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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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