him to hear
+      himself called by his Christian name, while he must address her as Mrs.
+      So-and-so, and in maintaining this difference they would both become
+      conscious of pleasing restraint.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His comprehension of life was invariably a sentimental one, so the aunts
+      were to him merely middle-aged women&mdash;uninteresting, and useful only
+      so far as their efforts contributed to render the lives of young people
+      easy and pleasurable. In abrupt and passing impressions he concluded that
+      Aunt Mary was bright and pleasant, but tediously voluble, given to wasting
+      that time which he would have liked to spend talking to the young ladies
+      of poetry and Italy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He scorned poor Aunt Hester. She shrank from him, frightened by his harsh,
+      blunt manners; she was afraid he led a sinful life in London. Aunt Mary
+      had few doubts on the subject, and her comments made her sister tremble.
+      She spoke of him as a most desirable husband for Maggie. &ldquo;He will be a
+      peer, my dear James. Lord Mount Rorke will never marry again. He is the
+      acknowledged heir to the title and estates.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the young man went as he came&mdash;full of himself, his clothes, his
+      good looks; bumptious and arrogant, effusive in his love of his friends,
+      and yet sincere. He looked out of the railway carriage window to seize a
+      last look of the green, with its horse pond and its downs, and the
+      cricketers all in white, running to and fro (young Meason had just made a
+      three, and Sally was applauding). The porches of the Southdown Road he
+      could just see over the fields, and Mr. Brooke's glass glittered amid the
+      summer foliage. At that moment he loved the ugly little village, with its
+      barren downs and all its anomalous aspects of town and country. He thought
+      of his friends there, and his life appeared to be theirs, and theirs his,
+      and he wished it might flow on for ever in this quiet place. He seemed to
+      understand it all so well, and to love it all so dearly. He accepted it
+      all, even its vulgarest aspects. Even pompous Berkins appeared to him
+      under a tenderer light&mdash;the light of orange-flowers and married love.
+      For Aunt Mary had smoothed away all difficulties, hirsute and monetary,
+      and the wedding had been fixed for the autumn. The gaiety of the day he
+      had spent with the girls, its feasting and its flirtation, arose,
+      memorised in a soft halo of imagination&mdash;a day of fruit, wine, and
+      light words, and the dear General, with his St James's politics and his
+      only desire&mdash;&ldquo;a little something to do&mdash;something to bring me
+      out, you know.&rdquo; The pugs, the mangy mastiff, the hospitable house always
+      open, its ready welcome, and, above all, the air which it held of the
+      lives of its occupants; its pictures of white arab horses, and elephants
+      richly caparisoned; the wonderful goats in the field, and the tropical
+      birds and animals in the back garden! Above all, the walks on the green
+      with the chemist's wife, and the annoyance such familiarity caused Mr.
+      Brookes&mdash;how funny, how charming, how amusing! He was smiling through
+      the tears that rose to his eyes when the train rolled into Brighton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On arriving in London he drove straight to the Temple. The creaking,
+      disjointed staircases, with the lanterns of old time in the windows,
+      jarred his thoughts, which were still of Southwick; and when he entered
+      his rooms their loneliness struck him with a chill. He pictured Maggie
+      sitting in the arm-chair waiting for him, and he imagined how she would
+      lay her book aside and say, &ldquo;Oh, here you are!&rdquo; He sat down to read his
+      letters. One was from Lord Mount Rorke, enclosing a cheque, another a
+      daintily cut envelope, smelling daintily, came from Lady Seveley.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR MR ESCOTT,&mdash;I have not seen anything of you for a very long
+      time; you promised to lunch with me before you left town, but I suppose
+      amid the general gaieties and friends of the season you were carried far
+      away quite out of my reckoning. However, I hope when you return you will
+      come and see me. I got your address from Mr. &mdash;&mdash;, but you need
+      not tell him that I wrote to you; he is, as you know, a dreadful
+      chatterbox, and somehow or other, without meaning it, contrives to make
+      gossip and mischief out of everything.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The weather here is delicious&mdash;perhaps a trifle too hot; and
+      sometimes I envy you your cool sea-side resort. I wonder what the
+      attraction is? It must be a very special one to keep you out of London in
+      June.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Should you be in town next Thursday, come and dine; I have a box for the
+      theatre. And as an extra inducement I will tell you that I have two very
+      nice girls staying with me, who will interest you.&mdash;Yours very truly,
+      HELEN SEVELEY.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Some men of thirty would have instantly understood Lady Seveley's letter.
+      But age gives us nothing we do not already possess, the years develop what
+      is latent in us in youth, and it is certain that Frank at thirty would
+      have understood the letter as vaguely and incompletely as he did to-day.
+      We read our sympathies and antipathies in all we look upon, and Frank read
+      in this letter an old woman with diamonds and dyed hair. He had met her
+      twice. The first time was at a ball where he knew nobody; the second was
+      at a dinner party. She had fixed her eyes upon him; she had prevented him
+      from talking after dinner to a young girl whom he had admired across the
+      table during dinner. He did not like her, and he thought now of the young
+      girls he would meet if he accepted her invitation. Lady Seveley was a
+      shadow; and when the shadow defined itself he saw the slight wrinkling of
+      the skin about the eyes, the almost imperceptible looseness of the flesh
+      about the chin; but, worse to him than these physical changes, were the
+      hard measured phrases in which there is knowledge of the savour and worth
+      of life. He unpacked his portmanteau, and, dallying with his resolutions,
+      he wondered if he should go to Lady Seveley's: conclusions and
+      determinations were constitutionally abhorrent, self-deception natural to
+      him. Were he asked if he intended to turn to the right or the left,
+      although he were going nowhere and an answer would compromise him in
+      nothing, he would certainly say he did not know; and if he were
+      expostulated with, he would reply rudely, arrogantly. This is worthy of
+      notice, for what was special in his character was the combination it
+      afforded of degenerate weakness and pride, complicated with a towering
+      sense of self-sufficiency. Youth's illusions would not pass from him
+      easily; in his eyes and heart the hawthorn would always be in bloom, young
+      girls would always be beautiful, innocent, true to the lovers they had
+      selected; nor was there of necessity degradation nor forced continuance in
+      any state of vice. Love could raise and purify, love could restore, love
+      could make whole; if one woman were faithless, another would be constant;
+      if to-day were dark, to-morrow would be bright. Life had no deep truth for
+      him, no underlying mysteries; it was not a problem capable of
+      demonstration, capable of definition; it was not a thing of limitations
+      and goals and ends; he could feel nothing of this&mdash;the philosophic
+      temperament was absent in him. Life had no deep truth for him, no
+      underlying mysteries; he did not dream of past times, and he placed few
+      hopes in the future; life was a thing to be enjoyed in the moment of
+      living, and the present moment was a very pleasant one. He leaned over the
+      doors of the hansom resting his gloved hand upon his crutched stick. He
+      was struck with the pride we feel when we are dressed for amusement and
+      contemplate those in workaday garb; and in these sensations of pride he
+      leaned forward, proud of his good looks, his shirt front, his shirt cuffs,
+      his glazed shoes; he pleasured in the knowledge that many saw he was going
+      to elegant company, to amusement. He was full of scorn for the women
+      loitering, for the clerks hurrying, and especially for the crowds pressing
+      about the entrances of the theatres.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      London opened up upon a little black space of asphalt; crimson clouds
+      moved over the many windowed walls of the great hotels, the black
+      monumented square foamed with white water, children played, and the gold
+      of the inscriptions over the shops caught the eye. London was tall on the
+      heavens. Regent Street was full of young men as elegant as himself driving
+      to various pleasures, and Frank wondered what sort of dinners they would
+      eat, what kind of women they would sit by. Then as he drove through
+      Mayfair he thought of his own party. He wondered what the girls would
+      think of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Seveley lived in Green Street. When he had rung the bell he listened
+      impatiently for approaching steps, for he tingled with presentiment that
+      he would somehow be disappointed, and he dreaded dinner by himself and his
+      lonely lodgings. Nor was he wholly wrong. The butler who opened the door
+      seemed surprised at seeing him, and in reply to his question if Lady
+      Seveley was at home, replied hesitatingly:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her ladyship is at home, but she is not at all well, sir. She is, I
+      think, in her room lying down, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, but did she not expect me? I was to have dined here to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard nothing about it, sir; but I'd better ask. Will you come in,
+      sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Seveley's house was a house of scent and soft carpets. The staircase
+      was covered with pink silk, and in the recess on the first landing, or
+      rather where the stairs paused, there was an aviary in which either hawks
+      screeched or owls blinked; generally there was a magpie there, and the
+      quaint bird now hopped to Frank's finger, casting a thievish look on his
+      rings. The drawing-room was full of flowers. There was a grand piano, dark
+      and bright; the skins of tigers Lord Seveley had shot carpeted the floor,
+      and on their heads, Helen rested her feet, showing her plump legs to her
+      visitors. On the walls there were indifferent water-colours, there were
+      gold screens, the cabinets were full of china, there were three-volume
+      novels on the tea-table&mdash;it was the typical rich widow's house, a
+      house where young men lingered. Frank stood examining a portrait on china
+      of Lady Seveley, it was happily hung with blue ribbon from the top of the
+      mirror. It represented a woman inclined to stoutness, about three and
+      thirty. The chestnut hair was piled and curled with strange art about the
+      head. Above the face there was a mask, roses wreathed, and a swallow
+      carrying a love missive, butterflies and arrows everywhere, and below the
+      face there was a skull profusely wreathed and almost hidden in roses. This
+      portrait would have stirred the imagination of many young men, but Frank
+      thought nothing of it&mdash;the theatrical display displeased him, it
+      seemed to him even a little foolish. He crossed over to the flowers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lady Seveley will be down in a moment, sir,&rdquo; said the maid. A few minutes
+      after the door opened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you do? I am so glad to see you. Won't you sit down? I have been
+      suffering terribly to-day&mdash;neuralgia; nothing for it but to lie down
+      in a dark room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you are better now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, when I have had some champagne I shall be quite well. Now tell me
+      something; talk to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen was sitting thrown back on the little black satin sofa; she had
+      crossed her legs, and her foot was set on a tiger's head. The ankle was
+      too thick, the foot slightly fat, but stocking and shoe were perfect, and
+      these drew Frank's eyes too attentively. Helen noticed this and was glad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you like Maggie the best?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I like her the best, Sally is too rough. How those girls do
+      worry their father. He has to go up to town every day; he is in the City,
+      and the girls give tennis parties, and drink his best wine. There was an
+      awful row there the other day about the peaches; he had been going in for
+      forcing, and was counting the days when they would be ripe. The young men
+      ate them all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Helen laughed. &ldquo;A sort of comic King Lear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just so, the girls will have large fortunes at their father's death. I
+      have known them all my life. I used to spend my holidays with them when I
+      was a small boy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you haven't seen them for a long time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I was in Ireland two years, and then I went to Italy. This was the
+      first time I saw them since they were really grown up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you say they are beautiful girls and will have large fortunes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I suppose Maggie is a good-looking girl; she is more a fascinating
+      girl than a beautiful girl.&rdquo; A sudden remembrance of Lizzie Baker dictated
+      this opinion of Maggie Brookes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dinner is on the table, my lady.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you said in your letter that you were going to have two young
+      girls staying with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but they could not come; they were to have been here on Monday. I am
+      very sorry; had I known for certain that you were coming, I would have
+      arranged to have some one to meet you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very glad you didn't.&rdquo; The conversation dropped. &ldquo;You said you were
+      going to the theatre. What theatre are you thinking of going to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My neuralgia put all thoughts of the theatre out of my head. I have a box
+      for the Gaiety. We will go if you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The name of the theatre reminded him of Lizzie Baker, and he compared the
+      pale, refined face of the bar girl with the over-coloured woman&mdash;his
+      hostess. He had not seen Lizzie for a long time. Why had he not gone to
+      the bar room the last time he was in London?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have not answered me&mdash;would you like to go to the Gaiety?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure I beg your pardon,&rdquo; and then, in a sudden confusion of memories
+      and desires, he said: &ldquo;I don't know that I care much about going to the
+      theatre. You are not feeling well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My neuralgia is almost all gone. There's nothing like champagne for it.
+      Hardwick, Mr. Escott will take some more champagne.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There were engravings after Burne Jones and Rossetti on the walls, and
+      Frank stopped to look at them as he followed Lady Seveley upstairs. She
+      went straight to the piano.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you fond of music?&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; there is nothing I like more than fiddling at the piano.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then do play something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, not for worlds. I only strum, I don't know my notes. I strum on
+      the piano as I strum on the violin.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you play the violin?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't call it playing, I was never taught.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How did you learn, then? It is a most difficult instrument; I couldn't
+      get on with it at all; I will get mine out if you will play something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you promise not to laugh, I will try, but I assure you I know nothing
+      about it. I borrowed a violin once, and I taught myself to play a tune;
+      then I bought a violin, and I amuse myself when I am alone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How very clever of you. There, you will find it under the piano behind
+      that music; do play something, it will be so good of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What shall I play?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Anything you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank had no knowledge of the instrument, but his ear was exquisitely just
+      and appreciative; his artistic desire was febrile and foolish, but you
+      thought less of this in his music than in his painting and poetry. His
+      soul went out in the strain of melody sentimentally; and it leaned him in
+      varying and beautiful attitudes. The sweeping, music-evoking arm was
+      beautiful to behold, and the music seemed to cry for love; all about him
+      was shadow; only the light fell on the long throat, so like a fruit to the
+      eye; the charm was enervating and nervous. Helen looked at him again, and
+      shuddering, she rose from the piano.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you break off like that for? Was I playing so badly?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no&mdash;come and sit down here, come and sit by me. I want you to
+      talk to me.&rdquo; She stretched herself in a low wicker chair by the open
+      window. There was a church opposite, the painted panes were now full of
+      mitre and alb, and the vague tumult of the service came in contrast with
+      the summer murmur of London and the light of the evening skies. The
+      woman's body moved beneath the silk, and the faint odour of her person
+      dilated the nostrils of the young man. &ldquo;Talk to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know what to talk to you about. You would not care for my
+      conversation any more than you do for my music&mdash;one is as bad as the
+      other.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, pray&mdash;I assure you&mdash;I would not have you think that, no.&rdquo;
+       Helen made a movement as if she were going to lay her hand on his arm;
+      checking herself, she said: &ldquo;I do not think your playing bad; on the
+      contrary, perhaps I think it too good. How shall I explain? There are
+      times when I cannot bear music; the pleasure it brings is too near, too
+      intense, too near to pain; and that 'Chanson d'Eglise' seems to bear away
+      your very brain; you play it with such fervour, on the violin each phrase
+      tears the soul.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it is so religious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, that is just it; no sen&mdash;no; well, there is no other word; no
+      sensuality is so terrible as religious sensuality.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know what you mean. I can understand any one saying that
+      Offenbach is sensual, but I don't see how the term can be applied to a
+      hymn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps not to a hymn, although&mdash;but 'La Chanson d'Eglise' is not a
+      hymn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Her arm hung along the chair, the flesh showing through the silk as soft
+      as a flower. He might take it in his hands and bear it to his lips and
+      kiss it; he might lean and loll and kiss her. He wondered if he might dare
+      it; but her air of ladyhood was so marked that it seemed impossible that
+      she would not resent. He could not quite realise what her looks and words
+      would be afterwards.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not wish to flatter you, but I think you play beautifully. I do not
+      mean to say that I have never heard any one play the violin better&mdash;that
+      would be ridiculous. Your playing is full of emotion. That lovely passage
+      thrilled me; I do not know why, nor can I exactly explain my feeling&mdash;nerves
+      perhaps. Now I come to think of it I am ashamed. It was the summer
+      evening, the perfume of those flowers; it was&mdash;&rdquo; Helen fixed her eyes
+      on Frank, as if she would like to say, &ldquo;It was you.&rdquo; With a sigh she said:
+      &ldquo;It was the music.&rdquo; Then as if she feared she was showing too plainly what
+      was passing in her mind, she said: &ldquo;But it is nearly nine o'clock. Perhaps
+      you would like to go to the theatre, the ticket for the box is on the
+      table. I should not be more than a few minutes changing my dress. Would
+      you like to go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't much mind, just as you like. I heard that the new burlesque was
+      very amusing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then let us go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Both regretted their words; and, embarrassed, each waited for the other to
+      say No, let us stay here, it is far sweeter here. But it was difficult to
+      draw back now without avowal. Helen had rung for her maid. She put on a
+      white satin. Her opera cloak was edged with deep soft fur, and she came
+      into the room putting on her long tan gloves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Were you ever in love?&rdquo; Helen asked, and she leaned back behind the
+      curtain of the box out of sight of the audience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose I have been in love; but why do you ask?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It just occurred to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have never been in love with a ballet girl, if you mean that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In blue tights and symmetrical rows the legs of the chorus ladies were
+      arranged about the stage; the low comedians cracked jokes close to the
+      footlights; the stalls laughed, the pit applauded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haven't you? Is that really so? I shouldn't think it would be nice. And
+      yet, if all we hear is true, young men do make love to low women; I'm not
+      speaking now of ballet girls, but of cooks and housemaids. A lady, a
+      friend of mine, cannot keep a housemaid under fifty in her house on
+      account of her son, and she sent him to Eton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I know; I have heard of such things, but I never could understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am glad. But you say you have been in love. Tell me all about it. I
+      want to know. What was she like? Was she fair or dark?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fair. She used to wear a Gainsborough hat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you like those great hats?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did on her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose she was tall, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, she was short.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I don't see how she would wear a Gainsborough hat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She did, and looked exquisite in it too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose you were very much in love with her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; we were engaged, and going to be married.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why was it broken off?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her father was a brute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fathers generally are brutes on such occasions, and there are generally
+      excellent reasons for their brutality.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Husbands, too, are brutes, and if all I have heard is correct, there are
+      excellent reasons for their brutality.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Seveley turned pale. &ldquo;I did not come to the theatre to be insulted,&rdquo;
+       she said, hesitating whether she should rise from her seat. Frank Escott
+      was constantly guilty of such indelicate and stupid speeches, and it would
+      be easy to cite instances in which his conduct was equally unpractical.
+      Were friends to speak ill of any one he was especially intimate with, he
+      would answer them in the grossest manner, forgetful that he was making
+      formidable enemies for himself without in the least advancing the welfare
+      of him or her whose defence he had undertaken. With some words and looks
+      the storm was allayed, and they felt that the wind that might have
+      capsized had carried their craft nearer the port where they were steering.
+      Their eyes met, and for a moment they looked into each other's souls. Her
+      arm hung by her side, white and pure, could he take it and press it to his
+      lips the worst would be over&mdash;he would have admitted his desire. But
+      the box curtain did not hide him, and the faces opposite seemed to watch;
+      and then she spoke, and with her words brought a sense of distance, of
+      conventionality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, did you fall in love with her the first time you saw her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me all about it. When did you see her for the first time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was on the Metropolitan Railway. We were in the same carriage, she sat
+      opposite to me; for some time we were alone, and I thought of speaking to
+      her, but was afraid of offending her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you always afraid of offending people?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know&mdash;I don't think I am.&rdquo; Then it struck him that she was
+      alluding to his rudeness, which she declared she had forgiven, and he
+      said: &ldquo;I am sure I can't do more, I told you I was sorry&mdash;that I did
+      not mean&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, never mind, that is forgiven; tell me about her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A little perplexed, he continued: &ldquo;She was dressed in white, and her face
+      was like a flower under the great hat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is clear that you can admire no one who doesn't wear a Gainsborough
+      hat. What will you do now that they have gone out of fashion? I am sure I
+      can't gratify you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wondered where she was going. I wished I was going to the same house, I
+      imagined what it would be like, and so the time went till we got to
+      Kensington. She turned to the right, so did I; I hoped she did not think I
+      was following her&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were both going to the same house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. There were some carnations behind her in a vase, and you know how I
+      love the perfume of a carnation&mdash;so did she. She told me of the
+      flowers they had in their cottage at Maidenhead. I love the river, so did
+      she, and we spoke of the river all the afternoon. And when the season was
+      over I went up to Maidenhead too. I had my boat there (I must show you my
+      boat one of these days, one of the prettiest boats on the river). We used
+      to go out together, and, tying the boat under an alder, I used to read her
+      Browning. Oh, it was a jolly time.&rdquo; The conversation came to a pause, then
+      Frank said &ldquo;Were you ever in love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose I was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With your husband?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I was not in love with my husband, he was twenty years older than I.
+      When I was eighteen I was very much in love with a young fellow who used
+      to come to play croquet at our place. But my parents wouldn't hear of it.
+      I was not at all strong when I was a girl; they said I wouldn't live, so I
+      didn't care what became of me. Lord Seveley admired me; it was a very good
+      match, I was anxious to get away from home, so I married him. You are
+      quite wrong in supposing I treated him badly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me, don't say any more about that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We had rows, it is true; he said horrible things about my mother, and I
+      wouldn't stand that, of course.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What things?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I can't tell you&mdash;no matter. Once I said that I wouldn't have
+      married him only I thought I was going to die. He never forgave me that.
+      It was, I admit, a foolish thing to say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment the curtain came down, and the young men moved out of the
+      stalls. &ldquo;There are two men I know,&rdquo; she said, fixing her glass. &ldquo;Do you
+      see them? The elder of the two is Harding, the novelist, the other is Mr.
+      Fletcher, an Irishman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know Fletcher&mdash;or, rather, I know of him. His father was a
+      shopkeeper in Gort, the nearest town to Mount Rorke Castle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is a journalist, isn't he? I hear he is doing pretty well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In London, I know, you associate with that class, but in Ireland we
+      wouldn't think of knowing them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you were more liberal-minded than that. If they come up here,
+      what shall I do? I mustn't introduce you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't mind being introduced. I should like to know Harding.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't introduce you to Harding and not to his friend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't mind being introduced to Fletcher; I'll bow and slink off to
+      smoke a cigarette. Is it true what they say about him, that he is
+      irresistible, that no woman can resist him? I don't think he is
+      good-looking&mdash;a good figure, that's all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has the most lovely hands and teeth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see; perhaps you are in love with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A knock came at the door; the young men entered. Lady Seveley introduced
+      them to Frank; he bowed coldly, and addressed Harding. But Lady Seveley
+      said: &ldquo;O Mr. Harding, I want to speak to you about your last novel; I have
+      just finished reading it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you think of this piece?&rdquo; Fletcher asked Escott, in a hesitating
+      and conciliatory manner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid he will not be able to tell you; he hasn't ceased talking
+      since we came into the theatre.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should have done the same had I been in his place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Seveley smiled, Frank thought the words presumptuous. &ldquo;Who the devil
+      would care to hear you talk&mdash;and that filthy accent.&rdquo; And at that
+      moment he remembered Lizzie Baker. Fletcher and Harding were now speaking
+      to Lady Seveley, and taking advantage of the circumstance he slipped out,
+      and, lighting a cigarette, entered the bar room. Behind the counter the
+      young ladies stood in single file, and through odours of cigarettes and
+      whisky their voices called &ldquo;One coffee in order,&rdquo; and the cry was passed
+      on till it reached the still-room. Frank remembered having read a
+      description of the place somewhere, he thought for a moment, and then he
+      remembered that it was in one of Harding's novels. He could detect no
+      difference in the loafers that leaned over the counter talking to the
+      barmaids; they were dingy and dull, whereas the young men from the stalls
+      of the theatre were black and white and clean; but the keenest eye could
+      note nothing further, and a closer inspection showed that even a first
+      division rested on no deeper basis than the chance of evening dress.
+      Civilisation has given us all one face and mind. He walked to where Lizzie
+      was serving; soldiers were ordering drinks of her, so he was obliged to
+      apply to the next girl to her for his brandy and soda. He drank slowly,
+      hoping her admirers would leave her, but one soldier was stationery, and
+      this spot of red grew singularly offensive in Frank's eyes, from the
+      clumsy, characterless boots, to the close-clipped hair set off with the
+      monotonously jaunty cap. The man sprawled over the counter drinking a
+      glass of porter. Frank tried to listen to what he was saying. Lizzie
+      smiled, showing many beautifully shaped teeth, so beautifully shaped that
+      they looked like sculpture. Behind her there were shelves charged with
+      glasses and bottles, gilt elephants, and obelisks, a hideous decoration;
+      she passed up and down with cups of coffee, she filled glasses from
+      various taps, she saluted Frank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How are you this evening? Come to see the piece again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come to see you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get along; I don't believe you,&rdquo; she said, and she passed back to her
+      place, and continued talking to the soldier as steadily as her many
+      occupations would allow her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A few moments after the bell rang, and Frank went upstairs annoyed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, so it is you; you have come back,&rdquo; said Helen, turning; &ldquo;sit down
+      here. Nellie Farren has just sung such an exquisitely funny song; they
+      have encored it; just listen to it, do,&rdquo; and Helen fixed her opera glass
+      on the actress. The light and shadow played about her neck andarm in
+      beautiful variations, but noticing nothing, Frank leaned forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Isn't it funny; isn't it delightfully funny?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it is funny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Having heard one song they listened to the rest of the act. &ldquo;Now give me
+      my cloak. Thank you, and now give me your arm.&rdquo; Frank complied. &ldquo;You will
+      come home to Green Street with me, and have some supper?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid, I am sorry I can't; I must get home early to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have a key, you surely can get in at any hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but I am afraid&mdash;the fact is I am dreadfully tired.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, just as you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then at the end of an irritating silence, &ldquo;I am afraid you will have to
+      wait, I do not think I shall be able to get your carriage yet awhile; in a
+      few minutes this crowd will disperse. No use getting crushed to death!
+      What became of Harding and Fletcher? Did they remain long with you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not very, they went away just before you came. There is Mr. Harding.
+      How did you like the piece, Mr. Harding?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I always enjoy these pieces, they are so conscientiously illiterate; what
+      I can't bear is unconscientious illiterateness. Nellie Farren has caught
+      something of the jangle of modern life; she has something of the freshness
+      of the music-hall about her that appeals to me very sharply.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you like music-halls? I have always heard they were so vulgar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Vulgarity is surely preferable to popularity. The theatre is merely
+      popular.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While Harding was thus exerting himself with epigram, Fletcher stood tall
+      and slender, with a grey overcoat hanging over his arm, and his intense
+      eyes fixed on Lady Seveley. His gaze troubled her, and when he withdrew
+      his eyes she looked at him, anticipant and fearing. He spoke to her until
+      Frank, feeling that he was receding out of all interest and attention,
+      said abruptly, &ldquo;If you will come now, Lady Seveley, I think I shall be
+      able to get you your carriage. May I see you home?&rdquo; he said, holding the
+      door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No thank you, I will not take you out of your way. Go home at once and
+      get rested, and come and see me one of these days; don't forget.&rdquo; Lady
+      Seveley smiled, but Frank felt that she was annoyed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder if she wanted me to go home with her. That impertinent brute
+      Fletcher daring to come up to speak to us! I was very nearly telling him
+      to go and fetch the carriage.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He pushed open the swinging doors with violence, nearly upsetting the fat
+      porter. The bar was nearly empty, and he found Lizzie disengaged.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You look very vexed. Has any one been pinching you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not vexed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will you have to put you straight?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, that is a question. Let me see. I don't care about another brandy
+      and soda, and if I have coffee it may keep me awake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have half milk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well.&rdquo; He hesitated, but the inclination to speak soon overpowered
+      him. &ldquo;I call it bad form, when you are with a lady for another fellow to
+      come up and speak to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Three of Irish, miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, didn't he know her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course he knew her, but that doesn't give him a right to come up and
+      enter into a long conversation when I am with her. I wish I had knocked
+      him down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He might have knocked you down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A glass of bitter, miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should have had to take my chance of that. In London people don't seem
+      to me to mind whom they speak to&mdash;a low-bred Irishman, who never
+      spoke to a lady until he left his own country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! what a rage we are in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I am not in a rage,&rdquo; said Frank, who at that moment felt the folly of
+      these confidences. &ldquo;I don't care a hang. It isn't as if it were a woman I
+      cared about. Had it been you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get along, don't you tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you I speak only in a general way, and you must admit that if
+      you go out with a fellow it would not be nice of you to begin talking to
+      some one else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! I never do that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, then you admit I was right, I was sure you would; I don't care a
+      hang for the lady I was with, but I don't intend to allow any one to
+      insult me. But I wonder how you can speak to soldiers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are no worse than the others. Besides, in our business we have to be
+      polite to every one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Polite, yes&mdash;but I wanted to speak to you, I came down from my box
+      on purpose to speak to you, and I couldn't, you were so engaged with that
+      soldier.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was here before you; you would not like it if you were talking to me,
+      and I were to rush off to speak to some one else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One Scotch and three Irish, miss, and out of the bottle please, our
+      friend here's most particular, he would like it in a thin glass, too&mdash;wouldn't
+      you, Ted? and if he could have a go at that pretty mouth he would like it
+      better still. A rare one after the ladies is Teddy. Aren't you, old chap?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Full of scorn Frank watched this noisy group. Lizzie remained talking with
+      them for some little time, and she did not return until he called to her
+      twice for a cigar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How very impatient you are,&rdquo; she said, handing him the box.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were talking to me, and you go away to talk to those cads.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must serve the customers, you naughty man. You can't have me all to
+      yourself. I believe you would like to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I should. I wish you would come out with me. I wish you would come
+      to dinner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what would the lady say who you went to the theatre with to-night,
+      and were so mad because some one spoke to her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you she is nothing to me, a mere acquaintance. I was angry
+      because I thought it a piece of impertinence of the fellow to come
+      intruding his conversation when it wasn't wanted; but as for the woman I
+      don't care a snap for her; never did, I assure you: she is nothing to me.
+      I suppose you don't get out much here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are off duty for so many hours every day; but we must be in at a
+      certain time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you have got Sundays.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We get Sunday in our turn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When will your turn come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am going out next Sunday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you would come with me; I would take you up the river. You know
+      the river?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't know even what you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean to say you have never been up the river, not even so far as
+      Twickenham?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, then, you have a treat. The most beautiful thing in England is the
+      Thames&mdash;perhaps in the world. Last year I spent nearly three months
+      at Marlow and Maidenhead&mdash;we positively lived in a boat. I have a
+      beautiful boat. I should like to take you out&mdash;you would enjoy it.
+      Are you fond of boating?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I love it. I haven't been in a boat since I left Wales.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you are a Welsh girl. My boat is now at Reading. If you could get away
+      early in the morning we might manage to catch the nine o'clock express
+      that takes us down in a little over the hour. I'd have the hamper packed,
+      and we would have our lunch up in Pangbourne Woods. It would be so jolly.
+      I wish you would come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like it immensely; I don't know if I could manage it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you say you will come, do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lizzie stood hesitating, her finger on her lip. A girl entered the bar and
+      whispered something to her as she passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must go away now, I'm off duty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Say you will come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't say yet; I shall see you again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As Frank turned to go he caught sight of Harding and Fletcher. He did not
+      see that they had been watching him, and when they called him he went over
+      to their table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What will you have?&rdquo; said Harding.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing, thanks, I could not drink anything more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have a cigarette.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks, I will; I cannot smoke this beastly cigar. I do not know why I
+      asked for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The conversation turned on the play, but at the first pause in the
+      conversation, Harding said: &ldquo;Pretty girl, that girl you were talking to at
+      the bar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; is she not? I think she is one of the prettiest girls I ever saw in
+      my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Far better looking than Lady Seveley.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should rather think so; Lady Seveley is over thirty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The choice would be a nice test of a young man's moral character.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you write that this morning, or are you going to write it to-morrow
+      morning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have not told me which, when you do&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see you are not in a hurry to bring your book out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Harding laughed, and Frank was pleased at the idea of getting the better
+      of Harding; Fletcher sat with his eyes glittering and his lips slightly
+      parted. Who would hesitate between a lady of rank and a barmaid? She might
+      be a pretty girl, but what of that? There are hundreds as pretty. He had
+      never been the lover of a lady, and his heart was aflame. Soon after the
+      men parted in the street, and Frank went from them, fearful of his lonely
+      rooms, and longing for his friends at Southwick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He lunched every day at the Gaiety, and he at length succeeded in
+      persuading Lizzie to come to Reading with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Town was miserably Sunday when he drove up to Paddington at a quarter past
+      eight. &ldquo;If it should rain, if it should turn out a pouring wet day, what
+      should I do? That would be too terrible!&rdquo; He felt the boat alive beneath
+      his oars, the river placid and gentle, and all the charm of the rushes,
+      the cedars, the locks, and the blonde beautiful girl in the stern with the
+      parasol he had bought her aslant. Let him have this day, and he didn't
+      care what happened! He wanted to show her the river, he wanted to joy for
+      a day in her presence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was more than a half an hour in advance. Would she come? She had
+      promised, but she might disappoint. That would be worse than the rain. He
+      would wait till ten o'clock. There was another train at ten, but if they
+      missed the ten to nine the day would be spoilt, lost. Supposing she did
+      not come, what would he do?&mdash;drive back through dingy London and eat
+      a lonely breakfast in that horrible brick Pump Court? He could scarcely do
+      that. Would he go to Reading by himself? The light of the flowing stream,
+      the secrets of the rushes and murmuring woods died; nature became
+      voiceless.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will be a pity if she doesn't come. We shall have a fine day, I am
+      sure it is going to be a fine day, but we shall miss that train. I wonder
+      if I can see anything of her. I don't know what side she will come from. I
+      suppose she'll take a cab. Perhaps she won't come at all; will she come?&mdash;she
+      promised me. By Jove, twenty minutes to nine. If she isn't here in five
+      minutes we shall miss the train.&rdquo; His passion grew in intensity, and hope
+      was dead, when he heard sounds of running footsteps, and saw the great
+      girl holding her hat with one hand and her dress with the other. The
+      torture of expectation was worth the rapture of relief, and he said,
+      delighted: &ldquo;So you have come, have you? One minute more and you would have
+      been late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why, were you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but the train is. We have three minutes. I'll run and get the
+      tickets. How is it that you are so late?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I just missed the train.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What train?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Metropolitan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Metropolitan? What nonsense! Why didn't you take a cab?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She had been afraid of spending the money, fearing she might not see him
+      after all; and out of breath she followed him along the platform. &ldquo;No, not
+      in there; I don't like travelling alone with gentlemen.&rdquo; Frank looked at
+      her in amazement, and they got into a carriage where an old gentleman was
+      sitting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you thought I wouldn't come, you naughty boy?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I should have been so disappointed. I don't know what I should have
+      done.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lizzie watched the young aristocratic face; his earnestness drew her
+      towards him, and she wondered she did not like him better. &ldquo;Now tell me
+      what we are going to do. I had such difficulty in getting away. It is
+      against the rules; and the manageress (the fat woman who stands at the end
+      of the bar and goes round and collects the money) hates me. She would have
+      stopped me if she could, but I went to the manager; he is a friend of
+      mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That fellow with the long fair moustache that walks about at the rate of
+      seven miles an hour, with his frock-coat all unbuttoned. Harding the
+      novelist&mdash;the fellow I was sitting with the other night, said such a
+      good thing&mdash;he said he was a sort of apotheosis of sherry and
+      bitters. I don't know why it is good, but it is; whether it is the colour
+      of his face and moustache&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is very proud of his moustache, and your friend is quite right; he is
+      very fond of sherry and bitters&mdash;too fond. I have served him with as
+      many as three in an afternoon, and I am sure he wouldn't have refused
+      another if he could have found any one to stand it. Oh, look at the
+      country! How pretty it is!&mdash;the cows, the corn growing, the birds and
+      all the light clouds; we are going to have a lovely day. Shall we see much
+      of the country at Reading? Tell me, where are you going to take me? Shall
+      we go for a walk in the woods? Are there any woods? I hope there are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The most beautiful woods in England&mdash;Pangbourne Woods. We shall
+      arrive in Reading about a quarter to ten. We'll walk down to the river, or
+      drive if you like; it is only a few minutes to walk to the boat-house. My
+      boat is there&mdash;such a beauty! We'll row up to the&mdash;and that
+      reminds me, I ordered the luncheon basket at the best place in London, you
+      know; it was to have been at my place last night at eight o'clock, and
+      they never sent it. We shall have to lunch at the hotel. Such a beautiful
+      hotel, high up, overlooking the river; I hope you are not disappointed, it
+      really wasn't my fault. We shall have an excellent lunch, I assure you, at
+      the hotel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The miles fled away, and in the comfort and speed of the broad gaugeline,
+      an hour and a half seemed to them like a minute.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What kind of town is Reading?&rdquo; said Lizzie, springing from the carriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not much more than a biscuit manufactory. A lot of red brick pill-box
+      looking buildings scattered over a flat piece of ground. We shan't see the
+      town. It is a mile from here. Huntley and Palmer, you know&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, we deal with them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Catch hold of this rug while I get the tickets out. Shall we walk or
+      drive?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let's walk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They stepped along gaily, and they were soon standing on the wharf, Frank
+      criticising the boats and the rowing, Lizzie all white in the sunlight, a
+      little dumbfounded and astonished. Then he turned into the boat-house, and
+      reappeared soon after, his arms bare, the sun on his neck.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You got my telegram? My boat is ready?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, we got her out this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose a lot of people wanted to have her, they all went for her, I'll
+      bet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, a good many gentlemen asked if they could have her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to please Frank that he had caused so many to be disappointed.
+      &ldquo;Well, get her out, we have no time to lose.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The man stepped from one fleet of skiffs to another, he caught at several
+      boats with his boat-hook, but Frank's boat could not be found. He shouted
+      to his man who was sculling towards an island opposite: &ldquo;What has become
+      of Mr. Escott's boat? I took her out myself this morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to know what is the use of my sending you telegrams if I am
+      delayed in this way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My man will be here in a second, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, then, do be quick, stir yourself, I don't want to stand about here
+      all day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The assistant scratched his head. Finally it transpired that that party
+      down the river&mdash;that party just gone away&mdash;must have had the
+      boat. He didn't know anything about it, it wasn't his fault. They said
+      they had engaged that boat over-night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My boat let out for hire! How dare you do this? I never heard of such a
+      thing; I shall write to the papers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will give you just as good a boat, sir&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As good a boat! You haven't a boat like it. How do I know you don't let
+      my boat out for hire every day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No danger of that, sir; I will give you another boat, one that you will
+      be pleased with.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My boat knocked about by some cad! He won't be back till nine o'clock
+      to-night, perhaps. I never heard of such a thing. Which is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That one with the lady in the stern&mdash;the red parasol.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must be caught up, he must. Have you got an outrigger?&rdquo; Assuring
+      Lizzie that he would be back in less than half an hour, Frank bent to his
+      work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he rows like that he will run down some one,&rdquo; muttered the boatman.
+      &ldquo;Confound him and his boat!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The outrigger shot through the water; the various craft paused, surprised
+      at such furious rowing. Lizzie watched the race, asking the boatman if
+      there was danger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Danger? No; but he'd better not say too much to that gent when he does
+      catch him up, or there'll be a row, I expect. He's going round the bend;
+      if he doesn't run into something, he'll catch them,&rdquo; said the boatman.
+      &ldquo;Would you like to look through my glass, miss? They'll be coming back
+      presently.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Angry language was indulged in, but the apologies of the boatmen saved the
+      young men the unpleasantness of blows, and, elated at his success, Frank
+      handed Lizzie into the truant boat and paddled out into the stream. When
+      he had got out of earshot and out of the notice of the boat-house he
+      rested on his oars. &ldquo;Did you see me overhaul them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you passed out of sight round the bend.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, by George! I had a good pull for it. There are a lot of red parasols
+      up higher, and I had to look out for my boat. What did they say about my
+      rowing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They said you'd catch them if you didn't run into something.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did they? I was wild; and&mdash;would you believe it?&mdash;when I did
+      catch them up the fellow began to object; he didn't want to come back, if
+      you please. He said he had hired the boat, that he did not know the boat
+      was mine&mdash;no proof. I said, 'I will give you proof,' and so I would
+      have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was afraid. I began to regret that I had come out with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What nonsense! Done the fellow good if I had punched his head. Well, it
+      has taken it out of me a bit. I had to put on a bit of a spurt to catch
+      them; they had such a start, and they were going along a pretty fair pace,
+      too. It has made me feel a bit peckish, a pull like that on an empty
+      stomach; it must be close on twelve o'clock. What do you say, are you
+      beginning to feel that it is lunch time?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not very hungry, and you forgot the luncheon basket. I ought to have
+      reminded you to get some sandwiches at the railway station.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sandwiches! I don't want sandwiches; I want something more substantial
+      than sandwiches. I'll paddle on; we aren't more than a tenminutes' paddle
+      from the 'Roebuck,' a ripping nice hotel, I can tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Couldn't we have something to eat without going to an hotel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think so. I want a bottle of fizz, and the fizz there is
+      excellent; one of the best hotels on the river; splendid gardens and
+      tennis grounds, a great room overlooking the river; the best people go
+      there; sometimes one can't get a table.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think I am well dressed enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You look charming, a cotton dress and a parasol is all one wants for the
+      river.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not ashamed of me, then; you'll take me as I am?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ashamed of you! Steer straight for that post&mdash;that's it, bravo!&rdquo;
+       Frank shipped the oars, and when he felt the girl's arm laid on his as he
+      helped her to land, it seemed to him that all the world was happiness. The
+      spirit of the river, the fields and sky, leaped to his eyes. He assisted
+      her to ascend the steps cut in the hillside. She laughed and laughed
+      again, and stopped to rest. At last they stood on the railway line. It
+      swept round another hill all overshadowed and dark with cedars.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here comes a train, let's wait. I must see it go round the curve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You should see the Bath express come along the broad gauge at the rate of
+      sixty miles an hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is not an express?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The luggage train came with an interminable rumble and jingle, and Lizzie
+      waited till the last truck passed under the branches. Then they went to an
+      hotel full of daylight and stained wood, with glimpses of barmaids far
+      away, and waiters running about; the rooms glistened with table linen; the
+      waiters carved at a sideboard covered with pies, sirloins, hams, tongues.
+      Only one table was occupied, and the waiters were lavishing all attention
+      upon it. Lady Seveley leaned back smoking a cigarette. Fletcher sat next
+      to her, alternately affecting indifference and fixing her with his eyes.
+      Harding was voluble and observant. There was about them an air of thirty
+      and the dissipations of thirty. And, not in the least ashamed of Lizzie,
+      Frank bowed to Lady Seveley; she returned his bow by a slight nod; and
+      Lizzie, very much embarrassed, nodded to the men; they smiled in return.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is that lady you saluted?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lady Seveley; the lady I told you about, who I went to the theatre with
+      the other night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fancy a lady like that smoking a cigarette!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A waiter approached with the bill of fare. &ldquo;We had better not have
+      anything hot, we shall lose the whole day. What do you say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cold sirloin of beef is excellent, sir; pigeon pie is also very good&mdash;young
+      birds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall we try the pigeon pie? Get me the wine list. Take off your hat,
+      Lizzie, do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid my hair will come down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, so much the better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With some difficulty she extracted her hat from the hairpins, and the
+      bright hair hung loose about her white plump face. Frank drank a glass of
+      champagne; he was proud of her beauty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Jove, how this does pick one up! not half bad tipple, is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They hastened through their lunch, unconsciously avoiding the too critical
+      looks of those at the far corner table; nor did they suspect, as they
+      descended the hill and got into their boat and rowed away, that they were
+      still the subject of conversation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is no doubt a very pretty girl. He seems very fond of her. I hope he
+      won't make a fool of himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think he is 'mashed.' We saw him the other night in the bar. He was
+      paying her a great deal of attention&mdash;the night we saw you at the
+      theatre.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Seveley's face slightly altered. Harding noticed the change of
+      expression, and he said: &ldquo;She is called the belle of the bar. Hers is the
+      kind of prettiness that appeals to a young man, for somehow, I cannot
+      explain, it is a thing you must feel; she epitomises as it were the beauty
+      of the English girl; she is the typical pretty English girl; all that
+      English girls have of charm, she has; and the co-ordination is an
+      irresistible force against some young men; their natures demand the
+      freshness the spontaneity, the innocence of&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of the Gaiety bar! I have never been there, but from what you tell me of
+      it, it is the last place to find innocence and freshness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That may be or not be. We find a rose blooming in very out-of-the-way
+      places; but, as a matter of fact, I made no accusation of virtue; vice
+      does not rob a youth of its spontaneity. You may rouge the cheeks of May
+      and blacken her eyes, but she is May nevertheless. I say that the lover of
+      the young girl cannot love the woman of thirty. Her charms touch him not
+      at all; but there are others who may love only the woman of thirty, and,
+      strange to say, they are only loved by the woman of thirty. The universal
+      Don Juan is a myth, and does not exist out of literature. There is the Don
+      Juan who plays havoc among the women of thirty, there is the Don Juan who
+      plays havoc among young girls, but&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you think our friend Frank Escott belongs to the latter class?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't. He is good-looking; he is to all appearance a young man that
+      any woman would like, but I don't think you'd find this to be so if it
+      were given to you to see into his life. Every man of the world must have
+      noticed that there are times when, speaking generally, every second woman
+      will run after him&mdash;ladies of rank, prostitutes, maid-servants&mdash;when
+      he may pick and choose his mistresses, and change his mind as often as he
+      pleases; there are other times when he finds himself womanless, when none
+      will look at him, when in fact without an allusion to rings, and sometimes
+      a very direct allusion is required, he will not be able to persuade a
+      chorus girl to come out to supper with him. He thinks he is getting old,
+      he looks in the glass with fear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean to say there are men who look in the glass with fear?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, after five-and-thirty the glass whispers as awful truths to
+      the man as to the woman&mdash;worse, for woman's youth is longer than
+      man's. The contrary is the received opinion, but, like all popular
+      opinions, it is wrong; a woman is frequently loved after forty, a man
+      never. I was saying that a man often thinks he is getting old because the
+      chorus girl took an early opportunity of speaking of rings, because the
+      lady of fashion begged of the old gentleman who had taken up his hat to go
+      to stay a little while longer, because the chamber-maid did not look
+      lusciously round the corner when he passed her in the passage. He looks in
+      the glass and imagines all kinds of monstrous changes in his person. His
+      fears have no foundation in fact&mdash;or should I say in the flesh? A
+      year after the duchess makes overtures, the chorus girl threatens to throw
+      up her engagement for him, and the chambermaid pesters him with
+      unnecessary questions concerning baths and towels. These facts tend to
+      show, indeed I think they prove, that love is a magnetism, which sometimes
+      we possess in almost irresistible strength, and which sometimes fades away
+      into powerless and apparent extinction.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you think that good looks have nothing to do with the faculty of
+      making oneself beloved?&rdquo; said Fletcher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The phenomenon of love has hitherto eluded our most eager investigation;
+      when we have traced each desire to its source, and classified&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We women will have ceased to take any interest in the matter. What a
+      humbug you are, Mr. Harding; one never knows when you are serious. But
+      what has all this to do with that poor boy who has gone off with his
+      barmaid?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This: he is unquestionably good-looking, but I don't think he possesses
+      at all the magnetism, the power&mdash;call it what you will&mdash;that I
+      have been speaking of. He will never influence either men or women, he
+      will never make friends; that is to say, he will never make use of his
+      friends. He will, I should think, always remain a little outside of
+      success. It will never quite come to him; he will be one of those muddled,
+      dissatisfied creatures who rail against luck and bad treatment. I cannot
+      see him really successful in anything; yes I can, though, I believe he
+      would make an excellent husband. I have spoken a great deal to him. He has
+      told me a lot about himself, and I can see that he asks and desires
+      nothing but leave to devote himself to a woman, to pander to her caprices.
+      All that violent exterior will wear off, and he will yield to and love to
+      be led by a woman. He writes a little, and he paints. I don't know if he
+      has any talent; but he never will be able to work until he is obliged to
+      work for a woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you think he will marry that barmaid?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most probably. He will struggle against it; but unless chance intervenes&mdash;she
+      may die, she may run away with some one to-morrow, for she does not care
+      for him&mdash;he will be sucked into the gulf.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is Lord Mount Rorke's heir; he will have twenty thousand a year one of
+      these days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mount Rorke will never forgive him a bad match. I know Mount Rorke,&rdquo; said
+      Lady Seveley, &ldquo;and you do, too, Mr. Fletcher.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, a little.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Unfearing prophecy and oracle launched from the windows of the hotel, the
+      young people rowed, lost to all but each other, amazed at the loveliness
+      of the river. They floated amid the bulrushes. Cries and regret when
+      Frank's oar crushed the desired blossom. Never before were lilies as
+      desirable as those that were gathered that day&mdash;that bud, it must be
+      possessed, that blown flower must not be left behind. Lizzie dipped her
+      arm to the elbow, and rejoiced in the soft flowing water. The river rose
+      up into what beautiful views and prospects. The locks, the sensation of
+      the boat sinking among the slimy piles with Frank erect holding her off
+      with the boat-hook, or the slow rising till the banks were overflowed, and
+      the wonderful wooden gates opened, disclosing a placid stream with
+      overhanging boughs and a barge. And the charming discoveries they made in
+      this water world, the moorhen's indolence, and the watchful rat swimming
+      for its hole; each bend was a new picture. How beautifully expressive of
+      the work of the field were the comfortable barns. If life is never very
+      fair, a vision of life may be fair indeed, and once the tears came to the
+      bar girl's eyes, for she, too, suddenly remembered her life of tobacco and
+      whisky; long weary hours of standing, politeness, washing glasses, and
+      listening to filthy jokes. Would there be no change? If she might live her
+      life here! She thought of the morning light, and the home occupations of
+      the morning, and then the languid and lazy afternoons in this boat, amid
+      the enchantment of these river lands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank laid by his oars, and as regardless as a shopboy of observers, he
+      took her hand and begged of her to confide in him. He thought, too, of
+      seeing her daily, hourly, of her presence in his daily life; he saw her
+      amid his painting and poetry, and this pleasant scenery. Then the vision
+      vanished like the shine upon the stream, she withdrew her hands, a shadow
+      had fallen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They passed a summer-house where three girls were sitting; one sat on the
+      edge of a table and sang the ballad of &ldquo;Biddy Malone.&rdquo; There was a house
+      so red, and so full of gables and narrow windows, that Frank said it was a
+      perfect specimen of Elizabethan architecture; and he treated Lizzie to all
+      he could pretend to know on the subject, and he condemned the owner for
+      the glaringly modern garden benches with which the swards were
+      interspersed. The sun was setting, there was lassitude in every passing
+      boat, the girls leaned upon the arms of the young men, and the woods stood
+      up tall and contemplative, as beautiful in the deep blue river as upon the
+      pale sky.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They landed at Pangbourne Woods by the wide grassy path between the reedy
+      river and the spreading beeches. There a man was boiling a kettle. He
+      spoke to them; he instructed them in the life of camping out, and he
+      invited them to tea. Lizzie went into the tent and got out the tea-things.
+      Two men came up, jolly fellows enough; and such little adventures endeared
+      and memorised the day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They climbed, oh! what a climb it was, Lizzie's ankles and courage giving
+      way alternately; but at last they reached a pathway, and they walked at
+      ease into the green solitudes of the wood. It seemed endless, so soft and
+      so still. He spoke to Lizzie, whom he now called Liz, of her past, of the
+      reasons that had led her to leave home and &ldquo;go to business.&rdquo; Her brother,
+      she said, was a painter, a celebrated bird-painter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then we should know each other, I am a painter.&rdquo; He told her of his ideas
+      and projects, of how he had been to France; he might go there again,
+      unless something happened to keep him in England. He wrote a little too,
+      in the papers, and he might do something to help her brother&mdash;a
+      paragraph in <i>Fashion</i>, he could get one in. For fear of wounding her
+      he did not ask if her brother was a decorative painter, employed by a
+      firm, or an artist who exhibited pictures. Her father had married again.
+      She did not like her stepmother, and that had determined her to go into
+      business.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had she ever been in love? Yes, she supposed she had; but it was all over
+      now. The last words sounded, and died away in a great abyss of soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Parts of the path were marked &ldquo;Dangerous.&rdquo; The earth had given way,
+      creating fearful chasms, over which trees leaned dangerously or hung out
+      fantastically by a few roots. In the dell below there stood a small green
+      painted table, and the young people leaning on the protecting railing
+      wondered at this mysterious piece of furniture. There was in them and
+      about them an illusive sense of death and the beauty of life. One slight
+      push would hurl them headlong hundreds of feet down to the painted table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The silver of the river sparkled through silence and the foliage of June,
+      and the songs of the boatmen came and went like voices in a dream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The days of youth are long, and in tender idleness the hours lingered,
+      their charm unbroken in the rattle of London; and happy with love and
+      tired with the great air of the river and its leafy scenery, Frank fell
+      asleep that night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      One of the French artists he had met in Rome wrote to him from Paris. Why
+      should he not go there? There was nothing for him to do in London; Lizzie
+      Baker had disappeared, and in the year and a half that he spent in Paris
+      learning to draw he forgot her and his friends in Southwick. Nor did he
+      remember them when he returned to London; not until one evening, strolling
+      down Regent Street, he came upon Willy Brookes suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you do, my dear Willy? I haven't seen you for&mdash;for&mdash;how
+      long?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think it must be now, let me see, I have got it down somewhere;
+      when I get home I'll look it up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hang the looking up; better come and look me up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young men laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must be nearly a year and a half.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think it must. Where are you staying? I am staying at Morley's
+      Hotel, Trafalgar Square. Come and dine with me to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy reflected. He stroked his moustache reflectively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I am afraid I can't. I have something to do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense! I don't believe you. What have you to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have some cheques to write.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That won't take you a moment. You can do that at my place.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I couldn't, I assure you. I must have my books and my own pen. I wouldn't
+      write a cheque in that way for worlds.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? We'll go to a music-hall afterwards.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very sorry, but I really couldn't&mdash;not to-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never go in for amusing yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I do; but what amuses you doesn't amuse me. I assure you I would
+      sooner stay at home, write my cheques, and enter them carefully, than go
+      to a music-hall.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank looked at Willy for a moment in mute amazement. Then he said: &ldquo;But
+      what's that you have under your arm in that brown paper parcel?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy laughed. &ldquo;A leg of mutton; I have just been to the stores.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean to say you buy legs of mutton at the stores, and carry them
+      home? Supposing you met some one, if we were to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not very likely, a foggy night like this. I have a small house in Notting
+      Hill. I take the 'bus at the Circus. I shall be very glad if you will come
+      with me; so will the missus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I forgot to ask about her, how is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well. Come and see for yourself. Come and dine with us to-morrow. I
+      can't give you one of your restaurant dinners, but if leg of mutton will
+      suit, all I can say is that I shall be very happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll come whenever you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you come to-morrow?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. We might go to the theatre afterwards.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We might. Be at my place at half-past six, that will give us plenty of
+      time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a queer fish he is,&rdquo; thought Frank, as he walked down Regent Street,
+      looking at the women. &ldquo;Can't come and dine with me because he has two or
+      three cheques to write, must have all his books out to make entries&mdash;what
+      a clerk for the Government&mdash;an ideal clerk! What a genius for red
+      tape!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy was standing on the steps of the little house, and he commented on
+      his friend's extravagances as he welcomed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might have come here for ninepence, third class. You paid that cabman
+      three shillings, and you took, I don't mind betting, half an hour longer.
+      Now, don't make a mess, do wipe your feet; we don't keep a servant, and it
+      gives the missus a lot of trouble cleaning up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Not a book nor a picture nor a single flower, and every worn carpet
+      suggested the bare necessaries of life. There was the drawing-room, kept
+      for show, never entered, barren and blank; there was the room&mdash;a
+      little more alive&mdash;where Willy smoked his pipe and kept his accounts,
+      but there the crumbs, three or four, seemed to speak of the dry,
+      bread-like days that wore themselves away; life there was too obviously
+      dry and bare, joyless and mean.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Had Frank's mind been philosophic and deep-seeing, he would have mused on
+      the admirable patience of the woman who lived here, seeing no one, making
+      entire sacrifice of her life; he would have contrasted the humbleness,
+      nay, the meanness, of this unknown house with the reception rooms of the
+      Manor House; one life wasting in darkness and poverty, another burning out
+      in light and riches; timeworn truths float on the surface of this little
+      pool of life, and so modernised are they that they appear for a moment
+      &ldquo;new and original.&rdquo; But further than a regret that there were no flowers
+      in the window, and a sense of the horrible when his eyes fell on a piece
+      of Swiss scenery, his thoughts did not wander; they soon were fixed and
+      absorbed in the consideration of the happiness that Willy had attained by
+      &ldquo;doing the right thing by the woman.&rdquo; He was hers, she was his. Dreams of
+      things marital, the endearments of husband and wife, are the essence of
+      the being of some men and women, and are to them a perennial delight.
+      Frank was such a one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had brought Cissy a doll, and the child came and sat on his knees, and
+      put her arms round his neck. He kissed the long face, hollow-eyed, and
+      stroked the beautiful gold ringlets that cloaked the shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They went to the theatre in a 'bus. Frank carried Cissy, and he called
+      indignantly to the crowd not to press him. &ldquo;Did they not see that he was
+      carrying a child?&rdquo; He did not think that his friends might recognise him,
+      nor would he have felt any shame had he caught sight of some face in the
+      stalls he knew. He would not have put Cissy aside; nor would he have
+      pretended that he was not with the pale, worn, shabbily-dressed woman by
+      his side. He was wholly filled with his friends, their interests and
+      concerns; so complete was the investment of himself that Lizzie Baker did
+      not snatch a fugitive thought from them; and it was not until he sat
+      smoking with Willy in the back parlour that he said:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder what has become of her? She was a nice girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean Lizzie Baker? You lost sight of her all of a sudden, didn't you?
+      Do you think she went off to live with some one?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't think she was a girl who would do that. By Jove, she was a
+      pretty girl! Once I took her up the river, up to Reading. We had such a
+      jolly day in the woods and on the water&mdash;amid the water-lilies and
+      bulrushes, or the shade of the cedars. I wonder you never go up the
+      river.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no time. Besides, I hate the water. I never go on the water if I
+      can help it&mdash;I am too nervous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How odd! Oh, we had a jolly day!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I never understood how it was you lost sight of her. You said in your
+      letter that she had left the bar; but she must have gone somewhere. I am
+      sure you didn't make sufficient enquiries. You are too impatient.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did all I could. One girl told me that a lot of them&mdash;Lizzie among
+      the number&mdash;had suddenly been transferred to Liverpool Street. That
+      was true, for I saw at Liverpool Street several girls I had known
+      previously at the 'Gaiety.' Those poor bar girls, how pitiful they look!
+      all over London they stand behind their bars! Breathing for hours tobacco
+      smoke, fumes of whisky and beer, listening to abominable jokes, the
+      subjects of hideous flirtations; and then the little comedy, the effort to
+      appear as virtuous young ladies&mdash;'young ladies of the bar.' It is
+      very pitiful. In such circumstances how do you expect a girl to keep
+      straight? I do not think it is the men who do the harm. There are, of
+      course, a few blackguards who crack filthy jokes over the counter, but if
+      a girl likes she needn't listen&mdash;a girl can always keep a man in his
+      place. Then if a man flirts with a girl he always loves her, likes her, if
+      you think 'like' a better word; but you must admit that in the most beery
+      flirtation there must be a certain amount of liking. There is, therefore,
+      something to save a girl. I feel sure that it is girls, not men, who lead
+      innocent girls astray. Those poor bar girls are quite unprotected; they
+      have a sitting-room into which they may not bring a friend&mdash;a man, I
+      mean. In the bedrooms there is always a lot of illicit talking and
+      drinking going on. A girl who has gone wrong herself is never content
+      until she has persuaded another girl to go wrong; a girl is so mean! I
+      feel very much on this subject. I am thinking of writing a book on the
+      subject. Did I ever tell you about the novel I intended to write?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You told me once in Brighton about a novel you intended to write. I
+      forget what it was about, but you said you were going to call it 'Her
+      Saviour.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that is another book. I was thinking of writing the story of a woman
+      who is led into vice. They get her to throw over the man who loves her; he
+      follows her, never loses sight of her until at last, determined to save
+      her, and although he knows that he is wrecking his own life, he marries
+      her. What do you think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Being pressed for an answer, Willy stroked his moustache with great
+      gravity. &ldquo;I really can't say, my dear fellow; you know I never like giving
+      opinions on questions I do not understand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The conversation came to a pause, and Willy began to whistle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Just a little flat&mdash;quarter of a note wrong there and there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you whistle it? Oh, yes, that's it! I can hear the difference! I wish
+      you had your violin. I should like to hear you play it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, with the missus overhead?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She doesn't know anything about it. How prettily <i>she</i> used to sing
+      it; a pretty tune, isn't it? Good old days they were! Do you remember when
+      you used to come to the Princess's with me? Didn't she look pretty?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never told me why you didn't marry her; I never heard the end of that
+      story.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing to tell. It's all over now. Do you remember how I used
+      to dress myself up to go to the theatre? We used to go to supper at
+      Scott's afterwards. I did not mind what I ate in those days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You hardly ever go to the theatre now, do you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hardly ever. I shouldn't have gone to-night if it had not been for you. I
+      don't know how it is, but I don't seem to enjoy myself as I used to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The men ceased talking. Presently Frank broke the silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope you are getting on all right on the Stock Exchange. You haven't
+      mentioned the subject.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that there is much to say. Times are very bad just now. I
+      don't think any one is doing much good.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you are with a very good firm. Nothing is going wrong, I hope.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think any one is making money. We have all been hard hit lately&mdash;war
+      scares. But I daresay it will all come right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never understood what you ever wanted to go into the business for. What
+      do you, with your handsome place at Southwick, and your father with his
+      thousands and thousands, want to turn yourself into a city clerk for?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see, you don't care about making money; I do&mdash;it was bred in me.
+      Besides, I am an unselfish fellow. I never think of myself; I like to
+      think of others. If I were to make a good thing out of this, I should be
+      able to leave the missus independent.&rdquo; Then, after a slight pause, Willy
+      said: &ldquo;But, by the way, I was forgetting. I got a letter this morning
+      saying that if I met you in London I was to tell you that you were to come
+      to Southwick for a ball.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What ball?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A subscription ball at Henfield&mdash;a county ball. Will you come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I don't mind. It should be rather fun. Are you going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I must go, worse luck, to chaperon my sisters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you go? Will the governor let you have the horses?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not he! We generally have a large 'bus. I am going down to-morrow by the
+      twelve o'clock train. Will that be too early for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not if I go home now and pack up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You won't like that. You had better sleep here and get up early in the
+      morning; your room is all ready.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I couldn't manage it. I never could get back to the Temple, pack up, and
+      meet you at twelve at London Bridge.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It will be rather a cold walk for you; you are too late for the train,
+      and the last 'bus, I am afraid, has gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall have a hansom. The only thing that worries me is not being able
+      to say good-bye to the missus.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She's fast asleep. She won't mind&mdash;I'll make that all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then, at twelve o'clock at London Bridge!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      VIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Sally rushed down to meet him, and she took him off for a walk in the
+      garden.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a time it is since we have seen you. What have you been doing&mdash;amusing
+      yourself a great deal, I suppose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been the whole time in Paris. I have been studying very hard. I
+      only returned home about two months ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe about the studying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been working at my painting. I worked morning and afternoon in the
+      studio from the nude. Last summer I had a delightful time. I took a little
+      place on the Seine&mdash;a little house near Bas Meudon. I had a garden; I
+      used to breakfast every morning in the garden&mdash;fresh eggs, new bread,
+      an omelette, such as only a Frenchwoman can make, a cutlet, or a piece of
+      chicken. The wine, too, so fresh and generous. I don't know how it is, but
+      Burgundy here is not the same as Burgundy on the banks of the Seine. I
+      worked all day in my garden, or down by the river. I was painting a large
+      picture. I haven't finished it yet. I must go back there in the summer to
+      finish it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why can't you finish it here? Haven't you got it here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but the Seine is not here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn't the Adour do? The river at Shoreham?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but the Thames might. My picture is really more English than French.
+      There were a lot of willow trees there, and my picture represents a girl
+      lying in a hammock, foot hanging over, showing such a pretty piece of
+      black stocking. There are two men there, they are both swinging the
+      hammock, but while one is looking at her ankle the other only sees her
+      face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally laughed coarsely and evasively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you laughing at?&rdquo; he asked, feeling a little nettled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't you think people will think it rather improper?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all. Why should they? The idea I wish to convey is that one man
+      loves her truly for herself alone, the other only loves her because she is
+      a pretty girl. I have composed some triolets for the picture, which will
+      be printed in the catalogue&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+      &ldquo;In a hammock I swing,
+        My feet hanging over;
+      'Neath Love's bright wing,
+        In a hammock I swing,
+      Loves come and they bring
+        A truth to discover,
+      In a hammock I swing,
+        My feet hanging over.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is the first stanza. There are six, and they tell the story of the
+      picture. I will copy them into your album, if you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you? That will be so nice, if you will. The only thing is, I haven't
+      an album.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Haven't you? I'll get you one. I'll send you one from London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally asked him to explain the triolets, and very loyally she strove to
+      understand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, I see a thing when I am told, but I never can understand poetry or
+      pictures until they are explained to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mollified, Frank thought of going upstairs to fetch the copy book in which
+      he wrote such things, but speaking out of an unperceived association of
+      ideas, he said: &ldquo;What a clever girl your sister is. I had once a long talk
+      with her about pictures and poetry, and I was surprised to find how well
+      she talked. She understands everything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maggie is a clever girl; I know she is far cleverer than I am; but if you
+      knew her as well as I do, you would find she did not understand all you
+      think she understands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maggie's cleverness lies in being able to pretend she understands what
+      she knows nothing about; I have often caught her out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really; but how do you get on together now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretty well! I don't think there is much love lost on either side. I
+      don't know why&mdash;I never could understand Maggie. You have no idea of
+      the reports she spreads about me all over the place&mdash;the stories she
+      tells the Grahams, the Prestons, the Wells. She told Mrs. Wells that I
+      fell in love with every young man that came to Southwick. She said awful
+      things about me. As for that story about telling cook to put father's
+      dinner back, I don't think I ever shall hear the last of it. What made
+      father so angry was because he thought it was to talk to Jimmy in the
+      slonk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You told me the last time I was here that you wanted to finish a
+      conversation with him in the slonk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I may have told you that it was to speak to him about his sister Fanny,&rdquo;
+       Sally replied evasively. &ldquo;I would not care if I never saw him again; but I
+      couldn't get on if I weren't allowed to see Fanny. Father wanted me to
+      promise never to enter the house again!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you have flirted with him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that I have; certainly not more than Maggie. Last summer she
+      was hanging round his neck every evening under the sycamores. I caught
+      them twice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see any harm in going under the sycamores. I daresay Maggie has
+      allowed him to kiss her; so have you!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I assure you I haven't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean to say a man never kissed you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't say that. I haven't kissed any one for years.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who did kiss you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't know him. I was only eighteen. He was a married man; it was
+      very wrong of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish I had been he.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you? I hate him; he was a beast for doing it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally often indulged in these half confessions; one of her aunts used to
+      call them her &ldquo;side lights.&rdquo; By their aid she succeeded in interesting
+      Frank. &ldquo;How candid she is to tell me&mdash;to confide in me!&rdquo; Sally was
+      handsome now; the evening suited her dark skin and coal black eyes, and
+      her strong figure was rich and not ungraceful in a dress of ruby velvet.
+      Should he kiss her? What would she say? He threwhis arm about her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am surprised. Certainly not!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see any harm.&rdquo; Then, with a sensation of saying something
+      foolish, he said: &ldquo;You told me you kissed a married man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That was ages ago&mdash;I was very silly. I shouldn't think of doing
+      sonow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In the silence which followed Frank wondered why he had tried to kiss her.
+      Decidedly he liked the other better.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now every evening Maggie went to the writing-table, and all knew what it
+      meant. Mr. Brookes occasionally lamented in a minor key, but without
+      having recourse to his handkerchief. Willy said nothing; his losses on the
+      Stock Exchange had been heavy; and owing to a conversation Frank had drawn
+      him into during dinner the other day, his digestion, he feared, was not
+      quite up to the mark. So on the night of the ball he only answered with an
+      occasional monosyllable the splendid young man of the embroidered
+      waistcoats who related his pleasures in a deep bass; nor did he pretend to
+      take any interest in the crude militia officer who sometimes broke the
+      silence by a declaration that he did not care for politics or poetry, that
+      he liked history better. The young ladies listened devoutly to all that
+      the young men said; Mr. Brookes carved valiantly at the head of the table
+      and appeared resigned. Bouquets were fixed in button-holes in the
+      billiard-room and the 'bus was announced. A greasy oil-lamp hung from the
+      roof. Sometimes Sally rubbed the windows and said she could tell by the
+      bushes where they were, and the embroidered waistcoat continued to drone
+      out the measure of his amusements. He would have to run up to London, then
+      he must have a shy at <i>trente et quarante</i> at Monte Carlo, then he
+      must get back for the spring meeting at Newmarket. Frank asked him if he
+      didn't think he could manage to amuse himself without talking it all out
+      beforehand. But undaunted and unchecked he wandered from Homburg to Paris,
+      and from Paris to Ross-shire, until the 'bus drew up among a small crowd
+      of people.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ball was a failure. When they entered the rooms there were scarcely
+      twenty people present. It was very cold, and the men said; &ldquo;How can the
+      women bear it with their naked shoulders?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We shall never get near this fire,&rdquo; said Sally, looking in dismay on the
+      circle of damsels who stood warming themselves, their dresses relieved
+      upon the masses of laurel with which the room was decorated; &ldquo;there is a
+      beautiful fire in one of those little rooms at the end.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, let us come and sit there; or shall we dance this waltz
+      first?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let's dance it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They danced, and Frank shuddered in his evening clothes as he danced.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you notice,&rdquo; said Sally, as they hurried to the retiring room, &ldquo;how
+      upset father seemed at dinner? I thought he was going to cry, but he bore
+      up to the end better than I expected.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So he did, but I don't see what there was particularly to upset him this
+      time. Meason is away at sea, and you have promised not to see him any
+      more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I wasn't thinking about the Measons&mdash;but haven't you heard? I
+      only heard it through a friend, but I know for a fact that Willy has lost
+      nearly all his money on the Stock Exchange.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't say so; I am so sorry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father hasn't heard it all yet; if he had he wouldn't have come down to
+      dinner. I don't fancy he knows more than that things have not been going
+      well, and that Willy has been a loser.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But how can he have lost? I thought he was junior partner in an old
+      established business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So he is. I can't tell you how the mischief was done, but I know he has
+      lost all his money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean by all his money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the money&mdash;three thousand&mdash;that father let him draw out of
+      the distillery.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is very sad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, isn't it? And particularly for a fellow who has so few amusements,
+      and only cares about making money. Just look at him now; he wanders about
+      speaking to no one. Come, let's dance this dance&mdash;are you engaged?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This news about Willy fixed the Harfield ball in Frank's thoughts, and he
+      remembered the pretty girl in white of whom he could make nothing, of the
+      raw just-brought-out girl who had bored him, of the communicative girl who
+      had amused him by her accounts of her dogs and horses; he remembered, too,
+      how he had seen Maggie disappearing down the ends of certain passages with
+      a young man whose name he did not catch, and whose face he had not
+      noticed. He had danced twice with her, only twice; she was distracted, she
+      did not look at him, her eyes wandered all over the room, she answered his
+      questions indifferently. Sally, on the contrary, had devoted herself to
+      him, and on several occasions he thought that her blunt straightforward
+      manner was better than the other's slyness. The 'bus came with its
+      draughts, its sickly lamp and its doleful jolting. Sally was too tired to
+      rub the windows and declare how far they were from home, and the dancers
+      endured their discomforts almost in silence; even the embroidered
+      waistcoat occasionally ceased to talk about Homburg; and in all the
+      extreme bitterness and greyness of a March morning they pulled up before
+      the door of the Manor House.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg of you not to make a noise. If you wake up father he will never let
+      us go to a ball again. Is there a fire in the billiard-room, Gardner?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, miss, there's a lovely fire; the decanters are on the table and the
+      kettle is on the hob.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you would all like a glass of something hot,&rdquo; said Maggie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But don't make a noise, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They stole along the passages to the billiard-room shivering, their feet
+      aching, feeling very uncomfortable indeed. The waistcoat was now
+      considering if it would be good form to come forward in the Conservative
+      interest at the next election; but every one was too tired, they could not
+      laugh, and amid a few general remarks the young ladies drank their gin and
+      water, casting sheep's eyes at the young men, and then, glad and yet loth
+      to part, all retired limping to their rooms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Breakfast was a pleasant meal&mdash;full of laughter and anecdotes of the
+      ball, and, laden with Gladstone bags, the young men departed in ones and
+      twos. Frank was going with Willy to London, and when they disappeared
+      among the laurels Sally and Maggie turned indoors, conscious of reaction,
+      and wondering what they should do with the long day that stretched before
+      them. Maggie walked upstairs; she lingered, undecided, and then went down
+      the passage to Frank's room. He had forgotten a shirt stud; on the chest
+      of drawers there was a crumpled white tie and a soiled pair of white
+      gloves. &ldquo;How careless he is!&rdquo; she thought, &ldquo;I must send him this,&rdquo; and she
+      put the stud in her pocket. She straightened out the gloves and determined
+      to send the necktie to the wash. Next time he came down she would have it
+      to give him, nice, clean, and white&mdash;she must see that it was
+      beautifully made up. Then she found his ball programme. He had danced four
+      times with Sally&mdash;only twice with her&mdash;what a fool she had been;
+      she had wasted her whole evening with that other fellow. It did make her
+      feel so angry. Then the housemaid entered and turned the bed down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a lot of washing there will be this week, Gardner.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There will indeed, miss. Three pairs of sheets, and only slept in once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, isn't it a pity? It seems absurd to send these sheets to the wash,
+      doesn't it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It do, indeed, miss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Absurd!&rdquo; said Sally, who had just come in. &ldquo;I want a pair of fresh sheets
+      for my bed. I'll have these.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No you won't&mdash;I was going to take them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to know what right you have to them more than I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You promised not to interfere with me, and you have done nothing else.
+      You did nothing at the ball but ask him for dances.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's a lie! I didn't ask him for a dance. You went off to hide; no one
+      saw anything of you all the evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean to say you didn't promise?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never promised anything; if I did I should keep my promise. I am not
+      like you. I want a pair of sheets, and I mean to have these.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They are too big for your bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally seized the sheet and strove to drag it from Maggie, who, although
+      the weaker, held her own bravely for some time. Finding her strength
+      failing her, she loosed her hold, letting her sister fall against the
+      wall, and taking up the pillow she launched it with her full force. &ldquo;If
+      you want what he slept in, you can have it all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll give it to you, my lady,&rdquo; cried the bully, making a rush round the
+      bed, but Maggie fled through the dressing-room, shutting the door behind
+      her, and locked herself into her room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      IX
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      As Willy would not pay the extra fare, Frank had to travel second class.
+      He was telling his friend of the Stock Exchange, and his losses&mdash;nearly
+      four thousand pounds. He had suspected that the firm of which he was
+      junior partner had not played fair with him. Anyhow, he was going to get
+      out of the business, having something better in view&mdash;a shop in
+      Brighton. Yes, a shop in Brighton, a greengrocer's shop. No one had any
+      idea, until they went into the calculation, of the amount of profit that
+      was made on vegetables. Lord This and Lord That, every one who had a
+      handsome place with large gardens, counted on being able to pay his
+      gardener's wages by the sale of the surplus carrots, artichokes, potatoes,
+      parsley, onions, tomatoes, especially tomatoes&mdash;every one nowadays
+      ate tomatoes. He had it all down in figures, and was perfectly astonished
+      at the sums of money that could be made. Grapes had been overdone, that
+      was true; but a profit could be made out of everything else. Flowers,
+      especially gardenias, were sold in the London market at two shillings
+      apiece. Now, there was he within five miles of a large town like Brighton;
+      the rent of a shop in the Western Road would not come to more than seventy
+      or eighty pounds a year; the missus he would put in as shopwoman, and,
+      there was no doubt of it, she would make as good a shopwoman as you could
+      find, after a little practice; the child could run on errands, so it
+      should be all profit. &ldquo;I shall have none of the expenses that other people
+      have to contend with. In the garden at the Manor House about three times
+      as much stuff is grown as required. I shall buy all the fruit, vegetables,
+      and flowers from my father at cost price, or a little over, and shall sell
+      in my shop at retail price, that is, twenty or thirty per cent more. There
+      is, therefore, no reason why the shop should not bring in from three to
+      four hundred a year. And&mdash;would you believe it?&mdash;my father, who
+      will be benefited by my scheme, if not more, quite as much as I shall be,
+      is opposed to it; he will get a fair price for a lot of things for which
+      he now gets nothing. But no. He cannot, or will not, see it. I never saw
+      any one like my father. He will not help himself and you can do nothing to
+      help him. The distillery business is going very badly. He had a bad year
+      last year. I know for a fact that he did not make five per cent on his
+      capital. Putting these things together, I should have thought that he
+      would have been glad to make a little money to retrench; but no! he
+      prefers to go on in the old way. He made money in the old way, and he
+      doesn't see why he shouldn't make money again in the old way. Odd man my
+      father is, isn't he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It appeared to Frank that Mr. Brookes had managed to help himself very
+      liberally indeed to all the good things in life; but with his false,
+      facile, Celtic nature, he had no difficulty in re-adjusting his ideas and
+      adopting a view of Mr. Brookes more in harmony with Willy's. He was, as
+      usual, enthusiastic about his friends, and was effervescing with love and
+      goodwill. He saw nothing of their faults&mdash;they were the best and
+      truest people he had ever known, and he could not love them too much.
+      Indeed he was angry, and regretted the limitations that nature has set on
+      the human heart, and would if he could have lost himself in one immense
+      and eternal love of the Brookeses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he bade Willy good-bye at London Bridge, and wished him well with his
+      shop, these sentiments ceased to be active forces in him, and they lay
+      latent in his life of restaurants and bar rooms until the summer returned,
+      and he received an invitation from the Manor House to come down for a
+      garden party at Mrs. Berkins's. When he opened the letter he basked in
+      thoughts of them&mdash;of Maggie and her fascinating subtleties, of
+      Sally's blunt speech and sturdy good looks, of Willy, and all the quiet
+      talks they would have together. He counted the tunnels, and, striving to
+      recall the landscape, guessed extravagantly the number of miles that
+      separated him from them. He walked up the drive with a beating heart,
+      looking for the girls between the laurel bushes. He found them, and their
+      habits which endeared them to him, unchanged; and to slip back into the
+      old ways without experiencing the slightest difficulty or jar was like
+      waking from a dream and entering again on a pleasant reality. There was
+      the excellent dinner and the usual complaints about the Southdown Road,
+      the cigars in the billiard-room, conversation about pictures and
+      investments, gin and water, and then a long yarn with Willy in his
+      bedroom. Life moved at the Manor House without any spring creaking,
+      without jolt or jar, and it was this beautiful regularity that made Frank
+      feel so healthily and so unexpectedly happy. He loved the desolation of
+      Ireland. This was the stronger sense, but there was another sense, a half
+      stifled sense, that found an echo in these southern downs interwoven with
+      suburban life&mdash;in other words, a faint resurrection of the original
+      English mind in him. He enjoyed and he grew akin to this Saxon prosperity;
+      he learned to recognise it as manifested in the various prospects of the
+      weald and the wold, and he loved this medley of contradictory aspects&mdash;the
+      spires of the village churches, the porches of the villas, the rich
+      farmhouses and their elm trees, the orchards jammed between masses of
+      chalk, the shepherds seen against the sky of the Downs. It is true that he
+      felt that this country was alien to him, but he was not individually
+      conscious that his love of suburban Sussex was a morbid affection, opposed
+      to the normal and indissoluble bonds of inherited aspirations and
+      prejudices, and the forms and colours that had filled his eyes in
+      childhood. Consciousness in Frank Escott was always slow, and always so
+      governed and coloured by the sentiment of the moment that his
+      comprehension of things were always deformed or incomplete. In his mind
+      the phenomenon of life was ever in nebulae, and though very often one
+      thought would define itself, no group of thoughts, or part of a group,
+      ever became clear, so there was no abiding principle, nothing that he
+      might know and steer by. He was, of course, aware that the Brookes were
+      not equal to him in rank, but he did not know, or, rather, he would not
+      know, that they were vulgar; nor did he think that Mount Rorke might marry
+      again, if he were to marry Maggie or Sally. All that was really alive and
+      distinct in him was love of them; and this love thrived in a sensation of
+      class which he would not acknowledge, even to himself, had any existence.
+      The glass-houses, and swards, and laurels had a meaning and fascination
+      for him that he could not account for or describe, and he found these
+      feelings, which were mainly class feelings of an unusual kind, not only in
+      the aspect of the country but in the accent and speech of his friends, in
+      the expression of their eyes and very hands. The English servants pleased
+      him, and he strove to detect qualities in the carriage and horses, and he
+      compared them to their advantage with Mount Rorke's. He loved to wrap the
+      rug about the young ladies' knees, and they seemed to him quite perfect
+      and delightful as they lay back in their carriage, driving beneath a sky
+      full of blue, and through the changing views of the Downs, all distinct
+      with light and shade. Sally and Maggie made much of him, covered him up,
+      and addressed to him pleasant speeches. His eyes and ears were open and
+      eager for new impressions, and his heart panted with readiness to admire
+      and praise all he saw. He was ready to think that he had never seen
+      anything so lovely as the laurels and the numerous glass-houses; and he
+      wondered why he had ever thought so little of Berkins, and he listened
+      with interest to that gentleman's explanation of the superiority of his
+      possessions over everybody else's possessions. He even allowed himself to
+      be persuaded that there was no pheasant shooting in the kingdom&mdash;for
+      its size&mdash;equal to that in the little wood. Sally, who did not
+      attempt to conceal her dislike of her brother-in-law, whispered: &ldquo;That's
+      the way to bring them down,&rdquo; and Frank was obliged to laugh. Then she and
+      Maggie disappeared as if the earth had swallowed them for several hours.
+      The Grenadier Guards played on the lawn, and Frank was introduced to
+      ladies of all ages and sizes; and as these bored him, he began to see that
+      the place was vulgar and the people shoddy, and he wondered what Mount
+      Rorke would say if he were to come suddenly across him. Grace was the
+      subject of much concern, and obviously <i>enceinte,</i> she passed through
+      the different groups. She had introduced Frank as Lord Mount Rorke's son,
+      then as his nephew, then as his heir, and, fearing she might succumb to
+      the temptation of introducing him as Mount Rorke himself, Frank escaped
+      from her, and joined a party that Berkins was personally conducting
+      through the grounds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stables had been built by So-and-so on the most approved principles.
+      There were no stables like them in Sussex&mdash;the fittings of the
+      harness-room alone had cost him three hundred. The horses he had bought at
+      the Duke's sale, the Duke would not have thought of parting with them had
+      he known how they would turn out. He had driven them along the Brighton
+      road at the rate of fifteen miles an hour; he would back them to do
+      fifteen miles in the hour. There was not a pair of horses in England equal
+      to them. That was Mrs. Berkins's riding horse&mdash;was it possible to
+      imagine a more perfect cob? He could get a hundred for him any day, he did
+      not know of anything like him. &ldquo;Did any of you gentleman ever see anything
+      like him?&rdquo; They went to the kennels. A brace of Irish setters were
+      declared to be the finest dogs that Ireland had ever produced, they had
+      taken two prizes, one in Dublin and another in Brighton&mdash;and the
+      little fox terrier was the gamest dog in Sussex. She would go into any
+      hole after a fox, and never leave him till she brought him out. You
+      couldn't find her equal. Then the glass-houses were perfect. They
+      contained all the latest improvements, and all these were fully explained.
+      &ldquo;Berkins is excelling himself to-day,&rdquo; thought Frank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Presently they came upon a basket of peaches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These peaches were, of course, grown under glass, but I think I am right
+      in saying, Jackson, that they were produced without artificial heat.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, quite right, sir. It couldn't be done nowhere else, sir, but
+      all the sun in Sussex seems to come down here&mdash;a regular little sun
+      trap, I think that's what you called it the other day, sir, when you were
+      speaking to me about them there peaches.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I did. If you move nearer the sea you get fogs and cold winds,
+      further inland you lose the sun, but just here the climate is equal to the
+      south of Europe! I ask you to look at these peaches, it seems impossible&mdash;does
+      it not?&mdash;to have peaches like these at the end of May, and without
+      any heat, merely glass.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems to me quite impossible,&rdquo; declared a little fat man with flaxen
+      hair. &ldquo;I am devoted to peach-growing, and I confess I am quite at a loss.
+      Gardener, did you say that those peaches were grown entirely without
+      artificial heat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The gardener pretended not to hear, and tried to slip away, but the little
+      man, who had been taken on his hobby, was not to be baulked, and he
+      pursued the wretched horticulturist.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean to say that these peaches ripened without any artificial heat,
+      any?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have no idea what a sun we get here, sir. I have never seen anything
+      like it. In my last situation, when I was living with Lord &mdash;&mdash;,
+      we couldn't get our fruit forward, use whatever heat he might, and
+      Houghton is not more than fifty miles from here&mdash;the difference of
+      climate is positively wonderful.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jackson had reckoned that Mr. Berkins would move on, and that the
+      inquisitive little man would find himself obliged to follow, but chance
+      was against him, for Berkins, with his guests around him, stood listening
+      to the discussion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean to say that these peaches were grown without heat. I wouldn't
+      mind giving you five-and-twenty pounds for the recipe for doing it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must take a small place down here, sir, and then you will be able to
+      do it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This raised a laugh, but the little man was not to be beaten, and he said:
+      &ldquo;I should like to see some of those peaches of yours on the trees. You
+      haven't plucked them all; let me see them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, Jackson, show us the trees. Some will not believe without seeing;
+      let us see the peaches on the trees.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Jackson appeared to be a little disconcerted; he murmured excuses, and
+      strove to escape. Driven to bay he brought them into a glass-house where
+      there were hot water-pipes, and when his tormentor pointed triumphantly to
+      the pipes he attempted a faint explanation&mdash;he had meant to say that
+      heat had only been used within the last three weeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you see, Berkins,&rdquo; exclaimed little flaxen-haired fatty, &ldquo;your south
+      of Europe is no better than my south of Europe, or anybody else's south of
+      Europe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Jackson, you have told me many deliberate falsehoods about these peaches.
+      I keep no one in my employment whose word cannot be depended upon. You
+      take your warning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Falsehoods! What do you want a man to do, if you will have everything
+      better than anybody else's?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Berkins turned suddenly on his heel, he drew himself up to his full
+      height, and stood speechless with indignation. Never, not even on the most
+      important Board meetings, did his friends wait to hear him speak with more
+      anxiety; but at that moment a crash of flower pots was heard, and Sally
+      and a young man were discovered hiding in the potting shed; and to make
+      matters worse, in the very next house they visited, they suddenly came
+      upon Maggie sitting with another young man in strangely compromising
+      circumstances. Explanations were attempted, and some stupid remarks were
+      made. Berkins was seriously annoyed, and he took the first opportunity of
+      taking Mr. Brookes's arm and leading him away to a quiet path. Frank saw
+      the men pass through the laurels, and ten minutes after he saw them
+      return. Evidently Berkins had read Mr. Brookes an exhaustive lecture on
+      the conduct of his daughters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Mr. Brookes, now Mr. Brookes, I must beg of you&mdash;calm yourself.
+      What would my guests think if they found you in tears? What would they
+      think I had been saying to reduce you to such a condition? It is
+      veryunfortunate that Sally and Maggie should act as they do, particularly
+      at my place; but really you must not give way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Since the death of their poor mother I am all alone. My position is a
+      very trying one.&rdquo; Then, with a sudden burst of laughter, &ldquo;However, I
+      suppose it will be all the same a hundred years hence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      X
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The girls walked to the station with Escott. A fleecy evening, with the
+      clouds growing pale towards the sea, the sun like fire in the elms, and
+      the woods showing upon a purple tinge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How delightful!&rdquo; exclaimed Frank. &ldquo;How charming this is&mdash;this old
+      English green, the horse pond at one end, the various houses, the inn, the
+      grocery business, the linen drying in that yard, the smith, and the
+      wheelwright. I don't like that modern Queen Anne school-house, and I wish
+      I could remove the dead level of the embankment and see the sea. The green
+      is better from this side with the view of the Downs&mdash;those lines
+      waving against the sky, where the gorse grows and the sheep feed, and
+      inclining to the road all the fields pale green and deep green. But what
+      game are those men playing&mdash;what game do you call that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bat and trap.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have passed the green twenty times before, and I never really saw it
+      till now. It is charming&mdash;so thoroughly English. I should like to
+      live here for a month&mdash;for two months. How nice it would be to
+      breakfast in the morning looking out on the green, to see the cocks and
+      hens and all the children and all this English life! How different from
+      Pump Court! I am sick of Pump Court&mdash;dirt and smoke, a horrid
+      servant, stale eggs. I suppose you can always get fresh eggs and new bread
+      here? I would give anything to spend a month on the green.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you can!&rdquo; cried Sally. &ldquo;I wish you would, and you could come and
+      play tennis with us every afternoon. Mrs. Heald has some rooms to let; why
+      it was only last week I heard that she hadn't let her rooms this season,
+      and was most anxious to do so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's no use my coming here until I begin to write my novel. I am
+      painting now, and I must see if I can get my picture finished for one of
+      the autumn exhibitions.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew you would find some excuse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I assure you, but I can't do anything without a studio, and I'm not
+      likely to find a studio on Southwick Green.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't suppose Mrs. Heald has a room large enough for a studio,&rdquo; said
+      Maggie; &ldquo;but I don't see why you shouldn't find a place where you can
+      paint.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where? Not in that eighteenth-century house where the two old ladies are
+      standing! Supposing I were to go and ask them if they would let me have
+      their drawing-room to paint in! That is the only house on the green, all
+      the rest are cottages.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose you are not very particular where you paint,&rdquo; said Maggie
+      reflectively. &ldquo;You don't mind appearances, I suppose? I wonder if you
+      could manage to fit up a farm building.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is the famous barn where Charles the First hid himself, I don't
+      suppose the authorities would allow me to turn that into a studio.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, probably not; but I think you might find a house that would do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What nonsense, Maggie,&rdquo; said Sally, who began to grow jealous of her
+      sister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why is it nonsense? I see no reason why Frank shouldn't come to some
+      arrangement with the smith, and turn his house into a studio.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which is the smith's house? I'll tell you in a moment if it could be
+      turned into a studio.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That house standing quite by itself in the corner of the green.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That tall narrow house with the bit of broken wall and the elder bushes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I daresay I could rig up a very nice studio out of that place, indeed it
+      looks quite picturesque amid its elder bushes. There is the stile, and
+      there is the cornfield. But I couldn't live there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you would live at Mrs. Heald's, and you could walk over every morning
+      to the studio.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I could do that. I prefer to live with my work. There is nothing
+      like walking from the breakfast table across the room to the easel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course you can find fault with everything; nothing is perfect.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There goes the train!&rdquo; cried Sally. &ldquo;No use in running now, you've missed
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How very provoking; the next isn't till half-past seven&mdash;just an
+      hour to wait.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; said Maggie, &ldquo;if you have missed the train we may as well go at
+      once and ask Mrs. Heald if she has let her rooms.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked towards a block of cottages&mdash;at one end the &ldquo;Cricketer's
+      Arms,&rdquo; at the other the grocery business; and the cottage that joined the
+      grocery business was remarkable for a bit of green paling and wooden
+      balcony, now covered with Virginia creeper. Frank thought at once of
+      new-laid eggs, and the sunlight glancing through a great mass of greenery,
+      and he resolved if a sacrifice were necessary to live at Southwick, he
+      would put his picture aside and begin his novel. The people in the house
+      pleased him, and he ran on in his way thinking how English and trustworthy
+      they seemed, liking the green parrot that rubbed its head affectionately
+      against the grey ringlets of a very ladylike old person; and Mrs. Heald,
+      brisk as a bee, notwithstanding her lame leg, who led the way up the
+      ladder-like cottage staircase.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How nice and clean everything is; books and engravings along the
+      passages. How unlike Ireland!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the sitting-room was full of horsehair sofas and chairs. These
+      displeased Frank, but some handsome china&mdash;an entire tea service in
+      Crown Derby&mdash;reconciled him to the room. In the bedroom they found a
+      huge four-poster of old time, with a lengthy bolster and imposing pillows,
+      and they were shown into another and a similar room. One looked out on the
+      green, the other on the fields that lay between the green and the Manor
+      House.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If that elm were cut down you could see my window,&rdquo; said Sally.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Which room do you like the best?&rdquo; said Maggie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is hard to say. The other room looks on the green, but here there is a
+      nice large wardrobe, and I don't see how I can get on without a wardrobe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you like the other room best, sir, I can turn out the chest of
+      drawers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, that would be very nice if you can manage it, the room will do very
+      well. I can have a bath every morning?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir; there will be no difficulty about that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maggie had taken off her hat and was settling her hair before the glass.
+      Sally opened the wardrobe, revealing various petticoats and skirts, but
+      she thought of it as full of Frank's light overcoats, the scarves he wore
+      round his throat when he went out in evening clothes, the patent leather
+      shoes in the corner. Suddenly the conversation dropped, and after a pause
+      Frank said: &ldquo;I think these rooms suit me very well, but I can do nothing;
+      it is impossible for me to say if I can take them until I find out if
+      there is any place in the immediate neighbourhood that I could convert
+      into a studio. Do you know of any such place?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I do not, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Escott was thinking of seeing the smith about his house. I wonder if
+      Town would let it to Mr. Escott for a consideration,&rdquo; said Maggie.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, I should have to get leave to make what alterations I
+      pleased.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't suppose the house belongs to Town, sir; I don't think he is more
+      than a weekly tenant.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If that's the case, we must see the landlord. Do you know who is the
+      landlord?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't say I do, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mrs. Heald, I will let you know in a day or two if I can take your
+      rooms&mdash;you can give me a day or two?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, but I should like to know as soon as possible; several people
+      have been asking after my rooms.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll let you know in a day or two.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If Town is only a weekly tenant, you'll be able to get his house by
+      paying a little more for it,&rdquo; said Maggie, as they walked down the green
+      towards the smith's forge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That would be hardly fair; I should like to act squarely by the smith.
+      What is his name?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Town was cutting out the hoof of a shaggy grey cart horse when his
+      visitors entered the cindery blackness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Town, this gentleman would like to speak to you,&rdquo; said Maggie, raising
+      her voice above the wheezy bellows. He threw the hoof out of his apron,
+      and, drawing his blackened arm across his forehead, he came forward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Town, I am anxious to find a place on the green that I could convert into
+      a studio; I think your house would suit my purpose very well. Do you think
+      we could come to some arrangement? Of course I would give you a reasonable
+      compensation.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I really hardly know, sir; I dunno that I hardly understand. You
+      want my house to turn into a&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A studio&mdash;a place where I can paint pictures.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see how I can do without my 'ouse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I will compensate you&mdash;make it worth your while.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see it is so near my work. Was I to go and live at Ada Terrace, I
+      should, you see, be out of the way. If people want a job done they always
+      knows where to find me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but if I compensate you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Seeing that Frank was exciting the smith with too wild hopes of wealth,
+      Sally thought fit to interpose. &ldquo;Mr. Escott would require permission to
+      make any alterations in the building he thought proper&mdash;you couldn't
+      give him permission; he would in any case have to see your landlord. Who
+      is your landlord?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't see how I can give up my 'ouse to be turned into a painting
+      place; it wouldn't suit me at all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I make you sufficient compensation&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Again the smith was reduced to silence. He scratched his head, and Frank
+      watched the sparks fly, and heard the rhythmical sledge. &ldquo;I wish he
+      wouldn't talk so much about compensation,&rdquo; thought Sally. &ldquo;I don't know
+      what the man won't be asking if Frank doesn't shut up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think we shall be able to come to an understanding? I want to
+      know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you see, sir, my wife is delicate, and I'm that afraid she wouldn't
+      like to give up her 'ome. But I'll speak to 'er if you like to-night,
+      sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Escott will have to see your landlord; he will have to arrange with
+      him about the alterations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There will be no difficulty about the alterations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very probably; but you are only a weekly tenant. It is a question your
+      landlord must decide. If he agrees to allow Mr. Escott to make the
+      alterations, Mr. Escott will no doubt compensate you for disturbance.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all very well to talk about compensation. How do I know what your
+      compensation will be? How do I know you will make it worth my while? I
+      don't want no compensation. I want my 'ouse. Cheek I calls it, to come
+      down here wanting to muck me out of my house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, sir, we want no impertinence. I shall do exactly as I please in the
+      matter. Your landlord is the person I should have spoken to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Spoken to! Who are you, I should like to know, coming round here
+      interfering in my business?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All Frank's discussions ended in angry words, and he never came to terms
+      with any one without threatening blows. Town returned to the forge; Frank
+      and the young ladies made their way across the green. At the corner of
+      Southdown Road they found the General, the schoolmaster, and a retired
+      farmer ardently gossiping; Mrs. Horlock, prim in her black gown and poke
+      bonnet, waited with admirable patience, and Angel, the blind pug, in
+      horrible corpulence, waddled and sniffed the grass. The story of Town's
+      impertinence was told. The General was shocked&mdash;it was surprising.
+      What are we coming to? The retired farmer said that Town was a
+      hot-tempered man, but not a bad sort when you knew how to take him, and
+      all, except Mrs. Horlock, agreed that the landlord was the person who
+      should be consulted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really don't see why you should turn the poor man out of his house if
+      he doesn't want to go. How would you like some one to come and turn you
+      out of your house?&rdquo; she said, turning to her husband.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The General laughed. &ldquo;My dear Lucy, whatever you say must be right. So you
+      are coming to live at Southwick. Very glad to hear it. You know where to
+      find us, the gate's always open; lunch at half-past one, dinner at eight&mdash;old
+      Indians, you know; come in when you like. Pretty place I have here,
+      everything I want&mdash;stables and horses, and (the General looked to see
+      if Lucy was out of hearing) plenty of dogs, you know&mdash;a few too many;
+      but my wife, you know&mdash;&rdquo; The rest was lost in a burst of good-natured
+      laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They bade the Horlocks good-night and walked up the Southdown Road,
+      looking with its line of trees along the pavement like a little mock
+      boulevard. Frank was particularly severe in his remarks on the trim privet
+      hedges and the little bronze sphinxes standing before the portico of
+      yellow glass; he declared that a man must be born to put up such things,
+      and he clearly thought this sneer a very happy one, for he repeated it,
+      fearing that Sally had not understood. The grocer who had placed a
+      bas-relief of himself over his door was greatly wondered at, and Sally
+      told an amusing anecdote regarding the invitations he sent out for the
+      first dinner party. The conversation turned on the Measons. Jack's ship
+      had gone to China, and he was not expected back much before Christmas.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's very sad, Sally. How will you be able to live through so many
+      months?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't care for him. I don't care if I never saw him again&mdash;it was
+      Fanny who was my friend. Some nice people have come to live in that corner
+      house&mdash;a young man, who is learning farming. Mr. Berkins insists on
+      father not allowing us to visit any one in the Southdown Road, and Mr.
+      Berkins can turn father round his finger, he is so much richer. I'm not
+      allowed to see Fanny at the Manor House. As for Jack, I daresay you won't
+      believe me, but I shouldn't care if I never saw him again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maggie shrugged her shoulders. The gesture exasperated Sally, and she
+      turned on her sister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You needn't shrug your shoulders at me, miss; I never flirted with him;
+      you did, and then you set father against me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, for goodness' sake don't quarrel; what does it matter? The idea of
+      Berkins telling your father whom he should visit; and the idea of your
+      father permitting it merely because he makes two or three thousand a year
+      more! He surely doesn't object to your visiting Mrs. Horlock?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, he couldn't do that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still engaged in discussion, they entered the gates of the Manor House,
+      and Mr. Brookes was told that Frank would stay at Southwick a few days
+      longer, so that he might arrange about a studio. The news was not at first
+      wholly pleasing to the old gentleman, but he remembered the anecdotes he
+      should hear concerning his favourite painters, and was consoled. The
+      evening passed away in the security and calm of habit, sweetened by the
+      intimacy of familiar thoughts and customs. There was the usual expensive
+      dinner; Mr. Brookes lit a cigar, handed the box to Frank, and said,
+      puffing lustily, &ldquo;That's a good picture, paid a lot of money for it, too
+      much money, mustn't do it again. You were a pupil of Bouguereau; great
+      painter; you have seen him paint; you would know his touch amid a
+      thousand, I suppose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      About ten o'clock steps in the passage, then the squeak-squeak of the
+      cork; then the goggle-guggle of the water, and the young ladies came in
+      with their grog. They kissed their father and brother, shook hands with
+      Frank, and went to bed. Further anecdotes concerning the painters were
+      told; further condemnations of the Southdown Road were pronounced; the
+      house was locked up; Mr. Brookes retired, and the young men continued the
+      conversation in their rooms. Willy told Frank all about his shop, Frank
+      told Willy all about his studio, and they went to sleep delighted with
+      each other and at peace with the world.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes had gone when the young men came down next morning. Willy was
+      down first, and when Frank finished breakfast he found him busy in the
+      garden making purchases for his shop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How much am I to charge for these peaches, sir?&rdquo; said the gardener.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I intend to pay the market price for everything. I don't know what
+      peaches are selling at in Covent Garden. I will look it up and let you
+      know. I am taking two dozen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, there are only very few more ripe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a pity I can't have them all,&rdquo; Willy whispered to Frank. &ldquo;There is
+      a tremendous profit to be made on peaches. Now, I want some new potatoes.
+      How many can you let me have?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Really, sir, we are very short; you see it is so early in the year. We
+      have only a few, none too many for the house.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must have some, if it is only a sample. How much are potatoes selling
+      at now?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, sir, I hardly know. Last year we bought some off Hooper at&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These are the things I have to contend with. How am I to keep my books
+      right if I don't know exactly the price things are selling for? I may be
+      paying more for his potatoes than they are selling in Brighton for. My
+      father gets more out of the shop than any one, and he isn't satisfied.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The woes of this suburban Lear amused Frank. No sooner was the arch enemy
+      Meason on the high seas, and the Southdown Road had quieted down, than
+      another demon had risen up against him; his garden was ravished of its
+      fairest fruits and vegetables, his carriages were turned into market
+      carts, and all, as he said, for the sake of practising an elaborate system
+      of book-keeping. Maggie, who had finished her house-keeping, came into the
+      garden, and she went with Frank down the town in search of the landlord of
+      the tall house amid the elder bushes. For a small increase in the rent,
+      and a promise to undo all alterations before leaving, putting the house
+      back in the same arrangement of rooms as it at present stood, the landlord
+      agreed to allow Frank to do his will with the place. For twenty pounds the
+      smith was silenced, and Frank explained to the local builder that the
+      house was to be thrown into one room, and the ceilings of the upper rooms
+      were to be removed. He had thought of having the rafters painted, but at
+      the builder's suggestion he decided to have them lined with fresh timber
+      and stained. This would look very handsome. A large window, some six feet
+      by eight, would have to be put in the north wall. Of course, all the
+      doors, windows, etc., would have to be taken away and replaced by new. He
+      would have a book-case in stained wood. An estimate was drawn up. It came
+      to a good deal more than he had intended to lay out, and Frank dreaded the
+      expense. But he must live somewhere, he was sick of Pump Court, and his
+      friends and this little south-coast village were now ardent in his mind;
+      why not live here? True that the country was in no way beautiful and
+      offered no temptations to a landscape painter, but he seldom painted
+      landscapes, and if he wanted a bit of woodland he would find it over the
+      Downs. Then there was the sea, and that was always interesting. Perhaps
+      Mount Rorke would let him have the money. The old fellow had never refused
+      him an extra hundred when he asked for it. Yes, he would risk it. So the
+      order was given, and all the delays and broken promises of a builder began
+      to be experienced and endured. Frank, who now lodged at Mrs. Heald's, hung
+      around the workmen, counting each brick, and commenting on every piece of
+      woodwork. He at once took to grumbling at their slowness, and he soon
+      declared that all hopes of his being able to finish his picture for the
+      Academy were at an end, and he paraded his misfortunes at the Manor House,
+      at Mrs. Horlock's, and, indeed, at all the houses he went to for tea or
+      tennis parties. The painters especially annoyed him, and he even went so
+      far as to threaten them with an action.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Long before they had finished his pictures had arrived from London, and
+      several pieces of furniture from Brighton. The ideas of this young man
+      were now in full revolt against oriental draperies and things from Japan.
+      The furniture was, therefore, to consist of large cane sofas with pillows
+      covered with a yellow chintz pattern which pleased him much. The selection
+      of a carpet was a matter of great moment. He received with scornful smiles
+      his upholsterer's suggestions of Persian rugs. Turkey, Smyrna, and
+      Axminster were proposed and rejected, he even thought of an Aubusson&mdash;no
+      one knew anything about Aubusson at Southwick, and the vivid blues and
+      yellows and symmetrical design would have at least the merit of disturbing
+      if not of wrecking the artistic opinions of his friends. He discovered one
+      of these carpets in a back street in Brighton, and with some cleaning and
+      mending he felt sure it could be made to look quite well. But no, if you
+      have an Aubusson carpet you must have Louis XIV. furniture in the room,
+      and Louis XIV. in Southwick would be too absurd. Clearly the Aubusson
+      scheme must be abandoned&mdash;he would have a rich grey carpet, soft and
+      woolly, and there should be a round table covered with a dark blue cloth,
+      set off with a yellow margin, and the chairs drawn about the table should
+      be covered with dark blue and painted yellow. A grand piano was
+      indispensable in Frank's surroundings, both for its appearance in the
+      studio and the relaxation it afforded in the various interludes. Several
+      journeys to London were made before the lamps to be used were determined
+      on (a modern design was essential), and the brass fittings to hang candles
+      from the rafters required still more delicate and cautious consideration;
+      at last it was decided to have none.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this while Willy was busy with his shop. He had taken a whole house,
+      and at first he had thought of letting a room, but for many reasons this
+      scheme had to be abandoned. He did not know who might take the room. &ldquo;Who
+      knows&mdash;perhaps one of my own friends, a member of my club, for
+      instance?&rdquo; Then it would give the missus a lot of bother and worry, and
+      she had all she could do in looking after the shop. To make a thing a
+      success you must think of nothing else. It was a pity, but it wasn't to be
+      thought of. Otherwise he seemed fairly well satisfied. There was a back
+      door leading on to a back lane, in turn leading on to a back street, so
+      with his latch-key he could pop in and out unobserved. All his books and
+      papers in the drawing-room, the ledger, the day-book, the cash-book all
+      ready, all to hand, so that after dinner, when he had smoked his pipe, he
+      could go to work. Frank alone was in the secret. And how the young men
+      enjoyed going to Brighton together. Frank worried Willy, who ran up and
+      down stairs collecting his brown paper parcels, calling upon him to make
+      haste. They set forth, Willy firm and methodical, his shoulders set well
+      back: Frank loose and swaggering, over-dressed. How to get to the shop was
+      a matter of anxious consideration. Willy was fearful of detection, and all
+      sorts of stratagems were resorted to. Sometimes they would walk down to
+      the Old Steyne, and suddenly double and get back through a medley of
+      obscure streets, or else they would publicly walk up and down the King's
+      Road, and when they thought no one was looking, hurry up one of the
+      by-streets, and so gain their haven, the lane. Once they were in the lane
+      they slackened speed, all danger was then over, and they laughed
+      consumedly at their escapes, and delighted in telling each other how
+      So-and-so and his daughter had been successfully avoided. Willy always had
+      his latch-key ready; in a moment they were inside, and Frank would rush
+      upstairs and throw himself into the armchair, crying: &ldquo;Here we are!&rdquo; One
+      day they were at the window, when, to their amazement, the Manor House
+      carriage pulled up before the shop, and they had only just time to dodge
+      behind the curtain and escape Sally's eyes. Never before had the carriage
+      arrived later than five o'clock, and now it was nearly six. What could be
+      the meaning of this? Begging of Frank not to move, Willy went out on the
+      landing and listened to his sisters talking to his wife. The girls&mdash;who
+      were, of course, ignorant of their relationship to the shop-woman&mdash;liked
+      Mrs. Brookes very much, and were fond of a chat with her; and, looking
+      through the blinds, Frank saw the footman in all the splendour of six feet
+      and grey livery carrying a small pot of flowers worth sixpence from the
+      carriage to the shop.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On ordinary days the shop was shut at eight, but when Willy and Frank
+      dined there it was closed an hour earlier. Frank enjoyed his evenings
+      there; he enjoyed it all&mdash;the homeliness and the quiet. He enjoyed
+      seeing Willy nurse the missus after dinner, and he found no difficulty in
+      pretending a certain interest in the book-keeping, and an admiration for
+      the lines of figures all carefully formed, and the beautifully ruled
+      lines. Cissy adored him. He took her on his knee, and she leaned her
+      hollow cheek against his handsome face. She would have probably rushed to
+      death to serve him. His height, his brightness, his rings, his spotted
+      neckties&mdash;all seemed so perfect, so beautiful, to her; and when he
+      brought his fiddle she would sit and look at him, her little hands clasped
+      with an intensity of love that was strange and pitiful. Swaying from side
+      to side, he ran on from tune to tune&mdash;waltzes, reminiscences from
+      operas, fragments of overtures, delightful snatches from Schubert; and
+      when he introduced Willy to one tune&mdash;a tune in which all his <i>might-have-been</i>
+      was bound&mdash;the dry man seemed to grow drier: perhaps it brought a
+      glow of pleasure to his heart: but be this as it may, he only sat and
+      puffed more emphatically at his pipe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      For Frank this pleasant English village was now a happy <i>fete</i> of
+      summer joys and occupations. Oh! the hill prospects and the shady gardens
+      around the coasts. And when he went inland he would return by choice
+      across the Downs, and in the patriarchal valleys where nothing is heard
+      but the bell-wether he would stand in the great, lonely darkness, and see
+      the lights of Brighton brighten the sky above the ridges, and climbing up
+      the ridges, he gazed on the vague sea, and the long string of coast towns
+      were like a golden necklace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His days went like dreams. The morning hours&mdash;bachelor hours&mdash;were
+      full of intimacy and joy. The joy of waking alone with a strange and
+      secret self that, like a shy bird, is all the day chased out of sight and
+      hearing, but is with you when you awake in sweet health in the morning;
+      that of waking alone with the sunlight in the curtains, that of being
+      alone with your body as well as your mind, and no presence to jar the
+      communion. There is a dear privacy in morning hours of single life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But although the desire to exchange these for the joys of wedlock was
+      germinating in Frank, although it was inherent in him to understand the
+      husband's happiness when he puts his arm round a dear wife's neck and
+      draws her to him with marital kisses and affectionate words, he was
+      certainly conscious that each hour seemed to bring its special pleasure.
+      His room was airy and pleasant, the window full of the colour of the green
+      and its aspects; the little water-course with its brick bridge, the trees
+      along the embankment, the rigging of the ships in the harbour, the linen
+      drying in the yard. Of these views Frank seemed never to grow tired; he
+      noted them as he brushed his brown curls over his forehead, and when he
+      sat at breakfast eating fresh eggs and marmalade. After breakfast he lay
+      on the sofa, and read society papers and smoked cigarettes. He could not
+      drag himself to the studio. &ldquo;A man should live at his studio, impossible
+      to settle down to work, if he doesn't,&rdquo; he thought, and he watched Mrs.
+      Horlock coming up the green accompanied by the chemist's wife and the
+      pugs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dear old lady, how nice she looks in her black dress and poke bonnet! And
+      there goes the General&mdash;he is giving all his coppers to the
+      children.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank took up a volume of Browning, turned over the leaves, and laid the
+      book down to watch a drove of horses that had suddenly been turned out on
+      the green to feed, and he laughed to see the children throwing stones,
+      making them gallop frantically. Very often the thunder of the hoofs
+      alarmed Triss, and he stood on his hind legs and barked. &ldquo;What is it, old
+      dog? What is it? Like to have a go at the horses? Shall we go out and play
+      with the pugs?&rdquo; At the mention of going out Triss cocked his ears and
+      barked. &ldquo;I suppose I must make a move. I wonder what the time is&mdash;half-past
+      eleven. Good Heavens! The post will be here at twelve. I had better wait
+      for it.&rdquo; On waking his first thoughts were for his letters, and almost
+      before he had finished reading them he had begun to think of what the
+      mid-day delivery would bring him. To see the boy pass and so have ocular
+      proof that there was nothing for him seemed to lighten his disappointment.
+      He saw him waste his time with the doctor's horse and then with the
+      maid-servant, and if the old ladies were not about he would stand talking
+      many minutes with their servants. Then he visited the short line of
+      cottages, passed sometimes round the yard or open space at the back of the
+      wheelwright's, where the linen hung on poles between the elms, and once
+      Frank saw the provoking boy hide behind the cricketers' tent and remain
+      watching the match. For half an hour the question&mdash;letters or no
+      letters&mdash;hung in suspense, and when the loiterer came, stopping every
+      minute to see where the ball was hit to, the joy, heightened by
+      anticipation, was great in receiving a packet of newspapers and various
+      correspondence. Frank often went to meet him. True, he might have nothing
+      for him, he might be going to deliver at the grocer's shop, or at the
+      &ldquo;Cricketer's Arms.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Any letters for me, to-day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, two postcards and a newspaper.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was disappointing not to get a letter&mdash;postcards meant nothing. He
+      only exchanged a few words with Mrs. Horlock, and passed on to the
+      General, who, at the corner of the Southdown Road where the gossipers met,
+      was discussing a local candidature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you are off to paint. You must come and see the model my wife has done
+      of a horse I once had. I mustn't say much about him, though&mdash;it is a
+      sore subject. After winning over a thousand with him I lost it all, and
+      five hundred with it. She never would paint his picture for me; but
+      yesterday was my birthday&mdash;I suppose she thought she would give me a
+      treat, she began to model him from memory&mdash;wonderful likeness&mdash;she
+      knows every bone and sinew in a horse&mdash;clever woman, never seen any
+      one like her. Come in to-night, dinner always at eight&mdash;old Indians.
+      She'll show it to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks, not to-night, General; to-morrow night, if you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well, to-morrow night at eight. What a terrible dog that is of
+      yours! You need fear nobody while you have him with you. You must ask my
+      wife to paint him for you, but I forgot, I beg your pardon&mdash;you are a
+      painter; you should paint him yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't paint animals. I shall be very glad if Mrs. Horlock will paint
+      him; there is some beautiful drawing about him&mdash;those fore-legs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Probably attracted by the dog, Mrs. Horlock came walking towards them.
+      Triss went sidling after Rose, and when Mrs. Horlock called him, he
+      growled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I beg of you, Mrs. Horlock, do not touch him; he isn't safe, I assure
+      you. He once bit a man's nose off who was trying to train him to do
+      something or other. I will not be answerable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All nonsense! No dog ever bit me, they know I love them. 'Come to me,
+      sir.' No dog ever bit me but once, and he was a poor mongrel that had been
+      hunted by a lot of horrid men. I was dressing to go to a ball at the
+      Government House, and I heard him under my bed. He had taken refuge under
+      my bed, poor thing. He was frightened to death; he couldn't see me, and he
+      bit me through the wrist. I went to the ball all the same. A dog died of
+      hydrophobia in my arms. He died like a child, licking my hands and face.
+      'Come here, sir. Come to me.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you wouldn't do it, Mrs. Horlock. I am afraid to call him, for
+      fear he should think I intended to set him at you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Triss showed a terrible set of teeth, and his nose seemed to curl back
+      almost into his eyes; but stooping down Mrs. Horlock extended her hands to
+      him. She looked so like herself in the poke bonnet and the black dress,
+      and the kind, intelligent eyes softened the dog's humour, and he came to
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see&mdash;what did I tell you? Dogs know so well those that love
+      them. No animal ever did bite me except that poor frightened creature, and
+      he didn't mean it. We kept him for ten years after that, and how he did
+      love me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wonderful woman, my wife; she can do what she likes with animals. I was
+      telling Mr. Escott that he must come in and see the model you are making
+      of Snap-dragon.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only an amateur, I never had a lesson in my life. Mr. Escott would think
+      nothing of it, I am sure. But I wish he'd come in and dine with us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He promised to come to-morrow, Lucy; but stay, isn't that the day we are
+      going to have the Bath people in to dine?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind&mdash;Mr. Escott won't mind, I'm sure. They are very nice,
+      good people, indeed. I'm sure you'll think so. They are all snobs about
+      this place. I never heard of such snobbery in my life. Mrs. So-and-so&mdash;over
+      there&mdash;once said to me, 'I believe you know all the people who live
+      in those little houses.' She said she wouldn't allow her children even to
+      walk across the green. Did you ever hear of such snobbery?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, Mrs. Horlock, as I have always said, your position is made; you
+      have your friends who will like you and value you just the same no matter
+      whom you may walk about the green with. Every Viceroy that ever went to
+      India called on you; your position is made.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are a lot of snobs about here; but I mustn't keep Angel waiting, he
+      is never well unless he gets a little exercise. We shall see you then at
+      eight.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The cleverest woman I ever knew. I don't say the cleverest that you ever
+      knew. But we have got too many animals; I often wish I could get rid of
+      the brutes,&rdquo; and the General laughed as he stumped along. &ldquo;Five horses
+      when two would be sufficient&mdash;five horses eating their heads off;
+      then the Circassian goats that the neighbours complain of, and the parrots
+      and the squirrels. There are a few too many, there's no doubt. But once an
+      animal comes into the place she will cherish it for ever. I try to keep
+      Prince out of the drawing-room as much as possible, she says she can't
+      smell him. If that little beast Angel would only die!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why don't you poison him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would if I dared; but just think, if my wife heard of it she would go
+      out of her mind. I don't think she'd have me in the house.&rdquo; The General
+      laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We all have our troubles, General. Good-bye, I'm off to work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lucky man to have something to do. If I had a little something&mdash;just
+      a little something to bring me out, I should be perfectly happy. Then at
+      eight. Good-bye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Half-past twelve! Half the day gone, I really must make an effort to get
+      to the studio earlier. It is, as I said, useless to hope to get through
+      work unless you wake up where your work is. A man doesn't get a chance. I
+      wonder if I could build a bedroom out at the back? I have let Mount Rorke
+      in for three hundred extra this year; he would turn rusty if I spent any
+      more. I must give him a rest; besides, I don't want to have the workmen in
+      again. I wish I could get ivy to grow over those walls, they do look
+      precious shabby.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He looked at the tall dilapidated walls showing above the dark green of
+      the elder bushes, and lingered, for it was a soft blue summer's day with
+      just a breeze stirring, and the corn waved yellow, and the dim expanses of
+      the Downs extended in faint lines and dim tints.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When he entered his studio his colour scheme pleased him, and looking at
+      the rafters he thought that the stained wood was handsome and appropriate.
+      The grey carpet was soft under foot, and the lustre and form of a grand
+      piano suggested Chopin and Schubert. His studio seemed to him a symbol of
+      his own refinement, and being moved, perhaps, by the silence and the quiet
+      of the north light, he took his violin, and turning from time to time to
+      look on himself on the glass or his picture on the easel, he played
+      Stradella's &ldquo;Chanson d'Eglise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then seeing, or rather thinking he saw, how he could improve his
+      landscape, he took up his palette, and in a desultory and uncertain
+      fashion he painted till five o'clock. &ldquo;It is no use,&rdquo; he thought, &ldquo;I can
+      do nothing with it until I get a model, but the devil of it is, there are
+      no models in Brighton&mdash;at least, I don't know where to go and look
+      for one, and it is no use asking Sally or Maggie to sit. They'll sit for
+      five minutes, and then say they have some work to do at home, and must be
+      off. You must have a professional model, a girl you pay a shilling an hour&mdash;I
+      might sling the hammock from there to here&mdash;I wonder where I could
+      get a girl who would do. I can't have a girl off the street; she must be
+      more or less respectable&mdash;I wonder whom I can get. That girl in the
+      bar-room at the station would do.&rdquo; Putting his palette away with a lazy
+      gesture, he thought for a few minutes of Lizzie Baker. What had become of
+      her? And why had she disappeared?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was nearly a year and a half ago now. What a jolly day up the river!
+      All the beauty of the flowing water, the crowning woods and whispering
+      rushes filled his mind, and yielding to the moment's emotion he took some
+      verses out of an escritoire and altered several lines. Another abandoning
+      the search for a suitable rhyme he turned to a portrait of Maggie which he
+      had begun a few days before. She stood in a pose that was habitual to her&mdash;her
+      hands linked behind her, the head leaned on one side, the little black
+      eyes&mdash;but not ugly eyes&mdash;fixed in a sweet subtle and enquiring
+      look. The thinness, and, indeed, the angularity of her figure was almost
+      powerfully indicated with broad lines of paint and charcoal. It was
+      Frank's most successful effort. He knew this, and he said to himself, &ldquo;Not
+      half bad, very like her, quite the character; the drawing is right, if I
+      could only go on with it; if I could only model the face. I see very well
+      where I shall get into trouble&mdash;that shadow about the neck, the
+      jawbone, the cheekbone, and then all that rich colour about the eyes.&rdquo;
+       Then he thought he would walk over to the Manor House, and he must hasten,
+      for it was half-past five, and tea was always ready in the verandah.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He stayed for dinner; he talked to Mr. Brookes about painters in the
+      billiard-room; he strayed through the shadows and the perfumes of leaves
+      and flowers through the gentle moonlight with his arms about the girls.
+      And as they walked it seemed to Frank that his life was so mingled with
+      theirs that he could not think of one sister apart from the other. The
+      dusk gathered; the sky became a decoration in blue and gold; the scent of
+      the sea came over the embankment, filling the garden. Day followed day,
+      without anything happening to stay or check the gentle tide of their
+      mutual affections; neither was jealous of her sister, for their desires
+      were set upon others. Frank was but an ideal, a repose, a pious aspiration
+      which joined their hands and hearts leaving them free of any stress of
+      passion, Maggie claiming him a little more than Sally, and Sally yielding
+      her claim to her without knowing that she was yielding it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is only natures that are never gross&mdash;calm and tepid livers&mdash;that
+      are really incapable of ideality, of real and adequate aspiration; nature
+      works by flux and reflux; and if we waive the rough temper and the coarse
+      edge of passion due to youth, it will not be impossible to conceive
+      another picture of these girls. Sally, good-hearted and true, full of
+      sturdy, homely sense, willing to take care of a man's money, and make him
+      a straightforward wife; Maggie, gentle and sinuating&mdash;always a little
+      false, but always attractive, the enchantment of a man's home. Frank,
+      notwithstanding his genuine admiration of all that was young and sweet and
+      pure, was of poor and separating fibre, and it is clear that it will take
+      all the strength of society to support him and save him from sinking of
+      his own weight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day, as he was coming through the station from the post-office, he met
+      Maggie with a young man. He was introduced, and they returned to the Manor
+      House to play tennis. Instead of playing they talked, and the set fell
+      through, and after tea they disappeared, and Sally proposed not to disturb
+      them, for they had gone, she said, to sit in the shade at the end of the
+      garden. The marked mystery of the new flirtation piqued Frank's curiosity,
+      and, striving to veil his question, he asked Sally who the young man was,
+      and if her father knew he was coming to the Manor House.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He! Don't you know? That's the fellow we often speak of&mdash;the only
+      fellow Maggie ever really cared for. He has just come back from America.
+      He is going to begin business in London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A sickening pain rose from his heart to his eyes, and he longed to place
+      his hand on his heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So that is the man she is engaged to,&rdquo; he said, after a pause. &ldquo;I
+      remember, now, you have spoken to me of him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is not exactly engaged to him. Father would never hear of it; he
+      hasn't a cent, and I believe he lost the little he had in America&mdash;now
+      mind you must take care not to let out to father that he has been here;
+      there would be the deuce of a row, and I promised Maggie not to tell any
+      one; she has been nice to me lately, and I want to play fair with her if
+      she will play fair with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I won't tell any one; I won't even let Maggie know that I know it was
+      he.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It doesn't matter about Maggie, she will tell you herself, no doubt; she
+      doesn't mind your knowing. What do you think of him? Isn't he
+      nice-looking?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I confess I should never have thought of calling him handsome&mdash;would
+      you? And do you think he is quite a gentleman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He seems to me to be all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right, yes, but isn't there a something? You can see he is in trade&mdash;all
+      the trading people look alike, at least so I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But we are in trade, and I think he is quite as good as we are. But you
+      seem quite put out. Would you like to take his place? I didn't know you
+      were in love with Maggie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that I am in love with her. I like her very much; but, love
+      or no love, I don't think it is right for her to walk round the garden
+      alone with that fellow the whole afternoon. I don't think it is very
+      polite to me, and she knows her father does not like&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you mustn't say anything to father; mind you have promised me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I shan't say anything about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank longed to get up from the tea-table and rush after Maggie. His heart
+      ached to see her. He trembled lest she loved the man she was with, and
+      rejoiced and took courage from the knowledge that she had not formally
+      pledged herself to him. Frank was the romantic husband, not the lover; he
+      found neither charm nor excitement in change; his heart demanded one
+      single, avowed, and binding faith. He could take a woman who had sinned to
+      his heart, and admit her to all his trust, for stolen kisses and illicit
+      love were unfelt and imperfectly understood by him, and were considered as
+      shadows and thin fancies, and not as facts full of mental consequences. He
+      answered Sally in monosyllables, and on the first opportunity he pleaded
+      letters to write, and withdrew. The gladness he felt that Maggie was truly
+      not engaged to this fellow quickened and dominated his regret that the
+      girls were inclined to behave so indiscreetly. The moment Mr. Brookes
+      turned his back it began&mdash;that perpetual going and coming of men&mdash;it
+      really wasn't right. Sally was a coarser nature, but Maggie! He might
+      speak to Mr. Brookes; no, that wouldn't do. He might speak to Willy; but
+      Willy didn't care&mdash;he was absorbed in his wife and his speculations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His little dinner at Mrs. Heald's passed in irritation and discomfort, and
+      after dinner he stood at the window, his brain full of Maggie&mdash;her
+      graces, her fascinating cunning, and all her picturesqueness. He knew
+      nothing yet of his passion, nor did he think he could not bear to lose her
+      until he went from the stuffy cottage towards his studio thinking of his
+      portrait of her. He wanted to muse on the little eyes as he had rendered
+      them. He saw the faults in the drawing hardly at all, and his pain
+      softened and almost ceased when he took up the violin, but when he put it
+      down the flow of subjective emotion ceased, and he stared on the concrete
+      and realistic image of his thought&mdash;Maggie passing through the shade
+      with the young stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Who was he? By whose authority was he there? Was he one of those men whose
+      only pleasure is to tempt girls, to corrupt them? Had he thought of this
+      before his duty would have been to interpose; and he saw himself striding
+      down the garden and telling Maggie that he insisted on her coming back to
+      the verandah to her sister. It did not matter if he had no right, he was
+      prepared to answer for his conduct to her father and brother. Did that man
+      look like one of those men who are always sitting with girls in far
+      corners out of sight? Ah, if he were sure that he was one of those
+      dastardly ruffians he would seek him out, force him to speak his
+      intentions. If a girl's father and brother will not look after her, a
+      friend must say &ldquo;I will.&rdquo; Yes, he would have to thrash him, kill him, if
+      it were necessary. She might hate him for it at first, but in the end she
+      would recognise him as her saviour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was too late now, the man was in Brighton. To-morrow? Elated with what
+      he deemed &ldquo;duty,&rdquo; with what he deemed &ldquo;for the sake of the girl,&rdquo; he
+      strode about, thinking of &ldquo;the ruffian&rdquo;; no thought came to him of how
+      much of the sin, if sin there was, had originated in Maggie; he saw her
+      merely as a poor little thing, led like a lamb. Following the idea of
+      saving came the idea of possession. When she clung to the husband she
+      would tremble at the danger she had escaped. Their home, their table,
+      their fireside; protection from evil, now all wild winds might rage&mdash;they
+      would be safe. The vision was constitutional and characteristic of his
+      soul. He was out of thought of all but himself, his dream evolved in pure
+      idea, removed from and independent of all limitations&mdash;out of concern
+      of the world's favour&mdash;Mount Rorke, Mr. Brookes, or even the girl's
+      grace. As this temper passed, as reality again interposed, and as he saw
+      the garden with Maggie leaving him for another, he viewed her conduct
+      suddenly in relation to himself. What did she mean by treating him so, and
+      for whom? One day he would be Lord Mount Rorke! The Brookes knew nobody.
+      He had only met a lot of cads at their house; they did not know any one
+      but cads. The Brookes were cads! The father was a vulgar old City man, who
+      talked about money and bought ridiculous pictures. The girls, too, were
+      vulgar and coarse. God only knew how many lovers they had not had. Willy
+      was the best of the bunch, but he was a fool. His miserliness and his
+      vegetable shop&mdash;hateful! The whole place was hateful; he wished he
+      had never come there; since he had been there he had never been treated
+      even as a gentleman. The Brookes had treated him shamefully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The skeleton of Frank's soul is easy to trace in this mental crisis&mdash;his
+      quixotism, his wish to sally forth and save women, his yearning for a
+      pretty little wife, who would sit on his knee and kiss him, saying, &ldquo;Poor
+      old boy, you are tired now;&rdquo; therefore an emotional and distorted
+      apprehension of things, a tendency to think himself a wronged and
+      persecuted person, and under much bravado and swagger the cringe that is
+      so inveterate in the Celt.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Next morning he thought of her lightly, without bitterness and almost
+      without desire; but after breakfast his heart began to ache again. He
+      strove to read, he went to his studio, he went to Brighton; but he saw
+      Maggie in all things. She was with him&mdash;a sort of vague pain that
+      kept him strangely conscious of life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Once convinced he was a lover he became the man with a mission; his heart
+      swelled with mysterious promptings, and felt the spur of duty. No longer
+      was delay admissible. A day, an hour might involve the loss of all. Should
+      he go round to the Manor House and tell Maggie of the message he had
+      received to love her and save her? She would now be watering her flowers
+      in the green-houses. But that other fellow might be there&mdash;he had
+      heard something about an appointment. No, he had better write. If he wrote
+      at once, absolutely at once, he would be in time for the six o'clock
+      delivery. Snatching a sheet of paper he wrote:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAREST MAGGIE,&mdash;I have loved you a long while, I remember many
+      things that make me think that I have always loved you; but to-day I have
+      learnt that you are the one great and absorbing influence&mdash;that
+      without you my life would be stupid and meaningless, whereas with you it
+      shall be a joy, an achievement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have frittered away much time; my efforts in painting and poetry have
+      been lacking in strength and persistency. I have vacillated and wandered,
+      and I did not know why; but now I know why&mdash;because you were not by
+      me to encourage me, to help me by your presence and beauty. I will not
+      speak of the position I offer you&mdash;I know it is unworthy of you. I
+      would like to give you a throne; but, alas, I can but promise you a
+      coronet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His hand stopped and he raised his eyes from the paper. He recollected the
+      day he saw her a child, the day they went blackberrying over the hills. He
+      saw her again, she was older and prettier, and she wore a tailor-cut cloth
+      dress. How pretty she looked that day, and also when she wore that summer
+      dress, those blue ribbons. All the colour, innocence, and mirth of his
+      childhood came upon him sweetly, like an odour that passes and recalls. He
+      sighed, and he murmured, &ldquo;She is mine by right, all this could not have
+      been if she were not for me.&rdquo; Ah! how he longed to sit with her, even at
+      her feet, and tell her how his life would be but worship of her. He
+      regretted that he was not poor, for to unite himself more closely to her
+      he would have liked to win her clothes and food by his labour; and hearing
+      himself speaking of love and seeing her as a maiden with the May time
+      about her, his dreams drifted until the ticking of the clock forced him to
+      remember that he could tell her nothing now of all his romance, so with
+      pain and despair at heart he wrote,
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never before did I so ardently feel the necessity of seeing you, of
+      sharing my soul with you, and yet now is the moment when I say, I must
+      end. But let this end be the beginning of our life of love, devotion, and
+      trust. I will come to-night to see you; I will not go into the
+      billiard-room, but will walk straight to the drawing-room. Do be there.
+      Dearest Maggie, I am yours and yours only.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He seized his hat and rushed to the post. He was in time, and now that the
+      step had been taken, he walked back looking more than usually handsome and
+      tall, pleased to see the children run out of school and roll on the grass,
+      pleased to linger with the General.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where are you going, sir?&rdquo; said the old man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm going to my studio to play the fiddle. Will you come? I'll give you a
+      glass of sherry, and&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never touch anything, except at meals. I used to when I was as young as
+      you, but not now. But I will go and hear a little music.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Glad to have a companion, Frank took out the violin, and he played all the
+      melodies he knew; and his mind ran chiefly on Schubert and Gounod. The
+      &ldquo;Soir,&rdquo; the &ldquo;Printemps,&rdquo; and &ldquo;La Chanson du Printemps&rdquo; carried his soul
+      away, nor could he forbear to sing when he came to the phrase, &ldquo;La Neige
+      des Pommiers.&rdquo; When musical emotion ran dry he tried painting, but with
+      poor result. During dinner he grew fevered and eager to see Maggie, and
+      mad to tell her that he loved her, and could love none but her. At
+      half-past eight the torture of suspense was more than he could endure, and
+      he decided that he would go to the Manor House. He passed round the block
+      of cottages, and got into the path that between the palings led through
+      the meadows. It was a soft summer evening&mdash;moonlight and sunset
+      played in gentle antagonism, and in a garden hat he saw Maggie coming
+      towards him. He noticed the pink shawl about her shoulders, and the
+      thought struck him, &ldquo;had she come to ask him to elope.&rdquo; She stopped, and
+      she hesitated as if she were going to turn back again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I am so sorry,&rdquo; she said, speaking with difficulty, &ldquo;but I wanted you
+      to get this before nine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, darling,&rdquo; he answered, smiling; &ldquo;you can tell me all about it&mdash;it
+      will be sweeter to hear you talk. Which way shall we go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I really don't think I can now; father doesn't know I am out. This letter
+      will&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no; I cannot bear to part with you. How pretty you look in that hat!
+      Come.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, Frank, I cannot now, and you had better leave me. I cannot walk with
+      you to-night. Read this letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then am I&mdash;is it really so?&rdquo; said Frank, growing suddenly pale. &ldquo;You
+      will not have me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must read this letter, it will tell you all. I am truly sorry, but I
+      did not know you cared for me&mdash;at least not like that. I don't think
+      I could, I really don't. But I don't know what I am saying. How
+      unfortunate it was meeting you. I but thought to run round and leave the
+      letter, it would have explained all better than I could. We have known you
+      so long. You will forgive me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stood with the letter in her hand. He snatched it a little
+      theatrically and tore it open. She watched, striving to read the effect of
+      her words in his face. They dealt in regrets. There was an exasperating
+      allusion to engaged affections. There was a long and neatly-worded
+      conclusion suggesting friendship. She had taken a great deal of trouble
+      with the composition, and was very fearful as to the result. She felt she
+      could not marry him&mdash;at least, not just at present, she didn't know
+      why. Altogether Frank's proposal had puzzled and distressed her. She felt
+      she must see her flirtation out with Charlie, but at the same time she did
+      not want to utterly lose Frank, or worse still, perhaps, to hand him over
+      to Sally. She was determined that Sally should not be Lady Mount Rorke,
+      and she thrilled a little when she saw he would not give her up easily,
+      and her heart sank when she thought of the difficulty of continuing her
+      intrigue without prejudicing her future. If Frank would only leave
+      Southwick for a little while.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is this all? The meaning is clear enough; it means that you love the man
+      I saw yesterday at the Manor House. But he shall not have you; I will save
+      you from him. Listen to me&mdash;I swear he shall not have you; I will
+      strive to outwit him by every means in my power. If I don't get you, none
+      shall. I will shoot the man rather than he should get you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O Frank, you wouldn't commit murder!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would, for you; but it will not be necessary. I can challenge him to
+      fight a duel, and if he is cowardly enough to refuse, I will horsewhip him
+      before your face, and I don't suppose you will marry him after that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maggie struggled with feelings of laughter, fear, and delight; delight
+      overpowered laughter, for Frank was young and handsome, and full of what
+      he said. It was quite romantic to be talked to like that. She would like
+      to see the men threaten each other. But then&mdash;the scandal&mdash;father
+      might never get over it. And if he married again? Speaking slowly, and in
+      an undertone so as not to betray herself, she said: &ldquo;O Frank, I'm sure you
+      would not do anything that would injure me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My darling, I love you better than the whole world. My whole life, if you
+      will, shall be spent in striving to make you happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very good.&rdquo; She took his hand and squeezed it; he returned the
+      pressure with rapturous look and motion. She drew from him a little, for
+      there were some people coming towards them, and she said: &ldquo;Take care.&rdquo;
+       When the fisher folk had passed, she looked at him stealthily. She had
+      always liked him in that necktie, and those cloth shoes were perfect. Had
+      she never known Charlie, or if she had not gone so far with him!&mdash;There
+      was something in Frank that was very nice&mdash;she could like the two.
+      What a pity the two were not one! &ldquo;If he were always as nice as he is now,
+      and not lecture me!&rdquo; Then she remembered she must return home. &ldquo;I must
+      really go home; I can't go any farther&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, I cannot leave you. I must see and hear you now. If you knew what
+      I have endured waiting for you, you would not be so cruel. Come and let us
+      sit on the beach.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I couldn't. I must go back; father will miss me. Besides, what have we to
+      say? If I were only free and could tell you that I loved you, it would be
+      different.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Free! then you regret; if a woman wills it she can always free herself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it is harder than you think for a girl to get out of an engagement
+      she has entered into, even if no absolute promise has been given.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean? If you have entered into no formal engagement you are
+      surely free.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. Do you think so? I am afraid men think that a promise may
+      be broken after marriage as well as before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are wrong. Women who are jealous, who are old, tell girls that men
+      are always unfaithful, but I'm sure that if I loved a girl I could never
+      think of another. Do you really think I could think of any girl but you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. I wonder if all you say is true.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think me different from other men?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but I cannot go on the beach; some other evening I will walk there
+      with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, now, now&mdash;I want to tell you how and when I began to love. Do
+      you remember when I used to spend part of my holidays at the Manor House
+      when I was only so high, and you were all in short frocks? Come, there is
+      much I want to say to you; I cannot part with you. Come, and let us sit on
+      the shingle. Oh, the beautiful evening!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She could love him a little when she looked at him, but when he talked she
+      lost interest in him. She had allowed him to take her hand, he had bent
+      towards her, and she had let him kiss her; and then they talked of love&mdash;she
+      of its bitterness and disappointments; he of its aspirations, and
+      gradually their souls approached like shadows in the twilight, paused for
+      a few vague moments, seemed as if lost in dreams.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall never forget this night! O my love, tell me one day you will be
+      mine!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot promise, you must not ask me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are meant for each other. It was not blind fate that cast us together.
+      Does no voice tell you this? I hear it in my heart.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The abandonment, the mystery of the gathering dusk, touched Maggie's
+      fancy. They were alone in the twilight, and it was full of the romance of
+      a rising tide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never did I know such happiness; I am supremely happy, alone with you
+      beneath this sky, listening to the vague, wild voice of the sea. It would
+      be bitter sweet to die in such a triumphant hour. Supposing wewere to lie
+      here and allow the sea to take us away.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't want to die. I want to live and enjoy my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The answer fell a little chillingly on Frank's rapture. Then after a
+      pause, Maggie said: &ldquo;I think I have read of that somewhere&mdash;in anovel&mdash;lovers
+      caught by the tide.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I daresay you have. I was thinking of two lovers who were so
+      overcome with happiness that they decided that they would not trust
+      themselves again to the waves and storms of life, but would let the calm,
+      slow tide of death take them away with all their happiness unassoiled.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maggie did not answer. The double fear had come upon her&mdash;first, that
+      the tide might rise higher than usual and cut off their retreat. Secondly,
+      that Frank&mdash;he was a poet&mdash;might insist on remaining there and
+      being drowned. Getting up, she said: &ldquo;I do not know what father will say
+      when I get home, really it is quite dark. Come, Frank.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Death is better than a life of abomination&mdash;loss of innocence, and
+      of delight in simple things. I ask you,&rdquo; he said, stopping her suddenly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, no doubt it is so; but I want to get home. Do go on, Frank.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will save you from a life of abomination&mdash;in other words I will
+      save you from him; he shall not get you. I have sworn it; you did notknow
+      that when you were lying down on the beach&mdash;you had ceased speaking,
+      and in the silence my life seemed stirred to its very essence; and I knew
+      that I must struggle against him, and conquer. I want to know this: Have
+      you ever thought of what your life would be with him? Have you ever
+      thought what he is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you don't know him, Frank. You have never spoken to him. I am sure
+      you misjudge him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think I cannot see what he is? He is one of those men whose one
+      ambition is to make themselves friendly in a house where there are women
+      to wheedle. If the wife is young he will strive to wheedle her, and though
+      he may not succeed he must degrade her. Or, if she have daughters, he will
+      never cease to appeal to, to work upon, to excite latent feelings which,
+      had it not been for him, would never have been developed into base and
+      abnormal desire. I know what the foul-minded beast is. Such men as he
+      ought to be killed; we don't want them in our society. I want to save you,
+      I want to give you a noble, a pure life, full of the charms of a husband's
+      influence, a home where there would be love of natural things. You are
+      capable of all this, Maggie, your nature is a pure one, but your life is
+      unwholesome and devoid of purity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Frank, how can you speak so? You have no right to say such things about
+      us. I am sure you have always been well treated&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not understand me, I will explain what I mean. Your life is rich
+      and luxurious, but you are not happy, no one is happy in idleness; above
+      all no woman is happy without love. A woman's mission in life is to love,
+      she must have her home, her husband, and her children. These are the
+      things that make a woman happy; and these are the things I want to give
+      you&mdash;that I will give you; for, listen to me, I swear you shall not
+      have that adventurer. He would degrade you with pleasure at first, and
+      afterwards with neglect. You are too good for this, Maggie&mdash;it must
+      not be, it shall not be. As I said before, death would be better.&rdquo; They
+      stood in front of the canal locks and Maggie looked with a beating heart
+      on the deep water that a ray from a crescent moon faintly indicated. &ldquo;A
+      woman is helpless until she finds her lord, he who shall save, the saviour
+      who shall bring her home safe to the fold. He exists! and all are in
+      danger till they find him. Some miss him&mdash;they wander into misery and
+      ruin; those that find him are led to happiness and content. I am yours. I
+      would tell you how I became convinced that I am the one appointed by God
+      to lead you to Him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought you didn't believe in God.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not as we have been taught to understand Him but I believe in a presiding
+      power&mdash;call it luck, fate, or destiny that&mdash;that exists and
+      wills; that is to say, watches over&mdash;rules out that this man is for
+      that woman, and ordains that he shall protect her from danger, shall save
+      her from those that seek her destruction. Much has happened to prove that
+      I was intended for you. We have known each other since we were children.
+      Do you not remember when I kissed you in the verandah as I was going to
+      school? I was the first man who kissed you; you were the first woman who
+      kissed me&mdash;have you never felt that we were for each other? Nor can I
+      forget that when I thought we had drifted for ever apart, that I was
+      brought back. Do you think it was accident&mdash;blind chance? I don't.
+      Now I see this man striving to win you, and whether it be for your money,
+      whether it be for yourself, or for both, it is my duty to say: No, this
+      must not be.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you are mistaken about Charlie. I admit that a man is often a
+      better judge than a girl; and as for you, Frank, I am sure I am very fond
+      of you. It is very good of you to take such interest in me&mdash;but we
+      must get home. I don't know what father will think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, before you go a step further you must promise me not to see that man
+      again. I cannot tell you how, but I know no good can come of it. He is one
+      of those creatures who cannot love, and only care for women for the
+      excitement they afford. I know what sort of brute he is. It is more
+      depraving to walk alone with him, than to be the mistress of a man who
+      loved you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is leaving Brighton in a few days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So much the better for all of us. But you must promise me. I would sooner
+      see you lying drowned in that lock than his wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maggie trembled. It was ridiculous to think of such a thing. Surely he did
+      not mean to drown her if she refused to promise. Charlie was going to
+      London in a few days; he would be away for three or four months. Heaven
+      only knows what would happen in that time. She didn't see what right Frank
+      had to bully her&mdash;to extort promises from her by night on the edge of
+      a dangerous lock. But a promise wasn't much, and a promise given in such
+      circumstances was not a promise at all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you are really in earnest&mdash;if you think it is for my good, I'll
+      promise you not to see him again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O Maggie, if you only knew what a load of trouble you have taken off my
+      mind! Thank you&mdash;give me your hand, and let me thank you. I know I am
+      right. And now, tell me, can you love me? Will you marry me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will promise nothing more to-night; we shall see how you behave
+      yourself,&rdquo; the girl replied winningly. &ldquo;And now go on, sir, we have been
+      here quite long enough.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He crossed the gate mechanically, she followed eagerly, and when she
+      reached the other side her heart beat with pride at her pretty triumph.
+      Now I'll twit him, she thought, as they ascended the shore and entered the
+      town.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder why you think Charlie so wicked; I think if you knew him you
+      would change your opinion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very thankful indeed that I do not know him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The conversation dropped, but a moment after he gave her the chance she
+      wanted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mind you have promised me not to see him again. I trust you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But suppose he calls and if I should be in the drawing-room, I cannot
+      walk out of the room without speaking to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you had better write and say you do not wish to see him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I couldn't do that; we have known him a long time, and father has always
+      said that we must be rude to no one. Besides, what reason could I give?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You need not give a reason. But let that pass. I can't see why you should
+      meet; you can surely tell your servant to say 'Not at home,' when he
+      calls.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I might be in the garden&mdash;Sally would not allow it. If John said
+      'Not at home,' she would run down and let him in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see you are raising difficulties&mdash;I see you do not intend to keep
+      your promise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have been quite rude enough for one evening. You have kept me out on
+      the beach by force till nearly ten o'clock at night, and you said that my
+      life at the Manor House was not a pure one&mdash;I don't know what you
+      mean. No man ever spoke to me like that before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You misunderstood me. If you knew how I loved you, you would not twit me
+      with my own words. Heaven knows I would sooner go back and drown myself in
+      the lock than do anything or say anything that would offend you. Remember
+      also that I asked you to be my wife.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are not the first. I daresay it may appear strange to you, but others
+      have asked me the same question before.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It does not seem strange to me, it only seems strange to me that every
+      one doesn't love you, but I daresay they do. O Maggie, remember that you
+      gave me hope, you said that you might&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did I? Well, it's too late to talk any more. Goodnight. I suppose you're
+      not coming in?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She left him in a cruel dispersal of hope. He avoided, and then he
+      tenderly solicited a regret that he had not thrown her into the lock. To
+      end on that hour by the sea would have been better than the trivial and
+      wretched conclusion of a broken promise, and everything, even murder, were
+      better than that a brute should have her woman's innocence to sully and
+      destroy. His love of the woman disappeared in his desire to save, the idea
+      which she represented at that moment; and lost in sentiment he stood
+      watching the white sickle of the moon over against the dim village. The
+      leaves of some pollarded willows whitened when the breeze shot them up to
+      the light, and a moment after became quite distinct in the glare and the
+      steam of an approaching engine. He might go and tell Willy all about it;
+      he would ask him to interfere-could he catch that train? If he ran for it,
+      yes. He ran full tilt across the green under the archway up the high stone
+      steps. He just did it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the last train; he would sleep in Brighton. His plan, so far as he
+      had a definite plan, was to ask Willy to come with him and tell &ldquo;that
+      brute&rdquo; that his visits to the Manor House must end, and request him to pay
+      his sister no further attentions. His other plans were&mdash;Willy must
+      speak to Maggie and tell her all he knew of the man; Willy must speak to
+      his father; Mr. Brookes must not be kept in ignorance. But of course the
+      right thing to do would be for Willy and him to call at the brute's hotel,
+      tell him what they thought, and give him a licking. The train jogged on,
+      and Frank made plan after plan. It was now past eleven, and he would not
+      be at East Street before twelve o'clock. As he hurried along the streets
+      he doubted more than ever how Willy would receive him. He might just as
+      well have waited till morning. However, it was too late now to think of
+      going back, there was no train, and he rapped at first timidly and then
+      noisily at the shop door. He had to wait some time, and then he heard a
+      voice asking from the top windows who was there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis I, Frank; awfully sorry, but must see you&mdash;particular
+      business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no answer; he heard the voice grumbling, and more than ever
+      doubtful of the cordiality of his reception, he listened. The door opened.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is it?&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis I, Cissy; but I'm in my nightdress.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I won't look at you, Cissy, if that's what you mean. But won't yougive me
+      a kiss?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stoop down, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry for waking you up, Cissy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, I'd get up at any hour to see you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There, run upstairs, and take care you don't catch cold, or I shall never
+      hear the end of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Father is in bed with mother. He says you are to go up, for if he were to
+      get out of bed it might give him cold. You know his room?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, here it is, now run along.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank was a little shocked, and he waited stupidly on the threshold. He
+      could see a fragment of Mrs. Brookes's profile, and beneath the clothes
+      the outline of Willy's bony body.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in, come in,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;don't stand there filling the room with cold
+      air. Now, what is it? Why the deuce do you come here waking us up at this
+      ungodly hour? What has happened?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have proposed to your sister Maggie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure I am delighted to hear it, old chap; but I can't help thinking
+      that I could have congratulated you equally as well, if not better, in the
+      morning.&rdquo; Then, noticing the distressed look in Frank's face, he said: &ldquo;I
+      hope she has not refused you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; she asked me to wait, she said it would depend&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you may depend it is all right; now go away and let me go to sleep,
+      we'll talk about it in the morning. You can't get back to-night. You are
+      sleeping in Brighton, I suppose? You'll come and breakfast here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, with pleasure, but it wasn't exactly to tell that I had proposed to
+      Maggie that I came here to-night; there is something more than that. You
+      know that fellow she calls Charlie? I don't know his other name.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stracey?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dare say. I mean the man you said you hated more than any man alive; I
+      hate him, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't mean to say she is still thinking of that fellow. Has he come
+      back?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was at the Manor House all day yesterday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If she marries that fellow I'll never speak to her again, it will be dead
+      cuts.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is only natural that I should love Maggie. You remember the first day
+      I came down to the Manor House? How young I was then&mdash;how young we
+      all were; there are no days like the old days! There is a beautiful poem
+      by Wordsworth; I only remember one line now&mdash;
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+    &ldquo;'When every day was long
+       As twenty days are now'&mdash;
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      Do you remember the poem?&rdquo; Willy did not answer, and noticing that his
+      eyes were blinking, Frank hastily returned to more recent events.&rdquo; I wrote
+      to her this afternoon telling her how much I loved her, and I said that I
+      would call about nine in the evening at the Manor House, and that I hoped
+      to find her in the drawing-room where we could talk without being
+      disturbed. However, I was too excited, and could not hold out till nine; I
+      thought I had better hear my fate at once, and as I was walking across the
+      field&mdash;you know, at the back of Mrs. Heald's&mdash;I met her half
+      way. She had a letter in her hand, which she said she was going to leave
+      at Mrs. Heald's for me&mdash;She admitted that the letter was in point of
+      fact a refusal, and when I questioned her she admitted that she was
+      obliged to refuse me because she had half promised Charlie. We went for a
+      walk on the beach; we sat on the beach and watched the sunset, and I told
+      her all. I spoke to her about the past, how we had grown up together&mdash;how
+      we had been, as it were, from the first fated for each other; for you must
+      admit, Willy, that it is very curious&mdash;I don't know if you ever think
+      of it, but I do&mdash;how we have met again even when the chances of life
+      seemed to have put us for ever apart. &ldquo;Here a slight sound warned Frank
+      that the present moment was one as equally unfitted for psychological
+      analysis as for poetry, and he hurried to his story, hoping that the
+      incident of the lock would secure him attention. &ldquo;Willy, I think I
+      convinced her that I liked her better than that other fellow. We were
+      standing by the lock&mdash;Willy, I really do think you might listen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear fellow, I am listening. You were both looking at the sunset.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It really is too bad. Of course, if you don't want to hear, and would
+      prefer to go to sleep, you have only to say so.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear fellow, I assure you I wasn't asleep. I only closed my eyes
+      because I can't bear the glare of that candle. I know where you were&mdash;you
+      were looking at the sunset.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, we weren't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Weren't they, Jessie? Are you asleep?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I am not asleep. Do hold your tongue, Willy, I want to hear the
+      story. You were standing by the lock, Mr. Escott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes, so they were.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I felt it was my duty, so I told her that I felt it was my mission to
+      save&mdash;to save her from that man, and I made her promise me not to see
+      him again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it is all right. Nobody can be more glad than I am. I hate the
+      fellow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will not keep her promise. Of course she may only have done it to
+      tease me; but as we were going home she said she could not walk out of the
+      room if she happened to be there when he called, nor could she leave word
+      with the servants to say that they were not at home. She made a lot of
+      excuses. What are you laughing at, Mrs. Brookes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am really very sorry, Mr. Escott, but I couldn't help wondering if she
+      would change her mind again if you were to go back to the lock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank took up the candle and turned to go.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't go,&rdquo; Willy murmured faintly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very sorry, Mr. Escott&mdash;if circumstances permitted, I would do
+      all I could to help you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was delicate ground, and Willy woke up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you want me to do? Have you anything to suggest?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it struck me that we might both go round to the fellow's hotel&mdash;Stracey,
+      you call him, I think&mdash;and you might tell him that his visits must
+      cease at the Manor House, and that he must not speak to your sister if he
+      should happen to meet her. That should bring the matter to an end. He is
+      in Brighton&mdash;he is staying at the 'Grand.' We might go round there
+      to-morrow morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He might kick us out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I only hope he may try. I would give him such a hammering. But you need
+      not be afraid of that. It wouldn't do to have Maggie's name mentioned in
+      connection with a vulgar brawl&mdash;people are not too charitable. My
+      idea is that this business should be conducted in the quietest and most
+      gentlemanly manner possible.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I had better speak to father first.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No necessity; he will be only too glad to get rid of the penniless brute.
+      Don't you think so, Mrs. Brookes?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They then spoke of other things&mdash;of the shop, the profit they had
+      made on tomatoes, and the losses that had resulted from over-stocking
+      themselves with flour. At last a loud snore brought the conversation to a
+      full stop, and Frank hurriedly bade them good-night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cissy will let you out,&rdquo; said Willy, with a sigh of relief.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little girl had pulled on her stockings and tied a petticoat round her
+      waist. &ldquo;So you are going to be married.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O Cissy, you have been listening!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is she very nice? She must be very nice for you to marry her. I should
+      like to marry you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would you, Cissy, and why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, because you are so very handsome. But you will come and see us all
+      the same, and let me sit on your knee?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course I will, Cissy, and now good-night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Next morning Willy declared himself ready to go and see Mr. Charles
+      Stracey, and to tell him that he was not to call any more at the Manor
+      House, or speak to Miss Brookes if he should happen to meet her. Frank
+      wondered if this decision was owing to Mrs. Brookes's influence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I slept last night at the 'Grand' It seemed odd sleeping in the same
+      house&mdash;perhaps within a few doors of him. If you only knew how I love
+      her, if I could only tell you, you would pity me. You ought to know what I
+      feel&mdash;the anxiety, the heart-ache. I know you have gone through it
+      all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I think I know what it is,&rdquo; Willy replied thoughtfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Stracey is staying here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you enquire at the office, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While the books were being searched the young men consulted together.
+      Frank said: &ldquo;Send up your card, and say you will be glad to speak to him
+      on a matter of importance. Of course he will see you, but before you speak
+      about Maggie you must apologise for my presence; you must say that I am a
+      very particular friend, and that you thought it better that the interview
+      should take place in the presence of a witness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish it were all over. I wouldn't do what I am doing for any one else,
+      I can tell you, Frank.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Stracey is in the hotel, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you give him my card, and say I should be glad to speak to him on a
+      matter of importance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very good, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      (In an undertone to Frank), &ldquo;Was that right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, one thing I had forgotten to ask you&mdash;am I to shake hands with
+      him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean if he offers you his hand?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is impossible to settle everything beforehand. One must act according
+      as the occasion requires.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's all very well for you, but I am a slow man, and am lost if I don't
+      arrange beforehand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pretend not to see his hand, and apologise for my presence; he will then
+      see that we mean business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The waiting is the worst part.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you walk this way, sir?&rdquo; said the page boy. &ldquo;Mr. Stracey is not out
+      of bed yet, but he said if you wouldn't mind, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They shrank from their enterprise instinctively, but the door was thrown
+      open, and they saw a bath, and a sponge, and a towel, and Mr. Stracey
+      lying on his back reading <i>The Sporting Times</i>. He extended a long
+      brawny arm. The strength of the arm fixed itself on Willy's mind, and he
+      doubted if he had not better take the proffered hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I brought my friend Mr. Escott with me, for I thought a witness&mdash;I
+      mean, that this interview should be conducted in the presence of a third
+      party.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At this speech Charlie opened his eyes and dropped his paper. Willy leaned
+      over the rail of the bed; Frank looked into the bath, but remembering
+      himself suddenly, he examined the chest of drawers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have come to speak to you about my sister.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Charlie changed countenance, and both men noticed the change.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean to say I have come to tell you that you must discontinue your
+      visits to the Manor House, and I must beg of you not to address my sisters
+      should you meet them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May I ask if you are your father's representative, if you speak with his
+      authority?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not. I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I should like to know on what authority you forbid me a house that
+      doesn't belong to you, and I should like to know, if your father doesn't
+      disapprove of my knowing your sisters, why you should? I shall speak to
+      Miss Brookes as long as she cares to speak to me. The very idea of a man
+      like you coming here to bully me! You have got my answer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If, after this warning,&rdquo; said Frank, who, seeing that things were going
+      against them, thought he had better interfere, &ldquo;you speak to Miss Brookes,
+      you will do so at your peril.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Peril! What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I mean that you must be prepared to take the consequences.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you? I should like to know what you have to do in this matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I speak as Miss Brookes's future husband.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Future husband be damned! She'll never marry you,&rdquo; said Charlie,
+      springing out of bed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank threw himself on his guard, and they would have struck each other if
+      Willy had not cried out: &ldquo;Frank, remember you promised me there must be no
+      scandal.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had almost forgotten. For Miss Brookes's sake, I refrain. Do you also,
+      for her sake, cease to provoke me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Charlie hesitated for a moment, then rushing to the door, he said: &ldquo;I,
+      too, for Miss Brookes's sake, refrain, and I give you three seconds to
+      clear out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In attempting to carry out the injunction Willy nearly fell in the bath.
+      Frank had to bite his lip to avoid a smile, and he stalked out of the room
+      assuming his most arrogant air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think, on the whole, we got the best of it,&rdquo; he said as they went down
+      stairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you? He turned us out of his room!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's the worst of tackling a man in his own room&mdash;if he tells you
+      to go, and you don't go, he can ring for the servants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was as nearly as possible going into the bath.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, a touch more and down you'd have gone.&rdquo; Frank laughed, and Willy
+      laughed, &ldquo;and that fellow in his nightshirt fishing you out!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, don't, don't&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank asked Willy to lunch with him at Mutton's, and he ordered a bottle
+      of champagne in honour of the day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say, just fancy pulling you out of the bath, and wiping you with a
+      towel. I can see you dripping!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't set me off again. Let me enjoy my cutlets.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Jove! there's something I hadn't thought of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must be off. We must tell Maggie what has happened before he has time
+      to communicate with her. What is the next train to Southwick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's one at half-past one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was after twelve when we saw him, he won't have time to catch that. We
+      must be off. Waiter, the bill, and be quick. Look sharp, Willy, finish the
+      bottle, pity to waste it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a nuisance women are, to be sure. Just as I was enjoying my cutlet!
+      I can't walk fast in this weather, I should make myself ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must take a cab.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a fellow you are, you never think of the expense. I don't know where
+      I should be if I were as reckless as you are.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Supposing he were at the station. It would be rather a sell if we went
+      down by the same train! What should we do? He would surely never attempt
+      to force his way in!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think he would attempt that. If he did, we should have to send
+      for the police.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young men strove to decide how the news should be broken to Maggie.
+      But they had arranged nothing before they arrived at Southwick, and Frank
+      stopped Willy time after time by the footpath, until at last in despair
+      the latter said: &ldquo;We must make haste; there's another train in twenty
+      minutes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By Jove! I had not thought of that; we must get on. Well, then, it is all
+      arranged. You must tell her that you thought it your duty. Put it all down
+      to duty, and it was your duty to do what you did&mdash;putting entirely
+      out of the question the service you did me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can tell you what, Frank, I am very sorry I ever meddled in the matter.
+      Had I known the vexation and annoyance it would have caused&mdash;and mark
+      my words, and see if they don't come true, we are only commencing the
+      annoyances that the affair will cause us. Ah, had I only foreseen! What a
+      fool I was; I ought to have known better; I have had nothing but bad luck
+      all my life. It is perfectly wonderful the bad luck I have had; no matter
+      what I did, nothing seemed to go right. I dare say if you had gone to see
+      that fellow without me it would have turned out differently. But I don't
+      see how I am to tell my sister point blank that I have forbidden him the
+      house. What will she say? She may fly at me. Women have queer tempers,
+      particularly when you interfere with their young men. My sisters have the
+      very worst of tempers; you don't know them as I do. Fortunately it is not
+      Sally. I assure you I wouldn't face Sally with such news for all the money
+      you could give me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am very sorry, old chap, but we must now go through it. You must forbid
+      her to communicate with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She won't heed what I say. It will only excite her. She will fly at me,
+      and call me names, and burst into tears. I should not be surprised if she
+      went off her head&mdash;she has been very strange once before. I don't
+      mean to say she was ever wrong in her head, but she is a nervous,
+      excitable girl&mdash;most excitable; my sisters are the most excitable
+      girls I have ever known.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was surprisingly soon over. Willy had not spoken a dozen words, when he
+      was interrupted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean to say you have been to call on him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and we told him he was never to speak to you again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank expected her eyes to flash fire, but he only noticed a slight change
+      in her face, a movement of the muscles of the lower jaw.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I will speak to neither of you again!&rdquo; and she walked out of the
+      room, and in dismay they listened to her going upstairs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She didn't fly at me,&rdquo; said Willy; and, looking a little terrified, he
+      stroked his moustache softly. &ldquo;I told you she would give no heed to what
+      we said; nor do I see how we can prevent her seeing that fellow if she
+      chooses. He cannot come into the house, it is true, but she can go out
+      when she pleases.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must follow her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Conscious of defeat, Willy desired compromise. He could not be induced to
+      take a share of watching and following which Frank declared essential;
+      and, dreading an encounter with Stracey, whose brawny arm it was
+      impossible to forget, he shut himself up in the shop, and devoted himself
+      to drawing up a most elaborate balance-sheet, showing how he would stand
+      if he were obliged to close the business to-morrow, whereas Frank loitered
+      about the roads, till Mrs. Horlock came along with her dogs, and engaged
+      him in conversation; and no matter at what corner he stationed himself, he
+      found he was not free from observation. A few days after he could not
+      bring himself to return to his post, and contented himself with looking
+      out of his window, and taking an occasional stroll by the embankment, when
+      he saw a train signalled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A great weight seemed lifted from his shoulder the day he heard that his
+      rival's holiday had come to an end, and that he had been forced to return
+      to his counting-house in London. True it is that Mr. Brookes had in a
+      certain measure approved of Willy's action in forbidding young Stracey the
+      Manor House, and therefore of his, Frank Escott's, suit, but neither of
+      these gains compensated him for the crowning loss of not being able to see
+      his beloved, for although the Manor House was still theoretically open to
+      him, practically it was closed. The sisters, although at variance on all
+      subjects, had united in condemning him and Willy, and during one dinner,
+      the misery of which he declared he could never forget, they had sat
+      whispering together, refusing to address him either by look or word. Willy
+      took all this calmly. It is an ill wind that blows no good, and the
+      silence enabled him to thoroughly masticate his food. Mr. Brookes wept a
+      little and laughed a little, and reminded them of the oblivion that
+      awaited all their little quarrels.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All this, like much else in life, was ridiculous enough; but because we
+      are ridiculous, it does not follow that we do not suffer, and Frank
+      suffered. He was five-and-twenty, and light love had him fairly by the
+      throat; he winced, and he cried out, but very soon his dignity gave way,
+      and he craved forgiveness. But Maggie passed without heeding him. For more
+      than a week she resisted all his appeals, and it was not until she saw
+      that she was taking the neighbourhood into her confidence, and to feel
+      that if she did not relent a little he might leave Southwick, and not
+      return, she answered him with a monosyllable. With what bliss did he hear
+      that first &ldquo;no,&rdquo; and how passionately he pleaded for a few words; it did
+      not seem to matter what they were, so long as he heard her speak one whole
+      sentence to him. Feeling her power, she was shy of yielding, and with
+      every concession she drew him further into the meshes of love. He dined
+      now nearly every day at the Manor House, and he spent an hour, sometimes
+      two, with her in the morning or afternoon; he followed her from greenhouse
+      to greenhouse, but all his efforts were in vain, and he failed not only to
+      obtain her promise to marry him, but even a renewal of the feeble and
+      partial hopes which she had given him that night on the beach. He prayed,
+      he wept, he implored pity, he openly spoke of suicide, and he hinted at
+      murder. But Maggie passed him, pushing him out of the way with the
+      watering-pot, threatening to water him too, until one day he drew a
+      revolver. She screamed, and the revolver was put away, but on the next
+      occasion a stiletto that he had brought from Italy was produced, and with
+      a great deal of earnestness life was declared to be a miserable thing. It
+      was absurd, no doubt, but at the same time it was not a little pathetic;
+      he was so good-looking, and so sincere. Maggie put down the watering-pot,
+      and she would probably have allowed him to take her hand and kiss her, if
+      he had not spoken roughly about Charlie, and called her conduct into
+      question. So she told him she would not speak to him again, and she
+      continued watering the flowers in silence. Amid vague remembrances of
+      murders she had read of, Frank's words and behaviour remained present in
+      her mind, and that evening when Willy, who rarely took the trouble to
+      speak, much less to advise his sisters, told her that she might never get
+      such a chance again, she said: &ldquo;I am not going to marry a madman to please
+      your vanity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Marry a madman! What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I call a man that who comes regularly to see a girl with a revolver
+      in one pocket and a stiletto in the other, and threatens to leave himself
+      wallowing in a pool of blood at her feet&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean to say he does that? You are clearly determined to drive the
+      poor fellow out of his mind with your infernal coquetry. Well, women are
+      the most troublesome, and I believe in many cases, the wickedest creatures
+      on the face of God's earth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shut up. Men who don't get on with women always abuse them; you are
+      soured since Miss &mdash;&mdash;, the actress, jilted you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you ever dare mention that subject, I will never speak to you again.
+      You know I don't break my word.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do you interfere in my affairs? You don't think of me when you go
+      down to browbeat Charlie Stracey; you don't think of what would have been
+      said of me had Frank hit him, and it had all come out in the papers.&rdquo;
+       Maggie said no more; she saw she had gone too far. Willy sat puffing at
+      his pipe; but when her father spoke of a certain investment that had not
+      turned out as well as he had anticipated, he joined in the conversation,
+      and she hoped her cruelty was forgotten.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Frank uttered a cry of surprise when he opened the studio door to his
+      friend. It was his favourite complaint that Willy never came to see him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At last, at last! This is the second time you have been in the place
+      since it was finished, faithless friend!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear fellow, you know it is not my fault. I have been very busy lately
+      trying to get on with my accounts. There's not a room in the Manor House
+      where I can work in; my sisters' things are everywhere, and they must not
+      be interfered with&mdash;their ball-dresses, their birds, their work. My
+      sisters think of nothing but pleasure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Triss, go back, go to your chair, sir; I'll get the whip.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Showing his fangs, the bull-dog retired; then with a hideous growl sprang
+      upon his chair, and sat eyeing Willy's calves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot think what pleasure it can give you to keep such a brute. Even
+      if I had my accounts finished, I don't think I should care to come here
+      much. It isn't safe.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are quite mistaken. There's not a better-tempered dog alive than
+      Triss; he wouldn't bite any one unless he attacked me. Give me a slap, and
+      you'll see&mdash;I won't let him come near you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank you, I'd rather not. But he sometimes growls even at you, and shows
+      his teeth, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's only a way of his, and when he does it I kick him. Come here,
+      Triss&mdash;come here, sir!&rdquo; The dog approached slowly; he sat down and
+      gave his paw to his master, but he did not cease to growl. &ldquo;There! We have
+      had enough of you, go back to your chair. What will you take&mdash;a glass
+      of Chartreuse&mdash;a cigarette?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thanks, both if you will let me. I see you like pretty things,&rdquo; he said,
+      admiring the tall legs of the table&mdash;early English&mdash;and the
+      quaint glasses into which Frank poured the liqueur. &ldquo;You've got the place
+      to look very nice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very different from what is was when the smith and his boisterous brood
+      were here,&rdquo; and as if he intended an apt illustration of his words, he
+      stretched his leg out on the white fur rug and surveyed his calf and red
+      silk stocking. &ldquo;Just look at that dog, isn't he a beauty? I always think
+      he looks well in that attitude, leaning his head over the rail. I began a
+      picture of him the other day in a pose somewhat like that. I'll show it
+      you.&rdquo; Frank propped his sketch against the leg of the sofa, and returned
+      to his place on the sofa. &ldquo;What do you think of it? Your father said it
+      was very like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is like him, but I can see no merit in it. I'm afraid of the brute. I
+      can't help hating him, for he always looks as if he were going for my
+      legs. What else have you been painting? Any pretty women about? I should
+      admire them more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven't been painting lately,&rdquo; he said, sighing a little
+      melodramatically, as was his wont, &ldquo;I think I have been playing the piano
+      more than anything else. I have composed something too, I don't think it
+      bad, I'll play it to you: a dialogue between a gentleman and a lady. He
+      speaks first, then she answers, then I blend the two motives, and that is
+      what they both say.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy sat enwrapped in his own thoughts, not having heard a note. Though
+      he knew that Willy was incapable of judging of music, it disappointed him
+      that his dialogue had passed unperceived. Then smiling, he struck a few
+      notes, and Willy awoke. &ldquo;You haven't been listening,&rdquo; he said,
+      reproachfully. &ldquo;You don't care for any music, except that little tune.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I do; I heard what you played, and I think it very pretty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Willy, I am the most miserable man in the world. Every hour, every minute
+      of my life is a pain to me. I never knew before what you must have
+      suffered, but I know now; it is a sickening feeling, it takes you by the
+      throat, it rises in the throat, and you are almost suffocated. Last night
+      I lay awake hour after hour thinking. I could see Maggie as plainly as I
+      can see you&mdash;she looked down upon me out of space with strange,
+      steadfast eyes, and my whole soul went out to her, and I cried to her that
+      I loved her beyond all things; and we seemed to be so near each other; it
+      seemed such an intimate and perfect communion of spirit and sense that I
+      seemed, as it were, lifted out of actual life; I seemed to myself holier,
+      purer, better than I had ever been before; I seemed to loose all that is
+      gross and material in me, and to gain in all that is best and worthiest in
+      man. Did you feel like that when you were in love?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know that I felt exactly like that. But never mind how I felt;
+      you are too fond of alluding to that subject, it is a very painful one to
+      me; you will make me regret that I ever told you anything about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry I mentioned it. It is strange, but when one suffers one likes
+      to speak of and to compare with one's own the suffering that another has
+      endured. Your sister treats me most cruelly. She has forgiven me that
+      miserable business, but she refuses to hold out any hope that she will
+      ever be my wife. I don't understand&mdash;I am utterly at sea. I don't
+      believe for a moment that she cares for that horrid brute; he is gone
+      away. She tells me she never cared for him. If so, I should like to learn
+      your explanation of her conduct.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy stroked his moustache, apparently declining the responsibility of
+      apologist; but his manner showed he had something on his mind, and Frank
+      sought more eagerly than ever to enlist his sympathy and support.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have done everything I could to win her. I don't know why she should be
+      so difficult to please. I am not bad looking, I am at least as good
+      looking as that damned brute&rdquo; (here he paused to glance at himself in the
+      glass and smooth the curls above his forehead). &ldquo;I am certainly quite as
+      clever&rdquo; (here he thought of his painting, and his eye sought one of his
+      pictures), &ldquo;and my position&mdash;I will not speak of that, it would be
+      snobbish. Women have cared for me. I have told Maggie hundreds of times
+      that I never could care for any but her. Fate seems to have specially
+      marked us for each other. You must admit that there is something very
+      remarkable in the way we have been brought together over and over again. I
+      have told her that my life is worthless without her. The day before
+      yesterday, when I was speaking to her, I burst into tears. That a man
+      should cry, no doubt, seems to you very ridiculous but if you knew how I
+      suffer you would pity me. I often think I shall commit suicide.&rdquo; Frank
+      took the stiletto from his pocket. &ldquo;I don't mind telling you, when you
+      knocked at the door I was lying on the sofa thinking it over. One stab
+      just here and I should be at peace for ever. I told her so yesterday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not fond of giving advice, as you know&mdash;I have quite enough to
+      do to think about my own affairs&mdash;but as you have often spoken to me
+      on this matter, and as you have asked me for my opinion and my help, I had
+      better tell you that I differ entirely from you concerning the wisdom of
+      the course you are pursuing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How's that?&rdquo; said Frank, at first surprised and then delighted at Willy's
+      breaking from his reserve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I mean is, that I think you would be more successful if you would
+      lay aside daggers and revolvers, and try to win her affection by patience
+      and gentleness. Maggie was talking to me about it no later than last
+      night, and I could see clearly that you frighten her with bluster. I am
+      sure there are times when she dreads you; it must be a positive terror to
+      her to sit with you alone&mdash;so it would be to any girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maggie is a very delicate and nervous girl, and it wouldn't surprise me
+      if your threats to commit suicide seriously affected her health; you come
+      with a revolver and a stiletto, and you ask her to marry you, and if she
+      doesn't at once say yes, you abuse her, declaring all the time that you'll
+      stab yourself with the revolver and shoot yourself with the stiletto&mdash;I
+      beg your pardon, I mean&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, if you've come here only to turn me into ridicule&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you I didn't mean it&mdash;a slip of the tongue,&rdquo; and as their
+      eyes met at that moment, neither could refrain from laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Admit that there is something in what I say. If you will behave a little
+      more quietly&mdash;if you will talk to her nicely; leave off assuring her
+      of your love, she knows all that already; have some patience and
+      forbearance; you will see if before long she doesn't change towards you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His interest in the matter was a desire that his sister should not miss
+      this chance of marrying the future Lord Mount Rorke. But Maggie felt too
+      sure of Frank to resist the temptation to tantalise him; besides her moods
+      were naturally various, and the first relapse into her former coldness was
+      answered by a sudden reversion to threats of murder and suicide, and one
+      summer evening about six o'clock, when Mrs. Horlock took her dogs out and
+      stood at the corner waiting for Angel, a rumour was abroad that Mr. Escott
+      had stabbed himself to the heart, and had fallen weltering in his blood at
+      Miss Brookes's feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Dr Dickinson walked across the green, watched with palpitating anxiety
+      from the corner of the Southdown Road. The General spoke to the farmer,
+      and the farmer's pupil nudged the general dealer. Mrs. Horlock spoke to
+      the grocers, and the owners of the baths declared they had just heard from
+      their servant that the young man was not dead, but mortally wounded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was, therefore, no doubt that Dr Dickinson was going to Mrs.
+      Heald's, and would not turn to the right and walk to the station for the
+      quarter-to-seven train; and expectation on this point ceasing, the group
+      expressed its sympathy for the young man. Poor young man&mdash;and so
+      good-looking too&mdash;what will she do if he should die?&mdash;and he
+      must die&mdash;there was no doubt of it. Maria had met Mary&mdash;that was
+      the housemaid at the Manor House&mdash;it was Mary who had mopped up the
+      blood. She said there was a great pool right in the middle of the new
+      carpet under the window&mdash;they were sitting there on the ottoman when
+      he said suddenly, &ldquo;I have come to ask you to marry me; if you won't I must
+      die.&rdquo; Notwithstanding this she continued to play with him&mdash;the cruel
+      little minx! He could stand it no longer, and he pulled out a dagger he
+      had brought from the East, and stabbed himself twice close to the heart.
+      What will she do?&mdash;she is his murderer&mdash;to all intents and
+      purposes she is his murderer&mdash;she will have to go into a convent&mdash;she
+      won't go into a convent&mdash;she'll brazen it out. No one thinks much of
+      those girls&mdash;the way Sally carried on with young Meason&mdash;it was
+      disgraceful&mdash;they say she used to steal her father's money and give
+      it to him&mdash;Dr Dickinson could tell fine tales.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then gossip ceased, and they were in doubt if they might intercept the
+      doctor and obtain news of his patient when he left Mrs. Heald's. Some
+      strolled about the green, pretending to be taking the air. Mrs. Horlock,
+      however, had no scruples, and picking up Angel and calling to Rose and
+      Flora, she walked straight to Mrs. Heald's, and was seen to go in. Some
+      five minutes after she came out with the doctor. Frank was not dead, nor
+      mortally wounded, nor even dangerously wounded, but he had had a very
+      narrow escape.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I said to him, 'You have had a very narrow escape.' The fact is&mdash;(I,
+      of course, examined the weapon)&mdash;a small part of the point had been
+      broken away; it was this that saved him. The first blow scarcely pierced
+      his clothes; the second was more effective, it entered the flesh just
+      above the heart, and I have no doubt if the steel had penetrated a quarter
+      of an inch deeper that he would have killed himself. But so far as I can
+      see at present, he will get over it without much difficulty.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When did it occur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About an hour ago, at the Manor House. It appears that he has gone there
+      every day for the last three weeks to ask Miss Brookes to marry him; she,
+      however, would not give him any definite answer&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Horrid girl!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never liked her; most deceitful; no doubt she flirted with him
+      outrageously.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't say. I hear that he often threatened to kill himself, and to-day,
+      to conclude, he pulled out his stiletto.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thought it was a dagger he had brought from the East?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, the weapon they showed me was an Italian stiletto.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The grocer's daughter shuddered, her mother murmured, &ldquo;And for that girl.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We didn't know him. The Brookes never allow their friends to know any one
+      in Southwick, but I have heard that he is an exceedingly nice&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He will be Lord Mount Rorke, if his uncle doesn't marry again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He must have been desperately in love; no one ever heard of such a thing
+      before. It sounds like the Middle Ages&mdash;a stiletto!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what could he see in her? That's what I can't make out; can you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! there I can't assist you. I hope to be able to cure him of the
+      stiletto wound, but Cupid's arrows are beyond me. They did not fly so
+      thickly or strike so hard in my time.&rdquo; And, laughing, the doctor withdrew.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose that after this she will marry him; she never intended to let
+      him slip through her fingers. I can see her face when she heard that
+      another quarter of an inch and her chance of being Lady Mount Rorke was
+      gone for ever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I daresay he won't marry her now. It would serve her right. I should be
+      so glad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And so pouring their gall out upon the unfortunate Maggie, the
+      tradespeople returned to their homes. The stiletto was so utterly
+      unprecedented, and so complete a reversal of all conception of the chances
+      of life at Southwick, that every one felt puzzled and dissatisfied, even
+      when gossip had brought to light every circumstantial detail of the
+      romantic story. Had the deed been done with a knife, with anything but a
+      stiletto; had he hanged himself, or cut his throat with a razor, or shot
+      himself with his revolver, the wonder of the Southwickians would not have
+      been so excited. But a stiletto! And for a week an Italy of brigands and
+      bravoes, and stealthy surprises haunted shadows of picturesque archways,
+      an Italy of chromo-lithographed skies and draperies in the Southdown Road.
+      Maggie was spoken of with alternate fear and hate; her wickedness seemed
+      more than natural, and had the Southdown Road known anything of Italian
+      opera, there is little doubt that Miss Brookes would have been compared to
+      Lucretia Borgia. The young women looked out of their windows at night, and
+      wondered how they'd feel if a troubadour were suddenly to sing to them
+      from behind the privet hedges. The young men were even more impressed than
+      their womenfolk; they cursed their place of birth and habitation, knowing
+      that it incapacitated them from knowing her; they wasted their mothers'
+      candles sitting up till two in the morning writing odes to cruel women
+      with raven hair; and all gazed sadly on the old ship in the harbour, and
+      the Spanish main seemed nearer, and those gallant days more realisable
+      than they had ever been before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The direct cause of this revival of romance lived, however, unconscious of
+      it. She was genuinely frightened. She said her prayers with great fervour,
+      begging God that He might save Frank, and that she might not be a
+      murderess. She made him soups, she sent him wine, she brought him books,
+      and she sat with him for hours. She thought he had never looked so nice as
+      now&mdash;so pale, so aristocratic, so elegantly weak, his head laid upon
+      a cushion, which she had brought him, and when he took her hand and said,
+      &ldquo;Will you, darling?&rdquo; and she murmured, &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; then it seemed that the
+      happiness of his life was upon his face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Three days after Frank was sitting at his table writing to Mount Rorke,
+      and on the following Sunday he walked to the Manor House to tell Mr.
+      Brookes that he was engaged to his daughter, and to ask his consent. He
+      did not think of his folly, he was too happy; he seemed like one in a
+      quiet dulcet dream; he walked slowly, leaning from time to time against
+      the wooden paling, for he wished to prolong this meditative moment; he saw
+      everything vaguely, and loved all with a quiet fulness of heart; he took
+      in the sense of this village and its life as he had never done before. He
+      compared it with Ireland; Mount Rorke, with its towers, and lakes, and
+      woods arose, and he was grateful that Maggie was going there, yet he was
+      sure that he could not live without sometimes seeing this village where he
+      had found so much happiness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His wound had sucked away his strength, the sunlight dazzled him, and
+      feeling a little overcome, and not equal, without pause, to the long
+      interview that awaited him, he stayed awhile in a shady laurel corner, and
+      leaning against a piece of iron railing, watched Mr. Brookes and Mr.
+      Berkins as they paced the tennis lawn to and fro. The old gentleman
+      frequently stopped in his walk to point at the glass houses.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Berkins, I wish you would try to get Willy some appointment; he
+      would, I am sure, take anything over two hundred and fifty a year. He
+      would do marvellously well in an office&mdash;he loves it. I assure you
+      his eyes twinkle when one speaks of how books are kept, or alludes in any
+      way to the routine of office work. You should see his accounts and his
+      letter books, they would make the best clerk you ever had feel ashamed of
+      himself; but left to himself I am afraid he will do no good; he has all
+      the method, but nothing else. He lost money in Bond Street; I am afraid to
+      tell you how much he dropped on the Stock Exchange, but that was not
+      entirely his fault&mdash;the firm went bankrupt; nobody could have
+      foreseen it, it was quite unheard of.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have always noticed that successful men do not buy partnerships in
+      firms that go bankrupt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very true, Berkins; I wish I had asked your advice on the subject.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you had, Mr. Brookes. You are no doubt a very clever man, but on
+      one or two points you are liable to make mistakes; you are, if I may so
+      speak, a little weak. You should come and live with me for a few months, I
+      would put you right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is really too much,&rdquo; thought Mr. Brookes; and had it not been for
+      the certain knowledge that Berkins had lately increased his income by a
+      couple of thousands a year, he would have answered him tartly enough; but
+      as this fact admitted of no doubt he bridled his anger and said: &ldquo;If you
+      could put my boy right it would be more to the point. He has all the
+      method of the best clerk in London; he loves the work, he would do honour
+      to any office, but on his own hook I am afraid he will never do anything
+      but lose his money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your money, you mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my money if you like. You are very provoking, Berkins. I don't know
+      if you do it with the express purpose of annoying me. I was saying, when
+      you interrupted me, that Nature had evidently intended my son for a clerk
+      rather than for a speculator. I fear he is doing very badly with his shop
+      in Brighton. The rents are very high in East Street, and I don't think he
+      sells anything. He takes enough away from here, though. I don't remember
+      if I ever told you that I was foolish enough to agree to his taking away,
+      buying from me at the market price he calls it, the surplus produce of my
+      garden and greenhouses. I dare say I shall get the money one of these
+      days, but at present I see no sign of it. He is always making up the
+      accounts, and, so far as we have gone, the result of this arrangement is
+      that, when I complain that there is neither fruit nor vegetables on my
+      table, I am told that everything went to Brighton. I am forced, I assure
+      you, to send my carriage and my horses, that I paid two hundred guineas
+      for, to fetch potatoes, and he, too, uses my carriage to take his
+      vegetables to the shop. He gets his sisters to bring them when they go out
+      driving, nor can I even buy my fruit and vegetables off him at cost price;
+      he says that would interfere with his book-keeping, and so I am obliged to
+      buy everything from Hutton, and you know what his prices are. I assure
+      you, it is most annoying.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Brookes, your fortune will not bear this constant drain; you must
+      remember that we are living in very bad times&mdash;times that are not
+      what they were. I have heard that your distillery&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, times are very bad. I have never known them worse, and no doubt you
+      find them so too. They ought to affect you even more than they do me. My
+      income is, as you know, all invested money, whereas yours is all in your
+      business.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course, I am affected by the times; had they remained what they were,
+      even what they were towards the end of the seventies, I should be making
+      now something over ten thousand pounds a year. But, thank God! I have not
+      to complain. Next year I hope to invest another five thousand pounds. The
+      worst of it is, that there is no price for money in legitimate
+      securities.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Everything is very bad; you never will invest your money as I did mine
+      ten years ago. My business is not, of course, what it used to be, but I
+      don't complain; if it weren't for troubles nearer home I should get on
+      very well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope that Sally has commenced no new flirtation in the Southdown Road.
+      I thought she had promised you&mdash;since she gave up Meason&mdash;that
+      she would for the future know no one that lived there.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was thinking for the moment of Willy, not of Sally; she has not been so
+      troublesome lately. But no sooner are we out of one trouble than we are in
+      another. It is, of course, very regrettable that young Escott should have
+      stabbed himself, and in my garden too. I, who hate scandals, seem always
+      plunged in one. I hear they are talking of it in the clubs in Brighton. I
+      hope Lord Mount Rorke will not hear of it; if he did, do you think it
+      would prejudice him against the match?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you're prepared to give your consent?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not? Surely! I really don't see&mdash;Lord Mount Rorke is a very rich
+      man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Possibly, but Irish peers are not always as rich as they would like us to
+      believe they are. The connection is, of course, desirable, but I hope your
+      anxiety to secure it will not lead you into making foolish, I will say
+      reprehensible, monetary concessions. What I mean is this. I am a
+      straightforward man, Mr. Brookes, brought up in a hard school, and I
+      always come straight to the point. You are a rich man, Mr. Brookes&mdash;you
+      have the reputation of being a richer man than you are&mdash;and it is
+      possible, I don't say it is probable, that Lord Mount Rorke will expect
+      you to make a large settlement. He will possibly&mdash;mind you, I do not
+      say probably&mdash;taking the coronet into consideration&mdash;those
+      people think as much of their titles as we do of our money&mdash;ask you
+      to settle a thousand a year, may be fifteen hundred a year, upon your
+      daughter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Settle a thousand&mdash;maybe fifteen hundred&mdash;a year on my
+      daughter!&rdquo; cried the horror-stricken Brookes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He may even ask for two thousand a year. Remember, you are a distiller&mdash;he
+      is a peer of the realm. And now I say,&rdquo; continued Berkins, growing more
+      emphatic as he reached the close of his declamation, &ldquo;that in my wife's
+      interest I will oppose any and all attempts to purchase a coronet for
+      Maggie at her sister's expense.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes stood for a moment stupefied&mdash;as if some great calamity
+      had befallen him. The housekeeping bills, the loss of his fruit and
+      vegetables, even the Southdown Road seemed as nothing in the face of this
+      new misfortune. Troublesome as his daughters were, he preferred an
+      occasional recrudescence of flirtation in his garden to settling the money
+      that he had made himself and letting them go; no pen can describe the
+      anguish that the surrendering of the ten thousand pounds which he had
+      settled on Grace had caused him; but to be told now that the alliance with
+      a lord which he so greedily coveted, and which had been so agreeably
+      tickling him for the last few days, would cost him perhaps two thousand a
+      year, was more than he could bear. He had avoided as much as possible even
+      thinking of the money question. One hundred&mdash;two hundred&mdash;the
+      shadow of three hundred had fallen for a moment on his mind, but he had
+      successfully chastened these unpleasantnesses by thoughts of the
+      liberality, the generosity of the aristocracy, and he had encouraged a
+      hope that Mount Rorke would let him off with a statement of how much
+      Maggie would have at his death. And now to hear these terrible
+      prognostications, and from his own son-in-law, too. It was too bad&mdash;it
+      was too cruel. &ldquo;You don't know what you are talking about, Berkins. If it
+      were business I would listen to you, but really when it comes to
+      discussing the aristocracy it is more than I can stand. What do you know
+      about the aristocracy&mdash;not that,&rdquo; cried Mr. Brookes, snapping his
+      fingers. &ldquo;You were brought up in an office&mdash;what should you know? You
+      were a clerk once at thirty shillings a week&mdash;what should you know?
+      Lord Mount Rorke would never think of making such ridiculous proposals to
+      me. You judge him by yourself, Berkins, that's it, that's it! I dare say
+      he has heard of me in the City&mdash;many of your great lords do business
+      in the City. I dare say he has heard of me, and if he has he'll not try
+      any nonsense with me. Twist him round my finger, twist him round my
+      finger.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Berkins liked a lord, but Berkins liked lords without thinking himself one
+      jot their inferior, and he was sure that his horse and his dog and his
+      house and everything belonging to him were better than theirs; and secure
+      in the fact that his grandfather had been a field officer, he did not
+      think it amiss to brag that he had begun life with thirty shillings a
+      week, so he only smiled at his father-in-law's wrath, feeling now easy in
+      his mind that Grace's future fortune would not be prejudiced for Maggie's
+      glorification.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The discussion had fallen, and Mr. Brookes went to meet the young man whom
+      he caught sight of coming across the sward.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most imprudent of you to come out to-day,&rdquo; he said, scanning the white
+      face.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I am very well now, thanks. The sun is a little overpowering, that is
+      all. I want to speak to you, Mr. Brookes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speak to me? Yes. Will you go into the billiard-room, my boy? I can see
+      the heat has upset you. Take my arm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank took the offered arm. He was feeling very faint, but the cool and
+      dim colour of the billiard-room revived him, and when he had had some
+      claret and water, he said that he felt quite strong, and listened
+      patiently to Mr. Brookes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I never! No, I never heard of such a thing. A stiletto, too. You
+      brought it from Italy? It makes me feel quite young again. Ah! 'tis hard
+      to say what we won't do for a girl when Miss Right comes along. I was just
+      the same&mdash;pretty keen on it, I can tell you, when I was your age; and
+      I don't know, even now,&mdash;but a man with grown-up daughters must be
+      careful. Still when I see a little waist, high heels, plump&mdash;you
+      know, that's the way I used to like them when I used to go to the oyster
+      shops; there was one at the top of the Haymarket. Ah! I was young then,
+      young as you are; I was keen on it&mdash;Aunt Mary will tell you that&mdash;there
+      was nothing I wouldn't do; I never went as far as stabbing&mdash;walking
+      about at night, tears, torments as much as you like, but I never went so
+      far as stabbing. Wonderful what love will make a man do! Supposing you had
+      killed yourself; in my garden, too&mdash;awful! What would people say? I
+      hear they are talking of it in the clubs&mdash;hope it won't go any
+      further. Should Mount Rorke hear of it! Eh? Might set him against us;
+      might not give his consent&mdash;eh? We should be up a tree, then.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think there is much danger of that. I came to-day, Mr. Brookes,
+      to ask for your consent; am I to understand that you give it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, my dear Frank, I don't see why I should refuse it; I have known you
+      since you were quite a small boy. I don't want to flatter you. I don't
+      know that I care much about young men as a rule, but you, I have always
+      found you&mdash;well, just what you should be. Of course the connection is
+      very flattering. You will one day be Lord Mount Rorke, and to see my
+      darling Maggie sharing your honours will be&mdash;that is to say if I live
+      to see it&mdash;a great, a very gre&mdash;great hon&mdash;our.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Feeling much embarrassed Frank begged of him not to mention it. &ldquo;I shall
+      be writing to-morrow or next day to my uncle; shall I say that you have
+      given your consent to my marriage with your daughter? I may say that I
+      have already written to him on the subject.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By all means, my dear boy. I think I can say you have my consent&mdash;that
+      is to say, you have my consent if the money's all right. All is, of
+      course, subject to that. Now you are for love in a cottage, bread and
+      cheese romance; a man who will use a stiletto can't be expected to know
+      much about money, but I am a father, my stiletto days are over, and I
+      couldn't give my daughter without a settlement. You will, no doubt, be&mdash;of
+      course you will be&mdash;Lord Mount Rorke one of these days; but in the
+      meantime there must be a proper settlement. My daughter must be properly
+      provided for; it is my duty to look after her interests, so you may as
+      well tell your uncle that I shall be pleased to meet him and talk the
+      matter over with him. I will meet him in London, when it suits his
+      convenience; I need hardly say that if he should choose to come down here
+      that I shall be pleased to see him. And now tell me&mdash;of course he
+      will be prepared to act handsomely; I have no doubt he will, the
+      aristocracy always do act handsomely, no one is so liberal as your
+      aristocrat. I hope he will settle a good round sum on my daughter&mdash;money
+      invested in first-class securities, not what Berkins would call
+      first-class, but what I should call first-class securities; and should
+      your uncle prove the liberal man that I have no doubt he is, I don't say
+      that I won't behave handsomely. Of course you know that my dear children
+      will have all my money at my death. I shall never marry again, that is a
+      settled thing; but in the meantime I will do something. When Grace was
+      married I behaved very generously&mdash;too generously&mdash;a lot of
+      money&mdash;mustn't do it again, times are not what they were. But at my
+      death I shall make no difference, all three will share and share alike.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank hoped when Brookes and Mount Rorke met, that the former would modify
+      his demands, and what was still more important, his mode of expressing
+      them. But why should Mr. Brookes appear to him in such a sudden glow of
+      vulgarity? He had never thought of him as a refined and cultivated
+      gentleman, but was unprepared for this latest manifestation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lord Mount Rorke allows me a certain annual income, he will no doubt
+      double this income upon my marriage; I daresay he would&mdash;since he has
+      recognised me as his heir&mdash;make this income legally mine by deed, I
+      could then settle a certain sum on Maggie, in case of my death; but then
+      further settlements would be required when I succeed to the title and the
+      property. I had thought&mdash;and indeed I think still&mdash;that if my
+      uncle makes me a sufficient allowance, that we might avoid touching on
+      this matter at all. Lord Mount Rorke is an irritable man, and I am sure
+      that if you were to speak to him as you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh! pooh! Nonsense! nonsense! You don't suppose I am going to give my
+      daughter to a man unless he can settle a sufficient sum of money upon her?
+      Berkins wouldn't hear of it. He was only telling me just now&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I don't think you understand me, Mr. Brookes. I do not propose that
+      you should give me any money with your daughter. Let what you give her be
+      settled upon her, and let it be tied up as strictly as the law can tie
+      it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pooh! pooh! the man that marries my daughter must settle a sum of money
+      at least equal to what I settle upon her; and it must be money invested in
+      first-class security, otherwise I couldn't think of giving her one penny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry, Mr. Brookes, that you are so determined on this point. These
+      matters generally arrange themselves if people incline to meet each other
+      half way, and I am sure that my uncle will resent it if you insist on
+      pounds, shillings, and pence as you propose doing. He is not accustomed to
+      strict business&mdash;marriages in our family were never made on such
+      principles; my happiness is bound up in Maggie. I hope you will consider
+      what you are risking.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I would do more for you than any one else, Frank, but business is
+      business, and the man who has my daughter must settle a sum of money
+      equivalent to what I settle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid I have talked too much, I am not very strong, yet with your
+      permission we will adjourn this discussion to another day&mdash;in the
+      meantime I will write to my uncle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes did not offer the assistance of his arm, and had he, Frank
+      would certainly not have accepted it. Holding the door, the old man waited
+      for his visitor to pass out. &ldquo;Southdown Road or the heir to a peerage: it
+      is all the same, my money is what is wanted&mdash;the money I had made
+      myself,&rdquo; thought Mr. Brookes. &ldquo;Dreadful old man, he would sell his
+      daughter for a settlement of a few hundred pounds a year. I never knew he
+      was so bad, my eyes are opened,&rdquo; thought Frank. Both were equally angry,
+      and without secrecy or subterfuge they sought consolation in different
+      parts of the garden. Mr. Brookes resumed his walk on the tennis ground
+      with Berkins, and stopping frequently to point to his glass-houses, he
+      described his misfortunes with profuse waves of his stick. Frank had found
+      Maggie, and they now walked together in the shade and silence of the
+      sycamores&mdash;he, vehement and despairing of the future; she, subtle and
+      strangely confident that things would happen as she wished them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Having once yielded and felt the pang of possession she was wholly his, in
+      all ramifications of spirit and flesh, both in her brain and blood, and
+      the utmost ends of her sense mingled with him. But to him, she was the
+      symbol of the desire of which he was enamoured, the desire which held
+      together his nature and gave it individuality&mdash;love of <i>the</i>
+      young girl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! my darling, if he should speak so to Mount Rorke, we should be parted
+      for ever&mdash;no, that could never be&mdash;nothing in heaven or earth
+      would induce me to give you up, be true to me and I will be true to you;
+      but our happiness&mdash;no, not our happiness, that is in ourselves&mdash;but
+      all our prospects in life will be wrecked if he will not give way. Should
+      he and Mount Rorke meet&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But they won't meet; have patience&mdash;I know how to manage father. He
+      doesn't like to part with his money, and I can understand it, he made it
+      all himself; but he will get used to the idea in time, leave him to me;
+      put your trust in me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She extended her hand, he took it, pressed it to his lips; he took her in
+      his arms and kissed her, and the leaves of the sycamores were filled with
+      the sunset.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;DEAR SIR,&mdash;I received a letter this morning from my nephew,
+      apprising me of his engagement to your daughter. He has apparently
+      obtained your consent, and he asks for mine, and he also asks from me not
+      only an increase of income to meet the requirements of altered
+      circumstances, but he tells me that you will expect me to settle some
+      seven, eight, or ten thousand pounds upon your daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not propose to discuss the reasonableness of his or your demands,
+      but it seems that a statement of his prospects is owing to you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Having never married when I was a young man, many have assumed&mdash;I
+      among the number&mdash;that I never would marry; and I admit that I have
+      allowed my nephew to grow up in the belief that he is my heir and the
+      successor to the title of Mount Rorke; but beyond a general assumption
+      existing in my mind, his mind, and the minds of those who know us, there
+      is no reason to suppose that I shall not marry, or that I shall leave him
+      a single sixpence, and I willingly make use of this opportunity to say
+      that I have no faintest intention of entering intoany engagement either
+      verbal or written with him upon this matter.&mdash;Yours very truly, MOUNT
+      RORKE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;MY DEAR FRANK,&mdash;The enclosed is a copy of the letter which I send by
+      this post to Mr. Brookes. And I make no disguise of the fact that it was
+      written with the full intention of rendering your marriage an
+      impossibility. It will no doubt appear to you a harsh and cruel letter; it
+      will no doubt grieve you, madden you&mdash;in your rage you may call me a
+      brute. The epithet will be unjust; but knowing very well indeed what love
+      is at twenty-five, I will forgive it. And now to the point. I know
+      something about old Brookes, and I remember the lean boy you used to bring
+      here, and judging from some slight traces that Eton had not succeeded in
+      effacing, I think I can guess what the rest of the family is like; indeed,
+      the old gentleman's preposterous demand that I should settle ten thousand
+      pounds on his daughter throws a sufficient light on his character, and in
+      some measure reveals what sort of manner of man he is. But let all this be
+      waived. I admit that with some show of reason, you may say it is unjust,
+      nay more, it is ridiculous, to pronounce judgment on people I have never
+      seen, and it is cruelty worthy of a Roman Emperor to wreck the lifelong
+      happiness of two young people for the sake of a prejudice that the trouble
+      of a journey to Brighton will most certainly extinguish. I will not
+      irritate you by assuring you that the world is full of desirable
+      women-women that will appeal to you two years hence precisely as Miss
+      Brookes appeals to you now. Were I to whisper that it is unwise to give up
+      all women for one woman, you could not fail, in your present mood, to see
+      in my philosophy only the nasty wisdom of a cynical old reprobate.
+      Therefore I will not weary you with advice&mdash;what I have said must be
+      considered not as advice, but rather as an expression of personal
+      experience in the love passion, serving as illustration of the attitude of
+      my mind towards you. I will limit myself to merely asking you&mdash;no,
+      not to think again of Miss Brookes&mdash;that would be impossible, but to
+      leave Southwick for London or Paris, the latter for preference. I will
+      give you a letter of introduction to a charming lady (ah! were I thirty
+      years younger). Put yourself in her hands, and I have no doubt in the
+      world but that she will send you back cured in six months, as my bank-book
+      will abundantly prove.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you cannot do this&mdash;if so drastic a remedy should be too
+      repugnant to your present feelings, I would remember, were I in your
+      place, that my uncle had never refused me anything; that I could draw upon
+      him for what money I liked&mdash;that is to say, for all pleasures and
+      satisfaction save one. I would remember that at his death I was to inherit
+      ten thousand a year and a title; and I would weigh (first examining each
+      weight carefully, to see if it were true weight) all these present and
+      future advantages against the gratification of possessing a woman I loved
+      when I was twenty-five for a period of time extending perhaps over half a
+      century; I would think&mdash;at least I think and hope I should hesitate&mdash;before
+      I refused to obey one of whose affection I was sure, and I feel certain it
+      would go hard with me before I refused to gratify the whim&mdash;call it a
+      whim if you like&mdash;of one who had often given but never asked before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Somehow I think you owe me this sacrifice; I have done much for you and
+      am prepared to do more, and to speak quite candidly, I want something in
+      return; I do not mean that I am desirous of striking a bargain with you,
+      but we all expect to receive&mdash;of course not directly, but in some
+      remote way&mdash;something for what we give, and I confess that I look
+      forward to your companionship to assist me through the last course of
+      life. I do not want you now&mdash;for the next few years I want you to see
+      the world, to educate yourself; I want you to improve your taste in art
+      and letters, and later on, if possible, to turn yourself to some public
+      account. Besides other work, I am now working at my memoirs; they are to
+      be published after my death, as I have arranged, under your supervision. I
+      regard these memoirs as being of the first importance, and it is advisable
+      that you should be in full possession of all my intentions respecting
+      them. Hitherto I have always looked after everything myself, but the time
+      will come when I shall not be able to do this, and shall require you to
+      relieve me of the burden of business. Then I wish you to live here, so
+      that you may learn to love Mount Rorke. I am very busy now with
+      improvements, and I would wish you to be with me so that you might
+      adequately enter into my views and ideas. To conclude, I do not marry for
+      your sake; do you not marry for mine, at least do not marry for the
+      present. I do not say that if I knew and liked the girl of your choice&mdash;if
+      she were in your own set&mdash;that I could not be won over, but on the
+      whole I would sooner you didn't marry. But I could not really endure a lot
+      of new acquaintances&mdash;people who had never dined in a lord's house,
+      and would all want to be asked&mdash;no, I could not endure it. I am an
+      old man, and now I want to enjoy myself in my own way, and my desire is to
+      get through the last years of my life with you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can do what you please, ask here whomever you please, give me a few
+      hours of your time when I am particularly busy with my memoirs, and, above
+      all, let us be alone sometimes after dinner, so that we can turn our
+      chairs round to the fire and talk at our ease.&mdash;Your affectionate
+      uncle, MOUNT RORKE.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So he won't pay for a secretary, and wants me to do the work; that's
+      about the meaning of that letter.&rdquo; Frank re-read the letter sentence for
+      sentence, and as he read new sneers and new expressions of scorn rose in
+      his brain in tremulous ebullition. There was scarcely a plan for the
+      chastisement of his uncle that he did not for some fleeting moment
+      entertain, and one most ironical letter he committed to paper; but Maggie
+      would not hear of its being sent, and he was surprised and glad to see
+      that she was not depressed and disheartened at the turn affairs had taken.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can do what I like with father; Sally can't, but I can. You leave it
+      me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the good of that? You can't get round Mount Rorke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind; we don't want to get married yet awhile. We'll be engaged, it
+      is nearly the same thing. We shall be able to go anywhere together&mdash;up
+      to town, if we only come back the same day. Write a nice letter to your
+      uncle, saying you'll do nothing without his consent; that it is true your
+      affections are very much engaged, but that your first thought is of him&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! but my darling, I want to make you mine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you shall&mdash;we shall be engaged; father won't consent to our being
+      married, but he can't prevent us being engaged. You'll see, I'll get round
+      father sooner or later; he'll give in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you won't get round Mount Rorke; if he would only come here and see
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He won't do that; but one of these days he'll be in London. I suppose he
+      goes to the Park sometimes; we'll go too, you'll introduce me&mdash;a
+      little impromptu, and I'll see if I can't get him to like me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How clever you are!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I understand father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Still it required all Maggie's adroitness to even partially reconcile Mr.
+      Brookes to Lord Mount Rorke's letter. She accepted without argument that
+      marriage in the present circumstances was out of the question. She even
+      went so far as to cordially assent that a man would be a fool to give his
+      daughter to a man who could not settle a substantial sum of money upon
+      her, and she only ventured to suggest that it would be foolish not to give
+      Lord Mount Rorke the opportunity of changing his mind. She spoke of his
+      immense fortune, and exaggerated it until she made even Berkins seem a
+      paltry creature in the old man's eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank was anxious to propitiate Sally. He returned from London with
+      presents for her, and he always spoke to her, looking at her admiringly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He showed much anxiety, and, fearing that she found it dull at his studio,
+      when the sisters came to tea he begged her to give him Meason's address.
+      Sally tossed her head; she had had enough of Meason, and her manner left
+      no doubt as to her sincerity. But happening to meet Meason a few days
+      after in the train, Frank slipped easily into asking him to come and see
+      him; and in the easy atmosphere of the studio the acquaintanceship soon
+      ripened into intimacy, and after a preliminary ruffling of plumage, Sally
+      restored her old sweetheart to all the rights of wrong. Life went well
+      amid incessant secrets, letter-writing, and tea parties. Grace came to the
+      studio to lunch sometimes, and she had been betrayed into a promise not to
+      say a word about Meason. It was never ascertained whether, in the
+      indiscretion of the marital night, she had betrayed this trust, or whether
+      some jealous enemy had spoken or written to Mr. Brookes on the subject;
+      but certain it is that one joyful day when Meason, Sally, and Maggie were
+      eating oysters, and Frank was twisting the corkscrew into a bottle of
+      Chablis, there came an ominous ringing at the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wonder who that can be. Shut up, Triss.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps it is father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is in London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm not so sure about that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No matter&mdash;we don't want to see them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Rather not! They wouldn't have known we were here had it not been for
+      that dog.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must go and see who it is. Come here, sir; come here, you brute.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Supposing it is father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get behind that piece of tapestry. I'll say that Meason and I were having
+      some oysters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come here, sir. I'd better tie up that dog&mdash;I wonder who it is?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Open the door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! Mr. Brookes, quite an unexpected pleasure.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have come, sir, for my daughters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your daughters? Your daughters are not here. Mr. Brookes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have reason to know they are here, and I will not leave without them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will do well to let us in, Mr. Escott; we are determined&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you? What business is it of yours?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Should you refuse us admission we are resolved to wait here till evening,
+      till midnight if necessary!&rdquo; exclaimed Berkins. &ldquo;I say again you will do
+      well to admit us, and so avoid a scandal on the green.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can come in if you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you kindly chain up that dog of yours?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, this is coming it too strong; this is a little too 'steep.' If Mr.
+      Brookes refuses to believe my word that his daughters are not here he may
+      come in and look for them, and to facilitate his search I will tie up the
+      dog&mdash;(the dog is tied up). But you, what brings you here? What the
+      devil, I should like to know, brings you here, poking your nose into other
+      people's business?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Brookes, will you answer him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must decline your offer to admit me unaccompanied by my son-in-law. We
+      shall not stay long.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All this seems to me very extraordinary, but since you wish it, Mr.
+      Brookes, pray enter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that dog tied up quite securely?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite. I think you know Mr. Meason?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Meason knows very well that I do not wish to know him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you only come here to insult my guest, the sooner you go out the
+      better. Had I known that you intended to behave in this fashion I should
+      have left you standing outside till morning. I'll not have&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind, Escott; I'm off. Mr. Brookes and I are no longer on speaking
+      terms, that's all! I'll see you later on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't go, pray.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I must.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am surprised, Frank,&rdquo; said Mr. Brookes, when Meason was gone, &ldquo;that you
+      should seek your friends among the enemies of my family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will not discuss that question now. I never heard of such conduct&mdash;you
+      force your way into my studio, and apparently for no purpose but to insult
+      my guest. You see your daughters are not here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am by no means satisfied with that,&rdquo; said Berkins, opening a door. &ldquo;I
+      must see behind that piece of tapestry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you shall not. I have had just about enough of this. How dare you?
+      God's truth&mdash;&rdquo; and as Berkins seemed determined to continue his
+      search, Frank caught him by the collar.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Berkins was tall and strong, and showed no intention of allowing
+      himself to be thrown out. His long legs were soon extended here and there;
+      his body was sometimes bent back by Frank's weight, once he had succeeded
+      in nearly throwing Frank over on the sofa. Mr. Brookes had fled to the
+      door, which, in his excitement, he failed to open, and the struggle was
+      continued until at last, maddened by a most tight and tempting aspect of
+      Berkin's thigh, Triss broke his collar, and in a couple of bounds, reached
+      and fixed his teeth deep in the flesh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Triss, you brute, leave go.&rdquo; But Triss clung to the long-desired thigh.
+      &ldquo;I'll twist his tail, it will make him leave go.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With a savage yelp of pain the dog turned on his master and was hauled
+      instantly off Berkins's thigh.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I need hardly say that so far as the dog is concerned, I regret, and I am
+      truly sorry for what has occurred.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, do you not see what a state I am in; do not stand there making
+      excuses, but lend me your handkerchief. I shall bleed to death if you
+      don't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I tie it up for you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If those girls there would only fetch a doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Brookes could not refrain from foolish laughter, and in a moment of
+      wretched despair he declared that it would be all the same in a hundred
+      years time&mdash;a remark which would not have failed to irritate Berkins
+      if he had not fainted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Next day Willy called at the studio, and Frank told him what had occurred.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I don't see why you shouldn't come to the Manor House,&rdquo; said Willy.
+      &ldquo;If you will only say something about the Measons, I think it can be made
+      all right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I'm not going to turn against Meason; I have always found him a good
+      fellow. I know nothing about his flirtation with Sally.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No more do I; I think it has been exaggerated, but, as you know, I never
+      interfere. I wish you would come in to dinner one night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Supposing I were to meet Berkins?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy stroked his moustache.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it is quite impossible that I could return to the Manor House. Your
+      father behaved in a way&mdash;well, I will not say what I think of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Berkins hasn't been to the City since. Grace was over here yesterday, she
+      says he limps about the garden. He'll never forgive you; he says that you
+      didn't call the dog off at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's a lie; and I said, 'So far as the incident with the dog is
+      concerned, I am very sorry.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think that made him more angry than anything else; he thought you were
+      laughing at him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was not. It was most unfortunate. I shall not give Maggie up. I am
+      writing to-morrow or next day to Mount Rorke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All were agreed that things must come right sooner or later. Maggie fought
+      for her lover, and emphatically asserted her engagement. She yielded on
+      one point only&mdash;not to visit the studio; but she maintained her right
+      in theory and in practice to go where she liked with him in train or in
+      cart, to walk with him on the cliff, to lunch with him at Mutton's. They
+      found pleasure in thus affirming their love, and it pleased them to see
+      they were observed, and to hear that they were spoken about. Nevertheless
+      the string that sung their happiness had slipped a little, and the note
+      was now not quite so clear or true. Frank could not go to the Manor House;
+      Maggie could not go to the studio. Whether Mount Rorke would consent to
+      their marriage perplexed them as it had not done before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The summer fades, the hills grow grey, and a salt wind blew up from the
+      sea, blackening the trees, and the beauty of autumn was done. Frank
+      thought of Ireland, and what personal intercession might achieve. She
+      begged of him to go, and he promised to write to her every day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every day, darling, or I shall be miserable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Arrived safe after a very rough passage. Every one was ill, I most of
+      all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She received a post-card:&mdash;&ldquo;It was raining cats and dogs when I got
+      out of the train. Mount Rorke sent a car to meet me; the result is that I
+      am in bed with a bad cold. The house is full of company&mdash;people I
+      have known, or known of, since I was a boy; we shall begin
+      pheasant-shooting in a few days. When I am out of bed I shall write a long
+      letter. Do you write to me; I shall be awfully disappointed if I do not
+      get a letter to-morrow morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Extract from a letter:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mount Rorke is considered to be a handsome place, but as I have known it
+      from childhood, as my earliest memories are of it, I cannot see it with
+      the eyes of a professed scenery hunter. I have loved it always, but I do
+      not think I ever loved it more than now, for now I think that one day I
+      shall give it to you. Should that day come&mdash;and it will come&mdash;what
+      happiness it will be to walk with you under the old trees, made lovelier
+      by your presence, to pass down the glades to the river, watching your
+      shadow on the grass and your image in the stream. We will roam together
+      through the old castle, and I will show you the little bed I used to sleep
+      in, the school-room where I learned my lessons. When I entered the old
+      room I saw in imagination&mdash;and oh, how clearly!&mdash;the face of my
+      governess; and how easily I see her in the corridor she used to walk down
+      to get to her room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor, dear, old thing, I wonder what has become of her!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I saw again the pictures that stirred my childish fancy, and whose
+      meaning I once vainly strove to decipher.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I came to live here when I was four, immediately after my father's death.
+      I can just remember coming here. I remember Mount Rorke taking me up in
+      his arms and kissing me. I will not say there is no place like home&mdash;I
+      do not believe that; but certainly no place seems so real. Every spot of
+      ground has its own particular recollections. Every bend of the avenue
+      evokes some incident of childish life (in Ireland we call any road leading
+      to a house an avenue, even if it is absolutely bare of trees; we also
+      speak of rooks as crows, and these two provincialisms jarred on my ear
+      after my long stay in Sussex). Mount Rorke is covered with trees&mdash;great
+      woods of beech and fir&mdash;and at the end of every vista you see a piece
+      of blue mountain. A river passes behind the castle, winding through the
+      park; there are bridges, and swans float about the sedges, and there are
+      deer in the glades. The garden,&mdash;I do not know if you would like the
+      garden; it is old-fashioned&mdash;full of old-fashioned flowers&mdash;convolvuluses,
+      Michaelmas daisies, marigolds; hedges clipped into all sorts of strange
+      and close shapes. There is a beautiful avenue behind the garden (an avenue
+      in the English sense of the word) where you may pace to and fro and feel
+      an exquisite sense of solitude; for when the castle had passed out of the
+      hands of Irish princes&mdash;that is to say, brigands&mdash;it was turned
+      into a monastery, and I often think, as I look on the mossy trees&mdash;the
+      progeny of those under whose leafage the monks told their beads&mdash;that
+      all happened that I might throw my arm about you some beautiful day, and
+      whisper, 'My wife, this is yours.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How beautifully he writes,&rdquo; said Sally reflectively.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never had a lover who wrote to you like that. Do you remember how
+      Jimmy used to write?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know how he wrote to you, but his letters to me, I will say that,
+      were quite as nice as anything Frank could write. You needn't toss your
+      head, you are not Lady Mount Rorke yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Sally refused to hear, but presently, seeing a cloud on her sister's face,
+      and thinking the letter contained some piece of unpleasantness, she
+      relented, and pressed her to continue.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+&ldquo;The house is full of people&mdash;people whom I have known all my life&mdash;and
+they make a great deal of me. I have to tell them about Italy, and they
+ask me absurd questions about Michael Angelo or Titian, Leonardo or
+Watteau.... The house party is a large one, and we have people to dinner
+every day; and in the evening the drawing-room, with its grim oak and
+escutcheons and rich modern furniture, is a pretty sight indeed. There
+is a lady here whom I knew in London, Lady Seveley; and I have had
+suspicions that Mount Rorke would like me to marry her. But she has
+the reputation of being rather fast, so perhaps the old gentleman is
+allowing his thoughts to wander where they should not. I hope not for
+his sake, for I hear she is devoted to a young Irishman, a Mr. Fletcher,
+a journalist in London. I met them at Reading once in most suspicious
+circumstances. He is the son of a large grazier, one of my uncle's
+tenants, and she is, I suppose, so infatuated that she could not resist
+the temptation of calling on his family. She was careful not to speak
+of her intentions to anybody, but waited until she got a favourable
+opportunity and slipped off to pay her visit. The Fletchers live about
+half a mile from the castle. I was riding that way, and met her coming
+out of their house. I got off my horse and walked back together. I hope
+Mount Rorke will not hear of her ladyship's escapade; he would be very
+angry, for the Fletchers are people who would be asked to have something
+to eat in the housekeeper's room if they called at the Castle. In London
+one knows everybody, but in the country we are more conservative.&rdquo;
+
+ &ldquo;I hope she won't cut you out,&rdquo; said Sally. &ldquo;It would be a sell for
+you if she did. Go on.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I shan't, you are too insulting.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who began it? You told me that I didn't get such nice letters as you.
+      Pray go on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know if you would think her handsome. I don't. She is, however,
+      an excellent musician; we play duets together every evening, to Mount
+      Rorke's intense delight. You know my dialogue between a lady and a
+      gentleman? She has written it down for me and corrected a few mistakes; I
+      think I shall publish it. Darling, I love you better than any one in the
+      world; you are all the world to me; try to love me a little&mdash;you will
+      never find any one to love you as I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, you can't find anything peculiarly disagreeable to say about that,
+      I think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Extract from another letter:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the visitors have gone; Mount Rorke and I are quite alone. He is
+      kindness itself, and does not bother me about his memoirs; but from what I
+      hear that book will make one of the biggest sensations ever made in the
+      literary world. I want him to publish it now, but he only smiles and
+      shakes his head. He says: 'What is the use of setting the world talking
+      about you when you are alive; as long as I am alive I can see those I want
+      to see, and be with them far more personally than I could by placing in
+      their hands three volumes in 8vo; the 8vos are only useful when you have
+      passed into darkness, and are not yet reconciled to dying quite out of the
+      minds of men. I do not desire to be remembered by those who will live
+      three hundred years hence, but I confess that I should like to modulate
+      the pace of forgetfulness according to my fancy, and be remembered, let us
+      say, for the next sixty or seventy years. I find no fault with death but
+      its abruptness, and that I hope to be able to correct. The vulgar and most
+      usual plan is children, but children are no anodyne to oblivion, whereas a
+      good book in a certain measure is.'
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These are almost the words Mount Rorke used, and I quote them as exactly
+      as possible, so that you may see what kind of man he is. We pulled our
+      chairs round to the fire and had a real good talk. I know no better
+      company than Mount Rorke. He has seen everything, read everything, and
+      known everybody worth knowing; he is a mine of information, and, what is
+      far better, he is a complete man of the world; and long contact with the
+      world has left him a little cynical, otherwise he is perfect. I told him
+      the story about Berkins, and he laughed; I never saw him laugh so before;
+      and when I told him that I had told Berkins, as he was tying up his leg,
+      that so far as the incident with the dog was concerned, I regretted deeply
+      what had occurred, he could not contain himself. He rang the bell, and we
+      had old Triss up. He asked a great deal about you; I leave you to imagine
+      what I said. How did he expect me to describe my darling? I told him of
+      your subtle, fascinating ways, of your picturesque attitudes, and your
+      exquisite little black eyes. 'I think I see her,' he said; 'little eyes
+      that light up are infinitely more interesting than those big, limpid,
+      silly eyes that everybody admires.' I am now doing a water-colour sketch
+      from the photograph&mdash;the one in which you stand with your hands
+      behind your back and your head on one side&mdash;for him. I am getting on
+      with it pretty well. Ah! if only I had you here for an hour (I should like
+      to have you here for ever, of course; but now I am speaking artistically,
+      not humanly), I think I could get it really like you; there are one or two
+      things that the photo does not give me. I shall send the sketch to Dublin
+      to be framed; it will be a nice present for Mount Rorke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My darling, you must not be anxious; all will come right in time&mdash;have
+      a little patience. He is already much more reconciled to the match than he
+      was when I arrived, and if your father will refrain from speaking too much
+      about that hateful question, I am sure that all difficulties can be
+      surmounted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She wrote to him three or four times a week, and on beautiful hand-made
+      paper, delicately scented.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Extract from a letter:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We went up to town yesterday by the ten o'clock train West Brighton; and
+      so that we might have more money to spend, we went third class. Father
+      doesn't like us going third class, but I don't think it matters if you get
+      in with nice people. We were very jolly. The Shaws went with us. They are
+      very nice girls. They had to leave us at Victoria, and I and my cousin,
+      Agnes Keating, went shopping together. We met the Harrisons at Russell
+      &amp; Allen's. We saw there some lovely dresses&mdash;I wish you had been
+      with us, for I have confidence in your taste, and when I choose a thing
+      myself I am never sure that I like it. The assistant was so polite; she
+      told me to ask for Miss &mdash;&mdash;; she said she would like to fit me.
+      Sally was coming up with us, but she changed her mind and remained at
+      home, I was very glad, for she is wretchedly cross, and not looking at all
+      well. You would not admire her in the least; she is growing very yellow.
+      But I don't mean to be ill-natured, so we'll let Sally bide, as we say in
+      Sussex. After Russell &amp; Allen's we went to Blanchard's, and had a nice
+      lunch. Grace was in town; she chaperoned us, and paid for everything; it
+      was very kind of her. Then we went to the theatre, and saw a play which we
+      did not care about much. There was a very stupid 'tart' in it. I do like
+      'gadding,' don't I? But, oh, my darling Frank, gadding is not really
+      gadding without you. How I miss you, how we all miss you, but I
+      especially. The Keatings came over to tea to-day, and they asked about
+      you. Blanche wants you to write something in her album, and she admired
+      immensely the drawing you gave me. She is very artistic in her tastes; I
+      think you would like her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I have a bit of news that I think will amuse you. You remember Mrs.
+      Horlock's old dog&mdash;not the blind Angel; he's old too. But I mean the
+      real old dog,&mdash;the one twenty years old, that once belonged to a
+      butcher. He never smelt very sweet, as you know, but latterly he was
+      unbearable, and the General resolved on a silent and secret destruction.
+      He purchased in Brighton a bottle of chloroform. It was the dead of the
+      night and pitch dark. However, he reached the end of the passage in
+      safety; but suddenly he uttered a fearful shriek and dropped the
+      chloroform. He thought he had seen a ghost; but it was only Mrs. Horlock,
+      who was going her rounds, letting down the mouse-traps and supplying the
+      little creatures with food. The General blurted out various excuses. He
+      said that he had come to relieve the cock parrot's tooth-ache&mdash;that
+      he feared the Circassian goat was suffering from spinal complaint and the
+      squirrels from neuralgia. But his protestations proved unavailing, and now
+      he eats his meals in silence. And to make matters worse, the old dog did
+      die a few days after&mdash;the General says from old age, but Mrs. Horlock
+      avows that his death resulted from fright. 'He was a sweet, cunning old
+      thing, and no doubt knew all about that plan to destroy him.' I think this
+      would make an excellent subject for a comic sketch; I wish you would do
+      one&mdash;the General dropping the bottle; Mrs. Horlock, surrounded by
+      closed mouse-traps and crumbs, sternly upbraiding him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see lots of Emily Pierce. Every Sunday I have tea with her, and
+      sometimes lunch; but she doesn't come here. I am afraid I couldn't get on
+      at all without her; we do everything together, and we hit it off so well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sally has been staying in Kent. I do not know what's up, but she seems to
+      see everything <i>couleur de rose</i>; everything in Kent is better in her
+      estimation than anywhere else. The men dance so much better for one thing.
+      I am glad she is so happy, and I wish she would get married and stay
+      there. Father says he has a cough that tears him to pieces, but I haven't
+      heard it yet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The elementary notion of a woman in love is to surround, to envelop the
+      man she loves, with her individuality, and to draw him from all other
+      influences. And the woman in love strives to accomplish this by ceaseless
+      reiteration of herself or himself seen through herself. So Maggie with her
+      nervous, highly-strung, febrile temperament could not refrain from
+      constantly striking the lyre of love. Her hands were for ever on the
+      chords. Letters and notes of all kinds; impetuous messages asking him when
+      he would return; letters apologising for her selfishness&mdash;he had
+      better remain with Mount Rorke until his consent had been obtained;
+      resolutions and irresolutions, ardours, lassitudes, forgetfulness followed
+      fast in strange and incomprehensible contradiction. And Frank was asked
+      daily to perform some small task. There was always something; and Frank
+      undertook all he was asked to do, for he loved to be as much as possible
+      in that circle of life in which his sweetheart lived, and to feel her
+      presence about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Extract from a letter:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mount Rorke and I had a long and serious talk about you last night. He is
+      against the marriage, but then he is against marriage in general. He said
+      with his quiet, cynical laugh, 'I daresay she is a pretty girl&mdash;I can
+      read the truth through your romantic descriptions. I am convinced that she
+      is very charming. But are you quite sure that you will never meet another
+      equally charming girl? Remember the world is a very big place, and the
+      stock of women is large; are you sure that you will be able to enjoy the
+      charm which now rules and enchants you for thirty, forty years without
+      wearying of it? These are the questions you have to consider, which
+      marriage entails.' I need hardly tell you what answer I made, and how I
+      tried to convince him that your charms are those that a man capable of
+      appreciating them could not weary of. Indeed I think I made him rather a
+      neat answer&mdash;I said there are books in one volume, in two volumes, in
+      three volumes, and there are books that you can take down and read at any
+      time. He laughed; it rather tickled his fancy. And he said, 'Quite true,
+      there are some books and some women that one never tires of&mdash;that is
+      to say, that some people never tire of. I haven't been so fortunate or
+      unfortunate, but that by the way. I admit such cases may occur. I will go
+      further&mdash;I will admit that a man's life may be made or marred by his
+      taking to himself a wife; and if Miss Brookes were a really nice girl&mdash;if
+      she were the one girl in a million, and if I were sure that your passion
+      for each other has its root in deeper and more lasting sympathies than
+      those of the skin (these were his exact words)&mdash;believe me, my dear
+      Frank, I should not think of opposing the marriage. I shall be in London
+      during the season, and no doubt an occasion will arise, of which I promise
+      you to avail myself, of making this model young lady's acquaintance. I
+      will tell you what I think of her; she won't deceive me, let her try how
+      she will. There is only one thing I bar&mdash;one thing must not be, one
+      thing I will not tolerate&mdash;a bad marriage.' I lost my temper for a
+      moment, but Mount Rorke did not lose his, and I soon came round. It is
+      annoying to be spoken to in that way; but I remembered that he had not
+      seen you, and I consoled myself by thinking of how great his conversion
+      will be when he does. My only fear is that he'll want to marry you
+      himself. So, you see, my own darling, my uncle is on the 'give,' and we
+      shall win soon and easily. The only real obstacle is your father's
+      pig-headedness on all matters in which money enters. I think with terror
+      of his meeting with Mount Rorke. If he speaks to Mount Rorke as he spoke
+      to me, my uncle will take up his hat and wish him good-morning. Do you
+      exert all your influence. Do leave no stone unturned. All depends upon
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Extract from another letter:&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am weary of this place, and I long to see you. My longing is such that
+      I can resist it no longer. Besides, nothing would be gained by remaining
+      here. Mount Rorke will not say more than he has said. In a few days&mdash;think
+      of that&mdash;I shall be with you. With what eagerness I look forward. How
+      gladly I shall see the train leave the dreary bogs and the blue mountains
+      of the West and pass into the pasture lands of Meath; how gladly I shall
+      hail the brown, slobber-faced city of Dublin; with what delight I shall
+      step on board the packet&mdash;I shall not think of sea sickness&mdash;and
+      watch the line of the low coast disappear, then the Welsh mountains and
+      castles, looking so like an illustrated history of England. I must spend
+      two days in London, alas! I must order some new clothes. Victoria Station,
+      with all its doors and cab stands, and book-stalls, the Sussex scenery,
+      the woodlands, the Downs, the plunging through tunnels, and then you.
+      Darling, I cannot believe that such happiness is in store for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All happened as he had anticipated. At Victoria the usual difficulties had
+      arisen about the dog. Triss was growling, the guard was cringing, and,
+      with reference to no stoppage before we come to Redhill, the necessity of
+      a muzzle was being argued.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am certain it is she,&rdquo; and he followed with his eyes the tall, swinging
+      figure in the black cloth dress. Then he saw the clear plump profile, so
+      white, of Lizzie Baker.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here, give me the chain, I'll tie the dog up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the muzzle, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A muzzle was procured, and Frank ran to the third class carriage where he
+      had seen Lizzie enter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lizzie! Lizzie!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, Mr. Escott, who would have thought of seeing you! It is such a time&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, isn't it; how long? But are you going to Brighton?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So am I; but&mdash;let me get you a first-class ticket. Guard, have I
+      time to change my ticket?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir, the train is going to start; get in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you get out, Lizzie; I'll pay the difference at Brighton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No time for changing now, sir; are you getting into this carriage?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He could not forego the pleasure of being with Lizzie. An old woman with a
+      provision basket on her lap drew her skirts aside and made way for him;
+      there were three dirtily dressed girls&mdash;probably shop girls; they sat
+      whispering together, a little troubled by the publicity; there were two
+      youths, shabbily dressed, their worn boots and trousers covered with
+      London mud. He was surprised, and he did not for a moment understand or
+      realise his company. Frank had never been in a third-class carriage
+      before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid you won't be comfortable here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, I shall; I'd just as soon travel in one class as another&mdash;much
+      sooner when it means being with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;None of your nonsense; I see you haven't changed. Well, who'd have
+      thought it? Just fancy meeting you, and after all this time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long is it? It must be nearly two years. I haven't seen you sincethat
+      day we went up the river.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, you have.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; where did I see you since?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the bar; I didn't leave the 'Gaiety' for several days after.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No more you did; I remember now. But why did you leave without letting me
+      know where you were going?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't know I was leaving till the morning, and I left in the
+      afternoon. A lot of us were changed suddenly. The firm couldn't get enough
+      young ladies to do the work at the Exhibition.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you didn't leave an address.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you didn't; I asked the manager, and he told me you had left no
+      address. They didn't know where you had gone.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did he say so? You mean Mr. Fairlie, I suppose&mdash;now I come to think
+      of it, it is the rule of the firm not to give information about the young
+      ladies. I am sorry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am, really. We had a very pleasant day up the river&mdash;Reading; you
+      took me to Reading.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but you would never come again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wouldn't I? I suppose I couldn't find time&mdash;I did enjoy myself. What
+      a lovely day it was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; and do you remember how like a beautiful smile the river lay? And do
+      you remember the bulrushes? I rowed you in among the rushes; you wet the
+      sleeve of your dress plunging your arm in. I remember it, that white plump
+      arm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Get along with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wanted to make a sketch of you leaning over the boatside with your
+      lapful of water-lilies; I wish I had.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you had, too; you wrote a little poem instead. It was very pretty,
+      but I should have liked the picture better. You gave me the poem next day
+      when you came in to lunch. You had lunch at the bar, and I was so cross
+      with you because you said I hadn't wiped the glass. It was all done to
+      annoy me because I had been talking to that tall, rather stout young man,
+      with the dark moustache, whom you were so jealous of. Don't you remember?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I remember; and I believe it was that fellow who prevented you from
+      coming out with me again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it wasn't; but don't speak so loud, all these people are listening to
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank met the round stare of the girls; and, turning from the dormant
+      curiosity of the old woman, he said&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you remember the locks, how frightened you were; you had never been
+      through a lock before; and the beautiful old red brick house showing upon
+      the lofty woods; and coming back in the calm of the evening, passing the
+      different boats, the one where the girls lay back in the arms of the young
+      men, the flapping sail, and the dreamy influences of the woods where we
+      climbed and looked into space over the railing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the green-table&mdash;don't you remember?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I remember every hour of that day; we had lunch at the 'Roebuck.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You haven't spoken of the lady we saw there. Lady Something&mdash;I
+      forget what you said her name was; you said she had been making up to
+      you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I dined with her one night, and we went to the theatre.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may do that without it being said that you are making up to a
+      gentleman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course; I should never think of saying you made up to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should hope not, indeed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should never think of accusing you of having made up to me; you have
+      always treated me very badly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lizzie did not answer. He looked at her, puzzled and perplexed, and he
+      hoped that neither the girls nor the old lady had understood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry; I really didn't mean to offend you. All I meant to say was
+      that the lady we saw at the 'Roebuck' had been rather civil to me; had&mdash;well
+      I don't know how to put it&mdash;shown an inclination to flirt with me&mdash;will
+      that suit you?&mdash;and that I had not availed myself of my chances
+      because I was in love with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Encouraged by a sunny smile, Frank continued: &ldquo;You wouldn't listen to me;
+      you were very cruel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure I didn't mean to be cruel; I went out on the river with you,
+      and we had a very pleasant day. You didn't say then I was cruel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you were very nice that day; it was the happiest day of my life. I
+      was in love with you; I shall never care for any one as I cared for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I swear it is true. When you left the 'Gaiety' I searched London for you.
+      If you had only cared for me we might have been very happy. As sure as a
+      fellow loves a woman, so sure is she to like some other chap. Tell me, why
+      did you go away and leave no address?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did leave an address.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, we won't discuss that. Why didn't you write to me? You knew my
+      address. It's no use saying you didn't.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I suppose I was in love with some one else.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Were you? You always denied it. Ah! so you were in love with some one
+      else? I knew it&mdash;I knew it was that thick-set fellow with the black
+      moustache. I wonder how you could like him&mdash;the amount of whisky and
+      water he used to drink.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, usen't he? I have served him with as many as six whiskies in an
+      afternoon&mdash;Irish, he always drank Irish.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How could you like a man who drank?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it wasn't he&mdash;I assure you; I give you my word of honour. It
+      really wasn't. I'd tell you if it was.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, who was it, then? It couldn't be the old man with the beard and
+      white teeth?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Was it that great tall fellow, clean shaven?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, it wasn't; you'll never guess; There's no use trying. However, it is
+      all over now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why? Did he treat you badly? Whose fault was it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;His. And the chances I threw away. He behaved like a beast. I had to give
+      up keeping company with him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't know. He changed very much towards me lately; he went messing
+      about after other girls, and we had words, and I left.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will make it up. Perhaps you are mistaken.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mistaken&mdash;no; I found their letters in his pocket.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There are always rows between sweethearts; and then they kiss and make it
+      up, and love each other the more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I shall not see him again. We were going to be married; no, it is all
+      over. It was a little hard at first, but I am all right now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sorry. Do you think there is no chance of making it up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should have thought that you would be glad; men are so selfish they
+      never think of any one but themselves.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How do you mean? Why should I be glad that your marriage was broken off?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You said just now that you liked me very much, I thought&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So I do like you very much. Once I was in love with you&mdash;that day
+      when we walked up the steep woods together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you don't care for me any longer?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't say that; but I am engaged to be married.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Had you not snubbed me so I might have been married to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who are you going to be married to&mdash;to the lady we saw that day?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, not to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't believe you. You mean to say you haven't been to see her since.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you&mdash;-&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean to say you haven't seen her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't say that. I've just come from Ireland. I've been staying with my
+      uncle. She spent a week with us; that's all I have seen of her. I am going
+      now to see the young lady whom I am engaged to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And when will you be married?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know; there are a great many difficulties in the way. Perhaps I
+      shall never marry her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nonsense. I know better. You think it will take me in. I'll never be
+      taken in again, not if I know it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want to take you in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know so much about that. Is she very pretty? I suppose you are
+      very much in love with her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I love her very much. Dark, not like you a bit&mdash;just the
+      opposite.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you met her since you saw me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, I thought as much, and yet you told me the day we went up the river
+      together that you never had and couldn't care for any one elsebut me. Men
+      are all alike&mdash;they never tell the truth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait a minute; wait a minute. I knew her long before I knew you; I have
+      known her since I was a boy, but that doesn't mean that I have been in
+      love with her since I was a boy. I never thought of her until you threw me
+      over, until long after; it was last summer I fell in love with her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lizzie's eyes were full upon him, and it seemed to them that each could
+      see and taste the essence of the other's thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have you been doing ever since? You have told me nothing about
+      yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, after trying vainly to find you&mdash;having searched, as I
+      thought, all Speirs and Pond's establishments in London, I tried to resign
+      myself to my fate. I assure you, I was dreadfully cut up&mdash;could do
+      nothing. My life was a burden to me. You have been in love, and you know
+      what an ache it is; it used to catch me about the heart. There was no
+      hope; you were gone&mdash;gone as if the earth had swallowed you. I got
+      sick of going to the 'Gaiety' and asking those girls if they knew anything
+      about you; so to cure myself I went to France, and I worked hard at my
+      painting. In such circumstances there is only one thing&mdash;work.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are right.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; nothing does you any good but work. I worked in the <i>atelier</i>&mdash;that's
+      the French for studio&mdash;all the morning, and in the afternoon I
+      painted from the nude in a public studio. I had such a nice studio&mdash;such
+      a jolly little place. I was up every morning at eight o'clock, my model
+      arrived at nine, and I worked without stopping (barring the ten or twelve
+      minutes' rest at the end of every hour) till twelve. Then I went to the
+      cafe to have breakfast&mdash;how I used to enjoy those breakfasts&mdash;fried
+      eggs all swimming in butter, a cutlet, after, nice bread and butter, then
+      cock your legs up, drink your coffee, and smoke your cigarette till one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you like the French cafe better than the 'Gaiety'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is impossible to compare them. I made a great deal of progress. I
+      began one picture of a woman in a hammock, a recollection of you. You
+      remember when we passed under those cedar branches, close to the
+      'Roebuck,' we saw a hammock hung by the water's edge, and I said I would
+      like to see you in it, and stand by and rock you. I had intended to send
+      it to the Academy, but I never could finish it, the French model was not
+      what I wanted&mdash;I wanted you; and I was obliged to leave France, and I
+      could get no one in Southwick. Once a fellow changes his model he is done
+      for; he never can find his idea again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where's Southwick?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A village outside Brighton, three or four miles, not more. I have a
+      studio there; you must come and see it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must paint me. But what would your lady love say if she found me in
+      your studio? She'd have me out of it pretty quick. Tell me about her; I
+      want to hear how you fell in love.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It happened in the most curious, quite providential way. I have told you
+      that I knew them since I was a boy. Maggie has often sat on my knee.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Maggie is her name, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, don't you like the name? I do. Her brother was a school-fellow of
+      mine. We were at Eton together, and one time when Mount Rorke was away
+      travelling they asked me to spend my holidays at Southwick. That's how I
+      got to know them. One day Maggie and Sally were at my studio; Sally has a
+      sweetheart&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The sentence was cut short by a sudden roar. The train had entered a
+      tunnel, and the speakers made pause, seeing each other vaguely in the dim
+      light, and when they emerged into the cold April twilight Frank told the
+      story of Triss and Berkins, Mr. Brookes struggling with the door, and the
+      girls rushing screaming from their hiding-place; and Frank's imitation of
+      Berkin's pomposity amused Lizzie, and she laughed till she cried. He
+      continued till the joke was worn bare; then, fearing he had been talking
+      too much of himself, he said: &ldquo;Now, I have been very candid with you, tell
+      me about yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing to tell; I think I have told you all.&rdquo; Then she said,
+      slipping, as she spoke, into minute confidences: &ldquo;When I left the 'Gaiety'
+      I went for a few days to the Exhibition, but <i>he</i> wanted to leave
+      London, so I applied to the firm to remove me to Liverpool (not Liverpool
+      Street; the girl&mdash;I suppose it was Miss Clarke, for I wrote to her&mdash;made
+      a mistake, or you misunderstood her). We remained in Liverpool a year, and
+      then we came back to London, and I went to the 'Criterion,' but I couldn't
+      stop there long; he was so awfully jealous of me; he used to catechise me
+      every evening&mdash;who had I spoken to? How long I had spoken to this
+      man? Once I slapped a man's face in fun because he squeezed my hand when I
+      handed him the change across the counter. There was such a row about it. I
+      don't know how <i>he</i> heard of it. I think he must have got some one to
+      watch me. I often suspected the porter&mdash;the bigger one of the two;
+      but you don't know the 'Criterion.' You used to go to the 'Gaiety.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps he saw you himself. I suppose he used to come to the bar?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, not unless&mdash;no, not very often. He banged me about.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Banged you about, the brute! Good heavens! How could you like a man who
+      would strike a woman? Who was he? Was he a gentleman&mdash;I mean, was he
+      supposed to be a gentleman? Of course he wasn't really a gentleman, or he
+      wouldn't have struck you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was in a passion, he was very sorry for it afterwards. Then I left the
+      firm and went to live in lodgings; he allowed me so much a week.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He was a man of some means?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, but it didn't cost him much, he knew the people. We were going to be
+      married, but he got ill, and we thought we had better wait; and I went to
+      the 'Gaiety' again. I was a fool, of course, to think so much about him,
+      for I had plenty of chances. One man who used to lunch there three times a
+      week wanted me to marry him, and take me right away. I think he was in the
+      printing business&mdash;a man who was making good money; but I could not
+      give Harry up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Harry is his name, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; but it all began over again. It was just the same at the 'Gaiety' as
+      it was at the 'Criterion.' He would never leave me alone, but kept on
+      accusing me of flirting with the gentlemen that came to the bar. Now, you
+      know as well as I do what the bar is. You must be polite to the gentlemen
+      you serve. There are certain gentlemen who always come to me, and don't
+      care to be served by any one else, and if I didn't speak to them they
+      wouldn't come to the bar. The manager is very sharp, and would be sure to
+      mention it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whom do you mean? That fellow with the yellow moustache that walks about
+      with his frock-coat all open&mdash;a sort of apotheosis of sherry and
+      bitters?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what you called him once before. You see I remember. He is very
+      fond of sherry and bitters. But I was saying that Harry would keep on
+      interfering with me, pulling me over the coals. We had such dreadful rows.
+      He accused me of having gone with gentlemen to their rooms&mdash;a thing I
+      never did. I could stand it no longer, and we agreed to part.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long is that ago?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;About three weeks. I could stand it no longer, I couldn't remain at the
+      'Gaiety,' so I resolved to leave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why couldn't you remain at the 'Gaiety,' the manager didn't know anything
+      about it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, he knew nothing about it, it wouldn't have mattered if he had, but
+      after a break up like that you can't remain among people you know&mdash;you
+      want to get right away; there's nothing like a change. Besides I mightn't
+      get such a good chance again; I had the offer of a very good place in
+      Brighton, and I took it&mdash;a new restaurant, they open to-morrow. I get
+      thirty pounds a year and my food.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And lodging?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, they are very short of accommodation, and I have taken a room in one
+      of the streets close by&mdash;Preston Street. Do you know it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perfectly, off the Western Road.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The lady who has the house knew my poor mother&mdash;a very nice woman&mdash;will
+      let me have a bedroom for five shillings a week, and I shall be allowed to
+      use her sitting-room when I want it, which, of course, won't be very
+      often, for I shall be at business all day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The train rolled along the platform; Frank asked the porter when there
+      would be a train for Southwick, and was told he would have half an hour to
+      wait.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall have time to drive you to Preston Street.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, please don't! She will be waiting for you&mdash;you will miss
+      your train.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XIV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      About four in the afternoon he left off painting, and went to Brighton for
+      a couple of hours. The little journey broke up the day, he bought the
+      evening papers, and it was pleasant to glance from the news to those who
+      passed, and to look upon the sunny and hazy sea. He liked to go to
+      Mutton's, and regretted Lizzie was not there, instead of behind a bar
+      serving whisky and beer. But he went to the bar. It was a German
+      establishment, decorated with the mythological art of Munich, and
+      enlivened with a discordant band. The different rooms were fitted with
+      bars of various importance. Lizzie was engaged at the largest&mdash;that
+      nearest the entrance. At half-past five this bar was thronged with all
+      classes. Beer and whisky were drunk hurriedly, with a look of trains on
+      the face. The quietest time was from half-past three to half-past four,
+      during these hours the dining-room was alone in the presence of the awful
+      goddesses and a couple of drowsy waiters. Most of the girls were out, some
+      two or three read faded novels in the sloppy twilight; a group of four or
+      five men who had lingered from half-hour to half-hour turned their backs,
+      and talked among themselves; sometimes a couple would condescendingly
+      address Lizzie, and tease her with rude remarks; or else Frank found her
+      having a little private chat with an old gentleman, a youth, or, may be,
+      the waiter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lizzie had her bar manners and her town manners, and she slipped on the
+      former as she would an article of clothing when she lifted the slab and
+      passed behind. They consisted principally of cordial smiles, personal
+      observations, and a look of vacancy which she assumed when the
+      conversation became coarse. From behind the bar she spoke authoritatively,
+      she was secure, it was different&mdash;it was behind the bar; and she
+      spoke with a cheek and a raciness that at other times were quite foreign
+      to her. &ldquo;I will not sleep with you to-night if you don't behave yourself,&rdquo;
+       so Frank once heard her answer a swaggering young man. She spoke out loud,
+      evidently regarding her words merely in the light of gentle repartee. What
+      she heard and said in the bar remained not a moment on her mind, she
+      appeared to accept it all as part of the business of the place, and when
+      Frank was annoyed she only laughed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Men will talk improper&mdash;what does it matter? One doesn't pay
+      attention to their nonsense, and it is only in the bar. Never mind all
+      that, tell me what you have been doing. You didn't come into Brighton
+      yesterday, I suppose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I had to go to the Manor House.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how is she&mdash;the only one? Are you as much in love with her as
+      ever?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose I am; I have begun a portrait of her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, another! You never finish anything. I shan't have that when I come
+      and sit for you. I shall make you finish my portrait.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, yes; when you come and sit. But, joking apart, when will you come? I
+      should so like to show you my studio. It really looks very nice now. When
+      will you come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have no time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why not come next Sunday; it is your Sunday off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What would Maggie say if she found me there? She'd have my eyes out.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If she did find it out she'd know you came to sit; but as a matter of
+      fact she'd know nothing about it. You come and lunch with me about twelve&mdash;they're
+      all in church about that time.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you never go to church, you wicked boy. I don't know that I dare
+      trust myself with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A scruple jarred the even strain of his desire to paint Lizzie's portrait,
+      but his scruple vanished in one of her sweet sunny smiles, and he gave her
+      all information about the train she would have to take to reach Southwick
+      by twelve o'clock.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He ordered some delicacies in the way of potted meats, and there was a
+      bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice when she arrived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you keep your champagne in ice? We never do in the bar. When the
+      gentlemen want it they have a piece to put in their wine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you'd try to forget your gentlemen when you come here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lizzie began to cry, and it was hard to console her; she said that Frank
+      had spoilt her lunch for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is because you are so much superior to the men I see you speaking to.
+      How can I help feeling annoyed that you should be serving drinks?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I've got to get my living. You don't suppose I serve in a bar because
+      I like it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, of course not; but don't let us talk any more about it. You're going
+      to sit to me, and I want to do as pretty a portrait of you as I can. All
+      that beautiful brown hair, and that hat! Let me take it from your head!&rdquo;
+       Frank had bought this hat for her and had handed it to her over the
+      counter, thereby bringing censure upon her from the manager. &ldquo;Let's forget
+      what I said. The hat suits you. There, now against the light, just a
+      three-quarter face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the end of half an hour he said she was a very good sitter and this
+      pleased her, and she tried to keep the pose till the clock struck, but at
+      the end of fifty minutes she said: &ldquo;I must get up,&rdquo; and she came round to
+      see what he was doing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now you mustn't criticise it,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It's only a beginning. You've
+      forgiven me my remarks about the bar?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't remind me of it again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But he could not get it out of his head that he had annoyed her, and was
+      unable to apply himself to his painting; perhaps for this reason his
+      drawing went wrong, and his colour became muddy, and the thought struck
+      him that if Maggie were to find this portrait about the studio she would
+      certainly ask him whose portrait it was.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I can't paint to-day,&rdquo; he said, getting up from his easel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And why can't you paint?&rdquo; The question seemed to him at first a stupid
+      one, and then she showed a perception that surprised him. &ldquo;Are you afraid
+      the young lady you're engaged to might come and catch me sitting to you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The fear that this might happen had been floating in the back of his mind
+      for the last half hour; he had kept Lizzie too long in the studio, and it
+      was not improbable that the girls might knock at his door at any moment,
+      and if they did it would be impossible for him not to answer. Triss would
+      bark.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;I won't keep you any longer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I assure you,&rdquo; he said aloud, and within himself, &ldquo;I'd give a
+      sovereign if I could get her to the station without being seen.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And he thought he had done so as he returned half an hour afterwards
+      across the green. Maggie was waiting for him. &ldquo;Come to ask me to dine at
+      the Manor House,&rdquo; he thought; but she told him that she knew all about his
+      visitor, and, despite all Frank's efforts to pacify her she grew more
+      violent, more excited until at last she told him she didn't want to see
+      him any more, that he was to go away, that she gave him his liberty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What an excitable girl she is! I'll go there this evening and try to coax
+      her out of her anger. I must try to explain to her that a painter must
+      have models. If we were married we shouldn't have more than a thousand a
+      year to live on at the outside&mdash;that is to say, if Mount Rorke and
+      Brookes come to terms, which is not very likely, they might make up a
+      thousand a year between them, that would not be enough for two, and I
+      should have to work; and I couldn't work without a model. The thing is
+      absurd! She'll have to learn that a model is absolutely necessary; we were
+      bound to have a row over that model question, so it might as well come off
+      now as later on, and we shall understand each other better when this has
+      blown over. There is nothing, and never has been anything, between me and
+      Lizzie&mdash;my conscience is clear on that score. How pretty she looked
+      to-day&mdash;that pale brown hair, so soft and so full of colour. To-day
+      was an unlucky day; I began by being unfortunate with my painting; I never
+      made a worse drawing in my life, and the worst of it was that I did not
+      see that my drawing was wrong until I had begun to paint.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A remembrance of Maggie's gracefulness came dazzling and straining his
+      imagination, and in sharp revulsion of desire he assailed Lizzie with
+      angry and contemptuous memory. She was always in low company&mdash;was
+      never happy out of it; it was part of her. How this man liked six dashes
+      of bitters in his sherry, and the other would not drink whisky except in a
+      thin glass.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As he was leaving the studio he received a letter from Maggie, and when he
+      thought of the circumstances in which it was written, he grew genuinely
+      alarmed, for there was no forgetting the seriousness of the letter, and
+      she stated her reasons for the step she was taking without undue emphasis.
+      In its severity and quiet determination the letter did not seem like her,
+      and he suspected forgery, sisterly advice, paternal influence&mdash;a
+      family conspiracy. There was but one thing to do. He looked through the
+      various furniture for his hat; and with his head full of citations from
+      the lives of artists illustrative of their conduct, he went to her. But
+      Maggie would not see him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Miss Brookes,&rdquo; the servant said, &ldquo;is in her room and cannot see you,
+      sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She will never be mine, she will never be mine,&rdquo; he muttered as he passed
+      into the town. &ldquo;But why do I think she'll never be mine?&rdquo; And looking at
+      the grey sea with only a trace of the sunset left in the grey sky he asked
+      himself if the thought that had crossed his mind were a conviction, a
+      fore-telling or merely a passing fancy created by the difficulty of the
+      moment. He asked himself if he had heard himself saying, &ldquo;She'll never be
+      mine&rdquo; and mistaken his own voice for the voice of Fate. Over the shingle
+      bank the sea faded, a thin illusion, dim and promiseful of peace, and as
+      the darkness and the sea filled Frank's soul he, the lightest and most
+      life-loving of men, was filled for once with a sense of failure of life,
+      and as his sorrowing thoughts drifted on he remembered that he had stood
+      with her in hearing of the rising tide, and all his pleading and passion
+      came back to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What are you doing here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It was Willy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know. Maggie has broken off her engagement; she will never speak
+      to me again, she hopes we may never meet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't understand. When did she break off her engagement?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank told his story, and they walked across the green towards the studio.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you don't care. I don't believe you are listening to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am listening. You never think any one understands what is said to them
+      if they do not instantly jump and call the stars to witness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose I am like that&mdash;excitable&mdash;the difference between the
+      Celt and the Saxon; and yet I don't know, your sisters are quite as
+      excitable as I am.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They take after their mother; I am more like my father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It wouldn't be a bad character for a play&mdash;a man who never would
+      believe what you said, unless you threw up your arms and called on the
+      stars.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He can't be very bad if he can think about plays,&rdquo; thought Willy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell me, Willy, you won't offend me; tell me exactly what you think, did
+      I do anything wrong? I swear to you there is nothing between me and Lizzie&mdash;I
+      believe she is over head and ears in love with some fellow who has treated
+      her very badly. She never would tell me who he was. In fact, she told me
+      she had left London so that she might get over it. There would be no use
+      my humbugging you, and I swear there is not, and never was, anything
+      between me and Lizzie Baker. I never expected to see her again. It is very
+      strange how people meet. I have told you all about it. When I go to
+      Brighton I must go somewhere to get a drink, and I really don't see there
+      is any harm in going to the 'Tivoli'; it didn't occur to me to think I
+      should avoid the place merely because she was serving there. I have often
+      been there, I don't deny it. Do you see there is any harm in my going
+      there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't like giving an opinion unless I am fully acquainted with the
+      facts; but it seems to me that you might have gone to the 'Tivoli' to have
+      a drink without asking her to your studio.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay a bit, we'll speak of that presently. I am now telling you how I see
+      Lizzie when I go to Brighton. I often go to Brighton by the four o'clock
+      train, I often go to the 'Tivoli,' and when she is not talking to some one
+      else I talk to her about things in general; but I swear I have never been
+      out with her, that I never saw her except in the bar, and yet Maggie
+      accuses me of keeping a woman in Brighton, and won't hear what I have to
+      say in my defence. This is what she says: 'I have it on unquestionable
+      authority that you have been keeping this woman since you returned from
+      Ireland, perhaps before, and that you go in by the four o'clock train
+      almost daily to see her.' Now I ask you if it is fair to make such
+      accusations&mdash;such utterly false and baseless accusations&mdash;and
+      then to refuse to hear what a fellow has to say in his defence? By Jove!
+      if I caught the fellow who has been telling lies about me, I'd let him
+      have it. Some of those Southdown Road people have been writing to her,
+      that's about the long and short of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As for having asked her to come to the studio, I assure you my intentions
+      were quite innocent. Perhaps you won't understand what I mean; you don't
+      care for painting, but very often an artist has a longing to paint a
+      certain face, and the desire completely masters him. Well, I had a longing
+      of this kind to paint Lizzie; hers is just the kind of head that suits me&mdash;she
+      offered to give me a sitting, Idid not see much harm in accepting, and as
+      I could not paint her in the bar-room, I asked her to the studio. But as
+      for making out there was anything wrong&mdash;I assure you she is not that
+      sort of girl. If we were married (I mean Maggie and I) I would have to
+      have models; we'll have to come to an understanding on that point. Now
+      what I want you to do is to explain to Maggie that there is nothing wrong
+      between me and Lizzie, you can tell her there is nothing&mdash;I swear
+      there is nothing; and then you had better explain that an artist must have
+      models to work from.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't ask me. I wish you wouldn't ask me. I make a rule never to
+      interfere in my sisters' affairs. I did once, you remember, and I thought
+      I should never hear the end of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think you might do this for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't ask me. I wish you wouldn't, my dear fellow. I am an exceedingly
+      nervous chap, and I have had nothing but bad luck all my life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think of nothing but yourself. You certainly are the most selfish
+      fellow I ever met. You take no interest in any affairs but your own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy made no answer. He sat stroking his moustache softly with slow
+      crumpled hand. After a long silence, he said: &ldquo;Tell me, Frank, are you
+      really in love with my sister, or is it only imagination? I know people
+      often think they are in love when their fancy is only a little excited.
+      Very little will pass for being in love, but the real thing is very
+      different from such fancies.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you I never loved any one like Maggie. Yes, I am sure I love
+      her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may be in love, I don't say you aren't; but I am sure there's no more
+      common mistake than to fancy one's self in love because one's imagination
+      is a bit excited. When you do fall in love, you find out your mistake.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think no one was ever in love but yourself. Do you remember when you
+      took me to see her, when we heard her sing 'Love was false as he was fair,
+      and I loved him far too well'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank knew no more of the story than that: Willy had loved this actress
+      vainly. On occasions Willy had alluded to her, but he had never shown
+      signs of wishing to confide.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I remember. How I loved that woman, and what a wreck it has made of
+      my life. I daresay you often think me dull; I can quite understand your
+      thinking me narrow-minded, selfish, and incapable of taking interest in
+      other people's affairs: losing her took the soul out of my life. Now
+      nothing really amuses me&mdash;now nothing really interests me. I often
+      think if I were to die, it would be a happy release.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You never told me anything about it before; wouldn't she marry you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never knew her. I fell in love with her the first time I saw her, and
+      my love swallowed up everything else. Then I wasn't wrapped up in
+      account-books, although I was always a precise and methodical sort of
+      chap; I was young enough then, now I am an older man than my father. Some
+      fellows have all the luck; everything succeeds with them, every one loves
+      them, men and women, they get all they ask for and more, others get
+      nothing. No matter what I tried to do, something went wrong and I was
+      baulked. I set my heart on that girl, she was the one thing I wanted. I
+      saw her play the same piece fifty times. I knew my passion was hopeless,
+      but I couldn't resist it. Had I known her I might have won her, but there
+      were no means; I never saw her but once off the stage, and that was but a
+      moment. I often sent her presents, sometimes jewellery, sometimes fans or
+      flowers, anything and everything I thought she would like. I sent her a
+      beautiful locket; I paid fifty pounds for it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did she accept your presents?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I sent them anonymously.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you not try to make her acquaintance?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew nobody in the theatrical world. I was not good at making
+      acquaintances. You might have done it. I am a timid man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you make no attempt? You might have written.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At last I did write.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What did you write?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tried to tell her the exact truth. I told her that I had refrained from
+      writing to her for three years. That I quite understood the folly and the
+      presumption of the effort; but I felt now, as drowning men that clutch at
+      straws, that I must make my condition known to her. I told her I loved her
+      truly and honourably, that my position and fortune would have entitled me
+      to aspire to her hand if fate had been kind enough to allow me to know
+      her. It was a very difficult letter to write, and I just tried to make
+      myself clear. I told her I knew no one in the theatrical world, and that
+      waiting and hoping for some chanceto bring us together would only result
+      in misery long drawn out; that I had some faint hope that this letter
+      might lead her to consider that there might be an exception to the rule
+      that a young lady should not stop to speak to a young man she didn't know.
+      I remember I said 'when men are in deadly earnest, truth seems to shine
+      between the lines they write. I know I am in earnest, and may say that all
+      I hold dear and precious in life is set in the hope that this letter may
+      not appear to you in the light of one of those foolish and wicked letters
+      which I believe men often write to actresses, and of which I suppose you
+      have been the recipient.' Then I said that I would be at the stage door on
+      the following night, and that I hoped she would allow me to speak a few
+      words to her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And did she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I could not speak to her; I lost all courage in that moment. She walked
+      close by me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean to say you did not speak to her after writing that letter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Call me a fool, an idiot, what you will; I could not do it. I can only
+      compare my feeling to what Livingstone says he felt when he found himself
+      face to face with a lion. He stood staring in the lion's eyes, unable to
+      move.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She must have thought your letter a practical joke. I wonder what she did
+      think.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wrote explaining the unfortunate circumstances as well as I could, and
+      telling her I would come the following night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you go?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Did you speak to her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And she wouldn't speak?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She passed on with her maid, but I didn't lose hope until she married. It
+      was always a sort of sad pleasure to go to the theatre to see her. I used
+      to live at the Manor House for two or three months at a time, saving up my
+      money so as to be able to make her some nice present. I wished her to
+      remember me, although she would not speak to me. No one came to the Manor
+      House; there was nothing to do except to read the paper and smoke my pipe.
+      I was sick of my life, and I counted the days that would have to pass till
+      I saw her again&mdash;only thirty more days, only nineteen days, only one
+      more week&mdash;so I used to count, marking off each day in an almanac,
+      until one day I read the announcement of her marriage; then I knew all
+      hope was at an end. I went mad that night and rushed out of the house, and
+      I should have drowned myself had I not fainted. When I came to, I was weak
+      and delirious, and wandered along the beach, not knowing where I was
+      going. Some fishermen brought me home. My sisters were at school at the
+      time. I believe I was very near dying. I fainted three times one
+      afternoon. I used to lie on the sofa and cry for hours. She married a
+      stockbroker. I believe she didn't care for him at all. Then she died. She
+      was buried in Kensal Green. Whenever I am in London I go and see her
+      grave.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is awfully sad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; it ruined my life. I never had any luck. Things always went wrong
+      with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to see those letters.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I haven't got copies. I didn't keep a letter-book in those days. Let's
+      talk of something else. I have some news. I am going in for breeding
+      race-horses.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I say. I have calculated it all out, and I find I shall make from
+      fifteen to twenty per cent, on my money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By breeding race-horses! And where are you going to breed them?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know those stables on the Portslade Road where the veterinary surgeon
+      used to live? I am going to take that place. The rent is three hundred
+      pounds a year; there are fifty acres of pasture, and stabling for thirty
+      horses. The dwelling-house is not a very aristocratic-looking place, but
+      it will do for the present; when I begin to make money I shall go in for
+      alterations. You can't do everything at once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do astonish me. And where are you going to get the money to do all
+      this? You will require at least twenty thousand pounds capital.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;More than that. You would not be able to work a place like that under
+      twenty-five thousand pounds,&rdquo; Willy replied sententiously. &ldquo;I have got
+      about eight thousand left of my own, and I came in for a legacy of three
+      thousand at the beginning of this year&mdash;an aunt of mine left me the
+      money; and my father has agreed to let me have fourteen thousand on
+      condition of my abandoning all further claim upon him. The bulk of his
+      fortune will now be divided among my sisters. Berkins advised him to
+      accept my offer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should think so indeed; your father is worth ten thousand a year.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, nothing like that. His business has been going down for years past.
+      Last year he lost heavily again; if it weren't for his investments he
+      wouldn't be able to go on with it. The business is done for; I knew that
+      long ago. My father and I could never agree about how the accounts should
+      be kept. That head clerk of his is an awful duffer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but what are you going to do with the shop?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The shop was the origin of it all. If it hadn't been for the shop I dare
+      say I never should have thought of the race-horses. My father and I could
+      never work together. I offered to buy his surplus fruit and vegetables,
+      and, without absolutely binding myself to deal with no one else, I had
+      assured him of my chief custom. Naturally I expected something in return&mdash;I
+      expected him to let me have peaches in April and strawberries in March.
+      You cannot do this without using a good deal of heating power. I spoke to
+      the gardener several times. Often when I went into the houses I found the
+      pipes nearly cold. I got tired of this, and I paid a man out of my own
+      pocket to keep the furnaces properly stoked, and&mdash;would you believe
+      it?&mdash;my father actually raised objections&mdash;objected to my paying
+      a man to look after his glass-houses as they should be looked after. He
+      said he would not order in any more coke, that I'd have to get along with
+      what there was in the garden; he said he wished the shop at the devil. I
+      saw it was hopeless. You cannot help my father, and he won't help himself,
+      so I threw the whole thing up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And when are you going to start the new scheme?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Immediately. One of my reasons for accepting fourteen thousand pounds
+      down as a settlement in full was because I was beginning to fear that he
+      might get wind of my marriage. From one or two things I have heard lately,
+      I have reason to suspect that the secret is beginning to ooze out, and I
+      thought it might be as well to take time by the forelock.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you told him? What did he say?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What people usually say when they criticise other people's lives without
+      knowing anything of their temptations and sufferings. But I want to tell
+      you about my scheme. I have bought Blue Mantle, the winner of the
+      Czarewitch, and only beaten by a length for the Cambridgeshire, a
+      three-year-old, with eight stone on his back; a most unlucky horse&mdash;if
+      he had been in the Leger or Derby he would have won one or both. He broke
+      down when he was four years old. By King Tom out of Merry Agnes, by
+      Newminster out of Molly Bawn.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I didn't know you knew so much about racing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know more than you think. I don't let out all I know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how much did you pay for Blue Mantle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dirt cheap. I can imagine myself two years hence, when my first batch of
+      yearlings is put up for sale&mdash;500, 650, 800, 1000, knocked down for
+      1000 guineas, brown colt by Blue Mantle out of Wild Rose, bred by William
+      Brookes, Esq.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think money will come in quite so fast as that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps not; but can't you let a fellow enjoy himself? I never knew any
+      one like you for throwing cold water. I believe you are jealous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What nonsense!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, never mind. I shall be the deuce of a dog, see if I shan't. I
+      always like to kill two birds with one stone if I can, and my business
+      will bring me into connection with the very best in the land.
+      Unfortunately! my people don't care about getting on; now I do. I like to
+      know people who are better than myself&mdash;at all events, who are no
+      worse. I shouldn't be surprised if I were dining at Goodwood and Arundel
+      before long. When I go up to town I shall be calling on Lady This and Lady
+      That, and later on I might get in somewhere in the Conservative interest.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How long you may know a man, and then find you are mistaken in his
+      character,&rdquo; thought Frank. &ldquo;So vanity is at the bottom of all these
+      efforts to make money.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When are you coming to the Manor House?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Impossible. You know I can't go there so long as your father&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in one afternoon; he'll ask you to stay to dinner. He has forgotten
+      all about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I cannot come to the Manor House until my engagement to your sister is
+      sanctioned by him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The way to get that is to come to the Manor House and talk him into it.
+      For my part, I think, even from his point of view, that it would be better
+      that he should recognise the engagement; nothing can be more damaging than
+      these clandestine meetings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What can I do? I will not give her up.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never interfere. I have quite enough worries of my own. I must be
+      getting home. It is very late. Good-bye.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The green was as bright as day in the moonlight and Frank watched Willy
+      walking, his shoulders thrown back. He sighed; an undefinable, but
+      haunting melancholy hung about Willy; he often impressed Frank as an old
+      book&mdash;a book whose text is trite&mdash;which no one will read, and
+      which yet continues to make its mute appeal; a something that has always
+      missed its way, that can hardly be said to be an adequate thing to offer
+      for any man's money, that will soon disappear somehow out of all sight and
+      reckoning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XV
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      A few days after he got a letter from Lizzie, saying she was alone and
+      ill, and asking him to come and see her. He took the next train to
+      Brighton. The land-lady's daughter, a girl of about twelve, opened the
+      door to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How is Miss Baker? Is she any better?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please, sir, she is not at all well, she has cold shivers; and mother
+      went away yesterday.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And who looks after Miss Baker?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please, sir, I do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do! Is there no one else in the house?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is Miss Baker in bed?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, sir. She said she would get up a little while this afternoon, 'cause
+      she said she thought you was coming.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Go and tell her I am here.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Please, sir, she said you was to go upstairs&mdash;the back room on the
+      second floor, please.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am so sorry you are ill, Lizzie. What is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know; I think I caught a severe chill. I stayed out very late on
+      the beach.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But why are you crying? Do tell me. Can I do anything?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No no. What does it matter whether I laugh or cry? Nothing matters now. I
+      don't care what becomes of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A pretty girl like you; nonsense! Some one rich and grand will fall in
+      love with you, and give you everything you want.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't want any one to fall in love with me; I am done for&mdash;don't
+      care what becomes of me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do tell me about it. Have you heard anything further about him? Do tell
+      me; don't cry like that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, leave me, leave me! I am so miserable. I don't know why I wrote
+      to you. I hope I shall die.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is very lucky you did write to me, for you are clearly very ill. What
+      is the matter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know; I can't get warm. This room is very cold&mdash;don't you
+      think so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cold? No.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I feel cold; my throat is very bad&mdash;perhaps I shall be better in the
+      morning.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must see a doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no! I don't want to see a doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must see a doctor.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, I beg of you. I only wrote to you because I was feeling so
+      miserable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lizzie stood between him and the door, imploring him not to fetch a
+      doctor, but to go away at once, and to tell no one she had written to him,
+      or that he had been to see her. &ldquo;Nothing matters now&mdash;I am ruined&mdash;I
+      don't care what becomes of me.&rdquo; He marvelled; but soon all considerations
+      were swept away in anxiety for her bodily health; and having extorted a
+      promise from her that she would not leave the room until he came back, he
+      rushed to the nearest chemist and hence to the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I want you to come at once, if possible, and see a young lady who, I
+      fear, is dangerously ill. She has not been in Brighton long. She is quite
+      alone. She sent for me. I live at Southwick. I came out at once. I have
+      known her a long time. I may say she is a great friend of mine. I found
+      her very ill&mdash;I must say her condition seems to me alarming. I should
+      like her to see a doctor at once. Can you come at once?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am just finishing dinner. I will come in about ten minutes' time. What
+      is the address?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;20 Preston Street.&mdash;I hope he does not think there is anything
+      wrong,&rdquo; thought Frank. &ldquo;He look's as if he did,&rdquo; and with a view of
+      removing suspicion, he said: &ldquo;She is a young lady whom I have known for
+      some years. We had lost sight of each other until we travelled down in the
+      train together. I say this because I do not wish you to think there is
+      anything wrong.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My good sir, I should not allow myself to have any opinions on the
+      matter. I am summoned to attend a patient, and I give the best advice in
+      my power.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, but one can't help forming opinions&mdash;a beautiful young girl
+      living alone in lodgings, and having apparently for sole protector a young
+      man, are circumstances that might be easily misconstrued, and as I am
+      engaged to be married, I think it right to tell you exactly how I stand in
+      relation to this young woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The doctor bowed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you not think I did well in making this explanation?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It can do no harm; we medical men see so much that we take no notice of
+      anything but our patient. But tell me something of this young lady's
+      suffering. Can you describe the symptoms?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She has a racking headache&mdash;she is shivering all over&mdash;she sits
+      by the fire and cannot get warm. It looks to me as if it were fever.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does she complain of her throat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes; she cannot swallow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Probably an attack of quinsy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that dangerous?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; but it is infectious.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't mind about that&mdash;she is alone. I will see her through it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will go round to Preston Street immediately I have finished dinner&mdash;in
+      about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When the doctor had seen Lizzie, he said to Frank, who accompanied him
+      downstairs: &ldquo;Just as I expected&mdash;quinsy. She will take from eight to
+      ten days to get well. We have taken it in time, that's one good thing. The
+      throat is very bad. She must have a linseed poultice, and she must use the
+      gargle. Is there any one in the house who can attend to her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am afraid not; the landlady went away this morning, leaving no one in
+      the house but that child. She will, I hope, be home to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;In that case you had better have a nurse in; I will give you the address
+      of one.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      When Frank returned he found her lying on the bed weeping. As before, she
+      refused to tell him the cause of her grief. She would make no other answer
+      than that nothing mattered now, that she didn't care what became of her;
+      and when he spoke of going to fetch a nurse, she waved her hands
+      excitedly, declaring she would on no consideration stop in the house with
+      a woman she didn't know. And, hardly able to decide what course he should
+      take, he promised not to leave her; she clung about him, and he was forced
+      to send the child (whose name he now found to be Emma) to the chemist for
+      the linseed, and he wrote a note asking for explicit directions how it
+      should be used. Then he had to persuade Lizzie to go to bed. She resisted
+      him, and it was with great difficulty that he got her boots and stockings
+      off; then she collected her strength, unbuttoned her dress, and took off
+      her stays. Then she said: &ldquo;Go out of the room for a moment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He found his way into the kitchen, and guessing that hot water would be
+      required, he lit a fire. But there was no muslin, and he had to send Emma
+      for some. Lizzie smiled faintly when they entered&mdash;Frank with a
+      basin, Emma with a kettle and a parcel of linen. Frank poured some rum
+      into a glass, and beat an egg up with it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is that?&rdquo; she asked; and her voice was so faint and hoarse that he
+      turned, quite startled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Something that will do your throat good and keep your strength up.
+      Possibly you will not be able to eat much to-morrow.&rdquo; He held the tumbler
+      to her lips, and at length succeeded in getting her to drink it. &ldquo;Emma, is
+      the kettle boiling?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You had better go downstairs and get some coals, and if you can't find
+      any nightlights you must go out and buy a box. Have you got any money
+      over?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, sir, sixpence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, Lizzie, let me put this on your throat. Throw your head well back.
+      There, it isn't too hot?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And all that night he sat by her bedside. Often she could not get her
+      breath, and he had to lift her and prop her up with pillows; and four
+      times he lit the candle, and, with tired eyes, mixed the meal and placed
+      it on her throat. The firelight played upon the ceiling, the kettle sang
+      softly, the sufferer moaned, the light brought the rumble of a cart, and
+      they awoke from shallow sleeps that blurred but did not extinguish
+      consciousness of the actual present. &ldquo;You must not uncover yourself; you
+      will catch cold. Let me pin this shawl about you.&rdquo; About eight o'clock
+      Emma knocked at the door. Frank asked her to make him a cup of tea. The
+      morning dragged along amid many anxieties, for he could see she was worse
+      than she had been over night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The disease must take its course,&rdquo; said the doctor; &ldquo;we shall be
+      fortunate if by poulticing we can stop it; if we can't, it will come to a
+      head in about eight or nine days' time, and then it will break. Did you
+      see the nurse last night? Couldn't she come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She,&rdquo; said Frank, pointing to the sufferer, &ldquo;wouldn't allow me to send
+      for her; she said she would not stay in the house with a strange woman.
+      She was very excited; I fancy she has had some great mental trouble&mdash;a
+      sweetheart, I suppose. I did not like to cross her. I thought I could
+      nurse her; I did my best. Was the poultice all right?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quite right. But you will have to sit up with her to-night. You will be
+      very tired; you had better get in a nurse.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I shall be able to manage. The landlady is expected home this
+      evening or to-morrow morning. What had she better have to eat?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She won't be able to eat anything for some days. Try to get her to take
+      an egg beat up in a wine-glass of rum.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Hourly she grew worse, and on the following day Frank stood by her bed
+      momentarily fearing that she would suffocate; once her face blackened and
+      he had to seize and lift her out of bed, and place her in a chair. When
+      she seemed a little easier he called Emma, and they made the bed and
+      cleaned up the room together. Then he ate a sausage and drank a glass of
+      beer that had been brought from the public-house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first night had seemed long and weary, but now the hours passed
+      quickly; he had forgotten all but the suffering woman, and in the interest
+      of inducing her to swallow some beef-tea, in the pride of such successes
+      another and then another day fled lightly. Nor did he feel tired as he had
+      done, and now a nap in an arm-chair seemed all that he required. So the
+      landlady came as an unwelcome interruption of an absorbing occupation.
+      Haggard and unshaven, he returned to Southwick, where he found a note on
+      his table from General Horlock, asking him to dinner that evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know the meaning of this: Maggie will be there&mdash;a reconciliation!
+      Can I?&rdquo; He turned his ear quickly from his conscience; he was frightened
+      of the voice that would tell him that Maggie was nothing to him, never had
+      been, never could be; that he had been born for Lizzie Baker, as the
+      soldier is for the sword or the bullet that kills him; others had passed
+      him, had been heard sharply, had gleamed dangerously in his eyes. They
+      were but signs and omens meant for others, not for him, and they had
+      passed. But this one had remained, though often lost, as that remains
+      which is to be, and she was now no less for him than before, though now
+      seemingly lost irrevocably to another; and in all the seeming of
+      irrevocable loss was drawing nearer&mdash;not with the victory and destiny
+      of old in her eyes, but with no less victory and destiny inherent in her.
+      Though far from him, she had been for long a disintegrated influence, but
+      what had been distant was now near, and all was yielding like a ship in
+      the attraction of the fabulous loadstone mountain. That room!&mdash;the
+      wash-hand-stand, the dirty panes of glass, the iron bed-there his fate had
+      been sealed. That body which he had lifted out of bed still lay heavy in
+      his arms. He still breathed the odour of the hair he had gathered from the
+      pillow and striven to pin up; those eyes of limpid blue, pale as water
+      where isles are sleeping, burned deep and livid in his soul; the touch and
+      sight of that flesh, the sound of that voice, those tears, the solicitude
+      and anxiety of those hours of night and day conspired against him, and his
+      life was big with incipient overthrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lizzie was with him at all times. He saw her eyes, then her teeth, and the
+      perfume and touch of her hair was often about him; and yet he was hardly
+      conscious that a revolution of feeling was in progress within him; and
+      when the time came for him to go to Horlock's he went there avoiding all
+      thoughts of Maggie, although he knew he would be called upon that night to
+      take a decisive step. He saw little of her before dinner, and during
+      dinner the General's allusions to the quarrels of lovers being the renewal
+      of love vexed him, and he thought, &ldquo;Confound it! If I want to make it up I
+      will; but I am not going to be bullied into it.&rdquo; When the ladies left the
+      room he found it difficult to pretend to the kind-hearted old soldier that
+      he did not believe that Maggie would forgive him. &ldquo;Forgive me for what? I
+      have done nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To get on with women you must always admit you are in the wrong&mdash;ha,
+      ha, ha!&rdquo; laughed the General; &ldquo;now I have it from my wife&mdash;women know
+      everything&mdash;ha, ha, ha!&rdquo; laughed the General. &ldquo;Have another glass of
+      sherry?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, thanks; couldn't take any more.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I took I won't tell you how many glasses before I proposed to my wife,
+      and then I was afraid; enough to make me&mdash;a clever woman like Mrs.
+      Horlock, I believe you wouldn't find a woman in England like Mrs. Horlock.
+      Look round; all that's her work. Look at that white Arab&mdash;exactly
+      like him. I won five hundred pounds with that horse; but I wouldn't be
+      satisfied, and I ran him again the following day and lost it all and five
+      hundred more with it. I had another horse. My wife is modelling him in
+      wax; she will show it to you in the next room. Marvellous woman!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Passing Maggie by who was sitting in the window, Frank inveigled Mrs.
+      Horlock into an anatomical discussion. The General stretched out his feet,
+      put on his spectacles, and took up the <i>St James's</i>. The conversation
+      dropped, and, full of apprehension and expecting reconciliation, Frank
+      went to Maggie and talked to her of the tennis parties he was going to, of
+      the people he had seen&mdash;of indifferent things. The time was tense
+      with the fate of their lives. Once she turned her head and sighed. Time
+      slipped by, and still they talked of their friends&mdash;of things they
+      knew perfectly. Maggie said: &ldquo;I hope you are not angry; I hope we shall
+      remain friends.&rdquo; Frank replied: &ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; and again the conversation
+      paused. The General denounced Gladstone, and praised his wife's sculpture.
+      Ten o'clock! Angel was lifted out of his basket. If Maggie had been Helen
+      and Southwick Troy, he would not be kept waiting; the dogs had to be taken
+      out; Willy came to fetch Maggie; hands were tendered, lips said good-bye,
+      and, with a sense of parting, they parted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Feeling adrift and strangely alone, he walked to his lodging. His future
+      loomed up in his mind as vague and as illusive as the village that now
+      glared through the mist, white and phantasmal. He did not regret&mdash;we
+      can hardly regret the impossible. Then, falling back on a piece of prose,
+      he said: &ldquo;Where was the good? Mount Rorke would never have given his
+      consent. Poor Lizzie; I hope she is better. I hope it has broken. She
+      won't get any relief until it does.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And next day, towards evening, he went to Brighton. He found her shrinking
+      over the fire, wrapped in a woollen shawl.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How are you to-day? You look a little better. I did not expect to find
+      you out of bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am better, thank you; it broke yesterday, and I feel relieved. You are
+      very good. I think I should have died if it had not been for you. Think of
+      that landlady leaving me in the way she did.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What was the reason? Why did she rush off in that way?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She went to town to see her sister, and she says she was taken ill. She
+      drinks.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Does she? I hope she looked after you yesterday?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As well as I did?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know about that; you are a very good nurse. It was very good of
+      you; no one else would have done it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, not even <i>he</i>?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You were with me for four days, and you never even went to bed&mdash;never
+      took your clothes off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never even washed myself. By George! I was glad to get home and have a
+      good wash. I was a sorry-looking object&mdash;haggard and unshaven.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where did you say you had been to?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nobody asked me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not Maggie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I didn't tell you our engagement is broken off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; you didn't say nothing about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;On account of you. She discovered that you had been to my studio, and she
+      said I was keeping a woman in Brighton.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Keeping a woman in Brighton&mdash;she thinks you are keeping me! I will
+      write to her and tell her that it is not true. What right has she to say
+      such things about me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She doesn't say it about you. She says a woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She means me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, she doesn't; she doesn't know anything about you. Some one told her I
+      went into Brighton every day by the four o'clock train, and she put two
+      and two or rather two and three together, and said it was six.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I will write to her. I will not be the cause of any one's marriage
+      being broken off.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You need not trouble. I saw her last night, and I could have made it all
+      right had I chosen&mdash;she was quite willing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You can't care for her!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose not. I don't think I ever really loved her. I thought I did. I
+      was mistaken.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very changeable.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't think I am&mdash;at least not so far as you are concerned. I
+      was mistaken. I was in love with some one else&mdash;with you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;With me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, with you. I was in love with you when we went to Reading, and never
+      got over it. I thought I had, but when love is real we never get over it.
+      I always loved you, and those four days I spent nursing you have brought
+      it all out. I shall never love any one else. I know you don't care for me;
+      you said once you couldn't care for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I! I am too miserable to care for any one. I wish you had let me die; but
+      that is ungrateful. You must excuse me, I am so miserable. Why speak of
+      loving me? I can love no one. I don't care what becomes of me. I am
+      ruined; nothing matters now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish you would confide in me; you can trust me. Has he forsaken you?
+      Can you not make it up?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, never now; I shall never see him again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has anything happened lately, since you came to Brighton?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lizzie nodded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't cry like that; tell me about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's the use? Nothing matters now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Has he been here?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lizzie nodded, and Frank folded the shawl about her, and wiped her tears
+      away with his pocket handkerchief. &ldquo;Since you were ill?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, before I was ill; he was down here watching me. He found out I had
+      gone to your studio, and he said the most dreadful things&mdash;that he
+      would break your head, and that I had never been true to him, and that I
+      was not fit to be the wife of an honest man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But I will tell him that you came to my studio to sit for your portrait.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, you mustn't write; it would only make matters worse. No use; he says
+      he will never see me again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Where can I see him? Has he gone back to London? I will follow him and
+      tell him he is mistaken.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, please don't, and please don't go to the 'Gaiety'; he is a violent-
+      tempered man; something dreadful might occur. Please, promise me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not go to the 'Gaiety'? He doesn't know me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, he does.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have I seen him? Do tell me; you know you can trust me. I am your friend.
+      Tell me&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have seen him in the 'Gaiety,' in the grill-room&mdash;the waiter,
+      number two, the good-looking tall man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He wasn't always a waiter; his people are very superior. He has been
+      unfortunate.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And it was he you loved this long while?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I never cared for another man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I must write and tell him he is committing an act of injustice. I will
+      make this matter right for you, Lizzie.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think you can?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am sure of it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He rang for the landlady, and asked for writing materials. She apologised
+      for the penny bottle of ink, and spoke of getting a table from the next
+      room, but he said he could write very well on the chimney-piece. &ldquo;I
+      suppose I had better begin, 'Sir'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't people generally begin, 'Dear Sir'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not when they don't know the people they are writing to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you do know him a little. He always said you were very haughty. You
+      used to sit at his table.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think I had better begin the letter with 'Sir.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Very well. You know best. He was always very jealous.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVI
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;SIR,&mdash;I hear from Miss Baker that you were in Brighton last week,
+      and, drawing the inference from the fact that she came to my studio to sit
+      for her portrait, you accuse her of very grievous impropriety. I beg to
+      assure you that this is not so. At my urgent request, Miss Baker, whom I
+      had better say I have known for some years, consented to give me a
+      sitting. My intentions were purely artistic; hers were confined to a wish
+      to oblige an old friend, and I deeply regret that they should have been
+      misinterpreted, and I fear much unhappiness caused thereby.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think that will do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, it is a beautiful letter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you think so&mdash;do you really think so? Do you think I have said
+      all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You might say something&mdash;that I never even kissed you; and that you
+      respected me too much.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will if you like, but don't you think that is implied?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Perhaps so; but you see he does not read many books. He hasn't time for
+      much reading, and you put things in a difficult way. They sound beautiful,
+      but I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Show me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, this 'grievous impropriety.' I know what you mean, but I couldn't
+      explain it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I say 'serious impropriety'? but grievous is the right word. You
+      say a grievous sin for a mortal sin. If we had done any wrong it would
+      have been a grievous sin; but I'll change the word if you like.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, don't change it on my account; but I think he would understand an
+      easier word better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A 'heinous impropriety'? No, that won't do. A 'serious impropriety.' That
+      will do. Is there anything else you would like me to alter?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I don't think there is.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You think this letter will convince him that there was nothing wrong?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope so; but he is a very suspicious man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I will post it when I go out.&rdquo; Then after a long silence: &ldquo;Do you know
+      what time it is? It must be getting late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It must be getting on for nine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then I must say good-bye; but I forgot, I want to ask you&mdash;you must
+      be hard up, and want some money&mdash;do you? If you do, I assure you I
+      shall be only too glad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I am rather hard up, for you know that this illness has prevented
+      my doing anything; and I am afraid I have lost my place at the 'Tivoli.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you intend to do?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should like to go back to London. I shall see him there, and if the
+      letter makes it right we may be married. I will write to you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will?&mdash;Do. Here is five pounds. I have no more about me, but if
+      anything should occur, you know where to write to.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are very good; I don't deserve it. I don't know why you take so much
+      trouble about me. If he doesn't marry me I'll try to get another place; I
+      shall go back to the firm.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When do you intend to leave?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As soon as I am well enough, in a day or two; but you will not come here
+      again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had thought that I might.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know; but if he were to hear that you had been here, it would be worse
+      than ever. You don't mind, do you? You aren't angry, are you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; good-bye, Lizzie. Write to me when you are married.&rdquo; Frank walked
+      into the street. There was neither rage nor will in him. He was a
+      sorrowing creature in a bitter world. The sea was cruelly blue in the
+      coming night; the sky was also blue, only deeper, a red streak like a red
+      bar of iron stretched across the embaying land, relieving into picturesque
+      detail the outlines of coast-towns and villages. His eyes rested on and
+      drew grief from this dim distance so illusive; and for jarring contrast,
+      the pier hung with gaudy and gross decoration in the blue night, and a
+      brass band replied to the waves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the clouds lifted, and when he returned to Southwick the moon was
+      shining and some boys pursued the resounding ball through the shadows. He
+      undressed with an effort, and he lay down hoping never to rise again. Next
+      morning he went to his studio full of resolve. His picture must be
+      finished for one of the winter exhibitions. He did not take up his
+      palette, nor did he sit at his piano for more than a few minutes; and when
+      he met Willy he raged against Lizzie, jeered at her vulgarity, heaped
+      ridicule upon her lover, the waiter; he spoke of writing a novel on the
+      subject; he set out her character at length; and was alarmed when told
+      that Maggie was ill. He must win her. She must be his wife. So he told
+      Willy, so he assured himself that she would. He knew that Lizzie was
+      nothing to him. She had left Brighton, thank God! He went to sleep,
+      certain he had torn this page out of his life, and he awoke to find it
+      still there; and day after day he continued to brood upon, and still
+      unable to understand its meaning, he longed to turn it over and read, for
+      there were other pages; but they were sealed, and he might only read this
+      one page.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid that our old friend Brookes is having a hard time of it,&rdquo; said
+      the General, taking the spectacles from his nose, and laying down the <i>St
+      James's</i>, &ldquo;they are all at him tooth and nail,&rdquo; and the General laughed
+      gleefully. &ldquo;You are the young man who has upset them. The young lady won't
+      dress herself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Reggie, you shouldn't talk like that. I do hate to hear scandal;
+      you'll repent it,&rdquo; said Mrs. Horlock, and she adroitly smoothed the wax on
+      the horse's quarters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I assure you, Mrs. Horlock, I never repeat what I hear; the guiding
+      principle of my life is not to repeat conversations. Particularly in a
+      village like Southwick, it is most essential that none of us should repeat
+      conversations; I have always said that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do tell me about Maggie; I hear she is very ill. What is the matter with
+      her? What did you say&mdash;the young lady won't dress herself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My dear Reggie, I will not stay here and listen to scandal. Not a word of
+      it is true, Mr. Escott.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What is not true, Mrs. Horlock?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What he told you about her walking about the house with her hair down.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think the General said anything about walking about the house
+      with her hair down; he said some one wouldn't dress herself. I suppose he
+      meant Maggie. I am sure I am sorry&mdash;I am most sorry&mdash;to hear she
+      is ill, but it is unjust to assume that I had anything to do with her
+      illness. We can speak freely among ourselves, you know. You know the
+      circumstances; no one is more capable of understanding the case than you,
+      for you are an artist. Maggie heard that I had had a model, that's what it
+      amounts to, and she broke off the engagement; nothing could be more
+      unjust, nothing could be more unwarranted.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It could be brought on again, I know that,&rdquo; said Mrs. Horlock, and she
+      turned the shoulders of her horse to the light.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We will not go into that question, Mrs. Horlock. I confine myself to what
+      has happened, and I say I was treated unjustly, most shamefully; and when
+      I have been cast aside like an old hat, I hear indirectly that it can be
+      made up again. I have borne quite enough, and will bear no more. Old
+      Brookes came down to my studio with that cad Berkins, and forced his way
+      in, and then forbade me the house because my dog bit Berkins's thigh. I
+      couldn't help it. What did he attack me for? He didn't suppose a bull-dog
+      would be still while his master was being knocked on the head.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What should a common City man know about dogs? He wouldn't sign the
+      petition when I asked him, to Sir Charles Warren, to cancel the
+      regulations about muzzling.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And then they set a report going that I had set the dog on, and if I
+      hadn't set it on, that I hadn't called him off. As if I could! You know
+      what a bull-dog is, Mrs. Horlock? Is a highly-bred dog likely to let go
+      when he has fixed his teeth in the fleshy part of a thigh? The Brookes are
+      old friends of mine, and I wouldn't say a word against them for the world;
+      but of course it is as obvious to you as it is to me that they are not
+      quite the thing. I mean&mdash;you know&mdash;I would not think of
+      comparing them with the Southdown Road; but there is a little something.
+      City people are not the Peerage; there's no use saying they are. Mount
+      Rorke was upset; but I would not give in, and I think I should have won
+      his consent in the long run. After all I have borne for her sake I think I
+      might expect better treatment than to be thrown over, as I have said, like
+      an old hat; and I don't mind telling you that I do not intend to be made a
+      fool of in this matter; I shall turn a very deaf ear to stories of a
+      broken heart and failing health. I shall not cease to think of Maggie. I
+      loved her once very deeply, and I should have loved her always if&mdash;But
+      tell me, General. You know I will not repeat anything.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I advise you to say no more, Reggie. I will not be mixed up in any
+      scandal. I shall leave the room. Sally is dining here to-night; she is
+      only too anxious to talk of her sister. If Mr. Escott will stay and take
+      pot-luck with us, he will no doubt hear everything there is to hear in the
+      course of the evening.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What have we got for dinner, Ethel? I know we have got a leg of mutton,
+      and there is some curry.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your dinners are always excellent, Mrs. Horlock. I shall be delighted to
+      stay. Here is Sally. Oh, how do you do, Sally? We were talking of you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm afraid every one is talking of me, now,&rdquo; she whispered, and the big
+      girl passed over to Mrs. Horlock and kissed her. &ldquo;How is it that no one
+      has seen anything of you lately?&rdquo; she said, taking the seat next him.
+      &ldquo;What have you been doing?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nothing in particular. But I want to ask you about Maggie. I hear she is
+      very ill.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Perceiving that his tone did not bespeak a loving mood, Sally's face
+      brightened, and she became at once voluble and confidential.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, we have been having no end of a time at home. Father has been
+      speaking of selling the place and leaving Southwick.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Speaking of selling the place and leaving Southwick! And where does he
+      think of going to live, and what is the reason of this?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, the reason! I suppose he would say I was the reason; and where heis
+      going to live, that is not settled yet&mdash;probably one of the big
+      London hotels. He says everybody is laughing at him, and that when he
+      meets the young men at the station he can see them laughing at him over
+      their newspapers, for, according to father, they have all flirted with us.
+      Maggie has been saying all kinds of things against me, and I am afraid
+      that the Southdown Road people have been writing him anonymous letters
+      again. Some one&mdash;I don't know who it is&mdash;I wish I did&mdash;has
+      been telling him the most shocking things about Jimmy Meason and me;
+      things in which I assure you there is not a word of truth. You know
+      yourself that we have hardly spoken for nearly two years; last year, it is
+      true, we made it up a bit in your studio, but it didn't last long. I don't
+      think I saw him twice afterwards, and never alone&mdash;and now to have
+      everything that happened two years ago raked up and thrown in my face! I
+      don't say I haven't&mdash;I don't know what you'd call it, I suppose you'd
+      call it spooning. I admit I infinitely preferred walking about the garden
+      with a young man to sitting in the drawing-room and doing woolwork. I was
+      a silly little fool then, but I do think it hard that all this should be
+      raked up now. I don't know what will happen. Maggie pretends to be
+      frightened at me; 'tis only her nonsense to set father against me. She
+      won't dress herself, and she walks about with her hair down her back,
+      wringing her hands.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what does she say? This is very bewildering. I don't understand&mdash;I
+      am quite lost.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fact is that Maggie doesn't know what she is saying, so I suppose I
+      oughtn't to blame her. She is a little off her head, that's the truth of
+      it; but you mustn't say I said so, it will get me into worse trouble than
+      I am already in. She was like that once before, and had to be put in the
+      charge of a lady who was in the habit of dealing with excitable people. I
+      don't mean lunatics, don't run away with that notion. I don't know what
+      would happen if it got about that I was putting that about. Maggie is very
+      excitable, and she has been exciting herself a great deal lately&mdash;you
+      were the principal cause. She did all she could to get you to make it up
+      when you met her here at dinner&mdash;the dinner was given for that&mdash;but
+      you said nothing about it, and she came home in an awful state, accusing
+      every one of combining to ruin her. She said I was jealous of her, that I
+      was wild with fear that she would one day be Lady Mount Rorke. She said
+      father had done everything to break off her marriage, because he did not
+      like parting with his money. She had set her heart on being married, and
+      it was a terrible disappointment. She has been disappointed two or three
+      times. Father doesn't know what to do. Her thoughts seem to run on that
+      one subject. She walks about the garden saying the most extraordinary
+      things.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But tell me about the illness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know if I ought to tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, do!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't know how to say it. She used to say she longed to become a
+      mother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Longed to become a mother? Well, that is the last thing&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You know what I mean.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But tell me about the illness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should call it more than being a little excited, but of course she
+      isn't mad. She has, however, the most curious notions. She is always a
+      little too imaginative at the best of times; at least, I find her so, but
+      now her delusions are really too absurd, and, as I have said, the worst of
+      it is that her thoughts run on that one thing; it really is most
+      unfortunate. Poor father.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But what are her delusions?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I scarcely know how to tell you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Try; anything can be told. It depends how it is told.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She thinks that the coachman has spread it all over Southwick&mdash;how
+      shall I say it? I don't know that I ought to tell you. Well, that she has
+      gone wrong with you and Berkins. I thought I should die of laughing&mdash;the
+      idea of Berkins was too funny for words.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But your father doesn't believe it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He doesn't suspect me, I hope?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No; I am sure he doesn't. He knows Maggie doesn't know what she is
+      saying. But he was dreadfully put out about Berkins; he is frightened out
+      of his wits lest he should hear of it. But for goodness' sake don't
+      mention that I said anything to you about it; I am in trouble enough as it
+      is. Father says he can stand it no longer. I am very much afraid that he
+      will leave Southwick. It depends on what Aunt Mary says. He has sent for
+      her; she will be here to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      These family councils were held in the billiard-room, and when Aunt Mary
+      and Aunt Hester had had their tea they came along the passage, Aunt Mary
+      of course in front, Aunt Hester timid and freckled and with her usual air
+      of tracts. Uncle James stood with his back to the fire waiting for them.
+      Willy caught at his hair, but an expression of resignation overspread his
+      face, he packed his diary and accounts in brown paper and lit a pipe.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now, James, let us hear about these new troubles. Something must be done,
+      that is clear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, something must be done, Mary, and I can think of nothing for it but
+      to leave this place. It is no longer a place for me to live in. The
+      Southdown Road has proved too strong for me, it has conquered me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Don't speak like that, James. We must try to bear our burdens, if not for
+      our own sakes, for the sake of Him who died for us. He bore a very heavy
+      cross for us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There's no use in talking to me like that, Hester, you only provoke me.
+      You forget what a cross two daughters are, and the Southdown Road has
+      become intolerable. It is more than any man can bear; I will bear it no
+      longer. I have borne it long enough, and am determined to get rid of it. I
+      am afraid there's nothing for it but to sell the place and go and live in
+      London.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Aunt Hester cast her eyes into her satchel, afraid even to think that her
+      brother had intentionally misinterpreted her words; but Aunt Mary laughed
+      at the idea of the slonk-hill, as a latter-day Golgotha, with poor Uncle
+      James staggering beneath the weight of the Southdown Road, young men and
+      all, upon him. It was very irreverent. He burst into tears, Hester moved
+      to leave the room, but was restrained by her sister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My position is a most unfortunate one; since the death of poor Julia I
+      have had no one to turn to, there has been no restraining influence in
+      this house. Here am I working all day long in the City for those girls,
+      and when I come home in the evening I find my house full of people I don't
+      know. I assure you, Mary, I don't know any of the people who come to my
+      house. I am consulted in nothing. It is not fair&mdash;I say it is not
+      fair; and at my death those girls will have thirty thousand pounds
+      a-piece.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew you had the money, James, I knew you had,&rdquo; exclaimed Aunt Mary,
+      and even Aunt Hester could not help casting a look of admiration on her
+      weeping brother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I say it is not fair; a man of my money should have a comfortable home to
+      return to. Even the Southdown Road people have that; but no consideration
+      is shown to me. My dinner is put back so that Sally may continue her
+      flirtation with Meason in the slonk. Did any one ever hear of such a
+      thing? A man's dinner put back so that&mdash;that&mdash;that&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, we know all about the dinner being put back; that was three years
+      ago.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why,&rdquo; Mr. Brookes asked himself, &ldquo;had he invited his sisters to his
+      help?&rdquo; He was only adding bitterness to his bitter cup. &ldquo;You have no
+      sympathy, Mary,&rdquo; he went on; &ldquo;you cannot understand the difficulties of my
+      position&mdash;these two girls are for ever quarrelling and fighting;
+      sometimes they are not even on speaking terms, but I think I prefer their
+      sullen looks to their violence. Sally threatened to knock her sister down
+      if she interfered with her young men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What, again?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, I don't know if she has threatened to beat her lately. I don't
+      remember when was the last time. Their various rows are all jumbled up in
+      my head. All I know is that Maggie says she cannot live in the house with
+      Sally. Maggie is very ill, she is in a very excited state, as she was once
+      before, when I would not consent to her marriage with&mdash;I have
+      forgotten his name, but it doesn't matter. Now she won't dress herself,
+      and she walks about the house with her hair hanging down. I know there is
+      nothing for it but to send her away under the charge of some lady who has
+      had experience in such matters. She can't remain here. She has the
+      strangest delusions. Among other things, she fancies the coachman has
+      spread it all over Southwick that she has gone wrong with Berkins and that
+      fellow Escott. Just fancy if Berkins&mdash;a ten thousand a year man&mdash;should
+      hear of it! I don't know what he would say. He would peg into me; he is at
+      times very hard indeed upon me. I don't say he is not a first-rate man of
+      business, I know he has made several excellent investments; but for all
+      that I do not and cannot think him competent to advise me on all my
+      affairs, and that's what he is always doing. He talks of putting down that
+      Southdown Road. I should like to see how he would set about doing it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;James, Maggie must go away; she is very highly organised, very sensitive,
+      and if she were to remain here, Sally might have a real effect on her
+      mind. It is clear the sisters don't get on together; have you had medical
+      advice? I told you before that you should have medical advice about those
+      girls; I told you to spare no expense, but to go to a first-rate London
+      physician and take his opinion. I said before, and I say it again, that no
+      girls in good health could carry on as dear Sally, and I will include dear
+      Maggie; for although she does not defy you to the same extent, there is no
+      doubt that she is too fast, too fond of young men; her thoughts run too
+      much in that way, and now she is ill, of course she has delusions. You
+      ought to have medical advice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mary, dear, the body is not everything; to cure the flesh you must first
+      cure the soul. I believe our dear nieces rarely, if ever, attend church,
+      rarely, if ever, remember that this life is not eternal and that there is
+      a hereafter.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The conversation came to a pause. Presently Aunt Mary asked Willy, who sat
+      resigned to his fate, calm and solemn as a Buddha, his hands clasped over
+      his rotund stomach, if he thought that Maggie's state was one to cause
+      immediate anxiety, to which he replied: &ldquo;My sisters think of nothing but
+      pleasure. The trouble girls are in a house is more than any one would
+      believe. Here I am, I can do nothing; every night it is the same thing,
+      over and over again.&rdquo; And the lean man lapsed into contemplation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But to come to the point, James, I want to hear about Sally. You said in
+      your letter that a great deal had come to light, and that you now find
+      that her conduct has been worse than you had ever imagined it, even in
+      your moments of deepest dejection. Now, I want to hear about all this.
+      What has she done? Let's have it in plain English. What has she done?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To put it plainly, Mary,&rdquo; said Mr. Brookes, wiping his tears away, and
+      turning his back upon his Goodall, &ldquo;I don't know what she hasn't done&mdash;everything.
+      She is at the present moment the talk of Southwick. The doctor here has
+      seen her in the field at the back here with Meason at nine o'clock at
+      night.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why did you allow her to leave the house at that hour? No young girl&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She always takes her dogs out in the evening; I cannot prevent her doing
+      that. It appears, too, that she has had Meason up in her bedroom.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;O James, you do not mean to say that my dear niece had a man in her
+      bedroom!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Hester, dear, you have lived in a rectory and know nothing of the world.
+      She says it isn't a bedroom. She pushes the bed away in the daytime, and
+      covers it up to make it look like a couch. Besides, she keeps birds in her
+      room, and Flossy had her puppies there. I am not excusing her conduct,
+      pray do not think that, I am only telling you what she says.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This is very serious. Are you quite sure? Perhaps she only meant to show
+      the young man her birds or puppies. Her spirit must be broken, I can
+      clearly see that.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I allow them, as you know, one hundred pounds a year apiece. Maggie keeps
+      none, but Sally always keeps accurate accounts of what she spends. I asked
+      to see those accounts, for I had heard she had been giving her money to
+      Meason, and she refused to let me see them. There is a sum of twenty
+      pounds for which she can give no explanation. Then it is well known she
+      gave a set of diamond studs to that fellow, and that he pledged them for
+      five pounds in Brighton. He boasted he had done so, and said he intended
+      to get plenty of money out of me before he had done with me. After that I
+      ask you, how can I live in this place? When I go to the station in the
+      morning I see these young fellows laughing at me over the tops of their
+      newspapers. When I come home of an evening after a hard day's work, I find
+      that my dinner&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Her spirit must be broken,&rdquo; said Aunt Mary, drawing her shawl about her,
+      and crossing her hands. &ldquo;Her spirit must be broken; she cannot be allowed
+      to remain here to drive dear Maggie into a lunatic asylum. I am with you
+      in that, James, but I cannot think you did well to let Frank Escott slip
+      through your fingers. Had you not talked so much about money your daughter
+      might have been Lady Mount Rorke.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Talked too much about my money? Who would talk about it, I should like to
+      know, if I didn't? I made it all myself. What do I care for that lot&mdash;a
+      stuck-up lot, pooh, pooh! twist them all round my finger. I am not going
+      to give my daughter to a man who cannot make a settlement upon her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Seeing he was not to be moved in anything that concerned his pocket, Aunt
+      Mary returned to the consideration of what was to be done with Sally.
+      &ldquo;From what you tell me it is clear that Sally must not remain in Southwick
+      a day longer than can be helped. I will take her with me to Woburn; and I
+      think she had better go abroad as soon as we can hear of some one in whose
+      charge we can place her. But it must not be a sea voyage&mdash;there is
+      nothing more dangerous than to be on board a ship for a young girl who is
+      at all inclined to be fast. All are thrown so much together. The cabins
+      open out one into the other, and there is always a looking for something&mdash;a
+      handkerchief, a bunch of keys, a lot of stooping and playing, twiddling of
+      moustaches,&rdquo; said Aunt Mary, with a peal of laughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mary, dear, we should not speak lightly of wickedness.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It was so that all the mischief was done when Emily Evans was sent out to
+      the Cape&mdash;it was all done on board a ship. You remember the Evanses,
+      James?&mdash;you ought to, you used to flirt pretty desperately with Lucy,
+      the younger sister.&rdquo; And then Aunt Mary rattled off into interminable
+      tales concerning the attachment contracted on board a ship in particular,
+      its unfortunate consequences, how it brought about a divorce later on by
+      sowing the seeds of passion (Aunt Mary always pronounced the word
+      &ldquo;passion&rdquo; in her narratives with strong emphasis), in the young girl's
+      heart; and at various stages of her discourse she introduced fragments of
+      the family history of the Evanses; she followed the wanderings of the
+      different sisters from Homburg to Paris, from Paris to Scotland, from
+      Scotland to the Punjab, explaining their different temperaments by
+      heredity, which led her back into the obscure and remote times of
+      grandfathers and grandmothers, and, having finally lost herself, she said:
+      &ldquo;What was I talking about? You have been listening to me, James, what was
+      I talking about?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Till the end of a week the discussion was continued. Aunt Mary tried hard
+      to reconcile all parties to their different lots, and, as is usual in such
+      cases, without attaining any result. And yet Aunt Mary went with her
+      sister to see Frank in his studio. Willy accompanied them, and when they
+      left he complained bitterly of how his time was wasted. &ldquo;Regularly every
+      evening, just as I am sitting down to work, I hear them coming along the
+      passage. First of all they go to get their grog&mdash;squeak, squeak, pop.
+      I know it all so well. Then they come in with their tumblers, and they sit
+      down on the sofa, and they begin.&mdash;I don't know what is to be done
+      with dear Sally, unless we can send her abroad in the care of some
+      relation. How is dear Maggie to-day? I hope I shall be able to induce her
+      to put on her frock to-morrow, and come for a drive with me in the
+      carriage. What a trouble young girls are in the house, to be sure. Then
+      father begins to groan, and pulls out his handkerchief; he is quite alone,
+      he has no one he can depend upon, then he laughs, 'Well, well, I suppose
+      it will be all the same a hundred years hence.' So it goes on night after
+      night. Here am I starting a big business, and I haven't a room to work in.
+      Just as I am adding up a long column of figures, perhaps when I am within
+      three of the top, Aunt Mary asks me a question, and it has to be gone over
+      again. It is most provoking, there's no denying that it is most
+      provoking.&rdquo; Frank agreed that nothing could be more provoking than to be
+      interrupted when you were within three of the top of a long column of
+      figures. On the following day he heard that the aunts had left, taking
+      Sally with them. They had promised their brother to find a lady who would
+      take dear Maggie under her care&mdash;one who would soon wean her from
+      dressing-gowns and delusions, and restore her to staid remarks and stays;
+      and hopes were entertained that the Manor House would not have to be sold
+      after all.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But many days had not sped when an event occurred that precipitated the
+      five acres into the jaws of the builders. Meason had sailed for Melbourne,
+      and his sister, thinking that some of Sally's letters might be of use to
+      Mr. Brookes, offered to surrender them upon the receipt of a cheque for
+      one hundred pounds&mdash;a very modest sum, she urged, considering the
+      character of the letters, most of which concerned artfully laid plans to
+      meet in the train going or coming from London. Mr. Brookes called on the
+      shade of dear Julia, but he was not a man to be blackmailed&mdash;he had
+      made all his money himself, and on that point was immovable. He prepared
+      to leave Southwick. He looked fondly on his glass-houses, and despairingly
+      on his Friths, Goodalls, and Bouguereaus, and he wondered if they would
+      look as well in the new rooms as in the old, and what sum they would
+      realise if he were to include them in the auction; for an auction was
+      necessary. Mr. Brookes did not thus decide to abandon his acres without
+      many a sob, nor is it certain that the final step would have been taken if
+      the gentle builder had not gilded his insidious hand, and if certain
+      rumours were not about that the villas in the Southdown Road were not
+      letting, and that Southwick would never be anything but what it was, a
+      dirty little village&mdash;half suburb, half village.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Frank was grieved and troubled at the sad accounts that came to him of
+      Maggie's health; he was perplexed, too, for he knew himself to be the
+      cause, and he longed to relieve and to cure her. It seemed to him that he
+      would give his life to go to her, and comfort her with love, and yet he
+      was impotent to make the least effort to attain the end he desired. He lay
+      in the sad and cruel memory of Lizzie, his mind filled with ignoble
+      visions of her life with the waiter, or with delicate fancies of her
+      beauty amid the summer of the Thames. He mused on her gracious figure and
+      face, illuminated by reflections from the water, set off by the bulrushes
+      and floating blossoms which she so eagerly coveted, and varied by the
+      movements of the waist and shoulders, the round white arm, the trailing
+      scarf, and all the wistful charm of the slumbering evening. He thought of
+      the country light, the sound and smell of cows, of the sparrows in the
+      vine, the cottage looking so cosy amid the foliage, the bit of garden full
+      of old-fashioned flowers, tall lilies, convolvuluses, and marigolds, and
+      the sitting-room full of things belonging to her&mdash;her flowers, her
+      books, her music, and he thought of this until his life was sick with
+      desire, and there grew a burning pain about his heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A man's struggles in the web of a vile love are as pitiful as those of a
+      fly in the meshes of the spider; he crawls to the edge, but only to
+      ensnare himself more completely; he takes pleasure in ridiculing her, but
+      whether he praises or blames, she remains mistress of his life; all
+      threads are equally fatal, and each that should have served to bear him
+      out of the trap only goes to bind him faster. A man in love suggests the
+      spider's web, and when he is seeking to escape from a woman that will
+      degrade his life, the cruelty which is added completes and perfects the
+      comparison. A man's love for a common woman is as a fire in his vitals;
+      sometimes it seems quenched, sometimes it is torn out by angry hands, but
+      always some spark remains; it contrives to unite about its victim, and in
+      the end has its way. It is a cancerous disease, but it cannot be cut out
+      like a cancer. It is more deadly; it is inexplicable. All good things,
+      wealth and honour, are forfeited for it; long years of toil, trouble,
+      privation of all kinds, are willingly accepted; on one side all the
+      sweetness of the world, on the other nothing of worth, often vice,
+      meanness, ill-temper, all that go to make life a madness and a terror;
+      twenty, thirty, forty, perhaps fifty years lie a head of him and her, but
+      the years and their burdens are not for his eyes any more than the flowers
+      he elects to disdain. Love is blind, but sometimes there is no love. How
+      then shall we explain this inexplicable mystery; wonderful riddle that
+      none shall explain and that every generation propounds?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frank lingered in Southwick, for he had promised Willy to stay with him
+      when he went to live at the stables on the Portslade Road. Summer was
+      nearly over, hunting would soon commence, and he could keep a couple of
+      hunters&mdash;Willy had calculated it out&mdash;for two and twenty
+      shillings a week. He had ceased to paint, and when he went to the studio
+      it was to play the piano or the violin. None knew of Lizzie, and all knew
+      of Maggie. It was thought a little strange that he would not forgive her,
+      but the obscurity of the story of this point and the delight felt in her
+      misfortune helped to intensify and idealise Frank in the popular mind, and
+      when he played Gounod in the still evenings the young ladies would steal
+      from the villas and wander sentimentally through the shadows about the
+      green. He got up late in the morning, he lingered over breakfast, and
+      until it was time to go to Brighton he lay on the sofa watching the
+      cricketers and the children playing, shaping resolutions, and striving
+      with himself and deceiving himself. A dozen times, a hundred times, he had
+      concluded he must see Maggie; he had decided he would write to Lord Mount
+      Rorke, that he would go to Mr. Brookes and settle the matter off-hand.
+      But, somehow, he did nothing. His mind was absorbed in a novel, which he
+      narrated when Willy came to see him. It concerned the accident that led a
+      man not to marry the woman he loved, and was in the main an incoherent
+      version of his own life at Southwick.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't think I told you,&rdquo; said Willy, &ldquo;that they are removing the
+      furniture to-day.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You don't say so&mdash;to-day? And where is your father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He is in London, at the 'Metropole.'&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young men walked on slowly in silence, and when they came to the lodge
+      gate, standing wide open, and saw the curtainless windows and the
+      flowerless greenhouses, Willy said: &ldquo;It is very sad to see all the things
+      you have known since you were a child sold by auction.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, it is. Look at the swards. Do they not look sad already? Those
+      beautiful elms, under whose shade we have sat, will be cut down, and
+      stucco work and glass porticoes take their places. Oh, it is very sad.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My father never had any feeling, he never cared for the place. Had I been
+      in his place I should have invested my money in land and gone in for the
+      county families.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How old was I when I came down to see you for the first time&mdash;fourteen,
+      I think? How well I remember everything. It was there, look, through that
+      glade, that I saw your sisters coming to meet me, they were then only ten
+      or eleven years old. I can see them in my mind's eye, quite distinctly,
+      walking towards me, Grace leading the way, and now she is a mother; and
+      they were all so dark. I remember thinking I had never seen girls so dark,
+      they were like foreigners. And do you remember how your father scolded
+      Sally for carrying me round the garden on her back, and she used to wake
+      me up in the mornings by rolling croquet balls along the floor into my
+      room. Oh, what good, dear days those were, and to think they are dead and
+      gone, and that the house is going to be pulled down; and the garden&mdash;oh!
+      the moonlights in that garden, where I walked with the girls, with scarves
+      round their shoulders, through the dreamy light and shade. We have sung
+      songs, and talked of all manner of things. You don't feel as I feel.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes I do, my dear fellow, I think I feel a great deal more, only I don't
+      talk so much about it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know it is infinitely sad. This dear old wall! There is Maggie's
+      window: how often have I looked up to that window for her winsome face,
+      and I shall never look again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are as bad as my father. Cheer up; I suppose it will be all the same
+      a hundred years hence.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, it won't be the same. Why should all I feel and love be
+      forgotten. I suppose it will be all the same. There goes Berkins. I hate
+      that man.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So do I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If time takes away pleasant things it takes unpleasant things too, and
+      those who live a hundred years hence will not be troubled with that fool.
+      True, there will be other Berkinses, and there will be other gardens, and
+      other girls, but that doesn't make it the least less sad to see this
+      garden pass into bricks and mortar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Two footmen approached Mr. Berkins, and with all solemnity helped him to
+      take off his overcoat. He said a few words to Willy, and was soon loudly
+      ordering the workmen who were taking the Goodalls and the Friths from the
+      walls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take care, there! Hi, you! get on the ladder and take hold of this end of
+      the picture. There, that's better! That's the way to do it!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That's what he said when he shot my bird,&rdquo; Willy whispered; and they
+      tried to laugh as they went upstairs. But their footsteps sounded hollow,
+      and the wardrobes, where they had so often put their clothes, stood wide
+      open, desolately empty. They looked out of the windows, and heard the
+      voices of the work-people.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How very sad it is,&rdquo; said Frank; then, after a long silence: &ldquo;How
+      beautiful a scene like this would be in a book&mdash;a young girl leaving
+      her home, straying through the different rooms musing on the different
+      pieces of furniture, all of which recall the past. I think I shall write
+      it. I wish you would tell me what you feel; I mean, I wish you would tell
+      me what impresses itself most on your mind, and, as it were, epitomises
+      the whole. You have known all this since you were a child. You have played
+      in these passages; some spot, some piece of furniture, your toys&mdash;I
+      suppose they are gone long ago; but something must stand out and assert
+      itself amid conflicting thoughts. Do tell me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Willy stroked his moustache. &ldquo;Of course it is very sad, but it is
+      difficult to put one's feelings into words. I should have to think about
+      it; I don't think I could say off-hand.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At that moment there came a great crash.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What the devil is that?&rdquo; cried Frank.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope they haven't broken the statue of Flora,&rdquo; said Willy, and a look
+      of alarm overspread his face. Frank felt that if such were the case he
+      should feel no great sorrow. They ran down the echoing stairs. The workmen
+      had got drunk in the cellars and in removing the statue they had let it
+      fall, and it strewed the floor&mdash;an arm here, a fragment of drapery
+      there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I knew what would happen. I told Mr. Brookes so. All my statues are in
+      marble.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come away, I can't listen to that cad. I wouldn't have had Flora broken
+      for a hundred pounds. When I was a child I used to stand and look at her.
+      I never could make out how she was made, and I always wanted to look
+      inside. If you'd like to know what I feel most sorry for, it is Flora. She
+      has stood amid the flowers in the bow window as long as I can remember.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They followed the high road by Windmill Inn, where they struck across the
+      Downs, and when they reached the first crest they could see the paddocks
+      and enclosures situated along the road in the valley, and the private
+      house so trim and middle-class. &ldquo;Splendid paddocks and first-rate
+      stabling. The house is not much. When I am making fifteen per cent. on my
+      money I shall go in for a little architecture. If I had a glass I could
+      show you Blue Mantle's stable. Do you see two horses in the paddock, right
+      away on the left, in the far corner&mdash;Apple Blossom and Astarte? Apple
+      Blossom is by See-saw out of Melody, by Stockwell out of Fairy Queen. Is
+      that good enough for you? Astarte is by Blue Gown out of Merry Maid, by
+      Beadsman out of Aurora. What do you say to that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I see you have been looking up the Stud Book.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Business, sir, business. And if I were to go in for owning a racer or
+      two, just look and see what a magnificent training ground; miles upon
+      miles of downland. Did you ever see a handsomer view? You must paint me
+      some landscapes for my dining-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      XVIII
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The pain is always here&mdash;just over the heart. You know what I mean?
+      Suddenly, when I am thinking of other things, the sound of her voice and
+      the sight of her face comes upon me, and then a dead, weary ache. I know I
+      cannot have her, perhaps if I did I shouldn't be wholly glad; but glad or
+      sorry, good fortune or ill, I cannot forget her. My life will not be
+      complete. You have felt all this.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never mind how I felt, you know I don't like talking about it. I am sorry
+      for you. We all have our troubles, I've had nothing else; I often think
+      that if I were to die to-morrow it would be a happy release.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If I had never seen her, or if I had married Maggie; if your father had
+      not put obstacles in the way; if he had not raised the wretched money
+      question, which you know as well as I do was dragged in quite
+      unnecessarily, I should not be suffering now. For, once married, I should
+      think of no one but my wife. I am sure I should make a good husband. I
+      know I could make a woman happy; she'll never find a husband better than
+      she'd have found in me, I don't believe if they were to be made that you
+      could make a better husband than I should be&mdash;I feel it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have always said that my father brings all his troubles on himself. He
+      never went in for the country people; he never would have people at the
+      Manor House. You can't shut up young girls as if they were in a convent,
+      and if they don't get the right people they'll have the wrong people. My
+      father thinks of nothing but his money, and he can't understand that he
+      might go for an equivalent. How could he have expected it to have turned
+      in your case but as it did? Lord Mount Rorke was not going to come over to
+      Southwick to haggle over pounds, shillings, and pence with him&mdash;not
+      likely. My sisters might have married very well if he had gone the right
+      way to work, and he would have been saved a deal of worry and bother. I
+      always say that my father brings all his troubles on himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So far as I was concerned he certainly acted very stupidly. Ah, if I had
+      married Maggie last summer, how different my life would be now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you couldn't have really loved her; if you had you would never&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, I did love her.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I heard from my father to-day. Maggie is better. This is, of course, a
+      very delicate question, but we have been friends so long&mdash;would you
+      like me to see if&mdash;if this matter could be arranged? I don't like, as
+      you know, to meddle in other people's affairs, I have quite enough to do
+      to look after my own; but if you would like&mdash;You, of course, do not
+      think of marrying Lizzie Baker?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of course not.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you would like me to speak to my father? Are you willing? Would you
+      like to marry Maggie?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, of course I should.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don't say so because she is my sister, but I think it is the best thing
+      you could do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      They had traversed the paddock, and were close to the stables. Picking a
+      few carrots out of a heap, they opened the door of Blue Mantle's box. The
+      horse came towards them, his large eyes glancing, his beautiful crest
+      arched. His coat shone like satin, his legs were as fine as steel, and
+      with exquisite relish he drew the carrots from their hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The perspective of the hills was prolonged upon fading tints, and in the
+      pale blueness the mares feeding in the paddocks grew strangely solitary
+      and distinct; the trees about the coast towns were blended in shadow, and
+      out of the first stars fell a quiet peace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Their dinner awaited them&mdash;a little dinner, simple and humble. After
+      dinner, when the lamp was brought in, Willy nursed the missus with
+      affection and sincerity. Cissy sat on Frank's knee, and he told her
+      stories and stroked her hair. This household retired at eleven. At ten
+      every morning Willy was busy with his letters, his cheques, his accounts,
+      and in the afternoon the young men walked about the fields talking of
+      possible successes of the forthcoming breeding season, and so the days
+      went. But the secret forces were busy about Frank's life. There were mines
+      and counter-mines. Every fort of prejudice, every citadel of reason rested
+      now upon foundations that quaked, and would fall at the first shock. Doom
+      was about him. As the silence rustles in the deadly hush of the storm that
+      brings winter upon the forest, he waited unconscious as a leaf in the
+      imminence of the autumn moment; and in such a stillness, awaiting a change
+      of soul, he received a letter from Lizzie. It dropped from his hand, and
+      such desire to go as comes on swallow and cuckoo came on him; he struggled
+      for a moment, and was sucked down in his passion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The little village&mdash;a summary of English life and custom, a symbol of
+      the Saxon, the church steeple pointing through the elm trees, the villas
+      with their various embellishment in the line of glass porticos and privet
+      hedges, the General, Mrs. Horlick, Messrs Brookes and Berkins&mdash;how
+      complete it seemed, how individual and how synthetical&mdash;his eyes
+      filled with tears of unpremeditated grief. The leaves were falling, the
+      hills were shrouded in wreaths of floating mist. Some trees had been cut
+      down and scaffolding had been reared about the Manor House, some of the
+      walls had already fallen revealing the wall paper, the pattern of which he
+      could almost distinguish. He was going to the woman he loved, but he was
+      leaving his youth behind, and those whom he had known as children, as
+      girls, as women; he remembered all the gossip, all the quarrels, all the
+      to-do about nothing; and now, looking on the beautiful garden where he had
+      played and passioned in all varying moments of grief and glee, he re-lived
+      the past; and leaning out of the carriage window he gazed fondly, and
+      cried out: &ldquo;Alas, those were Spring Days.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <h3>
+      THE END
+    </h3>
+    <div style="height: 6em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Spring Days, by George Moore
+
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+  </body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Spring Days, by George Moore
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Spring Days
+
+Author: George Moore
+
+
+Release Date: July, 2004  [EBook #6029]
+This file was first posted on December 10, 2002
+Last Updated: July 3, 2013
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPRING DAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SPRING DAYS
+
+By George Moore
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+When Henry Vizetelly, that admirable scholar, historian, and journalist,
+was sent to prison for publishing Zola's novels mine were taken over by
+Walter Scott, and all were reprinted except "Spring Days." This book was
+omitted from the list of my acknowledged works, for public and private
+criticism had shown it no mercy; and I had lost faith in it. All the
+welcome it had gotten were a few contemptuous paragraphs scattered
+through the Press, and an insolent article in _The Academy_, which I did
+not see, but of which I was notified by a friend in the Strand at the
+corner of Wellington Street.
+
+"Was the article a long one?"
+
+"No, I don't think they thought your book worth slashing. All I can tell
+you is that if any book of mine had been spoken of in that way I should
+never write another."
+
+I left my friend, hoping that the number of _The Academy_ would not fall
+into the hands of the editor of the great London review, to whom I had
+dedicated the book after a night spent listening to him quoting from the
+classics, Greek, English, and Latin. "A very poor testimony, one which
+he won't thank me for," I muttered, and stopped before St. Clement Danes
+to think what kind of letter he would write to me. But he did not even
+acknowledge through his secretary the copy I sent to him, and I accepted
+the rebuff without resentment, arguing that the fault was mine. "The
+proofs should have been submitted to him, but the printers were calling
+for them! There's no going back; the mischief is done," and I waited,
+putting my trust in time, which blots out all unfortunate things, "even
+dedications," I said.
+
+Three months later, on opening my door one day, I found him standing
+with a common friend on the landing. I remember wondering what his
+reason was for bringing the friend, whether he had come as a sort of
+chaperon or witness. He left us after a few minutes, and I sat watching
+the great man of my imagination, asking myself if he were going to speak
+of "Spring Days," hoping that he would avoid the painful subject. The
+plot and the characters of my new book might please him. If he would
+only allow me to speak about it he might be persuaded to accept a second
+dedication as some atonement for the first.
+
+"You were kind enough to dedicate your novel---"
+
+"'Spring Days'?"
+
+"Yes, 'Spring Days.' I know that you wished to pay me a compliment, and
+if I didn't write before it was because----"
+
+"Was it so very bad?"
+
+A butty little man raised Oriental eyes and square hands in protest.
+
+"You have written other books," he said, and proposed that we should go
+out together and walk in the Strand.
+
+"Yes, 'The Confessions of a Young Man' was much liked here and in
+France. Will you let me give it to you?" We stopped at a book shop. "It
+will please you and help you to forget 'Spring Days.'" He smiled. "Never
+mention that book again," I added. "I wonder how I could have written
+it."
+
+We were in a hansom; he turned his head and looked at me without
+attempting to answer my question; and from that day till six months ago
+my impulse was to destroy every copy that came my way. A copy of "Spring
+Days" excited in me an uncontrollable desire of theft, and whenever I
+caught sight of one in a friend's house I put it in my pocket without
+giving a thought to the inconvenience that the larceny might cause; the
+Thames received it, and I returned home congratulating myself that there
+was one copy less in the world of "Spring Days."
+
+When the Boer War drove me out of London I said: "Dublin doesn't contain
+a copy of that book;" and for nearly eight years I was left in peace,
+only Edward Martyn teasing me, saying that one of these days he must
+read the book.
+
+"R---- always says, 'I like "Spring Days".'"
+
+"Insolent little ass," I answered, "I'll cut him dead when we meet
+again."
+
+But Edward was not joking as I thought he was, and some time afterwards
+he told me that after a good deal of advertising he had succeeded
+in obtaining a copy of "Spring Days." The moment he left the room I
+searched the table and bookcase for it, but he kept it at Tillyra, else
+it would have gone into the Liffey, which receives all things.
+
+"My dear George, I like the book better than any of your novels," he
+said one day on his return from Galway. "It is the most original, it is
+like no other novel, and that is why people didn't understand it."
+
+Of course it was impossible to quarrel with dear Edward, but I wondered
+if I ever should find pleasure in speaking to him again; and when A. E.
+told me a few weeks later that he had come upon a novel of mine which he
+had never read before--"Spring Days," I said.
+
+"Edward gave it to you?"
+
+"No," he answered, "I haven't seen him for many months."
+
+"The worst book I ever wrote." A. E. did not answer. "What do you think
+of it?" To my surprise I found him of the same opinion as Edward.
+
+"My dear A. E., you know how I rely on your judgment. For twenty-five
+years I have refused to allow this book to be reprinted. Shall I
+relent?"
+
+A. E. did not seem to think the book unworthy of me, and pressed me to
+read it.
+
+"I'll lend you my copy."
+
+I received it next day, but returned it to him unread, my courage having
+failed me at the last moment.
+
+A few months later I met Richard Best, one of the librarians at the
+National Library. He had just returned from his holidays; he had been
+spending them in Wales for the sake of the language.
+
+"By the way," he said, "I came across an old novel of yours--'Spring
+Days.'"
+
+"You didn't like it?"
+
+"On the contrary, I liked it as well, if not better, than any novel you
+have written. It is so entirely original. My wife... I think you value
+her opinion--"
+
+"She liked it?"
+
+"Come home with me, and she'll tell you how it struck her."
+
+"I will, on one condition, that you don't mention that you spoke to me
+about the book."
+
+Best promised, and we had not been many minutes in the house before
+Mrs. Best interrupted my remarks about the weather to tell me what she
+thought of "Spring Days."
+
+"The matter is important. Sooner or later I shall have to think about a
+collected edition. Is it to be included?"
+
+Mrs. Best, like A. E., offered to lend me her copy, but I could not
+bring myself to accept it, and escaped from the book till I came to live
+in London. Then Fate thrust it into my hands, the means employed being a
+woman to whom I had written for "Impressions and Opinions." She had lost
+her copy; there was, however, an old book of mine which she had never
+heard me speak of--"Spring Days"--and which, etc., she was sending me
+the book.
+
+"Omens are omens," I muttered, "and there's no use kicking against the
+pricks eternally;" and cutting the string of the parcel I sat down
+to read a novel which I had kept so resolutely out of my mind for
+twenty-five years, that all I remembered of its story and characters was
+an old gentleman who lived in a suburb, and whose daughters were a great
+source of trouble to him. I met the style of the narrative as I might
+that of an original writer whose works I was unacquainted with. There
+was a zest in it, and I read on and on; I must have read for nearly two
+hours, which is a long read for me, laying the book aside from time to
+time, so that I might reflect at my ease on the tenacity with which it
+had clung to existence. Every effort had been made to drown it;
+again and again it had been flung into the river, literally and
+metaphorically, but it had managed to swim ashore like a cat. It would
+seem that some books have nine hundred and ninety and nine lives, and
+God knows how long my meditation might have lasted if the front door
+bell had not rung.
+
+"Are you at home, sir, to Mr.--?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+There is time for one word more, dear reader, and whilst my visitor lays
+his hat and coat on the table in the passage I will beseech you not
+to look forward to a sentimental story; "Spring Days" is as free from
+sentiment or morals as Daphnis and Chloe.
+
+G. M.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+
+"Miss, I'll have his blood; I will, miss, I will."
+
+"For goodness' sake, cook, go back to your kitchen; put that dreadful
+pair of boots under your apron."
+
+"No, miss; I'll be revenged. He has insulted me."
+
+"You can't be revenged now, cook; you see he has shut himself in; you
+had better go back to your kitchen."
+
+The groom, who was washing the carriage, stood, mop in hand, grinning,
+appreciating the discomfiture of the coachman, who was paying the
+penalty of his joke.
+
+"Cook, if you don't go back to your kitchen instantly, I'll give you
+notice. It is shameful--think what a scandal you are making in the
+stable-yard. Go back to your kitchen--I order you. It is half-past six,
+go and attend to your master's dinner."
+
+"He has insulted me, he has insulted me. I'll have your blood!" she
+cried, battering at the door. The rattling of chains was heard as the
+horses turned their heads.
+
+"Put those boots under your apron, cook; go back to your kitchen, do as
+I tell you."
+
+The woman retreated, Maggie following. At intervals there were
+stoppages, and cook re-stated her desire to have the coachman's blood.
+Maggie did not attempt to argue with her, but sternly repeated her order
+to go back to her kitchen, and to conceal the old boots under her apron.
+
+"What business had he to rummage in my box, interfering with my things;
+he put them all along the kitchen table; he did it because I told you,
+miss, that he was carrying on with the kitchenmaid. He goes with her
+every evening into the wood shed, and a married man, too! I wouldn't be
+his poor wife."
+
+"Go back to your kitchen, cook; do as I tell you."
+
+With muttered threats cook entered the house, and commanded the
+kitchenmaid to interfere no more with the oven, but to attend to her
+saucepans.
+
+"What a violent woman," thought Maggie, "horrid woman. I am sure she's
+Irish. I'll get rid of her as soon as I can. The place is filthy, but I
+daren't speak to her now. She's stirring the saucepan with her finger."
+
+At that moment quick steps were heard coming down the corridor, and
+Sally entered.
+
+"Cook, cook, I want you to put back the dinner half an hour. I have to
+go down the town."
+
+"O Sally, I beg of you, what will father say?"
+
+"Father isn't everybody. I daresay the train will be a little late; it
+often is. He won't know anything about it, that is if you don't tell
+him."
+
+"What do you want to go down the town for?"
+
+"Never you mind. I don't ask you what you do."
+
+"You want to go down the slonk," whispered Maggie.
+
+The cook stopped stirring the saucepan, and the kitchenmaid stood
+listening greedily.
+
+"Nothing of the kind," Sally answered defiantly. "You're always trying
+to get up something against me. Cook, will you keep back the dinner
+twenty minutes?"
+
+"Cook, I forbid you. I'm mistress here."
+
+"How dare you insult me before the servants! Grace is mistress here, if
+it comes to that."
+
+"Grace has given me over the housekeeping. I am mistress when she is too
+unwell to attend to it."
+
+"Nothing of the sort. Grace is the eldest, I would give way to her, but
+I'm not going to give way to you. Cook, the dinner won't be ready for
+another half hour, will it?"
+
+"I don't know when the dinner will be ready, and I don't care."
+
+"It is a quarter to seven now, dinner won't be ready before seven, will
+it, cook? Keep it back a bit. Now I must be off."
+
+And, as Maggie expected, Sally ran past the glass houses and the pear
+and apple trees, for there was at the end of the vegetable garden a
+door in the brick wall that enclosed the manor house. It was used by the
+gardeners, and it communicated with a path leading through some corn and
+grass land to the high road. There were five acres of land attached
+to the manor house, tennis lawn, shady walks, flower garden, kitchen
+garden, stables, and coach house at the back, and all this spoke in
+somewhat glaring fashion the wealth and ease of a rich city merchant.
+
+"There she goes," thought Maggie, flaunting her head. "What a fool she
+is to bully father instead of humouring him. We shall never hear the
+end of this. His dinner put back so that she may continue her flirtation
+with Meason! I shall have to tell the truth. Why should I tell a lie?"
+
+"Please, miss," said the butler as Maggie passed through the baize door,
+"I think it right to tell you about cook. We find it very hard to put
+up with her in the servants' hall. She is a very violent-tempered woman;
+nor can I say much for her in other respects. Last week she sold twenty
+pounds of dripping, and it wasn't all dripping, miss, it was for the
+most part butter."
+
+"John, I really can't listen to any more stories about cook. Has the
+quarter-to-seven come in yet?"
+
+"I haven't seen it pass, miss, but I saw Mr. Willy coming up the drive a
+minute ago."
+
+Willy entered, and she turned to him and said: "Where have you been to,
+Willy?"
+
+"Brighton. Has father come in yet?"
+
+"No. You came by the tramcar?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+With shoulders set well back and toes turned out, Willy came along the
+passage. His manner was full of deliberation, and he carried a small
+brown paper parcel under his arm as if it were a sword of state. Maggie
+followed him up the steep and vulgarly carpeted staircase that branched
+into the various passages forming the upper part of the house. Willy's
+room was precise and grave, and there everything was held under lock and
+key. He put the brown paper parcel on the table; he took off his coat
+and laid it on the bed, heaving, at the same time, a sigh.
+
+"Did you notice if the quarter-to-seven has been signalled?"
+
+"Yes, but don't keep on worrying; the train is coming along the
+embankment."
+
+"Then there will be a row to-night."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Sally told cook to keep the dinner back; she has gone down the slonk to
+speak to Meason."
+
+"Why didn't you tell cook that she must take her orders from you and no
+one else?"
+
+"So I did, but Sally said I was no more mistress here than she was. I
+said Grace had given me charge of the house, when she could not attend
+to it; but Sally will listen to no one, she'll drive father out of his
+mind. There's no one he hates like the Measons."
+
+"What is the matter with Grace? Where is she?"
+
+"She's in her room, lying on the bed crying. She says she wants to die;
+she says that she doesn't care what becomes of her. She'll never care
+for another man, and father will not give his consent. What's-his-name
+has nothing--only a small allowance; he'll never have any more, he isn't
+a working man. I know father, he'll never hear of any one who is not a
+working man. I wish you'd speak to her."
+
+"I've quite enough to do with my own affairs; I've had bad luck enough
+as it is, without running into new difficulties of my own accord."
+
+"If she refuses Berkins, father'll never get over it. I wish you would
+speak to her."
+
+"No, don't ask me. I never meddle in other people's affairs. I've had
+trouble enough. Now I want to dress."
+
+When Maggie went downstairs, she found her father in the drawing-room.
+
+"The train was a little late to-night. Has Willy come back from
+Brighton?"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"I've been looking over his accounts and I find he has lost nearly two
+thousand pounds in Bond Street, and I don't think he is doing any good
+with that agency in Brighton. I never approved of one or the other. I
+approve of nothing but legitimate city business. Shops in the West End!
+mere gambling. Where is Grace?"
+
+"She's in her room."
+
+"In her room? I suppose she hasn't left it all day? This is very
+terrible. I don't know what to do with you. Since your poor mother died
+my life has been nothing but trouble and vexation. I can't manage you,
+you are too strong for me. So she hasn't left her room; crying her eyes
+out, because I won't consent to her marrying a penniless young officer!
+But I will not squander my money. I made it all myself, by my own
+industry, and I refuse to keep young fellows in idleness."
+
+"I don't give you any trouble, father."
+
+"You are the best, Maggie, but you encourage your sister Sally. I hear
+that you, too, were seen walking with young Meason."
+
+"It is not true, I assure you, father. I met him as I was going to the
+post-office. I said, 'How do you do?' and I passed on."
+
+"Where is Sally?"
+
+"She went out a few minutes ago."
+
+"Didn't she know the time? She ought to be dressing for dinner. Do you
+know where she's gone?"
+
+"I think she went down the slonk."
+
+His children had inherited his straight, sharp features and his small,
+black, vivid eyes. Their hair was of various hues of black. Maggie's was
+raven black and glossy; Sally's was coarse and of a hue like black-lead;
+Grace's was abundant and relieved with sooty shades; Willy's hair
+was brown. He was the fair one of the family, and his hair was always
+closely cut in military fashion, and he wore a long flowing military
+moustache with a tinge of red in it. His father and he were built on the
+same lines--long, spare bodies, short necks and legs, and short, spare
+arms, and if the father's white hair were dyed the years that separated
+him from his son would disappear, for although the son had only just
+turned thirty, he was middle-aged in face and feeling.
+
+Sally and Grace were both thickly built, the latter a little inclined
+to fat. Maggie was thin and elegantly angular, and often stood in
+picturesque attitudes; she stood in one now, with her hands linked
+behind her back, and she watched her father, and her look was subtle and
+insinuating.
+
+"When I came here," he said, speaking rapidly, and as if he were
+speaking to himself, "the place was well enough; there was nothing but
+those wretched cottages facing the sea, the green, and a few cottages
+about it; but since those villas have been put up, Southwick has become
+unbearable. All my troubles," he murmured, "originated in the Southdown
+Road."
+
+Maggie turned aside, smiled, and bit her lip; she did not speak,
+however, for she knew her father did not care to be interrupted in his
+musings.
+
+"A hateful place--glass porticoes, and oleographs on the walls." Here
+Mr. Brookes stopped in his walk to admire one of his favourite Friths.
+"Those ridiculous haberdashers, with a bas-relief of the founder of
+their house over the doorway. The proprietors of the baths, the Measons,
+poor as church mice, the son a mate of a merchant vessel--these are not
+proper associates for my daughters. I will not know them; I will not
+have them in my house."
+
+"The Measons are quite as good as we are, father. They may be poor, but
+as far as family goes--"
+
+"You are just the same as the others, Maggie; once there is a young man
+to flirt with, you don't care what he is or where he comes from. When
+there are no young men, you will snub the old ladies fast enough; and as
+for Sally, she is downright rude. I didn't want to see the haberdashers,
+but while they were in my house I was polite to them."
+
+"It was the Horlocks who told them to call."
+
+"I know it was. If Mrs. Horlock likes to know these people, let her know
+them; but what does she want to force them upon us for? That's what I
+want to know. We might never have known any one in the Southdown Road; I
+mean we never should, we never could have known any one in the Southdown
+Road if Mrs. Horlock hadn't come to live there. We had to call upon
+her."
+
+"Every Viceroy in India called upon her. She was the only woman whom
+every Viceroy did call upon."
+
+"I know she was. Of course we had to call upon her. Most interesting
+woman; the General is very nice, too. I like them exceedingly. I often
+go to see them, although the smell of that mastiff is more than I can
+bear in the hot weather, especially if lilies or strong smelling flowers
+are in the room."
+
+"She feeds the mice, she won't let them be destroyed, she lets the traps
+down at night."
+
+"Don't let us go into the animal question. The constant smell of dogs
+is unpleasant, but I could put up with it--what I can't stand are her
+acquaintances in the Southdown Road, and when I think that we should not
+have known any of them if it hadn't been for her! Indirectly--I do not
+say directly--she is the cause of all my difficulties. It was at her
+house Sally met young Meason; it was at her house Grace met that
+young officer for whom she is crying her eyes out; and it was at her
+house--yes, I hadn't thought of it before--it was at her house that
+Willy met that swindler who induced him to put two thousand pounds into
+the Bond Street shop. The Southdown Road might have remained here for
+the next five hundred years, and we should have known nothing of it had
+it not been for Mrs. Horlock; if she likes to know these people let her
+know them, but why force them upon us? It was only the other day she was
+talking to me about calling on some new friends of hers who have come
+to live there. I dare say it is the custom to call on every one at
+Calcutta, but I say that Calcutta etiquette is not Southwick etiquette,
+and I don't care how many Viceroys called upon her, I will not know the
+Southdown Road."
+
+The enunciation of this last sentence was deliberate and impassioned.
+Mr. Brookes walked twice across the room; then he stood, his hands
+crossed behind his back, looking at his admired Goodall. His anger
+melted, and he mused on the price he had paid, and the price he thought
+it was now worth. Fearing he would return to the Southdown Road trouble,
+Maggie said: "I am afraid we shall be obliged to get rid of the
+new cook. She is Irish. Just before you came in I found her in the
+stable-yard threatening to break Holt's head with a pair of dreadful old
+boots."
+
+"I don't want to hear about the cook. The money you spend in
+housekeeping is enormous. Since your poor mother died I haven't had
+a day's peace. If it isn't one thing it is another. You are fit for
+nothing but pleasure and flirtation; there isn't a young man in the
+place or within ten miles you haven't flirted with. I am often ashamed
+to look them in the face at the station. It is past seven; why isn't
+dinner ready?"
+
+"Sally told the cook to put the dinner back half an hour."
+
+"Sally told the cook to put my dinner back half an hour!"
+
+Mr. Brookes's face grew livid. The end of all things was at hand; his
+dinner had been put back half an hour! This was a climax in the affairs
+of his life, which for the moment he failed to grasp or estimate. Was a
+father ever cursed with such daughters as his? He had been in the City
+all day working for them; he did not marry because he wished to leave
+them his money, and this was the return they made to him. His dinner had
+been put back half an hour! Passion sustained him for a while; but he
+gave way, and, pulling out a silk handkerchief, he sank into a chair.
+
+"Don't cry, father, don't cry. Sally is thoughtless; she didn't mean
+it."
+
+Mr. Brookes wept for a few minutes; Maggie strove to soothe him; he
+waved her away, he wiped his eyes and in a voice broken with anguish,
+"Ah, well," he said, "I suppose it will be all the same a hundred
+years hence." In moments of extreme trouble he sought refuge in such
+philosophy, but now it seemed inadequate and superficial, and Maggie had
+begun to fear the violence of the storm she had brewed. She did not
+mind stimulating ill-feeling, but she did not wish Sally to provoke her
+father recklessly.
+
+The possibility of his marrying again and having a second family was the
+one restraining influence Mr. Brookes still retained over his daughters,
+so Maggie, who was always keenly alive to the remotest consequences of
+her actions, took care that his home never became quite unbearable to
+him; and when Sally entered the room, dark and brilliant in red velvet,
+and in no way disposed to admit she had been guilty of heinous wrong in
+countermanding the dinner, Maggie attempted a gentle pouring of oil
+on the waters. But waving aside her sister's gentle interposition, she
+said: "You mustn't think of yourself only, father. I admit I told the
+cook to put back the dinner a few minutes. What then?"
+
+"You did it that you might finish your conversation with young Meason,"
+said Mr. Brookes, but his words were weak, it being doubtful if even
+Meason could add to the original offence, so culminating and final did
+it seem to him.
+
+"Maggie didn't tell you that last week she met him on the sea road, and
+walked with him into Portslade."
+
+"Father, father, I beg of you, now, don't cry; think of the servants."
+
+And it was in such unity of mind and feeling that this family sat down
+to dinner in the great dining-room, rich with all comforts and adorned
+with pictures by Frith and Goodall. Sally, who unfortunately knew
+no fear, talked defiantly; she addressed herself principally to her
+brother, and she questioned him persistently, although the replies
+she received were generally monosyllabic. As he chewed his meat
+with reflection and precaution, broke his bread with deliberate and
+well-defined movements, and filled his mouth with carefully chosen
+pieces, he gradually ventured to decide that he would not speak to his
+father that evening of the scheme he had been hatching for some months.
+It was one of his strictest rules not to think while eating, so it may
+be said that it was against his will that he arrived at this conclusion.
+Willy suffered from indigestion, and he knew that any exercise of the
+brain was most prejudicial at meal times.
+
+After dinner Mr. Brookes and his son retired to the billiard-room to
+smoke.
+
+"Your sisters are a great trouble to me--a very great anxiety. Since
+your poor mother died I've had no peace, none whatever. Poor Julia,
+she's gone; I shall never see her again."
+
+Willy made no answer. He was debating; he was still uncertain whether
+the present time could be considered a favourable one to introduce his
+scheme to his father's notice, and he had made up his mind that it was,
+when he was interrupted by Mr. Brookes, who had again lapsed into one of
+his semi-soliloquies.
+
+"Your sisters give me a great deal of trouble, a very great deal of
+anxiety. I am all alone. I have no one to help me since the death of
+your poor mother."
+
+"My sisters are fitted for nothing but pleasure," Willy replied
+severely.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+
+Mr. Brookes went to London every day by the five minutes to ten; Willy
+walked into Brighton. There he had been for some time striving to found
+an agency for artificial manures, and in the twilight of a small office
+he brooded over the different means of making money that were open to
+him. The young ladies worked or played as it struck their fancy. Sally
+admitted that she infinitely preferred walking round the garden with
+a young man to doing wool-work in the drawing-room. Maggie shared this
+taste, although she did not make bold profession of it. Grace was the
+gentlest of the sisters, and had passed unnoticed until she had fallen
+in love with a penniless officer, and tortured her father with tears
+and haggard cheeks because he refused to supply her with money to keep
+a husband. The doctor had ordered her iron; she had been sent to
+London for a change, but neither remedy was of much avail, and when
+she returned home pale and melancholy she had not taken the keys from
+Maggie, but had allowed her to usurp her place inthe house. Sally was
+supposed to look after the conservatories, but beyond her own special
+flowers she left everything to the gardeners.
+
+On Sundays Mr. Brookes walked through the long drawing-rooms aimlessly.
+Sometimes he would stop before one of his pictures. "There, that's a
+good picture, I paid a lot of money for it, I paid too much, mustn't do
+so again." Passing his daughters, sometimes without speaking, he then
+stopped before one of the big chimney-pieces, and, pulling out his large
+silk pocket handkerchief, dusted the massive clocks and candlesticks.
+
+In the billiard-room, at a table drawn up close to the coke fire, Willy
+slowly and with much care made pencil notes, which he slowly and with
+great solemnity copied into his diary.
+
+"Your sisters are a great source of trouble to me, a source of deep
+anxiety," said Mr. Brookes, and he flicked the rearing legs of a bronze
+horse with his handkerchief.
+
+"My sisters are only fit for pleasure," said Willy and he finished the
+tail of the y, passed the blotting paper over, and prepared to begin a
+fresh paragraph.
+
+"I am afraid Grace is scarcely any better; she will not leave her room.
+I hear she is crying. It is too ridiculous, too ridiculous. What she can
+see in that man I can't think; he is only a man of pleasure. I've told
+her so, but somehow she can't get to see why I will not settle
+money upon her--money that I made myself, by hard work, judicious
+investments."
+
+"That's a smack at the shop," thought Willy, as he placed his full stop.
+
+"I'll not settle my money upon her," said Mr. Brookes, as he resumed his
+dusting; "and for what? to keep an idle fellow in idleness. No, I'll not
+do it. She'll get over it--ah, it will be all the same a hundred years
+hence. But tell me, have you noticed--no, you notice nothing--"
+
+"Yes, I do; what do you want me to say, that she is looking very ill?
+I can't help it if she is. I've quite enough troubles of my own without
+thinking of other people's. I'm sure I am very sorry. I wish she'd never
+met the fellow."
+
+"That's what I say, I wish she'd never met the fellow, and she never
+would had it not been for that horrible Southdown Road. Southwick has
+never been the same since those villas were put up."
+
+"I know nothing about them; I won't know them. I don't go to the
+Horlocks because I may meet people there I don't want to know. If you
+hadn't allowed the girls to go there, she never would have met him."
+
+"But we had to call on the Horlocks. Every Viceroy that ever came to
+India called upon her, and they're excellent people--titled people
+come down from London to see them: but I daresay their banking accounts
+wouldn't bear looking into. She walks about the green with the chemist's
+wife, and has the people of the baths to dinner. Mostextraordinary
+woman. I like her, I enjoy her society; but I can't follow her in her
+opinions. She says that only men are bad; that all animals are good;
+that it is only men who make them bad. Her views on hydrophobia are most
+astonishing. She says it is a mild and easy death, and sees no reason
+why the authorities should attempt to stamp it out. She quite frightened
+me with the story she told me of a mad dog that died in her arms. But
+that by the way. The point is not now whether she is right to feed mice
+in her bedroom instead of getting rid of them, but whether we should
+call on people we don't want to know because she asks us to do so. I say
+we should not. When she spoke to me the other day about the lady whose
+mother was a housemaid, I said, 'My dear Mrs. Horlock, it is very well
+for you to call on those people. I approve of, I admire magnanimity; but
+what you can do I cannot do. You have no daughters to bring out; every
+Viceroy that ever came to India called on you, your position in the
+world is assured, your friends will not think the less of you no matter
+how intimately you know the chemist's wife, but you could not do these
+things if you had daughters to bring out.'"
+
+"What did she say to that?"
+
+"She was just going out to walk with her pugs. Angel began to--you know,
+and for the moment she could think of nothing else; when the little
+beast had finished I had forgotten the thread of my argument. However,
+I spoke to her about Grace; and she promised that she shouldn't meet
+the fellow again. I can't think of his name, I get lost in the different
+names, and they are all so alike I scarcely know one from the other. I
+have had nothing but trouble since your poor mother died. Your sisters
+give me a great deal of trouble, and you have given me a great deal
+of trouble. We couldn't get on in business together on account of your
+infernal slowness. No man is more for keeping his accounts and letters
+straight than I, but your exactitude drives me mad; it drives me mad;
+there you are at it again. I should like to know what you are copying
+into that diary. One would think you were writing an article for the
+_Times_, from the care with which you're drawing out every letter; 'pon
+my word it isn't writing at all, it's painting. You can't write for a
+pair of boots without taking a copy of the letter, entering it into this
+book, and entering it into that book; 'pon my word it is maddening."
+
+Willy laughed. "Each person has his own way of doing business; I don't
+see how it interferes with you, or what difference it makes to you, if I
+spend three minutes or three days writing a letter."
+
+"Perhaps not, perhaps not; but I am terribly upset about Grace," said
+Mr. Brookes, and he walked slowly across the room and stood looking at
+his Bouguereau; "she'll get over it, but in any case she'll miss her
+chance of marrying Berkins; that is what distresses me. The man stinks
+of money. I hear that he has been appointed manager of a colliery, that
+alone will bring him another thousand a year. His business is going up,
+he must be worth now between seven and eight thousand a year. And he
+began as an office boy, he hadn't a penny piece, made it all himself."
+
+"So I should think; a purse-proud ass!"
+
+"Never mind, his eight thousand is as good an eight thousand as any in
+the land, better than a great many. I wouldn't give a snap of my fingers
+for your broken-down landowners; Berkins has always made excellent
+investments, and I hear he is now getting as much as fifteen per cent.
+for money invested."
+
+Willy had been to Oxford, and the arrogance and pomposity of this
+purse-proud man shocked his sense of decorum. Berkins's vulgarity was
+more offensive than that of Mr. Brookes. Mr. Brookes was a simple,
+middle-class man, who had made money straightforwardly and honestly,
+and he had cultivated his natural taste for pictures to the limit of
+his capacities and opportunities. Berkins, however, had been born a
+gentleman, but had had to shift for himself, even when a lad, and he had
+caught at all chances; he was more sophisticated, he was a gentleman
+in a state of retrograde, and was in all points inferior to him whom he
+crossed in his descent. Berkins had bought a small place, a villa with
+some hundred acres attached to it, on the other side of Preston Park.
+There he had erected glass houses, and bred a few pheasants in the
+corner of a field, and it surprised him to find that the county families
+took no notice of him. Mr. Brookes had sympathised, but the young people
+laughed at him and Willy had told a story how he had been to shoot at
+----, and when a partridge got up right in front of his gun, Berkins
+turned round and shot it, exclaiming: "That's the way to bring them
+down!"
+
+And now whenever his name was mentioned, Willy thought of this incident,
+so very typical did it seem to him of the man, and he liked to twit his
+father with it. But Mr. Brookes could not be brought to see the
+joke, and he fell back on the plausible and insidious argument that,
+notwithstanding his manners, Berkins was worth eight thousand a year.
+
+"And very few girls get the chance of catching eight thousand a year;
+and she'll miss it, she'll miss it if she doesn't take care."
+
+"You talk of it as if it were an absolute certainty; you don't know that
+Berkins wants to marry Grace; he hasn't been here for the last month."
+
+"Mr. Berkins is not like the young good-for-nothings your sisters waste
+their time with, he is a man of means, of eight thousand a year; you
+don't expect him to come round here every evening to tea, and to play
+tennis, and to walk in the moonlight and talk nonsense. Berkins is a man
+of means, he is a man who can make a settlement."
+
+"Has he spoken to you on the subject, then?"
+
+"No, Mr. Berkins is a man of tact, however you may laugh at him for
+having shot your partridge. He spoke to your Aunt Mary, or rather
+she spoke to him. Ah, clever woman, your Aunt Mary, wonderful manner,
+wonderful will, when she wants a thing done it must be done. Your poor
+mother--I mean no disparagement--but I must say she couldn't compare
+with her for determination; Sally reminds me of her, but Sally's
+determination is misdirected, deplorably misdirected; it is directed
+against me, entirely against me. She must be made submissive; when I
+spoke to Aunt Mary about her, she said her spirit must be broken; and
+if she were here she'd break it. If she were here things would be very
+different, your sisters wouldn't be flirting with all the little clerks
+in the Southdown Road; but I am alone. I have no one to turn to."
+
+"You were telling me that Berkins had spoken to Aunt Mary about Grace."
+
+"Your Aunt Mary spoke to Berkins about Grace; she told him he ought to
+be thinking of marrying; that he wanted a wife. Then the conversation
+turned on my daughters, and Mary no doubt mentioned that at my death
+they would all have large fortunes."
+
+"Ah, so it is the money that Berkins is after."
+
+"Money comes first. If a man can make a settlement he will naturally
+demand a--that is to say he will naturally look forward, he will
+consider what her prospects are; not her immediate prospects, that would
+be mercenary, but her future prospects."
+
+Willy smiled. "And what did Berkins say?"
+
+"He said he wanted to marry, and he spoke of Grace; he said he admired
+her. I shouldn't be surprised if we saw him at church to-day."
+
+"Are you going to ask him to lunch?"
+
+"Certainly, if he's there." Then, after a long silence, Mr. Brookes
+said: "He'll come in here to smoke. Of course you'll leave us alone. Do
+you mind leaving out your cigars?"
+
+"I have only half a box left; I think really you might keep some in the
+house to supply your own guests with. You always object if I interfere
+with your things."
+
+"I am out of my best cigars--it is so hard to remember. He won't smoke
+more than one."
+
+"I'll put one in the cigar case then."
+
+"You had better fill it; it will look so bad if there is only one; he
+won't take it."
+
+"He'll take all he can get; he took my bird, I know that!"
+
+"This is a matter of great importance."
+
+"To you and to Grace, not to me," said Willy, and with very bad grace he
+unlocked a drawer, and placed a box of cigars on the table.
+
+"Thank you. Now what time is it? Half-past ten. By Jove! we must be
+thinking of starting; I suppose you aren't coming?"
+
+"I am afraid I've too much to do this morning."
+
+The young ladies appeared in new dresses, and with prayer-books in their
+hands. Mr. Brookes took his hat and umbrella, and Willy watched them
+depart with undisguised satisfaction. "Now I shall be able to get
+through some work," he said, untying a large bundle of letters. He wrote
+a page in his diary, tied up the letters, diary, and notebook in brown
+paper, and, with a sigh, admitting that he did not feel up to much work
+to-day, he took up the envelopes that had contained his letters and
+began tearing off the stamps, and he did this very attentively as if
+he did not trust his dry thick fingers. Somebody had told him that
+ten thousand old stamps were worth--he had forgotten the price of old
+stamps, and wondering he dozed off. When he awoke he cried: "Half-past
+twelve, they must be on their way back; I wonder if Berkins is with
+them!" And he strolled out on the gravel.
+
+A few spring flowers marked the brown earth about the trees, and a
+beautiful magnolia, white as a bride, shed its shell-like petals in an
+angle beneath a window; the gold of the berberis glowed at the end of
+the path; and the greenery was blithe as a girl in clear muslin and
+ribbons. The blackbirds chattered and ran, and in turn flew to the pan
+of water placed for them, and drank, lifting their heads with exquisite
+motion. The trees rustled in the cold wind; the sky was white along the
+embankment, where an engine moved slowly up and down the line.
+
+Willy was sensible that the scene was pleasant and pretty, and
+remembering he was fond of birds, he thrust his hands deeper in his
+pockets and walked slowly down the drive, his toes well turned out.
+"I wonder if they met Berkins at church?" was the question he put to
+himself gravely. "What a cad he is! No wonder the county people fight
+shy of us; a fellow like that is enough to close their doors against
+us for ever. My father pooh-poohs everything but riches; he positively
+flies in their faces, so what can I do? I don't care to ask my Oxford
+friends down here; one never knows how he will receive them. He can
+talk of nothing but his business. Had I a free hand, had I not been
+so hampered, we might have known all the best county families, even
+theduke."
+
+The latch of the gate clicked, and Mr. Brookes and his family appeared.
+Maggie and Sally walked on the right and left of their father; Grace
+came on behind with Berkins, and it seemed to Willy that the city
+magnate bore himself with something even more than his usual dignity.
+At first sight he suggested that anomalous creature--a footman with a
+beard; and the slow, deliberate enunciation marked him as one accustomed
+to speak in public. His manner of sitting at a table suggested letters
+and dictation of letters, his manner of moving his glasses on his nose
+accounts, and at no moment would it have been surprising to see him
+place his strong finger at the bottom of a line of figures, and begin
+"Gentlemen," etc.
+
+During lunch, Sally and Maggie spoke in undertones; they glanced
+occasionally at Grace, who sat by and received Berkins's bald remarks
+with deference. The girls trembled with excitement; they had pressed and
+extorted from Grace a hurried statement of what had happened. Berkins
+had proposed to her, he had told her he had never seen any one except
+her whom he would care to make his wife. What had she said? She didn't
+know. She couldn't really remember. She had been taken so suddenly, she
+was so upset, that she hadn't known what to say. She thought she had
+said something about the honour--but she really had not had time to say
+much, for at that moment they were at the gate. Did she intend to accept
+him? She didn't know; she could not make up her mind. It was a terrible
+thing to throw over poor Jack; she didn't think she could do it--no
+matter what father might say. However, she knew he would never give his
+consent, so it was no use thinking.
+
+"I hope she won't begin to cry," whispered Sally, who had followed
+Maggie to the sideboard.
+
+"Father looks as if he were going to cry," replied Maggie, moving the
+decanters and pretending to look for a glass.
+
+Seven thousand a year, ten thousand a year! Would Grace have him? What
+would father settle on her? The sum he settled on her he must settle
+on them when they married. As Berkins's wife Grace would have servants,
+jewels, rich dresses, and a house in London, and they thought of the
+advantage this marriage would be to them.
+
+The knives clattered; cheese and celery were being eaten. Mr. Brookes
+had drunk several glasses of port, and was on the verge of tears.
+Berkins's high shoulders and large voice dominated the dining-table;
+he was decidedly more than usually impressed by his own worth, and the
+worth of the money of which he was the representative. Willy chewed
+his cheese; there were many wrinkles about his eyes--deep lines turning
+towards the ears; and when he lifted his tumbler one noticed the little
+nails, almost worn away, of his lean hands.
+
+At last Mr. Brookes said: "I daresay you would like a cigar,
+Berkins--will you come into the billiard-room?"
+
+Berkins inclined to this suggestion. Willy, who had not quite finished,
+remained at table. The girls watched each other, and as soon as the
+elderly men turned their backs they fled upstairs to their rooms.
+
+"Will you try one of these?" said Mr. Brookes, offering a box of choice
+havannas.
+
+"Thank you. My tobacconist--I must ask you to visit his shop--receives
+just a few cases of a very special cigar; I have at least two-thirds of
+them, sometimes more; when you dine with me I'll give you one. This is
+Chartreuse, I think. My wine merchant knows a man whose cousin is one of
+the monks. Now the monks set aside the very cream of the liqueur, if I
+may so speak, for themselves. This liqueur cannot be bought in the
+open market. You may go up to London prepared to write a cheque for
+any figure you may like to name, and I will defy you to buy a bottle.
+I never have any other. It is really quite delicious. I daresay I could
+get you some."
+
+Mr. Brookes expressed thanks for the amiable offer, and both men smoked
+on in silence.
+
+"Do you play billiards?"
+
+"No. Do you?"
+
+"No."
+
+Inwardly they congratulated themselves. Presently Mr. Brookes said:
+"I hear you have been staying with my sister, Mrs. Haltom. You were
+shooting there, were you not?"
+
+"Yes, they were kind enough to ask me. Very nice shooting they have,
+too."
+
+"I hear that you have gone in for rearing pheasants."
+
+"Yes; we shot a hundred brace last year."
+
+The conversation dropped, and in an impressive silence both men wondered
+what they had better say to lead honourably up to the subject they had
+come to speak on.
+
+"Is your house your own design? Did you build it entirely yourself?
+Iforget. I ought to know; you told me all about it when I dined with
+you."
+
+"There was a house there, but I altered it considerably after my own
+idea, and not a bad idea, I flatter myself. I spent a good deal of money
+in laying out the grounds, putting up conservatories, and so forth."
+
+"You are a single man?"
+
+"For a single man the house is, of course, too large; but I do not
+intend to remain always single, and--and now, Mr. Brookes, as we are on
+the subject, I had better tell you that I have asked Miss Brookes to be
+my wife."
+
+Mr. Brookes grasped at the first words. "I am sure I am very pleased to
+hear it, Mr. Berkins, and I hope the answer was a favourable one."
+
+"Miss Brookes is a modest girl. She has been well brought up, as a girl
+who is, I hope, to be my wife should be, and she was naturally a little
+overcome. I did not exactly catch what she said, and I didn't like to
+press her for an immediate answer. But suppose we assume for the moment
+that Miss Brookes's reply will be a favourable one--I have, I confess,
+much faith in her good sense--we might consider the business side."
+
+Notwithstanding his admiration of a man who had made three thousand a
+year more than he had succeeded in doing, Mr. Brookes could not but feel
+irritated at Berkins, who, with increasing gravity, continued to assume
+all things to his own advantage. It had not occurred to him to consider
+that Grace might refuse him. Why should she refuse him? She could not
+hope to do better. She appeared to him as a very nice girl indeed,
+one entirely fitted for the position for which he intended her. He
+understood that all girls, at least those in society, were innocent and
+virtuous; he understood that when they married they made faithful and
+dutiful wives; and he had chosen her not because he had fallen in love,
+nor yet because he had noticed she was likely to make a better wife than
+her sisters, but because she was the eldest. Even so he would be twenty
+years his wife's senior, and he had chosen to marry one of the Brookes
+girls because he knew them and saw them constantly; because he knew that
+at their father's death his fortune would be divided between them. Grace
+was, therefore, an heiress in perspective. The prospect was agreeable,
+but he foresaw that it would be put forward as an excuse for fixing the
+sum of marriage settlements as low as possible. It would, however, be
+difficult for Brookes to settle less on his daughter than he, Berkins,
+was willing to settle on his wife; so partly in the hopes of forcing
+Mr. Brookes, and partly because of the pleasure it gave him to speak of
+himself, he continued talking of his position and possessions.
+
+"In dealing with me," he said, "you are dealing, as you know, Mr.
+Brookes, with a man of means, a man who can afford to do the thing
+properly; you will not misunderstand me--you remember you told me that
+you had great difficulty in keeping the little folk who live here out of
+your house."
+
+"The neighbourhood has never been the same since they put up that row of
+villas. A lot of indigent fortune-hunters, they know my girls will have
+large fortunes at my death, so they come sneaking round the place like
+so many wolves."
+
+"I can readily sympathise with you; one doesn't make money to keep idle
+young fellows in the luxuries of life."
+
+"That is what I say."
+
+"But you aren't sufficiently firm, Mr. Brookes; had you been brought
+up in the hard school that I was you would be more firm; firmness is
+everything. You married early, I couldn't afford to do that. At sixteen
+I had to shift for myself. I was three years a clerk at two pounds a
+week, and not many chances to rise come in the way of a clerk at two
+pounds a week; he must be pretty sharp, and if he doesn't seize the
+little chance when it comes, he will remain a little clerk all his life.
+It is the first steps that are difficult, the rest are nothing. You
+don't know what the first steps are; I do. Once you've made a thousand
+pounds you can swim along a bit, but the first hundred, I shall never
+forget it! Afterwards it is just the same; the proportions are changed,
+that is all. The first twenty thousand is very uphill work, the second
+is on the flat, the third is going downhill--it brings itself along."
+
+"A very good simile indeed. There's no doubt that it is money that makes
+money. When you have none you cannot make it. It is like corn; give
+a man a handful, and he must be a fool if he can't fill his barn. The
+beginnings are hard; none knows that better than I. But for the last ten
+years I've been doing fairly well."
+
+"I had never intended to get married, but when money really begins to
+accumulate it pushes you along. It is curious how money takes you along.
+It is like a tide. You first begin thinking of a little place in the
+country where you can stay from Saturday till Monday. The little place
+grows; it is extraordinary how it grows. You find you want flowers, and
+you put up a glass house; then you begin to get interested in orchids or
+roses, and you put up two, maybe half a dozen glass houses. Suddenly you
+find the rabbits are breeding in the hedgerows, and you go out yonder
+ferretting, but the coachman does not know how to manage the ferrets,
+and you start a keeper. The keeper says one morning, 'It wouldn't
+require much to get up a stock of pheasants in that little wood.' You
+say, 'Very well;' and there you are before you know it, with glass
+houses, rabbit-shooting, and a pheasant preserve. You have friends
+to stay with you for the shooting, you get talked about in the clubs,
+people ask why you aren't married--the place where the wife ought to be
+stares you in the face: a man of money, of real money, must get married.
+The friends who come and stay with you suggest a little dance, you think
+it would be very pleasant; but you know no one in the neighbourhood,
+the county people won't visit you, so the thing comes about, and you are
+head over heels in settlements before you know where you are."
+
+"Do you find the county people very standoffish over Preston Park way?"
+
+"I am not in a position to judge; they could not very well call on me
+situated as I am, a young--well, I will say, a marriageable--man, known
+to be wealthy; but I have no doubt when I am married they will call on
+us."
+
+"Twirl them round my little finger, stuck-up lot; I should like to know
+what they have to be proud of, half of them are broken--their land is
+worthless. Give me good sound investments, five or six per cent. For
+some money I am getting seven; the waterworks pays fourteen."
+
+The conversation suddenly dropped, they looked at each other blankly;
+they felt they had talked a good deal, but without approaching any
+nearer the subject they had met to speak on.
+
+"Our intention was," said Berkins, in his most solemn and professional
+manner, "assuming that Miss Brookes is not averse from my suit,
+to discuss the business side, for there is a business side to all
+questions, as you, Mr. Brookes, will be the first to see."
+
+Mr. Brookes had begun to anger; he would have liked to have answered
+that such a discussion was altogether premature, but he yielded before
+Berkins's authoritative manner, and he replied instead that he would be
+glad indeed to hear whatever proposal Mr. Berkins had to make.
+
+"I should like to say, then--I will assume that we stand as man to
+man, equal; you have probably more money invested than I; I am making
+possibly a larger income--you will forgive me if I am mistaken, but you
+told me the other day as we went up in the train that you had had a very
+bad year."
+
+"Three thousand dead loss. It does not matter so much to me, my money is
+invested, but it would have gone hard with many a man who was relying on
+his business. Three thousand pounds dead loss!"
+
+"How was that? I suppose the temperance societies affect you; they must
+have had a great effect on the sale of liquor."
+
+"No one who was not in the trade would believe in the falling off in the
+quantity of whisky drunk. But it was not that."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Trade generally, trade depression affects every one; the failure of one
+makes bad debts for the other. It was bad debts that did it. It was very
+stupid of me, but I was worried at home: those fortune-hunters from the
+villas--my daughters are very young, and since their poor mother died
+they have had no one to look after them. Willy, too, is a great trial
+to me. Poor boy, he is most anxious to do something, but things don't
+go right with him; he thought he was going to do a good thing in a Bond
+Street shop that was converted into a company, but he lost two thousand
+pounds."
+
+"I thought he was in the distillery with you."
+
+"He was for a while, but he irritated me; he is so confoundedly
+methodical, everything must go into his diary, he spends half the day
+filling it up. Besides after you have conducted a business so many years
+you don't want a partner; you have your own way of doing things, and
+don't want to be interfered with. He draws a certain income, but he has
+nothing now to do with the business. We were talking of settlements."
+
+"You do not act as I should regarding the villa residences. I would
+put them down. I would not have it; but, as you say, we were talking
+of settlements. I think I said we stood as man to man. In round numbers
+your fortune equals mine, mine equals yours--very well, let us act
+equally. I will settle five hundred a year on Miss Brookes, do you
+likewise; what do you say to that?"
+
+"Pooh, pooh! I couldn't think of such a thing. Five hundred a year!"
+said Mr. Brookes, and throwing his cigar into the fireplace, he walked
+up the room indignantly. "I was wrong to consent to discuss the matter;
+to say the least, it is premature; I never heard of such a thing. Five
+hundred a year! This is worse than the Southdown Road, many degrees
+worse."
+
+"Sir, such insinuations are most uncalled for; I must beg of you to
+withdraw them. I must ask you to remember you are talking to one at
+least in the same position as yourself, to a man of seven thousand a
+year!"
+
+"Pooh, pooh! seven thousand a year--you are making that to-day,
+to-morrow you mayn't be making three. Yours isn't invested money."
+
+Berkins had risen from the great leather armchair, and he stood
+expressionless as a piece of office furniture, his grave face divided
+by the green shade of the billiard lamp; Mr. Brookes remained with his
+back--his straight fat back bound in a new frock coat that defined the
+senile fatness of the haunches--turned to his guest. He stooped as if to
+examine his favourite Linnell, but, in his passion, he did not see it.
+The table, covered with a grey cloth, lay like an account spread out
+between the moneyed men.
+
+"Taking your words into due consideration, I think I had better wish you
+good-morning, Mr. Brookes."
+
+"Mr. Berkins, I would not wish you to misunderstand me," said Mr.
+Brookes, whom the prospect of losing seven thousand a year had suddenly
+cooled. "My daughter will have--my children, I should say--will have my
+fortune divided amongst them at my death, and when we come to go into
+figures you will find--"
+
+"But in the meantime, what do you propose to settle on her?"
+
+Mr. Brookes hesitated. He was angry at being pressed. Berkins's
+domineering tone irritated him; he would have liked to bundle him from
+the house.
+
+Presently he said: "I think, considering the very large sums of money my
+daughters will come into at my death, that a settlement of two hundred a
+year is ample."
+
+"Very well, in that case I shall settle the same."
+
+"I could not, I will not, consent to any such arrangement. The man my
+daughter marries must settle on her a sum of money equivalent--"
+
+"To what you settle on her."
+
+"To her position, to her expectations," replied Mr. Brookes, growing
+more and more angry.
+
+"But I don't know what her expectations are; you may marry again."
+
+"I do not intend to marry again."
+
+"Very possibly, but I know nothing of that; business is business, and I
+should be a fool if I settle five hundred to your two hundred."
+
+Mr. Brookes stopped in his walk, and he looked at Berkins, who stood,
+his hand laid upon the billiard table as upon a huge balance sheet. The
+word business had carried the men back to their offices in London,
+and, quite forgetful of the subject of their bargaining, each strove to
+obtain an advantage over the other.
+
+"Well, let us say two hundred and fifty, that is my last word."
+
+"Then, Mr. Brookes, I will not take your daughter."
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+
+"Willy, make haste, I beg of you; I shall miss my train. It is now
+exactly half-past nine."
+
+"You had better go without me; I cannot start now. I haven't nearly got
+my things together."
+
+"Very well, very well."
+
+Willy walked from room to room tying and untying brown paper parcels in
+his most methodical and most dilatory manner. His sisters stood watching
+him from the drawing-room door.
+
+"Did father tell you nothing when Berkins left? They had a row, hadn't
+they? It isn't off, is it?"
+
+"I wish you would not speak so loud, Sally; you can be heard all over
+the house."
+
+"Do tell us."
+
+"But I don't know. Father was very much upset. I couldn't speak to him
+about my own business, I know that."
+
+"Well, I suppose we shall hear about it to-night. You are going to meet
+Frank in Brighton, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes; he is coming to lunch with me."
+
+"Don't keep him all day; send him on here, we might have a game of
+tennis."
+
+Willy did not answer; and he thought as he went upstairs, what a trouble
+young girls were in a house. "They think of nothing but pleasure,
+nothing but pleasure."
+
+One, two, or three more delays, and he was ready, and with his brown
+paper parcel tucked under his arm he set forth. Upon the young blue of
+the sky, the fresh green of the buds melted. There were a few elms, but
+hardly enough to constitute an avenue. The house looked as if it had
+been repeatedly altered. It ran into unexpected corners and angles; but
+it was far enough from the road to justify a gate lodge. The swards were
+interspersed with shrubs in the most modern fashion, and the sumptuous
+glass-houses could be seen gleaming in the sun. It was a hot day,
+and the brick wall was dappled with hanging foliage, and further out,
+opposite the windows of the "Stag and Hounds," where Steyning's ales
+could be obtained, the over-reaching sprays of a great chestnut tree
+fell in delicate tracery on the white dust. The road led under the
+railway embankment, and looking through the arched opening, one could
+see the dirty town, straggling along the canal or harbour, which runs
+parallel with the sea. A black stain was the hull of a great steamer
+lying on her side in the mud, but the tapering masts of yachts were
+beautiful on the sky, and at the end of a row of slatternly houses
+there were sometimes spars and rigging so strange and bygone that they
+suggested Drake and the Spanish main.
+
+Southwick is half a suburb, half a village. In the summer months the
+green seems a living thing. It is there the children talk and tumble
+when school is over. They are told to go to the green, they are
+forbidden to go to the green, and it is from the green the eldest girl
+leads the naughty boy howling. When they are a little older they avoid
+the green, it is too public then. It is to the green that elevens come
+from far and near to play their matches. All the summer through the
+green is a _fete_ of cricket. It is to the green the brass bands come on
+Saturday. On the green, bat and trap is played till the ball disappears
+in shadow. The green is common; horses and cows are turned out there.
+All profit by the green. It is on the edge of the green the housewives
+come to talk in the limpid moonlight. It is on the green the fathers
+smoke when the little cottage rooms are unbearable with summer heat. It
+is on the green that Mrs. Horlock walks with her pugs and the chemist's
+wife, to the enormous scandal of the neighbourhood.
+
+To the right, facing the embankment, and overlooking some fields, is
+the famous Southdown road, and parallel with the green is Mr. Brookes's
+property--a solid five acres, with all modern improvements and
+embellishments, and surrounded by a brick wall over six feet high.
+
+Willy hated Southwick. He thought it ugly and vulgar; he regretted
+deeply that his father would make no advances, and that they were as far
+from county society to-day as when they came to live in the place thirty
+years ago. "I knew the best people when I was at Oxford, why can I
+not know them now? Here we are doing the same thing from year's end
+to year's end; why, with our money we ought to be hob-nobbing with
+the duke." In moments of dejection this was one of Willy's commonest
+thoughts. "I did my best, but I was opposed. Father doesn't care, and
+as for the girls, they'll take up with any man so long as he is young.
+Still, in spite of them I should have got on if I hadn't lost my nerve
+and had to give up hunting; and without hunting there is no way of
+making acquaintances."
+
+Willy had relied on a hunter as Berkins had on pheasants and
+glass-houses. But he hated hunting, and finding he got no further than a
+few breakfasts, he had told a story of a heavy fall and sold his horses.
+He had then insisted on dinner-parties, and some few people more or less
+"county" had been collected; the pretext was politics, but Willy and
+politics were but a doleful mixture, and the scheme collapsed. The
+family was not endowed with any social qualifications, Willy least of
+all, and having failed to advance himself individually, and his family
+collectively, he threw up the game.
+
+We rarely cultivate for long things in which we may not succeed in--the
+lady with a small waist pinches it, the man with pretty feet wears
+pretty shoes, and in no circumstances could Willy have shone in society.
+He failed to interest the ladies he met on the King's Road, he knew
+this; and to sum up his deficiencies, let us say he was lacking in "go."
+He was too timid to succeed with the more facile loves whom he met in
+the evenings on the pier. All the same he had had his love affair.
+
+Oh! men of inferior aspect and speech, often in you a true heart abides;
+you, and you only, are faithful to the end.
+
+To this unromantic person a shred of pure romance was attached.
+None knew the whole story, and none spoke of it now; but his sisters
+remembered that Willy had fallen in love with a girl whom he had seen
+play "Sweet Anne Page." They remembered long letters, tears and wild
+looks. He had sent her diamonds; and one night he had attempted suicide.
+All was now forgotten; at least it was the past, and nothing remained
+but one little melody which he had heard her sing, and which he
+sometimes whistled out of tune.
+
+But sooner or later a man's talents, and if not his talents, his tastes,
+appear through the mists of youth, and henceforth they lead him. Willy's
+efforts in society had resulted in abortive dinner-parties, his efforts
+in sport had been cut short by nerves, his efforts in dissipation had
+left him with a tolerably well-filled wardrobe, his efforts in love
+had brought him tears and a commonplace mistress, whom he kept in the
+necessaries of life in various lodging-houses. So his youth had passed;
+but in all this mediocrity a certain spirit of resistance endured.
+His taste for figures grew more pronounced; he surrounded himself with
+account books, letter books, and diaries; he took note of every
+penny that passed through his hands. Money-making, profitable
+investments--that was to be his aim in life; and as each year closed his
+thoughts fixed themselves more definitely and entirely on it; and it was
+natural that it should be so, since all other outlets for the passion of
+life were barred to him. His forced retirement from the distillery did
+not worry him. No one could please his father in business; his uncle
+had once threatened to throw his brother out of the window. Besides, the
+business was a declining one, and twelve thousand pounds for a junior
+partnership was not bad. Nor did his failure to make a success of the
+manure agency discourage him; the shop was a different matter, that was
+his own idea, he had thought of a fortune, and had lost two thousand
+pounds. It had crippled him for life. True enough, there were other
+things to do. Some stockbrokers make twenty per cent. on their money,
+not in wild speculation, but in straightforward genuine business. He
+might go up to London and learn the business--he had heard that it would
+not take more than six months or a year to pick it up--and start on his
+own account. A thousand pounds would be sufficient to begin with; or he
+might buy a partnership--he could do that for three or four thousand.
+Either of these courses would suit him, the latter for preference, but
+a certain amount of capital would be necessary before he could take
+either, and that he hadn't got, and to all appearances it would be very
+difficult to persuade his father to consent to drawany more money out of
+the distillery.
+
+So Willy's thoughts ran as he ascended the flight of wooden steps that
+led to the platform of the little country station. "The folk down here
+think there is nothing in me, that I am good for nothing but walking up
+and down the King's Road, but they little know what I have in my head.
+I'll make them open their eyes one of these days." The sting of vanity
+is in us all. Our heads may be greed, our bellies lust, our limbs
+charity, faithfulness, truth, and goodwill, but in some cranny of our
+tails vanity always lies, only it may be marvellously well hidden, as in
+Willy. The keenest observer would not have detected it in him, and
+when he came out of his habitual reserve and lamented that bad luck had
+always followed him and spoke of his projects, one might have suspected
+him of greed, but hardly of vanity. Now he stood leaning on the wooden
+paling, and his movements showed the back and loins in strong outline,
+marking the thick calves. Without taking any heed, his eyes followed the
+cricket ball, which was in turn slogged into the horse-pond and cottage
+gardens. Through long familiarity, the green had faded from his notice,
+nor did the burnt-up crops on the Downs attract his thoughts, nor yet
+the sinuous lines of the hills. From the platform one saw the whole of
+Southwick. The green with its cricket match, Mrs. Horlock and her dogs,
+the forge, the stile, the various cottages, the long fields full of
+green wheat, and, far away, the carriages passing like insects along
+the road under the Downs; then on the right were the back gardens of the
+cottages, a large inscription announcing the different branches of the
+grocery business, a few fields with cows leaning their muzzles over the
+rough palings, some more cottages, a barn, and then the magnificent five
+acres of the Manor House, rich with glass-houses, and beautiful in a
+cloud of trees. From the platform of the station one could see the sea,
+not much of it, but one could see the sea; the slates of the street that
+went along the water's edge did not quite bar the view. The very small
+presence of Southwick contrived to hide the sea; even when one walked to
+the water's side the great mass of shingle which forms the outer bank of
+the canal allowed only one narrow rim of blue to appear. The inhabitants
+forget they live by the sea, and when the breeze fills their gardens
+with a smell of boats and nets they think of the sea with surprise.
+
+Tired of the monotonous running to and fro of the cricket players, Willy
+walked up the platform. Arrow-like, the line lay in front of him, and
+in the tinted distance, in faint lines and flashes of light and shade,
+Brighton stretched from hill to hill. Morning was still in the sky, and
+the sea was deep blue between the yellow chimney-pots. A puff of steam
+showed up upon a distant field, and the train came along from Portslade,
+one of the links of the great chain of towns that binds the south coast.
+"I hope Frank won't arrive in Brighton before me," thought Willy.
+
+They had been big boy and little boy at school. The vivacity of the Celt
+amused the good-natured south Saxon, and when Lord Mount Rorke called to
+see his nephew, he found him talking with Brookes. Once Willy had been
+invited to spend part of his holidays at Mount Rorke. Afterwards they
+visited each other's rooms, and so their friendship had been decided,
+and, in spite of--or, perhaps, on account of--a very marked difference
+in their characters and temperaments, gathered strength as it matured.
+Another link between the men was that Escott had accompanied Willy to
+the theatre when he went to see the actress whom he had loved so madly.
+Frank had heard her sing the song which Willy whistled when his thoughts
+went wandering. Willy confided in no one--great sorrows cannot be and
+never are confided; but Frank had seen her, and he played her songs on
+the piano, and that was enough for Willy.
+
+The young men had not seen each other for two years. Frank had shown
+some taste for painting, and his uncle, whose heir he was, had sent him,
+if not to study, at least to think about art in Italy. From Italy he had
+gone to Greece and Russia, he had returned home through Germany, he had
+visited Holland and France.
+
+"Is the London train come in?" Willy asked when he arrived in Brighton.
+
+"Yes, sir, just come in, about five minutes," said the man as he opened
+the door. Willy waited until the train had stopped dead, he got out
+carefully, and, looking through the confusion of luggage and bookstall
+trade, he saw Escott questioning a porter and hailing a carriage. "By
+Jove! I shall miss him," cried Willy, and he hastened his steps and
+broke into a sharp trot. "Frank! Frank!" he cried.
+
+"Oh, there you are!" cried Frank, and he lifted his stick, and called
+sharply to a large black and white bull-dog that paddled about on its
+bow legs, saliva dripping from its huge jaws, looking in its hideousness
+like something rare and exquisite from Japan. He dismissed the porter
+and the carriage, which he had hailed with an arrogant wave of his
+stick. He was tall and he was thin. His trousers were extremely elegant,
+a light cloth, black and white check, hung on his legs in graceful
+lines, and he wore tiny boots with light brown cloth tops. The jacket
+and waistcoat were in dark brown cloth, and the odour of the gardenia
+in his buttonhole contrasted with that of the sachet-scented silk
+pocket-handkerchief which lay in his side pocket. His throat showed
+white and healthy in the high collar tied with a white silk cravat in a
+sailor's knot, fastened with a small diamond. His hands were coarse and
+brown; he wore two rings, and a bracelet fell out of his cuff when he
+dropped his arm. His chest was broad and full, but the shoulders were
+too square; the coat was padded. There was little that could be called
+Celtic in his face or voice, the admixture of race was manifested in
+that dim blue stare, at once vague and wild, which the eyes of the Celt
+so often exhibit. The nose was long, low, and straight, the nostrils
+were cleanly marked, the mouth was uncertain, the chin was uncertain,
+the face was long, deadly pale, rather large, the forehead was high,
+receding at the temples. The hair (now he removes his hat, for the air
+is heavy and hot, and the sun falls fiercely on the pavement) is pale
+brown, and it waves thinly over the high forehead, so expressive of a
+vague and ill-considered idealism. Frank Escott was of Saxon origin on
+his father's side, but the family had been in Ireland for the last two
+hundred years, and had married into many Irish families that had at
+different times received direct contributions of Celtic blood. Long
+residence in England had removed all Irish accent and modes of
+speech; but in hook, and book, and cook he lengthened the vowel sound.
+Occasionally a something strange grated on the ear, and declared him not
+of the south of England, suggested the north, and insinuated
+Cumberland; an actor could not reproduce these trifling differences with
+caricaturing them. He was absolutely good-looking, and he was too well
+dressed. He laughed a good deal, and his conversation was sprinkled with
+cynical remarks and cutting observations.
+
+"You don't seem to go in for dress now as you used to."
+
+"I haven't the money to spend on it; but tell me, don't you like this
+suit?"
+
+"Well, pretty well; whose is it? Did Walpole make it? Do you deal with
+him still?"
+
+"Yes, it is one of Walpole's, but I have had it turned."
+
+"Had it turned? I have heard of turning an overcoat, but a morning coat!
+I did not know it could be done; that's what makes it look so shaky."
+
+"Now don't you get laughing at my coat, it looks very well indeed. I
+suppose you think I am not fit to walk with you. I daresay it doesn't
+look as smart as yours, which has just come out of Walpole's shop."
+
+The young men had so much to say, and were so genuinely glad to see each
+other, that their thoughts hesitated and they were embarrassed.
+
+"I suppose you enjoyed your trip abroad very much," Willy said drily and
+punctiliously; "you were more than a year away--nearly eighteen months,
+I think."
+
+"About that. I enjoyed myself. I think I liked Italy best; it has
+been more painted and described than any country, and yet it is quite
+different from what one imagines; it is grey and dim and green and
+dusty. It looks--how shall I put it?--it looks worn out and faded."
+
+"The women aren't worn out and faded if all one hears is true," said
+Willy, with a short laugh.
+
+"The women are right enough. I must tell you about them one of these
+days, lots of stories. There was a little Italian girl I met at Milan.
+It was a job to get away from her; she followed me, 'pon my word, she
+did; she declared she would commit suicide. I was awfully frightened.
+Naples is really too shocking. I'm not a prude, but Naples is really--"
+
+"I suppose it is the same all over the Continent. One of these days I
+must go abroad and have a look round. You were a long time in Rome?"
+
+"No, only a few weeks, but I was too taken up with the pictures to think
+of anything else. The Michael Angelos are beyond anything any one can
+imagine. He is the only one who can compare with the Greeks, and I don't
+see why one shouldn't say he is as great. Of course there are things,
+the daughters of--I forget the name--the group of two women leaning back
+in each other's arms in the British Museum. But I don't know, Michael
+Angelo is quite different, and I can't see that anything can be said
+to be finer than the figures of Day and Night--how often I have drawn
+them--the figure of Night, the heavy breasts to show that she has
+suckled the Day."
+
+"But which way are we going? I must go to Truefitt's to have my hair
+cut."
+
+"You haven't forgotten the old place, I see. Do you still keep up your
+subscription?"
+
+"I suppose mine has run out, I have been abroad so long. Nothing like a
+good shampoo; for a guinea a year you can have it done as often as you
+like."
+
+"I haven't subscribed lately. There used to be such a pretty girl at the
+counter. Do you remember?"
+
+"You dog, always thinking of them," and laughing loudly they passed
+through the shop, and it was Frank that stared most at the young lady.
+They read _Punch_ aloud to each other; they cracked jokes with the
+hairdressers; they snorted and laughed through the soap and jets of hot
+and cold water. Frank allowed scent and ivories to be pressed upon him
+by the young lady at the counter; Willy declined to be led into such
+extravagances.
+
+As he stepped out into the shine of the street, and took step from his
+friend, he said: "By George! it makes me feel young again. It is just
+like old times."
+
+"Yes, it does make one feel jollier, doesn't it?"
+
+"How jolly it is here; not too warm, just nice. What shall we do? Sit
+down on that bench in front of the pier?"
+
+"I'm agreeable. How jolly it is. Just look at those boats! One could
+make a picture of that."
+
+Over the sea hung a white veil of mist, but the sun glowed through and
+melted into it, and harmonised it with the water green and translucent.
+The sea sucked about the shingle with little sudden sighs; the sails
+of the pleasure boat waved in the fairy-like depths, and all the
+little brown fishing-boats lay becalmed, heaving tremulously like
+tired butterflies upon the breast of a blue flower. The nursemaids lay
+together on the shingle, and their novels slipped down the stones to
+their feet. The children played with the tide and the sand. There were
+crowds of women--Jewesses with loud dresses: and the strange world of
+bath chairs! Ladies so old that they seem certain to fall to pieces when
+they are taken out; ladies with chestnut curls soft and fresh--why were
+they in bath chairs? General officers, mounted on white Arabs; acrobats
+and songs.
+
+The young men sat facing the sea. Frank called, "Triss, Triss. Splendid
+dog that is. If I were to let him he would guzzle the other dog in about
+two minutes."
+
+"He looks a ferocious brute."
+
+"You don't like dogs? You couldn't see a handsomer dog than that;
+unfortunately, he's the wrong colour; if he were brindle or white, he'd
+take a first prize. Come here, you brute."
+
+Amid some little excitement and anxious looks, Triss came up, growling
+and showing his teeth. Frank explained that it was only his manner.
+Frank took the paw that was extended to him, but Triss's friendliness
+seemed somewhat dubious, for he still further uncovered his formidable
+fangs.
+
+"I really don't care to sit here with that ferocious brute."
+
+"I assure you he won't bite, it is only his manner. Isn't it, Triss?
+Kiss me, kiss me at once," and amid many growls of almost subterranean
+awfulness, the dog licked his master's face.
+
+"I wish you would tie him up--to oblige me."
+
+Highly pleased at the fear and wonder his dog had struck in the gaudy
+Jewesses and the shaky generals, Frank threatened and finally forced
+the dog to lie down. He continued to expatiate on the dog's points--the
+number of wrinkles, the bandiness of the legs, etc. The conversation
+dropped in heat and glare, and the picturesqueness of the sea.
+
+"How horribly out of tune you do whistle--you go into a different key;
+this is more like it."
+
+"Yes, how sweetly she used to sing it. Do you remember the night we went
+to see her, the last time the piece was played? I threw her a bouquet,
+a splendid one it was, too, cost me three guineas in Covent Garden. We
+went afterwards and had supper at Scott's in the Haymarket. How jolly
+those days were. I don't seem to be able to enjoy myself now as I used
+to then."
+
+"What has become of her? One never hears of her."
+
+"She died soon after."
+
+"I am sorry I spoke of her; I didn't know."
+
+"Oh, it doesn't matter." Then after a long silence, Willy said: "I hear
+your engagement is broken off."
+
+"Yes." Frank drew a long and expressive breath, and, with melodramatic
+movements of the shoulders, he sighed. "I have not seen you since. Oh,
+I had terrible scenes with the father. They had a house up the river.
+I followed them, and put up at the Angler's Hotel. She told her father
+that I must be allowed to come to the house, and he had to give way. You
+don't know the river? Well, it is wonderful to awake at Maidenhead in
+the morning and hear the sparrows twittering in a piece of tangled vine;
+to see that great piece of water flowing so mildly in all the pretty
+summer weather. We used to live in flannels, and spent long afternoons
+together in the boat--we had such a spiffing boat, as light and as clean
+in the water as a fish--and we used to linger in the bulrushes, and come
+back when the moon was rising with our hands full of flowers."
+
+"But why was it broken off?"
+
+"My uncle, old Mount Rorke, wants me to marry an heiress, and I have
+nothing except what he allows me, or scarcely anything. She used to wear
+a broad-brimmed straw hat, and the shadow fell over her face. I made a
+lot of sketches. I must show them to you one of these days when you come
+up to town, and I filled an album with verses. I used to write them at
+night. My window was right in front of the river, and the moon used
+to sail past, and in the morning I used to read her the poems I made
+overnight beneath the branches of the cedar, where we used to run the
+boat. But the father was a brute. I got the best of him once though. It
+was a private view day at the Academy, and he had forbidden Nellie to
+speak to me--even to notice me. I went straight up to her, and took her
+away under his very nose before he could stop us. We walked about all
+day. Oh! he was mad."
+
+"If she was willing to brave her father in that way, why was your
+engagement broken off?"
+
+"My uncle was so very difficult to deal with. I didn't see her for some
+time." Frank did not say--perhaps, he did not know--that his engagement
+had been broken off through his own instability and weakness of
+character. The young lady, whom he called Nellie, had told him she would
+wait if he would elect a profession and work for a place in it. But
+Frank had not been able to forego late hours and restaurants, and Nellie
+had married some one who could. "You know I converted her. Doesn't her
+father hate me for that! We used to go to high mass at the oratory. I
+explained to her the whole of the Catholic religion."
+
+"But I thought you didn't believe in it yourself?"
+
+"I am talking of some time ago; besides, a woman, it isn't quite the
+same thing; and if I have saved her soul! I don't know if I told you
+that I was writing a novel; I don't think I did. The idea of it is
+this: A young man has loved three women. The first charmed him by her
+exceeding beauty; he lives with her for a time. The second captivates
+him, or rather holds him through his senses; his love for her is merely
+a sensuality; then he falls in love with a fair young girl as pure as
+falling snow of any stain in deed or in thought; he is engaged to marry
+her--or, I don't know, I haven't made up my mind on that point, perhaps
+it would be better if he did marry her. Well, the woman whom he has
+loved with a merely sensual passion comes back, and to revenge herself
+she tries to tempt the good girl to go wrong; she talks to her of men
+and pleasures; this is a good idea, I think, for I feel sure it is women
+far more than men who lead women astray. Then the first woman whom
+he has loved for her beauty merely, comes along and continues
+the diabolical work of the first, by suggesting--I don't know,
+anything--that the young girl should go in for dress; the young man
+finds out the scheme, and to save the girl he murders her, he is thrown
+into prison, he is tried, and in the crowded Court he makes a great
+speech--he tells how he murdered her to save her from sin, he tells the
+judge that on the Judgment Day a pure white soul will plead for him.
+What an opportunity for a piece of splendid writing! The Court would be
+filled with fashionable women, that weep and sob, they cannot contain
+themselves, the judge would wish to stop the young man, but he cannot.
+What a splendid scene to describe! And the young man goes to execution
+confident, and assured that he has done well. What do you think of it?"
+
+"It is really difficult for me to say; I never like giving an opinion on
+a subject I don't understand."
+
+"I know; but what do you think?"
+
+Fortunately for Willy's peace, the conversation was at this moment
+violently interrupted by Triss. He rushed forth, and Frank was only in
+time to prevent a pitched battle. He returned leading the dog by his
+silk handkerchief, amid the murmur of nurse-maids and Jewesses.
+
+"That's the worst of him; he never can see a big dog without wanting to
+go for him. Down, sir, down--I won't have you growl at me."
+
+"I can't see what pleasure you can find in a brute like that."
+
+"I assure you he's very good-tempered; he has a habit of growling, but
+he does not mean anything by it. What were we talking about?"
+
+"I think we were talking about the ladies. Have you seen anything nice
+lately? What's the present Mrs. Escott like, dark or fair?"
+
+"There isn't one, I assure you. I met rather a nice woman at my uncle's,
+about two months ago, a Lady Seely. I don't know that you would call her
+a pretty woman; rather a turned-up nose, a pinched-in waist, beautiful
+shoulders. Hair of a golden tinge, diamonds, and dresses covered with
+beads. She flirted a great deal. We talked about love, and we laughed at
+husbands, and she asked me to come and see her in rather a pointed way.
+It is rather difficult to explain these things, but I think that if I
+were to go in for her--"
+
+"That you would pull it off?"
+
+The young men laughed loudly, and then Frank said: "But somehow I don't
+much care about her. I met such a pretty girl the other day at the
+theatre. There were no stalls, and as I wanted to see the piece very
+much, I went into the dress circle. There was only one seat in the
+back row. I struggled past a lot of people, dropped into my place, and
+watched the piece without troubling myself to see who was sitting next
+to me. It was not until the _entr'acte_ that I looked round. I felt my
+neighbour's eyes were fixed upon me. She was one of the prettiest girls
+you ever saw in your life--a blonde face, pale brown hair, and such
+wonderful teeth--her laughter, I assure you, was beautiful. I asked her
+what she thought of the piece. She looked away and didn't answer. It
+was rather a slap in the face for me, but I am not easily done. I
+immediately said: 'I should have apologised before for the way I
+inconvenienced you in crushing into my seat, but, really, the place is
+so narrow that you don't know how to get by.' This rather stumped her,
+she was obliged to say something. The girl on the other side (not half a
+bad looking girl, short brown curly hair, rather a roguish face) was the
+most civil at first. She wasn't as pretty as the one next to me, but
+she spoke the more willingly; the one next to me tried to prevent her.
+However, I got on with them, one thing led to another, and when the
+piece was over, I fetched their hats and coats and we walked a little
+way up the street together. I tried to get them to come to supper; they
+couldn't do that, for they had to be in at a certain time, so we went
+to Gatti's and had some coffee. I couldn't make out for a long time what
+they were; they were evidently not prostitutes, and they did not seem to
+me to be quite ladies. What do you think they were?"
+
+"I haven't an idea--actresses?"
+
+"No. They wouldn't tell me for a long time. I got it out of them at
+last; they're at the bar in the Gaiety Restaurant."
+
+"Bar girls?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Some of those bar girls are very pretty; rather dangerous, though, I
+should think."
+
+"They seemed to me to be very nice girls; you would be surprised if you
+heard them talk. I assure you the one that sat next to me spoke just
+like a lady. You know in these hard times people must do something. Lots
+of ladies have to buckle to and work for their bread."
+
+Frank lapsed into silence. Willy sat apparently watching the blue and
+green spectacle of the sea. Frank knew that it interested him not the
+least, and he wondered if his friend had heard what he had been saying.
+Triss, seeing that smelling and fighting were equally vain endeavours,
+had laid himself out in the sun, and he returned his master's caresses
+by deep growls. One more menacing than the others woke Willy from his
+meditation, and he said: "What's the time? It ought to be getting on to
+lunch time."
+
+"I daresay it is."
+
+"Where shall we go? Do you know of a good place? What about that
+restaurant opposite the pier?"
+
+"Well," said Willy, with a short, abrupt laugh, "the fact is, I must
+lunch at my office; but I shall be very glad if you will come."
+
+"I didn't know you had an office--an office for what?"
+
+"I started an agency at the beginning of the year for artificial manure,
+but I think I shall drop it. I am arranging to go on the Stock Exchange.
+The difficulty is whether I shall be able to get my father to allow me
+to take enough money out of the business."
+
+"What business?"
+
+"The distillery."
+
+"Oh, but what about this office? Why are you obliged to lunch at your
+office? Are you expecting customers? I know nothing about that sort of
+thing."
+
+"No, I wish I were. The fact is, my missis is staying in Brighton for a
+few weeks. The child has been ailing a good deal lately, and the doctor
+ordered change of air."
+
+"Child! Missis! I know nothing of this."
+
+"A very nice woman, I think you'll like her. She is devoted to me. We've
+been together now two years or more, I can't say exactly, I should have
+to refer to my diary."
+
+"But the child?"
+
+"The child isn't mine. She had the child before I knew her."
+
+"And what is the matter with it?"
+
+"Curvature of the spine. The doctor says she will outgrow it. Cissy will
+be quite strong and healthy although she may never have what you would
+call a good figure. But there is a matter on which I want to speak to
+you. The fact is, I am going to be married."
+
+"To whom?"
+
+"To the lady whom you will see at lunch, Cissy's mother."
+
+Frank said: "If you really love her I have nothing to say against it."
+Willy did not answer. Frank waited for an answer and then broke the
+silence: "But do you love her?"
+
+"Yes, I am very fond of her; she is a very good sort."
+
+Frank was implacable. "Do you love her like the other one?" The question
+wounded, but Frank was absorbed in his own special sentimentalities.
+
+"I was younger then, it is not the same; I am getting old. How many
+years older am I than you--seven, I think? You are three-and-twenty, I
+am thirty. How time flies!"
+
+"Yes, I am three-and-twenty--you don't look thirty."
+
+"I feel it, though; few fellows have had so much trouble as I have. Your
+life has been all pleasure."
+
+"If a man really loves a woman he is always right to marry her. Why
+should we suppose that a woman may not reform--that true love may
+not raise her? I was talking to a novelist the other day; he told me
+thestory of a book he is writing. It is about a woman who leaves the
+husband she has never loved for the man she adores; she goes away with
+him, he marries her, and she sinks lower and lower, until she becomes a
+common prostitute."
+
+"You are quite mistaken. I am sure that when you see the missis--"
+
+"My dear fellow, pray do not misunderstand me. I would not for worlds.
+I am only telling you about a book, if you will only listen. I told him
+that I thought the story would be ten times as interesting if, instead
+of being degraded, the woman were raised by the love of the man who
+took her away from her husband. He made the husband a snivelling little
+creature, and the lover good-looking--that's the old game. I would have
+made the lover insignificant and the husband good-looking. Nevertheless
+she loved the lover better. I know of nothing more noble than for a man
+to marry the woman he loves, and to raise her by the force of his love;
+he could teach her, instruct her. Nellie will never forget me. I gave
+her a religion, I taught her and explained to her the whole of the
+Catholic faith--"
+
+"I hope you won't try to convert my sisters."
+
+"You do pull me up so! Don't you understand that I was very young then?
+I was only twenty, not much more; besides, I was engaged to Nellie."
+
+"Come back to what we were talking about."
+
+"Well, I have said that if you love her I believe you are quite right to
+marry her. But do you love her?"
+
+"Yes, I do; how many times more do you want me to say I do?"
+
+"Of _course_ if you are going to be rude--"
+
+"No--you understand what I mean, don't you? I am very fond of the
+missis; if I weren't I shouldn't marry, that goes without saying, but
+one likes to have things settled. I have been with her now more thantwo
+years. I've thought it out. There's nothing like having things settled.
+I'm sure I'm right."
+
+The young men looked at each other in silence--Frank quite at a loss;
+he could nowise enter into the feelings of a man whom an undue sense of
+order and regularity compelled to marry his mistress, as it did to waste
+half his life in copying letters and making entries in a diary.
+
+"Then why did you consult me?" he said, for he came to the point sharply
+when his brain was not muddled with sentiment.
+
+"I am not heir to an entailed estate, like you."
+
+"I am not heir to an entailed estate. Mount Rorke might marry
+to-morrow."
+
+"He is not likely to do that. It is an understood thing that you are
+heir. My father might cut me off with a shilling if he were to hear
+I had married without his consent, and I should be left with the few
+hundreds which I draw out of the distillery, a poor man all my life."
+
+"If that is so, why marry? You are not in love with her--at least not
+what I should call being in love."
+
+"But can't you understand--"
+
+"No, I can't, unless you mean that you are down with marriage fever."
+
+"I have considered the matter carefully, and am convinced I am right,"
+he answered, looking at Frank as if he would say, but didn't dare,
+"don't let's talk about it any more, it only distresses me." "The
+marriage must be kept a secret. If my father were to hear of it I should
+be ruined, whereas if Mary will consent to go on living as we are living
+now, one of these days she will be a rich woman. I daresay my share of
+his money will come to at least fifteen hundred a year, and then I shall
+be able to recompense her for the years she has waited for it. Do you
+understand?"
+
+"Perfectly. The only thing I don't see is how I am to influence
+her. You've no doubt told her and fully explained to her what the
+consequences would be if you were to publish the banns."
+
+"I have, but it would strengthen my hand if you were to tell her all you
+know of my father. Tell her that he is very obstinate, pig-headed, and
+would certainly cut me off; tell her that he is sixty-six, that it is
+a hundred to one against his living till he is eighty, even if he did
+there would be only fourteen years to wait for fifteen hundred a year;
+tell her if she tells that I have married her it is just as if she threw
+fifteen hundred a year out of the window."
+
+"And when shall I tell her all this?"
+
+"Now. We are going to have lunch at my offices, she'll be there. We'll
+talk the matter over after lunch."
+
+"Very well, let's start. Come along, Triss."
+
+With Triss tugging dangerously at the silk handkerchief whenever he saw
+a likely pair of legs or a dog that he fancied, the young men sauntered
+up West Street.
+
+"But tell me: how do you manage to have so many people to lunch in your
+office; your premises must be pretty extensive?"
+
+"I have the whole house; I was obliged to take it. I couldn't get
+another place that would suit me, and I thought I should be able to
+let the upper part; I did have a tenant for a little while, but he was
+obliged to leave. I believe I am the unluckiest fellow alive. Here's the
+place."
+
+"Agency for Artificial Manure" was printed over the door. Willy asked
+the office-boy if there were any letters, and they went upstairs. The
+windows of the front room were in view of a church spire, and overlooked
+a little shadowy cemetery; and at one window Cissy sat, the little
+crutches by her side, watching the children playing amid the tombs.
+
+"Where's your mother, Cissy?"
+
+"In the back room cooking herrings, uncle."
+
+Mrs. Brookes was a homely, honest-eyed woman, with dingy yellow hair.
+
+"Let me introduce you. This is my friend, Mr. Escott, you have often
+heard me speak of him."
+
+"You must excuse my shaking hands with you, sir, I have been cooking."
+
+"She is an excellent cook, too. Just you wait and see. What have we
+got?"
+
+"Some herrings and a piece of steak."
+
+"Is that good enough for you?"
+
+"I love herrings."
+
+"I am glad of that, these are quite fresh; they were caught this
+morning. You must excuse me, I must go back; they want a deal of
+attending to." Presently she appeared with a tray and a beer jug. Willy
+called to the office-boy. "We have no cheese," said Mrs. Brookes.
+
+Cissy begged to be allowed to fetch the cheese and beer.
+
+"No, dear, I am afraid you aren't well enough."
+
+"Yes, I am, uncle; give me a shilling, and let me go with Billy." Then,
+breaking off with the unexpected garrulity of children, she continued:
+"I am getting quite strong now; I was down on the beach this morning,
+and watched the little boys and girls building mounds. When I am quite
+well, uncle, won't you buy me a spade and bucket, and mayn't I build
+sand mounds, too?"
+
+"We'll see when the time comes."
+
+"Well, let me go with Billy and fetch the cheese."
+
+"No, you can't go now, dear, there are too many people about; this is
+not like London."
+
+Cissy had the long sad face of cripples, but beautiful shining curls
+hung thickly, hiding the crookedness of the shoulders. She was nine
+years old, and was just beginning to awake to a sense of the importance
+of her affliction.
+
+After lunch she was sent downstairs to the office-boy. Willy sat rubbing
+his hands slowly and methodically. After some hesitation he introduced
+the subject they had come to speak on. "Mr. Escott will tell you, Mary,
+how important it is that our marriage should be kept secret; he will
+tell you how the slightest suspicion of it would ruin my prospects."
+He then spoke of his position in the county, and the necessity of
+sustaining it. Frank thought this rather bad taste; but he assured Mrs.
+Brookes, with much Celtic gesticulation, that her marriage must be kept
+a secret till her father-in-law's death. The young men and Mrs. Brookes
+remained talking till the rays trailed among the green grass of the
+graves, and the blue roofs that descended into the valley, and clung
+about the sides of the opposite hill. It had been arranged that Willy
+and Mrs. Brookes should go to London to-morrow to be married. Frank was
+convinced that she would not break her promise, and he hoped they would
+be very happy. She had only raised one objection. She had said: "What
+is the use of my being married if I shall have to live with him as his
+mistress?"
+
+"A great deal of good. Your position will be secured. Willy will not be
+able to leave you, even if he felt inclined, and you will know that only
+one life, that of an old man, stands between you and fifteen hundred a
+year."
+
+"I want no assurance that my dear Willy will not leave me," she said,
+going over and putting her arms about him; "but as you like. I shall
+never say anything about the marriage till Willy tells me. I hope I
+shall never do anything but what he tells me." And she went over and sat
+on his knees.
+
+"You are a dear old thing," he said, squeezing and planting a vigorous
+kiss on her neck.
+
+Frank's eyes filled with hot tears, his heart seemed like bursting.
+"What a beautiful thing love is!" he said to himself, and the world
+melted away from him in the happiness he drew from the contemplation of
+these who were about to bind themselves together for life.
+
+"Be most careful what you say to my sisters. I would not trust them.
+The temptation to get me cut out of everything might--I ought not to say
+that, but one never knows. I dare say no such accident could happen to
+any one else, but if I leave the smallest thing to chance I am sure to
+come to grief. They will question you. They will want to know what we
+did all day."
+
+"I'll say we sat on the beach."
+
+"That's it. Good-bye. I shall be home the day after to-morrow."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+
+When the young ladies at the Manor House did not get their dresses from
+London, a dressmaker came from Brighton to help them, and all together
+they sat sewing and chattering in the work-room. Maggie would take a
+bow or a flower, and moving it quickly, guided by the instinct of a bird
+building its nest, would find the place where it decorated the hat or
+bonnet best. Neither Sally nor Grace could do this, nor could they drape
+a skirt or fit a bodice, but they could work well and enjoy their
+work. But what they enjoyed more was the opportunity these working days
+afforded for gossip. Mrs. Wood had the Brighton scandal at her tongue's
+tip, and what she would not tell, her niece told them when her aunt left
+the room. Secrecy was enjoined, but sometimes they forgot, and in Mrs.
+Wood's presence alluded too pointedly to stories that had not yet found
+their way beyond the precincts of the servants' hall, and then the
+dressmaker raised her mild eyes, and looked through large spectacles at
+Susan, who sat biting her lips. Susan told the young ladies of her love
+affairs; they told Susan of theirs; and the different codes of etiquette
+gave added zest to the anecdotes, in themselves interesting. The story
+of the young man who had said, "I am afraid that parcel is too heavy for
+you, miss," and had been promised a walk in the twilight on the cliff,
+evoked visions of liberty, and the story of the officer at the Henfield
+ball, with whom Sally had discovered a room that none knew of, did not
+fail to impress the little dressmaker. They talked a great deal
+about Frank. His face and manner called up the name, and after a few
+hesitations they used his Christian name as they did when he came to see
+them years ago.
+
+"He is a very good fellow--I don't say he isn't. No one could say he
+wasn't nice-looking, but somehow he doesn't make you feel--you know,
+right down, you know, through and through."
+
+"Electricity," said Maggie, with a low, subtle laugh, and her thread
+cracked through the straw of the hat.
+
+"Yes," cried Sally boisterously. "Electricity, I never heard it called
+that before; but it isn't a bad name for it; it is like electricity.
+When a man looks at you--you know, in a peculiar way, it goes right down
+your back from the very crown of your head."
+
+"No, not down my back; I feel it down my chest, just like forked
+lightning. Isn't it horrid? You know that it is coming and you can't
+help it. Some men fix their eyes on you."
+
+"It is just when you meet a man's eyes--a man you like, but haven't seen
+much of."
+
+"I don't think liking has anything to do with it. I hate it; don't you?"
+
+"No, I don't know that I do. I can't see anything so disagreeable as
+that in it. 'Tis rather a shock, a sort of pang."
+
+Mrs. Wood raised her mild face and looked surprised through her thick
+spectacles; the merry niece bit her lips, and strove to stay her
+laughter. Then Maggie said: "Sue, have you ever felt electricity?"
+
+"Oh, miss! I don't think I understand," and she glanced at her aunt over
+the hem she was running.
+
+"Now, come, tell the truth. You mean to say you never felt electricity?"
+
+"I don't think I ever did, miss."
+
+"I don't believe you. Not when that nice young man you were telling us
+about looked at you? Come, now, tell the truth."
+
+"Well, miss, I don't know--I thought it was very revolting."
+
+Mrs. Wood said nothing; with her hand in suspended gesture and her
+spectacles a-glimmer with round surprise, she sat looking at Miss
+Maggie. Her reveries, however, were soon cut short, for Sally not
+only asked her if she had ever experienced the doubtful pleasure of
+electricity, but advised her when she returned home to try if her
+husband's looks could thrill her.
+
+"I don't think the conversation at all nice," said Grace, who had up to
+the present taken no part either by looks, or words, or laughter.
+
+"Who cares what you think? You used to be fond enough of sitting out
+dances with him. You mean to say he never gave you electricity?"
+
+"No, never."
+
+"Then I hope Berkins will," said Sally, with a coarse laugh.
+
+The association of Berkins with electricity proved so generally
+ludicrous that Mrs. Wood, conscious of the respect she owed Miss
+Brookes, pretended to look for her handkerchief, and it was for a moment
+doubtful if the spectacles would preserve their gravity. Tears started
+to Grace's eyes, and she bent over her work to hide them from her
+sisters, which was unnecessary, for Maggie and Sally were absorbed in
+past experiences.
+
+"What about Frank?" Sally asked, and Susan looked up curious to hear
+Maggie's answer.
+
+"Well," said Maggie, staring at the window, "Frank is very good-looking,
+but I don't think that he electrifies one... he did once."
+
+"And when was that?" said Sally.
+
+"You remember the first time he came to stay here? Willy brought him
+down from London. We went to bed early and left them playing billiards;
+I lay awake waiting to hear them come up the stairs, and as he passed my
+room Frank stopped and I thought he was coming in. I felt it all down my
+spine, but never afterwards. You see, I didn't know him much then."
+
+"And Jimmy?"
+
+"I never liked Jimmy."
+
+"If you don't like him why trouble about him?" Sally replied in her
+usually defiant manner. "You always take good care to trouble about my
+men. You tried all you could to get Jimmy away from me, yet you pretend
+to father that you never flirted with him."
+
+"I didn't flirt with him; once a young man looks at you you think no one
+must speak to him but yourself. If young Meason asks me to dance with
+him, I cannot refuse; I am not going to make myself ridiculous though
+you were to look all the daggers in the world at me, but as for flirting
+with him, I never cared enough about him."
+
+"And what about meeting him in London?"
+
+Maggie coloured a little, and repudiated the accusation.
+
+"You told him you were going to London, and you asked him if he were
+going, and what he would be doing that day. I don't know what more you
+could say."
+
+"I never said any such thing."
+
+"I have it from his own lips."
+
+"It isn't true; I will ask him to your face if he ever said such a
+thing; I will tell father that."
+
+"Well, there's no use in quarrelling," said Grace, "and I wouldn't
+advise you to worry father about it. You know he can't stand the name
+of Meason. It seems to me that neither of you care much whom you flirt
+with, you like so many young men."
+
+"It is better to like a dozen young men than one old one."
+
+"I shan't marry Mr. Berkins, no matter what you say. However, you can't
+accuse me of interfering in your affairs."
+
+"No, _you_ don't."
+
+"No more do I. If you want Frank, take him, only don't come sneaking
+after Charley. I don't want Frank; I don't care twopence about him. If
+you want to see it out with him, I shan't interfere; only don't you come
+interfering with me and Jimmy, or Charley either."
+
+Maggie did not like the idea of Sally getting two to her one. She would
+have liked to have introduced a proviso about Alfred, but the title
+Mount Rorke slipped between her thoughts, and she refrained. She knew
+the present treaty secured her immunity from Sally only so long as
+the affections and attentions of Jimmy and Charley showed no signs of
+declension, and she was aware that her promise would only hold good so
+long as Frank interested and Charley remained away in London.
+
+The canary that had been twittering, now burst forth into long and
+prolonged shrillings. Grace folded up her work along her knees; and
+holding it in her hand like a roll of music, she said that they would
+never hear the end of this tennis party.
+
+"I don't see why father should ever know anything about it, he has taken
+that horrid old Joseph with him, he never says more than a few words
+to the footman, and he never sees the cook or housemaid. We have all
+to-morrow to get the house straight."
+
+"It is not certain that he is going to stay the night in London."
+
+"Yes it is. Don't fidget. Have you got the wine out? We should have a
+dozen of champagne. Mind you make no mistake; '80, that is the wine you
+must get. Jimmy is most particular what he drinks, and Alfred has the
+most frightful headaches if he drinks anything but the very best. I hope
+he'll find the '80 all right."
+
+"That's father's favourite wine; you mean to say that he won't miss
+it? Then the port and Burgundy and cherry brandy--I won't take the
+responsibility."
+
+"Nobody asked you. All you have to do is to return the keys to Maggie
+that you took from her."
+
+"I don't think father will be as angry as you think, Grace; besides
+there's no drawing back now the invitations are out. I think it would be
+better to tell him that we had a few friends in for tennis. We needn't
+tell him who was there--we will suppress the name of the Southdown Road
+people; and we can take the bottles out from the back. The wine won't
+be missed for a long time, and we will invent some better excuse before
+then. We will say that two bottles were drunk at this party and three at
+that; and further than that we can't remember."
+
+"And what about the peaches? There are only a few ripe, and Sally says
+she'll want them all. Father has been looking forward to them for weeks
+and weeks."
+
+"He'll have to do without them; if he wants peaches, he had better bring
+some down from Covent Garden."
+
+A knock was heard at the door. "Please Miss, Mr. Escott is in the
+drawing-room."
+
+"Tell him I will be downstairs in a moment," cried Maggie.
+
+"Now off you go, my Lady Mount Rorke," said Sally, who had already begun
+to regret her promises, and to consider if she had not better break
+them.
+
+Maggie asked him what train he came down by, then she called the dog;
+"Come here, my beautiful boy, come and kiss me." The bull-dog growled
+and wagged his tail.
+
+"He won't hurt you; 'tis only his way of talking."
+
+Maggie laughed, and they walked out on the green sward. "I suppose
+you've been to a great many balls this season?"
+
+"I don't know that I have; a few, perhaps. I am glad to get away from
+town. I like no place like this. I don't know if it is the place or the
+associations."
+
+"You are used to much finer places. I can fancy Mount Rorke--the lakes
+and the mountains; somehow I think I can see it. Isn't it strange,
+there are certain things and places you can realise so much better than
+others, and for no very understandable reason?"
+
+"Yes, that is so," said Frank, obviously pleased by the remark. Then,
+after a pause, "Mount Rorke is a pretty place, and I don't think I could
+live long away from it. After a time I always find myself sighing for
+the bleakness and barrenness of the West. The hedgerows of England are
+pretty enough; but I hate the brick buildings."
+
+"What kind of buildings do you have in Ireland?"
+
+"Everything is built of grey stone, a cold grey tint on a background of
+green pasture lands and blue mountains. I daresay you wouldn't like it.
+It would recall nothing to you, but when I think of it, much less see
+it, I re-live my childhood all over again. I am a great person for old
+times. That is the reason I like coming down here. I knew you all so
+long ago; how well I can remember you--three dark little things. You
+used to sit on my knee."
+
+"And do you find nothing nice in the present?"
+
+"Of course I do; it is nice to walk in the garden with you, but it seems
+to me you have all moved away from me a little. Grace is engaged, you
+are engaged--"
+
+"Who said I was engaged?"
+
+"Ha, ha, you see I hear everything. What is his name--Alfred?"
+
+"I suppose Sally told you."
+
+"I won't tell you who told me, I never betray secrets. You had a
+desperate flirtation two years ago, and the man had to go away, and you
+promised to wait for him."
+
+"I don't mind telling you--I did meet a man about two years ago whom I
+rather liked; I used to see a great deal of him at tennis parties and
+balls; he used to ask me to marry him. He wanted me to engage myself to
+him, and I told him it would be much better to wait and see what father
+would say."
+
+"And what did your father say?"
+
+"Father, he never knew anything about it. You may as well tell me, I
+know it was Sally. I suppose she told you I was very much in love with
+him?"
+
+"She said, at least, the person who told me said, that you would never
+care for any one else."
+
+"So you've been talking about me though you promised you wouldn't talk
+any more," Maggie said to herself, "All right, my lady--very well, we
+shall see."
+
+"Grace is waving her parasol to us. Lunch must be ready."
+
+Maggie and Grace had calculated that if they could limit the champagne
+to half a dozen bottles they would be able to hide the deficit from
+their father's scrutiny; but the servants seemed to be always filling
+the glasses of the Southdown Road people, and lunch was not half over
+when they heard the fourth bottle go pop. Maggie looked at Sally across
+the pile of peaches, but Sally had no ears for the report, only for
+Jimmy's voice. Her head wagged as she talked, and Maggie wondered if
+they were exchanging napkins or rings beneath the table.
+
+At that moment the servant handed a letter on a salver to Maggie,
+saying, "From Mrs. Horlock; the servant is waiting an answer, miss."
+Grace trembled. Sally whispered to Jimmy, "What can she want?" In a
+reassuring voice Maggie said, "She has heard we are having a few people
+in to tennis, and she wants to know if she may send us round a young
+man; she will come round herself with the General some time during the
+afternoon." At the mention of a young man many eyes gleamed, and Sally
+said, "You had better go at once and write a note and say that we shall
+be delighted." When they went into the verandah coffee was handed
+round, and Maggie, as the gentlemen lit their cigarettes, said to Grace,
+"Nothing could have happened better; father is sure to hear of this,
+we couldn't have kept it from him: now we can say Mrs. Horlock was our
+chaperon. None will know when she came, or when she went away." Then
+turning to her company, Maggie said, "Now gentlemen, as soon as you have
+finished your cigarettes we will begin."
+
+Sally not only insisted on playing, but on playing with Jimmy; and
+Grace, who was striving to struggle into the position of Miss Brookes,
+could do nothing but set the girl in the florid dress and the man who
+stood next to her to play against them. The garden seemed to absorb the
+girls, but Maggie, catching sight of Mrs. Horlock, went to meet her.
+
+Mrs. Horlock was sixty, but her figure was like a girl's. She led a
+blind pug in a complicated leading apparatus, and several other pugs
+in various stages of fat and decrepitude followed her. It was not long
+before she raised a discussion on hydrophobia, defending the disease
+from all the charges of horror and contagion that had been urged against
+it, narrating vehemently how a mad dog had died in her arms licking her
+hands and face, and appealing to the General, who denounced muzzling;
+but when the mangy mastiff came near him he whispered to Frank, "I wish
+they were all shot. You must come and see us; you must come and see us;
+I have a pretty little place in the Southdown Road (dreadful place to
+mention here, they don't like it; of course the people there aren't
+all quite the thing, but what are you to do, you know?). Lunch at two,
+dinner at eight--old Indians, you know. I have everything I want. Too
+many animals, perhaps, but that can't be helped."
+
+"Do you live here all the year?"
+
+"Yes, all the year round. We don't go away much. We have everything
+here--coach-houses, horses, you'll see when you come. The only thing
+I want is a little occupation, a little something to bring me out,
+you know. I read the _Morning Post_ every morning, and I have the _St
+James's_ in the evening; but then there is the middle of the day," and,
+with laughter full of genial kindness and goodwill, the General repeated
+this phrase: "I want a little something to bring me out, you know."
+
+Forty years of Indian sun! Balls in the Government House in Calcutta!
+Viceroys, tigers, horse-racing, elephants, jealousies, flirtations,
+deaths, all now forgotten, and if not forgotten, at rest; and now glad
+to watch life unfolding itself again in an English village, this old
+couple sat in the calm sunlight of an English garden, relics of another
+generation, emblems of an England drawing to a close.
+
+At five o'clock Grace was busy at the tea-table; and very hot and moist
+Sally threw herself into a cane chair. Maggie, who had suddenly appeared
+upon the scene, arranged some fresh sets in which she and Frank did not
+take part--she having promised to walk with him; and they went towards
+the shade of the sycamores. She had neglected him nearly the whole day,
+and he was vexed with her. But she excused herself volubly, accusing
+Sally of indifference to all things except her own pleasures, and
+impressed upon him that it was her duty to show some politeness to Mrs.
+Horlock's friend.
+
+"Sally would play tennis, she played two sets, three if I am not
+mistaken, and she never left Jimmy's side. She took no notice of any
+one; for that reason I hate having people to the house when she is here;
+everything devolves upon Grace and me. It is really too bad. Father
+wouldn't mind our giving this party at all, if it weren't for him. If he
+hears that he was here, well, I don't know what will happen."
+
+"He doesn't look quite a gentleman, does he? He is a ship's mate, isn't
+he?"
+
+"Yes, but it isn't that; father cannot bear those Southdown Road people.
+A lot of young men live there--quite as good as ourselves, no doubt, but
+they are all so poor, and father thinks of nothing but money. And Sally
+meets them. When she goes out driving in the cart she picks them up, and
+they go off together. Father doesn't know any of them, and he says they
+laugh at him when he goes to the station in the morning. 'Tisn't
+true, it is only his imagination; but I can quite well understand his
+feelings. You know Sally won't give way in anything. Once she ran into
+the kitchen, and told cook to put back the dinner, so that she might run
+down the slonk to finish her conversation with him. Of course father
+was mad at that, coming home tired from the City, and finding that his
+dinner had been put back. You saw the way they went on at lunch, sitting
+close together."
+
+"We were all sitting close together."
+
+"Yes, but not like they were. And all that nonsense with their napkins
+under the table. If you didn't see it, so much the better. I thought
+everybody saw it. I wish Sally wouldn't do it. Father, as you know, has
+a lot of money to leave, and if she did really go too far, I fear he
+would cut her off."
+
+"But she never would go too far."
+
+"No, I don't think so; I am sure Sally wouldn't do anything that was
+really wrong, but she is very imprudent."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"I don't know that I ought to tell you."
+
+"I promise not to tell any one--you know you can trust me."
+
+"Well, she brings people up to her room."
+
+"You don't mean to her bedroom?"
+
+"She says you can't call it a bedroom, but she sleeps there for all
+that. She covers up the bed and makes it look like a couch; she keeps
+birds and dogs there; Flossie had her puppies there. That's her room,"
+said Maggie, lifting one of the boughs. "I shouldn't be surprised if
+Jimmy were there with her now."
+
+The foliage glinted in the sunset, and as Maggie stood pointing, still
+holding the bough, the picture flashed upon Frank, and he said: "Oh, how
+pretty you are now! How I should like to paint you!" And a moment
+after he said, interested, solely interested in sentimental affection,
+"Sally's ideas of love seem to me very funny; if she really loves
+Meason, why doesn't she marry him?"
+
+"He has no money, and father would never hear of it."
+
+"Never hear of it! If I loved a girl, nothing in the world would prevent
+my marrying her."
+
+"I wonder if that's true," said Maggie, and she let go the bough and
+stood facing him, her hands clasped behind her back.
+
+"Of course it is. What is life for if it isn't to get the woman we
+love?"
+
+"It is nice to hear you say so; but I am afraid very few young men think
+like you nowadays. One woman is the same as another to them."
+
+"I cannot understand any one thinking so. If it were so, the whole charm
+would be lost."
+
+So the young people talked, and lost in the charm of each thrilling
+minute, they walked through the shadows and darkening leaves. The soft
+garden echoed with the sound of a girl's voice crying, "Cuckoo, cuckoo,"
+and the white dresses flew over the sward, and the young men ran after
+them and caught them. They were playing hide and seek. Excited
+beyond endurance, Triss barked loudly, and forms were seen flying
+precipitately.
+
+"Tie him up to this tree," said Maggie.
+
+"No, no, better take him to the house," said Frank; "it would make him
+savage to tie him up."
+
+When the ninth bottle of champagne had been opened, and the supper table
+was noisy, Frank whispered to Maggie, "Did you ever see _Macbeth_?"
+
+"Yes, but why?"
+
+"Because I can't help thinking what a splendid occasion it would be for
+Banquo's ghost to appear."
+
+Maggie pressed his hand and laughed.
+
+Soon after the sound of wheels was heard. Grace turned pale, Sally said:
+"Who would have thought it?" A moment after Mr. Brookes, with Berkins
+and Willy behind him, entered. He stood amazed, and seeing that the
+tears were mounting to his eyes, Maggie said: "Father, how tired and
+faint you look. We thought you wouldn't be coming home to-night. Do sit
+down and have a glass of wine." But neither winning words nor ways could
+soothe this storm, and in reply to a question from Berkins, Mr. Brookes
+declared passionately that he knew none of the young men who came to his
+house.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+
+"Father's just gone downstairs. I think we had better wait a minute or
+two. In that way we shall escape a scolding. Father won't miss the ten
+o'clock."
+
+"Not a bad idea. You are always up to some cunning dodge. What's the
+time?"
+
+"Twenty minutes to nine. I'll slip down the passage and tell Grace to go
+down and give him his breakfast. He won't say anything to her; he knows
+well that since Fatty went to India she wouldn't see a soul if she could
+help it."
+
+"Father never says anything to you either; you tell him a lot of lies,
+and leave him to understand that I do everything."
+
+"That's not true; I never speak against you to father; but at the same
+time I must say that if it weren't for you we could do as we liked. You
+don't try to manage father."
+
+"Manage him, indeed! that's what I can't bear in you, you're always
+trying to manage some one; I hate the word."
+
+"You got out of bed the wrong side this morning. However, I must go and
+tell Grace to go down at once, or father will be ringing for us."
+
+"What did she say?" said Sally, when Maggie returned.
+
+"'Tis all right; I got her to go, and she said she was always being made
+a cat's-paw of. I assure you it wasn't easy to persuade her to go down
+to father, but I told her she might be the means of averting a very
+serious row."
+
+"I suppose you said there was no counting on what answers I might make
+to father?"
+
+This was exactly what Maggie had said.
+
+"Very well; you are always objecting to what I do, and the way I do it.
+I wish you would go and do things yourself. You think of nothing but
+yourself, or some young man you are after. I wouldn't do what you did
+yesterday. I wouldn't go sneaking round the garden with a young man I
+had never seen before."
+
+Maggie shrugged her shoulders and went on dressing. Sally, who had taken
+a seat on the bed, watched her. She thought how she might best pursue
+the quarrel, but her stomach called her thoughts from her sister, and
+she said: "I don't know how you feel, but I am dying of hunger. What
+time is it now?"
+
+"Nine o'clock."
+
+"Another half-hour. I suppose he won't start before the half-hour."
+
+"Miss," said the maid, knocking at the door, "Mr. Brookes wants to know
+if you are coming down to breakfast."
+
+"Say that we are not nearly ready; that there's no use waiting for us."
+
+"I think I had better go back to my room," said Sally.
+
+"I think you had. I wish you wouldn't bring that horrid little dog into
+my room. She made a mess here the other day."
+
+"That I am sure she didn't. Flossie is the cleanest dog in the world."
+
+"Clean or unclean, I would rather not have her in my room. There she is
+trying to drink out of my jug. Get away, you little beast!"
+
+Sally caught up her dog, and marched out of the room, slamming the door
+after her.
+
+"At last I have got rid of her," thought Maggie, and she rolled and
+pinned up the last plait of her black hair, but she did not go down to
+breakfast until the wheels grated on the gravel and the carriage was
+heard moving away. Then she begged Grace to tell her what her father had
+said.
+
+"He said his children were persecuting him, that he had not had an
+hour's peace since their poor mother died."
+
+"Fudge! Mother knew how to keep him in order. Do you remember when she
+threw the carving knife?"
+
+"Sally, for shame! How can you speak of poor mother so?"
+
+"You know it is true, Hypocrisy. There is no harm in coming to the
+point."
+
+"It was very nearly coming to the point," said Maggie, giggling.
+
+"Well, what else did he say?"
+
+"He said he didn't know what course he should adopt, but that things
+couldn't go on as they were; he thought he should write to Aunts Mary
+and Hester, and just as he was going out of the door he said that he'd
+prefer to sell the whole place up than continue living here and be the
+laughing-stock of the neighbourhood."
+
+At these words all looked frightened, even Sally. She flaunted her head,
+however, and said disdainfully: "I wonder he didn't speak of marrying
+again."
+
+"Did he say nothing more?" asked Maggie, who determined to know how
+matters stood.
+
+"He spoke of Sally; he said it must be put a stop to. I don't know what
+he has found out, but I am sure he has found out something."
+
+"Why didn't you ask him?"
+
+"I did. He said the way you were carrying on with young Meason was
+something too disgraceful, and that every one was talking of it; he said
+that you had been seen crossing the canal locks, and that you had spent
+hours with him on the beach, and he spoke about the cart and Bamber--I
+don't know if you ever drove there to meet him; I couldn't get anything
+more out of him, for he began to cry."
+
+"Didn't he speak of the party?"
+
+"Oh, yes, a great deal. He said that henceforth he would have none of
+the Southdown Road people, male or female, at the Manor House. I thought
+he was going to curse the Horlocks; but I reminded him of the Viceroys.
+As for the Measons, I don't know what he would have said if he hadn't
+been crying."
+
+"The Measons are just as good as we are, though they mayn't be so rich.
+I should like to know who has been talking to him about me; I wonder
+who told him I spent hours on the beach with Jimmy; I met him once there
+quite by accident, and we sat down for ten minutes. I daresay it was
+Berkins."
+
+"No, Sally, don't," said Grace, clasping her hands. "Father said that
+Maggie was nearly as bad, and was a great deal too much disposed towards
+young men."
+
+"I should think she is indeed; I wonder what father would say if he had
+seen her walking round the garden out of sight of every one with that
+fellow, a man she had never seen before."
+
+"There is no harm in walking round the garden with a man, but I should
+like to know what father would say if he knew that you brought Jimmy up
+to your bed-room."
+
+"My bed-room isn't a bed-room. How dare you make such accusations, how
+dare you? I should not be surprised if you were at the bottom of all
+this. I know you are mad with jealousy. Do you think I don't know how
+you flirted with Jimmy? Do you think I didn't see how you shifted Frank
+on to me so that you might walk with Jimmy to the station? But I'll tell
+you what, I'll not stand it, and if you try to come between me and him
+I'll knock you down."
+
+Sally sprang from her place and raised her fist. Maggie rushed from the
+room, or, more correctly speaking, into the arms of Willy.
+
+"What the deuce are you up to?" cried this staid young man, who had been
+twisted round and thrown against the wall.
+
+"Oh, save me! Sally says she'll knock me down," cried the girl, clinging
+for a moment to her brother's shoulder, but as if conscious of the
+dubiousness of his protection, she loosed him and fled upstairs to her
+room.
+
+"What damned nonsense this is! The trouble young girls are in a
+house!--Nothing but pleasure; from one year's end to another, it is
+nothing but pleasure. I am sick of it."
+
+Having by such unusual emphasis of manner reduced his sisters to
+silence, Willy sat down, and chewed with gravity and deliberation. Grace
+and Sally watched him. After a long and elaborate silence he put some
+brief questions, and appeared to devote to them the small part of his
+attention not already engaged in the judicious breaking of his bread.
+He did not answer nor did he comment; and when he had finished eating he
+commenced packing up his diary and letters in a brown paper parcel, and
+for three-quarters of an hour he walked up and down stairs collecting
+and forgetting; finally he left the house with many parcels.
+
+As some days are sweet and fugitive, others are obtuse, complex, and
+tortuous as nightmares--difficult to understand and well-nigh impossible
+to relate. And the day after the tennis party was such a day in the
+Brookes household, nor did its tumult cease when the lights were turned
+out in the billiard-room. It was revived with fierce gusts of passion
+and despair during several succeeding days.
+
+In the afternoon both Sally and Maggie wanted to go out in the cart. The
+wrangle was a long one, but the argument of the fist eventually brought
+it to a close, and Maggie was obliged again to shut herself into her
+room. Thence Grace's solicitations could not move her, and she remained
+there until she saw her father coming up the drive; then she ran down to
+meet him, and made a frank accusation of Sally's treatment of her.
+But he was enthralled by his own woes, and without even promising her
+protection and immunity, at least from her sister's right arm, the old
+gentleman launched forth into more than usual lamentations.
+
+He had had a stormy interview with Berkins going up in the train, and
+Berkins had so upset him that he had not been able to get through any
+business in the City. Berkins admitted of no equivocation. He had told
+him that he would not allow the young lady that was going to be his
+wife to spend her days feasting and skylarking with a lot of vulgar and
+penniless young men from the Southdown Road. He had declared that it was
+time to settle definitely the terms and the day of the marriage. He had
+been engaged now more than two months, and was prepared to do his share;
+Mr. Brookes must be prepared to do his, viz., to settle four hundred a
+year on his daughter.
+
+The idea of parting for ever with so much of his money convulsed Mr.
+Brookes. He burst into tears, and their bitterness was neither assuaged
+nor softened by Grace's rather haughty statement that she didn't care at
+all for Mr. Berkins, and was not at all sure whether she would have him
+or not.
+
+"So, father, you may be able to keep your money."
+
+"But did any one ever know me to think of myself?" and he drew his silk
+handkerchief forth. In the new trouble, suddenly created, all
+other considerations were lost, and Grace became the centre of many
+conflicting interests; everybody asked if this marriage so long looked
+forward to was going to tumble into ruin among so many ruins? At dinner
+Willy seemed to consider himself called from the problem of perfect
+mastication, and he said a few words intended to allay this new family
+excitement; but his efforts were vain, for it had occurred to Mr.
+Brookes that he might find calm in a bottle of '34 port. There were a
+few bottles left which he appreciated at their right value. He rang
+for the wine, and old Joseph announced, with all the intolerable
+indifference of a well-trained servant, that the young gentleman had
+drunk it all up yesterday. Mr. Brookes kept his temper better than
+the girls anticipated, and it was not until he had drunk a bottle of a
+latter-day wine that he seemed to realise the wrong that had been
+done to him. He begged of Willy to listen to him, and he talked so
+vehemently, and cried so bitterly, and laughed so joyously, and declared
+so often that it would be all the same a hundred years hence, that
+letters and diary had to be packed away in the brown paper parcel, and
+all work abandoned for that evening. The next day and the next passed
+in continual quarrel and argument, and at the end of the week the aunts
+were summoned.
+
+Aunt Mary's features were sharp, her eyes were bright and she sat bolt
+upright on the sofa, her hands crossed over a shawl drawn tightly about
+her.
+
+"Now, my dear James," she said, "I am very sorry for you; of course
+I am. I know it is very trying, but there is no use in sitting there
+lamenting. Put up your silk handkerchief and come to the point. We all
+know it will be the same a hundred years hence, but in the meantime
+you don't want your dinner put back, so that Sally may continue her
+flirtations in the slonk," and Aunt Mary burst into a merry peal of
+laughter.
+
+"You are most unsympathetic, I never knew one so unsympathetic; you were
+always so, you'll never change."
+
+"Unsympathetic," said Aunt Mary, shaking with laughter; "how can you
+say so? I have never done anything all my life but listen to you and
+sympathise with you. When you were a boy and sold my books to the boys
+at your school, and when you were a young man and took my poor husband
+to oyster shops--you remember the stories you used to tell me?"
+
+Mr. Brookes waved his handkerchief, and Aunt Hester, who was a spinster,
+cast down her eyes and fidgeted with some papers which she had taken
+from her hand-basket.
+
+"Of course, if my afflictions are only a subject for laughter--"
+
+"I am not laughing at your afflictions, my dear James. I laughed because
+you said I was not a sympathetic listener. You used to think me so
+once." Then becoming instantly serious, Aunt Mary said: "Of course I
+think this is a matter of great importance--the health, the welfare of
+my dear nieces, and your happiness."
+
+"And their salvation," murmured Aunt Hester.
+
+"If I did not think it important, do you think I would have left home,
+and at such a time, when I am most wanted? I always said that that big
+place would kill me, I never wanted to leave the Poplars; a little place
+like that is no trouble--my greenhouse, a few servants, and just as I
+had got everything to look nice--I could do it all in a few hours; but
+now I am never still, there is always something to be done. No one can
+take up my work. I am behindhand; oh, I assure you when I go back I
+shall be afraid to go into the greenhouse. I am worn out, I really am;
+it never ends. In a big house like Woborn one is always behindhand. The
+days aren't long enough, that's the fact of it; when one thinks one is
+getting through one thing one is called away to another. 'Please, mum,
+the cook would like to speak with you for a moment.' 'There is no tea in
+the house, mum.' 'What! is all the tea I gave out last week gone?' 'Yes,
+mum. There was, you remember, the dressmaker here three days, and we had
+Mrs. Jones in to help. And we shall want another piece of cheese for
+the servants' hall.' I don't know how it is with you, but at Woborn the
+cloth is never off the table in the servants' hall. They have five meals
+a day--breakfast at eight, and they won't eat cold bacon, they must have
+it hot; of course the waste is something fearful; at eleven they have
+beer and cheese; at one there is dinner; at five they have tea; and at
+nine supper. Five meals a day--it really is terrible, it is wicked,
+it really is! You have had none of these troubles, Hester, and you may
+think yourself very lucky.
+
+"We have just got rid of our cook; the trouble she gave us, it really
+is beyond words. She said she was troubled with fits, hysteria, or
+something of that sort--at least that is the reason she gave for her
+conduct. I knew there was something wrong, I could see it in her eyes.
+I said: 'This is not right; it can't be right.' One night she left the
+dinner half cooked and went roaming all over the country; she came back
+the next afternoon, and I found her baking. Then there was Robinson. Do
+you remember the pretty housemaid? You saw her when you were at Woborn.
+I am sure she must have had gentle blood in her veins; she wasn't a bit
+like a servant, so elegant and graceful. Those soft blue eyes of hers. I
+often used to look at them and think how beautiful they were. Well, she
+fell madly in love with West. Notwithstanding his bandy legs, there
+was something fascinating about him. He had a way about him that
+the maid-servants used to like; Robinson wasn't the first. Well, she
+completely lost her head, perfectly frantic--frantic; her eyes on fire.
+I saw it at once; you know I am pretty sharp. I just look round, one
+look round; I see it all, I take it all in. I said: 'This is not right;
+this cannot be right. Robinson is a respectable girl.' Her people I knew
+to be most respectable people in Chichester; I had heard all about them
+through the Eastwicks. I said, 'Robinson, you must go, I will give you
+a month's wages, but you must go back to your people. You know why I am
+sending you away; it is for your own good, otherwise I am sorry to part
+with you; but you must go.'
+
+"Robinson didn't say much, she was always rather haughty, a reserved
+sort of girl; but soon after--I always hear everything--I heard that she
+had not gone back to her people, but was living in lodgings in Brighton,
+and that West used to go and see her. I didn't say anything about it to
+West, but he saw there was something wrong. When I told him to put the
+carriage to, he said, 'Yes, mum, where to, mum?' 'Brighton.' I could
+see he saw there was something wrong, and when I told him not to put the
+carriage up, but to drive up and down the King's Road, and that I would
+meet him in about an hour at the bottom of West Street, he looked so
+frightened that I could hardly help laughing; he did look so comical,
+for he knew now that I was going to see Robinson. (Here the remembrance
+of West proved too much for Aunt Mary, and she shook with laughter.)
+Of course if I had let him put up the horses he would have run round to
+Robinson's and warned her that I was coming. Oh, I shall never forget
+that day! It was broiling, the sun came down on the flagstones in those
+narrow little back streets, and there was I toiling, toiling up that
+dreadful hill, inquiring out the way. I found the street, it was on the
+very top of the hill: such a poor, miserable place you never saw. Such a
+dreadful old woman opened the door to me, and I said, 'Is Miss Robinson
+in?' She said, 'Yes.' I could hear Robinson whispering over the
+banisters, saying, 'No, no, no, say I am out.' And then I said, 'It is
+no use, Robinson, I must see you, and I will not leave this place until
+I have seen you.' I went upstairs to her room. At first she was rather
+haughty, rather inclined to impertinence. She said, 'Mum, you have no
+right to come after me--you sent me away; I am looking out for a place
+in Brighton--I don't want to go back to my people.' I said, 'Robinson,
+it is no use trying to deceive me, I know very well why you are in
+Brighton; no good can come of this, it is nothing but wickedness.
+You must try to be good, Robinson. West has, as you know, a wife and
+children, and you must not think of him any more. You have taken this
+lodging so that you may see him. You must think of your future; this
+can't last.'"
+
+"No, indeed, this life is but a moment," sighed Aunt Hester. "I wish you
+had had one of these books to give her."
+
+"I did better, Hester. I told her some plain truths, and she put off her
+high and mighty airs and began to cry. I shall never forget it. Oh, how
+hot it was in that little room just under the slates, with one garret
+window and the sun pouring in. There was scarcely any furniture, and I
+was sitting on her bed. I said, 'Now, Robinson, you must give me back
+the presents West made you, and you must promise me to go back to
+Chichester.' And I didn't leave her until she promised me to go home
+next day.
+
+"When I stepped into the carriage you should have seen West's face. He
+didn't know what had happened; I didn't speak to him till next day. As
+I was going into the garden I called him. I said, 'West, I want to speak
+to you.' 'Yes, mum.' We went into the back garden; I was planting there.
+Edward was out riding, so I knew we shouldn't be disturbed. I said,
+'West, I saw Robinson yesterday, and I have a parcel for you; she has
+promised me not to see you, and you must promise me not to see her.'
+'Very well, mum, since you say it.' 'This is a very sad affair, West.'
+'A bad business, mum--a bad business, mum.' There was always something
+in West's stolid face that used to amuse me. You should have heard him.
+'I don't think she could help it, mum; she never loved another man--I
+really don't. But I was going to tell you, mum, I once knew a servant,
+a married man, he was in love with a young woman, and they waited long
+years, and when the wife died they married, mum.' 'That was all very
+well long ago, West, but wives don't die nowadays.'"
+
+So Aunt Mary talked, realising and giving expression to both the pathos
+and the comedy of her story. Then, feeling that she wasdigressing at
+too great length, she strove to generalise from the particular incident
+which she had related, and get back to the theme of the conversation.
+
+"I don't know what we shall do, I don't know what we are coming to;
+servants are getting too strong for us. My last cook gave us no end of
+trouble; the butler used to have to lock himself up in the pantry; and
+yet I had to give her a character. Of course it was very wrong of me to
+enable her to thrust herself upon another family, but what was I to do?
+I couldn't deprive her of the means of earning her living. She'll give
+trouble wherever she goes. There is no remedy, there really isn't; I
+don't know what's to be done unless we ladies combine and refuse to give
+them characters."
+
+Here Aunt Mary's thoughts and words began to fail her, for she felt she
+was not getting back to the point where she had entered on her various
+digressions, and without further ado, and quite undisconcerted, she
+said, "But I forget where I was; what were we talking about?"
+
+"We were talking about dear Sally and Maggie, and the need they stand of
+counsel and help. Their conduct is to be deeply regretted; but theirs is
+only youthful folly. They have not done anything, I am sure, that--"
+
+"Quite so, Hester; of course. But at the same time a stop must be put
+to all this nonsense; it cannot be allowed. I have only to look round
+to take it all in. They are worrying their father into his grave. His
+position is a very trying one. He has no one whom he can depend on--no
+one."
+
+"I am alone since poor Julia--"
+
+Aunt Mary and Aunt Hester looked at each other, and they wondered if the
+terrors of the carving knife were completely forgotten.
+
+"Poor James," said Aunt Mary, recrossing her hands, "is obliged to go to
+London every morning, from ten till, I may say, half-past six."
+
+"I am never home before seven."
+
+"These girls are their own mistresses; they go out when they like, they
+order the carriage whenever they like, and they invite here every one it
+pleases their fancy to invite without consulting their father. I believe
+he doesn't even--"
+
+"I know none of the young men who come to my house. All I know of them
+is that they come from the Southdown Road."
+
+"Don't be so silly, James, put up that handkerchief. Of course, the
+Southdown Road is one of the great disadvantages of the place. Those
+villa residences have brought into Southwick a host of people that a man
+living in a big place like the Manor House cannot know--little people
+who have--"
+
+"Not two hundred pounds invested--no, nor yet a hundred."
+
+"Well, I don't wish to offend them, I'll say small incomes. They are all
+devoured with envy, and all they think of is what goes on at the Manor
+House."
+
+"A lot of penniless young jackanapeses. Every morning I see them at the
+station watching me over the tops of their newspapers."
+
+"You must understand, Hester, poor James up in London, toiling, not
+knowing what is going on in his own home; feasting and pleasure going
+on morning, noon, and, I may say, night, for when James returned home
+unexpectedly about ten o'clock at night, he found them--how many were
+there?"
+
+"About a dozen, the others had gone."
+
+"Feasting, drinking his champagne--his very best."
+
+"The last few bottles of '34 port were drunk; the peaches, that the
+gardener has been forcing so carefully for months past, were all eaten.
+I returned home unexpectedly; I had intended to spend the night in
+London--you know I went there to see about starting Willy on the Stock
+Exchange; he has drawn three thousand more out of the distillery; I hope
+he won't lose it. Well, I met Berkins in Pall Mall, and he said if I
+would return by the late train that he would spend the night here, and
+we would go up to town together in the morning. I suspected nothing; I
+went into my dining-room, and there I found them all at supper. Had it
+not been for Berkins it wouldn't have mattered. He was indignant when
+he saw one of those jackanapeses with his arm round the back of Grace's
+chair; he says that such company is not fit for the lady that is going
+to be his wife; and he now insists on fixing the day, the settlements,
+and everything, or of breaking off the match."
+
+"Then why don't you fix the day and the settlements?"
+
+"Grace is not willing; she is quite undecided. She says she doesn't know
+whether she will have him or not. Sally tries to set her against him;
+she laughs at him, says he is pompous, and imitates him. Of course, it
+is quite true that he thinks everything he has is betterthan anybody
+else's. She says he is old, and says that kissing him would be like
+rubbing your face in a mattress."
+
+"The fact is," said Aunt Mary, "Sally ought to have been a man; had she
+been a man, it would have been all right."
+
+Aunt Hester, who had spent her life in a vicarage, glanced uneasily at
+her sister, and fidgeted with the papers in her satchel.
+
+"I suppose it will be all the same a hundred years hence."
+
+"No, James, it will not," replied Aunt Hester, with unusual
+determination.
+
+The conversation dropped, and the speakers stared at each other at a
+loss how to proceed.
+
+"She is a very difficult girl to manage. If it were not for her we could
+get on very well; it is she who upsets everything. She can't agree
+with Maggie; they are always quarrelling. The day after the party she
+threatened to knock her down if she interfered with her young man."
+
+"Is it possible! Did she say that? Well, when it comes to young ladies
+knocking each other down! Young ladies were very different in my young
+days. It only proves what I said about Sally--she ought to have been a
+man, she really ought to have been a man. I see it all; I have only to
+give one look round to take it all in one glance. When she came to meet
+me in Brighton I understood it all at once; I saw she could not restrain
+herself, no powers of self-restraint. Her eyes fixed on every man as
+if she couldn't see enough of him; her black eyes flashing. I wanted no
+telling--I saw it all; the moment a young man went by her eyes flashed.
+Here she was--'Aunt Mary, Aunt Mary, there's Meason, there's Meason,
+Aunt Mary, Meason, Meason, Aunt Mary.' It is not right, it can't be
+right; and to my thinking Maggie is just as bad--a little more sly
+perhaps."
+
+"No, not dear Maggie."
+
+"I say it is not right; girls in good health could not go on like
+that. If I were you, James, I would take them up to a first-rate London
+physician, the very best that can be had for money. Those girls are
+highly organised, highly sensitive; their nerves are highly strung. They
+want something to bring them down," said Aunt Mary; but catching at that
+moment sight of her sister's face, she laughed consumedly, and, speaking
+through her laughter, said, "So-and-so, a first-rate man, I can't think
+of his name--he will give you the very best advice."
+
+"I think if our dear nieces could be brought to understand the
+sinfulness of their disobedience. I have here one or two little books
+which I think it would be advisable for them to read."
+
+"Later on, my dear Hester; the best thing that James can do is to see
+to their health. No girls in good health could act as they do; it is
+radically impossible."
+
+"I suppose that is what I must do; I don't know if I shall succeed, but
+I will try to get them to come up to London and have medical advice.
+Since the death of poor Julia I have been all alone; my position is a
+very hard one. I have no one to talk to, to assist me, to take my place
+in any way. I am obliged to go to London every day, and I assure you my
+heart is all of a flutter in the morning when I take the train, for I
+don't know what may happen before I return. The girls can do what they
+like; they are mistresses of this big house, they take the carriage into
+Brighton when they like, Sally takes the cart. I have thought of getting
+rid of that cart."
+
+Although passionately fond of talking, Aunt Mary would with patience,
+and even with pleasure, cross her hands and settle herself down to
+listen to one of Uncle James's interminable lamentations, but Aunt
+Hester, a nervous and timid creature who talked but little, not only
+declared that she could not bear to hear the same stories over and over
+again, but interrupted her brother with firmness and determination.
+Indeed, it was only on occasion of Uncle James's soliloquies that she
+had ever shown any strength of will.
+
+"We know very well, James, that your position is a trying one--that
+since the death of poor Julia you have no one whom you can look to.
+There is no use in telling us this over again; it is mere waste of time.
+What we have to do now is by all means in our power to convince dear
+Sally of the sinfulness of her conduct, and so strive to bring her back
+to a state of grace."
+
+"Her spirit must be broken, she must be subdued," interjected Aunt Mary.
+
+"Christ is the real healer, prayer is the true medicine, and by it alone
+is the troubled spirit soothed."
+
+It being impossible to contravene these opinions, the conversation came
+to a pause, which was at length interrupted by Mr. Brookes, who through
+the folds of his handkerchief declared again that it would be all the
+same a hundred years hence. Even Aunt Mary's realism did not offend Aunt
+Hester as did this un-Christian philosophy; she gathered her strength
+for a grave reproof, but was cut short by her sister's laughter. All the
+teeth were glittering now, and peal after peal of laughter came. Aunt
+Hester's courage died, and her long, freckled face drooped like a sad
+flower.
+
+"Now let us hear something about Grace. What about this marriage?
+Is Berkins as amorous as ever? That man does amuse me--his waistcoat
+buttons are better than any other man's."
+
+"Mary, Mary, I beg of you to remember Mr. Berkins is a man of eight
+thousand a-year."
+
+"He may make eight thousand a-year, but he has very little money
+invested," said Aunt Mary.
+
+"That is true," Mr. Brookes replied reflectively, and he was about to
+rush off into a long financial statement when his sister, who already
+regretted her joke, checked him with an abrupt question.
+
+"My dear James, is this marriage to be or not to be? That is what I want
+to know."
+
+"I really can't say, Mary; Sally has contrived to upset her sister; she
+would have been, I feel sure, glad to marry Mr. Berkins if she had not
+been upset by Sally."
+
+"Upset by Sally, what do you mean?"
+
+"I told you that Sally tries to turn Berkins into ridicule, laughs at
+his beard among other things."
+
+"I must see Grace about this," said Aunt Mary; "you must excuse my
+laughing, but Sally is often very droll."
+
+Choosing the first occasion when Maggie and Sally were absent from the
+room, Aunt Mary said, "Come, Gracie, dear, tell me about this marriage.
+I hear that your mind is not made up--that you are not at all decided.
+This is not acting fairly towards your father. You are placing him in a
+very false position."
+
+"I don't think so, aunty. No one, so far as I can make out, is either
+decided or satisfied. Mr. Berkins is not satisfied with the society we
+see."
+
+"The Southdown Road you mean," interrupted Mr. Brookes, "and very
+properly, too."
+
+"And father and he cannot agree upon money matters, and I don't like a
+beard--"
+
+"You never objected to a beard until Sally put you against it."
+
+"Yes, I did, father; I always told you--"
+
+"Never mind the beard, tell me about the money matters that your father
+and Mr. Berkins can't agree upon."
+
+"Mr. Berkins has offered to settle twelve thousand pounds upon me if
+father will settle the same amount. But father won't agree to this; he
+wants Mr. Berkins to settle twelve, but does not want to settle more
+than seven himself upon me."
+
+"Is this so, James?" asked Aunt Mary.
+
+Mr. Brookes avoided answering the question, and entered into a long and
+garrulous statement concerning himself and his money: he had made it
+all himself! he spoke of his investments with pride, and pathetically
+declared that he would not marry again because he would not deprive his
+dear children of anything. Aunt Mary crossed her hands over her shawl,
+and set herself to listen to the old gentleman's rigmarole. Aunt Hester
+tried several times to cut him short, but this time he would not be
+silenced.
+
+Then Aunt Mary started the story of a girl whom she had known intimately
+in early life, which she no doubt thought would help Grace to a better
+comprehension of her difficulties; but the dear lady lost herself in
+the domestic entanglement of many families, on the subject of which she
+contributed much curious information, without, however, elucidating the
+matter in hand. She wandered so far that at length all hope of return
+became impossible, and she was obliged to pull up suddenly and ask what
+she had been talking about.
+
+"What was I talking about, James; you have been listening to me--what
+was I talking about?"
+
+Mr. Brookes made no attempt to give the information necessary for the
+blending of her many narratives, and she was forced to seek unaided for
+the lost thread. Soon after the girls came in with their gin and water.
+They drank their grog, kissed their relations, and retired to bed.
+
+And the next evening, and the next, and the next, so long as Aunt Mary
+and Aunt Hester remained at the Manor House, the evenings passed in
+a similar fashion; and, notwithstanding the doleful faces they
+occasionally assumed, they found pleasure in lamenting the follies of
+the young people. The same stories were told, almost the same words
+were uttered. The only malcontent was Willy. He had no interest in
+his sisters, and the hours after dinner in the billiard-room when
+his sisters were in the drawing-room were those he devoted to looking
+through his letters and filling up his diary; so when Sally's name was
+mentioned he caught at his short crisp hair and gnashed his teeth.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+
+"My dear fellow, just as I'm settling down to do some work, Aunt Mary
+comes along the passage; I know her step so well. And then it begins,
+the old story that I have heard twenty times before, all over again. You
+have no idea how worrying it is."
+
+Frank laughed, and talked of something else. These discussions of
+Sally's character and general behaviour did not appeal to him in either
+a comic or serious light, and the havoc they made of Willy's business
+hours did not perceptibly move him; he was full of his good looks, his
+clothes, his affections, his bull-dog, and the fact that his youth was
+going by, as it should go by, among girls, in an old English village, in
+a garden by the sea.
+
+Aunt Mary was a woman that a rarer young man would have been attracted
+by; indeed the delicacy of a young man may be tested by the sympathy
+he may feel for women when age has drawn a veil over, and put sexual
+promptings aside. Her bright teeth and eyes, the winsome little face, so
+glad, would have at once charmed and led any young man not so brutally
+young as Frank Escott. It would have pleased another to watch her, to
+wait on her, to listen to her rambling stories all so full of laughter
+and the sunshine of kindness and homely wit; it would have pleased him
+to note that she was gratified by the admiration of a young man; it
+would please him to hear himself called by his Christian name, while he
+must address her as Mrs. So-and-so, and in maintaining this difference
+they would both become conscious of pleasing restraint.
+
+His comprehension of life was invariably a sentimental one, so the aunts
+were to him merely middle-aged women--uninteresting, and useful only
+so far as their efforts contributed to render the lives of young people
+easy and pleasurable. In abrupt and passing impressions he concluded
+that Aunt Mary was bright and pleasant, but tediously voluble, given
+to wasting that time which he would have liked to spend talking to the
+young ladies of poetry and Italy.
+
+He scorned poor Aunt Hester. She shrank from him, frightened by his
+harsh, blunt manners; she was afraid he led a sinful life in London.
+Aunt Mary had few doubts on the subject, and her comments made her
+sister tremble. She spoke of him as a most desirable husband for Maggie.
+"He will be a peer, my dear James. Lord Mount Rorke will never marry
+again. He is the acknowledged heir to the title and estates."
+
+And the young man went as he came--full of himself, his clothes, his
+good looks; bumptious and arrogant, effusive in his love of his friends,
+and yet sincere. He looked out of the railway carriage window to seize
+a last look of the green, with its horse pond and its downs, and the
+cricketers all in white, running to and fro (young Meason had just made
+a three, and Sally was applauding). The porches of the Southdown Road
+he could just see over the fields, and Mr. Brooke's glass glittered amid
+the summer foliage. At that moment he loved the ugly little village,
+with its barren downs and all its anomalous aspects of town and country.
+He thought of his friends there, and his life appeared to be theirs, and
+theirs his, and he wished it might flow on for ever in this quiet place.
+He seemed to understand it all so well, and to love it all so dearly.
+He accepted it all, even its vulgarest aspects. Even pompous Berkins
+appeared to him under a tenderer light--the light of orange-flowers and
+married love. For Aunt Mary had smoothed away all difficulties, hirsute
+and monetary, and the wedding had been fixed for the autumn. The gaiety
+of the day he had spent with the girls, its feasting and its flirtation,
+arose, memorised in a soft halo of imagination--a day of fruit, wine,
+and light words, and the dear General, with his St James's politics and
+his only desire--"a little something to do--something to bring me out,
+you know." The pugs, the mangy mastiff, the hospitable house always
+open, its ready welcome, and, above all, the air which it held of the
+lives of its occupants; its pictures of white arab horses, and elephants
+richly caparisoned; the wonderful goats in the field, and the tropical
+birds and animals in the back garden! Above all, the walks on the green
+with the chemist's wife, and the annoyance such familiarity caused Mr.
+Brookes--how funny, how charming, how amusing! He was smiling through
+the tears that rose to his eyes when the train rolled into Brighton.
+
+On arriving in London he drove straight to the Temple. The creaking,
+disjointed staircases, with the lanterns of old time in the windows,
+jarred his thoughts, which were still of Southwick; and when he entered
+his rooms their loneliness struck him with a chill. He pictured Maggie
+sitting in the arm-chair waiting for him, and he imagined how she would
+lay her book aside and say, "Oh, here you are!" He sat down to read his
+letters. One was from Lord Mount Rorke, enclosing a cheque, another a
+daintily cut envelope, smelling daintily, came from Lady Seveley.
+
+"DEAR MR ESCOTT,--I have not seen anything of you for a very long time;
+you promised to lunch with me before you left town, but I suppose amid
+the general gaieties and friends of the season you were carried far away
+quite out of my reckoning. However, I hope when you return you will come
+and see me. I got your address from Mr. ----, but you need not tell
+him that I wrote to you; he is, as you know, a dreadful chatterbox,
+and somehow or other, without meaning it, contrives to make gossip and
+mischief out of everything.
+
+"The weather here is delicious--perhaps a trifle too hot; and sometimes
+I envy you your cool sea-side resort. I wonder what the attraction is?
+It must be a very special one to keep you out of London in June.
+
+"Should you be in town next Thursday, come and dine; I have a box for
+the theatre. And as an extra inducement I will tell you that I have
+two very nice girls staying with me, who will interest you.--Yours very
+truly, HELEN SEVELEY."
+
+Some men of thirty would have instantly understood Lady Seveley's
+letter. But age gives us nothing we do not already possess, the years
+develop what is latent in us in youth, and it is certain that Frank at
+thirty would have understood the letter as vaguely and incompletely as
+he did to-day. We read our sympathies and antipathies in all we look
+upon, and Frank read in this letter an old woman with diamonds and dyed
+hair. He had met her twice. The first time was at a ball where he knew
+nobody; the second was at a dinner party. She had fixed her eyes upon
+him; she had prevented him from talking after dinner to a young girl
+whom he had admired across the table during dinner. He did not like her,
+and he thought now of the young girls he would meet if he accepted
+her invitation. Lady Seveley was a shadow; and when the shadow defined
+itself he saw the slight wrinkling of the skin about the eyes, the
+almost imperceptible looseness of the flesh about the chin; but, worse
+to him than these physical changes, were the hard measured phrases in
+which there is knowledge of the savour and worth of life. He unpacked
+his portmanteau, and, dallying with his resolutions, he wondered if
+he should go to Lady Seveley's: conclusions and determinations were
+constitutionally abhorrent, self-deception natural to him. Were he asked
+if he intended to turn to the right or the left, although he were
+going nowhere and an answer would compromise him in nothing, he would
+certainly say he did not know; and if he were expostulated with, he
+would reply rudely, arrogantly. This is worthy of notice, for what was
+special in his character was the combination it afforded of
+degenerate weakness and pride, complicated with a towering sense of
+self-sufficiency. Youth's illusions would not pass from him easily; in
+his eyes and heart the hawthorn would always be in bloom, young girls
+would always be beautiful, innocent, true to the lovers they had
+selected; nor was there of necessity degradation nor forced continuance
+in any state of vice. Love could raise and purify, love could restore,
+love could make whole; if one woman were faithless, another would be
+constant; if to-day were dark, to-morrow would be bright. Life had
+no deep truth for him, no underlying mysteries; it was not a problem
+capable of demonstration, capable of definition; it was not a thing
+of limitations and goals and ends; he could feel nothing of this--the
+philosophic temperament was absent in him. Life had no deep truth for
+him, no underlying mysteries; he did not dream of past times, and he
+placed few hopes in the future; life was a thing to be enjoyed in the
+moment of living, and the present moment was a very pleasant one. He
+leaned over the doors of the hansom resting his gloved hand upon his
+crutched stick. He was struck with the pride we feel when we are dressed
+for amusement and contemplate those in workaday garb; and in these
+sensations of pride he leaned forward, proud of his good looks, his
+shirt front, his shirt cuffs, his glazed shoes; he pleasured in the
+knowledge that many saw he was going to elegant company, to amusement.
+He was full of scorn for the women loitering, for the clerks hurrying,
+and especially for the crowds pressing about the entrances of the
+theatres.
+
+London opened up upon a little black space of asphalt; crimson clouds
+moved over the many windowed walls of the great hotels, the black
+monumented square foamed with white water, children played, and the gold
+of the inscriptions over the shops caught the eye. London was tall on
+the heavens. Regent Street was full of young men as elegant as himself
+driving to various pleasures, and Frank wondered what sort of dinners
+they would eat, what kind of women they would sit by. Then as he drove
+through Mayfair he thought of his own party. He wondered what the girls
+would think of him.
+
+Lady Seveley lived in Green Street. When he had rung the bell he
+listened impatiently for approaching steps, for he tingled with
+presentiment that he would somehow be disappointed, and he dreaded
+dinner by himself and his lonely lodgings. Nor was he wholly wrong. The
+butler who opened the door seemed surprised at seeing him, and in reply
+to his question if Lady Seveley was at home, replied hesitatingly:
+
+"Her ladyship is at home, but she is not at all well, sir. She is, I
+think, in her room lying down, sir."
+
+"Oh, but did she not expect me? I was to have dined here to-night."
+
+"I heard nothing about it, sir; but I'd better ask. Will you come in,
+sir?"
+
+Lady Seveley's house was a house of scent and soft carpets. The
+staircase was covered with pink silk, and in the recess on the first
+landing, or rather where the stairs paused, there was an aviary in which
+either hawks screeched or owls blinked; generally there was a magpie
+there, and the quaint bird now hopped to Frank's finger, casting a
+thievish look on his rings. The drawing-room was full of flowers. There
+was a grand piano, dark and bright; the skins of tigers Lord Seveley
+had shot carpeted the floor, and on their heads, Helen rested her
+feet, showing her plump legs to her visitors. On the walls there were
+indifferent water-colours, there were gold screens, the cabinets were
+full of china, there were three-volume novels on the tea-table--it was
+the typical rich widow's house, a house where young men lingered. Frank
+stood examining a portrait on china of Lady Seveley, it was happily
+hung with blue ribbon from the top of the mirror. It represented a woman
+inclined to stoutness, about three and thirty. The chestnut hair was
+piled and curled with strange art about the head. Above the face there
+was a mask, roses wreathed, and a swallow carrying a love missive,
+butterflies and arrows everywhere, and below the face there was a skull
+profusely wreathed and almost hidden in roses. This portrait would have
+stirred the imagination of many young men, but Frank thought nothing
+of it--the theatrical display displeased him, it seemed to him even a
+little foolish. He crossed over to the flowers.
+
+"Lady Seveley will be down in a moment, sir," said the maid. A few
+minutes after the door opened.
+
+"How do you do? I am so glad to see you. Won't you sit down? I have been
+suffering terribly to-day--neuralgia; nothing for it but to lie down in
+a dark room."
+
+"I hope you are better now."
+
+"Oh, when I have had some champagne I shall be quite well. Now tell me
+something; talk to me."
+
+Helen was sitting thrown back on the little black satin sofa; she had
+crossed her legs, and her foot was set on a tiger's head. The ankle was
+too thick, the foot slightly fat, but stocking and shoe were perfect,
+and these drew Frank's eyes too attentively. Helen noticed this and was
+glad.
+
+"So you like Maggie the best?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I like her the best, Sally is too rough. How those girls do
+worry their father. He has to go up to town every day; he is in the
+City, and the girls give tennis parties, and drink his best wine. There
+was an awful row there the other day about the peaches; he had been
+going in for forcing, and was counting the days when they would be ripe.
+The young men ate them all."
+
+Helen laughed. "A sort of comic King Lear."
+
+"Just so, the girls will have large fortunes at their father's death. I
+have known them all my life. I used to spend my holidays with them when
+I was a small boy."
+
+"And you haven't seen them for a long time?"
+
+"No, I was in Ireland two years, and then I went to Italy. This was the
+first time I saw them since they were really grown up."
+
+"And you say they are beautiful girls and will have large fortunes."
+
+"Yes, I suppose Maggie is a good-looking girl; she is more a fascinating
+girl than a beautiful girl." A sudden remembrance of Lizzie Baker
+dictated this opinion of Maggie Brookes.
+
+"Dinner is on the table, my lady."
+
+"I think you said in your letter that you were going to have two young
+girls staying with you."
+
+"Yes, but they could not come; they were to have been here on Monday.
+I am very sorry; had I known for certain that you were coming, I would
+have arranged to have some one to meet you."
+
+"I am very glad you didn't." The conversation dropped. "You said you
+were going to the theatre. What theatre are you thinking of going to?"
+
+"My neuralgia put all thoughts of the theatre out of my head. I have a
+box for the Gaiety. We will go if you like."
+
+The name of the theatre reminded him of Lizzie Baker, and he compared
+the pale, refined face of the bar girl with the over-coloured woman--his
+hostess. He had not seen Lizzie for a long time. Why had he not gone to
+the bar room the last time he was in London?
+
+"You have not answered me--would you like to go to the Gaiety?"
+
+"I am sure I beg your pardon," and then, in a sudden confusion of
+memories and desires, he said: "I don't know that I care much about
+going to the theatre. You are not feeling well."
+
+"My neuralgia is almost all gone. There's nothing like champagne for it.
+Hardwick, Mr. Escott will take some more champagne."
+
+There were engravings after Burne Jones and Rossetti on the walls, and
+Frank stopped to look at them as he followed Lady Seveley upstairs. She
+went straight to the piano.
+
+"Are you fond of music?" she said.
+
+"Yes; there is nothing I like more than fiddling at the piano."
+
+"Then do play something."
+
+"Oh, no, not for worlds. I only strum, I don't know my notes. I strum on
+the piano as I strum on the violin."
+
+"Do you play the violin?"
+
+"I can't call it playing, I was never taught."
+
+"How did you learn, then? It is a most difficult instrument; I couldn't
+get on with it at all; I will get mine out if you will play something."
+
+"If you promise not to laugh, I will try, but I assure you I know
+nothing about it. I borrowed a violin once, and I taught myself to play
+a tune; then I bought a violin, and I amuse myself when I am alone."
+
+"How very clever of you. There, you will find it under the piano behind
+that music; do play something, it will be so good of you."
+
+"What shall I play?"
+
+"Anything you like."
+
+Frank had no knowledge of the instrument, but his ear was exquisitely
+just and appreciative; his artistic desire was febrile and foolish, but
+you thought less of this in his music than in his painting and poetry.
+His soul went out in the strain of melody sentimentally; and it leaned
+him in varying and beautiful attitudes. The sweeping, music-evoking arm
+was beautiful to behold, and the music seemed to cry for love; all about
+him was shadow; only the light fell on the long throat, so like a fruit
+to the eye; the charm was enervating and nervous. Helen looked at him
+again, and shuddering, she rose from the piano.
+
+"What did you break off like that for? Was I playing so badly?"
+
+"No, no--come and sit down here, come and sit by me. I want you to talk
+to me." She stretched herself in a low wicker chair by the open window.
+There was a church opposite, the painted panes were now full of mitre
+and alb, and the vague tumult of the service came in contrast with the
+summer murmur of London and the light of the evening skies. The woman's
+body moved beneath the silk, and the faint odour of her person dilated
+the nostrils of the young man. "Talk to me."
+
+"I don't know what to talk to you about. You would not care for my
+conversation any more than you do for my music--one is as bad as the
+other."
+
+"No, pray--I assure you--I would not have you think that, no." Helen
+made a movement as if she were going to lay her hand on his arm;
+checking herself, she said: "I do not think your playing bad; on the
+contrary, perhaps I think it too good. How shall I explain? There are
+times when I cannot bear music; the pleasure it brings is too near, too
+intense, too near to pain; and that 'Chanson d'Eglise' seems to bear
+away your very brain; you play it with such fervour, on the violin each
+phrase tears the soul."
+
+"But it is so religious."
+
+"Yes, that is just it; no sen--no; well, there is no other word; no
+sensuality is so terrible as religious sensuality."
+
+"I don't know what you mean. I can understand any one saying that
+Offenbach is sensual, but I don't see how the term can be applied to a
+hymn."
+
+"Perhaps not to a hymn, although--but 'La Chanson d'Eglise' is not a
+hymn."
+
+Her arm hung along the chair, the flesh showing through the silk as soft
+as a flower. He might take it in his hands and bear it to his lips and
+kiss it; he might lean and loll and kiss her. He wondered if he might
+dare it; but her air of ladyhood was so marked that it seemed impossible
+that she would not resent. He could not quite realise what her looks and
+words would be afterwards.
+
+"I do not wish to flatter you, but I think you play beautifully. I
+do not mean to say that I have never heard any one play the violin
+better--that would be ridiculous. Your playing is full of emotion. That
+lovely passage thrilled me; I do not know why, nor can I exactly explain
+my feeling--nerves perhaps. Now I come to think of it I am ashamed. It
+was the summer evening, the perfume of those flowers; it was--" Helen
+fixed her eyes on Frank, as if she would like to say, "It was you."
+With a sigh she said: "It was the music." Then as if she feared she was
+showing too plainly what was passing in her mind, she said: "But it is
+nearly nine o'clock. Perhaps you would like to go to the theatre, the
+ticket for the box is on the table. I should not be more than a few
+minutes changing my dress. Would you like to go?"
+
+"I don't much mind, just as you like. I heard that the new burlesque was
+very amusing."
+
+"Then let us go."
+
+Both regretted their words; and, embarrassed, each waited for the
+other to say No, let us stay here, it is far sweeter here. But it was
+difficult to draw back now without avowal. Helen had rung for her maid.
+She put on a white satin. Her opera cloak was edged with deep soft fur,
+and she came into the room putting on her long tan gloves.
+
+"Were you ever in love?" Helen asked, and she leaned back behind the
+curtain of the box out of sight of the audience.
+
+"I suppose I have been in love; but why do you ask?"
+
+"It just occurred to me."
+
+"I have never been in love with a ballet girl, if you mean that."
+
+In blue tights and symmetrical rows the legs of the chorus ladies were
+arranged about the stage; the low comedians cracked jokes close to the
+footlights; the stalls laughed, the pit applauded.
+
+"Haven't you? Is that really so? I shouldn't think it would be nice. And
+yet, if all we hear is true, young men do make love to low women; I'm
+not speaking now of ballet girls, but of cooks and housemaids. A lady,
+a friend of mine, cannot keep a housemaid under fifty in her house on
+account of her son, and she sent him to Eton."
+
+"Yes, I know; I have heard of such things, but I never could
+understand."
+
+"I am glad. But you say you have been in love. Tell me all about it. I
+want to know. What was she like? Was she fair or dark?"
+
+"Fair. She used to wear a Gainsborough hat."
+
+"Did you like those great hats?"
+
+"I did on her."
+
+"I suppose she was tall, then."
+
+"No, she was short."
+
+"Then I don't see how she would wear a Gainsborough hat."
+
+"She did, and looked exquisite in it too."
+
+"I suppose you were very much in love with her?"
+
+"Yes; we were engaged, and going to be married."
+
+"Why was it broken off?"
+
+"Her father was a brute."
+
+"Fathers generally are brutes on such occasions, and there are generally
+excellent reasons for their brutality."
+
+"Husbands, too, are brutes, and if all I have heard is correct, there
+are excellent reasons for their brutality."
+
+Lady Seveley turned pale. "I did not come to the theatre to be
+insulted," she said, hesitating whether she should rise from her
+seat. Frank Escott was constantly guilty of such indelicate and stupid
+speeches, and it would be easy to cite instances in which his conduct
+was equally unpractical. Were friends to speak ill of any one he was
+especially intimate with, he would answer them in the grossest manner,
+forgetful that he was making formidable enemies for himself without
+in the least advancing the welfare of him or her whose defence he had
+undertaken. With some words and looks the storm was allayed, and they
+felt that the wind that might have capsized had carried their craft
+nearer the port where they were steering. Their eyes met, and for a
+moment they looked into each other's souls. Her arm hung by her side,
+white and pure, could he take it and press it to his lips the worst
+would be over--he would have admitted his desire. But the box curtain
+did not hide him, and the faces opposite seemed to watch; and then
+she spoke, and with her words brought a sense of distance, of
+conventionality.
+
+"Tell me, did you fall in love with her the first time you saw her?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"Tell me all about it. When did you see her for the first time?"
+
+"It was on the Metropolitan Railway. We were in the same carriage,
+she sat opposite to me; for some time we were alone, and I thought of
+speaking to her, but was afraid of offending her."
+
+"Are you always afraid of offending people?"
+
+"I don't know--I don't think I am." Then it struck him that she was
+alluding to his rudeness, which she declared she had forgiven, and he
+said: "I am sure I can't do more, I told you I was sorry--that I did not
+mean--"
+
+"Oh, never mind, that is forgiven; tell me about her."
+
+A little perplexed, he continued: "She was dressed in white, and her
+face was like a flower under the great hat."
+
+"It is clear that you can admire no one who doesn't wear a Gainsborough
+hat. What will you do now that they have gone out of fashion? I am sure
+I can't gratify you."
+
+"I wondered where she was going. I wished I was going to the same house,
+I imagined what it would be like, and so the time went till we got to
+Kensington. She turned to the right, so did I; I hoped she did not think
+I was following her--"
+
+"You were both going to the same house?"
+
+"Yes. There were some carnations behind her in a vase, and you know
+how I love the perfume of a carnation--so did she. She told me of the
+flowers they had in their cottage at Maidenhead. I love the river,
+so did she, and we spoke of the river all the afternoon. And when the
+season was over I went up to Maidenhead too. I had my boat there (I must
+show you my boat one of these days, one of the prettiest boats on the
+river). We used to go out together, and, tying the boat under an alder,
+I used to read her Browning. Oh, it was a jolly time." The conversation
+came to a pause, then Frank said "Were you ever in love?"
+
+"I suppose I was."
+
+"With your husband?"
+
+"No, I was not in love with my husband, he was twenty years older than
+I. When I was eighteen I was very much in love with a young fellow who
+used to come to play croquet at our place. But my parents wouldn't hear
+of it. I was not at all strong when I was a girl; they said I wouldn't
+live, so I didn't care what became of me. Lord Seveley admired me; it
+was a very good match, I was anxious to get away from home, so I married
+him. You are quite wrong in supposing I treated him badly."
+
+"Forgive me, don't say any more about that."
+
+"We had rows, it is true; he said horrible things about my mother, and I
+wouldn't stand that, of course."
+
+"What things?"
+
+"Oh, I can't tell you--no matter. Once I said that I wouldn't have
+married him only I thought I was going to die. He never forgave me that.
+It was, I admit, a foolish thing to say."
+
+At that moment the curtain came down, and the young men moved out of the
+stalls. "There are two men I know," she said, fixing her glass. "Do you
+see them? The elder of the two is Harding, the novelist, the other is
+Mr. Fletcher, an Irishman."
+
+"I know Fletcher--or, rather, I know of him. His father was a shopkeeper
+in Gort, the nearest town to Mount Rorke Castle."
+
+"He is a journalist, isn't he? I hear he is doing pretty well."
+
+"In London, I know, you associate with that class, but in Ireland we
+wouldn't think of knowing them."
+
+"I thought you were more liberal-minded than that. If they come up here,
+what shall I do? I mustn't introduce you?"
+
+"I don't mind being introduced. I should like to know Harding."
+
+"I can't introduce you to Harding and not to his friend."
+
+"I don't mind being introduced to Fletcher; I'll bow and slink off
+to smoke a cigarette. Is it true what they say about him, that he
+is irresistible, that no woman can resist him? I don't think he is
+good-looking--a good figure, that's all."
+
+"He has the most lovely hands and teeth."
+
+"I see; perhaps you are in love with him?"
+
+A knock came at the door; the young men entered. Lady Seveley introduced
+them to Frank; he bowed coldly, and addressed Harding. But Lady Seveley
+said: "O Mr. Harding, I want to speak to you about your last novel; I
+have just finished reading it."
+
+"What do you think of this piece?" Fletcher asked Escott, in a
+hesitating and conciliatory manner.
+
+"I am afraid he will not be able to tell you; he hasn't ceased talking
+since we came into the theatre."
+
+"I should have done the same had I been in his place."
+
+Lady Seveley smiled, Frank thought the words presumptuous. "Who the
+devil would care to hear you talk--and that filthy accent." And at
+that moment he remembered Lizzie Baker. Fletcher and Harding were now
+speaking to Lady Seveley, and taking advantage of the circumstance he
+slipped out, and, lighting a cigarette, entered the bar room. Behind
+the counter the young ladies stood in single file, and through odours of
+cigarettes and whisky their voices called "One coffee in order," and
+the cry was passed on till it reached the still-room. Frank remembered
+having read a description of the place somewhere, he thought for a
+moment, and then he remembered that it was in one of Harding's novels.
+He could detect no difference in the loafers that leaned over the
+counter talking to the barmaids; they were dingy and dull, whereas the
+young men from the stalls of the theatre were black and white and clean;
+but the keenest eye could note nothing further, and a closer inspection
+showed that even a first division rested on no deeper basis than the
+chance of evening dress. Civilisation has given us all one face and
+mind. He walked to where Lizzie was serving; soldiers were ordering
+drinks of her, so he was obliged to apply to the next girl to her for
+his brandy and soda. He drank slowly, hoping her admirers would
+leave her, but one soldier was stationery, and this spot of red grew
+singularly offensive in Frank's eyes, from the clumsy, characterless
+boots, to the close-clipped hair set off with the monotonously jaunty
+cap. The man sprawled over the counter drinking a glass of porter.
+Frank tried to listen to what he was saying. Lizzie smiled, showing many
+beautifully shaped teeth, so beautifully shaped that they looked like
+sculpture. Behind her there were shelves charged with glasses and
+bottles, gilt elephants, and obelisks, a hideous decoration; she passed
+up and down with cups of coffee, she filled glasses from various taps,
+she saluted Frank.
+
+"How are you this evening? Come to see the piece again?"
+
+"Come to see you."
+
+"Get along; I don't believe you," she said, and she passed back to her
+place, and continued talking to the soldier as steadily as her many
+occupations would allow her.
+
+A few moments after the bell rang, and Frank went upstairs annoyed.
+
+"Oh, so it is you; you have come back," said Helen, turning; "sit down
+here. Nellie Farren has just sung such an exquisitely funny song; they
+have encored it; just listen to it, do," and Helen fixed her opera glass
+on the actress. The light and shadow played about her neck andarm in
+beautiful variations, but noticing nothing, Frank leaned forward.
+
+"Isn't it funny; isn't it delightfully funny?"
+
+"Yes, it is funny."
+
+Having heard one song they listened to the rest of the act. "Now give
+me my cloak. Thank you, and now give me your arm." Frank complied. "You
+will come home to Green Street with me, and have some supper?"
+
+"I am afraid, I am sorry I can't; I must get home early to-night."
+
+"You have a key, you surely can get in at any hour."
+
+"Yes, but I am afraid--the fact is I am dreadfully tired."
+
+"Oh, just as you like."
+
+Then at the end of an irritating silence, "I am afraid you will have to
+wait, I do not think I shall be able to get your carriage yet awhile; in
+a few minutes this crowd will disperse. No use getting crushed to death!
+What became of Harding and Fletcher? Did they remain long with you?"
+
+"No, not very, they went away just before you came. There is Mr.
+Harding. How did you like the piece, Mr. Harding?"
+
+"I always enjoy these pieces, they are so conscientiously illiterate;
+what I can't bear is unconscientious illiterateness. Nellie Farren has
+caught something of the jangle of modern life; she has something of the
+freshness of the music-hall about her that appeals to me very sharply."
+
+"Do you like music-halls? I have always heard they were so vulgar."
+
+"Vulgarity is surely preferable to popularity. The theatre is merely
+popular."
+
+While Harding was thus exerting himself with epigram, Fletcher stood
+tall and slender, with a grey overcoat hanging over his arm, and his
+intense eyes fixed on Lady Seveley. His gaze troubled her, and when he
+withdrew his eyes she looked at him, anticipant and fearing. He spoke
+to her until Frank, feeling that he was receding out of all interest and
+attention, said abruptly, "If you will come now, Lady Seveley, I think
+I shall be able to get you your carriage. May I see you home?" he said,
+holding the door.
+
+"No thank you, I will not take you out of your way. Go home at once and
+get rested, and come and see me one of these days; don't forget." Lady
+Seveley smiled, but Frank felt that she was annoyed.
+
+"I wonder if she wanted me to go home with her. That impertinent brute
+Fletcher daring to come up to speak to us! I was very nearly telling him
+to go and fetch the carriage."
+
+He pushed open the swinging doors with violence, nearly upsetting the
+fat porter. The bar was nearly empty, and he found Lizzie disengaged.
+
+"You look very vexed. Has any one been pinching you?"
+
+"I am not vexed."
+
+"What will you have to put you straight?"
+
+"Well, that is a question. Let me see. I don't care about another brandy
+and soda, and if I have coffee it may keep me awake."
+
+"Have half milk."
+
+"Very well." He hesitated, but the inclination to speak soon overpowered
+him. "I call it bad form, when you are with a lady for another fellow to
+come up and speak to her."
+
+"Three of Irish, miss."
+
+"Why, didn't he know her?"
+
+"Of course he knew her, but that doesn't give him a right to come up and
+enter into a long conversation when I am with her. I wish I had knocked
+him down."
+
+"He might have knocked you down."
+
+"A glass of bitter, miss."
+
+"I should have had to take my chance of that. In London people don't
+seem to me to mind whom they speak to--a low-bred Irishman, who never
+spoke to a lady until he left his own country."
+
+"Oh! what a rage we are in."
+
+"No, I am not in a rage," said Frank, who at that moment felt the folly
+of these confidences. "I don't care a hang. It isn't as if it were a
+woman I cared about. Had it been you--"
+
+"Get along, don't you tell me."
+
+"I assure you I speak only in a general way, and you must admit that if
+you go out with a fellow it would not be nice of you to begin talking to
+some one else."
+
+"Oh! I never do that."
+
+"There, then you admit I was right, I was sure you would; I don't care
+a hang for the lady I was with, but I don't intend to allow any one to
+insult me. But I wonder how you can speak to soldiers."
+
+"They are no worse than the others. Besides, in our business we have to
+be polite to every one."
+
+"Polite, yes--but I wanted to speak to you, I came down from my box on
+purpose to speak to you, and I couldn't, you were so engaged with that
+soldier."
+
+"He was here before you; you would not like it if you were talking to
+me, and I were to rush off to speak to some one else."
+
+"One Scotch and three Irish, miss, and out of the bottle please,
+our friend here's most particular, he would like it in a thin glass,
+too--wouldn't you, Ted? and if he could have a go at that pretty mouth
+he would like it better still. A rare one after the ladies is Teddy.
+Aren't you, old chap?"
+
+Full of scorn Frank watched this noisy group. Lizzie remained talking
+with them for some little time, and she did not return until he called
+to her twice for a cigar.
+
+"How very impatient you are," she said, handing him the box.
+
+"You were talking to me, and you go away to talk to those cads."
+
+"I must serve the customers, you naughty man. You can't have me all to
+yourself. I believe you would like to."
+
+"That I should. I wish you would come out with me. I wish you would come
+to dinner."
+
+"And what would the lady say who you went to the theatre with to-night,
+and were so mad because some one spoke to her?"
+
+"I assure you she is nothing to me, a mere acquaintance. I was angry
+because I thought it a piece of impertinence of the fellow to come
+intruding his conversation when it wasn't wanted; but as for the woman
+I don't care a snap for her; never did, I assure you: she is nothing to
+me. I suppose you don't get out much here."
+
+"We are off duty for so many hours every day; but we must be in at a
+certain time."
+
+"But you have got Sundays."
+
+"We get Sunday in our turn."
+
+"When will your turn come?"
+
+"I am going out next Sunday."
+
+"I wish you would come with me; I would take you up the river. You know
+the river?"
+
+"No, I don't know even what you mean."
+
+"You mean to say you have never been up the river, not even so far as
+Twickenham?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Well, then, you have a treat. The most beautiful thing in England is
+the Thames--perhaps in the world. Last year I spent nearly three months
+at Marlow and Maidenhead--we positively lived in a boat. I have a
+beautiful boat. I should like to take you out--you would enjoy it. Are
+you fond of boating?"
+
+"I love it. I haven't been in a boat since I left Wales."
+
+"So you are a Welsh girl. My boat is now at Reading. If you could get
+away early in the morning we might manage to catch the nine o'clock
+express that takes us down in a little over the hour. I'd have the
+hamper packed, and we would have our lunch up in Pangbourne Woods. It
+would be so jolly. I wish you would come."
+
+"I should like it immensely; I don't know if I could manage it."
+
+"Do you say you will come, do."
+
+Lizzie stood hesitating, her finger on her lip. A girl entered the bar
+and whispered something to her as she passed.
+
+"I must go away now, I'm off duty."
+
+"Say you will come."
+
+"I can't say yet; I shall see you again."
+
+As Frank turned to go he caught sight of Harding and Fletcher. He did
+not see that they had been watching him, and when they called him he
+went over to their table.
+
+"What will you have?" said Harding.
+
+"Nothing, thanks, I could not drink anything more."
+
+"Have a cigarette."
+
+"Thanks, I will; I cannot smoke this beastly cigar. I do not know why I
+asked for it."
+
+"Sit down."
+
+The conversation turned on the play, but at the first pause in the
+conversation, Harding said: "Pretty girl, that girl you were talking to
+at the bar."
+
+"Yes; is she not? I think she is one of the prettiest girls I ever saw
+in my life."
+
+"Far better looking than Lady Seveley."
+
+"I should rather think so; Lady Seveley is over thirty."
+
+"The choice would be a nice test of a young man's moral character."
+
+"Did you write that this morning, or are you going to write it to-morrow
+morning?"
+
+"You have not told me which, when you do--"
+
+"I see you are not in a hurry to bring your book out."
+
+Harding laughed, and Frank was pleased at the idea of getting the better
+of Harding; Fletcher sat with his eyes glittering and his lips slightly
+parted. Who would hesitate between a lady of rank and a barmaid? She
+might be a pretty girl, but what of that? There are hundreds as pretty.
+He had never been the lover of a lady, and his heart was aflame. Soon
+after the men parted in the street, and Frank went from them, fearful of
+his lonely rooms, and longing for his friends at Southwick.
+
+He lunched every day at the Gaiety, and he at length succeeded in
+persuading Lizzie to come to Reading with him.
+
+Town was miserably Sunday when he drove up to Paddington at a quarter
+past eight. "If it should rain, if it should turn out a pouring wet day,
+what should I do? That would be too terrible!" He felt the boat alive
+beneath his oars, the river placid and gentle, and all the charm of
+the rushes, the cedars, the locks, and the blonde beautiful girl in the
+stern with the parasol he had bought her aslant. Let him have this day,
+and he didn't care what happened! He wanted to show her the river, he
+wanted to joy for a day in her presence.
+
+He was more than a half an hour in advance. Would she come? She had
+promised, but she might disappoint. That would be worse than the rain.
+He would wait till ten o'clock. There was another train at ten, but if
+they missed the ten to nine the day would be spoilt, lost. Supposing she
+did not come, what would he do?--drive back through dingy London and eat
+a lonely breakfast in that horrible brick Pump Court? He could scarcely
+do that. Would he go to Reading by himself? The light of the flowing
+stream, the secrets of the rushes and murmuring woods died; nature
+became voiceless.
+
+"It will be a pity if she doesn't come. We shall have a fine day, I
+am sure it is going to be a fine day, but we shall miss that train. I
+wonder if I can see anything of her. I don't know what side she will
+come from. I suppose she'll take a cab. Perhaps she won't come at all;
+will she come?--she promised me. By Jove, twenty minutes to nine. If she
+isn't here in five minutes we shall miss the train." His passion grew in
+intensity, and hope was dead, when he heard sounds of running footsteps,
+and saw the great girl holding her hat with one hand and her dress with
+the other. The torture of expectation was worth the rapture of relief,
+and he said, delighted: "So you have come, have you? One minute more and
+you would have been late."
+
+"Why, were you going?"
+
+"No, but the train is. We have three minutes. I'll run and get the
+tickets. How is it that you are so late?"
+
+"I just missed the train."
+
+"What train?"
+
+"The Metropolitan."
+
+"The Metropolitan? What nonsense! Why didn't you take a cab?"
+
+She had been afraid of spending the money, fearing she might not see him
+after all; and out of breath she followed him along the platform. "No,
+not in there; I don't like travelling alone with gentlemen." Frank
+looked at her in amazement, and they got into a carriage where an old
+gentleman was sitting.
+
+"So you thought I wouldn't come, you naughty boy?"
+
+"Oh, I should have been so disappointed. I don't know what I should have
+done."
+
+Lizzie watched the young aristocratic face; his earnestness drew her
+towards him, and she wondered she did not like him better. "Now tell me
+what we are going to do. I had such difficulty in getting away. It is
+against the rules; and the manageress (the fat woman who stands at the
+end of the bar and goes round and collects the money) hates me. She
+would have stopped me if she could, but I went to the manager; he is a
+friend of mine."
+
+"That fellow with the long fair moustache that walks about at the rate
+of seven miles an hour, with his frock-coat all unbuttoned. Harding the
+novelist--the fellow I was sitting with the other night, said such a
+good thing--he said he was a sort of apotheosis of sherry and bitters.
+I don't know why it is good, but it is; whether it is the colour of his
+face and moustache--"
+
+"He is very proud of his moustache, and your friend is quite right; he
+is very fond of sherry and bitters--too fond. I have served him with as
+many as three in an afternoon, and I am sure he wouldn't have refused
+another if he could have found any one to stand it. Oh, look at the
+country! How pretty it is!--the cows, the corn growing, the birds and
+all the light clouds; we are going to have a lovely day. Shall we see
+much of the country at Reading? Tell me, where are you going to take me?
+Shall we go for a walk in the woods? Are there any woods? I hope there
+are."
+
+"The most beautiful woods in England--Pangbourne Woods. We shall arrive
+in Reading about a quarter to ten. We'll walk down to the river, or
+drive if you like; it is only a few minutes to walk to the boat-house.
+My boat is there--such a beauty! We'll row up to the--and that reminds
+me, I ordered the luncheon basket at the best place in London, you know;
+it was to have been at my place last night at eight o'clock, and they
+never sent it. We shall have to lunch at the hotel. Such a beautiful
+hotel, high up, overlooking the river; I hope you are not disappointed,
+it really wasn't my fault. We shall have an excellent lunch, I assure
+you, at the hotel."
+
+The miles fled away, and in the comfort and speed of the broad
+gaugeline, an hour and a half seemed to them like a minute.
+
+"What kind of town is Reading?" said Lizzie, springing from the
+carriage.
+
+"Not much more than a biscuit manufactory. A lot of red brick pill-box
+looking buildings scattered over a flat piece of ground. We shan't see
+the town. It is a mile from here. Huntley and Palmer, you know--"
+
+"Oh, yes, we deal with them."
+
+"Catch hold of this rug while I get the tickets out. Shall we walk or
+drive?"
+
+"Let's walk."
+
+They stepped along gaily, and they were soon standing on the wharf,
+Frank criticising the boats and the rowing, Lizzie all white in the
+sunlight, a little dumbfounded and astonished. Then he turned into the
+boat-house, and reappeared soon after, his arms bare, the sun on his
+neck.
+
+"You got my telegram? My boat is ready?"
+
+"Yes, sir, we got her out this morning."
+
+"I suppose a lot of people wanted to have her, they all went for her,
+I'll bet."
+
+"Yes, sir, a good many gentlemen asked if they could have her."
+
+It seemed to please Frank that he had caused so many to be disappointed.
+"Well, get her out, we have no time to lose."
+
+The man stepped from one fleet of skiffs to another, he caught at
+several boats with his boat-hook, but Frank's boat could not be found.
+He shouted to his man who was sculling towards an island opposite: "What
+has become of Mr. Escott's boat? I took her out myself this morning."
+
+"I should like to know what is the use of my sending you telegrams if I
+am delayed in this way?"
+
+"My man will be here in a second, sir."
+
+"Now, then, do be quick, stir yourself, I don't want to stand about here
+all day."
+
+The assistant scratched his head. Finally it transpired that that party
+down the river--that party just gone away--must have had the boat. He
+didn't know anything about it, it wasn't his fault. They said they had
+engaged that boat over-night.
+
+"My boat let out for hire! How dare you do this? I never heard of such a
+thing; I shall write to the papers."
+
+"I will give you just as good a boat, sir--"
+
+"As good a boat! You haven't a boat like it. How do I know you don't let
+my boat out for hire every day?"
+
+"No danger of that, sir; I will give you another boat, one that you will
+be pleased with."
+
+"My boat knocked about by some cad! He won't be back till nine o'clock
+to-night, perhaps. I never heard of such a thing. Which is it?"
+
+"That one with the lady in the stern--the red parasol."
+
+"He must be caught up, he must. Have you got an outrigger?" Assuring
+Lizzie that he would be back in less than half an hour, Frank bent to
+his work.
+
+"If he rows like that he will run down some one," muttered the boatman.
+"Confound him and his boat!"
+
+The outrigger shot through the water; the various craft paused,
+surprised at such furious rowing. Lizzie watched the race, asking the
+boatman if there was danger.
+
+"Danger? No; but he'd better not say too much to that gent when he does
+catch him up, or there'll be a row, I expect. He's going round the bend;
+if he doesn't run into something, he'll catch them," said the boatman.
+"Would you like to look through my glass, miss? They'll be coming back
+presently."
+
+Angry language was indulged in, but the apologies of the boatmen saved
+the young men the unpleasantness of blows, and, elated at his success,
+Frank handed Lizzie into the truant boat and paddled out into the
+stream. When he had got out of earshot and out of the notice of the
+boat-house he rested on his oars. "Did you see me overhaul them?"
+
+"No, you passed out of sight round the bend."
+
+"Yes, by George! I had a good pull for it. There are a lot of red
+parasols up higher, and I had to look out for my boat. What did they say
+about my rowing?"
+
+"They said you'd catch them if you didn't run into something."
+
+"Did they? I was wild; and--would you believe it?--when I did catch
+them up the fellow began to object; he didn't want to come back, if you
+please. He said he had hired the boat, that he did not know the boat was
+mine--no proof. I said, 'I will give you proof,' and so I would have."
+
+"I was afraid. I began to regret that I had come out with you."
+
+"What nonsense! Done the fellow good if I had punched his head. Well, it
+has taken it out of me a bit. I had to put on a bit of a spurt to catch
+them; they had such a start, and they were going along a pretty fair
+pace, too. It has made me feel a bit peckish, a pull like that on an
+empty stomach; it must be close on twelve o'clock. What do you say, are
+you beginning to feel that it is lunch time?"
+
+"I am not very hungry, and you forgot the luncheon basket. I ought to
+have reminded you to get some sandwiches at the railway station."
+
+"Sandwiches! I don't want sandwiches; I want something more substantial
+than sandwiches. I'll paddle on; we aren't more than a tenminutes'
+paddle from the 'Roebuck,' a ripping nice hotel, I can tell you."
+
+"Couldn't we have something to eat without going to an hotel?"
+
+"I don't think so. I want a bottle of fizz, and the fizz there is
+excellent; one of the best hotels on the river; splendid gardens and
+tennis grounds, a great room overlooking the river; the best people go
+there; sometimes one can't get a table."
+
+"I don't think I am well dressed enough."
+
+"You look charming, a cotton dress and a parasol is all one wants for
+the river."
+
+"You are not ashamed of me, then; you'll take me as I am?"
+
+"Ashamed of you! Steer straight for that post--that's it, bravo!" Frank
+shipped the oars, and when he felt the girl's arm laid on his as he
+helped her to land, it seemed to him that all the world was happiness.
+The spirit of the river, the fields and sky, leaped to his eyes. He
+assisted her to ascend the steps cut in the hillside. She laughed and
+laughed again, and stopped to rest. At last they stood on the railway
+line. It swept round another hill all overshadowed and dark with cedars.
+
+"Here comes a train, let's wait. I must see it go round the curve."
+
+"You should see the Bath express come along the broad gauge at the rate
+of sixty miles an hour."
+
+"This is not an express?"
+
+"No."
+
+The luggage train came with an interminable rumble and jingle, and
+Lizzie waited till the last truck passed under the branches. Then they
+went to an hotel full of daylight and stained wood, with glimpses of
+barmaids far away, and waiters running about; the rooms glistened
+with table linen; the waiters carved at a sideboard covered with pies,
+sirloins, hams, tongues. Only one table was occupied, and the waiters
+were lavishing all attention upon it. Lady Seveley leaned back smoking a
+cigarette. Fletcher sat next to her, alternately affecting indifference
+and fixing her with his eyes. Harding was voluble and observant. There
+was about them an air of thirty and the dissipations of thirty. And,
+not in the least ashamed of Lizzie, Frank bowed to Lady Seveley; she
+returned his bow by a slight nod; and Lizzie, very much embarrassed,
+nodded to the men; they smiled in return.
+
+"Who is that lady you saluted?"
+
+"Lady Seveley; the lady I told you about, who I went to the theatre with
+the other night."
+
+"Fancy a lady like that smoking a cigarette!"
+
+A waiter approached with the bill of fare. "We had better not have
+anything hot, we shall lose the whole day. What do you say?"
+
+"Cold sirloin of beef is excellent, sir; pigeon pie is also very
+good--young birds."
+
+"Shall we try the pigeon pie? Get me the wine list. Take off your hat,
+Lizzie, do."
+
+"I am afraid my hair will come down."
+
+"Never mind, so much the better."
+
+With some difficulty she extracted her hat from the hairpins, and the
+bright hair hung loose about her white plump face. Frank drank a glass
+of champagne; he was proud of her beauty.
+
+"By Jove, how this does pick one up! not half bad tipple, is it?"
+
+They hastened through their lunch, unconsciously avoiding the too
+critical looks of those at the far corner table; nor did they suspect,
+as they descended the hill and got into their boat and rowed away, that
+they were still the subject of conversation.
+
+"She is no doubt a very pretty girl. He seems very fond of her. I hope
+he won't make a fool of himself."
+
+"I think he is 'mashed.' We saw him the other night in the bar. He
+was paying her a great deal of attention--the night we saw you at the
+theatre."
+
+Lady Seveley's face slightly altered. Harding noticed the change of
+expression, and he said: "She is called the belle of the bar. Hers
+is the kind of prettiness that appeals to a young man, for somehow, I
+cannot explain, it is a thing you must feel; she epitomises as it were
+the beauty of the English girl; she is the typical pretty English girl;
+all that English girls have of charm, she has; and the co-ordination is
+an irresistible force against some young men; their natures demand the
+freshness the spontaneity, the innocence of--"
+
+"Of the Gaiety bar! I have never been there, but from what you tell me
+of it, it is the last place to find innocence and freshness."
+
+"That may be or not be. We find a rose blooming in very out-of-the-way
+places; but, as a matter of fact, I made no accusation of virtue; vice
+does not rob a youth of its spontaneity. You may rouge the cheeks of May
+and blacken her eyes, but she is May nevertheless. I say that the lover
+of the young girl cannot love the woman of thirty. Her charms touch him
+not at all; but there are others who may love only the woman of thirty,
+and, strange to say, they are only loved by the woman of thirty. The
+universal Don Juan is a myth, and does not exist out of literature.
+There is the Don Juan who plays havoc among the women of thirty, there
+is the Don Juan who plays havoc among young girls, but--"
+
+"And you think our friend Frank Escott belongs to the latter class?"
+
+"No, I don't. He is good-looking; he is to all appearance a young man
+that any woman would like, but I don't think you'd find this to be so if
+it were given to you to see into his life. Every man of the world must
+have noticed that there are times when, speaking generally, every
+second woman will run after him--ladies of rank, prostitutes,
+maid-servants--when he may pick and choose his mistresses, and change
+his mind as often as he pleases; there are other times when he finds
+himself womanless, when none will look at him, when in fact without an
+allusion to rings, and sometimes a very direct allusion is required, he
+will not be able to persuade a chorus girl to come out to supper with
+him. He thinks he is getting old, he looks in the glass with fear."
+
+"You mean to say there are men who look in the glass with fear?"
+
+"Of course, after five-and-thirty the glass whispers as awful truths to
+the man as to the woman--worse, for woman's youth is longer than man's.
+The contrary is the received opinion, but, like all popular opinions,
+it is wrong; a woman is frequently loved after forty, a man never. I was
+saying that a man often thinks he is getting old because the chorus
+girl took an early opportunity of speaking of rings, because the lady
+of fashion begged of the old gentleman who had taken up his hat to go
+to stay a little while longer, because the chamber-maid did not look
+lusciously round the corner when he passed her in the passage. He looks
+in the glass and imagines all kinds of monstrous changes in his person.
+His fears have no foundation in fact--or should I say in the flesh? A
+year after the duchess makes overtures, the chorus girl threatens to
+throw up her engagement for him, and the chambermaid pesters him with
+unnecessary questions concerning baths and towels. These facts tend
+to show, indeed I think they prove, that love is a magnetism, which
+sometimes we possess in almost irresistible strength, and which
+sometimes fades away into powerless and apparent extinction."
+
+"Then you think that good looks have nothing to do with the faculty of
+making oneself beloved?" said Fletcher.
+
+"The phenomenon of love has hitherto eluded our most eager
+investigation; when we have traced each desire to its source, and
+classified--"
+
+"We women will have ceased to take any interest in the matter. What a
+humbug you are, Mr. Harding; one never knows when you are serious. But
+what has all this to do with that poor boy who has gone off with his
+barmaid?"
+
+"This: he is unquestionably good-looking, but I don't think he possesses
+at all the magnetism, the power--call it what you will--that I have been
+speaking of. He will never influence either men or women, he will never
+make friends; that is to say, he will never make use of his friends. He
+will, I should think, always remain a little outside of success. It will
+never quite come to him; he will be one of those muddled, dissatisfied
+creatures who rail against luck and bad treatment. I cannot see him
+really successful in anything; yes I can, though, I believe he would
+make an excellent husband. I have spoken a great deal to him. He has
+told me a lot about himself, and I can see that he asks and desires
+nothing but leave to devote himself to a woman, to pander to her
+caprices. All that violent exterior will wear off, and he will yield
+to and love to be led by a woman. He writes a little, and he paints. I
+don't know if he has any talent; but he never will be able to work until
+he is obliged to work for a woman."
+
+"Then you think he will marry that barmaid?"
+
+"Most probably. He will struggle against it; but unless chance
+intervenes--she may die, she may run away with some one to-morrow, for
+she does not care for him--he will be sucked into the gulf."
+
+"He is Lord Mount Rorke's heir; he will have twenty thousand a year one
+of these days."
+
+"Mount Rorke will never forgive him a bad match. I know Mount Rorke,"
+said Lady Seveley, "and you do, too, Mr. Fletcher."
+
+"Yes, a little."
+
+Unfearing prophecy and oracle launched from the windows of the hotel,
+the young people rowed, lost to all but each other, amazed at the
+loveliness of the river. They floated amid the bulrushes. Cries and
+regret when Frank's oar crushed the desired blossom. Never before were
+lilies as desirable as those that were gathered that day--that bud, it
+must be possessed, that blown flower must not be left behind. Lizzie
+dipped her arm to the elbow, and rejoiced in the soft flowing water. The
+river rose up into what beautiful views and prospects. The locks, the
+sensation of the boat sinking among the slimy piles with Frank erect
+holding her off with the boat-hook, or the slow rising till the banks
+were overflowed, and the wonderful wooden gates opened, disclosing a
+placid stream with overhanging boughs and a barge. And the charming
+discoveries they made in this water world, the moorhen's indolence, and
+the watchful rat swimming for its hole; each bend was a new picture.
+How beautifully expressive of the work of the field were the comfortable
+barns. If life is never very fair, a vision of life may be fair indeed,
+and once the tears came to the bar girl's eyes, for she, too, suddenly
+remembered her life of tobacco and whisky; long weary hours of standing,
+politeness, washing glasses, and listening to filthy jokes. Would
+there be no change? If she might live her life here! She thought of the
+morning light, and the home occupations of the morning, and then the
+languid and lazy afternoons in this boat, amid the enchantment of these
+river lands.
+
+Frank laid by his oars, and as regardless as a shopboy of observers, he
+took her hand and begged of her to confide in him. He thought, too, of
+seeing her daily, hourly, of her presence in his daily life; he saw her
+amid his painting and poetry, and this pleasant scenery. Then the vision
+vanished like the shine upon the stream, she withdrew her hands, a
+shadow had fallen.
+
+They passed a summer-house where three girls were sitting; one sat on
+the edge of a table and sang the ballad of "Biddy Malone." There was a
+house so red, and so full of gables and narrow windows, that Frank said
+it was a perfect specimen of Elizabethan architecture; and he treated
+Lizzie to all he could pretend to know on the subject, and he condemned
+the owner for the glaringly modern garden benches with which the swards
+were interspersed. The sun was setting, there was lassitude in every
+passing boat, the girls leaned upon the arms of the young men, and the
+woods stood up tall and contemplative, as beautiful in the deep blue
+river as upon the pale sky.
+
+They landed at Pangbourne Woods by the wide grassy path between the
+reedy river and the spreading beeches. There a man was boiling a kettle.
+He spoke to them; he instructed them in the life of camping out, and
+he invited them to tea. Lizzie went into the tent and got out the
+tea-things. Two men came up, jolly fellows enough; and such little
+adventures endeared and memorised the day.
+
+They climbed, oh! what a climb it was, Lizzie's ankles and courage
+giving way alternately; but at last they reached a pathway, and they
+walked at ease into the green solitudes of the wood. It seemed endless,
+so soft and so still. He spoke to Lizzie, whom he now called Liz, of
+her past, of the reasons that had led her to leave home and "go
+to business." Her brother, she said, was a painter, a celebrated
+bird-painter.
+
+"Then we should know each other, I am a painter." He told her of his
+ideas and projects, of how he had been to France; he might go there
+again, unless something happened to keep him in England. He wrote
+a little too, in the papers, and he might do something to help her
+brother--a paragraph in _Fashion_, he could get one in. For fear of
+wounding her he did not ask if her brother was a decorative painter,
+employed by a firm, or an artist who exhibited pictures. Her father had
+married again. She did not like her stepmother, and that had determined
+her to go into business.
+
+Had she ever been in love? Yes, she supposed she had; but it was all
+over now. The last words sounded, and died away in a great abyss of
+soul.
+
+Parts of the path were marked "Dangerous." The earth had given way,
+creating fearful chasms, over which trees leaned dangerously or hung
+out fantastically by a few roots. In the dell below there stood a small
+green painted table, and the young people leaning on the protecting
+railing wondered at this mysterious piece of furniture. There was in
+them and about them an illusive sense of death and the beauty of life.
+One slight push would hurl them headlong hundreds of feet down to the
+painted table.
+
+The silver of the river sparkled through silence and the foliage of
+June, and the songs of the boatmen came and went like voices in a dream.
+
+The days of youth are long, and in tender idleness the hours lingered,
+their charm unbroken in the rattle of London; and happy with love and
+tired with the great air of the river and its leafy scenery, Frank fell
+asleep that night.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+
+One of the French artists he had met in Rome wrote to him from Paris.
+Why should he not go there? There was nothing for him to do in London;
+Lizzie Baker had disappeared, and in the year and a half that he spent
+in Paris learning to draw he forgot her and his friends in Southwick.
+Nor did he remember them when he returned to London; not until one
+evening, strolling down Regent Street, he came upon Willy Brookes
+suddenly.
+
+"How do you do, my dear Willy? I haven't seen you for--for--how long?"
+
+"I should think it must be now, let me see, I have got it down
+somewhere; when I get home I'll look it up."
+
+"Hang the looking up; better come and look me up."
+
+The young men laughed.
+
+"It must be nearly a year and a half."
+
+"I should think it must. Where are you staying? I am staying at Morley's
+Hotel, Trafalgar Square. Come and dine with me to-night."
+
+Willy reflected. He stroked his moustache reflectively.
+
+"No," he said, "I am afraid I can't. I have something to do."
+
+"Nonsense! I don't believe you. What have you to do?"
+
+"I have some cheques to write."
+
+"That won't take you a moment. You can do that at my place."
+
+"I couldn't, I assure you. I must have my books and my own pen. I
+wouldn't write a cheque in that way for worlds."
+
+"Why not? We'll go to a music-hall afterwards."
+
+"I am very sorry, but I really couldn't--not to-night."
+
+"You never go in for amusing yourself."
+
+"Yes, I do; but what amuses you doesn't amuse me. I assure you I would
+sooner stay at home, write my cheques, and enter them carefully, than go
+to a music-hall."
+
+Frank looked at Willy for a moment in mute amazement. Then he said: "But
+what's that you have under your arm in that brown paper parcel?"
+
+Willy laughed. "A leg of mutton; I have just been to the stores."
+
+"You mean to say you buy legs of mutton at the stores, and carry them
+home? Supposing you met some one, if we were to--"
+
+"Not very likely, a foggy night like this. I have a small house in
+Notting Hill. I take the 'bus at the Circus. I shall be very glad if you
+will come with me; so will the missus."
+
+"I forgot to ask about her, how is she?"
+
+"Very well. Come and see for yourself. Come and dine with us to-morrow.
+I can't give you one of your restaurant dinners, but if leg of mutton
+will suit, all I can say is that I shall be very happy."
+
+"I'll come whenever you like."
+
+"Can you come to-morrow?"
+
+"Yes. We might go to the theatre afterwards."
+
+"We might. Be at my place at half-past six, that will give us plenty of
+time."
+
+"What a queer fish he is," thought Frank, as he walked down Regent
+Street, looking at the women. "Can't come and dine with me because he
+has two or three cheques to write, must have all his books out to make
+entries--what a clerk for the Government--an ideal clerk! What a genius
+for red tape!"
+
+Willy was standing on the steps of the little house, and he commented on
+his friend's extravagances as he welcomed him.
+
+"You might have come here for ninepence, third class. You paid that
+cabman three shillings, and you took, I don't mind betting, half an
+hour longer. Now, don't make a mess, do wipe your feet; we don't keep a
+servant, and it gives the missus a lot of trouble cleaning up."
+
+Not a book nor a picture nor a single flower, and every worn carpet
+suggested the bare necessaries of life. There was the drawing-room, kept
+for show, never entered, barren and blank; there was the room--a little
+more alive--where Willy smoked his pipe and kept his accounts, but there
+the crumbs, three or four, seemed to speak of the dry, bread-like days
+that wore themselves away; life there was too obviously dry and bare,
+joyless and mean.
+
+Had Frank's mind been philosophic and deep-seeing, he would have mused
+on the admirable patience of the woman who lived here, seeing no one,
+making entire sacrifice of her life; he would have contrasted the
+humbleness, nay, the meanness, of this unknown house with the reception
+rooms of the Manor House; one life wasting in darkness and poverty,
+another burning out in light and riches; timeworn truths float on the
+surface of this little pool of life, and so modernised are they that
+they appear for a moment "new and original." But further than a regret
+that there were no flowers in the window, and a sense of the horrible
+when his eyes fell on a piece of Swiss scenery, his thoughts did not
+wander; they soon were fixed and absorbed in the consideration of the
+happiness that Willy had attained by "doing the right thing by the
+woman." He was hers, she was his. Dreams of things marital, the
+endearments of husband and wife, are the essence of the being of some
+men and women, and are to them a perennial delight. Frank was such a
+one.
+
+He had brought Cissy a doll, and the child came and sat on his knees,
+and put her arms round his neck. He kissed the long face, hollow-eyed,
+and stroked the beautiful gold ringlets that cloaked the shoulders.
+
+They went to the theatre in a 'bus. Frank carried Cissy, and he called
+indignantly to the crowd not to press him. "Did they not see that he
+was carrying a child?" He did not think that his friends might recognise
+him, nor would he have felt any shame had he caught sight of some face
+in the stalls he knew. He would not have put Cissy aside; nor would he
+have pretended that he was not with the pale, worn, shabbily-dressed
+woman by his side. He was wholly filled with his friends, their
+interests and concerns; so complete was the investment of himself that
+Lizzie Baker did not snatch a fugitive thought from them; and it was not
+until he sat smoking with Willy in the back parlour that he said:
+
+"I wonder what has become of her? She was a nice girl."
+
+"You mean Lizzie Baker? You lost sight of her all of a sudden, didn't
+you? Do you think she went off to live with some one?"
+
+"No, I don't think she was a girl who would do that. By Jove, she was a
+pretty girl! Once I took her up the river, up to Reading. We had such
+a jolly day in the woods and on the water--amid the water-lilies and
+bulrushes, or the shade of the cedars. I wonder you never go up the
+river."
+
+"I have no time. Besides, I hate the water. I never go on the water if I
+can help it--I am too nervous."
+
+"How odd! Oh, we had a jolly day!"
+
+"But I never understood how it was you lost sight of her. You said in
+your letter that she had left the bar; but she must have gone somewhere.
+I am sure you didn't make sufficient enquiries. You are too impatient."
+
+"I did all I could. One girl told me that a lot of them--Lizzie among
+the number--had suddenly been transferred to Liverpool Street. That was
+true, for I saw at Liverpool Street several girls I had known previously
+at the 'Gaiety.' Those poor bar girls, how pitiful they look! all over
+London they stand behind their bars! Breathing for hours tobacco smoke,
+fumes of whisky and beer, listening to abominable jokes, the subjects of
+hideous flirtations; and then the little comedy, the effort to appear as
+virtuous young ladies--'young ladies of the bar.' It is very pitiful. In
+such circumstances how do you expect a girl to keep straight? I do
+not think it is the men who do the harm. There are, of course, a few
+blackguards who crack filthy jokes over the counter, but if a girl likes
+she needn't listen--a girl can always keep a man in his place. Then if
+a man flirts with a girl he always loves her, likes her, if you
+think 'like' a better word; but you must admit that in the most
+beery flirtation there must be a certain amount of liking. There is,
+therefore, something to save a girl. I feel sure that it is girls, not
+men, who lead innocent girls astray. Those poor bar girls are quite
+unprotected; they have a sitting-room into which they may not bring a
+friend--a man, I mean. In the bedrooms there is always a lot of illicit
+talking and drinking going on. A girl who has gone wrong herself is
+never content until she has persuaded another girl to go wrong; a girl
+is so mean! I feel very much on this subject. I am thinking of writing
+a book on the subject. Did I ever tell you about the novel I intended to
+write?"
+
+"You told me once in Brighton about a novel you intended to write. I
+forget what it was about, but you said you were going to call it 'Her
+Saviour.'"
+
+"Oh, that is another book. I was thinking of writing the story of a
+woman who is led into vice. They get her to throw over the man who loves
+her; he follows her, never loses sight of her until at last, determined
+to save her, and although he knows that he is wrecking his own life, he
+marries her. What do you think?"
+
+Being pressed for an answer, Willy stroked his moustache with great
+gravity. "I really can't say, my dear fellow; you know I never like
+giving opinions on questions I do not understand."
+
+The conversation came to a pause, and Willy began to whistle.
+
+"Just a little flat--quarter of a note wrong there and there!"
+
+"Do you whistle it? Oh, yes, that's it! I can hear the difference! I
+wish you had your violin. I should like to hear you play it."
+
+"What, with the missus overhead?"
+
+"She doesn't know anything about it. How prettily _she_ used to sing it;
+a pretty tune, isn't it? Good old days they were! Do you remember when
+you used to come to the Princess's with me? Didn't she look pretty?"
+
+"You never told me why you didn't marry her; I never heard the end of
+that story."
+
+"There is nothing to tell. It's all over now. Do you remember how I
+used to dress myself up to go to the theatre? We used to go to supper at
+Scott's afterwards. I did not mind what I ate in those days."
+
+"You hardly ever go to the theatre now, do you?"
+
+"Hardly ever. I shouldn't have gone to-night if it had not been for you.
+I don't know how it is, but I don't seem to enjoy myself as I used to."
+
+The men ceased talking. Presently Frank broke the silence.
+
+"I hope you are getting on all right on the Stock Exchange. You haven't
+mentioned the subject."
+
+"I don't know that there is much to say. Times are very bad just now. I
+don't think any one is doing much good."
+
+"But you are with a very good firm. Nothing is going wrong, I hope."
+
+"I don't think any one is making money. We have all been hard hit
+lately--war scares. But I daresay it will all come right."
+
+"I never understood what you ever wanted to go into the business for.
+What do you, with your handsome place at Southwick, and your father with
+his thousands and thousands, want to turn yourself into a city clerk
+for?"
+
+"You see, you don't care about making money; I do--it was bred in me.
+Besides, I am an unselfish fellow. I never think of myself; I like to
+think of others. If I were to make a good thing out of this, I should be
+able to leave the missus independent." Then, after a slight pause, Willy
+said: "But, by the way, I was forgetting. I got a letter this morning
+saying that if I met you in London I was to tell you that you were to
+come to Southwick for a ball."
+
+"What ball?"
+
+"A subscription ball at Henfield--a county ball. Will you come?"
+
+"Yes, I don't mind. It should be rather fun. Are you going?"
+
+"Yes, I must go, worse luck, to chaperon my sisters."
+
+"How do you go? Will the governor let you have the horses?"
+
+"Not he! We generally have a large 'bus. I am going down to-morrow by
+the twelve o'clock train. Will that be too early for you?"
+
+"Not if I go home now and pack up."
+
+"You won't like that. You had better sleep here and get up early in the
+morning; your room is all ready."
+
+"I couldn't manage it. I never could get back to the Temple, pack up,
+and meet you at twelve at London Bridge."
+
+"It will be rather a cold walk for you; you are too late for the train,
+and the last 'bus, I am afraid, has gone."
+
+"I shall have a hansom. The only thing that worries me is not being able
+to say good-bye to the missus."
+
+"She's fast asleep. She won't mind--I'll make that all right."
+
+"Then, at twelve o'clock at London Bridge!"
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+
+Sally rushed down to meet him, and she took him off for a walk in the
+garden.
+
+"What a time it is since we have seen you. What have you been
+doing--amusing yourself a great deal, I suppose?"
+
+"I have been the whole time in Paris. I have been studying very hard. I
+only returned home about two months ago."
+
+"I don't believe about the studying."
+
+"I have been working at my painting. I worked morning and afternoon in
+the studio from the nude. Last summer I had a delightful time. I took
+a little place on the Seine--a little house near Bas Meudon. I had a
+garden; I used to breakfast every morning in the garden--fresh eggs, new
+bread, an omelette, such as only a Frenchwoman can make, a cutlet, or a
+piece of chicken. The wine, too, so fresh and generous. I don't know how
+it is, but Burgundy here is not the same as Burgundy on the banks of
+the Seine. I worked all day in my garden, or down by the river. I was
+painting a large picture. I haven't finished it yet. I must go back
+there in the summer to finish it."
+
+"Why can't you finish it here? Haven't you got it here?"
+
+"Yes, but the Seine is not here."
+
+"Wouldn't the Adour do? The river at Shoreham?"
+
+"No; but the Thames might. My picture is really more English than
+French. There were a lot of willow trees there, and my picture
+represents a girl lying in a hammock, foot hanging over, showing such a
+pretty piece of black stocking. There are two men there, they are both
+swinging the hammock, but while one is looking at her ankle the other
+only sees her face."
+
+Sally laughed coarsely and evasively.
+
+"What are you laughing at?" he asked, feeling a little nettled.
+
+"Don't you think people will think it rather improper?"
+
+"Not at all. Why should they? The idea I wish to convey is that one man
+loves her truly for herself alone, the other only loves her because she
+is a pretty girl. I have composed some triolets for the picture, which
+will be printed in the catalogue--
+
+      "In a hammock I swing,
+        My feet hanging over;
+      'Neath Love's bright wing,
+        In a hammock I swing,
+      Loves come and they bring
+        A truth to discover,
+      In a hammock I swing,
+        My feet hanging over.
+
+"That is the first stanza. There are six, and they tell the story of the
+picture. I will copy them into your album, if you like."
+
+"Will you? That will be so nice, if you will. The only thing is, I
+haven't an album."
+
+"Haven't you? I'll get you one. I'll send you one from London."
+
+Sally asked him to explain the triolets, and very loyally she strove to
+understand.
+
+"Ah, I see a thing when I am told, but I never can understand poetry or
+pictures until they are explained to me."
+
+Mollified, Frank thought of going upstairs to fetch the copy book
+in which he wrote such things, but speaking out of an unperceived
+association of ideas, he said: "What a clever girl your sister is. I had
+once a long talk with her about pictures and poetry, and I was surprised
+to find how well she talked. She understands everything."
+
+"Maggie is a clever girl; I know she is far cleverer than I am; but if
+you knew her as well as I do, you would find she did not understand all
+you think she understands."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Maggie's cleverness lies in being able to pretend she understands what
+she knows nothing about; I have often caught her out."
+
+"Really; but how do you get on together now?"
+
+"Pretty well! I don't think there is much love lost on either side. I
+don't know why--I never could understand Maggie. You have no idea of the
+reports she spreads about me all over the place--the stories she tells
+the Grahams, the Prestons, the Wells. She told Mrs. Wells that I fell in
+love with every young man that came to Southwick. She said awful things
+about me. As for that story about telling cook to put father's dinner
+back, I don't think I ever shall hear the last of it. What made father
+so angry was because he thought it was to talk to Jimmy in the slonk."
+
+"You told me the last time I was here that you wanted to finish a
+conversation with him in the slonk."
+
+"I may have told you that it was to speak to him about his sister
+Fanny," Sally replied evasively. "I would not care if I never saw him
+again; but I couldn't get on if I weren't allowed to see Fanny. Father
+wanted me to promise never to enter the house again!"
+
+"But you have flirted with him?"
+
+"I don't know that I have; certainly not more than Maggie. Last summer
+she was hanging round his neck every evening under the sycamores. I
+caught them twice."
+
+"I don't see any harm in going under the sycamores. I daresay Maggie has
+allowed him to kiss her; so have you!"
+
+"That I assure you I haven't."
+
+"You mean to say a man never kissed you?"
+
+"I didn't say that. I haven't kissed any one for years."
+
+"Who did kiss you?"
+
+"You don't know him. I was only eighteen. He was a married man; it was
+very wrong of me."
+
+"I wish I had been he."
+
+"Do you? I hate him; he was a beast for doing it."
+
+Sally often indulged in these half confessions; one of her aunts used to
+call them her "side lights." By their aid she succeeded in interesting
+Frank. "How candid she is to tell me--to confide in me!" Sally was
+handsome now; the evening suited her dark skin and coal black eyes, and
+her strong figure was rich and not ungraceful in a dress of ruby velvet.
+Should he kiss her? What would she say? He threwhis arm about her.
+
+"I am surprised. Certainly not!"
+
+"I don't see any harm." Then, with a sensation of saying something
+foolish, he said: "You told me you kissed a married man."
+
+"That was ages ago--I was very silly. I shouldn't think of doing sonow."
+
+In the silence which followed Frank wondered why he had tried to kiss
+her. Decidedly he liked the other better.
+
+Now every evening Maggie went to the writing-table, and all knew what
+it meant. Mr. Brookes occasionally lamented in a minor key, but without
+having recourse to his handkerchief. Willy said nothing; his losses on
+the Stock Exchange had been heavy; and owing to a conversation Frank had
+drawn him into during dinner the other day, his digestion, he feared,
+was not quite up to the mark. So on the night of the ball he only
+answered with an occasional monosyllable the splendid young man of the
+embroidered waistcoats who related his pleasures in a deep bass; nor
+did he pretend to take any interest in the crude militia officer who
+sometimes broke the silence by a declaration that he did not care for
+politics or poetry, that he liked history better. The young ladies
+listened devoutly to all that the young men said; Mr. Brookes carved
+valiantly at the head of the table and appeared resigned. Bouquets were
+fixed in button-holes in the billiard-room and the 'bus was announced.
+A greasy oil-lamp hung from the roof. Sometimes Sally rubbed the
+windows and said she could tell by the bushes where they were, and
+the embroidered waistcoat continued to drone out the measure of his
+amusements. He would have to run up to London, then he must have a shy
+at _trente et quarante_ at Monte Carlo, then he must get back for the
+spring meeting at Newmarket. Frank asked him if he didn't think he
+could manage to amuse himself without talking it all out beforehand.
+But undaunted and unchecked he wandered from Homburg to Paris, and
+from Paris to Ross-shire, until the 'bus drew up among a small crowd of
+people.
+
+The ball was a failure. When they entered the rooms there were scarcely
+twenty people present. It was very cold, and the men said; "How can the
+women bear it with their naked shoulders?"
+
+"We shall never get near this fire," said Sally, looking in dismay
+on the circle of damsels who stood warming themselves, their dresses
+relieved upon the masses of laurel with which the room was decorated;
+"there is a beautiful fire in one of those little rooms at the end."
+
+"Very well, let us come and sit there; or shall we dance this waltz
+first?"
+
+"Let's dance it."
+
+They danced, and Frank shuddered in his evening clothes as he danced.
+
+"Did you notice," said Sally, as they hurried to the retiring room, "how
+upset father seemed at dinner? I thought he was going to cry, but he
+bore up to the end better than I expected."
+
+"So he did, but I don't see what there was particularly to upset him
+this time. Meason is away at sea, and you have promised not to see him
+any more."
+
+"Oh, I wasn't thinking about the Measons--but haven't you heard? I only
+heard it through a friend, but I know for a fact that Willy has lost
+nearly all his money on the Stock Exchange."
+
+"You don't say so; I am so sorry."
+
+"Father hasn't heard it all yet; if he had he wouldn't have come down to
+dinner. I don't fancy he knows more than that things have not been going
+well, and that Willy has been a loser."
+
+"But how can he have lost? I thought he was junior partner in an old
+established business."
+
+"So he is. I can't tell you how the mischief was done, but I know he has
+lost all his money."
+
+"What do you mean by all his money?"
+
+"All the money--three thousand--that father let him draw out of the
+distillery."
+
+"This is very sad."
+
+"Yes, isn't it? And particularly for a fellow who has so few amusements,
+and only cares about making money. Just look at him now; he wanders
+about speaking to no one. Come, let's dance this dance--are you
+engaged?"
+
+"No!"
+
+This news about Willy fixed the Harfield ball in Frank's thoughts, and
+he remembered the pretty girl in white of whom he could make nothing,
+of the raw just-brought-out girl who had bored him, of the communicative
+girl who had amused him by her accounts of her dogs and horses; he
+remembered, too, how he had seen Maggie disappearing down the ends of
+certain passages with a young man whose name he did not catch, and whose
+face he had not noticed. He had danced twice with her, only twice; she
+was distracted, she did not look at him, her eyes wandered all over the
+room, she answered his questions indifferently. Sally, on the contrary,
+had devoted herself to him, and on several occasions he thought that her
+blunt straightforward manner was better than the other's slyness. The
+'bus came with its draughts, its sickly lamp and its doleful jolting.
+Sally was too tired to rub the windows and declare how far they were
+from home, and the dancers endured their discomforts almost in silence;
+even the embroidered waistcoat occasionally ceased to talk about
+Homburg; and in all the extreme bitterness and greyness of a March
+morning they pulled up before the door of the Manor House.
+
+"I beg of you not to make a noise. If you wake up father he will
+never let us go to a ball again. Is there a fire in the billiard-room,
+Gardner?"
+
+"Yes, miss, there's a lovely fire; the decanters are on the table and
+the kettle is on the hob."
+
+"I think you would all like a glass of something hot," said Maggie.
+
+"Rather!"
+
+"But don't make a noise, please."
+
+They stole along the passages to the billiard-room shivering, their
+feet aching, feeling very uncomfortable indeed. The waistcoat was now
+considering if it would be good form to come forward in the Conservative
+interest at the next election; but every one was too tired, they could
+not laugh, and amid a few general remarks the young ladies drank their
+gin and water, casting sheep's eyes at the young men, and then, glad and
+yet loth to part, all retired limping to their rooms.
+
+Breakfast was a pleasant meal--full of laughter and anecdotes of the
+ball, and, laden with Gladstone bags, the young men departed in ones and
+twos. Frank was going with Willy to London, and when they disappeared
+among the laurels Sally and Maggie turned indoors, conscious of
+reaction, and wondering what they should do with the long day that
+stretched before them. Maggie walked upstairs; she lingered, undecided,
+and then went down the passage to Frank's room. He had forgotten a
+shirt stud; on the chest of drawers there was a crumpled white tie and a
+soiled pair of white gloves. "How careless he is!" she thought, "I must
+send him this," and she put the stud in her pocket. She straightened out
+the gloves and determined to send the necktie to the wash. Next time
+he came down she would have it to give him, nice, clean, and white--she
+must see that it was beautifully made up. Then she found his ball
+programme. He had danced four times with Sally--only twice with
+her--what a fool she had been; she had wasted her whole evening with
+that other fellow. It did make her feel so angry. Then the housemaid
+entered and turned the bed down.
+
+"What a lot of washing there will be this week, Gardner."
+
+"There will indeed, miss. Three pairs of sheets, and only slept in
+once."
+
+"Yes, isn't it a pity? It seems absurd to send these sheets to the wash,
+doesn't it?"
+
+"It do, indeed, miss."
+
+"Absurd!" said Sally, who had just come in. "I want a pair of fresh
+sheets for my bed. I'll have these."
+
+"No you won't--I was going to take them."
+
+"I should like to know what right you have to them more than I."
+
+"You promised not to interfere with me, and you have done nothing else.
+You did nothing at the ball but ask him for dances."
+
+"That's a lie! I didn't ask him for a dance. You went off to hide; no
+one saw anything of you all the evening."
+
+"You mean to say you didn't promise?"
+
+"I never promised anything; if I did I should keep my promise. I am not
+like you. I want a pair of sheets, and I mean to have these."
+
+"They are too big for your bed."
+
+Sally seized the sheet and strove to drag it from Maggie, who, although
+the weaker, held her own bravely for some time. Finding her strength
+failing her, she loosed her hold, letting her sister fall against the
+wall, and taking up the pillow she launched it with her full force. "If
+you want what he slept in, you can have it all."
+
+"I'll give it to you, my lady," cried the bully, making a rush round the
+bed, but Maggie fled through the dressing-room, shutting the door behind
+her, and locked herself into her room.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+
+As Willy would not pay the extra fare, Frank had to travel second class.
+He was telling his friend of the Stock Exchange, and his losses--nearly
+four thousand pounds. He had suspected that the firm of which he was
+junior partner had not played fair with him. Anyhow, he was going to
+get out of the business, having something better in view--a shop in
+Brighton. Yes, a shop in Brighton, a greengrocer's shop. No one had any
+idea, until they went into the calculation, of the amount of profit that
+was made on vegetables. Lord This and Lord That, every one who had a
+handsome place with large gardens, counted on being able to pay his
+gardener's wages by the sale of the surplus carrots, artichokes,
+potatoes, parsley, onions, tomatoes, especially tomatoes--every one
+nowadays ate tomatoes. He had it all down in figures, and was perfectly
+astonished at the sums of money that could be made. Grapes had been
+overdone, that was true; but a profit could be made out of everything
+else. Flowers, especially gardenias, were sold in the London market at
+two shillings apiece. Now, there was he within five miles of a large
+town like Brighton; the rent of a shop in the Western Road would not
+come to more than seventy or eighty pounds a year; the missus he would
+put in as shopwoman, and, there was no doubt of it, she would make as
+good a shopwoman as you could find, after a little practice; the child
+could run on errands, so it should be all profit. "I shall have none of
+the expenses that other people have to contend with. In the garden at
+the Manor House about three times as much stuff is grown as required. I
+shall buy all the fruit, vegetables, and flowers from my father at cost
+price, or a little over, and shall sell in my shop at retail price, that
+is, twenty or thirty per cent more. There is, therefore, no reason
+why the shop should not bring in from three to four hundred a year.
+And--would you believe it?--my father, who will be benefited by my
+scheme, if not more, quite as much as I shall be, is opposed to it; he
+will get a fair price for a lot of things for which he now gets nothing.
+But no. He cannot, or will not, see it. I never saw any one like my
+father. He will not help himself and you can do nothing to help him. The
+distillery business is going very badly. He had a bad year last year.
+I know for a fact that he did not make five per cent on his capital.
+Putting these things together, I should have thought that he would have
+been glad to make a little money to retrench; but no! he prefers to go
+on in the old way. He made money in the old way, and he doesn't see
+why he shouldn't make money again in the old way. Odd man my father is,
+isn't he?"
+
+It appeared to Frank that Mr. Brookes had managed to help himself very
+liberally indeed to all the good things in life; but with his false,
+facile, Celtic nature, he had no difficulty in re-adjusting his ideas
+and adopting a view of Mr. Brookes more in harmony with Willy's. He was,
+as usual, enthusiastic about his friends, and was effervescing with love
+and goodwill. He saw nothing of their faults--they were the best and
+truest people he had ever known, and he could not love them too much.
+Indeed he was angry, and regretted the limitations that nature has
+set on the human heart, and would if he could have lost himself in one
+immense and eternal love of the Brookeses.
+
+When he bade Willy good-bye at London Bridge, and wished him well with
+his shop, these sentiments ceased to be active forces in him, and they
+lay latent in his life of restaurants and bar rooms until the summer
+returned, and he received an invitation from the Manor House to come
+down for a garden party at Mrs. Berkins's. When he opened the letter he
+basked in thoughts of them--of Maggie and her fascinating subtleties, of
+Sally's blunt speech and sturdy good looks, of Willy, and all the quiet
+talks they would have together. He counted the tunnels, and, striving
+to recall the landscape, guessed extravagantly the number of miles that
+separated him from them. He walked up the drive with a beating heart,
+looking for the girls between the laurel bushes. He found them, and
+their habits which endeared them to him, unchanged; and to slip back
+into the old ways without experiencing the slightest difficulty or jar
+was like waking from a dream and entering again on a pleasant reality.
+There was the excellent dinner and the usual complaints about the
+Southdown Road, the cigars in the billiard-room, conversation about
+pictures and investments, gin and water, and then a long yarn with
+Willy in his bedroom. Life moved at the Manor House without any spring
+creaking, without jolt or jar, and it was this beautiful regularity that
+made Frank feel so healthily and so unexpectedly happy. He loved the
+desolation of Ireland. This was the stronger sense, but there was
+another sense, a half stifled sense, that found an echo in these
+southern downs interwoven with suburban life--in other words, a faint
+resurrection of the original English mind in him. He enjoyed and he grew
+akin to this Saxon prosperity; he learned to recognise it as manifested
+in the various prospects of the weald and the wold, and he loved this
+medley of contradictory aspects--the spires of the village churches,
+the porches of the villas, the rich farmhouses and their elm trees, the
+orchards jammed between masses of chalk, the shepherds seen against the
+sky of the Downs. It is true that he felt that this country was alien
+to him, but he was not individually conscious that his love of suburban
+Sussex was a morbid affection, opposed to the normal and indissoluble
+bonds of inherited aspirations and prejudices, and the forms and colours
+that had filled his eyes in childhood. Consciousness in Frank Escott was
+always slow, and always so governed and coloured by the sentiment of
+the moment that his comprehension of things were always deformed or
+incomplete. In his mind the phenomenon of life was ever in nebulae, and
+though very often one thought would define itself, no group of
+thoughts, or part of a group, ever became clear, so there was no abiding
+principle, nothing that he might know and steer by. He was, of course,
+aware that the Brookes were not equal to him in rank, but he did not
+know, or, rather, he would not know, that they were vulgar; nor did he
+think that Mount Rorke might marry again, if he were to marry Maggie or
+Sally. All that was really alive and distinct in him was love of
+them; and this love thrived in a sensation of class which he would not
+acknowledge, even to himself, had any existence. The glass-houses, and
+swards, and laurels had a meaning and fascination for him that he could
+not account for or describe, and he found these feelings, which were
+mainly class feelings of an unusual kind, not only in the aspect of the
+country but in the accent and speech of his friends, in the expression
+of their eyes and very hands. The English servants pleased him, and he
+strove to detect qualities in the carriage and horses, and he compared
+them to their advantage with Mount Rorke's. He loved to wrap the rug
+about the young ladies' knees, and they seemed to him quite perfect and
+delightful as they lay back in their carriage, driving beneath a sky
+full of blue, and through the changing views of the Downs, all distinct
+with light and shade. Sally and Maggie made much of him, covered him up,
+and addressed to him pleasant speeches. His eyes and ears were open and
+eager for new impressions, and his heart panted with readiness to admire
+and praise all he saw. He was ready to think that he had never seen
+anything so lovely as the laurels and the numerous glass-houses; and he
+wondered why he had ever thought so little of Berkins, and he listened
+with interest to that gentleman's explanation of the superiority of his
+possessions over everybody else's possessions. He even allowed himself
+to be persuaded that there was no pheasant shooting in the kingdom--for
+its size--equal to that in the little wood. Sally, who did not attempt
+to conceal her dislike of her brother-in-law, whispered: "That's the way
+to bring them down," and Frank was obliged to laugh. Then she and Maggie
+disappeared as if the earth had swallowed them for several hours. The
+Grenadier Guards played on the lawn, and Frank was introduced to ladies
+of all ages and sizes; and as these bored him, he began to see that the
+place was vulgar and the people shoddy, and he wondered what Mount Rorke
+would say if he were to come suddenly across him. Grace was the subject
+of much concern, and obviously _enceinte,_ she passed through the
+different groups. She had introduced Frank as Lord Mount Rorke's son,
+then as his nephew, then as his heir, and, fearing she might succumb to
+the temptation of introducing him as Mount Rorke himself, Frank escaped
+from her, and joined a party that Berkins was personally conducting
+through the grounds.
+
+The stables had been built by So-and-so on the most approved principles.
+There were no stables like them in Sussex--the fittings of the
+harness-room alone had cost him three hundred. The horses he had bought
+at the Duke's sale, the Duke would not have thought of parting with
+them had he known how they would turn out. He had driven them along the
+Brighton road at the rate of fifteen miles an hour; he would back them
+to do fifteen miles in the hour. There was not a pair of horses in
+England equal to them. That was Mrs. Berkins's riding horse--was it
+possible to imagine a more perfect cob? He could get a hundred for him
+any day, he did not know of anything like him. "Did any of you gentleman
+ever see anything like him?" They went to the kennels. A brace of
+Irish setters were declared to be the finest dogs that Ireland had
+ever produced, they had taken two prizes, one in Dublin and another in
+Brighton--and the little fox terrier was the gamest dog in Sussex. She
+would go into any hole after a fox, and never leave him till she
+brought him out. You couldn't find her equal. Then the glass-houses were
+perfect. They contained all the latest improvements, and all these were
+fully explained. "Berkins is excelling himself to-day," thought Frank.
+
+Presently they came upon a basket of peaches.
+
+"These peaches were, of course, grown under glass, but I think I am
+right in saying, Jackson, that they were produced without artificial
+heat."
+
+"Yes, sir, quite right, sir. It couldn't be done nowhere else, sir,
+but all the sun in Sussex seems to come down here--a regular little sun
+trap, I think that's what you called it the other day, sir, when you
+were speaking to me about them there peaches."
+
+"Yes, I did. If you move nearer the sea you get fogs and cold winds,
+further inland you lose the sun, but just here the climate is equal
+to the south of Europe! I ask you to look at these peaches, it seems
+impossible--does it not?--to have peaches like these at the end of May,
+and without any heat, merely glass."
+
+"It seems to me quite impossible," declared a little fat man with flaxen
+hair. "I am devoted to peach-growing, and I confess I am quite at a
+loss. Gardener, did you say that those peaches were grown entirely
+without artificial heat?"
+
+The gardener pretended not to hear, and tried to slip away, but the
+little man, who had been taken on his hobby, was not to be baulked, and
+he pursued the wretched horticulturist.
+
+"You mean to say that these peaches ripened without any artificial heat,
+any?"
+
+"You have no idea what a sun we get here, sir. I have never seen
+anything like it. In my last situation, when I was living with Lord
+----, we couldn't get our fruit forward, use whatever heat he might,
+and Houghton is not more than fifty miles from here--the difference of
+climate is positively wonderful."
+
+Jackson had reckoned that Mr. Berkins would move on, and that the
+inquisitive little man would find himself obliged to follow, but
+chance was against him, for Berkins, with his guests around him, stood
+listening to the discussion.
+
+"You mean to say that these peaches were grown without heat. I wouldn't
+mind giving you five-and-twenty pounds for the recipe for doing it."
+
+"You must take a small place down here, sir, and then you will be able
+to do it."
+
+This raised a laugh, but the little man was not to be beaten, and he
+said: "I should like to see some of those peaches of yours on the trees.
+You haven't plucked them all; let me see them."
+
+"Yes, Jackson, show us the trees. Some will not believe without seeing;
+let us see the peaches on the trees."
+
+Jackson appeared to be a little disconcerted; he murmured excuses, and
+strove to escape. Driven to bay he brought them into a glass-house where
+there were hot water-pipes, and when his tormentor pointed triumphantly
+to the pipes he attempted a faint explanation--he had meant to say that
+heat had only been used within the last three weeks.
+
+"So you see, Berkins," exclaimed little flaxen-haired fatty, "your south
+of Europe is no better than my south of Europe, or anybody else's south
+of Europe."
+
+"Jackson, you have told me many deliberate falsehoods about these
+peaches. I keep no one in my employment whose word cannot be depended
+upon. You take your warning."
+
+"Falsehoods! What do you want a man to do, if you will have everything
+better than anybody else's?"
+
+Berkins turned suddenly on his heel, he drew himself up to his full
+height, and stood speechless with indignation. Never, not even on the
+most important Board meetings, did his friends wait to hear him speak
+with more anxiety; but at that moment a crash of flower pots was heard,
+and Sally and a young man were discovered hiding in the potting shed;
+and to make matters worse, in the very next house they visited, they
+suddenly came upon Maggie sitting with another young man in strangely
+compromising circumstances. Explanations were attempted, and some stupid
+remarks were made. Berkins was seriously annoyed, and he took the first
+opportunity of taking Mr. Brookes's arm and leading him away to a quiet
+path. Frank saw the men pass through the laurels, and ten minutes after
+he saw them return. Evidently Berkins had read Mr. Brookes an exhaustive
+lecture on the conduct of his daughters.
+
+"Now, Mr. Brookes, now Mr. Brookes, I must beg of you--calm yourself.
+What would my guests think if they found you in tears? What would
+they think I had been saying to reduce you to such a condition? It
+is veryunfortunate that Sally and Maggie should act as they do,
+particularly at my place; but really you must not give way."
+
+"Since the death of their poor mother I am all alone. My position is
+a very trying one." Then, with a sudden burst of laughter, "However, I
+suppose it will be all the same a hundred years hence!"
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+
+The girls walked to the station with Escott. A fleecy evening, with the
+clouds growing pale towards the sea, the sun like fire in the elms, and
+the woods showing upon a purple tinge.
+
+"How delightful!" exclaimed Frank. "How charming this is--this old
+English green, the horse pond at one end, the various houses, the inn,
+the grocery business, the linen drying in that yard, the smith, and the
+wheelwright. I don't like that modern Queen Anne school-house, and I
+wish I could remove the dead level of the embankment and see the sea.
+The green is better from this side with the view of the Downs--those
+lines waving against the sky, where the gorse grows and the sheep feed,
+and inclining to the road all the fields pale green and deep green. But
+what game are those men playing--what game do you call that?"
+
+"Bat and trap."
+
+"I have passed the green twenty times before, and I never really saw it
+till now. It is charming--so thoroughly English. I should like to live
+here for a month--for two months. How nice it would be to breakfast in
+the morning looking out on the green, to see the cocks and hens and all
+the children and all this English life! How different from Pump Court!
+I am sick of Pump Court--dirt and smoke, a horrid servant, stale eggs.
+I suppose you can always get fresh eggs and new bread here? I would give
+anything to spend a month on the green."
+
+"Well, you can!" cried Sally. "I wish you would, and you could come and
+play tennis with us every afternoon. Mrs. Heald has some rooms to let;
+why it was only last week I heard that she hadn't let her rooms this
+season, and was most anxious to do so."
+
+"There's no use my coming here until I begin to write my novel. I am
+painting now, and I must see if I can get my picture finished for one of
+the autumn exhibitions."
+
+"I knew you would find some excuse."
+
+"No, I assure you, but I can't do anything without a studio, and I'm not
+likely to find a studio on Southwick Green."
+
+"I don't suppose Mrs. Heald has a room large enough for a studio," said
+Maggie; "but I don't see why you shouldn't find a place where you can
+paint."
+
+"Where? Not in that eighteenth-century house where the two old ladies
+are standing! Supposing I were to go and ask them if they would let
+me have their drawing-room to paint in! That is the only house on the
+green, all the rest are cottages."
+
+"I suppose you are not very particular where you paint," said Maggie
+reflectively. "You don't mind appearances, I suppose? I wonder if you
+could manage to fit up a farm building."
+
+"There is the famous barn where Charles the First hid himself, I don't
+suppose the authorities would allow me to turn that into a studio."
+
+"No, probably not; but I think you might find a house that would do."
+
+"What nonsense, Maggie," said Sally, who began to grow jealous of her
+sister.
+
+"Why is it nonsense? I see no reason why Frank shouldn't come to some
+arrangement with the smith, and turn his house into a studio."
+
+"Which is the smith's house? I'll tell you in a moment if it could be
+turned into a studio."
+
+"That house standing quite by itself in the corner of the green."
+
+"That tall narrow house with the bit of broken wall and the elder
+bushes?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I daresay I could rig up a very nice studio out of that place, indeed
+it looks quite picturesque amid its elder bushes. There is the stile,
+and there is the cornfield. But I couldn't live there."
+
+"No, you would live at Mrs. Heald's, and you could walk over every
+morning to the studio."
+
+"Yes, I could do that. I prefer to live with my work. There is nothing
+like walking from the breakfast table across the room to the easel."
+
+"Of course you can find fault with everything; nothing is perfect."
+
+"There goes the train!" cried Sally. "No use in running now, you've
+missed it."
+
+"How very provoking; the next isn't till half-past seven--just an hour
+to wait."
+
+"Well," said Maggie, "if you have missed the train we may as well go at
+once and ask Mrs. Heald if she has let her rooms."
+
+They walked towards a block of cottages--at one end the "Cricketer's
+Arms," at the other the grocery business; and the cottage that joined
+the grocery business was remarkable for a bit of green paling and wooden
+balcony, now covered with Virginia creeper. Frank thought at once
+of new-laid eggs, and the sunlight glancing through a great mass of
+greenery, and he resolved if a sacrifice were necessary to live at
+Southwick, he would put his picture aside and begin his novel. The
+people in the house pleased him, and he ran on in his way thinking how
+English and trustworthy they seemed, liking the green parrot that rubbed
+its head affectionately against the grey ringlets of a very ladylike old
+person; and Mrs. Heald, brisk as a bee, notwithstanding her lame leg,
+who led the way up the ladder-like cottage staircase.
+
+"How nice and clean everything is; books and engravings along the
+passages. How unlike Ireland!"
+
+But the sitting-room was full of horsehair sofas and chairs. These
+displeased Frank, but some handsome china--an entire tea service in
+Crown Derby--reconciled him to the room. In the bedroom they found
+a huge four-poster of old time, with a lengthy bolster and imposing
+pillows, and they were shown into another and a similar room. One looked
+out on the green, the other on the fields that lay between the green and
+the Manor House.
+
+"If that elm were cut down you could see my window," said Sally.
+
+"Which room do you like the best?" said Maggie.
+
+"It is hard to say. The other room looks on the green, but here there
+is a nice large wardrobe, and I don't see how I can get on without a
+wardrobe."
+
+"If you like the other room best, sir, I can turn out the chest of
+drawers."
+
+"Oh, that would be very nice if you can manage it, the room will do very
+well. I can have a bath every morning?"
+
+"Yes, sir; there will be no difficulty about that."
+
+Maggie had taken off her hat and was settling her hair before the glass.
+Sally opened the wardrobe, revealing various petticoats and skirts, but
+she thought of it as full of Frank's light overcoats, the scarves he
+wore round his throat when he went out in evening clothes, the patent
+leather shoes in the corner. Suddenly the conversation dropped, and
+after a pause Frank said: "I think these rooms suit me very well, but I
+can do nothing; it is impossible for me to say if I can take them until
+I find out if there is any place in the immediate neighbourhood that I
+could convert into a studio. Do you know of any such place?"
+
+"No, I do not, sir."
+
+"Mr. Escott was thinking of seeing the smith about his house. I wonder
+if Town would let it to Mr. Escott for a consideration," said Maggie.
+
+"Of course, I should have to get leave to make what alterations I
+pleased."
+
+"I don't suppose the house belongs to Town, sir; I don't think he is
+more than a weekly tenant."
+
+"If that's the case, we must see the landlord. Do you know who is the
+landlord?"
+
+"I can't say I do, sir."
+
+"Well, Mrs. Heald, I will let you know in a day or two if I can take
+your rooms--you can give me a day or two?"
+
+"Yes, sir, but I should like to know as soon as possible; several people
+have been asking after my rooms."
+
+"I'll let you know in a day or two."
+
+"If Town is only a weekly tenant, you'll be able to get his house by
+paying a little more for it," said Maggie, as they walked down the green
+towards the smith's forge.
+
+"That would be hardly fair; I should like to act squarely by the smith.
+What is his name?"
+
+"Town."
+
+Town was cutting out the hoof of a shaggy grey cart horse when his
+visitors entered the cindery blackness.
+
+"Town, this gentleman would like to speak to you," said Maggie, raising
+her voice above the wheezy bellows. He threw the hoof out of his apron,
+and, drawing his blackened arm across his forehead, he came forward.
+
+"Town, I am anxious to find a place on the green that I could convert
+into a studio; I think your house would suit my purpose very well. Do
+you think we could come to some arrangement? Of course I would give you
+a reasonable compensation."
+
+"Well, I really hardly know, sir; I dunno that I hardly understand. You
+want my house to turn into a--"
+
+"A studio--a place where I can paint pictures."
+
+"I don't see how I can do without my 'ouse."
+
+"But I will compensate you--make it worth your while."
+
+"You see it is so near my work. Was I to go and live at Ada Terrace,
+I should, you see, be out of the way. If people want a job done they
+always knows where to find me."
+
+"Yes, but if I compensate you?"
+
+Seeing that Frank was exciting the smith with too wild hopes of wealth,
+Sally thought fit to interpose. "Mr. Escott would require permission
+to make any alterations in the building he thought proper--you couldn't
+give him permission; he would in any case have to see your landlord. Who
+is your landlord?"
+
+"I don't see how I can give up my 'ouse to be turned into a painting
+place; it wouldn't suit me at all."
+
+"If I make you sufficient compensation--"
+
+Again the smith was reduced to silence. He scratched his head, and Frank
+watched the sparks fly, and heard the rhythmical sledge. "I wish he
+wouldn't talk so much about compensation," thought Sally. "I don't know
+what the man won't be asking if Frank doesn't shut up."
+
+"Do you think we shall be able to come to an understanding? I want to
+know."
+
+"Well, you see, sir, my wife is delicate, and I'm that afraid she
+wouldn't like to give up her 'ome. But I'll speak to 'er if you like
+to-night, sir."
+
+"Mr. Escott will have to see your landlord; he will have to arrange with
+him about the alterations."
+
+"There will be no difficulty about the alterations."
+
+"Very probably; but you are only a weekly tenant. It is a question
+your landlord must decide. If he agrees to allow Mr. Escott to make the
+alterations, Mr. Escott will no doubt compensate you for disturbance."
+
+"It is all very well to talk about compensation. How do I know what your
+compensation will be? How do I know you will make it worth my while? I
+don't want no compensation. I want my 'ouse. Cheek I calls it, to come
+down here wanting to muck me out of my house."
+
+"Now, sir, we want no impertinence. I shall do exactly as I please in
+the matter. Your landlord is the person I should have spoken to."
+
+"Spoken to! Who are you, I should like to know, coming round here
+interfering in my business?"
+
+All Frank's discussions ended in angry words, and he never came to terms
+with any one without threatening blows. Town returned to the forge;
+Frank and the young ladies made their way across the green. At the
+corner of Southdown Road they found the General, the schoolmaster, and a
+retired farmer ardently gossiping; Mrs. Horlock, prim in her black gown
+and poke bonnet, waited with admirable patience, and Angel, the blind
+pug, in horrible corpulence, waddled and sniffed the grass. The story
+of Town's impertinence was told. The General was shocked--it was
+surprising. What are we coming to? The retired farmer said that Town was
+a hot-tempered man, but not a bad sort when you knew how to take him,
+and all, except Mrs. Horlock, agreed that the landlord was the person
+who should be consulted.
+
+"I really don't see why you should turn the poor man out of his house if
+he doesn't want to go. How would you like some one to come and turn you
+out of your house?" she said, turning to her husband.
+
+The General laughed. "My dear Lucy, whatever you say must be right.
+So you are coming to live at Southwick. Very glad to hear it. You know
+where to find us, the gate's always open; lunch at half-past one, dinner
+at eight--old Indians, you know; come in when you like. Pretty place
+I have here, everything I want--stables and horses, and (the General
+looked to see if Lucy was out of hearing) plenty of dogs, you know--a
+few too many; but my wife, you know--" The rest was lost in a burst of
+good-natured laughter.
+
+They bade the Horlocks good-night and walked up the Southdown Road,
+looking with its line of trees along the pavement like a little mock
+boulevard. Frank was particularly severe in his remarks on the trim
+privet hedges and the little bronze sphinxes standing before the portico
+of yellow glass; he declared that a man must be born to put up such
+things, and he clearly thought this sneer a very happy one, for he
+repeated it, fearing that Sally had not understood. The grocer who had
+placed a bas-relief of himself over his door was greatly wondered at,
+and Sally told an amusing anecdote regarding the invitations he sent
+out for the first dinner party. The conversation turned on the Measons.
+Jack's ship had gone to China, and he was not expected back much before
+Christmas.
+
+"That's very sad, Sally. How will you be able to live through so many
+months?"
+
+"I don't care for him. I don't care if I never saw him again--it was
+Fanny who was my friend. Some nice people have come to live in that
+corner house--a young man, who is learning farming. Mr. Berkins insists
+on father not allowing us to visit any one in the Southdown Road, and
+Mr. Berkins can turn father round his finger, he is so much richer. I'm
+not allowed to see Fanny at the Manor House. As for Jack, I daresay you
+won't believe me, but I shouldn't care if I never saw him again."
+
+Maggie shrugged her shoulders. The gesture exasperated Sally, and she
+turned on her sister.
+
+"You needn't shrug your shoulders at me, miss; I never flirted with him;
+you did, and then you set father against me."
+
+"Well, for goodness' sake don't quarrel; what does it matter? The idea
+of Berkins telling your father whom he should visit; and the idea of
+your father permitting it merely because he makes two or three thousand
+a year more! He surely doesn't object to your visiting Mrs. Horlock?"
+
+"No, he couldn't do that."
+
+Still engaged in discussion, they entered the gates of the Manor House,
+and Mr. Brookes was told that Frank would stay at Southwick a few days
+longer, so that he might arrange about a studio. The news was not
+at first wholly pleasing to the old gentleman, but he remembered the
+anecdotes he should hear concerning his favourite painters, and was
+consoled. The evening passed away in the security and calm of habit,
+sweetened by the intimacy of familiar thoughts and customs. There was
+the usual expensive dinner; Mr. Brookes lit a cigar, handed the box to
+Frank, and said, puffing lustily, "That's a good picture, paid a lot of
+money for it, too much money, mustn't do it again. You were a pupil of
+Bouguereau; great painter; you have seen him paint; you would know his
+touch amid a thousand, I suppose?"
+
+About ten o'clock steps in the passage, then the squeak-squeak of the
+cork; then the goggle-guggle of the water, and the young ladies came in
+with their grog. They kissed their father and brother, shook hands with
+Frank, and went to bed. Further anecdotes concerning the painters were
+told; further condemnations of the Southdown Road were pronounced; the
+house was locked up; Mr. Brookes retired, and the young men continued
+the conversation in their rooms. Willy told Frank all about his shop,
+Frank told Willy all about his studio, and they went to sleep delighted
+with each other and at peace with the world.
+
+Mr. Brookes had gone when the young men came down next morning. Willy
+was down first, and when Frank finished breakfast he found him busy in
+the garden making purchases for his shop.
+
+"How much am I to charge for these peaches, sir?" said the gardener.
+
+"I intend to pay the market price for everything. I don't know what
+peaches are selling at in Covent Garden. I will look it up and let you
+know. I am taking two dozen."
+
+"Yes, sir, there are only very few more ripe."
+
+"It is a pity I can't have them all," Willy whispered to Frank. "There
+is a tremendous profit to be made on peaches. Now, I want some new
+potatoes. How many can you let me have?"
+
+"Really, sir, we are very short; you see it is so early in the year. We
+have only a few, none too many for the house."
+
+"I must have some, if it is only a sample. How much are potatoes selling
+at now?"
+
+"Well, sir, I hardly know. Last year we bought some off Hooper at--"
+
+"These are the things I have to contend with. How am I to keep my books
+right if I don't know exactly the price things are selling for? I may be
+paying more for his potatoes than they are selling in Brighton for. My
+father gets more out of the shop than any one, and he isn't satisfied."
+
+The woes of this suburban Lear amused Frank. No sooner was the arch
+enemy Meason on the high seas, and the Southdown Road had quieted down,
+than another demon had risen up against him; his garden was ravished of
+its fairest fruits and vegetables, his carriages were turned into market
+carts, and all, as he said, for the sake of practising an elaborate
+system of book-keeping. Maggie, who had finished her house-keeping, came
+into the garden, and she went with Frank down the town in search of the
+landlord of the tall house amid the elder bushes. For a small increase
+in the rent, and a promise to undo all alterations before leaving,
+putting the house back in the same arrangement of rooms as it at present
+stood, the landlord agreed to allow Frank to do his will with the place.
+For twenty pounds the smith was silenced, and Frank explained to the
+local builder that the house was to be thrown into one room, and the
+ceilings of the upper rooms were to be removed. He had thought of having
+the rafters painted, but at the builder's suggestion he decided to have
+them lined with fresh timber and stained. This would look very handsome.
+A large window, some six feet by eight, would have to be put in the
+north wall. Of course, all the doors, windows, etc., would have to be
+taken away and replaced by new. He would have a book-case in stained
+wood. An estimate was drawn up. It came to a good deal more than he had
+intended to lay out, and Frank dreaded the expense. But he must live
+somewhere, he was sick of Pump Court, and his friends and this little
+south-coast village were now ardent in his mind; why not live here? True
+that the country was in no way beautiful and offered no temptations to a
+landscape painter, but he seldom painted landscapes, and if he wanted a
+bit of woodland he would find it over the Downs. Then there was the sea,
+and that was always interesting. Perhaps Mount Rorke would let him have
+the money. The old fellow had never refused him an extra hundred when he
+asked for it. Yes, he would risk it. So the order was given, and all
+the delays and broken promises of a builder began to be experienced and
+endured. Frank, who now lodged at Mrs. Heald's, hung around the workmen,
+counting each brick, and commenting on every piece of woodwork. He at
+once took to grumbling at their slowness, and he soon declared that all
+hopes of his being able to finish his picture for the Academy were at
+an end, and he paraded his misfortunes at the Manor House, at Mrs.
+Horlock's, and, indeed, at all the houses he went to for tea or tennis
+parties. The painters especially annoyed him, and he even went so far as
+to threaten them with an action.
+
+Long before they had finished his pictures had arrived from London, and
+several pieces of furniture from Brighton. The ideas of this young
+man were now in full revolt against oriental draperies and things from
+Japan. The furniture was, therefore, to consist of large cane sofas with
+pillows covered with a yellow chintz pattern which pleased him much.
+The selection of a carpet was a matter of great moment. He received with
+scornful smiles his upholsterer's suggestions of Persian rugs. Turkey,
+Smyrna, and Axminster were proposed and rejected, he even thought of
+an Aubusson--no one knew anything about Aubusson at Southwick, and the
+vivid blues and yellows and symmetrical design would have at least the
+merit of disturbing if not of wrecking the artistic opinions of
+his friends. He discovered one of these carpets in a back street in
+Brighton, and with some cleaning and mending he felt sure it could be
+made to look quite well. But no, if you have an Aubusson carpet you must
+have Louis XIV. furniture in the room, and Louis XIV. in Southwick would
+be too absurd. Clearly the Aubusson scheme must be abandoned--he would
+have a rich grey carpet, soft and woolly, and there should be a round
+table covered with a dark blue cloth, set off with a yellow margin, and
+the chairs drawn about the table should be covered with dark blue and
+painted yellow. A grand piano was indispensable in Frank's surroundings,
+both for its appearance in the studio and the relaxation it afforded in
+the various interludes. Several journeys to London were made before the
+lamps to be used were determined on (a modern design was essential), and
+the brass fittings to hang candles from the rafters required still more
+delicate and cautious consideration; at last it was decided to have
+none.
+
+All this while Willy was busy with his shop. He had taken a whole house,
+and at first he had thought of letting a room, but for many reasons this
+scheme had to be abandoned. He did not know who might take the room.
+"Who knows--perhaps one of my own friends, a member of my club, for
+instance?" Then it would give the missus a lot of bother and worry, and
+she had all she could do in looking after the shop. To make a thing a
+success you must think of nothing else. It was a pity, but it wasn't to
+be thought of. Otherwise he seemed fairly well satisfied. There was
+a back door leading on to a back lane, in turn leading on to a back
+street, so with his latch-key he could pop in and out unobserved. All
+his books and papers in the drawing-room, the ledger, the day-book,
+the cash-book all ready, all to hand, so that after dinner, when he had
+smoked his pipe, he could go to work. Frank alone was in the secret.
+And how the young men enjoyed going to Brighton together. Frank worried
+Willy, who ran up and down stairs collecting his brown paper parcels,
+calling upon him to make haste. They set forth, Willy firm and
+methodical, his shoulders set well back: Frank loose and swaggering,
+over-dressed. How to get to the shop was a matter of anxious
+consideration. Willy was fearful of detection, and all sorts of
+stratagems were resorted to. Sometimes they would walk down to the Old
+Steyne, and suddenly double and get back through a medley of obscure
+streets, or else they would publicly walk up and down the King's
+Road, and when they thought no one was looking, hurry up one of the
+by-streets, and so gain their haven, the lane. Once they were in the
+lane they slackened speed, all danger was then over, and they laughed
+consumedly at their escapes, and delighted in telling each other how
+So-and-so and his daughter had been successfully avoided. Willy always
+had his latch-key ready; in a moment they were inside, and Frank would
+rush upstairs and throw himself into the armchair, crying: "Here we
+are!" One day they were at the window, when, to their amazement, the
+Manor House carriage pulled up before the shop, and they had only just
+time to dodge behind the curtain and escape Sally's eyes. Never before
+had the carriage arrived later than five o'clock, and now it was nearly
+six. What could be the meaning of this? Begging of Frank not to move,
+Willy went out on the landing and listened to his sisters talking to his
+wife. The girls--who were, of course, ignorant of their relationship to
+the shop-woman--liked Mrs. Brookes very much, and were fond of a chat
+with her; and, looking through the blinds, Frank saw the footman in
+all the splendour of six feet and grey livery carrying a small pot of
+flowers worth sixpence from the carriage to the shop.
+
+On ordinary days the shop was shut at eight, but when Willy and Frank
+dined there it was closed an hour earlier. Frank enjoyed his evenings
+there; he enjoyed it all--the homeliness and the quiet. He enjoyed
+seeing Willy nurse the missus after dinner, and he found no difficulty
+in pretending a certain interest in the book-keeping, and an admiration
+for the lines of figures all carefully formed, and the beautifully ruled
+lines. Cissy adored him. He took her on his knee, and she leaned her
+hollow cheek against his handsome face. She would have probably rushed
+to death to serve him. His height, his brightness, his rings, his
+spotted neckties--all seemed so perfect, so beautiful, to her; and when
+he brought his fiddle she would sit and look at him, her little hands
+clasped with an intensity of love that was strange and pitiful. Swaying
+from side to side, he ran on from tune to tune--waltzes, reminiscences
+from operas, fragments of overtures, delightful snatches from Schubert;
+and when he introduced Willy to one tune--a tune in which all his
+_might-have-been_ was bound--the dry man seemed to grow drier: perhaps
+it brought a glow of pleasure to his heart: but be this as it may, he
+only sat and puffed more emphatically at his pipe.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+
+For Frank this pleasant English village was now a happy _fete_ of summer
+joys and occupations. Oh! the hill prospects and the shady gardens
+around the coasts. And when he went inland he would return by choice
+across the Downs, and in the patriarchal valleys where nothing is heard
+but the bell-wether he would stand in the great, lonely darkness,
+and see the lights of Brighton brighten the sky above the ridges, and
+climbing up the ridges, he gazed on the vague sea, and the long string
+of coast towns were like a golden necklace.
+
+His days went like dreams. The morning hours--bachelor hours--were full
+of intimacy and joy. The joy of waking alone with a strange and secret
+self that, like a shy bird, is all the day chased out of sight and
+hearing, but is with you when you awake in sweet health in the morning;
+that of waking alone with the sunlight in the curtains, that of being
+alone with your body as well as your mind, and no presence to jar the
+communion. There is a dear privacy in morning hours of single life.
+
+But although the desire to exchange these for the joys of wedlock was
+germinating in Frank, although it was inherent in him to understand the
+husband's happiness when he puts his arm round a dear wife's neck and
+draws her to him with marital kisses and affectionate words, he was
+certainly conscious that each hour seemed to bring its special pleasure.
+His room was airy and pleasant, the window full of the colour of the
+green and its aspects; the little water-course with its brick bridge,
+the trees along the embankment, the rigging of the ships in the harbour,
+the linen drying in the yard. Of these views Frank seemed never to grow
+tired; he noted them as he brushed his brown curls over his forehead,
+and when he sat at breakfast eating fresh eggs and marmalade. After
+breakfast he lay on the sofa, and read society papers and smoked
+cigarettes. He could not drag himself to the studio. "A man should live
+at his studio, impossible to settle down to work, if he doesn't," he
+thought, and he watched Mrs. Horlock coming up the green accompanied by
+the chemist's wife and the pugs.
+
+"Dear old lady, how nice she looks in her black dress and poke bonnet!
+And there goes the General--he is giving all his coppers to the
+children."
+
+Frank took up a volume of Browning, turned over the leaves, and laid the
+book down to watch a drove of horses that had suddenly been turned
+out on the green to feed, and he laughed to see the children throwing
+stones, making them gallop frantically. Very often the thunder of the
+hoofs alarmed Triss, and he stood on his hind legs and barked. "What is
+it, old dog? What is it? Like to have a go at the horses? Shall we go
+out and play with the pugs?" At the mention of going out Triss cocked
+his ears and barked. "I suppose I must make a move. I wonder what
+the time is--half-past eleven. Good Heavens! The post will be here at
+twelve. I had better wait for it." On waking his first thoughts were for
+his letters, and almost before he had finished reading them he had begun
+to think of what the mid-day delivery would bring him. To see the boy
+pass and so have ocular proof that there was nothing for him seemed to
+lighten his disappointment. He saw him waste his time with the doctor's
+horse and then with the maid-servant, and if the old ladies were not
+about he would stand talking many minutes with their servants. Then he
+visited the short line of cottages, passed sometimes round the yard or
+open space at the back of the wheelwright's, where the linen hung on
+poles between the elms, and once Frank saw the provoking boy hide behind
+the cricketers' tent and remain watching the match. For half an hour the
+question--letters or no letters--hung in suspense, and when the loiterer
+came, stopping every minute to see where the ball was hit to, the
+joy, heightened by anticipation, was great in receiving a packet of
+newspapers and various correspondence. Frank often went to meet him.
+True, he might have nothing for him, he might be going to deliver at the
+grocer's shop, or at the "Cricketer's Arms."
+
+"Any letters for me, to-day?"
+
+"Yes, sir, two postcards and a newspaper."
+
+It was disappointing not to get a letter--postcards meant nothing.
+He only exchanged a few words with Mrs. Horlock, and passed on to the
+General, who, at the corner of the Southdown Road where the gossipers
+met, was discussing a local candidature.
+
+"So you are off to paint. You must come and see the model my wife has
+done of a horse I once had. I mustn't say much about him, though--it is
+a sore subject. After winning over a thousand with him I lost it all,
+and five hundred with it. She never would paint his picture for me; but
+yesterday was my birthday--I suppose she thought she would give me a
+treat, she began to model him from memory--wonderful likeness--she knows
+every bone and sinew in a horse--clever woman, never seen any one like
+her. Come in to-night, dinner always at eight--old Indians. She'll show
+it to you."
+
+"Thanks, not to-night, General; to-morrow night, if you like."
+
+"Very well, to-morrow night at eight. What a terrible dog that is of
+yours! You need fear nobody while you have him with you. You must ask
+my wife to paint him for you, but I forgot, I beg your pardon--you are a
+painter; you should paint him yourself."
+
+"I don't paint animals. I shall be very glad if Mrs. Horlock will paint
+him; there is some beautiful drawing about him--those fore-legs."
+
+Probably attracted by the dog, Mrs. Horlock came walking towards them.
+Triss went sidling after Rose, and when Mrs. Horlock called him, he
+growled.
+
+"I beg of you, Mrs. Horlock, do not touch him; he isn't safe, I assure
+you. He once bit a man's nose off who was trying to train him to do
+something or other. I will not be answerable."
+
+"All nonsense! No dog ever bit me, they know I love them. 'Come to me,
+sir.' No dog ever bit me but once, and he was a poor mongrel that had
+been hunted by a lot of horrid men. I was dressing to go to a ball at
+the Government House, and I heard him under my bed. He had taken refuge
+under my bed, poor thing. He was frightened to death; he couldn't see
+me, and he bit me through the wrist. I went to the ball all the same.
+A dog died of hydrophobia in my arms. He died like a child, licking my
+hands and face. 'Come here, sir. Come to me.'"
+
+"I wish you wouldn't do it, Mrs. Horlock. I am afraid to call him, for
+fear he should think I intended to set him at you."
+
+Triss showed a terrible set of teeth, and his nose seemed to curl back
+almost into his eyes; but stooping down Mrs. Horlock extended her hands
+to him. She looked so like herself in the poke bonnet and the black
+dress, and the kind, intelligent eyes softened the dog's humour, and he
+came to her.
+
+"You see--what did I tell you? Dogs know so well those that love them.
+No animal ever did bite me except that poor frightened creature, and
+he didn't mean it. We kept him for ten years after that, and how he did
+love me!"
+
+"Wonderful woman, my wife; she can do what she likes with animals. I was
+telling Mr. Escott that he must come in and see the model you are making
+of Snap-dragon."
+
+"Only an amateur, I never had a lesson in my life. Mr. Escott would
+think nothing of it, I am sure. But I wish he'd come in and dine with
+us."
+
+"He promised to come to-morrow, Lucy; but stay, isn't that the day we
+are going to have the Bath people in to dine?"
+
+"Never mind--Mr. Escott won't mind, I'm sure. They are very nice, good
+people, indeed. I'm sure you'll think so. They are all snobs about this
+place. I never heard of such snobbery in my life. Mrs. So-and-so--over
+there--once said to me, 'I believe you know all the people who live in
+those little houses.' She said she wouldn't allow her children even to
+walk across the green. Did you ever hear of such snobbery?"
+
+"Well, Mrs. Horlock, as I have always said, your position is made;
+you have your friends who will like you and value you just the same no
+matter whom you may walk about the green with. Every Viceroy that ever
+went to India called on you; your position is made."
+
+"There are a lot of snobs about here; but I mustn't keep Angel waiting,
+he is never well unless he gets a little exercise. We shall see you then
+at eight."
+
+"The cleverest woman I ever knew. I don't say the cleverest that you
+ever knew. But we have got too many animals; I often wish I could get
+rid of the brutes," and the General laughed as he stumped along. "Five
+horses when two would be sufficient--five horses eating their heads
+off; then the Circassian goats that the neighbours complain of, and the
+parrots and the squirrels. There are a few too many, there's no doubt.
+But once an animal comes into the place she will cherish it for ever. I
+try to keep Prince out of the drawing-room as much as possible, she says
+she can't smell him. If that little beast Angel would only die!"
+
+"Why don't you poison him?"
+
+"I would if I dared; but just think, if my wife heard of it she would go
+out of her mind. I don't think she'd have me in the house." The General
+laughed.
+
+"We all have our troubles, General. Good-bye, I'm off to work."
+
+"Lucky man to have something to do. If I had a little something--just a
+little something to bring me out, I should be perfectly happy. Then at
+eight. Good-bye."
+
+"Half-past twelve! Half the day gone, I really must make an effort to
+get to the studio earlier. It is, as I said, useless to hope to get
+through work unless you wake up where your work is. A man doesn't get a
+chance. I wonder if I could build a bedroom out at the back? I have let
+Mount Rorke in for three hundred extra this year; he would turn rusty if
+I spent any more. I must give him a rest; besides, I don't want to have
+the workmen in again. I wish I could get ivy to grow over those walls,
+they do look precious shabby."
+
+He looked at the tall dilapidated walls showing above the dark green of
+the elder bushes, and lingered, for it was a soft blue summer's day with
+just a breeze stirring, and the corn waved yellow, and the dim expanses
+of the Downs extended in faint lines and dim tints.
+
+When he entered his studio his colour scheme pleased him, and looking
+at the rafters he thought that the stained wood was handsome and
+appropriate. The grey carpet was soft under foot, and the lustre and
+form of a grand piano suggested Chopin and Schubert. His studio seemed
+to him a symbol of his own refinement, and being moved, perhaps, by
+the silence and the quiet of the north light, he took his violin, and
+turning from time to time to look on himself on the glass or his picture
+on the easel, he played Stradella's "Chanson d'Eglise."
+
+Then seeing, or rather thinking he saw, how he could improve his
+landscape, he took up his palette, and in a desultory and uncertain
+fashion he painted till five o'clock. "It is no use," he thought, "I can
+do nothing with it until I get a model, but the devil of it is, there
+are no models in Brighton--at least, I don't know where to go and look
+for one, and it is no use asking Sally or Maggie to sit. They'll sit for
+five minutes, and then say they have some work to do at home, and must
+be off. You must have a professional model, a girl you pay a shilling
+an hour--I might sling the hammock from there to here--I wonder where I
+could get a girl who would do. I can't have a girl off the street; she
+must be more or less respectable--I wonder whom I can get. That girl in
+the bar-room at the station would do." Putting his palette away with
+a lazy gesture, he thought for a few minutes of Lizzie Baker. What had
+become of her? And why had she disappeared?
+
+It was nearly a year and a half ago now. What a jolly day up the river!
+All the beauty of the flowing water, the crowning woods and whispering
+rushes filled his mind, and yielding to the moment's emotion he took
+some verses out of an escritoire and altered several lines. Another
+abandoning the search for a suitable rhyme he turned to a portrait of
+Maggie which he had begun a few days before. She stood in a pose that
+was habitual to her--her hands linked behind her, the head leaned on one
+side, the little black eyes--but not ugly eyes--fixed in a sweet subtle
+and enquiring look. The thinness, and, indeed, the angularity of her
+figure was almost powerfully indicated with broad lines of paint and
+charcoal. It was Frank's most successful effort. He knew this, and he
+said to himself, "Not half bad, very like her, quite the character; the
+drawing is right, if I could only go on with it; if I could only model
+the face. I see very well where I shall get into trouble--that shadow
+about the neck, the jawbone, the cheekbone, and then all that rich
+colour about the eyes." Then he thought he would walk over to the Manor
+House, and he must hasten, for it was half-past five, and tea was always
+ready in the verandah.
+
+He stayed for dinner; he talked to Mr. Brookes about painters in the
+billiard-room; he strayed through the shadows and the perfumes of leaves
+and flowers through the gentle moonlight with his arms about the girls.
+And as they walked it seemed to Frank that his life was so mingled with
+theirs that he could not think of one sister apart from the other. The
+dusk gathered; the sky became a decoration in blue and gold; the scent
+of the sea came over the embankment, filling the garden. Day followed
+day, without anything happening to stay or check the gentle tide of
+their mutual affections; neither was jealous of her sister, for their
+desires were set upon others. Frank was but an ideal, a repose, a pious
+aspiration which joined their hands and hearts leaving them free of any
+stress of passion, Maggie claiming him a little more than Sally, and
+Sally yielding her claim to her without knowing that she was yielding
+it.
+
+It is only natures that are never gross--calm and tepid livers--that are
+really incapable of ideality, of real and adequate aspiration; nature
+works by flux and reflux; and if we waive the rough temper and the
+coarse edge of passion due to youth, it will not be impossible to
+conceive another picture of these girls. Sally, good-hearted and true,
+full of sturdy, homely sense, willing to take care of a man's money, and
+make him a straightforward wife; Maggie, gentle and sinuating--always
+a little false, but always attractive, the enchantment of a man's home.
+Frank, notwithstanding his genuine admiration of all that was young and
+sweet and pure, was of poor and separating fibre, and it is clear that
+it will take all the strength of society to support him and save him
+from sinking of his own weight.
+
+One day, as he was coming through the station from the post-office, he
+met Maggie with a young man. He was introduced, and they returned to the
+Manor House to play tennis. Instead of playing they talked, and the set
+fell through, and after tea they disappeared, and Sally proposed not to
+disturb them, for they had gone, she said, to sit in the shade at the
+end of the garden. The marked mystery of the new flirtation piqued
+Frank's curiosity, and, striving to veil his question, he asked Sally
+who the young man was, and if her father knew he was coming to the Manor
+House.
+
+"He! Don't you know? That's the fellow we often speak of--the only
+fellow Maggie ever really cared for. He has just come back from America.
+He is going to begin business in London."
+
+A sickening pain rose from his heart to his eyes, and he longed to place
+his hand on his heart.
+
+"So that is the man she is engaged to," he said, after a pause. "I
+remember, now, you have spoken to me of him."
+
+"She is not exactly engaged to him. Father would never hear of it; he
+hasn't a cent, and I believe he lost the little he had in America--now
+mind you must take care not to let out to father that he has been here;
+there would be the deuce of a row, and I promised Maggie not to tell any
+one; she has been nice to me lately, and I want to play fair with her if
+she will play fair with me."
+
+"Oh, I won't tell any one; I won't even let Maggie know that I know it
+was he."
+
+"It doesn't matter about Maggie, she will tell you herself, no doubt;
+she doesn't mind your knowing. What do you think of him? Isn't he
+nice-looking?"
+
+"I confess I should never have thought of calling him handsome--would
+you? And do you think he is quite a gentleman?"
+
+"He seems to me to be all right."
+
+"All right, yes, but isn't there a something? You can see he is in
+trade--all the trading people look alike, at least so I think."
+
+"But we are in trade, and I think he is quite as good as we are. But you
+seem quite put out. Would you like to take his place? I didn't know you
+were in love with Maggie."
+
+"I don't know that I am in love with her. I like her very much; but,
+love or no love, I don't think it is right for her to walk round the
+garden alone with that fellow the whole afternoon. I don't think it is
+very polite to me, and she knows her father does not like--"
+
+"But you mustn't say anything to father; mind you have promised me."
+
+"Oh, I shan't say anything about it."
+
+Frank longed to get up from the tea-table and rush after Maggie. His
+heart ached to see her. He trembled lest she loved the man she was
+with, and rejoiced and took courage from the knowledge that she had not
+formally pledged herself to him. Frank was the romantic husband, not
+the lover; he found neither charm nor excitement in change; his heart
+demanded one single, avowed, and binding faith. He could take a woman
+who had sinned to his heart, and admit her to all his trust, for stolen
+kisses and illicit love were unfelt and imperfectly understood by him,
+and were considered as shadows and thin fancies, and not as facts full
+of mental consequences. He answered Sally in monosyllables, and on
+the first opportunity he pleaded letters to write, and withdrew. The
+gladness he felt that Maggie was truly not engaged to this fellow
+quickened and dominated his regret that the girls were inclined to
+behave so indiscreetly. The moment Mr. Brookes turned his back it
+began--that perpetual going and coming of men--it really wasn't right.
+Sally was a coarser nature, but Maggie! He might speak to Mr. Brookes;
+no, that wouldn't do. He might speak to Willy; but Willy didn't care--he
+was absorbed in his wife and his speculations.
+
+His little dinner at Mrs. Heald's passed in irritation and discomfort,
+and after dinner he stood at the window, his brain full of Maggie--her
+graces, her fascinating cunning, and all her picturesqueness. He knew
+nothing yet of his passion, nor did he think he could not bear to lose
+her until he went from the stuffy cottage towards his studio thinking
+of his portrait of her. He wanted to muse on the little eyes as he had
+rendered them. He saw the faults in the drawing hardly at all, and his
+pain softened and almost ceased when he took up the violin, but when he
+put it down the flow of subjective emotion ceased, and he stared on the
+concrete and realistic image of his thought--Maggie passing through the
+shade with the young stranger.
+
+Who was he? By whose authority was he there? Was he one of those men
+whose only pleasure is to tempt girls, to corrupt them? Had he thought
+of this before his duty would have been to interpose; and he saw himself
+striding down the garden and telling Maggie that he insisted on her
+coming back to the verandah to her sister. It did not matter if he had
+no right, he was prepared to answer for his conduct to her father and
+brother. Did that man look like one of those men who are always sitting
+with girls in far corners out of sight? Ah, if he were sure that he
+was one of those dastardly ruffians he would seek him out, force him to
+speak his intentions. If a girl's father and brother will not look after
+her, a friend must say "I will." Yes, he would have to thrash him, kill
+him, if it were necessary. She might hate him for it at first, but in
+the end she would recognise him as her saviour.
+
+It was too late now, the man was in Brighton. To-morrow? Elated with
+what he deemed "duty," with what he deemed "for the sake of the girl,"
+he strode about, thinking of "the ruffian"; no thought came to him of
+how much of the sin, if sin there was, had originated in Maggie; he saw
+her merely as a poor little thing, led like a lamb. Following the idea
+of saving came the idea of possession. When she clung to the husband she
+would tremble at the danger she had escaped. Their home, their
+table, their fireside; protection from evil, now all wild winds
+might rage--they would be safe. The vision was constitutional and
+characteristic of his soul. He was out of thought of all but himself,
+his dream evolved in pure idea, removed from and independent of all
+limitations--out of concern of the world's favour--Mount Rorke, Mr.
+Brookes, or even the girl's grace. As this temper passed, as reality
+again interposed, and as he saw the garden with Maggie leaving him for
+another, he viewed her conduct suddenly in relation to himself. What
+did she mean by treating him so, and for whom? One day he would be Lord
+Mount Rorke! The Brookes knew nobody. He had only met a lot of cads at
+their house; they did not know any one but cads. The Brookes were cads!
+The father was a vulgar old City man, who talked about money and bought
+ridiculous pictures. The girls, too, were vulgar and coarse. God only
+knew how many lovers they had not had. Willy was the best of the bunch,
+but he was a fool. His miserliness and his vegetable shop--hateful! The
+whole place was hateful; he wished he had never come there; since he had
+been there he had never been treated even as a gentleman. The Brookes
+had treated him shamefully.
+
+The skeleton of Frank's soul is easy to trace in this mental crisis--his
+quixotism, his wish to sally forth and save women, his yearning for
+a pretty little wife, who would sit on his knee and kiss him, saying,
+"Poor old boy, you are tired now;" therefore an emotional and distorted
+apprehension of things, a tendency to think himself a wronged and
+persecuted person, and under much bravado and swagger the cringe that is
+so inveterate in the Celt.
+
+Next morning he thought of her lightly, without bitterness and almost
+without desire; but after breakfast his heart began to ache again. He
+strove to read, he went to his studio, he went to Brighton; but he saw
+Maggie in all things. She was with him--a sort of vague pain that kept
+him strangely conscious of life.
+
+Once convinced he was a lover he became the man with a mission; his
+heart swelled with mysterious promptings, and felt the spur of duty. No
+longer was delay admissible. A day, an hour might involve the loss
+of all. Should he go round to the Manor House and tell Maggie of the
+message he had received to love her and save her? She would now be
+watering her flowers in the green-houses. But that other fellow might
+be there--he had heard something about an appointment. No, he had better
+write. If he wrote at once, absolutely at once, he would be in time for
+the six o'clock delivery. Snatching a sheet of paper he wrote:--
+
+"DEAREST MAGGIE,--I have loved you a long while, I remember many things
+that make me think that I have always loved you; but to-day I have
+learnt that you are the one great and absorbing influence--that without
+you my life would be stupid and meaningless, whereas with you it shall
+be a joy, an achievement.
+
+"I have frittered away much time; my efforts in painting and poetry
+have been lacking in strength and persistency. I have vacillated and
+wandered, and I did not know why; but now I know why--because you were
+not by me to encourage me, to help me by your presence and beauty. I
+will not speak of the position I offer you--I know it is unworthy of
+you. I would like to give you a throne; but, alas, I can but promise you
+a coronet."
+
+His hand stopped and he raised his eyes from the paper. He recollected
+the day he saw her a child, the day they went blackberrying over the
+hills. He saw her again, she was older and prettier, and she wore a
+tailor-cut cloth dress. How pretty she looked that day, and also
+when she wore that summer dress, those blue ribbons. All the colour,
+innocence, and mirth of his childhood came upon him sweetly, like an
+odour that passes and recalls. He sighed, and he murmured, "She is mine
+by right, all this could not have been if she were not for me." Ah! how
+he longed to sit with her, even at her feet, and tell her how his life
+would be but worship of her. He regretted that he was not poor, for to
+unite himself more closely to her he would have liked to win her clothes
+and food by his labour; and hearing himself speaking of love and seeing
+her as a maiden with the May time about her, his dreams drifted until
+the ticking of the clock forced him to remember that he could tell her
+nothing now of all his romance, so with pain and despair at heart he
+wrote,
+
+"Never before did I so ardently feel the necessity of seeing you, of
+sharing my soul with you, and yet now is the moment when I say, I must
+end. But let this end be the beginning of our life of love, devotion,
+and trust. I will come to-night to see you; I will not go into the
+billiard-room, but will walk straight to the drawing-room. Do be there.
+Dearest Maggie, I am yours and yours only."
+
+He seized his hat and rushed to the post. He was in time, and now
+that the step had been taken, he walked back looking more than usually
+handsome and tall, pleased to see the children run out of school and
+roll on the grass, pleased to linger with the General.
+
+"Where are you going, sir?" said the old man.
+
+"I'm going to my studio to play the fiddle. Will you come? I'll give you
+a glass of sherry, and--"
+
+"Never touch anything, except at meals. I used to when I was as young as
+you, but not now. But I will go and hear a little music."
+
+Glad to have a companion, Frank took out the violin, and he played all
+the melodies he knew; and his mind ran chiefly on Schubert and Gounod.
+The "Soir," the "Printemps," and "La Chanson du Printemps" carried his
+soul away, nor could he forbear to sing when he came to the phrase, "La
+Neige des Pommiers." When musical emotion ran dry he tried painting, but
+with poor result. During dinner he grew fevered and eager to see Maggie,
+and mad to tell her that he loved her, and could love none but her. At
+half-past eight the torture of suspense was more than he could endure,
+and he decided that he would go to the Manor House. He passed round the
+block of cottages, and got into the path that between the palings led
+through the meadows. It was a soft summer evening--moonlight and sunset
+played in gentle antagonism, and in a garden hat he saw Maggie coming
+towards him. He noticed the pink shawl about her shoulders, and the
+thought struck him, "had she come to ask him to elope." She stopped, and
+she hesitated as if she were going to turn back again.
+
+"Oh, I am so sorry," she said, speaking with difficulty, "but I wanted
+you to get this before nine."
+
+"Never mind, darling," he answered, smiling; "you can tell me all about
+it--it will be sweeter to hear you talk. Which way shall we go?"
+
+"I really don't think I can now; father doesn't know I am out. This
+letter will--"
+
+"No, no; I cannot bear to part with you. How pretty you look in that
+hat! Come."
+
+"No, Frank, I cannot now, and you had better leave me. I cannot walk
+with you to-night. Read this letter."
+
+"Then am I--is it really so?" said Frank, growing suddenly pale. "You
+will not have me?"
+
+"You must read this letter, it will tell you all. I am truly sorry, but
+I did not know you cared for me--at least not like that. I don't think
+I could, I really don't. But I don't know what I am saying. How
+unfortunate it was meeting you. I but thought to run round and leave the
+letter, it would have explained all better than I could. We have known
+you so long. You will forgive me?"
+
+She stood with the letter in her hand. He snatched it a little
+theatrically and tore it open. She watched, striving to read the
+effect of her words in his face. They dealt in regrets. There was
+an exasperating allusion to engaged affections. There was a long and
+neatly-worded conclusion suggesting friendship. She had taken a great
+deal of trouble with the composition, and was very fearful as to the
+result. She felt she could not marry him--at least, not just at present,
+she didn't know why. Altogether Frank's proposal had puzzled and
+distressed her. She felt she must see her flirtation out with Charlie,
+but at the same time she did not want to utterly lose Frank, or worse
+still, perhaps, to hand him over to Sally. She was determined that Sally
+should not be Lady Mount Rorke, and she thrilled a little when she saw
+he would not give her up easily, and her heart sank when she thought
+of the difficulty of continuing her intrigue without prejudicing her
+future. If Frank would only leave Southwick for a little while.
+
+"Is this all? The meaning is clear enough; it means that you love the
+man I saw yesterday at the Manor House. But he shall not have you; I
+will save you from him. Listen to me--I swear he shall not have you;
+I will strive to outwit him by every means in my power. If I don't get
+you, none shall. I will shoot the man rather than he should get you."
+
+"O Frank, you wouldn't commit murder!"
+
+"I would, for you; but it will not be necessary. I can challenge him to
+fight a duel, and if he is cowardly enough to refuse, I will horsewhip
+him before your face, and I don't suppose you will marry him after
+that."
+
+Maggie struggled with feelings of laughter, fear, and delight; delight
+overpowered laughter, for Frank was young and handsome, and full of what
+he said. It was quite romantic to be talked to like that. She would like
+to see the men threaten each other. But then--the scandal--father might
+never get over it. And if he married again? Speaking slowly, and in an
+undertone so as not to betray herself, she said: "O Frank, I'm sure you
+would not do anything that would injure me."
+
+"My darling, I love you better than the whole world. My whole life, if
+you will, shall be spent in striving to make you happy."
+
+"You are very good." She took his hand and squeezed it; he returned the
+pressure with rapturous look and motion. She drew from him a little, for
+there were some people coming towards them, and she said: "Take care."
+When the fisher folk had passed, she looked at him stealthily. She had
+always liked him in that necktie, and those cloth shoes were perfect.
+Had she never known Charlie, or if she had not gone so far with
+him!--There was something in Frank that was very nice--she could like
+the two. What a pity the two were not one! "If he were always as nice
+as he is now, and not lecture me!" Then she remembered she must return
+home. "I must really go home; I can't go any farther--"
+
+"No, no, I cannot leave you. I must see and hear you now. If you knew
+what I have endured waiting for you, you would not be so cruel. Come and
+let us sit on the beach."
+
+"I couldn't. I must go back; father will miss me. Besides, what have
+we to say? If I were only free and could tell you that I loved you, it
+would be different."
+
+"Free! then you regret; if a woman wills it she can always free
+herself."
+
+"No, it is harder than you think for a girl to get out of an engagement
+she has entered into, even if no absolute promise has been given."
+
+"What do you mean? If you have entered into no formal engagement you are
+surely free."
+
+"I don't know. Do you think so? I am afraid men think that a promise may
+be broken after marriage as well as before."
+
+"You are wrong. Women who are jealous, who are old, tell girls that men
+are always unfaithful, but I'm sure that if I loved a girl I could never
+think of another. Do you really think I could think of any girl but
+you?"
+
+"I don't know. I wonder if all you say is true."
+
+"Do you think me different from other men?"
+
+"Yes, but I cannot go on the beach; some other evening I will walk there
+with you."
+
+"No, now, now--I want to tell you how and when I began to love. Do you
+remember when I used to spend part of my holidays at the Manor House
+when I was only so high, and you were all in short frocks? Come, there
+is much I want to say to you; I cannot part with you. Come, and let us
+sit on the shingle. Oh, the beautiful evening!"
+
+She could love him a little when she looked at him, but when he talked
+she lost interest in him. She had allowed him to take her hand, he had
+bent towards her, and she had let him kiss her; and then they talked of
+love--she of its bitterness and disappointments; he of its aspirations,
+and gradually their souls approached like shadows in the twilight,
+paused for a few vague moments, seemed as if lost in dreams.
+
+"I shall never forget this night! O my love, tell me one day you will be
+mine!"
+
+"I cannot promise, you must not ask me."
+
+"We are meant for each other. It was not blind fate that cast us
+together. Does no voice tell you this? I hear it in my heart."
+
+The abandonment, the mystery of the gathering dusk, touched Maggie's
+fancy. They were alone in the twilight, and it was full of the romance
+of a rising tide.
+
+"Never did I know such happiness; I am supremely happy, alone with you
+beneath this sky, listening to the vague, wild voice of the sea. It
+would be bitter sweet to die in such a triumphant hour. Supposing wewere
+to lie here and allow the sea to take us away."
+
+"No, I don't want to die. I want to live and enjoy my life."
+
+The answer fell a little chillingly on Frank's rapture. Then after
+a pause, Maggie said: "I think I have read of that somewhere--in
+anovel--lovers caught by the tide."
+
+"Yes, I daresay you have. I was thinking of two lovers who were so
+overcome with happiness that they decided that they would not trust
+themselves again to the waves and storms of life, but would let the
+calm, slow tide of death take them away with all their happiness
+unassoiled."
+
+Maggie did not answer. The double fear had come upon her--first,
+that the tide might rise higher than usual and cut off their retreat.
+Secondly, that Frank--he was a poet--might insist on remaining there and
+being drowned. Getting up, she said: "I do not know what father will say
+when I get home, really it is quite dark. Come, Frank."
+
+"Death is better than a life of abomination--loss of innocence, and of
+delight in simple things. I ask you," he said, stopping her suddenly.
+
+"Yes, no doubt it is so; but I want to get home. Do go on, Frank."
+
+"I will save you from a life of abomination--in other words I will save
+you from him; he shall not get you. I have sworn it; you did notknow
+that when you were lying down on the beach--you had ceased speaking, and
+in the silence my life seemed stirred to its very essence; and I knew
+that I must struggle against him, and conquer. I want to know this:
+Have you ever thought of what your life would be with him? Have you ever
+thought what he is?"
+
+"But you don't know him, Frank. You have never spoken to him. I am sure
+you misjudge him."
+
+"Do you think I cannot see what he is? He is one of those men whose one
+ambition is to make themselves friendly in a house where there are women
+to wheedle. If the wife is young he will strive to wheedle her,
+and though he may not succeed he must degrade her. Or, if she have
+daughters, he will never cease to appeal to, to work upon, to excite
+latent feelings which, had it not been for him, would never have been
+developed into base and abnormal desire. I know what the foul-minded
+beast is. Such men as he ought to be killed; we don't want them in our
+society. I want to save you, I want to give you a noble, a pure life,
+full of the charms of a husband's influence, a home where there would be
+love of natural things. You are capable of all this, Maggie, your nature
+is a pure one, but your life is unwholesome and devoid of purity."
+
+"Frank, how can you speak so? You have no right to say such things about
+us. I am sure you have always been well treated--"
+
+"You do not understand me, I will explain what I mean. Your life is rich
+and luxurious, but you are not happy, no one is happy in idleness; above
+all no woman is happy without love. A woman's mission in life is to
+love, she must have her home, her husband, and her children. These are
+the things that make a woman happy; and these are the things I want to
+give you--that I will give you; for, listen to me, I swear you shall not
+have that adventurer. He would degrade you with pleasure at first, and
+afterwards with neglect. You are too good for this, Maggie--it must
+not be, it shall not be. As I said before, death would be better." They
+stood in front of the canal locks and Maggie looked with a beating heart
+on the deep water that a ray from a crescent moon faintly indicated.
+"A woman is helpless until she finds her lord, he who shall save, the
+saviour who shall bring her home safe to the fold. He exists! and all
+are in danger till they find him. Some miss him--they wander into misery
+and ruin; those that find him are led to happiness and content. I
+am yours. I would tell you how I became convinced that I am the one
+appointed by God to lead you to Him."
+
+"I thought you didn't believe in God."
+
+"Not as we have been taught to understand Him but I believe in a
+presiding power--call it luck, fate, or destiny that--that exists and
+wills; that is to say, watches over--rules out that this man is for that
+woman, and ordains that he shall protect her from danger, shall save her
+from those that seek her destruction. Much has happened to prove that I
+was intended for you. We have known each other since we were children.
+Do you not remember when I kissed you in the verandah as I was going to
+school? I was the first man who kissed you; you were the first woman who
+kissed me--have you never felt that we were for each other? Nor can I
+forget that when I thought we had drifted for ever apart, that I was
+brought back. Do you think it was accident--blind chance? I don't. Now
+I see this man striving to win you, and whether it be for your money,
+whether it be for yourself, or for both, it is my duty to say: No, this
+must not be."
+
+"I think you are mistaken about Charlie. I admit that a man is often
+a better judge than a girl; and as for you, Frank, I am sure I am very
+fond of you. It is very good of you to take such interest in me--but we
+must get home. I don't know what father will think."
+
+"No, before you go a step further you must promise me not to see that
+man again. I cannot tell you how, but I know no good can come of it. He
+is one of those creatures who cannot love, and only care for women for
+the excitement they afford. I know what sort of brute he is. It is more
+depraving to walk alone with him, than to be the mistress of a man who
+loved you."
+
+"He is leaving Brighton in a few days."
+
+"So much the better for all of us. But you must promise me. I would
+sooner see you lying drowned in that lock than his wife."
+
+Maggie trembled. It was ridiculous to think of such a thing. Surely he
+did not mean to drown her if she refused to promise. Charlie was going
+to London in a few days; he would be away for three or four months.
+Heaven only knows what would happen in that time. She didn't see what
+right Frank had to bully her--to extort promises from her by night on
+the edge of a dangerous lock. But a promise wasn't much, and a promise
+given in such circumstances was not a promise at all.
+
+"If you are really in earnest--if you think it is for my good, I'll
+promise you not to see him again."
+
+"O Maggie, if you only knew what a load of trouble you have taken off
+my mind! Thank you--give me your hand, and let me thank you. I know I am
+right. And now, tell me, can you love me? Will you marry me?"
+
+"I will promise nothing more to-night; we shall see how you behave
+yourself," the girl replied winningly. "And now go on, sir, we have been
+here quite long enough."
+
+He crossed the gate mechanically, she followed eagerly, and when she
+reached the other side her heart beat with pride at her pretty triumph.
+Now I'll twit him, she thought, as they ascended the shore and entered
+the town.
+
+"I wonder why you think Charlie so wicked; I think if you knew him you
+would change your opinion."
+
+"I am very thankful indeed that I do not know him."
+
+The conversation dropped, but a moment after he gave her the chance she
+wanted.
+
+"Mind you have promised me not to see him again. I trust you."
+
+"But suppose he calls and if I should be in the drawing-room, I cannot
+walk out of the room without speaking to him."
+
+"I think you had better write and say you do not wish to see him."
+
+"I couldn't do that; we have known him a long time, and father has
+always said that we must be rude to no one. Besides, what reason could I
+give?"
+
+"You need not give a reason. But let that pass. I can't see why you
+should meet; you can surely tell your servant to say 'Not at home,' when
+he calls."
+
+"I might be in the garden--Sally would not allow it. If John said 'Not
+at home,' she would run down and let him in."
+
+"I see you are raising difficulties--I see you do not intend to keep
+your promise."
+
+"You have been quite rude enough for one evening. You have kept me out
+on the beach by force till nearly ten o'clock at night, and you said
+that my life at the Manor House was not a pure one--I don't know what
+you mean. No man ever spoke to me like that before."
+
+"You misunderstood me. If you knew how I loved you, you would not twit
+me with my own words. Heaven knows I would sooner go back and drown
+myself in the lock than do anything or say anything that would offend
+you. Remember also that I asked you to be my wife."
+
+"You are not the first. I daresay it may appear strange to you, but
+others have asked me the same question before."
+
+"It does not seem strange to me, it only seems strange to me that every
+one doesn't love you, but I daresay they do. O Maggie, remember that you
+gave me hope, you said that you might--"
+
+"Did I? Well, it's too late to talk any more. Goodnight. I suppose
+you're not coming in?"
+
+She left him in a cruel dispersal of hope. He avoided, and then he
+tenderly solicited a regret that he had not thrown her into the lock. To
+end on that hour by the sea would have been better than the trivial and
+wretched conclusion of a broken promise, and everything, even murder,
+were better than that a brute should have her woman's innocence to sully
+and destroy. His love of the woman disappeared in his desire to save,
+the idea which she represented at that moment; and lost in sentiment
+he stood watching the white sickle of the moon over against the dim
+village. The leaves of some pollarded willows whitened when the breeze
+shot them up to the light, and a moment after became quite distinct in
+the glare and the steam of an approaching engine. He might go and tell
+Willy all about it; he would ask him to interfere-could he catch that
+train? If he ran for it, yes. He ran full tilt across the green under
+the archway up the high stone steps. He just did it.
+
+It was the last train; he would sleep in Brighton. His plan, so far as
+he had a definite plan, was to ask Willy to come with him and tell "that
+brute" that his visits to the Manor House must end, and request him to
+pay his sister no further attentions. His other plans were--Willy must
+speak to Maggie and tell her all he knew of the man; Willy must speak to
+his father; Mr. Brookes must not be kept in ignorance. But of course
+the right thing to do would be for Willy and him to call at the brute's
+hotel, tell him what they thought, and give him a licking. The train
+jogged on, and Frank made plan after plan. It was now past eleven, and
+he would not be at East Street before twelve o'clock. As he hurried
+along the streets he doubted more than ever how Willy would receive him.
+He might just as well have waited till morning. However, it was too late
+now to think of going back, there was no train, and he rapped at first
+timidly and then noisily at the shop door. He had to wait some time, and
+then he heard a voice asking from the top windows who was there.
+
+"'Tis I, Frank; awfully sorry, but must see you--particular business."
+
+There was no answer; he heard the voice grumbling, and more than ever
+doubtful of the cordiality of his reception, he listened. The door
+opened.
+
+"Who is it?" he said.
+
+"'Tis I, Cissy; but I'm in my nightdress."
+
+"I won't look at you, Cissy, if that's what you mean. But won't yougive
+me a kiss?"
+
+"Stoop down, then."
+
+"I am sorry for waking you up, Cissy."
+
+"Never mind, I'd get up at any hour to see you."
+
+"There, run upstairs, and take care you don't catch cold, or I shall
+never hear the end of it."
+
+"Father is in bed with mother. He says you are to go up, for if he were
+to get out of bed it might give him cold. You know his room?"
+
+"Yes, here it is, now run along."
+
+"Come in."
+
+Frank was a little shocked, and he waited stupidly on the threshold. He
+could see a fragment of Mrs. Brookes's profile, and beneath the clothes
+the outline of Willy's bony body.
+
+"Come in, come in," he said, "don't stand there filling the room with
+cold air. Now, what is it? Why the deuce do you come here waking us up
+at this ungodly hour? What has happened?"
+
+"I have proposed to your sister Maggie."
+
+"I am sure I am delighted to hear it, old chap; but I can't help
+thinking that I could have congratulated you equally as well, if not
+better, in the morning." Then, noticing the distressed look in Frank's
+face, he said: "I hope she has not refused you."
+
+"No; she asked me to wait, she said it would depend--"
+
+"Then you may depend it is all right; now go away and let me go to
+sleep, we'll talk about it in the morning. You can't get back to-night.
+You are sleeping in Brighton, I suppose? You'll come and breakfast
+here?"
+
+"Yes, with pleasure, but it wasn't exactly to tell that I had proposed
+to Maggie that I came here to-night; there is something more than that.
+You know that fellow she calls Charlie? I don't know his other name."
+
+"Stracey?"
+
+"I dare say. I mean the man you said you hated more than any man alive;
+I hate him, too."
+
+"You don't mean to say she is still thinking of that fellow. Has he come
+back?"
+
+"He was at the Manor House all day yesterday."
+
+"If she marries that fellow I'll never speak to her again, it will be
+dead cuts."
+
+"It is only natural that I should love Maggie. You remember the first
+day I came down to the Manor House? How young I was then--how young we
+all were; there are no days like the old days! There is a beautiful poem
+by Wordsworth; I only remember one line now--
+
+    "'When every day was long
+       As twenty days are now'--
+
+Do you remember the poem?" Willy did not answer, and noticing that his
+eyes were blinking, Frank hastily returned to more recent events." I
+wrote to her this afternoon telling her how much I loved her, and I said
+that I would call about nine in the evening at the Manor House, and
+that I hoped to find her in the drawing-room where we could talk without
+being disturbed. However, I was too excited, and could not hold out till
+nine; I thought I had better hear my fate at once, and as I was walking
+across the field--you know, at the back of Mrs. Heald's--I met her half
+way. She had a letter in her hand, which she said she was going to leave
+at Mrs. Heald's for me--She admitted that the letter was in point of
+fact a refusal, and when I questioned her she admitted that she was
+obliged to refuse me because she had half promised Charlie. We went for
+a walk on the beach; we sat on the beach and watched the sunset, and
+I told her all. I spoke to her about the past, how we had grown up
+together--how we had been, as it were, from the first fated for each
+other; for you must admit, Willy, that it is very curious--I don't know
+if you ever think of it, but I do--how we have met again even when the
+chances of life seemed to have put us for ever apart. "Here a slight
+sound warned Frank that the present moment was one as equally unfitted
+for psychological analysis as for poetry, and he hurried to his story,
+hoping that the incident of the lock would secure him attention. "Willy,
+I think I convinced her that I liked her better than that other fellow.
+We were standing by the lock--Willy, I really do think you might
+listen."
+
+"My dear fellow, I am listening. You were both looking at the sunset."
+
+"It really is too bad. Of course, if you don't want to hear, and would
+prefer to go to sleep, you have only to say so."
+
+"My dear fellow, I assure you I wasn't asleep. I only closed my
+eyes because I can't bear the glare of that candle. I know where you
+were--you were looking at the sunset."
+
+"No, we weren't."
+
+"Weren't they, Jessie? Are you asleep?"
+
+"No, I am not asleep. Do hold your tongue, Willy, I want to hear the
+story. You were standing by the lock, Mr. Escott."
+
+"Ah, yes, so they were."
+
+"I felt it was my duty, so I told her that I felt it was my mission to
+save--to save her from that man, and I made her promise me not to see
+him again."
+
+"Then it is all right. Nobody can be more glad than I am. I hate the
+fellow."
+
+"She will not keep her promise. Of course she may only have done it to
+tease me; but as we were going home she said she could not walk out of
+the room if she happened to be there when he called, nor could she leave
+word with the servants to say that they were not at home. She made a lot
+of excuses. What are you laughing at, Mrs. Brookes?"
+
+"I am really very sorry, Mr. Escott, but I couldn't help wondering if
+she would change her mind again if you were to go back to the lock."
+
+Frank took up the candle and turned to go.
+
+"Don't go," Willy murmured faintly.
+
+"I am very sorry, Mr. Escott--if circumstances permitted, I would do all
+I could to help you."
+
+This was delicate ground, and Willy woke up.
+
+"What do you want me to do? Have you anything to suggest?"
+
+"Yes, it struck me that we might both go round to the fellow's
+hotel--Stracey, you call him, I think--and you might tell him that his
+visits must cease at the Manor House, and that he must not speak to your
+sister if he should happen to meet her. That should bring the matter
+to an end. He is in Brighton--he is staying at the 'Grand.' We might go
+round there to-morrow morning."
+
+"He might kick us out."
+
+"I only hope he may try. I would give him such a hammering. But you need
+not be afraid of that. It wouldn't do to have Maggie's name mentioned in
+connection with a vulgar brawl--people are not too charitable. My idea
+is that this business should be conducted in the quietest and most
+gentlemanly manner possible."
+
+"I think I had better speak to father first."
+
+"No necessity; he will be only too glad to get rid of the penniless
+brute. Don't you think so, Mrs. Brookes?"
+
+"I do."
+
+They then spoke of other things--of the shop, the profit they had
+made on tomatoes, and the losses that had resulted from over-stocking
+themselves with flour. At last a loud snore brought the conversation to
+a full stop, and Frank hurriedly bade them good-night.
+
+"Cissy will let you out," said Willy, with a sigh of relief.
+
+The little girl had pulled on her stockings and tied a petticoat round
+her waist. "So you are going to be married."
+
+"O Cissy, you have been listening!"
+
+"Is she very nice? She must be very nice for you to marry her. I should
+like to marry you."
+
+"Would you, Cissy, and why?"
+
+"Oh, because you are so very handsome. But you will come and see us all
+the same, and let me sit on your knee?"
+
+"Of course I will, Cissy, and now good-night."
+
+Next morning Willy declared himself ready to go and see Mr. Charles
+Stracey, and to tell him that he was not to call any more at the Manor
+House, or speak to Miss Brookes if he should happen to meet her. Frank
+wondered if this decision was owing to Mrs. Brookes's influence.
+
+"I slept last night at the 'Grand' It seemed odd sleeping in the same
+house--perhaps within a few doors of him. If you only knew how I love
+her, if I could only tell you, you would pity me. You ought to know what
+I feel--the anxiety, the heart-ache. I know you have gone through it
+all."
+
+"Yes, I think I know what it is," Willy replied thoughtfully.
+
+"Mr. Stracey is staying here?"
+
+"Will you enquire at the office, sir?"
+
+While the books were being searched the young men consulted together.
+Frank said: "Send up your card, and say you will be glad to speak to
+him on a matter of importance. Of course he will see you, but before you
+speak about Maggie you must apologise for my presence; you must say that
+I am a very particular friend, and that you thought it better that the
+interview should take place in the presence of a witness."
+
+"I wish it were all over. I wouldn't do what I am doing for any one
+else, I can tell you, Frank."
+
+"Mr. Stracey is in the hotel, sir."
+
+"Will you give him my card, and say I should be glad to speak to him on
+a matter of importance?"
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+(In an undertone to Frank), "Was that right?"
+
+"Quite right."
+
+"Oh, one thing I had forgotten to ask you--am I to shake hands with
+him?"
+
+"You mean if he offers you his hand?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is impossible to settle everything beforehand. One must act
+according as the occasion requires."
+
+"That's all very well for you, but I am a slow man, and am lost if I
+don't arrange beforehand."
+
+"Pretend not to see his hand, and apologise for my presence; he will
+then see that we mean business."
+
+"The waiting is the worst part."
+
+"Will you walk this way, sir?" said the page boy. "Mr. Stracey is not
+out of bed yet, but he said if you wouldn't mind, sir."
+
+They shrank from their enterprise instinctively, but the door was thrown
+open, and they saw a bath, and a sponge, and a towel, and Mr. Stracey
+lying on his back reading _The Sporting Times_. He extended a long
+brawny arm. The strength of the arm fixed itself on Willy's mind, and he
+doubted if he had not better take the proffered hand.
+
+"I brought my friend Mr. Escott with me, for I thought a witness--I
+mean, that this interview should be conducted in the presence of a third
+party."
+
+At this speech Charlie opened his eyes and dropped his paper. Willy
+leaned over the rail of the bed; Frank looked into the bath, but
+remembering himself suddenly, he examined the chest of drawers.
+
+"I have come to speak to you about my sister."
+
+Charlie changed countenance, and both men noticed the change.
+
+"I mean to say I have come to tell you that you must discontinue your
+visits to the Manor House, and I must beg of you not to address my
+sisters should you meet them."
+
+"May I ask if you are your father's representative, if you speak with
+his authority?"
+
+"I do not. I--"
+
+"Then I should like to know on what authority you forbid me a house that
+doesn't belong to you, and I should like to know, if your father doesn't
+disapprove of my knowing your sisters, why you should? I shall speak to
+Miss Brookes as long as she cares to speak to me. The very idea of a man
+like you coming here to bully me! You have got my answer."
+
+"If, after this warning," said Frank, who, seeing that things were
+going against them, thought he had better interfere, "you speak to Miss
+Brookes, you will do so at your peril."
+
+"Peril! What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that you must be prepared to take the consequences."
+
+"Who are you? I should like to know what you have to do in this matter?"
+
+"I speak as Miss Brookes's future husband."
+
+"Future husband be damned! She'll never marry you," said Charlie,
+springing out of bed.
+
+Frank threw himself on his guard, and they would have struck each other
+if Willy had not cried out: "Frank, remember you promised me there must
+be no scandal."
+
+"I had almost forgotten. For Miss Brookes's sake, I refrain. Do you
+also, for her sake, cease to provoke me."
+
+Charlie hesitated for a moment, then rushing to the door, he said: "I,
+too, for Miss Brookes's sake, refrain, and I give you three seconds to
+clear out."
+
+In attempting to carry out the injunction Willy nearly fell in the bath.
+Frank had to bite his lip to avoid a smile, and he stalked out of the
+room assuming his most arrogant air.
+
+"I think, on the whole, we got the best of it," he said as they went
+down stairs.
+
+"Do you? He turned us out of his room!"
+
+"That's the worst of tackling a man in his own room--if he tells you to
+go, and you don't go, he can ring for the servants."
+
+"I was as nearly as possible going into the bath."
+
+"Yes, a touch more and down you'd have gone." Frank laughed, and Willy
+laughed, "and that fellow in his nightshirt fishing you out!"
+
+"Oh, don't, don't--"
+
+Frank asked Willy to lunch with him at Mutton's, and he ordered a bottle
+of champagne in honour of the day.
+
+"I say, just fancy pulling you out of the bath, and wiping you with a
+towel. I can see you dripping!"
+
+"Don't set me off again. Let me enjoy my cutlets."
+
+"By Jove! there's something I hadn't thought of."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"We must be off. We must tell Maggie what has happened before he has
+time to communicate with her. What is the next train to Southwick?"
+
+"There's one at half-past one."
+
+"It was after twelve when we saw him, he won't have time to catch that.
+We must be off. Waiter, the bill, and be quick. Look sharp, Willy,
+finish the bottle, pity to waste it."
+
+"What a nuisance women are, to be sure. Just as I was enjoying my
+cutlet! I can't walk fast in this weather, I should make myself ill."
+
+"We must take a cab."
+
+"What a fellow you are, you never think of the expense. I don't know
+where I should be if I were as reckless as you are."
+
+"Supposing he were at the station. It would be rather a sell if we went
+down by the same train! What should we do? He would surely never attempt
+to force his way in!"
+
+"I don't think he would attempt that. If he did, we should have to send
+for the police."
+
+The young men strove to decide how the news should be broken to Maggie.
+But they had arranged nothing before they arrived at Southwick, and
+Frank stopped Willy time after time by the footpath, until at last in
+despair the latter said: "We must make haste; there's another train in
+twenty minutes."
+
+"By Jove! I had not thought of that; we must get on. Well, then, it is
+all arranged. You must tell her that you thought it your duty. Put
+it all down to duty, and it was your duty to do what you did--putting
+entirely out of the question the service you did me."
+
+"I can tell you what, Frank, I am very sorry I ever meddled in the
+matter. Had I known the vexation and annoyance it would have caused--and
+mark my words, and see if they don't come true, we are only commencing
+the annoyances that the affair will cause us. Ah, had I only foreseen!
+What a fool I was; I ought to have known better; I have had nothing but
+bad luck all my life. It is perfectly wonderful the bad luck I have had;
+no matter what I did, nothing seemed to go right. I dare say if you had
+gone to see that fellow without me it would have turned out differently.
+But I don't see how I am to tell my sister point blank that I have
+forbidden him the house. What will she say? She may fly at me. Women
+have queer tempers, particularly when you interfere with their young
+men. My sisters have the very worst of tempers; you don't know them as I
+do. Fortunately it is not Sally. I assure you I wouldn't face Sally with
+such news for all the money you could give me."
+
+"I am very sorry, old chap, but we must now go through it. You must
+forbid her to communicate with him."
+
+"She won't heed what I say. It will only excite her. She will fly at me,
+and call me names, and burst into tears. I should not be surprised if
+she went off her head--she has been very strange once before. I don't
+mean to say she was ever wrong in her head, but she is a nervous,
+excitable girl--most excitable; my sisters are the most excitable girls
+I have ever known."
+
+It was surprisingly soon over. Willy had not spoken a dozen words, when
+he was interrupted.
+
+"You mean to say you have been to call on him?"
+
+"Yes; and we told him he was never to speak to you again."
+
+
+Frank expected her eyes to flash fire, but he only noticed a slight
+change in her face, a movement of the muscles of the lower jaw.
+
+"Then I will speak to neither of you again!" and she walked out of the
+room, and in dismay they listened to her going upstairs.
+
+"She didn't fly at me," said Willy; and, looking a little terrified, he
+stroked his moustache softly. "I told you she would give no heed to what
+we said; nor do I see how we can prevent her seeing that fellow if she
+chooses. He cannot come into the house, it is true, but she can go out
+when she pleases."
+
+"We must follow her."
+
+Conscious of defeat, Willy desired compromise. He could not be
+induced to take a share of watching and following which Frank declared
+essential; and, dreading an encounter with Stracey, whose brawny arm it
+was impossible to forget, he shut himself up in the shop, and devoted
+himself to drawing up a most elaborate balance-sheet, showing how he
+would stand if he were obliged to close the business to-morrow, whereas
+Frank loitered about the roads, till Mrs. Horlock came along with her
+dogs, and engaged him in conversation; and no matter at what corner he
+stationed himself, he found he was not free from observation. A few days
+after he could not bring himself to return to his post, and contented
+himself with looking out of his window, and taking an occasional stroll
+by the embankment, when he saw a train signalled.
+
+A great weight seemed lifted from his shoulder the day he heard that
+his rival's holiday had come to an end, and that he had been forced to
+return to his counting-house in London. True it is that Mr. Brookes
+had in a certain measure approved of Willy's action in forbidding young
+Stracey the Manor House, and therefore of his, Frank Escott's, suit,
+but neither of these gains compensated him for the crowning loss of not
+being able to see his beloved, for although the Manor House was still
+theoretically open to him, practically it was closed. The sisters,
+although at variance on all subjects, had united in condemning him and
+Willy, and during one dinner, the misery of which he declared he could
+never forget, they had sat whispering together, refusing to address him
+either by look or word. Willy took all this calmly. It is an ill wind
+that blows no good, and the silence enabled him to thoroughly masticate
+his food. Mr. Brookes wept a little and laughed a little, and reminded
+them of the oblivion that awaited all their little quarrels.
+
+All this, like much else in life, was ridiculous enough; but because
+we are ridiculous, it does not follow that we do not suffer, and Frank
+suffered. He was five-and-twenty, and light love had him fairly by the
+throat; he winced, and he cried out, but very soon his dignity gave way,
+and he craved forgiveness. But Maggie passed without heeding him. For
+more than a week she resisted all his appeals, and it was not until she
+saw that she was taking the neighbourhood into her confidence, and to
+feel that if she did not relent a little he might leave Southwick, and
+not return, she answered him with a monosyllable. With what bliss did he
+hear that first "no," and how passionately he pleaded for a few words;
+it did not seem to matter what they were, so long as he heard her speak
+one whole sentence to him. Feeling her power, she was shy of yielding,
+and with every concession she drew him further into the meshes of love.
+He dined now nearly every day at the Manor House, and he spent an hour,
+sometimes two, with her in the morning or afternoon; he followed her
+from greenhouse to greenhouse, but all his efforts were in vain, and he
+failed not only to obtain her promise to marry him, but even a renewal
+of the feeble and partial hopes which she had given him that night on
+the beach. He prayed, he wept, he implored pity, he openly spoke of
+suicide, and he hinted at murder. But Maggie passed him, pushing him out
+of the way with the watering-pot, threatening to water him too, until
+one day he drew a revolver. She screamed, and the revolver was put away,
+but on the next occasion a stiletto that he had brought from Italy was
+produced, and with a great deal of earnestness life was declared to be
+a miserable thing. It was absurd, no doubt, but at the same time it was
+not a little pathetic; he was so good-looking, and so sincere. Maggie
+put down the watering-pot, and she would probably have allowed him to
+take her hand and kiss her, if he had not spoken roughly about Charlie,
+and called her conduct into question. So she told him she would not
+speak to him again, and she continued watering the flowers in silence.
+Amid vague remembrances of murders she had read of, Frank's words and
+behaviour remained present in her mind, and that evening when Willy, who
+rarely took the trouble to speak, much less to advise his sisters, told
+her that she might never get such a chance again, she said: "I am not
+going to marry a madman to please your vanity."
+
+"Marry a madman! What do you mean?"
+
+"Well, I call a man that who comes regularly to see a girl with a
+revolver in one pocket and a stiletto in the other, and threatens to
+leave himself wallowing in a pool of blood at her feet--"
+
+"You mean to say he does that? You are clearly determined to drive the
+poor fellow out of his mind with your infernal coquetry. Well, women
+are the most troublesome, and I believe in many cases, the wickedest
+creatures on the face of God's earth."
+
+"You shut up. Men who don't get on with women always abuse them; you are
+soured since Miss ----, the actress, jilted you."
+
+"If you ever dare mention that subject, I will never speak to you again.
+You know I don't break my word."
+
+"Why do you interfere in my affairs? You don't think of me when you go
+down to browbeat Charlie Stracey; you don't think of what would have
+been said of me had Frank hit him, and it had all come out in the
+papers." Maggie said no more; she saw she had gone too far. Willy sat
+puffing at his pipe; but when her father spoke of a certain investment
+that had not turned out as well as he had anticipated, he joined in the
+conversation, and she hoped her cruelty was forgotten.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+
+Frank uttered a cry of surprise when he opened the studio door to his
+friend. It was his favourite complaint that Willy never came to see him.
+
+"At last, at last! This is the second time you have been in the place
+since it was finished, faithless friend!"
+
+"My dear fellow, you know it is not my fault. I have been very busy
+lately trying to get on with my accounts. There's not a room in the
+Manor House where I can work in; my sisters' things are everywhere, and
+they must not be interfered with--their ball-dresses, their birds, their
+work. My sisters think of nothing but pleasure."
+
+"Triss, go back, go to your chair, sir; I'll get the whip."
+
+Showing his fangs, the bull-dog retired; then with a hideous growl
+sprang upon his chair, and sat eyeing Willy's calves.
+
+"I cannot think what pleasure it can give you to keep such a brute. Even
+if I had my accounts finished, I don't think I should care to come here
+much. It isn't safe."
+
+"You are quite mistaken. There's not a better-tempered dog alive than
+Triss; he wouldn't bite any one unless he attacked me. Give me a slap,
+and you'll see--I won't let him come near you."
+
+"Thank you, I'd rather not. But he sometimes growls even at you, and
+shows his teeth, too."
+
+"That's only a way of his, and when he does it I kick him. Come here,
+Triss--come here, sir!" The dog approached slowly; he sat down and gave
+his paw to his master, but he did not cease to growl. "There! We have
+had enough of you, go back to your chair. What will you take--a glass of
+Chartreuse--a cigarette?"
+
+"Thanks, both if you will let me. I see you like pretty things," he
+said, admiring the tall legs of the table--early English--and the quaint
+glasses into which Frank poured the liqueur. "You've got the place to
+look very nice."
+
+"Very different from what is was when the smith and his boisterous brood
+were here," and as if he intended an apt illustration of his words, he
+stretched his leg out on the white fur rug and surveyed his calf and red
+silk stocking. "Just look at that dog, isn't he a beauty? I always think
+he looks well in that attitude, leaning his head over the rail. I began
+a picture of him the other day in a pose somewhat like that. I'll show
+it you." Frank propped his sketch against the leg of the sofa, and
+returned to his place on the sofa. "What do you think of it? Your father
+said it was very like."
+
+"It is like him, but I can see no merit in it. I'm afraid of the brute.
+I can't help hating him, for he always looks as if he were going for my
+legs. What else have you been painting? Any pretty women about? I should
+admire them more."
+
+"I haven't been painting lately," he said, sighing a little
+melodramatically, as was his wont, "I think I have been playing the
+piano more than anything else. I have composed something too, I don't
+think it bad, I'll play it to you: a dialogue between a gentleman and a
+lady. He speaks first, then she answers, then I blend the two motives,
+and that is what they both say."
+
+Willy sat enwrapped in his own thoughts, not having heard a note. Though
+he knew that Willy was incapable of judging of music, it disappointed
+him that his dialogue had passed unperceived. Then smiling, he struck
+a few notes, and Willy awoke. "You haven't been listening," he said,
+reproachfully. "You don't care for any music, except that little tune."
+
+"Yes, I do; I heard what you played, and I think it very pretty."
+
+"Willy, I am the most miserable man in the world. Every hour, every
+minute of my life is a pain to me. I never knew before what you must
+have suffered, but I know now; it is a sickening feeling, it takes you
+by the throat, it rises in the throat, and you are almost suffocated.
+Last night I lay awake hour after hour thinking. I could see Maggie
+as plainly as I can see you--she looked down upon me out of space with
+strange, steadfast eyes, and my whole soul went out to her, and I cried
+to her that I loved her beyond all things; and we seemed to be so near
+each other; it seemed such an intimate and perfect communion of spirit
+and sense that I seemed, as it were, lifted out of actual life; I seemed
+to myself holier, purer, better than I had ever been before; I seemed to
+loose all that is gross and material in me, and to gain in all that
+is best and worthiest in man. Did you feel like that when you were in
+love?"
+
+"I don't know that I felt exactly like that. But never mind how I felt;
+you are too fond of alluding to that subject, it is a very painful one
+to me; you will make me regret that I ever told you anything about it."
+
+"I am sorry I mentioned it. It is strange, but when one suffers one
+likes to speak of and to compare with one's own the suffering that
+another has endured. Your sister treats me most cruelly. She has
+forgiven me that miserable business, but she refuses to hold out any
+hope that she will ever be my wife. I don't understand--I am utterly at
+sea. I don't believe for a moment that she cares for that horrid brute;
+he is gone away. She tells me she never cared for him. If so, I should
+like to learn your explanation of her conduct."
+
+Willy stroked his moustache, apparently declining the responsibility of
+apologist; but his manner showed he had something on his mind, and Frank
+sought more eagerly than ever to enlist his sympathy and support.
+
+"I have done everything I could to win her. I don't know why she should
+be so difficult to please. I am not bad looking, I am at least as good
+looking as that damned brute" (here he paused to glance at himself in
+the glass and smooth the curls above his forehead). "I am certainly
+quite as clever" (here he thought of his painting, and his eye sought
+one of his pictures), "and my position--I will not speak of that, it
+would be snobbish. Women have cared for me. I have told Maggie hundreds
+of times that I never could care for any but her. Fate seems to have
+specially marked us for each other. You must admit that there is
+something very remarkable in the way we have been brought together over
+and over again. I have told her that my life is worthless without her.
+The day before yesterday, when I was speaking to her, I burst into
+tears. That a man should cry, no doubt, seems to you very ridiculous but
+if you knew how I suffer you would pity me. I often think I shall commit
+suicide." Frank took the stiletto from his pocket. "I don't mind telling
+you, when you knocked at the door I was lying on the sofa thinking it
+over. One stab just here and I should be at peace for ever. I told her
+so yesterday."
+
+"I'm not fond of giving advice, as you know--I have quite enough to do
+to think about my own affairs--but as you have often spoken to me on
+this matter, and as you have asked me for my opinion and my help, I had
+better tell you that I differ entirely from you concerning the wisdom of
+the course you are pursuing."
+
+"How's that?" said Frank, at first surprised and then delighted at
+Willy's breaking from his reserve.
+
+"What I mean is, that I think you would be more successful if you
+would lay aside daggers and revolvers, and try to win her affection by
+patience and gentleness. Maggie was talking to me about it no later than
+last night, and I could see clearly that you frighten her with bluster.
+I am sure there are times when she dreads you; it must be a positive
+terror to her to sit with you alone--so it would be to any girl."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Maggie is a very delicate and nervous girl, and it wouldn't surprise
+me if your threats to commit suicide seriously affected her health; you
+come with a revolver and a stiletto, and you ask her to marry you, and
+if she doesn't at once say yes, you abuse her, declaring all the time
+that you'll stab yourself with the revolver and shoot yourself with the
+stiletto--I beg your pardon, I mean--"
+
+"Of course, if you've come here only to turn me into ridicule--"
+
+"I assure you I didn't mean it--a slip of the tongue," and as their eyes
+met at that moment, neither could refrain from laughter.
+
+"Admit that there is something in what I say. If you will behave a
+little more quietly--if you will talk to her nicely; leave off assuring
+her of your love, she knows all that already; have some patience and
+forbearance; you will see if before long she doesn't change towards
+you."
+
+His interest in the matter was a desire that his sister should not miss
+this chance of marrying the future Lord Mount Rorke. But Maggie felt
+too sure of Frank to resist the temptation to tantalise him; besides
+her moods were naturally various, and the first relapse into her former
+coldness was answered by a sudden reversion to threats of murder and
+suicide, and one summer evening about six o'clock, when Mrs. Horlock
+took her dogs out and stood at the corner waiting for Angel, a rumour
+was abroad that Mr. Escott had stabbed himself to the heart, and had
+fallen weltering in his blood at Miss Brookes's feet.
+
+Dr Dickinson walked across the green, watched with palpitating anxiety
+from the corner of the Southdown Road. The General spoke to the farmer,
+and the farmer's pupil nudged the general dealer. Mrs. Horlock spoke to
+the grocers, and the owners of the baths declared they had just heard
+from their servant that the young man was not dead, but mortally
+wounded.
+
+There was, therefore, no doubt that Dr Dickinson was going to Mrs.
+Heald's, and would not turn to the right and walk to the station for the
+quarter-to-seven train; and expectation on this point ceasing, the
+group expressed its sympathy for the young man. Poor young man--and
+so good-looking too--what will she do if he should die?--and he
+must die--there was no doubt of it. Maria had met Mary--that was the
+housemaid at the Manor House--it was Mary who had mopped up the blood.
+She said there was a great pool right in the middle of the new carpet
+under the window--they were sitting there on the ottoman when he said
+suddenly, "I have come to ask you to marry me; if you won't I must die."
+Notwithstanding this she continued to play with him--the cruel little
+minx! He could stand it no longer, and he pulled out a dagger he had
+brought from the East, and stabbed himself twice close to the heart.
+What will she do?--she is his murderer--to all intents and purposes she
+is his murderer--she will have to go into a convent--she won't go into
+a convent--she'll brazen it out. No one thinks much of those girls--the
+way Sally carried on with young Meason--it was disgraceful--they say she
+used to steal her father's money and give it to him--Dr Dickinson could
+tell fine tales.
+
+Then gossip ceased, and they were in doubt if they might intercept the
+doctor and obtain news of his patient when he left Mrs. Heald's. Some
+strolled about the green, pretending to be taking the air. Mrs. Horlock,
+however, had no scruples, and picking up Angel and calling to Rose and
+Flora, she walked straight to Mrs. Heald's, and was seen to go in. Some
+five minutes after she came out with the doctor. Frank was not dead, nor
+mortally wounded, nor even dangerously wounded, but he had had a very
+narrow escape.
+
+"I said to him, 'You have had a very narrow escape.' The fact is--(I, of
+course, examined the weapon)--a small part of the point had been broken
+away; it was this that saved him. The first blow scarcely pierced his
+clothes; the second was more effective, it entered the flesh just above
+the heart, and I have no doubt if the steel had penetrated a quarter of
+an inch deeper that he would have killed himself. But so far as I can
+see at present, he will get over it without much difficulty."
+
+"When did it occur?"
+
+"About an hour ago, at the Manor House. It appears that he has gone
+there every day for the last three weeks to ask Miss Brookes to marry
+him; she, however, would not give him any definite answer--"
+
+"Horrid girl!"
+
+"I never liked her; most deceitful; no doubt she flirted with him
+outrageously."
+
+"I can't say. I hear that he often threatened to kill himself, and
+to-day, to conclude, he pulled out his stiletto."
+
+"I thought it was a dagger he had brought from the East?"
+
+"No, the weapon they showed me was an Italian stiletto."
+
+The grocer's daughter shuddered, her mother murmured, "And for that
+girl."
+
+"We didn't know him. The Brookes never allow their friends to know any
+one in Southwick, but I have heard that he is an exceedingly nice--"
+
+"He will be Lord Mount Rorke, if his uncle doesn't marry again."
+
+"He must have been desperately in love; no one ever heard of such a
+thing before. It sounds like the Middle Ages--a stiletto!"
+
+"But what could he see in her? That's what I can't make out; can you?"
+
+"Ah! there I can't assist you. I hope to be able to cure him of the
+stiletto wound, but Cupid's arrows are beyond me. They did not fly
+so thickly or strike so hard in my time." And, laughing, the doctor
+withdrew.
+
+"I suppose that after this she will marry him; she never intended to
+let him slip through her fingers. I can see her face when she heard that
+another quarter of an inch and her chance of being Lady Mount Rorke was
+gone for ever."
+
+"I daresay he won't marry her now. It would serve her right. I should be
+so glad."
+
+And so pouring their gall out upon the unfortunate Maggie, the
+tradespeople returned to their homes. The stiletto was so utterly
+unprecedented, and so complete a reversal of all conception of
+the chances of life at Southwick, that every one felt puzzled and
+dissatisfied, even when gossip had brought to light every circumstantial
+detail of the romantic story. Had the deed been done with a knife, with
+anything but a stiletto; had he hanged himself, or cut his throat with
+a razor, or shot himself with his revolver, the wonder of the
+Southwickians would not have been so excited. But a stiletto! And for
+a week an Italy of brigands and bravoes, and stealthy surprises haunted
+shadows of picturesque archways, an Italy of chromo-lithographed skies
+and draperies in the Southdown Road. Maggie was spoken of with alternate
+fear and hate; her wickedness seemed more than natural, and had the
+Southdown Road known anything of Italian opera, there is little doubt
+that Miss Brookes would have been compared to Lucretia Borgia. The young
+women looked out of their windows at night, and wondered how they'd feel
+if a troubadour were suddenly to sing to them from behind the privet
+hedges. The young men were even more impressed than their womenfolk;
+they cursed their place of birth and habitation, knowing that it
+incapacitated them from knowing her; they wasted their mothers' candles
+sitting up till two in the morning writing odes to cruel women with
+raven hair; and all gazed sadly on the old ship in the harbour, and the
+Spanish main seemed nearer, and those gallant days more realisable than
+they had ever been before.
+
+The direct cause of this revival of romance lived, however, unconscious
+of it. She was genuinely frightened. She said her prayers with great
+fervour, begging God that He might save Frank, and that she might not
+be a murderess. She made him soups, she sent him wine, she brought him
+books, and she sat with him for hours. She thought he had never looked
+so nice as now--so pale, so aristocratic, so elegantly weak, his head
+laid upon a cushion, which she had brought him, and when he took her
+hand and said, "Will you, darling?" and she murmured, "Yes," then it
+seemed that the happiness of his life was upon his face.
+
+Three days after Frank was sitting at his table writing to Mount Rorke,
+and on the following Sunday he walked to the Manor House to tell Mr.
+Brookes that he was engaged to his daughter, and to ask his consent. He
+did not think of his folly, he was too happy; he seemed like one in a
+quiet dulcet dream; he walked slowly, leaning from time to time against
+the wooden paling, for he wished to prolong this meditative moment; he
+saw everything vaguely, and loved all with a quiet fulness of heart;
+he took in the sense of this village and its life as he had never done
+before. He compared it with Ireland; Mount Rorke, with its towers, and
+lakes, and woods arose, and he was grateful that Maggie was going there,
+yet he was sure that he could not live without sometimes seeing this
+village where he had found so much happiness.
+
+His wound had sucked away his strength, the sunlight dazzled him, and
+feeling a little overcome, and not equal, without pause, to the long
+interview that awaited him, he stayed awhile in a shady laurel corner,
+and leaning against a piece of iron railing, watched Mr. Brookes and
+Mr. Berkins as they paced the tennis lawn to and fro. The old gentleman
+frequently stopped in his walk to point at the glass houses.
+
+"My dear Berkins, I wish you would try to get Willy some appointment;
+he would, I am sure, take anything over two hundred and fifty a year. He
+would do marvellously well in an office--he loves it. I assure you his
+eyes twinkle when one speaks of how books are kept, or alludes in any
+way to the routine of office work. You should see his accounts and his
+letter books, they would make the best clerk you ever had feel ashamed
+of himself; but left to himself I am afraid he will do no good; he has
+all the method, but nothing else. He lost money in Bond Street; I am
+afraid to tell you how much he dropped on the Stock Exchange, but that
+was not entirely his fault--the firm went bankrupt; nobody could have
+foreseen it, it was quite unheard of."
+
+"I have always noticed that successful men do not buy partnerships in
+firms that go bankrupt."
+
+"Very true, Berkins; I wish I had asked your advice on the subject."
+
+"I wish you had, Mr. Brookes. You are no doubt a very clever man, but on
+one or two points you are liable to make mistakes; you are, if I may so
+speak, a little weak. You should come and live with me for a few months,
+I would put you right."
+
+"This is really too much," thought Mr. Brookes; and had it not been for
+the certain knowledge that Berkins had lately increased his income by
+a couple of thousands a year, he would have answered him tartly enough;
+but as this fact admitted of no doubt he bridled his anger and said: "If
+you could put my boy right it would be more to the point. He has all
+the method of the best clerk in London; he loves the work, he would do
+honour to any office, but on his own hook I am afraid he will never do
+anything but lose his money."
+
+"Your money, you mean."
+
+"Well, my money if you like. You are very provoking, Berkins. I don't
+know if you do it with the express purpose of annoying me. I was saying,
+when you interrupted me, that Nature had evidently intended my son for
+a clerk rather than for a speculator. I fear he is doing very badly
+with his shop in Brighton. The rents are very high in East Street, and I
+don't think he sells anything. He takes enough away from here, though. I
+don't remember if I ever told you that I was foolish enough to agree
+to his taking away, buying from me at the market price he calls it, the
+surplus produce of my garden and greenhouses. I dare say I shall get
+the money one of these days, but at present I see no sign of it. He is
+always making up the accounts, and, so far as we have gone, the result
+of this arrangement is that, when I complain that there is neither fruit
+nor vegetables on my table, I am told that everything went to Brighton.
+I am forced, I assure you, to send my carriage and my horses, that I
+paid two hundred guineas for, to fetch potatoes, and he, too, uses my
+carriage to take his vegetables to the shop. He gets his sisters to
+bring them when they go out driving, nor can I even buy my fruit and
+vegetables off him at cost price; he says that would interfere with his
+book-keeping, and so I am obliged to buy everything from Hutton, and you
+know what his prices are. I assure you, it is most annoying."
+
+"Mr. Brookes, your fortune will not bear this constant drain; you must
+remember that we are living in very bad times--times that are not what
+they were. I have heard that your distillery--"
+
+"Yes, times are very bad. I have never known them worse, and no doubt
+you find them so too. They ought to affect you even more than they do
+me. My income is, as you know, all invested money, whereas yours is all
+in your business."
+
+"Of course, I am affected by the times; had they remained what they
+were, even what they were towards the end of the seventies, I should be
+making now something over ten thousand pounds a year. But, thank God! I
+have not to complain. Next year I hope to invest another five thousand
+pounds. The worst of it is, that there is no price for money in
+legitimate securities."
+
+"Everything is very bad; you never will invest your money as I did mine
+ten years ago. My business is not, of course, what it used to be, but I
+don't complain; if it weren't for troubles nearer home I should get on
+very well."
+
+"I hope that Sally has commenced no new flirtation in the Southdown
+Road. I thought she had promised you--since she gave up Meason--that she
+would for the future know no one that lived there."
+
+"I was thinking for the moment of Willy, not of Sally; she has not been
+so troublesome lately. But no sooner are we out of one trouble than we
+are in another. It is, of course, very regrettable that young Escott
+should have stabbed himself, and in my garden too. I, who hate scandals,
+seem always plunged in one. I hear they are talking of it in the clubs
+in Brighton. I hope Lord Mount Rorke will not hear of it; if he did, do
+you think it would prejudice him against the match?"
+
+"Then you're prepared to give your consent?"
+
+"Why not? Surely! I really don't see--Lord Mount Rorke is a very rich
+man."
+
+"Possibly, but Irish peers are not always as rich as they would like us
+to believe they are. The connection is, of course, desirable, but I hope
+your anxiety to secure it will not lead you into making foolish, I will
+say reprehensible, monetary concessions. What I mean is this. I am a
+straightforward man, Mr. Brookes, brought up in a hard school, and I
+always come straight to the point. You are a rich man, Mr. Brookes--you
+have the reputation of being a richer man than you are--and it is
+possible, I don't say it is probable, that Lord Mount Rorke will expect
+you to make a large settlement. He will possibly--mind you, I do not say
+probably--taking the coronet into consideration--those people think as
+much of their titles as we do of our money--ask you to settle a thousand
+a year, may be fifteen hundred a year, upon your daughter."
+
+"Settle a thousand--maybe fifteen hundred--a year on my daughter!" cried
+the horror-stricken Brookes.
+
+"He may even ask for two thousand a year. Remember, you are a
+distiller--he is a peer of the realm. And now I say," continued Berkins,
+growing more emphatic as he reached the close of his declamation, "that
+in my wife's interest I will oppose any and all attempts to purchase a
+coronet for Maggie at her sister's expense."
+
+Mr. Brookes stood for a moment stupefied--as if some great calamity
+had befallen him. The housekeeping bills, the loss of his fruit and
+vegetables, even the Southdown Road seemed as nothing in the face of
+this new misfortune. Troublesome as his daughters were, he preferred
+an occasional recrudescence of flirtation in his garden to settling the
+money that he had made himself and letting them go; no pen can describe
+the anguish that the surrendering of the ten thousand pounds which
+he had settled on Grace had caused him; but to be told now that the
+alliance with a lord which he so greedily coveted, and which had been so
+agreeably tickling him for the last few days, would cost him perhaps two
+thousand a year, was more than he could bear. He had avoided as much
+as possible even thinking of the money question. One hundred--two
+hundred--the shadow of three hundred had fallen for a moment on his
+mind, but he had successfully chastened these unpleasantnesses by
+thoughts of the liberality, the generosity of the aristocracy, and
+he had encouraged a hope that Mount Rorke would let him off with a
+statement of how much Maggie would have at his death. And now to hear
+these terrible prognostications, and from his own son-in-law, too. It
+was too bad--it was too cruel. "You don't know what you are talking
+about, Berkins. If it were business I would listen to you, but really
+when it comes to discussing the aristocracy it is more than I can stand.
+What do you know about the aristocracy--not that," cried Mr. Brookes,
+snapping his fingers. "You were brought up in an office--what should you
+know? You were a clerk once at thirty shillings a week--what should
+you know? Lord Mount Rorke would never think of making such ridiculous
+proposals to me. You judge him by yourself, Berkins, that's it, that's
+it! I dare say he has heard of me in the City--many of your great lords
+do business in the City. I dare say he has heard of me, and if he has
+he'll not try any nonsense with me. Twist him round my finger, twist him
+round my finger."
+
+Berkins liked a lord, but Berkins liked lords without thinking himself
+one jot their inferior, and he was sure that his horse and his dog and
+his house and everything belonging to him were better than theirs; and
+secure in the fact that his grandfather had been a field officer, he did
+not think it amiss to brag that he had begun life with thirty shillings
+a week, so he only smiled at his father-in-law's wrath, feeling now
+easy in his mind that Grace's future fortune would not be prejudiced for
+Maggie's glorification.
+
+The discussion had fallen, and Mr. Brookes went to meet the young man
+whom he caught sight of coming across the sward.
+
+"Most imprudent of you to come out to-day," he said, scanning the white
+face.
+
+"Oh, I am very well now, thanks. The sun is a little overpowering, that
+is all. I want to speak to you, Mr. Brookes."
+
+"Speak to me? Yes. Will you go into the billiard-room, my boy? I can see
+the heat has upset you. Take my arm."
+
+Frank took the offered arm. He was feeling very faint, but the cool and
+dim colour of the billiard-room revived him, and when he had had some
+claret and water, he said that he felt quite strong, and listened
+patiently to Mr. Brookes.
+
+"Well, I never! No, I never heard of such a thing. A stiletto, too. You
+brought it from Italy? It makes me feel quite young again. Ah! 'tis hard
+to say what we won't do for a girl when Miss Right comes along. I was
+just the same--pretty keen on it, I can tell you, when I was your age;
+and I don't know, even now,--but a man with grown-up daughters must be
+careful. Still when I see a little waist, high heels, plump--you know,
+that's the way I used to like them when I used to go to the oyster
+shops; there was one at the top of the Haymarket. Ah! I was young then,
+young as you are; I was keen on it--Aunt Mary will tell you that--there
+was nothing I wouldn't do; I never went as far as stabbing--walking
+about at night, tears, torments as much as you like, but I never went so
+far as stabbing. Wonderful what love will make a man do! Supposing you
+had killed yourself; in my garden, too--awful! What would people say? I
+hear they are talking of it in the clubs--hope it won't go any further.
+Should Mount Rorke hear of it! Eh? Might set him against us; might not
+give his consent--eh? We should be up a tree, then."
+
+"I don't think there is much danger of that. I came to-day, Mr. Brookes,
+to ask for your consent; am I to understand that you give it?"
+
+"Well, my dear Frank, I don't see why I should refuse it; I have known
+you since you were quite a small boy. I don't want to flatter you. I
+don't know that I care much about young men as a rule, but you, I
+have always found you--well, just what you should be. Of course the
+connection is very flattering. You will one day be Lord Mount Rorke, and
+to see my darling Maggie sharing your honours will be--that is to say if
+I live to see it--a great, a very gre--great hon--our."
+
+Feeling much embarrassed Frank begged of him not to mention it. "I shall
+be writing to-morrow or next day to my uncle; shall I say that you have
+given your consent to my marriage with your daughter? I may say that I
+have already written to him on the subject."
+
+"By all means, my dear boy. I think I can say you have my consent--that
+is to say, you have my consent if the money's all right. All is, of
+course, subject to that. Now you are for love in a cottage, bread and
+cheese romance; a man who will use a stiletto can't be expected to know
+much about money, but I am a father, my stiletto days are over, and
+I couldn't give my daughter without a settlement. You will, no doubt,
+be--of course you will be--Lord Mount Rorke one of these days; but in
+the meantime there must be a proper settlement. My daughter must be
+properly provided for; it is my duty to look after her interests, so you
+may as well tell your uncle that I shall be pleased to meet him and talk
+the matter over with him. I will meet him in London, when it suits his
+convenience; I need hardly say that if he should choose to come down
+here that I shall be pleased to see him. And now tell me--of course
+he will be prepared to act handsomely; I have no doubt he will, the
+aristocracy always do act handsomely, no one is so liberal as your
+aristocrat. I hope he will settle a good round sum on my daughter--money
+invested in first-class securities, not what Berkins would call
+first-class, but what I should call first-class securities; and should
+your uncle prove the liberal man that I have no doubt he is, I don't say
+that I won't behave handsomely. Of course you know that my dear children
+will have all my money at my death. I shall never marry again, that is
+a settled thing; but in the meantime I will do something. When Grace
+was married I behaved very generously--too generously--a lot of
+money--mustn't do it again, times are not what they were. But at my
+death I shall make no difference, all three will share and share alike."
+
+Frank hoped when Brookes and Mount Rorke met, that the former would
+modify his demands, and what was still more important, his mode of
+expressing them. But why should Mr. Brookes appear to him in such a
+sudden glow of vulgarity? He had never thought of him as a refined and
+cultivated gentleman, but was unprepared for this latest manifestation.
+
+"Lord Mount Rorke allows me a certain annual income, he will no doubt
+double this income upon my marriage; I daresay he would--since he has
+recognised me as his heir--make this income legally mine by deed, I
+could then settle a certain sum on Maggie, in case of my death; but then
+further settlements would be required when I succeed to the title and
+the property. I had thought--and indeed I think still--that if my uncle
+makes me a sufficient allowance, that we might avoid touching on this
+matter at all. Lord Mount Rorke is an irritable man, and I am sure that
+if you were to speak to him as you--"
+
+"Pooh! pooh! Nonsense! nonsense! You don't suppose I am going to give
+my daughter to a man unless he can settle a sufficient sum of money upon
+her? Berkins wouldn't hear of it. He was only telling me just now--"
+
+"But I don't think you understand me, Mr. Brookes. I do not propose that
+you should give me any money with your daughter. Let what you give her
+be settled upon her, and let it be tied up as strictly as the law can
+tie it."
+
+"Pooh! pooh! the man that marries my daughter must settle a sum of money
+at least equal to what I settle upon her; and it must be money invested
+in first-class security, otherwise I couldn't think of giving her one
+penny."
+
+"I am sorry, Mr. Brookes, that you are so determined on this point.
+These matters generally arrange themselves if people incline to meet
+each other half way, and I am sure that my uncle will resent it if you
+insist on pounds, shillings, and pence as you propose doing. He is not
+accustomed to strict business--marriages in our family were never made
+on such principles; my happiness is bound up in Maggie. I hope you will
+consider what you are risking."
+
+"I would do more for you than any one else, Frank, but business is
+business, and the man who has my daughter must settle a sum of money
+equivalent to what I settle."
+
+"I am afraid I have talked too much, I am not very strong, yet with
+your permission we will adjourn this discussion to another day--in the
+meantime I will write to my uncle."
+
+Mr. Brookes did not offer the assistance of his arm, and had he, Frank
+would certainly not have accepted it. Holding the door, the old man
+waited for his visitor to pass out. "Southdown Road or the heir to a
+peerage: it is all the same, my money is what is wanted--the money I had
+made myself," thought Mr. Brookes. "Dreadful old man, he would sell his
+daughter for a settlement of a few hundred pounds a year. I never knew
+he was so bad, my eyes are opened," thought Frank. Both were equally
+angry, and without secrecy or subterfuge they sought consolation in
+different parts of the garden. Mr. Brookes resumed his walk on the
+tennis ground with Berkins, and stopping frequently to point to his
+glass-houses, he described his misfortunes with profuse waves of his
+stick. Frank had found Maggie, and they now walked together in the shade
+and silence of the sycamores--he, vehement and despairing of the future;
+she, subtle and strangely confident that things would happen as she
+wished them.
+
+Having once yielded and felt the pang of possession she was wholly his,
+in all ramifications of spirit and flesh, both in her brain and blood,
+and the utmost ends of her sense mingled with him. But to him, she was
+the symbol of the desire of which he was enamoured, the desire which
+held together his nature and gave it individuality--love of _the_ young
+girl.
+
+"Oh! my darling, if he should speak so to Mount Rorke, we should be
+parted for ever--no, that could never be--nothing in heaven or earth
+would induce me to give you up, be true to me and I will be true to you;
+but our happiness--no, not our happiness, that is in ourselves--but all
+our prospects in life will be wrecked if he will not give way. Should he
+and Mount Rorke meet--"
+
+"But they won't meet; have patience--I know how to manage father. He
+doesn't like to part with his money, and I can understand it, he made it
+all himself; but he will get used to the idea in time, leave him to me;
+put your trust in me."
+
+She extended her hand, he took it, pressed it to his lips; he took her
+in his arms and kissed her, and the leaves of the sycamores were filled
+with the sunset.
+
+"DEAR SIR,--I received a letter this morning from my nephew, apprising
+me of his engagement to your daughter. He has apparently obtained your
+consent, and he asks for mine, and he also asks from me not only an
+increase of income to meet the requirements of altered circumstances,
+but he tells me that you will expect me to settle some seven, eight, or
+ten thousand pounds upon your daughter.
+
+"I do not propose to discuss the reasonableness of his or your demands,
+but it seems that a statement of his prospects is owing to you.
+
+"Having never married when I was a young man, many have assumed--I among
+the number--that I never would marry; and I admit that I have allowed my
+nephew to grow up in the belief that he is my heir and the successor to
+the title of Mount Rorke; but beyond a general assumption existing in my
+mind, his mind, and the minds of those who know us, there is no reason
+to suppose that I shall not marry, or that I shall leave him a single
+sixpence, and I willingly make use of this opportunity to say that I
+have no faintest intention of entering intoany engagement either verbal
+or written with him upon this matter.--Yours very truly, MOUNT RORKE."
+
+"MY DEAR FRANK,--The enclosed is a copy of the letter which I send by
+this post to Mr. Brookes. And I make no disguise of the fact that it
+was written with the full intention of rendering your marriage an
+impossibility. It will no doubt appear to you a harsh and cruel letter;
+it will no doubt grieve you, madden you--in your rage you may call me
+a brute. The epithet will be unjust; but knowing very well indeed what
+love is at twenty-five, I will forgive it. And now to the point. I know
+something about old Brookes, and I remember the lean boy you used
+to bring here, and judging from some slight traces that Eton had not
+succeeded in effacing, I think I can guess what the rest of the family
+is like; indeed, the old gentleman's preposterous demand that I should
+settle ten thousand pounds on his daughter throws a sufficient light on
+his character, and in some measure reveals what sort of manner of man he
+is. But let all this be waived. I admit that with some show of reason,
+you may say it is unjust, nay more, it is ridiculous, to pronounce
+judgment on people I have never seen, and it is cruelty worthy of a
+Roman Emperor to wreck the lifelong happiness of two young people for
+the sake of a prejudice that the trouble of a journey to Brighton will
+most certainly extinguish. I will not irritate you by assuring you that
+the world is full of desirable women-women that will appeal to you two
+years hence precisely as Miss Brookes appeals to you now. Were I to
+whisper that it is unwise to give up all women for one woman, you could
+not fail, in your present mood, to see in my philosophy only the nasty
+wisdom of a cynical old reprobate. Therefore I will not weary you with
+advice--what I have said must be considered not as advice, but rather
+as an expression of personal experience in the love passion, serving as
+illustration of the attitude of my mind towards you. I will limit myself
+to merely asking you--no, not to think again of Miss Brookes--that would
+be impossible, but to leave Southwick for London or Paris, the latter
+for preference. I will give you a letter of introduction to a charming
+lady (ah! were I thirty years younger). Put yourself in her hands, and I
+have no doubt in the world but that she will send you back cured in six
+months, as my bank-book will abundantly prove.
+
+"If you cannot do this--if so drastic a remedy should be too repugnant
+to your present feelings, I would remember, were I in your place, that
+my uncle had never refused me anything; that I could draw upon him for
+what money I liked--that is to say, for all pleasures and satisfaction
+save one. I would remember that at his death I was to inherit ten
+thousand a year and a title; and I would weigh (first examining each
+weight carefully, to see if it were true weight) all these present and
+future advantages against the gratification of possessing a woman I
+loved when I was twenty-five for a period of time extending perhaps
+over half a century; I would think--at least I think and hope I should
+hesitate--before I refused to obey one of whose affection I was sure,
+and I feel certain it would go hard with me before I refused to gratify
+the whim--call it a whim if you like--of one who had often given but
+never asked before.
+
+"Somehow I think you owe me this sacrifice; I have done much for you and
+am prepared to do more, and to speak quite candidly, I want something in
+return; I do not mean that I am desirous of striking a bargain with you,
+but we all expect to receive--of course not directly, but in some remote
+way--something for what we give, and I confess that I look forward to
+your companionship to assist me through the last course of life. I do
+not want you now--for the next few years I want you to see the world, to
+educate yourself; I want you to improve your taste in art and letters,
+and later on, if possible, to turn yourself to some public account.
+Besides other work, I am now working at my memoirs; they are to be
+published after my death, as I have arranged, under your supervision.
+I regard these memoirs as being of the first importance, and it is
+advisable that you should be in full possession of all my intentions
+respecting them. Hitherto I have always looked after everything myself,
+but the time will come when I shall not be able to do this, and shall
+require you to relieve me of the burden of business. Then I wish you to
+live here, so that you may learn to love Mount Rorke. I am very busy now
+with improvements, and I would wish you to be with me so that you might
+adequately enter into my views and ideas. To conclude, I do not marry
+for your sake; do you not marry for mine, at least do not marry for
+the present. I do not say that if I knew and liked the girl of your
+choice--if she were in your own set--that I could not be won over, but
+on the whole I would sooner you didn't marry. But I could not really
+endure a lot of new acquaintances--people who had never dined in a
+lord's house, and would all want to be asked--no, I could not endure it.
+I am an old man, and now I want to enjoy myself in my own way, and my
+desire is to get through the last years of my life with you.
+
+"You can do what you please, ask here whomever you please, give me a
+few hours of your time when I am particularly busy with my memoirs, and,
+above all, let us be alone sometimes after dinner, so that we can turn
+our chairs round to the fire and talk at our ease.--Your affectionate
+uncle, MOUNT RORKE."
+
+"So he won't pay for a secretary, and wants me to do the work; that's
+about the meaning of that letter." Frank re-read the letter sentence for
+sentence, and as he read new sneers and new expressions of scorn rose
+in his brain in tremulous ebullition. There was scarcely a plan for
+the chastisement of his uncle that he did not for some fleeting moment
+entertain, and one most ironical letter he committed to paper; but
+Maggie would not hear of its being sent, and he was surprised and glad
+to see that she was not depressed and disheartened at the turn affairs
+had taken.
+
+"I can do what I like with father; Sally can't, but I can. You leave it
+me."
+
+"What's the good of that? You can't get round Mount Rorke."
+
+"Never mind; we don't want to get married yet awhile. We'll be
+engaged, it is nearly the same thing. We shall be able to go anywhere
+together--up to town, if we only come back the same day. Write a nice
+letter to your uncle, saying you'll do nothing without his consent; that
+it is true your affections are very much engaged, but that your first
+thought is of him--"
+
+"Oh! but my darling, I want to make you mine."
+
+"So you shall--we shall be engaged; father won't consent to our being
+married, but he can't prevent us being engaged. You'll see, I'll get
+round father sooner or later; he'll give in."
+
+"But you won't get round Mount Rorke; if he would only come here and see
+you."
+
+"He won't do that; but one of these days he'll be in London. I suppose
+he goes to the Park sometimes; we'll go too, you'll introduce me--a
+little impromptu, and I'll see if I can't get him to like me."
+
+"How clever you are!"
+
+"I understand father."
+
+Still it required all Maggie's adroitness to even partially reconcile
+Mr. Brookes to Lord Mount Rorke's letter. She accepted without argument
+that marriage in the present circumstances was out of the question. She
+even went so far as to cordially assent that a man would be a fool to
+give his daughter to a man who could not settle a substantial sum
+of money upon her, and she only ventured to suggest that it would be
+foolish not to give Lord Mount Rorke the opportunity of changing his
+mind. She spoke of his immense fortune, and exaggerated it until she
+made even Berkins seem a paltry creature in the old man's eyes.
+
+Frank was anxious to propitiate Sally. He returned from London with
+presents for her, and he always spoke to her, looking at her admiringly.
+
+He showed much anxiety, and, fearing that she found it dull at his
+studio, when the sisters came to tea he begged her to give him Meason's
+address. Sally tossed her head; she had had enough of Meason, and her
+manner left no doubt as to her sincerity. But happening to meet Meason
+a few days after in the train, Frank slipped easily into asking him
+to come and see him; and in the easy atmosphere of the studio the
+acquaintanceship soon ripened into intimacy, and after a preliminary
+ruffling of plumage, Sally restored her old sweetheart to all the rights
+of wrong. Life went well amid incessant secrets, letter-writing, and tea
+parties. Grace came to the studio to lunch sometimes, and she had been
+betrayed into a promise not to say a word about Meason. It was never
+ascertained whether, in the indiscretion of the marital night, she had
+betrayed this trust, or whether some jealous enemy had spoken or written
+to Mr. Brookes on the subject; but certain it is that one joyful day
+when Meason, Sally, and Maggie were eating oysters, and Frank was
+twisting the corkscrew into a bottle of Chablis, there came an ominous
+ringing at the door.
+
+"I wonder who that can be. Shut up, Triss."
+
+"Perhaps it is father."
+
+"He is in London."
+
+"I'm not so sure about that."
+
+"No matter--we don't want to see them."
+
+"Rather not! They wouldn't have known we were here had it not been for
+that dog."
+
+"I must go and see who it is. Come here, sir; come here, you brute."
+
+"Supposing it is father?"
+
+"Get behind that piece of tapestry. I'll say that Meason and I were
+having some oysters."
+
+"Come here, sir. I'd better tie up that dog--I wonder who it is?"
+
+"Open the door."
+
+"Oh! Mr. Brookes, quite an unexpected pleasure."
+
+"I have come, sir, for my daughters."
+
+"Your daughters? Your daughters are not here. Mr. Brookes."
+
+"I have reason to know they are here, and I will not leave without
+them."
+
+"You will do well to let us in, Mr. Escott; we are determined--"
+
+"Who are you? What business is it of yours?"
+
+"Should you refuse us admission we are resolved to wait here till
+evening, till midnight if necessary!" exclaimed Berkins. "I say again
+you will do well to admit us, and so avoid a scandal on the green."
+
+"You can come in if you like."
+
+"Will you kindly chain up that dog of yours?"
+
+"Well, this is coming it too strong; this is a little too 'steep.' If
+Mr. Brookes refuses to believe my word that his daughters are not here
+he may come in and look for them, and to facilitate his search I will
+tie up the dog--(the dog is tied up). But you, what brings you here?
+What the devil, I should like to know, brings you here, poking your nose
+into other people's business?"
+
+"Mr. Brookes, will you answer him?"
+
+"I must decline your offer to admit me unaccompanied by my son-in-law.
+We shall not stay long."
+
+"All this seems to me very extraordinary, but since you wish it, Mr.
+Brookes, pray enter."
+
+"Is that dog tied up quite securely?"
+
+"Quite. I think you know Mr. Meason?"
+
+"Mr. Meason knows very well that I do not wish to know him."
+
+"If you only come here to insult my guest, the sooner you go out the
+better. Had I known that you intended to behave in this fashion I should
+have left you standing outside till morning. I'll not have--"
+
+"Never mind, Escott; I'm off. Mr. Brookes and I are no longer on
+speaking terms, that's all! I'll see you later on."
+
+"Don't go, pray."
+
+"I think I must."
+
+"I am surprised, Frank," said Mr. Brookes, when Meason was gone, "that
+you should seek your friends among the enemies of my family."
+
+"We will not discuss that question now. I never heard of such
+conduct--you force your way into my studio, and apparently for no
+purpose but to insult my guest. You see your daughters are not here."
+
+"I am by no means satisfied with that," said Berkins, opening a door. "I
+must see behind that piece of tapestry."
+
+"No, you shall not. I have had just about enough of this. How dare you?
+God's truth--" and as Berkins seemed determined to continue his search,
+Frank caught him by the collar.
+
+But Berkins was tall and strong, and showed no intention of allowing
+himself to be thrown out. His long legs were soon extended here and
+there; his body was sometimes bent back by Frank's weight, once he had
+succeeded in nearly throwing Frank over on the sofa. Mr. Brookes had
+fled to the door, which, in his excitement, he failed to open, and
+the struggle was continued until at last, maddened by a most tight and
+tempting aspect of Berkin's thigh, Triss broke his collar, and in a
+couple of bounds, reached and fixed his teeth deep in the flesh.
+
+"Triss, you brute, leave go." But Triss clung to the long-desired thigh.
+"I'll twist his tail, it will make him leave go."
+
+With a savage yelp of pain the dog turned on his master and was hauled
+instantly off Berkins's thigh.
+
+"I need hardly say that so far as the dog is concerned, I regret, and I
+am truly sorry for what has occurred."
+
+"Sir, do you not see what a state I am in; do not stand there making
+excuses, but lend me your handkerchief. I shall bleed to death if you
+don't."
+
+"Shall I tie it up for you?"
+
+"If those girls there would only fetch a doctor."
+
+Mr. Brookes could not refrain from foolish laughter, and in a moment of
+wretched despair he declared that it would be all the same in a hundred
+years time--a remark which would not have failed to irritate Berkins if
+he had not fainted.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+
+Next day Willy called at the studio, and Frank told him what had
+occurred.
+
+"But I don't see why you shouldn't come to the Manor House," said Willy.
+"If you will only say something about the Measons, I think it can be
+made all right."
+
+"No, I'm not going to turn against Meason; I have always found him a
+good fellow. I know nothing about his flirtation with Sally."
+
+"No more do I; I think it has been exaggerated, but, as you know, I
+never interfere. I wish you would come in to dinner one night."
+
+"Supposing I were to meet Berkins?"
+
+Willy stroked his moustache.
+
+"No, it is quite impossible that I could return to the Manor House. Your
+father behaved in a way--well, I will not say what I think of it."
+
+"Berkins hasn't been to the City since. Grace was over here yesterday,
+she says he limps about the garden. He'll never forgive you; he says
+that you didn't call the dog off at once."
+
+"That's a lie; and I said, 'So far as the incident with the dog is
+concerned, I am very sorry.'"
+
+"I think that made him more angry than anything else; he thought you
+were laughing at him."
+
+"I was not. It was most unfortunate. I shall not give Maggie up. I am
+writing to-morrow or next day to Mount Rorke."
+
+All were agreed that things must come right sooner or later. Maggie
+fought for her lover, and emphatically asserted her engagement. She
+yielded on one point only--not to visit the studio; but she maintained
+her right in theory and in practice to go where she liked with him in
+train or in cart, to walk with him on the cliff, to lunch with him
+at Mutton's. They found pleasure in thus affirming their love, and
+it pleased them to see they were observed, and to hear that they were
+spoken about. Nevertheless the string that sung their happiness had
+slipped a little, and the note was now not quite so clear or true. Frank
+could not go to the Manor House; Maggie could not go to the studio.
+Whether Mount Rorke would consent to their marriage perplexed them as it
+had not done before.
+
+The summer fades, the hills grow grey, and a salt wind blew up from
+the sea, blackening the trees, and the beauty of autumn was done. Frank
+thought of Ireland, and what personal intercession might achieve. She
+begged of him to go, and he promised to write to her every day.
+
+"Every day, darling, or I shall be miserable."
+
+"Every day."
+
+"Arrived safe after a very rough passage. Every one was ill, I most of
+all."
+
+She received a post-card:--"It was raining cats and dogs when I got out
+of the train. Mount Rorke sent a car to meet me; the result is that I
+am in bed with a bad cold. The house is full of company--people I have
+known, or known of, since I was a boy; we shall begin pheasant-shooting
+in a few days. When I am out of bed I shall write a long letter. Do you
+write to me; I shall be awfully disappointed if I do not get a letter
+to-morrow morning."
+
+Extract from a letter:--
+
+"Mount Rorke is considered to be a handsome place, but as I have known
+it from childhood, as my earliest memories are of it, I cannot see it
+with the eyes of a professed scenery hunter. I have loved it always, but
+I do not think I ever loved it more than now, for now I think that one
+day I shall give it to you. Should that day come--and it will come--what
+happiness it will be to walk with you under the old trees, made lovelier
+by your presence, to pass down the glades to the river, watching your
+shadow on the grass and your image in the stream. We will roam together
+through the old castle, and I will show you the little bed I used to
+sleep in, the school-room where I learned my lessons. When I entered
+the old room I saw in imagination--and oh, how clearly!--the face of
+my governess; and how easily I see her in the corridor she used to walk
+down to get to her room.
+
+"Poor, dear, old thing, I wonder what has become of her!
+
+"I saw again the pictures that stirred my childish fancy, and whose
+meaning I once vainly strove to decipher.
+
+"I came to live here when I was four, immediately after my father's
+death. I can just remember coming here. I remember Mount Rorke taking
+me up in his arms and kissing me. I will not say there is no place like
+home--I do not believe that; but certainly no place seems so real. Every
+spot of ground has its own particular recollections. Every bend of the
+avenue evokes some incident of childish life (in Ireland we call any
+road leading to a house an avenue, even if it is absolutely bare of
+trees; we also speak of rooks as crows, and these two provincialisms
+jarred on my ear after my long stay in Sussex). Mount Rorke is covered
+with trees--great woods of beech and fir--and at the end of every vista
+you see a piece of blue mountain. A river passes behind the castle,
+winding through the park; there are bridges, and swans float about the
+sedges, and there are deer in the glades. The garden,--I do not know if
+you would like the garden; it is old-fashioned--full of old-fashioned
+flowers--convolvuluses, Michaelmas daisies, marigolds; hedges clipped
+into all sorts of strange and close shapes. There is a beautiful avenue
+behind the garden (an avenue in the English sense of the word) where you
+may pace to and fro and feel an exquisite sense of solitude; for when
+the castle had passed out of the hands of Irish princes--that is to say,
+brigands--it was turned into a monastery, and I often think, as I look
+on the mossy trees--the progeny of those under whose leafage the monks
+told their beads--that all happened that I might throw my arm about you
+some beautiful day, and whisper, 'My wife, this is yours.'"
+
+"How beautifully he writes," said Sally reflectively.
+
+"You never had a lover who wrote to you like that. Do you remember how
+Jimmy used to write?"
+
+"I don't know how he wrote to you, but his letters to me, I will say
+that, were quite as nice as anything Frank could write. You needn't toss
+your head, you are not Lady Mount Rorke yet."
+
+Sally refused to hear, but presently, seeing a cloud on her sister's
+face, and thinking the letter contained some piece of unpleasantness,
+she relented, and pressed her to continue.
+
+"The house is full of people--people whom I have known all my life--and
+they make a great deal of me. I have to tell them about Italy, and they
+ask me absurd questions about Michael Angelo or Titian, Leonardo or
+Watteau.... The house party is a large one, and we have people to dinner
+every day; and in the evening the drawing-room, with its grim oak and
+escutcheons and rich modern furniture, is a pretty sight indeed. There
+is a lady here whom I knew in London, Lady Seveley; and I have had
+suspicions that Mount Rorke would like me to marry her. But she has
+the reputation of being rather fast, so perhaps the old gentleman is
+allowing his thoughts to wander where they should not. I hope not for
+his sake, for I hear she is devoted to a young Irishman, a Mr. Fletcher,
+a journalist in London. I met them at Reading once in most suspicious
+circumstances. He is the son of a large grazier, one of my uncle's
+tenants, and she is, I suppose, so infatuated that she could not resist
+the temptation of calling on his family. She was careful not to speak
+of her intentions to anybody, but waited until she got a favourable
+opportunity and slipped off to pay her visit. The Fletchers live about
+half a mile from the castle. I was riding that way, and met her coming
+out of their house. I got off my horse and walked back together. I hope
+Mount Rorke will not hear of her ladyship's escapade; he would be very
+angry, for the Fletchers are people who would be asked to have something
+to eat in the housekeeper's room if they called at the Castle. In London
+one knows everybody, but in the country we are more conservative."
+
+ "I hope she won't cut you out," said Sally. "It would be a sell for
+you if she did. Go on."
+
+"No, I shan't, you are too insulting."
+
+"Who began it? You told me that I didn't get such nice letters as you.
+Pray go on."
+
+"I do not know if you would think her handsome. I don't. She is,
+however, an excellent musician; we play duets together every evening, to
+Mount Rorke's intense delight. You know my dialogue between a lady and a
+gentleman? She has written it down for me and corrected a few mistakes;
+I think I shall publish it. Darling, I love you better than any one in
+the world; you are all the world to me; try to love me a little--you
+will never find any one to love you as I do."
+
+"Well, you can't find anything peculiarly disagreeable to say about
+that, I think."
+
+Extract from another letter:--
+
+"All the visitors have gone; Mount Rorke and I are quite alone. He is
+kindness itself, and does not bother me about his memoirs; but from what
+I hear that book will make one of the biggest sensations ever made in
+the literary world. I want him to publish it now, but he only smiles and
+shakes his head. He says: 'What is the use of setting the world talking
+about you when you are alive; as long as I am alive I can see those
+I want to see, and be with them far more personally than I could by
+placing in their hands three volumes in 8vo; the 8vos are only useful
+when you have passed into darkness, and are not yet reconciled to dying
+quite out of the minds of men. I do not desire to be remembered by those
+who will live three hundred years hence, but I confess that I should
+like to modulate the pace of forgetfulness according to my fancy, and be
+remembered, let us say, for the next sixty or seventy years. I find
+no fault with death but its abruptness, and that I hope to be able to
+correct. The vulgar and most usual plan is children, but children are no
+anodyne to oblivion, whereas a good book in a certain measure is.'
+
+"These are almost the words Mount Rorke used, and I quote them as
+exactly as possible, so that you may see what kind of man he is. We
+pulled our chairs round to the fire and had a real good talk. I know
+no better company than Mount Rorke. He has seen everything, read
+everything, and known everybody worth knowing; he is a mine of
+information, and, what is far better, he is a complete man of the world;
+and long contact with the world has left him a little cynical, otherwise
+he is perfect. I told him the story about Berkins, and he laughed;
+I never saw him laugh so before; and when I told him that I had told
+Berkins, as he was tying up his leg, that so far as the incident with
+the dog was concerned, I regretted deeply what had occurred, he could
+not contain himself. He rang the bell, and we had old Triss up. He asked
+a great deal about you; I leave you to imagine what I said. How did he
+expect me to describe my darling? I told him of your subtle, fascinating
+ways, of your picturesque attitudes, and your exquisite little black
+eyes. 'I think I see her,' he said; 'little eyes that light up are
+infinitely more interesting than those big, limpid, silly eyes that
+everybody admires.' I am now doing a water-colour sketch from the
+photograph--the one in which you stand with your hands behind your back
+and your head on one side--for him. I am getting on with it pretty well.
+Ah! if only I had you here for an hour (I should like to have you here
+for ever, of course; but now I am speaking artistically, not humanly),
+I think I could get it really like you; there are one or two things
+that the photo does not give me. I shall send the sketch to Dublin to be
+framed; it will be a nice present for Mount Rorke.
+
+"My darling, you must not be anxious; all will come right in time--have
+a little patience. He is already much more reconciled to the match than
+he was when I arrived, and if your father will refrain from speaking too
+much about that hateful question, I am sure that all difficulties can be
+surmounted."
+
+She wrote to him three or four times a week, and on beautiful hand-made
+paper, delicately scented.
+
+Extract from a letter:--
+
+"We went up to town yesterday by the ten o'clock train West Brighton;
+and so that we might have more money to spend, we went third class.
+Father doesn't like us going third class, but I don't think it matters
+if you get in with nice people. We were very jolly. The Shaws went with
+us. They are very nice girls. They had to leave us at Victoria, and
+I and my cousin, Agnes Keating, went shopping together. We met the
+Harrisons at Russell & Allen's. We saw there some lovely dresses--I wish
+you had been with us, for I have confidence in your taste, and when I
+choose a thing myself I am never sure that I like it. The assistant was
+so polite; she told me to ask for Miss ----; she said she would like
+to fit me. Sally was coming up with us, but she changed her mind and
+remained at home, I was very glad, for she is wretchedly cross, and
+not looking at all well. You would not admire her in the least; she is
+growing very yellow. But I don't mean to be ill-natured, so we'll let
+Sally bide, as we say in Sussex. After Russell & Allen's we went to
+Blanchard's, and had a nice lunch. Grace was in town; she chaperoned us,
+and paid for everything; it was very kind of her. Then we went to the
+theatre, and saw a play which we did not care about much. There was
+a very stupid 'tart' in it. I do like 'gadding,' don't I? But, oh, my
+darling Frank, gadding is not really gadding without you. How I miss
+you, how we all miss you, but I especially. The Keatings came over
+to tea to-day, and they asked about you. Blanche wants you to write
+something in her album, and she admired immensely the drawing you gave
+me. She is very artistic in her tastes; I think you would like her.
+
+"But I have a bit of news that I think will amuse you. You remember Mrs.
+Horlock's old dog--not the blind Angel; he's old too. But I mean
+the real old dog,--the one twenty years old, that once belonged to a
+butcher. He never smelt very sweet, as you know, but latterly he was
+unbearable, and the General resolved on a silent and secret destruction.
+He purchased in Brighton a bottle of chloroform. It was the dead of
+the night and pitch dark. However, he reached the end of the passage
+in safety; but suddenly he uttered a fearful shriek and dropped the
+chloroform. He thought he had seen a ghost; but it was only Mrs.
+Horlock, who was going her rounds, letting down the mouse-traps and
+supplying the little creatures with food. The General blurted out
+various excuses. He said that he had come to relieve the cock parrot's
+tooth-ache--that he feared the Circassian goat was suffering from spinal
+complaint and the squirrels from neuralgia. But his protestations proved
+unavailing, and now he eats his meals in silence. And to make matters
+worse, the old dog did die a few days after--the General says from old
+age, but Mrs. Horlock avows that his death resulted from fright. 'He
+was a sweet, cunning old thing, and no doubt knew all about that plan to
+destroy him.' I think this would make an excellent subject for a comic
+sketch; I wish you would do one--the General dropping the bottle; Mrs.
+Horlock, surrounded by closed mouse-traps and crumbs, sternly upbraiding
+him.
+
+"I see lots of Emily Pierce. Every Sunday I have tea with her, and
+sometimes lunch; but she doesn't come here. I am afraid I couldn't get
+on at all without her; we do everything together, and we hit it off so
+well.
+
+"Sally has been staying in Kent. I do not know what's up, but she seems
+to see everything _couleur de rose_; everything in Kent is better in
+her estimation than anywhere else. The men dance so much better for one
+thing. I am glad she is so happy, and I wish she would get married and
+stay there. Father says he has a cough that tears him to pieces, but I
+haven't heard it yet."
+
+The elementary notion of a woman in love is to surround, to envelop the
+man she loves, with her individuality, and to draw him from all
+other influences. And the woman in love strives to accomplish this by
+ceaseless reiteration of herself or himself seen through herself. So
+Maggie with her nervous, highly-strung, febrile temperament could not
+refrain from constantly striking the lyre of love. Her hands were for
+ever on the chords. Letters and notes of all kinds; impetuous
+messages asking him when he would return; letters apologising for her
+selfishness--he had better remain with Mount Rorke until his consent
+had been obtained; resolutions and irresolutions, ardours, lassitudes,
+forgetfulness followed fast in strange and incomprehensible
+contradiction. And Frank was asked daily to perform some small task.
+There was always something; and Frank undertook all he was asked to do,
+for he loved to be as much as possible in that circle of life in which
+his sweetheart lived, and to feel her presence about him.
+
+Extract from a letter:--
+
+"Mount Rorke and I had a long and serious talk about you last night. He
+is against the marriage, but then he is against marriage in general. He
+said with his quiet, cynical laugh, 'I daresay she is a pretty girl--I
+can read the truth through your romantic descriptions. I am convinced
+that she is very charming. But are you quite sure that you will never
+meet another equally charming girl? Remember the world is a very big
+place, and the stock of women is large; are you sure that you will be
+able to enjoy the charm which now rules and enchants you for thirty,
+forty years without wearying of it? These are the questions you have to
+consider, which marriage entails.' I need hardly tell you what answer I
+made, and how I tried to convince him that your charms are those that
+a man capable of appreciating them could not weary of. Indeed I think I
+made him rather a neat answer--I said there are books in one volume,
+in two volumes, in three volumes, and there are books that you can take
+down and read at any time. He laughed; it rather tickled his fancy. And
+he said, 'Quite true, there are some books and some women that one never
+tires of--that is to say, that some people never tire of. I haven't been
+so fortunate or unfortunate, but that by the way. I admit such cases may
+occur. I will go further--I will admit that a man's life may be made
+or marred by his taking to himself a wife; and if Miss Brookes were a
+really nice girl--if she were the one girl in a million, and if I were
+sure that your passion for each other has its root in deeper and
+more lasting sympathies than those of the skin (these were his exact
+words)--believe me, my dear Frank, I should not think of opposing
+the marriage. I shall be in London during the season, and no doubt an
+occasion will arise, of which I promise you to avail myself, of making
+this model young lady's acquaintance. I will tell you what I think of
+her; she won't deceive me, let her try how she will. There is only one
+thing I bar--one thing must not be, one thing I will not tolerate--a bad
+marriage.' I lost my temper for a moment, but Mount Rorke did not lose
+his, and I soon came round. It is annoying to be spoken to in that way;
+but I remembered that he had not seen you, and I consoled myself by
+thinking of how great his conversion will be when he does. My only fear
+is that he'll want to marry you himself. So, you see, my own darling, my
+uncle is on the 'give,' and we shall win soon and easily. The only real
+obstacle is your father's pig-headedness on all matters in which money
+enters. I think with terror of his meeting with Mount Rorke. If he
+speaks to Mount Rorke as he spoke to me, my uncle will take up his hat
+and wish him good-morning. Do you exert all your influence. Do leave no
+stone unturned. All depends upon you."
+
+Extract from another letter:--
+
+"I am weary of this place, and I long to see you. My longing is such
+that I can resist it no longer. Besides, nothing would be gained by
+remaining here. Mount Rorke will not say more than he has said. In a
+few days--think of that--I shall be with you. With what eagerness I look
+forward. How gladly I shall see the train leave the dreary bogs and the
+blue mountains of the West and pass into the pasture lands of Meath; how
+gladly I shall hail the brown, slobber-faced city of Dublin; with what
+delight I shall step on board the packet--I shall not think of sea
+sickness--and watch the line of the low coast disappear, then the
+Welsh mountains and castles, looking so like an illustrated history of
+England. I must spend two days in London, alas! I must order some
+new clothes. Victoria Station, with all its doors and cab stands, and
+book-stalls, the Sussex scenery, the woodlands, the Downs, the plunging
+through tunnels, and then you. Darling, I cannot believe that such
+happiness is in store for me."
+
+All happened as he had anticipated. At Victoria the usual difficulties
+had arisen about the dog. Triss was growling, the guard was cringing,
+and, with reference to no stoppage before we come to Redhill, the
+necessity of a muzzle was being argued.
+
+"I am certain it is she," and he followed with his eyes the tall,
+swinging figure in the black cloth dress. Then he saw the clear plump
+profile, so white, of Lizzie Baker.
+
+"Here, give me the chain, I'll tie the dog up."
+
+"But the muzzle, sir."
+
+A muzzle was procured, and Frank ran to the third class carriage where
+he had seen Lizzie enter.
+
+"Lizzie! Lizzie!"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Escott, who would have thought of seeing you! It is such a
+time--"
+
+"Yes, isn't it; how long? But are you going to Brighton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"So am I; but--let me get you a first-class ticket. Guard, have I time
+to change my ticket?"
+
+"No, sir, the train is going to start; get in."
+
+"Do you get out, Lizzie; I'll pay the difference at Brighton."
+
+"No time for changing now, sir; are you getting into this carriage?"
+
+He could not forego the pleasure of being with Lizzie. An old woman with
+a provision basket on her lap drew her skirts aside and made way for
+him; there were three dirtily dressed girls--probably shop girls; they
+sat whispering together, a little troubled by the publicity; there were
+two youths, shabbily dressed, their worn boots and trousers covered with
+London mud. He was surprised, and he did not for a moment understand
+or realise his company. Frank had never been in a third-class carriage
+before.
+
+"I'm afraid you won't be comfortable here."
+
+"Oh, yes, I shall; I'd just as soon travel in one class as another--much
+sooner when it means being with you."
+
+"None of your nonsense; I see you haven't changed. Well, who'd have
+thought it? Just fancy meeting you, and after all this time."
+
+"How long is it? It must be nearly two years. I haven't seen you
+sincethat day we went up the river."
+
+"Yes, you have."
+
+"No; where did I see you since?"
+
+"At the bar; I didn't leave the 'Gaiety' for several days after."
+
+"No more you did; I remember now. But why did you leave without letting
+me know where you were going?"
+
+"I didn't know I was leaving till the morning, and I left in the
+afternoon. A lot of us were changed suddenly. The firm couldn't get
+enough young ladies to do the work at the Exhibition."
+
+"But you didn't leave an address."
+
+"Yes, I did."
+
+"No, you didn't; I asked the manager, and he told me you had left no
+address. They didn't know where you had gone."
+
+"Did he say so? You mean Mr. Fairlie, I suppose--now I come to think of
+it, it is the rule of the firm not to give information about the young
+ladies. I am sorry."
+
+"Are you?"
+
+"I am, really. We had a very pleasant day up the river--Reading; you
+took me to Reading."
+
+"Yes; but you would never come again."
+
+"Wouldn't I? I suppose I couldn't find time--I did enjoy myself. What a
+lovely day it was."
+
+"Yes; and do you remember how like a beautiful smile the river lay? And
+do you remember the bulrushes? I rowed you in among the rushes; you wet
+the sleeve of your dress plunging your arm in. I remember it, that white
+plump arm."
+
+"Get along with you."
+
+"I wanted to make a sketch of you leaning over the boatside with your
+lapful of water-lilies; I wish I had."
+
+"I wish you had, too; you wrote a little poem instead. It was very
+pretty, but I should have liked the picture better. You gave me the poem
+next day when you came in to lunch. You had lunch at the bar, and I was
+so cross with you because you said I hadn't wiped the glass. It was all
+done to annoy me because I had been talking to that tall, rather stout
+young man, with the dark moustache, whom you were so jealous of. Don't
+you remember?"
+
+"Yes, I remember; and I believe it was that fellow who prevented you
+from coming out with me again."
+
+"No, it wasn't; but don't speak so loud, all these people are listening
+to you."
+
+Frank met the round stare of the girls; and, turning from the dormant
+curiosity of the old woman, he said--
+
+"Do you remember the locks, how frightened you were; you had never been
+through a lock before; and the beautiful old red brick house showing
+upon the lofty woods; and coming back in the calm of the evening,
+passing the different boats, the one where the girls lay back in the
+arms of the young men, the flapping sail, and the dreamy influences of
+the woods where we climbed and looked into space over the railing?"
+
+"At the green-table--don't you remember?"
+
+"Yes, I remember every hour of that day; we had lunch at the 'Roebuck.'"
+
+"You haven't spoken of the lady we saw there. Lady Something--I forget
+what you said her name was; you said she had been making up to you."
+
+"I dined with her one night, and we went to the theatre."
+
+"You may do that without it being said that you are making up to a
+gentleman."
+
+"Of course; I should never think of saying you made up to me."
+
+"I should hope not, indeed."
+
+"I should never think of accusing you of having made up to me; you have
+always treated me very badly."
+
+Lizzie did not answer. He looked at her, puzzled and perplexed, and he
+hoped that neither the girls nor the old lady had understood.
+
+"I am sorry; I really didn't mean to offend you. All I meant to say
+was that the lady we saw at the 'Roebuck' had been rather civil to me;
+had--well I don't know how to put it--shown an inclination to flirt with
+me--will that suit you?--and that I had not availed myself of my chances
+because I was in love with you."
+
+Encouraged by a sunny smile, Frank continued: "You wouldn't listen to
+me; you were very cruel."
+
+"I am sure I didn't mean to be cruel; I went out on the river with you,
+and we had a very pleasant day. You didn't say then I was cruel."
+
+"No, you were very nice that day; it was the happiest day of my life.
+I was in love with you; I shall never care for any one as I cared for
+you."
+
+"I don't believe you."
+
+"I swear it is true. When you left the 'Gaiety' I searched London for
+you. If you had only cared for me we might have been very happy. As sure
+as a fellow loves a woman, so sure is she to like some other chap. Tell
+me, why did you go away and leave no address?"
+
+"I did leave an address."
+
+"Well, we won't discuss that. Why didn't you write to me? You knew my
+address. It's no use saying you didn't."
+
+"Well, I suppose I was in love with some one else."
+
+"Were you? You always denied it. Ah! so you were in love with some one
+else? I knew it--I knew it was that thick-set fellow with the black
+moustache. I wonder how you could like him--the amount of whisky and
+water he used to drink."
+
+"Yes, usen't he? I have served him with as many as six whiskies in an
+afternoon--Irish, he always drank Irish."
+
+"How could you like a man who drank?"
+
+"But it wasn't he--I assure you; I give you my word of honour. It really
+wasn't. I'd tell you if it was."
+
+"Well, who was it, then? It couldn't be the old man with the beard and
+white teeth?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Was it that great tall fellow, clean shaven?"
+
+"No, it wasn't; you'll never guess; There's no use trying. However, it
+is all over now."
+
+"Why? Did he treat you badly? Whose fault was it?"
+
+"His. And the chances I threw away. He behaved like a beast. I had to
+give up keeping company with him."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. He changed very much towards me lately; he went
+messing about after other girls, and we had words, and I left."
+
+"You will make it up. Perhaps you are mistaken."
+
+"Mistaken--no; I found their letters in his pocket."
+
+"There are always rows between sweethearts; and then they kiss and make
+it up, and love each other the more."
+
+"No, I shall not see him again. We were going to be married; no, it is
+all over. It was a little hard at first, but I am all right now."
+
+"I am sorry. Do you think there is no chance of making it up?"
+
+"I should have thought that you would be glad; men are so selfish they
+never think of any one but themselves."
+
+"How do you mean? Why should I be glad that your marriage was broken
+off?"
+
+"You said just now that you liked me very much, I thought--"
+
+"So I do like you very much. Once I was in love with you--that day when
+we walked up the steep woods together."
+
+"And you don't care for me any longer?"
+
+"I don't say that; but I am engaged to be married."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Had you not snubbed me so I might have been married to you."
+
+"Who are you going to be married to--to the lady we saw that day?"
+
+"Oh, no, not to her."
+
+"I don't believe you. You mean to say you haven't been to see her
+since."
+
+"I assure you---"
+
+"You mean to say you haven't seen her?"
+
+"I don't say that. I've just come from Ireland. I've been staying with
+my uncle. She spent a week with us; that's all I have seen of her. I am
+going now to see the young lady whom I am engaged to."
+
+"And when will you be married?"
+
+"I don't know; there are a great many difficulties in the way. Perhaps I
+shall never marry her."
+
+"Nonsense. I know better. You think it will take me in. I'll never be
+taken in again, not if I know it."
+
+"I don't want to take you in."
+
+"I don't know so much about that. Is she very pretty? I suppose you are
+very much in love with her?"
+
+"Yes, I love her very much. Dark, not like you a bit--just the
+opposite."
+
+"And you met her since you saw me?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Ah, I thought as much, and yet you told me the day we went up the river
+together that you never had and couldn't care for any one elsebut me.
+Men are all alike--they never tell the truth."
+
+"Wait a minute; wait a minute. I knew her long before I knew you; I have
+known her since I was a boy, but that doesn't mean that I have been in
+love with her since I was a boy. I never thought of her until you threw
+me over, until long after; it was last summer I fell in love with her."
+
+Lizzie's eyes were full upon him, and it seemed to them that each could
+see and taste the essence of the other's thought.
+
+"What have you been doing ever since? You have told me nothing about
+yourself."
+
+"Well, after trying vainly to find you--having searched, as I thought,
+all Speirs and Pond's establishments in London, I tried to resign myself
+to my fate. I assure you, I was dreadfully cut up--could do nothing.
+My life was a burden to me. You have been in love, and you know what an
+ache it is; it used to catch me about the heart. There was no hope; you
+were gone--gone as if the earth had swallowed you. I got sick of going
+to the 'Gaiety' and asking those girls if they knew anything about you;
+so to cure myself I went to France, and I worked hard at my painting. In
+such circumstances there is only one thing--work."
+
+"You are right."
+
+"Yes; nothing does you any good but work. I worked in the
+_atelier_--that's the French for studio--all the morning, and in the
+afternoon I painted from the nude in a public studio. I had such a
+nice studio--such a jolly little place. I was up every morning at
+eight o'clock, my model arrived at nine, and I worked without stopping
+(barring the ten or twelve minutes' rest at the end of every hour) till
+twelve. Then I went to the cafe to have breakfast--how I used to enjoy
+those breakfasts--fried eggs all swimming in butter, a cutlet, after,
+nice bread and butter, then cock your legs up, drink your coffee, and
+smoke your cigarette till one."
+
+"Did you like the French cafe better than the 'Gaiety'?"
+
+"It is impossible to compare them. I made a great deal of progress. I
+began one picture of a woman in a hammock, a recollection of you.
+You remember when we passed under those cedar branches, close to the
+'Roebuck,' we saw a hammock hung by the water's edge, and I said I would
+like to see you in it, and stand by and rock you. I had intended to send
+it to the Academy, but I never could finish it, the French model was not
+what I wanted--I wanted you; and I was obliged to leave France, and I
+could get no one in Southwick. Once a fellow changes his model he is
+done for; he never can find his idea again."
+
+"Where's Southwick?"
+
+"A village outside Brighton, three or four miles, not more. I have a
+studio there; you must come and see it."
+
+"You must paint me. But what would your lady love say if she found me in
+your studio? She'd have me out of it pretty quick. Tell me about her; I
+want to hear how you fell in love."
+
+"It happened in the most curious, quite providential way. I have told
+you that I knew them since I was a boy. Maggie has often sat on my
+knee."
+
+"Maggie is her name, then?"
+
+"Yes, don't you like the name? I do. Her brother was a school-fellow of
+mine. We were at Eton together, and one time when Mount Rorke was away
+travelling they asked me to spend my holidays at Southwick. That's how I
+got to know them. One day Maggie and Sally were at my studio; Sally has
+a sweetheart--"
+
+The sentence was cut short by a sudden roar. The train had entered a
+tunnel, and the speakers made pause, seeing each other vaguely in the
+dim light, and when they emerged into the cold April twilight Frank told
+the story of Triss and Berkins, Mr. Brookes struggling with the door,
+and the girls rushing screaming from their hiding-place; and Frank's
+imitation of Berkin's pomposity amused Lizzie, and she laughed till she
+cried. He continued till the joke was worn bare; then, fearing he had
+been talking too much of himself, he said: "Now, I have been very candid
+with you, tell me about yourself."
+
+"There is nothing to tell; I think I have told you all." Then she
+said, slipping, as she spoke, into minute confidences: "When I left the
+'Gaiety' I went for a few days to the Exhibition, but _he_ wanted to
+leave London, so I applied to the firm to remove me to Liverpool (not
+Liverpool Street; the girl--I suppose it was Miss Clarke, for I wrote to
+her--made a mistake, or you misunderstood her). We remained in Liverpool
+a year, and then we came back to London, and I went to the 'Criterion,'
+but I couldn't stop there long; he was so awfully jealous of me; he
+used to catechise me every evening--who had I spoken to? How long I
+had spoken to this man? Once I slapped a man's face in fun because he
+squeezed my hand when I handed him the change across the counter. There
+was such a row about it. I don't know how _he_ heard of it. I think he
+must have got some one to watch me. I often suspected the porter--the
+bigger one of the two; but you don't know the 'Criterion.' You used to
+go to the 'Gaiety.'"
+
+"Perhaps he saw you himself. I suppose he used to come to the bar?"
+
+"No, not unless--no, not very often. He banged me about."
+
+"Banged you about, the brute! Good heavens! How could you like a man
+who would strike a woman? Who was he? Was he a gentleman--I mean, was he
+supposed to be a gentleman? Of course he wasn't really a gentleman, or
+he wouldn't have struck you."
+
+"He was in a passion, he was very sorry for it afterwards. Then I left
+the firm and went to live in lodgings; he allowed me so much a week."
+
+"He was a man of some means?"
+
+"No, but it didn't cost him much, he knew the people. We were going to
+be married, but he got ill, and we thought we had better wait; and I
+went to the 'Gaiety' again. I was a fool, of course, to think so much
+about him, for I had plenty of chances. One man who used to lunch there
+three times a week wanted me to marry him, and take me right away. I
+think he was in the printing business--a man who was making good money;
+but I could not give Harry up."
+
+"Harry is his name, then?"
+
+"Yes; but it all began over again. It was just the same at the 'Gaiety'
+as it was at the 'Criterion.' He would never leave me alone, but kept
+on accusing me of flirting with the gentlemen that came to the bar.
+Now, you know as well as I do what the bar is. You must be polite to the
+gentlemen you serve. There are certain gentlemen who always come to me,
+and don't care to be served by any one else, and if I didn't speak to
+them they wouldn't come to the bar. The manager is very sharp, and would
+be sure to mention it."
+
+"Whom do you mean? That fellow with the yellow moustache that walks
+about with his frock-coat all open--a sort of apotheosis of sherry and
+bitters?"
+
+"That's what you called him once before. You see I remember. He is very
+fond of sherry and bitters. But I was saying that Harry would keep on
+interfering with me, pulling me over the coals. We had such dreadful
+rows. He accused me of having gone with gentlemen to their rooms--a
+thing I never did. I could stand it no longer, and we agreed to part."
+
+"How long is that ago?"
+
+"About three weeks. I could stand it no longer, I couldn't remain at the
+'Gaiety,' so I resolved to leave."
+
+"Why couldn't you remain at the 'Gaiety,' the manager didn't know
+anything about it?"
+
+"No, he knew nothing about it, it wouldn't have mattered if he had, but
+after a break up like that you can't remain among people you know--you
+want to get right away; there's nothing like a change. Besides I
+mightn't get such a good chance again; I had the offer of a very good
+place in Brighton, and I took it--a new restaurant, they open to-morrow.
+I get thirty pounds a year and my food."
+
+"And lodging?"
+
+"No, they are very short of accommodation, and I have taken a room in
+one of the streets close by--Preston Street. Do you know it?"
+
+"Perfectly, off the Western Road."
+
+"The lady who has the house knew my poor mother--a very nice woman--will
+let me have a bedroom for five shillings a week, and I shall be allowed
+to use her sitting-room when I want it, which, of course, won't be very
+often, for I shall be at business all day."
+
+The train rolled along the platform; Frank asked the porter when there
+would be a train for Southwick, and was told he would have half an hour
+to wait.
+
+"I shall have time to drive you to Preston Street."
+
+"Oh, no, please don't! She will be waiting for you--you will miss your
+train."
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+
+About four in the afternoon he left off painting, and went to Brighton
+for a couple of hours. The little journey broke up the day, he bought
+the evening papers, and it was pleasant to glance from the news to those
+who passed, and to look upon the sunny and hazy sea. He liked to go to
+Mutton's, and regretted Lizzie was not there, instead of behind a
+bar serving whisky and beer. But he went to the bar. It was a German
+establishment, decorated with the mythological art of Munich, and
+enlivened with a discordant band. The different rooms were fitted with
+bars of various importance. Lizzie was engaged at the largest--that
+nearest the entrance. At half-past five this bar was thronged with all
+classes. Beer and whisky were drunk hurriedly, with a look of trains on
+the face. The quietest time was from half-past three to half-past four,
+during these hours the dining-room was alone in the presence of the
+awful goddesses and a couple of drowsy waiters. Most of the girls were
+out, some two or three read faded novels in the sloppy twilight; a group
+of four or five men who had lingered from half-hour to half-hour turned
+their backs, and talked among themselves; sometimes a couple would
+condescendingly address Lizzie, and tease her with rude remarks; or else
+Frank found her having a little private chat with an old gentleman, a
+youth, or, may be, the waiter.
+
+Lizzie had her bar manners and her town manners, and she slipped on the
+former as she would an article of clothing when she lifted the slab and
+passed behind. They consisted principally of cordial smiles, personal
+observations, and a look of vacancy which she assumed when
+the conversation became coarse. From behind the bar she spoke
+authoritatively, she was secure, it was different--it was behind the
+bar; and she spoke with a cheek and a raciness that at other times were
+quite foreign to her. "I will not sleep with you to-night if you don't
+behave yourself," so Frank once heard her answer a swaggering young man.
+She spoke out loud, evidently regarding her words merely in the light
+of gentle repartee. What she heard and said in the bar remained not
+a moment on her mind, she appeared to accept it all as part of the
+business of the place, and when Frank was annoyed she only laughed.
+
+"Men will talk improper--what does it matter? One doesn't pay attention
+to their nonsense, and it is only in the bar. Never mind all that, tell
+me what you have been doing. You didn't come into Brighton yesterday, I
+suppose?"
+
+"No, I had to go to the Manor House."
+
+"And how is she--the only one? Are you as much in love with her as
+ever?"
+
+"I suppose I am; I have begun a portrait of her."
+
+"What, another! You never finish anything. I shan't have that when I
+come and sit for you. I shall make you finish my portrait."
+
+"Ah, yes; when you come and sit. But, joking apart, when will you come?
+I should so like to show you my studio. It really looks very nice now.
+When will you come?"
+
+"I have no time."
+
+"Why not come next Sunday; it is your Sunday off."
+
+"What would Maggie say if she found me there? She'd have my eyes out."
+
+"If she did find it out she'd know you came to sit; but as a matter
+of fact she'd know nothing about it. You come and lunch with me about
+twelve--they're all in church about that time."
+
+"And you never go to church, you wicked boy. I don't know that I dare
+trust myself with you."
+
+A scruple jarred the even strain of his desire to paint Lizzie's
+portrait, but his scruple vanished in one of her sweet sunny smiles, and
+he gave her all information about the train she would have to take to
+reach Southwick by twelve o'clock.
+
+He ordered some delicacies in the way of potted meats, and there was a
+bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice when she arrived.
+
+"Do you keep your champagne in ice? We never do in the bar. When the
+gentlemen want it they have a piece to put in their wine."
+
+"I wish you'd try to forget your gentlemen when you come here."
+
+Lizzie began to cry, and it was hard to console her; she said that Frank
+had spoilt her lunch for her.
+
+"It is because you are so much superior to the men I see you speaking
+to. How can I help feeling annoyed that you should be serving drinks?"
+
+"But I've got to get my living. You don't suppose I serve in a bar
+because I like it?"
+
+"No, of course not; but don't let us talk any more about it. You're
+going to sit to me, and I want to do as pretty a portrait of you as I
+can. All that beautiful brown hair, and that hat! Let me take it from
+your head!" Frank had bought this hat for her and had handed it to her
+over the counter, thereby bringing censure upon her from the manager.
+"Let's forget what I said. The hat suits you. There, now against the
+light, just a three-quarter face."
+
+At the end of half an hour he said she was a very good sitter and this
+pleased her, and she tried to keep the pose till the clock struck, but
+at the end of fifty minutes she said: "I must get up," and she came
+round to see what he was doing.
+
+"Now you mustn't criticise it," he said. "It's only a beginning. You've
+forgiven me my remarks about the bar?"
+
+"Don't remind me of it again."
+
+But he could not get it out of his head that he had annoyed her, and
+was unable to apply himself to his painting; perhaps for this reason his
+drawing went wrong, and his colour became muddy, and the thought struck
+him that if Maggie were to find this portrait about the studio she would
+certainly ask him whose portrait it was.
+
+"I can't paint to-day," he said, getting up from his easel.
+
+"And why can't you paint?" The question seemed to him at first a stupid
+one, and then she showed a perception that surprised him. "Are you
+afraid the young lady you're engaged to might come and catch me sitting
+to you?"
+
+The fear that this might happen had been floating in the back of his
+mind for the last half hour; he had kept Lizzie too long in the studio,
+and it was not improbable that the girls might knock at his door at any
+moment, and if they did it would be impossible for him not to answer.
+Triss would bark.
+
+"Well," she said, "I won't keep you any longer."
+
+"No, I assure you," he said aloud, and within himself, "I'd give a
+sovereign if I could get her to the station without being seen."
+
+And he thought he had done so as he returned half an hour afterwards
+across the green. Maggie was waiting for him. "Come to ask me to dine at
+the Manor House," he thought; but she told him that she knew all about
+his visitor, and, despite all Frank's efforts to pacify her she grew
+more violent, more excited until at last she told him she didn't want to
+see him any more, that he was to go away, that she gave him his liberty.
+
+"What an excitable girl she is! I'll go there this evening and try to
+coax her out of her anger. I must try to explain to her that a painter
+must have models. If we were married we shouldn't have more than a
+thousand a year to live on at the outside--that is to say, if Mount
+Rorke and Brookes come to terms, which is not very likely, they might
+make up a thousand a year between them, that would not be enough for
+two, and I should have to work; and I couldn't work without a model.
+The thing is absurd! She'll have to learn that a model is absolutely
+necessary; we were bound to have a row over that model question, so it
+might as well come off now as later on, and we shall understand each
+other better when this has blown over. There is nothing, and never has
+been anything, between me and Lizzie--my conscience is clear on that
+score. How pretty she looked to-day--that pale brown hair, so soft
+and so full of colour. To-day was an unlucky day; I began by being
+unfortunate with my painting; I never made a worse drawing in my life,
+and the worst of it was that I did not see that my drawing was wrong
+until I had begun to paint."
+
+A remembrance of Maggie's gracefulness came dazzling and straining his
+imagination, and in sharp revulsion of desire he assailed Lizzie with
+angry and contemptuous memory. She was always in low company--was never
+happy out of it; it was part of her. How this man liked six dashes of
+bitters in his sherry, and the other would not drink whisky except in a
+thin glass.
+
+As he was leaving the studio he received a letter from Maggie, and
+when he thought of the circumstances in which it was written, he grew
+genuinely alarmed, for there was no forgetting the seriousness of the
+letter, and she stated her reasons for the step she was taking without
+undue emphasis. In its severity and quiet determination the letter did
+not seem like her, and he suspected forgery, sisterly advice, paternal
+influence--a family conspiracy. There was but one thing to do. He looked
+through the various furniture for his hat; and with his head full of
+citations from the lives of artists illustrative of their conduct, he
+went to her. But Maggie would not see him.
+
+"Miss Brookes," the servant said, "is in her room and cannot see you,
+sir."
+
+"She will never be mine, she will never be mine," he muttered as he
+passed into the town. "But why do I think she'll never be mine?" And
+looking at the grey sea with only a trace of the sunset left in the grey
+sky he asked himself if the thought that had crossed his mind were a
+conviction, a fore-telling or merely a passing fancy created by the
+difficulty of the moment. He asked himself if he had heard himself
+saying, "She'll never be mine" and mistaken his own voice for the voice
+of Fate. Over the shingle bank the sea faded, a thin illusion, dim and
+promiseful of peace, and as the darkness and the sea filled Frank's soul
+he, the lightest and most life-loving of men, was filled for once with
+a sense of failure of life, and as his sorrowing thoughts drifted on he
+remembered that he had stood with her in hearing of the rising tide, and
+all his pleading and passion came back to him.
+
+"What are you doing here?"
+
+It was Willy.
+
+"I don't know. Maggie has broken off her engagement; she will never
+speak to me again, she hopes we may never meet."
+
+"I don't understand. When did she break off her engagement?"
+
+Frank told his story, and they walked across the green towards the
+studio.
+
+"Oh, you don't care. I don't believe you are listening to me."
+
+"I am listening. You never think any one understands what is said to
+them if they do not instantly jump and call the stars to witness."
+
+"I suppose I am like that--excitable--the difference between the Celt
+and the Saxon; and yet I don't know, your sisters are quite as excitable
+as I am."
+
+"They take after their mother; I am more like my father."
+
+"It wouldn't be a bad character for a play--a man who never would
+believe what you said, unless you threw up your arms and called on the
+stars."
+
+"He can't be very bad if he can think about plays," thought Willy.
+
+"Tell me, Willy, you won't offend me; tell me exactly what you think,
+did I do anything wrong? I swear to you there is nothing between me and
+Lizzie--I believe she is over head and ears in love with some fellow who
+has treated her very badly. She never would tell me who he was. In fact,
+she told me she had left London so that she might get over it. There
+would be no use my humbugging you, and I swear there is not, and never
+was, anything between me and Lizzie Baker. I never expected to see her
+again. It is very strange how people meet. I have told you all about it.
+When I go to Brighton I must go somewhere to get a drink, and I really
+don't see there is any harm in going to the 'Tivoli'; it didn't occur
+to me to think I should avoid the place merely because she was serving
+there. I have often been there, I don't deny it. Do you see there is any
+harm in my going there?"
+
+"I don't like giving an opinion unless I am fully acquainted with the
+facts; but it seems to me that you might have gone to the 'Tivoli' to
+have a drink without asking her to your studio."
+
+"Stay a bit, we'll speak of that presently. I am now telling you how
+I see Lizzie when I go to Brighton. I often go to Brighton by the four
+o'clock train, I often go to the 'Tivoli,' and when she is not talking
+to some one else I talk to her about things in general; but I swear I
+have never been out with her, that I never saw her except in the bar,
+and yet Maggie accuses me of keeping a woman in Brighton, and won't hear
+what I have to say in my defence. This is what she says: 'I have it on
+unquestionable authority that you have been keeping this woman since you
+returned from Ireland, perhaps before, and that you go in by the four
+o'clock train almost daily to see her.' Now I ask you if it is fair to
+make such accusations--such utterly false and baseless accusations--and
+then to refuse to hear what a fellow has to say in his defence? By Jove!
+if I caught the fellow who has been telling lies about me, I'd let him
+have it. Some of those Southdown Road people have been writing to her,
+that's about the long and short of it.
+
+"As for having asked her to come to the studio, I assure you my
+intentions were quite innocent. Perhaps you won't understand what
+I mean; you don't care for painting, but very often an artist has a
+longing to paint a certain face, and the desire completely masters him.
+Well, I had a longing of this kind to paint Lizzie; hers is just the
+kind of head that suits me--she offered to give me a sitting, Idid
+not see much harm in accepting, and as I could not paint her in the
+bar-room, I asked her to the studio. But as for making out there was
+anything wrong--I assure you she is not that sort of girl. If we were
+married (I mean Maggie and I) I would have to have models; we'll have to
+come to an understanding on that point. Now what I want you to do is to
+explain to Maggie that there is nothing wrong between me and Lizzie, you
+can tell her there is nothing--I swear there is nothing; and then you
+had better explain that an artist must have models to work from."
+
+"Don't ask me. I wish you wouldn't ask me. I make a rule never to
+interfere in my sisters' affairs. I did once, you remember, and I
+thought I should never hear the end of it."
+
+"I think you might do this for me."
+
+"Don't ask me. I wish you wouldn't, my dear fellow. I am an exceedingly
+nervous chap, and I have had nothing but bad luck all my life."
+
+"You think of nothing but yourself. You certainly are the most selfish
+fellow I ever met. You take no interest in any affairs but your own."
+
+Willy made no answer. He sat stroking his moustache softly with slow
+crumpled hand. After a long silence, he said: "Tell me, Frank, are you
+really in love with my sister, or is it only imagination? I know people
+often think they are in love when their fancy is only a little excited.
+Very little will pass for being in love, but the real thing is very
+different from such fancies."
+
+"I assure you I never loved any one like Maggie. Yes, I am sure I love
+her."
+
+"You may be in love, I don't say you aren't; but I am sure there's
+no more common mistake than to fancy one's self in love because one's
+imagination is a bit excited. When you do fall in love, you find out
+your mistake."
+
+"You think no one was ever in love but yourself. Do you remember when
+you took me to see her, when we heard her sing 'Love was false as he was
+fair, and I loved him far too well'?"
+
+Frank knew no more of the story than that: Willy had loved this actress
+vainly. On occasions Willy had alluded to her, but he had never shown
+signs of wishing to confide.
+
+"Yes, I remember. How I loved that woman, and what a wreck it has made
+of my life. I daresay you often think me dull; I can quite understand
+your thinking me narrow-minded, selfish, and incapable of taking
+interest in other people's affairs: losing her took the soul out of my
+life. Now nothing really amuses me--now nothing really interests me. I
+often think if I were to die, it would be a happy release."
+
+"You never told me anything about it before; wouldn't she marry you?"
+
+"I never knew her. I fell in love with her the first time I saw her,
+and my love swallowed up everything else. Then I wasn't wrapped up in
+account-books, although I was always a precise and methodical sort of
+chap; I was young enough then, now I am an older man than my father.
+Some fellows have all the luck; everything succeeds with them, every one
+loves them, men and women, they get all they ask for and more, others
+get nothing. No matter what I tried to do, something went wrong and
+I was baulked. I set my heart on that girl, she was the one thing I
+wanted. I saw her play the same piece fifty times. I knew my passion
+was hopeless, but I couldn't resist it. Had I known her I might have won
+her, but there were no means; I never saw her but once off the stage,
+and that was but a moment. I often sent her presents, sometimes
+jewellery, sometimes fans or flowers, anything and everything I thought
+she would like. I sent her a beautiful locket; I paid fifty pounds for
+it."
+
+"Did she accept your presents?"
+
+"I sent them anonymously."
+
+"Why did you not try to make her acquaintance?"
+
+"I knew nobody in the theatrical world. I was not good at making
+acquaintances. You might have done it. I am a timid man."
+
+"Did you make no attempt? You might have written."
+
+"At last I did write."
+
+"What did you write?"
+
+"I tried to tell her the exact truth. I told her that I had refrained
+from writing to her for three years. That I quite understood the folly
+and the presumption of the effort; but I felt now, as drowning men that
+clutch at straws, that I must make my condition known to her. I told
+her I loved her truly and honourably, that my position and fortune would
+have entitled me to aspire to her hand if fate had been kind enough to
+allow me to know her. It was a very difficult letter to write, and
+I just tried to make myself clear. I told her I knew no one in the
+theatrical world, and that waiting and hoping for some chanceto bring
+us together would only result in misery long drawn out; that I had some
+faint hope that this letter might lead her to consider that there might
+be an exception to the rule that a young lady should not stop to speak
+to a young man she didn't know. I remember I said 'when men are in
+deadly earnest, truth seems to shine between the lines they write. I
+know I am in earnest, and may say that all I hold dear and precious in
+life is set in the hope that this letter may not appear to you in the
+light of one of those foolish and wicked letters which I believe men
+often write to actresses, and of which I suppose you have been the
+recipient.' Then I said that I would be at the stage door on the
+following night, and that I hoped she would allow me to speak a few
+words to her."
+
+"And did she?"
+
+"I could not speak to her; I lost all courage in that moment. She walked
+close by me."
+
+"You mean to say you did not speak to her after writing that letter?"
+
+"Call me a fool, an idiot, what you will; I could not do it. I can
+only compare my feeling to what Livingstone says he felt when he found
+himself face to face with a lion. He stood staring in the lion's eyes,
+unable to move."
+
+"She must have thought your letter a practical joke. I wonder what she
+did think."
+
+"I wrote explaining the unfortunate circumstances as well as I could,
+and telling her I would come the following night."
+
+"Did you go?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did you speak to her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And she wouldn't speak?"
+
+"She passed on with her maid, but I didn't lose hope until she married.
+It was always a sort of sad pleasure to go to the theatre to see her.
+I used to live at the Manor House for two or three months at a time,
+saving up my money so as to be able to make her some nice present. I
+wished her to remember me, although she would not speak to me. No one
+came to the Manor House; there was nothing to do except to read the
+paper and smoke my pipe. I was sick of my life, and I counted the days
+that would have to pass till I saw her again--only thirty more days,
+only nineteen days, only one more week--so I used to count, marking off
+each day in an almanac, until one day I read the announcement of her
+marriage; then I knew all hope was at an end. I went mad that night
+and rushed out of the house, and I should have drowned myself had I not
+fainted. When I came to, I was weak and delirious, and wandered along
+the beach, not knowing where I was going. Some fishermen brought me
+home. My sisters were at school at the time. I believe I was very near
+dying. I fainted three times one afternoon. I used to lie on the sofa
+and cry for hours. She married a stockbroker. I believe she didn't care
+for him at all. Then she died. She was buried in Kensal Green. Whenever
+I am in London I go and see her grave."
+
+"This is awfully sad."
+
+"Yes; it ruined my life. I never had any luck. Things always went wrong
+with me."
+
+"I should like to see those letters."
+
+"I haven't got copies. I didn't keep a letter-book in those days. Let's
+talk of something else. I have some news. I am going in for breeding
+race-horses."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"What I say. I have calculated it all out, and I find I shall make from
+fifteen to twenty per cent, on my money."
+
+"By breeding race-horses! And where are you going to breed them?"
+
+"You know those stables on the Portslade Road where the veterinary
+surgeon used to live? I am going to take that place. The rent is three
+hundred pounds a year; there are fifty acres of pasture, and stabling
+for thirty horses. The dwelling-house is not a very aristocratic-looking
+place, but it will do for the present; when I begin to make money I
+shall go in for alterations. You can't do everything at once."
+
+"You do astonish me. And where are you going to get the money to do all
+this? You will require at least twenty thousand pounds capital."
+
+"More than that. You would not be able to work a place like that under
+twenty-five thousand pounds," Willy replied sententiously. "I have got
+about eight thousand left of my own, and I came in for a legacy of three
+thousand at the beginning of this year--an aunt of mine left me the
+money; and my father has agreed to let me have fourteen thousand on
+condition of my abandoning all further claim upon him. The bulk of his
+fortune will now be divided among my sisters. Berkins advised him to
+accept my offer."
+
+"I should think so indeed; your father is worth ten thousand a year."
+
+"No, nothing like that. His business has been going down for years past.
+Last year he lost heavily again; if it weren't for his investments he
+wouldn't be able to go on with it. The business is done for; I knew
+that long ago. My father and I could never agree about how the accounts
+should be kept. That head clerk of his is an awful duffer."
+
+"Yes, but what are you going to do with the shop?"
+
+"The shop was the origin of it all. If it hadn't been for the shop I
+dare say I never should have thought of the race-horses. My father and
+I could never work together. I offered to buy his surplus fruit and
+vegetables, and, without absolutely binding myself to deal with no
+one else, I had assured him of my chief custom. Naturally I expected
+something in return--I expected him to let me have peaches in April and
+strawberries in March. You cannot do this without using a good deal of
+heating power. I spoke to the gardener several times. Often when I went
+into the houses I found the pipes nearly cold. I got tired of this, and
+I paid a man out of my own pocket to keep the furnaces properly
+stoked, and--would you believe it?--my father actually raised
+objections--objected to my paying a man to look after his glass-houses
+as they should be looked after. He said he would not order in any more
+coke, that I'd have to get along with what there was in the garden; he
+said he wished the shop at the devil. I saw it was hopeless. You cannot
+help my father, and he won't help himself, so I threw the whole thing
+up."
+
+"And when are you going to start the new scheme?"
+
+"Immediately. One of my reasons for accepting fourteen thousand pounds
+down as a settlement in full was because I was beginning to fear that
+he might get wind of my marriage. From one or two things I have heard
+lately, I have reason to suspect that the secret is beginning to ooze
+out, and I thought it might be as well to take time by the forelock."
+
+"And you told him? What did he say?"
+
+"What people usually say when they criticise other people's lives
+without knowing anything of their temptations and sufferings. But I want
+to tell you about my scheme. I have bought Blue Mantle, the winner of
+the Czarewitch, and only beaten by a length for the Cambridgeshire, a
+three-year-old, with eight stone on his back; a most unlucky horse--if
+he had been in the Leger or Derby he would have won one or both. He
+broke down when he was four years old. By King Tom out of Merry Agnes,
+by Newminster out of Molly Bawn."
+
+"I didn't know you knew so much about racing."
+
+"I know more than you think. I don't let out all I know."
+
+"And how much did you pay for Blue Mantle?"
+
+"Dirt cheap. I can imagine myself two years hence, when my first batch
+of yearlings is put up for sale--500, 650, 800, 1000, knocked down
+for 1000 guineas, brown colt by Blue Mantle out of Wild Rose, bred by
+William Brookes, Esq."
+
+"I don't think money will come in quite so fast as that."
+
+"Perhaps not; but can't you let a fellow enjoy himself? I never knew any
+one like you for throwing cold water. I believe you are jealous."
+
+"What nonsense!"
+
+"Well, never mind. I shall be the deuce of a dog, see if I shan't. I
+always like to kill two birds with one stone if I can, and my
+business will bring me into connection with the very best in the land.
+Unfortunately! my people don't care about getting on; now I do. I like
+to know people who are better than myself--at all events, who are no
+worse. I shouldn't be surprised if I were dining at Goodwood and Arundel
+before long. When I go up to town I shall be calling on Lady This and
+Lady That, and later on I might get in somewhere in the Conservative
+interest."
+
+"How long you may know a man, and then find you are mistaken in his
+character," thought Frank. "So vanity is at the bottom of all these
+efforts to make money."
+
+"When are you coming to the Manor House?"
+
+"Impossible. You know I can't go there so long as your father--"
+
+"Come in one afternoon; he'll ask you to stay to dinner. He has
+forgotten all about it."
+
+"I cannot come to the Manor House until my engagement to your sister is
+sanctioned by him."
+
+"The way to get that is to come to the Manor House and talk him into
+it. For my part, I think, even from his point of view, that it would
+be better that he should recognise the engagement; nothing can be more
+damaging than these clandestine meetings."
+
+"What can I do? I will not give her up."
+
+"I never interfere. I have quite enough worries of my own. I must be
+getting home. It is very late. Good-bye."
+
+The green was as bright as day in the moonlight and Frank watched Willy
+walking, his shoulders thrown back. He sighed; an undefinable, but
+haunting melancholy hung about Willy; he often impressed Frank as an old
+book--a book whose text is trite--which no one will read, and which yet
+continues to make its mute appeal; a something that has always missed
+its way, that can hardly be said to be an adequate thing to offer for
+any man's money, that will soon disappear somehow out of all sight and
+reckoning.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+
+A few days after he got a letter from Lizzie, saying she was alone
+and ill, and asking him to come and see her. He took the next train to
+Brighton. The land-lady's daughter, a girl of about twelve, opened the
+door to him.
+
+"How is Miss Baker? Is she any better?"
+
+"Please, sir, she is not at all well, she has cold shivers; and mother
+went away yesterday."
+
+"And who looks after Miss Baker?"
+
+"Please, sir, I do."
+
+"You do! Is there no one else in the house?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Is Miss Baker in bed?"
+
+"No, sir. She said she would get up a little while this afternoon,
+'cause she said she thought you was coming."
+
+"Go and tell her I am here."
+
+"Please, sir, she said you was to go upstairs--the back room on the
+second floor, please."
+
+"Come in."
+
+"I am so sorry you are ill, Lizzie. What is the matter?"
+
+"I don't know; I think I caught a severe chill. I stayed out very late
+on the beach."
+
+"But why are you crying? Do tell me. Can I do anything?"
+
+"No no. What does it matter whether I laugh or cry? Nothing matters now.
+I don't care what becomes of me."
+
+"A pretty girl like you; nonsense! Some one rich and grand will fall in
+love with you, and give you everything you want."
+
+"I don't want any one to fall in love with me; I am done for--don't care
+what becomes of me."
+
+"Do tell me about it. Have you heard anything further about him? Do tell
+me; don't cry like that."
+
+"No, no, leave me, leave me! I am so miserable. I don't know why I wrote
+to you. I hope I shall die."
+
+"It is very lucky you did write to me, for you are clearly very ill.
+What is the matter?"
+
+"I don't know; I can't get warm. This room is very cold--don't you think
+so?"
+
+"Cold? No."
+
+"I feel cold; my throat is very bad--perhaps I shall be better in the
+morning."
+
+"You must see a doctor."
+
+"Oh, no! I don't want to see a doctor."
+
+"You must see a doctor."
+
+"No, no, I beg of you. I only wrote to you because I was feeling so
+miserable."
+
+Lizzie stood between him and the door, imploring him not to fetch a
+doctor, but to go away at once, and to tell no one she had written
+to him, or that he had been to see her. "Nothing matters now--I am
+ruined--I don't care what becomes of me." He marvelled; but soon all
+considerations were swept away in anxiety for her bodily health; and
+having extorted a promise from her that she would not leave the room
+until he came back, he rushed to the nearest chemist and hence to the
+doctor.
+
+"I want you to come at once, if possible, and see a young lady who,
+I fear, is dangerously ill. She has not been in Brighton long. She is
+quite alone. She sent for me. I live at Southwick. I came out at once.
+I have known her a long time. I may say she is a great friend of mine.
+I found her very ill--I must say her condition seems to me alarming. I
+should like her to see a doctor at once. Can you come at once?"
+
+"I am just finishing dinner. I will come in about ten minutes' time.
+What is the address?"
+
+"20 Preston Street.--I hope he does not think there is anything wrong,"
+thought Frank. "He look's as if he did," and with a view of removing
+suspicion, he said: "She is a young lady whom I have known for some
+years. We had lost sight of each other until we travelled down in the
+train together. I say this because I do not wish you to think there is
+anything wrong."
+
+"My good sir, I should not allow myself to have any opinions on the
+matter. I am summoned to attend a patient, and I give the best advice in
+my power."
+
+"Yes, but one can't help forming opinions--a beautiful young girl living
+alone in lodgings, and having apparently for sole protector a young man,
+are circumstances that might be easily misconstrued, and as I am engaged
+to be married, I think it right to tell you exactly how I stand in
+relation to this young woman."
+
+The doctor bowed.
+
+"Do you not think I did well in making this explanation?"
+
+"It can do no harm; we medical men see so much that we take no notice
+of anything but our patient. But tell me something of this young lady's
+suffering. Can you describe the symptoms?"
+
+"She has a racking headache--she is shivering all over--she sits by the
+fire and cannot get warm. It looks to me as if it were fever."
+
+"Does she complain of her throat?"
+
+"Yes; she cannot swallow."
+
+"Probably an attack of quinsy."
+
+"Is that dangerous?"
+
+"No; but it is infectious."
+
+"I don't mind about that--she is alone. I will see her through it."
+
+"I will go round to Preston Street immediately I have finished
+dinner--in about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour."
+
+When the doctor had seen Lizzie, he said to Frank, who accompanied him
+downstairs: "Just as I expected--quinsy. She will take from eight to ten
+days to get well. We have taken it in time, that's one good thing. The
+throat is very bad. She must have a linseed poultice, and she must use
+the gargle. Is there any one in the house who can attend to her?"
+
+"I am afraid not; the landlady went away this morning, leaving no one in
+the house but that child. She will, I hope, be home to-morrow."
+
+"In that case you had better have a nurse in; I will give you the
+address of one."
+
+When Frank returned he found her lying on the bed weeping. As before,
+she refused to tell him the cause of her grief. She would make no other
+answer than that nothing mattered now, that she didn't care what became
+of her; and when he spoke of going to fetch a nurse, she waved her hands
+excitedly, declaring she would on no consideration stop in the house
+with a woman she didn't know. And, hardly able to decide what course he
+should take, he promised not to leave her; she clung about him, and he
+was forced to send the child (whose name he now found to be Emma) to
+the chemist for the linseed, and he wrote a note asking for explicit
+directions how it should be used. Then he had to persuade Lizzie to go
+to bed. She resisted him, and it was with great difficulty that he got
+her boots and stockings off; then she collected her strength, unbuttoned
+her dress, and took off her stays. Then she said: "Go out of the room
+for a moment."
+
+He found his way into the kitchen, and guessing that hot water would
+be required, he lit a fire. But there was no muslin, and he had to send
+Emma for some. Lizzie smiled faintly when they entered--Frank with a
+basin, Emma with a kettle and a parcel of linen. Frank poured some rum
+into a glass, and beat an egg up with it.
+
+"What is that?" she asked; and her voice was so faint and hoarse that he
+turned, quite startled.
+
+"Something that will do your throat good and keep your strength up.
+Possibly you will not be able to eat much to-morrow." He held the
+tumbler to her lips, and at length succeeded in getting her to drink it.
+"Emma, is the kettle boiling?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You had better go downstairs and get some coals, and if you can't find
+any nightlights you must go out and buy a box. Have you got any money
+over?"
+
+"Yes, sir, sixpence."
+
+"Now, Lizzie, let me put this on your throat. Throw your head well back.
+There, it isn't too hot?"
+
+And all that night he sat by her bedside. Often she could not get her
+breath, and he had to lift her and prop her up with pillows; and four
+times he lit the candle, and, with tired eyes, mixed the meal and placed
+it on her throat. The firelight played upon the ceiling, the kettle sang
+softly, the sufferer moaned, the light brought the rumble of a cart,
+and they awoke from shallow sleeps that blurred but did not extinguish
+consciousness of the actual present. "You must not uncover yourself; you
+will catch cold. Let me pin this shawl about you." About eight o'clock
+Emma knocked at the door. Frank asked her to make him a cup of tea.
+The morning dragged along amid many anxieties, for he could see she was
+worse than she had been over night.
+
+"The disease must take its course," said the doctor; "we shall be
+fortunate if by poulticing we can stop it; if we can't, it will come to
+a head in about eight or nine days' time, and then it will break. Did
+you see the nurse last night? Couldn't she come?"
+
+"She," said Frank, pointing to the sufferer, "wouldn't allow me to send
+for her; she said she would not stay in the house with a strange woman.
+She was very excited; I fancy she has had some great mental trouble--a
+sweetheart, I suppose. I did not like to cross her. I thought I could
+nurse her; I did my best. Was the poultice all right?"
+
+"Quite right. But you will have to sit up with her to-night. You will be
+very tired; you had better get in a nurse."
+
+"I think I shall be able to manage. The landlady is expected home this
+evening or to-morrow morning. What had she better have to eat?"
+
+"She won't be able to eat anything for some days. Try to get her to take
+an egg beat up in a wine-glass of rum."
+
+Hourly she grew worse, and on the following day Frank stood by her bed
+momentarily fearing that she would suffocate; once her face blackened
+and he had to seize and lift her out of bed, and place her in a chair.
+When she seemed a little easier he called Emma, and they made the bed
+and cleaned up the room together. Then he ate a sausage and drank a
+glass of beer that had been brought from the public-house.
+
+The first night had seemed long and weary, but now the hours passed
+quickly; he had forgotten all but the suffering woman, and in the
+interest of inducing her to swallow some beef-tea, in the pride of such
+successes another and then another day fled lightly. Nor did he feel
+tired as he had done, and now a nap in an arm-chair seemed all that
+he required. So the landlady came as an unwelcome interruption of an
+absorbing occupation. Haggard and unshaven, he returned to Southwick,
+where he found a note on his table from General Horlock, asking him to
+dinner that evening.
+
+"I know the meaning of this: Maggie will be there--a reconciliation! Can
+I?" He turned his ear quickly from his conscience; he was frightened of
+the voice that would tell him that Maggie was nothing to him, never had
+been, never could be; that he had been born for Lizzie Baker, as the
+soldier is for the sword or the bullet that kills him; others had passed
+him, had been heard sharply, had gleamed dangerously in his eyes. They
+were but signs and omens meant for others, not for him, and they had
+passed. But this one had remained, though often lost, as that remains
+which is to be, and she was now no less for him than before, though
+now seemingly lost irrevocably to another; and in all the seeming of
+irrevocable loss was drawing nearer--not with the victory and destiny of
+old in her eyes, but with no less victory and destiny inherent in her.
+Though far from him, she had been for long a disintegrated influence,
+but what had been distant was now near, and all was yielding like a ship
+in the attraction of the fabulous loadstone mountain. That room!--the
+wash-hand-stand, the dirty panes of glass, the iron bed-there his fate
+had been sealed. That body which he had lifted out of bed still lay
+heavy in his arms. He still breathed the odour of the hair he had
+gathered from the pillow and striven to pin up; those eyes of limpid
+blue, pale as water where isles are sleeping, burned deep and livid in
+his soul; the touch and sight of that flesh, the sound of that voice,
+those tears, the solicitude and anxiety of those hours of night and day
+conspired against him, and his life was big with incipient overthrow.
+
+Lizzie was with him at all times. He saw her eyes, then her teeth, and
+the perfume and touch of her hair was often about him; and yet he was
+hardly conscious that a revolution of feeling was in progress within
+him; and when the time came for him to go to Horlock's he went there
+avoiding all thoughts of Maggie, although he knew he would be called
+upon that night to take a decisive step. He saw little of her before
+dinner, and during dinner the General's allusions to the quarrels of
+lovers being the renewal of love vexed him, and he thought, "Confound
+it! If I want to make it up I will; but I am not going to be bullied
+into it." When the ladies left the room he found it difficult to pretend
+to the kind-hearted old soldier that he did not believe that Maggie
+would forgive him. "Forgive me for what? I have done nothing."
+
+"To get on with women you must always admit you are in the wrong--ha,
+ha, ha!" laughed the General; "now I have it from my wife--women know
+everything--ha, ha, ha!" laughed the General. "Have another glass of
+sherry?"
+
+"No, thanks; couldn't take any more."
+
+"I took I won't tell you how many glasses before I proposed to my wife,
+and then I was afraid; enough to make me--a clever woman like Mrs.
+Horlock, I believe you wouldn't find a woman in England like
+Mrs. Horlock. Look round; all that's her work. Look at that white
+Arab--exactly like him. I won five hundred pounds with that horse; but I
+wouldn't be satisfied, and I ran him again the following day and lost
+it all and five hundred more with it. I had another horse. My wife
+is modelling him in wax; she will show it to you in the next room.
+Marvellous woman!"
+
+Passing Maggie by who was sitting in the window, Frank inveigled Mrs.
+Horlock into an anatomical discussion. The General stretched out
+his feet, put on his spectacles, and took up the _St James's_.
+The conversation dropped, and, full of apprehension and expecting
+reconciliation, Frank went to Maggie and talked to her of the tennis
+parties he was going to, of the people he had seen--of indifferent
+things. The time was tense with the fate of their lives. Once she turned
+her head and sighed. Time slipped by, and still they talked of their
+friends--of things they knew perfectly. Maggie said: "I hope you are not
+angry; I hope we shall remain friends." Frank replied: "I hope so,"
+and again the conversation paused. The General denounced Gladstone, and
+praised his wife's sculpture. Ten o'clock! Angel was lifted out of his
+basket. If Maggie had been Helen and Southwick Troy, he would not be
+kept waiting; the dogs had to be taken out; Willy came to fetch Maggie;
+hands were tendered, lips said good-bye, and, with a sense of parting,
+they parted.
+
+Feeling adrift and strangely alone, he walked to his lodging. His future
+loomed up in his mind as vague and as illusive as the village that now
+glared through the mist, white and phantasmal. He did not regret--we can
+hardly regret the impossible. Then, falling back on a piece of prose,
+he said: "Where was the good? Mount Rorke would never have given his
+consent. Poor Lizzie; I hope she is better. I hope it has broken. She
+won't get any relief until it does."
+
+And next day, towards evening, he went to Brighton. He found her
+shrinking over the fire, wrapped in a woollen shawl.
+
+"How are you to-day? You look a little better. I did not expect to find
+you out of bed."
+
+"I am better, thank you; it broke yesterday, and I feel relieved. You
+are very good. I think I should have died if it had not been for you.
+Think of that landlady leaving me in the way she did."
+
+"What was the reason? Why did she rush off in that way?"
+
+"She went to town to see her sister, and she says she was taken ill. She
+drinks."
+
+"Does she? I hope she looked after you yesterday?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"As well as I did?"
+
+"I don't know about that; you are a very good nurse. It was very good of
+you; no one else would have done it."
+
+"What, not even _he_?"
+
+"You were with me for four days, and you never even went to bed--never
+took your clothes off."
+
+"Never even washed myself. By George! I was glad to get home and have a
+good wash. I was a sorry-looking object--haggard and unshaven."
+
+"Where did you say you had been to?"
+
+"Nobody asked me."
+
+"Not Maggie?"
+
+"No; I didn't tell you our engagement is broken off."
+
+"No; you didn't say nothing about it."
+
+"On account of you. She discovered that you had been to my studio, and
+she said I was keeping a woman in Brighton."
+
+"Keeping a woman in Brighton--she thinks you are keeping me! I will
+write to her and tell her that it is not true. What right has she to say
+such things about me?"
+
+"She doesn't say it about you. She says a woman."
+
+"She means me."
+
+"No, she doesn't; she doesn't know anything about you. Some one told her
+I went into Brighton every day by the four o'clock train, and she put
+two and two or rather two and three together, and said it was six."
+
+"But I will write to her. I will not be the cause of any one's marriage
+being broken off."
+
+"You need not trouble. I saw her last night, and I could have made it
+all right had I chosen--she was quite willing."
+
+"You can't care for her!"
+
+"I suppose not. I don't think I ever really loved her. I thought I did.
+I was mistaken."
+
+"You are very changeable."
+
+"No, I don't think I am--at least not so far as you are concerned. I was
+mistaken. I was in love with some one else--with you."
+
+"With me?"
+
+"Yes, with you. I was in love with you when we went to Reading, and
+never got over it. I thought I had, but when love is real we never get
+over it. I always loved you, and those four days I spent nursing you
+have brought it all out. I shall never love any one else. I know you
+don't care for me; you said once you couldn't care for me."
+
+"I! I am too miserable to care for any one. I wish you had let me die;
+but that is ungrateful. You must excuse me, I am so miserable. Why speak
+of loving me? I can love no one. I don't care what becomes of me. I am
+ruined; nothing matters now."
+
+"I wish you would confide in me; you can trust me. Has he forsaken you?
+Can you not make it up?"
+
+"No, never now; I shall never see him again."
+
+"Has anything happened lately, since you came to Brighton?"
+
+Lizzie nodded.
+
+"Don't cry like that; tell me about it."
+
+"What's the use? Nothing matters now."
+
+"Has he been here?"
+
+Lizzie nodded, and Frank folded the shawl about her, and wiped her tears
+away with his pocket handkerchief. "Since you were ill?"
+
+"No, before I was ill; he was down here watching me. He found out I had
+gone to your studio, and he said the most dreadful things--that he would
+break your head, and that I had never been true to him, and that I was
+not fit to be the wife of an honest man."
+
+"But I will tell him that you came to my studio to sit for your
+portrait."
+
+"No, you mustn't write; it would only make matters worse. No use; he
+says he will never see me again."
+
+"Where can I see him? Has he gone back to London? I will follow him and
+tell him he is mistaken."
+
+"No, please don't, and please don't go to the 'Gaiety'; he is a violent-
+tempered man; something dreadful might occur. Please, promise me."
+
+"Not go to the 'Gaiety'? He doesn't know me."
+
+"Yes, he does."
+
+"Have I seen him? Do tell me; you know you can trust me. I am your
+friend. Tell me--"
+
+"You have seen him in the 'Gaiety,' in the grill-room--the waiter,
+number two, the good-looking tall man."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"He wasn't always a waiter; his people are very superior. He has been
+unfortunate."
+
+"And it was he you loved this long while?"
+
+"I never cared for another man."
+
+"I must write and tell him he is committing an act of injustice. I will
+make this matter right for you, Lizzie."
+
+"Do you think you can?"
+
+"I am sure of it."
+
+He rang for the landlady, and asked for writing materials. She
+apologised for the penny bottle of ink, and spoke of getting a table
+from the next room, but he said he could write very well on the
+chimney-piece. "I suppose I had better begin, 'Sir'?"
+
+"Don't people generally begin, 'Dear Sir'?"
+
+"Not when they don't know the people they are writing to."
+
+"But you do know him a little. He always said you were very haughty. You
+used to sit at his table."
+
+"I think I had better begin the letter with 'Sir.'"
+
+"Very well. You know best. He was always very jealous."
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+
+"SIR,--I hear from Miss Baker that you were in Brighton last week, and,
+drawing the inference from the fact that she came to my studio to sit
+for her portrait, you accuse her of very grievous impropriety. I beg to
+assure you that this is not so. At my urgent request, Miss Baker, whom
+I had better say I have known for some years, consented to give me a
+sitting. My intentions were purely artistic; hers were confined to a
+wish to oblige an old friend, and I deeply regret that they should have
+been misinterpreted, and I fear much unhappiness caused thereby."
+
+"Do you think that will do?"
+
+"Yes, it is a beautiful letter."
+
+"Do you think so--do you really think so? Do you think I have said all?"
+
+"You might say something--that I never even kissed you; and that you
+respected me too much."
+
+"I will if you like, but don't you think that is implied?"
+
+"Perhaps so; but you see he does not read many books. He hasn't time
+for much reading, and you put things in a difficult way. They sound
+beautiful, but I--"
+
+"Show me."
+
+"Well, this 'grievous impropriety.' I know what you mean, but I couldn't
+explain it."
+
+"Shall I say 'serious impropriety'? but grievous is the right word. You
+say a grievous sin for a mortal sin. If we had done any wrong it would
+have been a grievous sin; but I'll change the word if you like."
+
+"No, don't change it on my account; but I think he would understand an
+easier word better."
+
+"A 'heinous impropriety'? No, that won't do. A 'serious impropriety.'
+That will do. Is there anything else you would like me to alter?"
+
+"No, I don't think there is."
+
+"You think this letter will convince him that there was nothing wrong?"
+
+"I hope so; but he is a very suspicious man."
+
+"I will post it when I go out." Then after a long silence: "Do you know
+what time it is? It must be getting late."
+
+"It must be getting on for nine."
+
+"Then I must say good-bye; but I forgot, I want to ask you--you must be
+hard up, and want some money--do you? If you do, I assure you I shall be
+only too glad."
+
+"Well, I am rather hard up, for you know that this illness has
+prevented my doing anything; and I am afraid I have lost my place at the
+'Tivoli.'"
+
+"What do you intend to do?"
+
+"I should like to go back to London. I shall see him there, and if the
+letter makes it right we may be married. I will write to you."
+
+"You will?--Do. Here is five pounds. I have no more about me, but if
+anything should occur, you know where to write to."
+
+"You are very good; I don't deserve it. I don't know why you take so
+much trouble about me. If he doesn't marry me I'll try to get another
+place; I shall go back to the firm."
+
+"When do you intend to leave?"
+
+"As soon as I am well enough, in a day or two; but you will not come
+here again."
+
+
+"I had thought that I might."
+
+"I know; but if he were to hear that you had been here, it would be
+worse than ever. You don't mind, do you? You aren't angry, are you?"
+
+"No; good-bye, Lizzie. Write to me when you are married." Frank walked
+into the street. There was neither rage nor will in him. He was a
+sorrowing creature in a bitter world. The sea was cruelly blue in the
+coming night; the sky was also blue, only deeper, a red streak like
+a red bar of iron stretched across the embaying land, relieving into
+picturesque detail the outlines of coast-towns and villages. His eyes
+rested on and drew grief from this dim distance so illusive; and for
+jarring contrast, the pier hung with gaudy and gross decoration in the
+blue night, and a brass band replied to the waves.
+
+Then the clouds lifted, and when he returned to Southwick the moon was
+shining and some boys pursued the resounding ball through the shadows.
+He undressed with an effort, and he lay down hoping never to rise again.
+Next morning he went to his studio full of resolve. His picture must
+be finished for one of the winter exhibitions. He did not take up his
+palette, nor did he sit at his piano for more than a few minutes; and
+when he met Willy he raged against Lizzie, jeered at her vulgarity,
+heaped ridicule upon her lover, the waiter; he spoke of writing a novel
+on the subject; he set out her character at length; and was alarmed when
+told that Maggie was ill. He must win her. She must be his wife. So he
+told Willy, so he assured himself that she would. He knew that Lizzie
+was nothing to him. She had left Brighton, thank God! He went to sleep,
+certain he had torn this page out of his life, and he awoke to find it
+still there; and day after day he continued to brood upon, and still
+unable to understand its meaning, he longed to turn it over and read,
+for there were other pages; but they were sealed, and he might only read
+this one page.
+
+"I'm afraid that our old friend Brookes is having a hard time of it,"
+said the General, taking the spectacles from his nose, and laying down
+the _St James's_, "they are all at him tooth and nail," and the General
+laughed gleefully. "You are the young man who has upset them. The young
+lady won't dress herself."
+
+"My dear Reggie, you shouldn't talk like that. I do hate to hear
+scandal; you'll repent it," said Mrs. Horlock, and she adroitly smoothed
+the wax on the horse's quarters.
+
+"I assure you, Mrs. Horlock, I never repeat what I hear; the guiding
+principle of my life is not to repeat conversations. Particularly in
+a village like Southwick, it is most essential that none of us should
+repeat conversations; I have always said that."
+
+"Do tell me about Maggie; I hear she is very ill. What is the matter
+with her? What did you say--the young lady won't dress herself?"
+
+"My dear Reggie, I will not stay here and listen to scandal. Not a word
+of it is true, Mr. Escott."
+
+"What is not true, Mrs. Horlock?"
+
+"What he told you about her walking about the house with her hair down."
+
+"I don't think the General said anything about walking about the house
+with her hair down; he said some one wouldn't dress herself. I suppose
+he meant Maggie. I am sure I am sorry--I am most sorry--to hear she
+is ill, but it is unjust to assume that I had anything to do with her
+illness. We can speak freely among ourselves, you know. You know the
+circumstances; no one is more capable of understanding the case than
+you, for you are an artist. Maggie heard that I had had a model, that's
+what it amounts to, and she broke off the engagement; nothing could be
+more unjust, nothing could be more unwarranted."
+
+"It could be brought on again, I know that," said Mrs. Horlock, and she
+turned the shoulders of her horse to the light.
+
+"We will not go into that question, Mrs. Horlock. I confine myself to
+what has happened, and I say I was treated unjustly, most shamefully;
+and when I have been cast aside like an old hat, I hear indirectly that
+it can be made up again. I have borne quite enough, and will bear no
+more. Old Brookes came down to my studio with that cad Berkins, and
+forced his way in, and then forbade me the house because my dog bit
+Berkins's thigh. I couldn't help it. What did he attack me for? He
+didn't suppose a bull-dog would be still while his master was being
+knocked on the head."
+
+"What should a common City man know about dogs? He wouldn't sign
+the petition when I asked him, to Sir Charles Warren, to cancel the
+regulations about muzzling."
+
+"And then they set a report going that I had set the dog on, and if I
+hadn't set it on, that I hadn't called him off. As if I could! You know
+what a bull-dog is, Mrs. Horlock? Is a highly-bred dog likely to let go
+when he has fixed his teeth in the fleshy part of a thigh? The Brookes
+are old friends of mine, and I wouldn't say a word against them for the
+world; but of course it is as obvious to you as it is to me that
+they are not quite the thing. I mean--you know--I would not think of
+comparing them with the Southdown Road; but there is a little something.
+City people are not the Peerage; there's no use saying they are. Mount
+Rorke was upset; but I would not give in, and I think I should have won
+his consent in the long run. After all I have borne for her sake I think
+I might expect better treatment than to be thrown over, as I have said,
+like an old hat; and I don't mind telling you that I do not intend to be
+made a fool of in this matter; I shall turn a very deaf ear to stories
+of a broken heart and failing health. I shall not cease to think of
+Maggie. I loved her once very deeply, and I should have loved her always
+if--But tell me, General. You know I will not repeat anything."
+
+"I advise you to say no more, Reggie. I will not be mixed up in any
+scandal. I shall leave the room. Sally is dining here to-night; she is
+only too anxious to talk of her sister. If Mr. Escott will stay and take
+pot-luck with us, he will no doubt hear everything there is to hear in
+the course of the evening."
+
+"What have we got for dinner, Ethel? I know we have got a leg of mutton,
+and there is some curry."
+
+"Your dinners are always excellent, Mrs. Horlock. I shall be delighted
+to stay. Here is Sally. Oh, how do you do, Sally? We were talking of
+you."
+
+"I'm afraid every one is talking of me, now," she whispered, and the big
+girl passed over to Mrs. Horlock and kissed her. "How is it that no one
+has seen anything of you lately?" she said, taking the seat next him.
+"What have you been doing?"
+
+"Nothing in particular. But I want to ask you about Maggie. I hear she
+is very ill."
+
+Perceiving that his tone did not bespeak a loving mood, Sally's face
+brightened, and she became at once voluble and confidential.
+
+"Oh, we have been having no end of a time at home. Father has been
+speaking of selling the place and leaving Southwick."
+
+"Speaking of selling the place and leaving Southwick! And where does he
+think of going to live, and what is the reason of this?"
+
+"Oh, the reason! I suppose he would say I was the reason; and where heis
+going to live, that is not settled yet--probably one of the big London
+hotels. He says everybody is laughing at him, and that when he meets
+the young men at the station he can see them laughing at him over their
+newspapers, for, according to father, they have all flirted with us.
+Maggie has been saying all kinds of things against me, and I am afraid
+that the Southdown Road people have been writing him anonymous letters
+again. Some one--I don't know who it is--I wish I did--has been telling
+him the most shocking things about Jimmy Meason and me; things in which
+I assure you there is not a word of truth. You know yourself that we
+have hardly spoken for nearly two years; last year, it is true, we made
+it up a bit in your studio, but it didn't last long. I don't think I saw
+him twice afterwards, and never alone--and now to have everything that
+happened two years ago raked up and thrown in my face! I don't say
+I haven't--I don't know what you'd call it, I suppose you'd call it
+spooning. I admit I infinitely preferred walking about the garden with
+a young man to sitting in the drawing-room and doing woolwork. I was a
+silly little fool then, but I do think it hard that all this should
+be raked up now. I don't know what will happen. Maggie pretends to be
+frightened at me; 'tis only her nonsense to set father against me. She
+won't dress herself, and she walks about with her hair down her back,
+wringing her hands."
+
+"But what does she say? This is very bewildering. I don't understand--I
+am quite lost."
+
+"The fact is that Maggie doesn't know what she is saying, so I suppose I
+oughtn't to blame her. She is a little off her head, that's the truth
+of it; but you mustn't say I said so, it will get me into worse trouble
+than I am already in. She was like that once before, and had to be put
+in the charge of a lady who was in the habit of dealing with excitable
+people. I don't mean lunatics, don't run away with that notion. I don't
+know what would happen if it got about that I was putting that about.
+Maggie is very excitable, and she has been exciting herself a great deal
+lately--you were the principal cause. She did all she could to get you
+to make it up when you met her here at dinner--the dinner was given
+for that--but you said nothing about it, and she came home in an awful
+state, accusing every one of combining to ruin her. She said I was
+jealous of her, that I was wild with fear that she would one day be
+Lady Mount Rorke. She said father had done everything to break off her
+marriage, because he did not like parting with his money. She had set
+her heart on being married, and it was a terrible disappointment. She
+has been disappointed two or three times. Father doesn't know what to
+do. Her thoughts seem to run on that one subject. She walks about the
+garden saying the most extraordinary things."
+
+"But tell me about the illness."
+
+"I don't know if I ought to tell you."
+
+"Oh, do!"
+
+"I don't know how to say it. She used to say she longed to become a
+mother."
+
+"Longed to become a mother? Well, that is the last thing--"
+
+"You know what I mean."
+
+"But tell me about the illness."
+
+"I should call it more than being a little excited, but of course she
+isn't mad. She has, however, the most curious notions. She is always a
+little too imaginative at the best of times; at least, I find her so,
+but now her delusions are really too absurd, and, as I have said, the
+worst of it is that her thoughts run on that one thing; it really is
+most unfortunate. Poor father."
+
+"But what are her delusions?"
+
+"Well, I scarcely know how to tell you."
+
+"Try; anything can be told. It depends how it is told."
+
+"She thinks that the coachman has spread it all over Southwick--how
+shall I say it? I don't know that I ought to tell you. Well, that
+she has gone wrong with you and Berkins. I thought I should die of
+laughing--the idea of Berkins was too funny for words."
+
+"But your father doesn't believe it?"
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"He doesn't suspect me, I hope?"
+
+"No; I am sure he doesn't. He knows Maggie doesn't know what she is
+saying. But he was dreadfully put out about Berkins; he is frightened
+out of his wits lest he should hear of it. But for goodness' sake don't
+mention that I said anything to you about it; I am in trouble enough as
+it is. Father says he can stand it no longer. I am very much afraid that
+he will leave Southwick. It depends on what Aunt Mary says. He has sent
+for her; she will be here to-morrow."
+
+These family councils were held in the billiard-room, and when Aunt Mary
+and Aunt Hester had had their tea they came along the passage, Aunt Mary
+of course in front, Aunt Hester timid and freckled and with her usual
+air of tracts. Uncle James stood with his back to the fire waiting
+for them. Willy caught at his hair, but an expression of resignation
+overspread his face, he packed his diary and accounts in brown paper and
+lit a pipe.
+
+"Now, James, let us hear about these new troubles. Something must be
+done, that is clear."
+
+"Yes, something must be done, Mary, and I can think of nothing for it
+but to leave this place. It is no longer a place for me to live in. The
+Southdown Road has proved too strong for me, it has conquered me."
+
+"Don't speak like that, James. We must try to bear our burdens, if not
+for our own sakes, for the sake of Him who died for us. He bore a very
+heavy cross for us."
+
+"There's no use in talking to me like that, Hester, you only provoke me.
+You forget what a cross two daughters are, and the Southdown Road has
+become intolerable. It is more than any man can bear; I will bear it no
+longer. I have borne it long enough, and am determined to get rid of it.
+I am afraid there's nothing for it but to sell the place and go and live
+in London."
+
+Aunt Hester cast her eyes into her satchel, afraid even to think that
+her brother had intentionally misinterpreted her words; but Aunt Mary
+laughed at the idea of the slonk-hill, as a latter-day Golgotha, with
+poor Uncle James staggering beneath the weight of the Southdown Road,
+young men and all, upon him. It was very irreverent. He burst into
+tears, Hester moved to leave the room, but was restrained by her sister.
+
+"My position is a most unfortunate one; since the death of poor Julia I
+have had no one to turn to, there has been no restraining influence in
+this house. Here am I working all day long in the City for those girls,
+and when I come home in the evening I find my house full of people I
+don't know. I assure you, Mary, I don't know any of the people who come
+to my house. I am consulted in nothing. It is not fair--I say it is
+not fair; and at my death those girls will have thirty thousand pounds
+a-piece."
+
+"I knew you had the money, James, I knew you had," exclaimed Aunt Mary,
+and even Aunt Hester could not help casting a look of admiration on her
+weeping brother.
+
+"I say it is not fair; a man of my money should have a comfortable
+home to return to. Even the Southdown Road people have that; but no
+consideration is shown to me. My dinner is put back so that Sally may
+continue her flirtation with Meason in the slonk. Did any one ever hear
+of such a thing? A man's dinner put back so that--that--that--"
+
+"Yes, we know all about the dinner being put back; that was three years
+ago."
+
+"Why," Mr. Brookes asked himself, "had he invited his sisters to his
+help?" He was only adding bitterness to his bitter cup. "You have no
+sympathy, Mary," he went on; "you cannot understand the difficulties
+of my position--these two girls are for ever quarrelling and fighting;
+sometimes they are not even on speaking terms, but I think I prefer
+their sullen looks to their violence. Sally threatened to knock her
+sister down if she interfered with her young men."
+
+"What, again?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know if she has threatened to beat her lately. I don't
+remember when was the last time. Their various rows are all jumbled up
+in my head. All I know is that Maggie says she cannot live in the house
+with Sally. Maggie is very ill, she is in a very excited state, as she
+was once before, when I would not consent to her marriage with--I have
+forgotten his name, but it doesn't matter. Now she won't dress herself,
+and she walks about the house with her hair hanging down. I know there
+is nothing for it but to send her away under the charge of some lady who
+has had experience in such matters. She can't remain here. She has the
+strangest delusions. Among other things, she fancies the coachman has
+spread it all over Southwick that she has gone wrong with Berkins
+and that fellow Escott. Just fancy if Berkins--a ten thousand a year
+man--should hear of it! I don't know what he would say. He would peg
+into me; he is at times very hard indeed upon me. I don't say he is
+not a first-rate man of business, I know he has made several excellent
+investments; but for all that I do not and cannot think him competent
+to advise me on all my affairs, and that's what he is always doing. He
+talks of putting down that Southdown Road. I should like to see how he
+would set about doing it."
+
+"James, Maggie must go away; she is very highly organised, very
+sensitive, and if she were to remain here, Sally might have a real
+effect on her mind. It is clear the sisters don't get on together; have
+you had medical advice? I told you before that you should have medical
+advice about those girls; I told you to spare no expense, but to go to
+a first-rate London physician and take his opinion. I said before, and I
+say it again, that no girls in good health could carry on as dear Sally,
+and I will include dear Maggie; for although she does not defy you to
+the same extent, there is no doubt that she is too fast, too fond of
+young men; her thoughts run too much in that way, and now she is ill, of
+course she has delusions. You ought to have medical advice."
+
+"Mary, dear, the body is not everything; to cure the flesh you must
+first cure the soul. I believe our dear nieces rarely, if ever, attend
+church, rarely, if ever, remember that this life is not eternal and that
+there is a hereafter."
+
+The conversation came to a pause. Presently Aunt Mary asked Willy, who
+sat resigned to his fate, calm and solemn as a Buddha, his hands clasped
+over his rotund stomach, if he thought that Maggie's state was one
+to cause immediate anxiety, to which he replied: "My sisters think of
+nothing but pleasure. The trouble girls are in a house is more than any
+one would believe. Here I am, I can do nothing; every night it is
+the same thing, over and over again." And the lean man lapsed into
+contemplation.
+
+"But to come to the point, James, I want to hear about Sally. You said
+in your letter that a great deal had come to light, and that you now
+find that her conduct has been worse than you had ever imagined it,
+even in your moments of deepest dejection. Now, I want to hear about all
+this. What has she done? Let's have it in plain English. What has she
+done?"
+
+"To put it plainly, Mary," said Mr. Brookes, wiping his tears away,
+and turning his back upon his Goodall, "I don't know what she hasn't
+done--everything. She is at the present moment the talk of Southwick.
+The doctor here has seen her in the field at the back here with Meason
+at nine o'clock at night."
+
+"Why did you allow her to leave the house at that hour? No young girl--"
+
+"She always takes her dogs out in the evening; I cannot prevent her
+doing that. It appears, too, that she has had Meason up in her bedroom."
+
+"O James, you do not mean to say that my dear niece had a man in her
+bedroom!"
+
+"Hester, dear, you have lived in a rectory and know nothing of the
+world. She says it isn't a bedroom. She pushes the bed away in the
+daytime, and covers it up to make it look like a couch. Besides, she
+keeps birds in her room, and Flossy had her puppies there. I am not
+excusing her conduct, pray do not think that, I am only telling you what
+she says."
+
+"This is very serious. Are you quite sure? Perhaps she only meant to
+show the young man her birds or puppies. Her spirit must be broken, I
+can clearly see that."
+
+"I allow them, as you know, one hundred pounds a year apiece. Maggie
+keeps none, but Sally always keeps accurate accounts of what she spends.
+I asked to see those accounts, for I had heard she had been giving her
+money to Meason, and she refused to let me see them. There is a sum of
+twenty pounds for which she can give no explanation. Then it is well
+known she gave a set of diamond studs to that fellow, and that he
+pledged them for five pounds in Brighton. He boasted he had done so,
+and said he intended to get plenty of money out of me before he had done
+with me. After that I ask you, how can I live in this place? When I go
+to the station in the morning I see these young fellows laughing at me
+over the tops of their newspapers. When I come home of an evening after
+a hard day's work, I find that my dinner--"
+
+"Her spirit must be broken," said Aunt Mary, drawing her shawl about
+her, and crossing her hands. "Her spirit must be broken; she cannot be
+allowed to remain here to drive dear Maggie into a lunatic asylum. I am
+with you in that, James, but I cannot think you did well to let Frank
+Escott slip through your fingers. Had you not talked so much about money
+your daughter might have been Lady Mount Rorke."
+
+"Talked too much about my money? Who would talk about it, I should like
+to know, if I didn't? I made it all myself. What do I care for that
+lot--a stuck-up lot, pooh, pooh! twist them all round my finger. I am
+not going to give my daughter to a man who cannot make a settlement upon
+her."
+
+Seeing he was not to be moved in anything that concerned his pocket,
+Aunt Mary returned to the consideration of what was to be done with
+Sally. "From what you tell me it is clear that Sally must not remain in
+Southwick a day longer than can be helped. I will take her with me to
+Woburn; and I think she had better go abroad as soon as we can hear
+of some one in whose charge we can place her. But it must not be a sea
+voyage--there is nothing more dangerous than to be on board a ship for
+a young girl who is at all inclined to be fast. All are thrown so much
+together. The cabins open out one into the other, and there is always
+a looking for something--a handkerchief, a bunch of keys, a lot of
+stooping and playing, twiddling of moustaches," said Aunt Mary, with a
+peal of laughter.
+
+"Mary, dear, we should not speak lightly of wickedness."
+
+"It was so that all the mischief was done when Emily Evans was sent out
+to the Cape--it was all done on board a ship. You remember the Evanses,
+James?--you ought to, you used to flirt pretty desperately with Lucy,
+the younger sister." And then Aunt Mary rattled off into interminable
+tales concerning the attachment contracted on board a ship in
+particular, its unfortunate consequences, how it brought about a divorce
+later on by sowing the seeds of passion (Aunt Mary always pronounced
+the word "passion" in her narratives with strong emphasis), in the young
+girl's heart; and at various stages of her discourse she introduced
+fragments of the family history of the Evanses; she followed the
+wanderings of the different sisters from Homburg to Paris, from Paris
+to Scotland, from Scotland to the Punjab, explaining their different
+temperaments by heredity, which led her back into the obscure and
+remote times of grandfathers and grandmothers, and, having finally lost
+herself, she said: "What was I talking about? You have been listening to
+me, James, what was I talking about?"
+
+Till the end of a week the discussion was continued. Aunt Mary tried
+hard to reconcile all parties to their different lots, and, as is usual
+in such cases, without attaining any result. And yet Aunt Mary went with
+her sister to see Frank in his studio. Willy accompanied them, and when
+they left he complained bitterly of how his time was wasted. "Regularly
+every evening, just as I am sitting down to work, I hear them coming
+along the passage. First of all they go to get their grog--squeak,
+squeak, pop. I know it all so well. Then they come in with their
+tumblers, and they sit down on the sofa, and they begin.--I don't know
+what is to be done with dear Sally, unless we can send her abroad in the
+care of some relation. How is dear Maggie to-day? I hope I shall be able
+to induce her to put on her frock to-morrow, and come for a drive with
+me in the carriage. What a trouble young girls are in the house, to be
+sure. Then father begins to groan, and pulls out his handkerchief; he
+is quite alone, he has no one he can depend upon, then he laughs, 'Well,
+well, I suppose it will be all the same a hundred years hence.' So it
+goes on night after night. Here am I starting a big business, and I
+haven't a room to work in. Just as I am adding up a long column of
+figures, perhaps when I am within three of the top, Aunt Mary asks me
+a question, and it has to be gone over again. It is most provoking,
+there's no denying that it is most provoking." Frank agreed that nothing
+could be more provoking than to be interrupted when you were within
+three of the top of a long column of figures. On the following day he
+heard that the aunts had left, taking Sally with them. They had promised
+their brother to find a lady who would take dear Maggie under her
+care--one who would soon wean her from dressing-gowns and delusions, and
+restore her to staid remarks and stays; and hopes were entertained that
+the Manor House would not have to be sold after all.
+
+But many days had not sped when an event occurred that precipitated
+the five acres into the jaws of the builders. Meason had sailed for
+Melbourne, and his sister, thinking that some of Sally's letters might
+be of use to Mr. Brookes, offered to surrender them upon the receipt
+of a cheque for one hundred pounds--a very modest sum, she urged,
+considering the character of the letters, most of which concerned
+artfully laid plans to meet in the train going or coming from London.
+Mr. Brookes called on the shade of dear Julia, but he was not a man to
+be blackmailed--he had made all his money himself, and on that point
+was immovable. He prepared to leave Southwick. He looked fondly on his
+glass-houses, and despairingly on his Friths, Goodalls, and Bouguereaus,
+and he wondered if they would look as well in the new rooms as in the
+old, and what sum they would realise if he were to include them in the
+auction; for an auction was necessary. Mr. Brookes did not thus decide
+to abandon his acres without many a sob, nor is it certain that the
+final step would have been taken if the gentle builder had not gilded
+his insidious hand, and if certain rumours were not about that the
+villas in the Southdown Road were not letting, and that Southwick would
+never be anything but what it was, a dirty little village--half suburb,
+half village.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+
+Frank was grieved and troubled at the sad accounts that came to him of
+Maggie's health; he was perplexed, too, for he knew himself to be the
+cause, and he longed to relieve and to cure her. It seemed to him that
+he would give his life to go to her, and comfort her with love, and yet
+he was impotent to make the least effort to attain the end he desired.
+He lay in the sad and cruel memory of Lizzie, his mind filled with
+ignoble visions of her life with the waiter, or with delicate fancies
+of her beauty amid the summer of the Thames. He mused on her gracious
+figure and face, illuminated by reflections from the water, set off by
+the bulrushes and floating blossoms which she so eagerly coveted, and
+varied by the movements of the waist and shoulders, the round white arm,
+the trailing scarf, and all the wistful charm of the slumbering evening.
+He thought of the country light, the sound and smell of cows, of the
+sparrows in the vine, the cottage looking so cosy amid the foliage, the
+bit of garden full of old-fashioned flowers, tall lilies, convolvuluses,
+and marigolds, and the sitting-room full of things belonging to her--her
+flowers, her books, her music, and he thought of this until his life was
+sick with desire, and there grew a burning pain about his heart.
+
+A man's struggles in the web of a vile love are as pitiful as those of
+a fly in the meshes of the spider; he crawls to the edge, but only to
+ensnare himself more completely; he takes pleasure in ridiculing her,
+but whether he praises or blames, she remains mistress of his life; all
+threads are equally fatal, and each that should have served to bear him
+out of the trap only goes to bind him faster. A man in love suggests the
+spider's web, and when he is seeking to escape from a woman that will
+degrade his life, the cruelty which is added completes and perfects the
+comparison. A man's love for a common woman is as a fire in his vitals;
+sometimes it seems quenched, sometimes it is torn out by angry hands,
+but always some spark remains; it contrives to unite about its victim,
+and in the end has its way. It is a cancerous disease, but it cannot be
+cut out like a cancer. It is more deadly; it is inexplicable. All good
+things, wealth and honour, are forfeited for it; long years of toil,
+trouble, privation of all kinds, are willingly accepted; on one side all
+the sweetness of the world, on the other nothing of worth, often vice,
+meanness, ill-temper, all that go to make life a madness and a terror;
+twenty, thirty, forty, perhaps fifty years lie a head of him and her,
+but the years and their burdens are not for his eyes any more than the
+flowers he elects to disdain. Love is blind, but sometimes there is no
+love. How then shall we explain this inexplicable mystery; wonderful
+riddle that none shall explain and that every generation propounds?
+
+Frank lingered in Southwick, for he had promised Willy to stay with him
+when he went to live at the stables on the Portslade Road. Summer was
+nearly over, hunting would soon commence, and he could keep a couple
+of hunters--Willy had calculated it out--for two and twenty shillings a
+week. He had ceased to paint, and when he went to the studio it was
+to play the piano or the violin. None knew of Lizzie, and all knew of
+Maggie. It was thought a little strange that he would not forgive her,
+but the obscurity of the story of this point and the delight felt in her
+misfortune helped to intensify and idealise Frank in the popular mind,
+and when he played Gounod in the still evenings the young ladies would
+steal from the villas and wander sentimentally through the shadows about
+the green. He got up late in the morning, he lingered over breakfast,
+and until it was time to go to Brighton he lay on the sofa watching the
+cricketers and the children playing, shaping resolutions, and striving
+with himself and deceiving himself. A dozen times, a hundred times, he
+had concluded he must see Maggie; he had decided he would write to
+Lord Mount Rorke, that he would go to Mr. Brookes and settle the matter
+off-hand. But, somehow, he did nothing. His mind was absorbed in a
+novel, which he narrated when Willy came to see him. It concerned the
+accident that led a man not to marry the woman he loved, and was in the
+main an incoherent version of his own life at Southwick.
+
+"I don't think I told you," said Willy, "that they are removing the
+furniture to-day."
+
+"You don't say so--to-day? And where is your father?"
+
+"He is in London, at the 'Metropole.'"
+
+The young men walked on slowly in silence, and when they came to the
+lodge gate, standing wide open, and saw the curtainless windows and
+the flowerless greenhouses, Willy said: "It is very sad to see all the
+things you have known since you were a child sold by auction."
+
+"Oh, yes, it is. Look at the swards. Do they not look sad already? Those
+beautiful elms, under whose shade we have sat, will be cut down, and
+stucco work and glass porticoes take their places. Oh, it is very sad."
+
+"My father never had any feeling, he never cared for the place. Had I
+been in his place I should have invested my money in land and gone in
+for the county families."
+
+"How old was I when I came down to see you for the first time--fourteen,
+I think? How well I remember everything. It was there, look, through
+that glade, that I saw your sisters coming to meet me, they were then
+only ten or eleven years old. I can see them in my mind's eye, quite
+distinctly, walking towards me, Grace leading the way, and now she is a
+mother; and they were all so dark. I remember thinking I had never seen
+girls so dark, they were like foreigners. And do you remember how your
+father scolded Sally for carrying me round the garden on her back, and
+she used to wake me up in the mornings by rolling croquet balls along
+the floor into my room. Oh, what good, dear days those were, and to
+think they are dead and gone, and that the house is going to be pulled
+down; and the garden--oh! the moonlights in that garden, where I walked
+with the girls, with scarves round their shoulders, through the dreamy
+light and shade. We have sung songs, and talked of all manner of things.
+You don't feel as I feel."
+
+"Yes I do, my dear fellow, I think I feel a great deal more, only I
+don't talk so much about it."
+
+"I know it is infinitely sad. This dear old wall! There is Maggie's
+window: how often have I looked up to that window for her winsome face,
+and I shall never look again."
+
+"You are as bad as my father. Cheer up; I suppose it will be all the
+same a hundred years hence."
+
+"No, no, it won't be the same. Why should all I feel and love be
+forgotten. I suppose it will be all the same. There goes Berkins. I hate
+that man."
+
+"So do I."
+
+"If time takes away pleasant things it takes unpleasant things too,
+and those who live a hundred years hence will not be troubled with
+that fool. True, there will be other Berkinses, and there will be other
+gardens, and other girls, but that doesn't make it the least less sad to
+see this garden pass into bricks and mortar."
+
+Two footmen approached Mr. Berkins, and with all solemnity helped him to
+take off his overcoat. He said a few words to Willy, and was soon loudly
+ordering the workmen who were taking the Goodalls and the Friths from
+the walls.
+
+"Take care, there! Hi, you! get on the ladder and take hold of this end
+of the picture. There, that's better! That's the way to do it!"
+
+"That's what he said when he shot my bird," Willy whispered; and they
+tried to laugh as they went upstairs. But their footsteps sounded
+hollow, and the wardrobes, where they had so often put their clothes,
+stood wide open, desolately empty. They looked out of the windows, and
+heard the voices of the work-people.
+
+"How very sad it is," said Frank; then, after a long silence: "How
+beautiful a scene like this would be in a book--a young girl leaving
+her home, straying through the different rooms musing on the different
+pieces of furniture, all of which recall the past. I think I shall write
+it. I wish you would tell me what you feel; I mean, I wish you would
+tell me what impresses itself most on your mind, and, as it were,
+epitomises the whole. You have known all this since you were a child.
+You have played in these passages; some spot, some piece of furniture,
+your toys--I suppose they are gone long ago; but something must stand
+out and assert itself amid conflicting thoughts. Do tell me."
+
+Willy stroked his moustache. "Of course it is very sad, but it is
+difficult to put one's feelings into words. I should have to think about
+it; I don't think I could say off-hand."
+
+At that moment there came a great crash.
+
+"What the devil is that?" cried Frank.
+
+"I hope they haven't broken the statue of Flora," said Willy, and a look
+of alarm overspread his face. Frank felt that if such were the case
+he should feel no great sorrow. They ran down the echoing stairs. The
+workmen had got drunk in the cellars and in removing the statue they
+had let it fall, and it strewed the floor--an arm here, a fragment of
+drapery there.
+
+"I knew what would happen. I told Mr. Brookes so. All my statues are in
+marble."
+
+"Come away, I can't listen to that cad. I wouldn't have had Flora broken
+for a hundred pounds. When I was a child I used to stand and look at
+her. I never could make out how she was made, and I always wanted to
+look inside. If you'd like to know what I feel most sorry for, it is
+Flora. She has stood amid the flowers in the bow window as long as I can
+remember."
+
+They followed the high road by Windmill Inn, where they struck across
+the Downs, and when they reached the first crest they could see the
+paddocks and enclosures situated along the road in the valley, and
+the private house so trim and middle-class. "Splendid paddocks and
+first-rate stabling. The house is not much. When I am making fifteen per
+cent. on my money I shall go in for a little architecture. If I had a
+glass I could show you Blue Mantle's stable. Do you see two horses in
+the paddock, right away on the left, in the far corner--Apple Blossom
+and Astarte? Apple Blossom is by See-saw out of Melody, by Stockwell out
+of Fairy Queen. Is that good enough for you? Astarte is by Blue Gown out
+of Merry Maid, by Beadsman out of Aurora. What do you say to that?"
+
+"I see you have been looking up the Stud Book."
+
+"Business, sir, business. And if I were to go in for owning a racer or
+two, just look and see what a magnificent training ground; miles upon
+miles of downland. Did you ever see a handsomer view? You must paint me
+some landscapes for my dining-room."
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+
+"The pain is always here--just over the heart. You know what I mean?
+Suddenly, when I am thinking of other things, the sound of her voice and
+the sight of her face comes upon me, and then a dead, weary ache. I know
+I cannot have her, perhaps if I did I shouldn't be wholly glad; but glad
+or sorry, good fortune or ill, I cannot forget her. My life will not be
+complete. You have felt all this."
+
+"Never mind how I felt, you know I don't like talking about it. I am
+sorry for you. We all have our troubles, I've had nothing else; I often
+think that if I were to die to-morrow it would be a happy release."
+
+"If I had never seen her, or if I had married Maggie; if your father had
+not put obstacles in the way; if he had not raised the wretched
+money question, which you know as well as I do was dragged in quite
+unnecessarily, I should not be suffering now. For, once married, I
+should think of no one but my wife. I am sure I should make a good
+husband. I know I could make a woman happy; she'll never find a husband
+better than she'd have found in me, I don't believe if they were to be
+made that you could make a better husband than I should be--I feel it."
+
+"I have always said that my father brings all his troubles on himself.
+He never went in for the country people; he never would have people
+at the Manor House. You can't shut up young girls as if they were in a
+convent, and if they don't get the right people they'll have the
+wrong people. My father thinks of nothing but his money, and he can't
+understand that he might go for an equivalent. How could he have
+expected it to have turned in your case but as it did? Lord Mount
+Rorke was not going to come over to Southwick to haggle over pounds,
+shillings, and pence with him--not likely. My sisters might have married
+very well if he had gone the right way to work, and he would have been
+saved a deal of worry and bother. I always say that my father brings all
+his troubles on himself."
+
+"So far as I was concerned he certainly acted very stupidly. Ah, if I
+had married Maggie last summer, how different my life would be now."
+
+"But you couldn't have really loved her; if you had you would never--"
+
+"Yes, I did love her."
+
+"I heard from my father to-day. Maggie is better. This is, of course, a
+very delicate question, but we have been friends so long--would you like
+me to see if--if this matter could be arranged? I don't like, as you
+know, to meddle in other people's affairs, I have quite enough to do to
+look after my own; but if you would like--You, of course, do not think
+of marrying Lizzie Baker?"
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"Then you would like me to speak to my father? Are you willing? Would
+you like to marry Maggie?"
+
+"Yes, of course I should."
+
+"I don't say so because she is my sister, but I think it is the best
+thing you could do."
+
+They had traversed the paddock, and were close to the stables. Picking
+a few carrots out of a heap, they opened the door of Blue Mantle's box.
+The horse came towards them, his large eyes glancing, his beautiful
+crest arched. His coat shone like satin, his legs were as fine as steel,
+and with exquisite relish he drew the carrots from their hands.
+
+The perspective of the hills was prolonged upon fading tints, and in the
+pale blueness the mares feeding in the paddocks grew strangely solitary
+and distinct; the trees about the coast towns were blended in shadow,
+and out of the first stars fell a quiet peace.
+
+Their dinner awaited them--a little dinner, simple and humble. After
+dinner, when the lamp was brought in, Willy nursed the missus with
+affection and sincerity. Cissy sat on Frank's knee, and he told her
+stories and stroked her hair. This household retired at eleven. At
+ten every morning Willy was busy with his letters, his cheques, his
+accounts, and in the afternoon the young men walked about the fields
+talking of possible successes of the forthcoming breeding season, and so
+the days went. But the secret forces were busy about Frank's life. There
+were mines and counter-mines. Every fort of prejudice, every citadel of
+reason rested now upon foundations that quaked, and would fall at the
+first shock. Doom was about him. As the silence rustles in the deadly
+hush of the storm that brings winter upon the forest, he waited
+unconscious as a leaf in the imminence of the autumn moment; and in
+such a stillness, awaiting a change of soul, he received a letter from
+Lizzie. It dropped from his hand, and such desire to go as comes on
+swallow and cuckoo came on him; he struggled for a moment, and was
+sucked down in his passion.
+
+The little village--a summary of English life and custom, a symbol of
+the Saxon, the church steeple pointing through the elm trees, the villas
+with their various embellishment in the line of glass porticos
+and privet hedges, the General, Mrs. Horlick, Messrs Brookes and
+Berkins--how complete it seemed, how individual and how synthetical--his
+eyes filled with tears of unpremeditated grief. The leaves were falling,
+the hills were shrouded in wreaths of floating mist. Some trees had been
+cut down and scaffolding had been reared about the Manor House, some of
+the walls had already fallen revealing the wall paper, the pattern of
+which he could almost distinguish. He was going to the woman he loved,
+but he was leaving his youth behind, and those whom he had known as
+children, as girls, as women; he remembered all the gossip, all the
+quarrels, all the to-do about nothing; and now, looking on the beautiful
+garden where he had played and passioned in all varying moments of grief
+and glee, he re-lived the past; and leaning out of the carriage window
+he gazed fondly, and cried out: "Alas, those were Spring Days."
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Spring Days, by George Moore
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+**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: Spring Days
+
+Author: George Moore
+
+Release Date: July, 2004  [EBook #6029]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on December 10, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, SPRING DAYS ***
+
+
+
+
+Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
+
+
+
+SPRING DAYS
+
+BY GEORGE MOORE
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+
+When Henry Vizetelly, that admirable scholar, historian, and
+journalist, was sent to prison for publishing Zola's novels mine were
+taken over by Walter Scott, and all were reprinted except "Spring
+Days." This book was omitted from the list of my acknowledged works,
+for public and private criticism had shown it no mercy; and I had lost
+faith in it. All the welcome it had gotten were a few contemptuous
+paragraphs scattered through the Press, and an insolent article in
+_The Academy_, which I did not see, but of which I was notified by a
+friend in the Strand at the corner of Wellington Street.
+
+"Was the article a long one?"
+
+"No, I don't think they thought your book worth slashing. All I can
+tell you is that if any book of mine had been spoken of in that way I
+should never write another."
+
+I left my friend, hoping that the number of _The Academy_ would not
+fall into the hands of the editor of the great London review, to whom I
+had dedicated the book after a night spent listening to him quoting
+from the classics, Greek, English, and Latin. "A very poor testimony,
+one which he won't thank me for," I muttered, and stopped before St.
+Clement Danes to think what kind of letter he would write to me. But he
+did not even acknowledge through his secretary the copy I sent to him,
+and I accepted the rebuff without resentment, arguing that the fault
+was mine. "The proofs should have been submitted to him, but the
+printers were calling for them! There's no going back; the mischief is
+done," and I waited, putting my trust in time, which blots out all
+unfortunate things, "even dedications," I said.
+
+Three months later, on opening my door one day, I found him standing
+with a common friend on the landing. I remember wondering what his
+reason was for bringing the friend, whether he had come as a sort of
+chaperon or witness. He left us after a few minutes, and I sat
+watching the great man of my imagination, asking myself if he were
+going to speak of "Spring Days," hoping that he would avoid the
+painful subject. The plot and the characters of my new book might
+please him. If he would only allow me to speak about it he might be
+persuaded to accept a second dedication as some atonement for the
+first.
+
+"You were kind enough to dedicate your novel---"
+
+"'Spring Days'?"
+
+"Yes, 'Spring Days.' I know that you wished to pay me a compliment,
+and if I didn't write before it was because----"
+
+"Was it so very bad?"
+
+A butty little man raised Oriental eyes and square hands in protest.
+
+"You have written other books," he said, and proposed that we should
+go out together and walk in the Strand.
+
+"Yes, 'The Confessions of a Young Man' was much liked here and in
+France. Will you let me give it to you?" We stopped at a book shop.
+"It will please you and help you to forget 'Spring Days.'" He smiled.
+"Never mention that book again," I added. "I wonder how I could have
+written it."
+
+We were in a hansom; he turned his head and looked at me without
+attempting to answer my question; and from that day till six months
+ago my impulse was to destroy every copy that came my way. A copy of
+"Spring Days" excited in me an uncontrollable desire of theft, and
+whenever I caught sight of one in a friend's house I put it in my
+pocket without giving a thought to the inconvenience that the larceny
+might cause; the Thames received it, and I returned home
+congratulating myself that there was one copy less in the world of
+"Spring Days."
+
+When the Boer War drove me out of London I said: "Dublin doesn't
+contain a copy of that book;" and for nearly eight years I was left in
+peace, only Edward Martyn teasing me, saying that one of these days he
+must read the book.
+
+"R---- always says, 'I like "Spring Days".'"
+
+"Insolent little ass," I answered, "I'll cut him dead when we meet
+again."
+
+But Edward was not joking as I thought he was, and some time
+afterwards he told me that after a good deal of advertising he had
+succeeded in obtaining a copy of "Spring Days." The moment he left the
+room I searched the table and bookcase for it, but he kept it at
+Tillyra, else it would have gone into the Liffey, which receives all
+things.
+
+"My dear George, I like the book better than any of your novels," he
+said one day on his return from Galway. "It is the most original, it
+is like no other novel, and that is why people didn't understand it."
+
+Of course it was impossible to quarrel with dear Edward, but I
+wondered if I ever should find pleasure in speaking to him again; and
+when A. E. told me a few weeks later that he had come upon a novel of
+mine which he had never read before--"Spring Days," I said.
+
+"Edward gave it to you?"
+
+"No," he answered, "I haven't seen him for many months."
+
+"The worst book I ever wrote." A. E. did not answer. "What do you
+think of it?" To my surprise I found him of the same opinion as
+Edward.
+
+"My dear A. E., you know how I rely on your judgment. For twenty-five
+years I have refused to allow this book to be reprinted. Shall I
+relent?"
+
+A. E. did not seem to think the book unworthy of me, and pressed me to
+read it.
+
+"I'll lend you my copy."
+
+I received it next day, but returned it to him unread, my courage
+having failed me at the last moment.
+
+A few months later I met Richard Best, one of the librarians at the
+National Library. He had just returned from his holidays; he had been
+spending them in Wales for the sake of the language.
+
+"By the way," he said, "I came across an old novel of yours--'Spring
+Days.'"
+
+"You didn't like it?"
+
+"On the contrary, I liked it as well, if not better, than any novel
+you have written. It is so entirely original. My wife... I think you
+value her opinion--"
+
+"She liked it?"
+
+"Come home with me, and she'll tell you how it struck her."
+
+"I will, on one condition, that you don't mention that you spoke to me
+about the book."
+
+Best promised, and we had not been many minutes in the house before
+Mrs. Best interrupted my remarks about the weather to tell me what she
+thought of "Spring Days."
+
+"The matter is important. Sooner or later I shall have to think about
+a collected edition. Is it to be included?"
+
+Mrs. Best, like A. E., offered to lend me her copy, but I could not
+bring myself to accept it, and escaped from the book till I came to
+live in London. Then Fate thrust it into my hands, the means employed
+being a woman to whom I had written for "Impressions and Opinions."
+She had lost her copy; there was, however, an old book of mine which
+she had never heard me speak of--"Spring Days"--and which, etc., she
+was sending me the book.
+
+"Omens are omens," I muttered, "and there's no use kicking against the
+pricks eternally;" and cutting the string of the parcel I sat down to
+read a novel which I had kept so resolutely out of my mind for twenty-
+five years, that all I remembered of its story and characters was an
+old gentleman who lived in a suburb, and whose daughters were a great
+source of trouble to him. I met the style of the narrative as I might
+that of an original writer whose works I was unacquainted with. There
+was a zest in it, and I read on and on; I must have read for nearly
+two hours, which is a long read for me, laying the book aside from
+time to time, so that I might reflect at my ease on the tenacity with
+which it had clung to existence. Every effort had been made to drown
+it; again and again it had been flung into the river, literally and
+metaphorically, but it had managed to swim ashore like a cat. It would
+seem that some books have nine hundred and ninety and nine lives, and
+God knows how long my meditation might have lasted if the front door
+bell had not rung.
+
+"Are you at home, sir, to Mr.--?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+There is time for one word more, dear reader, and whilst my visitor
+lays his hat and coat on the table in the passage I will beseech you
+not to look forward to a sentimental story; "Spring Days" is as free
+from sentiment or morals as Daphnis and Chloe.
+
+G. M.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+
+"Miss, I'll have his blood; I will, miss, I will."
+
+"For goodness' sake, cook, go back to your kitchen; put that dreadful
+pair of boots under your apron."
+
+"No, miss; I'll be revenged. He has insulted me."
+
+"You can't be revenged now, cook; you see he has shut himself in; you
+had better go back to your kitchen."
+
+The groom, who was washing the carriage, stood, mop in hand, grinning,
+appreciating the discomfiture of the coachman, who was paying the
+penalty of his joke.
+
+"Cook, if you don't go back to your kitchen instantly, I'll give you
+notice. It is shameful--think what a scandal you are making in the
+stable-yard. Go back to your kitchen--I order you. It is half-past
+six, go and attend to your master's dinner."
+
+"He has insulted me, he has insulted me. I'll have your blood!" she
+cried, battering at the door. The rattling of chains was heard as the
+horses turned their heads.
+
+"Put those boots under your apron, cook; go back to your kitchen, do
+as I tell you."
+
+The woman retreated, Maggie following. At intervals there were
+stoppages, and cook re-stated her desire to have the coachman's blood.
+Maggie did not attempt to argue with her, but sternly repeated her
+order to go back to her kitchen, and to conceal the old boots under
+her apron.
+
+"What business had he to rummage in my box, interfering with my
+things; he put them all along the kitchen table; he did it because I
+told you, miss, that he was carrying on with the kitchenmaid. He goes
+with her every evening into the wood shed, and a married man, too! I
+wouldn't be his poor wife."
+
+"Go back to your kitchen, cook; do as I tell you."
+
+With muttered threats cook entered the house, and commanded the
+kitchenmaid to interfere no more with the oven, but to attend to her
+saucepans.
+
+"What a violent woman," thought Maggie, "horrid woman. I am sure she's
+Irish. I'll get rid of her as soon as I can. The place is filthy, but
+I daren't speak to her now. She's stirring the saucepan with her
+finger."
+
+At that moment quick steps were heard coming down the corridor, and
+Sally entered.
+
+"Cook, cook, I want you to put back the dinner half an hour. I have to
+go down the town."
+
+"O Sally, I beg of you, what will father say?"
+
+"Father isn't everybody. I daresay the train will be a little late; it
+often is. He won't know anything about it, that is if you don't tell
+him."
+
+"What do you want to go down the town for?"
+
+"Never you mind. I don't ask you what you do."
+
+"You want to go down the slonk," whispered Maggie.
+
+The cook stopped stirring the saucepan, and the kitchenmaid stood
+listening greedily.
+
+"Nothing of the kind," Sally answered defiantly. "You're always trying
+to get up something against me. Cook, will you keep back the dinner
+twenty minutes?"
+
+"Cook, I forbid you. I'm mistress here."
+
+"How dare you insult me before the servants! Grace is mistress here,
+if it comes to that."
+
+"Grace has given me over the housekeeping. I am mistress when she is
+too unwell to attend to it."
+
+"Nothing of the sort. Grace is the eldest, I would give way to her,
+but I'm not going to give way to you. Cook, the dinner won't be ready
+for another half hour, will it?"
+
+"I don't know when the dinner will be ready, and I don't care."
+
+"It is a quarter to seven now, dinner won't be ready before seven,
+will it, cook? Keep it back a bit. Now I must be off."
+
+And, as Maggie expected, Sally ran past the glass houses and the pear
+and apple trees, for there was at the end of the vegetable garden a
+door in the brick wall that enclosed the manor house. It was used by
+the gardeners, and it communicated with a path leading through some
+corn and grass land to the high road. There were five acres of land
+attached to the manor house, tennis lawn, shady walks, flower garden,
+kitchen garden, stables, and coach house at the back, and all this
+spoke in somewhat glaring fashion the wealth and ease of a rich city
+merchant.
+
+"There she goes," thought Maggie, flaunting her head. "What a fool she
+is to bully father instead of humouring him. We shall never hear the
+end of this. His dinner put back so that she may continue her
+flirtation with Meason! I shall have to tell the truth. Why should I
+tell a lie?"
+
+"Please, miss," said the butler as Maggie passed through the baize
+door, "I think it right to tell you about cook. We find it very hard
+to put up with her in the servants' hall. She is a very violent-
+tempered woman; nor can I say much for her in other respects. Last
+week she sold twenty pounds of dripping, and it wasn't all dripping,
+miss, it was for the most part butter."
+
+"John, I really can't listen to any more stories about cook. Has the
+quarter-to-seven come in yet?"
+
+"I haven't seen it pass, miss, but I saw Mr. Willy coming up the drive
+a minute ago."
+
+Willy entered, and she turned to him and said: "Where have you been
+to, Willy?"
+
+"Brighton. Has father come in yet?"
+
+"No. You came by the tramcar?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+With shoulders set well back and toes turned out, Willy came along the
+passage. His manner was full of deliberation, and he carried a small
+brown paper parcel under his arm as if it were a sword of state.
+Maggie followed him up the steep and vulgarly carpeted staircase that
+branched into the various passages forming the upper part of the
+house. Willy's room was precise and grave, and there everything was
+held under lock and key. He put the brown paper parcel on the table;
+he took off his coat and laid it on the bed, heaving, at the same
+time, a sigh.
+
+"Did you notice if the quarter-to-seven has been signalled?"
+
+"Yes, but don't keep on worrying; the train is coming along the
+embankment."
+
+"Then there will be a row to-night."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Sally told cook to keep the dinner back; she has gone down the slonk
+to speak to Meason."
+
+"Why didn't you tell cook that she must take her orders from you and
+no one else?"
+
+"So I did, but Sally said I was no more mistress here than she was. I
+said Grace had given me charge of the house, when she could not attend
+to it; but Sally will listen to no one, she'll drive father out of his
+mind. There's no one he hates like the Measons."
+
+"What is the matter with Grace? Where is she?"
+
+"She's in her room, lying on the bed crying. She says she wants to
+die; she says that she doesn't care what becomes of her. She'll never
+care for another man, and father will not give his consent. What's-
+his-name has nothing--only a small allowance; he'll never have any
+more, he isn't a working man. I know father, he'll never hear of any
+one who is not a working man. I wish you'd speak to her."
+
+"I've quite enough to do with my own affairs; I've had bad luck enough
+as it is, without running into new difficulties of my own accord."
+
+"If she refuses Berkins, father'll never get over it. I wish you would
+speak to her."
+
+"No, don't ask me. I never meddle in other people's affairs. I've had
+trouble enough. Now I want to dress."
+
+When Maggie went downstairs, she found her father in the drawing-room.
+
+"The train was a little late to-night. Has Willy come back from
+Brighton?"
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"I've been looking over his accounts and I find he has lost nearly two
+thousand pounds in Bond Street, and I don't think he is doing any good
+with that agency in Brighton. I never approved of one or the other. I
+approve of nothing but legitimate city business. Shops in the West
+End! mere gambling. Where is Grace?"
+
+"She's in her room."
+
+"In her room? I suppose she hasn't left it all day? This is very
+terrible. I don't know what to do with you. Since your poor mother
+died my life has been nothing but trouble and vexation. I can't manage
+you, you are too strong for me. So she hasn't left her room; crying
+her eyes out, because I won't consent to her marrying a penniless
+young officer! But I will not squander my money. I made it all myself,
+by my own industry, and I refuse to keep young fellows in idleness."
+
+"I don't give you any trouble, father."
+
+"You are the best, Maggie, but you encourage your sister Sally. I hear
+that you, too, were seen walking with young Meason."
+
+"It is not true, I assure you, father. I met him as I was going to the
+post-office. I said, 'How do you do?' and I passed on."
+
+"Where is Sally?"
+
+"She went out a few minutes ago."
+
+"Didn't she know the time? She ought to be dressing for dinner. Do you
+know where she's gone?"
+
+"I think she went down the slonk."
+
+His children had inherited his straight, sharp features and his small,
+black, vivid eyes. Their hair was of various hues of black. Maggie's
+was raven black and glossy; Sally's was coarse and of a hue like
+black-lead; Grace's was abundant and relieved with sooty shades;
+Willy's hair was brown. He was the fair one of the family, and his
+hair was always closely cut in military fashion, and he wore a long
+flowing military moustache with a tinge of red in it. His father and
+he were built on the same lines--long, spare bodies, short necks and
+legs, and short, spare arms, and if the father's white hair were dyed
+the years that separated him from his son would disappear, for
+although the son had only just turned thirty, he was middle-aged in
+face and feeling.
+
+Sally and Grace were both thickly built, the latter a little inclined
+to fat. Maggie was thin and elegantly angular, and often stood in
+picturesque attitudes; she stood in one now, with her hands linked
+behind her back, and she watched her father, and her look was subtle
+and insinuating.
+
+"When I came here," he said, speaking rapidly, and as if he were
+speaking to himself, "the place was well enough; there was nothing but
+those wretched cottages facing the sea, the green, and a few cottages
+about it; but since those villas have been put up, Southwick has
+become unbearable. All my troubles," he murmured, "originated in the
+Southdown Road."
+
+Maggie turned aside, smiled, and bit her lip; she did not speak,
+however, for she knew her father did not care to be interrupted in his
+musings.
+
+"A hateful place--glass porticoes, and oleographs on the walls." Here
+Mr. Brookes stopped in his walk to admire one of his favourite Friths.
+"Those ridiculous haberdashers, with a bas-relief of the founder of
+their house over the doorway. The proprietors of the baths, the
+Measons, poor as church mice, the son a mate of a merchant vessel--
+these are not proper associates for my daughters. I will not know
+them; I will not have them in my house."
+
+"The Measons are quite as good as we are, father. They may be poor,
+but as far as family goes--"
+
+"You are just the same as the others, Maggie; once there is a young
+man to flirt with, you don't care what he is or where he comes from.
+When there are no young men, you will snub the old ladies fast enough;
+and as for Sally, she is downright rude. I didn't want to see the
+haberdashers, but while they were in my house I was polite to them."
+
+"It was the Horlocks who told them to call."
+
+"I know it was. If Mrs. Horlock likes to know these people, let her
+know them; but what does she want to force them upon us for? That's
+what I want to know. We might never have known any one in the
+Southdown Road; I mean we never should, we never could have known any
+one in the Southdown Road if Mrs. Horlock hadn't come to live there.
+We had to call upon her."
+
+"Every Viceroy in India called upon her. She was the only woman whom
+every Viceroy did call upon."
+
+"I know she was. Of course we had to call upon her. Most interesting
+woman; the General is very nice, too. I like them exceedingly. I often
+go to see them, although the smell of that mastiff is more than I can
+bear in the hot weather, especially if lilies or strong smelling
+flowers are in the room."
+
+"She feeds the mice, she won't let them be destroyed, she lets the
+traps down at night."
+
+"Don't let us go into the animal question. The constant smell of dogs
+is unpleasant, but I could put up with it--what I can't stand are her
+acquaintances in the Southdown Road, and when I think that we should
+not have known any of them if it hadn't been for her! Indirectly--I do
+not say directly--she is the cause of all my difficulties. It was at
+her house Sally met young Meason; it was at her house Grace met that
+young officer for whom she is crying her eyes out; and it was at her
+house--yes, I hadn't thought of it before--it was at her house that
+Willy met that swindler who induced him to put two thousand pounds
+into the Bond Street shop. The Southdown Road might have remained here
+for the next five hundred years, and we should have known nothing of
+it had it not been for Mrs. Horlock; if she likes to know these people
+let her know them, but why force them upon us? It was only the other
+day she was talking to me about calling on some new friends of hers
+who have come to live there. I dare say it is the custom to call on
+every one at Calcutta, but I say that Calcutta etiquette is not
+Southwick etiquette, and I don't care how many Viceroys called upon
+her, I will not know the Southdown Road."
+
+The enunciation of this last sentence was deliberate and impassioned.
+Mr. Brookes walked twice across the room; then he stood, his hands
+crossed behind his back, looking at his admired Goodall. His anger
+melted, and he mused on the price he had paid, and the price he
+thought it was now worth. Fearing he would return to the Southdown
+Road trouble, Maggie said: "I am afraid we shall be obliged to get rid
+of the new cook. She is Irish. Just before you came in I found her in
+the stable-yard threatening to break Holt's head with a pair of
+dreadful old boots."
+
+"I don't want to hear about the cook. The money you spend in
+housekeeping is enormous. Since your poor mother died I haven't had a
+day's peace. If it isn't one thing it is another. You are fit for
+nothing but pleasure and flirtation; there isn't a young man in the
+place or within ten miles you haven't flirted with. I am often ashamed
+to look them in the face at the station. It is past seven; why isn't
+dinner ready?"
+
+"Sally told the cook to put the dinner back half an hour."
+
+"Sally told the cook to put my dinner back half an hour!"
+
+Mr. Brookes's face grew livid. The end of all things was at hand; his
+dinner had been put back half an hour! This was a climax in the
+affairs of his life, which for the moment he failed to grasp or
+estimate. Was a father ever cursed with such daughters as his? He had
+been in the City all day working for them; he did not marry because he
+wished to leave them his money, and this was the return they made to
+him. His dinner had been put back half an hour! Passion sustained him
+for a while; but he gave way, and, pulling out a silk handkerchief, he
+sank into a chair.
+
+"Don't cry, father, don't cry. Sally is thoughtless; she didn't mean
+it."
+
+Mr. Brookes wept for a few minutes; Maggie strove to soothe him; he
+waved her away, he wiped his eyes and in a voice broken with anguish,
+"Ah, well," he said, "I suppose it will be all the same a hundred
+years hence." In moments of extreme trouble he sought refuge in such
+philosophy, but now it seemed inadequate and superficial, and Maggie
+had begun to fear the violence of the storm she had brewed. She did
+not mind stimulating ill-feeling, but she did not wish Sally to
+provoke her father recklessly.
+
+The possibility of his marrying again and having a second family was
+the one restraining influence Mr. Brookes still retained over his
+daughters, so Maggie, who was always keenly alive to the remotest
+consequences of her actions, took care that his home never became
+quite unbearable to him; and when Sally entered the room, dark and
+brilliant in red velvet, and in no way disposed to admit she had been
+guilty of heinous wrong in countermanding the dinner, Maggie attempted
+a gentle pouring of oil on the waters. But waving aside her sister's
+gentle interposition, she said: "You mustn't think of yourself only,
+father. I admit I told the cook to put back the dinner a few minutes.
+What then?"
+
+"You did it that you might finish your conversation with young
+Meason," said Mr. Brookes, but his words were weak, it being doubtful
+if even Meason could add to the original offence, so culminating and
+final did it seem to him.
+
+"Maggie didn't tell you that last week she met him on the sea road,
+and walked with him into Portslade."
+
+"Father, father, I beg of you, now, don't cry; think of the servants."
+
+And it was in such unity of mind and feeling that this family sat down
+to dinner in the great dining-room, rich with all comforts and adorned
+with pictures by Frith and Goodall. Sally, who unfortunately knew no
+fear, talked defiantly; she addressed herself principally to her
+brother, and she questioned him persistently, although the replies she
+received were generally monosyllabic. As he chewed his meat with
+reflection and precaution, broke his bread with deliberate and well-
+defined movements, and filled his mouth with carefully chosen pieces,
+he gradually ventured to decide that he would not speak to his father
+that evening of the scheme he had been hatching for some months. It
+was one of his strictest rules not to think while eating, so it may be
+said that it was against his will that he arrived at this conclusion.
+Willy suffered from indigestion, and he knew that any exercise of the
+brain was most prejudicial at meal times.
+
+After dinner Mr. Brookes and his son retired to the billiard-room to
+smoke.
+
+"Your sisters are a great trouble to me--a very great anxiety. Since
+your poor mother died I've had no peace, none whatever. Poor Julia,
+she's gone; I shall never see her again."
+
+Willy made no answer. He was debating; he was still uncertain whether
+the present time could be considered a favourable one to introduce his
+scheme to his father's notice, and he had made up his mind that it
+was, when he was interrupted by Mr. Brookes, who had again lapsed into
+one of his semi-soliloquies.
+
+"Your sisters give me a great deal of trouble, a very great deal of
+anxiety. I am all alone. I have no one to help me since the death of
+your poor mother."
+
+"My sisters are fitted for nothing but pleasure," Willy replied
+severely.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+
+Mr. Brookes went to London every day by the five minutes to ten; Willy
+walked into Brighton. There he had been for some time striving to
+found an agency for artificial manures, and in the twilight of a small
+office he brooded over the different means of making money that were
+open to him. The young ladies worked or played as it struck their
+fancy. Sally admitted that she infinitely preferred walking round the
+garden with a young man to doing wool-work in the drawing-room. Maggie
+shared this taste, although she did not make bold profession of it.
+Grace was the gentlest of the sisters, and had passed unnoticed until
+she had fallen in love with a penniless officer, and tortured her
+father with tears and haggard cheeks because he refused to supply her
+with money to keep a husband. The doctor had ordered her iron; she had
+been sent to London for a change, but neither remedy was of much
+avail, and when she returned home pale and melancholy she had not
+taken the keys from Maggie, but had allowed her to usurp her place
+inthe house. Sally was supposed to look after the conservatories, but
+beyond her own special flowers she left everything to the gardeners.
+
+On Sundays Mr. Brookes walked through the long drawing-rooms
+aimlessly. Sometimes he would stop before one of his pictures. "There,
+that's a good picture, I paid a lot of money for it, I paid too much,
+mustn't do so again." Passing his daughters, sometimes without
+speaking, he then stopped before one of the big chimney-pieces, and,
+pulling out his large silk pocket handkerchief, dusted the massive
+clocks and candlesticks.
+
+In the billiard-room, at a table drawn up close to the coke fire,
+Willy slowly and with much care made pencil notes, which he slowly and
+with great solemnity copied into his diary.
+
+"Your sisters are a great source of trouble to me, a source of deep
+anxiety," said Mr. Brookes, and he flicked the rearing legs of a
+bronze horse with his handkerchief.
+
+"My sisters are only fit for pleasure," said Willy and he finished the
+tail of the y, passed the blotting paper over, and prepared to begin a
+fresh paragraph.
+
+"I am afraid Grace is scarcely any better; she will not leave her
+room. I hear she is crying. It is too ridiculous, too ridiculous. What
+she can see in that man I can't think; he is only a man of pleasure.
+I've told her so, but somehow she can't get to see why I will not
+settle money upon her--money that I made myself, by hard work,
+judicious investments."
+
+"That's a smack at the shop," thought Willy, as he placed his full
+stop.
+
+"I'll not settle my money upon her," said Mr. Brookes, as he resumed
+his dusting; "and for what? to keep an idle fellow in idleness. No,
+I'll not do it. She'll get over it--ah, it will be all the same a
+hundred years hence. But tell me, have you noticed--no, you notice
+nothing--"
+
+"Yes, I do; what do you want me to say, that she is looking very ill?
+I can't help it if she is. I've quite enough troubles of my own
+without thinking of other people's. I'm sure I am very sorry. I wish
+she'd never met the fellow."
+
+"That's what I say, I wish she'd never met the fellow, and she never
+would had it not been for that horrible Southdown Road. Southwick has
+never been the same since those villas were put up."
+
+"I know nothing about them; I won't know them. I don't go to the
+Horlocks because I may meet people there I don't want to know. If you
+hadn't allowed the girls to go there, she never would have met him."
+
+"But we had to call on the Horlocks. Every Viceroy that ever came to
+India called upon her, and they're excellent people--titled people
+come down from London to see them: but I daresay their banking
+accounts wouldn't bear looking into. She walks about the green with
+the chemist's wife, and has the people of the baths to dinner.
+Mostextraordinary woman. I like her, I enjoy her society; but I can't
+follow her in her opinions. She says that only men are bad; that all
+animals are good; that it is only men who make them bad. Her views on
+hydrophobia are most astonishing. She says it is a mild and easy
+death, and sees no reason why the authorities should attempt to stamp
+it out. She quite frightened me with the story she told me of a mad
+dog that died in her arms. But that by the way. The point is not now
+whether she is right to feed mice in her bedroom instead of getting
+rid of them, but whether we should call on people we don't want to
+know because she asks us to do so. I say we should not. When she spoke
+to me the other day about the lady whose mother was a housemaid, I
+said, 'My dear Mrs. Horlock, it is very well for you to call on those
+people. I approve of, I admire magnanimity; but what you can do I
+cannot do. You have no daughters to bring out; every Viceroy that ever
+came to India called on you, your position in the world is assured,
+your friends will not think the less of you no matter how intimately
+you know the chemist's wife, but you could not do these things if you
+had daughters to bring out.'"
+
+"What did she say to that?"
+
+"She was just going out to walk with her pugs. Angel began to--you
+know, and for the moment she could think of nothing else; when the
+little beast had finished I had forgotten the thread of my argument.
+However, I spoke to her about Grace; and she promised that she
+shouldn't meet the fellow again. I can't think of his name, I get lost
+in the different names, and they are all so alike I scarcely know one
+from the other. I have had nothing but trouble since your poor mother
+died. Your sisters give me a great deal of trouble, and you have given
+me a great deal of trouble. We couldn't get on in business together on
+account of your infernal slowness. No man is more for keeping his
+accounts and letters straight than I, but your exactitude drives me
+mad; it drives me mad; there you are at it again. I should like to
+know what you are copying into that diary. One would think you were
+writing an article for the _Times_, from the care with which you're
+drawing out every letter; 'pon my word it isn't writing at all, it's
+painting. You can't write for a pair of boots without taking a copy of
+the letter, entering it into this book, and entering it into that book;
+'pon my word it is maddening."
+
+Willy laughed. "Each person has his own way of doing business; I don't
+see how it interferes with you, or what difference it makes to you, if
+I spend three minutes or three days writing a letter."
+
+"Perhaps not, perhaps not; but I am terribly upset about Grace," said
+Mr. Brookes, and he walked slowly across the room and stood looking at
+his Bouguereau; "she'll get over it, but in any case she'll miss her
+chance of marrying Berkins; that is what distresses me. The man stinks
+of money. I hear that he has been appointed manager of a colliery,
+that alone will bring him another thousand a year. His business is
+going up, he must be worth now between seven and eight thousand a
+year. And he began as an office boy, he hadn't a penny piece, made it
+all himself."
+
+"So I should think; a purse-proud ass!"
+
+"Never mind, his eight thousand is as good an eight thousand as any in
+the land, better than a great many. I wouldn't give a snap of my
+fingers for your broken-down landowners; Berkins has always made
+excellent investments, and I hear he is now getting as much as fifteen
+per cent. for money invested."
+
+Willy had been to Oxford, and the arrogance and pomposity of this
+purse-proud man shocked his sense of decorum. Berkins's vulgarity was
+more offensive than that of Mr. Brookes. Mr. Brookes was a simple,
+middle-class man, who had made money straightforwardly and honestly,
+and he had cultivated his natural taste for pictures to the limit of
+his capacities and opportunities. Berkins, however, had been born a
+gentleman, but had had to shift for himself, even when a lad, and he
+had caught at all chances; he was more sophisticated, he was a
+gentleman in a state of retrograde, and was in all points inferior to
+him whom he crossed in his descent. Berkins had bought a small place,
+a villa with some hundred acres attached to it, on the other side of
+Preston Park. There he had erected glass houses, and bred a few
+pheasants in the corner of a field, and it surprised him to find that
+the county families took no notice of him. Mr. Brookes had
+sympathised, but the young people laughed at him and Willy had told a
+story how he had been to shoot at ----, and when a partridge got up
+right in front of his gun, Berkins turned round and shot it,
+exclaiming: "That's the way to bring them down!"
+
+And now whenever his name was mentioned, Willy thought of this
+incident, so very typical did it seem to him of the man, and he liked
+to twit his father with it. But Mr. Brookes could not be brought to
+see the joke, and he fell back on the plausible and insidious argument
+that, notwithstanding his manners, Berkins was worth eight thousand a
+year.
+
+"And very few girls get the chance of catching eight thousand a year;
+and she'll miss it, she'll miss it if she doesn't take care."
+
+"You talk of it as if it were an absolute certainty; you don't know
+that Berkins wants to marry Grace; he hasn't been here for the last
+month."
+
+"Mr. Berkins is not like the young good-for-nothings your sisters
+waste their time with, he is a man of means, of eight thousand a year;
+you don't expect him to come round here every evening to tea, and to
+play tennis, and to walk in the moonlight and talk nonsense. Berkins
+is a man of means, he is a man who can make a settlement."
+
+"Has he spoken to you on the subject, then?"
+
+"No, Mr. Berkins is a man of tact, however you may laugh at him for
+having shot your partridge. He spoke to your Aunt Mary, or rather she
+spoke to him. Ah, clever woman, your Aunt Mary, wonderful manner,
+wonderful will, when she wants a thing done it must be done. Your poor
+mother--I mean no disparagement--but I must say she couldn't compare
+with her for determination; Sally reminds me of her, but Sally's
+determination is misdirected, deplorably misdirected; it is directed
+against me, entirely against me. She must be made submissive; when I
+spoke to Aunt Mary about her, she said her spirit must be broken; and
+if she were here she'd break it. If she were here things would be very
+different, your sisters wouldn't be flirting with all the little
+clerks in the Southdown Road; but I am alone. I have no one to turn
+to."
+
+"You were telling me that Berkins had spoken to Aunt Mary about
+Grace."
+
+"Your Aunt Mary spoke to Berkins about Grace; she told him he ought to
+be thinking of marrying; that he wanted a wife. Then the conversation
+turned on my daughters, and Mary no doubt mentioned that at my death
+they would all have large fortunes."
+
+"Ah, so it is the money that Berkins is after."
+
+"Money comes first. If a man can make a settlement he will naturally
+demand a--that is to say he will naturally look forward, he will
+consider what her prospects are; not her immediate prospects, that
+would be mercenary, but her future prospects."
+
+Willy smiled. "And what did Berkins say?"
+
+"He said he wanted to marry, and he spoke of Grace; he said he admired
+her. I shouldn't be surprised if we saw him at church to-day."
+
+"Are you going to ask him to lunch?"
+
+"Certainly, if he's there." Then, after a long silence, Mr. Brookes
+said: "He'll come in here to smoke. Of course you'll leave us alone.
+Do you mind leaving out your cigars?"
+
+"I have only half a box left; I think really you might keep some in
+the house to supply your own guests with. You always object if I
+interfere with your things."
+
+"I am out of my best cigars--it is so hard to remember. He won't smoke
+more than one."
+
+"I'll put one in the cigar case then."
+
+"You had better fill it; it will look so bad if there is only one; he
+won't take it."
+
+"He'll take all he can get; he took my bird, I know that!"
+
+"This is a matter of great importance."
+
+"To you and to Grace, not to me," said Willy, and with very bad grace
+he unlocked a drawer, and placed a box of cigars on the table.
+
+"Thank you. Now what time is it? Half-past ten. By Jove! we must be
+thinking of starting; I suppose you aren't coming?"
+
+"I am afraid I've too much to do this morning."
+
+The young ladies appeared in new dresses, and with prayer-books in
+their hands. Mr. Brookes took his hat and umbrella, and Willy watched
+them depart with undisguised satisfaction. "Now I shall be able to get
+through some work," he said, untying a large bundle of letters. He
+wrote a page in his diary, tied up the letters, diary, and notebook in
+brown paper, and, with a sigh, admitting that he did not feel up to
+much work to-day, he took up the envelopes that had contained his
+letters and began tearing off the stamps, and he did this very
+attentively as if he did not trust his dry thick fingers. Somebody had
+told him that ten thousand old stamps were worth--he had forgotten the
+price of old stamps, and wondering he dozed off. When he awoke he
+cried: "Half-past twelve, they must be on their way back; I wonder if
+Berkins is with them!" And he strolled out on the gravel.
+
+A few spring flowers marked the brown earth about the trees, and a
+beautiful magnolia, white as a bride, shed its shell-like petals in an
+angle beneath a window; the gold of the berberis glowed at the end of
+the path; and the greenery was blithe as a girl in clear muslin and
+ribbons. The blackbirds chattered and ran, and in turn flew to the pan
+of water placed for them, and drank, lifting their heads with
+exquisite motion. The trees rustled in the cold wind; the sky was
+white along the embankment, where an engine moved slowly up and down
+the line.
+
+Willy was sensible that the scene was pleasant and pretty, and
+remembering he was fond of birds, he thrust his hands deeper in his
+pockets and walked slowly down the drive, his toes well turned out. "I
+wonder if they met Berkins at church?" was the question he put to
+himself gravely. "What a cad he is! No wonder the county people fight
+shy of us; a fellow like that is enough to close their doors against
+us for ever. My father pooh-poohs everything but riches; he positively
+flies in their faces, so what can I do? I don't care to ask my Oxford
+friends down here; one never knows how he will receive them. He can
+talk of nothing but his business. Had I a free hand, had I not been so
+hampered, we might have known all the best county families, even
+theduke."
+
+The latch of the gate clicked, and Mr. Brookes and his family
+appeared. Maggie and Sally walked on the right and left of their
+father; Grace came on behind with Berkins, and it seemed to Willy that
+the city magnate bore himself with something even more than his usual
+dignity. At first sight he suggested that anomalous creature--a
+footman with a beard; and the slow, deliberate enunciation marked him
+as one accustomed to speak in public. His manner of sitting at a table
+suggested letters and dictation of letters, his manner of moving his
+glasses on his nose accounts, and at no moment would it have been
+surprising to see him place his strong finger at the bottom of a line
+of figures, and begin "Gentlemen," etc.
+
+During lunch, Sally and Maggie spoke in undertones; they glanced
+occasionally at Grace, who sat by and received Berkins's bald remarks
+with deference. The girls trembled with excitement; they had pressed
+and extorted from Grace a hurried statement of what had happened.
+Berkins had proposed to her, he had told her he had never seen any one
+except her whom he would care to make his wife. What had she said? She
+didn't know. She couldn't really remember. She had been taken so
+suddenly, she was so upset, that she hadn't known what to say. She
+thought she had said something about the honour--but she really had
+not had time to say much, for at that moment they were at the gate.
+Did she intend to accept him? She didn't know; she could not make up
+her mind. It was a terrible thing to throw over poor Jack; she didn't
+think she could do it--no matter what father might say. However, she
+knew he would never give his consent, so it was no use thinking,
+
+"I hope she won't begin to cry," whispered Sally, who had followed
+Maggie to the sideboard.
+
+"Father looks as if he were going to cry," replied Maggie, moving the
+decanters and pretending to look for a glass.
+
+Seven thousand a year, ten thousand a year! Would Grace have him? What
+would father settle on her? The sum he settled on her he must settle
+on them when they married. As Berkins's wife Grace would have
+servants, jewels, rich dresses, and a house in London, and they
+thought of the advantage this marriage would be to them.
+
+The knives clattered; cheese and celery were being eaten. Mr. Brookes
+had drunk several glasses of port, and was on the verge of tears.
+Berkins's high shoulders and large voice dominated the dining-table;
+he was decidedly more than usually impressed by his own worth, and the
+worth of the money of which he was the representative. Willy chewed
+his cheese; there were many wrinkles about his eyes--deep lines
+turning towards the ears; and when he lifted his tumbler one noticed
+the little nails, almost worn away, of his lean hands.
+
+At last Mr. Brookes said: "I daresay you would like a cigar, Berkins--
+will you come into the billiard-room?"
+
+Berkins inclined to this suggestion. Willy, who had not quite
+finished, remained at table. The girls watched each other, and as soon
+as the elderly men turned their backs they fled upstairs to their
+rooms.
+
+"Will you try one of these?" said Mr. Brookes, offering a box of
+choice havannas.
+
+"Thank you. My tobacconist--I must ask you to visit his shop--receives
+just a few cases of a very special cigar; I have at least two-thirds
+of them, sometimes more; when you dine with me I'll give you one. This
+is Chartreuse, I think. My wine merchant knows a man whose cousin is
+one of the monks. Now the monks set aside the very cream of the
+liqueur, if I may so speak, for themselves. This liqueur cannot be
+bought in the open market. You may go up to London prepared to write a
+cheque for any figure you may like to name, and I will defy you to buy
+a bottle. I never have any other. It is really quite delicious. I
+daresay I could get you some."
+
+Mr. Brookes expressed thanks for the amiable offer, and both men
+smoked on in silence.
+
+"Do you play billiards?"
+
+"No. Do you?"
+
+"No."
+
+Inwardly they congratulated themselves. Presently Mr. Brookes said: "I
+hear you have been staying with my sister, Mrs. Haltom. You were
+shooting there, were you not?"
+
+"Yes, they were kind enough to ask me. Very nice shooting they have,
+too."
+
+"I hear that you have gone in for rearing pheasants."
+
+"Yes; we shot a hundred brace last year."
+
+The conversation dropped, and in an impressive silence both men
+wondered what they had better say to lead honourably up to the subject
+they had come to speak on.
+
+"Is your house your own design? Did you build it entirely yourself?
+Iforget. I ought to know; you told me all about it when I dined with
+you."
+
+"There was a house there, but I altered it considerably after my own
+idea, and not a bad idea, I flatter myself. I spent a good deal of
+money in laying out the grounds, putting up conservatories, and so
+forth."
+
+"You are a single man?"
+
+"For a single man the house is, of course, too large; but I do not
+intend to remain always single, and--and now, Mr. Brookes, as we are
+on the subject, I had better tell you that I have asked Miss Brookes
+to be my wife."
+
+Mr. Brookes grasped at the first words. "I am sure I am very pleased
+to hear it, Mr. Berkins, and I hope the answer was a favourable one."
+
+"Miss Brookes is a modest girl. She has been well brought up, as a
+girl who is, I hope, to be my wife should be, and she was naturally a
+little overcome. I did not exactly catch what she said, and I didn't
+like to press her for an immediate answer. But suppose we assume for
+the moment that Miss Brookes's reply will be a favourable one--I have,
+I confess, much faith in her good sense--we might consider the
+business side."
+
+Notwithstanding his admiration of a man who had made three thousand a
+year more than he had succeeded in doing, Mr. Brookes could not but
+feel irritated at Berkins, who, with increasing gravity, continued to
+assume all things to his own advantage. It had not occurred to him to
+consider that Grace might refuse him. Why should she refuse him? She
+could not hope to do better. She appeared to him as a very nice girl
+indeed, one entirely fitted for the position for which he intended
+her. He understood that all girls, at least those in society, were
+innocent and virtuous; he understood that when they married they made
+faithful and dutiful wives; and he had chosen her not because he had
+fallen in love, nor yet because he had noticed she was likely to make
+a better wife than her sisters, but because she was the eldest. Even
+so he would be twenty years his wife's senior, and he had chosen to
+marry one of the Brookes girls because he knew them and saw them
+constantly; because he knew that at their father's death his fortune
+would be divided between them. Grace was, therefore, an heiress in
+perspective. The prospect was agreeable, but he foresaw that it would
+be put forward as an excuse for fixing the sum of marriage settlements
+as low as possible. It would, however, be difficult for Brookes to
+settle less on his daughter than he, Berkins, was willing to settle on
+his wife; so partly in the hopes of forcing Mr. Brookes, and partly
+because of the pleasure it gave him to speak of himself, he continued
+talking of his position and possessions.
+
+"In dealing with me," he said, "you are dealing, as you know, Mr.
+Brookes, with a man of means, a man who can afford to do the thing
+properly; you will not misunderstand me--you remember you told me that
+you had great difficulty in keeping the little folk who live here out
+of your house."
+
+"The neighbourhood has never been the same since they put up that row
+of villas. A lot of indigent fortune-hunters, they know my girls will
+have large fortunes at my death, so they come sneaking round the place
+like so many wolves."
+
+"I can readily sympathise with you; one doesn't make money to keep
+idle young fellows in the luxuries of life."
+
+"That is what I say."
+
+"But you aren't sufficiently firm, Mr. Brookes; had you been brought
+up in the hard school that I was you would be more firm; firmness is
+everything. You married early, I couldn't afford to do that. At
+sixteen I had to shift for myself. I was three years a clerk at two
+pounds a week, and not many chances to rise come in the way of a clerk
+at two pounds a week; he must be pretty sharp, and if he doesn't seize
+the little chance when it comes, he will remain a little clerk all his
+life. It is the first steps that are difficult, the rest are nothing.
+You don't know what the first steps are; I do. Once you've made a
+thousand pounds you can swim along a bit, but the first hundred, I
+shall never forget it! Afterwards it is just the same; the proportions
+are changed, that is all. The first twenty thousand is very uphill
+work, the second is on the flat, the third is going downhill--it
+brings itself along."
+
+"A very good simile indeed. There's no doubt that it is money that
+makes money. When you have none you cannot make it. It is like corn;
+give a man a handful, and he must be a fool if he can't fill his barn.
+The beginnings are hard; none knows that better than I. But for the
+last ten years I've been doing fairly well."
+
+"I had never intended to get married, but when money really begins to
+accumulate it pushes you along. It is curious how money takes you
+along. It is like a tide. You first begin thinking of a little place
+in the country where you can stay from Saturday till Monday. The
+little place grows; it is extraordinary how it grows. You find you
+want flowers, and you put up a glass house; then you begin to get
+interested in orchids or roses, and you put up two, maybe half a dozen
+glass houses. Suddenly you find the rabbits are breeding in the
+hedgerows, and you go out yonder ferretting, but the coachman does not
+know how to manage the ferrets, and you start a keeper. The keeper
+says one morning, 'It wouldn't require much to get up a stock of
+pheasants in that little wood.' You say, 'Very well;' and there you
+are before you know it, with glass houses, rabbit-shooting, and a
+pheasant preserve. You have friends to stay with you for the shooting,
+you get talked about in the clubs, people ask why you aren't married--
+the place where the wife ought to be stares you in the face: a man of
+money, of real money, must get married. The friends who come and stay
+with you suggest a little dance, you think it would be very pleasant;
+but you know no one in the neighbourhood, the county people won't
+visit you, so the thing comes about, and you are head over heels in
+settlements before you know where you are."
+
+"Do you find the county people very standoffish over Preston Park
+way?"
+
+"I am not in a position to judge; they could not very well call on me
+situated as I am, a young--well, I will say, a marriageable--man,
+known to be wealthy; but I have no doubt when I am married they will
+call on us."
+
+"Twirl them round my little finger, stuck-up lot; I should like to
+know what they have to be proud of, half of them are broken--their
+land is worthless. Give me good sound investments, five or six per
+cent. For some money I am getting seven; the waterworks pays
+fourteen."
+
+The conversation suddenly dropped, they looked at each other blankly;
+they felt they had talked a good deal, but without approaching any
+nearer the subject they had met to speak on.
+
+"Our intention was," said Berkins, in his most solemn and professional
+manner, "assuming that Miss Brookes is not averse from my suit, to
+discuss the business side, for there is a business side to all
+questions, as you, Mr. Brookes, will be the first to see."
+
+Mr. Brookes had begun to anger; he would have liked to have answered
+that such a discussion was altogether premature, but he yielded before
+Berkins's authoritative manner, and he replied instead that he would
+be glad indeed to hear whatever proposal Mr. Berkins had to make.
+
+"I should like to say, then--I will assume that we stand as man to
+man, equal; you have probably more money invested than I; I am making
+possibly a larger income--you will forgive me if I am mistaken, but
+you told me the other day as we went up in the train that you had had
+a very bad year."
+
+"Three thousand dead loss. It does not matter so much to me, my money
+is invested, but it would have gone hard with many a man who was
+relying on his business. Three thousand pounds dead loss!"
+
+"How was that? I suppose the temperance societies affect you; they
+must have had a great effect on the sale of liquor."
+
+"No one who was not in the trade would believe in the falling off in
+the quantity of whisky drunk. But it was not that."
+
+"What then?"
+
+"Trade generally, trade depression affects every one; the failure of
+one makes bad debts for the other. It was bad debts that did it. It
+was very stupid of me, but I was worried at home: those fortune-
+hunters from the villas--my daughters are very young, and since their
+poor mother died they have had no one to look after them. Willy, too,
+is a great trial to me. Poor boy, he is most anxious to do something,
+but things don't go right with him; he thought he was going to do a
+good thing in a Bond Street shop that was converted into a company,
+but he lost two thousand pounds."
+
+"I thought he was in the distillery with you."
+
+"He was for a while, but he irritated me; he is so confoundedly
+methodical, everything must go into his diary, he spends half the day
+filling it up. Besides after you have conducted a business so many
+years you don't want a partner; you have your own way of doing things,
+and don't want to be interfered with. He draws a certain income, but
+he has nothing now to do with the business. We were talking of
+settlements."
+
+"You do not act as I should regarding the villa residences. I would
+put them down. I would not have it; but, as you say, we were talking
+of settlements. I think I said we stood as man to man. In round
+numbers your fortune equals mine, mine equals yours--very well, let us
+act equally. I will settle five hundred a year on Miss Brookes, do you
+likewise; what do you say to that?"
+
+"Pooh, pooh! I couldn't think of such a thing. Five hundred a year!"
+said Mr. Brookes, and throwing his cigar into the fireplace, he walked
+up the room indignantly. "I was wrong to consent to discuss the
+matter; to say the least, it is premature; I never heard of such a
+thing. Five hundred a year! This is worse than the Southdown Road,
+many degrees worse."
+
+"Sir, such insinuations are most uncalled for; I must beg of you to
+withdraw them. I must ask you to remember you are talking to one at
+least in the same position as yourself, to a man of seven thousand a
+year!"
+
+"Pooh, pooh! seven thousand a year--you are making that to-day, to-
+morrow you mayn't be making three. Yours isn't invested money."
+
+Berkins had risen from the great leather armchair, and he stood
+expressionless as a piece of office furniture, his grave face divided
+by the green shade of the billiard lamp; Mr. Brookes remained with his
+back--his straight fat back bound in a new frock coat that defined the
+senile fatness of the haunches--turned to his guest. He stooped as if
+to examine his favourite Linnell, but, in his passion, he did not see
+it. The table, covered with a grey cloth, lay like an account spread
+out between the moneyed men.
+
+"Taking your words into due consideration, I think I had better wish
+you good-morning, Mr. Brookes."
+
+"Mr. Berkins, I would not wish you to misunderstand me," said Mr.
+Brookes, whom the prospect of losing seven thousand a year had
+suddenly cooled. "My daughter will have--my children, I should say--
+will have my fortune divided amongst them at my death, and when we
+come to go into figures you will find--"
+
+"But in the meantime, what do you propose to settle on her?"
+
+Mr. Brookes hesitated. He was angry at being pressed. Berkins's
+domineering tone irritated him; he would have liked to bundle him from
+the house.
+
+Presently he said: "I think, considering the very large sums of money
+my daughters will come into at my death, that a settlement of two
+hundred a year is ample."
+
+"Very well, in that case I shall settle the same."
+
+"I could not, I will not, consent to any such arrangement. The man my
+daughter marries must settle on her a sum of money equivalent--"
+
+"To what you settle on her."
+
+"To her position, to her expectations," replied Mr. Brookes, growing
+more and more angry.
+
+"But I don't know what her expectations are; you may marry again."
+"I do not intend to marry again."
+
+"Very possibly, but I know nothing of that; business is business, and
+I should be a fool if I settle five hundred to your two hundred."
+
+Mr. Brookes stopped in his walk, and he looked at Berkins, who stood,
+his hand laid upon the billiard table as upon a huge balance sheet.
+The word business had carried the men back to their offices in London,
+and, quite forgetful of the subject of their bargaining, each strove
+to obtain an advantage over the other.
+
+"Well, let us say two hundred and fifty, that is my last word."
+
+"Then, Mr. Brookes, I will not take your daughter."
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+
+"Willy, make haste, I beg of you; I shall miss my train. It is now
+exactly half-past nine."
+
+"You had better go without me; I cannot start now. I haven't nearly
+got my things together."
+
+"Very well, very well."
+
+Willy walked from room to room tying and untying brown paper parcels
+in his most methodical and most dilatory manner. His sisters stood
+watching him from the drawing-room door.
+
+"Did father tell you nothing when Berkins left? They had a row, hadn't
+they? It isn't off, is it?"
+
+"I wish you would not speak so loud, Sally; you can be heard all over
+the house."
+
+"Do tell us."
+
+"But I don't know. Father was very much upset. I couldn't speak to him
+about my own business, I know that."
+
+"Well, I suppose we shall hear about it to-night. You are going to
+meet Frank in Brighton, aren't you?"
+
+"Yes; he is coming to lunch with me."
+
+"Don't keep him all day; send him on here, we might have a game of
+tennis."
+
+Willy did not answer; and he thought as he went upstairs, what a
+trouble young girls were in a house. "They think of nothing but
+pleasure, nothing but pleasure."
+
+One, two, or three more delays, and he was ready, and with his brown
+paper parcel tucked under his arm he set forth. Upon the young blue of
+the sky, the fresh green of the buds melted. There were a few elms,
+but hardly enough to constitute an avenue. The house looked as if it
+had been repeatedly altered. It ran into unexpected corners and
+angles; but it was far enough from the road to justify a gate lodge.
+The swards were interspersed with shrubs in the most modern fashion,
+and the sumptuous glass-houses could be seen gleaming in the sun. It
+was a hot day, and the brick wall was dappled with hanging foliage,
+and further out, opposite the windows of the "Stag and Hounds," where
+Steyning's ales could be obtained, the over-reaching sprays of a great
+chestnut tree fell in delicate tracery on the white dust. The road led
+under the railway embankment, and looking through the arched opening,
+one could see the dirty town, straggling along the canal or harbour,
+which runs parallel with the sea. A black stain was the hull of a
+great steamer lying on her side in the mud, but the tapering masts of
+yachts were beautiful on the sky, and at the end of a row of
+slatternly houses there were sometimes spars and rigging so strange
+and bygone that they suggested Drake and the Spanish main.
+
+Southwick is half a suburb, half a village. In the summer months the
+green seems a living thing. It is there the children talk and tumble
+when school is over. They are told to go to the green, they are
+forbidden to go to the green, and it is from the green the eldest girl
+leads the naughty boy howling. When they are a little older they avoid
+the green, it is too public then. It is to the green that elevens come
+from far and near to play their matches. All the summer through the
+green is a _fete_ of cricket. It is to the green the brass bands come
+on Saturday. On the green, bat and trap is played till the ball
+disappears in shadow. The green is common; horses and cows are turned
+out there. All profit by the green. It is on the edge of the green the
+housewives come to talk in the limpid moonlight. It is on the green
+the fathers smoke when the little cottage rooms are unbearable with
+summer heat. It is on the green that Mrs. Horlock walks with her pugs
+and the chemist's wife, to the enormous scandal of the neighbourhood.
+
+To the right, facing the embankment, and overlooking some fields, is
+the famous Southdown road, and parallel with the green is Mr.
+Brookes's property--a solid five acres, with all modern improvements
+and embellishments, and surrounded by a brick wall over six feet high.
+
+Willy hated Southwick. He thought it ugly and vulgar; he regretted
+deeply that his father would make no advances, and that they were as
+far from county society to-day as when they came to live in the place
+thirty years ago. "I knew the best people when I was at Oxford, why
+can I not know them now? Here we are doing the same thing from year's
+end to year's end; why, with our money we ought to be hob-nobbing with
+the duke." In moments of dejection this was one of Willy's commonest
+thoughts. "I did my best, but I was opposed. Father doesn't care, and
+as for the girls, they'll take up with any man so long as he is young.
+Still, in spite of them I should have got on if I hadn't lost my nerve
+and had to give up hunting; and without hunting there is no way of
+making acquaintances."
+
+Willy had relied on a hunter as Berkins had on pheasants and glass-
+houses. But he hated hunting, and finding he got no further than a few
+breakfasts, he had told a story of a heavy fall and sold his horses.
+He had then insisted on dinner-parties, and some few people more or
+less "county" had been collected; the pretext was politics, but Willy
+and politics were but a doleful mixture, and the scheme collapsed. The
+family was not endowed with any social qualifications, Willy least of
+all, and having failed to advance himself individually, and his family
+collectively, he threw up the game.
+
+We rarely cultivate for long things in which we may not succeed in--
+the lady with a small waist pinches it, the man with pretty feet wears
+pretty shoes, and in no circumstances could Willy have shone in
+society. He failed to interest the ladies he met on the King's Road,
+he knew this; and to sum up his deficiencies, let us say he was
+lacking in "go." He was too timid to succeed with the more facile
+loves whom he met in the evenings on the pier. All the same he had had
+his love affair.
+
+Oh! men of inferior aspect and speech, often in you a true heart
+abides; you, and you only, are faithful to the end.
+
+To this unromantic person a shred of pure romance was attached. None
+knew the whole story, and none spoke of it now; but his sisters
+remembered that Willy had fallen in love with a girl whom he had seen
+play "Sweet Anne Page." They remembered long letters, tears and wild
+looks. He had sent her diamonds; and one night he had attempted
+suicide. All was now forgotten; at least it was the past, and nothing
+remained but one little melody which he had heard her sing, and which
+he sometimes whistled out of tune.
+
+But sooner or later a man's talents, and if not his talents, his
+tastes, appear through the mists of youth, and henceforth they lead
+him. Willy's efforts in society had resulted in abortive dinner-
+parties, his efforts in sport had been cut short by nerves, his
+efforts in dissipation had left him with a tolerably well-filled
+wardrobe, his efforts in love had brought him tears and a commonplace
+mistress, whom he kept in the necessaries of life in various lodging-
+houses. So his youth had passed; but in all this mediocrity a certain
+spirit of resistance endured. His taste for figures grew more
+pronounced; he surrounded himself with account books, letter books,
+and diaries; he took note of every penny that passed through his
+hands. Money-making, profitable investments--that was to be his aim in
+life; and as each year closed his thoughts fixed themselves more
+definitely and entirely on it; and it was natural that it should be
+so, since all other outlets for the passion of life were barred to
+him. His forced retirement from the distillery did not worry him. No
+one could please his father in business; his uncle had once threatened
+to throw his brother out of the window. Besides, the business was a
+declining one, and twelve thousand pounds for a junior partnership was
+not bad. Nor did his failure to make a success of the manure agency
+discourage him; the shop was a different matter, that was his own
+idea, he had thought of a fortune, and had lost two thousand pounds.
+It had crippled him for life. True enough, there were other things to
+do. Some stockbrokers make twenty per cent. on their money, not in
+wild speculation, but in straightforward genuine business. He might go
+up to London and learn the business--he had heard that it would not
+take more than six months or a year to pick it up--and start on his
+own account. A thousand pounds would be sufficient to begin with; or
+he might buy a partnership--he could do that for three or four
+thousand. Either of these courses would suit him, the latter for
+preference, but a certain amount of capital would be necessary before
+he could take either, and that he hadn't got, and to all appearances
+it would be very difficult to persuade his father to consent to drawany
+more money out of the distillery.
+
+So Willy's thoughts ran as he ascended the flight of wooden steps that
+led to the platform of the little country station. "The folk down here
+think there is nothing in me, that I am good for nothing but walking
+up and down the King's Road, but they little know what I have in my
+head. I'll make them open their eyes one of these days." The sting of
+vanity is in us all. Our heads may be greed, our bellies lust, our
+limbs charity, faithfulness, truth, and goodwill, but in some cranny
+of our tails vanity always lies, only it may be marvellously well
+hidden, as in Willy. The keenest observer would not have detected it
+in him, and when he came out of his habitual reserve and lamented that
+bad luck had always followed him and spoke of his projects, one might
+have suspected him of greed, but hardly of vanity. Now he stood
+leaning on the wooden paling, and his movements showed the back and
+loins in strong outline, marking the thick calves. Without taking any
+heed, his eyes followed the cricket ball, which was in turn slogged
+into the horse-pond and cottage gardens. Through long familiarity, the
+green had faded from his notice, nor did the burnt-up crops on the
+Downs attract his thoughts, nor yet the sinuous lines of the hills.
+From the platform one saw the whole of Southwick. The green with its
+cricket match, Mrs. Horlock and her dogs, the forge, the stile, the
+various cottages, the long fields full of green wheat, and, far away,
+the carriages passing like insects along the road under the Downs;
+then on the right were the back gardens of the cottages, a large
+inscription announcing the different branches of the grocery business,
+a few fields with cows leaning their muzzles over the rough palings,
+some more cottages, a barn, and then the magnificent five acres of the
+Manor House, rich with glass-houses, and beautiful in a cloud of
+trees. From the platform of the station one could see the sea, not
+much of it, but one could see the sea; the slates of the street that
+went along the water's edge did not quite bar the view. The very small
+presence of Southwick contrived to hide the sea; even when one walked
+to the water's side the great mass of shingle which forms the outer
+bank of the canal allowed only one narrow rim of blue to appear. The
+inhabitants forget they live by the sea, and when the breeze fills
+their gardens with a smell of boats and nets they think of the sea
+with surprise.
+
+Tired of the monotonous running to and fro of the cricket players,
+Willy walked up the platform. Arrow-like, the line lay in front of
+him, and in the tinted distance, in faint lines and flashes of light
+and shade, Brighton stretched from hill to hill. Morning was still in
+the sky, and the sea was deep blue between the yellow chimney-pots. A
+puff of steam showed up upon a distant field, and the train came along
+from Portslade, one of the links of the great chain of towns that
+binds the south coast. "I hope Frank won't arrive in Brighton before
+me," thought Willy.
+
+They had been big boy and little boy at school. The vivacity of the
+Celt amused the good-natured south Saxon, and when Lord Mount Rorke
+called to see his nephew, he found him talking with Brookes. Once
+Willy had been invited to spend part of his holidays at Mount Rorke.
+Afterwards they visited each other's rooms, and so their friendship
+had been decided, and, in spite of--or, perhaps, on account of--a very
+marked difference in their characters and temperaments, gathered
+strength as it matured. Another link between the men was that Escott
+had accompanied Willy to the theatre when he went to see the actress
+whom he had loved so madly. Frank had heard her sing the song which
+Willy whistled when his thoughts went wandering. Willy confided in no
+one--great sorrows cannot be and never are confided; but Frank had
+seen her, and he played her songs on the piano, and that was enough
+for Willy.
+
+The young men had not seen each other for two years. Frank had shown
+some taste for painting, and his uncle, whose heir he was, had sent
+him, if not to study, at least to think about art in Italy. From Italy
+he had gone to Greece and Russia, he had returned home through
+Germany, he had visited Holland and France.
+
+"Is the London train come in?" Willy asked when he arrived in
+Brighton.
+
+"Yes, sir, just come in, about five minutes," said the man as he
+opened the door. Willy waited until the train had stopped dead, he got
+out carefully, and, looking through the confusion of luggage and
+bookstall trade, he saw Escott questioning a porter and hailing a
+carriage. "By Jove! I shall miss him," cried Willy, and he hastened
+his steps and broke into a sharp trot. "Frank! Frank!" he cried.
+
+"Oh, there you are!" cried Frank, and he lifted his stick, and called
+sharply to a large black and white bull-dog that paddled about on its
+bow legs, saliva dripping from its huge jaws, looking in its
+hideousness like something rare and exquisite from Japan. He dismissed
+the porter and the carriage, which he had hailed with an arrogant wave
+of his stick. He was tall and he was thin. His trousers were extremely
+elegant, a light cloth, black and white check, hung on his legs in
+graceful lines, and he wore tiny boots with light brown cloth tops.
+The jacket and waistcoat were in dark brown cloth, and the odour of
+the gardenia in his buttonhole contrasted with that of the sachet-
+scented silk pocket-handkerchief which lay in his side pocket. His
+throat showed white and healthy in the high collar tied with a white
+silk cravat in a sailor's knot, fastened with a small diamond. His
+hands were coarse and brown; he wore two rings, and a bracelet fell
+out of his cuff when he dropped his arm. His chest was broad and full,
+but the shoulders were too square; the coat was padded. There was
+little that could be called Celtic in his face or voice, the admixture
+of race was manifested in that dim blue stare, at once vague and wild,
+which the eyes of the Celt so often exhibit. The nose was long, low,
+and straight, the nostrils were cleanly marked, the mouth was
+uncertain, the chin was uncertain, the face was long, deadly pale,
+rather large, the forehead was high, receding at the temples. The hair
+(now he removes his hat, for the air is heavy and hot, and the sun
+falls fiercely on the pavement) is pale brown, and it waves thinly
+over the high forehead, so expressive of a vague and ill-considered
+idealism. Frank Escott was of Saxon origin on his father's side, but
+the family had been in Ireland for the last two hundred years, and had
+married into many Irish families that had at different times received
+direct contributions of Celtic blood. Long residence in England had
+removed all Irish accent and modes of speech; but in hook, and book,
+and cook he lengthened the vowel sound. Occasionally a something
+strange grated on the ear, and declared him not of the south of
+England, suggested the north, and insinuated Cumberland; an actor
+could not reproduce these trifling differences with caricaturing them.
+He was absolutely good-looking, and he was too well dressed. He
+laughed a good deal, and his conversation was sprinkled with cynical
+remarks and cutting observations.
+
+"You don't seem to go in for dress now as you used to."
+
+"I haven't the money to spend on it; but tell me, don't you like this
+suit?"
+
+"Well, pretty well; whose is it? Did Walpole make it? Do you deal with
+him still?"
+
+"Yes, it is one of Walpole's, but I have had it turned."
+
+"Had it turned? I have heard of turning an overcoat, but a morning
+coat! I did not know it could be done; that's what makes it look so
+shaky."
+
+"Now don't you get laughing at my coat, it looks very well indeed. I
+suppose you think I am not fit to walk with you. I daresay it doesn't
+look as smart as yours, which has just come out of Walpole's shop."
+
+The young men had so much to say, and were so genuinely glad to see
+each other, that their thoughts hesitated and they were embarrassed.
+
+"I suppose you enjoyed your trip abroad very much," Willy said drily
+and punctiliously; "you were more than a year away--nearly eighteen
+months, I think."
+
+"About that. I enjoyed myself. I think I liked Italy best; it has been
+more painted and described than any country, and yet it is quite
+different from what one imagines; it is grey and dim and green and
+dusty. It looks--how shall I put it?--it looks worn out and faded."
+
+"The women aren't worn out and faded if all one hears is true," said
+Willy, with a short laugh.
+
+"The women are right enough. I must tell you about them one of these
+days, lots of stories. There was a little Italian girl I met at Milan.
+It was a job to get away from her; she followed me, 'pon my word, she
+did; she declared she would commit suicide. I was awfully frightened.
+Naples is really too shocking. I'm not a prude, but Naples is really--
+"
+
+"I suppose it is the same all over the Continent. One of these days I
+must go abroad and have a look round. You were a long time in Rome?"
+
+"No, only a few weeks, but I was too taken up with the pictures to
+think of anything else. The Michael Angelos are beyond anything any
+one can imagine. He is the only one who can compare with the Greeks,
+and I don't see why one shouldn't say he is as great. Of course there
+are things, the daughters of--I forget the name--the group of two
+women leaning back in each other's arms in the British Museum. But I
+don't know, Michael Angelo is quite different, and I can't see that
+anything can be said to be finer than the figures of Day and Night--
+how often I have drawn them--the figure of Night, the heavy breasts to
+show that she has suckled the Day."
+
+"But which way are we going? I must go to Truefitt's to have my hair
+cut."
+
+"You haven't forgotten the old place, I see. Do you still keep up your
+subscription?"
+
+"I suppose mine has run out, I have been abroad so long. Nothing like
+a good shampoo; for a guinea a year you can have it done as often as
+you like."
+
+"I haven't subscribed lately. There used to be such a pretty girl at
+the counter. Do you remember?"
+
+"You dog, always thinking of them," and laughing loudly they passed
+through the shop, and it was Frank that stared most at the young lady.
+They read _Punch_ aloud to each other; they cracked jokes with the
+hairdressers; they snorted and laughed through the soap and jets of hot
+and cold water. Frank allowed scent and ivories to be pressed upon him
+by the young lady at the counter; Willy declined to be led into such
+extravagances.
+
+As he stepped out into the shine of the street, and took step from his
+friend, he said: "By George! it makes me feel young again. It is just
+like old times."
+
+"Yes, it does make one feel jollier, doesn't it?"
+
+"How jolly it is here; not too warm, just nice. What shall we do? Sit
+down on that bench in front of the pier?"
+
+"I'm agreeable. How jolly it is. Just look at those boats! One could
+make a picture of that."
+
+Over the sea hung a white veil of mist, but the sun glowed through and
+melted into it, and harmonised it with the water green and
+translucent. The sea sucked about the shingle with little sudden
+sighs; the sails of the pleasure boat waved in the fairy-like depths,
+and all the little brown fishing-boats lay becalmed, heaving
+tremulously like tired butterflies upon the breast of a blue flower.
+The nursemaids lay together on the shingle, and their novels slipped
+down the stones to their feet. The children played with the tide and
+the sand. There were crowds of women--Jewesses with loud dresses: and
+the strange world of bath chairs! Ladies so old that they seem certain
+to fall to pieces when they are taken out; ladies with chestnut curls
+soft and fresh--why were they in bath chairs? General officers,
+mounted on white Arabs; acrobats and songs.
+
+The young men sat facing the sea. Frank called, "Triss, Triss.
+Splendid dog that is. If I were to let him he would guzzle the other
+dog in about two minutes."
+
+"He looks a ferocious brute."
+
+"You don't like dogs? You couldn't see a handsomer dog than that;
+unfortunately, he's the wrong colour; if he were brindle or white,
+he'd take a first prize. Come here, you brute."
+
+Amid some little excitement and anxious looks, Triss came up, growling
+and showing his teeth. Frank explained that it was only his manner.
+Frank took the paw that was extended to him, but Triss's friendliness
+seemed somewhat dubious, for he still further uncovered his formidable
+fangs.
+
+"I really don't care to sit here with that ferocious brute."
+
+"I assure you he won't bite, it is only his manner. Isn't it, Triss?
+Kiss me, kiss me at once," and amid many growls of almost subterranean
+awfulness, the dog licked his master's face.
+
+"I wish you would tie him up--to oblige me."
+
+Highly pleased at the fear and wonder his dog had struck in the gaudy
+Jewesses and the shaky generals, Frank threatened and finally forced
+the dog to lie down. He continued to expatiate on the dog's points--
+the number of wrinkles, the bandiness of the legs, etc. The
+conversation dropped in heat and glare, and the picturesqueness of the
+sea.
+
+"How horribly out of tune you do whistle--you go into a different key;
+this is more like it."
+
+"Yes, how sweetly she used to sing it. Do you remember the night we
+went to see her, the last time the piece was played? I threw her a
+bouquet, a splendid one it was, too, cost me three guineas in Covent
+Garden. We went afterwards and had supper at Scott's in the Haymarket.
+How jolly those days were. I don't seem to be able to enjoy myself now
+as I used to then."
+
+"What has become of her? One never hears of her."
+
+"She died soon after."
+
+"I am sorry I spoke of her; I didn't know."
+
+"Oh, it doesn't matter." Then after a long silence, Willy said: "I
+hear your engagement is broken off."
+
+"Yes." Frank drew a long and expressive breath, and, with melodramatic
+movements of the shoulders, he sighed. "I have not seen you since. Oh,
+I had terrible scenes with the father. They had a house up the river.
+I followed them, and put up at the Angler's Hotel. She told her father
+that I must be allowed to come to the house, and he had to give way.
+You don't know the river? Well, it is wonderful to awake at Maidenhead
+in the morning and hear the sparrows twittering in a piece of tangled
+vine; to see that great piece of water flowing so mildly in all the
+pretty summer weather. We used to live in flannels, and spent long
+afternoons together in the boat--we had such a spiffing boat, as light
+and as clean in the water as a fish--and we used to linger in the
+bulrushes, and come back when the moon was rising with our hands full
+of flowers."
+
+"But why was it broken off?"
+
+"My uncle, old Mount Rorke, wants me to marry an heiress, and I have
+nothing except what he allows me, or scarcely anything. She used to
+wear a broad-brimmed straw hat, and the shadow fell over her face. I
+made a lot of sketches. I must show them to you one of these days when
+you come up to town, and I filled an album with verses. I used to
+write them at night. My window was right in front of the river, and
+the moon used to sail past, and in the morning I used to read her the
+poems I made overnight beneath the branches of the cedar, where we
+used to run the boat. But the father was a brute. I got the best of
+him once though. It was a private view day at the Academy, and he had
+forbidden Nellie to speak to me--even to notice me. I went straight up
+to her, and took her away under his very nose before he could stop us.
+We walked about all day. Oh! he was mad."
+
+"If she was willing to brave her father in that way, why was your
+engagement broken off?"
+
+"My uncle was so very difficult to deal with. I didn't see her for
+some time." Frank did not say--perhaps, he did not know--that his
+engagement had been broken off through his own instability and
+weakness of character. The young lady, whom he called Nellie, had told
+him she would wait if he would elect a profession and work for a place
+in it. But Frank had not been able to forego late hours and
+restaurants, and Nellie had married some one who could. "You know I
+converted her. Doesn't her father hate me for that! We used to go to
+high mass at the oratory. I explained to her the whole of the Catholic
+religion."
+
+"But I thought you didn't believe in it yourself?"
+
+"I am talking of some time ago; besides, a woman, it isn't quite the
+same thing; and if I have saved her soul! I don't know if I told you
+that I was writing a novel; I don't think I did. The idea of it is
+this: A young man has loved three women. The first charmed him by her
+exceeding beauty; he lives with her for a time. The second captivates
+him, or rather holds him through his senses; his love for her is
+merely a sensuality; then he falls in love with a fair young girl as
+pure as falling snow of any stain in deed or in thought; he is engaged
+to marry her--or, I don't know, I haven't made up my mind on that
+point, perhaps it would be better if he did marry her. Well, the woman
+whom he has loved with a merely sensual passion comes back, and to
+revenge herself she tries to tempt the good girl to go wrong; she
+talks to her of men and pleasures; this is a good idea, I think, for I
+feel sure it is women far more than men who lead women astray. Then
+the first woman whom he has loved for her beauty merely, comes along
+and continues the diabolical work of the first, by suggesting--I don't
+know, anything--that the young girl should go in for dress; the young
+man finds out the scheme, and to save the girl he murders her, he is
+thrown into prison, he is tried, and in the crowded Court he makes a
+great speech--he tells how he murdered her to save her from sin, he
+tells the judge that on the Judgment Day a pure white soul will plead
+for him. What an opportunity for a piece of splendid writing! The
+Court would be filled with fashionable women, that weep and sob, they
+cannot contain themselves, the judge would wish to stop the young man,
+but he cannot. What a splendid scene to describe! And the young man
+goes to execution confident, and assured that he has done well. What
+do you think of it?"
+
+"It is really difficult for me to say; I never like giving an opinion
+on a subject I don't understand."
+
+"I know; but what do you think?"
+
+Fortunately for Willy's peace, the conversation was at this moment
+violently interrupted by Triss. He rushed forth, and Frank was only in
+time to prevent a pitched battle. He returned leading the dog by his
+silk handkerchief, amid the murmur of nurse-maids and Jewesses.
+
+"That's the worst of him; he never can see a big dog without wanting
+to go for him. Down, sir, down--I won't have you growl at me."
+
+"I can't see what pleasure you can find in a brute like that."
+
+"I assure you he's very good-tempered; he has a habit of growling, but
+he does not mean anything by it. What were we talking about?"
+
+"I think we were talking about the ladies. Have you seen anything nice
+lately? What's the present Mrs. Escott like, dark or fair?"
+
+"There isn't one, I assure you. I met rather a nice woman at my
+uncle's, about two months ago, a Lady Seely. I don't know that you
+would call her a pretty woman; rather a turned-up nose, a pinched-in
+waist, beautiful shoulders. Hair of a golden tinge, diamonds, and
+dresses covered with beads. She flirted a great deal. We talked about
+love, and we laughed at husbands, and she asked me to come and see her
+in rather a pointed way. It is rather difficult to explain these
+things, but I think that if I were to go in for her--"
+
+"That you would pull it off?"
+
+The young men laughed loudly, and then Frank said: "But somehow I
+don't much care about her. I met such a pretty girl the other day at
+the theatre. There were no stalls, and as I wanted to see the piece
+very much, I went into the dress circle. There was only one seat in
+the back row. I struggled past a lot of people, dropped into my place,
+and watched the piece without troubling myself to see who was sitting
+next to me. It was not until the _entr'acte_ that I looked round. I
+felt my neighbour's eyes were fixed upon me. She was one of the
+prettiest girls you ever saw in your life--a blonde face, pale brown
+hair, and such wonderful teeth--her laughter, I assure you, was
+beautiful. I asked her what she thought of the piece. She looked away
+and didn't answer. It was rather a slap in the face for me, but I am
+not easily done. I immediately said: 'I should have apologised before
+for the way I inconvenienced you in crushing into my seat, but,
+really, the place is so narrow that you don't know how to get by.'
+This rather stumped her, she was obliged to say something. The girl on
+the other side (not half a bad looking girl, short brown curly hair,
+rather a roguish face) was the most civil at first. She wasn't as
+pretty as the one next to me, but she spoke the more willingly; the
+one next to me tried to prevent her. However, I got on with them, one
+thing led to another, and when the piece was over, I fetched their
+hats and coats and we walked a little way up the street together. I
+tried to get them to come to supper; they couldn't do that, for they
+had to be in at a certain time, so we went to Gatti's and had some
+coffee. I couldn't make out for a long time what they were; they were
+evidently not prostitutes, and they did not seem to me to be quite
+ladies. What do you think they were?"
+
+"I haven't an idea--actresses?"
+
+"No. They wouldn't tell me for a long time. I got it out of them at
+last; they're at the bar in the Gaiety Restaurant."
+
+"Bar girls?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Some of those bar girls are very pretty; rather dangerous, though, I
+should think."
+
+"They seemed to me to be very nice girls; you would be surprised if
+you heard them talk. I assure you the one that sat next to me spoke
+just like a lady. You know in these hard times people must do
+something. Lots of ladies have to buckle to and work for their bread."
+
+Frank lapsed into silence. Willy sat apparently watching the blue and
+green spectacle of the sea. Frank knew that it interested him not the
+least, and he wondered if his friend had heard what he had been
+saying. Triss, seeing that smelling and fighting were equally vain
+endeavours, had laid himself out in the sun, and he returned his
+master's caresses by deep growls. One more menacing than the others
+woke Willy from his meditation, and he said: "What's the time? It
+ought to be getting on to lunch time."
+
+"I daresay it is."
+
+"Where shall we go? Do you know of a good place? What about that
+restaurant opposite the pier?"
+
+"Well," said Willy, with a short, abrupt laugh, "the fact is, I must
+lunch at my office; but I shall be very glad if you will come."
+
+"I didn't know you had an office--an office for what?"
+
+"I started an agency at the beginning of the year for artificial
+manure, but I think I shall drop it. I am arranging to go on the Stock
+Exchange. The difficulty is whether I shall be able to get my father
+to allow me to take enough money out of the business."
+
+"What business?"
+
+"The distillery."
+
+"Oh, but what about this office? Why are you obliged to lunch at your
+office? Are you expecting customers? I know nothing about that sort of
+thing."
+
+"No, I wish I were. The fact is, my missis is staying in Brighton for
+a few weeks. The child has been ailing a good deal lately, and the
+doctor ordered change of air."
+
+"Child! Missis! I know nothing of this."
+
+"A very nice woman, I think you'll like her. She is devoted to me.
+We've been together now two years or more, I can't say exactly, I
+should have to refer to my diary."
+
+"But the child?"
+
+"The child isn't mine. She had the child before I knew her."
+
+"And what is the matter with it?"
+
+"Curvature of the spine. The doctor says she will outgrow it. Cissy
+will be quite strong and healthy although she may never have what you
+would call a good figure. But there is a matter on which I want to
+speak to you. The fact is, I am going to be married."
+
+"To whom?"
+
+"To the lady whom you will see at lunch, Cissy's mother."
+
+Frank said: "If you really love her I have nothing to say against it."
+Willy did not answer. Frank waited for an answer and then broke the
+silence: "But do you love her?"
+
+"Yes, I am very fond of her; she is a very good sort."
+
+Frank was implacable. "Do you love her like the other one?" The
+question wounded, but Frank was absorbed in his own special
+sentimentalities.
+
+"I was younger then, it is not the same; I am getting old. How many
+years older am I than you--seven, I think? You are three-and-twenty, I
+am thirty. How time flies!"
+
+"Yes, I am three-and-twenty--you don't look thirty."
+
+"I feel it, though; few fellows have had so much trouble as I have.
+Your life has been all pleasure."
+
+"If a man really loves a woman he is always right to marry her. Why
+should we suppose that a woman may not reform--that true love may not
+raise her? I was talking to a novelist the other day; he told me
+thestory of a book he is writing. It is about a woman who leaves the
+husband she has never loved for the man she adores; she goes away with
+him, he marries her, and she sinks lower and lower, until she becomes
+a common prostitute."
+
+"You are quite mistaken. I am sure that when you see the missis--"
+
+"My dear fellow, pray do not misunderstand me. I would not for worlds.
+I am only telling you about a book, if you will only listen. I told
+him that I thought the story would be ten times as interesting if,
+instead of being degraded, the woman were raised by the love of the
+man who took her away from her husband. He made the husband a
+snivelling little creature, and the lover good-looking--that's the old
+game. I would have made the lover insignificant and the husband good-
+looking. Nevertheless she loved the lover better. I know of nothing
+more noble than for a man to marry the woman he loves, and to raise
+her by the force of his love; he could teach her, instruct her. Nellie
+will never forget me. I gave her a religion, I taught her and
+explained to her the whole of the Catholic faith--"
+
+"I hope you won't try to convert my sisters."
+
+"You do pull me up so! Don't you understand that I was very young
+then? I was only twenty, not much more; besides, I was engaged to
+Nellie."
+
+"Come back to what we were talking about."
+
+"Well, I have said that if you love her I believe you are quite right
+to marry her. But do you love her?"
+
+"Yes, I do; how many times more do you want me to say I do?"
+
+"Of _course_ if you are going to be rude--"
+
+"No--you understand what I mean, don't you? I am very fond of the
+missis; if I weren't I shouldn't marry, that goes without saying, but
+one likes to have things settled. I have been with her now more thantwo
+years. I've thought it out. There's nothing like having things
+settled. I'm sure I'm right."
+
+The young men looked at each other in silence--Frank quite at a loss;
+he could nowise enter into the feelings of a man whom an undue sense
+of order and regularity compelled to marry his mistress, as it did to
+waste half his life in copying letters and making entries in a diary.
+
+"Then why did you consult me?" he said, for he came to the point
+sharply when his brain was not muddled with sentiment.
+
+"I am not heir to an entailed estate, like you."
+
+"I am not heir to an entailed estate. Mount Rorke might marry to-
+morrow."
+
+"He is not likely to do that. It is an understood thing that you are
+heir. My father might cut me off with a shilling if he were to hear I
+had married without his consent, and I should be left with the few
+hundreds which I draw out of the distillery, a poor man all my life."
+
+"If that is so, why marry? You are not in love with her--at least not
+what I should call being in love."
+
+"But can't you understand--"
+
+"No, I can't, unless you mean that you are down with marriage fever."
+
+"I have considered the matter carefully, and am convinced I am right,"
+he answered, looking at Frank as if he would say, but didn't dare,
+"don't let's talk about it any more, it only distresses me." "The
+marriage must be kept a secret. If my father were to hear of it I
+should be ruined, whereas if Mary will consent to go on living as we
+are living now, one of these days she will be a rich woman. I daresay
+my share of his money will come to at least fifteen hundred a year,
+and then I shall be able to recompense her for the years she has
+waited for it. Do you understand?"
+
+"Perfectly. The only thing I don't see is how I am to influence her.
+You've no doubt told her and fully explained to her what the
+consequences would be if you were to publish the banns."
+
+"I have, but it would strengthen my hand if you were to tell her all
+you know of my father. Tell her that he is very obstinate, pig-headed,
+and would certainly cut me off; tell her that he is sixty-six, that it
+is a hundred to one against his living till he is eighty, even if he
+did there would be only fourteen years to wait for fifteen hundred a
+year; tell her if she tells that I have married her it is just as if
+she threw fifteen hundred a year out of the window."
+
+"And when shall I tell her all this?"
+
+"Now. We are going to have lunch at my offices, she'll be there. We'll
+talk the matter over after lunch."
+
+"Very well, let's start. Come along, Triss."
+
+With Triss tugging dangerously at the silk handkerchief whenever he
+saw a likely pair of legs or a dog that he fancied, the young men
+sauntered up West Street.
+
+"But tell me: how do you manage to have so many people to lunch in
+your office; your premises must be pretty extensive?"
+
+"I have the whole house; I was obliged to take it. I couldn't get
+another place that would suit me, and I thought I should be able to
+let the upper part; I did have a tenant for a little while, but he was
+obliged to leave. I believe I am the unluckiest fellow alive. Here's
+the place."
+
+"Agency for Artificial Manure" was printed over the door. Willy asked
+the office-boy if there were any letters, and they went upstairs. The
+windows of the front room were in view of a church spire, and
+overlooked a little shadowy cemetery; and at one window Cissy sat, the
+little crutches by her side, watching the children playing amid the
+tombs.
+
+"Where's your mother, Cissy?"
+
+"In the back room cooking herrings, uncle."
+
+Mrs. Brookes was a homely, honest-eyed woman, with dingy yellow hair.
+
+"Let me introduce you. This is my friend, Mr. Escott, you have often
+heard me speak of him."
+
+"You must excuse my shaking hands with you, sir, I have been cooking."
+
+"She is an excellent cook, too. Just you wait and see. What have we
+got?"
+
+"Some herrings and a piece of steak."
+
+"Is that good enough for you?"
+
+"I love herrings."
+
+"I am glad of that, these are quite fresh; they were caught this
+morning. You must excuse me, I must go back; they want a deal of
+attending to." Presently she appeared with a tray and a beer jug.
+Willy called to the office-boy. "We have no cheese," said Mrs.
+Brookes.
+
+Cissy begged to be allowed to fetch the cheese and beer.
+
+"No, dear, I am afraid you aren't well enough."
+
+"Yes, I am, uncle; give me a shilling, and let me go with Billy."
+Then, breaking off with the unexpected garrulity of children, she
+continued: "I am getting quite strong now; I was down on the beach
+this morning, and watched the little boys and girls building mounds.
+When I am quite well, uncle, won't you buy me a spade and bucket, and
+mayn't I build sand mounds, too?"
+
+"We'll see when the time comes."
+
+"Well, let me go with Billy and fetch the cheese."
+
+"No, you can't go now, dear, there are too many people about; this is
+not like London."
+
+Cissy had the long sad face of cripples, but beautiful shining curls
+hung thickly, hiding the crookedness of the shoulders. She was nine
+years old, and was just beginning to awake to a sense of the
+importance of her affliction.
+
+After lunch she was sent downstairs to the office-boy. Willy sat
+rubbing his hands slowly and methodically. After some hesitation he
+introduced the subject they had come to speak on. "Mr. Escott will
+tell you, Mary, how important it is that our marriage should be kept
+secret; he will tell you how the slightest suspicion of it would ruin
+my prospects." He then spoke of his position in the county, and the
+necessity of sustaining it. Frank thought this rather bad taste; but
+he assured Mrs. Brookes, with much Celtic gesticulation, that her
+marriage must be kept a secret till her father-in-law's death. The
+young men and Mrs. Brookes remained talking till the rays trailed
+among the green grass of the graves, and the blue roofs that descended
+into the valley, and clung about the sides of the opposite hill. It
+had been arranged that Willy and Mrs. Brookes should go to London to-
+morrow to be married. Frank was convinced that she would not break her
+promise, and he hoped they would be very happy. She had only raised
+one objection. She had said: "What is the use of my being married if I
+shall have to live with him as his mistress?"
+
+"A great deal of good. Your position will be secured. Willy will not
+be able to leave you, even if he felt inclined, and you will know that
+only one life, that of an old man, stands between you and fifteen
+hundred a year."
+
+"I want no assurance that my dear Willy will not leave me," she said,
+going over and putting her arms about him; "but as you like. I shall
+never say anything about the marriage till Willy tells me. I hope I
+shall never do anything but what he tells me." And she went over and
+sat on his knees.
+
+"You are a dear old thing," he said, squeezing and planting a vigorous
+kiss on her neck.
+
+Frank's eyes filled with hot tears, his heart seemed like bursting.
+"What a beautiful thing love is!" he said to himself, and the world
+melted away from him in the happiness he drew from the contemplation
+of these who were about to bind themselves together for life.
+
+"Be most careful what you say to my sisters. I would not trust them.
+The temptation to get me cut out of everything might--I ought not to
+say that, but one never knows. I dare say no such accident could
+happen to any one else, but if I leave the smallest thing to chance I
+am sure to come to grief. They will question you. They will want to
+know what we did all day."
+
+"I'll say we sat on the beach."
+"That's it. Good-bye. I shall be home the day after to-morrow."
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+
+When the young ladies at the Manor House did not get their dresses
+from London, a dressmaker came from Brighton to help them, and all
+together they sat sewing and chattering in the work-room. Maggie would
+take a bow or a flower, and moving it quickly, guided by the instinct
+of a bird building its nest, would find the place where it decorated
+the hat or bonnet best. Neither Sally nor Grace could do this, nor
+could they drape a skirt or fit a bodice, but they could work well and
+enjoy their work. But what they enjoyed more was the opportunity these
+working days afforded for gossip. Mrs. Wood had the Brighton scandal
+at her tongue's tip, and what she would not tell, her niece told them
+when her aunt left the room. Secrecy was enjoined, but sometimes they
+forgot, and in Mrs. Wood's presence alluded too pointedly to stories
+that had not yet found their way beyond the precincts of the servants'
+hall, and then the dressmaker raised her mild eyes, and looked through
+large spectacles at Susan, who sat biting her lips. Susan told the
+young ladies of her love affairs; they told Susan of theirs; and the
+different codes of etiquette gave added zest to the anecdotes, in
+themselves interesting. The story of the young man who had said, "I am
+afraid that parcel is too heavy for you, miss," and had been promised
+a walk in the twilight on the cliff, evoked visions of liberty, and
+the story of the officer at the Henfield ball, with whom Sally had
+discovered a room that none knew of, did not fail to impress the
+little dressmaker. They talked a great deal about Frank. His face and
+manner called up the name, and after a few hesitations they used his
+Christian name as they did when he came to see them years ago.
+
+"He is a very good fellow--I don't say he isn't. No one could say he
+wasn't nice-looking, but somehow he doesn't make you feel--you know,
+right down, you know, through and through."
+
+"Electricity," said Maggie, with a low, subtle laugh, and her thread
+cracked through the straw of the hat.
+
+"Yes," cried Sally boisterously. "Electricity, I never heard it called
+that before; but it isn't a bad name for it; it is like electricity.
+When a man looks at you--you know, in a peculiar way, it goes right
+down your back from the very crown of your head."
+
+"No, not down my back; I feel it down my chest, just like forked
+lightning. Isn't it horrid? You know that it is coming and you can't
+help it. Some men fix their eyes on you."
+
+"It is just when you meet a man's eyes--a man you like, but haven't
+seen much of."
+
+"I don't think liking has anything to do with it. I hate it; don't
+you?"
+
+"No, I don't know that I do. I can't see anything so disagreeable as
+that in it. 'Tis rather a shock, a sort of pang."
+
+Mrs. Wood raised her mild face and looked surprised through her thick
+spectacles; the merry niece bit her lips, and strove to stay her
+laughter. Then Maggie said: "Sue, have you ever felt electricity?"
+
+"Oh, miss! I don't think I understand," and she glanced at her aunt
+over the hem she was running.
+
+"Now, come, tell the truth. You mean to say you never felt
+electricity?"
+
+"I don't think I ever did, miss."
+
+"I don't believe you. Not when that nice young man you were telling us
+about looked at you? Come, now, tell the truth."
+
+"Well, miss, I don't know--I thought it was very revolting."
+
+Mrs. Wood said nothing; with her hand in suspended gesture and her
+spectacles a-glimmer with round surprise, she sat looking at Miss
+Maggie. Her reveries, however, were soon cut short, for Sally not only
+asked her if she had ever experienced the doubtful pleasure of
+electricity, but advised her when she returned home to try if her
+husband's looks could thrill her.
+
+"I don't think the conversation at all nice," said Grace, who had up
+to the present taken no part either by looks, or words, or laughter.
+
+"Who cares what you think? You used to be fond enough of sitting out
+dances with him. You mean to say he never gave you electricity?"
+
+"No, never."
+
+"Then I hope Berkins will," said Sally, with a coarse laugh.
+
+The association of Berkins with electricity proved so generally
+ludicrous that Mrs. Wood, conscious of the respect she owed Miss
+Brookes, pretended to look for her handkerchief, and it was for a
+moment doubtful if the spectacles would preserve their gravity. Tears
+started to Grace's eyes, and she bent over her work to hide them from
+her sisters, which was unnecessary, for Maggie and Sally were absorbed
+in past experiences.
+
+"What about Frank?" Sally asked, and Susan looked up curious to hear
+Maggie's answer.
+
+"Well," said Maggie, staring at the window, "Frank is very good-
+looking, but I don't think that he electrifies one... he did once."
+
+"And when was that?" said Sally.
+
+"You remember the first time he came to stay here? Willy brought him
+down from London. We went to bed early and left them playing
+billiards; I lay awake waiting to hear them come up the stairs, and as
+he passed my room Frank stopped and I thought he was coming in. I felt
+it all down my spine, but never afterwards. You see, I didn't know him
+much then."
+
+"And Jimmy?"
+
+"I never liked Jimmy."
+
+"If you don't like him why trouble about him?" Sally replied in her
+usually defiant manner. "You always take good care to trouble about my
+men. You tried all you could to get Jimmy away from me, yet you
+pretend to father that you never flirted with him."
+
+"I didn't flirt with him; once a young man looks at you you think no
+one must speak to him but yourself. If young Meason asks me to dance
+with him, I cannot refuse; I am not going to make myself ridiculous
+though you were to look all the daggers in the world at me, but as for
+flirting with him, I never cared enough about him."
+
+"And what about meeting him in London?"
+
+Maggie coloured a little, and repudiated the accusation.
+
+"You told him you were going to London, and you asked him if he were
+going, and what he would be doing that day. I don't know what more you
+could say."
+
+"I never said any such thing."
+
+"I have it from his own lips."
+
+"It isn't true; I will ask him to your face if he ever said such a
+thing; I will tell father that."
+
+"Well, there's no use in quarrelling," said Grace, "and I wouldn't
+advise you to worry father about it. You know he can't stand the name
+of Meason. It seems to me that neither of you care much whom you flirt
+with, you like so many young men."
+
+"It is better to like a dozen young men than one old one."
+
+"I shan't marry Mr. Berkins, no matter what you say. However, you
+can't accuse me of interfering in your affairs."
+
+"No, _you_ don't."
+
+"No more do I. If you want Frank, take him, only don't come sneaking
+after Charley. I don't want Frank; I don't care twopence about him. If
+you want to see it out with him, I shan't interfere; only don't you
+come interfering with me and Jimmy, or Charley either."
+
+Maggie did not like the idea of Sally getting two to her one. She
+would have liked to have introduced a proviso about Alfred, but the
+title Mount Rorke slipped between her thoughts, and she refrained. She
+knew the present treaty secured her immunity from Sally only so long
+as the affections and attentions of Jimmy and Charley showed no signs
+of declension, and she was aware that her promise would only hold good
+so long as Frank interested and Charley remained away in London.
+
+The canary that had been twittering, now burst forth into long and
+prolonged shrillings. Grace folded up her work along her knees; and
+holding it in her hand like a roll of music, she said that they would
+never hear the end of this tennis party.
+
+"I don't see why father should ever know anything about it, he has
+taken that horrid old Joseph with him, he never says more than a few
+words to the footman, and he never sees the cook or housemaid. We have
+all to-morrow to get the house straight."
+
+"It is not certain that he is going to stay the night in London."
+
+"Yes it is. Don't fidget. Have you got the wine out? We should have a
+dozen of champagne. Mind you make no mistake; '80, that is the wine
+you must get. Jimmy is most particular what he drinks, and Alfred has
+the most frightful headaches if he drinks anything but the very best.
+I hope he'll find the '80 all right."
+
+"That's father's favourite wine; you mean to say that he won't miss
+it? Then the port and Burgundy and cherry brandy--I won't take the
+responsibility."
+
+"Nobody asked you. All you have to do is to return the keys to Maggie
+that you took from her."
+
+"I don't think father will be as angry as you think, Grace; besides
+there's no drawing back now the invitations are out. I think it would
+be better to tell him that we had a few friends in for tennis. We
+needn't tell him who was there--we will suppress the name of the
+Southdown Road people; and we can take the bottles out from the back.
+The wine won't be missed for a long time, and we will invent some
+better excuse before then. We will say that two bottles were drunk at
+this party and three at that; and further than that we can't
+remember."
+
+"And what about the peaches? There are only a few ripe, and Sally says
+she'll want them all. Father has been looking forward to them for
+weeks and weeks."
+
+"He'll have to do without them; if he wants peaches, he had better
+bring some down from Covent Garden."
+
+A knock was heard at the door. "Please Miss, Mr. Escott is in the
+drawing-room."
+
+"Tell him I will be downstairs in a moment," cried Maggie.
+
+"Now off you go, my Lady Mount Rorke," said Sally, who had already
+begun to regret her promises, and to consider if she had not better
+break them.
+
+Maggie asked him what train he came down by, then she called the dog;
+"Come here, my beautiful boy, come and kiss me." The bull-dog growled
+and wagged his tail.
+
+"He won't hurt you; 'tis only his way of talking."
+
+Maggie laughed, and they walked out on the green sward. "I suppose
+you've been to a great many balls this season?"
+
+"I don't know that I have; a few, perhaps. I am glad to get away from
+town. I like no place like this. I don't know if it is the place or
+the associations."
+
+"You are used to much finer places. I can fancy Mount Rorke--the lakes
+and the mountains; somehow I think I can see it. Isn't it strange,
+there are certain things and places you can realise so much better
+than others, and for no very understandable reason?"
+
+"Yes, that is so," said Frank, obviously pleased by the remark. Then,
+after a pause, "Mount Rorke is a pretty place, and I don't think I
+could live long away from it. After a time I always find myself
+sighing for the bleakness and barrenness of the West. The hedgerows of
+England are pretty enough; but I hate the brick buildings."
+
+"What kind of buildings do you have in Ireland?"
+
+"Everything is built of grey stone, a cold grey tint on a background
+of green pasture lands and blue mountains. I daresay you wouldn't like
+it. It would recall nothing to you, but when I think of it, much less
+see it, I re-live my childhood all over again. I am a great person for
+old times. That is the reason I like coming down here. I knew you all
+so long ago; how well I can remember you--three dark little things.
+You used to sit on my knee."
+
+"And do you find nothing nice in the present?"
+
+"Of course I do; it is nice to walk in the garden with you, but it
+seems to me you have all moved away from me a little. Grace is
+engaged, you are engaged--"
+
+"Who said I was engaged?"
+
+"Ha, ha, you see I hear everything. What is his name--Alfred?"
+
+"I suppose Sally told you."
+
+"I won't tell you who told me, I never betray secrets. You had a
+desperate flirtation two years ago, and the man had to go away, and
+you promised to wait for him."
+
+"I don't mind telling you--I did meet a man about two years ago whom I
+rather liked; I used to see a great deal of him at tennis parties and
+balls; he used to ask me to marry him. He wanted me to engage myself
+to him, and I told him it would be much better to wait and see what
+father would say."
+
+"And what did your father say?"
+
+"Father, he never knew anything about it. You may as well tell me, I
+know it was Sally. I suppose she told you I was very much in love with
+him?"
+
+"She said, at least, the person who told me said, that you would never
+care for any one else."
+
+"So you've been talking about me though you promised you wouldn't talk
+any more," Maggie said to herself, "All right, my lady--very well, we
+shall see."
+
+"Grace is waving her parasol to us. Lunch must be ready."
+
+Maggie and Grace had calculated that if they could limit the champagne
+to half a dozen bottles they would be able to hide the deficit from
+their father's scrutiny; but the servants seemed to be always filling
+the glasses of the Southdown Road people, and lunch was not half over
+when they heard the fourth bottle go pop. Maggie looked at Sally
+across the pile of peaches, but Sally had no ears for the report, only
+for Jimmy's voice. Her head wagged as she talked, and Maggie wondered
+if they were exchanging napkins or rings beneath the table.
+
+At that moment the servant handed a letter on a salver to Maggie,
+saying, "From Mrs. Horlock; the servant is waiting an answer, miss."
+Grace trembled. Sally whispered to Jimmy, "What can she want?" In a
+reassuring voice Maggie said, "She has heard we are having a few
+people in to tennis, and she wants to know if she may send us round a
+young man; she will come round herself with the General some time
+during the afternoon." At the mention of a young man many eyes
+gleamed, and Sally said, "You had better go at once and write a note
+and say that we shall be delighted." When they went into the verandah
+coffee was handed round, and Maggie, as the gentlemen lit their
+cigarettes, said to Grace, "Nothing could have happened better; father
+is sure to hear of this, we couldn't have kept it from him: now we can
+say Mrs. Horlock was our chaperon. None will know when she came, or
+when she went away." Then turning to her company, Maggie said, "Now
+gentlemen, as soon as you have finished your cigarettes we will
+begin."
+
+Sally not only insisted on playing, but on playing with Jimmy; and
+Grace, who was striving to struggle into the position of Miss Brookes,
+could do nothing but set the girl in the florid dress and the man who
+stood next to her to play against them. The garden seemed to absorb
+the girls, but Maggie, catching sight of Mrs. Horlock, went to meet
+her.
+
+Mrs. Horlock was sixty, but her figure was like a girl's. She led a
+blind pug in a complicated leading apparatus, and several other pugs
+in various stages of fat and decrepitude followed her. It was not long
+before she raised a discussion on hydrophobia, defending the disease
+from all the charges of horror and contagion that had been urged
+against it, narrating vehemently how a mad dog had died in her arms
+licking her hands and face, and appealing to the General, who
+denounced muzzling; but when the mangy mastiff came near him he
+whispered to Frank, "I wish they were all shot. You must come and see
+us; you must come and see us; I have a pretty little place in the
+Southdown Road (dreadful place to mention here, they don't like it; of
+course the people there aren't all quite the thing, but what are you
+to do, you know?). Lunch at two, dinner at eight--old Indians, you
+know. I have everything I want. Too many animals, perhaps, but that
+can't be helped."
+
+"Do you live here all the year?"
+
+"Yes, all the year round. We don't go away much. We have everything
+here--coach-houses, horses, you'll see when you come. The only thing I
+want is a little occupation, a little something to bring me out, you
+know. I read the _Morning Post_ every morning, and I have the _St
+James's_ in the evening; but then there is the middle of the day," and,
+with laughter full of genial kindness and goodwill, the General
+repeated this phrase: "I want a little something to bring me out, you
+know."
+
+Forty years of Indian sun! Balls in the Government House in Calcutta!
+Viceroys, tigers, horse-racing, elephants, jealousies, flirtations,
+deaths, all now forgotten, and if not forgotten, at rest; and now glad
+to watch life unfolding itself again in an English village, this old
+couple sat in the calm sunlight of an English garden, relics of
+another generation, emblems of an England drawing to a close.
+
+At five o'clock Grace was busy at the tea-table; and very hot and
+moist Sally threw herself into a cane chair. Maggie, who had suddenly
+appeared upon the scene, arranged some fresh sets in which she and
+Frank did not take part--she having promised to walk with him; and
+they went towards the shade of the sycamores. She had neglected him
+nearly the whole day, and he was vexed with her. But she excused
+herself volubly, accusing Sally of indifference to all things except
+her own pleasures, and impressed upon him that it was her duty to show
+some politeness to Mrs. Horlock's friend.
+
+"Sally would play tennis, she played two sets, three if I am not
+mistaken, and she never left Jimmy's side. She took no notice of any
+one; for that reason I hate having people to the house when she is
+here; everything devolves upon Grace and me. It is really too bad.
+Father wouldn't mind our giving this party at all, if it weren't for
+him. If he hears that he was here, well, I don't know what will
+happen."
+
+"He doesn't look quite a gentleman, does he? He is a ship's mate,
+isn't he?"
+
+"Yes, but it isn't that; father cannot bear those Southdown Road
+people. A lot of young men live there--quite as good as ourselves, no
+doubt, but they are all so poor, and father thinks of nothing but
+money. And Sally meets them. When she goes out driving in the cart she
+picks them up, and they go off together. Father doesn't know any of
+them, and he says they laugh at him when he goes to the station in the
+morning. 'Tisn't true, it is only his imagination; but I can quite
+well understand his feelings. You know Sally won't give way in
+anything. Once she ran into the kitchen, and told cook to put back the
+dinner, so that she might run down the slonk to finish her
+conversation with him. Of course father was mad at that, coming home
+tired from the City, and finding that his dinner had been put back.
+You saw the way they went on at lunch, sitting close together."
+
+"We were all sitting close together."
+
+"Yes, but not like they were. And all that nonsense with their napkins
+under the table. If you didn't see it, so much the better. I thought
+everybody saw it. I wish Sally wouldn't do it. Father, as you know,
+has a lot of money to leave, and if she did really go too far, I fear
+he would cut her off."
+
+"But she never would go too far."
+
+"No, I don't think so; I am sure Sally wouldn't do anything that was
+really wrong, but she is very imprudent."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"I don't know that I ought to tell you."
+
+"I promise not to tell any one--you know you can trust me."
+
+"Well, she brings people up to her room."
+
+"You don't mean to her bedroom?"
+
+"She says you can't call it a bedroom, but she sleeps there for all
+that. She covers up the bed and makes it look like a couch; she keeps
+birds and dogs there; Flossie had her puppies there. That's her room,"
+said Maggie, lifting one of the boughs. "I shouldn't be surprised if
+Jimmy were there with her now."
+
+The foliage glinted in the sunset, and as Maggie stood pointing, still
+holding the bough, the picture flashed upon Frank, and he said: "Oh,
+how pretty you are now! How I should like to paint you!" And a moment
+after he said, interested, solely interested in sentimental affection,
+"Sally's ideas of love seem to me very funny; if she really loves
+Meason, why doesn't she marry him?"
+
+"He has no money, and father would never hear of it."
+
+"Never hear of it! If I loved a girl, nothing in the world would
+prevent my marrying her."
+
+"I wonder if that's true," said Maggie, and she let go the bough and
+stood facing him, her hands clasped behind her back.
+
+"Of course it is. What is life for if it isn't to get the woman we
+love?"
+
+"It is nice to hear you say so; but I am afraid very few young men
+think like you nowadays. One woman is the same as another to them."
+
+"I cannot understand any one thinking so. If it were so, the whole
+charm would be lost."
+
+So the young people talked, and lost in the charm of each thrilling
+minute, they walked through the shadows and darkening leaves. The soft
+garden echoed with the sound of a girl's voice crying, "Cuckoo,
+cuckoo," and the white dresses flew over the sward, and the young men
+ran after them and caught them. They were playing hide and seek.
+Excited beyond endurance, Triss barked loudly, and forms were seen
+flying precipitately.
+
+"Tie him up to this tree," said Maggie.
+
+"No, no, better take him to the house," said Frank; "it would make him
+savage to tie him up."
+
+When the ninth bottle of champagne had been opened, and the supper
+table was noisy, Frank whispered to Maggie, "Did you ever see
+_Macbeth_?"
+
+"Yes, but why?"
+
+"Because I can't help thinking what a splendid occasion it would be
+for Banquo's ghost to appear."
+
+Maggie pressed his hand and laughed.
+
+Soon after the sound of wheels was heard. Grace turned pale, Sally
+said: "Who would have thought it?" A moment after Mr. Brookes, with
+Berkins and Willy behind him, entered. He stood amazed, and seeing
+that the tears were mounting to his eyes, Maggie said: "Father, how
+tired and faint you look. We thought you wouldn't be coming home to-
+night. Do sit down and have a glass of wine." But neither winning
+words nor ways could soothe this storm, and in reply to a question
+from Berkins, Mr. Brookes declared passionately that he knew none of
+the young men who came to his house.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+
+"Father's just gone downstairs. I think we had better wait a minute or
+two. In that way we shall escape a scolding. Father won't miss the ten
+o'clock."
+
+"Not a bad idea. You are always up to some cunning dodge. What's the
+time?"
+
+"Twenty minutes to nine. I'll slip down the passage and tell Grace to
+go down and give him his breakfast. He won't say anything to her; he
+knows well that since Fatty went to India she wouldn't see a soul if
+she could help it."
+
+"Father never says anything to you either; you tell him a lot of lies,
+and leave him to understand that I do everything."
+
+"That's not true; I never speak against you to father; but at the same
+time I must say that if it weren't for you we could do as we liked.
+You don't try to manage father."
+
+"Manage him, indeed! that's what I can't bear in you, you're always
+trying to manage some one; I hate the word."
+
+"You got out of bed the wrong side this morning. However, I must go
+and tell Grace to go down at once, or father will be ringing for us."
+
+"What did she say?" said Sally, when Maggie returned.
+
+"'Tis all right; I got her to go, and she said she was always being
+made a cat's-paw of. I assure you it wasn't easy to persuade her to go
+down to father, but I told her she might be the means of averting a
+very serious row."
+
+"I suppose you said there was no counting on what answers I might make
+to father?"
+
+This was exactly what Maggie had said.
+
+"Very well; you are always objecting to what I do, and the way I do
+it. I wish you would go and do things yourself. You think of nothing
+but yourself, or some young man you are after. I wouldn't do what you
+did yesterday. I wouldn't go sneaking round the garden with a young
+man I had never seen before."
+
+Maggie shrugged her shoulders and went on dressing. Sally, who had
+taken a seat on the bed, watched her. She thought how she might best
+pursue the quarrel, but her stomach called her thoughts from her
+sister, and she said: "I don't know how you feel, but I am dying of
+hunger. What time is it now?"
+
+"Nine o'clock."
+
+"Another half-hour. I suppose he won't start before the half-hour."
+
+"Miss," said the maid, knocking at the door, "Mr. Brookes wants to
+know if you are coming down to breakfast."
+
+"Say that we are not nearly ready; that there's no use waiting for
+us."
+
+"I think I had better go back to my room," said Sally.
+
+"I think you had. I wish you wouldn't bring that horrid little dog
+into my room. She made a mess here the other day."
+
+"That I am sure she didn't. Flossie is the cleanest dog in the world."
+
+"Clean or unclean, I would rather not have her in my room. There she
+is trying to drink out of my jug. Get away, you little beast!"
+
+Sally caught up her dog, and marched out of the room, slamming the
+door after her.
+
+"At last I have got rid of her," thought Maggie, and she rolled and
+pinned up the last plait of her black hair, but she did not go down to
+breakfast until the wheels grated on the gravel and the carriage was
+heard moving away. Then she begged Grace to tell her what her father
+had said.
+
+"He said his children were persecuting him, that he had not had an
+hour's peace since their poor mother died."
+
+"Fudge! Mother knew how to keep him in order. Do you remember when she
+threw the carving knife?"
+
+"Sally, for shame! How can you speak of poor mother so?"
+
+"You know it is true, Hypocrisy. There is no harm in coming to the
+point."
+
+"It was very nearly coming to the point," said Maggie, giggling.
+
+"Well, what else did he say?"
+
+"He said he didn't know what course he should adopt, but that things
+couldn't go on as they were; he thought he should write to Aunts Mary
+and Hester, and just as he was going out of the door he said that he'd
+prefer to sell the whole place up than continue living here and be the
+laughing-stock of the neighbourhood."
+
+At these words all looked frightened, even Sally. She flaunted her
+head, however, and said disdainfully: "I wonder he didn't speak of
+marrying again."
+
+"Did he say nothing more?" asked Maggie, who determined to know how
+matters stood.
+
+"He spoke of Sally; he said it must be put a stop to. I don't know
+what he has found out, but I am sure he has found out something."
+
+"Why didn't you ask him?"
+
+"I did. He said the way you were carrying on with young Meason was
+something too disgraceful, and that every one was talking of it; he
+said that you had been seen crossing the canal locks, and that you had
+spent hours with him on the beach, and he spoke about the cart and
+Bamber--I don't know if you ever drove there to meet him; I couldn't
+get anything more out of him, for he began to cry."
+
+"Didn't he speak of the party?"
+
+"Oh, yes, a great deal. He said that henceforth he would have none of
+the Southdown Road people, male or female, at the Manor House. I
+thought he was going to curse the Horlocks; but I reminded him of the
+Viceroys. As for the Measons, I don't know what he would have said if
+he hadn't been crying."
+
+"The Measons are just as good as we are, though they mayn't be so
+rich. I should like to know who has been talking to him about me; I
+wonder who told him I spent hours on the beach with Jimmy; I met him
+once there quite by accident, and we sat down for ten minutes. I
+daresay it was Berkins."
+
+"No, Sally, don't," said Grace, clasping her hands. "Father said that
+Maggie was nearly as bad, and was a great deal too much disposed
+towards young men."
+
+"I should think she is indeed; I wonder what father would say if he
+had seen her walking round the garden out of sight of every one with
+that fellow, a man she had never seen before."
+
+"There is no harm in walking round the garden with a man, but I should
+like to know what father would say if he knew that you brought Jimmy
+up to your bed-room."
+
+"My bed-room isn't a bed-room. How dare you make such accusations, how
+dare you? I should not be surprised if you were at the bottom of all
+this. I know you are mad with jealousy. Do you think I don't know how
+you flirted with Jimmy? Do you think I didn't see how you shifted
+Frank on to me so that you might walk with Jimmy to the station? But
+I'll tell you what, I'll not stand it, and if you try to come between
+me and him I'll knock you down."
+
+Sally sprang from her place and raised her fist. Maggie rushed from
+the room, or, more correctly speaking, into the arms of Willy.
+
+"What the deuce are you up to?" cried this staid young man, who had
+been twisted round and thrown against the wall.
+
+"Oh, save me! Sally says she'll knock me down," cried the girl,
+clinging for a moment to her brother's shoulder, but as if conscious
+of the dubiousness of his protection, she loosed him and fled upstairs
+to her room.
+
+"What damned nonsense this is! The trouble young girls are in a
+house!--Nothing but pleasure; from one year's end to another, it is
+nothing but pleasure. I am sick of it."
+
+Having by such unusual emphasis of manner reduced his sisters to
+silence, Willy sat down, and chewed with gravity and deliberation.
+Grace and Sally watched him. After a long and elaborate silence he put
+some brief questions, and appeared to devote to them the small part of
+his attention not already engaged in the judicious breaking of his
+bread. He did not answer nor did he comment; and when he had finished
+eating he commenced packing up his diary and letters in a brown paper
+parcel, and for three-quarters of an hour he walked up and down stairs
+collecting and forgetting; finally he left the house with many
+parcels.
+
+As some days are sweet and fugitive, others are obtuse, complex, and
+tortuous as nightmares--difficult to understand and well-nigh
+impossible to relate. And the day after the tennis party was such a
+day in the Brookes household, nor did its tumult cease when the lights
+were turned out in the billiard-room. It was revived with fierce gusts
+of passion and despair during several succeeding days.
+
+In the afternoon both Sally and Maggie wanted to go out in the cart.
+The wrangle was a long one, but the argument of the fist eventually
+brought it to a close, and Maggie was obliged again to shut herself
+into her room. Thence Grace's solicitations could not move her, and
+she remained there until she saw her father coming up the drive; then
+she ran down to meet him, and made a frank accusation of Sally's
+treatment of her. But he was enthralled by his own woes, and without
+even promising her protection and immunity, at least from her sister's
+right arm, the old gentleman launched forth into more than usual
+lamentations.
+
+He had had a stormy interview with Berkins going up in the train, and
+Berkins had so upset him that he had not been able to get through any
+business in the City. Berkins admitted of no equivocation. He had told
+him that he would not allow the young lady that was going to be his
+wife to spend her days feasting and skylarking with a lot of vulgar
+and penniless young men from the Southdown Road. He had declared that
+it was time to settle definitely the terms and the day of the
+marriage. He had been engaged now more than two months, and was
+prepared to do his share; Mr. Brookes must be prepared to do his,
+viz., to settle four hundred a year on his daughter.
+
+The idea of parting for ever with so much of his money convulsed Mr.
+Brookes. He burst into tears, and their bitterness was neither
+assuaged nor softened by Grace's rather haughty statement that she
+didn't care at all for Mr. Berkins, and was not at all sure whether
+she would have him or not.
+
+"So, father, you may be able to keep your money."
+
+"But did any one ever know me to think of myself?" and he drew his
+silk handkerchief forth. In the new trouble, suddenly created, all
+other considerations were lost, and Grace became the centre of many
+conflicting interests; everybody asked if this marriage so long looked
+forward to was going to tumble into ruin among so many ruins? At
+dinner Willy seemed to consider himself called from the problem of
+perfect mastication, and he said a few words intended to allay this
+new family excitement; but his efforts were vain, for it had occurred
+to Mr. Brookes that he might find calm in a bottle of '34 port. There
+were a few bottles left which he appreciated at their right value. He
+rang for the wine, and old Joseph announced, with all the intolerable
+indifference of a well-trained servant, that the young gentleman had
+drunk it all up yesterday. Mr. Brookes kept his temper better than the
+girls anticipated, and it was not until he had drunk a bottle of a
+latter-day wine that he seemed to realise the wrong that had been done
+to him. He begged of Willy to listen to him, and he talked so
+vehemently, and cried so bitterly, and laughed so joyously, and
+declared so often that it would be all the same a hundred years hence,
+that letters and diary had to be packed away in the brown paper
+parcel, and all work abandoned for that evening. The next day and the
+next passed in continual quarrel and argument, and at the end of the
+week the aunts were summoned.
+
+Aunt Mary's features were sharp, her eyes were bright and she sat bolt
+upright on the sofa, her hands crossed over a shawl drawn tightly
+about her.
+
+"Now, my dear James," she said, "I am very sorry for you; of course I
+am. I know it is very trying, but there is no use in sitting there
+lamenting. Put up your silk handkerchief and come to the point. We all
+know it will be the same a hundred years hence, but in the meantime
+you don't want your dinner put back, so that Sally may continue her
+flirtations in the slonk," and Aunt Mary burst into a merry peal of
+laughter.
+
+"You are most unsympathetic, I never knew one so unsympathetic; you
+were always so, you'll never change."
+
+"Unsympathetic," said Aunt Mary, shaking with laughter; "how can you
+say so? I have never done anything all my life but listen to you and
+sympathise with you. When you were a boy and sold my books to the boys
+at your school, and when you were a young man and took my poor husband
+to oyster shops--you remember the stories you used to tell me?"
+
+Mr. Brookes waved his handkerchief, and Aunt Hester, who was a
+spinster, cast down her eyes and fidgeted with some papers which she
+had taken from her hand-basket.
+
+"Of course, if my afflictions are only a subject for laughter--"
+
+"I am not laughing at your afflictions, my dear James. I laughed
+because you said I was not a sympathetic listener. You used to think
+me so once." Then becoming instantly serious, Aunt Mary said: "Of
+course I think this is a matter of great importance--the health, the
+welfare of my dear nieces, and your happiness."
+
+"And their salvation," murmured Aunt Hester.
+
+"If I did not think it important, do you think I would have left home,
+and at such a time, when I am most wanted? I always said that that big
+place would kill me, I never wanted to leave the Poplars; a little
+place like that is no trouble--my greenhouse, a few servants, and just
+as I had got everything to look nice--I could do it all in a few
+hours; but now I am never still, there is always something to be done.
+No one can take up my work. I am behindhand; oh, I assure you when I
+go back I shall be afraid to go into the greenhouse. I am worn out, I
+really am; it never ends. In a big house like Woborn one is always
+behindhand. The days aren't long enough, that's the fact of it; when
+one thinks one is getting through one thing one is called away to
+another. 'Please, mum, the cook would like to speak with you for a
+moment.' 'There is no tea in the house, mum.' 'What! is all the tea I
+gave out last week gone?' 'Yes, mum. There was, you remember, the
+dressmaker here three days, and we had Mrs. Jones in to help. And we
+shall want another piece of cheese for the servants' hall.' I don't
+know how it is with you, but at Woborn the cloth is never off the
+table in the servants' hall. They have five meals a day--breakfast at
+eight, and they won't eat cold bacon, they must have it hot; of course
+the waste is something fearful; at eleven they have beer and cheese; at
+one there is dinner; at five they have tea; and at nine supper.
+Five meals a day--it really is terrible, it is wicked, it really is!
+You have had none of these troubles, Hester, and you may think
+yourself very lucky.
+
+"We have just got rid of our cook; the trouble she gave us, it really
+is beyond words. She said she was troubled with fits, hysteria, or
+something of that sort--at least that is the reason she gave for her
+conduct. I knew there was something wrong, I could see it in her eyes.
+I said: 'This is not right; it can't be right.' One night she left the
+dinner half cooked and went roaming all over the country; she came
+back the next afternoon, and I found her baking. Then there was
+Robinson. Do you remember the pretty housemaid? You saw her when you
+were at Woborn. I am sure she must have had gentle blood in her veins;
+she wasn't a bit like a servant, so elegant and graceful. Those soft
+blue eyes of hers. I often used to look at them and think how
+beautiful they were. Well, she fell madly in love with West.
+Notwithstanding his bandy legs, there was something fascinating about
+him. He had a way about him that the maid-servants used to like;
+Robinson wasn't the first. Well, she completely lost her head,
+perfectly frantic--frantic; her eyes on fire. I saw it at once; you
+know I am pretty sharp. I just look round, one look round; I see it
+all, I take it all in. I said: 'This is not right; this cannot be
+right. Robinson is a respectable girl.' Her people I knew to be most
+respectable people in Chichester; I had heard all about them through
+the Eastwicks. I said, 'Robinson, you must go, I will give you a
+month's wages, but you must go back to your people. You know why I am
+sending you away; it is for your own good, otherwise I am sorry to
+part with you; but you must go.'
+
+"Robinson didn't say much, she was always rather haughty, a reserved
+sort of girl; but soon after--I always hear everything--I heard that
+she had not gone back to her people, but was living in lodgings in
+Brighton, and that West used to go and see her. I didn't say anything
+about it to West, but he saw there was something wrong. When I told
+him to put the carriage to, he said, 'Yes, mum, where to, mum?'
+'Brighton.' I could see he saw there was something wrong, and when I
+told him not to put the carriage up, but to drive up and down the
+King's Road, and that I would meet him in about an hour at the bottom
+of West Street, he looked so frightened that I could hardly help
+laughing; he did look so comical, for he knew now that I was going to
+see Robinson. (Here the remembrance of West proved too much for Aunt
+Mary, and she shook with laughter.) Of course if I had let him put up
+the horses he would have run round to Robinson's and warned her that I
+was coming. Oh, I shall never forget that day! It was broiling, the
+sun came down on the flagstones in those narrow little back streets,
+and there was I toiling, toiling up that dreadful hill, inquiring out
+the way. I found the street, it was on the very top of the hill: such
+a poor, miserable place you never saw. Such a dreadful old woman
+opened the door to me, and I said, 'Is Miss Robinson in?' She said,
+'Yes.' I could hear Robinson whispering over the banisters, saying,
+'No, no, no, say I am out.' And then I said, 'It is no use, Robinson,
+I must see you, and I will not leave this place until I have seen
+you.' I went upstairs to her room. At first she was rather haughty,
+rather inclined to impertinence. She said, 'Mum, you have no right to
+come after me--you sent me away; I am looking out for a place in
+Brighton--I don't want to go back to my people.' I said, 'Robinson, it
+is no use trying to deceive me, I know very well why you are in
+Brighton; no good can come of this, it is nothing but wickedness. You
+must try to be good, Robinson. West has, as you know, a wife and
+children, and you must not think of him any more. You have taken this
+lodging so that you may see him. You must think of your future; this
+can't last.'"
+
+"No, indeed, this life is but a moment," sighed Aunt Hester. "I wish
+you had had one of these books to give her."
+
+"I did better, Hester. I told her some plain truths, and she put off
+her high and mighty airs and began to cry. I shall never forget it.
+Oh, how hot it was in that little room just under the slates, with one
+garret window and the sun pouring in. There was scarcely any
+furniture, and I was sitting on her bed. I said, 'Now, Robinson, you
+must give me back the presents West made you, and you must promise me
+to go back to Chichester.' And I didn't leave her until she promised
+me to go home next day.
+
+"When I stepped into the carriage you should have seen West's face. He
+didn't know what had happened; I didn't speak to him till next day. As
+I was going into the garden I called him. I said, 'West, I want to
+speak to you.' 'Yes, mum.' We went into the back garden; I was
+planting there. Edward was out riding, so I knew we shouldn't be
+disturbed. I said, 'West, I saw Robinson yesterday, and I have a
+parcel for you; she has promised me not to see you, and you must
+promise me not to see her.' 'Very well, mum, since you say it.' 'This
+is a very sad affair, West.' 'A bad business, mum--a bad business,
+mum.' There was always something in West's stolid face that used to
+amuse me. You should have heard him. 'I don't think she could help it,
+mum; she never loved another man--I really don't. But I was going to
+tell you, mum, I once knew a servant, a married man, he was in love
+with a young woman, and they waited long years, and when the wife died
+they married, mum.' 'That was all very well long ago, West, but wives
+don't die nowadays.'"
+
+So Aunt Mary talked, realising and giving expression to both the
+pathos and the comedy of her story. Then, feeling that she
+wasdigressing at too great length, she strove to generalise from the
+particular incident which she had related, and get back to the theme
+of the conversation.
+
+"I don't know what we shall do, I don't know what we are coming to;
+servants are getting too strong for us. My last cook gave us no end of
+trouble; the butler used to have to lock himself up in the pantry; and
+yet I had to give her a character. Of course it was very wrong of me
+to enable her to thrust herself upon another family, but what was I to
+do? I couldn't deprive her of the means of earning her living. She'll
+give trouble wherever she goes. There is no remedy, there really
+isn't; I don't know what's to be done unless we ladies combine and
+refuse to give them characters."
+
+Here Aunt Mary's thoughts and words began to fail her, for she felt
+she was not getting back to the point where she had entered on her
+various digressions, and without further ado, and quite
+undisconcerted, she said, "But I forget where I was; what were we
+talking about?"
+
+"We were talking about dear Sally and Maggie, and the need they stand
+of counsel and help. Their conduct is to be deeply regretted; but
+theirs is only youthful folly. They have not done anything, I am sure,
+that--"
+
+"Quite so, Hester; of course. But at the same time a stop must be put
+to all this nonsense; it cannot be allowed. I have only to look round
+to take it all in. They are worrying their father into his grave. His
+position is a very trying one. He has no one whom he can depend on--no
+one."
+
+"I am alone since poor Julia--"
+
+Aunt Mary and Aunt Hester looked at each other, and they wondered if
+the terrors of the carving knife were completely forgotten.
+
+"Poor James," said Aunt Mary, recrossing her hands, "is obliged to go
+to London every morning, from ten till, I may say, half-past six."
+
+"I am never home before seven."
+
+"These girls are their own mistresses; they go out when they like,
+they order the carriage whenever they like, and they invite here every
+one it pleases their fancy to invite without consulting their father.
+I believe he doesn't even--"
+
+"I know none of the young men who come to my house. All I know of them
+is that they come from the Southdown Road."
+
+"Don't be so silly, James, put up that handkerchief. Of course, the
+Southdown Road is one of the great disadvantages of the place. Those
+villa residences have brought into Southwick a host of people that a
+man living in a big place like the Manor House cannot know--little
+people who have--"
+
+"Not two hundred pounds invested--no, nor yet a hundred."
+
+"Well, I don't wish to offend them, I'll say small incomes. They are
+all devoured with envy, and all they think of is what goes on at the
+Manor House."
+
+"A lot of penniless young jackanapeses. Every morning I see them at
+the station watching me over the tops of their newspapers."
+
+"You must understand, Hester, poor James up in London, toiling, not
+knowing what is going on in his own home; feasting and pleasure going
+on morning, noon, and, I may say, night, for when James returned home
+unexpectedly about ten o'clock at night, he found them--how many were
+there?"
+
+"About a dozen, the others had gone."
+
+"Feasting, drinking his champagne--his very best."
+
+"The last few bottles of '34 port were drunk; the peaches, that the
+gardener has been forcing so carefully for months past, were all
+eaten. I returned home unexpectedly; I had intended to spend the night
+in London--you know I went there to see about starting Willy on the
+Stock Exchange; he has drawn three thousand more out of the
+distillery; I hope he won't lose it. Well, I met Berkins in Pall Mall,
+and he said if I would return by the late train that he would spend
+the night here, and we would go up to town together in the morning. I
+suspected nothing; I went into my dining-room, and there I found them
+all at supper. Had it not been for Berkins it wouldn't have mattered.
+He was indignant when he saw one of those jackanapeses with his arm
+round the back of Grace's chair; he says that such company is not fit
+for the lady that is going to be his wife; and he now insists on
+fixing the day, the settlements, and everything, or of breaking off
+the match."
+
+"Then why don't you fix the day and the settlements?"
+
+"Grace is not willing; she is quite undecided. She says she doesn't
+know whether she will have him or not. Sally tries to set her against
+him; she laughs at him, says he is pompous, and imitates him. Of
+course, it is quite true that he thinks everything he has is betterthan
+anybody else's. She says he is old, and says that kissing him
+would be like rubbing your face in a mattress."
+
+"The fact is," said Aunt Mary, "Sally ought to have been a man; had
+she been a man, it would have been all right."
+
+Aunt Hester, who had spent her life in a vicarage, glanced uneasily at
+her sister, and fidgeted with the papers in her satchel.
+
+"I suppose it will be all the same a hundred years hence."
+
+"No, James, it will not," replied Aunt Hester, with unusual
+determination.
+
+The conversation dropped, and the speakers stared at each other at a
+loss how to proceed.
+
+"She is a very difficult girl to manage. If it were not for her we
+could get on very well; it is she who upsets everything. She can't
+agree with Maggie; they are always quarrelling. The day after the
+party she threatened to knock her down if she interfered with her
+young man."
+
+"Is it possible! Did she say that? Well, when it comes to young ladies
+knocking each other down! Young ladies were very different in my young
+days. It only proves what I said about Sally--she ought to have been a
+man, she really ought to have been a man. I see it all; I have only to
+give one look round to take it all in one glance. When she came to
+meet me in Brighton I understood it all at once; I saw she could not
+restrain herself, no powers of self-restraint. Her eyes fixed on every
+man as if she couldn't see enough of him; her black eyes flashing. I
+wanted no telling--I saw it all; the moment a young man went by her
+eyes flashed. Here she was--'Aunt Mary, Aunt Mary, there's Meason,
+there's Meason, Aunt Mary, Meason, Meason, Aunt Mary.' It is not
+right, it can't be right; and to my thinking Maggie is just as bad--a
+little more sly perhaps."
+
+"No, not dear Maggie."
+
+"I say it is not right; girls in good health could not go on like
+that. If I were you, James, I would take them up to a first-rate
+London physician, the very best that can be had for money. Those girls
+are highly organised, highly sensitive; their nerves are highly
+strung. They want something to bring them down," said Aunt Mary; but
+catching at that moment sight of her sister's face, she laughed
+consumedly, and, speaking through her laughter, said, "So-and-so, a
+first-rate man, I can't think of his name--he will give you the very
+best advice."
+
+"I think if our dear nieces could be brought to understand the
+sinfulness of their disobedience. I have here one or two little books
+which I think it would be advisable for them to read."
+
+"Later on, my dear Hester; the best thing that James can do is to see
+to their health. No girls in good health could act as they do; it is
+radically impossible."
+
+"I suppose that is what I must do; I don't know if I shall succeed,
+but I will try to get them to come up to London and have medical
+advice. Since the death of poor Julia I have been all alone; my
+position is a very hard one. I have no one to talk to, to assist me,
+to take my place in any way. I am obliged to go to London every day,
+and I assure you my heart is all of a flutter in the morning when I
+take the train, for I don't know what may happen before I return. The
+girls can do what they like; they are mistresses of this big house,
+they take the carriage into Brighton when they like, Sally takes the
+cart. I have thought of getting rid of that cart."
+
+Although passionately fond of talking, Aunt Mary would with patience,
+and even with pleasure, cross her hands and settle herself down to
+listen to one of Uncle James's interminable lamentations, but Aunt
+Hester, a nervous and timid creature who talked but little, not only
+declared that she could not bear to hear the same stories over and
+over again, but interrupted her brother with firmness and
+determination. Indeed, it was only on occasion of Uncle James's
+soliloquies that she had ever shown any strength of will.
+
+"We know very well, James, that your position is a trying one--that
+since the death of poor Julia you have no one whom you can look to.
+There is no use in telling us this over again; it is mere waste of
+time. What we have to do now is by all means in our power to convince
+dear Sally of the sinfulness of her conduct, and so strive to bring
+her back to a state of grace."
+
+"Her spirit must be broken, she must be subdued," interjected Aunt
+Mary.
+
+"Christ is the real healer, prayer is the true medicine, and by it
+alone is the troubled spirit soothed."
+
+It being impossible to contravene these opinions, the conversation
+came to a pause, which was at length interrupted by Mr. Brookes, who
+through the folds of his handkerchief declared again that it would be
+all the same a hundred years hence. Even Aunt Mary's realism did not
+offend Aunt Hester as did this un-Christian philosophy; she gathered
+her strength for a grave reproof, but was cut short by her sister's
+laughter. All the teeth were glittering now, and peal after peal of
+laughter came. Aunt Hester's courage died, and her long, freckled face
+drooped like a sad flower.
+
+"Now let us hear something about Grace. What about this marriage? Is
+Berkins as amorous as ever? That man does amuse me--his waistcoat
+buttons are better than any other man's."
+
+"Mary, Mary, I beg of you to remember Mr. Berkins is a man of eight
+thousand a-year."
+
+"He may make eight thousand a-year, but he has very little money
+invested," said Aunt Mary.
+
+"That is true," Mr. Brookes replied reflectively, and he was about to
+rush off into a long financial statement when his sister, who already
+regretted her joke, checked him with an abrupt question.
+
+"My dear James, is this marriage to be or not to be? That is what I
+want to know."
+
+"I really can't say, Mary; Sally has contrived to upset her sister;
+she would have been, I feel sure, glad to marry Mr. Berkins if she had
+not been upset by Sally."
+
+"Upset by Sally, what do you mean?"
+
+"I told you that Sally tries to turn Berkins into ridicule, laughs at
+his beard among other things."
+
+"I must see Grace about this," said Aunt Mary; "you must excuse my
+laughing, but Sally is often very droll."
+
+Choosing the first occasion when Maggie and Sally were absent from the
+room, Aunt Mary said, "Come, Gracie, dear, tell me about this
+marriage. I hear that your mind is not made up--that you are not at
+all decided. This is not acting fairly towards your father. You are
+placing him in a very false position."
+
+"I don't think so, aunty. No one, so far as I can make out, is either
+decided or satisfied. Mr. Berkins is not satisfied with the society we
+see."
+
+"The Southdown Road you mean," interrupted Mr. Brookes, "and very
+properly, too."
+
+"And father and he cannot agree upon money matters, and I don't like a
+beard--"
+
+"You never objected to a beard until Sally put you against it."
+
+"Yes, I did, father; I always told you--"
+
+"Never mind the beard, tell me about the money matters that your
+father and Mr. Berkins can't agree upon."
+
+"Mr. Berkins has offered to settle twelve thousand pounds upon me if
+father will settle the same amount. But father won't agree to this; he
+wants Mr. Berkins to settle twelve, but does not want to settle more
+than seven himself upon me."
+
+"Is this so, James?" asked Aunt Mary.
+
+Mr. Brookes avoided answering the question, and entered into a long
+and garrulous statement concerning himself and his money: he had made
+it all himself! he spoke of his investments with pride, and
+pathetically declared that he would not marry again because he would
+not deprive his dear children of anything. Aunt Mary crossed her hands
+over her shawl, and set herself to listen to the old gentleman's
+rigmarole. Aunt Hester tried several times to cut him short, but this
+time he would not be silenced.
+
+Then Aunt Mary started the story of a girl whom she had known
+intimately in early life, which she no doubt thought would help Grace
+to a better comprehension of her difficulties; but the dear lady lost
+herself in the domestic entanglement of many families, on the subject
+of which she contributed much curious information, without, however,
+elucidating the matter in hand. She wandered so far that at length all
+hope of return became impossible, and she was obliged to pull up
+suddenly and ask what she had been talking about.
+
+"What was I talking about, James; you have been listening to me--what
+was I talking about?"
+
+Mr. Brookes made no attempt to give the information necessary for the
+blending of her many narratives, and she was forced to seek unaided
+for the lost thread. Soon after the girls came in with their gin and
+water. They drank their grog, kissed their relations, and retired to
+bed.
+
+And the next evening, and the next, and the next, so long as Aunt Mary
+and Aunt Hester remained at the Manor House, the evenings passed in a
+similar fashion; and, notwithstanding the doleful faces they
+occasionally assumed, they found pleasure in lamenting the follies of
+the young people. The same stories were told, almost the same words
+were uttered. The only malcontent was Willy. He had no interest in his
+sisters, and the hours after dinner in the billiard-room when his
+sisters were in the drawing-room were those he devoted to looking
+through his letters and filling up his diary; so when Sally's name was
+mentioned he caught at his short crisp hair and gnashed his teeth.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+
+"My dear fellow, just as I'm settling down to do some work, Aunt Mary
+comes along the passage; I know her step so well. And then it begins,
+the old story that I have heard twenty times before, all over again.
+You have no idea how worrying it is."
+
+Frank laughed, and talked of something else. These discussions of
+Sally's character and general behaviour did not appeal to him in
+either a comic or serious light, and the havoc they made of Willy's
+business hours did not perceptibly move him; he was full of his good
+looks, his clothes, his affections, his bull-dog, and the fact that
+his youth was going by, as it should go by, among girls, in an old
+English village, in a garden by the sea.
+
+Aunt Mary was a woman that a rarer young man would have been attracted
+by; indeed the delicacy of a young man may be tested by the sympathy
+he may feel for women when age has drawn a veil over, and put sexual
+promptings aside. Her bright teeth and eyes, the winsome little face,
+so glad, would have at once charmed and led any young man not so
+brutally young as Frank Escott. It would have pleased another to watch
+her, to wait on her, to listen to her rambling stories all so full of
+laughter and the sunshine of kindness and homely wit; it would have
+pleased him to note that she was gratified by the admiration of a
+young man; it would please him to hear himself called by his Christian
+name, while he must address her as Mrs. So-and-so, and in maintaining
+this difference they would both become conscious of pleasing
+restraint.
+
+His comprehension of life was invariably a sentimental one, so the
+aunts were to him merely middle-aged women--uninteresting, and useful
+only so far as their efforts contributed to render the lives of young
+people easy and pleasurable. In abrupt and passing impressions he
+concluded that Aunt Mary was bright and pleasant, but tediously
+voluble, given to wasting that time which he would have liked to spend
+talking to the young ladies of poetry and Italy.
+
+He scorned poor Aunt Hester. She shrank from him, frightened by his
+harsh, blunt manners; she was afraid he led a sinful life in London.
+Aunt Mary had few doubts on the subject, and her comments made her
+sister tremble. She spoke of him as a most desirable husband for
+Maggie. "He will be a peer, my dear James. Lord Mount Rorke will never
+marry again. He is the acknowledged heir to the title and estates."
+
+And the young man went as he came--full of himself, his clothes, his
+good looks; bumptious and arrogant, effusive in his love of his
+friends, and yet sincere. He looked out of the railway carriage window
+to seize a last look of the green, with its horse pond and its downs,
+and the cricketers all in white, running to and fro (young Meason had
+just made a three, and Sally was applauding). The porches of
+the Southdown Road he could just see over the fields, and Mr. Brooke's
+glass glittered amid the summer foliage. At that moment he loved the
+ugly little village, with its barren downs and all its anomalous
+aspects of town and country. He thought of his friends there, and his
+life appeared to be theirs, and theirs his, and he wished it might
+flow on for ever in this quiet place. He seemed to understand it all
+so well, and to love it all so dearly. He accepted it all, even its
+vulgarest aspects. Even pompous Berkins appeared to him under a
+tenderer light--the light of orange-flowers and married love. For Aunt
+Mary had smoothed away all difficulties, hirsute and monetary, and the
+wedding had been fixed for the autumn. The gaiety of the day he had
+spent with the girls, its feasting and its flirtation, arose,
+memorised in a soft halo of imagination--a day of fruit, wine, and
+light words, and the dear General, with his St James's politics and
+his only desire--"a little something to do--something to bring me out,
+you know." The pugs, the mangy mastiff, the hospitable house always
+open, its ready welcome, and, above all, the air which it held of the
+lives of its occupants; its pictures of white arab horses, and
+elephants richly caparisoned; the wonderful goats in the field, and
+the tropical birds and animals in the back garden! Above all, the
+walks on the green with the chemist's wife, and the annoyance such
+familiarity caused Mr. Brookes--how funny, how charming, how amusing!
+He was smiling through the tears that rose to his eyes when the train
+rolled into Brighton.
+
+On arriving in London he drove straight to the Temple. The creaking,
+disjointed staircases, with the lanterns of old time in the windows,
+jarred his thoughts, which were still of Southwick; and when he
+entered his rooms their loneliness struck him with a chill. He
+pictured Maggie sitting in the arm-chair waiting for him, and he
+imagined how she would lay her book aside and say, "Oh, here you are!"
+He sat down to read his letters. One was from Lord Mount Rorke,
+enclosing a cheque, another a daintily cut envelope, smelling
+daintily, came from Lady Seveley.
+
+"DEAR MR ESCOTT,--I have not seen anything of you for a very long
+time; you promised to lunch with me before you left town, but I
+suppose amid the general gaieties and friends of the season you were
+carried far away quite out of my reckoning. However, I hope when you
+return you will come and see me. I got your address from Mr. ---, but
+you need not tell him that I wrote to you; he is, as you know, a
+dreadful chatterbox, and somehow or other, without meaning it,
+contrives to make gossip and mischief out of everything.
+
+"The weather here is delicious--perhaps a trifle too hot; and
+sometimes I envy you your cool sea-side resort. I wonder what the
+attraction is? It must be a very special one to keep you out of London
+in June.
+
+"Should you be in town next Thursday, come and dine; I have a box for
+the theatre. And as an extra inducement I will tell you that I have
+two very nice girls staying with me, who will interest you.--Yours
+very truly, HELEN SEVELEY."
+
+Some men of thirty would have instantly understood Lady Seveley's
+letter. But age gives us nothing we do not already possess, the years
+develop what is latent in us in youth, and it is certain that Frank at
+thirty would have understood the letter as vaguely and incompletely as
+he did to-day. We read our sympathies and antipathies in all we look
+upon, and Frank read in this letter an old woman with diamonds and
+dyed hair. He had met her twice. The first time was at a ball where he
+knew nobody; the second was at a dinner party. She had fixed her eyes
+upon him; she had prevented him from talking after dinner to a young
+girl whom he had admired across the table during dinner. He did not
+like her, and he thought now of the young girls he would meet if he
+accepted her invitation. Lady Seveley was a shadow; and when the
+shadow defined itself he saw the slight wrinkling of the skin about
+the eyes, the almost imperceptible looseness of the flesh about the
+chin; but, worse to him than these physical changes, were the hard
+measured phrases in which there is knowledge of the savour and worth
+of life. He unpacked his portmanteau, and, dallying with his
+resolutions, he wondered if he should go to Lady Seveley's:
+conclusions and determinations were constitutionally abhorrent, self-
+deception natural to him. Were he asked if he intended to turn to the
+right or the left, although he were going nowhere and an answer would
+compromise him in nothing, he would certainly say he did not know; and
+if he were expostulated with, he would reply rudely, arrogantly. This
+is worthy of notice, for what was special in his character was the
+combination it afforded of degenerate weakness and pride, complicated
+with a towering sense of self-sufficiency. Youth's illusions would not
+pass from him easily; in his eyes and heart the hawthorn would always
+be in bloom, young girls would always be beautiful, innocent, true to
+the lovers they had selected; nor was there of necessity degradation
+nor forced continuance in any state of vice. Love could raise and
+purify, love could restore, love could make whole; if one woman were
+faithless, another would be constant; if to-day were dark, to-morrow
+would be bright. Life had no deep truth for him, no underlying
+mysteries; it was not a problem capable of demonstration, capable of
+definition; it was not a thing of limitations and goals and ends; he
+could feel nothing of this--the philosophic temperament was absent in
+him. Life had no deep truth for him, no underlying mysteries; he did
+not dream of past times, and he placed few hopes in the future; life
+was a thing to be enjoyed in the moment of living, and the present
+moment was a very pleasant one. He leaned over the doors of the hansom
+resting his gloved hand upon his crutched stick. He was struck with
+the pride we feel when we are dressed for amusement and contemplate
+those in workaday garb; and in these sensations of pride he leaned
+forward, proud of his good looks, his shirt front, his shirt cuffs,
+his glazed shoes; he pleasured in the knowledge that many saw he was
+going to elegant company, to amusement. He was full of scorn for the
+women loitering, for the clerks hurrying, and especially for the
+crowds pressing about the entrances of the theatres.
+
+London opened up upon a little black space of asphalt; crimson clouds
+moved over the many windowed walls of the great hotels, the black
+monumented square foamed with white water, children played, and the
+gold of the inscriptions over the shops caught the eye. London was
+tall on the heavens. Regent Street was full of young men as elegant as
+himself driving to various pleasures, and Frank wondered what sort of
+dinners they would eat, what kind of women they would sit by. Then as
+he drove through Mayfair he thought of his own party. He wondered what
+the girls would think of him.
+
+Lady Seveley lived in Green Street. When he had rung the bell he
+listened impatiently for approaching steps, for he tingled with
+presentiment that he would somehow be disappointed, and he dreaded
+dinner by himself and his lonely lodgings. Nor was he wholly wrong.
+The butler who opened the door seemed surprised at seeing him, and in
+reply to his question if Lady Seveley was at home, replied
+hesitatingly:
+
+"Her ladyship is at home, but she is not at all well, sir. She is, I
+think, in her room lying down, sir."
+
+"Oh, but did she not expect me? I was to have dined here to-night."
+
+"I heard nothing about it, sir; but I'd better ask. Will you come in,
+sir?"
+
+Lady Seveley's house was a house of scent and soft carpets. The
+staircase was covered with pink silk, and in the recess on the first
+landing, or rather where the stairs paused, there was an aviary in
+which either hawks screeched or owls blinked; generally there was a
+magpie there, and the quaint bird now hopped to Frank's finger,
+casting a thievish look on his rings. The drawing-room was full of
+flowers. There was a grand piano, dark and bright; the skins of tigers
+Lord Seveley had shot carpeted the floor, and on their heads, Helen
+rested her feet, showing her plump legs to her visitors. On the walls
+there were indifferent water-colours, there were gold screens, the
+cabinets were full of china, there were three-volume novels on the
+tea-table--it was the typical rich widow's house, a house where young
+men lingered. Frank stood examining a portrait on china of Lady
+Seveley, it was happily hung with blue ribbon from the top of the
+mirror. It represented a woman inclined to stoutness, about three and
+thirty. The chestnut hair was piled and curled with strange art about
+the head. Above the face there was a mask, roses wreathed, and a
+swallow carrying a love missive, butterflies and arrows everywhere,
+and below the face there was a skull profusely wreathed and almost
+hidden in roses. This portrait would have stirred the imagination of
+many young men, but Frank thought nothing of it--the theatrical
+display displeased him, it seemed to him even a little foolish. He
+crossed over to the flowers.
+
+"Lady Seveley will be down in a moment, sir," said the maid. A few
+minutes after the door opened.
+
+"How do you do? I am so glad to see you. Won't you sit down? I have
+been suffering terribly to-day--neuralgia; nothing for it but to lie
+down in a dark room."
+
+"I hope you are better now."
+
+"Oh, when I have had some champagne I shall be quite well. Now tell me
+something; talk to me."
+
+Helen was sitting thrown back on the little black satin sofa; she had
+crossed her legs, and her foot was set on a tiger's head. The ankle
+was too thick, the foot slightly fat, but stocking and shoe were
+perfect, and these drew Frank's eyes too attentively. Helen noticed
+this and was glad.
+
+"So you like Maggie the best?"
+
+"Oh, yes, I like her the best, Sally is too rough. How those girls do
+worry their father. He has to go up to town every day; he is in the
+City, and the girls give tennis parties, and drink his best wine.
+There was an awful row there the other day about the peaches; he had
+been going in for forcing, and was counting the days when they would
+be ripe. The young men ate them all."
+
+Helen laughed. "A sort of comic King Lear."
+
+"Just so, the girls will have large fortunes at their father's death.
+I have known them all my life. I used to spend my holidays with them
+when I was a small boy."
+
+"And you haven't seen them for a long time?"
+
+"No, I was in Ireland two years, and then I went to Italy. This was
+the first time I saw them since they were really grown up."
+
+"And you say they are beautiful girls and will have large fortunes."
+
+"Yes, I suppose Maggie is a good-looking girl; she is more a
+fascinating girl than a beautiful girl." A sudden remembrance of
+Lizzie Baker dictated this opinion of Maggie Brookes.
+
+"Dinner is on the table, my lady."
+
+"I think you said in your letter that you were going to have two young
+girls staying with you."
+
+"Yes, but they could not come; they were to have been here on Monday. I
+am very sorry; had I known for certain that you were coming, I would
+have arranged to have some one to meet you."
+
+"I am very glad you didn't." The conversation dropped. "You said you
+were going to the theatre. What theatre are you thinking of going to?"
+
+"My neuralgia put all thoughts of the theatre out of my head. I have a
+box for the Gaiety. We will go if you like."
+
+The name of the theatre reminded him of Lizzie Baker, and he compared
+the pale, refined face of the bar girl with the over-coloured woman--
+his hostess. He had not seen Lizzie for a long time. Why had he not
+gone to the bar room the last time he was in London?
+
+"You have not answered me--would you like to go to the Gaiety?"
+
+"I am sure I beg your pardon," and then, in a sudden confusion of
+memories and desires, he said: "I don't know that I care much about
+going to the theatre. You are not feeling well."
+
+"My neuralgia is almost all gone. There's nothing like champagne for
+it. Hardwick, Mr. Escott will take some more champagne."
+
+There were engravings after Burne Jones and Rossetti on the walls, and
+Frank stopped to look at them as he followed Lady Seveley upstairs.
+She went straight to the piano.
+
+"Are you fond of music?" she said.
+
+"Yes; there is nothing I like more than fiddling at the piano."
+
+"Then do play something."
+
+"Oh, no, not for worlds. I only strum, I don't know my notes. I strum
+on the piano as I strum on the violin."
+
+"Do you play the violin?"
+
+"I can't call it playing, I was never taught."
+
+"How did you learn, then? It is a most difficult instrument; I
+couldn't get on with it at all; I will get mine out if you will play
+something."
+
+"If you promise not to laugh, I will try, but I assure you I know
+nothing about it. I borrowed a violin once, and I taught myself to
+play a tune; then I bought a violin, and I amuse myself when I am
+alone."
+
+"How very clever of you. There, you will find it under the piano
+behind that music; do play something, it will be so good of you."
+
+"What shall I play?"
+
+"Anything you like."
+
+Frank had no knowledge of the instrument, but his ear was exquisitely
+just and appreciative; his artistic desire was febrile and foolish,
+but you thought less of this in his music than in his painting and
+poetry. His soul went out in the strain of melody sentimentally; and
+it leaned him in varying and beautiful attitudes. The sweeping, music-
+evoking arm was beautiful to behold, and the music seemed to cry for
+love; all about him was shadow; only the light fell on the long
+throat, so like a fruit to the eye; the charm was enervating and
+nervous. Helen looked at him again, and shuddering, she rose from the
+piano.
+
+"What did you break off like that for? Was I playing so badly?"
+
+"No, no--come and sit down here, come and sit by me. I want you to
+talk to me." She stretched herself in a low wicker chair by the open
+window. There was a church opposite, the painted panes were now full
+of mitre and alb, and the vague tumult of the service came in contrast
+with the summer murmur of London and the light of the evening skies.
+The woman's body moved beneath the silk, and the faint odour of her
+person dilated the nostrils of the young man. "Talk to me."
+
+"I don't know what to talk to you about. You would not care for my
+conversation any more than you do for my music--one is as bad as the
+other."
+
+"No, pray--I assure you--I would not have you think that, no." Helen
+made a movement as if she were going to lay her hand on his arm;
+checking herself, she said: "I do not think your playing bad; on the
+contrary, perhaps I think it too good. How shall I explain? There are
+times when I cannot bear music; the pleasure it brings is too near,
+too intense, too near to pain; and that 'Chanson d'Eglise' seems to
+bear away your very brain; you play it with such fervour, on the
+violin each phrase tears the soul."
+
+"But it is so religious."
+
+"Yes, that is just it; no sen--no; well, there is no other word; no
+sensuality is so terrible as religious sensuality."
+
+"I don't know what you mean. I can understand any one saying that
+Offenbach is sensual, but I don't see how the term can be applied to a
+hymn."
+
+"Perhaps not to a hymn, although--but 'La Chanson d'Eglise' is not a
+hymn."
+
+Her arm hung along the chair, the flesh showing through the silk as
+soft as a flower. He might take it in his hands and bear it to his
+lips and kiss it; he might lean and loll and kiss her. He wondered if
+he might dare it; but her air of ladyhood was so marked that it seemed
+impossible that she would not resent. He could not quite realise what
+her looks and words would be afterwards.
+
+"I do not wish to flatter you, but I think you play beautifully. I do
+not mean to say that I have never heard any one play the violin
+better--that would be ridiculous. Your playing is full of emotion.
+That lovely passage thrilled me; I do not know why, nor can I exactly
+explain my feeling--nerves perhaps. Now I come to think of it I am
+ashamed. It was the summer evening, the perfume of those flowers; it
+was--" Helen fixed her eyes on Frank, as if she would like to say, "It
+was you." With a sigh she said: "It was the music." Then as if she
+feared she was showing too plainly what was passing in her mind, she
+said: "But it is nearly nine o'clock. Perhaps you would like to go to
+the theatre, the ticket for the box is on the table. I should not be
+more than a few minutes changing my dress. Would you like to go?"
+
+"I don't much mind, just as you like. I heard that the new burlesque
+was very amusing."
+
+"Then let us go."
+
+Both regretted their words; and, embarrassed, each waited for the
+other to say No, let us stay here, it is far sweeter here. But it was
+difficult to draw back now without avowal. Helen had rung for her
+maid. She put on a white satin. Her opera cloak was edged with deep
+soft fur, and she came into the room putting on her long tan gloves.
+
+"Were you ever in love?" Helen asked, and she leaned back behind the
+curtain of the box out of sight of the audience.
+
+"I suppose I have been in love; but why do you ask?"
+
+"It just occurred to me."
+
+"I have never been in love with a ballet girl, if you mean that."
+
+In blue tights and symmetrical rows the legs of the chorus ladies were
+arranged about the stage; the low comedians cracked jokes close to the
+footlights; the stalls laughed, the pit applauded.
+
+"Haven't you? Is that really so? I shouldn't think it would be nice.
+And yet, if all we hear is true, young men do make love to low women;
+I'm not speaking now of ballet girls, but of cooks and housemaids. A
+lady, a friend of mine, cannot keep a housemaid under fifty in her
+house on account of her son, and she sent him to Eton."
+
+"Yes, I know; I have heard of such things, but I never could
+understand."
+
+"I am glad. But you say you have been in love. Tell me all about it. I
+want to know. What was she like? Was she fair or dark?"
+
+"Fair. She used to wear a Gainsborough hat."
+
+"Did you like those great hats?"
+
+"I did on her."
+
+"I suppose she was tall, then."
+
+"No, she was short."
+
+"Then I don't see how she would wear a Gainsborough hat."
+
+"She did, and looked exquisite in it too."
+
+"I suppose you were very much in love with her?"
+
+"Yes; we were engaged, and going to be married."
+
+"Why was it broken off?"
+
+"Her father was a brute."
+
+"Fathers generally are brutes on such occasions, and there are
+generally excellent reasons for their brutality."
+
+"Husbands, too, are brutes, and if all I have heard is correct, there
+are excellent reasons for their brutality."
+
+Lady Seveley turned pale. "I did not come to the theatre to be
+insulted," she said, hesitating whether she should rise from her seat.
+Frank Escott was constantly guilty of such indelicate and stupid
+speeches, and it would be easy to cite instances in which his conduct
+was equally unpractical. Were friends to speak ill of any one he was
+especially intimate with, he would answer them in the grossest manner,
+forgetful that he was making formidable enemies for himself without in
+the least advancing the welfare of him or her whose defence he had
+undertaken. With some words and looks the storm was allayed, and they
+felt that the wind that might have capsized had carried their craft
+nearer the port where they were steering. Their eyes met, and for a
+moment they looked into each other's souls. Her arm hung by her side,
+white and pure, could he take it and press it to his lips the worst
+would be over--he would have admitted his desire. But the box curtain
+did not hide him, and the faces opposite seemed to watch; and then she
+spoke, and with her words brought a sense of distance, of
+conventionality.
+
+"Tell me, did you fall in love with her the first time you saw her?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"Tell me all about it. When did you see her for the first time?"
+
+"It was on the Metropolitan Railway. We were in the same carriage, she
+sat opposite to me; for some time we were alone, and I thought of
+speaking to her, but was afraid of offending her."
+
+"Are you always afraid of offending people?"
+
+"I don't know--I don't think I am." Then it struck him that she was
+alluding to his rudeness, which she declared she had forgiven, and he
+said: "I am sure I can't do more, I told you I was sorry--that I did
+not mean--"
+
+"Oh, never mind, that is forgiven; tell me about her."
+
+A little perplexed, he continued: "She was dressed in white, and her
+face was like a flower under the great hat."
+
+"It is clear that you can admire no one who doesn't wear a
+Gainsborough hat. What will you do now that they have gone out of
+fashion? I am sure I can't gratify you."
+
+"I wondered where she was going. I wished I was going to the same
+house, I imagined what it would be like, and so the time went till we
+got to Kensington. She turned to the right, so did I; I hoped she did
+not think I was following her--"
+
+"You were both going to the same house?"
+
+"Yes. There were some carnations behind her in a vase, and you know
+how I love the perfume of a carnation--so did she. She told me of the
+flowers they had in their cottage at Maidenhead. I love the river, so
+did she, and we spoke of the river all the afternoon. And when the
+season was over I went up to Maidenhead too. I had my boat there (I
+must show you my boat one of these days, one of the prettiest boats on
+the river). We used to go out together, and, tying the boat under an
+alder, I used to read her Browning. Oh, it was a jolly time." The
+conversation came to a pause, then Frank said "Were you ever in love?"
+
+"I suppose I was."
+
+"With your husband?"
+
+"No, I was not in love with my husband, he was twenty years older than
+I. When I was eighteen I was very much in love with a young fellow who
+used to come to play croquet at our place. But my parents wouldn't
+hear of it. I was not at all strong when I was a girl; they said I
+wouldn't live, so I didn't care what became of me. Lord Seveley
+admired me; it was a very good match, I was anxious to get away from
+home, so I married him. You are quite wrong in supposing I treated him
+badly."
+
+"Forgive me, don't say any more about that."
+
+"We had rows, it is true; he said horrible things about my mother, and
+I wouldn't stand that, of course."
+
+"What things?"
+
+"Oh, I can't tell you--no matter. Once I said that I wouldn't have
+married him only I thought I was going to die. He never forgave me
+that. It was, I admit, a foolish thing to say."
+
+At that moment the curtain came down, and the young men moved out of
+the stalls. "There are two men I know," she said, fixing her glass.
+"Do you see them? The elder of the two is Harding, the novelist, the
+other is Mr. Fletcher, an Irishman."
+
+"I know Fletcher--or, rather, I know of him. His father was a
+shopkeeper in Gort, the nearest town to Mount Rorke Castle."
+
+"He is a journalist, isn't he? I hear he is doing pretty well."
+
+"In London, I know, you associate with that class, but in Ireland we
+wouldn't think of knowing them."
+
+"I thought you were more liberal-minded than that. If they come up
+here, what shall I do? I mustn't introduce you?"
+
+"I don't mind being introduced. I should like to know Harding."
+
+"I can't introduce you to Harding and not to his friend."
+
+"I don't mind being introduced to Fletcher; I'll bow and slink off to
+smoke a cigarette. Is it true what they say about him, that he is
+irresistible, that no woman can resist him? I don't think he is good-
+looking--a good figure, that's all."
+
+"He has the most lovely hands and teeth."
+
+"I see; perhaps you are in love with him?"
+
+A knock came at the door; the young men entered. Lady Seveley
+introduced them to Frank; he bowed coldly, and addressed Harding. But
+Lady Seveley said: "O Mr. Harding, I want to speak to you about your
+last novel; I have just finished reading it."
+
+"What do you think of this piece?" Fletcher asked Escott, in a
+hesitating and conciliatory manner.
+
+"I am afraid he will not be able to tell you; he hasn't ceased talking
+since we came into the theatre."
+
+"I should have done the same had I been in his place."
+
+Lady Seveley smiled, Frank thought the words presumptuous. "Who the
+devil would care to hear you talk--and that filthy accent." And at
+that moment he remembered Lizzie Baker. Fletcher and Harding were now
+speaking to Lady Seveley, and taking advantage of the circumstance he
+slipped out, and, lighting a cigarette, entered the bar room. Behind
+the counter the young ladies stood in single file, and through odours
+of cigarettes and whisky their voices called "One coffee in order,"
+and the cry was passed on till it reached the still-room. Frank
+remembered having read a description of the place somewhere, he
+thought for a moment, and then he remembered that it was in one of
+Harding's novels. He could detect no difference in the loafers that
+leaned over the counter talking to the barmaids; they were dingy and
+dull, whereas the young men from the stalls of the theatre were black
+and white and clean; but the keenest eye could note nothing further,
+and a closer inspection showed that even a first division rested on no
+deeper basis than the chance of evening dress. Civilisation has given
+us all one face and mind. He walked to where Lizzie was serving;
+soldiers were ordering drinks of her, so he was obliged to apply to
+the next girl to her for his brandy and soda. He drank slowly, hoping
+her admirers would leave her, but one soldier was stationery, and this
+spot of red grew singularly offensive in Frank's eyes, from the
+clumsy, characterless boots, to the close-clipped hair set off with
+the monotonously jaunty cap. The man sprawled over the counter
+drinking a glass of porter. Frank tried to listen to what he was
+saying. Lizzie smiled, showing many beautifully shaped teeth, so
+beautifully shaped that they looked like sculpture. Behind her there
+were shelves charged with glasses and bottles, gilt elephants, and
+obelisks, a hideous decoration; she passed up and down with cups of
+coffee, she filled glasses from various taps, she saluted Frank.
+
+"How are you this evening? Come to see the piece again?"
+
+"Come to see you."
+
+"Get along; I don't believe you," she said, and she passed back to her
+place, and continued talking to the soldier as steadily as her many
+occupations would allow her.
+
+A few moments after the bell rang, and Frank went upstairs annoyed.
+
+"Oh, so it is you; you have come back," said Helen, turning; "sit down
+here. Nellie Farren has just sung such an exquisitely funny song; they
+have encored it; just listen to it, do," and Helen fixed her opera
+glass on the actress. The light and shadow played about her neck andarm
+in beautiful variations, but noticing nothing, Frank leaned
+forward.
+
+"Isn't it funny; isn't it delightfully funny?"
+
+"Yes, it is funny."
+
+Having heard one song they listened to the rest of the act. "Now give
+me my cloak. Thank you, and now give me your arm." Frank complied.
+"You will come home to Green Street with me, and have some supper?"
+
+"I am afraid, I am sorry I can't; I must get home early to-night."
+
+"You have a key, you surely can get in at any hour."
+
+"Yes, but I am afraid--the fact is I am dreadfully tired."
+
+"Oh, just as you like."
+
+Then at the end of an irritating silence, "I am afraid you will have
+to wait, I do not think I shall be able to get your carriage yet
+awhile; in a few minutes this crowd will disperse. No use getting
+crushed to death! What became of Harding and Fletcher? Did they remain
+long with you?"
+
+"No, not very, they went away just before you came. There is Mr.
+Harding. How did you like the piece, Mr. Harding?"
+
+"I always enjoy these pieces, they are so conscientiously illiterate;
+what I can't bear is unconscientious illiterateness. Nellie Farren has
+caught something of the jangle of modern life; she has something of
+the freshness of the music-hall about her that appeals to me very
+sharply."
+
+"Do you like music-halls? I have always heard they were so vulgar."
+
+"Vulgarity is surely preferable to popularity. The theatre is merely
+popular."
+
+While Harding was thus exerting himself with epigram, Fletcher stood
+tall and slender, with a grey overcoat hanging over his arm, and his
+intense eyes fixed on Lady Seveley. His gaze troubled her, and when he
+withdrew his eyes she looked at him, anticipant and fearing. He spoke
+to her until Frank, feeling that he was receding out of all interest
+and attention, said abruptly, "If you will come now, Lady Seveley, I
+think I shall be able to get you your carriage. May I see you home?"
+he said, holding the door.
+
+"No thank you, I will not take you out of your way. Go home at once
+and get rested, and come and see me one of these days; don't forget."
+Lady Seveley smiled, but Frank felt that she was annoyed.
+
+"I wonder if she wanted me to go home with her. That impertinent brute
+Fletcher daring to come up to speak to us! I was very nearly telling
+him to go and fetch the carriage."
+
+He pushed open the swinging doors with violence, nearly upsetting the
+fat porter. The bar was nearly empty, and he found Lizzie disengaged.
+
+"You look very vexed. Has any one been pinching you?"
+
+"I am not vexed."
+
+"What will you have to put you straight?"
+
+"Well, that is a question. Let me see. I don't care about another
+brandy and soda, and if I have coffee it may keep me awake."
+
+"Have half milk."
+
+"Very well." He hesitated, but the inclination to speak soon
+overpowered him. "I call it bad form, when you are with a lady for
+another fellow to come up and speak to her."
+
+"Three of Irish, miss."
+
+"Why, didn't he know her?"
+
+"Of course he knew her, but that doesn't give him a right to come up
+and enter into a long conversation when I am with her. I wish I had
+knocked him down."
+
+"He might have knocked you down."
+
+"A glass of bitter, miss."
+
+"I should have had to take my chance of that. In London people don't
+seem to me to mind whom they speak to--a low-bred Irishman, who never
+spoke to a lady until he left his own country."
+
+"Oh! what a rage we are in."
+
+"No, I am not in a rage," said Frank, who at that moment felt the
+folly of these confidences. "I don't care a hang. It isn't as if it
+were a woman I cared about. Had it been you--"
+
+"Get along, don't you tell me."
+
+"I assure you I speak only in a general way, and you must admit that
+if you go out with a fellow it would not be nice of you to begin
+talking to some one else."
+
+"Oh! I never do that."
+
+"There, then you admit I was right, I was sure you would; I don't care
+a hang for the lady I was with, but I don't intend to allow any one to
+insult me. But I wonder how you can speak to soldiers."
+
+"They are no worse than the others. Besides, in our business we have
+to be polite to every one."
+
+"Polite, yes--but I wanted to speak to you, I came down from my box on
+purpose to speak to you, and I couldn't, you were so engaged with that
+soldier."
+
+"He was here before you; you would not like it if you were talking to
+me, and I were to rush off to speak to some one else."
+
+"One Scotch and three Irish, miss, and out of the bottle please, our
+friend here's most particular, he would like it in a thin glass, too--
+wouldn't you, Ted? and if he could have a go at that pretty mouth he
+would like it better still. A rare one after the ladies is Teddy.
+Aren't you, old chap?"
+
+Full of scorn Frank watched this noisy group. Lizzie remained talking
+with them for some little time, and she did not return until he called
+to her twice for a cigar.
+
+"How very impatient you are," she said, handing him the box.
+
+"You were talking to me, and you go away to talk to those cads."
+
+"I must serve the customers, you naughty man. You can't have me all to
+yourself. I believe you would like to."
+
+"That I should. I wish you would come out with me. I wish you would
+come to dinner."
+
+"And what would the lady say who you went to the theatre with to-
+night, and were so mad because some one spoke to her?"
+
+"I assure you she is nothing to me, a mere acquaintance. I was angry
+because I thought it a piece of impertinence of the fellow to come
+intruding his conversation when it wasn't wanted; but as for the woman
+I don't care a snap for her; never did, I assure you: she is nothing
+to me. I suppose you don't get out much here."
+
+"We are off duty for so many hours every day; but we must be in at a
+certain time."
+
+"But you have got Sundays."
+
+"We get Sunday in our turn."
+
+"When will your turn come?"
+
+"I am going out next Sunday."
+
+"I wish you would come with me; I would take you up the river. You
+know the river?"
+
+"No, I don't know even what you mean."
+
+"You mean to say you have never been up the river, not even so far as
+Twickenham?" "No."
+
+"Well, then, you have a treat. The most beautiful thing in England is
+the Thames--perhaps in the world. Last year I spent nearly three
+months at Marlow and Maidenhead--we positively lived in a boat. I have
+a beautiful boat. I should like to take you out--you would enjoy it.
+Are you fond of boating?"
+
+"I love it. I haven't been in a boat since I left Wales."
+
+"So you are a Welsh girl. My boat is now at Reading. If you could get
+away early in the morning we might manage to catch the nine o'clock
+express that takes us down in a little over the hour. I'd have the
+hamper packed, and we would have our lunch up in Pangbourne Woods. It
+would be so jolly. I wish you would come."
+
+"I should like it immensely; I don't know if I could manage it."
+
+"Do you say you will come, do."
+
+Lizzie stood hesitating, her finger on her lip. A girl entered the bar
+and whispered something to her as she passed.
+
+"I must go away now, I'm off duty."
+
+"Say you will come."
+
+"I can't say yet; I shall see you again."
+
+As Frank turned to go he caught sight of Harding and Fletcher. He did
+not see that they had been watching him, and when they called him he
+went over to their table.
+
+"What will you have?" said Harding.
+
+"Nothing, thanks, I could not drink anything more."
+
+"Have a cigarette."
+
+"Thanks, I will; I cannot smoke this beastly cigar. I do not know why
+I asked for it."
+
+"Sit down."
+
+The conversation turned on the play, but at the first pause in the
+conversation, Harding said: "Pretty girl, that girl you were talking
+to at the bar."
+
+"Yes; is she not? I think she is one of the prettiest girls I ever saw
+in my life."
+
+"Far better looking than Lady Seveley."
+
+"I should rather think so; Lady Seveley is over thirty."
+
+"The choice would be a nice test of a young man's moral character."
+
+"Did you write that this morning, or are you going to write it to-
+morrow morning?"
+
+"You have not told me which, when you do--"
+
+"I see you are not in a hurry to bring your book out."
+
+Harding laughed, and Frank was pleased at the idea of getting the
+better of Harding; Fletcher sat with his eyes glittering and his lips
+slightly parted. Who would hesitate between a lady of rank and a
+barmaid? She might be a pretty girl, but what of that? There are
+hundreds as pretty. He had never been the lover of a lady, and his
+heart was aflame. Soon after the men parted in the street, and Frank
+went from them, fearful of his lonely rooms, and longing for his
+friends at Southwick.
+
+He lunched every day at the Gaiety, and he at length succeeded in
+persuading Lizzie to come to Reading with him.
+
+Town was miserably Sunday when he drove up to Paddington at a quarter
+past eight. "If it should rain, if it should turn out a pouring wet
+day, what should I do? That would be too terrible!" He felt the boat
+alive beneath his oars, the river placid and gentle, and all the charm
+of the rushes, the cedars, the locks, and the blonde beautiful girl in
+the stern with the parasol he had bought her aslant. Let him have this
+day, and he didn't care what happened! He wanted to show her the
+river, he wanted to joy for a day in her presence.
+
+He was more than a half an hour in advance. Would she come? She had
+promised, but she might disappoint. That would be worse than the rain.
+He would wait till ten o'clock. There was another train at ten, but if
+they missed the ten to nine the day would be spoilt, lost. Supposing
+she did not come, what would he do?--drive back through dingy London
+and eat a lonely breakfast in that horrible brick Pump Court? He could
+scarcely do that. Would he go to Reading by himself? The light of the
+flowing stream, the secrets of the rushes and murmuring woods died;
+nature became voiceless.
+
+"It will be a pity if she doesn't come. We shall have a fine day, I am
+sure it is going to be a fine day, but we shall miss that train. I
+wonder if I can see anything of her. I don't know what side she will
+come from. I suppose she'll take a cab. Perhaps she won't come at all;
+will she come?--she promised me. By Jove, twenty minutes to nine. If
+she isn't here in five minutes we shall miss the train." His passion
+grew in intensity, and hope was dead, when he heard sounds of running
+footsteps, and saw the great girl holding her hat with one hand and
+her dress with the other. The torture of expectation was worth the
+rapture of relief, and he said, delighted: "So you have come, have
+you? One minute more and you would have been late."
+
+"Why, were you going?"
+
+"No, but the train is. We have three minutes. I'll run and get the
+tickets. How is it that you are so late?"
+
+"I just missed the train."
+
+"What train?"
+
+"The Metropolitan."
+
+"The Metropolitan? What nonsense! Why didn't you take a cab?"
+
+She had been afraid of spending the money, fearing she might not see
+him after all; and out of breath she followed him along the platform.
+"No, not in there; I don't like travelling alone with gentlemen."
+Frank looked at her in amazement, and they got into a carriage where
+an old gentleman was sitting.
+
+"So you thought I wouldn't come, you naughty boy?"
+
+"Oh, I should have been so disappointed. I don't know what I should
+have done."
+
+Lizzie watched the young aristocratic face; his earnestness drew her
+towards him, and she wondered she did not like him better. "Now tell
+me what we are going to do. I had such difficulty in getting away. It
+is against the rules; and the manageress (the fat woman who stands at
+the end of the bar and goes round and collects the money) hates me.
+She would have stopped me if she could, but I went to the manager; he
+is a friend of mine."
+
+"That fellow with the long fair moustache that walks about at the rate
+of seven miles an hour, with his frock-coat all unbuttoned. Harding
+the novelist--the fellow I was sitting with the other night, said such
+a good thing--he said he was a sort of apotheosis of sherry and
+bitters. I don't know why it is good, but it is; whether it is the
+colour of his face and moustache--"
+
+"He is very proud of his moustache, and your friend is quite right; he
+is very fond of sherry and bitters--too fond. I have served him with
+as many as three in an afternoon, and I am sure he wouldn't have
+refused another if he could have found any one to stand it. Oh, look
+at the country! How pretty it is!--the cows, the corn growing, the
+birds and all the light clouds; we are going to have a lovely day.
+Shall we see much of the country at Reading? Tell me, where are you
+going to take me? Shall we go for a walk in the woods? Are there any
+woods? I hope there are."
+
+"The most beautiful woods in England--Pangbourne Woods. We shall
+arrive in Reading about a quarter to ten. We'll walk down to the
+river, or drive if you like; it is only a few minutes to walk to the
+boat-house. My boat is there--such a beauty! We'll row up to the--and
+that reminds me, I ordered the luncheon basket at the best place in
+London, you know; it was to have been at my place last night at eight
+o'clock, and they never sent it. We shall have to lunch at the hotel.
+Such a beautiful hotel, high up, overlooking the river; I hope you are
+not disappointed, it really wasn't my fault. We shall have an
+excellent lunch, I assure you, at the hotel."
+
+The miles fled away, and in the comfort and speed of the broad
+gaugeline, an hour and a half seemed to them like a minute.
+
+"What kind of town is Reading?" said Lizzie, springing from the
+carriage.
+
+"Not much more than a biscuit manufactory. A lot of red brick pill-box
+looking buildings scattered over a flat piece of ground. We shan't see
+the town. It is a mile from here. Huntley and Palmer, you know--"
+
+"Oh, yes, we deal with them."
+
+"Catch hold of this rug while I get the tickets out. Shall we walk or
+drive?"
+
+"Let's walk."
+
+They stepped along gaily, and they were soon standing on the wharf,
+Frank criticising the boats and the rowing, Lizzie all white in the
+sunlight, a little dumbfounded and astonished. Then he turned into the
+boat-house, and reappeared soon after, his arms bare, the sun on his
+neck.
+
+"You got my telegram? My boat is ready?"
+
+"Yes, sir, we got her out this morning."
+
+"I suppose a lot of people wanted to have her, they all went for her,
+I'll bet."
+
+"Yes, sir, a good many gentlemen asked if they could have her."
+
+It seemed to please Frank that he had caused so many to be
+disappointed. "Well, get her out, we have no time to lose."
+
+The man stepped from one fleet of skiffs to another, he caught at
+several boats with his boat-hook, but Frank's boat could not be found.
+He shouted to his man who was sculling towards an island opposite:
+"What has become of Mr. Escott's boat? I took her out myself this
+morning."
+
+"I should like to know what is the use of my sending you telegrams if
+I am delayed in this way?"
+
+"My man will be here in a second, sir."
+
+"Now, then, do be quick, stir yourself, I don't want to stand about
+here all day."
+
+The assistant scratched his head. Finally it transpired that that
+party down the river--that party just gone away--must have had the
+boat. He didn't know anything about it, it wasn't his fault. They said
+they had engaged that boat over-night.
+
+"My boat let out for hire! How dare you do this? I never heard of such
+a thing; I shall write to the papers."
+
+"I will give you just as good a boat, sir--"
+
+"As good a boat! You haven't a boat like it. How do I know you don't
+let my boat out for hire every day?"
+
+"No danger of that, sir; I will give you another boat, one that you
+will be pleased with."
+
+"My boat knocked about by some cad! He won't be back till nine o'clock
+to-night, perhaps. I never heard of such a thing. Which is it?"
+
+"That one with the lady in the stern--the red parasol."
+
+"He must be caught up, he must. Have you got an outrigger?" Assuring
+Lizzie that he would be back in less than half an hour, Frank bent to
+his work.
+
+"If he rows like that he will run down some one," muttered the
+boatman. "Confound him and his boat!"
+
+The outrigger shot through the water; the various craft paused,
+surprised at such furious rowing. Lizzie watched the race, asking the
+boatman if there was danger.
+
+"Danger? No; but he'd better not say too much to that gent when he
+does catch him up, or there'll be a row, I expect. He's going round
+the bend; if he doesn't run into something, he'll catch them," said
+the boatman. "Would you like to look through my glass, miss? They'll
+be coming back presently."
+
+Angry language was indulged in, but the apologies of the boatmen saved
+the young men the unpleasantness of blows, and, elated at his success,
+Frank handed Lizzie into the truant boat and paddled out into the
+stream. When he had got out of earshot and out of the notice of the
+boat-house he rested on his oars. "Did you see me overhaul them?"
+
+"No, you passed out of sight round the bend."
+
+"Yes, by George! I had a good pull for it. There are a lot of red
+parasols up higher, and I had to look out for my boat. What did they
+say about my rowing?"
+
+"They said you'd catch them if you didn't run into something."
+
+"Did they? I was wild; and--would you believe it?--when I did catch
+them up the fellow began to object; he didn't want to come back, if
+you please. He said he had hired the boat, that he did not know the
+boat was mine--no proof. I said, 'I will give you proof,' and so I
+would have."
+
+"I was afraid. I began to regret that I had come out with you."
+
+"What nonsense! Done the fellow good if I had punched his head. Well,
+it has taken it out of me a bit. I had to put on a bit of a spurt to
+catch them; they had such a start, and they were going along a pretty
+fair pace, too. It has made me feel a bit peckish, a pull like that on
+an empty stomach; it must be close on twelve o'clock. What do you say,
+are you beginning to feel that it is lunch time?"
+
+"I am not very hungry, and you forgot the luncheon basket. I ought to
+have reminded you to get some sandwiches at the railway station."
+
+"Sandwiches! I don't want sandwiches; I want something more
+substantial than sandwiches. I'll paddle on; we aren't more than a
+tenminutes' paddle from the 'Roebuck,' a ripping nice hotel, I can tell
+you."
+
+"Couldn't we have something to eat without going to an hotel?"
+
+"I don't think so. I want a bottle of fizz, and the fizz there is
+excellent; one of the best hotels on the river; splendid gardens and
+tennis grounds, a great room overlooking the river; the best people go
+there; sometimes one can't get a table."
+
+"I don't think I am well dressed enough."
+
+"You look charming, a cotton dress and a parasol is all one wants for
+the river."
+
+"You are not ashamed of me, then; you'll take me as I am?"
+
+"Ashamed of you! Steer straight for that post--that's it, bravo!"
+Frank shipped the oars, and when he felt the girl's arm laid on his as
+he helped her to land, it seemed to him that all the world was
+happiness. The spirit of the river, the fields and sky, leaped to his
+eyes. He assisted her to ascend the steps cut in the hillside. She
+laughed and laughed again, and stopped to rest. At last they stood on
+the railway line. It swept round another hill all overshadowed and
+dark with cedars.
+
+"Here comes a train, let's wait. I must see it go round the curve."
+
+"You should see the Bath express come along the broad gauge at the
+rate of sixty miles an hour."
+
+"This is not an express?"
+
+"No."
+
+The luggage train came with an interminable rumble and jingle, and
+Lizzie waited till the last truck passed under the branches. Then they
+went to an hotel full of daylight and stained wood, with glimpses of
+barmaids far away, and waiters running about; the rooms glistened with
+table linen; the waiters carved at a sideboard covered with pies,
+sirloins, hams, tongues. Only one table was occupied, and the waiters
+were lavishing all attention upon it. Lady Seveley leaned back smoking
+a cigarette. Fletcher sat next to her, alternately affecting
+indifference and fixing her with his eyes. Harding was voluble and
+observant. There was about them an air of thirty and the dissipations
+of thirty. And, not in the least ashamed of Lizzie, Frank bowed to
+Lady Seveley; she returned his bow by a slight nod; and Lizzie, very
+much embarrassed, nodded to the men; they smiled in return.
+
+"Who is that lady you saluted?"
+
+"Lady Seveley; the lady I told you about, who I went to the theatre
+with the other night."
+
+"Fancy a lady like that smoking a cigarette!"
+
+A waiter approached with the bill of fare. "We had better not have
+anything hot, we shall lose the whole day. What do you say?"
+
+"Cold sirloin of beef is excellent, sir; pigeon pie is also very good
+--young birds."
+
+"Shall we try the pigeon pie? Get me the wine list. Take off your hat,
+Lizzie, do."
+
+"I am afraid my hair will come down."
+
+"Never mind, so much the better."
+
+With some difficulty she extracted her hat from the hairpins, and the
+bright hair hung loose about her white plump face. Frank drank a glass
+of champagne; he was proud of her beauty.
+
+"By Jove, how this does pick one up! not half bad tipple, is it?"
+
+They hastened through their lunch, unconsciously avoiding the too
+critical looks of those at the far corner table; nor did they suspect,
+as they descended the hill and got into their boat and rowed away,
+that they were still the subject of conversation.
+
+"She is no doubt a very pretty girl. He seems very fond of her. I hope
+he won't make a fool of himself."
+
+"I think he is 'mashed.' We saw him the other night in the bar. He was
+paying her a great deal of attention--the night we saw you at the
+theatre."
+
+Lady Seveley's face slightly altered. Harding noticed the change of
+expression, and he said: "She is called the belle of the bar. Hers is
+the kind of prettiness that appeals to a young man, for somehow, I
+cannot explain, it is a thing you must feel; she epitomises as it were
+the beauty of the English girl; she is the typical pretty English
+girl; all that English girls have of charm, she has; and the co-
+ordination is an irresistible force against some young men; their
+natures demand the freshness the spontaneity, the innocence of--"
+
+"Of the Gaiety bar! I have never been there, but from what you tell me
+of it, it is the last place to find innocence and freshness."
+
+"That may be or not be. We find a rose blooming in very out-of-the-way
+places; but, as a matter of fact, I made no accusation of virtue; vice
+does not rob a youth of its spontaneity. You may rouge the cheeks of
+May and blacken her eyes, but she is May nevertheless. I say that the
+lover of the young girl cannot love the woman of thirty. Her charms
+touch him not at all; but there are others who may love only the woman
+of thirty, and, strange to say, they are only loved by the woman of
+thirty. The universal Don Juan is a myth, and does not exist out of
+literature. There is the Don Juan who plays havoc among the women of
+thirty, there is the Don Juan who plays havoc among young girls, but--
+"
+
+"And you think our friend Frank Escott belongs to the latter class?"
+
+"No, I don't. He is good-looking; he is to all appearance a young man
+that any woman would like, but I don't think you'd find this to be so
+if it were given to you to see into his life. Every man of the world
+must have noticed that there are times when, speaking generally, every
+second woman will run after him--ladies of rank, prostitutes, maid-
+servants--when he may pick and choose his mistresses, and change his
+mind as often as he pleases; there are other times when he finds
+himself womanless, when none will look at him, when in fact without an
+allusion to rings, and sometimes a very direct allusion is required,
+he will not be able to persuade a chorus girl to come out to supper
+with him. He thinks he is getting old, he looks in the glass with
+fear."
+
+"You mean to say there are men who look in the glass with fear?"
+
+"Of course, after five-and-thirty the glass whispers as awful truths
+to the man as to the woman--worse, for woman's youth is longer than
+man's. The contrary is the received opinion, but, like all popular
+opinions, it is wrong; a woman is frequently loved after forty, a man
+never. I was saying that a man often thinks he is getting old because
+the chorus girl took an early opportunity of speaking of rings,
+because the lady of fashion begged of the old gentleman who had taken
+up his hat to go to stay a little while longer, because the chamber-
+maid did not look lusciously round the corner when he passed her in
+the passage. He looks in the glass and imagines all kinds of monstrous
+changes in his person. His fears have no foundation in fact--or should
+I say in the flesh? A year after the duchess makes overtures, the
+chorus girl threatens to throw up her engagement for him, and the
+chambermaid pesters him with unnecessary questions concerning baths
+and towels. These facts tend to show, indeed I think they prove, that
+love is a magnetism, which sometimes we possess in almost irresistible
+strength, and which sometimes fades away into powerless and apparent
+extinction."
+
+"Then you think that good looks have nothing to do with the faculty of
+making oneself beloved?" said Fletcher.
+
+"The phenomenon of love has hitherto eluded our most eager
+investigation; when we have traced each desire to its source, and
+classified--"
+
+"We women will have ceased to take any interest in the matter. What a
+humbug you are, Mr. Harding; one never knows when you are serious. But
+what has all this to do with that poor boy who has gone off with his
+barmaid?"
+
+"This: he is unquestionably good-looking, but I don't think he
+possesses at all the magnetism, the power--call it what you will--that
+I have been speaking of. He will never influence either men or women,
+he will never make friends; that is to say, he will never make use of
+his friends. He will, I should think, always remain a little outside
+of success. It will never quite come to him; he will be one of those
+muddled, dissatisfied creatures who rail against luck and bad
+treatment. I cannot see him really successful in anything; yes I can,
+though, I believe he would make an excellent husband. I have spoken a
+great deal to him. He has told me a lot about himself, and I can see
+that he asks and desires nothing but leave to devote himself to a
+woman, to pander to her caprices. All that violent exterior will wear
+off, and he will yield to and love to be led by a woman. He writes a
+little, and he paints. I don't know if he has any talent; but he never
+will be able to work until he is obliged to work for a woman."
+
+"Then you think he will marry that barmaid?"
+
+"Most probably. He will struggle against it; but unless chance
+intervenes--she may die, she may run away with some one to-morrow, for
+she does not care for him--he will be sucked into the gulf."
+
+"He is Lord Mount Rorke's heir; he will have twenty thousand a year
+one of these days."
+
+"Mount Rorke will never forgive him a bad match. I know Mount Rorke,"
+said Lady Seveley, "and you do, too, Mr. Fletcher."
+
+"Yes, a little."
+
+Unfearing prophecy and oracle launched from the windows of the hotel,
+the young people rowed, lost to all but each other, amazed at the
+loveliness of the river. They floated amid the bulrushes. Cries and
+regret when Frank's oar crushed the desired blossom. Never before were
+lilies as desirable as those that were gathered that day--that bud, it
+must be possessed, that blown flower must not be left behind. Lizzie
+dipped her arm to the elbow, and rejoiced in the soft flowing water.
+The river rose up into what beautiful views and prospects. The locks,
+the sensation of the boat sinking among the slimy piles with Frank
+erect holding her off with the boat-hook, or the slow rising till the
+banks were overflowed, and the wonderful wooden gates opened,
+disclosing a placid stream with overhanging boughs and a barge. And
+the charming discoveries they made in this water world, the moorhen's
+indolence, and the watchful rat swimming for its hole; each bend was a
+new picture. How beautifully expressive of the work of the field were
+the comfortable barns. If life is never very fair, a vision of life
+may be fair indeed, and once the tears came to the bar girl's eyes,
+for she, too, suddenly remembered her life of tobacco and whisky; long
+weary hours of standing, politeness, washing glasses, and listening to
+filthy jokes. Would there be no change? If she might live her life
+here! She thought of the morning light, and the home occupations of
+the morning, and then the languid and lazy afternoons in this boat,
+amid the enchantment of these river lands.
+
+Frank laid by his oars, and as regardless as a shopboy of observers,
+he took her hand and begged of her to confide in him. He thought, too,
+of seeing her daily, hourly, of her presence in his daily life; he saw
+her amid his painting and poetry, and this pleasant scenery. Then the
+vision vanished like the shine upon the stream, she withdrew her
+hands, a shadow had fallen.
+
+They passed a summer-house where three girls were sitting; one sat on
+the edge of a table and sang the ballad of "Biddy Malone." There was a
+house so red, and so full of gables and narrow windows, that Frank
+said it was a perfect specimen of Elizabethan architecture; and he
+treated Lizzie to all he could pretend to know on the subject, and he
+condemned the owner for the glaringly modern garden benches with which
+the swards were interspersed. The sun was setting, there was lassitude
+in every passing boat, the girls leaned upon the arms of the young
+men, and the woods stood up tall and contemplative, as beautiful in
+the deep blue river as upon the pale sky.
+
+They landed at Pangbourne Woods by the wide grassy path between the
+reedy river and the spreading beeches. There a man was boiling a
+kettle. He spoke to them; he instructed them in the life of camping
+out, and he invited them to tea. Lizzie went into the tent and got out
+the tea-things. Two men came up, jolly fellows enough; and such little
+adventures endeared and memorised the day.
+
+They climbed, oh! what a climb it was, Lizzie's ankles and courage
+giving way alternately; but at last they reached a pathway, and they
+walked at ease into the green solitudes of the wood. It seemed
+endless, so soft and so still. He spoke to Lizzie, whom he now called
+Liz, of her past, of the reasons that had led her to leave home and
+"go to business." Her brother, she said, was a painter, a celebrated
+bird-painter.
+
+"Then we should know each other, I am a painter." He told her of his
+ideas and projects, of how he had been to France; he might go there
+again, unless something happened to keep him in England. He wrote a
+little too, in the papers, and he might do something to help her
+brother--a paragraph in _Fashion_, he could get one in. For fear of
+wounding her he did not ask if her brother was a decorative painter,
+employed by a firm, or an artist who exhibited pictures. Her father had
+married again. She did not like her stepmother, and that had determined
+her to go into business.
+
+Had she ever been in love? Yes, she supposed she had; but it was all
+over now. The last words sounded, and died away in a great abyss of
+soul.
+
+Parts of the path were marked "Dangerous." The earth had given way,
+creating fearful chasms, over which trees leaned dangerously or hung
+out fantastically by a few roots. In the dell below there stood a
+small green painted table, and the young people leaning on the
+protecting railing wondered at this mysterious piece of furniture.
+There was in them and about them an illusive sense of death and the
+beauty of life. One slight push would hurl them headlong hundreds of
+feet down to the painted table.
+
+The silver of the river sparkled through silence and the foliage of
+June, and the songs of the boatmen came and went like voices in a
+dream.
+
+The days of youth are long, and in tender idleness the hours lingered,
+their charm unbroken in the rattle of London; and happy with love and
+tired with the great air of the river and its leafy scenery, Frank
+fell asleep that night.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+
+One of the French artists he had met in Rome wrote to him from Paris.
+Why should he not go there? There was nothing for him to do in London;
+Lizzie Baker had disappeared, and in the year and a half that he spent
+in Paris learning to draw he forgot her and his friends in Southwick.
+Nor did he remember them when he returned to London; not until one
+evening, strolling down Regent Street, he came upon Willy Brookes
+suddenly.
+
+"How do you do, my dear Willy? I haven't seen you for--for--how long?"
+
+"I should think it must be now, let me see, I have got it down
+somewhere; when I get home I'll look it up."
+
+"Hang the looking up; better come and look me up."
+
+The young men laughed.
+
+"It must be nearly a year and a half."
+
+"I should think it must. Where are you staying? I am staying at
+Morley's Hotel, Trafalgar Square. Come and dine with me to-night."
+
+Willy reflected. He stroked his moustache reflectively.
+
+"No," he said, "I am afraid I can't. I have something to do."
+
+"Nonsense! I don't believe you. What have you to do?"
+
+"I have some cheques to write."
+
+"That won't take you a moment. You can do that at my place."
+
+"I couldn't, I assure you. I must have my books and my own pen. I
+wouldn't write a cheque in that way for worlds."
+
+"Why not? We'll go to a music-hall afterwards."
+
+"I am very sorry, but I really couldn't--not to-night."
+
+"You never go in for amusing yourself."
+
+"Yes, I do; but what amuses you doesn't amuse me. I assure you I would
+sooner stay at home, write my cheques, and enter them carefully, than
+go to a music-hall."
+
+Frank looked at Willy for a moment in mute amazement. Then he said:
+"But what's that you have under your arm in that brown paper parcel?"
+
+Willy laughed. "A leg of mutton; I have just been to the stores."
+
+"You mean to say you buy legs of mutton at the stores, and carry them
+home? Supposing you met some one, if we were to--"
+
+"Not very likely, a foggy night like this. I have a small house in
+Notting Hill. I take the 'bus at the Circus. I shall be very glad if
+you will come with me; so will the missus."
+
+"I forgot to ask about her, how is she?"
+
+"Very well. Come and see for yourself. Come and dine with us to-
+morrow. I can't give you one of your restaurant dinners, but if leg of
+mutton will suit, all I can say is that I shall be very happy."
+
+"I'll come whenever you like."
+
+"Can you come to-morrow?"
+
+"Yes. We might go to the theatre afterwards."
+
+"We might. Be at my place at half-past six, that will give us plenty
+of time."
+
+"What a queer fish he is," thought Frank, as he walked down Regent
+Street, looking at the women. "Can't come and dine with me because he
+has two or three cheques to write, must have all his books out to make
+entries--what a clerk for the Government--an ideal clerk! What a
+genius for red tape!"
+
+Willy was standing on the steps of the little house, and he commented
+on his friend's extravagances as he welcomed him.
+
+"You might have come here for ninepence, third class. You paid that
+cabman three shillings, and you took, I don't mind betting, half an
+hour longer. Now, don't make a mess, do wipe your feet; we don't keep
+a servant, and it gives the missus a lot of trouble cleaning up."
+
+Not a book nor a picture nor a single flower, and every worn carpet
+suggested the bare necessaries of life. There was the drawing-room,
+kept for show, never entered, barren and blank; there was the room--a
+little more alive--where Willy smoked his pipe and kept his accounts,
+but there the crumbs, three or four, seemed to speak of the dry,
+bread-like days that wore themselves away; life there was too
+obviously dry and bare, joyless and mean.
+
+Had Frank's mind been philosophic and deep-seeing, he would have mused
+on the admirable patience of the woman who lived here, seeing no one,
+making entire sacrifice of her life; he would have contrasted the
+humbleness, nay, the meanness, of this unknown house with the
+reception rooms of the Manor House; one life wasting in darkness and
+poverty, another burning out in light and riches; timeworn truths
+float on the surface of this little pool of life, and so modernised
+are they that they appear for a moment "new and original." But further
+than a regret that there were no flowers in the window, and a sense of
+the horrible when his eyes fell on a piece of Swiss scenery, his
+thoughts did not wander; they soon were fixed and absorbed in the
+consideration of the happiness that Willy had attained by "doing the
+right thing by the woman." He was hers, she was his. Dreams of things
+marital, the endearments of husband and wife, are the essence of the
+being of some men and women, and are to them a perennial delight.
+Frank was such a one.
+
+He had brought Cissy a doll, and the child came and sat on his knees,
+and put her arms round his neck. He kissed the long face, hollow-eyed,
+and stroked the beautiful gold ringlets that cloaked the shoulders.
+
+They went to the theatre in a 'bus. Frank carried Cissy, and he called
+indignantly to the crowd not to press him. "Did they not see that he
+was carrying a child?" He did not think that his friends might
+recognise him, nor would he have felt any shame had he caught sight of
+some face in the stalls he knew. He would not have put Cissy aside;
+nor would he have pretended that he was not with the pale, worn,
+shabbily-dressed woman by his side. He was wholly filled with his
+friends, their interests and concerns; so complete was the investment
+of himself that Lizzie Baker did not snatch a fugitive thought from
+them; and it was not until he sat smoking with Willy in the back
+parlour that he said:
+
+"I wonder what has become of her? She was a nice girl."
+
+"You mean Lizzie Baker? You lost sight of her all of a sudden, didn't
+you? Do you think she went off to live with some one?"
+
+"No, I don't think she was a girl who would do that. By Jove, she was
+a pretty girl! Once I took her up the river, up to Reading. We had
+such a jolly day in the woods and on the water--amid the water-lilies
+and bulrushes, or the shade of the cedars. I wonder you never go up
+the river."
+
+"I have no time. Besides, I hate the water. I never go on the water if
+I can help it--I am too nervous."
+
+"How odd! Oh, we had a jolly day!"
+
+"But I never understood how it was you lost sight of her. You said in
+your letter that she had left the bar; but she must have gone
+somewhere. I am sure you didn't make sufficient enquiries. You are too
+impatient."
+
+"I did all I could. One girl told me that a lot of them--Lizzie among
+the number--had suddenly been transferred to Liverpool Street. That
+was true, for I saw at Liverpool Street several girls I had known
+previously at the 'Gaiety.' Those poor bar girls, how pitiful they
+look! all over London they stand behind their bars! Breathing for
+hours tobacco smoke, fumes of whisky and beer, listening to abominable
+jokes, the subjects of hideous flirtations; and then the little
+comedy, the effort to appear as virtuous young ladies--'young ladies
+of the bar.' It is very pitiful. In such circumstances how do you
+expect a girl to keep straight? I do not think it is the men who do
+the harm. There are, of course, a few blackguards who crack filthy
+jokes over the counter, but if a girl likes she needn't listen--a girl
+can always keep a man in his place. Then if a man flirts with a girl
+he always loves her, likes her, if you think 'like' a better word; but
+you must admit that in the most beery flirtation there must be a
+certain amount of liking. There is, therefore, something to save a
+girl. I feel sure that it is girls, not men, who lead innocent girls
+astray. Those poor bar girls are quite unprotected; they have a
+sitting-room into which they may not bring a friend--a man, I mean. In
+the bedrooms there is always a lot of illicit talking and drinking
+going an. A girl who has gone wrong herself is never content until she
+has persuaded another girl to go wrong; a girl is so mean! I feel very
+much on this subject. I am thinking of writing a book on the subject.
+Did I ever tell you about the novel I intended to write?"
+
+"You told me once in Brighton about a novel you intended to write. I
+forget what it was about, but you said you were going to call it 'Her
+Saviour.'"
+
+"Oh, that is another book. I was thinking of writing the story of a
+woman who is led into vice. They get her to throw over the man who
+loves her; he follows her, never loses sight of her until at last,
+determined to save her, and although he knows that he is wrecking his
+own life, he marries her. What do you think?"
+
+Being pressed for an answer, Willy stroked his moustache with great
+gravity. "I really can't say, my dear fellow; you know I never like
+giving opinions on questions I do not understand."
+
+The conversation came to a pause, and Willy began to whistle.
+
+"Just a little flat--quarter of a note wrong there and there!"
+
+"Do you whistle it? Oh, yes, that's it! I can hear the difference! I
+wish you had your violin. I should like to hear you play it."
+
+"What, with the missus overhead?"
+
+"She doesn't know anything about it. How prettily _she_ used to sing
+it; a pretty tune, isn't it? Good old days they were! Do you remember
+when you used to come to the Princess's with me? Didn't she look
+pretty?"
+
+"You never told me why you didn't marry her; I never heard the end of
+that story."
+
+"There is nothing to tell. It's all over now. Do you remember how I
+used to dress myself up to go to the theatre? We used to go to supper
+at Scott's afterwards. I did not mind what I ate in those days."
+
+"You hardly ever go to the theatre now, do you?"
+
+"Hardly ever. I shouldn't have gone to-night if it had not been for
+you. I don't know how it is, but I don't seem to enjoy myself as I
+used to."
+
+The men ceased talking. Presently Frank broke the silence.
+
+"I hope you are getting on all right on the Stock Exchange. You
+haven't mentioned the subject."
+
+"I don't know that there is much to say. Times are very bad just now.
+I don't think any one is doing much good."
+
+"But you are with a very good firm. Nothing is going wrong, I hope."
+
+"I don't think any one is making money. We have all been hard hit
+lately--war scares. But I daresay it will all come right."
+
+"I never understood what you ever wanted to go into the business for.
+What do you, with your handsome place at Southwick, and your father
+with his thousands and thousands, want to turn yourself into a city
+clerk for?"
+
+"You see, you don't care about making money; I do--it was bred in me.
+Besides, I am an unselfish fellow. I never think of myself; I like to
+think of others. If I were to make a good thing out of this, I should
+be able to leave the missus independent." Then, after a slight pause,
+Willy said: "But, by the way, I was forgetting. I got a letter this
+morning saying that if I met you in London I was to tell you that you
+were to come to Southwick for a ball."
+
+"What ball?"
+
+"A subscription ball at Henfield--a county ball. Will you come?"
+
+"Yes, I don't mind. It should be rather fun. Are you going?"
+
+"Yes, I must go, worse luck, to chaperon my sisters."
+
+"How do you go? Will the governor let you have the horses?"
+
+"Not he! We generally have a large 'bus. I am going down to-morrow by
+the twelve o'clock train. Will that be too early for you?"
+
+"Not if I go home now and pack up."
+
+"You won't like that. You had better sleep here and get up early in
+the morning; your room is all ready."
+
+"I couldn't manage it. I never could get back to the Temple, pack up,
+and meet you at twelve at London Bridge."
+
+"It will be rather a cold walk for you; you are too late for the
+train, and the last 'bus, I am afraid, has gone."
+
+"I shall have a hansom. The only thing that worries me is not being
+able to say good-bye to the missus."
+
+"She's fast asleep. She won't mind--I'll make that all right."
+
+"Then, at twelve o'clock at London Bridge!"
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+
+Sally rushed down to meet him, and she took him off for a walk in the
+garden.
+
+"What a time it is since we have seen you. What have you been doing--
+amusing yourself a great deal, I suppose?"
+
+"I have been the whole time in Paris. I have been studying very hard.
+I only returned home about two months ago."
+
+"I don't believe about the studying."
+
+"I have been working at my painting. I worked morning and afternoon in
+the studio from the nude. Last summer I had a delightful time. I took
+a little place on the Seine--a little house near Bas Meudon. I had a
+garden; I used to breakfast every morning in the garden--fresh eggs,
+new bread, an omelette, such as only a Frenchwoman can make, a cutlet,
+or a piece of chicken. The wine, too, so fresh and generous. I don't
+know how it is, but Burgundy here is not the same as Burgundy on the
+banks of the Seine. I worked all day in my garden, or down by the
+river. I was painting a large picture. I haven't finished it yet. I
+must go back there in the summer to finish it."
+
+"Why can't you finish it here? Haven't you got it here?"
+
+"Yes, but the Seine is not here."
+
+"Wouldn't the Adour do? The river at Shoreham?"
+
+"No; but the Thames might. My picture is really more English than
+French. There were a lot of willow trees there, and my picture
+represents a girl lying in a hammock, foot hanging over, showing such
+a pretty piece of black stocking. There are two men there, they are
+both swinging the hammock, but while one is looking at her ankle the
+other only sees her face."
+
+Sally laughed coarsely and evasively.
+
+"What are you laughing at?" he asked, feeling a little nettled.
+
+"Don't you think people will think it rather improper?"
+
+"Not at all. Why should they? The idea I wish to convey is that one
+man loves her truly for herself alone, the other only loves her
+because she is a pretty girl. I have composed some triolets for the
+picture, which will be printed in the catalogue--
+
+      "In a hammock I swing,
+        My feet hanging over;
+      'Neath Love's bright wing,
+        In a hammock I swing,
+      Loves come and they bring
+        A truth to discover,
+      In a hammock I swing,
+        My feet hanging over.
+
+"That is the first stanza. There are six, and they tell the story of
+the picture. I will copy them into your album, if you like."
+
+"Will you? That will be so nice, if you will. The only thing is, I
+haven't an album."
+
+"Haven't you? I'll get you one. I'll send you one from London."
+
+Sally asked him to explain the triolets, and very loyally she strove
+to understand.
+
+"Ah, I see a thing when I am told, but I never can understand poetry
+or pictures until they are explained to me."
+
+Mollified, Frank thought of going upstairs to fetch the copy book in
+which he wrote such things, but speaking out of an unperceived
+association of ideas, he said: "What a clever girl your sister is. I
+had once a long talk with her about pictures and poetry, and I was
+surprised to find how well she talked. She understands everything."
+
+"Maggie is a clever girl; I know she is far cleverer than I am; but if
+you knew her as well as I do, you would find she did not understand
+all you think she understands."
+
+"How do you mean?"
+
+"Maggie's cleverness lies in being able to pretend she understands
+what she knows nothing about; I have often caught her out."
+
+"Really; but how do you get on together now?"
+
+"Pretty well! I don't think there is much love lost on either side. I
+don't know why--I never could understand Maggie. You have no idea of
+the reports she spreads about me all over the place--the stories she
+tells the Grahams, the Prestons, the Wells. She told Mrs. Wells that I
+fell in love with every young man that came to Southwick. She said
+awful things about me. As for that story about telling cook to put
+father's dinner back, I don't think I ever shall hear the last of it.
+What made father so angry was because he thought it was to talk to
+Jimmy in the slonk."
+
+"You told me the last time I was here that you wanted to finish a
+conversation with him in the slonk."
+
+"I may have told you that it was to speak to him about his sister
+Fanny," Sally replied evasively. "I would not care if I never saw him
+again; but I couldn't get on if I weren't allowed to see Fanny. Father
+wanted me to promise never to enter the house again!"
+
+"But you have flirted with him?"
+
+"I don't know that I have; certainly not more than Maggie. Last summer
+she was hanging round his neck every evening under the sycamores. I
+caught them twice."
+
+"I don't see any harm in going under the sycamores. I daresay Maggie
+has allowed him to kiss her; so have you!"
+
+"That I assure you I haven't."
+
+"You mean to say a man never kissed you?"
+
+"I didn't say that. I haven't kissed any one for years."
+
+"Who did kiss you?"
+
+"You don't know him. I was only eighteen. He was a married man; it was
+very wrong of me."
+
+"I wish I had been he."
+
+"Do you? I hate him; he was a beast for doing it."
+
+Sally often indulged in these half confessions; one of her aunts used
+to call them her "side lights." By their aid she succeeded in
+interesting Frank. "How candid she is to tell me--to confide in me!"
+Sally was handsome now; the evening suited her dark skin and coal
+black eyes, and her strong figure was rich and not ungraceful in a
+dress of ruby velvet. Should he kiss her? What would she say? He
+threwhis arm about her.
+
+"I am surprised. Certainly not!"
+
+"I don't see any harm." Then, with a sensation of saying something
+foolish, he said: "You told me you kissed a married man."
+
+"That was ages ago--I was very silly. I shouldn't think of doing
+sonow."
+
+In the silence which followed Frank wondered why he had tried to kiss
+her. Decidedly he liked the other better.
+
+Now every evening Maggie went to the writing-table, and all knew what
+it meant. Mr. Brookes occasionally lamented in a minor key, but
+without having recourse to his handkerchief. Willy said nothing; his
+losses on the Stock Exchange had been heavy; and owing to a
+conversation Frank had drawn him into during dinner the other day, his
+digestion, he feared, was not quite up to the mark. So on the night of
+the ball he only answered with an occasional monosyllable the splendid
+young man of the embroidered waistcoats who related his pleasures in a
+deep bass; nor did he pretend to take any interest in the crude
+militia officer who sometimes broke the silence by a declaration that
+he did not care for politics or poetry, that he liked history better.
+The young ladies listened devoutly to all that the young men said; Mr.
+Brookes carved valiantly at the head of the table and appeared
+resigned. Bouquets were fixed in button-holes in the billiard-room and
+the 'bus was announced. A greasy oil-lamp hung from the roof.
+Sometimes Sally rubbed the windows and said she could tell by the
+bushes where they were, and the embroidered waistcoat continued to
+drone out the measure of his amusements. He would have to run up to
+London, then he must have a shy at _trente et quarante_ at Monte Carlo,
+then he must get back for the spring meeting at Newmarket. Frank asked
+him if he didn't think he could manage to amuse himself without talking
+it all out beforehand. But undaunted and unchecked he wandered from
+Homburg to Paris, and from Paris to Ross-shire, until the 'bus drew up
+among a small crowd of people.
+
+The ball was a failure. When they entered the rooms there were
+scarcely twenty people present. It was very cold, and the men said;
+"How can the women bear it with their naked shoulders?"
+
+"We shall never get near this fire," said Sally, looking in dismay on
+the circle of damsels who stood warming themselves, their dresses
+relieved upon the masses of laurel with which the room was decorated;
+"there is a beautiful fire in one of those little rooms at the end."
+
+"Very well, let us come and sit there; or shall we dance this waltz
+first?"
+
+"Let's dance it."
+
+They danced, and Frank shuddered in his evening clothes as he danced.
+
+"Did you notice," said Sally, as they hurried to the retiring room,
+"how upset father seemed at dinner? I thought he was going to cry, but
+he bore up to the end better than I expected."
+
+"So he did, but I don't see what there was particularly to upset him
+this time. Meason is away at sea, and you have promised not to see him
+any more."
+
+"Oh, I wasn't thinking about the Measons--but haven't you heard? I
+only heard it through a friend, but I know for a fact that Willy has
+lost nearly all his money on the Stock Exchange."
+
+"You don't say so; I am so sorry."
+
+"Father hasn't heard it all yet; if he had he wouldn't have come down
+to dinner. I don't fancy he knows more than that things have not been
+going well, and that Willy has been a loser."
+
+"But how can he have lost? I thought he was junior partner in an old
+established business."
+
+"So he is. I can't tell you how the mischief was done, but I know he
+has lost all his money."
+
+"What do you mean by all his money?"
+
+"All the money--three thousand--that father let him draw out of the
+distillery."
+
+"This is very sad."
+
+"Yes, isn't it? And particularly for a fellow who has so few
+amusements, and only cares about making money. Just look at him now;
+he wanders about speaking to no one. Come, let's dance this dance--are
+you engaged?"
+
+"No!"
+
+This news about Willy fixed the Harfield ball in Frank's thoughts, and
+he remembered the pretty girl in white of whom he could make nothing,
+of the raw just-brought-out girl who had bored him, of the
+communicative girl who had amused him by her accounts of her dogs and
+horses; he remembered, too, how he had seen Maggie disappearing down
+the ends of certain passages with a young man whose name he did not
+catch, and whose face he had not noticed. He had danced twice with
+her, only twice; she was distracted, she did not look at him, her eyes
+wandered all over the room, she answered his questions indifferently.
+Sally, on the contrary, had devoted herself to him, and on several
+occasions he thought that her blunt straightforward manner was better
+than the other's slyness. The 'bus came with its draughts, its sickly
+lamp and its doleful jolting. Sally was too tired to rub the windows
+and declare how far they were from home, and the dancers endured their
+discomforts almost in silence; even the embroidered waistcoat
+occasionally ceased to talk about Homburg; and in all the extreme
+bitterness and greyness of a March morning they pulled up before the
+door of the Manor House.
+
+"I beg of you not to make a noise. If you wake up father he will never
+let us go to a ball again. Is there a fire in the billiard-room,
+Gardner?"
+
+"Yes, miss, there's a lovely fire; the decanters are on the table and
+the kettle is on the hob."
+
+"I think you would all like a glass of something hot," said Maggie.
+
+"Rather!"
+
+"But don't make a noise, please."
+
+They stole along the passages to the billiard-room shivering, their
+feet aching, feeling very uncomfortable indeed. The waistcoat was now
+considering if it would be good form to come forward in the
+Conservative interest at the next election; but every one was too
+tired, they could not laugh, and amid a few general remarks the young
+ladies drank their gin and water, casting sheep's eyes at the young
+men, and then, glad and yet loth to part, all retired limping to their
+rooms.
+
+Breakfast was a pleasant meal--full of laughter and anecdotes of the
+ball, and, laden with Gladstone bags, the young men departed in ones
+and twos. Frank was going with Willy to London, and when they
+disappeared among the laurels Sally and Maggie turned indoors,
+conscious of reaction, and wondering what they should do with the long
+day that stretched before them. Maggie walked upstairs; she lingered,
+undecided, and then went down the passage to Frank's room. He had
+forgotten a shirt stud; on the chest of drawers there was a crumpled
+white tie and a soiled pair of white gloves. "How careless he is!" she
+thought, "I must send him this," and she put the stud in her pocket.
+She straightened out the gloves and determined to send the necktie to
+the wash. Next time he came down she would have it to give him, nice,
+clean, and white--she must see that it was beautifully made up. Then
+she found his ball programme. He had danced four times with Sally--
+only twice with her--what a fool she had been; she had wasted her
+whole evening with that other fellow. It did make her feel so angry.
+Then the housemaid entered and turned the bed down.
+
+"What a lot of washing there will be this week, Gardner."
+
+"There will indeed, miss. Three pairs of sheets, and only slept in
+once."
+
+"Yes, isn't it a pity? It seems absurd to send these sheets to the
+wash, doesn't it?"
+
+"It do, indeed, miss."
+
+"Absurd!" said Sally, who had just come in. "I want a pair of fresh
+sheets for my bed. I'll have these."
+
+"No you won't--I was going to take them."
+
+"I should like to know what right you have to them more than I."
+
+"You promised not to interfere with me, and you have done nothing
+else. You did nothing at the ball but ask him for dances."
+
+"That's a lie! I didn't ask him for a dance. You went off to hide; no
+one saw anything of you all the evening."
+
+"You mean to say you didn't promise?"
+
+"I never promised anything; if I did I should keep my promise. I am
+not like you. I want a pair of sheets, and I mean to have these."
+
+"They are too big for your bed."
+
+Sally seized the sheet and strove to drag it from Maggie, who,
+although the weaker, held her own bravely for some time. Finding her
+strength failing her, she loosed her hold, letting her sister fall
+against the wall, and taking up the pillow she launched it with her
+full force. "If you want what he slept in, you can have it all."
+
+"I'll give it to you, my lady," cried the bully, making a rush round
+the bed, but Maggie fled through the dressing-room, shutting the door
+behind her, and locked herself into her room.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+
+As Willy would not pay the extra fare, Frank had to travel second
+class. He was telling his friend of the Stock Exchange, and his
+losses--nearly four thousand pounds. He had suspected that the firm of
+which he was junior partner had not played fair with him. Anyhow, he
+was going to get out of the business, having something better in view
+--a shop in Brighton. Yes, a shop in Brighton, a greengrocer's shop. No
+one had any idea, until they went into the calculation, of the amount
+of profit that was made on vegetables. Lord This and Lord That, every
+one who had a handsome place with large gardens, counted on being able
+to pay his gardener's wages by the sale of the surplus carrots,
+artichokes, potatoes, parsley, onions, tomatoes, especially tomatoes--
+every one nowadays ate tomatoes. He had it all down in figures, and
+was perfectly astonished at the sums of money that could be made.
+Grapes had been overdone, that was true; but a profit could be made
+out of everything else. Flowers, especially gardenias, were sold in
+the London market at two shillings apiece. Now, there was he within
+five miles of a large town like Brighton; the rent of a shop in the
+Western Road would not come to more than seventy or eighty pounds a
+year; the missus he would put in as shopwoman, and, there was no doubt
+of it, she would make as good a shopwoman as you could find, after a
+little practice; the child could run on errands, so it should be all
+profit. "I shall have none of the expenses that other people have to
+contend with. In the garden at the Manor House about three times as
+much stuff is grown as required. I shall buy all the fruit,
+vegetables, and flowers from my father at cost price, or a little
+over, and shall sell in my shop at retail price, that is, twenty or
+thirty per cent more. There is, therefore, no reason why the shop
+should not bring in from three to four hundred a year. And--would you
+believe it?--my father, who will be benefited by my scheme, if not
+more, quite as much as I shall be, is opposed to it; he will get a
+fair price for a lot of things for which he now gets nothing. But no.
+He cannot, or will not, see it. I never saw any one like my father. He
+will not help himself and you can do nothing to help him. The
+distillery business is going very badly. He had a bad year last year.
+I know for a fact that he did not make five per cent on his capital.
+Putting these things together, I should have thought that he would
+have been glad to make a little money to retrench; but no! he prefers
+to go on in the old way. He made money in the old way, and he doesn't
+see why he shouldn't make money again in the old way. Odd man my
+father is, isn't he?"
+
+It appeared to Frank that Mr. Brookes had managed to help himself very
+liberally indeed to all the good things in life; but with his false,
+facile, Celtic nature, he had no difficulty in re-adjusting his ideas
+and adopting a view of Mr. Brookes more in harmony with Willy's. He
+was, as usual, enthusiastic about his friends, and was effervescing
+with love and goodwill. He saw nothing of their faults--they were the
+best and truest people he had ever known, and he could not love them
+too much. Indeed he was angry, and regretted the limitations that
+nature has set on the human heart, and would if he could have lost
+himself in one immense and eternal love of the Brookeses.
+
+When he bade Willy good-bye at London Bridge, and wished him well with
+his shop, these sentiments ceased to be active forces in him, and they
+lay latent in his life of restaurants and bar rooms until the summer
+returned, and he received an invitation from the Manor House to come
+down for a garden party at Mrs. Berkins's. When he opened the letter
+he basked in thoughts of them--of Maggie and her fascinating
+subtleties, of Sally's blunt speech and sturdy good looks, of Willy,
+and all the quiet talks they would have together. He counted the
+tunnels, and, striving to recall the landscape, guessed extravagantly
+the number of miles that separated him from them. He walked up the
+drive with a beating heart, looking for the girls between the laurel
+bushes. He found them, and their habits which endeared them to him,
+unchanged; and to slip back into the old ways without experiencing the
+slightest difficulty or jar was like waking from a dream and entering
+again on a pleasant reality. There was the excellent dinner and the
+usual complaints about the Southdown Road, the cigars in the billiard-
+room, conversation about pictures and investments, gin and water, and
+then a long yarn with Willy in his bedroom. Life moved at the Manor
+House without any spring creaking, without jolt or jar, and it was
+this beautiful regularity that made Frank feel so healthily and so
+unexpectedly happy. He loved the desolation of Ireland. This was the
+stronger sense, but there was another sense, a half stifled sense,
+that found an echo in these southern downs interwoven with suburban
+life--in other words, a faint resurrection of the original English
+mind in him. He enjoyed and he grew akin to this Saxon prosperity; he
+learned to recognise it as manifested in the various prospects of the
+weald and the wold, and he loved this medley of contradictory aspects
+--the spires of the village churches, the porches of the villas, the
+rich farmhouses and their elm trees, the orchards jammed between
+masses of chalk, the shepherds seen against the sky of the Downs. It
+is true that he felt that this country was alien to him, but he was
+not individually conscious that his love of suburban Sussex was a
+morbid affection, opposed to the normal and indissoluble bonds of
+inherited aspirations and prejudices, and the forms and colours that
+had filled his eyes in childhood. Consciousness in Frank Escott was
+always slow, and always so governed and coloured by the sentiment of
+the moment that his comprehension of things were always deformed or
+incomplete. In his mind the phenomenon of life was ever in nebulae,
+and though very often one thought would define itself, no group of
+thoughts, or part of a group, ever became clear, so there was no
+abiding principle, nothing that he might know and steer by. He was, of
+course, aware that the Brookes were not equal to him in rank, but he
+did not know, or, rather, he would not know, that they were vulgar;
+nor did he think that Mount Rorke might marry again, if he were to
+marry Maggie or Sally. All that was really alive and distinct in him
+was love of them; and this love thrived in a sensation of class which
+he would not acknowledge, even to himself, had any existence. The
+glass-houses, and swards, and laurels had a meaning and fascination
+for him that he could not account for or describe, and he found these
+feelings, which were mainly class feelings of an unusual kind, not
+only in the aspect of the country but in the accent and speech of his
+friends, in the expression of their eyes and very hands. The English
+servants pleased him, and he strove to detect qualities in the
+carriage and horses, and he compared them to their advantage with
+Mount Rorke's. He loved to wrap the rug about the young ladies' knees,
+and they seemed to him quite perfect and delightful as they lay back
+in their carriage, driving beneath a sky full of blue, and through the
+changing views of the Downs, all distinct with light and shade. Sally
+and Maggie made much of him, covered him up, and addressed to him
+pleasant speeches. His eyes and ears were open and eager for new
+impressions, and his heart panted with readiness to admire and praise
+all he saw. He was ready to think that he had never seen anything so
+lovely as the laurels and the numerous glass-houses; and he wondered
+why he had ever thought so little of Berkins, and he listened with
+interest to that gentleman's explanation of the superiority of his
+possessions over everybody else's possessions. He even allowed himself
+to be persuaded that there was no pheasant shooting in the kingdom--
+for its size--equal to that in the little wood. Sally, who did not
+attempt to conceal her dislike of her brother-in-law, whispered:
+"That's the way to bring them down," and Frank was obliged to laugh.
+Then she and Maggie disappeared as if the earth had swallowed them for
+several hours. The Grenadier Guards played on the lawn, and Frank was
+introduced to ladies of all ages and sizes; and as these bored him, he
+began to see that the place was vulgar and the people shoddy, and he
+wondered what Mount Rorke would say if he were to come suddenly across
+him. Grace was the subject of much concern, and obviously _enceinte,_
+she passed through the different groups. She had introduced Frank as
+Lord Mount Rorke's son, then as his nephew, then as his heir, and,
+fearing she might succumb to the temptation of introducing him as Mount
+Rorke himself, Frank escaped from her, and joined a party that Berkins
+was personally conducting through the grounds.
+
+The stables had been built by So-and-so on the most approved
+principles. There were no stables like them in Sussex--the fittings of
+the harness-room alone had cost him three hundred. The horses he had
+bought at the Duke's sale, the Duke would not have thought of parting
+with them had he known how they would turn out. He had driven them
+along the Brighton road at the rate of fifteen miles an hour; he would
+back them to do fifteen miles in the hour. There was not a pair of
+horses in England equal to them. That was Mrs. Berkins's riding horse
+--was it possible to imagine a more perfect cob? He could get a hundred
+for him any day, he did not know of anything like him. "Did any of you
+gentleman ever see anything like him?" They went to the kennels. A
+brace of Irish setters were declared to be the finest dogs that
+Ireland had ever produced, they had taken two prizes, one in Dublin
+and another in Brighton--and the little fox terrier was the gamest dog
+in Sussex. She would go into any hole after a fox, and never leave him
+till she brought him out. You couldn't find her equal. Then the glass-
+houses were perfect. They contained all the latest improvements, and
+all these were fully explained. "Berkins is excelling himself to-day,"
+thought Frank.
+
+Presently they came upon a basket of peaches.
+
+"These peaches were, of course, grown under glass, but I think I am
+right in saying, Jackson, that they were produced without artificial
+heat."
+
+"Yes, sir, quite right, sir. It couldn't be done nowhere else, sir,
+but all the sun in Sussex seems to come down here--a regular little
+sun trap, I think that's what you called it the other day, sir, when
+you were speaking to me about them there peaches."
+
+"Yes, I did. If you move nearer the sea you get fogs and cold winds,
+further inland you lose the sun, but just here the climate is equal to
+the south of Europe! I ask you to look at these peaches, it seems
+impossible--does it not?--to have peaches like these at the end of
+May, and without any heat, merely glass."
+
+"It seems to me quite impossible," declared a little fat man with
+flaxen hair. "I am devoted to peach-growing, and I confess I am quite
+at a loss. Gardener, did you say that those peaches were grown
+entirely without artificial heat?"
+
+The gardener pretended not to hear, and tried to slip away, but the
+little man, who had been taken on his hobby, was not to be baulked,
+and he pursued the wretched horticulturist.
+
+"You mean to say that these peaches ripened without any artificial
+heat, any?"
+
+"You have no idea what a sun we get here, sir. I have never seen
+anything like it. In my last situation, when I was living with
+Lord ---, we couldn't get our fruit forward, use whatever heat he
+might, and Houghton is not more than fifty miles from here--the
+difference of climate is positively wonderful."
+
+Jackson had reckoned that Mr. Berkins would move on, and that the
+inquisitive little man would find himself obliged to follow, but
+chance was against him, for Berkins, with his guests around him, stood
+listening to the discussion.
+
+"You mean to say that these peaches were grown without heat. I
+wouldn't mind giving you five-and-twenty pounds for the recipe for
+doing it."
+
+"You must take a small place down here, sir, and then you will be able
+to do it."
+
+This raised a laugh, but the little man was not to be beaten, and he
+said: "I should like to see some of those peaches of yours on the
+trees. You haven't plucked them all; let me see them."
+
+"Yes, Jackson, show us the trees. Some will not believe without
+seeing; let us see the peaches on the trees."
+
+Jackson appeared to be a little disconcerted; he murmured excuses, and
+strove to escape. Driven to bay he brought them into a glass-house
+where there were hot water-pipes, and when his tormentor pointed
+triumphantly to the pipes he attempted a faint explanation--he had
+meant to say that heat had only been used within the last three weeks.
+
+"So you see, Berkins," exclaimed little flaxen-haired fatty, "your
+south of Europe is no better than my south of Europe, or anybody
+else's south of Europe."
+
+"Jackson, you have told me many deliberate falsehoods about these
+peaches. I keep no one in my employment whose word cannot be depended
+upon. You take your warning."
+
+"Falsehoods! What do you want a man to do, if you will have everything
+better than anybody else's?"
+
+Berkins turned suddenly on his heel, he drew himself up to his full
+height, and stood speechless with indignation. Never, not even on the
+most important Board meetings, did his friends wait to hear him speak
+with more anxiety; but at that moment a crash of flower pots was
+heard, and Sally and a young man were discovered hiding in the potting
+shed; and to make matters worse, in the very next house they visited,
+they suddenly came upon Maggie sitting with another young man in
+strangely compromising circumstances. Explanations were attempted, and
+some stupid remarks were made. Berkins was seriously annoyed, and he
+took the first opportunity of taking Mr. Brookes's arm and leading him
+away to a quiet path. Frank saw the men pass through the laurels, and
+ten minutes after he saw them return. Evidently Berkins had read Mr.
+Brookes an exhaustive lecture on the conduct of his daughters.
+
+"Now, Mr. Brookes, now Mr. Brookes, I must beg of you--calm yourself.
+What would my guests think if they found you in tears? What would they
+think I had been saying to reduce you to such a condition? It is
+veryunfortunate that Sally and Maggie should act as they do,
+particularly at my place; but really you must not give way."
+
+"Since the death of their poor mother I am all alone. My position is a
+very trying one." Then, with a sudden burst of laughter, "However, I
+suppose it will be all the same a hundred years hence!"
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+
+The girls walked to the station with Escott. A fleecy evening, with
+the clouds growing pale towards the sea, the sun like fire in the
+elms, and the woods showing upon a purple tinge.
+
+"How delightful!" exclaimed Frank. "How charming this is--this old
+English green, the horse pond at one end, the various houses, the inn,
+the grocery business, the linen drying in that yard, the smith, and
+the wheelwright. I don't like that modern Queen Anne school-house, and
+I wish I could remove the dead level of the embankment and see the
+sea. The green is better from this side with the view of the Downs--
+those lines waving against the sky, where the gorse grows and the
+sheep feed, and inclining to the road all the fields pale green and
+deep green. But what game are those men playing--what game do you call
+that?"
+
+"Bat and trap."
+
+"I have passed the green twenty times before, and I never really saw
+it till now. It is charming--so thoroughly English. I should like to
+live here for a month--for two months. How nice it would be to
+breakfast in the morning looking out on the green, to see the cocks
+and hens and all the children and all this English life! How different
+from Pump Court! I am sick of Pump Court--dirt and smoke, a horrid
+servant, stale eggs. I suppose you can always get fresh eggs and new
+bread here? I would give anything to spend a month on the green."
+
+"Well, you can!" cried Sally. "I wish you would, and you could come
+and play tennis with us every afternoon. Mrs. Heald has some rooms to
+let; why it was only last week I heard that she hadn't let her rooms
+this season, and was most anxious to do so."
+
+"There's no use my coming here until I begin to write my novel. I am
+painting now, and I must see if I can get my picture finished for one
+of the autumn exhibitions."
+
+"I knew you would find some excuse."
+
+"No, I assure you, but I can't do anything without a studio, and I'm
+not likely to find a studio on Southwick Green."
+
+"I don't suppose Mrs. Heald has a room large enough for a studio,"
+said Maggie; "but I don't see why you shouldn't find a place where you
+can paint."
+
+"Where? Not in that eighteenth-century house where the two old ladies
+are standing! Supposing I were to go and ask them if they would let me
+have their drawing-room to paint in! That is the only house on the
+green, all the rest are cottages."
+
+"I suppose you are not very particular where you paint," said Maggie
+reflectively. "You don't mind appearances, I suppose? I wonder if you
+could manage to fit up a farm building."
+
+"There is the famous barn where Charles the First hid himself, I don't
+suppose the authorities would allow me to turn that into a studio."
+
+"No, probably not; but I think you might find a house that would do."
+
+"What nonsense, Maggie," said Sally, who began to grow jealous of her
+sister.
+
+"Why is it nonsense? I see no reason why Frank shouldn't come to some
+arrangement with the smith, and turn his house into a studio."
+
+"Which is the smith's house? I'll tell you in a moment if it could be
+turned into a studio."
+
+"That house standing quite by itself in the corner of the green."
+
+"That tall narrow house with the bit of broken wall and the elder
+bushes?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I daresay I could rig up a very nice studio out of that place, indeed
+it looks quite picturesque amid its elder bushes. There is the stile,
+and there is the cornfield. But I couldn't live there."
+
+"No, you would live at Mrs. Heald's, and you could walk over every
+morning to the studio."
+
+"Yes, I could do that. I prefer to live with my work. There is nothing
+like walking from the breakfast table across the room to the easel."
+
+"Of course you can find fault with everything; nothing is perfect."
+
+"There goes the train!" cried Sally. "No use in running now, you've
+missed it."
+
+"How very provoking; the next isn't till half-past seven--just an hour
+to wait."
+
+"Well," said Maggie, "if you have missed the train we may as well go
+at once and ask Mrs. Heald if she has let her rooms."
+
+They walked towards a block of cottages--at one end the "Cricketer's
+Arms," at the other the grocery business; and the cottage that joined
+the grocery business was remarkable for a bit of green paling and
+wooden balcony, now covered with Virginia creeper. Frank thought at
+once of new-laid eggs, and the sunlight glancing through a great mass
+of greenery, and he resolved if a sacrifice were necessary to live at
+Southwick, he would put his picture aside and begin his novel. The
+people in the house pleased him, and he ran on in his way thinking how
+English and trustworthy they seemed, liking the green parrot that
+rubbed its head affectionately against the grey ringlets of a very
+ladylike old person; and Mrs. Heald, brisk as a bee, notwithstanding
+her lame leg, who led the way up the ladder-like cottage staircase.
+
+"How nice and clean everything is; books and engravings along the
+passages. How unlike Ireland!"
+
+But the sitting-room was full of horsehair sofas and chairs. These
+displeased Frank, but some handsome china--an entire tea service in
+Crown Derby--reconciled him to the room. In the bedroom they found a
+huge four-poster of old time, with a lengthy bolster and imposing
+pillows, and they were shown into another and a similar room. One
+looked out on the green, the other on the fields that lay between the
+green and the Manor House.
+
+"If that elm were cut down you could see my window," said Sally.
+
+"Which room do you like the best?" said Maggie.
+
+"It is hard to say. The other room looks on the green, but here there
+is a nice large wardrobe, and I don't see how I can get on without a
+wardrobe."
+
+"If you like the other room best, sir, I can turn out the chest of
+drawers."
+
+"Oh, that would be very nice if you can manage it, the room will do
+very well. I can have a bath every morning?"
+
+"Yes, sir; there will be no difficulty about that."
+
+Maggie had taken off her hat and was settling her hair before the
+glass. Sally opened the wardrobe, revealing various petticoats and
+skirts, but she thought of it as full of Frank's light overcoats, the
+scarves he wore round his throat when he went out in evening clothes,
+the patent leather shoes in the corner. Suddenly the conversation
+dropped, and after a pause Frank said: "I think these rooms suit me
+very well, but I can do nothing; it is impossible for me to say if I
+can take them until I find out if there is any place in the immediate
+neighbourhood that I could convert into a studio. Do you know of any
+such place?"
+
+"No, I do not, sir."
+
+"Mr. Escott was thinking of seeing the smith about his house. I wonder
+if Town would let it to Mr. Escott for a consideration," said Maggie.
+
+"Of course, I should have to get leave to make what alterations I
+pleased."
+
+"I don't suppose the house belongs to Town, sir; I don't think he is
+more than a weekly tenant."
+
+"If that's the case, we must see the landlord. Do you know who is the
+landlord?"
+
+"I can't say I do, sir."
+
+"Well, Mrs. Heald, I will let you know in a day or two if I can take
+your rooms--you can give me a day or two?"
+
+"Yes, sir, but I should like to know as soon as possible; several
+people have been asking after my rooms."
+
+"I'll let you know in a day or two."
+
+"If Town is only a weekly tenant, you'll be able to get his house by
+paying a little more for it," said Maggie, as they walked down the
+green towards the smith's forge.
+
+"That would be hardly fair; I should like to act squarely by the
+smith. What is his name?"
+
+"Town."
+
+Town was cutting out the hoof of a shaggy grey cart horse when his
+visitors entered the cindery blackness.
+
+"Town, this gentleman would like to speak to you," said Maggie,
+raising her voice above the wheezy bellows. He threw the hoof out of
+his apron, and, drawing his blackened arm across his forehead, he came
+forward.
+
+"Town, I am anxious to find a place on the green that I could convert
+into a studio; I think your house would suit my purpose very well. Do
+you think we could come to some arrangement? Of course I would give
+you a reasonable compensation."
+
+"Well, I really hardly know, sir; I dunno that I hardly understand.
+You want my house to turn into a--"
+
+"A studio--a place where I can paint pictures."
+
+"I don't see how I can do without my 'ouse."
+
+"But I will compensate you--make it worth your while."
+
+"You see it is so near my work. Was I to go and live at Ada Terrace, I
+should, you see, be out of the way. If people want a job done they
+always knows where to find me."
+
+"Yes, but if I compensate you?"
+
+Seeing that Frank was exciting the smith with too wild hopes of
+wealth, Sally thought fit to interpose. "Mr. Escott would require
+permission to make any alterations in the building he thought proper--
+you couldn't give him permission; he would in any case have to see
+your landlord. Who is your landlord?"
+
+"I don't see how I can give up my 'ouse to be turned into a painting
+place; it wouldn't suit me at all."
+
+"If I make you sufficient compensation--"
+
+Again the smith was reduced to silence. He scratched his head, and
+Frank watched the sparks fly, and heard the rhythmical sledge. "I wish
+he wouldn't talk so much about compensation," thought Sally. "I don't
+know what the man won't be asking if Frank doesn't shut up."
+
+"Do you think we shall be able to come to an understanding? I want to
+know."
+
+"Well, you see, sir, my wife is delicate, and I'm that afraid she
+wouldn't like to give up her 'ome. But I'll speak to 'er if you like
+to-night, sir."
+
+"Mr. Escott will have to see your landlord; he will have to arrange
+with him about the alterations."
+
+"There will be no difficulty about the alterations."
+
+"Very probably; but you are only a weekly tenant. It is a question
+your landlord must decide. If he agrees to allow Mr. Escott to make
+the alterations, Mr. Escott will no doubt compensate you for
+disturbance."
+
+"It is all very well to talk about compensation. How do I know what
+your compensation will be? How do I know you will make it worth my
+while? I don't want no compensation. I want my 'ouse. Cheek I calls
+it, to come down here wanting to muck me out of my house."
+
+"Now, sir, we want no impertinence. I shall do exactly as I please in
+the matter. Your landlord is the person I should have spoken to."
+
+"Spoken to! Who are you, I should like to know, coming round here
+interfering in my business?"
+
+All Frank's discussions ended in angry words, and he never came to
+terms with any one without threatening blows. Town returned to the
+forge; Frank and the young ladies made their way across the green. At
+the corner of Southdown Road they found the General, the schoolmaster,
+and a retired farmer ardently gossiping; Mrs. Horlock, prim in her
+black gown and poke bonnet, waited with admirable patience, and Angel,
+the blind pug, in horrible corpulence, waddled and sniffed the grass.
+The story of Town's impertinence was told. The General was shocked--it
+was surprising. What are we coming to? The retired farmer said that
+Town was a hot-tempered man, but not a bad sort when you knew how to
+take him, and all, except Mrs. Horlock, agreed that the landlord was
+the person who should be consulted.
+
+"I really don't see why you should turn the poor man out of his house
+if he doesn't want to go. How would you like some one to come and turn
+you out of your house?" she said, turning to her husband.
+
+The General laughed. "My dear Lucy, whatever you say must be right. So
+you are coming to live at Southwick. Very glad to hear it. You know
+where to find us, the gate's always open; lunch at half-past one,
+dinner at eight--old Indians, you know; come in when you like. Pretty
+place I have here, everything I want--stables and horses, and (the
+General looked to see if Lucy was out of hearing) plenty of dogs, you
+know--a few too many; but my wife, you know--" The rest was lost in a
+burst of good-natured laughter.
+
+They bade the Horlocks good-night and walked up the Southdown Road,
+looking with its line of trees along the pavement like a little mock
+boulevard. Frank was particularly severe in his remarks on the trim
+privet hedges and the little bronze sphinxes standing before the
+portico of yellow glass; he declared that a man must be born to put up
+such things, and he clearly thought this sneer a very happy one, for
+he repeated it, fearing that Sally had not understood. The grocer who
+had placed a bas-relief of himself over his door was greatly wondered
+at, and Sally told an amusing anecdote regarding the invitations he
+sent out for the first dinner party. The conversation turned on the
+Measons. Jack's ship had gone to China, and he was not expected back
+much before Christmas.
+
+"That's very sad, Sally. How will you be able to live through so many
+months?"
+
+"I don't care for him. I don't care if I never saw him again--it was
+Fanny who was my friend. Some nice people have come to live in that
+corner house--a young man, who is learning farming. Mr. Berkins
+insists on father not allowing us to visit any one in the Southdown
+Road, and Mr. Berkins can turn father round his finger, he is so much
+richer. I'm not allowed to see Fanny at the Manor House. As for Jack,
+I daresay you won't believe me, but I shouldn't care if I never saw
+him again."
+
+Maggie shrugged her shoulders. The gesture exasperated Sally, and she
+turned on her sister.
+
+"You needn't shrug your shoulders at me, miss; I never flirted with
+him; you did, and then you set father against me."
+
+"Well, for goodness' sake don't quarrel; what does it matter? The idea
+of Berkins telling your father whom he should visit; and the idea of
+your father permitting it merely because he makes two or three
+thousand a year more! He surely doesn't object to your visiting Mrs.
+Horlock?"
+
+"No, he couldn't do that."
+
+Still engaged in discussion, they entered the gates of the Manor
+House, and Mr. Brookes was told that Frank would stay at Southwick a
+few days longer, so that he might arrange about a studio. The news was
+not at first wholly pleasing to the old gentleman, but he remembered
+the anecdotes he should hear concerning his favourite painters, and
+was consoled. The evening passed away in the security and calm of
+habit, sweetened by the intimacy of familiar thoughts and customs.
+There was the usual expensive dinner; Mr. Brookes lit a cigar, handed
+the box to Frank, and said, puffing lustily, "That's a good picture,
+paid a lot of money for it, too much money, mustn't do it again. You
+were a pupil of Bouguereau; great painter; you have seen him paint;
+you would know his touch amid a thousand, I suppose?"
+
+About ten o'clock steps in the passage, then the squeak-squeak of the
+cork; then the goggle-guggle of the water, and the young ladies came
+in with their grog. They kissed their father and brother, shook hands
+with Frank, and went to bed. Further anecdotes concerning the painters
+were told; further condemnations of the Southdown Road were
+pronounced; the house was locked up; Mr. Brookes retired, and the
+young men continued the conversation in their rooms. Willy told Frank
+all about his shop, Frank told Willy all about his studio, and they
+went to sleep delighted with each other and at peace with the world.
+
+Mr. Brookes had gone when the young men came down next morning. Willy
+was down first, and when Frank finished breakfast he found him busy in
+the garden making purchases for his shop.
+
+"How much am I to charge for these peaches, sir?" said the gardener.
+
+"I intend to pay the market price for everything. I don't know what
+peaches are selling at in Covent Garden. I will look it up and let you
+know. I am taking two dozen."
+
+"Yes, sir, there are only very few more ripe."
+
+"It is a pity I can't have them all," Willy whispered to Frank. "There
+is a tremendous profit to be made on peaches. Now, I want some new
+potatoes. How many can you let me have?"
+
+"Really, sir, we are very short; you see it is so early in the year.
+We have only a few, none too many for the house."
+
+"I must have some, if it is only a sample. How much are potatoes
+selling at now?"
+
+"Well, sir, I hardly know. Last year we bought some off Hooper at--"
+
+"These are the things I have to contend with. How am I to keep my
+books right if I don't know exactly the price things are selling for?
+I may be paying more for his potatoes than they are selling in
+Brighton for. My father gets more out of the shop than any one, and he
+isn't satisfied."
+
+The woes of this suburban Lear amused Frank. No sooner was the arch
+enemy Meason on the high seas, and the Southdown Road had quieted
+down, than another demon had risen up against him; his garden was
+ravished of its fairest fruits and vegetables, his carriages were
+turned into market carts, and all, as he said, for the sake of
+practising an elaborate system of book-keeping. Maggie, who had
+finished her house-keeping, came into the garden, and she went with
+Frank down the town in search of the landlord of the tall house amid
+the elder bushes. For a small increase in the rent, and a promise to
+undo all alterations before leaving, putting the house back in the
+same arrangement of rooms as it at present stood, the landlord agreed
+to allow Frank to do his will with the place. For twenty pounds the
+smith was silenced, and Frank explained to the local builder that the
+house was to be thrown into one room, and the ceilings of the upper
+rooms were to be removed. He had thought of having the rafters
+painted, but at the builder's suggestion he decided to have them lined
+with fresh timber and stained. This would look very handsome. A large
+window, some six feet by eight, would have to be put in the north
+wall. Of course, all the doors, windows, etc., would have to be taken
+away and replaced by new. He would have a book-case in stained wood.
+An estimate was drawn up. It came to a good deal more than he had
+intended to lay out, and Frank dreaded the expense. But he must live
+somewhere, he was sick of Pump Court, and his friends and this little
+south-coast village were now ardent in his mind; why not live here?
+True that the country was in no way beautiful and offered no
+temptations to a landscape painter, but he seldom painted landscapes,
+and if he wanted a bit of woodland he would find it over the Downs.
+Then there was the sea, and that was always interesting. Perhaps Mount
+Rorke would let him have the money. The old fellow had never refused
+him an extra hundred when he asked for it. Yes, he would risk it. So
+the order was given, and all the delays and broken promises of a
+builder began to be experienced and endured. Frank, who now lodged at
+Mrs. Heald's, hung around the workmen, counting each brick, and
+commenting on every piece of woodwork. He at once took to grumbling at
+their slowness, and he soon declared that all hopes of his being able
+to finish his picture for the Academy were at an end, and he paraded
+his misfortunes at the Manor House, at Mrs. Horlock's, and, indeed, at
+all the houses he went to for tea or tennis parties. The painters
+especially annoyed him, and he even went so far as to threaten them
+with an action.
+
+Long before they had finished his pictures had arrived from London,
+and several pieces of furniture from Brighton. The ideas of this young
+man were now in full revolt against oriental draperies and things from
+Japan. The furniture was, therefore, to consist of large cane sofas
+with pillows covered with a yellow chintz pattern which pleased him
+much. The selection of a carpet was a matter of great moment. He
+received with scornful smiles his upholsterer's suggestions of Persian
+rugs. Turkey, Smyrna, and Axminster were proposed and rejected, he
+even thought of an Aubusson--no one knew anything about Aubusson at
+Southwick, and the vivid blues and yellows and symmetrical design
+would have at least the merit of disturbing if not of wrecking the
+artistic opinions of his friends. He discovered one of these carpets
+in a back street in Brighton, and with some cleaning and mending he
+felt sure it could be made to look quite well. But no, if you have an
+Aubusson carpet you must have Louis XIV. furniture in the room, and
+Louis XIV. in Southwick would be too absurd. Clearly the Aubusson
+scheme must be abandoned--he would have a rich grey carpet, soft and
+woolly, and there should be a round table covered with a dark blue
+cloth, set off with a yellow margin, and the chairs drawn about the
+table should be covered with dark blue and painted yellow. A grand
+piano was indispensable in Frank's surroundings, both for its
+appearance in the studio and the relaxation it afforded in the various
+interludes. Several journeys to London were made before the lamps to
+be used were determined on (a modern design was essential), and the
+brass fittings to hang candles from the rafters required still more
+delicate and cautious consideration; at last it was decided to have
+none.
+
+All this while Willy was busy with his shop. He had taken a whole
+house, and at first he had thought of letting a room, but for many
+reasons this scheme had to be abandoned. He did not know who might
+take the room. "Who knows--perhaps one of my own friends, a member of
+my club, for instance?" Then it would give the missus a lot of bother
+and worry, and she had all she could do in looking after the shop. To
+make a thing a success you must think of nothing else. It was a pity,
+but it wasn't to be thought of. Otherwise he seemed fairly well
+satisfied. There was a back door leading on to a back lane, in turn
+leading on to a back street, so with his latch-key he could pop in and
+out unobserved. All his books and papers in the drawing-room, the
+ledger, the day-book, the cash-book all ready, all to hand, so that
+after dinner, when he had smoked his pipe, he could go to work. Frank
+alone was in the secret. And how the young men enjoyed going to
+Brighton together. Frank worried Willy, who ran up and down stairs
+collecting his brown paper parcels, calling upon him to make haste.
+They set forth, Willy firm and methodical, his shoulders set well
+back: Frank loose and swaggering, over-dressed. How to get to the shop
+was a matter of anxious consideration. Willy was fearful of detection,
+and all sorts of stratagems were resorted to. Sometimes they would
+walk down to the Old Steyne, and suddenly double and get back through
+a medley of obscure streets, or else they would publicly walk up and
+down the King's Road, and when they thought no one was looking, hurry
+up one of the by-streets, and so gain their haven, the lane. Once they
+were in the lane they slackened speed, all danger was then over, and
+they laughed consumedly at their escapes, and delighted in telling
+each other how So-and-so and his daughter had been successfully
+avoided. Willy always had his latch-key ready; in a moment they were
+inside, and Frank would rush upstairs and throw himself into the
+armchair, crying: "Here we are!" One day they were at the window,
+when, to their amazement, the Manor House carriage pulled up before
+the shop, and they had only just time to dodge behind the curtain and
+escape Sally's eyes. Never before had the carriage arrived later than
+five o'clock, and now it was nearly six. What could be the meaning of
+this? Begging of Frank not to move, Willy went out on the landing and
+listened to his sisters talking to his wife. The girls--who were, of
+course, ignorant of their relationship to the shop-woman--liked Mrs.
+Brookes very much, and were fond of a chat with her; and, looking
+through the blinds, Frank saw the footman in all the splendour of six
+feet and grey livery carrying a small pot of flowers worth sixpence
+from the carriage to the shop.
+
+On ordinary days the shop was shut at eight, but when Willy and Frank
+dined there it was closed an hour earlier. Frank enjoyed his evenings
+there; he enjoyed it all--the homeliness and the quiet. He enjoyed
+seeing Willy nurse the missus after dinner, and he found no difficulty
+in pretending a certain interest in the book-keeping, and an
+admiration for the lines of figures all carefully formed, and the
+beautifully ruled lines. Cissy adored him. He took her on his knee,
+and she leaned her hollow cheek against his handsome face. She would
+have probably rushed to death to serve him. His height, his
+brightness, his rings, his spotted neckties--all seemed so perfect, so
+beautiful, to her; and when he brought his fiddle she would sit and
+look at him, her little hands clasped with an intensity of love that
+was strange and pitiful. Swaying from side to side, he ran on from
+tune to tune--waltzes, reminiscences from operas, fragments of
+overtures, delightful snatches from Schubert; and when he introduced
+Willy to one tune--a tune in which all his _might-have-been_ was bound
+--the dry man seemed to grow drier: perhaps it brought a glow of
+pleasure to his heart: but be this as it may, he only sat and puffed
+more emphatically at his pipe.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+
+For Frank this pleasant English village was now a happy _fete_ of
+summer joys and occupations. Oh! the hill prospects and the shady
+gardens around the coasts. And when he went inland he would return by
+choice across the Downs, and in the patriarchal valleys where nothing
+is heard but the bell-wether he would stand in the great, lonely
+darkness, and see the lights of Brighton brighten the sky above the
+ridges, and climbing up the ridges, he gazed on the vague sea, and the
+long string of coast towns were like a golden necklace.
+
+His days went like dreams. The morning hours--bachelor hours--were
+full of intimacy and joy. The joy of waking alone with a strange and
+secret self that, like a shy bird, is all the day chased out of sight
+and hearing, but is with you when you awake in sweet health in the
+morning; that of waking alone with the sunlight in the curtains, that
+of being alone with your body as well as your mind, and no presence to
+jar the communion. There is a dear privacy in morning hours of single
+life.
+
+But although the desire to exchange these for the joys of wedlock was
+germinating in Frank, although it was inherent in him to understand
+the husband's happiness when he puts his arm round a dear wife's neck
+and draws her to him with marital kisses and affectionate words, he
+was certainly conscious that each hour seemed to bring its special
+pleasure. His room was airy and pleasant, the window full of the
+colour of the green and its aspects; the little water-course with its
+brick bridge, the trees along the embankment, the rigging of the ships
+in the harbour, the linen drying in the yard. Of these views Frank
+seemed never to grow tired; he noted them as he brushed his brown
+curls over his forehead, and when he sat at breakfast eating fresh
+eggs and marmalade. After breakfast he lay on the sofa, and read
+society papers and smoked cigarettes. He could not drag himself to the
+studio. "A man should live at his studio, impossible to settle down to
+work, if he doesn't," he thought, and he watched Mrs. Horlock coming
+up the green accompanied by the chemist's wife and the pugs.
+
+"Dear old lady, how nice she looks in her black dress and poke bonnet!
+And there goes the General--he is giving all his coppers to the
+children."
+
+Frank took up a volume of Browning, turned over the leaves, and laid
+the book down to watch a drove of horses that had suddenly been turned
+out on the green to feed, and he laughed to see the children throwing
+stones, making them gallop frantically. Very often the thunder of the
+hoofs alarmed Triss, and he stood on his hind legs and barked. "What
+is it, old dog? What is it? Like to have a go at the horses? Shall we
+go out and play with the pugs?" At the mention of going out Triss
+cocked his ears and barked. "I suppose I must make a move. I wonder
+what the time is--half-past eleven. Good Heavens! The post will be
+here at twelve. I had better wait for it." On waking his first
+thoughts were for his letters, and almost before he had finished
+reading them he had begun to think of what the mid-day delivery would
+bring him. To see the boy pass and so have ocular proof that there was
+nothing for him seemed to lighten his disappointment. He saw him waste
+his time with the doctor's horse and then with the maid-servant, and
+if the old ladies were not about he would stand talking many minutes
+with their servants. Then he visited the short line of cottages,
+passed sometimes round the yard or open space at the back of the
+wheelwright's, where the linen hung on poles between the elms, and
+once Frank saw the provoking boy hide behind the cricketers' tent and
+remain watching the match. For half an hour the question--letters or
+no letters--hung in suspense, and when the loiterer came, stopping
+every minute to see where the ball was hit to, the joy, heightened by
+anticipation, was great in receiving a packet of newspapers and
+various correspondence. Frank often went to meet him. True, he might
+have nothing for him, he might be going to deliver at the grocer's
+shop, or at the "Cricketer's Arms."
+
+"Any letters for me, to-day?"
+
+"Yes, sir, two postcards and a newspaper."
+
+It was disappointing not to get a letter--postcards meant nothing. He
+only exchanged a few words with Mrs. Horlock, and passed on to the
+General, who, at the corner of the Southdown Road where the gossipers
+met, was discussing a local candidature.
+
+"So you are off to paint. You must come and see the model my wife has
+done of a horse I once had. I mustn't say much about him, though--it
+is a sore subject. After winning over a thousand with him I lost it
+all, and five hundred with it. She never would paint his picture for
+me; but yesterday was my birthday--I suppose she thought she would
+give me a treat, she began to model him from memory--wonderful
+likeness--she knows every bone and sinew in a horse--clever woman,
+never seen any one like her. Come in to-night, dinner always at eight
+--old Indians. She'll show it to you."
+
+"Thanks, not to-night, General; to-morrow night, if you like."
+
+"Very well, to-morrow night at eight. What a terrible dog that is of
+yours! You need fear nobody while you have him with you. You must ask
+my wife to paint him for you, but I forgot, I beg your pardon--you are
+a painter; you should paint him yourself."
+
+"I don't paint animals. I shall be very glad if Mrs. Horlock will
+paint him; there is some beautiful drawing about him--those fore-
+legs."
+
+Probably attracted by the dog, Mrs. Horlock came walking towards them.
+Triss went sidling after Rose, and when Mrs. Horlock called him, he
+growled.
+
+"I beg of you, Mrs. Horlock, do not touch him; he isn't safe, I assure
+you. He once bit a man's nose off who was trying to train him to do
+something or other. I will not be answerable."
+
+"All nonsense! No dog ever bit me, they know I love them. 'Come to me,
+sir.' No dog ever bit me but once, and he was a poor mongrel that had
+been hunted by a lot of horrid men. I was dressing to go to a ball at
+the Government House, and I heard him under my bed. He had taken
+refuge under my bed, poor thing. He was frightened to death; he
+couldn't see me, and he bit me through the wrist. I went to the ball
+all the same. A dog died of hydrophobia in my arms. He died like a
+child, licking my hands and face. 'Come here, sir. Come to me.'"
+
+"I wish you wouldn't do it, Mrs. Horlock. I am afraid to call him, for
+fear he should think I intended to set him at you."
+
+Triss showed a terrible set of teeth, and his nose seemed to curl back
+almost into his eyes; but stooping down Mrs. Horlock extended her
+hands to him. She looked so like herself in the poke bonnet and the
+black dress, and the kind, intelligent eyes softened the dog's humour,
+and he came to her.
+
+"You see--what did I tell you? Dogs know so well those that love them.
+No animal ever did bite me except that poor frightened creature, and
+he didn't mean it. We kept him for ten years after that, and how he
+did love me!"
+
+"Wonderful woman, my wife; she can do what she likes with animals. I
+was telling Mr. Escott that he must come in and see the model you are
+making of Snap-dragon."
+
+"Only an amateur, I never had a lesson in my life. Mr. Escott would
+think nothing of it, I am sure. But I wish he'd come in and dine with
+us."
+
+"He promised to come to-morrow, Lucy; but stay, isn't that the day we
+are going to have the Bath people in to dine?"
+
+"Never mind--Mr. Escott won't mind, I'm sure. They are very nice, good
+people, indeed. I'm sure you'll think so. They are all snobs about
+this place. I never heard of such snobbery in my life. Mrs. So-and-so
+--over there--once said to me, 'I believe you know all the people who
+live in those little houses.' She said she wouldn't allow her children
+even to walk across the green. Did you ever hear of such snobbery?"
+
+"Well, Mrs. Horlock, as I have always said, your position is made; you
+have your friends who will like you and value you just the same no
+matter whom you may walk about the green with. Every Viceroy that ever
+went to India called on you; your position is made."
+
+"There are a lot of snobs about here; but I mustn't keep Angel
+waiting, he is never well unless he gets a little exercise. We shall
+see you then at eight."
+
+"The cleverest woman I ever knew. I don't say the cleverest that you
+ever knew. But we have got too many animals; I often wish I could get
+rid of the brutes," and the General laughed as he stumped along. "Five
+horses when two would be sufficient--five horses eating their heads
+off; then the Circassian goats that the neighbours complain of, and
+the parrots and the squirrels. There are a few too many, there's no
+doubt. But once an animal comes into the place she will cherish it for
+ever. I try to keep Prince out of the drawing-room as much as
+possible, she says she can't smell him. If that little beast Angel
+would only die!"
+
+"Why don't you poison him?"
+
+"I would if I dared; but just think, if my wife heard of it she would
+go out of her mind. I don't think she'd have me in the house." The
+General laughed.
+
+"We all have our troubles, General. Good-bye, I'm off to work."
+
+"Lucky man to have something to do. If I had a little something--just
+a little something to bring me out, I should be perfectly happy. Then
+at eight. Good-bye."
+
+"Half-past twelve! Half the day gone, I really must make an effort to
+get to the studio earlier. It is, as I said, useless to hope to get
+through work unless you wake up where your work is. A man doesn't get
+a chance. I wonder if I could build a bedroom out at the back? I have
+let Mount Rorke in for three hundred extra this year; he would turn
+rusty if I spent any more. I must give him a rest; besides, I don't
+want to have the workmen in again. I wish I could get ivy to grow over
+those walls, they do look precious shabby."
+
+He looked at the tall dilapidated walls showing above the dark green
+of the elder bushes, and lingered, for it was a soft blue summer's day
+with just a breeze stirring, and the corn waved yellow, and the dim
+expanses of the Downs extended in faint lines and dim tints.
+
+When he entered his studio his colour scheme pleased him, and looking
+at the rafters he thought that the stained wood was handsome and
+appropriate. The grey carpet was soft under foot, and the lustre and
+form of a grand piano suggested Chopin and Schubert. His studio seemed
+to him a symbol of his own refinement, and being moved, perhaps, by
+the silence and the quiet of the north light, he took his violin, and
+turning from time to time to look on himself on the glass or his
+picture on the easel, he played Stradella's "Chanson d'Eglise."
+
+Then seeing, or rather thinking he saw, how he could improve his
+landscape, he took up his palette, and in a desultory and uncertain
+fashion he painted till five o'clock. "It is no use," he thought, "I
+can do nothing with it until I get a model, but the devil of it is,
+there are no models in Brighton--at least, I don't know where to go
+and look for one, and it is no use asking Sally or Maggie to sit.
+They'll sit for five minutes, and then say they have some work to do
+at home, and must be off. You must have a professional model, a girl
+you pay a shilling an hour--I might sling the hammock from there to
+here--I wonder where I could get a girl who would do. I can't have a
+girl off the street; she must be more or less respectable--I wonder
+whom I can get. That girl in the bar-room at the station would do."
+Putting his palette away with a lazy gesture, he thought for a few
+minutes of Lizzie Baker. What had become of her? And why had she
+disappeared?
+
+It was nearly a year and a half ago now. What a jolly day up the
+river! All the beauty of the flowing water, the crowning woods and
+whispering rushes filled his mind, and yielding to the moment's
+emotion he took some verses out of an escritoire and altered several
+lines. Another abandoning the search for a suitable rhyme he turned to
+a portrait of Maggie which he had begun a few days before. She stood
+in a pose that was habitual to her--her hands linked behind her, the
+head leaned on one side, the little black eyes--but not ugly eyes--
+fixed in a sweet subtle and enquiring look. The thinness, and, indeed,
+the angularity of her figure was almost powerfully indicated with
+broad lines of paint and charcoal. It was Frank's most successful
+effort. He knew this, and he said to himself, "Not half bad, very like
+her, quite the character; the drawing is right, if I could only go on
+with it; if I could only model the face. I see very well where I shall
+get into trouble--that shadow about the neck, the jawbone, the
+cheekbone, and then all that rich colour about the eyes." Then he
+thought he would walk over to the Manor House, and he must hasten, for
+it was half-past five, and tea was always ready in the verandah.
+
+He stayed for dinner; he talked to Mr. Brookes about painters in the
+billiard-room; he strayed through the shadows and the perfumes of
+leaves and flowers through the gentle moonlight with his arms about
+the girls. And as they walked it seemed to Frank that his life was so
+mingled with theirs that he could not think of one sister apart from
+the other. The dusk gathered; the sky became a decoration in blue and
+gold; the scent of the sea came over the embankment, filling the
+garden. Day followed day, without anything happening to stay or check
+the gentle tide of their mutual affections; neither was jealous of her
+sister, for their desires were set upon others. Frank was but an
+ideal, a repose, a pious aspiration which joined their hands and
+hearts leaving them free of any stress of passion, Maggie claiming him
+a little more than Sally, and Sally yielding her claim to her without
+knowing that she was yielding it.
+
+It is only natures that are never gross--calm and tepid livers--that
+are really incapable of ideality, of real and adequate aspiration;
+nature works by flux and reflux; and if we waive the rough temper and
+the coarse edge of passion due to youth, it will not be impossible to
+conceive another picture of these girls. Sally, good-hearted and true,
+full of sturdy, homely sense, willing to take care of a man's money,
+and make him a straightforward wife; Maggie, gentle and sinuating--
+always a little false, but always attractive, the enchantment of a
+man's home. Frank, notwithstanding his genuine admiration of all that
+was young and sweet and pure, was of poor and separating fibre, and it
+is clear that it will take all the strength of society to support him
+and save him from sinking of his own weight.
+
+One day, as he was coming through the station from the post-office, he
+met Maggie with a young man. He was introduced, and they returned to
+the Manor House to play tennis. Instead of playing they talked, and
+the set fell through, and after tea they disappeared, and Sally
+proposed not to disturb them, for they had gone, she said, to sit in
+the shade at the end of the garden. The marked mystery of the new
+flirtation piqued Frank's curiosity, and, striving to veil his
+question, he asked Sally who the young man was, and if her father knew
+he was coming to the Manor House.
+
+"He! Don't you know? That's the fellow we often speak of--the only
+fellow Maggie ever really cared for. He has just come back from
+America. He is going to begin business in London."
+
+A sickening pain rose from his heart to his eyes, and he longed to
+place his hand on his heart.
+
+"So that is the man she is engaged to," he said, after a pause. "I
+remember, now, you have spoken to me of him."
+
+"She is not exactly engaged to him. Father would never hear of it; he
+hasn't a cent, and I believe he lost the little he had in America--now
+mind you must take care not to let out to father that he has been
+here; there would be the deuce of a row, and I promised Maggie not to
+tell any one; she has been nice to me lately, and I want to play fair
+with her if she will play fair with me."
+
+"Oh, I won't tell any one; I won't even let Maggie know that I know it
+was he."
+
+"It doesn't matter about Maggie, she will tell you herself, no doubt;
+she doesn't mind your knowing. What do you think of him? Isn't he
+nice-looking?"
+
+"I confess I should never have thought of calling him handsome--would
+you? And do you think he is quite a gentleman?"
+
+"He seems to me to be all right."
+
+"All right, yes, but isn't there a something? You can see he is in
+trade--all the trading people look alike, at least so I think."
+
+"But we are in trade, and I think he is quite as good as we are. But
+you seem quite put out. Would you like to take his place? I didn't
+know you were in love with Maggie."
+
+"I don't know that I am in love with her. I like her very much; but,
+love or no love, I don't think it is right for her to walk round the
+garden alone with that fellow the whole afternoon. I don't think it is
+very polite to me, and she knows her father does not like--"
+
+"But you mustn't say anything to father; mind you have promised me."
+
+"Oh, I shan't say anything about it."
+
+Frank longed to get up from the tea-table and rush after Maggie. His
+heart ached to see her. He trembled lest she loved the man she was
+with, and rejoiced and took courage from the knowledge that she had
+not formally pledged herself to him. Frank was the romantic husband,
+not the lover; he found neither charm nor excitement in change; his
+heart demanded one single, avowed, and binding faith. He could take a
+woman who had sinned to his heart, and admit her to all his trust, for
+stolen kisses and illicit love were unfelt and imperfectly understood
+by him, and were considered as shadows and thin fancies, and not as
+facts full of mental consequences. He answered Sally in monosyllables,
+and on the first opportunity he pleaded letters to write, and
+withdrew. The gladness he felt that Maggie was truly not engaged to
+this fellow quickened and dominated his regret that the girls were
+inclined to behave so indiscreetly. The moment Mr. Brookes turned his
+back it began--that perpetual going and coming of men--it really
+wasn't right. Sally was a coarser nature, but Maggie! He might speak
+to Mr. Brookes; no, that wouldn't do. He might speak to Willy; but
+Willy didn't care--he was absorbed in his wife and his speculations.
+
+His little dinner at Mrs. Heald's passed in irritation and discomfort,
+and after dinner he stood at the window, his brain full of Maggie--her
+graces, her fascinating cunning, and all her picturesqueness. He knew
+nothing yet of his passion, nor did he think he could not bear to lose
+her until he went from the stuffy cottage towards his studio thinking
+of his portrait of her. He wanted to muse on the little eyes as he had
+rendered them. He saw the faults in the drawing hardly at all, and his
+pain softened and almost ceased when he took up the violin, but when
+he put it down the flow of subjective emotion ceased, and he stared on
+the concrete and realistic image of his thought--Maggie passing
+through the shade with the young stranger.
+
+Who was he? By whose authority was he there? Was he one of those men
+whose only pleasure is to tempt girls, to corrupt them? Had he thought
+of this before his duty would have been to interpose; and he saw
+himself striding down the garden and telling Maggie that he insisted
+on her coming back to the verandah to her sister. It did not matter if
+he had no right, he was prepared to answer for his conduct to her
+father and brother. Did that man look like one of those men who are
+always sitting with girls in far corners out of sight? Ah, if he were
+sure that he was one of those dastardly ruffians he would seek him
+out, force him to speak his intentions. If a girl's father and brother
+will not look after her, a friend must say "I will." Yes, he would
+have to thrash him, kill him, if it were necessary. She might hate him
+for it at first, but in the end she would recognise him as her
+saviour.
+
+It was too late now, the man was in Brighton. To-morrow? Elated with
+what he deemed "duty," with what he deemed "for the sake of the girl,"
+he strode about, thinking of "the ruffian"; no thought came to him of
+how much of the sin, if sin there was, had originated in Maggie; he
+saw her merely as a poor little thing, led like a lamb. Following the
+idea of saving came the idea of possession. When she clung to the
+husband she would tremble at the danger she had escaped. Their home,
+their table, their fireside; protection from evil, now all wild winds
+might rage--they would be safe. The vision was constitutional and
+characteristic of his soul. He was out of thought of all but himself,
+his dream evolved in pure idea, removed from and independent of all
+limitations--out of concern of the world's favour--Mount Rorke, Mr.
+Brookes, or even the girl's grace. As this temper passed, as reality
+again interposed, and as he saw the garden with Maggie leaving him for
+another, he viewed her conduct suddenly in relation to himself. What
+did she mean by treating him so, and for whom? One day he would be
+Lord Mount Rorke! The Brookes knew nobody. He had only met a lot of
+cads at their house; they did not know any one but cads. The Brookes
+were cads! The father was a vulgar old City man, who talked about
+money and bought ridiculous pictures. The girls, too, were vulgar and
+coarse. God only knew how many lovers they had not had. Willy was the
+best of the bunch, but he was a fool. His miserliness and his
+vegetable shop--hateful! The whole place was hateful; he wished he had
+never come there; since he had been there he had never been treated
+even as a gentleman. The Brookes had treated him shamefully.
+
+The skeleton of Frank's soul is easy to trace in this mental crisis--
+his quixotism, his wish to sally forth and save women, his yearning
+for a pretty little wife, who would sit on his knee and kiss him,
+saying, "Poor old boy, you are tired now;" therefore an emotional and
+distorted apprehension of things, a tendency to think himself a
+wronged and persecuted person, and under much bravado and swagger the
+cringe that is so inveterate in the Celt.
+
+Next morning he thought of her lightly, without bitterness and almost
+without desire; but after breakfast his heart began to ache again. He
+strove to read, he went to his studio, he went to Brighton; but he saw
+Maggie in all things. She was with him--a sort of vague pain that kept
+him strangely conscious of life.
+
+Once convinced he was a lover he became the man with a mission; his
+heart swelled with mysterious promptings, and felt the spur of duty.
+No longer was delay admissible. A day, an hour might involve the loss
+of all. Should he go round to the Manor House and tell Maggie of the
+message he had received to love her and save her? She would now be
+watering her flowers in the green-houses. But that other fellow might
+be there--he had heard something about an appointment. No, he had
+better write. If he wrote at once, absolutely at once, he would be in
+time for the six o'clock delivery. Snatching a sheet of paper he
+wrote:--
+
+"DEAREST MAGGIE,--I have loved you a long while, I remember many
+things that make me think that I have always loved you; but to-day I
+have learnt that you are the one great and absorbing influence--that
+without you my life would be stupid and meaningless, whereas with you
+it shall be a joy, an achievement.
+
+"I have frittered away much time; my efforts in painting and poetry
+have been lacking in strength and persistency. I have vacillated and
+wandered, and I did not know why; but now I know why--because you were
+not by me to encourage me, to help me by your presence and beauty. I
+will not speak of the position I offer you--I know it is unworthy of
+you. I would like to give you a throne; but, alas, I can but promise
+you a coronet."
+
+His hand stopped and he raised his eyes from the paper. He recollected
+the day he saw her a child, the day they went blackberrying over the
+hills. He saw her again, she was older and prettier, and she wore a
+tailor-cut cloth dress. How pretty she looked that day, and also when
+she wore that summer dress, those blue ribbons. All the colour,
+innocence, and mirth of his childhood came upon him sweetly, like an
+odour that passes and recalls. He sighed, and he murmured, "She is
+mine by right, all this could not have been if she were not for me."
+Ah! how he longed to sit with her, even at her feet, and tell her how
+his life would be but worship of her. He regretted that he was not
+poor, for to unite himself more closely to her he would have liked to
+win her clothes and food by his labour; and hearing himself speaking
+of love and seeing her as a maiden with the May time about her, his
+dreams drifted until the ticking of the clock forced him to remember
+that he could tell her nothing now of all his romance, so with pain
+and despair at heart he wrote,
+
+"Never before did I so ardently feel the necessity of seeing you, of
+sharing my soul with you, and yet now is the moment when I say, I must
+end. But let this end be the beginning of our life of love, devotion,
+and trust. I will come to-night to see you; I will not go into the
+billiard-room, but will walk straight to the drawing-room. Do be
+there. Dearest Maggie, I am yours and yours only."
+
+He seized his hat and rushed to the post. He was in time, and now that
+the step had been taken, he walked back looking more than usually
+handsome and tall, pleased to see the children run out of school and
+roll on the grass, pleased to linger with the General.
+
+"Where are you going, sir?" said the old man.
+
+"I'm going to my studio to play the fiddle. Will you come? I'll give
+you a glass of sherry, and--"
+
+"Never touch anything, except at meals. I used to when I was as young
+as you, but not now. But I will go and hear a little music."
+
+Glad to have a companion, Frank took out the violin, and he played all
+the melodies he knew; and his mind ran chiefly on Schubert and Gounod.
+The "Soir," the "Printemps," and "La Chanson du Printemps" carried his
+soul away, nor could he forbear to sing when he came to the phrase,
+"La Neige des Pommiers." When musical emotion ran dry he tried
+painting, but with poor result. During dinner he grew fevered and
+eager to see Maggie, and mad to tell her that he loved her, and could
+love none but her. At half-past eight the torture of suspense was more
+than he could endure, and he decided that he would go to the Manor
+House. He passed round the block of cottages, and got into the path
+that between the palings led through the meadows. It was a soft summer
+evening--moonlight and sunset played in gentle antagonism, and in a
+garden hat he saw Maggie coming towards him. He noticed the pink shawl
+about her shoulders, and the thought struck him, "had she come to ask
+him to elope." She stopped, and she hesitated as if she were going to
+turn back again.
+
+"Oh, I am so sorry," she said, speaking with difficulty, "but I wanted
+you to get this before nine."
+
+"Never mind, darling," he answered, smiling; "you can tell me all
+about it--it will be sweeter to hear you talk. Which way shall we go?"
+
+"I really don't think I can now; father doesn't know I am out. This
+letter will--"
+
+"No, no; I cannot bear to part with you. How pretty you look in that
+hat! Come."
+
+"No, Frank, I cannot now, and you had better leave me. I cannot walk
+with you to-night. Read this letter."
+
+"Then am I--is it really so?" said Frank, growing suddenly pale. "You
+will not have me?"
+
+"You must read this letter, it will tell you all. I am truly sorry,
+but I did not know you cared for me--at least not like that. I don't
+think I could, I really don't. But I don't know what I am saying. How
+unfortunate it was meeting you. I but thought to run round and leave
+the letter, it would have explained all better than I could. We have
+known you so long. You will forgive me?"
+
+She stood with the letter in her hand. He snatched it a little
+theatrically and tore it open. She watched, striving to read the
+effect of her words in his face. They dealt in regrets. There was an
+exasperating allusion to engaged affections. There was a long and
+neatly-worded conclusion suggesting friendship. She had taken a great
+deal of trouble with the composition, and was very fearful as to the
+result. She felt she could not marry him--at least, not just at
+present, she didn't know why. Altogether Frank's proposal had puzzled
+and distressed her. She felt she must see her flirtation out with
+Charlie, but at the same time she did not want to utterly lose Frank,
+or worse still, perhaps, to hand him over to Sally. She was determined
+that Sally should not be Lady Mount Rorke, and she thrilled a little
+when she saw he would not give her up easily, and her heart sank when
+she thought of the difficulty of continuing her intrigue without
+prejudicing her future. If Frank would only leave Southwick for a
+little while.
+
+"Is this all? The meaning is clear enough; it means that you love the
+man I saw yesterday at the Manor House. But he shall not have you; I
+will save you from him. Listen to me--I swear he shall not have you; I
+will strive to outwit him by every means in my power. If I don't get
+you, none shall. I will shoot the man rather than he should get you."
+
+"O Frank, you wouldn't commit murder!"
+
+"I would, for you; but it will not be necessary. I can challenge him
+to fight a duel, and if he is cowardly enough to refuse, I will
+horsewhip him before your face, and I don't suppose you will marry him
+after that."
+
+Maggie struggled with feelings of laughter, fear, and delight; delight
+overpowered laughter, for Frank was young and handsome, and full of
+what he said. It was quite romantic to be talked to like that. She
+would like to see the men threaten each other. But then--the scandal--
+father might never get over it. And if he married again? Speaking
+slowly, and in an undertone so as not to betray herself, she said: "O
+Frank, I'm sure you would not do anything that would injure me."
+
+"My darling, I love you better than the whole world. My whole life, if
+you will, shall be spent in striving to make you happy."
+
+"You are very good." She took his hand and squeezed it; he returned
+the pressure with rapturous look and motion. She drew from him a
+little, for there were some people coming towards them, and she said:
+"Take care." When the fisher folk had passed, she looked at him
+stealthily. She had always liked him in that necktie, and those cloth
+shoes were perfect. Had she never known Charlie, or if she had not
+gone so far with him!--There was something in Frank that was very
+nice--she could like the two. What a pity the two were not one! "If he
+were always as nice as he is now, and not lecture me!" Then she
+remembered she must return home. "I must really go home; I can't go
+any farther--"
+
+"No, no, I cannot leave you. I must see and hear you now. If you knew
+what I have endured waiting for you, you would not be so cruel. Come
+and let us sit on the beach."
+
+"I couldn't. I must go back; father will miss me. Besides, what have
+we to say? If I were only free and could tell you that I loved you, it
+would be different."
+
+"Free! then you regret; if a woman wills it she can always free
+herself."
+
+"No, it is harder than you think for a girl to get out of an
+engagement she has entered into, even if no absolute promise has been
+given."
+
+"What do you mean? If you have entered into no formal engagement you
+are surely free."
+
+"I don't know. Do you think so? I am afraid men think that a promise
+may be broken after marriage as well as before."
+
+"You are wrong. Women who are jealous, who are old, tell girls that
+men are always unfaithful, but I'm sure that if I loved a girl I could
+never think of another. Do you really think I could think of any girl
+but you?"
+
+"I don't know. I wonder if all you say is true."
+
+"Do you think me different from other men?"
+
+"Yes, but I cannot go on the beach; some other evening I will walk
+there with you."
+
+"No, now, now--I want to tell you how and when I began to love. Do you
+remember when I used to spend part of my holidays at the Manor House
+when I was only so high, and you were all in short frocks? Come, there
+is much I want to say to you; I cannot part with you. Come, and let us
+sit on the shingle. Oh, the beautiful evening!"
+
+She could love him a little when she looked at him, but when he talked
+she lost interest in him. She had allowed him to take her hand, he had
+bent towards her, and she had let him kiss her; and then they talked
+of love--she of its bitterness and disappointments; he of its
+aspirations, and gradually their souls approached like shadows in the
+twilight, paused for a few vague moments, seemed as if lost in dreams.
+
+"I shall never forget this night! O my love, tell me one day you will
+be mine!"
+
+"I cannot promise, you must not ask me."
+
+"We are meant for each other. It was not blind fate that cast us
+together. Does no voice tell you this? I hear it in my heart."
+
+The abandonment, the mystery of the gathering dusk, touched Maggie's
+fancy. They were alone in the twilight, and it was full of the romance
+of a rising tide.
+
+"Never did I know such happiness; I am supremely happy, alone with you
+beneath this sky, listening to the vague, wild voice of the sea. It
+would be bitter sweet to die in such a triumphant hour. Supposing
+wewere to lie here and allow the sea to take us away."
+
+"No, I don't want to die. I want to live and enjoy my life."
+
+The answer fell a little chillingly on Frank's rapture. Then after a
+pause, Maggie said: "I think I have read of that somewhere--in anovel--
+lovers caught by the tide."
+
+"Yes, I daresay you have. I was thinking of two lovers who were so
+overcome with happiness that they decided that they would not trust
+themselves again to the waves and storms of life, but would let the
+calm, slow tide of death take them away with all their happiness
+unassoiled."
+
+Maggie did not answer. The double fear had come upon her--first, that
+the tide might rise higher than usual and cut off their retreat.
+Secondly, that Frank--he was a poet--might insist on remaining there
+and being drowned. Getting up, she said: "I do not know what father
+will say when I get home, really it is quite dark. Come, Frank."
+
+"Death is better than a life of abomination--loss of innocence, and of
+delight in simple things. I ask you," he said, stopping her suddenly.
+
+"Yes, no doubt it is so; but I want to get home. Do go on, Frank."
+
+"I will save you from a life of abomination--in other words I will
+save you from him; he shall not get you. I have sworn it; you did
+notknow that when you were lying down on the beach--you had ceased
+speaking, and in the silence my life seemed stirred to its very
+essence; and I knew that I must struggle against him, and conquer. I
+want to know this: Have you ever thought of what your life would be
+with him? Have you ever thought what he is?"
+
+"But you don't know him, Frank. You have never spoken to him. I am
+sure you misjudge him."
+
+"Do you think I cannot see what he is? He is one of those men whose
+one ambition is to make themselves friendly in a house where there are
+women to wheedle. If the wife is young he will strive to wheedle her,
+and though he may not succeed he must degrade her. Or, if she have
+daughters, he will never cease to appeal to, to work upon, to excite
+latent feelings which, had it not been for him, would never have been
+developed into base and abnormal desire. I know what the foul-minded
+beast is. Such men as he ought to be killed; we don't want them in our
+society. I want to save you, I want to give you a noble, a pure life,
+full of the charms of a husband's influence, a home where there would
+be love of natural things. You are capable of all this, Maggie, your
+nature is a pure one, but your life is unwholesome and devoid of
+purity."
+
+"Frank, how can you speak so? You have no right to say such things
+about us. I am sure you have always been well treated--"
+
+"You do not understand me, I will explain what I mean. Your life is
+rich and luxurious, but you are not happy, no one is happy in
+idleness; above all no woman is happy without love. A woman's mission
+in life is to love, she must have her home, her husband, and her
+children. These are the things that make a woman happy; and these are
+the things I want to give you--that I will give you; for, listen to
+me, I swear you shall not have that adventurer. He would degrade you
+with pleasure at first, and afterwards with neglect. You are too good
+for this, Maggie--it must not be, it shall not be. As I said before,
+death would be better." They stood in front of the canal locks and
+Maggie looked with a beating heart on the deep water that a ray from a
+crescent moon faintly indicated. "A woman is helpless until she finds
+her lord, he who shall save, the saviour who shall bring her home safe
+to the fold. He exists! and all are in danger till they find him. Some
+miss him--they wander into misery and ruin; those that find him are
+led to happiness and content. I am yours. I would tell you how I
+became convinced that I am the one appointed by God to lead you to
+Him."
+
+"I thought you didn't believe in God."
+
+"Not as we have been taught to understand Him but I believe in a
+presiding power--call it luck, fate, or destiny that--that exists and
+wills; that is to say, watches over--rules out that this man is for
+that woman, and ordains that he shall protect her from danger, shall
+save her from those that seek her destruction. Much has happened to
+prove that I was intended for you. We have known each other since we
+were children. Do you not remember when I kissed you in the verandah
+as I was going to school? I was the first man who kissed you; you were
+the first woman who kissed me--have you never felt that we were for
+each other? Nor can I forget that when I thought we had drifted for
+ever apart, that I was brought back. Do you think it was accident--
+blind chance? I don't. Now I see this man striving to win you, and
+whether it be for your money, whether it be for yourself, or for both,
+it is my duty to say: No, this must not be."
+
+"I think you are mistaken about Charlie. I admit that a man is often a
+better judge than a girl; and as for you, Frank, I am sure I am very
+fond of you. It is very good of you to take such interest in me--but
+we must get home. I don't know what father will think."
+
+"No, before you go a step further you must promise me not to see that
+man again. I cannot tell you how, but I know no good can come of it.
+He is one of those creatures who cannot love, and only care for women
+for the excitement they afford. I know what sort of brute he is. It is
+more depraving to walk alone with him, than to be the mistress of a
+man who loved you."
+
+"He is leaving Brighton in a few days."
+
+"So much the better for all of us. But you must promise me. I would
+sooner see you lying drowned in that lock than his wife."
+
+Maggie trembled. It was ridiculous to think of such a thing. Surely he
+did not mean to drown her if she refused to promise. Charlie was going
+to London in a few days; he would be away for three or four months.
+Heaven only knows what would happen in that time. She didn't see what
+right Frank had to bully her--to extort promises from her by night on
+the edge of a dangerous lock. But a promise wasn't much, and a promise
+given in such circumstances was not a promise at all.
+
+"If you are really in earnest--if you think it is for my good, I'll
+promise you not to see him again."
+
+"O Maggie, if you only knew what a load of trouble you have taken off
+my mind! Thank you--give me your hand, and let me thank you. I know I
+am right. And now, tell me, can you love me? Will you marry me?"
+
+"I will promise nothing more to-night; we shall see how you behave
+yourself," the girl replied winningly. "And now go on, sir, we have
+been here quite long enough."
+
+He crossed the gate mechanically, she followed eagerly, and when she
+reached the other side her heart beat with pride at her pretty
+triumph. Now I'll twit him, she thought, as they ascended the shore
+and entered the town.
+
+"I wonder why you think Charlie so wicked; I think if you knew him you
+would change your opinion."
+
+"I am very thankful indeed that I do not know him."
+
+The conversation dropped, but a moment after he gave her the chance
+she wanted.
+
+"Mind you have promised me not to see him again. I trust you."
+
+"But suppose he calls and if I should be in the drawing-room, I cannot
+walk out of the room without speaking to him."
+
+"I think you had better write and say you do not wish to see him."
+
+"I couldn't do that; we have known him a long time, and father has
+always said that we must be rude to no one. Besides, what reason could
+I give?"
+
+"You need not give a reason. But let that pass. I can't see why you
+should meet; you can surely tell your servant to say 'Not at home,'
+when he calls."
+
+"I might be in the garden--Sally would not allow it. If John said 'Not
+at home,' she would run down and let him in."
+
+"I see you are raising difficulties--I see you do not intend to keep
+your promise."
+
+"You have been quite rude enough for one evening. You have kept me out
+on the beach by force till nearly ten o'clock at night, and you said
+that my life at the Manor House was not a pure one--I don't know what
+you mean. No man ever spoke to me like that before."
+
+"You misunderstood me. If you knew how I loved you, you would not twit
+me with my own words. Heaven knows I would sooner go back and drown
+myself in the lock than do anything or say anything that would offend
+you. Remember also that I asked you to be my wife."
+
+"You are not the first. I daresay it may appear strange to you, but
+others have asked me the same question before."
+
+"It does not seem strange to me, it only seems strange to me that
+every one doesn't love you, but I daresay they do. O Maggie, remember
+that you gave me hope, you said that you might--"
+
+"Did I? Well, it's too late to talk any more. Goodnight. I suppose
+you're not coming in?"
+
+She left him in a cruel dispersal of hope. He avoided, and then he
+tenderly solicited a regret that he had not thrown her into the lock.
+To end on that hour by the sea would have been better than the trivial
+and wretched conclusion of a broken promise, and everything, even
+murder, were better than that a brute should have her woman's
+innocence to sully and destroy. His love of the woman disappeared in
+his desire to save, the idea which she represented at that moment; and
+lost in sentiment he stood watching the white sickle of the moon over
+against the dim village. The leaves of some pollarded willows whitened
+when the breeze shot them up to the light, and a moment after became
+quite distinct in the glare and the steam of an approaching engine. He
+might go and tell Willy all about it; he would ask him to interfere-
+could he catch that train? If he ran for it, yes. He ran full tilt
+across the green under the archway up the high stone steps. He just
+did it.
+
+It was the last train; he would sleep in Brighton. His plan, so far as
+he had a definite plan, was to ask Willy to come with him and tell
+"that brute" that his visits to the Manor House must end, and request
+him to pay his sister no further attentions. His other plans were--
+Willy must speak to Maggie and tell her all he knew of the man; Willy
+must speak to his father; Mr. Brookes must not be kept in ignorance.
+But of course the right thing to do would be for Willy and him to call
+at the brute's hotel, tell him what they thought, and give him a
+licking. The train jogged on, and Frank made plan after plan. It was
+now past eleven, and he would not be at East Street before twelve
+o'clock. As he hurried along the streets he doubted more than ever how
+Willy would receive him. He might just as well have waited till
+morning. However, it was too late now to think of going back, there
+was no train, and he rapped at first timidly and then noisily at the
+shop door. He had to wait some time, and then he heard a voice asking
+from the top windows who was there.
+
+"'Tis I, Frank; awfully sorry, but must see you--particular business."
+
+There was no answer; he heard the voice grumbling, and more than ever
+doubtful of the cordiality of his reception, he listened. The door
+opened.
+
+"Who is it?" he said.
+
+"'Tis I, Cissy; but I'm in my nightdress."
+
+"I won't look at you, Cissy, if that's what you mean. But won't yougive
+me a kiss?"
+
+"Stoop down, then."
+
+"I am sorry for waking you up, Cissy."
+
+"Never mind, I'd get up at any hour to see you."
+
+"There, run upstairs, and take care you don't catch cold, or I shall
+never hear the end of it."
+
+"Father is in bed with mother. He says you are to go up, for if he
+were to get out of bed it might give him cold. You know his room?"
+
+"Yes, here it is, now run along."
+
+"Come in."
+
+Frank was a little shocked, and he waited stupidly on the threshold.
+He could see a fragment of Mrs. Brookes's profile, and beneath the
+clothes the outline of Willy's bony body.
+
+"Come in, come in," he said, "don't stand there filling the room with
+cold air. Now, what is it? Why the deuce do you come here waking us up
+at this ungodly hour? What has happened?"
+
+"I have proposed to your sister Maggie."
+
+"I am sure I am delighted to hear it, old chap; but I can't help
+thinking that I could have congratulated you equally as well, if not
+better, in the morning." Then, noticing the distressed look in Frank's
+face, he said: "I hope she has not refused you."
+
+"No; she asked me to wait, she said it would depend--"
+
+"Then you may depend it is all right; now go away and let me go to
+sleep, we'll talk about it in the morning. You can't get back to-
+night. You are sleeping in Brighton, I suppose? You'll come and
+breakfast here?"
+
+"Yes, with pleasure, but it wasn't exactly to tell that I had proposed
+to Maggie that I came here to-night; there is something more than
+that. You know that fellow she calls Charlie? I don't know his other
+name."
+
+"Stracey?"
+
+"I dare say. I mean the man you said you hated more than any man
+alive; I hate him, too."
+
+"You don't mean to say she is still thinking of that fellow. Has he
+come back?"
+
+"He was at the Manor House all day yesterday."
+
+"If she marries that fellow I'll never speak to her again, it will be
+dead cuts."
+
+"It is only natural that I should love Maggie. You remember the first
+day I came down to the Manor House? How young I was then--how young we
+all were; there are no days like the old days! There is a beautiful
+poem by Wordsworth; I only remember one line now--
+
+    "'When every day was long
+       As twenty days are now'--
+
+Do you remember the poem?" Willy did not answer, and noticing that his
+eyes were blinking, Frank hastily returned to more recent events." I
+wrote to her this afternoon telling her how much I loved her, and I
+said that I would call about nine in the evening at the Manor House,
+and that I hoped to find her in the drawing-room where we could talk
+without being disturbed. However, I was too excited, and could not
+hold out till nine; I thought I had better hear my fate at once, and
+as I was walking across the field--you know, at the back of Mrs.
+Heald's--I met her half way. She had a letter in her hand, which she
+said she was going to leave at Mrs. Heald's for me--She admitted that
+the letter was in point of fact a refusal, and when I questioned her
+she admitted that she was obliged to refuse me because she had half
+promised Charlie. We went for a walk on the beach; we sat on the beach
+and watched the sunset, and I told her all. I spoke to her about the
+past, how we had grown up together--how we had been, as it were, from
+the first fated for each other; for you must admit, Willy, that it is
+very curious--I don't know if you ever think of it, but I do--how we
+have met again even when the chances of life seemed to have put us for
+ever apart. "Here a slight sound warned Frank that the present moment
+was one as equally unfitted for psychological analysis as for poetry,
+and he hurried to his story, hoping that the incident of the lock
+would secure him attention. "Willy, I think I convinced her that I
+liked her better than that other fellow. We were standing by the lock
+--Willy, I really do think you might listen."
+
+"My dear fellow, I am listening. You were both looking at the sunset."
+
+"It really is too bad. Of course, if you don't want to hear, and would
+prefer to go to sleep, you have only to say so."
+
+"My dear fellow, I assure you I wasn't asleep. I only closed my eyes
+because I can't bear the glare of that candle. I know where you were--
+you were looking at the sunset."
+
+"No, we weren't."
+
+"Weren't they, Jessie? Are you asleep?"
+
+"No, I am not asleep. Do hold your tongue, Willy, I want to hear the
+story. You were standing by the lock, Mr. Escott."
+
+"Ah, yes, so they were."
+
+"I felt it was my duty, so I told her that I felt it was my mission to
+save--to save her from that man, and I made her promise me not to see
+him again."
+
+"Then it is all right. Nobody can be more glad than I am. I hate the
+fellow."
+
+"She will not keep her promise. Of course she may only have done it to
+tease me; but as we were going home she said she could not walk out of
+the room if she happened to be there when he called, nor could she
+leave word with the servants to say that they were not at home. She
+made a lot of excuses. What are you laughing at, Mrs. Brookes?"
+
+"I am really very sorry, Mr. Escott, but I couldn't help wondering if
+she would change her mind again if you were to go back to the lock."
+
+Frank took up the candle and turned to go.
+
+"Don't go," Willy murmured faintly.
+
+"I am very sorry, Mr. Escott--if circumstances permitted, I would do
+all I could to help you."
+
+This was delicate ground, and Willy woke up.
+
+"What do you want me to do? Have you anything to suggest?"
+
+"Yes, it struck me that we might both go round to the fellow's hotel--
+Stracey, you call him, I think--and you might tell him that his visits
+must cease at the Manor House, and that he must not speak to your
+sister if he should happen to meet her. That should bring the matter
+to an end. He is in Brighton--he is staying at the 'Grand.' We might
+go round there to-morrow morning."
+
+"He might kick us out."
+
+"I only hope he may try. I would give him such a hammering. But you
+need not be afraid of that. It wouldn't do to have Maggie's name
+mentioned in connection with a vulgar brawl--people are not too
+charitable. My idea is that this business should be conducted in the
+quietest and most gentlemanly manner possible."
+
+"I think I had better speak to father first."
+
+"No necessity; he will be only too glad to get rid of the penniless
+brute. Don't you think so, Mrs. Brookes?"
+
+"I do."
+
+They then spoke of other things--of the shop, the profit they had made
+on tomatoes, and the losses that had resulted from over-stocking
+themselves with flour. At last a loud snore brought the conversation
+to a full stop, and Frank hurriedly bade them good-night.
+
+"Cissy will let you out," said Willy, with a sigh of relief.
+
+The little girl had pulled on her stockings and tied a petticoat round
+her waist. "So you are going to be married."
+
+"O Cissy, you have been listening!"
+
+"Is she very nice? She must be very nice for you to marry her. I
+should like to marry you."
+
+"Would you, Cissy, and why?"
+
+"Oh, because you are so very handsome. But you will come and see us
+all the same, and let me sit on your knee?"
+
+"Of course I will, Cissy, and now good-night."
+
+Next morning Willy declared himself ready to go and see Mr. Charles
+Stracey, and to tell him that he was not to call any more at the Manor
+House, or speak to Miss Brookes if he should happen to meet her. Frank
+wondered if this decision was owing to Mrs. Brookes's influence.
+
+"I slept last night at the 'Grand' It seemed odd sleeping in the
+same house--perhaps within a few doors of him. If you only knew how I
+love her, if I could only tell you, you would pity me. You ought to
+know what I feel--the anxiety, the heart-ache. I know you have gone
+through it all."
+
+"Yes, I think I know what it is," Willy replied thoughtfully.
+
+"Mr. Stracey is staying here?"
+
+"Will you enquire at the office, sir?"
+
+While the books were being searched the young men consulted together.
+Frank said: "Send up your card, and say you will be glad to speak to
+him on a matter of importance. Of course he will see you, but before
+you speak about Maggie you must apologise for my presence; you must
+say that I am a very particular friend, and that you thought it better
+that the interview should take place in the presence of a witness."
+
+"I wish it were all over. I wouldn't do what I am doing for any one
+else, I can tell you, Frank."
+
+"Mr. Stracey is in the hotel, sir."
+
+"Will you give him my card, and say I should be glad to speak to him
+on a matter of importance?"
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+(In an undertone to Frank), "Was that right?"
+
+"Quite right."
+
+"Oh, one thing I had forgotten to ask you--am I to shake hands with
+him?"
+
+"You mean if he offers you his hand?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is impossible to settle everything beforehand. One must act
+according as the occasion requires." "That's all very well for you,
+but I am a slow man, and am lost if I don't arrange beforehand."
+
+"Pretend not to see his hand, and apologise for my presence; he will
+then see that we mean business."
+
+"The waiting is the worst part."
+
+"Will you walk this way, sir?" said the page boy. "Mr. Stracey is not
+out of bed yet, but he said if you wouldn't mind, sir."
+
+They shrank from their enterprise instinctively, but the door was
+thrown open, and they saw a bath, and a sponge, and a towel, and Mr.
+Stracey lying on his back reading _The Sporting Times_. He extended a
+long brawny arm. The strength of the arm fixed itself on Willy's mind,
+and he doubted if he had not better take the proffered hand.
+
+"I brought my friend Mr. Escott with me, for I thought a witness--I
+mean, that this interview should be conducted in the presence of a
+third party."
+
+At this speech Charlie opened his eyes and dropped his paper. Willy
+leaned over the rail of the bed; Frank looked into the bath, but
+remembering himself suddenly, he examined the chest of drawers.
+
+"I have come to speak to you about my sister."
+
+Charlie changed countenance, and both men noticed the change.
+
+"I mean to say I have come to tell you that you must discontinue your
+visits to the Manor House, and I must beg of you not to address my
+sisters should you meet them."
+
+"May I ask if you are your father's representative, if you speak with
+his authority?"
+
+"I do not. I--"
+
+"Then I should like to know on what authority you forbid me a house
+that doesn't belong to you, and I should like to know, if your father
+doesn't disapprove of my knowing your sisters, why you should? I shall
+speak to Miss Brookes as long as she cares to speak to me. The very
+idea of a man like you coming here to bully me! You have got my
+answer."
+
+"If, after this warning," said Frank, who, seeing that things were
+going against them, thought he had better interfere, "you speak to
+Miss Brookes, you will do so at your peril."
+
+"Peril! What do you mean?"
+
+"I mean that you must be prepared to take the consequences."
+
+"Who are you? I should like to know what you have to do in this
+matter?"
+
+"I speak as Miss Brookes's future husband."
+
+"Future husband be damned! She'll never marry you," said Charlie,
+springing out of bed.
+
+Frank threw himself on his guard, and they would have struck each
+other if Willy had not cried out: "Frank, remember you promised me
+there must be no scandal."
+
+"I had almost forgotten. For Miss Brookes's sake, I refrain. Do you
+also, for her sake, cease to provoke me."
+
+Charlie hesitated for a moment, then rushing to the door, he said: "I,
+too, for Miss Brookes's sake, refrain, and I give you three seconds to
+clear out."
+
+In attempting to carry out the injunction Willy nearly fell in the
+bath. Frank had to bite his lip to avoid a smile, and he stalked out
+of the room assuming his most arrogant air.
+
+"I think, on the whole, we got the best of it," he said as they went
+down stairs.
+
+"Do you? He turned us out of his room!"
+
+"That's the worst of tackling a man in his own room--if he tells you
+to go, and you don't go, he can ring for the servants."
+
+"I was as nearly as possible going into the bath."
+
+"Yes, a touch more and down you'd have gone." Frank laughed, and Willy
+laughed, "and that fellow in his nightshirt fishing you out!"
+
+"Oh, don't, don't--"
+
+Frank asked Willy to lunch with him at Mutton's, and he ordered a
+bottle of champagne in honour of the day.
+
+"I say, just fancy pulling you out of the bath, and wiping you with a
+towel. I can see you dripping!"
+
+"Don't set me off again. Let me enjoy my cutlets."
+
+"By Jove! there's something I hadn't thought of."
+
+"What's that?"
+
+"We must be off. We must tell Maggie what has happened before he has
+time to communicate with her. What is the next train to Southwick?"
+
+"There's one at half-past one."
+
+"It was after twelve when we saw him, he won't have time to catch
+that. We must be off. Waiter, the bill, and be quick. Look sharp,
+Willy, finish the bottle, pity to waste it."
+
+"What a nuisance women are, to be sure. Just as I was enjoying my
+cutlet! I can't walk fast in this weather, I should make myself ill."
+
+"We must take a cab."
+
+"What a fellow you are, you never think of the expense. I don't know
+where I should be if I were as reckless as you are."
+
+"Supposing he were at the station. It would be rather a sell if we
+went down by the same train! What should we do? He would surely never
+attempt to force his way in!"
+
+"I don't think he would attempt that. If he did, we should have to
+send for the police."
+
+The young men strove to decide how the news should be broken to
+Maggie. But they had arranged nothing before they arrived at
+Southwick, and Frank stopped Willy time after time by the footpath,
+until at last in despair the latter said: "We must make haste; there's
+another train in twenty minutes."
+
+"By Jove! I had not thought of that; we must get on. Well, then, it is
+all arranged. You must tell her that you thought it your duty. Put it
+all down to duty, and it was your duty to do what you did--putting
+entirely out of the question the service you did me."
+
+"I can tell you what, Frank, I am very sorry I ever meddled in the
+matter. Had I known the vexation and annoyance it would have caused--
+and mark my words, and see if they don't come true, we are only
+commencing the annoyances that the affair will cause us. Ah, had I
+only foreseen! What a fool I was; I ought to have known better; I have
+had nothing but bad luck all my life. It is perfectly wonderful the
+bad luck I have had; no matter what I did, nothing seemed to go right.
+I dare say if you had gone to see that fellow without me it would have
+turned out differently. But I don't see how I am to tell my sister
+point blank that I have forbidden him the house. What will she say?
+She may fly at me. Women have queer tempers, particularly when you
+interfere with their young men. My sisters have the very worst of
+tempers; you don't know them as I do. Fortunately it is not Sally. I
+assure you I wouldn't face Sally with such news for all the money you
+could give me."
+
+"I am very sorry, old chap, but we must now go through it. You must
+forbid her to communicate with him."
+
+"She won't heed what I say. It will only excite her. She will fly at
+me, and call me names, and burst into tears. I should not be surprised
+if she went off her head--she has been very strange once before. I
+don't mean to say she was ever wrong in her head, but she is a
+nervous, excitable girl--most excitable; my sisters are the most
+excitable girls I have ever known."
+
+It was surprisingly soon over. Willy had not spoken a dozen words,
+when he was interrupted.
+
+"You mean to say you have been to call on him?"
+
+"Yes; and we told him he was never to speak to you again."
+
+
+Frank expected her eyes to flash fire, but he only noticed a slight
+change in her face, a movement of the muscles of the lower jaw.
+
+"Then I will speak to neither of you again!" and she walked out of the
+room, and in dismay they listened to her going upstairs.
+
+"She didn't fly at me," said Willy; and, looking a little terrified,
+he stroked his moustache softly. "I told you she would give no heed to
+what we said; nor do I see how we can prevent her seeing that fellow
+if she chooses. He cannot come into the house, it is true, but she can
+go out when she pleases."
+
+"We must follow her."
+
+Conscious of defeat, Willy desired compromise. He could not be induced
+to take a share of watching and following which Frank declared
+essential; and, dreading an encounter with Stracey, whose brawny arm
+it was impossible to forget, he shut himself up in the shop, and
+devoted himself to drawing up a most elaborate balance-sheet, showing
+how he would stand if he were obliged to close the business to-morrow,
+whereas Frank loitered about the roads, till Mrs. Horlock came along
+with her dogs, and engaged him in conversation; and no matter at what
+corner he stationed himself, he found he was not free from
+observation. A few days after he could not bring himself to return to
+his post, and contented himself with looking out of his window, and
+taking an occasional stroll by the embankment, when he saw a train
+signalled.
+
+A great weight seemed lifted from his shoulder the day he heard that
+his rival's holiday had come to an end, and that he had been forced to
+return to his counting-house in London. True it is that Mr. Brookes
+had in a certain measure approved of Willy's action in forbidding
+young Stracey the Manor House, and therefore of his, Frank Escott's,
+suit, but neither of these gains compensated him for the crowning loss
+of not being able to see his beloved, for although the Manor House was
+still theoretically open to him, practically it was closed. The
+sisters, although at variance on all subjects, had united in
+condemning him and Willy, and during one dinner, the misery of which
+he declared he could never forget, they had sat whispering together,
+refusing to address him either by look or word. Willy took all this
+calmly. It is an ill wind that blows no good, and the silence enabled
+him to thoroughly masticate his food. Mr. Brookes wept a little and
+laughed a little, and reminded them of the oblivion that awaited all
+their little quarrels.
+
+All this, like much else in life, was ridiculous enough; but because
+we are ridiculous, it does not follow that we do not suffer, and Frank
+suffered. He was five-and-twenty, and light love had him fairly by the
+throat; he winced, and he cried out, but very soon his dignity gave
+way, and he craved forgiveness. But Maggie passed without heeding him.
+For more than a week she resisted all his appeals, and it was not
+until she saw that she was taking the neighbourhood into her
+confidence, and to feel that if she did not relent a little he might
+leave Southwick, and not return, she answered him with a monosyllable.
+With what bliss did he hear that first "no," and how passionately he
+pleaded for a few words; it did not seem to matter what they were, so
+long as he heard her speak one whole sentence to him. Feeling her
+power, she was shy of yielding, and with every concession she drew him
+further into the meshes of love. He dined now nearly every day at the
+Manor House, and he spent an hour, sometimes two, with her in the
+morning or afternoon; he followed her from greenhouse to greenhouse,
+but all his efforts were in vain, and he failed not only to obtain her
+promise to marry him, but even a renewal of the feeble and partial
+hopes which she had given him that night on the beach. He prayed, he
+wept, he implored pity, he openly spoke of suicide, and he hinted at
+murder. But Maggie passed him, pushing him out of the way with the
+watering-pot, threatening to water him too, until one day he drew a
+revolver. She screamed, and the revolver was put away, but on the next
+occasion a stiletto that he had brought from Italy was produced, and
+with a great deal of earnestness life was declared to be a miserable
+thing. It was absurd, no doubt, but at the same time it was not a
+little pathetic; he was so good-looking, and so sincere. Maggie put
+down the watering-pot, and she would probably have allowed him to take
+her hand and kiss her, if he had not spoken roughly about Charlie, and
+called her conduct into question. So she told him she would not speak
+to him again, and she continued watering the flowers in silence. Amid
+vague remembrances of murders she had read of, Frank's words and
+behaviour remained present in her mind, and that evening when Willy,
+who rarely took the trouble to speak, much less to advise his sisters,
+told her that she might never get such a chance again, she said: "I am
+not going to marry a madman to please your vanity."
+
+"Marry a madman! What do you mean?"
+
+"Well, I call a man that who comes regularly to see a girl with a
+revolver in one pocket and a stiletto in the other, and threatens to
+leave himself wallowing in a pool of blood at her feet--"
+
+"You mean to say he does that? You are clearly determined to drive the
+poor fellow out of his mind with your infernal coquetry. Well, women
+are the most troublesome, and I believe in many cases, the wickedest
+creatures on the face of God's earth."
+
+"You shut up. Men who don't get on with women always abuse them; you
+are soured since Miss ----, the actress, jilted you."
+
+"If you ever dare mention that subject, I will never speak to you
+again. You know I don't break my word."
+
+"Why do you interfere in my affairs? You don't think of me when you go
+down to browbeat Charlie Stracey; you don't think of what would have
+been said of me had Frank hit him, and it had all come out in the
+papers." Maggie said no more; she saw she had gone too far. Willy sat
+puffing at his pipe; but when her father spoke of a certain investment
+that had not turned out as well as he had anticipated, he joined in
+the conversation, and she hoped her cruelty was forgotten.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+
+Frank uttered a cry of surprise when he opened the studio door to his
+friend. It was his favourite complaint that Willy never came to see
+him.
+
+"At last, at last! This is the second time you have been in the place
+since it was finished, faithless friend!"
+
+"My dear fellow, you know it is not my fault. I have been very busy
+lately trying to get on with my accounts. There's not a room in the
+Manor House where I can work in; my sisters' things are everywhere,
+and they must not be interfered with--their ball-dresses, their birds,
+their work. My sisters think of nothing but pleasure."
+
+"Triss, go back, go to your chair, sir; I'll get the whip."
+
+Showing his fangs, the bull-dog retired; then with a hideous growl
+sprang upon his chair, and sat eyeing Willy's calves.
+
+"I cannot think what pleasure it can give you to keep such a brute.
+Even if I had my accounts finished, I don't think I should care to
+come here much. It isn't safe."
+
+"You are quite mistaken. There's not a better-tempered dog alive than
+Triss; he wouldn't bite any one unless he attacked me. Give me a slap,
+and you'll see--I won't let him come near you."
+
+"Thank you, I'd rather not. But he sometimes growls even at you, and
+shows his teeth, too."
+
+"That's only a way of his, and when he does it I kick him. Come here,
+Triss--come here, sir!" The dog approached slowly; he sat down and
+gave his paw to his master, but he did not cease to growl. "There! We
+have had enough of you, go back to your chair. What will you take--a
+glass of Chartreuse--a cigarette?"
+
+"Thanks, both if you will let me. I see you like pretty things," he
+said, admiring the tall legs of the table--early English--and the
+quaint glasses into which Frank poured the liqueur. "You've got the
+place to look very nice."
+
+"Very different from what is was when the smith and his boisterous
+brood were here," and as if he intended an apt illustration of his
+words, he stretched his leg out on the white fur rug and surveyed his
+calf and red silk stocking. "Just look at that dog, isn't he a beauty?
+I always think he looks well in that attitude, leaning his head over
+the rail. I began a picture of him the other day in a pose somewhat
+like that. I'll show it you." Frank propped his sketch against the leg
+of the sofa, and returned to his place on the sofa. "What do you think
+of it? Your father said it was very like."
+
+"It is like him, but I can see no merit in it. I'm afraid of the
+brute. I can't help hating him, for he always looks as if he were
+going for my legs. What else have you been painting? Any pretty women
+about? I should admire them more."
+
+"I haven't been painting lately," he said, sighing a little
+melodramatically, as was his wont, "I think I have been playing the
+piano more than anything else. I have composed something too, I don't
+think it bad, I'll play it to you: a dialogue between a gentleman and
+a lady. He speaks first, then she answers, then I blend the two
+motives, and that is what they both say."
+
+Willy sat enwrapped in his own thoughts, not having heard a note.
+Though he knew that Willy was incapable of judging of music, it
+disappointed him that his dialogue had passed unperceived. Then
+smiling, he struck a few notes, and Willy awoke. "You haven't been
+listening," he said, reproachfully. "You don't care for any music,
+except that little tune."
+
+"Yes, I do; I heard what you played, and I think it very pretty."
+
+"Willy, I am the most miserable man in the world. Every hour, every
+minute of my life is a pain to me. I never knew before what you must
+have suffered, but I know now; it is a sickening feeling, it takes you
+by the throat, it rises in the throat, and you are almost suffocated.
+Last night I lay awake hour after hour thinking. I could see Maggie as
+plainly as I can see you--she looked down upon me out of space with
+strange, steadfast eyes, and my whole soul went out to her, and I
+cried to her that I loved her beyond all things; and we seemed to be
+so near each other; it seemed such an intimate and perfect communion
+of spirit and sense that I seemed, as it were, lifted out of actual
+life; I seemed to myself holier, purer, better than I had ever been
+before; I seemed to loose all that is gross and material in me, and to
+gain in all that is best and worthiest in man. Did you feel like that
+when you were in love?"
+
+"I don't know that I felt exactly like that. But never mind how I
+felt; you are too fond of alluding to that subject, it is a very
+painful one to me; you will make me regret that I ever told you
+anything about it."
+
+"I am sorry I mentioned it. It is strange, but when one suffers one
+likes to speak of and to compare with one's own the suffering that
+another has endured. Your sister treats me most cruelly. She has
+forgiven me that miserable business, but she refuses to hold out any
+hope that she will ever be my wife. I don't understand--I am utterly
+at sea. I don't believe for a moment that she cares for that horrid
+brute; he is gone away. She tells me she never cared for him. If so, I
+should like to learn your explanation of her conduct."
+
+Willy stroked his moustache, apparently declining the responsibility
+of apologist; but his manner showed he had something on his mind, and
+Frank sought more eagerly than ever to enlist his sympathy and
+support.
+
+"I have done everything I could to win her. I don't know why she
+should be so difficult to please. I am not bad looking, I am at least
+as good looking as that damned brute" (here he paused to glance at
+himself in the glass and smooth the curls above his forehead). "I am
+certainly quite as clever" (here he thought of his painting, and his
+eye sought one of his pictures), "and my position--I will not speak of
+that, it would be snobbish. Women have cared for me. I have told
+Maggie hundreds of times that I never could care for any but her. Fate
+seems to have specially marked us for each other. You must admit that
+there is something very remarkable in the way we have been brought
+together over and over again. I have told her that my life is
+worthless without her. The day before yesterday, when I was speaking
+to her, I burst into tears. That a man should cry, no doubt, seems to
+you very ridiculous but if you knew how I suffer you would pity me. I
+often think I shall commit suicide." Frank took the stiletto from his
+pocket. "I don't mind telling you, when you knocked at the door I was
+lying on the sofa thinking it over. One stab just here and I should be
+at peace for ever. I told her so yesterday."
+
+"I'm not fond of giving advice, as you know--I have quite enough to do
+to think about my own affairs--but as you have often spoken to me on
+this matter, and as you have asked me for my opinion and my help, I
+had better tell you that I differ entirely from you concerning the
+wisdom of the course you are pursuing."
+
+"How's that?" said Frank, at first surprised and then delighted at
+Willy's breaking from his reserve.
+
+"What I mean is, that I think you would be more successful if you
+would lay aside daggers and revolvers, and try to win her affection by
+patience and gentleness. Maggie was talking to me about it no later
+than last night, and I could see clearly that you frighten her with
+bluster. I am sure there are times when she dreads you; it must be a
+positive terror to her to sit with you alone--so it would be to any
+girl."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Maggie is a very delicate and nervous girl, and it wouldn't surprise
+me if your threats to commit suicide seriously affected her health;
+you come with a revolver and a stiletto, and you ask her to marry you,
+and if she doesn't at once say yes, you abuse her, declaring all the
+time that you'll stab yourself with the revolver and shoot yourself
+with the stiletto--I beg your pardon, I mean--"
+
+"Of course, if you've come here only to turn me into ridicule--"
+
+"I assure you I didn't mean it--a slip of the tongue," and as their
+eyes met at that moment, neither could refrain from laughter.
+
+"Admit that there is something in what I say. If you will behave a
+little more quietly--if you will talk to her nicely; leave off
+assuring her of your love, she knows all that already; have some
+patience and forbearance; you will see if before long she doesn't
+change towards you."
+
+His interest in the matter was a desire that his sister should not
+miss this chance of marrying the future Lord Mount Rorke. But Maggie
+felt too sure of Frank to resist the temptation to tantalise him;
+besides her moods were naturally various, and the first relapse into
+her former coldness was answered by a sudden reversion to threats of
+murder and suicide, and one summer evening about six o'clock, when
+Mrs. Horlock took her dogs out and stood at the corner waiting for
+Angel, a rumour was abroad that Mr. Escott had stabbed himself to the
+heart, and had fallen weltering in his blood at Miss Brookes's feet.
+
+Dr Dickinson walked across the green, watched with palpitating anxiety
+from the corner of the Southdown Road. The General spoke to the
+farmer, and the farmer's pupil nudged the general dealer. Mrs. Horlock
+spoke to the grocers, and the owners of the baths declared they had
+just heard from their servant that the young man was not dead, but
+mortally wounded.
+
+There was, therefore, no doubt that Dr Dickinson was going to Mrs.
+Heald's, and would not turn to the right and walk to the station for
+the quarter-to-seven train; and expectation on this point ceasing, the
+group expressed its sympathy for the young man. Poor young man--and so
+good-looking too--what will she do if he should die?--and he must die
+--there was no doubt of it. Maria had met Mary--that was the housemaid
+at the Manor House--it was Mary who had mopped up the blood. She said
+there was a great pool right in the middle of the new carpet under the
+window--they were sitting there on the ottoman when he said suddenly,
+"I have come to ask you to marry me; if you won't I must die."
+Notwithstanding this she continued to play with him--the cruel little
+minx! He could stand it no longer, and he pulled out a dagger he had
+brought from the East, and stabbed himself twice close to the heart.
+What will she do?--she is his murderer--to all intents and purposes
+she is his murderer--she will have to go into a convent--she won't go
+into a convent--she'll brazen it out. No one thinks much of those
+girls--the way Sally carried on with young Meason--it was disgraceful
+--they say she used to steal her father's money and give it to him--Dr
+Dickinson could tell fine tales.
+
+Then gossip ceased, and they were in doubt if they might intercept the
+doctor and obtain news of his patient when he left Mrs. Heald's. Some
+strolled about the green, pretending to be taking the air. Mrs.
+Horlock, however, had no scruples, and picking up Angel and calling to
+Rose and Flora, she walked straight to Mrs. Heald's, and was seen to
+go in. Some five minutes after she came out with the doctor. Frank was
+not dead, nor mortally wounded, nor even dangerously wounded, but he
+had had a very narrow escape.
+
+"I said to him, 'You have had a very narrow escape.' The fact is--(I,
+of course, examined the weapon)--a small part of the point had been
+broken away; it was this that saved him. The first blow scarcely
+pierced his clothes; the second was more effective, it entered the
+flesh just above the heart, and I have no doubt if the steel had
+penetrated a quarter of an inch deeper that he would have killed
+himself. But so far as I can see at present, he will get over it
+without much difficulty."
+
+"When did it occur?"
+
+"About an hour ago, at the Manor House. It appears that he has gone
+there every day for the last three weeks to ask Miss Brookes to marry
+him; she, however, would not give him any definite answer--"
+
+"Horrid girl!"
+
+"I never liked her; most deceitful; no doubt she flirted with him
+outrageously."
+
+"I can't say. I hear that he often threatened to kill himself, and to-
+day, to conclude, he pulled out his stiletto."
+
+"I thought it was a dagger he had brought from the East?"
+
+"No, the weapon they showed me was an Italian stiletto."
+
+The grocer's daughter shuddered, her mother murmured, "And for that
+girl."
+
+"We didn't know him. The Brookes never allow their friends to know any
+one in Southwick, but I have heard that he is an exceedingly nice--"
+
+"He will be Lord Mount Rorke, if his uncle doesn't marry again."
+
+"He must have been desperately in love; no one ever heard of such a
+thing before. It sounds like the Middle Ages--a stiletto!"
+
+"But what could he see in her? That's what I can't make out; can you?"
+
+"Ah! there I can't assist you. I hope to be able to cure him of the
+stiletto wound, but Cupid's arrows are beyond me. They did not fly so
+thickly or strike so hard in my time." And, laughing, the doctor
+withdrew.
+
+"I suppose that after this she will marry him; she never intended to
+let him slip through her fingers. I can see her face when she heard
+that another quarter of an inch and her chance of being Lady Mount
+Rorke was gone for ever."
+
+"I daresay he won't marry her now. It would serve her right. I should
+be so glad."
+
+And so pouring their gall out upon the unfortunate Maggie, the
+tradespeople returned to their homes. The stiletto was so utterly
+unprecedented, and so complete a reversal of all conception of the
+chances of life at Southwick, that every one felt puzzled and
+dissatisfied, even when gossip had brought to light every
+circumstantial detail of the romantic story. Had the deed been done
+with a knife, with anything but a stiletto; had he hanged himself, or
+cut his throat with a razor, or shot himself with his revolver, the
+wonder of the Southwickians would not have been so excited. But a
+stiletto! And for a week an Italy of brigands and bravoes, and
+stealthy surprises haunted shadows of picturesque archways, an Italy
+of chromo-lithographed skies and draperies in the Southdown Road.
+Maggie was spoken of with alternate fear and hate; her wickedness
+seemed more than natural, and had the Southdown Road known anything of
+Italian opera, there is little doubt that Miss Brookes would have been
+compared to Lucretia Borgia. The young women looked out of their
+windows at night, and wondered how they'd feel if a troubadour were
+suddenly to sing to them from behind the privet hedges. The young men
+were even more impressed than their womenfolk; they cursed their place
+of birth and habitation, knowing that it incapacitated them from
+knowing her; they wasted their mothers' candles sitting up till two in
+the morning writing odes to cruel women with raven hair; and all gazed
+sadly on the old ship in the harbour, and the Spanish main seemed
+nearer, and those gallant days more realisable than they had ever been
+before.
+
+The direct cause of this revival of romance lived, however,
+unconscious of it. She was genuinely frightened. She said her prayers
+with great fervour, begging God that He might save Frank, and that she
+might not be a murderess. She made him soups, she sent him wine, she
+brought him books, and she sat with him for hours. She thought he had
+never looked so nice as now--so pale, so aristocratic, so elegantly
+weak, his head laid upon a cushion, which she had brought him, and
+when he took her hand and said, "Will you, darling?" and she murmured,
+"Yes," then it seemed that the happiness of his life was upon his
+face.
+
+Three days after Frank was sitting at his table writing to Mount
+Rorke, and on the following Sunday he walked to the Manor House to
+tell Mr. Brookes that he was engaged to his daughter, and to ask his
+consent. He did not think of his folly, he was too happy; he seemed
+like one in a quiet dulcet dream; he walked slowly, leaning from time
+to time against the wooden paling, for he wished to prolong this
+meditative moment; he saw everything vaguely, and loved all with a
+quiet fulness of heart; he took in the sense of this village and its
+life as he had never done before. He compared it with Ireland; Mount
+Rorke, with its towers, and lakes, and woods arose, and he was
+grateful that Maggie was going there, yet he was sure that he could
+not live without sometimes seeing this village where he had found so
+much happiness.
+
+His wound had sucked away his strength, the sunlight dazzled him, and
+feeling a little overcome, and not equal, without pause, to the long
+interview that awaited him, he stayed awhile in a shady laurel corner,
+and leaning against a piece of iron railing, watched Mr. Brookes and
+Mr. Berkins as they paced the tennis lawn to and fro. The old
+gentleman frequently stopped in his walk to point at the glass houses.
+
+"My dear Berkins, I wish you would try to get Willy some appointment;
+he would, I am sure, take anything over two hundred and fifty a year.
+He would do marvellously well in an office--he loves it. I assure you
+his eyes twinkle when one speaks of how books are kept, or alludes in
+any way to the routine of office work. You should see his accounts and
+his letter books, they would make the best clerk you ever had feel
+ashamed of himself; but left to himself I am afraid he will do no
+good; he has all the method, but nothing else. He lost money in Bond
+Street; I am afraid to tell you how much he dropped on the Stock
+Exchange, but that was not entirely his fault--the firm went bankrupt;
+nobody could have foreseen it, it was quite unheard of."
+
+"I have always noticed that successful men do not buy partnerships in
+firms that go bankrupt."
+
+"Very true, Berkins; I wish I had asked your advice on the subject."
+
+"I wish you had, Mr. Brookes. You are no doubt a very clever man, but
+on one or two points you are liable to make mistakes; you are, if I
+may so speak, a little weak. You should come and live with me for a
+few months, I would put you right."
+
+"This is really too much," thought Mr. Brookes; and had it not been
+for the certain knowledge that Berkins had lately increased his income
+by a couple of thousands a year, he would have answered him tartly
+enough; but as this fact admitted of no doubt he bridled his anger and
+said: "If you could put my boy right it would be more to the point. He
+has all the method of the best clerk in London; he loves the work, he
+would do honour to any office, but on his own hook I am afraid he will
+never do anything but lose his money."
+
+"Your money, you mean."
+
+"Well, my money if you like. You are very provoking, Berkins. I don't
+know if you do it with the express purpose of annoying me. I was
+saying, when you interrupted me, that Nature had evidently intended my
+son for a clerk rather than for a speculator. I fear he is doing very
+badly with his shop in Brighton. The rents are very high in East
+Street, and I don't think he sells anything. He takes enough away from
+here, though. I don't remember if I ever told you that I was foolish
+enough to agree to his taking away, buying from me at the market price
+he calls it, the surplus produce of my garden and greenhouses. I dare
+say I shall get the money one of these days, but at present I see no
+sign of it. He is always making up the accounts, and, so far as we
+have gone, the result of this arrangement is that, when I complain
+that there is neither fruit nor vegetables on my table, I am told that
+everything went to Brighton. I am forced, I assure you, to send my
+carriage and my horses, that I paid two hundred guineas for, to fetch
+potatoes, and he, too, uses my carriage to take his vegetables to the
+shop. He gets his sisters to bring them when they go out driving, nor
+can I even buy my fruit and vegetables off him at cost price; he says
+that would interfere with his book-keeping, and so I am obliged to buy
+everything from Hutton, and you know what his prices are. I assure
+you, it is most annoying."
+
+"Mr. Brookes, your fortune will not bear this constant drain; you must
+remember that we are living in very bad times--times that are not what
+they were. I have heard that your distillery--"
+
+"Yes, times are very bad. I have never known them worse, and no doubt
+you find them so too. They ought to affect you even more than they do
+me. My income is, as you know, all invested money, whereas yours is
+all in your business."
+
+"Of course, I am affected by the times; had they remained what they
+were, even what they were towards the end of the seventies, I should
+be making now something over ten thousand pounds a year. But, thank
+God! I have not to complain. Next year I hope to invest another five
+thousand pounds. The worst of it is, that there is no price for money
+in legitimate securities."
+
+"Everything is very bad; you never will invest your money as I did
+mine ten years ago. My business is not, of course, what it used to be,
+but I don't complain; if it weren't for troubles nearer home I should
+get on very well."
+
+"I hope that Sally has commenced no new flirtation in the Southdown
+Road. I thought she had promised you--since she gave up Meason--that
+she would for the future know no one that lived there."
+
+"I was thinking for the moment of Willy, not of Sally; she has not
+been so troublesome lately. But no sooner are we out of one trouble
+than we are in another. It is, of course, very regrettable that young
+Escott should have stabbed himself, and in my garden too. I, who hate
+scandals, seem always plunged in one. I hear they are talking of it in
+the clubs in Brighton. I hope Lord Mount Rorke will not hear of it; if
+he did, do you think it would prejudice him against the match?"
+
+"Then you're prepared to give your consent?"
+
+"Why not? Surely! I really don't see--Lord Mount Rorke is a very rich
+man."
+
+"Possibly, but Irish peers are not always as rich as they would like
+us to believe they are. The connection is, of course, desirable, but I
+hope your anxiety to secure it will not lead you into making foolish,
+I will say reprehensible, monetary concessions. What I mean is this. I
+am a straightforward man, Mr. Brookes, brought up in a hard school,
+and I always come straight to the point. You are a rich man, Mr.
+Brookes--you have the reputation of being a richer man than you are--
+and it is possible, I don't say it is probable, that Lord Mount Rorke
+will expect you to make a large settlement. He will possibly--mind
+you, I do not say probably--taking the coronet into consideration--
+those people think as much of their titles as we do of our money--ask
+you to settle a thousand a year, may be fifteen hundred a year, upon
+your daughter."
+
+"Settle a thousand--maybe fifteen hundred--a year on my daughter!"
+cried the horror-stricken Brookes.
+
+"He may even ask for two thousand a year. Remember, you are a
+distiller--he is a peer of the realm. And now I say," continued
+Berkins, growing more emphatic as he reached the close of his
+declamation, "that in my wife's interest I will oppose any and all
+attempts to purchase a coronet for Maggie at her sister's expense."
+
+Mr. Brookes stood for a moment stupefied--as if some great calamity
+had befallen him. The housekeeping bills, the loss of his fruit and
+vegetables, even the Southdown Road seemed as nothing in the face of
+this new misfortune. Troublesome as his daughters were, he preferred
+an occasional recrudescence of flirtation in his garden to settling
+the money that he had made himself and letting them go; no pen can
+describe the anguish that the surrendering of the ten thousand pounds
+which he had settled on Grace had caused him; but to be told now that
+the alliance with a lord which he so greedily coveted, and which had
+been so agreeably tickling him for the last few days, would cost him
+perhaps two thousand a year, was more than he could bear. He had
+avoided as much as possible even thinking of the money question. One
+hundred--two hundred--the shadow of three hundred had fallen for a
+moment on his mind, but he had successfully chastened these
+unpleasantnesses by thoughts of the liberality, the generosity of the
+aristocracy, and he had encouraged a hope that Mount Rorke would let
+him off with a statement of how much Maggie would have at his death.
+And now to hear these terrible prognostications, and from his own son-
+in-law, too. It was too bad--it was too cruel. "You don't know what
+you are talking about, Berkins. If it were business I would listen to
+you, but really when it comes to discussing the aristocracy it is more
+than I can stand. What do you know about the aristocracy--not that,"
+cried Mr. Brookes, snapping his fingers. "You were brought up in an
+office--what should you know? You were a clerk once at thirty
+shillings a week--what should you know? Lord Mount Rorke would never
+think of making such ridiculous proposals to me. You judge him by
+yourself, Berkins, that's it, that's it! I dare say he has heard of me
+in the City--many of your great lords do business in the City. I dare
+say he has heard of me, and if he has he'll not try any nonsense with
+me. Twist him round my finger, twist him round my finger."
+
+Berkins liked a lord, but Berkins liked lords without thinking himself
+one jot their inferior, and he was sure that his horse and his dog and
+his house and everything belonging to him were better than theirs; and
+secure in the fact that his grandfather had been a field officer, he
+did not think it amiss to brag that he had begun life with thirty
+shillings a week, so he only smiled at his father-in-law's wrath,
+feeling now easy in his mind that Grace's future fortune would not be
+prejudiced for Maggie's glorification.
+
+The discussion had fallen, and Mr. Brookes went to meet the young man
+whom he caught sight of coming across the sward.
+
+"Most imprudent of you to come out to-day," he said, scanning the
+white face.
+
+"Oh, I am very well now, thanks. The sun is a little overpowering,
+that is all. I want to speak to you, Mr. Brookes."
+
+"Speak to me? Yes. Will you go into the billiard-room, my boy? I can
+see the heat has upset you. Take my arm."
+
+Frank took the offered arm. He was feeling very faint, but the cool
+and dim colour of the billiard-room revived him, and when he had had
+some claret and water, he said that he felt quite strong, and listened
+patiently to Mr. Brookes.
+
+"Well, I never! No, I never heard of such a thing. A stiletto, too.
+You brought it from Italy? It makes me feel quite young again. Ah!
+'tis hard to say what we won't do for a girl when Miss Right comes
+along. I was just the same--pretty keen on it, I can tell you, when I
+was your age; and I don't know, even now,--but a man with grown-up
+daughters must be careful. Still when I see a little waist, high
+heels, plump--you know, that's the way I used to like them when I used
+to go to the oyster shops; there was one at the top of the Haymarket.
+Ah! I was young then, young as you are; I was keen on it--Aunt Mary
+will tell you that--there was nothing I wouldn't do; I never went as
+far as stabbing--walking about at night, tears, torments as much as
+you like, but I never went so far as stabbing. Wonderful what love
+will make a man do! Supposing you had killed yourself; in my garden,
+too--awful! What would people say? I hear they are talking of it in
+the clubs--hope it won't go any further. Should Mount Rorke hear of
+it! Eh? Might set him against us; might not give his consent--eh? We
+should be up a tree, then."
+
+"I don't think there is much danger of that. I came to-day, Mr.
+Brookes, to ask for your consent; am I to understand that you give
+it?"
+
+"Well, my dear Frank, I don't see why I should refuse it; I have known
+you since you were quite a small boy. I don't want to flatter you. I
+don't know that I care much about young men as a rule, but you, I have
+always found you--well, just what you should be. Of course the
+connection is very flattering. You will one day be Lord Mount Rorke,
+and to see my darling Maggie sharing your honours will be--that is to
+say if I live to see it--a great, a very gre--great hon--our."
+
+Feeling much embarrassed Frank begged of him not to mention it. "I
+shall be writing to-morrow or next day to my uncle; shall I say that
+you have given your consent to my marriage with your daughter? I may
+say that I have already written to him on the subject."
+
+"By all means, my dear boy. I think I can say you have my consent--
+that is to say, you have my consent if the money's all right. All is,
+of course, subject to that. Now you are for love in a cottage, bread
+and cheese romance; a man who will use a stiletto can't be expected to
+know much about money, but I am a father, my stiletto days are over,
+and I couldn't give my daughter without a settlement. You will, no
+doubt, be--of course you will be--Lord Mount Rorke one of these days;
+but in the meantime there must be a proper settlement. My daughter
+must be properly provided for; it is my duty to look after her
+interests, so you may as well tell your uncle that I shall be pleased
+to meet him and talk the matter over with him. I will meet him in
+London, when it suits his convenience; I need hardly say that if he
+should choose to come down here that I shall be pleased to see him.
+And now tell me--of course he will be prepared to act handsomely; I
+have no doubt he will, the aristocracy always do act handsomely, no
+one is so liberal as your aristocrat. I hope he will settle a good
+round sum on my daughter--money invested in first-class securities,
+not what Berkins would call first-class, but what I should call first-
+class securities; and should your uncle prove the liberal man that I
+have no doubt he is, I don't say that I won't behave handsomely. Of
+course you know that my dear children will have all my money at my
+death. I shall never marry again, that is a settled thing; but in the
+meantime I will do something. When Grace was married I behaved very
+generously--too generously--a lot of money--mustn't do it again, times
+are not what they were. But at my death I shall make no difference,
+all three will share and share alike."
+
+Frank hoped when Brookes and Mount Rorke met, that the former would
+modify his demands, and what was still more important, his mode of
+expressing them. But why should Mr. Brookes appear to him in such a
+sudden glow of vulgarity? He had never thought of him as a refined and
+cultivated gentleman, but was unprepared for this latest
+manifestation.
+
+"Lord Mount Rorke allows me a certain annual income, he will no doubt
+double this income upon my marriage; I daresay he would--since he has
+recognised me as his heir--make this income legally mine by deed, I
+could then settle a certain sum on Maggie, in case of my death; but
+then further settlements would be required when I succeed to the title
+and the property. I had thought--and indeed I think still--that if my
+uncle makes me a sufficient allowance, that we might avoid touching on
+this matter at all. Lord Mount Rorke is an irritable man, and I am
+sure that if you were to speak to him as you--"
+
+"Pooh! pooh! Nonsense! nonsense! You don't suppose I am going to give
+my daughter to a man unless he can settle a sufficient sum of money
+upon her? Berkins wouldn't hear of it. He was only telling me just
+now--"
+
+"But I don't think you understand me, Mr. Brookes. I do not propose
+that you should give me any money with your daughter. Let what you
+give her be settled upon her, and let it be tied up as strictly as the
+law can tie it."
+
+"Pooh! pooh! the man that marries my daughter must settle a sum of
+money at least equal to what I settle upon her; and it must be money
+invested in first-class security, otherwise I couldn't think of giving
+her one penny."
+
+"I am sorry, Mr. Brookes, that you are so determined on this point.
+These matters generally arrange themselves if people incline to meet
+each other half way, and I am sure that my uncle will resent it if you
+insist on pounds, shillings, and pence as you propose doing. He is not
+accustomed to strict business--marriages in our family were never made
+on such principles; my happiness is bound up in Maggie. I hope you
+will consider what you are risking."
+
+"I would do more for you than any one else, Frank, but business is
+business, and the man who has my daughter must settle a sum of money
+equivalent to what I settle."
+
+"I am afraid I have talked too much, I am not very strong, yet with
+your permission we will adjourn this discussion to another day--in the
+meantime I will write to my uncle."
+
+Mr. Brookes did not offer the assistance of his arm, and had he, Frank
+would certainly not have accepted it. Holding the door, the old man
+waited for his visitor to pass out. "Southdown Road or the heir to a
+peerage: it is all the same, my money is what is wanted--the money I
+had made myself," thought Mr. Brookes. "Dreadful old man, he would
+sell his daughter for a settlement of a few hundred pounds a year. I
+never knew he was so bad, my eyes are opened," thought Frank. Both
+were equally angry, and without secrecy or subterfuge they sought
+consolation in different parts of the garden. Mr. Brookes resumed his
+walk on the tennis ground with Berkins, and stopping frequently to
+point to his glass-houses, he described his misfortunes with profuse
+waves of his stick. Frank had found Maggie, and they now walked
+together in the shade and silence of the sycamores--he, vehement and
+despairing of the future; she, subtle and strangely confident that
+things would happen as she wished them.
+
+Having once yielded and felt the pang of possession she was wholly
+his, in all ramifications of spirit and flesh, both in her brain and
+blood, and the utmost ends of her sense mingled with him. But to him,
+she was the symbol of the desire of which he was enamoured, the desire
+which held together his nature and gave it individuality--love of
+_the_ young girl.
+
+"Oh! my darling, if he should speak so to Mount Rorke, we should be
+parted for ever--no, that could never be--nothing in heaven or earth
+would induce me to give you up, be true to me and I will be true to
+you; but our happiness--no, not our happiness, that is in ourselves--
+but all our prospects in life will be wrecked if he will not give way.
+Should he and Mount Rorke meet--"
+
+"But they won't meet; have patience--I know how to manage father. He
+doesn't like to part with his money, and I can understand it, he made
+it all himself; but he will get used to the idea in time, leave him to
+me; put your trust in me."
+
+She extended her hand, he took it, pressed it to his lips; he took her
+in his arms and kissed her, and the leaves of the sycamores were
+filled with the sunset.
+
+"DEAR SIR,--I received a letter this morning from my nephew, apprising
+me of his engagement to your daughter. He has apparently obtained your
+consent, and he asks for mine, and he also asks from me not only an
+increase of income to meet the requirements of altered circumstances,
+but he tells me that you will expect me to settle some seven, eight,
+or ten thousand pounds upon your daughter.
+
+"I do not propose to discuss the reasonableness of his or your
+demands, but it seems that a statement of his prospects is owing to
+you.
+
+"Having never married when I was a young man, many have assumed--I
+among the number--that I never would marry; and I admit that I have
+allowed my nephew to grow up in the belief that he is my heir and the
+successor to the title of Mount Rorke; but beyond a general assumption
+existing in my mind, his mind, and the minds of those who know us,
+there is no reason to suppose that I shall not marry, or that I shall
+leave him a single sixpence, and I willingly make use of this
+opportunity to say that I have no faintest intention of entering
+intoany engagement either verbal or written with him upon this matter.--
+Yours very truly,                      MOUNT RORKE."
+
+"MY DEAR FRANK,--The enclosed is a copy of the letter which I send by
+this post to Mr. Brookes. And I make no disguise of the fact that it
+was written with the full intention of rendering your marriage an
+impossibility. It will no doubt appear to you a harsh and cruel
+letter; it will no doubt grieve you, madden you--in your rage you may
+call me a brute. The epithet will be unjust; but knowing very well
+indeed what love is at twenty-five, I will forgive it. And now to the
+point. I know something about old Brookes, and I remember the lean boy
+you used to bring here, and judging from some slight traces that Eton
+had not succeeded in effacing, I think I can guess what the rest of
+the family is like; indeed, the old gentleman's preposterous demand
+that I should settle ten thousand pounds on his daughter throws a
+sufficient light on his character, and in some measure reveals what
+sort of manner of man he is. But let all this be waived. I admit that
+with some show of reason, you may say it is unjust, nay more, it is
+ridiculous, to pronounce judgment on people I have never seen, and it
+is cruelty worthy of a Roman Emperor to wreck the lifelong happiness
+of two young people for the sake of a prejudice that the trouble of a
+journey to Brighton will most certainly extinguish. I will not
+irritate you by assuring you that the world is full of desirable
+women-women that will appeal to you two years hence precisely as Miss
+Brookes appeals to you now. Were I to whisper that it is unwise to
+give up all women for one woman, you could not fail, in your present
+mood, to see in my philosophy only the nasty wisdom of a cynical old
+reprobate. Therefore I will not weary you with advice--what I have
+said must be considered not as advice, but rather as an expression of
+personal experience in the love passion, serving as illustration of
+the attitude of my mind towards you. I will limit myself to merely
+asking you--no, not to think again of Miss Brookes--that would be
+impossible, but to leave Southwick for London or Paris, the latter for
+preference. I will give you a letter of introduction to a charming
+lady (ah! were I thirty years younger). Put yourself in her hands, and
+I have no doubt in the world but that she will send you back cured in
+six months, as my bank-book will abundantly prove.
+
+"If you cannot do this--if so drastic a remedy should be too repugnant
+to your present feelings, I would remember, were I in your place, that
+my uncle had never refused me anything; that I could draw upon him for
+what money I liked--that is to say, for all pleasures and satisfaction
+save one. I would remember that at his death I was to inherit ten
+thousand a year and a title; and I would weigh (first examining each
+weight carefully, to see if it were true weight) all these present and
+future advantages against the gratification of possessing a woman I
+loved when I was twenty-five for a period of time extending perhaps
+over half a century; I would think--at least I think and hope I should
+hesitate--before I refused to obey one of whose affection I was sure,
+and I feel certain it would go hard with me before I refused to
+gratify the whim--call it a whim if you like--of one who had often
+given but never asked before.
+
+"Somehow I think you owe me this sacrifice; I have done much for you
+and am prepared to do more, and to speak quite candidly, I want
+something in return; I do not mean that I am desirous of striking a
+bargain with you, but we all expect to receive--of course not
+directly, but in some remote way--something for what we give, and I
+confess that I look forward to your companionship to assist me through
+the last course of life. I do not want you now--for the next few years
+I want you to see the world, to educate yourself; I want you to
+improve your taste in art and letters, and later on, if possible, to
+turn yourself to some public account. Besides other work, I am now
+working at my memoirs; they are to be published after my death, as I
+have arranged, under your supervision. I regard these memoirs as being
+of the first importance, and it is advisable that you should be in
+full possession of all my intentions respecting them. Hitherto I have
+always looked after everything myself, but the time will come when I
+shall not be able to do this, and shall require you to relieve me of
+the burden of business. Then I wish you to live here, so that you may
+learn to love Mount Rorke. I am very busy now with improvements, and I
+would wish you to be with me so that you might adequately enter into
+my views and ideas. To conclude, I do not marry for your sake; do you
+not marry for mine, at least do not marry for the present. I do not
+say that if I knew and liked the girl of your choice--if she were in
+your own set--that I could not be won over, but on the whole I would
+sooner you didn't marry. But I could not really endure a lot of new
+acquaintances--people who had never dined in a lord's house, and would
+all want to be asked--no, I could not endure it. I am an old man, and
+now I want to enjoy myself in my own way, and my desire is to get
+through the last years of my life with you.
+
+"You can do what you please, ask here whomever you please, give me a
+few hours of your time when I am particularly busy with my memoirs,
+and, above all, let us be alone sometimes after dinner, so that we can
+turn our chairs round to the fire and talk at our ease.--Your
+affectionate uncle, MOUNT RORKE."
+
+"So he won't pay for a secretary, and wants me to do the work; that's
+about the meaning of that letter." Frank re-read the letter sentence
+for sentence, and as he read new sneers and new expressions of scorn
+rose in his brain in tremulous ebullition. There was scarcely a plan
+for the chastisement of his uncle that he did not for some fleeting
+moment entertain, and one most ironical letter he committed to paper;
+but Maggie would not hear of its being sent, and he was surprised and
+glad to see that she was not depressed and disheartened at the turn
+affairs had taken.
+
+"I can do what I like with father; Sally can't, but I can. You leave
+it me."
+
+"What's the good of that? You can't get round Mount Rorke."
+
+"Never mind; we don't want to get married yet awhile. We'll be
+engaged, it is nearly the same thing. We shall be able to go anywhere
+together--up to town, if we only come back the same day. Write a nice
+letter to your uncle, saying you'll do nothing without his consent;
+that it is true your affections are very much engaged, but that your
+first thought is of him--"
+
+"Oh! but my darling, I want to make you mine."
+
+"So you shall--we shall be engaged; father won't consent to our being
+married, but he can't prevent us being engaged. You'll see, I'll get
+round father sooner or later; he'll give in."
+
+"But you won't get round Mount Rorke; if he would only come here and
+see you."
+
+"He won't do that; but one of these days he'll be in London. I suppose
+he goes to the Park sometimes; we'll go too, you'll introduce me--a
+little impromptu, and I'll see if I can't get him to like me."
+
+"How clever you are!"
+
+"I understand father."
+
+Still it required all Maggie's adroitness to even partially reconcile
+Mr. Brookes to Lord Mount Rorke's letter. She accepted without
+argument that marriage in the present circumstances was out of the
+question. She even went so far as to cordially assent that a man would
+be a fool to give his daughter to a man who could not settle a
+substantial sum of money upon her, and she only ventured to suggest
+that it would be foolish not to give Lord Mount Rorke the opportunity
+of changing his mind. She spoke of his immense fortune, and
+exaggerated it until she made even Berkins seem a paltry creature in
+the old man's eyes.
+
+Frank was anxious to propitiate Sally. He returned from London with
+presents for her, and he always spoke to her, looking at her
+admiringly.
+
+He showed much anxiety, and, fearing that she found it dull at his
+studio, when the sisters came to tea he begged her to give him
+Meason's address. Sally tossed her head; she had had enough of Meason,
+and her manner left no doubt as to her sincerity. But happening to
+meet Meason a few days after in the train, Frank slipped easily into
+asking him to come and see him; and in the easy atmosphere of the
+studio the acquaintanceship soon ripened into intimacy, and after a
+preliminary ruffling of plumage, Sally restored her old sweetheart to
+all the rights of wrong. Life went well amid incessant secrets,
+letter-writing, and tea parties. Grace came to the studio to lunch
+sometimes, and she had been betrayed into a promise not to say a word
+about Meason. It was never ascertained whether, in the indiscretion of
+the marital night, she had betrayed this trust, or whether some
+jealous enemy had spoken or written to Mr. Brookes on the subject; but
+certain it is that one joyful day when Meason, Sally, and Maggie were
+eating oysters, and Frank was twisting the corkscrew into a bottle of
+Chablis, there came an ominous ringing at the door.
+
+"I wonder who that can be. Shut up, Triss."
+
+"Perhaps it is father."
+
+"He is in London."
+
+"I'm not so sure about that."
+
+"No matter--we don't want to see them."
+
+"Rather not! They wouldn't have known we were here had it not been for
+that dog."
+
+"I must go and see who it is. Come here, sir; come here, you brute."
+
+"Supposing it is father?"
+
+"Get behind that piece of tapestry. I'll say that Meason and I were
+having some oysters."
+
+"Come here, sir. I'd better tie up that dog--I wonder who it is?"
+
+"Open the door."
+
+"Oh! Mr. Brookes, quite an unexpected pleasure."
+
+"I have come, sir, for my daughters."
+
+"Your daughters? Your daughters are not here. Mr. Brookes."
+
+"I have reason to know they are here, and I will not leave without
+them."
+
+"You will do well to let us in, Mr. Escott; we are determined--"
+
+"Who are you? What business is it of yours?"
+
+"Should you refuse us admission we are resolved to wait here till
+evening, till midnight if necessary!" exclaimed Berkins. "I say again
+you will do well to admit us, and so avoid a scandal on the green."
+
+"You can come in if you like."
+
+"Will you kindly chain up that dog of yours?"
+
+"Well, this is coming it too strong; this is a little too 'steep.' If
+Mr. Brookes refuses to believe my word that his daughters are not here
+he may come in and look for them, and to facilitate his search I will
+tie up the dog--(the dog is tied up). But you, what brings you here?
+What the devil, I should like to know, brings you here, poking your
+nose into other people's business?"
+
+"Mr. Brookes, will you answer him?"
+
+"I must decline your offer to admit me unaccompanied by my son-in-law.
+We shall not stay long."
+
+"All this seems to me very extraordinary, but since you wish it, Mr.
+Brookes, pray enter."
+
+"Is that dog tied up quite securely?"
+
+"Quite. I think you know Mr. Meason?"
+
+"Mr. Meason knows very well that I do not wish to know him."
+
+"If you only come here to insult my guest, the sooner you go out the
+better. Had I known that you intended to behave in this fashion I
+should have left you standing outside till morning. I'll not have--"
+
+"Never mind, Escott; I'm off. Mr. Brookes and I are no longer on
+speaking terms, that's all! I'll see you later on."
+
+"Don't go, pray."
+
+"I think I must."
+
+"I am surprised, Frank," said Mr. Brookes, when Meason was gone, "that
+you should seek your friends among the enemies of my family."
+
+"We will not discuss that question now. I never heard of such conduct
+--you force your way into my studio, and apparently for no purpose but
+to insult my guest. You see your daughters are not here."
+
+"I am by no means satisfied with that," said Berkins, opening a door.
+"I must see behind that piece of tapestry."
+
+"No, you shall not. I have had just about enough of this. How dare
+you? God's truth--" and as Berkins seemed determined to continue his
+search, Frank caught him by the collar.
+
+But Berkins was tall and strong, and showed no intention of allowing
+himself to be thrown out. His long legs were soon extended here and
+there; his body was sometimes bent back by Frank's weight, once he had
+succeeded in nearly throwing Frank over on the sofa. Mr. Brookes had
+fled to the door, which, in his excitement, he failed to open, and the
+struggle was continued until at last, maddened by a most tight and
+tempting aspect of Berkin's thigh, Triss broke his collar, and in a
+couple of bounds, reached and fixed his teeth deep in the flesh.
+
+"Triss, you brute, leave go." But Triss clung to the long-desired
+thigh. "I'll twist his tail, it will make him leave go."
+
+With a savage yelp of pain the dog turned on his master and was hauled
+instantly off Berkins's thigh.
+
+"I need hardly say that so far as the dog is concerned, I regret, and
+I am truly sorry for what has occurred."
+
+"Sir, do you not see what a state I am in; do not stand there making
+excuses, but lend me your handkerchief. I shall bleed to death if you
+don't."
+
+"Shall I tie it up for you?"
+
+"If those girls there would only fetch a doctor."
+
+Mr. Brookes could not refrain from foolish laughter, and in a moment
+of wretched despair he declared that it would be all the same in a
+hundred years time--a remark which would not have failed to irritate
+Berkins if he had not fainted.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+
+Next day Willy called at the studio, and Frank told him what had
+occurred.
+
+"But I don't see why you shouldn't come to the Manor House," said
+Willy. "If you will only say something about the Measons, I think it
+can be made all right."
+
+"No, I'm not going to turn against Meason; I have always found him a
+good fellow. I know nothing about his flirtation with Sally."
+
+"No more do I; I think it has been exaggerated, but, as you know, I
+never interfere. I wish you would come in to dinner one night."
+
+"Supposing I were to meet Berkins?"
+
+Willy stroked his moustache.
+
+"No, it is quite impossible that I could return to the Manor House.
+Your father behaved in a way--well, I will not say what I think of
+it."
+
+"Berkins hasn't been to the City since. Grace was over here yesterday,
+she says he limps about the garden. He'll never forgive you; he says
+that you didn't call the dog off at once."
+
+"That's a lie; and I said, 'So far as the incident with the dog is
+concerned, I am very sorry.'"
+
+"I think that made him more angry than anything else; he thought you
+were laughing at him."
+
+"I was not. It was most unfortunate. I shall not give Maggie up. I am
+writing to-morrow or next day to Mount Rorke."
+
+All were agreed that things must come right sooner or later. Maggie
+fought for her lover, and emphatically asserted her engagement. She
+yielded on one point only--not to visit the studio; but she maintained
+her right in theory and in practice to go where she liked with him in
+train or in cart, to walk with him on the cliff, to lunch with him at
+Mutton's. They found pleasure in thus affirming their love, and it
+pleased them to see they were observed, and to hear that they were
+spoken about. Nevertheless the string that sung their happiness had
+slipped a little, and the note was now not quite so clear or true.
+Frank could not go to the Manor House; Maggie could not go to the
+studio. Whether Mount Rorke would consent to their marriage perplexed
+them as it had not done before.
+
+The summer fades, the hills grow grey, and a salt wind blew up from
+the sea, blackening the trees, and the beauty of autumn was done.
+Frank thought of Ireland, and what personal intercession might
+achieve. She begged of him to go, and he promised to write to her
+every day.
+
+"Every day, darling, or I shall be miserable."
+
+"Every day."
+
+"Arrived safe after a very rough passage. Every one was ill, I most of
+all."
+
+She received a post-card:--
+"It was raining cats and dogs when I got out of the train. Mount Rorke
+sent a car to meet me; the result is that I am in bed with a bad cold.
+The house is full of company--people I have known, or known of, since
+I was a boy; we shall begin pheasant-shooting in a few days. When I am
+out of bed I shall write a long letter. Do you write to me; I shall be
+awfully disappointed if I do not get a letter to-morrow morning."
+
+Extract from a letter:--
+
+"Mount Rorke is considered to be a handsome place, but as I have known
+it from childhood, as my earliest memories are of it, I cannot see it
+with the eyes of a professed scenery hunter. I have loved it always,
+but I do not think I ever loved it more than now, for now I think that
+one day I shall give it to you. Should that day come--and it will
+come--what happiness it will be to walk with you under the old trees,
+made lovelier by your presence, to pass down the glades to the river,
+watching your shadow on the grass and your image in the stream. We
+will roam together through the old castle, and I will show you the
+little bed I used to sleep in, the school-room where I learned my
+lessons. When I entered the old room I saw in imagination--and oh, how
+clearly!--the face of my governess; and how easily I see her in the
+corridor she used to walk down to get to her room.
+
+"Poor, dear, old thing, I wonder what has become of her!
+
+"I saw again the pictures that stirred my childish fancy, and whose
+meaning I once vainly strove to decipher.
+
+"I came to live here when I was four, immediately after my father's
+death. I can just remember coming here. I remember Mount Rorke taking
+me up in his arms and kissing me. I will not say there is no place
+like home--I do not believe that; but certainly no place seems so
+real. Every spot of ground has its own particular recollections. Every
+bend of the avenue evokes some incident of childish life (in Ireland
+we call any road leading to a house an avenue, even if it is
+absolutely bare of trees; we also speak of rooks as crows, and these
+two provincialisms jarred on my ear after my long stay in Sussex).
+Mount Rorke is covered with trees--great woods of beech and fir--and
+at the end of every vista you see a piece of blue mountain. A river
+passes behind the castle, winding through the park; there are bridges,
+and swans float about the sedges, and there are deer in the glades.
+The garden,--I do not know if you would like the garden; it is old-
+fashioned--full of old-fashioned flowers--convolvuluses, Michaelmas
+daisies, marigolds; hedges clipped into all sorts of strange and close
+shapes. There is a beautiful avenue behind the garden (an avenue in
+the English sense of the word) where you may pace to and fro and feel
+an exquisite sense of solitude; for when the castle had passed out of
+the hands of Irish princes--that is to say, brigands--it was turned
+into a monastery, and I often think, as I look on the mossy trees--the
+progeny of those under whose leafage the monks told their beads--that
+all happened that I might throw my arm about you some beautiful day,
+and whisper, 'My wife, this is yours.'"
+
+"How beautifully he writes," said Sally reflectively.
+
+"You never had a lover who wrote to you like that. Do you remember how
+Jimmy used to write?"
+
+"I don't know how he wrote to you, but his letters to me, I will say
+that, were quite as nice as anything Frank could write. You needn't
+toss your head, you are not Lady Mount Rorke yet."
+
+Sally refused to hear, but presently, seeing a cloud on her sister's
+face, and thinking the letter contained some piece of unpleasantness,
+she relented, and pressed her to continue.
+
+"The house is full of people--people whom I have known all my life--
+and they make a great deal of me. I have to tell them about Italy, and
+they ask me absurd questions about Michael Angelo or Titian, Leonardo
+or Watteau.... The house party is a large one, and we have people to
+dinner every day; and in the evening the drawing-room, with its grim
+oak and escutcheons and rich modern furniture, is a pretty sight
+indeed. There is a lady here whom I knew in London, Lady Seveley; and
+I have had suspicions that Mount Rorke would like me to marry her. But
+she has the reputation of being rather fast, so perhaps the old
+gentleman is allowing his thoughts to wander where they should not. I
+hope not for his sake, for I hear she is devoted to a young Irishman,
+a Mr. Fletcher, a journalist in London. I met them at Reading once in
+most suspicious circumstances. He is the son of a large grazier, one
+of my uncle's tenants, and she is, I suppose, so infatuated that she
+could not resist the temptation of calling on his family. She was
+careful not to speak of her intentions to anybody, but waited until
+she got a favourable opportunity and slipped off to pay her visit. The
+Fletchers live about half a mile from the castle. I was riding that
+way, and met her coming out of their house. I got off my horse and
+walked back together. I hope Mount Rorke will not hear of her
+ladyship's escapade; he would be very angry, for the Fletchers are
+people who would be asked to have something to eat in the
+housekeeper's room if they called at the Castle. In London one knows
+everybody, but in the country we are more conservative."
+
+ "I hope she won't cut you out," said Sally. "It would be a sell for
+you if she did. Go on."
+
+"No, I shan't, you are too insulting."
+
+"Who began it? You told me that I didn't get such nice letters as you.
+Pray go on."
+
+"I do not know if you would think her handsome. I don't. She is,
+however, an excellent musician; we play duets together every evening,
+to Mount Rorke's intense delight. You know my dialogue between a lady
+and a gentleman? She has written it down for me and corrected a few
+mistakes; I think I shall publish it. Darling, I love you better than
+any one in the world; you are all the world to me; try to love me a
+little--you will never find any one to love you as I do."
+
+"Well, you can't find anything peculiarly disagreeable to say about
+that, I think."
+
+Extract from another letter:--
+
+"All the visitors have gone; Mount Rorke and I are quite alone. He is
+kindness itself, and does not bother me about his memoirs; but from
+what I hear that book will make one of the biggest sensations ever
+made in the literary world. I want him to publish it now, but he only
+smiles and shakes his head. He says: 'What is the use of setting the
+world talking about you when you are alive; as long as I am alive I
+can see those I want to see, and be with them far more personally than
+I could by placing in their hands three volumes in 8vo; the 8vos are
+only useful when you have passed into darkness, and are not yet
+reconciled to dying quite out of the minds of men. I do not desire to
+be remembered by those who will live three hundred years hence, but I
+confess that I should like to modulate the pace of forgetfulness
+according to my fancy, and be remembered, let us say, for the next
+sixty or seventy years. I find no fault with death but its abruptness,
+and that I hope to be able to correct. The vulgar and most usual plan
+is children, but children are no anodyne to oblivion, whereas a good
+book in a certain measure is.'
+
+"These are almost the words Mount Rorke used, and I quote them as
+exactly as possible, so that you may see what kind of man he is. We
+pulled our chairs round to the fire and had a real good talk. I know
+no better company than Mount Rorke. He has seen everything, read
+everything, and known everybody worth knowing; he is a mine of
+information, and, what is far better, he is a complete man of the
+world; and long contact with the world has left him a little cynical,
+otherwise he is perfect. I told him the story about Berkins, and he
+laughed; I never saw him laugh so before; and when I told him that I
+had told Berkins, as he was tying up his leg, that so far as the
+incident with the dog was concerned, I regretted deeply what had
+occurred, he could not contain himself. He rang the bell, and we had
+old Triss up. He asked a great deal about you; I leave you to imagine
+what I said. How did he expect me to describe my darling? I told him
+of your subtle, fascinating ways, of your picturesque attitudes, and
+your exquisite little black eyes. 'I think I see her,' he said;
+'little eyes that light up are infinitely more interesting than those
+big, limpid, silly eyes that everybody admires.' I am now doing a
+water-colour sketch from the photograph--the one in which you stand
+with your hands behind your back and your head on one side--for him. I
+am getting on with it pretty well. Ah! if only I had you here for an
+hour (I should like to have you here for ever, of course; but now I am
+speaking artistically, not humanly), I think I could get it really
+like you; there are one or two things that the photo does not give me.
+I shall send the sketch to Dublin to be framed; it will be a nice
+present for Mount Rorke.
+
+"My darling, you must not be anxious; all will come right in time--
+have a little patience. He is already much more reconciled to the
+match than he was when I arrived, and if your father will refrain from
+speaking too much about that hateful question, I am sure that all
+difficulties can be surmounted."
+
+She wrote to him three or four times a week, and on beautiful hand-
+made paper, delicately scented.
+
+Extract from a letter:--
+
+"We went up to town yesterday by the ten o'clock train West Brighton;
+and so that we might have more money to spend, we went third class.
+Father doesn't like us going third class, but I don't think it matters
+if you get in with nice people. We were very jolly. The Shaws went
+with us. They are very nice girls. They had to leave us at Victoria,
+and I and my cousin, Agnes Keating, went shopping together. We met the
+Harrisons at Russell & Allen's. We saw there some lovely dresses--I
+wish you had been with us, for I have confidence in your taste, and
+when I choose a thing myself I am never sure that I like it. The
+assistant was so polite; she told me to ask for Miss ---; she said she
+would like to fit me. Sally was coming up with us, but she changed her
+mind and remained at home, I was very glad, for she is wretchedly
+cross, and not looking at all well. You would not admire her in the
+least; she is growing very yellow. But I don't mean to be ill-natured,
+so we'll let Sally bide, as we say in Sussex. After Russell & Allen's
+we went to Blanchard's, and had a nice lunch. Grace was in town; she
+chaperoned us, and paid for everything; it was very kind of her. Then
+we went to the theatre, and saw a play which we did not care about
+much. There was a very stupid 'tart' in it. I do like 'gadding,' don't
+I? But, oh, my darling Frank, gadding is not really gadding without
+you. How I miss you, how we all miss you, but I especially. The
+Keatings came over to tea to-day, and they asked about you. Blanche
+wants you to write something in her album, and she admired immensely
+the drawing you gave me. She is very artistic in her tastes; I think
+you would like her.
+
+"But I have a bit of news that I think will amuse you. You remember
+Mrs. Horlock's old dog--not the blind Angel; he's old too. But I mean
+the real old dog,--the one twenty years old, that once belonged to a
+butcher. He never smelt very sweet, as you know, but latterly he was
+unbearable, and the General resolved on a silent and secret
+destruction. He purchased in Brighton a bottle of chloroform. It was
+the dead of the night and pitch dark. However, he reached the end of
+the passage in safety; but suddenly he uttered a fearful shriek and
+dropped the chloroform. He thought he had seen a ghost; but it was
+only Mrs. Horlock, who was going her rounds, letting down the mouse-
+traps and supplying the little creatures with food. The General
+blurted out various excuses. He said that he had come to relieve the
+cock parrot's tooth-ache--that he feared the Circassian goat was
+suffering from spinal complaint and the squirrels from neuralgia. But
+his protestations proved unavailing, and now he eats his meals in
+silence. And to make matters worse, the old dog did die a few days
+after--the General says from old age, but Mrs. Horlock avows that his
+death resulted from fright. 'He was a sweet, cunning old thing, and no
+doubt knew all about that plan to destroy him.' I think this would
+make an excellent subject for a comic sketch; I wish you would do one
+--the General dropping the bottle; Mrs. Horlock, surrounded by closed
+mouse-traps and crumbs, sternly upbraiding him.
+
+"I see lots of Emily Pierce. Every Sunday I have tea with her, and
+sometimes lunch; but she doesn't come here. I am afraid I couldn't get
+on at all without her; we do everything together, and we hit it off so
+well.
+
+"Sally has been staying in Kent. I do not know what's up, but she seems
+to see everything _couleur de rose_; everything in Kent is better in
+her estimation than anywhere else. The men dance so much better for one
+thing. I am glad she is so happy, and I wish she would get married and
+stay there. Father says he has a cough that tears him to pieces, but I
+haven't heard it yet."
+
+The elementary notion of a woman in love is to surround, to envelop
+the man she loves, with her individuality, and to draw him from all
+other influences. And the woman in love strives to accomplish this by
+ceaseless reiteration of herself or himself seen through herself. So
+Maggie with her nervous, highly-strung, febrile temperament could not
+refrain from constantly striking the lyre of love. Her hands were for
+ever on the chords. Letters and notes of all kinds; impetuous messages
+asking him when he would return; letters apologising for her
+selfishness--he had better remain with Mount Rorke until his consent
+had been obtained; resolutions and irresolutions, ardours, lassitudes,
+forgetfulness followed fast in strange and incomprehensible
+contradiction. And Frank was asked daily to perform some small task.
+There was always something; and Frank undertook all he was asked to
+do, for he loved to be as much as possible in that circle of life in
+which his sweetheart lived, and to feel her presence about him.
+
+Extract from a letter:--
+
+"Mount Rorke and I had a long and serious talk about you last night.
+He is against the marriage, but then he is against marriage in
+general. He said with his quiet, cynical laugh, 'I daresay she is a
+pretty girl--I can read the truth through your romantic descriptions.
+I am convinced that she is very charming. But are you quite sure that
+you will never meet another equally charming girl? Remember the world
+is a very big place, and the stock of women is large; are you sure
+that you will be able to enjoy the charm which now rules and enchants
+you for thirty, forty years without wearying of it? These are the
+questions you have to consider, which marriage entails.' I need hardly
+tell you what answer I made, and how I tried to convince him that your
+charms are those that a man capable of appreciating them could not
+weary of. Indeed I think I made him rather a neat answer--I said there
+are books in one volume, in two volumes, in three volumes, and there
+are books that you can take down and read at any time. He laughed; it
+rather tickled his fancy. And he said, 'Quite true, there are some
+books and some women that one never tires of--that is to say, that
+some people never tire of. I haven't been so fortunate or unfortunate,
+but that by the way. I admit such cases may occur. I will go further--
+I will admit that a man's life may be made or marred by his taking to
+himself a wife; and if Miss Brookes were a really nice girl--if she
+were the one girl in a million, and if I were sure that your passion
+for each other has its root in deeper and more lasting sympathies than
+those of the skin (these were his exact words)--believe me, my dear
+Frank, I should not think of opposing the marriage. I shall be in
+London during the season, and no doubt an occasion will arise, of
+which I promise you to avail myself, of making this model young lady's
+acquaintance. I will tell you what I think of her; she won't deceive
+me, let her try how she will. There is only one thing I bar--one thing
+must not be, one thing I will not tolerate--a bad marriage.' I lost my
+temper for a moment, but Mount Rorke did not lose his, and I soon came
+round. It is annoying to be spoken to in that way; but I remembered
+that he had not seen you, and I consoled myself by thinking of how
+great his conversion will be when he does. My only fear is that he'll
+want to marry you himself. So, you see, my own darling, my uncle is on
+the 'give,' and we shall win soon and easily. The only real obstacle
+is your father's pig-headedness on all matters in which money enters.
+I think with terror of his meeting with Mount Rorke. If he speaks to
+Mount Rorke as he spoke to me, my uncle will take up his hat and wish
+him good-morning. Do you exert all your influence. Do leave no stone
+unturned. All depends upon you."
+
+Extract from another letter:--
+
+"I am weary of this place, and I long to see you. My longing is such
+that I can resist it no longer. Besides, nothing would be gained by
+remaining here. Mount Rorke will not say more than he has said. In a
+few days--think of that--I shall be with you. With what eagerness I
+look forward. How gladly I shall see the train leave the dreary bogs
+and the blue mountains of the West and pass into the pasture lands of
+Meath; how gladly I shall hail the brown, slobber-faced city of
+Dublin; with what delight I shall step on board the packet--I shall
+not think of sea sickness--and watch the line of the low coast
+disappear, then the Welsh mountains and castles, looking so like an
+illustrated history of England. I must spend two days in London, alas!
+I must order some new clothes. Victoria Station, with all its doors
+and cab stands, and book-stalls, the Sussex scenery, the woodlands,
+the Downs, the plunging through tunnels, and then you. Darling, I
+cannot believe that such happiness is in store for me."
+
+All happened as he had anticipated. At Victoria the usual difficulties
+had arisen about the dog. Triss was growling, the guard was cringing,
+and, with reference to no stoppage before we come to Redhill, the
+necessity of a muzzle was being argued.
+
+"I am certain it is she," and he followed with his eyes the tall,
+swinging figure in the black cloth dress. Then he saw the clear plump
+profile, so white, of Lizzie Baker.
+
+"Here, give me the chain, I'll tie the dog up."
+
+"But the muzzle, sir."
+
+A muzzle was procured, and Frank ran to the third class carriage where
+he had seen Lizzie enter.
+
+"Lizzie! Lizzie!"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Escott, who would have thought of seeing you! It is such a
+time--"
+
+"Yes, isn't it; how long? But are you going to Brighton?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"So am I; but--let me get you a first-class ticket. Guard, have I time
+to change my ticket?"
+
+"No, sir, the train is going to start; get in."
+"Do you get out, Lizzie; I'll pay the difference at Brighton."
+
+"No time for changing now, sir; are you getting into this carriage?"
+
+He could not forego the pleasure of being with Lizzie. An old woman
+with a provision basket on her lap drew her skirts aside and made way
+for him; there were three dirtily dressed girls--probably shop girls;
+they sat whispering together, a little troubled by the publicity;
+there were two youths, shabbily dressed, their worn boots and trousers
+covered with London mud. He was surprised, and he did not for a moment
+understand or realise his company. Frank had never been in a third-
+class carriage before.
+
+"I'm afraid you won't be comfortable here."
+
+"Oh, yes, I shall; I'd just as soon travel in one class as another--
+much sooner when it means being with you."
+
+"None of your nonsense; I see you haven't changed. Well, who'd have
+thought it? Just fancy meeting you, and after all this time."
+
+"How long is it? It must be nearly two years. I haven't seen you
+sincethat day we went up the river."
+
+"Yes, you have."
+
+"No; where did I see you since?"
+
+"At the bar; I didn't leave the 'Gaiety' for several days after."
+
+"No more you did; I remember now. But why did you leave without
+letting me know where you were going?"
+
+"I didn't know I was leaving till the morning, and I left in the
+afternoon. A lot of us were changed suddenly. The firm couldn't get
+enough young ladies to do the work at the Exhibition."
+
+"But you didn't leave an address."
+
+"Yes, I did."
+
+"No, you didn't; I asked the manager, and he told me you had left no
+address. They didn't know where you had gone."
+
+"Did he say so? You mean Mr. Fairlie, I suppose--now I come to think
+of it, it is the rule of the firm not to give information about the
+young ladies. I am sorry."
+
+"Are you?"
+
+"I am, really. We had a very pleasant day up the river--Reading; you
+took me to Reading."
+
+"Yes; but you would never come again."
+
+"Wouldn't I? I suppose I couldn't find time--I did enjoy myself. What
+a lovely day it was."
+
+"Yes; and do you remember how like a beautiful smile the river lay?
+And do you remember the bulrushes? I rowed you in among the rushes;
+you wet the sleeve of your dress plunging your arm in. I remember it,
+that white plump arm."
+
+"Get along with you."
+
+"I wanted to make a sketch of you leaning over the boatside with your
+lapful of water-lilies; I wish I had."
+
+"I wish you had, too; you wrote a little poem instead. It was very
+pretty, but I should have liked the picture better. You gave me the
+poem next day when you came in to lunch. You had lunch at the bar, and
+I was so cross with you because you said I hadn't wiped the glass. It
+was all done to annoy me because I had been talking to that tall,
+rather stout young man, with the dark moustache, whom you were so
+jealous of. Don't you remember?"
+
+"Yes, I remember; and I believe it was that fellow who prevented you
+from coming out with me again."
+
+"No, it wasn't; but don't speak so loud, all these people are
+listening to you."
+
+Frank met the round stare of the girls; and, turning from the dormant
+curiosity of the old woman, he said--
+
+"Do you remember the locks, how frightened you were; you had never
+been through a lock before; and the beautiful old red brick house
+showing upon the lofty woods; and coming back in the calm of the
+evening, passing the different boats, the one where the girls lay back
+in the arms of the young men, the flapping sail, and the dreamy
+influences of the woods where we climbed and looked into space over
+the railing?"
+
+"At the green-table--don't you remember?"
+
+"Yes, I remember every hour of that day; we had lunch at the
+'Roebuck.'"
+
+"You haven't spoken of the lady we saw there. Lady Something--I forget
+what you said her name was; you said she had been making up to you."
+
+"I dined with her one night, and we went to the theatre."
+
+"You may do that without it being said that you are making up to a
+gentleman."
+
+"Of course; I should never think of saying you made up to me."
+
+"I should hope not, indeed."
+
+"I should never think of accusing you of having made up to me; you
+have always treated me very badly."
+
+Lizzie did not answer. He looked at her, puzzled and perplexed, and he
+hoped that neither the girls nor the old lady had understood.
+
+"I am sorry; I really didn't mean to offend you. All I meant to say
+was that the lady we saw at the 'Roebuck' had been rather civil to me;
+had--well I don't know how to put it--shown an inclination to flirt
+with me--will that suit you?--and that I had not availed myself of my
+chances because I was in love with you."
+
+Encouraged by a sunny smile, Frank continued: "You wouldn't listen to
+me; you were very cruel."
+
+"I am sure I didn't mean to be cruel; I went out on the river with
+you, and we had a very pleasant day. You didn't say then I was cruel."
+
+"No, you were very nice that day; it was the happiest day of my life.
+I was in love with you; I shall never care for any one as I cared for
+you."
+
+"I don't believe you."
+
+"I swear it is true. When you left the 'Gaiety' I searched London for
+you. If you had only cared for me we might have been very happy. As
+sure as a fellow loves a woman, so sure is she to like some other
+chap. Tell me, why did you go away and leave no address?"
+
+"I did leave an address."
+
+"Well, we won't discuss that. Why didn't you write to me? You knew my
+address. It's no use saying you didn't."
+
+"Well, I suppose I was in love with some one else."
+
+"Were you? You always denied it. Ah! so you were in love with some one
+else? I knew it--I knew it was that thick-set fellow with the black
+moustache. I wonder how you could like him--the amount of whisky and
+water he used to drink."
+
+"Yes, usen't he? I have served him with as many as six whiskies in an
+afternoon--Irish, he always drank Irish."
+
+"How could you like a man who drank?"
+
+"But it wasn't he--I assure you; I give you my word of honour. It
+really wasn't. I'd tell you if it was."
+
+"Well, who was it, then? It couldn't be the old man with the beard and
+white teeth?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Was it that great tall fellow, clean shaven?"
+
+"No, it wasn't; you'll never guess; There's no use trying. However, it
+is all over now."
+
+"Why? Did he treat you badly? Whose fault was it?"
+
+"His. And the chances I threw away. He behaved like a beast. I had to
+give up keeping company with him."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know. He changed very much towards me lately; he went
+messing about after other girls, and we had words, and I left."
+
+"You will make it up. Perhaps you are mistaken."
+
+"Mistaken--no; I found their letters in his pocket."
+
+"There are always rows between sweethearts; and then they kiss and
+make it up, and love each other the more."
+
+"No, I shall not see him again. We were going to be married; no, it is
+all over. It was a little hard at first, but I am all right now."
+
+"I am sorry. Do you think there is no chance of making it up?"
+
+"I should have thought that you would be glad; men are so selfish they
+never think of any one but themselves."
+
+"How do you mean? Why should I be glad that your marriage was broken
+off?"
+
+"You said just now that you liked me very much, I thought--"
+
+"So I do like you very much. Once I was in love with you--that day
+when we walked up the steep woods together."
+
+"And you don't care for me any longer?"
+
+"I don't say that; but I am engaged to be married."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Had you not snubbed me so I might have been married to you."
+
+"Who are you going to be married to--to the lady we saw that day?"
+
+"Oh, no, not to her."
+
+"I don't believe you. You mean to say you haven't been to see her
+since."
+
+"I assure you---"
+
+"You mean to say you haven't seen her?"
+
+"I don't say that. I've just come from Ireland. I've been staying with
+my uncle. She spent a week with us; that's all I have seen of her. I
+am going now to see the young lady whom I am engaged to."
+
+"And when will you be married?"
+
+"I don't know; there are a great many difficulties in the way. Perhaps
+I shall never marry her."
+
+"Nonsense. I know better. You think it will take me in. I'll never be
+taken in again, not if I know it."
+
+"I don't want to take you in."
+
+"I don't know so much about that. Is she very pretty? I suppose you
+are very much in love with her?"
+
+"Yes, I love her very much. Dark, not like you a bit--just the
+opposite."
+
+"And you met her since you saw me?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Ah, I thought as much, and yet you told me the day we went up the
+river together that you never had and couldn't care for any one elsebut
+me. Men are all alike--they never tell the truth."
+
+"Wait a minute; wait a minute. I knew her long before I knew you; I
+have known her since I was a boy, but that doesn't mean that I have
+been in love with her since I was a boy. I never thought of her until
+you threw me over, until long after; it was last summer I fell in love
+with her."
+
+Lizzie's eyes were full upon him, and it seemed to them that each
+could see and taste the essence of the other's thought.
+
+"What have you been doing ever since? You have told me nothing about
+yourself."
+
+"Well, after trying vainly to find you--having searched, as I thought,
+all Speirs and Pond's establishments in London, I tried to resign
+myself to my fate. I assure you, I was dreadfully cut up--could do
+nothing. My life was a burden to me. You have been in love, and you
+know what an ache it is; it used to catch me about the heart. There
+was no hope; you were gone--gone as if the earth had swallowed you. I
+got sick of going to the 'Gaiety' and asking those girls if they knew
+anything about you; so to cure myself I went to France, and I worked
+hard at my painting. In such circumstances there is only one thing--
+work."
+
+"You are right."
+
+"Yes; nothing does you any good but work. I worked in the _atelier_--
+that's the French for studio--all the morning, and in the afternoon I
+painted from the nude in a public studio. I had such a nice studio--
+such a jolly little place. I was up every morning at eight o'clock, my
+model arrived at nine, and I worked without stopping (barring the ten
+or twelve minutes' rest at the end of every hour) till twelve. Then I
+went to the cafe to have breakfast--how I used to enjoy those
+breakfasts--fried eggs all swimming in butter, a cutlet, after, nice
+bread and butter, then cock your legs up, drink your coffee, and smoke
+your cigarette till one."
+
+"Did you like the French cafe better than the 'Gaiety'?"
+
+"It is impossible to compare them. I made a great deal of progress. I
+began one picture of a woman in a hammock, a recollection of you. You
+remember when we passed under those cedar branches, close to the
+'Roebuck,' we saw a hammock hung by the water's edge, and I said I
+would like to see you in it, and stand by and rock you. I had intended
+to send it to the Academy, but I never could finish it, the French
+model was not what I wanted--I wanted you; and I was obliged to leave
+France, and I could get no one in Southwick. Once a fellow changes his
+model he is done for; he never can find his idea again."
+"Where's Southwick?"
+
+"A village outside Brighton, three or four miles, not more. I have a
+studio there; you must come and see it."
+
+"You must paint me. But what would your lady love say if she found me
+in your studio? She'd have me out of it pretty quick. Tell me about
+her; I want to hear how you fell in love."
+
+"It happened in the most curious, quite providential way. I have told
+you that I knew them since I was a boy. Maggie has often sat on my
+knee."
+
+"Maggie is her name, then?"
+
+"Yes, don't you like the name? I do. Her brother was a school-fellow
+of mine. We were at Eton together, and one time when Mount Rorke was
+away travelling they asked me to spend my holidays at Southwick.
+That's how I got to know them. One day Maggie and Sally were at my
+studio; Sally has a sweetheart--"
+
+The sentence was cut short by a sudden roar. The train had entered a
+tunnel, and the speakers made pause, seeing each other vaguely in the
+dim light, and when they emerged into the cold April twilight Frank
+told the story of Triss and Berkins, Mr. Brookes struggling with the
+door, and the girls rushing screaming from their hiding-place; and
+Frank's imitation of Berkin's pomposity amused Lizzie, and she laughed
+till she cried. He continued till the joke was worn bare; then,
+fearing he had been talking too much of himself, he said: "Now, I have
+been very candid with you, tell me about yourself."
+
+"There is nothing to tell; I think I have told you all." Then she
+said, slipping, as she spoke, into minute confidences: "When I left
+the 'Gaiety' I went for a few days to the Exhibition, but _he_ wanted
+to leave London, so I applied to the firm to remove me to Liverpool
+(not Liverpool Street; the girl--I suppose it was Miss Clarke, for I
+wrote to her--made a mistake, or you misunderstood her). We remained in
+Liverpool a year, and then we came back to London, and I went to the
+'Criterion,' but I couldn't stop there long; he was so awfully jealous
+of me; he used to catechise me every evening--who had I spoken to? How
+long I had spoken to this man? Once I slapped a man's face in fun
+because he squeezed my hand when I handed him the change across the
+counter. There was such a row about it. I don't know how _he_ heard of
+it. I think he must have got some one to watch me. I often suspected
+the porter--the bigger one of the two; but you don't know the
+'Criterion.' You used to go to the 'Gaiety.'"
+
+"Perhaps he saw you himself. I suppose he used to come to the bar?"
+
+"No, not unless--no, not very often. He banged me about."
+
+"Banged you about, the brute! Good heavens! How could you like a man
+who would strike a woman? Who was he? Was he a gentleman--I mean, was
+he supposed to be a gentleman? Of course he wasn't really a gentleman,
+or he wouldn't have struck you."
+
+"He was in a passion, he was very sorry for it afterwards. Then I left
+the firm and went to live in lodgings; he allowed me so much a week."
+
+"He was a man of some means?"
+
+"No, but it didn't cost him much, he knew the people. We were going to
+be married, but he got ill, and we thought we had better wait; and I
+went to the 'Gaiety' again. I was a fool, of course, to think so much
+about him, for I had plenty of chances. One man who used to lunch
+there three times a week wanted me to marry him, and take me right
+away. I think he was in the printing business--a man who was making
+good money; but I could not give Harry up."
+
+"Harry is his name, then?"
+
+"Yes; but it all began over again. It was just the same at the
+'Gaiety' as it was at the 'Criterion.' He would never leave me alone,
+but kept on accusing me of flirting with the gentlemen that came to
+the bar. Now, you know as well as I do what the bar is. You must be
+polite to the gentlemen you serve. There are certain gentlemen who
+always come to me, and don't care to be served by any one else, and if
+I didn't speak to them they wouldn't come to the bar. The manager is
+very sharp, and would be sure to mention it."
+
+"Whom do you mean? That fellow with the yellow moustache that walks
+about with his frock-coat all open--a sort of apotheosis of sherry and
+bitters?"
+
+"That's what you called him once before. You see I remember. He is
+very fond of sherry and bitters. But I was saying that Harry would
+keep on interfering with me, pulling me over the coals. We had such
+dreadful rows. He accused me of having gone with gentlemen to their
+rooms--a thing I never did. I could stand it no longer, and we agreed
+to part."
+
+"How long is that ago?"
+
+"About three weeks. I could stand it no longer, I couldn't remain at
+the 'Gaiety,' so I resolved to leave."
+
+"Why couldn't you remain at the 'Gaiety,' the manager didn't know
+anything about it?"
+
+"No, he knew nothing about it, it wouldn't have mattered if he had,
+but after a break up like that you can't remain among people you know
+--you want to get right away; there's nothing like a change. Besides I
+mightn't get such a good chance again; I had the offer of a very good
+place in Brighton, and I took it--a new restaurant, they open to-
+morrow. I get thirty pounds a year and my food."
+
+"And lodging?"
+
+"No, they are very short of accommodation, and I have taken a room in
+one of the streets close by--Preston Street. Do you know it?"
+
+"Perfectly, off the Western Road."
+
+"The lady who has the house knew my poor mother--a very nice woman--
+will let me have a bedroom for five shillings a week, and I shall be
+allowed to use her sitting-room when I want it, which, of course,
+won't be very often, for I shall be at business all day."
+
+The train rolled along the platform; Frank asked the porter when there
+would be a train for Southwick, and was told he would have half an
+hour to wait.
+
+"I shall have time to drive you to Preston Street."
+
+"Oh, no, please don't! She will be waiting for you--you will miss your
+train."
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+
+About four in the afternoon he left off painting, and went to Brighton
+for a couple of hours. The little journey broke up the day, he bought
+the evening papers, and it was pleasant to glance from the news to
+those who passed, and to look upon the sunny and hazy sea. He liked to
+go to Mutton's, and regretted Lizzie was not there, instead of behind
+a bar serving whisky and beer. But he went to the bar. It was a German
+establishment, decorated with the mythological art of Munich, and
+enlivened with a discordant band. The different rooms were fitted with
+bars of various importance. Lizzie was engaged at the largest--that
+nearest the entrance. At half-past five this bar was thronged with all
+classes. Beer and whisky were drunk hurriedly, with a look of trains
+on the face. The quietest time was from half-past three to half-past
+four, during these hours the dining-room was alone in the presence of
+the awful goddesses and a couple of drowsy waiters. Most of the girls
+were out, some two or three read faded novels in the sloppy twilight;
+a group of four or five men who had lingered from half-hour to half-
+hour turned their backs, and talked among themselves; sometimes a
+couple would condescendingly address Lizzie, and tease her with rude
+remarks; or else Frank found her having a little private chat with an
+old gentleman, a youth, or, may be, the waiter.
+
+Lizzie had her bar manners and her town manners, and she slipped on
+the former as she would an article of clothing when she lifted the
+slab and passed behind. They consisted principally of cordial smiles,
+personal observations, and a look of vacancy which she assumed when
+the conversation became coarse. From behind the bar she spoke
+authoritatively, she was secure, it was different--it was behind the
+bar; and she spoke with a cheek and a raciness that at other times
+were quite foreign to her. "I will not sleep with you to-night if you
+don't behave yourself," so Frank once heard her answer a swaggering
+young man. She spoke out loud, evidently regarding her words merely in
+the light of gentle repartee. What she heard and said in the bar
+remained not a moment on her mind, she appeared to accept it all as
+part of the business of the place, and when Frank was annoyed she only
+laughed.
+
+"Men will talk improper--what does it matter? One doesn't pay
+attention to their nonsense, and it is only in the bar. Never mind all
+that, tell me what you have been doing. You didn't come into Brighton
+yesterday, I suppose?"
+
+"No, I had to go to the Manor House."
+
+"And how is she--the only one? Are you as much in love with her as
+ever?"
+
+"I suppose I am; I have begun a portrait of her."
+
+"What, another! You never finish anything. I shan't have that when I
+come and sit for you. I shall make you finish my portrait."
+
+"Ah, yes; when you come and sit. But, joking apart, when will you
+come? I should so like to show you my studio. It really looks very
+nice now. When will you come?"
+
+"I have no time."
+
+"Why not come next Sunday; it is your Sunday off."
+
+"What would Maggie say if she found me there? She'd have my eyes out."
+
+"If she did find it out she'd know you came to sit; but as a matter of
+fact she'd know nothing about it. You come and lunch with me about
+twelve--they're all in church about that time."
+
+"And you never go to church, you wicked boy. I don't know that I dare
+trust myself with you."
+
+A scruple jarred the even strain of his desire to paint Lizzie's
+portrait, but his scruple vanished in one of her sweet sunny smiles,
+and he gave her all information about the train she would have to take
+to reach Southwick by twelve o'clock.
+
+He ordered some delicacies in the way of potted meats, and there was a
+bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice when she arrived.
+
+"Do you keep your champagne in ice? We never do in the bar. When the
+gentlemen want it they have a piece to put in their wine."
+
+"I wish you'd try to forget your gentlemen when you come here."
+
+Lizzie began to cry, and it was hard to console her; she said that
+Frank had spoilt her lunch for her.
+
+"It is because you are so much superior to the men I see you speaking
+to. How can I help feeling annoyed that you should be serving drinks?"
+
+"But I've got to get my living. You don't suppose I serve in a bar
+because I like it?"
+
+"No, of course not; but don't let us talk any more about it. You're
+going to sit to me, and I want to do as pretty a portrait of you as I
+can. All that beautiful brown hair, and that hat! Let me take it from
+your head!" Frank had bought this hat for her and had handed it to her
+over the counter, thereby bringing censure upon her from the manager.
+"Let's forget what I said. The hat suits you. There, now against the
+light, just a three-quarter face."
+
+At the end of half an hour he said she was a very good sitter and this
+pleased her, and she tried to keep the pose till the clock struck, but
+at the end of fifty minutes she said: "I must get up," and she came
+round to see what he was doing.
+
+"Now you mustn't criticise it," he said. "It's only a beginning.
+You've forgiven me my remarks about the bar?"
+
+"Don't remind me of it again."
+
+But he could not get it out of his head that he had annoyed her, and
+was unable to apply himself to his painting; perhaps for this reason
+his drawing went wrong, and his colour became muddy, and the thought
+struck him that if Maggie were to find this portrait about the studio
+she would certainly ask him whose portrait it was,
+
+"I can't paint to-day," he said, getting up from his easel.
+
+"And why can't you paint?" The question seemed to him at first a
+stupid one, and then she showed a perception that surprised him. "Are
+you afraid the young lady you're engaged to might come and catch me
+sitting to you?"
+
+The fear that this might happen had been floating in the back of his
+mind for the last half hour; he had kept Lizzie too long in the
+studio, and it was not improbable that the girls might knock at his
+door at any moment, and if they did it would be impossible for him not
+to answer. Triss would bark.
+
+"Well," she said, "I won't keep you any longer."
+
+"No, I assure you," he said aloud, and within himself, "I'd give a
+sovereign if I could get her to the station without being seen."
+
+And he thought he had done so as he returned half an hour afterwards
+across the green. Maggie was waiting for him. "Come to ask me to dine
+at the Manor House," he thought; but she told him that she knew all
+about his visitor, and, despite all Frank's efforts to pacify her she
+grew more violent, more excited until at last she told him she didn't
+want to see him any more, that he was to go away, that she gave him
+his liberty.
+
+"What an excitable girl she is! I'll go there this evening and try to
+coax her out of her anger. I must try to explain to her that a painter
+must have models. If we were married we shouldn't have more than a
+thousand a year to live on at the outside--that is to say, if Mount
+Rorke and Brookes come to terms, which is not very likely, they might
+make up a thousand a year between them, that would not be enough for
+two, and I should have to work; and I couldn't work without a model.
+The thing is absurd! She'll have to learn that a model is absolutely
+necessary; we were bound to have a row over that model question, so it
+might as well come off now as later on, and we shall understand each
+other better when this has blown over. There is nothing, and never has
+been anything, between me and Lizzie--my conscience is clear on that
+score. How pretty she looked to-day--that pale brown hair, so soft and
+so full of colour. To-day was an unlucky day; I began by being
+unfortunate with my painting; I never made a worse drawing in my life,
+and the worst of it was that I did not see that my drawing was wrong
+until I had begun to paint."
+
+A remembrance of Maggie's gracefulness came dazzling and straining his
+imagination, and in sharp revulsion of desire he assailed Lizzie with
+angry and contemptuous memory. She was always in low company--was
+never happy out of it; it was part of her. How this man liked six
+dashes of bitters in his sherry, and the other would not drink whisky
+except in a thin glass.
+
+As he was leaving the studio he received a letter from Maggie, and
+when he thought of the circumstances in which it was written, he grew
+genuinely alarmed, for there was no forgetting the seriousness of the
+letter, and she stated her reasons for the step she was taking without
+undue emphasis. In its severity and quiet determination the letter did
+not seem like her, and he suspected forgery, sisterly advice, paternal
+influence--a family conspiracy. There was but one thing to do. He
+looked through the various furniture for his hat; and with his head
+full of citations from the lives of artists illustrative of their
+conduct, he went to her. But Maggie would not see him.
+
+"Miss Brookes," the servant said, "is in her room and cannot see you,
+sir."
+
+"She will never be mine, she will never be mine," he muttered as he
+passed into the town. "But why do I think she'll never be mine?" And
+looking at the grey sea with only a trace of the sunset left in the
+grey sky he asked himself if the thought that had crossed his mind
+were a conviction, a fore-telling or merely a passing fancy created by
+the difficulty of the moment. He asked himself if he had heard himself
+saying, "She'll never be mine" and mistaken his own voice for the
+voice of Fate. Over the shingle bank the sea faded, a thin illusion,
+dim and promiseful of peace, and as the darkness and the sea filled
+Frank's soul he, the lightest and most life-loving of men, was filled
+for once with a sense of failure of life, and as his sorrowing
+thoughts drifted on he remembered that he had stood with her in
+hearing of the rising tide, and all his pleading and passion came back
+to him.
+
+"What are you doing here?"
+
+It was Willy.
+
+"I don't know. Maggie has broken off her engagement; she will never
+speak to me again, she hopes we may never meet."
+
+"I don't understand. When did she break off her engagement?"
+
+Frank told his story, and they walked across the green towards the
+studio.
+
+"Oh, you don't care. I don't believe you are listening to me."
+
+"I am listening. You never think any one understands what is said to
+them if they do not instantly jump and call the stars to witness."
+
+"I suppose I am like that--excitable--the difference between the Celt
+and the Saxon; and yet I don't know, your sisters are quite as
+excitable as I am."
+
+"They take after their mother; I am more like my father."
+
+"It wouldn't be a bad character for a play--a man who never would
+believe what you said, unless you threw up your arms and called on the
+stars."
+
+"He can't be very bad if he can think about plays," thought Willy.
+
+"Tell me, Willy, you won't offend me; tell me exactly what you think,
+did I do anything wrong? I swear to you there is nothing between me
+and Lizzie--I believe she is over head and ears in love with some
+fellow who has treated her very badly. She never would tell me who he
+was. In fact, she told me she had left London so that she might get
+over it. There would be no use my humbugging you, and I swear there is
+not, and never was, anything between me and Lizzie Baker. I never
+expected to see her again. It is very strange how people meet. I have
+told you all about it. When I go to Brighton I must go somewhere to
+get a drink, and I really don't see there is any harm in going to the
+'Tivoli'; it didn't occur to me to think I should avoid the place
+merely because she was serving there. I have often been there, I don't
+deny it. Do you see there is any harm in my going there?"
+
+"I don't like giving an opinion unless I am fully acquainted with the
+facts; but it seems to me that you might have gone to the 'Tivoli' to
+have a drink without asking her to your studio."
+
+"Stay a bit, we'll speak of that presently. I am now telling you how I
+see Lizzie when I go to Brighton. I often go to Brighton by the four
+o'clock train, I often go to the 'Tivoli,' and when she is not talking
+to some one else I talk to her about things in general; but I swear I
+have never been out with her, that I never saw her except in the bar,
+and yet Maggie accuses me of keeping a woman in Brighton, and won't
+hear what I have to say in my defence. This is what she says: 'I have
+it on unquestionable authority that you have been keeping this woman
+since you returned from Ireland, perhaps before, and that you go in by
+the four o'clock train almost daily to see her.' Now I ask you if it
+is fair to make such accusations--such utterly false and baseless
+accusations--and then to refuse to hear what a fellow has to say in
+his defence? By Jove! if I caught the fellow who has been telling lies
+about me, I'd let him have it. Some of those Southdown Road people
+have been writing to her, that's about the long and short of it.
+
+"As for having asked her to come to the studio, I assure you my
+intentions were quite innocent. Perhaps you won't understand what I
+mean; you don't care for painting, but very often an artist has a
+longing to paint a certain face, and the desire completely masters
+him. Well, I had a longing of this kind to paint Lizzie; hers is just
+the kind of head that suits me--she offered to give me a sitting, Idid
+not see much harm in accepting, and as I could not paint her in
+the bar-room, I asked her to the studio. But as for making out there
+was anything wrong--I assure you she is not that sort of girl. If we
+were married (I mean Maggie and I) I would have to have models; we'll
+have to come to an understanding on that point. Now what I want you to
+do is to explain to Maggie that there is nothing wrong between me and
+Lizzie, you can tell her there is nothing--I swear there is nothing;
+and then you had better explain that an artist must have models to
+work from."
+
+"Don't ask me. I wish you wouldn't ask me. I make a rule never to
+interfere in my sisters' affairs. I did once, you remember, and I
+thought I should never hear the end of it."
+
+"I think you might do this for me."
+
+"Don't ask me. I wish you wouldn't, my dear fellow. I am an
+exceedingly nervous chap, and I have had nothing but bad luck all my
+life."
+
+"You think of nothing but yourself. You certainly are the most selfish
+fellow I ever met. You take no interest in any affairs but your own."
+
+Willy made no answer. He sat stroking his moustache softly with slow
+crumpled hand. After a long silence, he said: "Tell me, Frank, are you
+really in love with my sister, or is it only imagination? I know
+people often think they are in love when their fancy is only a little
+excited. Very little will pass for being in love, but the real thing
+is very different from such fancies."
+
+"I assure you I never loved any one like Maggie. Yes, I am sure I love
+her."
+
+"You may be in love, I don't say you aren't; but I am sure there's no
+more common mistake than to fancy one's self in love because one's
+imagination is a bit excited. When you do fall in love, you find out
+your mistake."
+
+"You think no one was ever in love but yourself. Do you remember when
+you took me to see her, when we heard her sing 'Love was false as he
+was fair, and I loved him far too well'?"
+
+Frank knew no more of the story than that: Willy had loved this
+actress vainly. On occasions Willy had alluded to her, but he had
+never shown signs of wishing to confide.
+
+"Yes, I remember. How I loved that woman, and what a wreck it has made
+of my life. I daresay you often think me dull; I can quite understand
+your thinking me narrow-minded, selfish, and incapable of taking
+interest in other people's affairs: losing her took the soul out of my
+life. Now nothing really amuses me--now nothing really interests me. I
+often think if I were to die, it would be a happy release."
+
+"You never told me anything about it before; wouldn't she marry you?"
+
+"I never knew her. I fell in love with her the first time I saw her,
+and my love swallowed up everything else. Then I wasn't wrapped up in
+account-books, although I was always a precise and methodical sort of
+chap; I was young enough then, now I am an older man than my father.
+Some fellows have all the luck; everything succeeds with them, every
+one loves them, men and women, they get all they ask for and more,
+others get nothing. No matter what I tried to do, something went wrong
+and I was baulked. I set my heart on that girl, she was the one thing
+I wanted. I saw her play the same piece fifty times. I knew my passion
+was hopeless, but I couldn't resist it. Had I known her I might have
+won her, but there were no means; I never saw her but once off the
+stage, and that was but a moment. I often sent her presents, sometimes
+jewellery, sometimes fans or flowers, anything and everything I
+thought she would like. I sent her a beautiful locket; I paid fifty
+pounds for it."
+
+"Did she accept your presents?"
+
+"I sent them anonymously."
+
+"Why did you not try to make her acquaintance?"
+
+"I knew nobody in the theatrical world. I was not good at making
+acquaintances. You might have done it. I am a timid man."
+
+"Did you make no attempt? You might have written."
+
+"At last I did write."
+
+"What did you write?"
+
+"I tried to tell her the exact truth. I told her that I had refrained
+from writing to her for three years. That I quite understood the folly
+and the presumption of the effort; but I felt now, as drowning men
+that clutch at straws, that I must make my condition known to her. I
+told her I loved her truly and honourably, that my position and
+fortune would have entitled me to aspire to her hand if fate had been
+kind enough to allow me to know her. It was a very difficult letter to
+write, and I just tried to make myself clear. I told her I knew no one
+in the theatrical world, and that waiting and hoping for some chanceto
+bring us together would only result in misery long drawn out; that
+I had some faint hope that this letter might lead her to consider that
+there might be an exception to the rule that a young lady should not
+stop to speak to a young man she didn't know. I remember I said 'when
+men are in deadly earnest, truth seems to shine between the lines they
+write. I know I am in earnest, and may say that all I hold dear and
+precious in life is set in the hope that this letter may not appear to
+you in the light of one of those foolish and wicked letters which I
+believe men often write to actresses, and of which I suppose you have
+been the recipient.' Then I said that I would be at the stage door on
+the following night, and that I hoped she would allow me to speak a
+few words to her."
+
+"And did she?"
+
+"I could not speak to her; I lost all courage in that moment. She
+walked close by me."
+
+"You mean to say you did not speak to her after writing that letter?"
+
+"Call me a fool, an idiot, what you will; I could not do it. I can
+only compare my feeling to what Livingstone says he felt when he found
+himself face to face with a lion. He stood staring in the lion's eyes,
+unable to move."
+
+"She must have thought your letter a practical joke. I wonder what she
+did think."
+
+"I wrote explaining the unfortunate circumstances as well as I could,
+and telling her I would come the following night."
+
+"Did you go?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Did you speak to her?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And she wouldn't speak?"
+
+"She passed on with her maid, but I didn't lose hope until she
+married. It was always a sort of sad pleasure to go to the theatre to
+see her. I used to live at the Manor House for two or three months at
+a time, saving up my money so as to be able to make her some nice
+present. I wished her to remember me, although she would not speak to
+me. No one came to the Manor House; there was nothing to do except to
+read the paper and smoke my pipe. I was sick of my life, and I counted
+the days that would have to pass till I saw her again--only thirty
+more days, only nineteen days, only one more week--so I used to count,
+marking off each day in an almanac, until one day I read the
+announcement of her marriage; then I knew all hope was at an end. I
+went mad that night and rushed out of the house, and I should have
+drowned myself had I not fainted. When I came to, I was weak and
+delirious, and wandered along the beach, not knowing where I was
+going. Some fishermen brought me home. My sisters were at school at
+the time. I believe I was very near dying. I fainted three times one
+afternoon. I used to lie on the sofa and cry for hours. She married a
+stockbroker. I believe she didn't care for him at all. Then she died.
+She was buried in Kensal Green. Whenever I am in London I go and see
+her grave."
+
+"This is awfully sad."
+
+"Yes; it ruined my life. I never had any luck. Things always went
+wrong with me."
+
+"I should like to see those letters."
+
+"I haven't got copies. I didn't keep a letter-book in those days.
+Let's talk of something else. I have some news. I am going in for
+breeding race-horses."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"What I say. I have calculated it all out, and I find I shall make
+from fifteen to twenty per cent, on my money."
+
+"By breeding race-horses! And where are you going to breed them?"
+
+"You know those stables on the Portslade Road where the veterinary
+surgeon used to live? I am going to take that place. The rent is three
+hundred pounds a year; there are fifty acres of pasture, and stabling
+for thirty horses. The dwelling-house is not a very aristocratic-
+looking place, but it will do for the present; when I begin to make
+money I shall go in for alterations. You can't do everything at once."
+
+"You do astonish me. And where are you going to get the money to do
+all this? You will require at least twenty thousand pounds capital."
+
+"More than that. You would not be able to work a place like that under
+twenty-five thousand pounds," Willy replied sententiously. "I have got
+about eight thousand left of my own, and I came in for a legacy of
+three thousand at the beginning of this year--an aunt of mine left me
+the money; and my father has agreed to let me have fourteen thousand
+on condition of my abandoning all further claim upon him. The bulk of
+his fortune will now be divided among my sisters. Berkins advised him
+to accept my offer."
+
+"I should think so indeed; your father is worth ten thousand a year."
+
+"No, nothing like that. His business has been going down for years
+past. Last year he lost heavily again; if it weren't for his
+investments he wouldn't be able to go on with it. The business is done
+for; I knew that long ago. My father and I could never agree about how
+the accounts should be kept. That head clerk of his is an awful
+duffer."
+
+"Yes, but what are you going to do with the shop?"
+
+"The shop was the origin of it all. If it hadn't been for the shop I
+dare say I never should have thought of the race-horses. My father and
+I could never work together. I offered to buy his surplus fruit and
+vegetables, and, without absolutely binding myself to deal with no one
+else, I had assured him of my chief custom. Naturally I expected
+something in return--I expected him to let me have peaches in April
+and strawberries in March. You cannot do this without using a good
+deal of heating power. I spoke to the gardener several times. Often
+when I went into the houses I found the pipes nearly cold. I got tired
+of this, and I paid a man out of my own pocket to keep the furnaces
+properly stoked, and--would you believe it?--my father actually raised
+objections--objected to my paying a man to look after his glass-houses
+as they should be looked after. He said he would not order in any more
+coke, that I'd have to get along with what there was in the garden; he
+said he wished the shop at the devil. I saw it was hopeless. You
+cannot help my father, and he won't help himself, so I threw the whole
+thing up."
+
+"And when are you going to start the new scheme?"
+
+"Immediately. One of my reasons for accepting fourteen thousand pounds
+down as a settlement in full was because I was beginning to fear that
+he might get wind of my marriage. From one or two things I have heard
+lately, I have reason to suspect that the secret is beginning to ooze
+out, and I thought it might be as well to take time by the forelock."
+
+"And you told him? What did he say?"
+
+"What people usually say when they criticise other people's lives
+without knowing anything of their temptations and sufferings. But I
+want to tell you about my scheme. I have bought Blue Mantle, the
+winner of the Czarewitch, and only beaten by a length for the
+Cambridgeshire, a three-year-old, with eight stone on his back; a most
+unlucky horse--if he had been in the Leger or Derby he would have won
+one or both. He broke down when he was four years old. By King Tom out
+of Merry Agnes, by Newminster out of Molly Bawn."
+
+"I didn't know you knew so much about racing."
+
+"I know more than you think. I don't let out all I know."
+
+"And how much did you pay for Blue Mantle?"
+
+"Dirt cheap. I can imagine myself two years hence, when my first batch
+of yearlings is put up for sale--500, 650, 800, 1000, knocked down for
+1000 guineas, brown colt by Blue Mantle out of Wild Rose, bred by
+William Brookes, Esq."
+
+"I don't think money will come in quite so fast as that."
+
+"Perhaps not; but can't you let a fellow enjoy himself? I never knew
+any one like you for throwing cold water. I believe you are jealous."
+
+"What nonsense!"
+
+"Well, never mind. I shall be the deuce of a dog, see if I shan't. I
+always like to kill two birds with one stone if I can, and my business
+will bring me into connection with the very best in the land.
+Unfortunately! my people don't care about getting on; now I do. I like
+to know people who are better than myself--at all events, who are no
+worse. I shouldn't be surprised if I were dining at Goodwood and
+Arundel before long. When I go up to town I shall be calling on Lady
+This and Lady That, and later on I might get in somewhere in the
+Conservative interest."
+
+"How long you may know a man, and then find you are mistaken in his
+character," thought Frank. "So vanity is at the bottom of all these
+efforts to make money."
+
+"When are you coming to the Manor House?"
+
+"Impossible. You know I can't go there so long as your father--"
+
+"Come in one afternoon; he'll ask you to stay to dinner. He has
+forgotten all about it."
+
+"I cannot come to the Manor House until my engagement to your sister
+is sanctioned by him."
+
+"The way to get that is to come to the Manor House and talk him into
+it. For my part, I think, even from his point of view, that it would
+be better that he should recognise the engagement; nothing can be more
+damaging than these clandestine meetings."
+
+"What can I do? I will not give her up."
+
+"I never interfere. I have quite enough worries of my own. I must be
+getting home. It is very late. Good-bye."
+
+The green was as bright as day in the moonlight and Frank watched
+Willy walking, his shoulders thrown back. He sighed; an undefinable,
+but haunting melancholy hung about Willy; he often impressed Frank as
+an old book--a book whose text is trite--which no one will read, and
+which yet continues to make its mute appeal; a something that has
+always missed its way, that can hardly be said to be an adequate thing
+to offer for any man's money, that will soon disappear somehow out of
+all sight and reckoning.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+
+A few days after he got a letter from Lizzie, saying she was alone and
+ill, and asking him to come and see her. He took the next train to
+Brighton. The land-lady's daughter, a girl of about twelve, opened the
+door to him.
+
+"How is Miss Baker? Is she any better?"
+
+"Please, sir, she is not at all well, she has cold shivers; and mother
+went away yesterday."
+
+"And who looks after Miss Baker?"
+
+"Please, sir, I do."
+
+"You do! Is there no one else in the house?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Is Miss Baker in bed?"
+
+"No, sir. She said she would get up a little while this afternoon,
+'cause she said she thought you was coming."
+
+"Go and tell her I am here."
+
+"Please, sir, she said you was to go upstairs--the back room on the
+second floor, please."
+
+"Come in."
+
+"I am so sorry you are ill, Lizzie. What is the matter?"
+
+"I don't know; I think I caught a severe chill. I stayed out very late
+on the beach."
+
+"But why are you crying? Do tell me. Can I do anything?"
+
+"No no. What does it matter whether I laugh or cry? Nothing matters
+now. I don't care what becomes of me."
+
+"A pretty girl like you; nonsense! Some one rich and grand will fall
+in love with you, and give you everything you want."
+
+"I don't want any one to fall in love with me; I am done for--don't
+care what becomes of me."
+
+"Do tell me about it. Have you heard anything further about him? Do
+tell me; don't cry like that."
+
+"No, no, leave me, leave me! I am so miserable. I don't know why I
+wrote to you. I hope I shall die."
+
+"It is very lucky you did write to me, for you are clearly very ill.
+What is the matter?"
+
+"I don't know; I can't get warm. This room is very cold--don't you
+think so?"
+
+"Cold? No."
+
+"I feel cold; my throat is very bad--perhaps I shall be better in the
+morning."
+
+"You must see a doctor."
+
+"Oh, no! I don't want to see a doctor."
+
+"You must see a doctor."
+
+"No, no, I beg of you. I only wrote to you because I was feeling so
+miserable."
+
+Lizzie stood between him and the door, imploring him not to fetch a
+doctor, but to go away at once, and to tell no one she had written to
+him, or that he had been to see her. "Nothing matters now--I am
+ruined--I don't care what becomes of me." He marvelled; but soon all
+considerations were swept away in anxiety for her bodily health; and
+having extorted a promise from her that she would not leave the room
+until he came back, he rushed to the nearest chemist and hence to the
+doctor.
+
+"I want you to come at once, if possible, and see a young lady who, I
+fear, is dangerously ill. She has not been in Brighton long. She is
+quite alone. She sent for me. I live at Southwick. I came out at once.
+I have known her a long time. I may say she is a great friend of mine.
+I found her very ill--I must say her condition seems to me alarming. I
+should like her to see a doctor at once. Can you come at once?"
+
+"I am just finishing dinner. I will come in about ten minutes' time.
+What is the address?"
+
+"20 Preston Street.--I hope he does not think there is anything
+wrong," thought Frank. "He look's as if he did," and with a view of
+removing suspicion, he said: "She is a young lady whom I have known
+for some years. We had lost sight of each other until we travelled
+down in the train together. I say this because I do not wish you to
+think there is anything wrong."
+
+"My good sir, I should not allow myself to have any opinions on the
+matter. I am summoned to attend a patient, and I give the best advice
+in my power."
+
+"Yes, but one can't help forming opinions--a beautiful young girl
+living alone in lodgings, and having apparently for sole protector a
+young man, are circumstances that might be easily misconstrued, and as
+I am engaged to be married, I think it right to tell you exactly how I
+stand in relation to this young woman."
+
+The doctor bowed.
+
+"Do you not think I did well in making this explanation?"
+
+"It can do no harm; we medical men see so much that we take no notice
+of anything but our patient. But tell me something of this young
+lady's suffering. Can you describe the symptoms?"
+
+"She has a racking headache--she is shivering all over--she sits by
+the fire and cannot get warm. It looks to me as if it were fever."
+
+"Does she complain of her throat?"
+
+"Yes; she cannot swallow."
+
+"Probably an attack of quinsy."
+
+"Is that dangerous?"
+
+"No; but it is infectious."
+
+"I don't mind about that--she is alone. I will see her through it."
+
+"I will go round to Preston Street immediately I have finished dinner
+--in about ten minutes or a quarter of an hour."
+
+When the doctor had seen Lizzie, he said to Frank, who accompanied him
+downstairs: "Just as I expected--quinsy. She will take from eight to
+ten days to get well. We have taken it in time, that's one good thing.
+The throat is very bad. She must have a linseed poultice, and she must
+use the gargle. Is there any one in the house who can attend to her?"
+
+"I am afraid not; the landlady went away this morning, leaving no one
+in the house but that child. She will, I hope, be home to-morrow."
+
+"In that case you had better have a nurse in; I will give you the
+address of one."
+
+When Frank returned he found her lying on the bed weeping. As before,
+she refused to tell him the cause of her grief. She would make no
+other answer than that nothing mattered now, that she didn't care what
+became of her; and when he spoke of going to fetch a nurse, she waved
+her hands excitedly, declaring she would on no consideration stop in
+the house with a woman she didn't know. And, hardly able to decide
+what course he should take, he promised not to leave her; she clung
+about him, and he was forced to send the child (whose name he now
+found to be Emma) to the chemist for the linseed, and he wrote a note
+asking for explicit directions how it should be used. Then he had to
+persuade Lizzie to go to bed. She resisted him, and it was with great
+difficulty that he got her boots and stockings off; then she collected
+her strength, unbuttoned her dress, and took off her stays. Then she
+said: "Go out of the room for a moment."
+
+He found his way into the kitchen, and guessing that hot water would
+be required, he lit a fire. But there was no muslin, and he had to
+send Emma for some. Lizzie smiled faintly when they entered--Frank
+with a basin, Emma with a kettle and a parcel of linen. Frank poured
+some rum into a glass, and beat an egg up with it.
+
+"What is that?" she asked; and her voice was so faint and hoarse that
+he turned, quite startled.
+
+"Something that will do your throat good and keep your strength up.
+Possibly you will not be able to eat much to-morrow." He held the
+tumbler to her lips, and at length succeeded in getting her to drink
+it. "Emma, is the kettle boiling?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You had better go downstairs and get some coals, and if you can't
+find any nightlights you must go out and buy a box. Have you got any
+money over?"
+
+"Yes, sir, sixpence."
+
+"Now, Lizzie, let me put this on your throat. Throw your head well
+back. There, it isn't too hot?"
+
+And all that night he sat by her bedside. Often she could not get her
+breath, and he had to lift her and prop her up with pillows; and four
+times he lit the candle, and, with tired eyes, mixed the meal and
+placed it on her throat. The firelight played upon the ceiling, the
+kettle sang softly, the sufferer moaned, the light brought the rumble
+of a cart, and they awoke from shallow sleeps that blurred but did not
+extinguish consciousness of the actual present. "You must not uncover
+yourself; you will catch cold. Let me pin this shawl about you." About
+eight o'clock Emma knocked at the door. Frank asked her to make him a
+cup of tea. The morning dragged along amid many anxieties, for he
+could see she was worse than she had been over night.
+
+"The disease must take its course," said the doctor; "we shall be
+fortunate if by poulticing we can stop it; if we can't, it will come
+to a head in about eight or nine days' time, and then it will break.
+Did you see the nurse last night? Couldn't she come?"
+
+"She," said Frank, pointing to the sufferer, "wouldn't allow me to
+send for her; she said she would not stay in the house with a strange
+woman. She was very excited; I fancy she has had some great mental
+trouble--a sweetheart, I suppose. I did not like to cross her. I
+thought I could nurse her; I did my best. Was the poultice all right?"
+
+"Quite right. But you will have to sit up with her to-night. You will
+be very tired; you had better get in a nurse."
+
+"I think I shall be able to manage. The landlady is expected home this
+evening or to-morrow morning. What had she better have to eat?"
+
+"She won't be able to eat anything for some days. Try to get her to
+take an egg beat up in a wine-glass of rum."
+
+Hourly she grew worse, and on the following day Frank stood by her bed
+momentarily fearing that she would suffocate; once her face blackened
+and he had to seize and lift her out of bed, and place her in a chair.
+When she seemed a little easier he called Emma, and they made the bed
+and cleaned up the room together. Then he ate a sausage and drank a
+glass of beer that had been brought from the public-house.
+
+The first night had seemed long and weary, but now the hours passed
+quickly; he had forgotten all but the suffering woman, and in the
+interest of inducing her to swallow some beef-tea, in the pride of
+such successes another and then another day fled lightly. Nor did he
+feel tired as he had done, and now a nap in an arm-chair seemed all
+that he required. So the landlady came as an unwelcome interruption of
+an absorbing occupation. Haggard and unshaven, he returned to
+Southwick, where he found a note on his table from General Horlock,
+asking him to dinner that evening.
+
+"I know the meaning of this: Maggie will be there--a reconciliation!
+Can I?" He turned his ear quickly from his conscience; he was
+frightened of the voice that would tell him that Maggie was nothing to
+him, never had been, never could be; that he had been born for Lizzie
+Baker, as the soldier is for the sword or the bullet that kills him;
+others had passed him, had been heard sharply, had gleamed dangerously
+in his eyes. They were but signs and omens meant for others, not for
+him, and they had passed. But this one had remained, though often
+lost, as that remains which is to be, and she was now no less for him
+than before, though now seemingly lost irrevocably to another; and in
+all the seeming of irrevocable loss was drawing nearer--not with the
+victory and destiny of old in her eyes, but with no less victory and
+destiny inherent in her. Though far from him, she had been for long a
+disintegrated influence, but what had been distant was now near, and
+all was yielding like a ship in the attraction of the fabulous
+loadstone mountain. That room!--the wash-hand-stand, the dirty panes
+of glass, the iron bed-there his fate had been sealed. That body which
+he had lifted out of bed still lay heavy in his arms. He still
+breathed the odour of the hair he had gathered from the pillow and
+striven to pin up; those eyes of limpid blue, pale as water where
+isles are sleeping, burned deep and livid in his soul; the touch and
+sight of that flesh, the sound of that voice, those tears, the
+solicitude and anxiety of those hours of night and day conspired
+against him, and his life was big with incipient overthrow.
+
+Lizzie was with him at all times. He saw her eyes, then her teeth, and
+the perfume and touch of her hair was often about him; and yet he was
+hardly conscious that a revolution of feeling was in progress within
+him; and when the time came for him to go to Horlock's he went there
+avoiding all thoughts of Maggie, although he knew he would be called
+upon that night to take a decisive step. He saw little of her before
+dinner, and during dinner the General's allusions to the quarrels of
+lovers being the renewal of love vexed him, and he thought, "Confound
+it! If I want to make it up I will; but I am not going to be bullied
+into it." When the ladies left the room he found it difficult to
+pretend to the kind-hearted old soldier that he did not believe that
+Maggie would forgive him. "Forgive me for what? I have done nothing."
+
+"To get on with women you must always admit you are in the wrong--ha,
+ha, ha!" laughed the General; "now I have it from my wife--women know
+everything--ha, ha, ha!" laughed the General. "Have another glass of
+sherry?"
+
+"No, thanks; couldn't take any more."
+
+"I took I won't tell you how many glasses before I proposed to my
+wife, and then I was afraid; enough to make me--a clever woman like
+Mrs. Horlock, I believe you wouldn't find a woman in England like Mrs.
+Horlock. Look round; all that's her work. Look at that white Arab--
+exactly like him. I won five hundred pounds with that horse; but I
+wouldn't be satisfied, and I ran him again the following day and lost
+it all and five hundred more with it. I had another horse. My wife is
+modelling him in wax; she will show it to you in the next room.
+Marvellous woman!"
+
+Passing Maggie by who was sitting in the window, Frank inveigled Mrs.
+Horlock into an anatomical discussion. The General stretched out his
+feet, put on his spectacles, and took up the _St James's_. The
+conversation dropped, and, full of apprehension and expecting
+reconciliation, Frank went to Maggie and talked to her of the tennis
+parties he was going to, of the people he had seen--of indifferent
+things. The time was tense with the fate of their lives. Once she
+turned her head and sighed. Time slipped by, and still they talked of
+their friends--of things they knew perfectly. Maggie said: "I hope you
+are not angry; I hope we shall remain friends." Frank replied: "I hope
+so," and again the conversation paused. The General denounced
+Gladstone, and praised his wife's sculpture. Ten o'clock! Angel was
+lifted out of his basket. If Maggie had been Helen and Southwick Troy,
+he would not be kept waiting; the dogs had to be taken out; Willy came
+to fetch Maggie; hands were tendered, lips said good-bye, and, with a
+sense of parting, they parted.
+
+Feeling adrift and strangely alone, he walked to his lodging. His
+future loomed up in his mind as vague and as illusive as the village
+that now glared through the mist, white and phantasmal. He did not
+regret--we can hardly regret the impossible. Then, falling back on a
+piece of prose, he said: "Where was the good? Mount Rorke would never
+have given his consent. Poor Lizzie; I hope she is better. I hope it
+has broken. She won't get any relief until it does."
+
+And next day, towards evening, he went to Brighton. He found her
+shrinking over the fire, wrapped in a woollen shawl.
+
+"How are you to-day? You look a little better. I did not expect to
+find you out of bed."
+
+"I am better, thank you; it broke yesterday, and I feel relieved. You
+are very good. I think I should have died if it had not been for you.
+Think of that landlady leaving me in the way she did."
+
+"What was the reason? Why did she rush off in that way?"
+
+"She went to town to see her sister, and she says she was taken ill.
+She drinks."
+
+"Does she? I hope she looked after you yesterday?"
+
+"Oh, yes."
+
+"As well as I did?"
+
+"I don't know about that; you are a very good nurse. It was very good
+of you; no one else would have done it."
+
+"What, not even _he_?"
+
+"You were with me for four days, and you never even went to bed--never
+took your clothes off."
+
+"Never even washed myself. By George! I was glad to get home and have
+a good wash. I was a sorry-looking object--haggard and unshaven."
+
+"Where did you say you had been to?"
+
+"Nobody asked me."
+
+"Not Maggie?"
+
+"No; I didn't tell you our engagement is broken off."
+
+"No; you didn't say nothing about it."
+
+"On account of you. She discovered that you had been to my studio, and
+she said I was keeping a woman in Brighton."
+
+"Keeping a woman in Brighton--she thinks you are keeping me! I will
+write to her and tell her that it is not true. What right has she to
+say such things about me?"
+
+"She doesn't say it about you. She says a woman."
+
+"She means me."
+
+"No, she doesn't; she doesn't know anything about you. Some one told
+her I went into Brighton every day by the four o'clock train, and she
+put two and two or rather two and three together, and said it was
+six."
+
+"But I will write to her. I will not be the cause of any one's
+marriage being broken off."
+
+"You need not trouble. I saw her last night, and I could have made it
+all right had I chosen--she was quite willing."
+
+"You can't care for her!"
+
+"I suppose not. I don't think I ever really loved her. I thought I
+did. I was mistaken."
+
+"You are very changeable."
+
+"No, I don't think I am--at least not so far as you are concerned. I
+was mistaken. I was in love with some one else--with you."
+
+"With me?"
+
+"Yes, with you. I was in love with you when we went to Reading, and
+never got over it. I thought I had, but when love is real we never get
+over it. I always loved you, and those four days I spent nursing you
+have brought it all out. I shall never love any one else. I know you
+don't care for me; you said once you couldn't care for me."
+
+"I! I am too miserable to care for any one. I wish you had let me die;
+but that is ungrateful. You must excuse me, I am so miserable. Why
+speak of loving me? I can love no one. I don't care what becomes of
+me. I am ruined; nothing matters now."
+
+"I wish you would confide in me; you can trust me. Has he forsaken
+you? Can you not make it up?"
+
+"No, never now; I shall never see him again."
+
+"Has anything happened lately, since you came to Brighton?"
+
+Lizzie nodded.
+
+"Don't cry like that; tell me about it."
+
+"What's the use? Nothing matters now."
+
+"Has he been here?"
+
+Lizzie nodded, and Frank folded the shawl about her, and wiped her
+tears away with his pocket handkerchief. "Since you were ill?"
+
+"No, before I was ill; he was down here watching me. He found out I
+had gone to your studio, and he said the most dreadful things--that he
+would break your head, and that I had never been true to him, and that
+I was not fit to be the wife of an honest man."
+
+"But I will tell him that you came to my studio to sit for your
+portrait."
+
+"No, you mustn't write; it would only make matters worse. No use; he
+says he will never see me again."
+
+"Where can I see him? Has he gone back to London? I will follow him
+and tell him he is mistaken." "No, please don't, and please don't go
+to the 'Gaiety'; he is a violent-tempered man; something dreadful
+might occur. Please, promise me."
+
+"Not go to the 'Gaiety'? He doesn't know me."
+
+"Yes, he does."
+
+"Have I seen him? Do tell me; you know you can trust me. I am your
+friend. Tell me--"
+
+"You have seen him in the 'Gaiety,' in the grill-room--the waiter,
+number two, the good-looking tall man."
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"He wasn't always a waiter; his people are very superior. He has been
+unfortunate."
+
+"And it was he you loved this long while?"
+
+"I never cared for another man."
+
+"I must write and tell him he is committing an act of injustice. I
+will make this matter right for you, Lizzie."
+
+"Do you think you can?"
+
+"I am sure of it."
+
+He rang for the landlady, and asked for writing materials. She
+apologised for the penny bottle of ink, and spoke of getting a table
+from the next room, but he said he could write very well on the
+chimney-piece. "I suppose I had better begin, 'Sir'?"
+
+"Don't people generally begin, 'Dear Sir'?"
+
+"Not when they don't know the people they are writing to."
+
+"But you do know him a little. He always said you were very haughty.
+You used to sit at his table."
+
+"I think I had better begin the letter with 'Sir.'"
+
+"Very well. You know best. He was always very jealous."
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+
+"SIR,--I hear from Miss Baker that you were in Brighton last week,
+and, drawing the inference from the fact that she came to my studio to
+sit for her portrait, you accuse her of very grievous impropriety. I
+beg to assure you that this is not so. At my urgent request, Miss
+Baker, whom I had better say I have known for some years, consented to
+give me a sitting. My intentions were purely artistic; hers were
+confined to a wish to oblige an old friend, and I deeply regret that
+they should have been misinterpreted, and I fear much unhappiness
+caused thereby."
+
+"Do you think that will do?"
+
+"Yes, it is a beautiful letter."
+
+"Do you think so--do you really think so? Do you think I have said
+all?"
+
+"You might say something--that I never even kissed you; and that you
+respected me too much."
+
+"I will if you like, but don't you think that is implied?"
+
+"Perhaps so; but you see he does not read many books. He hasn't time
+for much reading, and you put things in a difficult way. They sound
+beautiful, but I--"
+
+"Show me."
+
+"Well, this 'grievous impropriety.' I know what you mean, but I
+couldn't explain it."
+
+"Shall I say 'serious impropriety'? but grievous is the right word.
+You say a grievous sin for a mortal sin. If we had done any wrong it
+would have been a grievous sin; but I'll change the word if you like."
+
+"No, don't change it on my account; but I think he would understand an
+easier word better."
+
+"A 'heinous impropriety'? No, that won't do. A 'serious impropriety.'
+That will do. Is there anything else you would like me to alter?"
+
+"No, I don't think there is."
+
+"You think this letter will convince him that there was nothing
+wrong?"
+
+"I hope so; but he is a very suspicious man."
+
+"I will post it when I go out." Then after a long silence: "Do you
+know what time it is? It must be getting late."
+
+"It must be getting on for nine."
+
+"Then I must say good-bye; but I forgot, I want to ask you--you must
+be hard up, and want some money--do you? If you do, I assure you I
+shall be only too glad."
+
+"Well, I am rather hard up, for you know that this illness has
+prevented my doing anything; and I am afraid I have lost my place at
+the 'Tivoli.'"
+
+"What do you intend to do?"
+
+"I should like to go back to London. I shall see him there, and if the
+letter makes it right we may be married. I will write to you."
+
+"You will?--Do. Here is five pounds. I have no more about me, but if
+anything should occur, you know where to write to."
+
+"You are very good; I don't deserve it. I don't know why you take so
+much trouble about me. If he doesn't marry me I'll try to get another
+place; I shall go back to the firm."
+
+"When do you intend to leave?"
+
+"As soon as I am well enough, in a day or two; but you will not come
+here again."
+
+
+"I had thought that I might."
+
+"I know; but if he were to hear that you had been here, it would be
+worse than ever. You don't mind, do you? You aren't angry, are you?"
+
+"No; good-bye, Lizzie. Write to me when you are married." Frank walked
+into the street. There was neither rage nor will in him. He was a
+sorrowing creature in a bitter world. The sea was cruelly blue in the
+coming night; the sky was also blue, only deeper, a red streak like a
+red bar of iron stretched across the embaying land, relieving into
+picturesque detail the outlines of coast-towns and villages. His eyes
+rested on and drew grief from this dim distance so illusive; and for
+jarring contrast, the pier hung with gaudy and gross decoration in the
+blue night, and a brass band replied to the waves.
+
+Then the clouds lifted, and when he returned to Southwick the moon was
+shining and some boys pursued the resounding ball through the shadows.
+He undressed with an effort, and he lay down hoping never to rise
+again. Next morning he went to his studio full of resolve. His picture
+must be finished for one of the winter exhibitions. He did not take up
+his palette, nor did he sit at his piano for more than a few minutes;
+and when he met Willy he raged against Lizzie, jeered at her
+vulgarity, heaped ridicule upon her lover, the waiter; he spoke of
+writing a novel on the subject; he set out her character at length;
+and was alarmed when told that Maggie was ill. He must win her. She
+must be his wife. So he told Willy, so he assured himself that she
+would. He knew that Lizzie was nothing to him. She had left Brighton,
+thank God! He went to sleep, certain he had torn this page out of his
+life, and he awoke to find it still there; and day after day he
+continued to brood upon, and still unable to understand its meaning,
+he longed to turn it over and read, for there were other pages; but
+they were sealed, and he might only read this one page.
+
+"I'm afraid that our old friend Brookes is having a hard time of it,"
+said the General, taking the spectacles from his nose, and laying down
+the _St James's_, "they are all at him tooth and nail," and the General
+laughed gleefully. "You are the young man who has upset them. The young
+lady won't dress herself."
+
+"My dear Reggie, you shouldn't talk like that. I do hate to hear
+scandal; you'll repent it," said Mrs. Horlock, and she adroitly
+smoothed the wax on the horse's quarters.
+
+"I assure you, Mrs. Horlock, I never repeat what I hear; the guiding
+principle of my life is not to repeat conversations. Particularly in a
+village like Southwick, it is most essential that none of us should
+repeat conversations; I have always said that."
+
+"Do tell me about Maggie; I hear she is very ill. What is the matter
+with her? What did you say--the young lady won't dress herself?"
+
+"My dear Reggie, I will not stay here and listen to scandal. Not a
+word of it is true, Mr. Escott."
+
+"What is not true, Mrs. Horlock?"
+
+"What he told you about her walking about the house with her hair
+down."
+
+"I don't think the General said anything about walking about the house
+with her hair down; he said some one wouldn't dress herself. I suppose
+he meant Maggie. I am sure I am sorry--I am most sorry--to hear she is
+ill, but it is unjust to assume that I had anything to do with her
+illness. We can speak freely among ourselves, you know. You know the
+circumstances; no one is more capable of understanding the case than
+you, for you are an artist. Maggie heard that I had had a model,
+that's what it amounts to, and she broke off the engagement; nothing
+could be more unjust, nothing could be more unwarranted."
+
+"It could be brought on again, I know that," said Mrs. Horlock, and
+she turned the shoulders of her horse to the light.
+
+"We will not go into that question, Mrs. Horlock. I confine myself to
+what has happened, and I say I was treated unjustly, most shamefully;
+and when I have been cast aside like an old hat, I hear indirectly
+that it can be made up again. I have borne quite enough, and will bear
+no more. Old Brookes came down to my studio with that cad Berkins, and
+forced his way in, and then forbade me the house because my dog bit
+Berkins's thigh. I couldn't help it. What did he attack me for? He
+didn't suppose a bull-dog would be still while his master was being
+knocked on the head."
+
+"What should a common City man know about dogs? He wouldn't sign the
+petition when I asked him, to Sir Charles Warren, to cancel the
+regulations about muzzling."
+
+"And then they set a report going that I had set the dog on, and if I
+hadn't set it on, that I hadn't called him off. As if I could! You
+know what a bull-dog is, Mrs. Horlock? Is a highly-bred dog likely to
+let go when he has fixed his teeth in the fleshy part of a thigh? The
+Brookes are old friends of mine, and I wouldn't say a word against
+them for the world; but of course it is as obvious to you as it is to
+me that they are not quite the thing. I mean--you know--I would not
+think of comparing them with the Southdown Road; but there is a little
+something. City people are not the Peerage; there's no use saying they
+are. Mount Rorke was upset; but I would not give in, and I think I
+should have won his consent in the long run. After all I have borne
+for her sake I think I might expect better treatment than to be thrown
+over, as I have said, like an old hat; and I don't mind telling you
+that I do not intend to be made a fool of in this matter; I shall turn
+a very deaf ear to stories of a broken heart and failing health. I
+shall not cease to think of Maggie. I loved her once very deeply, and
+I should have loved her always if--But tell me, General. You know I
+will not repeat anything."
+
+"I advise you to say no more, Reggie. I will not be mixed up in any
+scandal. I shall leave the room. Sally is dining here to-night; she is
+only too anxious to talk of her sister. If Mr. Escott will stay and
+take pot-luck with us, he will no doubt hear everything there is to
+hear in the course of the evening."
+
+"What have we got for dinner, Ethel? I know we have got a leg of
+mutton, and there is some curry."
+
+"Your dinners are always excellent, Mrs. Horlock. I shall be delighted
+to stay. Here is Sally. Oh, how do you do, Sally? We were talking of
+you."
+
+"I'm afraid every one is talking of me, now," she whispered, and the
+big girl passed over to Mrs. Horlock and kissed her. "How is it that
+no one has seen anything of you lately?" she said, taking the seat
+next him. "What have you been doing?"
+
+"Nothing in particular. But I want to ask you about Maggie. I hear she
+is very ill."
+
+Perceiving that his tone did not bespeak a loving mood, Sally's face
+brightened, and she became at once voluble and confidential.
+
+"Oh, we have been having no end of a time at home. Father has been
+speaking of selling the place and leaving Southwick."
+
+"Speaking of selling the place and leaving Southwick! And where does
+he think of going to live, and what is the reason of this?"
+
+"Oh, the reason! I suppose he would say I was the reason; and where
+heis going to live, that is not settled yet--probably one of the big
+London hotels. He says everybody is laughing at him, and that when he
+meets the young men at the station he can see them laughing at him
+over their newspapers, for, according to father, they have all flirted
+with us. Maggie has been saying all kinds of things against me, and I
+am afraid that the Southdown Road people have been writing him
+anonymous letters again. Some one--I don't know who it is--I wish I
+did--has been telling him the most shocking things about Jimmy Meason
+and me; things in which I assure you there is not a word of truth. You
+know yourself that we have hardly spoken for nearly two years; last
+year, it is true, we made it up a bit in your studio, but it didn't
+last long. I don't think I saw him twice afterwards, and never alone--
+and now to have everything that happened two years ago raked up and
+thrown in my face! I don't say I haven't--I don't know what you'd call
+it, I suppose you'd call it spooning. I admit I infinitely preferred
+walking about the garden with a young man to sitting in the drawing-
+room and doing woolwork. I was a silly little fool then, but I do
+think it hard that all this should be raked up now. I don't know what
+will happen. Maggie pretends to be frightened at me; 'tis only her
+nonsense to set father against me. She won't dress herself, and she
+walks about with her hair down her back, wringing her hands."
+
+"But what does she say? This is very bewildering. I don't understand--
+I am quite lost."
+
+"The fact is that Maggie doesn't know what she is saying, so I suppose
+I oughtn't to blame her. She is a little off her head, that's the
+truth of it; but you mustn't say I said so, it will get me into worse
+trouble than I am already in. She was like that once before, and had
+to be put in the charge of a lady who was in the habit of dealing with
+excitable people. I don't mean lunatics, don't run away with that
+notion. I don't know what would happen if it got about that I was
+putting that about. Maggie is very excitable, and she has been
+exciting herself a great deal lately--you were the principal cause.
+She did all she could to get you to make it up when you met her here
+at dinner--the dinner was given for that--but you said nothing about
+it, and she came home in an awful state, accusing every one of
+combining to ruin her. She said I was jealous of her, that I was wild
+with fear that she would one day be Lady Mount Rorke. She said father
+had done everything to break off her marriage, because he did not like
+parting with his money. She had set her heart on being married, and it
+was a terrible disappointment. She has been disappointed two or three
+times. Father doesn't know what to do. Her thoughts seem to run on
+that one subject. She walks about the garden saying the most
+extraordinary things."
+
+"But tell me about the illness."
+
+"I don't know if I ought to tell you."
+
+"Oh, do!"
+
+"I don't know how to say it. She used to say she longed to become a
+mother."
+
+"Longed to become a mother? Well, that is the last thing--"
+
+"You know what I mean."
+
+"But tell me about the illness."
+
+"I should call it more than being a little excited, but of course she
+isn't mad. She has, however, the most curious notions. She is always a
+little too imaginative at the best of times; at least, I find her so,
+but now her delusions are really too absurd, and, as I have said, the
+worst of it is that her thoughts run on that one thing; it really is
+most unfortunate. Poor father."
+
+"But what are her delusions?"
+
+"Well, I scarcely know how to tell you."
+
+"Try; anything can be told. It depends how it is told."
+
+"She thinks that the coachman has spread it all over Southwick--how
+shall I say it? I don't know that I ought to tell you. Well, that she
+has gone wrong with you and Berkins. I thought I should die of
+laughing--the idea of Berkins was too funny for words."
+
+"But your father doesn't believe it?"
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"He doesn't suspect me, I hope?"
+
+"No; I am sure he doesn't. He knows Maggie doesn't know what she is
+saying. But he was dreadfully put out about Berkins; he is frightened
+out of his wits lest he should hear of it. But for goodness' sake
+don't mention that I said anything to you about it; I am in trouble
+enough as it is. Father says he can stand it no longer. I am very much
+afraid that he will leave Southwick. It depends on what Aunt Mary
+says. He has sent for her; she will be here to-morrow."
+
+These family councils were held in the billiard-room, and when Aunt
+Mary and Aunt Hester had had their tea they came along the passage,
+Aunt Mary of course in front, Aunt Hester timid and freckled and with
+her usual air of tracts. Uncle James stood with his back to the fire
+waiting for them. Willy caught at his hair, but an expression of
+resignation overspread his face, he packed his diary and accounts in
+brown paper and lit a pipe.
+
+"Now, James, let us hear about these new troubles. Something must be
+done, that is clear."
+
+"Yes, something must be done, Mary, and I can think of nothing for it
+but to leave this place. It is no longer a place for me to live in.
+The Southdown Road has proved too strong for me, it has conquered me."
+
+"Don't speak like that, James. We must try to bear our burdens, if not
+for our own sakes, for the sake of Him who died for us. He bore a very
+heavy cross for us."
+
+"There's no use in talking to me like that, Hester, you only provoke
+me. You forget what a cross two daughters are, and the Southdown Road
+has become intolerable. It is more than any man can bear; I will bear
+it no longer. I have borne it long enough, and am determined to get
+rid of it. I am afraid there's nothing for it but to sell the place
+and go and live in London."
+
+Aunt Hester cast her eyes into her satchel, afraid even to think that
+her brother had intentionally misinterpreted her words; but Aunt Mary
+laughed at the idea of the slonk-hill, as a latter-day Golgotha, with
+poor Uncle James staggering beneath the weight of the Southdown Road,
+young men and all, upon him. It was very irreverent. He burst into
+tears, Hester moved to leave the room, but was restrained by her
+sister.
+
+"My position is a most unfortunate one; since the death of poor Julia
+I have had no one to turn to, there has been no restraining influence
+in this house. Here am I working all day long in the City for those
+girls, and when I come home in the evening I find my house full of
+people I don't know. I assure you, Mary, I don't know any of the
+people who come to my house. I am consulted in nothing. It is not
+fair--I say it is not fair; and at my death those girls will have
+thirty thousand pounds a-piece."
+
+"I knew you had the money, James, I knew you had," exclaimed Aunt
+Mary, and even Aunt Hester could not help casting a look of admiration
+on her weeping brother.
+
+"I say it is not fair; a man of my money should have a comfortable
+home to return to. Even the Southdown Road people have that; but no
+consideration is shown to me. My dinner is put back so that Sally may
+continue her flirtation with Meason in the slonk. Did any one ever
+hear of such a thing? A man's dinner put back so that--that--that--"
+
+"Yes, we know all about the dinner being put back; that was three
+years ago."
+
+"Why," Mr. Brookes asked himself, "had he invited his sisters to his
+help?" He was only adding bitterness to his bitter cup. "You have no
+sympathy, Mary," he went on; "you cannot understand the difficulties
+of my position--these two girls are for ever quarrelling and fighting;
+sometimes they are not even on speaking terms, but I think I prefer
+their sullen looks to their violence. Sally threatened to knock her
+sister down if she interfered with her young men."
+
+"What, again?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know if she has threatened to beat her lately. I don't
+remember when was the last time. Their various rows are all jumbled up
+in my head. All I know is that Maggie says she cannot live in the
+house with Sally. Maggie is very ill, she is in a very excited state,
+as she was once before, when I would not consent to her marriage with
+--I have forgotten his name, but it doesn't matter. Now she won't dress
+herself, and she walks about the house with her hair hanging down. I
+know there is nothing for it but to send her away under the charge of
+some lady who has had experience in such matters. She can't remain
+here. She has the strangest delusions. Among other things, she fancies
+the coachman has spread it all over Southwick that she has gone wrong
+with Berkins and that fellow Escott. Just fancy if Berkins--a ten
+thousand a year man--should hear of it! I don't know what he would
+say. He would peg into me; he is at times very hard indeed upon me. I
+don't say he is not a first-rate man of business, I know he has made
+several excellent investments; but for all that I do not and cannot
+think him competent to advise me on all my affairs, and that's what he
+is always doing. He talks of putting down that Southdown Road. I
+should like to see how he would set about doing it."
+
+"James, Maggie must go away; she is very highly organised, very
+sensitive, and if she were to remain here, Sally might have a real
+effect on her mind. It is clear the sisters don't get on together;
+have you had medical advice? I told you before that you should have
+medical advice about those girls; I told you to spare no expense, but
+to go to a first-rate London physician and take his opinion. I said
+before, and I say it again, that no girls in good health could carry
+on as dear Sally, and I will include dear Maggie; for although she
+does not defy you to the same extent, there is no doubt that she is
+too fast, too fond of young men; her thoughts run too much in that
+way, and now she is ill, of course she has delusions. You ought to
+have medical advice."
+
+"Mary, dear, the body is not everything; to cure the flesh you must
+first cure the soul. I believe our dear nieces rarely, if ever, attend
+church, rarely, if ever, remember that this life is not eternal and
+that there is a hereafter."
+
+The conversation came to a pause. Presently Aunt Mary asked Willy, who
+sat resigned to his fate, calm and solemn as a Buddha, his hands
+clasped over his rotund stomach, if he thought that Maggie's state was
+one to cause immediate anxiety, to which he replied: "My sisters think
+of nothing but pleasure. The trouble girls are in a house is more than
+any one would believe. Here I am, I can do nothing; every night it is
+the same thing, over and over again." And the lean man lapsed into
+contemplation.
+
+"But to come to the point, James, I want to hear about Sally. You said
+in your letter that a great deal had come to light, and that you now
+find that her conduct has been worse than you had ever imagined it,
+even in your moments of deepest dejection. Now, I want to hear about
+all this. What has she done? Let's have it in plain English. What has
+she done?"
+
+"To put it plainly, Mary," said Mr. Brookes, wiping his tears away,
+and turning his back upon his Goodall, "I don't know what she hasn't
+done--everything. She is at the present moment the talk of Southwick.
+The doctor here has seen her in the field at the back here with Meason
+at nine o'clock at night."
+
+"Why did you allow her to leave the house at that hour? No young girl--
+"
+
+"She always takes her dogs out in the evening; I cannot prevent her
+doing that. It appears, too, that she has had Meason up in her
+bedroom."
+
+"O James, you do not mean to say that my dear niece had a man in her
+bedroom!"
+
+"Hester, dear, you have lived in a rectory and know nothing of the
+world. She says it isn't a bedroom. She pushes the bed away in the
+daytime, and covers it up to make it look like a couch. Besides, she
+keeps birds in her room, and Flossy had her puppies there. I am not
+excusing her conduct, pray do not think that, I am only telling you
+what she says."
+
+"This is very serious. Are you quite sure? Perhaps she only meant to
+show the young man her birds or puppies. Her spirit must be broken, I
+can clearly see that."
+
+"I allow them, as you know, one hundred pounds a year apiece. Maggie
+keeps none, but Sally always keeps accurate accounts of what she
+spends. I asked to see those accounts, for I had heard she had been
+giving her money to Meason, and she refused to let me see them. There
+is a sum of twenty pounds for which she can give no explanation. Then
+it is well known she gave a set of diamond studs to that fellow, and
+that he pledged them for five pounds in Brighton. He boasted he had
+done so, and said he intended to get plenty of money out of me before
+he had done with me. After that I ask you, how can I live in this
+place? When I go to the station in the morning I see these young
+fellows laughing at me over the tops of their newspapers. When I come
+home of an evening after a hard day's work, I find that my dinner--"
+
+"Her spirit must be broken," said Aunt Mary, drawing her shawl about
+her, and crossing her hands. "Her spirit must be broken; she cannot be
+allowed to remain here to drive dear Maggie into a lunatic asylum. I
+am with you in that, James, but I cannot think you did well to let
+Frank Escott slip through your fingers. Had you not talked so much
+about money your daughter might have been Lady Mount Rorke."
+
+"Talked too much about my money? Who would talk about it, I should
+like to know, if I didn't? I made it all myself. What do I care for
+that lot--a stuck-up lot, pooh, pooh! twist them all round my finger.
+I am not going to give my daughter to a man who cannot make a
+settlement upon her."
+
+Seeing he was not to be moved in anything that concerned his pocket,
+Aunt Mary returned to the consideration of what was to be done with
+Sally. "From what you tell me it is clear that Sally must not remain
+in Southwick a day longer than can be helped. I will take her with me
+to Woburn; and I think she had better go abroad as soon as we can hear
+of some one in whose charge we can place her. But it must not be a sea
+voyage--there is nothing more dangerous than to be on board a ship for
+a young girl who is at all inclined to be fast. All are thrown so much
+together. The cabins open out one into the other, and there is always
+a looking for something--a handkerchief, a bunch of keys, a lot of
+stooping and playing, twiddling of moustaches," said Aunt Mary, with a
+peal of laughter.
+
+"Mary, dear, we should not speak lightly of wickedness."
+
+"It was so that all the mischief was done when Emily Evans was sent
+out to the Cape--it was all done on board a ship. You remember the
+Evanses, James?--you ought to, you used to flirt pretty desperately
+with Lucy, the younger sister." And then Aunt Mary rattled off into
+interminable tales concerning the attachment contracted on board a
+ship in particular, its unfortunate consequences, how it brought about
+a divorce later on by sowing the seeds of passion (Aunt Mary always
+pronounced the word "passion" in her narratives with strong emphasis),
+in the young girl's heart; and at various stages of her discourse she
+introduced fragments of the family history of the Evanses; she
+followed the wanderings of the different sisters from Homburg to
+Paris, from Paris to Scotland, from Scotland to the Punjab, explaining
+their different temperaments by heredity, which led her back into the
+obscure and remote times of grandfathers and grandmothers, and, having
+finally lost herself, she said: "What was I talking about? You have
+been listening to me, James, what was I talking about?"
+
+Till the end of a week the discussion was continued. Aunt Mary tried
+hard to reconcile all parties to their different lots, and, as is
+usual in such cases, without attaining any result. And yet Aunt Mary
+went with her sister to see Frank in his studio. Willy accompanied
+them, and when they left he complained bitterly of how his time was
+wasted. "Regularly every evening, just as I am sitting down to work, I
+hear them coming along the passage. First of all they go to get their
+grog--squeak, squeak, pop. I know it all so well. Then they come in
+with their tumblers, and they sit down on the sofa, and they begin.--I
+don't know what is to be done with dear Sally, unless we can send her
+abroad in the care of some relation. How is dear Maggie to-day? I hope
+I shall be able to induce her to put on her frock to-morrow, and come
+for a drive with me in the carriage. What a trouble young girls are in
+the house, to be sure. Then father begins to groan, and pulls out his
+handkerchief; he is quite alone, he has no one he can depend upon,
+then he laughs, 'Well, well, I suppose it will be all the same a
+hundred years hence.' So it goes on night after night. Here am I
+starting a big business, and I haven't a room to work in. Just as I am
+adding up a long column of figures, perhaps when I am within three of
+the top, Aunt Mary asks me a question, and it has to be gone over
+again. It is most provoking, there's no denying that it is most
+provoking." Frank agreed that nothing could be more provoking than to
+be interrupted when you were within three of the top of a long column
+of figures. On the following day he heard that the aunts had left,
+taking Sally with them. They had promised their brother to find a lady
+who would take dear Maggie under her care--one who would soon wean her
+from dressing-gowns and delusions, and restore her to staid remarks
+and stays; and hopes were entertained that the Manor House would not
+have to be sold after all.
+
+But many days had not sped when an event occurred that precipitated
+the five acres into the jaws of the builders. Meason had sailed for
+Melbourne, and his sister, thinking that some of Sally's letters might
+be of use to Mr. Brookes, offered to surrender them upon the receipt
+of a cheque for one hundred pounds--a very modest sum, she urged,
+considering the character of the letters, most of which concerned
+artfully laid plans to meet in the train going or coming from London.
+Mr. Brookes called on the shade of dear Julia, but he was not a man to
+be blackmailed--he had made all his money himself, and on that point
+was immovable. He prepared to leave Southwick. He looked fondly on his
+glass-houses, and despairingly on his Friths, Goodalls, and
+Bouguereaus, and he wondered if they would look as well in the new
+rooms as in the old, and what sum they would realise if he were to
+include them in the auction; for an auction was necessary. Mr. Brookes
+did not thus decide to abandon his acres without many a sob, nor is it
+certain that the final step would have been taken if the gentle
+builder had not gilded his insidious hand, and if certain rumours were
+not about that the villas in the Southdown Road were not letting, and
+that Southwick would never be anything but what it was, a dirty little
+village--half suburb, half village.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+
+Frank was grieved and troubled at the sad accounts that came to him of
+Maggie's health; he was perplexed, too, for he knew himself to be the
+cause, and he longed to relieve and to cure her. It seemed to him that
+he would give his life to go to her, and comfort her with love, and
+yet he was impotent to make the least effort to attain the end he
+desired. He lay in the sad and cruel memory of Lizzie, his mind filled
+with ignoble visions of her life with the waiter, or with delicate
+fancies of her beauty amid the summer of the Thames. He mused on her
+gracious figure and face, illuminated by reflections from the water,
+set off by the bulrushes and floating blossoms which she so eagerly
+coveted, and varied by the movements of the waist and shoulders, the
+round white arm, the trailing scarf, and all the wistful charm of the
+slumbering evening. He thought of the country light, the sound and
+smell of cows, of the sparrows in the vine, the cottage looking so
+cosy amid the foliage, the bit of garden full of old-fashioned
+flowers, tall lilies, convolvuluses, and marigolds, and the sitting-
+room full of things belonging to her--her flowers, her books, her
+music, and he thought of this until his life was sick with desire, and
+there grew a burning pain about his heart.
+
+A man's struggles in the web of a vile love are as pitiful as those of
+a fly in the meshes of the spider; he crawls to the edge, but only to
+ensnare himself more completely; he takes pleasure in ridiculing her,
+but whether he praises or blames, she remains mistress of his life;
+all threads are equally fatal, and each that should have served to
+bear him out of the trap only goes to bind him faster. A man in love
+suggests the spider's web, and when he is seeking to escape from a
+woman that will degrade his life, the cruelty which is added completes
+and perfects the comparison. A man's love for a common woman is as a
+fire in his vitals; sometimes it seems quenched, sometimes it is torn
+out by angry hands, but always some spark remains; it contrives to
+unite about its victim, and in the end has its way. It is a cancerous
+disease, but it cannot be cut out like a cancer. It is more deadly; it
+is inexplicable. All good things, wealth and honour, are forfeited for
+it; long years of toil, trouble, privation of all kinds, are willingly
+accepted; on one side all the sweetness of the world, on the other
+nothing of worth, often vice, meanness, ill-temper, all that go to
+make life a madness and a terror; twenty, thirty, forty, perhaps fifty
+years lie a head of him and her, but the years and their burdens are
+not for his eyes any more than the flowers he elects to disdain. Love
+is blind, but sometimes there is no love. How then shall we explain
+this inexplicable mystery; wonderful riddle that none shall explain
+and that every generation propounds?
+
+Frank lingered in Southwick, for he had promised Willy to stay with
+him when he went to live at the stables on the Portslade Road. Summer
+was nearly over, hunting would soon commence, and he could keep a
+couple of hunters--Willy had calculated it out--for two and twenty
+shillings a week. He had ceased to paint, and when he went to the
+studio it was to play the piano or the violin. None knew of Lizzie,
+and all knew of Maggie. It was thought a little strange that he would
+not forgive her, but the obscurity of the story of this point and the
+delight felt in her misfortune helped to intensify and idealise Frank
+in the popular mind, and when he played Gounod in the still evenings
+the young ladies would steal from the villas and wander sentimentally
+through the shadows about the green. He got up late in the morning, he
+lingered over breakfast, and until it was time to go to Brighton he
+lay on the sofa watching the cricketers and the children playing,
+shaping resolutions, and striving with himself and deceiving himself.
+A dozen times, a hundred times, he had concluded he must see Maggie;
+he had decided he would write to Lord Mount Rorke, that he would go to
+Mr. Brookes and settle the matter off-hand. But, somehow, he did
+nothing. His mind was absorbed in a novel, which he narrated when
+Willy came to see him. It concerned the accident that led a man not to
+marry the woman he loved, and was in the main an incoherent version of
+his own life at Southwick.
+
+"I don't think I told you," said Willy, "that they are removing the
+furniture to-day."
+
+"You don't say so--to-day? And where is your father?"
+
+"He is in London, at the 'Metropole.'"
+
+The young men walked on slowly in silence, and when they came to the
+lodge gate, standing wide open, and saw the curtainless windows and
+the flowerless greenhouses, Willy said: "It is very sad to see all the
+things you have known since you were a child sold by auction."
+
+"Oh, yes, it is. Look at the swards. Do they not look sad already?
+Those beautiful elms, under whose shade we have sat, will be cut down,
+and stucco work and glass porticoes take their places. Oh, it is very
+sad."
+
+"My father never had any feeling, he never cared for the place. Had I
+been in his place I should have invested my money in land and gone in
+for the county families."
+
+"How old was I when I came down to see you for the first time--
+fourteen, I think? How well I remember everything. It was there, look,
+through that glade, that I saw your sisters coming to meet me, they
+were then only ten or eleven years old. I can see them in my mind's
+eye, quite distinctly, walking towards me, Grace leading the way, and
+now she is a mother; and they were all so dark. I remember thinking I
+had never seen girls so dark, they were like foreigners. And do you
+remember how your father scolded Sally for carrying me round the
+garden on her back, and she used to wake me up in the mornings by
+rolling croquet balls along the floor into my room. Oh, what good,
+dear days those were, and to think they are dead and gone, and that
+the house is going to be pulled down; and the garden--oh! the
+moonlights in that garden, where I walked with the girls, with scarves
+round their shoulders, through the dreamy light and shade. We have
+sung songs, and talked of all manner of things. You don't feel as I
+feel."
+
+"Yes I do, my dear fellow, I think I feel a great deal more, only I
+don't talk so much about it."
+
+"I know it is infinitely sad. This dear old wall! There is Maggie's
+window: how often have I looked up to that window for her winsome
+face, and I shall never look again."
+
+"You are as bad as my father. Cheer up; I suppose it will be all the
+same a hundred years hence."
+
+"No, no, it won't be the same. Why should all I feel and love be
+forgotten. I suppose it will be all the same. There goes Berkins. I
+hate that man."
+
+"So do I."
+
+"If time takes away pleasant things it takes unpleasant things too,
+and those who live a hundred years hence will not be troubled with
+that fool. True, there will be other Berkinses, and there will be
+other gardens, and other girls, but that doesn't make it the least
+less sad to see this garden pass into bricks and mortar."
+
+Two footmen approached Mr. Berkins, and with all solemnity helped him
+to take off his overcoat. He said a few words to Willy, and was soon
+loudly ordering the workmen who were taking the Goodalls and the
+Friths from the walls.
+
+"Take care, there! Hi, you! get on the ladder and take hold of this
+end of the picture. There, that's better! That's the way to do it!"
+
+"That's what he said when he shot my bird," Willy whispered; and they
+tried to laugh as they went upstairs. But their footsteps sounded
+hollow, and the wardrobes, where they had so often put their clothes,
+stood wide open, desolately empty. They looked out of the windows, and
+heard the voices of the work-people.
+
+"How very sad it is," said Frank; then, after a long silence: "How
+beautiful a scene like this would be in a book--a young girl leaving
+her home, straying through the different rooms musing on the different
+pieces of furniture, all of which recall the past. I think I shall
+write it. I wish you would tell me what you feel; I mean, I wish you
+would tell me what impresses itself most on your mind, and, as it
+were, epitomises the whole. You have known all this since you were a
+child. You have played in these passages; some spot, some piece of
+furniture, your toys--I suppose they are gone long ago; but something
+must stand out and assert itself amid conflicting thoughts. Do tell
+me."
+
+Willy stroked his moustache. "Of course it is very sad, but it is
+difficult to put one's feelings into words. I should have to think
+about it; I don't think I could say off-hand."
+
+At that moment there came a great crash.
+
+"What the devil is that?" cried Frank.
+
+"I hope they haven't broken the statue of Flora," said Willy, and a
+look of alarm overspread his face. Frank felt that if such were the
+case he should feel no great sorrow. They ran down the echoing stairs.
+The workmen had got drunk in the cellars and in removing the statue
+they had let it fall, and it strewed the floor--an arm here, a
+fragment of drapery there.
+
+"I knew what would happen. I told Mr. Brookes so. All my statues are
+in marble."
+
+"Come away, I can't listen to that cad. I wouldn't have had Flora
+broken for a hundred pounds. When I was a child I used to stand and
+look at her. I never could make out how she was made, and I always
+wanted to look inside. If you'd like to know what I feel most sorry
+for, it is Flora. She has stood amid the flowers in the bow window as
+long as I can remember."
+
+They followed the high road by Windmill Inn, where they struck across
+the Downs, and when they reached the first crest they could see the
+paddocks and enclosures situated along the road in the valley, and the
+private house so trim and middle-class. "Splendid paddocks and first-
+rate stabling. The house is not much. When I am making fifteen per
+cent. on my money I shall go in for a little architecture. If I had a
+glass I could show you Blue Mantle's stable. Do you see two horses in
+the paddock, right away on the left, in the far corner--Apple Blossom
+and Astarte? Apple Blossom is by See-saw out of Melody, by Stockwell
+out of Fairy Queen. Is that good enough for you? Astarte is by Blue
+Gown out of Merry Maid, by Beadsman out of Aurora. What do you say to
+that?"
+
+"I see you have been looking up the Stud Book."
+
+"Business, sir, business. And if I were to go in for owning a racer or
+two, just look and see what a magnificent training ground; miles upon
+miles of downland. Did you ever see a handsomer view? You must paint
+me some landscapes for my dining-room."
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+
+"The pain is always here--just over the heart. You know what I mean?
+Suddenly, when I am thinking of other things, the sound of her voice
+and the sight of her face comes upon me, and then a dead, weary ache.
+I know I cannot have her, perhaps if I did I shouldn't be wholly glad;
+but glad or sorry, good fortune or ill, I cannot forget her. My life
+will not be complete. You have felt all this."
+
+"Never mind how I felt, you know I don't like talking about it. I am
+sorry for you. We all have our troubles, I've had nothing else; I
+often think that if I were to die to-morrow it would be a happy
+release."
+
+"If I had never seen her, or if I had married Maggie; if your father
+had not put obstacles in the way; if he had not raised the wretched
+money question, which you know as well as I do was dragged in quite
+unnecessarily, I should not be suffering now. For, once married, I
+should think of no one but my wife. I am sure I should make a good
+husband. I know I could make a woman happy; she'll never find a
+husband better than she'd have found in me, I don't believe if they
+were to be made that you could make a better husband than I should be
+--I feel it."
+
+"I have always said that my father brings all his troubles on himself.
+He never went in for the country people; he never would have people at
+the Manor House. You can't shut up young girls as if they were in a
+convent, and if they don't get the right people they'll have the wrong
+people. My father thinks of nothing but his money, and he can't
+understand that he might go for an equivalent. How could he have
+expected it to have turned in your case but as it did? Lord Mount
+Rorke was not going to come over to Southwick to haggle over pounds,
+shillings, and pence with him--not likely. My sisters might have
+married very well if he had gone the right way to work, and he would
+have been saved a deal of worry and bother. I always say that my
+father brings all his troubles on himself."
+
+"So far as I was concerned he certainly acted very stupidly. Ah, if I
+had married Maggie last summer, how different my life would be now."
+
+"But you couldn't have really loved her; if you had you would never--"
+
+"Yes, I did love her."
+
+"I heard from my father to-day. Maggie is better. This is, of course,
+a very delicate question, but we have been friends so long--would you
+like me to see if--if this matter could be arranged? I don't like, as
+you know, to meddle in other people's affairs, I have quite enough to
+do to look after my own; but if you would like--You, of course, do not
+think of marrying Lizzie Baker?"
+
+"Of course not."
+
+"Then you would like me to speak to my father? Are you willing? Would
+you like to marry Maggie?"
+
+"Yes, of course I should."
+
+"I don't say so because she is my sister, but I think it is the best
+thing you could do."
+
+They had traversed the paddock, and were close to the stables. Picking
+a few carrots out of a heap, they opened the door of Blue Mantle's
+box. The horse came towards them, his large eyes glancing, his
+beautiful crest arched. His coat shone like satin, his legs were as
+fine as steel, and with exquisite relish he drew the carrots from
+their hands.
+
+The perspective of the hills was prolonged upon fading tints, and in
+the pale blueness the mares feeding in the paddocks grew strangely
+solitary and distinct; the trees about the coast towns were blended in
+shadow, and out of the first stars fell a quiet peace.
+
+Their dinner awaited them--a little dinner, simple and humble. After
+dinner, when the lamp was brought in, Willy nursed the missus with
+affection and sincerity. Cissy sat on Frank's knee, and he told her
+stories and stroked her hair. This household retired at eleven. At ten
+every morning Willy was busy with his letters, his cheques, his
+accounts, and in the afternoon the young men walked about the fields
+talking of possible successes of the forthcoming breeding season, and
+so the days went. But the secret forces were busy about Frank's life.
+There were mines and counter-mines. Every fort of prejudice, every
+citadel of reason rested now upon foundations that quaked, and would
+fall at the first shock. Doom was about him. As the silence rustles in
+the deadly hush of the storm that brings winter upon the forest, he
+waited unconscious as a leaf in the imminence of the autumn moment;
+and in such a stillness, awaiting a change of soul, he received a
+letter from Lizzie. It dropped from his hand, and such desire to go as
+comes on swallow and cuckoo came on him; he struggled for a moment,
+and was sucked down in his passion.
+
+The little village--a summary of English life and custom, a symbol of
+the Saxon, the church steeple pointing through the elm trees, the
+villas with their various embellishment in the line of glass porticos
+and privet hedges, the General, Mrs. Horlick, Messrs Brookes and
+Berkins--how complete it seemed, how individual and how synthetical--
+his eyes filled with tears of unpremeditated grief. The leaves were
+falling, the hills were shrouded in wreaths of floating mist. Some
+trees had been cut down and scaffolding had been reared about the
+Manor House, some of the walls had already fallen revealing the wall
+paper, the pattern of which he could almost distinguish. He was going
+to the woman he loved, but he was leaving his youth behind, and those
+whom he had known as children, as girls, as women; he remembered all
+the gossip, all the quarrels, all the to-do about nothing; and now,
+looking on the beautiful garden where he had played and passioned in
+all varying moments of grief and glee, he re-lived the past; and
+leaning out of the carriage window he gazed fondly, and cried out:
+"Alas, those were Spring Days."
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, SPRING DAYS ***
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