diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-27 18:42:58 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-27 18:42:58 -0800 |
| commit | 9c9562b54b65fb9a1cfc7bbb1a70bc3a3fd02382 (patch) | |
| tree | 4ce971c9c76804b8ebd15c450b5c0cf091b37d4f | |
| parent | 7d668508cf9155eb170ae81873e95d10d7d35468 (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/60965-8.txt | 5129 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/60965-8.zip | bin | 100719 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/60965-h.zip | bin | 103263 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/60965-h/60965-h.htm | 5220 |
7 files changed, 17 insertions, 10349 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ce50138 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60965 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60965) diff --git a/old/60965-8.txt b/old/60965-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 7bfa106..0000000 --- a/old/60965-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5129 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's A Righted Wrong, Volume 2 (of 3), by Edmund Yates - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Righted Wrong, Volume 2 (of 3) - A Novel. - -Author: Edmund Yates - -Release Date: December 19, 2019 [EBook #60965] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A RIGHTED WRONG, VOLUME 2 (OF 3) *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the Web Archive - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Note: - 1. Page scan source: https://archive.org/details/rightedwrongnove - 02yate/page/n3?q=A+Righted+Wrong+byEdmund+Yates - (Library of the University of Illinois) - - - - - - -A RIGHTED WRONG. - - - - - - -A RIGHTED WRONG. -A Novel. - - -BY -EDMUND YATES, -AUTHOR OF -"BLACK SHEEP," "THE FORLORN HOPE," "BROKEN TO HARNESS," ETC. - - - - -IN THREE VOLUMES. -VOL. II. - - - - -LONDON: -TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18 CATHERINE ST., STRAND. -1870. - -[_All rights reserved_.] - - - - - - -LONDON: -ROBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W. - - - - - - -CONTENTS OF VOL. II. - -CHAP. -I. Day. -II. Full Compensation. -III. Three Letters. -IV. Hayes Meredith's Revelation. -V. Consultation. -VI. The Return. -VII. The Marriage. -VIII. Shadows. -IX. Family Affairs. -X. Margaret's Presentiment. -XI. After a Year. - - - - - -A RIGHTED WRONG. - - - - -CHAPTER I. -DAY. - - -It will probably be entirely unnecessary to inform the intelligent -reader what was the nature of the contents of the letter which James -Dugdale had handed to Mrs. Hungerford. Retrospect, present knowledge, -or anticipation will convey a sufficiently accurate perception of it -to all the readers of this story. - -The writing of that letter was the result of a long and entirely -unreserved conversation which had taken place between Lady Davyntry -and her brother, after the last-recorded interview between the former -and Margaret. - -So entirely confident was Eleanor of Mr. Baldwin's feelings and -intentions, that she no longer hesitated to speak to him on the matter -nearest her heart from any apprehension of defeating her own purpose -by precipitation. - -In the doubts and fears, in the passionate and painful burst of -reminiscence which had given her added insight into Margaret's nature. -Lady Davyntry had seen, far more plainly than Margaret,--or at least -than ever she had confessed to herself,--that a new love, a fresh -hope, had come to her. The very strife of feeling which she confessed -and described betrayed her to the older woman, whose wisdom, though -rather of the heart than of the understanding, was true in this case. - -"It will never do to let her brood over this sort of thing," said Lady -Davyntry to herself with decision. "The more time she has to think -over it, the more danger there is of her working herself up into a -morbid state of mind, persuading herself that she ought to sacrifice -her own happiness, and make Fitz wretched, because she had the -misfortune to be married to a villain, and associated, through him, -with some very bad people--the more she will tax her memory and -torture her feelings, by trying to recall and realise all the past. I -can see that nature and her youth are helping her to forget it all, -and would do so, no doubt, if Fitz never existed; but she is trying to -resist the influence of nature, and to train herself to a state of -mind which is simply ruinous and absurd." - -So Lady Davyntry spoke to her brother that evening, and had the -satisfaction of finding that she had acted wisely in so doing. '"Don't -speak to her, Fitz," she said, towards the conclusion of their -conversation; "don't give her the chance of being impelled by such -feelings as she has acknowledged to me, to say no,--let her have time -to think about it." - -It was a position in which few men would have failed to look silly, -that of talking over a love affair, in the ante-proposal stage, with a -sister. But Mr. Baldwin was one of those men who never can be made to -look silly, who have about them an inborn dignity and entire -singleness of purpose which are effectual preservatives against the -faintest touch of the ridiculous in their words or actions. - -He had spoken frankly of his hopes, and of his grounds for -entertaining them, but the account his sister gave of Margaret's state -of mind troubled him sorely. Here Lady Davyntry again proved her -possession of sounder sense than many who knew her only slightly would -have believed she possessed. - -"It won't last," she assured her brother; "it is a false, phantasmal -state of feeling, and though it might grow more and more strong if -nothing were opposed to it, it will disappear before a true and -powerful feeling--rely upon it she will wonder at herself some day, -and be hardly able to realise that she ever gave way to this sort of -thing." - -Mr. Baldwin wrote the letter, the answer to which was to mean so much -to him; and Lady Davyntry enclosed it in a cover directed by herself. - -"I don't think my darling Margaret can have much doubt about how I -should regard this affair," she said, as she sealed the envelope with -such a lavish use of sealing wax in the enthusiasm of the moment, that -it swelled up all round the seal like liliputian pie-crust; "but -whatever she may have teased herself with fancying, she will know it -is all right when she sees that I enclose your letter. Some women -might take it into their heads to be annoyed because you had spoken to -another person of your feelings; but Margaret is too high-minded for -anything of that sort, and, rely upon it, she will be none the less -happy, if she promises to become your wife, that she will make me as -happy in proportion as yourself by the promise." - -At this stage, the impulsive Eleanor gave vent to her emotion by -hugging her brother heartily, and accompanying the embrace with a -shower of tears. - -Margaret remained where James Dugdale had left her standing with Mr. -Baldwin's letter in her hand. She did not break the seal, she did not -move, for several minutes,--then she picked up Lady Davyntry's -envelope, which had fluttered to the ground, and went into the house. - -Any one not so innocently absentminded as Mr. Carteret, or so -cheerfully full of harmless self-content of youth, health, and -unaccustomed leisure as Haldane Carteret, could hardly have failed to -notice that there was something strange in the looks and manner of two -of the little party who sat down that day to the dinner table at -Chayleigh, shorn of much of its formality since Mrs. Carteret had -ceased to preside over it. - -Margaret was paler than usual, but not with the pallor of -ill-health--the clear skin had no sallowness in its tint. - -To one accustomed to read the countenance which had acquired of late -so much new expression, and such a softening of the old one, the -indication of strong emotion would have been plain, in the pale cheek, -the lustrous, downcast eye, the occasional trembling of the small -lips, the absent, preoccupied gaze, the sudden recall of her attention -to the present scene, the forced smile when her father spoke to her, -and the unusual absence of interest and pleasure in Haldane's jokes, -which were sometimes good, but always numerous. - -James Dugdale sat at the table, quite silent, and did not even make -any attempt to eat. Margaret, with the superior powers of hypocrisy -observable in the female, affected, unnecessarily, to have a very good -appetite. The meal was a painful probation for them. - -It was so far from unusual for James to be ill and depressed, that -when Haldane had commented upon his silence and his want of appetite -in his usual off-hand fashion, and Mr. Carteret had lamented those -misfortunes, and digressed into speculation whether James had not -better have his dinner just before going to bed, because wild -beasts gorge themselves with food, and go to sleep immediately -afterwards,--no further notice was taken. - -It never occurred to Mr. Carteret or to Haldane that anything except -illness could ail James. Neither did it occur to one or the other to -notice that Margaret, usually so observant of James, so kind in her -attention to him, so sympathetic, who understood his "good days" and -his "bad days" so well, did not make the slightest remark herself, and -suffered theirs to pass without comment. - -She never once addressed James during dinner, nor did her glance -encounter his. Why? - -It had been Margaret's custom of late to sit with her father in his -study during the evening. Mr. Carteret and she would adjourn thither -immediately after dinner, and James and Haldane usually joined them -after a while. - -Margaret did not depart from her usual practice on this particular -evening, but she was not inclined to talk to her father. She settled -him into his particular chair, in his inevitable corner, and began to -read aloud to him, with more than her usual promptness. - -But somehow the reading was not successful, her voice was husky and -uncertain, and her inattention so obvious that it soon became -infectious, and Mr. Carteret found the effort of listening beyond him. -An unusually prolonged and unmistakable yawn, for which he hastened to -apologise, made the fact evident to Margaret. - -"I think we are both disinclined for reading to-night, papa," she said -as she laid aside her book, and took a low seat by her father's side. -"We will talk now for a while." - -"Very well, my dear," said the acquiescent Mr. Carteret. But Margaret -did not seem inclined to follow up her own proposition actively. She -sat still, dreamily silent, and her fingers played idly with the -fringe which bordered the chintz cover of her father's chair. At -length she said: - -"Papa, what do you think of Mr. Baldwin?" - -"What do I think of Mr. Baldwin, my dear?" repeated Mr. Carteret -slowly. "I think very highly of him indeed: a most accomplished young -man I consider him, and excessively obliging, I'm sure. I don't -flatter myself, you know, Margaret, with any notion that I am a -particularly delightful companion for any one; indeed, since our great -loss, I am best alone I think, or with you--with you, my dear," and -her father patted Margaret's head just as he had been used to pat it -when she was a little child; "and still, he seems to like being with -me, and takes the greatest interest in my collection. Excessively -liberal he is, too, and I can assure you very few collectors, however -rich they may be, are _that_. He has shared his magnificent specimens -of lepidoptera with me, and I have not another friend in the world who -would do that. Think of him?" said Mr. Carteret again, returning to -Margaret's question. "I think most highly of him. But why do you ask -me? Don't you think well of him yourself?" - -Margaret looked up hastily, dropped her eyes again, and said: - -"O yes, papa; I--I do, indeed; but I wanted to ask you, because----" -A quick tapping at the window interrupted her. Haldane stood outside, -and his sister left her seat and went to him. - -"Come out for a walk, Madge," he said. "James is queer this evening, -and says he will just give the governor half-an-hour, and then go to -bed. You don't want them both, do you, sir?" Haldane asked the -question with his head inside, and his body outside the window. "I -thought not. Here's James now." At that moment Mr. Dugdale entered the -room. "Come on; you can get your bonnet and shawl; the door is open." - -Margaret had not turned her face from the window, and she now stepped -out into the verandah. She had not seen the expression on James -Dugdale's face. Instinct caused her to avoid him. She had not yet -faced the subject in her own mind, she had not yet reckoned with -herself about it. - -"Has she written to him? Is he coming here? How is it?" - -These were the questions which repeated themselves in James's brain, -as he tried to talk to Mr. Carteret, and tried _not_ to follow the -footsteps of the woman whose way was daily deviating more and more -widely from his. - -The brother and sister walked down the terrace, and into the -pleasaunce together. - -Haldane had been exposed to the fascinations of the eldest Miss -Crofton for the last ten days or so, and, being rather defenceless -under such circumstances, though not, as he said of himself, "lady's -man," he was very likely to capitulate, unless some providential -occurrence furnished him with a change of occupation, and thus -diverted his mind. - -At present the eldest Miss Crofton--her papa, her mamma, her little -brother, a wonderfully clever child, and particularly fond of being -"taken round the lawn" on Haldane's horse, with only Haldane on one -side and his sister on the other to hold him on--her housekeeping -science, and her equestrian feats, afforded Haldane topics of -conversation of which Margaret showed no weariness. Her attention -certainly did wander a little, but Haldane did not perceive it. - -They had passed through the gate into the fields which bordered on -Davyntry, and Haldane had just pleaded for a little more time out, the -evening was so beautiful--adding his conviction that every woman in -the world was greedy about her tea, and that Margaret would not be -half so pale if she drank less of that pernicious decoction--when she -started so violently that he could not fail to perceive it. - -"What's the matter? he asked, in surprise. - -"Nothing," said Margaret. "There's--there's some one coming." - -"So there is," said Haldane, looking at a figure advancing quickly -towards them from the direction of Davyntry; "and it is Baldwin." - -The blood rushed violently into Margaret's cheeks, her feet were -rooted to the ground for a moment, as she felt the whole scene around -her grow indistinct; the next, she was meeting Mr. Baldwin with -composure which far surpassed his own, and in the first glance of her -candid eyes, which looked up at him shyly, but entirely with their -owner's will, he read the answer to his letter. - -"If you will take Margaret home to this important and ever-recurring -tea, Baldwin," said Haldane Carteret, "I will go on a little farther, -and smoke my cigar." - -He went away from them quickly, and saying to himself, "It is to be, I -think." - - - - -CHAPTER II. -FULL COMPENSATION. - - -It did not fall to Margaret Hungerford's lot to resume the topic of -her interrupted conversation with her father. Mr. Baldwin took that -upon himself, and so sped in his mission, that the old gentleman -declared himself happier than he had ever been in his life before; and -then, suddenly and remorsefully reminiscent of his late domestic -affliction, he added, "If only poor Sibylla were here with us to share -all this good fortune!" An aspiration which Mr. Baldwin could have -found it in his heart to echo, so full was that heart of joy. - -In the love of this man for Margaret there was so much of generous -kindness, such an intense desire to fill her life with a full and -compensating happiness, to efface the past utterly, and give her in -the present all that the heart of the most exacting woman could covet, -that he regarded his success with more than the natural and customary -exultation of a lover to whom "yes" has been said or rather implied. -That Margaret realised, or indeed understood, even in its broad -outlines, the alteration in the external circumstances of her life -which her becoming his wife would effect, he did not imagine; and he -exulted to an extent which he would hitherto have believed impossible -in the knowledge that he could give her wealth and position only -inferior to his love. - -Beyond a vague understanding that Mr. Baldwin was a very rich man for -a commoner, and that, as the property was entailed on heirs general, -Lady Davyntry would have it in the event of his dying childless, Mr. -Carteret had no clear notions about the position in which his -daughter's second marriage would place her, and Mr. Baldwin's -explanations rather puzzled and confounded the worthy gentleman. He -had shrunk as much as possible from realising to himself the -circumstances of Margaret's life in Australia, the disastrous -experiences of her first marriage, and he now showed his dread of them -chiefly by the complacency, the delight with which he dwelt upon the -happiness which he anticipated for her in the society of Mr. Baldwin, -so accomplished a man, so perfect a gentleman, and withal such a lover -of natural history. He was not disposed to take other matters deeply -into consideration, and it was chiefly Haldane with whom the -preliminaries of the marriage, which was to take place soon, and with -as little stir or parade as possible, were discussed. The young man's -exultation was extreme. He expressed his feelings pretty freely, after -his usual fashion, to everybody; but he reserved the full flow of his -delight for James Dugdale's special edification. - -"It isn't the correct thing to talk to Baldwin about, of course," he -said one day; "but I find it very hard to hold my tongue, when I think -of that ruffian Hungerford, and that it was through me she first saw -him, and got the chance of bringing misery on herself I long to tell -Baldwin all about him. But it wouldn't do. I wonder if he knows much -concerning him." - -"Nothing, I should say," returned James shortly,--he never could be -induced to say much when the topic of Margaret and her lover was in -any way under discussion,--but the unsuspecting Haldane, in whose eyes -James Dugdale, though a more interesting companion, was a contemporary -of his father, and in the "fogey" category, did not notice this -reluctance. - -"Well, I suppose not," said Haldane musingly. "It's a pity; for he -would understand what we all think about _him_, if he did; and I don't -see how he is to realise that otherwise." - -"Margaret will teach him how he is estimated," said James sadly. - -"I hope so," was Haldane's hearty and emphatic reply. "By Jove! it's a -wonderful thing, when you come to think of it, that anybody should -have things made up to them so completely as Madge is going to have -them made up. I don't mean only his money, you know. I wonder how she -will get on in Scotland, how she will play her part among the people -there. I daresay Baldwin's neighbours will not like her much; I -suppose the mothers in that part of the world looked upon him as their -natural prey." - -"I don't know about that," said James, "but I fancy Margaret will be -quite able to hold her own wherever she may go; she is the sort of -woman who may be safely trusted with wealth and station." - -This was by no means the only conversation which took place between -the ex-tutor and the ex-pupil on the subject then engrossing; the -attention of the families at Davyntry and Chayleigh; Haldane's -exuberant delight was apt to communicate itself after a similar -fashion very frequently, and altogether he subjected his friend just -then to a not inconsiderable amount of pain. - -During the few weeks which intervened before the period named, very -shortly after their engagement, for the marriage of Margaret -Hungerford and Fitzwilliam Baldwin, there was no approach on -Margaret's part to any confidential intercourse with James Dugdale. By -tacit mutual consent they avoided each other, and yet she never so -wronged in her thoughts the man who loved her with so disinterested a -love, as to believe him alienated from her, jealous of the good -fortune of another, or grudging to her of the happiness which was to -be hers. - -In the experience of her own feelings, in the engrossment of her own -heart and thoughts in the new and roseate prospects which had opened -suddenly before her, after her long wandering in dreary ways, she had -learned to comprehend James Dugdale. She knew now how patiently and -constantly he had loved and still loved her; she knew now what had -given him a prescient knowledge of her former self-sought doom; she -knew what had inspired the efforts he had made to avert it from her. -Inexpressible kindness and pity for him, painful gratitude towards -this man whom she never could have loved, filled Margaret's heart; but -she kept aloof from him. Explanation between them there could not -be--it would be equally bad for both. He who had so striven to avert -her misery would be consoled by her perfect happiness; in the time to -come, the blessed peaceful time, he should share it. - -So she and James lived in the usual close relation, and Mr. Carteret -and Haldane talked freely of the coming event, of the splendid -prospects opening before Margaret; but never a word was spoken -directly between the two. - -A strongly appreciative friendship had sprung up between Mr. Baldwin -and James Dugdale. The elder man regarded the younger without one -feeling of envy of the good looks, the good health, the physical -activity,--in all which he was himself deficient,--but with a thorough -comprehension of the difference between them which they constituted, -and an almost womanish admiration of one so richly dowered by nature. - -Since Mr. Baldwin's engagement to Margaret,--though James had loyally -forced himself to utter the congratulations of whose truth and meaning -none could form a truer estimate than he,--there had been little -intercourse between them. Mr. Baldwin now claimed Margaret as his -chief companion during his daily and lengthy visits to Chayleigh; and -she, with all a woman's tact and instinctive delicacy, quietly aided -the unobserved severance between himself and James, of which her lover -was wholly unconscious. - -So the time--a time of such exceeding and incredible happiness to -Margaret, that not all her previous experience of the delusions of -life could avail to check the avidity with which she enjoyed every -hour of it, and listened with greedy ears to every promise and -protestation for the future--went on. - -On one point only she found she was not to have her own wishes carried -out, wishes shared to the utmost by Mr. Baldwin. Her father did not -take kindly to the idea of leaving Chayleigh. His reasons were -amusingly characteristic. - -"You see, my dear," he said, when the matter had been urged upon him, -with every kind of plea and prayer by Margaret, and with respectful -earnestness by Mr. Baldwin, "I should never feel quite myself, I -should never feel quite comfortable away from my collection. You, my -dear Margaret, never had any great taste in that way, and of course -you don't understand it; but there's Baldwin, now. You wouldn't like -to part with your collection, would you? You have a great many other -reasons for liking the Deane, of course, besides that; but considering -only that, you would not like it?" - -"Good heavens, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Baldwin, "how could you imagine -such a thing as that we ever dreamed of parting you and your -collection? Why, we should as soon have thought of asking you to leave -your arms or legs after you. Of course you'll move your collection to -the Deane; there's room for a dozen of the size." - -Mr. Carteret was a little put out, not exactly annoyed, but _gêné_; -and Margaret, who understood him perfectly, stopped her lover's flow -of protestation and proposal by a look, and they soon left him to -himself; whereupon Mr. Carteret immediately summoned James, and -imparted to him the nature of the conversation which had just taken -place. - -"Baldwin is the very best fellow in the world, James," said the old -gentleman in a confidential tone; "but, between you and me, we -collectors and lovers of natural history are rather odd in our ways; -we have our little peculiarities, and our little jealousies, and our -little envies. You know I would not deny Baldwin's good qualities; and -he has been very generous too in giving me specimens; but I have a -kind of notion, for all that, that he would have no objection to my -collection finding its way to the Deane." - -Here Mr. Carteret looked at James Dugdale, as if he had made a -surprisingly deep discovery; and James Dugdale had considerable -difficulty in concealing his amusement. - -"Now you can, I am sure, quite understand that, however I may -appreciate Baldwin, I have no fancy for seeing my collection, after -working at it all these years, merged in another--merged, my dear -James!" - -And Mr. Carteret's tone grew positively irate, while he tapped -Dugdale's arm impatiently with his long fingers. - -"But, sir," said James, "I quite understand all that; but how about -parting with Margaret? If she is to be at the Deane, hadn't you better -be there also? She is of more importance to you than even your -collection, is she not?" - -"Well, yes, in a certain sense," said the old gentleman, rather -dubiously and reluctantly; "in a certain sense, of course she is; but, -then, I can go to the Deane when I like, and she can come here when -she likes; and so long as I know she is happy (and she cannot fail to -be _happy_ this time), I don't so much mind. But I really could not -part with my collection; and if it were moved and merged, I should -feel I had parted with it. No, no, Margery and Baldwin will be great -companions for each other, and they will do very well without us, -James; we will just stay quietly here in the old place, and I am sure -Haldane will undertake not to move my collection when I am gone." - -Immediately after this conversation, Mr. Carteret applied himself with -great assiduity to the precious pursuit which, in the great interest -of the domestic discussions then pending, he had somewhat neglected, -and showed his jealous zeal for his beloved specimens by a thousand -little indications which Margaret perceived, and which she interpreted -to Mr. Baldwin, very much to his amusement. - -"Haldane," said James Dugdale to Captain Carteret, "I think you had -better give Margaret a hint that she had better not urge her father's -leaving Chayleigh; depend upon it, he will never consent, except it be -very much against his will; and if she presses him, she will only run -the risk of making him like Baldwin very much less than he does at -present." - -"You are quite right," said Haldane, who was busily engaged in mending -the eldest Miss Crofton's riding-whip; "but why don't you tell her so -yourself?" - -James was rather embarrassed by the question; but he said, "It would -come better from you." - -"Would it? I don't see it. However, I don't mind. I'll speak to her. -All right." - -Haldane did speak to Margaret; and she acquiesced in James's opinion, -and conformed to his advice. The subject dropped, and Mr. Carteret -entirely recovered his spirits. Haldane had another little matter to -negotiate with his sister, in which he was not so successful. He knew -the wedding was to be very quiet indeed; but everybody either then -knew, or soon would know, that such an event was in contemplation; and -he could not see that it could make any difference to Margaret just to -have the eldest Miss Crofton for her bridesmaid. He could assure his -sister the eldest, "Lucy, you know," was "an extremely nice girl," and -her admiration of Margaret quite enthusiastic. - -Margaret was quite sure Lucy Crofton was a very nice girl indeed; and -she would have her for her bridesmaid, had she any intention of -indulging in such an accessory, but she had none; and Haldane (of -course men did not understand such matters) had not reflected that to -invite Miss Lucy in such a capacity must imply inviting all her family -as spectators, and entail the undying enmity of the "neighbourhood" at -their exclusion. - -"O, hang it, Madge," said Haldane in impatient disdain of this -reasoning, "we are not people of such importance that the -neighbourhood need kick up a row because we are married or buried -without their assistance." - -"We are not," said Margaret gently, "but Fitzwilliam is; and don't you -suppose, you dear stupid boy, that there are plenty of people to envy -me my good fortune, of which they only know the flimsy surface, and to -find me guilty of all sorts of insolences that I never dreamt of, if -they only get the chance?" - -"I never thought of that. You're quite right, after all, Madge," said -Haldane ruefully. - -"There's a good deal you have never thought of, and which my life has -made plain to me," said Margaret; and then she added in a lower tone, -"Can you not understand, Hal, how terribly trying my wedding will be -to me, how many painful thoughts it must bring me? Can you not see -that I must wish to get through it as quietly as possible?" - -This was the first word of reference, however distant, to the past -which her brother had heard from Margaret's lips; this was the first -time he had ever seen the hard, lowering, stern, self-despising look -upon her face, which had been familiar to all the other dwellers at -Chayleigh before his return, and before she had accepted her new life -and hope. - -She looked gloomily out over the prospect as she spoke. She and -Haldane were walking together, and were just then opposite to the -beeches. She caught Haldane's arm, and turned him sharply round, then -walked rapidly away from the spot. - -"What's the matter?" said her brother. He felt what she had just said -deeply, notwithstanding his _insouciance_. "What are you walking so -fast for? You look as if you saw a ghost!" - -"What, in the daylight, Hal?" said Margaret with a forced laugh. "No, -we are rather late; let us go in." - - -The pleasure of Lady Davyntry in the perfect success of all her most -cherished wishes would have been delightful to witness to any observer -of a philosophic tendency. It is so rarely that any one is happy and -grateful in proportion to one's anxiety and effort. Such purely -disinterested pleasure as was hers is not frequently desired or -enjoyed. - -"If anybody had told me I could ever feel so happy again in a world -which my Richard has left, I certainly would not have believed them," -said Eleanor, as Margaret strove to thank her for the welcome she gave -her to the proud and happy position soon to be hers; "and you would -hardly believe me, Madge, if I were to tell you how short a time after -the day I tried to make Fitz spy you through the glass there, and he -was much too proper and genteel to do anything of the kind, I began to -look forward to this happy event." - -To do Lady Davyntry justice, it was some time before she admitted -minor considerations in support of her vast and intense satisfaction; -it was actually twenty-four hours after her brother had informed her -that Margaret had accepted him, when she found herself saying aloud, -in the gladness of her heart and the privacy of her own room, "How -delightful it is to think that now there is no danger of his marrying -a Scotchwoman! How savage Jessie MacAlpine will be!" - - -The dew was shining on the grass and the flowers, the birds had hardly -begun their morning hymn, on a morning in the gorgeous month of June, -when Margaret Hungerford, wrapped in a white dressing-gown, and -leaning out of the passion-flower-framed window of her room, looked -out towards the woods of Davyntry. The tall, fantastic, twisted -chimneys and turrets, rich with the deep red of the old brickwork, -showed through the leaf-laden trees. Margaret's pale, clear, spiritual -face was turned towards them, her hands were clasped upon the -window-sill; she leaned more forward still, and her long hair was -stirred by the light wind. - -"The one only thing he asks me for his sake," she murmured; "but O, -how difficult, how impossible, never to look back, never voluntarily -to look back upon the past again! To live for the present and the -future, to live only in his life, as he lives only in mine. Ah, that -is easy for him, or at least easier; and it may be so--but for me, for -me." She swayed her slight figure to and fro, and wrung her hands. It -was long since the gesture had ceased to be habitual now. "I will try, -I will keep my word to you, in all honest intention at least, my -darling, my love, my husband!" She slightly waved one hand towards the -woods, and a beautiful flush spread itself over her face. "I will turn -all my heart for ever from the past, if any effort of my will can do -it, and live in your life only." - -A few hours later, the quietest wedding that had ever been known in -that part of the country took place in the parish church of Chayleigh, -very much to the dissatisfaction of the few spectators who had had -sufficient good fortune to be correctly informed of the early hour -appointed for the ceremony. - -"Gray silk, my dear, and a chip bonnet, as plain as you please," said -Miss Laughton, the village dressmaker, to Miss Harland, the village -milliner. "I should like to know what poor Mrs. Carteret, that's dead -and gone, but had as genteel a taste in dress as ever I knew, would -say to such a set-out as that." - -"I expect, Jemima," replied Miss Harland, who had a strong dash of -spite in her composition, and felt herself aggrieved at the loss of -Mrs. Hungerford's modest custom in the article of widow's caps--"I -expect madam would not have caught Mr. Baldwin easy, if Mrs. -Carteret was alive; and gray silk and chip is good enough for her. I -wonder what she wore at her wedding, when she ran away with Mr. -Hungerford--which he was a gay chap, whatever they had to say against -him." - -In these days, the avoidance of festive proceedings on the occasion of -a marriage is not unusual; but when Margaret was married, that the -bride and bridegroom should drive away from the church-door was an -almost unheard-of proceeding. Nevertheless, Mr. Baldwin and Margaret -departed after that fashion; and Lady Davyntry only returned to -Chayleigh to console Mr. Carteret, who really did not seem to need -consolation. - -A few days later, as Margaret and her husband were strolling -arm-in-arm in the evening along the sea-shore of a then almost unknown -village in South Wales,--now a prosperous and consequently intolerable -"watering-place,"--Mr. Baldwin said to her--they had been talking of -some letters he had had from his steward: - -"I wonder if you have any doubts in your mind about liking the Deane, -Margaret. I am longing to see you there, to watch you making -acquaintance with the place, taking your throne in your own kingdom." - -"And I," she said with a smile and a wistful look in her gray eyes, -"sometimes think that when I am there I shall feel like Lady -Burleigh." - - - - -CHAPTER III. -THREE LETTERS. - - -Eighteen months had elapsed since the marriage of Fitzwilliam Baldwin -and Margaret Hungerford,--a period which had brought about few changes -at Chayleigh, beyond the departure, at an early stage of its duration, -of Haldane Carteret to join his regiment, and which had been -productive of only one event of importance. The eldest Miss Crofton -had terminated at her leisure, after Margaret's departure, the capture -of the young captain, as he was called by a courteous anticipation of -the natural course of events, and there was every reason to suppose -that the ensuing year would witness a second wedding from Chayleigh, -in the parish church, which should be by no means obnoxious to public -sentiment, on the score of quiet, if the eldest Miss Crofton should -have her own way, which, indeed, the fair Lucy generally contrived to -procure in every affair in which she was interested. - -Her parents entirely approved of the engagement. She had no fortune, -and Haldane's prospective independence was certain. It was a very nice -thing for her to be wife to the future Mr. Carteret of Chayleigh, and -almost a nicer thing for her to be sister-in-law to Mrs. Meriton -Baldwin of the Deane. - -Margaret had become a wonderfully important personage in the -neighbourhood she had left. Every particular of her household, every -item of her expenditure, and--when she stayed a month at her father's -house after her little daughter's birth, prior to going abroad for an -indefinite period, now more than six months ago,--every article of her -dress, was a subject of discussion and interest to people who had -taken no particular notice of her in her previous stages of existence. -The eldest Miss Crofton had a little ovation when she returned from a -visit to the Deane, and simple Mr. Carteret was surprised to find how -many friends he was possessed of, how many inquirers were unwearyingly -anxious to learn the latest news of "dear Mrs. Baldwin." - -The quiet household at Chayleigh pursued its usual routine course, and -little change had come to the two men, the one old, the other now -elderly, who were its chief members. Of that little, the greater -portion had fallen to the share of James Dugdale. His always bent and -twisted figure was now more bent and twisted, his hair was grayer and -scantier, his eyes were more hollow, his face was more worn, his quiet -manner quieter, his rare smile more seldom seen. Any one familiar with -his appearance eighteen months before, who had seen him enter the -cheerful breakfast-room at Chayleigh one bright winter's morning, when -Christmas-day was but a week off, would have found it difficult to -believe that the interval had been so short. - -James Dugdale stood by the fire for a few minutes, then glancing round -at the breakfast-table, he muttered, "The post is not in--behind -time--the snow, I suppose," and went to the large window, against -which he leaned, idly watching the birds as they hopped about on the -snow-laden ground, and extracted bits of leaves and dry morsels of -twig from its niggard breast. He was still standing there when Mr. -Carteret came in, closely followed by a servant with a small tray -laden with letters, which he duly sorted and placed before their -respective claimants. - -There was a large foreign letter among those addressed to James -Dugdale, but he let it lie beside his plate unnoticed; all his -attention was for the letter which Mr. Carteret was deciphering with -laborious difficulty. - -"From Margaret," said the old gentleman at length, taking off his -double glasses with an air of relief, and laying them on the table. -"She _does_ write such a scratchy hand, it quite makes my head ache to -read it." - -"Where are they now?" asked James. - -"At Sorrento. Margaret writes in great delight about the place and the -climate, and the people they meet there, and the beauty and health of -little Gerty. And Baldwin adds a postscript about the _cicale_, which -is just what I wanted to know; he considers there's no doubt about -their chirp being much stronger and more prolonged than our -grasshopper's, and he has carefully examined the articulations." - -"Does Margaret say anything about her own health?" interrupted James, -so impatiently that he felt ashamed of himself the next minute, -although Mr. Carteret took the sudden suppression of his favourite -topic with perfect meekness, as he made answer: - -"Yes, a good deal. Here it is, read the letter for yourself, -James,"--and he handed over the document to his companion, and betook -himself to the perusal of a scientific review,--a production rarer in -those days than now,--and for whose appearance Mr. Carteret was apt to -look with eagerness. - -James Dugdale read the letter which Margaret Baldwin had written to -her father from end to end, and then he turned back to the beginning, -and read it through again. No document which could come from any human -hand could have such a charm and value for him as one of her letters. - -His feelings had undergone no change as regarded her, though, as -regarded himself, they had become purified from the little dross of -selfishness and vain regret that had hung about them for a little -after she had left Chayleigh. He could now rejoice, with a pure and -true heart, in her exceeding, her perfect happiness; he could think of -her husband, whom she loved with an intense and passionate devotion -which had transformed her character, as it seemed at times to -transfigure her face, illumining it with a heavenly light--with ardent -friendship and gratitude as the giver of such happiness, and with -sincere and ungrudging admiration as the being who was capable of -inspiring such a love. He could thank God now, from his inmost heart, -for the change which had been wrought in, and for, the woman he loved -with a love which angels might have seen with approval. All he had -longed and prayed and striven for, was her good--and it had come--it -had been sent in the utmost abundance; and he never murmured now, ever -so lightly, that _he_ had not been suffered to count for anything in -the fulfilment of his hope, in the answer to his prayer. - -He read, with keen delight, the simple but strong words in which -Margaret described to her father the peace, happiness, companionship -and luxury of her life. Only the lightest cloud had cast a shade over -the brightness of Margaret's life since her marriage. She had been -rather delicate in health after the birth of her child, and a warmer -climate than that of Scotland had been recommended for her. Mr. -Baldwin had not been sorry for the opportunity thus afforded him of -indulging Margaret and himself by visiting the countries so well known -to him, but which his wife had never seen. Her experience of travel -had been one of wretchedness; in this respect, also, he would make the -present contrast with and efface the past. The "Lady Burleigh" feeling -which Margaret had anticipated had come upon her sometimes, in the -stately and well-ordered luxury of her new home; she had sometimes -experienced a startling sense of the discrepancy between the things -she had seen and suffered, and her surroundings at the Deane; but -these fitful feelings had not recurred often or remained with her -long, and she had become deeply attached to her beautiful home. -Nevertheless, she, too, had welcomed the prospect of a foreign tour; -and during her visit, _en route_, to Chayleigh, she had spoken so -freely and frequently to James of her anticipations of pleasure, of -the delight she took in her husband's cultivated taste, and in his -manifold learning, that James perceived how rapidly and variously her -intellect had developed in the sunshine of happiness and domestic -love. - -"Though she has always been the first of women in my mind," James -Dugdale had said to himself then, "I would not have said she was -either decidedly clever or decidedly handsome formerly, and now she is -both beautiful and brilliant." - -And so she was. It was not the praise of prejudice which pronounced -her so. There were many who would, if they could, have denied such -attributes to Mrs. Baldwin of the Deane, but they might as well have -attempted to deny light to the sunshine. - -In this letter, which James Dugdale read with such pleasure, Margaret -said she was stronger, "much stronger," and that every one thought her -looking very well. "Fitzwilliam is so much of that opinion," she -wrote, "that he thinks this is a favourable opportunity of having a -life-size portrait taken of me, especially as a first-rate artist has -just been introduced to us,--if the picture be successful, a replica -shall be made for you. The long windows of our sitting-rooms open -on a terrace overhanging the sea, and the walls are overrun with -passion-flower--just like those at home, which James used to take such -care of. I mean to have my picture taken standing in the centre -window, with my little Gertrude in my arms. If you don't like this, or -prefer any other pose, say so when you write. Eleanor is delighted -with the notion." - -The tone of the whole letter was that of happiness, full, heartfelt, -not wanting in anything. James Dugdale held it still in his hands, -when he had read it through for the second time, and fell into one of -the reveries which were habitual to him. It showed him Margaret, as he -had seen her on the day of her unexpected return, pale, stern, defiant -of the bitterness of her fate,--her slight form, clad in its heavy -mourning robes, framed by the passion-flower tendrils, the woman in -whose face he read more than confirmation of all he had ever feared or -prophesied of evil for her, and in whose letter there was such a story -of happiness as it falls but rarely to the lot of any mortal to have -to tell. He had never felt so entirely, purely, unselfishly happy -about Margaret as he felt at that moment. - -"You have no letter from Haldane, have you?" asked Mr. Carteret, as he -relinquished his review for his coffee-cup. "I have not, and Margery -complains that he has not written." - -The question reminded James of his hitherto disregarded letters. He -turned to the table and took them up: - -"No, sir, there's no letter from Haldane." - -Mr. Carteret uttered a feeble sound of dissatisfaction, but made no -farther remark, and James opened the foreign letter, which was, as he -expected, from Hayes Meredith. It announced the writer's intended -departure from Melbourne by the first ship after that which should -carry the present letter, and named the period at which the writer -hoped to reach England. - -"The Yarra is a quick sailer," wrote Hayes Meredith, "and we expect to -be in Liverpool a few weeks later than the Emu. My former letters will -have explained how all difficulties subsided, but up to the last I -have not felt quite confident of being able to get away, and thought -it was well to write only one ship in advance." - -There was a good deal of expression of pleasure at the prospect of -seeing his old friend again, and introducing his son to him, on Hayes -Meredith's part, some anxiety about his son's future, and warm thanks -to James for certain propositions he had made concerning him. - -"My friend Meredith and his son have sailed at last, sir," said James, -addressing Mr. Carteret. "He will be here soon, I fancy, if they have -had fine weather." - -"Indeed," said Mr. Carteret. "I hope he is bringing the opossum and -wombat skins, and the treeworm and boomerang you asked him for. I -should like to have them really brought from the spot, you know. One -can buy such things from the dealers, of course, but they are never so -interesting, and often not genuine." - -"I have no doubt, sir, they will all arrive quite safely." - -"You have asked Mr. Meredith and his son to come here direct, I hope, -James?" - -"Yes, I obeyed your kind instructions in that." - -"What a pity Margery is not here," said Mr. Carteret, with a placid -little sigh, "to see her kind friend!" - -"Never mind, sir; Margaret mil have plenty of opportunity for seeing -Meredith. He will not remain less than six months in England." - -In the pleasure and the excitement caused by the prospect of his -friend's arrival (it was not customary or possible then for people to -drop in from Melbourne for a week or two, and be heard of next at Salt -Lake), James did not immediately remember what Margaret had said when -Hayes Meredith's coming had first been talked of--that if he or any -one came from the place which had witnessed her suffering and -degradation, to her father's house, she should feel it to be an evil -omen to her. When at length he did recall her expression of feeling -about it, he smiled. - -"How she would laugh at herself if I were to remind her now that she -once said that! What could be an ill omen to her now? What could bring -evil near her now?--God bless her!" - -Some weeks later the Yarra, having encountered boisterous weather in -the Channel, arrived at Liverpool. On the day but one following its -arrival, James Dugdale received a short note from Hayes Meredith, -which contained these words: - - -_Liverpool, Jan_. 24. - -"MY DEAR DUGDALE,--We have arrived, and Robert and I hope to get to -Chayleigh by Thursday. Should Mrs. Baldwin be in Scotland, endeavour -to induce her to see me, at her father's house, in preference to any -other place, as soon as possible. Do this, if you can, without -alarming her, but at all events, and under all risks, do _it_. -Circumstances which occurred immediately before my departure make it -indispensable that I should see her _at once_ on important and, I -regret to add, unpleasant business. I am too tired and dizzy to write -more.--Yours, HAYES MEREDITH." - - - - -CHAPTER IV. -HAYES MEREDITH'S REVELATION. - - -It had seldom fallen to the lot of James Dugdale to experience more -painful mental disquietude than that in which he passed the interval -between the receipt of Hayes Meredith's letter and the arrival of his -friend, accompanied by his son, at Chayleigh. Mr. Carteret, always -unobservant, did not notice the preoccupation of James's manner, and -James had decided, within a few minutes after he had read the -communication which had so disturbed him, that he would not mention -the matter to the old gentleman at all, if concealment were -practicable--certainly not before it should become indispensable, if -it should ever prove to be so. - -An unpleasant communication to be made to Margaret! What could it be? -The vain question whose solution was so near, and yet appeared to him -so distant, in his impatience repeated itself perpetually in every -waking hour, and he would frequently start from his sleep, roused by a -terrible sense of undefined trouble impending over the woman who never -ceased to occupy the chief place in his thoughts. The problem took -every imaginable shape in his mind. The little knowledge he had of the -circumstances of Margaret's life in Australia left him scope for all -kinds of conjectures, and did not impose superior probability on any. -Was there a secret reason beyond, more pressing than her natural, -easily explicable shrinking from the revival of pain and humiliation, -which kept Margaret so absolutely and resolutely silent concerning the -years of her suffering and exile? Was there something which she knew -and dreaded, which might come to light at any time, which was soon to -come to light now, in the background of her memory? Was there some -transaction of Hungerford's, involving disgraceful consequences, which -had been dragged into publicity, in which she, too, must be involved, -as well as the dead man's worthless memory? This might be the case; it -might be debts, swindling, anything; and the brilliant and happy -marriage she had made, might be destined to be clouded over by the -shadow of her former life. - -James Dugdale suffered very keenly during the few days in which he -pondered upon these things. He tortured himself with apprehension, and -knew that, to a certain extent, it must be groundless. The only real, -serious injury which could come out of the dark storehouse of the -past, into the present life of Fitzwilliam Baldwin's wife, must be one -of a nature to interfere with her relations towards her husband. She -could afford to defy every other kind of harm. She was raised far -above the influence of all material evil, and removed from the sphere -in which the doings of people like Hungerford and his associates were -ever heard of. Her marriage bucklered her no less against present than -past evil; on all sides but one. When James weighed calmly the matter -of which he never ceased to think, he called in "the succours of -thought" to the discomfiture of "fear," which in its vague has greater -torment than in its most defined shape, and drew upon their resources -largely. Margaret had indeed been reticent with him, with her father, -with Haldane, even, he felt persuaded, with her sister-in-law Lady -Davyntry; but had she been equally reticent with Baldwin? He thought -she had not; he hoped, he believed she had not; that the confidence -existing between her and her husband was as perfect as their mutual -love, and that, however strictly she might have maintained a silence, -which Baldwin would have been the last man in the world to induce or -wish her to break, up to the period of her marriage, he did not doubt -that Margaret's husband was now in possession of all the facts of her -past life, so that no painful intelligence could find him more or less -unprepared than his wife to meet it. - -It needed the frequent repetition of this belief to himself, the -frequent repetition of the grounds on which it was founded, to enable -James Dugdale to subdue the apprehensions inspired by Hayes Meredith's -letter. His delicate health, his nervous susceptibility, the almost -feminine sensitiveness of his temperament, made suspense, anxiety, and -apprehension peculiarly trying to him; and the servants at Chayleigh, -keener observers than their master, quickly found out that something -was wrong with Mr. Dugdale, and that the arrival of the two gentlemen -from foreign parts, for whose reception preparations were being duly -made, would not be a cause of unalloyed pleasure to him. - -The urgency of Meredith's request, that there might be no delay in a -meeting between himself and Margaret, gave James much uneasiness, -because, in addition to the general vagueness of the matter, he did -not in this particular instance know what to do. Hayes Meredith did -not wish her to be alarmed (which looked as if he believed her to be -ignorant of the unpleasant intelligence to which he alluded, as if he -contemplated the necessity of its being broken to her with caution), -but he laid stress on the necessity of an immediate meeting. How was -this to be accomplished? Meredith had not thought of such a -contingency as that which actually existed. He had supposed it -probable Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin would be in Scotland when his letter -should reach James Dugdale, which must create a delay of a few days -indeed, but he had not contemplated their absence at such a distance -as must imply the postponement of a meeting for weeks. - -James did not know what to do. To summon Margaret and Mr. Baldwin to -return at once, without any clue to the meaning of the communication -awaiting them, would be to alarm them to an extent, which, under any -circumstances within the reach of his imagination, must be -unnecessary; and from the possible responsibility involved in not -procuring their return he naturally shrank. He could not communicate -with Meredith, whose letter bore no address but "Liverpool;" there was -nothing for it but the painful process of patience. - -Mr. Carteret talked of Margaret more than usual in the interval -between the arrival of Meredith's letter and the day on which he was -expected at Chayleigh; the association of ideas made him garrulous, -and he expatiated largely to James upon the pleasure which Mr. -Meredith would feel on seeing his _protégée_ of the bad old times so -differently circumstanced, and the splendid hospitality with which he -would certainly be entertained at the Deane. Baldwin would return -sooner than he had intended, no doubt, in consequence of Mr. -Meredith's visit to England. - -When Mr. Carteret expressed his opinion, apparently oblivious of the -fact that the state of Margaret's health rendered her remaining abroad -peculiarly desirable, James heard him with a sense of partial relief. -It would be much gained, let the unpleasant business before them be -what it might, if Mr. Carteret could be kept from alarm or pain in -connection with it. If he could be brought to regard the sudden return -of Margaret as a natural event, considering his placid nature and -secluded habits, it might be readily practicable to secure him from -all knowledge of what had occurred. - -There was strong anticipative consolation for James Dugdale in this -reflection. Reason with himself as he would, strive against it as he -might, there was a presentiment of evil upon James's heart, a thrill -of dread of the interruption of that happiness in which he found such -pure and disinterested delight, and he dared not think of such a dread -extending itself to the old man, who had built such an edifice of -pride and contentment on his daughter's fortunes, and would have so -little strength to bear, not alone its crumbling, but any shock to its -stability. - -"Let it be what it may, I think it can be hidden from him," said James -Dugdale, as he bade Mr. Carteret good-night for the last time before -all his suspense should be resolved into certainty. - - -That particular aspect of nature, to which the complacent epithets -"good old English" have been most frequently applied by poets and -novelists, presented itself at Chayleigh, in perfection, on the day of -Hayes Meredith's arrival. "Our English summer" has become rather -mythical in this generation, and the most bearable kind of cold -weather, keen, bright, frosty, kindly (to those who can afford -ubiquitous fires and double windows), occurs in miserably small -proportion to the dull, damp, despairing; winter of fogs and rain. It -was not so between twenty and thirty years ago, however, and the eyes -of the long-expatriated Englishman were refreshed, and those of his -colonial-born son astonished, by the beauty and novelty of the scenery -through which they passed on their journey southwards. - -Chayleigh was one of those places which look particularly beautiful in -winter. It boasted splendid evergreens, and grassy slopes carefully -kept, and the holly trees, freshly glistening after a fall of snow, -which had just disappeared, were grouped about the low picturesque -house like ideal trees in a fancy sketch of the proper home of -Christmas. It was difficult to realise that the only dwellers in the -pleasant house, from whose long low windows innumerable lights -twinkled brightly, were two men, the one old in years, and older still -in his quiet ways, in his deadness of sympathy with the outer world, -the other declining also in years, and carrying, in a frail and -suffering body, a heart quite purged of self, but heavy-laden with -trouble for one far dearer than self had ever been to him. - -Fair women and bright children should have tenanted such a home as -that to which Mr. Carteret, a little later than the hour at which they -were expected, bade Hayes Meredith and his son a hearty if somewhat -old-fashioned welcome. - -When the post-chaise which brought the travellers stopped, James -Dugdale met his old friend as he stepped out, and the two looked at -each other with the contending feelings of pain and pleasure which -such a meeting was calculated to produce. Time had so altered each -that the other would not have recognised him, had their meeting been a -chance one; but when, a little later, they regarded each other more -closely, many familiar looks and expressions, turns of feature and of -phrase, made themselves observed in both, which restored the old -feeling of familiarity. - -Then James Dugdale saw the strong, frank, hopeful young man, with his -vivacious black eyes, and his strong limbs, his cheery laugh, and his -jovial self-reliant temper once more, and found all those qualities -again in the world-taught, and the world-sobered, but not world-worn -man whose gray hair was the only physical mark of time set upon him. - -Then Hayes Meredith saw the pale, stooped student, with form awry and -spiritual sensitive face, bearing upon it the inexplicable painful -expression which malformation gives,--the keen intelligence, the sadly -strong faculty of suffering--the equally keen affections and firm -will. Time had set many a mark upon James. He had had rich brown -curls, the only gift of youth dealt lavishly to him by nature, but -they were gone now, and his hair was thin and gray, and the lines in -his face were more numerous and deeper than might have been fitting at -twenty additional years. But Hayes Meredith saw that same face under -the lines, and in a wonderfully short time he found himself saying to -himself--"I should feel as if we were boys together again, only that -Dugdale, poor fellow, never was a boy." - -"Is Mrs. Baldwin here?" was Meredith's first question to his friend, -after the undemonstrative English greeting, which said so little and -meant so much. - -"No, she is abroad." - -"How unfortunate!" - -"What is the matter? Is anything very wrong?" - -"No, no, we'll put it right--but we cannot talk of it now. When can I -have some time with you quite alone?" - -"To-night, if you are not too tired," returned James, who was -intensely impatient to hear what had to be told, but to whose -sensitive nerves the strong, steady, almost unconcerned manner of his -friend conveyed some little assurance. - -"To-night, then." - -There was no farther private conversation between the two. Hayes -Meredith devoted himself to Mr. Carteret, whose placid character -afforded him considerable amusement, in its contrast with those of the -bustling and energetic companions of his ordinary life. To Mr. -Carteret, Hayes Meredith was an altogether new and delightful -_trouvaille_. That he came from a new world, of infinite interest and -importance to England; that he could tell of his own personal -experience, particulars of the great events, political, commercial, -and social, to which colonial enterprise had given rise; that, as a -member of a strange community, with all the interest of a foreign -land, and all the sympathy of fellowship of race attaching to them, -Mr. Carteret knew, if he had cared to think about it, and he might -perhaps, merely as an intellectual exercise, have comprehended, that -there was something remarkable about his guest in that aspect. But he -did not care about it in the least. The political, social, and -commercial life of either this half of the world or the other half was -a matter of entire indifference to him. He was eminently desirous to -ascertain, as soon as politeness warranted the inquiry, whether Mr. -Meredith had brought to England the "specimens" which James Dugdale -had bespoken, and that point satisfactorily disposed of, and an early -hour on the following day appointed for their disinterment from the -general mass of luggage, he turned the conversation without delay on -the cranial peculiarities of "black fellows," the number of species -into which the marsupial genus may be divided, and the properties of -the turpentine tree. On all these matters Hayes Meredith sustained a -very creditable examination, and during its course rapidly arrived at -a very kindly feeling towards his gentle and eccentric but eminently -kind-hearted entertainer. There was a curious occult sympathy between -the minds of James Dugdale and Hayes Meredith, as the latter thought: - -"If it could be hidden from the poor old gentleman, and I really see -no reason why he should ever know it, what a good thing it will be!" - -Mr. Carteret had taken an early opportunity of expressing, not -ungracefully, his sense of the kindness which his daughter had -received at the hands of Mr. Meredith and his family, and his regret -that she was not then at Chayleigh to welcome him. The embarrassment -with which his guest received his courteous observations, and the -little allusion which he afterwards made to Margaret, though it would -have been natural that she should have been the prevailing subject of -their conversation, did not strike Mr. Carteret in the least, though -James Dugdale perceived it plainly and painfully, and it rendered -the task which he had set himself--that of entertaining Robert -Meredith--anything but easy. The mere notion of such a possibility as -taking any notice of a boy, after having once shaken hands with him, -and told him he was very happy to see him, and hoped he would make -himself quite at home at Chayleigh, would never have occurred to Mr. -Carteret. About boys, as boys, he knew very little indeed; but if the -word aversion could ever be used with propriety in describing a -sentiment entertained by Mr. Carteret, he might be said to regard them -with aversion. They made noises, they opened doors unnecessarily -often, and they never shut them; they trod on people's feet, and tore -people's dresses; they did not wash their hands with decent frequency; -and once a terrible specimen of the genus, having been admitted to a -view of his precious case of Cape butterflies, thrust his plebeian and -intrusive elbow through the glass. This was final. - -"I don't like boys," said Mr. Carteret; "I don't understand them. Keep -them away from me, please." - -He had listened with a mild shudder to Haldane's praises of that -"wonderfully clever child," the eldest Miss Crofton's "little -brother;" and had turned a desperately deaf ear to all hints that an -invitation for the urchin to inspect the wonders of the "collection" -might be regarded by the Crofton family as an attention. - -"Wonderfully clever, is he?" said Mr. Carteret musingly; "what a -nuisance he must be!" - -Haldane did not mention the talented creature again, and no boy had -ever troubled Mr. Carteret from that hour until now. He had the -satisfaction of knowing, when his prompt invitation was extended to -James Dugdale's friends, that Robert Meredith was a big boy--not an -objectionable child, with precocious ideas, prying eyes, and fingers -addicted to mischief--had it been otherwise, his patience and -hospitality would have been sorely tried. - -"You will see to the young gentleman, Foster," he had said to his -confidential servant; "I daresay he will like a good deal to eat and -drink, and you can see that he does not wear strong boots in the -house, and--ah--hem, Foster, you can make him understand--politely, -you know--that people in general don't go into my rooms. You -understand, Foster?" - -"O yes, sir; I understand," said Foster, in a tone which to Mr. -Carteret's sensitive ears implied an almost unfeeling indifference, -but Foster acted on the hint for all that, and the result was -remarkable. - -Mr. Carteret never once had reason to complain of Robert Meredith. The -boy never vexed or worried him; he seemed to have an intuitive -comprehension of his feelings and prejudices, of his harmless little -oddities, and in a silent, distant kind of way--for though a wonderful -exception, Robert was still a boy, and therefore to be avoided--Mr. -Carteret actually came to like him. In which particular he formed an -exception to the entire household as then assembled at Chayleigh, and -even when it received the accession of Mr. Baldwin, Margaret, and -their little daughter. No one else in the house liked Robert Meredith. - -The preoccupation of James Dugdale's mind, the anxiety and suspense of -some days, which grew stronger and less endurable now when a few hours -only divided him from learning, with absolute certainty, the evil -tidings which Hayes Meredith had to communicate, rendered his friend's -son and his affairs objects of very secondary interest to him. When he -thought of the business which had induced Meredith to undertake such a -voyage to England, such an absence from home, he roused himself to -remember the keen interest he had taken in the father's projects for, -and on account of, the son. But he could only remember it; he could -not feel it again. When he should know the worst, when he and Meredith -should have had their private talk that night, then things would -resume their proper proportion, then he should be able to fulfil all -his friend's behests, with the aid of his hand and his heart alike. -But now, only the face of Margaret, pale, wan, stern, with the youth -and bloom gone from it, as he had seen her when she first came home; -only the face of Margaret, transfigured in the light of love and joy, -of pride and pleasure, as he had seen her last, held his attention. -Her form seemed to flit before him in the air. The sound of her voice -mingled, to his fancy, with all other sounds. The effort to control -his feelings, and bide his time, almost surpassed his strength. -Afterwards, when he recalled that day, and tried to remember his -impressions of Robert Meredith, James recollected him as a quiet, -gentlemanly, self-possessed boy, with a handsome face, a good figure, -and an intelligent expression--a little shy, perhaps, but James did -not see that until afterwards. A boy without the objectionable habits -of boys, but also without the frankness which beseems boyhood. A boy -who watched Mr. Carteret's conversation with his father, and rapidly -perceived that gentleman's harmless eccentricities, and who, when he -found that a total absence of observation was one of them, marked each -fresh exhibition of them with a contemptuous sneer, which would not -have been out of place on the countenance of a full-grown demon. He -had a good deal of the early-reached decision in opinion and in manner -which is a feature in most young colonials, but he was not -unpleasantly "bumptious;" and James Dugdale, had his mind been free to -permit him to find pleasure in anything, would have enjoyed making the -acquaintance of his old friend's son. - -At length the two men found themselves alone in James Dugdale's room. - -"Our consultation is likely to be a long one, Dugdale," said -Meredith, as he seated himself close by the fire. "Is there any danger -of our being interrupted or overheard?" - -"None whatever," James answered. He felt unable to speak, to ask a -question, now that the time had come. - -Meredith looked at him compassionately, but shrugged his shoulders at -the same time, imperceptibly. He understood his friend's -sensitiveness; his weakness he could not understand. "I may as well -tell you at once," he said, "about this bad business." He took a paper -from a pocket-book as he spoke. "Tell me the exact date of Mr. -Baldwin's marriage." - -James named it without adding a word. Then Meredith handed him the -paper he held, and James, having read it hastily, looked up at him -with a pale horrified face. - - - - -CHAPTER V. -CONSULTATION. - - -The paper which caused James Dugdale such painful emotion was a -certificate of the identification and burial of the body of Godfrey -Hungerford, and was dated rather more than a year after the marriage -of his supposed widow with Fitzwilliam Meriton Baldwin, and two years -and five months later than the period at which his death in the bush -had been reported to Margaret. - -In reply to the eager questions which James asked him, when he had -somewhat recovered his composure, Hayes Meredith told his companion -that he had the best of all confirmation of the truth of the statement -which that document set forth--that of his own eyes. There was not the -faintest hope of error, not the slightest chance that in this matter -any trick, any design to extort money was concerned. That such might -be the case had been Hayes Meredith's first idea, when, as he told -James Dugdale, he had received a mysterious communication from a "pal" -of Hungerford's, who was anything but favourably known to the -Melbourne police, to the effect that the supposed murdered man was -alive, and might be found, under an assumed name, in a wretched hovel -in one of the poorest and least reputable quarters of the town. - -"It was necessary to satisfy myself about the thing without delay," -said Meredith; "and I did not lose an hour. I met the messenger at the -place appointed in the note, and told him, if any one had formed the -goodly scheme of deceiving me by personating Hungerford, it would -signally fail. I could not be deceived on such a point, and should -simply expose the fraud at once. On the other hand, if this man, who -appeared, from the other fellow's report, to be in a rapidly dying -state, should really prove to be Hungerford, I could not understand -his applying to me, on whom he had no claim whatever, and should -certainly not get the chance of establishing one. The man, a seedy -gambler, whom I remembered having seen with Hungerford,--his name was -Oakley,--said he had no intention to deceive me. They were 'pals' in -misfortune and misery, Hungerford and himself, and wanted nothing but -a little help from me. Hungerford had been saved from murder by a -black woman, and had wandered for months, enduring an amazing amount -of suffering. How so self-indulgent a dog as he was ever bore it, I -can't understand; but he had a love of life in him I have never seen -equalled; he clung to life, and fought for it madly, when his agonies -in the hospital were perfectly unbearable to see. After some time, -they struck the trail of such civilisation as is going in the remoter -districts of our part of the world; and Hungerford got away, and one -of the first persons he fell in with was this Oakley. He did not give -me a very clear account of what they did, and, as you may suppose, I -was not very anxious to know; it was very likely all the harm in their -power, at all events; they both made cause for themselves to be chary -of recognition, and afraid of the strong arm of the law." - -"Did this Oakley mention Margaret?" - -"Only cursorily. He said they had been forced to venture into -Melbourne, and he had 'asked about' and discovered that Mrs. -Hungerford had lived quietly and respectably, presumably by my -assistance, after her husband left her, and had sailed for England -when the news of his death was spread in Melbourne. He said Hungerford -was glad when he found his wife had got away safely; he could never -hope to rise in this world any more, and he did not wish her to suffer -any farther." - -"The ruffian acknowledged his wickedness, then?" said James. - -"Well, yes, he did; I must say he did. I went on to the hospital with -Oakley, and saw in a moment there was no mistake about it. The man -lying there, in the last stage of destitution, and of that peculiar -depth of loathsome disease which only comes from drink, was certainly -Godfrey Hungerford. I need not tell you what I felt, as I looked at -him and thought of his unconscious wife. I had your letter, telling me -about her being at Chayleigh, in my pocket-book at the time." - -"No, you need not tell me," said James; "it must have been most -horrible." - -"It was just that," said Meredith, with a rueful look and a shake of -the head; "such a miserable creature as he was to see, I hope I never -may have to look at again. I said very little to him--nothing about -Margaret. He did thank me in a rough kind of way, and said he knew if -he could get me communicated with I would help him." - -"Did he not ask you if you knew anything of Margaret after she left -Melbourne? Did he show no anxiety for her fate?" - -"No; I think in addition to his natural heartlessness and selfishness -his mind was much enfeebled by disease at this time, and he was -sinking fast. He had no friend, no acquaintance, he told me, but -Oakley; and I was careful to ask him whether Oakley was the only -person who knew that he was still alive, and then in Melbourne. He -declared to me that such was the case. I told him I asked in case he -should recover, when, if he knew any other persons, I might try to -interest them in his case. But I am certain that in this instance he -told the truth. He was entered on the books of the hospital as John -Perry, and had not borne his own name during all the months of his -wandering life. He went off into a short slumber while I sat by him, -and strange thoughts came into my mind as I looked at his wretched, -vice-worn, poverty-stricken face, and thought of what he must have -been when he first came across that fine young creature's path, and -even what he was when I went to see them at your request. I assure you -he had even then good looks and a pleasant manner, and scoundrel as I -knew him to be, greater scoundrel as I afterwards found him, I could -not altogether wonder that that woman had cared for him once." - -"Poor girl, poor girl," said James. His elbows were on the table, and -his face rested on his clasped hands. His hollow eyes looked out -eagerly at Hayes Meredith, whose strength and composure formed a -touching contrast to his nervous weakness. - -"To go on with my story," Meredith continued; "I told Hungerford I -should see him again, and left money for his use; Oakley was to let me -know how he was; and when I left him I took a long walk, as my way is -when I am puzzled, so as to get time to think it out. My first impulse -was to write to you at once, but I discarded the suggestion on more -mature consideration. Everything must, of course, depend on whether -the man lived or died. The one was almost too bad to fear, the other -was almost too good to hope for. Among your letters there was one in -which I recollected you had told me all the particulars of Margaret's -marriage, and the peculiar circumstances of Mr. Baldwin's property. I -went home, after a long and anxious cogitation, during which I made up -my mind, at all events, not to write; and read this letter. Here are -the memoranda I made from it." - -He laid a long slip of paper on the table before James, who glanced -anxiously at it, but did not take it up. - -"You see, Dugdale," continued Meredith, after he had mended the fire, -and thrown himself back in his chair, with his hands extended, and the -finger tips joined in an attitude of demonstration, "this matter has -more than one side to it; more than the side I can see you are -dwelling on, very painfully, and very naturally--Margaret's feelings. -As for that part of it, it is dreadful, of course; but then she need -never know any of the particulars." - -"I hope not--I trust not," said Dugdale in a low constrained voice. -"If I know anything of her, the idea of the scene you describe taking -place while she was in the midst of happiness and luxury would make -her wretched for many a day. Think of her having to endure that, after -having already lived through the horror of believing that the man she -had loved, and sacrificed herself for, was murdered." - -Meredith looked at James, closely and inquiringly, for a moment. This -intense comprehension, this almost painful, truth and excess of -sympathy, puzzled him. While the external consequences of the -discovery which had been made, the results to Mrs. Baldwin herself, -her husband, and her child pressed upon his own attention, James was -lost in the sentimental bearing of the matter, in the retrospective -personal grief which it must cause to Margaret, estimating her -feelings at a high degree of refinement and intensity. Meredith could -not make this out very clearly, but thinking "it is just like him; he -always was a strange dreamy creature, who never looked at anything -like other people," he went on to discuss the subject from his own -point of view. - -"That is all very true, Dugdale," he continued, "and, as I said -before, I really do not see that she need ever know more than the fact -stated in that paper. But what you and I have got to consider, without -unnecessary delay, and to act upon with all possible promptitude, is -this fact: at the present moment Margaret is not Mr. Baldwin's wife, -and her daughter, who, if I understand your statement aright, is -heiress to all her father's property, is illegitimate." - -"The child would inherit all if there were no son," said James. - -"Precisely so. Now, you see, Dugdale, this is the great question. If -we can contrive to inform Mr. Baldwin of what has happened, and get -him to break it as gently as possible to Margaret, and then have them -married privately, of course there need not be any difficulty about -that; and without an hour's unnecessary delay things may be all right, -and no one in the world but ourselves and themselves a bit the wiser. -If the first child had been a son, it would indeed have been a bad, a -hopeless business; but the little girl will be no worse off if her -mother has a son, and I daresay she will have half-a-dozen. Cheer up, -Dugdale; you see it is not so black as it looked at first; there is -some unpleasantness to be gone through, and then you will see all will -come right." - -"Perhaps," said Dugdale dubiously. The expression of pain and -foreboding deepened in his face with every moment. "But it is a -dreadful misfortune. Margaret lives for that child; she loves it -wonderfully; she will break her heart over the knowledge that little -Gerty is illegitimate, though no one in the world but herself should -ever know it." - -"Nonsense," said Meredith, "she will do nothing of the kind; or, if -she does, she must be a very different woman from the Mrs. Hungerford -I knew; she must be much softer both of head and of heart." - -"She _is_ a very different woman," said James, "and her heart is -softer. I never saw anything like the influence happiness has had upon -her, and I dread, more than I can express, the change which such a -blow as this falling upon her in the midst of her joy, and when her -health is delicate too, may produce." - -"Her health delicate, is it?" said Meredith. "Ah, by the bye, you said -so when you mentioned her being abroad. Another child expected?" - -"I believe so." - -"By Jove, that's good news! Why, don't you see, Dugdale, that sets it -all right. Ten chances to one this will be a boy, and there's the -rightful heir to the Deane for you! Look here"--he took the memorandum -from the table--"all landed property entailed--just so--provision for -younger children to be made out of funded property, and the very large -savings of Baldwin's minority and also the savings from their income, -which are likely to be considerable, as the estates are rising rapidly -in value--a coal-mine having been discovered on the Deane"--he laid -the paper down, rose, and walked briskly about the room. "The little -girl's position will not be in the least altered. Baldwin must settle -the money upon her in some special way; whatever her share of the -provision made for younger children may be, the boy would naturally -succeed, and all the difficulty be thus gotten over." - -"How would it be if there were no other child?" said James. - -"Ah! that would, indeed, be difficult," replied Meredith; "I don't -know what could be done then. Mr. Baldwin is not the sort of man to do -a thing which certainly would be wrong in the abstract, though I -cannot see the practical injustice of it; in the case of there being -no other child, of course the rightful heir is the individual who -would inherit in case Baldwin should die without heirs." - -"Lady Davyntry then," said James. - -"Baldwin's sister? Yes--then she is the heir. She is not likely to -marry, is she? - -"Quite certain not to do so, I should say." - -"I fancy she would consent to anything that should be proposed in her -brother's interests--if any proposal on the subject should ever become -necessary. And after her? - -"I don't know. It must be some very distant relative, for I never -heard the name mentioned, or the contingency alluded to." - -"Well, well, we need not think about it. In fact we are wandering away -altogether from the only subjects we have to discuss: the best means -of getting the Baldwins home without alarming them, and the most -expeditious way of having them married privately, but with all legal -security, so that if ever any clue to this unfortunate occurrence -should be obtained by any one interested, the rights of the heir may -be secured beyond the possibility of injury." - -"Yes; we must be careful of that," said James; but his tone was -absent, and he was evidently unable to take any comfort from -Meredith's cheerful view of the circumstances. Then, after a short -pause, he said, "I am very ignorant of law, but I have a kind of -notion that we may be tormenting ourselves unnecessarily. I have heard -that in Scotland the marriage of parents subsequent to the birth of -children renders them legitimate. Would not this marriage legitimatise -little Gerty?" - -"Certainly not," said Meredith, and he almost smiled; "this is a very -different case. The truth is, Margaret has unconsciously committed -bigamy, and when Gertrude Baldwin was born, not only was Margaret not -Mr. Baldwin's wife, but she actually was Godfrey Hungerford's." - -James Dugdale shrunk from the words as though they had been blows. -What was this but the truth which he had known from the moment he cast -his eyes upon the paper which Meredith had put into his hands? and -yet, set thus broadly before him, it seemed far more awful. What had -become of all the arguments he had addressed to himself now? Where was -the assurance he had felt that fate could not harm Margaret? that evil -or calumny, or the dead and gone disgraces of her dark days, could not -touch Mrs. Baldwin, in her pride of place, and in her perfect -happiness? Where were the plausibilities with which he had striven to -lull his fears to rest? All gone, vanished, as dead as the exultant -pleasure with which he had read Margaret's letter on that bright -morning, which might have been a hundred years ago, so distant, so out -of his sight, did it now appear. He covered his face with his hands, -and kept silence for some time. - -During the interval Meredith paced the room thoughtfully. When at -length James spoke, it was not in continuation of the last subject. - -"How long did he--Hungerford, I mean--live after you saw him?" - -"Only a few days. Oakley came to me one morning, and told me he was -dying, and wished to see me. I went, but he was not sensible, and he -never rallied again. Then I had him buried, rather more decently than -in hospital style, under his assumed name. Oakley signed this paper, -as you see. He had no notion I attached any specific value or interest -to its contents--I believe he thought it an oddity of mine, one of my -business-like ways, to have everything in black and white. But I -considered that I might not live to tell you this by word of mouth, -and in that case I should have forwarded the evidence to you, or you -might not live to hear from me, and in that case I must have proof to -put before Mr. Baldwin." - -"You did quite right," said James. "Where is Oakley?" - -"I gave him a trifle to get up a decent appearance, and he was trying -to get employment as a clerk or bookkeeper in some of the third-rate -places of business, when I left," said Meredith; "he was rather a -clever fellow, though a great scamp. Perhaps poverty has steadied him, -and he may get on. At all events, I have seen too much of successful -blackguardism, I suppose--one sees a deal of it in colonial life, to -be sure--to condemn unsuccessful blackguardism to starving." - -"He is positively the only person in possession of this lamentable -secret on your side of the world?" - -"Positively the only person, and as he knows nothing whatever -concerning Margaret--not whether she is still alive, indeed--and, I -presume, never heard her maiden name or her father's place of abode, I -should not think the slightest danger is ever to be, at any time, -apprehended from him. And now, Dugdale, let us be practical. I am -getting tired, and yet I don't want to leave you to-night until we -have finally arranged what is to be done. Mrs. Baldwin would have good -reason to complain of us, if we left her in her present position an -hour longer than we can possibly avoid." - -At this most true observation James winced. His heart and his fancy -were alike busy, realising every element of pain in Margaret's -position. - -After some more discussion, it was arranged between the friends that a -letter should be written to Mr. Baldwin of a strictly confidential -nature, in which he should be urged to bring his wife to England -without delay--the pretext being left to him to assign--and that -James and Meredith should meet Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin in London. No -explanation of their movements would be required by Mr. Carteret, and -the whole affair of the revelation and the marriage could then be -quietly managed without exciting suspicion in any quarter. - -"Well, that's settled, old fellow," said Meredith, as he shook -Dugdale's hand heartily, "and we will bring Margaret back here as -surely Baldwin's wife as she now believes herself to be, and nothing -more will ever come out of this business. It looked much uglier at a -distance than it does near, I assure you." - -But James made no reply to his friend's cheery speech. He went sadly -to his room, and sat before the fire pondering. The flames flickered -and danced, and sent odd reflections over his face, but the -thoughtful, painful gaze never relaxed, the abstraction of the hollow -eyes never lessened, and the slow coming dawn of the wintry day found -him still there, and still thinking, sadly and painfully. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. -THE RETURN. - - -No time was lost by James Dugdale in acting upon the resolution which -had been arrived at by him and his friend. The task of writing to Mr. -Baldwin was one of the most painful which it had ever been his lot to -fulfil, and as his pen traced the lines destined to carry such dismay, -to cause such irremediable grief to his friend, and to the woman whom -he had loved so well and so patiently, he thought somewhat bitterly of -the strangeness of his fate. Twice he had been destined to traverse -Margaret's path in the bright hours of her existence, twice he had -been appointed to convey to her words of disappointment, of -bitterness, of doom. Life had given him little, he thought, in -proportion to that which he had been called upon to suffer. Only one -human creature was very precious to him, and he was so little to her -that she would never even comprehend the misery he had to suffer, and -must still suffer, through her. A general sort of sympathy she would -expect from him and recognise, but she would never know that he would -cheerfully have borne anything in the shape of suffering that could -have been debased, to save her from the knowledge of the facts which -his hand was then recording on the paper so soon to meet and blast -Fitzwilliam Baldwin's eyes. He had sometimes thought, just before her -marriage, that Margaret had divined and partly penetrated his secret; -but she did not think of it now, he felt assured, even if she had. All -the fulness and beauty of life, all its best and brightest -possibilities, had been opened to her, had been given to her in such -lavish abundance, that her mind had no room for anything outside its -own felicity. - -Thus James thought; but in thus thinking he did not rightly understand -Margaret. Her mind was more capacious, her nature was more stedfast, -than he knew, and she had measured the depth and the strength of his -love for her more accurately than he guessed, and held it in more -dear, grateful, and compassionate remembrance than he would have dared -to hope. At the very time when he was writing to her, Margaret, in her -sunny Italian home, was thinking and talking of James to her husband -and to Lady Davyntry, who had always entertained much regard for Mr. -Dugdale of an unintelligible nature, for she admitted readily that she -did not understand him. - -"Nothing could be more acceptable to Gerty's godfather," Margaret was -saying, "than a portrait of Gerty--and of me. He shall have the small -one we have ordered; and the large one for papa must be begun as soon -as we get his answer to my last letter." - -"You ought to have heard from him before this about it, Madge, should -you not?" asked Lady Davyntry, looking up from her work; "it is time -for a letter." - -"Not quite, according to papa's measurement, Nelly. He generally takes -a fortnight to make up his mind about any question he is asked, and -then another fortnight to put the result on paper. I had a letter from -James, you know, but he said nothing about the picture." - -"We'll have it begun at once, Margaret," said Mr. Baldwin, who was -standing by the verandah, looking out upon the shining, blue, -foam-flecked sea. "I don't like a thing of that kind being put off. I -wonder Dugdale does not answer for your father. And, by the bye," he -continued, crossing the room, and taking a seat beside his wife, "they -are tolerably busy just now at Chayleigh; it must be about the time of -Mr. Meredith's arrival. What date did Dugdale mention?" - -"He thought about the 25th," said Margaret. - -As she spoke, the colour in her cheek waned, and there was a slight -change in the expression of her face, which was a bright face now, but -always mobile and a sure index to her feelings; a change which -indicated to her husband, on whom no look of hers was ever lost, that -the mention of Hayes Meredith's name had a disturbing effect upon her. -He saw it, and understood it, and it vexed him, for, not with, her. - -This was the one weakness in Margaret which troubled her perfect peace -and happiness, and through them his. Not all the unequalled -contentment of her lot had power to obliterate the past for her so -completely as to deprive association of its power to wound. - -There was one evil which all her husband's love and care could not -keep quite away from her--the dark shadow of the bad bygone days when -he as yet had no place in her life. She tried hard to fulfil her -promise to her husband; she lived for him as truly and completely as -ever any woman lived for any man, and she was a wonderfully happy -human being. - -But this one weakness clung to her still. The feeling of dread, -misgiving, reluctance with which she had heard at first of Hayes -Meredith's intention of coming to England, had never changed or -lessened. She tried to escape from it, to forget it; she condemned her -own weakness much more severely than Mr. Baldwin condemned it, but -there it remained all the same, as present as if she had not condemned -it at all. She had felt that she escaped much by being abroad when Mr. -Meredith should arrive, she had blushed for her ingratitude in feeling -it, she had persuaded herself that when he should have arrived, and -she should know that he was in England, this strange, for the present -unconquerable, feeling might wear off. It must be in a great measure -nervous, she thought; it had come upon her so often and oppressively -before her child's birth--surely it would vanish then. Time had -brought her such immeasurably rich compensation, "good measure, -pressed down, and running over," she had but this one thing more to -ask of time, and that would come. - -It was on a glorious day, even for Naples, that Fitzwilliam Baldwin, -happily alone when it arrived, received James Dugdale's letter. -Margaret, her child, and Lady Davyntry had gone out, intending to -remain away for some hours, to the villa of friends of Eleanor's, who -rejoiced immensely in the society of the English family. Mr. Baldwin -was to join them in the afternoon, a sociable arrangement tending to -rescue the ladies from boredom, without subjecting the gentleman to -the same. - -The writing of the letter which came to the beautiful villa by the -sea, that glorious day, had been attended with difficulties which are -not easily described. Partly from his knowledge of the man, and partly -from the gift of insight and sympathy which he possessed in a rare -degree, James Dugdale could enter into the perplexity and intricacy of -the trouble of which he was the harbinger, and could follow the -inevitable workings of Mr. Baldwin's mind under the circumstances. -Meredith had at first proposed that the truth should not be told to -Baldwin, that he should only be prepared for important news of an -unpleasant character, and urged to return as speedily as possible. But -James would not agree to this. - -"No," he said, "the truth must be told, and borne somehow; and a plain -simple statement of it to a man like Baldwin is the best thing to be -done, and will enable him to bear it best. If he is kept in suspense, -he will be unable to keep her from suspicion, and that is the great -point for him to secure." - -That Mr. Baldwin would exert himself to the utmost to conceal his -feelings until they reached England, James did not doubt; and that he -would acquiesce in their view of the case he felt assured. With this -view, and in this spirit, the terrible letter was written; how it was -read, how the full knowledge of the meaning of its contents was -endured, no human being ever knew. - -In the midst of the great bewilderment which fell upon Fitzwilliam -Baldwin, while he sat with his eyes fixed upon Dugdale's letter, in -the midst of the rush of wildly-varying but all-painful feeling which -took possession of him, two things were uppermost in his mind: the one -that the news which had reached him might be hidden until their -arrival in England from Margaret, the other that the birth of a son -would set this dreadful matter right, as far as it was capable of -rectification. - -As the hours during which he was absorbed in deep and agonising -reverie wore away, he saw these two points more and more clearly, and -began to take comfort from them. Dugdale had laid so much stress in -his letter upon the certainty of the truth being known to no one but -Meredith and himself, upon the feasibility of such prompt and ready -action, that it would be necessary only to let Margaret learn the need -of the second marriage ceremony just before the time of its -performance, and upon the fortunate circumstance that the little one -so unintentionally wronged would be placed beyond the reach of -injury when the expected event should have taken place, that the -heart-stricken reader could not but see the force of his arguments. - -He thought very little of himself in all this. A swift sharp pang of -regret when he felt that he had failed in the great task he had set -himself, the high privilege he had striven for--that the woman whom he -loved with such love as his experience told him men very rarely had to -bestow, was not placed by that love, and all the defences with which -it had surrounded her, beyond the reach of the stings of fortune--a -piercing, agonising sense of defeat, of failure,--and all he suffered -in his own person, on his own account, was finished and over. But for -_her_, for Margaret--she who, in the midst of her happiness, in the -summertide of her pride, and the security of her good fortune, dreaded -the slightest, most passing reference to the past, whose sensitiveness -and delicacy was tortured even now with a sense of degradation in the -clinging of the old associations of the past--for her, he suffered as -much as it was in his nature--which had largely the faculty of -pain--to suffer. - -When the time drew near at which he must prepare to meet Margaret, to -find himself under her calm, but, where he was concerned, keen -observation, forced to deceive her in fact, and to feign a state of -spirits utterly foreign to the truth, he started up with a sudden fear -that the havoc which had been at work within him might have made its -mark upon his face. He knew that his wife--and when the dear familiar -word came into his thoughts, he shuddered at the sudden realisation it -forced upon him of the awful truth, she was not his wife--that -Margaret would detect trouble in his face with unerring keenness and -certainty. - -He must devise a pretext for their sudden return, Dugdale had said in -the letter. Of course, and it must be found, must be decided upon, at -once. He stood still before a mirror and looked at his face. It was -pale and haggard, as though he had gone through a long illness, and -had grown suddenly older in it. The pretext which would account to -Margaret for this face of his must needs be a serious one. And if it -must, why not make it the true pretext? Could he devise to tell her -any trouble, loss, or calamity affecting him which she would not share -to the full? Were they not, indeed, and in the holiest truth of that -mysterious tie of love, one? Would she not grieve as much for an -imaginary evil, if it could thus affect him, as for the real cross -which she would have to carry? At first, his wondering gaze upon his -own changed face in the glass, Fitzwilliam Baldwin thought--"Yes, I -may as well tell her the truth; she cannot take it worse than she will -take anything affecting me only!" - -But, again, a little reflection stopped him. If the truth were -revealed to Margaret now, it would be so far different from any -trouble that could come to them in the ordinary course of their united -life, that it must sever them. From the instant that Margaret should -know that she was not his wife there would be no more liberty for her, -but restraint between them, and the action of a feeling which would -take strong root in her delicate and sensitive mind. No, he must guard -her, as her warmhearted but cool-judging friends had decided, against -the discovery--he should win her forgiveness afterwards for a small -deception involving so much to be gained in this terrible crisis of -their fate. - -He roamed from room to room of the beautiful villa overhanging the -sea, and looked drearily around him on all the familiar objects -associated with their everyday life. They were all familiar, true, and -yet they were so strange. On them all there was the impress of the -dreariness and the desolation which sweeps in the wake of a great -shock, of a sudden event after which life can never again be the same, -over all the soulless things in the midst of which we live. These were -Margaret's rooms, and she was flitting about them when he saw her and -them last, and they could never look the same again--neither they nor -Margaret. Could it be true? Was it real, or a dream? - -He stopped and pulled out James's letter, and read it again; and once -more the full terrible reality struck him as with a palpable physical -blow. This, then, was the fulfilment of that vague dread which -Margaret confessed to having felt, that "superstitious terror" which -had pursued her often when her life was fullest of blessings and -happiness. James Dugdale had not erroneously estimated the confidence -which he believed to exist between Fitzwilliam Baldwin and Margaret. -It was thorough, perfect, absolute. There had not been a thought of -her heart hidden from her husband, and therefore he was fully able to -comprehend all the depth and bearing, the full weight and severity, of -the calamity which had come upon them. - -What a mockery was the beauty of the scene on which he looked! What -warmth or light was there in the sunshine now--what music was there in -the play of the bright waves upon the curving coast? Then he took -himself to task for weakness. He ought to have stood the shock of even -such intelligence better than this. Where were the strength and -manliness which never before had failed him? In other straits and -trials of his life he had always manifested and been proud, after a -fashion, of manifesting strength and composure; but in this they -failed him. Strength had forsaken his limbs, and there was no -composure in the ashen face he looked at in the glass; for the chief -weight of this crushing sorrow must fall, not on himself, but on one -much dearer--on her whose happiness he had set before him as the chief -aim and effort of his life. - -There was a common-sense practical point of view in which he ought to -look at it--the point of view in which Dugdale's letter had placed it, -the point of view which was so much more clearly perceptible to Hayes -Meredith than to James. After all, the evil was transient, if -irreparable; and the proposed precautions, taken with good will and -with good sense, could not fail. But Fitzwilliam Baldwin was not quite -master of himself in this crisis; a touch of the same presentiment -which had haunted Margaret came now to him, and made him tremble -before an undefined dread dimly looming behind the clear and -ascertained truth. - -When he set himself seriously to decide upon the pretext by which he -should account to Margaret for the sudden change of all their plans, -Mr. Baldwin was not slow about finding one. - -Margaret knew little in detail of the management and circumstances of -the large property of which she was the mistress. This ignorance arose -neither from incapacity nor from lack of interest, but came solely -from a little of the "Lady-Burleigh" feeling, combined with the full -occupation of her mind in the delights of her home and her household, -and the idea that she always had time before her for the acquisition -of a knowledge of what she called "Fitzwilliam's office business." -Lady Davyntry was not much wiser; indeed, she rather trusted to her -brother's knowing all about her affairs, and transacting all business -relating to Davyntry, than troubled herself with inquiry into matters -regarding the Deane. - -The pretext, then, should be a letter from the factor at the Deane, -and urgent interests of the property at stake, requiring the master's -presence. Lady Davyntry, he knew, would immediately propose that she -and Margaret should remain at Naples until Mr. Baldwin should have -transacted his business, to which he must be careful to lend a -sufficiently unpleasant aspect, and be able to rejoin them. But Mr. -Baldwin knew he might make his mind easy on that score. Certain as he -was that his sister would make this proposition--which, under the -circumstances, and especially in consideration of Margaret's -situation, would be eminently and palpably reasonable--he was at least -as certain that Margaret would not consent to remaining at Naples if -he had to leave her. He might safely trust to the gently-maintained -but perfectly-assured self-will of Margaret under such circumstances; -and this confidence reduced the difficulties of his task very -considerably. - -His plan was all arranged, and the first rush of the sea of his -troubles had subsided, when he mounted his horse (Mr. Baldwin's horses -were famous in Naples) and rode slowly away from the home in which he -had been so happy,--so marvellously happy it seemed to him, now that -the disturbing element had come in,--to meet Margaret, feeling like a -man in a dream. - - -"Something has happened! What is it?" said Margaret in a whisper to -her husband, as soon as he had gone through the formalities of the -occasion, and she could approach him without being remarked. "Is there -any bad news from home? Is anything wrong with papa?" - -"Nothing, my darling. I have been upset by some unpleasant -intelligence from Curtis. It is only a matter of business; you shall -hear all about it when we get home." - -"Only a matter of business. Thank God! But you look very ill, -Fitzwilliam. Is it anything very wrong?" - -"Yes; it may involve me in much annoyance. But I cannot say more now. -Don't look so anxiously at me; I am not ill, only worried over the -affair. Can you get away soon?" - -"Yes, immediately. I have only to gather up Eleanor and baby." - -She smiled faintly as she spoke, and he returned the smile more -faintly still. - -"Gather them up, then, and let us go." - -The few minutes consumed in leave-taking were very tedious to -Fitzwilliam Baldwin, and his pale face and uncontrollably absent -manner did not pass unnoticed by the lady of the house. - -"I am sure there is something the matter with Mr. Baldwin," said Mrs. -Sinclair to her husband, when the visitors had departed, a strange -sort of gloom accompanying their leave-taking. "Did you notice, -William, how ill he looked?--just like a man who had seen a ghost." - -"Nonsense," was the uncompromising reply of Mr. Sinclair; "I daresay -he is not well. You should not say such things before the children, -Minnie; you'll see now we shall have them gravely demanding to be -informed what is a ghost. What shall you do then?" - -"Refer them to you, sir, as the source and dispenser of universal -knowledge. And it's all very well for you to say 'nonsense;' but I am -certain something is very wrong with Mr. Baldwin. However, if there -is, we shall soon know it. I am sure I hope not, for his sister's -sake." - -"And his wife's, surely; she is a very sweet creature." - -"I prefer Lady Davyntry," said Mrs. Sinclair shortly; and the -conversation dropped. - - -Mr. Baldwin was perfectly right in his anticipation of the manner in -which the communication he had to make to his "womankind" would be -received by them. Lady Davyntry was very voluble, Margaret was very -silent and closely observant of her husband. - -"What a horrid nuisance, my dear Fitz!" said Lady Davyntry; "and I -must say I think it is extremely stupid of Curtis. Of course I don't -pretend to understand mining business, and rights and royalties, and -all the rest of it; but I do wonder he needs must bother you about it -just now, when we are all so comfortable here, and Madge getting ever -so much better. I suppose writing to these odious people would not -do?" - -"No, Eleanor, certainly not," replied her brother; "I must go to them, -there's nothing else for it; I saw that at once." - -"Dear, how tiresome! And how long shall you be away, Fitz?" - -"It is impossible to tell, Nelly; and I must start as soon as -possible.--How soon can you be ready, Margaret?" - -There was an extraordinary tenderness in his tone, something beyond -the customary unfailing sweetness with which he invariably addressed -her; a compassionate unconscious deference in his manner which -thrilled her sensitive nerves. She had not removed her gaze from her -husband's face since he had made the communication which he had -promised; but she had not spoken a word. Now she said simply, still -looking at him: - -"I can be ready to start to-morrow, if you are." - -"To start to-morrow, Madge!" exclaimed Lady Davyntry in half-angry, -half-incredulous astonishment. "You cannot mean it. There was never -such an idea entertained by Fitz, I am certain, as your going.--Of -course you don't mean it?" And she turned anxiously to her brother. - -"I certainly did think Margaret would come with me," returned Mr. -Baldwin. - -"I assure you, Nelly," said Margaret, "nothing could induce me to -remain here without him." - -Lady Davyntry was very good-humoured, as she always was, but very -voluble and eager in her remonstrances. The discussion was somewhat of -a relief to Mr. Baldwin, and it ended as he had foreseen it would end. -Margaret and her little daughter would accompany him to England, and -his sister would remain at Naples. The servants, with the exception of -the child's nurse, were to be left at the villa. Mr. Baldwin had -remembered that the absence of attendants on Margaret and himself -would materially contribute to the maintenance of that secrecy which -was so necessary. The simplicity of the personal habits of both -rendered their travelling without servants a matter of surprise to no -one. - -"You are quite sure you will be back in a month, Fitz?" Lady Davyntry -said at the close of the discussion, when she had accepted the -inevitable with her usual unfailing cheerfulness, and was actually -almost ready to think the plan a very pleasant variety. "You must, you -know, for I don't believe it would be safe for Margaret to travel -after a longer time; and you know what Cooper said about March in -England for her chest. And a month will give you time to settle all -this bothering business. I really think I should get rid of Curtis, if -I were you, and give Madge plenty of time to see Mr. Carteret. I have -some lovely lava to send him; and, Madge, I will let you have the flat -knife Signor Lanzi gave me, you know--the one they found in Pompeii. -They say it belonged to Sallust's cook, and he used to slap it on the -dresser when dinner was ready to be served. Mr. Carteret would be -delighted to have it; don't you think so?" - -"I am sure he would," Margaret answered absently. - -Lady Davyntry went on: "You mustn't worry about this business, Fitz; -it is not like you to bother so about any mere matter of money." - -"It is more than a mere matter of money, Nelly," said Mr. Baldwin -hastily. "But there, don't let us talk of it any more.--You will get -ready to start on Wednesday, Margaret; and, please God, we shall all -be here together again before long." - -He left the women together, and went away, pleading letters to be -written for the mail in the morning. As he closed the door, Margaret's -quick ear caught the sound of a heavy sigh. In her turn she thought -what Eleanor had said, "It is not like him to think so much of a mere -matter of money;" for his explanation had not made it clear to her -that anything more than money was concerned. - -Her sister-in-law talked on and on to her, growing more excited by and -better pleased with the occurrences of the day as she did so, until -she finally persuaded herself that no real harm, or even permanent -unpleasantness, could come out of them to her brother. Margaret hardly -heard her. Her heart was heavy and troubled; and that night, as she -and her husband stood by the bed where their child was sleeping, -watching the infant's happy slumber, as was their invariable custom, -she gathered confirmation of her shapeless misgiving from the -expression of his face, from the infinite tenderness of his tone to -her, and the deep melancholy of the look he turned upon the child. - -"Is there a shadow, a dread, a skeleton in _his_ past too?" Margaret -mused, when she was alone; "and am I about to find it out? I thought -there was nothing in all his noble history which needed an hour's -concealment, or could bring a cloud to his face. But I must, as surely -I can, trust him. If there be more to tell than he has told,--and I -think there must be, for what is a money risk to him and me?--it is my -part to wait patiently until the time comes for me to know it. When he -thinks it right, he will tell me; until then I ought to be satisfied, -and I _will_. He said the chief part of his business would be in -London; I shall hear all about it there." - -Calling to her aid her former habit of self-control,--a little fallen -into disuse in the new and perfect happiness of her life, in which it -was seldom needed,--Margaret did not embarrass Mr. Baldwin by a -question, by the slightest betrayal that she suspected any concealment -on his part; but she said to herself very frequently, in the brief -interval before the commencement of their journey, "I shall learn the -truth in London." - -The old presentiment which had once haunted her so constantly, which -had been so readily awakened by the merest chimerical cause, of which -she had felt guilty, ashamed, combating its influence by reasoning -upon its ingratitude, its weakness, its unworthiness, had left her, it -seemed, at this time. No shadow from the brooding wings of the -terrific truth swept across her soul. - -The journey was commenced at the appointed time, and safely -accomplished, with as much celerity as was possible nearly thirty -years ago. - -On their arrival in London, the travellers went to a hotel in -Bond-street, and Margaret, much tired by the journey, fell almost -immediately into a sound sleep. They had reached London at noon, and -it was quite dark when she awoke. The glimmering firelight showed her -Mr. Baldwin's figure seated beside her bed, and she awoke to the -consciousness that he was looking at her with terrible intentness. - -"Are you quite rested, my darling?" he said. - -"Quite." - -She answered only one word. The time had come, and she was afraid, -though still no shadow from the brooding wings of the terrific truth -swept across her soul. He kissed her on the forehead, and rose. Then -he said, - -"Come down as quickly as you can. I asked Dugdale and Mr. Meredith to -meet us in London, and they are here." - - - -CHAPTER VII. -THE MARRIAGE. - - -A silent party was assembled in the large old-fashioned room in which -Margaret's presence was awaited. On the high mantel clusters of tall -wax-candles were grouped, which failed to light the dusky apartment -half-way along its length or across its breadth, but threw their -lustre around the hearth, covered with a Turkey rug. - -Hayes Meredith leaned moodily against the fluted side of the grim -black-marble chimneypiece, with one foot on the brass fender, and his -keen dark glance turned towards the glowing red fire. James Dugdale -sat in a heavy arm-chair, his head leaning back against the -red-leather cushion, his long thin fingers grasping the sides of the -chair, his face, always pale, now of an ashen-gray colour, and the -nervous tremor which pervaded his entire frame painfully evident to -the two stronger men. Mr. Baldwin paced the room with folded arms. All -three were silent. They had said all that was to be said in the -absence of her whom their consultation concerned so deeply. - -A light tread in the passage outside the door caught Mr. Baldwin's -strained ear. James Dugdale heard it too, but he did not move; he only -closed his eyes, and passed his hand across his brow. In another -moment Margaret was in the room, was within the luminous circle made -by the light, and had advanced towards Meredith. Her face was deadly -pale, but her eyes were bright, and the old look of resolution which -he had so often remarked and admired struck him once more, with his -first glance at her. Her figure was as slight and girlish as when he -had seen her last, the principal change was in the rich dress, now -become habitual to her. - -Hayes Meredith tried hard to make his earnest greeting as gladsome as -it might have been; to say, "I told you we should meet again--you see -I was a true prophet;" but there was something in her face which made -it quite impossible. She shook hands with him, and then she turned to -James, who had now stood up, and laid her hand upon his shoulder. -Fitzwilliam Baldwin made no sign. The worst had come now, and he had -very little strength to face it. - -"James," she said, "is my father dead?" - -"Good God, Margaret," he made answer, catching her hands in his, "no! -What can have put such an idea, such a fear, into your mind? He is -quite well." - -She kissed him on the cheek, and sat down, keeping her hand on his arm -still, and, slightly turning her head towards Baldwin, said in a quiet -voice, - -"I know there is something wrong. My husband is concealing something -from me; he is right in having concealed it so far, for he is always -right--" she paused for a moment to smile at him, and then Meredith -did not know the face--he had never seen _that_ look in it--"and he -has asked you to meet us here and tell me what it is, because he -cannot bear to tell me himself. Well, I will hear anything you have to -tell me, if it is his wish"--again she paused and smiled at him--"but -he is here, and well; my father, and my child, and you"--she pressed -James's arm with the hand that lay upon it--"are well; what can there -be for me to fear so very much that my husband should dread to tell it -to me himself?" - -She turned an earnest, imploring gaze on James, and saw the look he -directed at Meredith. Baldwin stepped hastily towards her, but she -stretched her hand out, and shrank away from him. The terrible truth -was fast swooping down upon her now. - -"It does not come from him," she said breathlessly; "it is the -resurrection of the past--it is my old dread--it is bad news -that _you_ have brought"--her white face addressed itself to -Meredith--"tell me what it is quickly, for God's sake! I can bear to -know it--I cannot bear the suspense." - -"I will tell you, my dear," said Meredith; and he left his place, and -put his strong arm round her--the other two stood side by side at a -little distance. "It is bad news, but not very bad; the trouble it -brings will soon be over, and no ill can ever come of it. Do you -remember when we heard, one night when you were at my house, that -Hungerford had been murdered?" - -She started, and said, "Yes, yes." - -"You recollect the date?" - -"Perfectly." Her voice was hardly audible. - -"He did not meet that dreadful fate, Margaret. He did not die thus, or -then." - -"Thank God!" she said. And then, in a bewildered way, she thought for -a moment, and cried out, "He is not dead! He is not dead! That is your -news--your dreadful news!" - -"No, my darling, no," said Mr. Baldwin, coming to her side. "It is not -so bad as that. Thank God, your fears are so far beyond the truth. He -is dead. We are not parted. No, no." - -"No, no," continued Meredith, still holding her; "it is not so bad as -that. Hungerford is dead; I saw his body, and I gave it decent burial; -but he did not die until long after the time when you believed him -dead." - -"When did he die?" she asked. The relief was immense; but if the news -she was to hear was only _that_, it was rather good than bad. "When -_did_ he die?" - -Meredith hesitated. Baldwin turned away. - -"Tell me," she insisted. - -"He died only a short time ago," said Meredith slowly. "He died only a -few days before I left Melbourne." - -She was still standing, upheld by his arm, but she lost consciousness -for a little as she stood. He placed her gently in a chair, and they -kept aloof from her, until her eyes opened, and she drew a long -breath. Then she lifted her hand to her forehead, and slowly pushed -the hair away from it. - -"You are better now?" said James. - -"I am quite well," she said. "Let me understand this. I don't quite -take it in." - -"It is better that she should understand all about it at once, -Baldwin," said Meredith. "The shock is over now, and time must not be -lost. The only difference this unfortunate affair will make to you, my -dear, is that you must be married over again." - -He spoke the words with extreme reluctance, and Margaret's face -crimsoned. - -"What," she exclaimed, "do you mean?" And then she said gently, -"Ah--yes--I see--I understand," and covering her face with her hands -she burst into tears. - -Mr. Baldwin knelt down by her chair, and gently drew one hand from -before her eyes. - -"I think you had better leave her with me now for a little while," he -said. - -The two men went silently away. - - -All through the hours of the wintry night, Margaret strove with the -anguish that had come on her as bravely as she had striven against -that which had turned her youth to bitterness. But she strove now with -a different kind of strength, and she had consolation then denied to -her. Yet even in that consolation there was more sorrow. In the past -she had stood alone, her grief was hers only, her misery troubled no -one's peace, or she did not realise that it had any outside influence; -she had to fight the battle all alone, in patience, in endurance, in -defiance, no softening influence, no gentle thoughts and blessed hopes -to hamper or to aid her. The hard material conflict of life had been -hers, and in her heart the sting of cruel mortification, of bitter -disappointment, disgust, and scorn. - -But she had borne this all alone, and had been able to bear it, had -come through it somehow, and, if severely wounded, had hidden her -wounds, now healed by the balm of love and happiness. But in this -sorrow she did not stand alone; she had the additional misery that it -had brought grief upon the man who had changed her whole life into -gladness, him to whom she owed all, and more than realised every dim -misgiving; she had ever felt when the idea of a second marriage -presented itself. - -She had seen Meredith and Dugdale again, after her long interview with -Mr. Baldwin had come to an end--an interview full of exquisite pain to -both, and yet stored among the most precious memories of their -lives--and had learned all the particulars of the plan of action upon -which they had decided. Then she had requested that she might be left -quite alone, until her presence should be necessary in the morning. -During this trying time Margaret had successfully maintained her -composure, and when she left them the three men remained silent for -several minutes, under the impression produced by her calmness, good -sense, and self-control. Meredith was the first to break the silence. - -"How wonderfully she has borne it!" he said. "I never hoped she would -have taken it like that, though I have seen her in great trouble -before, and ought to have known what she could do and bear when the -screw was put on her." - -"I have never seen her in any trouble until now," said Mr. -Baldwin--there was a strange kind of pain to him in this first -association with the man who had seen and helped Margaret in the time -now again linked so mysteriously to the present--"she does, indeed, -bear this wonderfully." - -"I doubt whether any of us--whether even _you_--can tell what it is to -her," said James, and there was a little impatience in his tone. - -Who could really know what she suffered but he--he, dowered with the -power of feeling and understanding grief as these two men, so -different, and yet in some qualities of their organisation so alike, -were not dowered? - -The exceptional circumstances had broken down the ordinary barriers -which would have shut out the subject, and the three talked over the -history of Margaret's life in Australia fully and freely. Hayes -Meredith told the others all he knew, and from his narrative Mr. -Baldwin learnt how tolerantly, how mercifully, Margaret had dealt with -the wretched man who had made her youth so miserable, and how, while -telling him the simple terrible truth as she saw it, there was much -she had not seen, had failed to understand. And, as he listened to the -story, and thought how the ghost of the horrid past had risen up again -to blight her, he felt as if all the love with which he had loved her -were nothing in comparison with that which filled his heart now; and -he grieved purely, unselfishly, for her, as she was then grieving for -him. - -Margaret had taken her child into her room. The nurse, weary of the -journey, was nothing loth to be rid of her charge, and being an -honest, stupid, bovine sort of person, and therefore admirably suited -to her functions, she did not trouble her mind about her mistress's -movements or remark her appearance. The little girl, already -strikingly like her mother, now slept tranquilly in Margaret's arms, -and now, when in the restlessness of mental suffering she could not -sit still, but walked about the room, in a deep chair before the fire. - -As the night wore on, Margaret would kneel beside the chair, and look -at the child by the fire-light, and then stand up again, and resume -her wandering up and down. Surely the dawn was very long in coming. -She lived through those hours as probably every one in every kind of -suffering lives through certain supreme hours of that experience; in -alternate paroxysms of acute anguish, spells of quiet concentrated -thought, and lapses of dull pain, in which there is a kind of confused -forgetfulness, wanting little of being quite a blank. When the latter -came, she would rock the child upon her knees before the fire, or -stand idly at the window, the curtain held back in her hand, and her -face pressed against the cold damp panes. - -Memory formed a rack on which she was stretched, until her powers of -endurance were almost exhausted, and when the release came, it was -accompanied by the stupor which follows terrible physical pain. Every -circumstance of her past life, every pain in it, from the fiercest -pang to the most ignominious little insult, came up to her, and gave -her a deliberate wrench, and above all, the sense of loneliness in all -this, contradictory though such a feeling was to the general tenor of -her thoughts, oppressed her. No one could share that trouble with her -which came from the past--therein she must suffer alone. - -Then she would force herself to think of the dead man, and what he had -suffered; to realise that he had actually been living, and her -husband, while she was on her voyage to England, while she was living -her peaceful life at Chayleigh, while--and at this point in her -thoughts she shuddered, and a deadly coldness laid hold upon her-while -she had loved and married another man, had filled a high position, and -enjoyed all that wealth, station, and consideration could give her. -The full horror of her position swept over her then, and afterwards -came the deadness, the confusion, the vain helpless weeping over her -child, the natural shrinking from what the morrow was to bring, the -strange wondering sense of a totally false position, of an utterly new -and disturbing element in her life, making all that had gone before -seem unreal. - -The hardest of all was to know, to make herself believe practically, -that she, bearing Fitzwilliam Baldwin's name--she, the mother of his -child--was not his wife. She knew how innocently, how unconsciously, -she had done this wrong; they had made it plain to her how small its -importance really was; but she was oppressed with a sense of shame and -anguish in reference to it, almost intolerable, even when she did not -turn her thoughts towards her child. - -When she did not! That was seldom, indeed; for, underlying all the -rest, there was the agony of the wrong her child had sustained, never -to be assuaged, and many times during that dreadful night she uttered -aloud to the unconscious infant some of the burden of her soul. The -injury to her child, the possible touch of disgrace on the stainless -story of Baldwin's life; he who, as she said to herself over and over -again, had lived in unblemished honour before the world, he who never -needed, never wished to hide thought, or word, or deed of his, he who -so loved her--these constituted the almost unbearable agony of the -grief which had come upon her. - -They had told her whence the remedy for all this evil was to be looked -for. If the child to be born three months hence should prove to be a -son, the wrong would be righted; little Gerty would be no worse than -if this had never happened, for it was not in any reason to be feared -that the secret should ever transpire. - -"And if my child should not be a son?" she had asked them simply. - -"Then there would be two to share Baldwin's savings, and the -unentailed property," Hayes Meredith had answered her, "and you would -have to wait till the son and heir really did arrive." - -She had said no more then, and now, as she mused over all that had -been said, a passionate prayer arose in her heart, that the child for -whose birth she now hoped, with feelings so widely, so sadly different -from what they had been, might be a son. If it were so, Baldwin would -be satisfied; the sting would be taken out of this calamity for him, -though for her it never could be. - -James Dugdale was right in the estimate he had formed of her feelings, -little as she supposed that they were within any human ken. She did -love little Gertrude wonderfully; and to know her to be illegitimate, -to know that she must owe her name and place in the world to a -concealment, a false pretence, was a wound in the mother's heart never -to be healed, and whose aching was never to be allayed. - -So the hours wore away, and with their wearing; there came to Margaret -an increased sense of unreality. The ground she had trodden so -securely was mined and shaken beneath her feet, and with the stability -all the sweetness of her life had also passed away. In her thoughts -she tried to avoid the keen remembrance of that beautiful, pure -summertime of love and joy, over which this shadow had fallen, but she -could not keep away from it; its twilight had too newly come. With -keen intolerable swiftness and clearness a thousand memories of her -beautiful, stately home came to haunt her, like forms of the dead, and -it was all in vain that she strove to believe, with the friends who -had endeavoured to cheer and console her, that the black shadow which -had fallen between that home and her could ever be lifted more. - -When the wintry dawn had fully come, she lay down on her bed, with her -child in her arms, and slept. One tiny infant hand was doubled up -against the mother's neck and her tear-stained cheek rested on the -soft brown curls of the baby's hair. - -Margaret's slumber did not last long. She awoke long before the time -at which she had told Baldwin she would be ready. When she drew back -the curtains and let in the cold gleaming light, there was as yet but -little stir or noise in the street, and the shops opposite the hotel -were but slowly struggling into their full-dressed and business-like -appearance. She turned from the window, and looked at her face in the -glass. Was that face the same that had looked out at her only this -time yesterday? She could hardly believe it was, so ghastly, so worn, -so old it showed now. She turned away abruptly, and took off her -dress, which she replaced by a dressing-gown, and shook down her rich -hair about her neck and shoulders. Presently the child awoke and -cried, and Margaret carried her to her nurse. She did not kiss the -child, or look at her, after she had placed her in the woman's arms, -but went away at once, with her teeth set. - -How horrible, how unnatural, how shameful it seemed to Margaret, as -she dressed herself in the plainest garments her travelling trunks -supplied, that this should be her wedding-day, and she was dressing -for her marriage! All the painful feelings which she had experienced -were concentrated and expressed in those terrible, almost incredible -words. She went through her unaided task steadily, only avoiding -seeing her face in the glass; and when it was quite done, when her -shawl, and bonnet, and gloves were on, she knelt down by her bed, with -her face upon the coverlet, and her clasped hands outstretched, and -there she prayed and waited. - -At nine o'clock James Dugdale knocked at the door of Margaret's room. -She opened the door at his summons, and silently gave him her hand. - -"Baldwin is in the sitting-room," he said. "I see you are quite ready. -Are you feeling strong?" - -"I am perfectly well," she replied. - -They went downstairs, and into the room which the party had occupied -on the preceding evening. Preparations for breakfast were in active -progress, and two waiters were conducting them with as much fuss and -display of alacrity as possible. - -Hayes Meredith greeted Margaret with a cheerful aspect. Mr. Baldwin -merely set a chair for her. Their "good-morrow" was but a look, and -what a pang this caused Margaret! The servants were not to know they -had not met till then. - -To the practical, business-like mind of Hayes Meredith the painful -matter on hand had not, indeed, ceased to be painful, but had advanced -so far towards a happy termination, which should end its embarrassment -positively, and in all human probability its danger, that he felt able -to be cheerful without much effort or affectation, and took upon -himself the task of keeping up appearances, to which his companions -were much less equal. He really ate his breakfast, while the other -three made the poorest pretence of doing so, and he did the talking -about an early shopping expedition which had been proposed over night. - -At length this portion of the trial came to an end in its turn, and -Margaret, accompanied by James, and followed by Meredith and Baldwin, -left the hotel on foot. The two waiters witnessed the departure of the -party. - -"A precious glum lot for a party wot is wisitin' the metrop'lis, eh, -William? said one to the other. - -"Ain't they just, Jim! They are swells though, from wot I hear." - -When they reached Piccadilly Meredith procured a hackney-coach, and -the silent little company were driven to the City. Margaret sat back, -leaning her head in the corner with closed eyes. The three men hardly -spoke. The way seemed very long, and yet when the coach stopped, in -obedience to Meredith's directions to the driver, in a crooked, -narrow, dirty little street, which she had a confused notion was near -the great river, Margaret started, and her heart, which had lain like -a lump of lead in her breast, began to beat violently. - -A few minutes' walking, but by a tortuous way, brought them to a -shabby little old church, damp, mouldy, and of disused aspect, and -into the presence of a clergyman whose appearance matched admirably -with that of the building, for he, too, was shabby, little, and old, -and looked as if he were mouldered by time and seclusion. An ancient -clerk, who apparently combined the clerkly office with those of the -pew-opener and the verger, was the only other person present. Not even -a stray boy, not even a servant-girl out on an errand, or a nursemaid -airing her charges in the damp, had been tempted, by the rare -spectacle of an open church-door, to enter the building. - -A little whispered conversation with the shabby little old clergyman, -a paper shown by Meredith, and a ghost-like beckoning by the clerk, -with intent to marshal the wedding-party to their places, and all was -ready. The words of the solemn marriage service, which it was so -dreadful to those two to repeat, which they had spoken once with such -joyful hearts, were said for the second time, and nothing but the -signing of the register remained to be done. - -As Mr. Baldwin with his wife followed the shabby little old clergyman -into the vestry, he whispered to Margaret, - -"It is all over now, dearest; nothing can ever trouble or part us more -but death." - -She pressed the arm on which she was leaning very close to her breast, -but she answered him never a word. - -"Sign your name here, if you please, madam," said the clerk, putting a -dirty withered old finger on the blank space in the large book which -held in such trite record so many first chapters of human histories. - -Mr. Baldwin had already signed, and was looking at his wife with eager -attention. He saw the spasm of agony which crossed her face as she -wrote "Margaret Hungerford." James Dugdale saw it too. - -When Meredith and Dugdale in their turn had signed the register, and -Mr. Baldwin had astonished the clergyman, to a degree unprecedented in -his mild and mouldy existence, by the magnificence of the sum with -which he rewarded his services, all was done, and the wedding-party -left the church. Mr. Baldwin and Margaret got into the coach, and were -driven to a shop in Piccadilly. There the driver, who was rather -surprised at the novelty of a bridal pair being "dropped" at a shop -instead of being taken home in orthodox style to breakfast, was -dismissed. Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin returned to the hotel, as they had -left it, on foot. - - -"Let me see--what's the name of the church and the parson?" said Hayes -Meredith to James Dugdale, as they stood in the street when the coach -had taken Baldwin and Margaret away, and the church-door was shut upon -them. - -He had an old-fashioned red morocco-leather pocket-book, with a -complicated clasp, composed of brass wire, open in his hand, and he -carefully noted down James's reply, heading the memorandum with the -initials, - - F. M. B. - M. H. - - -"What do you write that down for?" James asked him. - -"Partly from habit, old fellow, and partly because I never was -concerned in so strange an affair before, and I have a fancy for -reminding myself of it." - -He had put up the pocket-book as he spoke, and they were walking -slowly away. - -"I remember well," said Meredith, "when I said good-bye to her on -board the Boomerang, I wondered what sort of fate awaited her in -England. It is a very enviable one on the whole, in spite of this -little cloud, which I look upon as quite blown over. It might have -been an ugly business if that poor wretch had pulled through in the -hospital. What a comfort that it has all been so capitally managed, -isn't it?" - -"Yes," said James absently; "how very, very miserable she looked!" - -"Never mind that--it was natural--it was all so awkward you know. Why, -now that it is over, I can hardly believe it. But she will be all -right to-morrow--the journey had something to do with her looks, you -must remember." - -When they reached the hotel they found Mr. Baldwin alone in the -sitting-room. Hayes Meredith had recovered his spirits much more than -any of the party. He was quite chatty, and inclined to enjoy himself, -now that it was possible, in the delightful novelty of London. -Besides, he judged wisely that the less difference the event of the -morning should be allowed to make in the disposition of the day the -better. - -Mr. Baldwin was ready to devote himself to his guest's pleasure, and a -pleasant programme was soon made out. On reference being made to -Margaret she said she would remain at home all day, with the child. -James, too, pleaded fatigue, and did not leave the house. And when the -other two were gone he thought, "No one, not even _he_ knows what this -is to her so well as I know it." - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. -SHADOWS. - - -On the third day after the quiet marriage ceremony had been performed -in the City church, Margaret Baldwin, her husband, and their child -left London for Chayleigh. She had been told that her father knew -nothing of the revelation which it had been Hayes Meredith's difficult -task to impart to her, and she felt that she owed much to the wise -consideration which had concealed it. In the first place, to have -enlightened her father would only have been to inflict unnecessary -pain upon him, and in the second, it would have embarrassed her -extremely. - -To keep her feelings in this supreme hour of her fate as much to -herself as possible was her great desire, and especially as regarded -her father. His pride and delight in the good fortune which had -befallen her were so great, his absolute oblivion of the past was so -complete and so satisfactory, that she would not, if even it could -have made things better rather than worse for her, have had the one -feeling disturbed, or the other altered. He had never mentioned her -first husband's name to her, and she would not, to spare herself any -suffering, have had an occasion arise in which it must needs be -mentioned. So, as they travelled towards her old home, there was -nothing in the prospect of her meeting with her father to disturb her, -and the events of the week she had just gone through, began to seem -already distant. - -After the day of the marriage, Baldwin had not spoken of the grief -that had befallen them. If it had been possible for him to love her -better, more tenderly, more entirely, more deferentially than before, -he would have done so; but it was not possible. In all conceivable -respects their union was perfect; not even sorrow could draw them more -closely together. Neither could sorrow part them, as sometimes it does -part, almost imperceptibly, but yet surely, those whose mutual -affection is not solidified by perfect similarity of temperament. - -The gravity of Margaret's character, which had been increased by the -experiences of her life, by the deadly influences which had tarnished -her youth, had been much tempered of late by the cordial cheerfulness, -the unfailing sweetness of disposition which characterised Baldwin, -and which, being entirely free from the least tinge of levity, -harmonised perfectly with her sensitiveness. So, in this grief, they -felt alike, and while he comprehended, in its innermost depths and -intricacy of feeling, the distress she suffered, he comprehended also -that she needed no assurance of his appreciation and sympathy. - -The details of business and the arrangements for the future which the -terrible discovery had made necessary were imparted to her by Hayes -Meredith, and never discussed between her and Baldwin. She understood -that in the wildly improbable--indeed, as far as human ken could -penetrate, impossible--contingency that the truth should ever become -known, the little Gertrude's future was to be made secure, by special -precautions taken with that intent by her father. Thus no material -anxiety oppressed her for the sake of the child, over whom, -nevertheless, she grieved with a persistent intensity which would have -seemed ominous and alarming to any one aware of it. But that no one -knew; the infant was the sole and unconscious witness of the mother's -suffering. - -What intense shame and misery, what incoherent passionate tenderness, -what vague but haunting dread, what foreshadowing of possible evil had -possession of her soul, as, her head bent down over the little girl -sleeping in her arms, Margaret approached her father's house! - -Mr. Carteret was standing at the entrance, and behind him, in the -shade of the portico, was a figure whom Margaret did not recognise, -and whom she was about to pass, having received her father's -affectionate greeting, when Mr. Baldwin said, "This is Mr. Meredith's -son, Margaret," and Robert held out his hand. Then she spoke to the -boy, but hastily, being anxious to get her child and her father out of -the cold air. - -When the whole party had entered the house, and Mr. Baldwin and Mr. -Carteret were talking by the fire in the study, Robert Meredith stood -still in the hall watching the light snow flakes which had begun to -fall sparingly, and which had the charm of novelty to him, and -thinking not overpleasantly of Margaret. - -"A proud, stuck-up fine lady," the boy muttered, and the expression of -scorn which made his face so evil at times came over it. "I suppose -she thinks I don't remember her in her shabby old clothes, and with -her hands all rough. I suppose she fancies I was too much of a child -to know all about her when she used to do our needlework, and my -mother used to puzzle her head to make out jobs for her, because she -was too proud to take the money as a present. I saw it all, though -they didn't tell me; and I wonder how she would like me to tell her -fine husband or her old fool of a father all about it! I remember how -they talked about her at home when the black fellows killed Mr. -Hungerford, and my father said they might venture to take her into the -house now, until she could be sent to England. And my lady's too fine -to look at one now, is she, with her precious self and her precious -brat wrapped up in velvet and fur." And the boy pulled off a chair in -the hall a mantle of Margaret's which had been thrown there, and -kicked it into a corner. - -It would be difficult to do justice to the vile expression of his -handsome face, as, having given vent to this ebullition of senseless -rage, he again stood, looking through the side windows of the hall -door for the approach of the carriage which was to bring his father -and James Dugdale to Chayleigh. The boy's chief characteristic was an -extreme and besetting egotism, which Margaret had unconsciously -offended. She would not have thought much or perhaps at all of the -fact had she known it, but from the moment when, with a polite but -careless greeting to Robert Meredith, she had passed on into the -house, she had an enemy in the son of her old friend. - -"I thought Margaret would be in a hurry home," said the unconscious -Mr. Carteret, in a sagacious tone to his son-in-law, "when Meredith -came. She received much kindness from him, and I knew she would like -to acknowledge it as soon as possible." - -"And I, too, sir," said Baldwin. "What a good fellow he is, and a fine -hearty fellow! What do you think of the boy?" - -"A very fair kind of boy indeed," said Mr. Carteret, with unusual -alacrity; "never requires to be told anything twice, and is never in -the way. If he is noisy at all, he keeps it all for out of doors, I -assure you. And not ignorant, by any means: gave me a very -intelligible account of the habits of the wombat and the opossum. -Really a very tolerable boy, Baldwin; I fancy you won't mind him -much." - -This was warm praise, and quite an enthusiastic supposition, for Mr. -Carteret. Baldwin was much reassured by it; he and Margaret had been -rather alarmed at the contemplation of his possible sufferings at -finding himself alone with a real live boy. Baldwin was glad too of -the excuse for talking about something apart from himself and -Margaret. The most natural thing for him to say under the -circumstances would have been, "Well, sir, and how do you think -Margaret is looking?" but he hesitated about saying it, and was -relieved when Mr. Carteret volunteered the opinion that she was -looking very well, and began to question him about their doings in -foreign parts. - -Thus the time was whiled away until Meredith and Dugdale arrived, and -Margaret, announcing that the child was asleep, came to sit with her -father. A look from her husband showed her that all was well, and a -look in return from her released him. - -The evening passed away quietly. No incident of any moment occurred. -Mr. Carteret displayed no curiosity about Meredith's business in -London, though he was very congratulatory concerning the fortunate -coincidence of the return of Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin, and very solicitous -about the danger of James Dugdale's being made ill by the journey and -the excitement of London, which presented itself to Mr. Carteret in -most alarming colours. He had not been in "town" since Mrs. Carteret's -death, and if, contrary to his usual placid habit, he speculated about -his own future at all, it certainly was to the effect that he hoped he -never should be there again. - -The old gentleman was in a state of supreme mental content just now. -He was very happy in all respects, and the return of Margaret and Mr. -Baldwin completed his felicity. His daughter's account of her health -was very satisfactory, and perhaps she need not go abroad again. They -spoke of going on to the Deane if the weather should not prove very -severe, and for his part he hoped they would do so. He had no great -liking for foreign countries, and no strong faith in the remedial -properties of their climate; and though he was very glad that Margaret -had tried Italy and profited by it, he should be still more glad that -she should decide on staying at home. With a splendid home, every -conceivable comfort, and improved health, she need not gad about any -more, especially under present circumstances. - -On the whole, Mr. Carteret's state of mind was one of enviable -contentment on the evening of his daughter's return, and as she and -her husband commented on it when they were alone, they felt that his -entire unconsciousness was most fortunate. They had nothing to fear -from suspicion or inquisitiveness on his part--he was incapable of the -one, except in the case of a traveller reporting on newly-discovered -natural objects, or of the latter, except in the case of birds, -beasts, and creeping things. - -There was one dissatisfied person among the little party at Chayleigh -on the night of the return. It was Robert Meredith. He had not -succeeded in discovering the object of his father's visit to London. -"I am going to London with Mr. Dugdale, for a few days, on particular -business," his father had said to him before they went away. But he -had not explained the nature of the business, and the boy was vexed by -this reticence. He had quick, subtle perceptions, and he had detected -some trouble in his father's mind before they left home, and during -the voyage. He had a secret conviction that this visit to London, -whose object Meredith, an open-mannered, unreserved man with every -one, and always frank and hearty in his dealings with his children, -had not explained, had reference to this undiscovered source of -trouble. - -Robert listened to all the conversation which took place during the -evening, and closely watched the countenances of every one present, -but nothing transpired which shed the least light on the matter which -excited his curiosity. He had not failed to remark that, though his -father had told him all about his correspondence with Dugdale, and how -he looked to him for advice and assistance in forwarding Robert's -wishes, as to his education in England and his future career, the -subject had not yet been discussed, and he had been left to amuse -himself, and become familiar with the house and the surroundings, as -best he might. A less shrewd and more amiable person than Robert -Meredith would have imputed this to the pleasure of old friends in -meeting after a separation of many years, and to the number and -interest of the subjects they had to discuss. But Robert Meredith was -not likely to entertain an hypothesis in which sentiment claimed a -part, and was likely to resent anything which looked like a -postponement of his claims to those of any subject or interest -whatsoever. - -To baffle this youth's curiosity was to excite his anger and -animosity--to make him determined that he _would_ get to the bottom of -the mystery sought to be concealed from him--to fill him with the -belief that it must be evil in its nature, and its discovery -profitable. It was to call out into active display all that was as yet -worst in a nature whose capacity for evil Margaret had early detected, -and concerning which his father had conceived many unspoken -misgivings. - -"It is almost as if he had come to England about these people's -affairs, and not about mine," said Robert Meredith to himself. "I -wonder how many more days are to be lost before I hear what is to be -done about me." - -Margaret happened to glance towards him as this thought passed through -his mind, and the expression of his face struck her painfully. "He was -a bad child as I remember him.--a bad, sly, deceitful, heartless -child--and he is a bad boy. He will be a bad man, I fear." She allowed -these sentiments to influence her manner to Robert Meredith more than -she was conscious of--it was polite indeed, but cold and distant. - -It would have been depressing to a shy or sensitive person, but Robert -Meredith was neither. He felt her manner indeed, and thought with a -sneer, that considering the friendship she professed for his father, -she might at least have feigned some interest in him. But he did not -care. This rich woman, of high station and social importance, which -his colonial notions rather magnified, must befriend him in material -concerns, and, therefore, how she felt towards him was a thing of no -consequence whatever. She could not dislike him more than he disliked -her, for he hated her and her fine husband. He remembered her poor, -and almost at the mercy of his parents for daily bread, and now she -was rich and independent of every one, and he hated her. How had she -gained all the world had to give, all he had longed for, since in his -childhood he had read and heard of the great world, and all its prizes -and luxuries? Only by her beauty, only by a man's foolish love for -her. - -The boy's precocious mind dwelt upon this thought with peculiar -bitterness and a kind of rage. He hated Baldwin, too, though with less -of personal dislike than Margaret. He was the first man whom Robert -Meredith had ever seen with whose wealth no idea of effort, of labour, -of speculation, of uncertainty was associated, and the boy's ambition -and his avarice alike revolted against the contemplation of a position -which he coveted with all the strength of his heart, and which he knew -could never be his. This man, who passed him over as a mere boy--this -man, who had given wealth and station to a woman whom Robert disliked -and despised--was born to all these good things; he had not to long -for them vainly, or to strive for them through long and weary toilsome -years, with only the chance of winning them at last, which was to be -his own lot in life. He might live as he listed, and the money he -should have to spend would still be there. - -Then there was a strife in the boy's mind between the burning desire -for wealth, and the pleasures which wealth procures, and distaste to, -revolt against, the toil by which it must be earned. In the evil soil -of his nature such plants were ripe of growth, and he rebelled blindly -against the inevitable lot which awaited him. Only in the presence of -Baldwin and Margaret, only in the innumerable trifling occurrences and -allusions--all strange and striking; to the colonial-bred boy--which -mark the presence and the daily habits of persons to whom wealth is -familiar, had Robert Meredith been brought to understand the -distinction between his own position in life and that of persons of -assured fortune. As he learned the lesson, he also learned to hate the -unconscious teachers. - -He learned, by the discussion of plans which he heard in the course of -the evening, that his father intended to visit Mr. Baldwin at the -Deane, and that he was to be of the party. The prospect gave him no -pleasure. He should see this fine lady, then, in her grand home. If he -dared, how he should like to say a few things, in seeming innocent -unconsciousness, which should remind her of the time when he had seen -her in his father's house, and known far more about her than she or -any one would have believed possible! The impulse to say something -which should offend Mrs. Baldwin grew upon him; but he dared not yield -to it, and his animosity increased towards the unconscious individual -on whose account he was forced to impose restraint upon his spiteful -and vicious nature. - -Margaret retired early, and as she extended her hand to him with a -kind "goodnight!" the diamonds which sparkled upon it caught his -attention. Once more she marked the sinister look--half smile, half -sneer--which came into his face. He was thinking, "I wonder whether -you would like Mr. Baldwin to know about the trumpery ring my mother -sold for you, and how you cried when you had to come to her -afterwards, and tell her you had nothing left to sell." - -On the following day the weather was bright, dry, and cheerful; -Meredith, Baldwin, and Robert went out early, bent on a long walk. -During the forenoon Margaret did not come downstairs, but in the -afternoon she went to her father's study in search of James. She found -him there, a large folio was on a reading-desk before him, but it was -long since he had turned a page. - -"Put this with the letters for post," she said, handing him a packet -directed to Lady Davyntry, "and come out with me for a while." - -James looked at her anxiously. She had a wearied, exhausted expression -in her face, and her cheeks were deeply flushed. - -"You are very tired, Margaret?" - -"Yes, I am. I am easily tired now, and I have been writing for hours." - -They went out together, and walked along the terrace into the -flower-garden, which looked dreary in its desolate wintry condition. -At first they talked vaguely of trifles, but after a while they fell -into deep and earnest conversation, and Margaret leaned closely on -James's arm as they walked, now quickly, now slowly, and sometimes she -held him standing still, as she impressed upon him something that she -was saying with emphasis. - -The walk and the conference lasted long, and when at length the -warning chill of sunset came, and James reminded Margaret of the -danger of cold and fatigue, and she yielded to his counsel, and turned -towards the house, traces of deep emotion were visible upon the faces -of both. - -"I will not speak thus to you again," said Margaret, as they reached -the portico; "but I have implicit faith in your remembrance of what I -have said, and in your promise." - -"You may trust both," James answered her in an earnest but broken -voice; "I will remember, and I will send for Rose Moore." - - -"I am delighted you have made up your mind not to return to Italy," -said Mr. Carteret a day or two later. "So much travelling would be -very unfit for you, and your son and heir ought certainly to be born -at the Deane." - - - - -CHAPTER IX. -FAMILY AFFAIRS. - - -The eldest Miss Crofton was enthusiastically delighted when the -intelligence of Mrs. Baldwin's unexpected return to Chayleigh reached -her, which was on the morning after the event. It was very natural -that she should like the importance which she acquired in the small -but almost distressingly respectable circle of society in which she -"moved," as the unaccountable phrase in use goes, from her position in -regard to Mrs. Baldwin. To her the Willises, &c., looked for the -latest intelligence concerning Margaret; to her the excellent, if -rather too inexorably managing, wife of the rector of the parish--a -lady known to the population as "the Reverend Mrs. Carroll"--intrusted -the task of procuring donations from Mr. Baldwin for a startling -number of "charitable purposes," and through the discursive medium of -her letters Haldane conducted his correspondence by proxy with his -sister. - -The eldest Miss Crofton entertained one supreme ambition. It was that -she might become Margaret's "particular friend," confidante, and, -eventually, favourite sister-in-law. She had not as yet attained any -of the degrees of the position to which she aspired, but that slight -impediment by no means interfered with her assumption, for the -edification of her friends and the general public, of the completed -character. - -She entertained considerable jealousy of Lady Davyntry, who was, she -argued, in her frequent cogitations on this subject, much older than -Margaret, and "not a bit more" her sister-in-law than she (Lucy -Crofton) was destined to be at no distant time. She was particularly -well pleased to learn that Lady Davyntry had not accompanied her -brother and his wife on their return to England, and promised herself, -within five minutes of her having learned that Margaret was at -Chayleigh, that she would make the most of the opportunity now open to -her. - -It was not altogether, it was indeed not much, from self-interest, or -any mean variety of that pervading meanness, that the eldest Miss -Crofton proposed to herself to be "great friends" with Mrs. Baldwin; -there was a good deal of real girlish enthusiasm about her, and it -found a natural outlet in the direction of vehement admiration for the -sister of her future husband,--admiration not disturbed by any -perception or suspicion of her own inferiority. Such a suspicion was -by no means likely to suggest itself to Lucy Crofton in connection -with any one, especially at the present interesting and important -epoch of her life--for she knew, as well as any young lady in England, -how to _exploiter_ the great fact of being "engaged." - -As for Margaret, she liked the pretty, lively, passably well-bred girl -well enough for her own, and was resolved to like her better, and to -befriend her in every possible way, for her brother's, sake; but a -missish intimacy of the kind which Lucy longed for was completely -foreign to her tastes and habits. While Lucy Crofton pleased herself -by commenting on the similarity between them in point of age, Margaret -was trying to realise that such was actually the case, trying to -realise that she had ever been young, putting a strong constraint upon -herself to turn her mind into the same groove as that in which the -girl's mind ran. Between herself and all the thoughts, plans, hopes, -and pleasures of girlhood lay a deep and wide gulf, not formed alone -of the privileges and duties of her present position, not fashioned by -her unusual gravity and strength of character, but the work of the -past--an enduring monument of the terrible truths which had sent her -of late a terrible memento. - -Thus it happened that when Margaret received a note profusely -underlined, and crowded with interjections, superlatives, all kinds of -epistolary explosives from the eldest Miss Crofton, announcing her -intention of coming a little later to pass a "delightful long -afternoon" with her darling friend, she experienced a sudden accession -of weariness of spirit which communicated itself to her aspect, and -attracted the attention of her father, who immediately asked her if -anything ailed her. - -"Nothing whatever, papa," replied Margaret; and informed him after a -minute or so that Lucy was coming to see her. - -Provided Lucy did not come to Chayleigh accompanied by her wonderfully -clever little brother, and did not pester him with questions intended -to evince her lively interest in his collection, which, however, -manifested much more clearly her profound ignorance of all its -components, Mr. Carteret was perfectly indifferent to her movements. -She did not interest him, but she was perfectly respectable, eligible, -and, he understood, amiable; and if she interested Haldane, that was -quite enough for him. A simple sincerity, which never degenerated into -rudeness, characterised Mr. Carteret; and he perfectly understood the -distinction between saying what he did not think and leaving much that -he did think unsaid--a useful branch of practical science, social and -domestic. So he made no comment on Margaret's reply. - -But Hayes Meredith, who had not yet seen Captain Carteret's future -bride, was rather curious about her, and addressed a question -concerning her to Margaret, which she, being in an absent mood, did -not hear. Mr. Baldwin answered promptly and expansively, giving Lucy -Crofton praise for good looks, good manners, good abilities, and good -temper. The three men went on to talk of Haldane, his promotion, his -general prospects, and the time fixed for his marriage, which was not -to take place until the autumn. During this conversation Margaret rose -from the breakfast-table, and stood thoughtfully beside the fire, and -Robert Meredith employed himself in listening to the talkers and -watching her face. - -"Amiable creature!" he thought--and the sneer which was strangely -habitual to so young a face settled upon his lips as he thus mentally -apostrophised her--"you don't care a pin for the girl; you are bored -by her coming here, and she's a long way prettier than ever you were, -fine lady as you think yourself." - -Then, as Margaret looked up, with a bright flush on her face, with the -air of one who suddenly remembers, or has something painful or -embarrassing suggested by a passing remark, the boy thought-- - -"I shouldn't wonder if she's jealous of this pretty girl, who has -always been a lady, and knows nothing about the low life and -ruffianism she could tell her of." - -Wide of the mark as were the speculations of the boy, in whose mind a -dislike of Margaret, strong in proportion to its causelessness, had -taken root, he was not wrong in assigning the change in Margaret's -expression from reverie to active painful thought to something in -which Lucy Crofton was concerned. - -She had been informed of her brother's plans; but in the strangely -combined distraction and concentration of her mind since her trouble -had fallen upon her--trouble which each day was lightening for -removing from her husband--she had almost forgotten them, she had -never taken them into consideration as among the circumstances which -she must influence, or which might influence her. The words which had -roused her from her reverie reminded her she had something to do in -this matter. - -"Why is Haldane's marriage put off till the summer?" she said. - -"It is not put off," said James. "There never was any idea of its -taking place sooner, that I know of;--was there, sir?" - -"No," said Mr. Carteret, "I think not.--Indeed, Margery, I fancy it -was so settled with a view to your being at home then. We did not -think you would come home so soon, you know." - -"When is Haldane coming here, papa? - -"Very soon. Early next month he hopes to get leave." - -Margaret said no more, and the party shortly afterwards dispersed for -their several morning avocations. - -James Dugdale's attention had been caught by Margaret's look and -manner when she spoke of her brother's marriage. He discerned -something painful in her mind in reference to it, but he could not -trace its nature, and he could not question her just then. - -Margaret went to her room, and seated in her old place by the -window--its floral framework bore no blossom now--thought out the -subject which had come into her mind. - - -Miss Crofton arrived punctually, and found the drawing-room into which -she was shown--very much against her will, for she would have -preferred a tumultuous rush upstairs, and the entrée to the nursery -region--occupied only by Robert Meredith. They had met during Hayes -Meredith's expedition to London, and Lucy, though an engaged young -lady, and therefore, of course, impervious to the temptations of -coquetry, had perceived with quite sufficient distinctness that this -"remarkably nice boy," as she afterwards called him, thought her very -pretty, and found her rattling, rapid, girlish talk--which had the -delightful effect of setting him quite at his ease--very attractive. - -Nothing could be more ridiculous, of course; but then nothing was more -common than for very young persons of the male sex (somehow, Miss -Lucy avoided calling him a "boy" in her thoughts) to "take a fancy" -to girls or women much older than themselves; and in some not -clearly-explained or distinctly-understood way, it was supposed to be -very "safe" for them to do so. She had no objection to the admiration -even of so young an admirer as Robert Meredith, and she was pleased as -well as amused by the candid and unequivocal pleasure which Robert -manifested on seeing her. The youthful colonial did not suffer in the -least from the disease of shyness, and was pleasantly unembarrassed in -the presence of the eldest Miss Crofton. - -The two had had time to talk over the unexpected return of Mr. and -Mrs. Baldwin; and Miss Crofton, who was by no means deficient in -perception, had had an opportunity of observing that her young admirer -did not share her enthusiasm for Margaret, but was, on the contrary, -distinctly cold and disdainful in the few remarks which he permitted -himself to make concerning her, before Margaret made her appearance. -When she did so, and Miss Crofton had started up and rapturously -embraced her, that young lady and Robert Meredith alike remarked -simultaneously that she was startlingly pale. - -After a great many questions had been asked by Lucy and answered by -Margaret, in whose manner there was an indefinable change which her -friend felt very soon, and which puzzled her, Margaret took Miss -Crofton upstairs for an inspection of little Gertrude and the -"thoroughly confidential" talk for which Lucy declared herself -irrepressibly eager. - -"If she knew--if she only knew--this pure, harmless creature," -Margaret thought, with a pang of fierce pain as Lucy Crofton hugged -the child and talked to her, and appealed to the nurse in support of -her admiration, for which Gerty was poutingly ungrateful,--"if she did -but know how it has been with me since we last met, and how it is with -my child!" - -"Yon are shivering, Margaret. You seem very cold. Let me poke the fire -up before we settle ourselves. And now tell me all about yourself, how -you really are; of course one could not ask before that young -Meredith. I want to see his father so much. By the bye, Haldane told -me you knew him so well in Australia. You don't look very well, I -think, but you are much stronger than when you went abroad." - -"I am much stronger," said Margaret. "But before I talk about myself, -and I have a deal to tell you,"--Miss Crofton was delighted,--"I want -to talk to you about yourself and Haldane." - -Miss Crofton was perfectly willing to enter on so congenial a subject, -and she told Margaret all about the arrangements, which included many -festive proceedings, to which the girl naturally attached pleasurable -anticipations. When she had reached that portion of the programme -which included the names and dresses of the bridesmaids, she stopped -abruptly, and said with some embarrassment: - -"Why do you look so grave, Margaret?--is anything wrong?" Then she -added, before Margaret could speak, "Ah, I know, you don't like a gay -wedding; I remember how quiet your own was; but, you see, it would -seem so odd if mine wasn't gay, and besides, I like it; it's not the -same, you know." - -"I know, dear," Margaret said very gently, "it is not at all the same -thing, and I can quite understand your wishing to have a gay wedding. -But I want you to listen to me, and to do what I am going: to ask you. -It is something in which you can do me a great service." - -This was delightful, this was being the "great friend," indeed this -was very like being the favourite sister-in-law. So Lucy promptly -knelt down by Margaret's chair, and putting her arm round her, assured -her, with much emphasis, of her readiness to do anything she could for -her pleasure. - -There was a short pause, during which Margaret looked at the girl with -a grave sweet smile, and took her disengaged hand; then she spoke: - -"Haldane is coming here very soon, my father tells me. What leave has -he got? - -"A month." - -"Now Lucy, don't be astonished, and don't say no at once. I want you -to be married during his leave, instead of waiting until the autumn." - -"Margaret! Why?" asked Lucy, in a tone which fully expressed all the -surprise she had been requested not to feel. - -"I will tell you, Lucy. In a short time I am likely to have another -baby. You did not know that, at least you did not know it was to be so -soon; and I am very, very anxious--so anxious, that if I cannot have -my own way in this it will be very bad for me--that your marriage -should be over before a time comes when I may be very ill--you know I -was very ill indeed after Gerty's birth." - -"I know," said Lucy, still with the surprised look. - -"And I feel sure, dear Lucy, that if you are not married until the -summer I shall not be here." - -"Not be here, Margaret! You surely do not mean--" - -"I mean nothing to frighten you, Lucy, but I do mean this. I have not -been well lately, and I have been sent away as you know; I ought not -to be here now, the doctors would say--but it cannot be helped; we -were obliged to come to England, and I may be sent away again, and not -be able to go to your wedding. In short, Lucy," and here Mrs. Baldwin -lost her composure, "I have set my heart on this. Will you make the -sacrifice for me? will you put up with a much quieter wedding, and go -and spend your honeymoon at our villa at Naples?" - -"I don't know what to think," said Lucy; "I would do anything you -liked, but it does not quite depend upon me; there's papa and mamma, -and Haldane, you know." - -"I fancy Haldane will not object to your marriage being hurried a -little," said Margaret, with a smile; "and I have generally understood -that Miss Lucy Crofton contrives to get her own way with papa and -mamma." - -Margaret was very unlikely to remember her own importance out of -season; but it was not unseasonable that she should think of it now, -and feel comforted by the assurance that Mr. and Mrs. Crofton would -probably yield to any very strongly urged wish of hers. - -Lucy laughed a little--the imputation of power over anybody was not -unpleasing to this young lady, who, after a fashion which had not -hitherto developed into unamiability, dearly loved her own way. - -"But Lady Davyntry is at Naples," she said in a tone which was very -reassuring to Margaret, who felt that the chief question was virtually -disposed of, and details only now remained to be mastered. - -"She is; but I am going to ask her to come home, since I find I cannot -return. We must go to the Deane soon, if you will only be good, and -let things be arranged as I wish. I need not go until after your -wedding; but my husband and I wish that the child should be born at -the Deane. - -"Of course," assented Lucy, "and you want it to be a boy, don't you, -Margaret?" - -"Yes, we hope it may be a boy." - -"Well, whether it is a boy or a girl, I must be its godmother. You -will let that be a promise, won't you?" - -A long conversation ensued, and Lucy bade Margaret farewell until the -morrow, with a delightful consciousness that she had achieved the -position she had so much desired. - -Margaret told Mr. Baldwin her wish with regard to Haldane's marriage, -and the steps she had taken towards its fulfilment. He found no fault -with it, but failed to comprehend her reasons. - -"I can understand your dislike of the kind of wedding the Croftons -would have been likely to institute," he said; "but you might have -escaped it on the plea of your health." - -"No," she replied, "I could not do that--I could not hurt the feelings -of all these good people, and I could not endure the wedding. Even as -it will be now, think how painful it must be to me." - -Her husband understood all those simple words implied, but he passed -them over unnoticed. It grieved him inexpressibly to observe that -Margaret had not shaken off the impression of the occurrence from -which his own happy, hopeful nature had rallied so much more quickly. - -"I know, my darling, I know--and, indeed, I ought not to have asked -you for a reason, because you are the least fanciful of women--it -would be true masculine logic to refuse to aid you in one fancy, but I -am not going to be logical after that fashion. I will write to -Haldane, and get everything settled." - -Accordingly, everything was settled. Mr. Carteret was acquiescent as -usual, and with his customary politeness congratulated himself on the -presence of Mr. Meredith and his son on so interesting an occasion. -The Croftons were benignant. Dear Mrs. Baldwin had made such a point -of their daughter's profiting by her villa at Naples, and had set her -heart so completely on the matter, and, of course, dear Mrs. Baldwin -must just now be considered in everything. Haldane was delighted, and -all went well. - -"Margaret," said James Dugdale, when all had been arranged, "why is -this fixed idea always present with you? Can you not shake it off? -Ever since you came home I have been watching you, and hoping that you -were yielding to the influence of time; but I see now, since you have -set yourself to arrange Haldane's marriage, that this is a vain hope. -Why is it, Margaret?" - -"You ask me why it is?" she replied. "You--can you say it is not in -your own mind also? Can you say that you ever really believed that I -could get over the thing that has befallen me? You may call it -superstition, and no doubt it is so. I fancy such a youth as mine is -fruitful ground for the sowing and the nurture of superstition, if -such be the sense of doom, of an inevitable fate hanging over me; but -it is stronger than I, and you know I am not generally weak, James. It -is always there,--always before me--I can see nothing else, think of -nothing else." - -"I know, dear, I know; but when your health is stronger--believe me, -Margaret, I do not wish to mock you with an assurance that you can -ever quite get over what has happened--when your child, the son and -heir, is born, you will be better; you will wonder at yourself that -you allowed such sway to these dark forebodings. Think of all you have -to make you happy, Margaret, and don't, don't yield to the -presentiment which is due to your health alone." - -She laid her hand on his arm with a smile. - -"Supposing it be so, James; supposing all I think and feel--all the -horrors which come to me in the night-watches, all the memories -perfectly distinct in their pain, whereas I could not recall an hour -of the brief happiness I ever knew in my days of delusion--supposing -all this to be a mere groundless state of suffering, and _you_ know -better"--here her clear gray eyes looked at him with an expression of -ineffable trust and compassion--"what harm have I done? _If I live_, -this marriage may as well be over; and _if I die_, I have spared my -husband and my father one sharp pang, at any rate. Haldane would be -very sorry, but he would want to be married all the same, and it would -be hard upon Fitzwilliam and my father." - -"And me?" he asked her, as if the question were wrung from him by an -irresistible impulse of suffering. - -Her hand still lay upon his shoulder, and her clear gray eyes, which -deepened and darkened as she slowly spoke, still looked steadily into -his. - -"And _you_, James. No, I have no power to save you a pang more or -less; it would not make any difference _to you_." - -There was a strange cruel satisfaction to him in her words. It was -something, nay, it was very much, that she should know and acknowledge -that with her all that had vital interest for him began and ended, -that the gift of his heart, pure, generous, disinterested, was -understood and accepted. There was silence between them for some time, -and then they talked of more general subjects, and just before their -interview came to an end their talk turned upon little Gertrude. - -"You will always love her best, James; both my children will be dear -to you," said Margaret; "but you will always love her whom her mother -unconsciously wronged best." - - -Lady Davyntry made her appearance at Davyntry in due season, and the -set of Neapolitan coral, which she brought as her contribution to the -worldly goods of the bride, was so magnificent, that Lucy could not -find it in her heart to cherish any such unpleasant sentiment as -jealousy against Eleanor, and determined that the "great friend's" -scheme should extend to her also. - -The return of her sister-in-law was a great pleasure, but also a great -trial for Margaret. Her presence renewed painfully the scene of secret -humiliation, of severance from those who had nothing to hide, from -which she had already suffered so much; and the phantoms of the past -came forth and swarmed about her, as Eleanor overwhelmed her with -caresses, and declared her delight at being once more with her, and -her vivid perception of the improvement in "baby." - -The most unsuspicious and unexacting of women, Eleanor Davyntry had -been so perfectly satisfied with the reasons assigned by her brother -for his return to England, that it never occurred to her to ask him a -question on the subject. She was very eloquent concerning the beauty -of the season at Naples, assured Haldane that she had left everything -in perfect order for the reception of his bride, and wound up a long -and animated monologue by informing Margaret that she had brought with -her the unfinished portraits. - -"What a pity!" interrupted Baldwin; "They may be injured, and surely -you knew we intended to return." - -"Yes, I did," said Eleanor, "but I thought Mr. Carteret would like to -see them as they are, and I never reflected that they might be -injured." - -The few days which followed the arrival of Lady Davyntry were full of -the confusion and discomfort which ordinarily precede a wedding, even -on the quietest scale. The Merediths, father and son, had gone to -Oxford, where Hayes Meredith had one or two old friends among the -University authorities. They were not to return until the day before -the wedding. Mr. Carteret was rather "put out" by the inevitable -atmosphere of fuss and preparation, and Margaret devoted herself as -much as possible to him, passing in his study all the time she could -subtract from the demands of the bride-elect and her brother. Mr. -Baldwin was much with Lady Davyntry, and James Dugdale kept himself, -after his fashion, as much as possible to himself. - -On the clay before that fixed for Haldane's marriage all the inmates -of Chayleigh were assembled, and Lady Davyntry was of the party. They -had been talking cheerfully of the event anticipated on the morrow, -and Eleanor had been expressing her fears that Mr. Carteret would feel -very lonely after his son's departure--fears which that placid -gentleman did by no means entertain on his own account--when Hayes -Meredith and Robert arrived. The evening passed away rapidly, and -the little party broke up early. Meredith joined Dugdale in his -sitting-room, and the friends proceeded to the discussion of the -business on which Hayes Meredith had come to England. With two -exceptions they adhered strictly to this one matter. The first was of -a trifling nature. - -"Did you happen to see my pocket-book anywhere about?" Meredith asked. - -"No," said Dugdale; "you mean your red-leather one, I suppose?" - -"Yes." - -"I have not seen it, or heard of its being found in the house." - -"I must have lost it on our journey to Oxford, I suppose," said -Meredith. "It's of no consequence; there was no money in it, and -nobody but myself could understand the memoranda." - -The second exception was of a graver kind; it, too, arose on -Meredith's part. - -"I am sorry to see Margaret looking so ill," he said. "I was very much -struck by her looks this evening. Has she been looking so ill as this -since I saw her last?" - -"No," replied James; "she has overexerted herself lately, I fancy, and -she has never gotten over the shock." - -"Has she not?" said Meredith quickly. "That's a very bad job; very -likely to tell against her, I should think. Isn't it rather weak of -her, though, to dwell so much as to injure her health on a thing that -is of so little real consequence, after all?" - -"I suppose it is," said James; and he seemed unwilling to say more. - -But the matter had evidently made an impression on Meredith, for he -said again, - -"I thought her looking very ill, feverish, and nervous, and quite -unlike herself. Do you think Baldwin perceives it?" - -"No," said James shortly, "I don't think he does. Margaret never -complains." - -"Well, well, it will all be right when the heir to the Deane comes to -put an end to uncertainty and fear, if she has any." - -And then he led the conversation to his own affairs. - - -"I like your friend so much, Madge," said Lady Davyntry to Mrs. -Baldwin, as the sisters-in-law were enjoying the customary -dressing-room confabulation. "He is such a frank, hearty, good fellow, -and not the least rough, or what we think of as 'colonial' in his -manners. What a pleasure it must have been to you to see him again!" - -"Yes," said Margaret absently. - -"How tired your voice sounds, darling! you are quite knocked up, I am -afraid. You must go to bed at once, and try to be all right by -to-morrow. I delight in the idea of a wedding; it is ages since I have -been at one, except yours. What sort of a boy is Mr. Meredith's son?" -she continued, in a discursive way to which she was rather prone; "he -looks clever." - -"He looks knowing," said Margaret, "more than clever, I think. I don't -like him." - -"If she knew--if she, too, only knew," ran the changeless refrain of -Margaret's thoughts when she was again alone, "if she could but know -what I have lived through since she saw me last! What a change has -fallen on everything--what a deadly blight! How hard, and how utterly -in vain I strive against this phantom which haunts me! If I had but -listened to the warning which came to me when I found out first that -he loved me, the warning which her words and the yearning of my own -weak heart dispelled! If I had but heeded the secret inspiration which -told me my past should never be taken into any honest, unsullied life! -And yet, my God, how happy, how wonderfully, fearfully happy I was for -a while--for happiness is a fearful thing in this perishing world. -Would I have heeded any warning that bade me renounce it? Could I have -given him up, even for his own sake?" - -She rose and paced the room in one of those keen but transient -paroxysms of distress which, all unknown by any human being, were of -frequent occurrence, and which had not quite subsided when her husband -came into her dressing-room. - -"Margaret," he said to her gravely, when he had elicited from her an -avowal of some of her feelings, "you are bringing this dead past into -our life yourself, as no other power on earth could bring it. Do you -remember when you promised to live for me only? Can you not keep your -word? This is the trial of that faith you pledged to me. Is it failing -you?" - -"No," she said, "no, it is not failing, and I can keep my word. -But"--and she clasped her arms around his neck and burst into sudden -tears--"my child, my child!" - - - - -CHAPTER X. -MARGARET'S PRESENTIMENT. - - -That noun of multitude, "the neighbourhood," was at first disposed to -take it very ill that the wedding of the eldest Miss Crofton should be -despoiled of any of its contemplated gaiety and display, by what it -was pleased to call the "airs which Mrs. Baldwin gave herself." It -bethought itself of Margaret's marriage, and arrived at the very -probable conclusion that she was disposed to be a little jealous of -her sister-in-law elect, and not disposed to allow her to "have a fuss -made about her" if she could help it. - -Poor Mrs. Crofton found her explanations and apologies coldly -received; which distressed her, for she was a slave to conventional -observances, and visited and received visits with exasperating -regularity, and Mrs. Baldwin's popularity declined. But not -permanently; when it was understood that her return to the Deane was -desirable for a reason which every one understood, and whose force all -recognised, opinions were modified, and general good-humour was -restored. - -The preparations for the wedding went on, and nothing was wanting to -the cheerfulness and content of all concerned, except less inquietude -regarding Margaret. They remembered afterwards that it happened so -frequently that, when they came to think of it, they were amazed that -the circumstance had not impressed them more deeply at the time: that -when any two of the small party at Chayleigh met, one would say to the -other, "How ill Margaret looks to-day!" or, "She is looking better -to-day;" or, "She seems hardly so well, I think;" the phrases varying -widely, but each conveying the fact that Margaret's looks and health, -Margaret's spirits and general demeanour, were in some form or other -the objects of general attention, and were altered from their ordinary -condition. - -Mr. Carteret's solicitude about her was fitful, and easily -tranquillised. He would question her anxiously enough when she came -down to breakfast in the morning, and be so uneasy and unhappy if she -did not come down, that, perceiving that circumstance, she was rarely -absent from the breakfast-table. But when the day advanced, and -Margaret began to look brighter, he would remark that she "had got -some colour now, and looked quite herself again," and, with the -inconsequence which is frequently observable among persons who are -constantly in the presence of even the most beloved objects, he failed -to notice how often she required to "look quite herself again," in -order to remove his transient uneasiness. - -She looked very handsome at this time; handsomer than she had ever -looked, even at the period when people had first found out that there -was no great exaggeration in calling Mrs. Baldwin "a beauty." The -broad brow, the sweet serious lips, which kept all their firmness, but -had less severity than in the old time, the large sensible gray eyes, -the delicate face, which had never had much colour, and now had -permanently less, wore a spiritualised expression which made itself -felt by those who never thought of analysing it. - -Among the number were the Croftons, Hayes Meredith, and Lady Davyntry. -Mr. Baldwin was not so blind. He saw that a change, which impressed -him painfully, had come over the face and the spirit of the woman whom -he loved more and more with every day of the union which had hitherto -surpassed the hopes he had built upon it in happiness, and the only -mistake he made was in believing that he quite understood that change, -its origin, its nature, and its extent. He knew Margaret too well, had -been too completely the confidant of her misgivings and hesitations -previous to their marriage, and of the relief, the peace, the -rehabilitation which had come to her since, to under-estimate the -severity of the blow which had fallen upon her; but there was one -aspect of her trouble in which he had never regarded it, in which it -was her earnest desire, her constant effort, that he should never see -it. - -He had no knowledge of the presentiment under which Margaret laboured; -he had never suspected her of such a weakness; and if it had been -revealed to him, he would have unhesitatingly referred it to the -condition of her health, have pronounced it a passing nervous -affection, and dismissed it from his thoughts. He had never heard her -express any of the vague, formless, but unconquerable apprehension -with which she had learned the probability of Hayes Meredith's coming -to England; he had no idea that a foregone conclusion in her mind lent -the truth which had been revealed to her an additional power to wound -and torture her, which was doing its work, unrecognised, before his -eyes. - -One of the most sympathetic, generous, unselfish of men, Fitzwilliam -Baldwin united cheerfulness of disposition with good sense to a degree -not so frequently attained as would be desirable in the interests of -human nature; and while he comprehended to the utmost the realities of -the misfortune which had befallen Margaret, himself, and their child, -he would have been slow to appreciate, had he been aware of its -existence, the imaginary evil with which Margaret's morbid fancy had -invested it. When this wedding, with all its painful associations--so -painful for them both that they never spoke of the subject when they -were alone--should be over, Margaret would be quite herself again; and -she would find so much to occupy and interest her at the Deane, she -would be able to throw off the impressions of the past, and to welcome -the new interest which was so soon to be lent to her life with nearly -all the gladness it would have commanded had the incident they had to -deplore never occurred. - -He had a keen perception, though he did not care to examine its origin -very closely, that Margaret would find it a relief to be rid of the -presence of Meredith and his son. They were associated with all that -had been most painful, most humiliating, in the old life; they had -brought the evil tidings which had cast a heavy gloom over the calm -sunny happiness of the new, and she could not be happy or oblivious in -their presence--could not, that is to say, at present, in her abnormal -state of sensitiveness and nervousness. - -Fitzwilliam Baldwin did not cordially like Robert Meredith. He felt -that he did not understand the boy, and his frank nature involuntarily -recoiled, with an unexplained antipathy, from contact with a -disposition so _voilée_, so little open, so calculating, as his -observation convinced him that of Robert Meredith was. Quite -unselfish, and very simple in his habits and ideas, Mr. Baldwin was -none the less apt to discover the absence or the opposite of those -qualities, and it was very shortly after their return to Chayleigh -that he said to his wife, - -"Meredith intends to make a lawyer of his son, he tells me." - -"Yes," said Margaret, "it is quite decided, I understand. I daresay he -will do well, he has plenty of ability." - -"He has, and a few other qualifications, such as cunning and coolness, -and a grand faculty for taking care of himself, which people say are -calculated to insure success in that line of life." - -"You don't like lawyers," said Margaret. - -"I don't like Robert Meredith; do you? said her husband. - -"No," she replied promptly, "I do not; more than that, I ought to be -ashamed of myself, I suppose, and yet I can't contrive to be; but I -dislike the boy extremely, more than I could venture to tell; the -feeling I have about him troubles me--it is difficult for me to hide -it." - -"I don't think you do hide it, Margaret," said Baldwin; "I only know -you did not hide it from me. I never saw you laboriously polite and -attentive to any one before; your kindness to every one is genuine, as -everything else about you, darling; but to this youngster you are not -spontaneous by any means." - -"You are right," she said, "I am not. There is something hateful to me -about him. I suppose I am afflicted with one of those feminine follies -which I have always despised, and have taken an antipathy to the boy. -Very wrong, and very ungrateful of me," she added sorrowfully. - -"Neither wrong nor ungrateful," her husband answered in a tone of -remonstrance. "You are ready to do him all the substantial benefit in -your power, as I am, for his father's sake. There is no ingratitude in -that, and as for your not liking him being wrong--" - -"Ah, but I don't stop at _not_ liking him," said Margaret; "if I did, -my conscience would not reproach me as it does. I hope his father does -not perceive anything in my manner." - -"Nothing more unlikely. Meredith does not observe you so closely or -understand you so well as I do; and I don't think any one but myself -could find out that you dislike the boy; and I was assisted, I must -acknowledge, by a lively fellow-feeling. I should not wonder if Robert -was perfectly aware that he is not a favourite with you." - -"I am sure there is nothing in my manner or that of any one else," -said Margaret, "which in any way touches himself, that he fails to -perceive." - -"Fortunately it does not matter. He loses nothing material by our not -happening to take a fancy to him, and I don't think he is a person to -suffer from any sentimental regrets. More than that, Margaret--and -enough to have made me dislike him--I don't think he likes you." - -"Like me! He hates me," she said vehemently. "I catch his eye -sometimes when he looks at me, and wonder how so young a face can -express so much bad feeling. I have seen such a diabolical sneer upon -his face sometimes, particularly when either my father or his father -spoke affectionately to me, as almost startled me--for my own sake, I -mean." - -"For your own sake?" said Mr. Baldwin in a tone of some annoyance. -"How can you say such a foolish thing? Why on earth should you give -such a thing a moment's thought? What can it possibly matter to you -that you are the object of an impertinent dislike to a boy like young -Meredith?" - -"Nothing indeed," answered Margaret, "and I will never think of it -again. You are all in a conspiracy to spoil me, I think, and thus I am -foolish enough to be surprised and uncomfortable when any one dislikes -me without a reason." - -No more was said then on this subject, and Mr. Baldwin dismissed it -from his mind. The conversation he had had with his wife had just so -much effect upon him and no more, that he took very little notice of -Robert, and displayed no more interest than politeness demanded in the -discussions concerning him and his future, which just then shared the -attention of the family party at Chayleigh with Captain Carteret's -rapidly approaching marriage. - -This circumstance the young gentleman was not slow to notice, and it -had the effect of intensifying the feeling with which he regarded -Margaret. - -"She has put her fine husband up to snubbing me, has she?" he said to -himself one day, when Mr. Baldwin had taken less notice of him than -usual. "Now I wonder what _that's_ for. Perhaps she's afraid of the -goodness of my memory. I daresay she has told him a whole pack of lies -about the time she was in Melbourne, and she's afraid, if I walked or -rode out with him, I might get upon the subject. And I only wish he -would give me a chance, that's all." - -But nothing was more unlikely than that Mr. Baldwin should give Robert -Meredith such a "chance," and that the boy's natural quickness soon -made him understand. The only person with whom he associated at this -time, who afforded him any opportunity for his spiteful confidences, -was the bride-elect. - -Lucy was still pleased by the unrepressed admiration of the only male -creature within the sphere of Mrs. Baldwin's influence who was wholly -unimpressed by her attractions. The "great friend's" project, though, -according to Miss Lucy Crofton's somewhat shallow perceptions, -triumphantly successful, did not in the least interfere with so -thoroughly legitimate a development of feminine proclivities. - -To be sure, the subject of Margaret's first marriage, and her -disastrous life in Melbourne, was one which Lucy had never heard -touched upon, even in the most intimate conversations among the family -at Chayleigh. Her affianced Haldane had never spoken to her, except in -the briefest and most general terms, of that painful episode in the -family history. But that did not constitute, according to Lucy's not -very scrupulous or refined code of delicacy, any barrier to her -talking and hearing as much about it in any other available manner as -she could. - -She even persuaded herself that it was her "place" and a kind of -"duty" to learn as much about her future sister-in-law as possible; -people would talk, and it was only proper and right, when certain -subjects were introduced, that she, in her future capacity of Mrs. -Haldane Carteret (the cards were printed, and very new, and shiny, and -important they looked), should know exactly "how things stood," and -what she should have to say. Which was a reflection full of foresight -on the part of the eldest Miss Crofton, and partaking somewhat of the -nature of prophecy, as, from the hour of Mrs. Baldwin's marriage, the -subject of her colonial life had never been revived in the coteries of -"the neighbourhood." - -Robert Meredith had method in his mischief. He did not offend the -_amour propre_ of Lucy by speaking contemptuously of Mrs. Baldwin, or -betraying the dislike which he entertained towards her; he dexterously -mingled in the revelations which he made to Lucy an affected -compassion for Margaret's past sorrows, and a congratulatory -compassion of her present enviable position, with artful insinuations -of the incongruity between the Mrs. Baldwin of the present and the -Mrs. Hungerford of the past, and a kind of bashful wonder, which he -modestly imputed to his colonial ignorance of the ways of society, how -any person could possibly consider Miss Lucy Crofton other than in -every respect superior to Mrs. Baldwin. - -The boyish flattery pleased Lucy's vanity, the boyish admiration -pleased her, and she entirely deprecated the idea that Robert's -manners and ideas were not on a par with those of other people born on -this side of the ocean. - -"You must remember," she said with much coquetry, and a smile which -she intended to be immensely knowing, "that Mrs. Baldwin is a great -lady in her way, and I am not of anything like so much importance. I -fancy that would make as much difference in your part of the world as -here." - -And then they talked a great deal of his part of the world; and Robert -acknowledged that his most earnest desire was that he might never see -Australia again. And Lucy Crofton confessed that she was very glad -Haldane could not be sent _there_, at least on that odious "foreign -service," which she thought a detestable and absurd injustice, devised -for the purpose of making the wives and families of military men -miserable. She was quite alive to the fact that they were highly -ornamental, but could not see that soldiers were of the slightest use -at home--and as to abroad, they never did anything there, since war -had ceased, but die of fevers and all sorts of horrors. So the pair -pursued an animated and congenial conversation, of which it is only -necessary to record two sentences. - -"I suppose you have no one belonging to you in Australia?" Robert -Meredith asked Miss Crofton, in a tone which implied that to so -exceptionally delightful a being nothing so objectionable as a -colonial connection could possibly belong. - -"No one that I know anything about; there is a cousin of papa's--much -younger than papa, he is--who got into trouble, and they sent him out -there; but none of us ever saw him, and I don't know what has become -of him. I don't even know his name rightly; it is something like -Oldham, or Otway, or Oakley." - - -"How do you feel, Madge? are you sure you are equal to this business?" -said Lady Davyntry to Margaret, as she came into her sister-in-law's -room on the morning of Haldane's marriage. "Haldane is walking about -the hall in the most horrid temper, your father is lingering over the -last importation of bats, as if he were bidding them an eternal -farewell, and the carriage is just coming round, so I thought I would -come and look after you two. I felt sure you would be with the child. -What a shame not to bring her to the wedding!--Isn't it, Gerty?" and -Lady Davyntry, looking very handsome and stately in her brave attire, -took the little girl out of her mother's arms, and paused for a reply. - -Margaret was quite ready. She was very well, she said, and felt quite -equal to the wedding festivities. - -"That's right; I like weddings, when one isn't a principal; they are -very pleasant. How pale you are, Margaret! Are you really quite well?" - -"She is really quite well," said Mr. Baldwin; "don't worry her, -Eleanor." - -The slightest look of surprise came into Eleanor's sweet-tempered -face, but it passed away in a moment, and they all went down to the -hall, where Margaret received many compliments from her father on her -dress and appearance, and where Haldane on seeing them first assumed a -foolish expression of countenance, which he wore permanently for the -rest of the day. - -The carriages were announced. Margaret and her husband, Lady Davyntry -and Mr. Carteret, were to occupy one; the other was to convey Haldane, -Hayes Meredith and his son, and James Dugdale. - -"Where is James?" asked Mr. Carteret. "I have not seen him this -morning." - -Nobody had seen him but Haldane, who explained that he had preferred -walking on to the church. - -"Just like him," said Haldane, "he is such an odd fellow; only fancy -his asking me to get him off appearing at breakfast. Could not stand -it, he said, and was sure he would never be missed. Of course I said -he must have his own way, though I couldn't make him out. He could -stand Margaret's wedding well enough." - - -The last day of Margaret's stay at Chayleigh had arrived. All -arrangements had been made for the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin -and Mr. Carteret. An extraordinary event was about to take place in -the life of the tranquil old gentleman. He was about to be separated -from the collection for an indefinite period, and taken to the Deane, -a place whose much-talked-of splendours he had never even experienced -a desire to behold, having been perfectly comfortable in the knowledge -that they existed and were enjoyed by his daughter. - -That her father should be induced to accompany her to Scotland, that -she should not be parted from him, had been so urgent a desire on -Margaret's part, that her husband and James Dugdale had set themselves -resolutely to obtain its realisation, and they had succeeded, with -some difficulty. The collection was a great obstacle, but then Mr. -Baldwin's collection--whose treasures the old gentleman politely and -sincerely declared his eagerness to inspect, while he secretly -cherished a pleasing conviction that he should find them very inferior -to those of his own--was a great inducement; besides, he had -corresponded formerly with a certain Professor Bayly, of Glasgow, who -had some brilliant theories connected with _Bos primus_, and this -would be a favourable opportunity for seeing the Professor, who rarely -"came South," as he called visiting England. - -He was not at all disturbed by Margaret's eager desire that he should -accompany her; he did not perceive in it the contradiction to her -usual unselfish consideration for others, which James Dugdale saw and -thoroughly understood, and which Mr. Baldwin saw and did not -understand, but set down to the general account of her "nervousness." -He had been rather unhappy at first about the journey and the change; -but James's cheerful prognostications, and the unexpected discovery -that Foster, his inseparable servant, whose displeasure was a calamity -not to be lightly incurred, so far from objecting to the tremendous -undertaking, "took to" the notion of a visit to the Deane very kindly, -was a relief which no false shame interfered to prevent; Mr. Carteret -candidly admitting, and the whole family thankfully recognising. - -"I don't know how I should have got through this day," Margaret said -to James, as they stood together on the terrace under the verandah, -and she plucked a few of the tender young leaves which had begun to -unfold, under the persuasion of the spring time--"I don't know how I -should have got through this day, if papa had not agreed to come with -us. It is bad enough as it is; a last day"--she was folding -the tiny leaves now, and putting them between the covers of her -pocket-book--"is always dreadful--dreadful to _me_, I mean. It sounds -stupid and commonplace to talk of the uncertainty of life, but I don't -think other people live always under the presence of the remembrance, -the conviction of it, as I do. It is always over me, and it makes -everything which has anything of finality about it peculiarly -impressive to me." - -Her hand was resting on his arm now, and they turned away from the -house-front and walked down the grassy slope. - -"Do you--do you mean that this sense of uncertainty relates to -yourself?" he asked her, speaking with evident effort, and holding her -arm more closely to him. - -"Yes," she replied calmly; "I am never tortured by any fears about -those I love now; the time was when I was first very, very happy; when -the wonderful, glorious sense of the life that had opened to me came -upon me fully; when I hardly dared to recognise it, because of the -shadow of death. Then it hung over my husband and my child; over my -father--and--you." - -He shook his head with an involuntary deprecatory movement, and a -momentary flicker of pain disturbed his grave thoughtful eyes. - -"And it lent an intensity which sometimes I could hardly bear to every -hour of my life--my wonderfully happy life," she repeated, and looked -all around her in a loving solemn way which struck the listener to the -heart. "But then the thing I had dreaded, though I had never divined -its form, though it had gradually faded from my mind, came upon -me--you know how, James, and how rebellious I was under my trial; no -one knows but God and you--and then, then the shadow was lightened. It -never has fallen again over them or you; it hangs only over me, -and--James, look at me, don't turn away--I want to remember every look -in your face to-day; it is not a shadow at all, but only a veil before -the light whose glory I could not bear yet awhile. That is all, -indeed." - -He did not speak, and she felt that a sharp thrill of pain ran through -his spare form. - -"Don't be angry with me," she went on in soft pleading tones, "don't -think I distress you needlessly, I do so want you to hear me--to leave -what I am saying to you in your mind. When I first told you that I had -a presentiment that I had suffered my last sorrow, that all was to be -peace for me henceforth, except in thinking of my child, you were not -persuaded; you imputed it to the shock my nerves had received, and you -think so still. It is not so indeed, even with respect to my child. I -am tranquil and happy now; I don't know why, I cannot account for it. -Nothing in the circumstances is susceptible of change, and I see those -circumstances as clearly as I saw them when they first existed; but I -am changed. I feel as if my vision had been enlarged; I feel as if the -horizon had widened before me, and with the great space has come great -calm--calm of mind--like what travellers tell us comes with the -immense mountain solitudes, when all the world beneath looks little, -and yet the great loneliness lifts one up nearer to heaven, and has no -fear or trembling in it. I am ne her God not unquiet now, James, not -even for the child. The wrong that I have done her God will right." - -James Dugdale said hastily, "You have done her no conscious wrong, and -all will be righted." - -"Yes, I know; I am saying so; but not in our way, James, not as -we--" she paused a very little, almost imperceptibly--"not as you -would have it. But that it will be righted I have not the smallest -doubt, not the least fear. You will remember, James, that I said to -you the wrong I did my child will be righted." - -"Remember!" he said in keen distress. "What do you mean, Margaret? -Have you still the same presentiment? Is this your former talk with me -over again?" - -"Yes," she replied, "and no. When I talked with you before, I was -troubled, sad, and afraid. Now I am neither sad, troubled, nor -afraid." - -"You are ill. There is something which you know and are hiding from us -which makes you think and speak thus." - -"No, indeed." - -There was conviction in her tone, and he could but look at her and -wait until she should speak again. She did not speak for a few -moments, and then she resumed in a firm voice: - -"I want to say to you all that is in my mind--at least as far as it -can be said. I am not ill in any serious way, and I am not hiding -anything which ought to be made known; and yet I do believe that I am -not to live much longer in this world, and I acknowledge with a full -heart that the richest portion of happiness ever given to a woman has -been, is mine. When this trouble, the only one I have had in my new -life, came to me, it changed me, and changed everything to me for a -time; but the first effect is quite past, and the wound my pride -received is healed. I don't think about that now; but I do think of -the wonderful compensation, if I may dare to use a word which sounds -like bringing God to a reckoning for His dealings with one of His -creatures, which has been made to me, and I feel that I have lived all -my days. The old presentiment that I had of evil to come to me from -Australia, and its fulfilment, and the suffering and struggle, all are -alike gone now, quieted down, and the peace has come which I do not -believe anything is ever to disturb more." - -"Margaret, Margaret!" he said, "I cannot bear this; you must not speak -thus; if you persist in doing so, there _must_ be some reason for it. -It is not like you to have such morbid fancies." - -"And it is not like you to misunderstand me," she interrupted gently. -"Can you not see that I am telling you what is in my mind on what I -believe will be my last day in my old home, because, if I am right, it -will make you happy in the time to come to remember it?" - -"Happy!" he repeated with impatience. - -"Yes, happy! and if I am not right, and this is indeed but a morbid -fancy, it will have done you no harm to hear it. You have listened to -many a fancy of mine, dear old friend." - -Tears gathered in her eyes now, and two large drops fell from the dark -eyelashes unheeded. - -"I have, I have," he said, "but to what fancies! How can you speak -thus, Margaret? How can you think so calmly of leaving those who love -you so much, those in whose love you confess you have found so much -happiness? Your husband, your child, your father!" - -"I cannot tell you," she said; "I cannot explain it, and because I -cannot I am forced to believe it, to feel that it is so. The world -seems far away from me somehow, even my own small precious world. You -remember, when I spoke to you before, I told you how much I dreaded -the effect of what had happened on myself, on my own feelings--how -strangely the sense I have always had of being so much older than my -husband, the dread of losing the power of enjoying the great happiness -of my life, had seized hold of me?" - -"I remember." - -"Well," she continued, "all this fear has left me now--indeed, all -fear of every kind, and the power of suffering, I think. When I think -of the grief of those I shall have to leave, if my presentiment is -realised, I don't shrink from it as I did when the first thought of -the possible future came to me. After all, it is for such a little, -little time." - -Her eyes were raised upwards to the light, and a smile which the -listener could not bear to see, and yet looked at--thinking, with the -vain tenderness so fruitful in pangs of every kind and degree of -intensity, that at least he never, never should be unable to recall -_that_ look--came brightly over her face, and slowly faded. - -"O, no, Margaret; life is awfully long--hopelessly long." - -"It seems so sometimes, but it has ceased to seem so to me. You must -not grieve for what I am saying to you. If all is what you will think -right with me, and we are here together again, you will be glad to -think, to remember how I told you all that was in my heart; if it is -otherwise, you will be far more than glad, James." - -In his heart there arose at that moment a desperately strong, an -almost irresistible longing to tell her now, for the first time and -the last, how he had loved her all his life. But he resisted the -longing--he was used to self-restraint--and said not a word which -could trouble her peace. - -They returned to the house shortly after, and went in by the -drawing-room window. At the foot of the green slope Margaret paused -for a minute, and looked with a smile at the open window of her room. -A white curtain fluttered about it; there was a stir as of life in the -room, but there was no one there. - -"You will take care of the passion-flower, James?" she said. "I think -the blossoms will be splendid this year." - -A few hours later, and the house was deserted by all but James -Dugdale. Hayes Meredith and his son had escorted Lady Davyntry to her -own house, and gone on from thence to dine with the Croftons. - - -The first letter which James Dugdale received was from Margaret. She -wrote in good spirits, and gave an amusing account of her father's -delight with the Deane, and admiration--a little qualified by the -difficulty of acknowledging at least its equality with his own--of Mr. -Baldwin's collection, and his frequent expressions of surprise at -finding the journey by no means so disagreeable or portentous an -undertaking as he had expected. She was very well, except that she had -taken cold. - -A day or two later Lady Davyntry heard from her brother. Margaret was -not so well; the cold was obstinate and exhausting; he deeply -regretted her return to Scotland; only for the risk of travelling, he -should take her away immediately. The next letter was not more -reassuring, and Lady Davyntry made up her mind to go to Scotland -without delay. In this resolution James Dugdale, with a sick and -sinking heart, confirmed her. Not a word of actual danger was said in -the letters which reached Davyntry daily, but the alarm which James -felt was not slow to communicate itself to Eleanor. - -"She has been delicate for a long time," said Lady Davyntry to James, -"and very much more so latterly than she ever acknowledged." - -In reply to her proposal to go at once to the Deane, Eleanor -had an urgent letter of thanks from her brother. Margaret was not -better--strangely weak indeed. Lady Davyntry was to start on the next -day but one after the receipt of this letter, and James went over to -Davyntry on the intervening day. He had a long interview with Eleanor, -and, having left her, was walking wearily towards home, when he saw -Hayes Meredith and Robert rapidly advancing to meet him. He quickened -his pace, and they met where the footpath wound by the clump of -beech-trees, once so distasteful in Margaret's sight. There was not a -gleam of colour in Meredith's face, and as James came up the boy -shrunk back behind his father. - -"What's the matter?" said James, coming to a dead stop in front of -Meredith. - -"My dear fellow, you will need courage. Baldwin's valet has come from -the Deane." - -"Yes!" said James in a gasping voice. - -"Margaret was much worse after Baldwin wrote, and the child--a -girl--was born that afternoon. The child--" - -"Is dead?" James tore his coat open as he asked the question, as if -choking. - -"No, my dear fellow"--his friend took his arm firmly within his -own--"the poor child is alive, but Margaret is gone." - - - - -CHAPTER XI. -AFTER A YEAR. - - -_Lady Davyntry to James Dugdale_. - -"The Deane, March 17, 18--. - -"MY DEAR MR. DUGDALE,--Your last letter, imposing upon me the task of -advising my brother, in the sense of the conclusions arrived at by -yourself and Mr. Meredith, gave me a great deal to think about. I -could not answer it fully before, and I am sure the result which I -have now to state to you will not, in reality, be displeasing to you, -but I cannot uphold its soundness of wisdom, in a worldly sense, even -to my own judgment--though it carries with it all my sympathies; and I -am confident Mr. Meredith will entirely disapprove of it. - -"I was obliged to be careful in selecting an opportunity for entering -upon the discussion prescribed by your letter with Fitzwilliam. Since -his great affliction fell upon him, he is not so gentle, so easy of -access, as he used to be; and though he will sometimes talk freely to -me of the past, the occasions must be of his own choosing. Hence the -delay. I took the best means, as I thought, of making him understand -the gravity and earnestness of the matter it was necessary he should -consider--I read your letter to him. The mere hearing of it distressed -him very much. He said, what I also felt, that he had not thought it -could be possible to make him feel the loss of Margaret more deeply, -but that the statement of his present position, so clear, so true, so -indisputable, has made him feel it. He listened while I read the -letter again, at his request, and then left me suddenly, saying he -would tell me what to answer as soon as he could. - -"Some days elapsed, and we saw very little of him--I perceived that -one of his dark moods was upon him--and yesterday he came to me, to -tell me to answer your letter. He took me to the sitting-room which -was Margaret's, and where everything remains just as she left it on -the last day that she came downstairs at the Deane. I suppose he felt -that I could understand his decision more clearly, and be less -inclined to listen to all the reasons which render it unwise, when -everything around should speak of her whose undimmed memory dictated -it. - -"The sum of what he said to me--with many strayings from the matter, -and so much revival of the past in all its first bitterness, that I -was astonished, such a faculty of grief being rarely seen in a -man--was this. He cannot bring himself to contemplate, as you and Mr. -Meredith are agreed he ought, a second marriage. As nearly as -possible, this was what he said: - -"When we found out the wrong which had been innocently done to -Gertrude, we hoped, indeed we were so persuaded, that the child we -were expecting would be a boy, and the wrong be thus righted, that we -never looked beyond the birth of the child, or discussed the future in -any way with reference to a disappointment in that particular. The -child would be the heir, and Gertrude's future would be safe, rich, -and prosperous. Such were our dreams-and when the fearful awakening -came, it was some time before I understood all it meant. It was weeks -before I remembered that the wrong done to the child my Margaret had -loved so much, that she broke her heart because that wrong had been -done, could never be righted now. It was very long before the thought -occurred to me that those to whom this dreadful truth was known would -perceive that a second marriage, by giving me the chance of a male -heir, and thus putting the two children on an equal footing in the -eyes of the world, would afford me the only means of avoiding -injustice to Eleanor." - -"Here he stopped, and said he suffered equally about both children, -for the youngest had also sustained the greatest loss of all. Then he -continued: - -"'I did think of this sometimes, but with horror, and a full knowledge -that though it would be a just and wise thing in one sense for the -interests of my children, it would be unjust and unwise towards them -and myself, and any woman whom I might induce to marry me, in another. -I daresay you will think I am talking nonsense, forgetting the -influence, which, however slow, is always sure, of the lapse of -time--forgetting that others have been heavily bereaved and yet have -found consolation, and even come to know much happiness again--when I -tell you that I never could take the slightest interest in any woman -any more. Well, supposing I am wrong there--I don't think I can be; -there is something in my inmost heart which tells me I am right--we -are dealing now not with the future, but with the present. James is -right in pointing out that I must make up my mind to some course, and -I am glad Meredith is still interested in me and in the children's -future. Time may alter my state of mind, but if it does, no -arrangements made now will be irrevocable. - -"'But, as my life is uncertain, I am not justified in allowing any more -time to go by, without providing, as well as I can, for the -contingencies which may arise. Tell James I am deeply impressed with -the truth of this, and the strong necessity of acting on all he and -Meredith have set before me, though I cannot act upon it in the way in -which they prescribe. For the present--and you will not need to be -assured that I am not regardless of what Margaret would wish--I must -only make all the reparation which money can make to Eleanor.' - -"Then Fitzwilliam entered into a full explanation of the position of -the estate, and gave me the enclosed memorandum, which he wishes you -and Mr. Meredith to see, and showed me how the ready money he can -leave to Eleanor, and the income, apart from the entailed estate, -which he can settle on her, in reality amount to within two thousand a -year of the income which must come to Gertrude as heir of entail. To -this purpose he intends to devote all this money, his great object -being to render the position of his children as nearly equal as -possible, and so reduce the unintentional injustice done to Eleanor, -and the wrong, now past atonement, inflicted on Gertrude, to such -small dimensions as may relieve him from any suffering on the subject. - -"He has requested that no portion of Mr. Carteret's property should be -left to either of the children. They will be rich enough, and he -considers, very justly, that Haldane's children will have a superior -claim on Mr. Carteret, who was feverishly anxious, Fitzwilliam tells -me, to have all his affairs settled; when he spoke to him, he did not -like this idea at all, he is so much attached to little Gertrude; but -when my brother told him he knew it would have been Margaret's wish -that her brother should have all it was in their father's power to -give, he was satisfied, and promised that it should be so. - -"In telling you this, I daresay I am repeating what is already known -to you; but I give it its place in the conversation between us, as -bearing upon the point that the only way in which the past can now be -repaired, is by securing to the children as much equality in money -matters as possible. - -"As a branch of this subject, I may tell you that the future -disposition of my property has been discussed between us. In Davyntry -I have, as I daresay you know, only a life-interest, and the money of -which I have to dispose comes to me from my father. It is six hundred -a year, and I shall at once make my will in favour of Eleanor. Thus -the inequality in the fortunes of the girls will be decreased, and -Fitzwilliam is much less likely than ever to live up to his income. -The girls will both be very rich heiresses, no doubt, and I do not -think any of us who are in the secret need feel that the advantage to -Gerty of appearing as the heiress of the Deane is very material. - -"Her father feels very deeply the condition of the entail which -prescribed that she must bear her own name, her husband being obliged -to assume it. There is a sting in that which you will thoroughly -comprehend. He asked me if I thought that remembrance had contributed -to the pain which Margaret had suffered about this calamity, but I -could assure him conscientiously that I did not think it had ever -occurred to her. The child was so mere an infant, and the strong hope -and expectation, disappointed by Eleanor's birth, possessed them so -completely, that money matters, in connection with the future, were -never discussed between them. He confirmed me in this. They never -were; and now it is a keen source of regret to him, because, he says, -he should be fortified by the knowledge of how she would have desired -he should act, under the present circumstances. - -"Poor fellow! I listened to him, seriously of course; but, sad as it -was, I could hardly keep from smiling at the way in which he confounds -the present with the past, forgetting that he had no fear, no -misgivings, no presentiment, and therefore that no reason existed for -such a discussion. All this will appear impracticable to Mr. Meredith, -but he will have patience with my brother; he saw enough of what their -life together was, to understand, in some degree, the immeasurable -loss. My ignorance of all that had occurred, at the time of Margaret's -death, is, perhaps, regrettable on this score, that I might have -gotten at more of her mind than, for his sake, she would have betrayed -to him; but it is too late now to repair that ignorance, and we must -only do the best we can in the children's interests. - -"Keeping in view the change time may produce--that my brother is still -a young man, and that a second marriage may not always be so repugnant -to him as it is at present--I think we may rest satisfied in having -induced him to contemplate, and, no doubt, as soon as possible to -make, a proper disposition of his property. As for the children, they -are as happy as little unconscious creatures like them can be, and I -Where is there a second Margaret to be found? - -"Fitzwilliam spoke to me very freely on this point. He could not -pretend to any woman that he loved her; and as, in that case, his -second wife must necessarily marry him for mercenary motives, could he -regard any woman who would do so as a fitting representative of their -mother to his children--could he make her even tolerably happy, thus -entering upon a life in which there could be no mutual respect? Such -arguments are all-powerful with a woman, especially with me; for I -know how pure, how disinterested, our lost Margaret's feelings and -motives in her marriage were, and remember only too well seeing how -they were realised--the doubt and dread she expressed when she first -recognised the prospect for the future which lay before her. How -wonderful and dreadful it seems to speak of her thus in the past, to -refer to that which seemed so completely all in all to us then, and is -now gone for ever! - -"My brother is content with the care the children have from me, and, -far more effectually, from Rose. Time teaches me her value more and -more forcibly, and I am more and more thankful that, in the blackest -and worst time of our distress, you suggested her being sent for. How -strange and fortunate that Margaret had given you a clue to what her -wishes would have been! Neither Fitzwilliam nor I would have thought -of her; indeed, I had entirely forgotten the 'Irish-Australian -importation of Margaret's,' as I once heard poor Mrs. Carteret speak -of her. She is a comfort to us all past describing. - -"I do not know whether Fitzwilliam has told you that Terence Doran, -Rose's husband, is coming to him in a month as factor. He is a very -clever young man, we understand, and, though well placed in Ireland, -willing to come here, for his wife's sake, to enable her to remain -with the children. I have no intention of leaving the Deane for the -present. Fitzwilliam seems restless; he does not say so, but I fancy -he wishes to go abroad again. I should not be surprised if he started -off soon on some prolonged tour. - -"You ask me about the children. Before I reply to your questions, let -me tell you how sorry we all are that there is no chance of our seeing -you here. We understand, of course, that the state of your own health, -and the duty you feel imposed upon you with regard to poor Mr. -Carteret, to whom it would be naturally most distasteful to come here, -furnish indisputable reasons for your absence, but we do not the less -regret it. I infer from the news that Mr. Meredith means to leave -England next month, that he has satisfactorily brought all his -business to a conclusion. His return will be a great boon to his -family. An absence which, by the time he reaches Melbourne, will have -been prolonged to nearly two years, is a terrible slice out of this -short mortal life. I suppose all the arrangements made for his son -have succeeded to his satisfaction, and that you, with your invariable -kindness, have undertaken the supervision of the boy. - -"And now, about the children. Gertrude is a fine child, very like -Margaret in face, and, so far as one can judge of so young a child, of -a nice disposition, rather grave and sensitive. Her father idolises -her; he is never weary of the little girl's company, and I can see -that he is always tracing the likeness to the face hidden from him for -a while. Little Eleanor is delicate and peevish; indeed, if it be not -foolish to say so of an infant, I should say she is of a passionate -nature; she is not so pretty as Gertrude, but has large brown eyes, -quite unlike either her sister or her poor mother. She is Rose Doran's -favourite, and I can trace sometimes, in her candid Irish face, some -surprise and displeasure when she notices my brother's intense -affection for the elder girl. She has no knowledge of anything which -makes the child an object of compassionate love to the father." - - -"March 18. - -"When I had written so far, I was interrupted by Fitzwilliam. He -brought me a letter which he has written to Mr. Janvrin, of Lincoln's -Inn, his solicitor, and which contains instructions for the drawing up -of a will according to the plan I have mentioned. He wishes me to -recapitulate to you what would be the children's positions in the -event of his death, unmarried, and not having revoked this will. - -"Gertrude would succeed to all the entailed property, chargeable, as -in Fitzwilliam's case, with a provision for her younger children. - -"Eleanor would have all the savings from the general income up to the -time of her father's death, and all such property as is not included -in the entail. - -"Haldane Carteret and I are named as the guardians and trustees, and -my brother signifies his wish that his children should reside -alternately with either Mrs. Carteret or me, according to the general -convenience. - -"Will you kindly communicate this to Mr. Meredith, together with my -personal acknowledgment of the kind interest he has taken in us all -during the sorrowful period of his stay in England? - -"Always, my dear Mr. Dugdale, most faithfully yours, - -"ELEANOR DAVYNTRY." - - --------------------- - - -_James Dugdale to Lady Davyntry_. - -"CHAYLEIGH, MARCH 20. - -"MY DEAR LADY DAVYNTRY,--I have to thank you for your kind and -explanatory letter. I never expected Baldwin to take the view of the -matter on which I wrote to you which Meredith takes. Meredith is so -much more of a man of the world than I am, has so much longer a head, -and so much sounder judgment, that I could not hesitate to transmit to -you and Baldwin his views, in which the world, could it know what we -are so unfortunate as to know, would no doubt recognise reason and -force. Well, we too recognise them, but that is all. - -"All the dispositions which you tell me Baldwin has made are admirable -under the circumstances, and considering his determination, which I do -not think is likely to yield to the influence of time, which cannot -restore her who was lost, and will, I am convinced, but increase his -appreciation of the extent and severity of that loss. Gertrude gains -only in name and appearance, and does her sister no real injury. I -have often thought how terrible Baldwin's position would have been had -not Eleanor lived. Then he must either have married again, or done an -injury to the heir of entail by permitting Gertrude to succeed. -Meredith was asking me about the succession, but I could not tell him. -I fancy I heard, but I don't remember where, when, or how, that the -next heir is a distant relative, with whom Baldwin is not acquainted. - -"Mr. Carteret had told me, before I received your letter, Baldwin's -wishes about his will, and that he intended to comply with them. The -only legacy Gertrude will inherit from her grandfather is the -unfinished portrait which you brought from Naples. He never mentioned -it, or seemed to notice that I had had it unpacked and placed in the -study, until the day on which he mentioned Baldwin's request, and then -he looked at it, quite a fond, quiet smile. The calm, the -impassability of old age is coming over him, fortunately for him. - -"But while I perfectly understand the force and approve the object of -the representation which Baldwin has made to Mr. Carteret, and while I -heartily approve the reason and the generosity of the disposition you -intend making of such portion of your property as is within your -power, I do not think I am bound by similar restrictions. Partly -because the little I possess is so small, so utterly trivial and -unimportant, in comparison with the handsome fortune, which the -measures Baldwin is taking will secure, with your assistance, to -Eleanor; and partly because I feel towards the elder child in a -peculiar way, almost inexplicable to myself--I intend to bequeath to -Gertrude the small sum I possess the power of bequeathing. - -"She shall have it when I am gone, and it shall be left at her free -and uncontrolled disposition; it will add a little yearly sum to her -pleasures, or, if she be as like her mother in her nature as in her -face, to her charities. It will be a great pleasure to me to know that -Gertrude, whose splendid inheritance will come to her by a real though -guiltless error, will at least have that small heritage in her own -real undisputable right--not as the heiress of anything or any one, -only as Margaret's child. - -"I am so glad to know what you tell me concerning Rose Doran. She was -always a good, genuine creature, and it is almost as rare as it is -pleasant to anticipate excellence and not to be disappointed. Baldwin -should be careful, however, of annoying her by displaying too marked a -preference for Gerty. Rose is a very shrewd person, and in her -impulsive Irish mind the process, which should make her suspicious of -a reason for this preference, and jealous for the child whose life -cost that of her mother, would not be a difficult one. - -"Meredith's plans are unchanged. He has every reason to be satisfied -with the arrangements made for Robert. I have no doubt the boy will do -well. He wants neither ability nor application; I wish he had as much -heart and as much frankness. Davyntry is looking very well, lonely, of -course, but well taken care of; I ramble about there almost every day. -Haldane and his wife are expected next week at the Croftons. - -"Yours, dear Lady Davyntry, always truly, - -"JAMES DUGDALE." - - -------------------------- - -_Hayes Meredith to Fitzwilliam Meriton Baldwin_. - -"CHAYLEIGH, APRIL 2. - -"MY DEAR BALDWIN,--I am off in a short time now, and this is to say -good-bye--most likely for ever. At my time of life I am not likely to -get back to England again, unless, indeed, I should make a fortune by -some very unlikely hazard, of which not the faintest indication -appears at present. - -"I am very much obliged to you for letting me know all the -arrangements you have made. I am sure you know my feeling in the -matter was interest, not curiosity, and though not only the safest, -surest, speediest, but also the most natural and agreeable way of -putting an end to your difficulties appeared to me to be a second -marriage, I am not going to blame you because you don't think so. I -know the difficulties of the position, but, after all, you inflict a -mere technical wrong on one sister, while you make up for it by -endowing her with a much larger fortune than she would have had, had -her real position been what her apparent one is--that of a younger -child. - -"From what you say of the amount of the savings which you expect to -leave to Eleanor, I should think she would be little less rich than -Gertrude, and without the burden of a large landed estate and -establishment to keep up--also enjoying the immense advantage of being -able to dispose of her property as she chooses, an advantage which -Gertrude will not enjoy, and which, with my colonial ideas, I am -disposed to estimate very highly indeed. - -"I have so many kindnesses and attentions to thank you for, that I -must put all my acknowledgments into this one, and beg you to believe -that I feel them deeply. The most welcome of all the acts of -friendship I have received from you is your promise not to lose sight -of Robert. He will get on well, I think. If he does not, his heart -will be more in fault than his head, in my belief. - -"As to O----, I hardly know what to think of your proposal. I doubt -its being altogether safe to open communications voluntarily with a -man of his sort. He is so very likely, after his kind, to impute some -bad, or at least suspicious motive to an act of charity which I should -not be disposed to give him credit for understanding or believing in. -The least danger we should have to fear would be his establishing -himself as a regular pensioner in consideration of your aid extended -to him in so inexplicable a fashion. - -"But, beyond this, there is more to apprehend. I think I told you he -knew nothing of M----, not even her former name, nor her destination -in England. If he receives a sum of money from you, he will naturally -make inquiries about you, and there will be no means of keeping the -required information from him. Once supply him with a clue to any -connection between you and his worthy comrade deceased, and O---- must -be very unlike the man I believe him to be, and must have profited -very insufficiently by such companionship, if he does not see his way -to a profitable secret, and the chance of _chantage_, in a very short -time. This is the risk I foresee, and which I should not like to run. - -"At the same time, I understand the feeling which has dictated the -proposition you make to me, and I can quite believe, remembering her -noble nature so well as I do remember it, that M---- would, as you -suppose, have been glad to rescue from want the man to whom -H---- owed, after all, relief in his last days, if to him she also -owed the knowledge of her sorrow. I propose therefore (subject to your -approval), when I arrive at Melbourne, to inquire, with judicious -caution, into what has become of O----, and if I find him living and -in distress, to assist him to a limited extent, provided he is not -quite so incorrigible a scoundrel as that assisting him would be -enabling him to prey on society on a larger and more successful scale. - -"I would suggest, however, that under no circumstances should he be -told that the money comes from you. I shall be credited, if I find him -a proper object or anything short of an entirely unjustifiable object -for your bounty, with a charitable action, which it certainly never -would have come into my head to perform; but I am quite willing, if it -gives you any pleasure or consolation, to carry the burden of -undeserved praise and such gratitude as is to be expected from -O----, not a very oppressive quantity, I fancy. - -"I am glad to hear good news of you all from Dugdale. And now, my dear -Baldwin, nothing remains for me to say, except that which cannot be -written. Farewell. We shall hear how the world wags for each of us -through Dugdale. - -"Yours faithfully, - - "HAYES MEREDITH." - - -------------------------- - -_Mrs. Haldane Carteret to Miss Crofton_. - -"CHAYLEIGH, APRIL 18. - -"MY DEAR MINNIE,--I promised to write to you as soon as I arrived -here, but I have been so busy, finding myself in a manner at home, and -_tant soit peu_ mistress of the house, that I could not manage it. No -doubt you find it desperately dull at school, but then you are coming -out after a while, and the vacation is not far off--and I can assure -you I am almost as dull here as you are. I have my own way in -everything, to be sure; but then that is not of much use, unless one -has something in view which it is worth while to be persistent about. -And really the old gentleman, though he is a dear nice old thing and -sweet-tempered to a degree, is very tiresome. - -"You know, of course, from mamma's letter, that Haldane is not coming -for a week or two. He has to remain in London to meet Mr. Baldwin on -some _very important_ business. I believe it is simply that Haldane is -to be made trustee and guardian to our little nieces, if their father -dies, and that cannot be anything very particular; but then, you know, -there never were such children. (I am sure I shall not wish mine to be -made such a fuss with, not that it is in the least likely.) Everything -that concerns them must be fussed and bothered about in the most -intolerable way. - -"A great deal of this is Lady Davyntry's fault; I must say, though she -and I are the greatest friends--as such near relations ought to -be--she does worry me sometimes. However, she is not here to worry me -now; she is at the Deane, and writes to Mr. Carteret almost every day, -of course about nothing but the children. If they are made so much of -now when they are infants, what will it be when they are grown up -enough to understand, and be utterly spoiled by it, as of course they -must be? It would not be easy to imagine worse training for the -heiresses; however, you don't want me to moralise about them, but to -tell you some news. And so I would, my dear Minnie, if I had any to -tell, but I have not. - -"Mr. Dugdale is, if possible, less amusing than ever: but I see -very little of him. He has installed himself in poor Margaret's -room--fortunately for me it is not the best room, as I suspect I -should have had some difficulty in making him decamp, for he is -excessively pertinacious in a quiet way, and as for Mr. Carteret -interfering, one might as well expect one of his pinned butterflies to -stand up for one's rights; so there he generally is, except at -meal-times, or when he is wandering about at Davyntry. The fact is, -the house, and every one in it, is be-Baldwinised to an intolerable -extent. - -"Of course I was dreadfully sorry for poor dear Margaret. I must have -been, considering she was my sister-in-law, if even she had not been -my greatest friend; but there is reason in everything, and I should -not be doing my duty to Haldane if I went on fretting for ever; -there's nothing men dislike so much in women as moping, or an -over-exhibition of feeling. I assure you if she had died only last -week--and after all, the melancholy event took place at the Deane, you -know, and not here at all--the house could not be more mopey. - -"I don't think it is quite fair to me, considering the state of my -health, and that my spirits naturally require a little rousing; and -really sometimes, when I can get nothing out of Mr. Carteret but 'Yes, -my dear,' or 'No, my dear,' and when I know he is thinking rather of -Margaret or of the collection--such a lot of trash as it is, and it -takes up such a quantity of room--I am quite provoked. And as for Mr. -Dugdale, it is worse; for though he is very polite, I declare I don't -think he ever really sees me, and I am sure, if he was asked suddenly, -on oath, he could not tell whether my hair is red, black, or gray. And -_it_ is a nuisance when there are only two men in the house with one -that they should be men of that sort. - -"I don't suppose it will be much better when Haldane comes, for I -fancy there is not the faintest chance of any company; nothing but -Carteret and Crofton, Crofton and Carteret,--after a whole year, too, -it is a little too bad. I have slipped out of mourning, though, that's -a comfort. You know I never looked well in black, and it is not _the -dress_ after all, is it? Haldane thought I might go on with grays and -lilacs, but mourning, however slight, is not considered lucky, and -though I am not at all superstitious myself, it would never do to -offend other people's prejudices, would it? - -"There is really nothing to look forward to until you come home, -except, perhaps, a visit from Robert Meredith; and he is only a boy; -but he is very clever and amusing, and greatly inclined to make a fool -of himself about me. Of course it would not do to encourage him if he -were older; but it does me no harm, and keeps him out of mischief. His -father has sailed for Melbourne. I really have no more to say, as of -course you get all the home news from mamma.--Your affectionate -sister, - - "LUCY CARTERET. - -"P.S. I have just heard from Haldane. It is almost settled that he is -to leave the army. Mr. Baldwin is going in a few days to the East, and -intends to be away for three years at the least." - - - - - END OF VOL. II. - - - ----------------------------------- -LONDON: ROBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W. - - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's A Righted Wrong, Volume 2 (of 3), by Edmund Yates - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A RIGHTED WRONG, VOLUME 2 (OF 3) *** - -***** This file should be named 60965-8.txt or 60965-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/9/6/60965/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the Web Archive -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/60965-8.zip b/old/60965-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 834a23e..0000000 --- a/old/60965-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/60965-h.zip b/old/60965-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 6491e02..0000000 --- a/old/60965-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/60965-h/60965-h.htm b/old/60965-h/60965-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 6c82293..0000000 --- a/old/60965-h/60965-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5220 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> -<html> -<head> -<title>A Righted Wrong. (Vol. 2 of 3)</title> -<meta name="Subtitle" content="A Novel."> -<meta name="Author" content="Edmund Yates"> -<meta name="Publisher" content="Tinsley Brothers"> -<meta name="Date" content="1870"> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> -<style type="text/css"> -body {margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF;} - -p {text-indent:1em; text-align: left;} - -p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:20%;} -p.center {text-align: center;} -p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} - -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} - -span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} - -hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt} -hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} -hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} -hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} - -p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} - -</style> -</head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's A Righted Wrong, Volume 2 (of 3), by Edmund Yates - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Righted Wrong, Volume 2 (of 3) - A Novel. - -Author: Edmund Yates - -Release Date: December 19, 2019 [EBook #60965] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A RIGHTED WRONG, VOLUME 2 (OF 3) *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the Web Archive - - - - - -</pre> - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Note:<br> -1. Page scan source: https://archive.org/details/rightedwrongnove<br> -02yate/page/n3?q=A+Righted+Wrong+byEdmund+Yates<br> -(Library of the University of Illinois)</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>A RIGHTED WRONG.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>A RIGHTED WRONG.</h3> -<h4>A Novel.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>BY</h5> -<h4>EDMUND YATES,</h4> -<h5>AUTHOR OF<br> -"BLACK SHEEP," "THE FORLORN HOPE," "BROKEN TO HARNESS," ETC.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>IN THREE VOLUMES.</h4> -<h4>VOL. II.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>LONDON:<br> -TINSLEY BROTHERS, 18 CATHERINE ST., STRAND.<br> -1870.</h4> - -<h5>[<i>All rights reserved</i>.]</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>LONDON:<br> -ROBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<table cellpadding="10" style="width: 90%; font-weight: bold; margin-left: 5%"> -<colgroup> -<col style="width: 10%; vertical-align: top; text-align: right"> -<col style="width: 90%; vertical-align: top; text-align: left"> -</colgroup> -<tr> -<td colspan="2"> -<h4>CONTENTS OF VOL. II.</h4></td> -</tr><tr> -<td>CHAP.</td> -<td></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div2Ref_01" href="#div2_01">I.</a></td> -<td>Day.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div2Ref_02" href="#div2_02">II.</a></td> -<td>Full Compensation.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div2Ref_03" href="#div2_03">III.</a></td> -<td>Three Letters.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div2Ref_04" href="#div2_04">IV.</a></td> -<td>Hayes Meredith's Revelation.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div2Ref_05" href="#div2_05">V.</a></td> -<td>Consultation.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div2Ref_06" href="#div2_06">VI.</a></td> -<td>The Return.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div2Ref_07" href="#div2_07">VII.</a></td> -<td>The Marriage.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div2Ref_08" href="#div2_08">VIII.</a></td> -<td>Shadows.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div2Ref_09" href="#div2_09">IX.</a></td> -<td>Family Affairs.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div2Ref_10" href="#div2_10">X.</a></td> -<td>Margaret's Presentiment.</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div2Ref_11" href="#div2_11">XI.</a></td> -<td>After a Year.</td></table> - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>A RIGHTED WRONG.</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div2_01" href="#div2Ref_01">CHAPTER I.</a></h4> -<h5>DAY.</h5> -<br> - -<p>It will probably be entirely unnecessary to inform the intelligent -reader what was the nature of the contents of the letter which James -Dugdale had handed to Mrs. Hungerford. Retrospect, present knowledge, -or anticipation will convey a sufficiently accurate perception of it -to all the readers of this story.</p> - -<p>The writing of that letter was the result of a long and entirely -unreserved conversation which had taken place between Lady Davyntry -and her brother, after the last-recorded interview between the former -and Margaret.</p> - -<p>So entirely confident was Eleanor of Mr. Baldwin's feelings and -intentions, that she no longer hesitated to speak to him on the matter -nearest her heart from any apprehension of defeating her own purpose -by precipitation.</p> - -<p>In the doubts and fears, in the passionate and painful burst of -reminiscence which had given her added insight into Margaret's nature. -Lady Davyntry had seen, far more plainly than Margaret,--or at least -than ever she had confessed to herself,--that a new love, a fresh -hope, had come to her. The very strife of feeling which she confessed -and described betrayed her to the older woman, whose wisdom, though -rather of the heart than of the understanding, was true in this case.</p> - -<p>"It will never do to let her brood over this sort of thing," said Lady -Davyntry to herself with decision. "The more time she has to think -over it, the more danger there is of her working herself up into a -morbid state of mind, persuading herself that she ought to sacrifice -her own happiness, and make Fitz wretched, because she had the -misfortune to be married to a villain, and associated, through him, -with some very bad people--the more she will tax her memory and -torture her feelings, by trying to recall and realise all the past. I -can see that nature and her youth are helping her to forget it all, -and would do so, no doubt, if Fitz never existed; but she is trying to -resist the influence of nature, and to train herself to a state of -mind which is simply ruinous and absurd."</p> - -<p>So Lady Davyntry spoke to her brother that evening, and had the -satisfaction of finding that she had acted wisely in so doing. '"Don't -speak to her, Fitz," she said, towards the conclusion of their -conversation; "don't give her the chance of being impelled by such -feelings as she has acknowledged to me, to say no,--let her have time -to think about it."</p> - -<p>It was a position in which few men would have failed to look silly, -that of talking over a love affair, in the ante-proposal stage, with a -sister. But Mr. Baldwin was one of those men who never can be made to -look silly, who have about them an inborn dignity and entire -singleness of purpose which are effectual preservatives against the -faintest touch of the ridiculous in their words or actions.</p> - -<p>He had spoken frankly of his hopes, and of his grounds for -entertaining them, but the account his sister gave of Margaret's state -of mind troubled him sorely. Here Lady Davyntry again proved her -possession of sounder sense than many who knew her only slightly would -have believed she possessed.</p> - -<p>"It won't last," she assured her brother; "it is a false, phantasmal -state of feeling, and though it might grow more and more strong if -nothing were opposed to it, it will disappear before a true and -powerful feeling--rely upon it she will wonder at herself some day, -and be hardly able to realise that she ever gave way to this sort of -thing."</p> - -<p>Mr. Baldwin wrote the letter, the answer to which was to mean so much -to him; and Lady Davyntry enclosed it in a cover directed by herself.</p> - -<p>"I don't think my darling Margaret can have much doubt about how I -should regard this affair," she said, as she sealed the envelope with -such a lavish use of sealing wax in the enthusiasm of the moment, that -it swelled up all round the seal like liliputian pie-crust; "but -whatever she may have teased herself with fancying, she will know it -is all right when she sees that I enclose your letter. Some women -might take it into their heads to be annoyed because you had spoken to -another person of your feelings; but Margaret is too high-minded for -anything of that sort, and, rely upon it, she will be none the less -happy, if she promises to become your wife, that she will make me as -happy in proportion as yourself by the promise."</p> - -<p>At this stage, the impulsive Eleanor gave vent to her emotion by -hugging her brother heartily, and accompanying the embrace with a -shower of tears.</p> - -<p>Margaret remained where James Dugdale had left her standing with Mr. -Baldwin's letter in her hand. She did not break the seal, she did not -move, for several minutes,--then she picked up Lady Davyntry's -envelope, which had fluttered to the ground, and went into the house.</p> - -<p>Any one not so innocently absentminded as Mr. Carteret, or so -cheerfully full of harmless self-content of youth, health, and -unaccustomed leisure as Haldane Carteret, could hardly have failed to -notice that there was something strange in the looks and manner of two -of the little party who sat down that day to the dinner table at -Chayleigh, shorn of much of its formality since Mrs. Carteret had -ceased to preside over it.</p> - -<p>Margaret was paler than usual, but not with the pallor of -ill-health--the clear skin had no sallowness in its tint.</p> - -<p>To one accustomed to read the countenance which had acquired of late -so much new expression, and such a softening of the old one, the -indication of strong emotion would have been plain, in the pale cheek, -the lustrous, downcast eye, the occasional trembling of the small -lips, the absent, preoccupied gaze, the sudden recall of her attention -to the present scene, the forced smile when her father spoke to her, -and the unusual absence of interest and pleasure in Haldane's jokes, -which were sometimes good, but always numerous.</p> - -<p>James Dugdale sat at the table, quite silent, and did not even make -any attempt to eat. Margaret, with the superior powers of hypocrisy -observable in the female, affected, unnecessarily, to have a very good -appetite. The meal was a painful probation for them.</p> - -<p>It was so far from unusual for James to be ill and depressed, that -when Haldane had commented upon his silence and his want of appetite -in his usual off-hand fashion, and Mr. Carteret had lamented those -misfortunes, and digressed into speculation whether James had not -better have his dinner just before going to bed, because wild -beasts gorge themselves with food, and go to sleep immediately -afterwards,--no further notice was taken.</p> - -<p>It never occurred to Mr. Carteret or to Haldane that anything except -illness could ail James. Neither did it occur to one or the other to -notice that Margaret, usually so observant of James, so kind in her -attention to him, so sympathetic, who understood his "good days" and -his "bad days" so well, did not make the slightest remark herself, and -suffered theirs to pass without comment.</p> - -<p>She never once addressed James during dinner, nor did her glance -encounter his. Why?</p> - -<p>It had been Margaret's custom of late to sit with her father in his -study during the evening. Mr. Carteret and she would adjourn thither -immediately after dinner, and James and Haldane usually joined them -after a while.</p> - -<p>Margaret did not depart from her usual practice on this particular -evening, but she was not inclined to talk to her father. She settled -him into his particular chair, in his inevitable corner, and began to -read aloud to him, with more than her usual promptness.</p> - -<p>But somehow the reading was not successful, her voice was husky and -uncertain, and her inattention so obvious that it soon became -infectious, and Mr. Carteret found the effort of listening beyond him. -An unusually prolonged and unmistakable yawn, for which he hastened to -apologise, made the fact evident to Margaret.</p> - -<p>"I think we are both disinclined for reading to-night, papa," she said -as she laid aside her book, and took a low seat by her father's side. -"We will talk now for a while."</p> - -<p>"Very well, my dear," said the acquiescent Mr. Carteret. But Margaret -did not seem inclined to follow up her own proposition actively. She -sat still, dreamily silent, and her fingers played idly with the -fringe which bordered the chintz cover of her father's chair. At -length she said:</p> - -<p>"Papa, what do you think of Mr. Baldwin?"</p> - -<p>"What do I think of Mr. Baldwin, my dear?" repeated Mr. Carteret -slowly. "I think very highly of him indeed: a most accomplished young -man I consider him, and excessively obliging, I'm sure. I don't -flatter myself, you know, Margaret, with any notion that I am a -particularly delightful companion for any one; indeed, since our great -loss, I am best alone I think, or with you--with you, my dear," and -her father patted Margaret's head just as he had been used to pat it -when she was a little child; "and still, he seems to like being with -me, and takes the greatest interest in my collection. Excessively -liberal he is, too, and I can assure you very few collectors, however -rich they may be, are <i>that</i>. He has shared his magnificent specimens -of lepidoptera with me, and I have not another friend in the world who -would do that. Think of him?" said Mr. Carteret again, returning to -Margaret's question. "I think most highly of him. But why do you ask -me? Don't you think well of him yourself?"</p> - -<p>Margaret looked up hastily, dropped her eyes again, and said:</p> - -<p>"O yes, papa; I--I do, indeed; but I wanted to ask you, because----" -A quick tapping at the window interrupted her. Haldane stood outside, -and his sister left her seat and went to him.</p> - -<p>"Come out for a walk, Madge," he said. "James is queer this evening, -and says he will just give the governor half-an-hour, and then go to -bed. You don't want them both, do you, sir?" Haldane asked the -question with his head inside, and his body outside the window. "I -thought not. Here's James now." At that moment Mr. Dugdale entered the -room. "Come on; you can get your bonnet and shawl; the door is open."</p> - -<p>Margaret had not turned her face from the window, and she now stepped -out into the verandah. She had not seen the expression on James -Dugdale's face. Instinct caused her to avoid him. She had not yet -faced the subject in her own mind, she had not yet reckoned with -herself about it.</p> - -<p>"Has she written to him? Is he coming here? How is it?"</p> - -<p>These were the questions which repeated themselves in James's brain, -as he tried to talk to Mr. Carteret, and tried <i>not</i> to follow the -footsteps of the woman whose way was daily deviating more and more -widely from his.</p> - -<p>The brother and sister walked down the terrace, and into the -pleasaunce together.</p> - -<p>Haldane had been exposed to the fascinations of the eldest Miss -Crofton for the last ten days or so, and, being rather defenceless -under such circumstances, though not, as he said of himself, "lady's -man," he was very likely to capitulate, unless some providential -occurrence furnished him with a change of occupation, and thus -diverted his mind.</p> - -<p>At present the eldest Miss Crofton--her papa, her mamma, her little -brother, a wonderfully clever child, and particularly fond of being -"taken round the lawn" on Haldane's horse, with only Haldane on one -side and his sister on the other to hold him on--her housekeeping -science, and her equestrian feats, afforded Haldane topics of -conversation of which Margaret showed no weariness. Her attention -certainly did wander a little, but Haldane did not perceive it.</p> - -<p>They had passed through the gate into the fields which bordered on -Davyntry, and Haldane had just pleaded for a little more time out, the -evening was so beautiful--adding his conviction that every woman in -the world was greedy about her tea, and that Margaret would not be -half so pale if she drank less of that pernicious decoction--when she -started so violently that he could not fail to perceive it.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter? he asked, in surprise.</p> - -<p>"Nothing," said Margaret. "There's--there's some one coming."</p> - -<p>"So there is," said Haldane, looking at a figure advancing quickly -towards them from the direction of Davyntry; "and it is Baldwin."</p> - -<p>The blood rushed violently into Margaret's cheeks, her feet were -rooted to the ground for a moment, as she felt the whole scene around -her grow indistinct; the next, she was meeting Mr. Baldwin with -composure which far surpassed his own, and in the first glance of her -candid eyes, which looked up at him shyly, but entirely with their -owner's will, he read the answer to his letter.</p> - -<p>"If you will take Margaret home to this important and ever-recurring -tea, Baldwin," said Haldane Carteret, "I will go on a little farther, -and smoke my cigar."</p> - -<p>He went away from them quickly, and saying to himself, "It is to be, I -think."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div2_02" href="#div2Ref_02">CHAPTER II.</a></h4> -<h5>FULL COMPENSATION.</h5> -<br> - -<p>It did not fall to Margaret Hungerford's lot to resume the topic of -her interrupted conversation with her father. Mr. Baldwin took that -upon himself, and so sped in his mission, that the old gentleman -declared himself happier than he had ever been in his life before; and -then, suddenly and remorsefully reminiscent of his late domestic -affliction, he added, "If only poor Sibylla were here with us to share -all this good fortune!" An aspiration which Mr. Baldwin could have -found it in his heart to echo, so full was that heart of joy.</p> - -<p>In the love of this man for Margaret there was so much of generous -kindness, such an intense desire to fill her life with a full and -compensating happiness, to efface the past utterly, and give her in -the present all that the heart of the most exacting woman could covet, -that he regarded his success with more than the natural and customary -exultation of a lover to whom "yes" has been said or rather implied. -That Margaret realised, or indeed understood, even in its broad -outlines, the alteration in the external circumstances of her life -which her becoming his wife would effect, he did not imagine; and he -exulted to an extent which he would hitherto have believed impossible -in the knowledge that he could give her wealth and position only -inferior to his love.</p> - -<p>Beyond a vague understanding that Mr. Baldwin was a very rich man for -a commoner, and that, as the property was entailed on heirs general, -Lady Davyntry would have it in the event of his dying childless, Mr. -Carteret had no clear notions about the position in which his -daughter's second marriage would place her, and Mr. Baldwin's -explanations rather puzzled and confounded the worthy gentleman. He -had shrunk as much as possible from realising to himself the -circumstances of Margaret's life in Australia, the disastrous -experiences of her first marriage, and he now showed his dread of them -chiefly by the complacency, the delight with which he dwelt upon the -happiness which he anticipated for her in the society of Mr. Baldwin, -so accomplished a man, so perfect a gentleman, and withal such a lover -of natural history. He was not disposed to take other matters deeply -into consideration, and it was chiefly Haldane with whom the -preliminaries of the marriage, which was to take place soon, and with -as little stir or parade as possible, were discussed. The young man's -exultation was extreme. He expressed his feelings pretty freely, after -his usual fashion, to everybody; but he reserved the full flow of his -delight for James Dugdale's special edification.</p> - -<p>"It isn't the correct thing to talk to Baldwin about, of course," he -said one day; "but I find it very hard to hold my tongue, when I think -of that ruffian Hungerford, and that it was through me she first saw -him, and got the chance of bringing misery on herself I long to tell -Baldwin all about him. But it wouldn't do. I wonder if he knows much -concerning him."</p> - -<p>"Nothing, I should say," returned James shortly,--he never could be -induced to say much when the topic of Margaret and her lover was in -any way under discussion,--but the unsuspecting Haldane, in whose eyes -James Dugdale, though a more interesting companion, was a contemporary -of his father, and in the "fogey" category, did not notice this -reluctance.</p> - -<p>"Well, I suppose not," said Haldane musingly. "It's a pity; for he -would understand what we all think about <i>him</i>, if he did; and I don't -see how he is to realise that otherwise."</p> - -<p>"Margaret will teach him how he is estimated," said James sadly.</p> - -<p>"I hope so," was Haldane's hearty and emphatic reply. "By Jove! it's a -wonderful thing, when you come to think of it, that anybody should -have things made up to them so completely as Madge is going to have -them made up. I don't mean only his money, you know. I wonder how she -will get on in Scotland, how she will play her part among the people -there. I daresay Baldwin's neighbours will not like her much; I -suppose the mothers in that part of the world looked upon him as their -natural prey."</p> - -<p>"I don't know about that," said James, "but I fancy Margaret will be -quite able to hold her own wherever she may go; she is the sort of -woman who may be safely trusted with wealth and station."</p> - -<p>This was by no means the only conversation which took place between -the ex-tutor and the ex-pupil on the subject then engrossing; the -attention of the families at Davyntry and Chayleigh; Haldane's -exuberant delight was apt to communicate itself after a similar -fashion very frequently, and altogether he subjected his friend just -then to a not inconsiderable amount of pain.</p> - -<p>During the few weeks which intervened before the period named, very -shortly after their engagement, for the marriage of Margaret -Hungerford and Fitzwilliam Baldwin, there was no approach on -Margaret's part to any confidential intercourse with James Dugdale. By -tacit mutual consent they avoided each other, and yet she never so -wronged in her thoughts the man who loved her with so disinterested a -love, as to believe him alienated from her, jealous of the good -fortune of another, or grudging to her of the happiness which was to -be hers.</p> - -<p>In the experience of her own feelings, in the engrossment of her own -heart and thoughts in the new and roseate prospects which had opened -suddenly before her, after her long wandering in dreary ways, she had -learned to comprehend James Dugdale. She knew now how patiently and -constantly he had loved and still loved her; she knew now what had -given him a prescient knowledge of her former self-sought doom; she -knew what had inspired the efforts he had made to avert it from her. -Inexpressible kindness and pity for him, painful gratitude towards -this man whom she never could have loved, filled Margaret's heart; but -she kept aloof from him. Explanation between them there could not -be--it would be equally bad for both. He who had so striven to avert -her misery would be consoled by her perfect happiness; in the time to -come, the blessed peaceful time, he should share it.</p> - -<p>So she and James lived in the usual close relation, and Mr. Carteret -and Haldane talked freely of the coming event, of the splendid -prospects opening before Margaret; but never a word was spoken -directly between the two.</p> - -<p>A strongly appreciative friendship had sprung up between Mr. Baldwin -and James Dugdale. The elder man regarded the younger without one -feeling of envy of the good looks, the good health, the physical -activity,--in all which he was himself deficient,--but with a thorough -comprehension of the difference between them which they constituted, -and an almost womanish admiration of one so richly dowered by nature.</p> - -<p>Since Mr. Baldwin's engagement to Margaret,--though James had loyally -forced himself to utter the congratulations of whose truth and meaning -none could form a truer estimate than he,--there had been little -intercourse between them. Mr. Baldwin now claimed Margaret as his -chief companion during his daily and lengthy visits to Chayleigh; and -she, with all a woman's tact and instinctive delicacy, quietly aided -the unobserved severance between himself and James, of which her lover -was wholly unconscious.</p> - -<p>So the time--a time of such exceeding and incredible happiness to -Margaret, that not all her previous experience of the delusions of -life could avail to check the avidity with which she enjoyed every -hour of it, and listened with greedy ears to every promise and -protestation for the future--went on.</p> - -<p>On one point only she found she was not to have her own wishes carried -out, wishes shared to the utmost by Mr. Baldwin. Her father did not -take kindly to the idea of leaving Chayleigh. His reasons were -amusingly characteristic.</p> - -<p>"You see, my dear," he said, when the matter had been urged upon him, -with every kind of plea and prayer by Margaret, and with respectful -earnestness by Mr. Baldwin, "I should never feel quite myself, I -should never feel quite comfortable away from my collection. You, my -dear Margaret, never had any great taste in that way, and of course -you don't understand it; but there's Baldwin, now. You wouldn't like -to part with your collection, would you? You have a great many other -reasons for liking the Deane, of course, besides that; but considering -only that, you would not like it?"</p> - -<p>"Good heavens, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Baldwin, "how could you imagine -such a thing as that we ever dreamed of parting you and your -collection? Why, we should as soon have thought of asking you to leave -your arms or legs after you. Of course you'll move your collection to -the Deane; there's room for a dozen of the size."</p> - -<p>Mr. Carteret was a little put out, not exactly annoyed, but <i>gêné</i>; -and Margaret, who understood him perfectly, stopped her lover's flow -of protestation and proposal by a look, and they soon left him to -himself; whereupon Mr. Carteret immediately summoned James, and -imparted to him the nature of the conversation which had just taken -place.</p> - -<p>"Baldwin is the very best fellow in the world, James," said the old -gentleman in a confidential tone; "but, between you and me, we -collectors and lovers of natural history are rather odd in our ways; -we have our little peculiarities, and our little jealousies, and our -little envies. You know I would not deny Baldwin's good qualities; and -he has been very generous too in giving me specimens; but I have a -kind of notion, for all that, that he would have no objection to my -collection finding its way to the Deane."</p> - -<p>Here Mr. Carteret looked at James Dugdale, as if he had made a -surprisingly deep discovery; and James Dugdale had considerable -difficulty in concealing his amusement.</p> - -<p>"Now you can, I am sure, quite understand that, however I may -appreciate Baldwin, I have no fancy for seeing my collection, after -working at it all these years, merged in another--merged, my dear -James!"</p> - -<p>And Mr. Carteret's tone grew positively irate, while he tapped -Dugdale's arm impatiently with his long fingers.</p> - -<p>"But, sir," said James, "I quite understand all that; but how about -parting with Margaret? If she is to be at the Deane, hadn't you better -be there also? She is of more importance to you than even your -collection, is she not?"</p> - -<p>"Well, yes, in a certain sense," said the old gentleman, rather -dubiously and reluctantly; "in a certain sense, of course she is; but, -then, I can go to the Deane when I like, and she can come here when -she likes; and so long as I know she is happy (and she cannot fail to -be <i>happy</i> this time), I don't so much mind. But I really could not -part with my collection; and if it were moved and merged, I should -feel I had parted with it. No, no, Margery and Baldwin will be great -companions for each other, and they will do very well without us, -James; we will just stay quietly here in the old place, and I am sure -Haldane will undertake not to move my collection when I am gone."</p> - -<p>Immediately after this conversation, Mr. Carteret applied himself with -great assiduity to the precious pursuit which, in the great interest -of the domestic discussions then pending, he had somewhat neglected, -and showed his jealous zeal for his beloved specimens by a thousand -little indications which Margaret perceived, and which she interpreted -to Mr. Baldwin, very much to his amusement.</p> - -<p>"Haldane," said James Dugdale to Captain Carteret, "I think you had -better give Margaret a hint that she had better not urge her father's -leaving Chayleigh; depend upon it, he will never consent, except it be -very much against his will; and if she presses him, she will only run -the risk of making him like Baldwin very much less than he does at -present."</p> - -<p>"You are quite right," said Haldane, who was busily engaged in mending -the eldest Miss Crofton's riding-whip; "but why don't you tell her so -yourself?"</p> - -<p>James was rather embarrassed by the question; but he said, "It would -come better from you."</p> - -<p>"Would it? I don't see it. However, I don't mind. I'll speak to her. -All right."</p> - -<p>Haldane did speak to Margaret; and she acquiesced in James's opinion, -and conformed to his advice. The subject dropped, and Mr. Carteret -entirely recovered his spirits. Haldane had another little matter to -negotiate with his sister, in which he was not so successful. He knew -the wedding was to be very quiet indeed; but everybody either then -knew, or soon would know, that such an event was in contemplation; and -he could not see that it could make any difference to Margaret just to -have the eldest Miss Crofton for her bridesmaid. He could assure his -sister the eldest, "Lucy, you know," was "an extremely nice girl," and -her admiration of Margaret quite enthusiastic.</p> - -<p>Margaret was quite sure Lucy Crofton was a very nice girl indeed; and -she would have her for her bridesmaid, had she any intention of -indulging in such an accessory, but she had none; and Haldane (of -course men did not understand such matters) had not reflected that to -invite Miss Lucy in such a capacity must imply inviting all her family -as spectators, and entail the undying enmity of the "neighbourhood" at -their exclusion.</p> - -<p>"O, hang it, Madge," said Haldane in impatient disdain of this -reasoning, "we are not people of such importance that the -neighbourhood need kick up a row because we are married or buried -without their assistance."</p> - -<p>"We are not," said Margaret gently, "but Fitzwilliam is; and don't you -suppose, you dear stupid boy, that there are plenty of people to envy -me my good fortune, of which they only know the flimsy surface, and to -find me guilty of all sorts of insolences that I never dreamt of, if -they only get the chance?"</p> - -<p>"I never thought of that. You're quite right, after all, Madge," said -Haldane ruefully.</p> - -<p>"There's a good deal you have never thought of, and which my life has -made plain to me," said Margaret; and then she added in a lower tone, -"Can you not understand, Hal, how terribly trying my wedding will be -to me, how many painful thoughts it must bring me? Can you not see -that I must wish to get through it as quietly as possible?"</p> - -<p>This was the first word of reference, however distant, to the past -which her brother had heard from Margaret's lips; this was the first -time he had ever seen the hard, lowering, stern, self-despising look -upon her face, which had been familiar to all the other dwellers at -Chayleigh before his return, and before she had accepted her new life -and hope.</p> - -<p>She looked gloomily out over the prospect as she spoke. She and -Haldane were walking together, and were just then opposite to the -beeches. She caught Haldane's arm, and turned him sharply round, then -walked rapidly away from the spot.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" said her brother. He felt what she had just said -deeply, notwithstanding his <i>insouciance</i>. "What are you walking so -fast for? You look as if you saw a ghost!"</p> - -<p>"What, in the daylight, Hal?" said Margaret with a forced laugh. "No, -we are rather late; let us go in."</p> -<br> - -<p>The pleasure of Lady Davyntry in the perfect success of all her most -cherished wishes would have been delightful to witness to any observer -of a philosophic tendency. It is so rarely that any one is happy and -grateful in proportion to one's anxiety and effort. Such purely -disinterested pleasure as was hers is not frequently desired or -enjoyed.</p> - -<p>"If anybody had told me I could ever feel so happy again in a world -which my Richard has left, I certainly would not have believed them," -said Eleanor, as Margaret strove to thank her for the welcome she gave -her to the proud and happy position soon to be hers; "and you would -hardly believe me, Madge, if I were to tell you how short a time after -the day I tried to make Fitz spy you through the glass there, and he -was much too proper and genteel to do anything of the kind, I began to -look forward to this happy event."</p> - -<p>To do Lady Davyntry justice, it was some time before she admitted -minor considerations in support of her vast and intense satisfaction; -it was actually twenty-four hours after her brother had informed her -that Margaret had accepted him, when she found herself saying aloud, -in the gladness of her heart and the privacy of her own room, "How -delightful it is to think that now there is no danger of his marrying -a Scotchwoman! How savage Jessie MacAlpine will be!"</p> -<br> - -<p>The dew was shining on the grass and the flowers, the birds had hardly -begun their morning hymn, on a morning in the gorgeous month of June, -when Margaret Hungerford, wrapped in a white dressing-gown, and -leaning out of the passion-flower-framed window of her room, looked -out towards the woods of Davyntry. The tall, fantastic, twisted -chimneys and turrets, rich with the deep red of the old brickwork, -showed through the leaf-laden trees. Margaret's pale, clear, spiritual -face was turned towards them, her hands were clasped upon the -window-sill; she leaned more forward still, and her long hair was -stirred by the light wind.</p> - -<p>"The one only thing he asks me for his sake," she murmured; "but O, -how difficult, how impossible, never to look back, never voluntarily -to look back upon the past again! To live for the present and the -future, to live only in his life, as he lives only in mine. Ah, that -is easy for him, or at least easier; and it may be so--but for me, for -me." She swayed her slight figure to and fro, and wrung her hands. It -was long since the gesture had ceased to be habitual now. "I will try, -I will keep my word to you, in all honest intention at least, my -darling, my love, my husband!" She slightly waved one hand towards the -woods, and a beautiful flush spread itself over her face. "I will turn -all my heart for ever from the past, if any effort of my will can do -it, and live in your life only."</p> - -<p>A few hours later, the quietest wedding that had ever been known in -that part of the country took place in the parish church of Chayleigh, -very much to the dissatisfaction of the few spectators who had had -sufficient good fortune to be correctly informed of the early hour -appointed for the ceremony.</p> - -<p>"Gray silk, my dear, and a chip bonnet, as plain as you please," said -Miss Laughton, the village dressmaker, to Miss Harland, the village -milliner. "I should like to know what poor Mrs. Carteret, that's dead -and gone, but had as genteel a taste in dress as ever I knew, would -say to such a set-out as that."</p> - -<p>"I expect, Jemima," replied Miss Harland, who had a strong dash of -spite in her composition, and felt herself aggrieved at the loss of -Mrs. Hungerford's modest custom in the article of widow's caps--"I -expect madam would not have caught Mr. Baldwin easy, if Mrs. -Carteret was alive; and gray silk and chip is good enough for her. I -wonder what she wore at her wedding, when she ran away with Mr. -Hungerford--which he was a gay chap, whatever they had to say against -him."</p> - -<p>In these days, the avoidance of festive proceedings on the occasion of -a marriage is not unusual; but when Margaret was married, that the -bride and bridegroom should drive away from the church-door was an -almost unheard-of proceeding. Nevertheless, Mr. Baldwin and Margaret -departed after that fashion; and Lady Davyntry only returned to -Chayleigh to console Mr. Carteret, who really did not seem to need -consolation.</p> - -<p>A few days later, as Margaret and her husband were strolling -arm-in-arm in the evening along the sea-shore of a then almost unknown -village in South Wales,--now a prosperous and consequently intolerable -"watering-place,"--Mr. Baldwin said to her--they had been talking of -some letters he had had from his steward:</p> - -<p>"I wonder if you have any doubts in your mind about liking the Deane, -Margaret. I am longing to see you there, to watch you making -acquaintance with the place, taking your throne in your own kingdom."</p> - -<p>"And I," she said with a smile and a wistful look in her gray eyes, -"sometimes think that when I am there I shall feel like Lady -Burleigh."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div2_03" href="#div2Ref_03">CHAPTER III.</a></h4> -<h5>THREE LETTERS.</h5> -<br> - -<p>Eighteen months had elapsed since the marriage of Fitzwilliam Baldwin -and Margaret Hungerford,--a period which had brought about few changes -at Chayleigh, beyond the departure, at an early stage of its duration, -of Haldane Carteret to join his regiment, and which had been -productive of only one event of importance. The eldest Miss Crofton -had terminated at her leisure, after Margaret's departure, the capture -of the young captain, as he was called by a courteous anticipation of -the natural course of events, and there was every reason to suppose -that the ensuing year would witness a second wedding from Chayleigh, -in the parish church, which should be by no means obnoxious to public -sentiment, on the score of quiet, if the eldest Miss Crofton should -have her own way, which, indeed, the fair Lucy generally contrived to -procure in every affair in which she was interested.</p> - -<p>Her parents entirely approved of the engagement. She had no fortune, -and Haldane's prospective independence was certain. It was a very nice -thing for her to be wife to the future Mr. Carteret of Chayleigh, and -almost a nicer thing for her to be sister-in-law to Mrs. Meriton -Baldwin of the Deane.</p> - -<p>Margaret had become a wonderfully important personage in the -neighbourhood she had left. Every particular of her household, every -item of her expenditure, and--when she stayed a month at her father's -house after her little daughter's birth, prior to going abroad for an -indefinite period, now more than six months ago,--every article of her -dress, was a subject of discussion and interest to people who had -taken no particular notice of her in her previous stages of existence. -The eldest Miss Crofton had a little ovation when she returned from a -visit to the Deane, and simple Mr. Carteret was surprised to find how -many friends he was possessed of, how many inquirers were unwearyingly -anxious to learn the latest news of "dear Mrs. Baldwin."</p> - -<p>The quiet household at Chayleigh pursued its usual routine course, and -little change had come to the two men, the one old, the other now -elderly, who were its chief members. Of that little, the greater -portion had fallen to the share of James Dugdale. His always bent and -twisted figure was now more bent and twisted, his hair was grayer and -scantier, his eyes were more hollow, his face was more worn, his quiet -manner quieter, his rare smile more seldom seen. Any one familiar with -his appearance eighteen months before, who had seen him enter the -cheerful breakfast-room at Chayleigh one bright winter's morning, when -Christmas-day was but a week off, would have found it difficult to -believe that the interval had been so short.</p> - -<p>James Dugdale stood by the fire for a few minutes, then glancing round -at the breakfast-table, he muttered, "The post is not in--behind -time--the snow, I suppose," and went to the large window, against -which he leaned, idly watching the birds as they hopped about on the -snow-laden ground, and extracted bits of leaves and dry morsels of -twig from its niggard breast. He was still standing there when Mr. -Carteret came in, closely followed by a servant with a small tray -laden with letters, which he duly sorted and placed before their -respective claimants.</p> - -<p>There was a large foreign letter among those addressed to James -Dugdale, but he let it lie beside his plate unnoticed; all his -attention was for the letter which Mr. Carteret was deciphering with -laborious difficulty.</p> - -<p>"From Margaret," said the old gentleman at length, taking off his -double glasses with an air of relief, and laying them on the table. -"She <i>does</i> write such a scratchy hand, it quite makes my head ache to -read it."</p> - -<p>"Where are they now?" asked James.</p> - -<p>"At Sorrento. Margaret writes in great delight about the place and the -climate, and the people they meet there, and the beauty and health of -little Gerty. And Baldwin adds a postscript about the <i>cicale</i>, which -is just what I wanted to know; he considers there's no doubt about -their chirp being much stronger and more prolonged than our -grasshopper's, and he has carefully examined the articulations."</p> - -<p>"Does Margaret say anything about her own health?" interrupted James, -so impatiently that he felt ashamed of himself the next minute, -although Mr. Carteret took the sudden suppression of his favourite -topic with perfect meekness, as he made answer:</p> - -<p>"Yes, a good deal. Here it is, read the letter for yourself, -James,"--and he handed over the document to his companion, and betook -himself to the perusal of a scientific review,--a production rarer in -those days than now,--and for whose appearance Mr. Carteret was apt to -look with eagerness.</p> - -<p>James Dugdale read the letter which Margaret Baldwin had written to -her father from end to end, and then he turned back to the beginning, -and read it through again. No document which could come from any human -hand could have such a charm and value for him as one of her letters.</p> - -<p>His feelings had undergone no change as regarded her, though, as -regarded himself, they had become purified from the little dross of -selfishness and vain regret that had hung about them for a little -after she had left Chayleigh. He could now rejoice, with a pure and -true heart, in her exceeding, her perfect happiness; he could think of -her husband, whom she loved with an intense and passionate devotion -which had transformed her character, as it seemed at times to -transfigure her face, illumining it with a heavenly light--with ardent -friendship and gratitude as the giver of such happiness, and with -sincere and ungrudging admiration as the being who was capable of -inspiring such a love. He could thank God now, from his inmost heart, -for the change which had been wrought in, and for, the woman he loved -with a love which angels might have seen with approval. All he had -longed and prayed and striven for, was her good--and it had come--it -had been sent in the utmost abundance; and he never murmured now, ever -so lightly, that <i>he</i> had not been suffered to count for anything in -the fulfilment of his hope, in the answer to his prayer.</p> - -<p>He read, with keen delight, the simple but strong words in which -Margaret described to her father the peace, happiness, companionship -and luxury of her life. Only the lightest cloud had cast a shade over -the brightness of Margaret's life since her marriage. She had been -rather delicate in health after the birth of her child, and a warmer -climate than that of Scotland had been recommended for her. Mr. -Baldwin had not been sorry for the opportunity thus afforded him of -indulging Margaret and himself by visiting the countries so well known -to him, but which his wife had never seen. Her experience of travel -had been one of wretchedness; in this respect, also, he would make the -present contrast with and efface the past. The "Lady Burleigh" feeling -which Margaret had anticipated had come upon her sometimes, in the -stately and well-ordered luxury of her new home; she had sometimes -experienced a startling sense of the discrepancy between the things -she had seen and suffered, and her surroundings at the Deane; but -these fitful feelings had not recurred often or remained with her -long, and she had become deeply attached to her beautiful home. -Nevertheless, she, too, had welcomed the prospect of a foreign tour; -and during her visit, <i>en route</i>, to Chayleigh, she had spoken so -freely and frequently to James of her anticipations of pleasure, of -the delight she took in her husband's cultivated taste, and in his -manifold learning, that James perceived how rapidly and variously her -intellect had developed in the sunshine of happiness and domestic -love.</p> - -<p>"Though she has always been the first of women in my mind," James -Dugdale had said to himself then, "I would not have said she was -either decidedly clever or decidedly handsome formerly, and now she is -both beautiful and brilliant."</p> - -<p>And so she was. It was not the praise of prejudice which pronounced -her so. There were many who would, if they could, have denied such -attributes to Mrs. Baldwin of the Deane, but they might as well have -attempted to deny light to the sunshine.</p> - -<p>In this letter, which James Dugdale read with such pleasure, Margaret -said she was stronger, "much stronger," and that every one thought her -looking very well. "Fitzwilliam is so much of that opinion," she -wrote, "that he thinks this is a favourable opportunity of having a -life-size portrait taken of me, especially as a first-rate artist has -just been introduced to us,--if the picture be successful, a replica -shall be made for you. The long windows of our sitting-rooms open -on a terrace overhanging the sea, and the walls are overrun with -passion-flower--just like those at home, which James used to take such -care of. I mean to have my picture taken standing in the centre -window, with my little Gertrude in my arms. If you don't like this, or -prefer any other pose, say so when you write. Eleanor is delighted -with the notion."</p> - -<p>The tone of the whole letter was that of happiness, full, heartfelt, -not wanting in anything. James Dugdale held it still in his hands, -when he had read it through for the second time, and fell into one of -the reveries which were habitual to him. It showed him Margaret, as he -had seen her on the day of her unexpected return, pale, stern, defiant -of the bitterness of her fate,--her slight form, clad in its heavy -mourning robes, framed by the passion-flower tendrils, the woman in -whose face he read more than confirmation of all he had ever feared or -prophesied of evil for her, and in whose letter there was such a story -of happiness as it falls but rarely to the lot of any mortal to have -to tell. He had never felt so entirely, purely, unselfishly happy -about Margaret as he felt at that moment.</p> - -<p>"You have no letter from Haldane, have you?" asked Mr. Carteret, as he -relinquished his review for his coffee-cup. "I have not, and Margery -complains that he has not written."</p> - -<p>The question reminded James of his hitherto disregarded letters. He -turned to the table and took them up:</p> - -<p>"No, sir, there's no letter from Haldane."</p> - -<p>Mr. Carteret uttered a feeble sound of dissatisfaction, but made no -farther remark, and James opened the foreign letter, which was, as he -expected, from Hayes Meredith. It announced the writer's intended -departure from Melbourne by the first ship after that which should -carry the present letter, and named the period at which the writer -hoped to reach England.</p> - -<p>"The Yarra is a quick sailer," wrote Hayes Meredith, "and we expect to -be in Liverpool a few weeks later than the Emu. My former letters will -have explained how all difficulties subsided, but up to the last I -have not felt quite confident of being able to get away, and thought -it was well to write only one ship in advance."</p> - -<p>There was a good deal of expression of pleasure at the prospect of -seeing his old friend again, and introducing his son to him, on Hayes -Meredith's part, some anxiety about his son's future, and warm thanks -to James for certain propositions he had made concerning him.</p> - -<p>"My friend Meredith and his son have sailed at last, sir," said James, -addressing Mr. Carteret. "He will be here soon, I fancy, if they have -had fine weather."</p> - -<p>"Indeed," said Mr. Carteret. "I hope he is bringing the opossum and -wombat skins, and the treeworm and boomerang you asked him for. I -should like to have them really brought from the spot, you know. One -can buy such things from the dealers, of course, but they are never so -interesting, and often not genuine."</p> - -<p>"I have no doubt, sir, they will all arrive quite safely."</p> - -<p>"You have asked Mr. Meredith and his son to come here direct, I hope, -James?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I obeyed your kind instructions in that."</p> - -<p>"What a pity Margery is not here," said Mr. Carteret, with a placid -little sigh, "to see her kind friend!"</p> - -<p>"Never mind, sir; Margaret mil have plenty of opportunity for seeing -Meredith. He will not remain less than six months in England."</p> - -<p>In the pleasure and the excitement caused by the prospect of his -friend's arrival (it was not customary or possible then for people to -drop in from Melbourne for a week or two, and be heard of next at Salt -Lake), James did not immediately remember what Margaret had said when -Hayes Meredith's coming had first been talked of--that if he or any -one came from the place which had witnessed her suffering and -degradation, to her father's house, she should feel it to be an evil -omen to her. When at length he did recall her expression of feeling -about it, he smiled.</p> - -<p>"How she would laugh at herself if I were to remind her now that she -once said that! What could be an ill omen to her now? What could bring -evil near her now?--God bless her!"</p> - -<p>Some weeks later the Yarra, having encountered boisterous weather in -the Channel, arrived at Liverpool. On the day but one following its -arrival, James Dugdale received a short note from Hayes Meredith, -which contained these words:</p> -<br> -<p class="right"><i>Liverpool, Jan</i>. 24.</p> - -<p>"MY DEAR DUGDALE,--We have arrived, and Robert and I hope to get to -Chayleigh by Thursday. Should Mrs. Baldwin be in Scotland, endeavour -to induce her to see me, at her father's house, in preference to any -other place, as soon as possible. Do this, if you can, without -alarming her, but at all events, and under all risks, do <i>it</i>. -Circumstances which occurred immediately before my departure make it -indispensable that I should see her <i>at once</i> on important and, I -regret to add, unpleasant business. I am too tired and dizzy to write -more.--Yours, HAYES MEREDITH."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div2_04" href="#div2Ref_04">CHAPTER IV.</a></h4> -<h5>HAYES MEREDITH'S REVELATION.</h5> -<br> - -<p>It had seldom fallen to the lot of James Dugdale to experience more -painful mental disquietude than that in which he passed the interval -between the receipt of Hayes Meredith's letter and the arrival of his -friend, accompanied by his son, at Chayleigh. Mr. Carteret, always -unobservant, did not notice the preoccupation of James's manner, and -James had decided, within a few minutes after he had read the -communication which had so disturbed him, that he would not mention -the matter to the old gentleman at all, if concealment were -practicable--certainly not before it should become indispensable, if -it should ever prove to be so.</p> - -<p>An unpleasant communication to be made to Margaret! What could it be? -The vain question whose solution was so near, and yet appeared to him -so distant, in his impatience repeated itself perpetually in every -waking hour, and he would frequently start from his sleep, roused by a -terrible sense of undefined trouble impending over the woman who never -ceased to occupy the chief place in his thoughts. The problem took -every imaginable shape in his mind. The little knowledge he had of the -circumstances of Margaret's life in Australia left him scope for all -kinds of conjectures, and did not impose superior probability on any. -Was there a secret reason beyond, more pressing than her natural, -easily explicable shrinking from the revival of pain and humiliation, -which kept Margaret so absolutely and resolutely silent concerning the -years of her suffering and exile? Was there something which she knew -and dreaded, which might come to light at any time, which was soon to -come to light now, in the background of her memory? Was there some -transaction of Hungerford's, involving disgraceful consequences, which -had been dragged into publicity, in which she, too, must be involved, -as well as the dead man's worthless memory? This might be the case; it -might be debts, swindling, anything; and the brilliant and happy -marriage she had made, might be destined to be clouded over by the -shadow of her former life.</p> - -<p>James Dugdale suffered very keenly during the few days in which he -pondered upon these things. He tortured himself with apprehension, and -knew that, to a certain extent, it must be groundless. The only real, -serious injury which could come out of the dark storehouse of the -past, into the present life of Fitzwilliam Baldwin's wife, must be one -of a nature to interfere with her relations towards her husband. She -could afford to defy every other kind of harm. She was raised far -above the influence of all material evil, and removed from the sphere -in which the doings of people like Hungerford and his associates were -ever heard of. Her marriage bucklered her no less against present than -past evil; on all sides but one. When James weighed calmly the matter -of which he never ceased to think, he called in "the succours of -thought" to the discomfiture of "fear," which in its vague has greater -torment than in its most defined shape, and drew upon their resources -largely. Margaret had indeed been reticent with him, with her father, -with Haldane, even, he felt persuaded, with her sister-in-law Lady -Davyntry; but had she been equally reticent with Baldwin? He thought -she had not; he hoped, he believed she had not; that the confidence -existing between her and her husband was as perfect as their mutual -love, and that, however strictly she might have maintained a silence, -which Baldwin would have been the last man in the world to induce or -wish her to break, up to the period of her marriage, he did not doubt -that Margaret's husband was now in possession of all the facts of her -past life, so that no painful intelligence could find him more or less -unprepared than his wife to meet it.</p> - -<p>It needed the frequent repetition of this belief to himself, the -frequent repetition of the grounds on which it was founded, to enable -James Dugdale to subdue the apprehensions inspired by Hayes Meredith's -letter. His delicate health, his nervous susceptibility, the almost -feminine sensitiveness of his temperament, made suspense, anxiety, and -apprehension peculiarly trying to him; and the servants at Chayleigh, -keener observers than their master, quickly found out that something -was wrong with Mr. Dugdale, and that the arrival of the two gentlemen -from foreign parts, for whose reception preparations were being duly -made, would not be a cause of unalloyed pleasure to him.</p> - -<p>The urgency of Meredith's request, that there might be no delay in a -meeting between himself and Margaret, gave James much uneasiness, -because, in addition to the general vagueness of the matter, he did -not in this particular instance know what to do. Hayes Meredith did -not wish her to be alarmed (which looked as if he believed her to be -ignorant of the unpleasant intelligence to which he alluded, as if he -contemplated the necessity of its being broken to her with caution), -but he laid stress on the necessity of an immediate meeting. How was -this to be accomplished? Meredith had not thought of such a -contingency as that which actually existed. He had supposed it -probable Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin would be in Scotland when his letter -should reach James Dugdale, which must create a delay of a few days -indeed, but he had not contemplated their absence at such a distance -as must imply the postponement of a meeting for weeks.</p> - -<p>James did not know what to do. To summon Margaret and Mr. Baldwin to -return at once, without any clue to the meaning of the communication -awaiting them, would be to alarm them to an extent, which, under any -circumstances within the reach of his imagination, must be -unnecessary; and from the possible responsibility involved in not -procuring their return he naturally shrank. He could not communicate -with Meredith, whose letter bore no address but "Liverpool;" there was -nothing for it but the painful process of patience.</p> - -<p>Mr. Carteret talked of Margaret more than usual in the interval -between the arrival of Meredith's letter and the day on which he was -expected at Chayleigh; the association of ideas made him garrulous, -and he expatiated largely to James upon the pleasure which Mr. -Meredith would feel on seeing his <i>protégée</i> of the bad old times so -differently circumstanced, and the splendid hospitality with which he -would certainly be entertained at the Deane. Baldwin would return -sooner than he had intended, no doubt, in consequence of Mr. -Meredith's visit to England.</p> - -<p>When Mr. Carteret expressed his opinion, apparently oblivious of the -fact that the state of Margaret's health rendered her remaining abroad -peculiarly desirable, James heard him with a sense of partial relief. -It would be much gained, let the unpleasant business before them be -what it might, if Mr. Carteret could be kept from alarm or pain in -connection with it. If he could be brought to regard the sudden return -of Margaret as a natural event, considering his placid nature and -secluded habits, it might be readily practicable to secure him from -all knowledge of what had occurred.</p> - -<p>There was strong anticipative consolation for James Dugdale in this -reflection. Reason with himself as he would, strive against it as he -might, there was a presentiment of evil upon James's heart, a thrill -of dread of the interruption of that happiness in which he found such -pure and disinterested delight, and he dared not think of such a dread -extending itself to the old man, who had built such an edifice of -pride and contentment on his daughter's fortunes, and would have so -little strength to bear, not alone its crumbling, but any shock to its -stability.</p> - -<p>"Let it be what it may, I think it can be hidden from him," said James -Dugdale, as he bade Mr. Carteret good-night for the last time before -all his suspense should be resolved into certainty.</p> -<br> - -<p>That particular aspect of nature, to which the complacent epithets -"good old English" have been most frequently applied by poets and -novelists, presented itself at Chayleigh, in perfection, on the day of -Hayes Meredith's arrival. "Our English summer" has become rather -mythical in this generation, and the most bearable kind of cold -weather, keen, bright, frosty, kindly (to those who can afford -ubiquitous fires and double windows), occurs in miserably small -proportion to the dull, damp, despairing; winter of fogs and rain. It -was not so between twenty and thirty years ago, however, and the eyes -of the long-expatriated Englishman were refreshed, and those of his -colonial-born son astonished, by the beauty and novelty of the scenery -through which they passed on their journey southwards.</p> - -<p>Chayleigh was one of those places which look particularly beautiful in -winter. It boasted splendid evergreens, and grassy slopes carefully -kept, and the holly trees, freshly glistening after a fall of snow, -which had just disappeared, were grouped about the low picturesque -house like ideal trees in a fancy sketch of the proper home of -Christmas. It was difficult to realise that the only dwellers in the -pleasant house, from whose long low windows innumerable lights -twinkled brightly, were two men, the one old in years, and older still -in his quiet ways, in his deadness of sympathy with the outer world, -the other declining also in years, and carrying, in a frail and -suffering body, a heart quite purged of self, but heavy-laden with -trouble for one far dearer than self had ever been to him.</p> - -<p>Fair women and bright children should have tenanted such a home as -that to which Mr. Carteret, a little later than the hour at which they -were expected, bade Hayes Meredith and his son a hearty if somewhat -old-fashioned welcome.</p> - -<p>When the post-chaise which brought the travellers stopped, James -Dugdale met his old friend as he stepped out, and the two looked at -each other with the contending feelings of pain and pleasure which -such a meeting was calculated to produce. Time had so altered each -that the other would not have recognised him, had their meeting been a -chance one; but when, a little later, they regarded each other more -closely, many familiar looks and expressions, turns of feature and of -phrase, made themselves observed in both, which restored the old -feeling of familiarity.</p> - -<p>Then James Dugdale saw the strong, frank, hopeful young man, with his -vivacious black eyes, and his strong limbs, his cheery laugh, and his -jovial self-reliant temper once more, and found all those qualities -again in the world-taught, and the world-sobered, but not world-worn -man whose gray hair was the only physical mark of time set upon him.</p> - -<p>Then Hayes Meredith saw the pale, stooped student, with form awry and -spiritual sensitive face, bearing upon it the inexplicable painful -expression which malformation gives,--the keen intelligence, the sadly -strong faculty of suffering--the equally keen affections and firm -will. Time had set many a mark upon James. He had had rich brown -curls, the only gift of youth dealt lavishly to him by nature, but -they were gone now, and his hair was thin and gray, and the lines in -his face were more numerous and deeper than might have been fitting at -twenty additional years. But Hayes Meredith saw that same face under -the lines, and in a wonderfully short time he found himself saying to -himself--"I should feel as if we were boys together again, only that -Dugdale, poor fellow, never was a boy."</p> - -<p>"Is Mrs. Baldwin here?" was Meredith's first question to his friend, -after the undemonstrative English greeting, which said so little and -meant so much.</p> - -<p>"No, she is abroad."</p> - -<p>"How unfortunate!"</p> - -<p>"What is the matter? Is anything very wrong?"</p> - -<p>"No, no, we'll put it right--but we cannot talk of it now. When can I -have some time with you quite alone?"</p> - -<p>"To-night, if you are not too tired," returned James, who was -intensely impatient to hear what had to be told, but to whose -sensitive nerves the strong, steady, almost unconcerned manner of his -friend conveyed some little assurance.</p> - -<p>"To-night, then."</p> - -<p>There was no farther private conversation between the two. Hayes -Meredith devoted himself to Mr. Carteret, whose placid character -afforded him considerable amusement, in its contrast with those of the -bustling and energetic companions of his ordinary life. To Mr. -Carteret, Hayes Meredith was an altogether new and delightful -<i>trouvaille</i>. That he came from a new world, of infinite interest and -importance to England; that he could tell of his own personal -experience, particulars of the great events, political, commercial, -and social, to which colonial enterprise had given rise; that, as a -member of a strange community, with all the interest of a foreign -land, and all the sympathy of fellowship of race attaching to them, -Mr. Carteret knew, if he had cared to think about it, and he might -perhaps, merely as an intellectual exercise, have comprehended, that -there was something remarkable about his guest in that aspect. But he -did not care about it in the least. The political, social, and -commercial life of either this half of the world or the other half was -a matter of entire indifference to him. He was eminently desirous to -ascertain, as soon as politeness warranted the inquiry, whether Mr. -Meredith had brought to England the "specimens" which James Dugdale -had bespoken, and that point satisfactorily disposed of, and an early -hour on the following day appointed for their disinterment from the -general mass of luggage, he turned the conversation without delay on -the cranial peculiarities of "black fellows," the number of species -into which the marsupial genus may be divided, and the properties of -the turpentine tree. On all these matters Hayes Meredith sustained a -very creditable examination, and during its course rapidly arrived at -a very kindly feeling towards his gentle and eccentric but eminently -kind-hearted entertainer. There was a curious occult sympathy between -the minds of James Dugdale and Hayes Meredith, as the latter thought:</p> - -<p>"If it could be hidden from the poor old gentleman, and I really see -no reason why he should ever know it, what a good thing it will be!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Carteret had taken an early opportunity of expressing, not -ungracefully, his sense of the kindness which his daughter had -received at the hands of Mr. Meredith and his family, and his regret -that she was not then at Chayleigh to welcome him. The embarrassment -with which his guest received his courteous observations, and the -little allusion which he afterwards made to Margaret, though it would -have been natural that she should have been the prevailing subject of -their conversation, did not strike Mr. Carteret in the least, though -James Dugdale perceived it plainly and painfully, and it rendered -the task which he had set himself--that of entertaining Robert -Meredith--anything but easy. The mere notion of such a possibility as -taking any notice of a boy, after having once shaken hands with him, -and told him he was very happy to see him, and hoped he would make -himself quite at home at Chayleigh, would never have occurred to Mr. -Carteret. About boys, as boys, he knew very little indeed; but if the -word aversion could ever be used with propriety in describing a -sentiment entertained by Mr. Carteret, he might be said to regard them -with aversion. They made noises, they opened doors unnecessarily -often, and they never shut them; they trod on people's feet, and tore -people's dresses; they did not wash their hands with decent frequency; -and once a terrible specimen of the genus, having been admitted to a -view of his precious case of Cape butterflies, thrust his plebeian and -intrusive elbow through the glass. This was final.</p> - -<p>"I don't like boys," said Mr. Carteret; "I don't understand them. Keep -them away from me, please."</p> - -<p>He had listened with a mild shudder to Haldane's praises of that -"wonderfully clever child," the eldest Miss Crofton's "little -brother;" and had turned a desperately deaf ear to all hints that an -invitation for the urchin to inspect the wonders of the "collection" -might be regarded by the Crofton family as an attention.</p> - -<p>"Wonderfully clever, is he?" said Mr. Carteret musingly; "what a -nuisance he must be!"</p> - -<p>Haldane did not mention the talented creature again, and no boy had -ever troubled Mr. Carteret from that hour until now. He had the -satisfaction of knowing, when his prompt invitation was extended to -James Dugdale's friends, that Robert Meredith was a big boy--not an -objectionable child, with precocious ideas, prying eyes, and fingers -addicted to mischief--had it been otherwise, his patience and -hospitality would have been sorely tried.</p> - -<p>"You will see to the young gentleman, Foster," he had said to his -confidential servant; "I daresay he will like a good deal to eat and -drink, and you can see that he does not wear strong boots in the -house, and--ah--hem, Foster, you can make him understand--politely, -you know--that people in general don't go into my rooms. You -understand, Foster?"</p> - -<p>"O yes, sir; I understand," said Foster, in a tone which to Mr. -Carteret's sensitive ears implied an almost unfeeling indifference, -but Foster acted on the hint for all that, and the result was -remarkable.</p> - -<p>Mr. Carteret never once had reason to complain of Robert Meredith. The -boy never vexed or worried him; he seemed to have an intuitive -comprehension of his feelings and prejudices, of his harmless little -oddities, and in a silent, distant kind of way--for though a wonderful -exception, Robert was still a boy, and therefore to be avoided--Mr. -Carteret actually came to like him. In which particular he formed an -exception to the entire household as then assembled at Chayleigh, and -even when it received the accession of Mr. Baldwin, Margaret, and -their little daughter. No one else in the house liked Robert Meredith.</p> - -<p>The preoccupation of James Dugdale's mind, the anxiety and suspense of -some days, which grew stronger and less endurable now when a few hours -only divided him from learning, with absolute certainty, the evil -tidings which Hayes Meredith had to communicate, rendered his friend's -son and his affairs objects of very secondary interest to him. When he -thought of the business which had induced Meredith to undertake such a -voyage to England, such an absence from home, he roused himself to -remember the keen interest he had taken in the father's projects for, -and on account of, the son. But he could only remember it; he could -not feel it again. When he should know the worst, when he and Meredith -should have had their private talk that night, then things would -resume their proper proportion, then he should be able to fulfil all -his friend's behests, with the aid of his hand and his heart alike. -But now, only the face of Margaret, pale, wan, stern, with the youth -and bloom gone from it, as he had seen her when she first came home; -only the face of Margaret, transfigured in the light of love and joy, -of pride and pleasure, as he had seen her last, held his attention. -Her form seemed to flit before him in the air. The sound of her voice -mingled, to his fancy, with all other sounds. The effort to control -his feelings, and bide his time, almost surpassed his strength. -Afterwards, when he recalled that day, and tried to remember his -impressions of Robert Meredith, James recollected him as a quiet, -gentlemanly, self-possessed boy, with a handsome face, a good figure, -and an intelligent expression--a little shy, perhaps, but James did -not see that until afterwards. A boy without the objectionable habits -of boys, but also without the frankness which beseems boyhood. A boy -who watched Mr. Carteret's conversation with his father, and rapidly -perceived that gentleman's harmless eccentricities, and who, when he -found that a total absence of observation was one of them, marked each -fresh exhibition of them with a contemptuous sneer, which would not -have been out of place on the countenance of a full-grown demon. He -had a good deal of the early-reached decision in opinion and in manner -which is a feature in most young colonials, but he was not -unpleasantly "bumptious;" and James Dugdale, had his mind been free to -permit him to find pleasure in anything, would have enjoyed making the -acquaintance of his old friend's son.</p> - -<p>At length the two men found themselves alone in James Dugdale's room.</p> - -<p>"Our consultation is likely to be a long one, Dugdale," said -Meredith, as he seated himself close by the fire. "Is there any danger -of our being interrupted or overheard?"</p> - -<p>"None whatever," James answered. He felt unable to speak, to ask a -question, now that the time had come.</p> - -<p>Meredith looked at him compassionately, but shrugged his shoulders at -the same time, imperceptibly. He understood his friend's -sensitiveness; his weakness he could not understand. "I may as well -tell you at once," he said, "about this bad business." He took a paper -from a pocket-book as he spoke. "Tell me the exact date of Mr. -Baldwin's marriage."</p> - -<p>James named it without adding a word. Then Meredith handed him the -paper he held, and James, having read it hastily, looked up at him -with a pale horrified face.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div2_05" href="#div2Ref_05">CHAPTER V.</a></h4> -<h5>CONSULTATION.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The paper which caused James Dugdale such painful emotion was a -certificate of the identification and burial of the body of Godfrey -Hungerford, and was dated rather more than a year after the marriage -of his supposed widow with Fitzwilliam Meriton Baldwin, and two years -and five months later than the period at which his death in the bush -had been reported to Margaret.</p> - -<p>In reply to the eager questions which James asked him, when he had -somewhat recovered his composure, Hayes Meredith told his companion -that he had the best of all confirmation of the truth of the statement -which that document set forth--that of his own eyes. There was not the -faintest hope of error, not the slightest chance that in this matter -any trick, any design to extort money was concerned. That such might -be the case had been Hayes Meredith's first idea, when, as he told -James Dugdale, he had received a mysterious communication from a "pal" -of Hungerford's, who was anything but favourably known to the -Melbourne police, to the effect that the supposed murdered man was -alive, and might be found, under an assumed name, in a wretched hovel -in one of the poorest and least reputable quarters of the town.</p> - -<p>"It was necessary to satisfy myself about the thing without delay," -said Meredith; "and I did not lose an hour. I met the messenger at the -place appointed in the note, and told him, if any one had formed the -goodly scheme of deceiving me by personating Hungerford, it would -signally fail. I could not be deceived on such a point, and should -simply expose the fraud at once. On the other hand, if this man, who -appeared, from the other fellow's report, to be in a rapidly dying -state, should really prove to be Hungerford, I could not understand -his applying to me, on whom he had no claim whatever, and should -certainly not get the chance of establishing one. The man, a seedy -gambler, whom I remembered having seen with Hungerford,--his name was -Oakley,--said he had no intention to deceive me. They were 'pals' in -misfortune and misery, Hungerford and himself, and wanted nothing but -a little help from me. Hungerford had been saved from murder by a -black woman, and had wandered for months, enduring an amazing amount -of suffering. How so self-indulgent a dog as he was ever bore it, I -can't understand; but he had a love of life in him I have never seen -equalled; he clung to life, and fought for it madly, when his agonies -in the hospital were perfectly unbearable to see. After some time, -they struck the trail of such civilisation as is going in the remoter -districts of our part of the world; and Hungerford got away, and one -of the first persons he fell in with was this Oakley. He did not give -me a very clear account of what they did, and, as you may suppose, I -was not very anxious to know; it was very likely all the harm in their -power, at all events; they both made cause for themselves to be chary -of recognition, and afraid of the strong arm of the law."</p> - -<p>"Did this Oakley mention Margaret?"</p> - -<p>"Only cursorily. He said they had been forced to venture into -Melbourne, and he had 'asked about' and discovered that Mrs. -Hungerford had lived quietly and respectably, presumably by my -assistance, after her husband left her, and had sailed for England -when the news of his death was spread in Melbourne. He said Hungerford -was glad when he found his wife had got away safely; he could never -hope to rise in this world any more, and he did not wish her to suffer -any farther."</p> - -<p>"The ruffian acknowledged his wickedness, then?" said James.</p> - -<p>"Well, yes, he did; I must say he did. I went on to the hospital with -Oakley, and saw in a moment there was no mistake about it. The man -lying there, in the last stage of destitution, and of that peculiar -depth of loathsome disease which only comes from drink, was certainly -Godfrey Hungerford. I need not tell you what I felt, as I looked at -him and thought of his unconscious wife. I had your letter, telling me -about her being at Chayleigh, in my pocket-book at the time."</p> - -<p>"No, you need not tell me," said James; "it must have been most -horrible."</p> - -<p>"It was just that," said Meredith, with a rueful look and a shake of -the head; "such a miserable creature as he was to see, I hope I never -may have to look at again. I said very little to him--nothing about -Margaret. He did thank me in a rough kind of way, and said he knew if -he could get me communicated with I would help him."</p> - -<p>"Did he not ask you if you knew anything of Margaret after she left -Melbourne? Did he show no anxiety for her fate?"</p> - -<p>"No; I think in addition to his natural heartlessness and selfishness -his mind was much enfeebled by disease at this time, and he was -sinking fast. He had no friend, no acquaintance, he told me, but -Oakley; and I was careful to ask him whether Oakley was the only -person who knew that he was still alive, and then in Melbourne. He -declared to me that such was the case. I told him I asked in case he -should recover, when, if he knew any other persons, I might try to -interest them in his case. But I am certain that in this instance he -told the truth. He was entered on the books of the hospital as John -Perry, and had not borne his own name during all the months of his -wandering life. He went off into a short slumber while I sat by him, -and strange thoughts came into my mind as I looked at his wretched, -vice-worn, poverty-stricken face, and thought of what he must have -been when he first came across that fine young creature's path, and -even what he was when I went to see them at your request. I assure you -he had even then good looks and a pleasant manner, and scoundrel as I -knew him to be, greater scoundrel as I afterwards found him, I could -not altogether wonder that that woman had cared for him once."</p> - -<p>"Poor girl, poor girl," said James. His elbows were on the table, and -his face rested on his clasped hands. His hollow eyes looked out -eagerly at Hayes Meredith, whose strength and composure formed a -touching contrast to his nervous weakness.</p> - -<p>"To go on with my story," Meredith continued; "I told Hungerford I -should see him again, and left money for his use; Oakley was to let me -know how he was; and when I left him I took a long walk, as my way is -when I am puzzled, so as to get time to think it out. My first impulse -was to write to you at once, but I discarded the suggestion on more -mature consideration. Everything must, of course, depend on whether -the man lived or died. The one was almost too bad to fear, the other -was almost too good to hope for. Among your letters there was one in -which I recollected you had told me all the particulars of Margaret's -marriage, and the peculiar circumstances of Mr. Baldwin's property. I -went home, after a long and anxious cogitation, during which I made up -my mind, at all events, not to write; and read this letter. Here are -the memoranda I made from it."</p> - -<p>He laid a long slip of paper on the table before James, who glanced -anxiously at it, but did not take it up.</p> - -<p>"You see, Dugdale," continued Meredith, after he had mended the fire, -and thrown himself back in his chair, with his hands extended, and the -finger tips joined in an attitude of demonstration, "this matter has -more than one side to it; more than the side I can see you are -dwelling on, very painfully, and very naturally--Margaret's feelings. -As for that part of it, it is dreadful, of course; but then she need -never know any of the particulars."</p> - -<p>"I hope not--I trust not," said Dugdale in a low constrained voice. -"If I know anything of her, the idea of the scene you describe taking -place while she was in the midst of happiness and luxury would make -her wretched for many a day. Think of her having to endure that, after -having already lived through the horror of believing that the man she -had loved, and sacrificed herself for, was murdered."</p> - -<p>Meredith looked at James, closely and inquiringly, for a moment. This -intense comprehension, this almost painful, truth and excess of -sympathy, puzzled him. While the external consequences of the -discovery which had been made, the results to Mrs. Baldwin herself, -her husband, and her child pressed upon his own attention, James was -lost in the sentimental bearing of the matter, in the retrospective -personal grief which it must cause to Margaret, estimating her -feelings at a high degree of refinement and intensity. Meredith could -not make this out very clearly, but thinking "it is just like him; he -always was a strange dreamy creature, who never looked at anything -like other people," he went on to discuss the subject from his own -point of view.</p> - -<p>"That is all very true, Dugdale," he continued, "and, as I said -before, I really do not see that she need ever know more than the fact -stated in that paper. But what you and I have got to consider, without -unnecessary delay, and to act upon with all possible promptitude, is -this fact: at the present moment Margaret is not Mr. Baldwin's wife, -and her daughter, who, if I understand your statement aright, is -heiress to all her father's property, is illegitimate."</p> - -<p>"The child would inherit all if there were no son," said James.</p> - -<p>"Precisely so. Now, you see, Dugdale, this is the great question. If -we can contrive to inform Mr. Baldwin of what has happened, and get -him to break it as gently as possible to Margaret, and then have them -married privately, of course there need not be any difficulty about -that; and without an hour's unnecessary delay things may be all right, -and no one in the world but ourselves and themselves a bit the wiser. -If the first child had been a son, it would indeed have been a bad, a -hopeless business; but the little girl will be no worse off if her -mother has a son, and I daresay she will have half-a-dozen. Cheer up, -Dugdale; you see it is not so black as it looked at first; there is -some unpleasantness to be gone through, and then you will see all will -come right."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps," said Dugdale dubiously. The expression of pain and -foreboding deepened in his face with every moment. "But it is a -dreadful misfortune. Margaret lives for that child; she loves it -wonderfully; she will break her heart over the knowledge that little -Gerty is illegitimate, though no one in the world but herself should -ever know it."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense," said Meredith, "she will do nothing of the kind; or, if -she does, she must be a very different woman from the Mrs. Hungerford -I knew; she must be much softer both of head and of heart."</p> - -<p>"She <i>is</i> a very different woman," said James, "and her heart is -softer. I never saw anything like the influence happiness has had upon -her, and I dread, more than I can express, the change which such a -blow as this falling upon her in the midst of her joy, and when her -health is delicate too, may produce."</p> - -<p>"Her health delicate, is it?" said Meredith. "Ah, by the bye, you said -so when you mentioned her being abroad. Another child expected?"</p> - -<p>"I believe so."</p> - -<p>"By Jove, that's good news! Why, don't you see, Dugdale, that sets it -all right. Ten chances to one this will be a boy, and there's the -rightful heir to the Deane for you! Look here"--he took the memorandum -from the table--"all landed property entailed--just so--provision for -younger children to be made out of funded property, and the very large -savings of Baldwin's minority and also the savings from their income, -which are likely to be considerable, as the estates are rising rapidly -in value--a coal-mine having been discovered on the Deane"--he laid -the paper down, rose, and walked briskly about the room. "The little -girl's position will not be in the least altered. Baldwin must settle -the money upon her in some special way; whatever her share of the -provision made for younger children may be, the boy would naturally -succeed, and all the difficulty be thus gotten over."</p> - -<p>"How would it be if there were no other child?" said James.</p> - -<p>"Ah! that would, indeed, be difficult," replied Meredith; "I don't -know what could be done then. Mr. Baldwin is not the sort of man to do -a thing which certainly would be wrong in the abstract, though I -cannot see the practical injustice of it; in the case of there being -no other child, of course the rightful heir is the individual who -would inherit in case Baldwin should die without heirs."</p> - -<p>"Lady Davyntry then," said James.</p> - -<p>"Baldwin's sister? Yes--then she is the heir. She is not likely to -marry, is she?</p> - -<p>"Quite certain not to do so, I should say."</p> - -<p>"I fancy she would consent to anything that should be proposed in her -brother's interests--if any proposal on the subject should ever become -necessary. And after her?</p> - -<p>"I don't know. It must be some very distant relative, for I never -heard the name mentioned, or the contingency alluded to."</p> - -<p>"Well, well, we need not think about it. In fact we are wandering away -altogether from the only subjects we have to discuss: the best means -of getting the Baldwins home without alarming them, and the most -expeditious way of having them married privately, but with all legal -security, so that if ever any clue to this unfortunate occurrence -should be obtained by any one interested, the rights of the heir may -be secured beyond the possibility of injury."</p> - -<p>"Yes; we must be careful of that," said James; but his tone was -absent, and he was evidently unable to take any comfort from -Meredith's cheerful view of the circumstances. Then, after a short -pause, he said, "I am very ignorant of law, but I have a kind of -notion that we may be tormenting ourselves unnecessarily. I have heard -that in Scotland the marriage of parents subsequent to the birth of -children renders them legitimate. Would not this marriage legitimatise -little Gerty?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly not," said Meredith, and he almost smiled; "this is a very -different case. The truth is, Margaret has unconsciously committed -bigamy, and when Gertrude Baldwin was born, not only was Margaret not -Mr. Baldwin's wife, but she actually was Godfrey Hungerford's."</p> - -<p>James Dugdale shrunk from the words as though they had been blows. -What was this but the truth which he had known from the moment he cast -his eyes upon the paper which Meredith had put into his hands? and -yet, set thus broadly before him, it seemed far more awful. What had -become of all the arguments he had addressed to himself now? Where was -the assurance he had felt that fate could not harm Margaret? that evil -or calumny, or the dead and gone disgraces of her dark days, could not -touch Mrs. Baldwin, in her pride of place, and in her perfect -happiness? Where were the plausibilities with which he had striven to -lull his fears to rest? All gone, vanished, as dead as the exultant -pleasure with which he had read Margaret's letter on that bright -morning, which might have been a hundred years ago, so distant, so out -of his sight, did it now appear. He covered his face with his hands, -and kept silence for some time.</p> - -<p>During the interval Meredith paced the room thoughtfully. When at -length James spoke, it was not in continuation of the last subject.</p> - -<p>"How long did he--Hungerford, I mean--live after you saw him?"</p> - -<p>"Only a few days. Oakley came to me one morning, and told me he was -dying, and wished to see me. I went, but he was not sensible, and he -never rallied again. Then I had him buried, rather more decently than -in hospital style, under his assumed name. Oakley signed this paper, -as you see. He had no notion I attached any specific value or interest -to its contents--I believe he thought it an oddity of mine, one of my -business-like ways, to have everything in black and white. But I -considered that I might not live to tell you this by word of mouth, -and in that case I should have forwarded the evidence to you, or you -might not live to hear from me, and in that case I must have proof to -put before Mr. Baldwin."</p> - -<p>"You did quite right," said James. "Where is Oakley?"</p> - -<p>"I gave him a trifle to get up a decent appearance, and he was trying -to get employment as a clerk or bookkeeper in some of the third-rate -places of business, when I left," said Meredith; "he was rather a -clever fellow, though a great scamp. Perhaps poverty has steadied him, -and he may get on. At all events, I have seen too much of successful -blackguardism, I suppose--one sees a deal of it in colonial life, to -be sure--to condemn unsuccessful blackguardism to starving."</p> - -<p>"He is positively the only person in possession of this lamentable -secret on your side of the world?"</p> - -<p>"Positively the only person, and as he knows nothing whatever -concerning Margaret--not whether she is still alive, indeed--and, I -presume, never heard her maiden name or her father's place of abode, I -should not think the slightest danger is ever to be, at any time, -apprehended from him. And now, Dugdale, let us be practical. I am -getting tired, and yet I don't want to leave you to-night until we -have finally arranged what is to be done. Mrs. Baldwin would have good -reason to complain of us, if we left her in her present position an -hour longer than we can possibly avoid."</p> - -<p>At this most true observation James winced. His heart and his fancy -were alike busy, realising every element of pain in Margaret's -position.</p> - -<p>After some more discussion, it was arranged between the friends that a -letter should be written to Mr. Baldwin of a strictly confidential -nature, in which he should be urged to bring his wife to England -without delay--the pretext being left to him to assign--and that -James and Meredith should meet Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin in London. No -explanation of their movements would be required by Mr. Carteret, and -the whole affair of the revelation and the marriage could then be -quietly managed without exciting suspicion in any quarter.</p> - -<p>"Well, that's settled, old fellow," said Meredith, as he shook -Dugdale's hand heartily, "and we will bring Margaret back here as -surely Baldwin's wife as she now believes herself to be, and nothing -more will ever come out of this business. It looked much uglier at a -distance than it does near, I assure you."</p> - -<p>But James made no reply to his friend's cheery speech. He went sadly -to his room, and sat before the fire pondering. The flames flickered -and danced, and sent odd reflections over his face, but the -thoughtful, painful gaze never relaxed, the abstraction of the hollow -eyes never lessened, and the slow coming dawn of the wintry day found -him still there, and still thinking, sadly and painfully.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div2_06" href="#div2Ref_06">CHAPTER VI.</a></h4> -<h5>THE RETURN.</h5> -<br> - -<p>No time was lost by James Dugdale in acting upon the resolution which -had been arrived at by him and his friend. The task of writing to Mr. -Baldwin was one of the most painful which it had ever been his lot to -fulfil, and as his pen traced the lines destined to carry such dismay, -to cause such irremediable grief to his friend, and to the woman whom -he had loved so well and so patiently, he thought somewhat bitterly of -the strangeness of his fate. Twice he had been destined to traverse -Margaret's path in the bright hours of her existence, twice he had -been appointed to convey to her words of disappointment, of -bitterness, of doom. Life had given him little, he thought, in -proportion to that which he had been called upon to suffer. Only one -human creature was very precious to him, and he was so little to her -that she would never even comprehend the misery he had to suffer, and -must still suffer, through her. A general sort of sympathy she would -expect from him and recognise, but she would never know that he would -cheerfully have borne anything in the shape of suffering that could -have been debased, to save her from the knowledge of the facts which -his hand was then recording on the paper so soon to meet and blast -Fitzwilliam Baldwin's eyes. He had sometimes thought, just before her -marriage, that Margaret had divined and partly penetrated his secret; -but she did not think of it now, he felt assured, even if she had. All -the fulness and beauty of life, all its best and brightest -possibilities, had been opened to her, had been given to her in such -lavish abundance, that her mind had no room for anything outside its -own felicity.</p> - -<p>Thus James thought; but in thus thinking he did not rightly understand -Margaret. Her mind was more capacious, her nature was more stedfast, -than he knew, and she had measured the depth and the strength of his -love for her more accurately than he guessed, and held it in more -dear, grateful, and compassionate remembrance than he would have dared -to hope. At the very time when he was writing to her, Margaret, in her -sunny Italian home, was thinking and talking of James to her husband -and to Lady Davyntry, who had always entertained much regard for Mr. -Dugdale of an unintelligible nature, for she admitted readily that she -did not understand him.</p> - -<p>"Nothing could be more acceptable to Gerty's godfather," Margaret was -saying, "than a portrait of Gerty--and of me. He shall have the small -one we have ordered; and the large one for papa must be begun as soon -as we get his answer to my last letter."</p> - -<p>"You ought to have heard from him before this about it, Madge, should -you not?" asked Lady Davyntry, looking up from her work; "it is time -for a letter."</p> - -<p>"Not quite, according to papa's measurement, Nelly. He generally takes -a fortnight to make up his mind about any question he is asked, and -then another fortnight to put the result on paper. I had a letter from -James, you know, but he said nothing about the picture."</p> - -<p>"We'll have it begun at once, Margaret," said Mr. Baldwin, who was -standing by the verandah, looking out upon the shining, blue, -foam-flecked sea. "I don't like a thing of that kind being put off. I -wonder Dugdale does not answer for your father. And, by the bye," he -continued, crossing the room, and taking a seat beside his wife, "they -are tolerably busy just now at Chayleigh; it must be about the time of -Mr. Meredith's arrival. What date did Dugdale mention?"</p> - -<p>"He thought about the 25th," said Margaret.</p> - -<p>As she spoke, the colour in her cheek waned, and there was a slight -change in the expression of her face, which was a bright face now, but -always mobile and a sure index to her feelings; a change which -indicated to her husband, on whom no look of hers was ever lost, that -the mention of Hayes Meredith's name had a disturbing effect upon her. -He saw it, and understood it, and it vexed him, for, not with, her.</p> - -<p>This was the one weakness in Margaret which troubled her perfect peace -and happiness, and through them his. Not all the unequalled -contentment of her lot had power to obliterate the past for her so -completely as to deprive association of its power to wound.</p> - -<p>There was one evil which all her husband's love and care could not -keep quite away from her--the dark shadow of the bad bygone days when -he as yet had no place in her life. She tried hard to fulfil her -promise to her husband; she lived for him as truly and completely as -ever any woman lived for any man, and she was a wonderfully happy -human being.</p> - -<p>But this one weakness clung to her still. The feeling of dread, -misgiving, reluctance with which she had heard at first of Hayes -Meredith's intention of coming to England, had never changed or -lessened. She tried to escape from it, to forget it; she condemned her -own weakness much more severely than Mr. Baldwin condemned it, but -there it remained all the same, as present as if she had not condemned -it at all. She had felt that she escaped much by being abroad when Mr. -Meredith should arrive, she had blushed for her ingratitude in feeling -it, she had persuaded herself that when he should have arrived, and -she should know that he was in England, this strange, for the present -unconquerable, feeling might wear off. It must be in a great measure -nervous, she thought; it had come upon her so often and oppressively -before her child's birth--surely it would vanish then. Time had -brought her such immeasurably rich compensation, "good measure, -pressed down, and running over," she had but this one thing more to -ask of time, and that would come.</p> - -<p>It was on a glorious day, even for Naples, that Fitzwilliam Baldwin, -happily alone when it arrived, received James Dugdale's letter. -Margaret, her child, and Lady Davyntry had gone out, intending to -remain away for some hours, to the villa of friends of Eleanor's, who -rejoiced immensely in the society of the English family. Mr. Baldwin -was to join them in the afternoon, a sociable arrangement tending to -rescue the ladies from boredom, without subjecting the gentleman to -the same.</p> - -<p>The writing of the letter which came to the beautiful villa by the -sea, that glorious day, had been attended with difficulties which are -not easily described. Partly from his knowledge of the man, and partly -from the gift of insight and sympathy which he possessed in a rare -degree, James Dugdale could enter into the perplexity and intricacy of -the trouble of which he was the harbinger, and could follow the -inevitable workings of Mr. Baldwin's mind under the circumstances. -Meredith had at first proposed that the truth should not be told to -Baldwin, that he should only be prepared for important news of an -unpleasant character, and urged to return as speedily as possible. But -James would not agree to this.</p> - -<p>"No," he said, "the truth must be told, and borne somehow; and a plain -simple statement of it to a man like Baldwin is the best thing to be -done, and will enable him to bear it best. If he is kept in suspense, -he will be unable to keep her from suspicion, and that is the great -point for him to secure."</p> - -<p>That Mr. Baldwin would exert himself to the utmost to conceal his -feelings until they reached England, James did not doubt; and that he -would acquiesce in their view of the case he felt assured. With this -view, and in this spirit, the terrible letter was written; how it was -read, how the full knowledge of the meaning of its contents was -endured, no human being ever knew.</p> - -<p>In the midst of the great bewilderment which fell upon Fitzwilliam -Baldwin, while he sat with his eyes fixed upon Dugdale's letter, in -the midst of the rush of wildly-varying but all-painful feeling which -took possession of him, two things were uppermost in his mind: the one -that the news which had reached him might be hidden until their -arrival in England from Margaret, the other that the birth of a son -would set this dreadful matter right, as far as it was capable of -rectification.</p> - -<p>As the hours during which he was absorbed in deep and agonising -reverie wore away, he saw these two points more and more clearly, and -began to take comfort from them. Dugdale had laid so much stress in -his letter upon the certainty of the truth being known to no one but -Meredith and himself, upon the feasibility of such prompt and ready -action, that it would be necessary only to let Margaret learn the need -of the second marriage ceremony just before the time of its -performance, and upon the fortunate circumstance that the little one -so unintentionally wronged would be placed beyond the reach of -injury when the expected event should have taken place, that the -heart-stricken reader could not but see the force of his arguments.</p> - -<p>He thought very little of himself in all this. A swift sharp pang of -regret when he felt that he had failed in the great task he had set -himself, the high privilege he had striven for--that the woman whom he -loved with such love as his experience told him men very rarely had to -bestow, was not placed by that love, and all the defences with which -it had surrounded her, beyond the reach of the stings of fortune--a -piercing, agonising sense of defeat, of failure,--and all he suffered -in his own person, on his own account, was finished and over. But for -<i>her</i>, for Margaret--she who, in the midst of her happiness, in the -summertide of her pride, and the security of her good fortune, dreaded -the slightest, most passing reference to the past, whose sensitiveness -and delicacy was tortured even now with a sense of degradation in the -clinging of the old associations of the past--for her, he suffered as -much as it was in his nature--which had largely the faculty of -pain--to suffer.</p> - -<p>When the time drew near at which he must prepare to meet Margaret, to -find himself under her calm, but, where he was concerned, keen -observation, forced to deceive her in fact, and to feign a state of -spirits utterly foreign to the truth, he started up with a sudden fear -that the havoc which had been at work within him might have made its -mark upon his face. He knew that his wife--and when the dear familiar -word came into his thoughts, he shuddered at the sudden realisation it -forced upon him of the awful truth, she was not his wife--that -Margaret would detect trouble in his face with unerring keenness and -certainty.</p> - -<p>He must devise a pretext for their sudden return, Dugdale had said in -the letter. Of course, and it must be found, must be decided upon, at -once. He stood still before a mirror and looked at his face. It was -pale and haggard, as though he had gone through a long illness, and -had grown suddenly older in it. The pretext which would account to -Margaret for this face of his must needs be a serious one. And if it -must, why not make it the true pretext? Could he devise to tell her -any trouble, loss, or calamity affecting him which she would not share -to the full? Were they not, indeed, and in the holiest truth of that -mysterious tie of love, one? Would she not grieve as much for an -imaginary evil, if it could thus affect him, as for the real cross -which she would have to carry? At first, his wondering gaze upon his -own changed face in the glass, Fitzwilliam Baldwin thought--"Yes, I -may as well tell her the truth; she cannot take it worse than she will -take anything affecting me only!"</p> - -<p>But, again, a little reflection stopped him. If the truth were -revealed to Margaret now, it would be so far different from any -trouble that could come to them in the ordinary course of their united -life, that it must sever them. From the instant that Margaret should -know that she was not his wife there would be no more liberty for her, -but restraint between them, and the action of a feeling which would -take strong root in her delicate and sensitive mind. No, he must guard -her, as her warmhearted but cool-judging friends had decided, against -the discovery--he should win her forgiveness afterwards for a small -deception involving so much to be gained in this terrible crisis of -their fate.</p> - -<p>He roamed from room to room of the beautiful villa overhanging the -sea, and looked drearily around him on all the familiar objects -associated with their everyday life. They were all familiar, true, and -yet they were so strange. On them all there was the impress of the -dreariness and the desolation which sweeps in the wake of a great -shock, of a sudden event after which life can never again be the same, -over all the soulless things in the midst of which we live. These were -Margaret's rooms, and she was flitting about them when he saw her and -them last, and they could never look the same again--neither they nor -Margaret. Could it be true? Was it real, or a dream?</p> - -<p>He stopped and pulled out James's letter, and read it again; and once -more the full terrible reality struck him as with a palpable physical -blow. This, then, was the fulfilment of that vague dread which -Margaret confessed to having felt, that "superstitious terror" which -had pursued her often when her life was fullest of blessings and -happiness. James Dugdale had not erroneously estimated the confidence -which he believed to exist between Fitzwilliam Baldwin and Margaret. -It was thorough, perfect, absolute. There had not been a thought of -her heart hidden from her husband, and therefore he was fully able to -comprehend all the depth and bearing, the full weight and severity, of -the calamity which had come upon them.</p> - -<p>What a mockery was the beauty of the scene on which he looked! What -warmth or light was there in the sunshine now--what music was there in -the play of the bright waves upon the curving coast? Then he took -himself to task for weakness. He ought to have stood the shock of even -such intelligence better than this. Where were the strength and -manliness which never before had failed him? In other straits and -trials of his life he had always manifested and been proud, after a -fashion, of manifesting strength and composure; but in this they -failed him. Strength had forsaken his limbs, and there was no -composure in the ashen face he looked at in the glass; for the chief -weight of this crushing sorrow must fall, not on himself, but on one -much dearer--on her whose happiness he had set before him as the chief -aim and effort of his life.</p> - -<p>There was a common-sense practical point of view in which he ought to -look at it--the point of view in which Dugdale's letter had placed it, -the point of view which was so much more clearly perceptible to Hayes -Meredith than to James. After all, the evil was transient, if -irreparable; and the proposed precautions, taken with good will and -with good sense, could not fail. But Fitzwilliam Baldwin was not quite -master of himself in this crisis; a touch of the same presentiment -which had haunted Margaret came now to him, and made him tremble -before an undefined dread dimly looming behind the clear and -ascertained truth.</p> - -<p>When he set himself seriously to decide upon the pretext by which he -should account to Margaret for the sudden change of all their plans, -Mr. Baldwin was not slow about finding one.</p> - -<p>Margaret knew little in detail of the management and circumstances of -the large property of which she was the mistress. This ignorance arose -neither from incapacity nor from lack of interest, but came solely -from a little of the "Lady-Burleigh" feeling, combined with the full -occupation of her mind in the delights of her home and her household, -and the idea that she always had time before her for the acquisition -of a knowledge of what she called "Fitzwilliam's office business." -Lady Davyntry was not much wiser; indeed, she rather trusted to her -brother's knowing all about her affairs, and transacting all business -relating to Davyntry, than troubled herself with inquiry into matters -regarding the Deane.</p> - -<p>The pretext, then, should be a letter from the factor at the Deane, -and urgent interests of the property at stake, requiring the master's -presence. Lady Davyntry, he knew, would immediately propose that she -and Margaret should remain at Naples until Mr. Baldwin should have -transacted his business, to which he must be careful to lend a -sufficiently unpleasant aspect, and be able to rejoin them. But Mr. -Baldwin knew he might make his mind easy on that score. Certain as he -was that his sister would make this proposition--which, under the -circumstances, and especially in consideration of Margaret's -situation, would be eminently and palpably reasonable--he was at least -as certain that Margaret would not consent to remaining at Naples if -he had to leave her. He might safely trust to the gently-maintained -but perfectly-assured self-will of Margaret under such circumstances; -and this confidence reduced the difficulties of his task very -considerably.</p> - -<p>His plan was all arranged, and the first rush of the sea of his -troubles had subsided, when he mounted his horse (Mr. Baldwin's horses -were famous in Naples) and rode slowly away from the home in which he -had been so happy,--so marvellously happy it seemed to him, now that -the disturbing element had come in,--to meet Margaret, feeling like a -man in a dream.</p> -<br> - -<p>"Something has happened! What is it?" said Margaret in a whisper to -her husband, as soon as he had gone through the formalities of the -occasion, and she could approach him without being remarked. "Is there -any bad news from home? Is anything wrong with papa?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing, my darling. I have been upset by some unpleasant -intelligence from Curtis. It is only a matter of business; you shall -hear all about it when we get home."</p> - -<p>"Only a matter of business. Thank God! But you look very ill, -Fitzwilliam. Is it anything very wrong?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; it may involve me in much annoyance. But I cannot say more now. -Don't look so anxiously at me; I am not ill, only worried over the -affair. Can you get away soon?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, immediately. I have only to gather up Eleanor and baby."</p> - -<p>She smiled faintly as she spoke, and he returned the smile more -faintly still.</p> - -<p>"Gather them up, then, and let us go."</p> - -<p>The few minutes consumed in leave-taking were very tedious to -Fitzwilliam Baldwin, and his pale face and uncontrollably absent -manner did not pass unnoticed by the lady of the house.</p> - -<p>"I am sure there is something the matter with Mr. Baldwin," said Mrs. -Sinclair to her husband, when the visitors had departed, a strange -sort of gloom accompanying their leave-taking. "Did you notice, -William, how ill he looked?--just like a man who had seen a ghost."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense," was the uncompromising reply of Mr. Sinclair; "I daresay -he is not well. You should not say such things before the children, -Minnie; you'll see now we shall have them gravely demanding to be -informed what is a ghost. What shall you do then?"</p> - -<p>"Refer them to you, sir, as the source and dispenser of universal -knowledge. And it's all very well for you to say 'nonsense;' but I am -certain something is very wrong with Mr. Baldwin. However, if there -is, we shall soon know it. I am sure I hope not, for his sister's -sake."</p> - -<p>"And his wife's, surely; she is a very sweet creature."</p> - -<p>"I prefer Lady Davyntry," said Mrs. Sinclair shortly; and the -conversation dropped.</p> -<br> - -<p>Mr. Baldwin was perfectly right in his anticipation of the manner in -which the communication he had to make to his "womankind" would be -received by them. Lady Davyntry was very voluble, Margaret was very -silent and closely observant of her husband.</p> - -<p>"What a horrid nuisance, my dear Fitz!" said Lady Davyntry; "and I -must say I think it is extremely stupid of Curtis. Of course I don't -pretend to understand mining business, and rights and royalties, and -all the rest of it; but I do wonder he needs must bother you about it -just now, when we are all so comfortable here, and Madge getting ever -so much better. I suppose writing to these odious people would not -do?"</p> - -<p>"No, Eleanor, certainly not," replied her brother; "I must go to them, -there's nothing else for it; I saw that at once."</p> - -<p>"Dear, how tiresome! And how long shall you be away, Fitz?"</p> - -<p>"It is impossible to tell, Nelly; and I must start as soon as -possible.--How soon can you be ready, Margaret?"</p> - -<p>There was an extraordinary tenderness in his tone, something beyond -the customary unfailing sweetness with which he invariably addressed -her; a compassionate unconscious deference in his manner which -thrilled her sensitive nerves. She had not removed her gaze from her -husband's face since he had made the communication which he had -promised; but she had not spoken a word. Now she said simply, still -looking at him:</p> - -<p>"I can be ready to start to-morrow, if you are."</p> - -<p>"To start to-morrow, Madge!" exclaimed Lady Davyntry in half-angry, -half-incredulous astonishment. "You cannot mean it. There was never -such an idea entertained by Fitz, I am certain, as your going.--Of -course you don't mean it?" And she turned anxiously to her brother.</p> - -<p>"I certainly did think Margaret would come with me," returned Mr. -Baldwin.</p> - -<p>"I assure you, Nelly," said Margaret, "nothing could induce me to -remain here without him."</p> - -<p>Lady Davyntry was very good-humoured, as she always was, but very -voluble and eager in her remonstrances. The discussion was somewhat of -a relief to Mr. Baldwin, and it ended as he had foreseen it would end. -Margaret and her little daughter would accompany him to England, and -his sister would remain at Naples. The servants, with the exception of -the child's nurse, were to be left at the villa. Mr. Baldwin had -remembered that the absence of attendants on Margaret and himself -would materially contribute to the maintenance of that secrecy which -was so necessary. The simplicity of the personal habits of both -rendered their travelling without servants a matter of surprise to no -one.</p> - -<p>"You are quite sure you will be back in a month, Fitz?" Lady Davyntry -said at the close of the discussion, when she had accepted the -inevitable with her usual unfailing cheerfulness, and was actually -almost ready to think the plan a very pleasant variety. "You must, you -know, for I don't believe it would be safe for Margaret to travel -after a longer time; and you know what Cooper said about March in -England for her chest. And a month will give you time to settle all -this bothering business. I really think I should get rid of Curtis, if -I were you, and give Madge plenty of time to see Mr. Carteret. I have -some lovely lava to send him; and, Madge, I will let you have the flat -knife Signor Lanzi gave me, you know--the one they found in Pompeii. -They say it belonged to Sallust's cook, and he used to slap it on the -dresser when dinner was ready to be served. Mr. Carteret would be -delighted to have it; don't you think so?"</p> - -<p>"I am sure he would," Margaret answered absently.</p> - -<p>Lady Davyntry went on: "You mustn't worry about this business, Fitz; -it is not like you to bother so about any mere matter of money."</p> - -<p>"It is more than a mere matter of money, Nelly," said Mr. Baldwin -hastily. "But there, don't let us talk of it any more.--You will get -ready to start on Wednesday, Margaret; and, please God, we shall all -be here together again before long."</p> - -<p>He left the women together, and went away, pleading letters to be -written for the mail in the morning. As he closed the door, Margaret's -quick ear caught the sound of a heavy sigh. In her turn she thought -what Eleanor had said, "It is not like him to think so much of a mere -matter of money;" for his explanation had not made it clear to her -that anything more than money was concerned.</p> - -<p>Her sister-in-law talked on and on to her, growing more excited by and -better pleased with the occurrences of the day as she did so, until -she finally persuaded herself that no real harm, or even permanent -unpleasantness, could come out of them to her brother. Margaret hardly -heard her. Her heart was heavy and troubled; and that night, as she -and her husband stood by the bed where their child was sleeping, -watching the infant's happy slumber, as was their invariable custom, -she gathered confirmation of her shapeless misgiving from the -expression of his face, from the infinite tenderness of his tone to -her, and the deep melancholy of the look he turned upon the child.</p> - -<p>"Is there a shadow, a dread, a skeleton in <i>his</i> past too?" Margaret -mused, when she was alone; "and am I about to find it out? I thought -there was nothing in all his noble history which needed an hour's -concealment, or could bring a cloud to his face. But I must, as surely -I can, trust him. If there be more to tell than he has told,--and I -think there must be, for what is a money risk to him and me?--it is my -part to wait patiently until the time comes for me to know it. When he -thinks it right, he will tell me; until then I ought to be satisfied, -and I <i>will</i>. He said the chief part of his business would be in -London; I shall hear all about it there."</p> - -<p>Calling to her aid her former habit of self-control,--a little fallen -into disuse in the new and perfect happiness of her life, in which it -was seldom needed,--Margaret did not embarrass Mr. Baldwin by a -question, by the slightest betrayal that she suspected any concealment -on his part; but she said to herself very frequently, in the brief -interval before the commencement of their journey, "I shall learn the -truth in London."</p> - -<p>The old presentiment which had once haunted her so constantly, which -had been so readily awakened by the merest chimerical cause, of which -she had felt guilty, ashamed, combating its influence by reasoning -upon its ingratitude, its weakness, its unworthiness, had left her, it -seemed, at this time. No shadow from the brooding wings of the -terrific truth swept across her soul.</p> - -<p>The journey was commenced at the appointed time, and safely -accomplished, with as much celerity as was possible nearly thirty -years ago.</p> - -<p>On their arrival in London, the travellers went to a hotel in -Bond-street, and Margaret, much tired by the journey, fell almost -immediately into a sound sleep. They had reached London at noon, and -it was quite dark when she awoke. The glimmering firelight showed her -Mr. Baldwin's figure seated beside her bed, and she awoke to the -consciousness that he was looking at her with terrible intentness.</p> - -<p>"Are you quite rested, my darling?" he said.</p> - -<p>"Quite."</p> - -<p>She answered only one word. The time had come, and she was afraid, -though still no shadow from the brooding wings of the terrific truth -swept across her soul. He kissed her on the forehead, and rose. Then -he said,</p> - -<p>"Come down as quickly as you can. I asked Dugdale and Mr. Meredith to -meet us in London, and they are here."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div2_07" href="#div2Ref_07">CHAPTER VII.</a></h4> -<h5>THE MARRIAGE.</h5> -<br> - -<p>A silent party was assembled in the large old-fashioned room in which -Margaret's presence was awaited. On the high mantel clusters of tall -wax-candles were grouped, which failed to light the dusky apartment -half-way along its length or across its breadth, but threw their -lustre around the hearth, covered with a Turkey rug.</p> - -<p>Hayes Meredith leaned moodily against the fluted side of the grim -black-marble chimneypiece, with one foot on the brass fender, and his -keen dark glance turned towards the glowing red fire. James Dugdale -sat in a heavy arm-chair, his head leaning back against the -red-leather cushion, his long thin fingers grasping the sides of the -chair, his face, always pale, now of an ashen-gray colour, and the -nervous tremor which pervaded his entire frame painfully evident to -the two stronger men. Mr. Baldwin paced the room with folded arms. All -three were silent. They had said all that was to be said in the -absence of her whom their consultation concerned so deeply.</p> - -<p>A light tread in the passage outside the door caught Mr. Baldwin's -strained ear. James Dugdale heard it too, but he did not move; he only -closed his eyes, and passed his hand across his brow. In another -moment Margaret was in the room, was within the luminous circle made -by the light, and had advanced towards Meredith. Her face was deadly -pale, but her eyes were bright, and the old look of resolution which -he had so often remarked and admired struck him once more, with his -first glance at her. Her figure was as slight and girlish as when he -had seen her last, the principal change was in the rich dress, now -become habitual to her.</p> - -<p>Hayes Meredith tried hard to make his earnest greeting as gladsome as -it might have been; to say, "I told you we should meet again--you see -I was a true prophet;" but there was something in her face which made -it quite impossible. She shook hands with him, and then she turned to -James, who had now stood up, and laid her hand upon his shoulder. -Fitzwilliam Baldwin made no sign. The worst had come now, and he had -very little strength to face it.</p> - -<p>"James," she said, "is my father dead?"</p> - -<p>"Good God, Margaret," he made answer, catching her hands in his, "no! -What can have put such an idea, such a fear, into your mind? He is -quite well."</p> - -<p>She kissed him on the cheek, and sat down, keeping her hand on his arm -still, and, slightly turning her head towards Baldwin, said in a quiet -voice,</p> - -<p>"I know there is something wrong. My husband is concealing something -from me; he is right in having concealed it so far, for he is always -right--" she paused for a moment to smile at him, and then Meredith -did not know the face--he had never seen <i>that</i> look in it--"and he -has asked you to meet us here and tell me what it is, because he -cannot bear to tell me himself. Well, I will hear anything you have to -tell me, if it is his wish"--again she paused and smiled at him--"but -he is here, and well; my father, and my child, and you"--she pressed -James's arm with the hand that lay upon it--"are well; what can there -be for me to fear so very much that my husband should dread to tell it -to me himself?"</p> - -<p>She turned an earnest, imploring gaze on James, and saw the look he -directed at Meredith. Baldwin stepped hastily towards her, but she -stretched her hand out, and shrank away from him. The terrible truth -was fast swooping down upon her now.</p> - -<p>"It does not come from him," she said breathlessly; "it is the -resurrection of the past--it is my old dread--it is bad news -that <i>you</i> have brought"--her white face addressed itself to -Meredith--"tell me what it is quickly, for God's sake! I can bear to -know it--I cannot bear the suspense."</p> - -<p>"I will tell you, my dear," said Meredith; and he left his place, and -put his strong arm round her--the other two stood side by side at a -little distance. "It is bad news, but not very bad; the trouble it -brings will soon be over, and no ill can ever come of it. Do you -remember when we heard, one night when you were at my house, that -Hungerford had been murdered?"</p> - -<p>She started, and said, "Yes, yes."</p> - -<p>"You recollect the date?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly." Her voice was hardly audible.</p> - -<p>"He did not meet that dreadful fate, Margaret. He did not die thus, or -then."</p> - -<p>"Thank God!" she said. And then, in a bewildered way, she thought for -a moment, and cried out, "He is not dead! He is not dead! That is your -news--your dreadful news!"</p> - -<p>"No, my darling, no," said Mr. Baldwin, coming to her side. "It is not -so bad as that. Thank God, your fears are so far beyond the truth. He -is dead. We are not parted. No, no."</p> - -<p>"No, no," continued Meredith, still holding her; "it is not so bad as -that. Hungerford is dead; I saw his body, and I gave it decent burial; -but he did not die until long after the time when you believed him -dead."</p> - -<p>"When did he die?" she asked. The relief was immense; but if the news -she was to hear was only <i>that</i>, it was rather good than bad. "When -<i>did</i> he die?"</p> - -<p>Meredith hesitated. Baldwin turned away.</p> - -<p>"Tell me," she insisted.</p> - -<p>"He died only a short time ago," said Meredith slowly. "He died only a -few days before I left Melbourne."</p> - -<p>She was still standing, upheld by his arm, but she lost consciousness -for a little as she stood. He placed her gently in a chair, and they -kept aloof from her, until her eyes opened, and she drew a long -breath. Then she lifted her hand to her forehead, and slowly pushed -the hair away from it.</p> - -<p>"You are better now?" said James.</p> - -<p>"I am quite well," she said. "Let me understand this. I don't quite -take it in."</p> - -<p>"It is better that she should understand all about it at once, -Baldwin," said Meredith. "The shock is over now, and time must not be -lost. The only difference this unfortunate affair will make to you, my -dear, is that you must be married over again."</p> - -<p>He spoke the words with extreme reluctance, and Margaret's face -crimsoned.</p> - -<p>"What," she exclaimed, "do you mean?" And then she said gently, -"Ah--yes--I see--I understand," and covering her face with her hands -she burst into tears.</p> - -<p>Mr. Baldwin knelt down by her chair, and gently drew one hand from -before her eyes.</p> - -<p>"I think you had better leave her with me now for a little while," he -said.</p> - -<p>The two men went silently away.</p> -<br> - -<p>All through the hours of the wintry night, Margaret strove with the -anguish that had come on her as bravely as she had striven against -that which had turned her youth to bitterness. But she strove now with -a different kind of strength, and she had consolation then denied to -her. Yet even in that consolation there was more sorrow. In the past -she had stood alone, her grief was hers only, her misery troubled no -one's peace, or she did not realise that it had any outside influence; -she had to fight the battle all alone, in patience, in endurance, in -defiance, no softening influence, no gentle thoughts and blessed hopes -to hamper or to aid her. The hard material conflict of life had been -hers, and in her heart the sting of cruel mortification, of bitter -disappointment, disgust, and scorn.</p> - -<p>But she had borne this all alone, and had been able to bear it, had -come through it somehow, and, if severely wounded, had hidden her -wounds, now healed by the balm of love and happiness. But in this -sorrow she did not stand alone; she had the additional misery that it -had brought grief upon the man who had changed her whole life into -gladness, him to whom she owed all, and more than realised every dim -misgiving; she had ever felt when the idea of a second marriage -presented itself.</p> - -<p>She had seen Meredith and Dugdale again, after her long interview with -Mr. Baldwin had come to an end--an interview full of exquisite pain to -both, and yet stored among the most precious memories of their -lives--and had learned all the particulars of the plan of action upon -which they had decided. Then she had requested that she might be left -quite alone, until her presence should be necessary in the morning. -During this trying time Margaret had successfully maintained her -composure, and when she left them the three men remained silent for -several minutes, under the impression produced by her calmness, good -sense, and self-control. Meredith was the first to break the silence.</p> - -<p>"How wonderfully she has borne it!" he said. "I never hoped she would -have taken it like that, though I have seen her in great trouble -before, and ought to have known what she could do and bear when the -screw was put on her."</p> - -<p>"I have never seen her in any trouble until now," said Mr. -Baldwin--there was a strange kind of pain to him in this first -association with the man who had seen and helped Margaret in the time -now again linked so mysteriously to the present--"she does, indeed, -bear this wonderfully."</p> - -<p>"I doubt whether any of us--whether even <i>you</i>--can tell what it is to -her," said James, and there was a little impatience in his tone.</p> - -<p>Who could really know what she suffered but he--he, dowered with the -power of feeling and understanding grief as these two men, so -different, and yet in some qualities of their organisation so alike, -were not dowered?</p> - -<p>The exceptional circumstances had broken down the ordinary barriers -which would have shut out the subject, and the three talked over the -history of Margaret's life in Australia fully and freely. Hayes -Meredith told the others all he knew, and from his narrative Mr. -Baldwin learnt how tolerantly, how mercifully, Margaret had dealt with -the wretched man who had made her youth so miserable, and how, while -telling him the simple terrible truth as she saw it, there was much -she had not seen, had failed to understand. And, as he listened to the -story, and thought how the ghost of the horrid past had risen up again -to blight her, he felt as if all the love with which he had loved her -were nothing in comparison with that which filled his heart now; and -he grieved purely, unselfishly, for her, as she was then grieving for -him.</p> - -<p>Margaret had taken her child into her room. The nurse, weary of the -journey, was nothing loth to be rid of her charge, and being an -honest, stupid, bovine sort of person, and therefore admirably suited -to her functions, she did not trouble her mind about her mistress's -movements or remark her appearance. The little girl, already -strikingly like her mother, now slept tranquilly in Margaret's arms, -and now, when in the restlessness of mental suffering she could not -sit still, but walked about the room, in a deep chair before the fire.</p> - -<p>As the night wore on, Margaret would kneel beside the chair, and look -at the child by the fire-light, and then stand up again, and resume -her wandering up and down. Surely the dawn was very long in coming. -She lived through those hours as probably every one in every kind of -suffering lives through certain supreme hours of that experience; in -alternate paroxysms of acute anguish, spells of quiet concentrated -thought, and lapses of dull pain, in which there is a kind of confused -forgetfulness, wanting little of being quite a blank. When the latter -came, she would rock the child upon her knees before the fire, or -stand idly at the window, the curtain held back in her hand, and her -face pressed against the cold damp panes.</p> - -<p>Memory formed a rack on which she was stretched, until her powers of -endurance were almost exhausted, and when the release came, it was -accompanied by the stupor which follows terrible physical pain. Every -circumstance of her past life, every pain in it, from the fiercest -pang to the most ignominious little insult, came up to her, and gave -her a deliberate wrench, and above all, the sense of loneliness in all -this, contradictory though such a feeling was to the general tenor of -her thoughts, oppressed her. No one could share that trouble with her -which came from the past--therein she must suffer alone.</p> - -<p>Then she would force herself to think of the dead man, and what he had -suffered; to realise that he had actually been living, and her -husband, while she was on her voyage to England, while she was living -her peaceful life at Chayleigh, while--and at this point in her -thoughts she shuddered, and a deadly coldness laid hold upon her-while -she had loved and married another man, had filled a high position, and -enjoyed all that wealth, station, and consideration could give her. -The full horror of her position swept over her then, and afterwards -came the deadness, the confusion, the vain helpless weeping over her -child, the natural shrinking from what the morrow was to bring, the -strange wondering sense of a totally false position, of an utterly new -and disturbing element in her life, making all that had gone before -seem unreal.</p> - -<p>The hardest of all was to know, to make herself believe practically, -that she, bearing Fitzwilliam Baldwin's name--she, the mother of his -child--was not his wife. She knew how innocently, how unconsciously, -she had done this wrong; they had made it plain to her how small its -importance really was; but she was oppressed with a sense of shame and -anguish in reference to it, almost intolerable, even when she did not -turn her thoughts towards her child.</p> - -<p>When she did not! That was seldom, indeed; for, underlying all the -rest, there was the agony of the wrong her child had sustained, never -to be assuaged, and many times during that dreadful night she uttered -aloud to the unconscious infant some of the burden of her soul. The -injury to her child, the possible touch of disgrace on the stainless -story of Baldwin's life; he who, as she said to herself over and over -again, had lived in unblemished honour before the world, he who never -needed, never wished to hide thought, or word, or deed of his, he who -so loved her--these constituted the almost unbearable agony of the -grief which had come upon her.</p> - -<p>They had told her whence the remedy for all this evil was to be looked -for. If the child to be born three months hence should prove to be a -son, the wrong would be righted; little Gerty would be no worse than -if this had never happened, for it was not in any reason to be feared -that the secret should ever transpire.</p> - -<p>"And if my child should not be a son?" she had asked them simply.</p> - -<p>"Then there would be two to share Baldwin's savings, and the -unentailed property," Hayes Meredith had answered her, "and you would -have to wait till the son and heir really did arrive."</p> - -<p>She had said no more then, and now, as she mused over all that had -been said, a passionate prayer arose in her heart, that the child for -whose birth she now hoped, with feelings so widely, so sadly different -from what they had been, might be a son. If it were so, Baldwin would -be satisfied; the sting would be taken out of this calamity for him, -though for her it never could be.</p> - -<p>James Dugdale was right in the estimate he had formed of her feelings, -little as she supposed that they were within any human ken. She did -love little Gertrude wonderfully; and to know her to be illegitimate, -to know that she must owe her name and place in the world to a -concealment, a false pretence, was a wound in the mother's heart never -to be healed, and whose aching was never to be allayed.</p> - -<p>So the hours wore away, and with their wearing; there came to Margaret -an increased sense of unreality. The ground she had trodden so -securely was mined and shaken beneath her feet, and with the stability -all the sweetness of her life had also passed away. In her thoughts -she tried to avoid the keen remembrance of that beautiful, pure -summertime of love and joy, over which this shadow had fallen, but she -could not keep away from it; its twilight had too newly come. With -keen intolerable swiftness and clearness a thousand memories of her -beautiful, stately home came to haunt her, like forms of the dead, and -it was all in vain that she strove to believe, with the friends who -had endeavoured to cheer and console her, that the black shadow which -had fallen between that home and her could ever be lifted more.</p> - -<p>When the wintry dawn had fully come, she lay down on her bed, with her -child in her arms, and slept. One tiny infant hand was doubled up -against the mother's neck and her tear-stained cheek rested on the -soft brown curls of the baby's hair.</p> - -<p>Margaret's slumber did not last long. She awoke long before the time -at which she had told Baldwin she would be ready. When she drew back -the curtains and let in the cold gleaming light, there was as yet but -little stir or noise in the street, and the shops opposite the hotel -were but slowly struggling into their full-dressed and business-like -appearance. She turned from the window, and looked at her face in the -glass. Was that face the same that had looked out at her only this -time yesterday? She could hardly believe it was, so ghastly, so worn, -so old it showed now. She turned away abruptly, and took off her -dress, which she replaced by a dressing-gown, and shook down her rich -hair about her neck and shoulders. Presently the child awoke and -cried, and Margaret carried her to her nurse. She did not kiss the -child, or look at her, after she had placed her in the woman's arms, -but went away at once, with her teeth set.</p> - -<p>How horrible, how unnatural, how shameful it seemed to Margaret, as -she dressed herself in the plainest garments her travelling trunks -supplied, that this should be her wedding-day, and she was dressing -for her marriage! All the painful feelings which she had experienced -were concentrated and expressed in those terrible, almost incredible -words. She went through her unaided task steadily, only avoiding -seeing her face in the glass; and when it was quite done, when her -shawl, and bonnet, and gloves were on, she knelt down by her bed, with -her face upon the coverlet, and her clasped hands outstretched, and -there she prayed and waited.</p> - -<p>At nine o'clock James Dugdale knocked at the door of Margaret's room. -She opened the door at his summons, and silently gave him her hand.</p> - -<p>"Baldwin is in the sitting-room," he said. "I see you are quite ready. -Are you feeling strong?"</p> - -<p>"I am perfectly well," she replied.</p> - -<p>They went downstairs, and into the room which the party had occupied -on the preceding evening. Preparations for breakfast were in active -progress, and two waiters were conducting them with as much fuss and -display of alacrity as possible.</p> - -<p>Hayes Meredith greeted Margaret with a cheerful aspect. Mr. Baldwin -merely set a chair for her. Their "good-morrow" was but a look, and -what a pang this caused Margaret! The servants were not to know they -had not met till then.</p> - -<p>To the practical, business-like mind of Hayes Meredith the painful -matter on hand had not, indeed, ceased to be painful, but had advanced -so far towards a happy termination, which should end its embarrassment -positively, and in all human probability its danger, that he felt able -to be cheerful without much effort or affectation, and took upon -himself the task of keeping up appearances, to which his companions -were much less equal. He really ate his breakfast, while the other -three made the poorest pretence of doing so, and he did the talking -about an early shopping expedition which had been proposed over night.</p> - -<p>At length this portion of the trial came to an end in its turn, and -Margaret, accompanied by James, and followed by Meredith and Baldwin, -left the hotel on foot. The two waiters witnessed the departure of the -party.</p> - -<p>"A precious glum lot for a party wot is wisitin' the metrop'lis, eh, -William? said one to the other.</p> - -<p>"Ain't they just, Jim! They are swells though, from wot I hear."</p> - -<p>When they reached Piccadilly Meredith procured a hackney-coach, and -the silent little company were driven to the City. Margaret sat back, -leaning her head in the corner with closed eyes. The three men hardly -spoke. The way seemed very long, and yet when the coach stopped, in -obedience to Meredith's directions to the driver, in a crooked, -narrow, dirty little street, which she had a confused notion was near -the great river, Margaret started, and her heart, which had lain like -a lump of lead in her breast, began to beat violently.</p> - -<p>A few minutes' walking, but by a tortuous way, brought them to a -shabby little old church, damp, mouldy, and of disused aspect, and -into the presence of a clergyman whose appearance matched admirably -with that of the building, for he, too, was shabby, little, and old, -and looked as if he were mouldered by time and seclusion. An ancient -clerk, who apparently combined the clerkly office with those of the -pew-opener and the verger, was the only other person present. Not even -a stray boy, not even a servant-girl out on an errand, or a nursemaid -airing her charges in the damp, had been tempted, by the rare -spectacle of an open church-door, to enter the building.</p> - -<p>A little whispered conversation with the shabby little old clergyman, -a paper shown by Meredith, and a ghost-like beckoning by the clerk, -with intent to marshal the wedding-party to their places, and all was -ready. The words of the solemn marriage service, which it was so -dreadful to those two to repeat, which they had spoken once with such -joyful hearts, were said for the second time, and nothing but the -signing of the register remained to be done.</p> - -<p>As Mr. Baldwin with his wife followed the shabby little old clergyman -into the vestry, he whispered to Margaret,</p> - -<p>"It is all over now, dearest; nothing can ever trouble or part us more -but death."</p> - -<p>She pressed the arm on which she was leaning very close to her breast, -but she answered him never a word.</p> - -<p>"Sign your name here, if you please, madam," said the clerk, putting a -dirty withered old finger on the blank space in the large book which -held in such trite record so many first chapters of human histories.</p> - -<p>Mr. Baldwin had already signed, and was looking at his wife with eager -attention. He saw the spasm of agony which crossed her face as she -wrote "Margaret Hungerford." James Dugdale saw it too.</p> - -<p>When Meredith and Dugdale in their turn had signed the register, and -Mr. Baldwin had astonished the clergyman, to a degree unprecedented in -his mild and mouldy existence, by the magnificence of the sum with -which he rewarded his services, all was done, and the wedding-party -left the church. Mr. Baldwin and Margaret got into the coach, and were -driven to a shop in Piccadilly. There the driver, who was rather -surprised at the novelty of a bridal pair being "dropped" at a shop -instead of being taken home in orthodox style to breakfast, was -dismissed. Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin returned to the hotel, as they had -left it, on foot.</p> -<br> - -<p>"Let me see--what's the name of the church and the parson?" said Hayes -Meredith to James Dugdale, as they stood in the street when the coach -had taken Baldwin and Margaret away, and the church-door was shut upon -them.</p> - -<p>He had an old-fashioned red morocco-leather pocket-book, with a -complicated clasp, composed of brass wire, open in his hand, and he -carefully noted down James's reply, heading the memorandum with the -initials,</P> -<br> -<P class="center">F. M. B.<br> -M. H.</p> -<br> - -<p>"What do you write that down for?" James asked him.</p> - -<p>"Partly from habit, old fellow, and partly because I never was -concerned in so strange an affair before, and I have a fancy for -reminding myself of it."</p> - -<p>He had put up the pocket-book as he spoke, and they were walking -slowly away.</p> - -<p>"I remember well," said Meredith, "when I said good-bye to her on -board the Boomerang, I wondered what sort of fate awaited her in -England. It is a very enviable one on the whole, in spite of this -little cloud, which I look upon as quite blown over. It might have -been an ugly business if that poor wretch had pulled through in the -hospital. What a comfort that it has all been so capitally managed, -isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said James absently; "how very, very miserable she looked!"</p> - -<p>"Never mind that--it was natural--it was all so awkward you know. Why, -now that it is over, I can hardly believe it. But she will be all -right to-morrow--the journey had something to do with her looks, you -must remember."</p> - -<p>When they reached the hotel they found Mr. Baldwin alone in the -sitting-room. Hayes Meredith had recovered his spirits much more than -any of the party. He was quite chatty, and inclined to enjoy himself, -now that it was possible, in the delightful novelty of London. -Besides, he judged wisely that the less difference the event of the -morning should be allowed to make in the disposition of the day the -better.</p> - -<p>Mr. Baldwin was ready to devote himself to his guest's pleasure, and a -pleasant programme was soon made out. On reference being made to -Margaret she said she would remain at home all day, with the child. -James, too, pleaded fatigue, and did not leave the house. And when the -other two were gone he thought, "No one, not even <i>he</i> knows what this -is to her so well as I know it."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div2_08" href="#div2Ref_08">CHAPTER VIII.</a></h4> -<h5>SHADOWS.</h5> -<br> - -<p>On the third day after the quiet marriage ceremony had been performed -in the City church, Margaret Baldwin, her husband, and their child -left London for Chayleigh. She had been told that her father knew -nothing of the revelation which it had been Hayes Meredith's difficult -task to impart to her, and she felt that she owed much to the wise -consideration which had concealed it. In the first place, to have -enlightened her father would only have been to inflict unnecessary -pain upon him, and in the second, it would have embarrassed her -extremely.</p> - -<p>To keep her feelings in this supreme hour of her fate as much to -herself as possible was her great desire, and especially as regarded -her father. His pride and delight in the good fortune which had -befallen her were so great, his absolute oblivion of the past was so -complete and so satisfactory, that she would not, if even it could -have made things better rather than worse for her, have had the one -feeling disturbed, or the other altered. He had never mentioned her -first husband's name to her, and she would not, to spare herself any -suffering, have had an occasion arise in which it must needs be -mentioned. So, as they travelled towards her old home, there was -nothing in the prospect of her meeting with her father to disturb her, -and the events of the week she had just gone through, began to seem -already distant.</p> - -<p>After the day of the marriage, Baldwin had not spoken of the grief -that had befallen them. If it had been possible for him to love her -better, more tenderly, more entirely, more deferentially than before, -he would have done so; but it was not possible. In all conceivable -respects their union was perfect; not even sorrow could draw them more -closely together. Neither could sorrow part them, as sometimes it does -part, almost imperceptibly, but yet surely, those whose mutual -affection is not solidified by perfect similarity of temperament.</p> - -<p>The gravity of Margaret's character, which had been increased by the -experiences of her life, by the deadly influences which had tarnished -her youth, had been much tempered of late by the cordial cheerfulness, -the unfailing sweetness of disposition which characterised Baldwin, -and which, being entirely free from the least tinge of levity, -harmonised perfectly with her sensitiveness. So, in this grief, they -felt alike, and while he comprehended, in its innermost depths and -intricacy of feeling, the distress she suffered, he comprehended also -that she needed no assurance of his appreciation and sympathy.</p> - -<p>The details of business and the arrangements for the future which the -terrible discovery had made necessary were imparted to her by Hayes -Meredith, and never discussed between her and Baldwin. She understood -that in the wildly improbable--indeed, as far as human ken could -penetrate, impossible--contingency that the truth should ever become -known, the little Gertrude's future was to be made secure, by special -precautions taken with that intent by her father. Thus no material -anxiety oppressed her for the sake of the child, over whom, -nevertheless, she grieved with a persistent intensity which would have -seemed ominous and alarming to any one aware of it. But that no one -knew; the infant was the sole and unconscious witness of the mother's -suffering.</p> - -<p>What intense shame and misery, what incoherent passionate tenderness, -what vague but haunting dread, what foreshadowing of possible evil had -possession of her soul, as, her head bent down over the little girl -sleeping in her arms, Margaret approached her father's house!</p> - -<p>Mr. Carteret was standing at the entrance, and behind him, in the -shade of the portico, was a figure whom Margaret did not recognise, -and whom she was about to pass, having received her father's -affectionate greeting, when Mr. Baldwin said, "This is Mr. Meredith's -son, Margaret," and Robert held out his hand. Then she spoke to the -boy, but hastily, being anxious to get her child and her father out of -the cold air.</p> - -<p>When the whole party had entered the house, and Mr. Baldwin and Mr. -Carteret were talking by the fire in the study, Robert Meredith stood -still in the hall watching the light snow flakes which had begun to -fall sparingly, and which had the charm of novelty to him, and -thinking not overpleasantly of Margaret.</p> - -<p>"A proud, stuck-up fine lady," the boy muttered, and the expression of -scorn which made his face so evil at times came over it. "I suppose -she thinks I don't remember her in her shabby old clothes, and with -her hands all rough. I suppose she fancies I was too much of a child -to know all about her when she used to do our needlework, and my -mother used to puzzle her head to make out jobs for her, because she -was too proud to take the money as a present. I saw it all, though -they didn't tell me; and I wonder how she would like me to tell her -fine husband or her old fool of a father all about it! I remember how -they talked about her at home when the black fellows killed Mr. -Hungerford, and my father said they might venture to take her into the -house now, until she could be sent to England. And my lady's too fine -to look at one now, is she, with her precious self and her precious -brat wrapped up in velvet and fur." And the boy pulled off a chair in -the hall a mantle of Margaret's which had been thrown there, and -kicked it into a corner.</p> - -<p>It would be difficult to do justice to the vile expression of his -handsome face, as, having given vent to this ebullition of senseless -rage, he again stood, looking through the side windows of the hall -door for the approach of the carriage which was to bring his father -and James Dugdale to Chayleigh. The boy's chief characteristic was an -extreme and besetting egotism, which Margaret had unconsciously -offended. She would not have thought much or perhaps at all of the -fact had she known it, but from the moment when, with a polite but -careless greeting to Robert Meredith, she had passed on into the -house, she had an enemy in the son of her old friend.</p> - -<p>"I thought Margaret would be in a hurry home," said the unconscious -Mr. Carteret, in a sagacious tone to his son-in-law, "when Meredith -came. She received much kindness from him, and I knew she would like -to acknowledge it as soon as possible."</p> - -<p>"And I, too, sir," said Baldwin. "What a good fellow he is, and a fine -hearty fellow! What do you think of the boy?"</p> - -<p>"A very fair kind of boy indeed," said Mr. Carteret, with unusual -alacrity; "never requires to be told anything twice, and is never in -the way. If he is noisy at all, he keeps it all for out of doors, I -assure you. And not ignorant, by any means: gave me a very -intelligible account of the habits of the wombat and the opossum. -Really a very tolerable boy, Baldwin; I fancy you won't mind him -much."</p> - -<p>This was warm praise, and quite an enthusiastic supposition, for Mr. -Carteret. Baldwin was much reassured by it; he and Margaret had been -rather alarmed at the contemplation of his possible sufferings at -finding himself alone with a real live boy. Baldwin was glad too of -the excuse for talking about something apart from himself and -Margaret. The most natural thing for him to say under the -circumstances would have been, "Well, sir, and how do you think -Margaret is looking?" but he hesitated about saying it, and was -relieved when Mr. Carteret volunteered the opinion that she was -looking very well, and began to question him about their doings in -foreign parts.</p> - -<p>Thus the time was whiled away until Meredith and Dugdale arrived, and -Margaret, announcing that the child was asleep, came to sit with her -father. A look from her husband showed her that all was well, and a -look in return from her released him.</p> - -<p>The evening passed away quietly. No incident of any moment occurred. -Mr. Carteret displayed no curiosity about Meredith's business in -London, though he was very congratulatory concerning the fortunate -coincidence of the return of Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin, and very solicitous -about the danger of James Dugdale's being made ill by the journey and -the excitement of London, which presented itself to Mr. Carteret in -most alarming colours. He had not been in "town" since Mrs. Carteret's -death, and if, contrary to his usual placid habit, he speculated about -his own future at all, it certainly was to the effect that he hoped he -never should be there again.</p> - -<p>The old gentleman was in a state of supreme mental content just now. -He was very happy in all respects, and the return of Margaret and Mr. -Baldwin completed his felicity. His daughter's account of her health -was very satisfactory, and perhaps she need not go abroad again. They -spoke of going on to the Deane if the weather should not prove very -severe, and for his part he hoped they would do so. He had no great -liking for foreign countries, and no strong faith in the remedial -properties of their climate; and though he was very glad that Margaret -had tried Italy and profited by it, he should be still more glad that -she should decide on staying at home. With a splendid home, every -conceivable comfort, and improved health, she need not gad about any -more, especially under present circumstances.</p> - -<p>On the whole, Mr. Carteret's state of mind was one of enviable -contentment on the evening of his daughter's return, and as she and -her husband commented on it when they were alone, they felt that his -entire unconsciousness was most fortunate. They had nothing to fear -from suspicion or inquisitiveness on his part--he was incapable of the -one, except in the case of a traveller reporting on newly-discovered -natural objects, or of the latter, except in the case of birds, -beasts, and creeping things.</p> - -<p>There was one dissatisfied person among the little party at Chayleigh -on the night of the return. It was Robert Meredith. He had not -succeeded in discovering the object of his father's visit to London. -"I am going to London with Mr. Dugdale, for a few days, on particular -business," his father had said to him before they went away. But he -had not explained the nature of the business, and the boy was vexed by -this reticence. He had quick, subtle perceptions, and he had detected -some trouble in his father's mind before they left home, and during -the voyage. He had a secret conviction that this visit to London, -whose object Meredith, an open-mannered, unreserved man with every -one, and always frank and hearty in his dealings with his children, -had not explained, had reference to this undiscovered source of -trouble.</p> - -<p>Robert listened to all the conversation which took place during the -evening, and closely watched the countenances of every one present, -but nothing transpired which shed the least light on the matter which -excited his curiosity. He had not failed to remark that, though his -father had told him all about his correspondence with Dugdale, and how -he looked to him for advice and assistance in forwarding Robert's -wishes, as to his education in England and his future career, the -subject had not yet been discussed, and he had been left to amuse -himself, and become familiar with the house and the surroundings, as -best he might. A less shrewd and more amiable person than Robert -Meredith would have imputed this to the pleasure of old friends in -meeting after a separation of many years, and to the number and -interest of the subjects they had to discuss. But Robert Meredith was -not likely to entertain an hypothesis in which sentiment claimed a -part, and was likely to resent anything which looked like a -postponement of his claims to those of any subject or interest -whatsoever.</p> - -<p>To baffle this youth's curiosity was to excite his anger and -animosity--to make him determined that he <i>would</i> get to the bottom of -the mystery sought to be concealed from him--to fill him with the -belief that it must be evil in its nature, and its discovery -profitable. It was to call out into active display all that was as yet -worst in a nature whose capacity for evil Margaret had early detected, -and concerning which his father had conceived many unspoken -misgivings.</p> - -<p>"It is almost as if he had come to England about these people's -affairs, and not about mine," said Robert Meredith to himself. "I -wonder how many more days are to be lost before I hear what is to be -done about me."</p> - -<p>Margaret happened to glance towards him as this thought passed through -his mind, and the expression of his face struck her painfully. "He was -a bad child as I remember him.--a bad, sly, deceitful, heartless -child--and he is a bad boy. He will be a bad man, I fear." She allowed -these sentiments to influence her manner to Robert Meredith more than -she was conscious of--it was polite indeed, but cold and distant.</p> - -<p>It would have been depressing to a shy or sensitive person, but Robert -Meredith was neither. He felt her manner indeed, and thought with a -sneer, that considering the friendship she professed for his father, -she might at least have feigned some interest in him. But he did not -care. This rich woman, of high station and social importance, which -his colonial notions rather magnified, must befriend him in material -concerns, and, therefore, how she felt towards him was a thing of no -consequence whatever. She could not dislike him more than he disliked -her, for he hated her and her fine husband. He remembered her poor, -and almost at the mercy of his parents for daily bread, and now she -was rich and independent of every one, and he hated her. How had she -gained all the world had to give, all he had longed for, since in his -childhood he had read and heard of the great world, and all its prizes -and luxuries? Only by her beauty, only by a man's foolish love for -her.</p> - -<p>The boy's precocious mind dwelt upon this thought with peculiar -bitterness and a kind of rage. He hated Baldwin, too, though with less -of personal dislike than Margaret. He was the first man whom Robert -Meredith had ever seen with whose wealth no idea of effort, of labour, -of speculation, of uncertainty was associated, and the boy's ambition -and his avarice alike revolted against the contemplation of a position -which he coveted with all the strength of his heart, and which he knew -could never be his. This man, who passed him over as a mere boy--this -man, who had given wealth and station to a woman whom Robert disliked -and despised--was born to all these good things; he had not to long -for them vainly, or to strive for them through long and weary toilsome -years, with only the chance of winning them at last, which was to be -his own lot in life. He might live as he listed, and the money he -should have to spend would still be there.</p> - -<p>Then there was a strife in the boy's mind between the burning desire -for wealth, and the pleasures which wealth procures, and distaste to, -revolt against, the toil by which it must be earned. In the evil soil -of his nature such plants were ripe of growth, and he rebelled blindly -against the inevitable lot which awaited him. Only in the presence of -Baldwin and Margaret, only in the innumerable trifling occurrences and -allusions--all strange and striking; to the colonial-bred boy--which -mark the presence and the daily habits of persons to whom wealth is -familiar, had Robert Meredith been brought to understand the -distinction between his own position in life and that of persons of -assured fortune. As he learned the lesson, he also learned to hate the -unconscious teachers.</p> - -<p>He learned, by the discussion of plans which he heard in the course of -the evening, that his father intended to visit Mr. Baldwin at the -Deane, and that he was to be of the party. The prospect gave him no -pleasure. He should see this fine lady, then, in her grand home. If he -dared, how he should like to say a few things, in seeming innocent -unconsciousness, which should remind her of the time when he had seen -her in his father's house, and known far more about her than she or -any one would have believed possible! The impulse to say something -which should offend Mrs. Baldwin grew upon him; but he dared not yield -to it, and his animosity increased towards the unconscious individual -on whose account he was forced to impose restraint upon his spiteful -and vicious nature.</p> - -<p>Margaret retired early, and as she extended her hand to him with a -kind "goodnight!" the diamonds which sparkled upon it caught his -attention. Once more she marked the sinister look--half smile, half -sneer--which came into his face. He was thinking, "I wonder whether -you would like Mr. Baldwin to know about the trumpery ring my mother -sold for you, and how you cried when you had to come to her -afterwards, and tell her you had nothing left to sell."</p> - -<p>On the following day the weather was bright, dry, and cheerful; -Meredith, Baldwin, and Robert went out early, bent on a long walk. -During the forenoon Margaret did not come downstairs, but in the -afternoon she went to her father's study in search of James. She found -him there, a large folio was on a reading-desk before him, but it was -long since he had turned a page.</p> - -<p>"Put this with the letters for post," she said, handing him a packet -directed to Lady Davyntry, "and come out with me for a while."</p> - -<p>James looked at her anxiously. She had a wearied, exhausted expression -in her face, and her cheeks were deeply flushed.</p> - -<p>"You are very tired, Margaret?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I am. I am easily tired now, and I have been writing for hours."</p> - -<p>They went out together, and walked along the terrace into the -flower-garden, which looked dreary in its desolate wintry condition. -At first they talked vaguely of trifles, but after a while they fell -into deep and earnest conversation, and Margaret leaned closely on -James's arm as they walked, now quickly, now slowly, and sometimes she -held him standing still, as she impressed upon him something that she -was saying with emphasis.</p> - -<p>The walk and the conference lasted long, and when at length the -warning chill of sunset came, and James reminded Margaret of the -danger of cold and fatigue, and she yielded to his counsel, and turned -towards the house, traces of deep emotion were visible upon the faces -of both.</p> - -<p>"I will not speak thus to you again," said Margaret, as they reached -the portico; "but I have implicit faith in your remembrance of what I -have said, and in your promise."</p> - -<p>"You may trust both," James answered her in an earnest but broken -voice; "I will remember, and I will send for Rose Moore."</P> -<br> - -<P>"I am delighted you have made up your mind not to return to Italy," -said Mr. Carteret a day or two later. "So much travelling would be -very unfit for you, and your son and heir ought certainly to be born -at the Deane."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div2_09" href="#div2Ref_09">CHAPTER IX.</a></h4> -<h5>FAMILY AFFAIRS.</h5> -<br> - -<p>The eldest Miss Crofton was enthusiastically delighted when the -intelligence of Mrs. Baldwin's unexpected return to Chayleigh reached -her, which was on the morning after the event. It was very natural -that she should like the importance which she acquired in the small -but almost distressingly respectable circle of society in which she -"moved," as the unaccountable phrase in use goes, from her position in -regard to Mrs. Baldwin. To her the Willises, &c., looked for the -latest intelligence concerning Margaret; to her the excellent, if -rather too inexorably managing, wife of the rector of the parish--a -lady known to the population as "the Reverend Mrs. Carroll"--intrusted -the task of procuring donations from Mr. Baldwin for a startling -number of "charitable purposes," and through the discursive medium of -her letters Haldane conducted his correspondence by proxy with his -sister.</p> - -<p>The eldest Miss Crofton entertained one supreme ambition. It was that -she might become Margaret's "particular friend," confidante, and, -eventually, favourite sister-in-law. She had not as yet attained any -of the degrees of the position to which she aspired, but that slight -impediment by no means interfered with her assumption, for the -edification of her friends and the general public, of the completed -character.</p> - -<p>She entertained considerable jealousy of Lady Davyntry, who was, she -argued, in her frequent cogitations on this subject, much older than -Margaret, and "not a bit more" her sister-in-law than she (Lucy -Crofton) was destined to be at no distant time. She was particularly -well pleased to learn that Lady Davyntry had not accompanied her -brother and his wife on their return to England, and promised herself, -within five minutes of her having learned that Margaret was at -Chayleigh, that she would make the most of the opportunity now open to -her.</p> - -<p>It was not altogether, it was indeed not much, from self-interest, or -any mean variety of that pervading meanness, that the eldest Miss -Crofton proposed to herself to be "great friends" with Mrs. Baldwin; -there was a good deal of real girlish enthusiasm about her, and it -found a natural outlet in the direction of vehement admiration for the -sister of her future husband,--admiration not disturbed by any -perception or suspicion of her own inferiority. Such a suspicion was -by no means likely to suggest itself to Lucy Crofton in connection -with any one, especially at the present interesting and important -epoch of her life--for she knew, as well as any young lady in England, -how to <i>exploiter</i> the great fact of being "engaged."</p> - -<p>As for Margaret, she liked the pretty, lively, passably well-bred girl -well enough for her own, and was resolved to like her better, and to -befriend her in every possible way, for her brother's, sake; but a -missish intimacy of the kind which Lucy longed for was completely -foreign to her tastes and habits. While Lucy Crofton pleased herself -by commenting on the similarity between them in point of age, Margaret -was trying to realise that such was actually the case, trying to -realise that she had ever been young, putting a strong constraint upon -herself to turn her mind into the same groove as that in which the -girl's mind ran. Between herself and all the thoughts, plans, hopes, -and pleasures of girlhood lay a deep and wide gulf, not formed alone -of the privileges and duties of her present position, not fashioned by -her unusual gravity and strength of character, but the work of the -past--an enduring monument of the terrible truths which had sent her -of late a terrible memento.</p> - -<p>Thus it happened that when Margaret received a note profusely -underlined, and crowded with interjections, superlatives, all kinds of -epistolary explosives from the eldest Miss Crofton, announcing her -intention of coming a little later to pass a "delightful long -afternoon" with her darling friend, she experienced a sudden accession -of weariness of spirit which communicated itself to her aspect, and -attracted the attention of her father, who immediately asked her if -anything ailed her.</p> - -<p>"Nothing whatever, papa," replied Margaret; and informed him after a -minute or so that Lucy was coming to see her.</p> - -<p>Provided Lucy did not come to Chayleigh accompanied by her wonderfully -clever little brother, and did not pester him with questions intended -to evince her lively interest in his collection, which, however, -manifested much more clearly her profound ignorance of all its -components, Mr. Carteret was perfectly indifferent to her movements. -She did not interest him, but she was perfectly respectable, eligible, -and, he understood, amiable; and if she interested Haldane, that was -quite enough for him. A simple sincerity, which never degenerated into -rudeness, characterised Mr. Carteret; and he perfectly understood the -distinction between saying what he did not think and leaving much that -he did think unsaid--a useful branch of practical science, social and -domestic. So he made no comment on Margaret's reply.</p> - -<p>But Hayes Meredith, who had not yet seen Captain Carteret's future -bride, was rather curious about her, and addressed a question -concerning her to Margaret, which she, being in an absent mood, did -not hear. Mr. Baldwin answered promptly and expansively, giving Lucy -Crofton praise for good looks, good manners, good abilities, and good -temper. The three men went on to talk of Haldane, his promotion, his -general prospects, and the time fixed for his marriage, which was not -to take place until the autumn. During this conversation Margaret rose -from the breakfast-table, and stood thoughtfully beside the fire, and -Robert Meredith employed himself in listening to the talkers and -watching her face.</p> - -<p>"Amiable creature!" he thought--and the sneer which was strangely -habitual to so young a face settled upon his lips as he thus mentally -apostrophised her--"you don't care a pin for the girl; you are bored -by her coming here, and she's a long way prettier than ever you were, -fine lady as you think yourself."</p> - -<p>Then, as Margaret looked up, with a bright flush on her face, with the -air of one who suddenly remembers, or has something painful or -embarrassing suggested by a passing remark, the boy thought--</p> - -<p>"I shouldn't wonder if she's jealous of this pretty girl, who has -always been a lady, and knows nothing about the low life and -ruffianism she could tell her of."</p> - -<p>Wide of the mark as were the speculations of the boy, in whose mind a -dislike of Margaret, strong in proportion to its causelessness, had -taken root, he was not wrong in assigning the change in Margaret's -expression from reverie to active painful thought to something in -which Lucy Crofton was concerned.</p> - -<p>She had been informed of her brother's plans; but in the strangely -combined distraction and concentration of her mind since her trouble -had fallen upon her--trouble which each day was lightening for -removing from her husband--she had almost forgotten them, she had -never taken them into consideration as among the circumstances which -she must influence, or which might influence her. The words which had -roused her from her reverie reminded her she had something to do in -this matter.</p> - -<p>"Why is Haldane's marriage put off till the summer?" she said.</p> - -<p>"It is not put off," said James. "There never was any idea of its -taking place sooner, that I know of;--was there, sir?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Mr. Carteret, "I think not.--Indeed, Margery, I fancy it -was so settled with a view to your being at home then. We did not -think you would come home so soon, you know."</p> - -<p>"When is Haldane coming here, papa?</p> - -<p>"Very soon. Early next month he hopes to get leave."</p> - -<p>Margaret said no more, and the party shortly afterwards dispersed for -their several morning avocations.</p> - -<p>James Dugdale's attention had been caught by Margaret's look and -manner when she spoke of her brother's marriage. He discerned -something painful in her mind in reference to it, but he could not -trace its nature, and he could not question her just then.</p> - -<p>Margaret went to her room, and seated in her old place by the -window--its floral framework bore no blossom now--thought out the -subject which had come into her mind.</P> -<br> - -<P>Miss Crofton arrived punctually, and found the drawing-room into which -she was shown--very much against her will, for she would have -preferred a tumultuous rush upstairs, and the entrée to the nursery -region--occupied only by Robert Meredith. They had met during Hayes -Meredith's expedition to London, and Lucy, though an engaged young -lady, and therefore, of course, impervious to the temptations of -coquetry, had perceived with quite sufficient distinctness that this -"remarkably nice boy," as she afterwards called him, thought her very -pretty, and found her rattling, rapid, girlish talk--which had the -delightful effect of setting him quite at his ease--very attractive.</p> - -<p>Nothing could be more ridiculous, of course; but then nothing was more -common than for very young persons of the male sex (somehow, Miss -Lucy avoided calling him a "boy" in her thoughts) to "take a fancy" -to girls or women much older than themselves; and in some not -clearly-explained or distinctly-understood way, it was supposed to be -very "safe" for them to do so. She had no objection to the admiration -even of so young an admirer as Robert Meredith, and she was pleased as -well as amused by the candid and unequivocal pleasure which Robert -manifested on seeing her. The youthful colonial did not suffer in the -least from the disease of shyness, and was pleasantly unembarrassed in -the presence of the eldest Miss Crofton.</p> - -<p>The two had had time to talk over the unexpected return of Mr. and -Mrs. Baldwin; and Miss Crofton, who was by no means deficient in -perception, had had an opportunity of observing that her young admirer -did not share her enthusiasm for Margaret, but was, on the contrary, -distinctly cold and disdainful in the few remarks which he permitted -himself to make concerning her, before Margaret made her appearance. -When she did so, and Miss Crofton had started up and rapturously -embraced her, that young lady and Robert Meredith alike remarked -simultaneously that she was startlingly pale.</p> - -<p>After a great many questions had been asked by Lucy and answered by -Margaret, in whose manner there was an indefinable change which her -friend felt very soon, and which puzzled her, Margaret took Miss -Crofton upstairs for an inspection of little Gertrude and the -"thoroughly confidential" talk for which Lucy declared herself -irrepressibly eager.</p> - -<p>"If she knew--if she only knew--this pure, harmless creature," -Margaret thought, with a pang of fierce pain as Lucy Crofton hugged -the child and talked to her, and appealed to the nurse in support of -her admiration, for which Gerty was poutingly ungrateful,--"if she did -but know how it has been with me since we last met, and how it is with -my child!"</p> - -<p>"Yon are shivering, Margaret. You seem very cold. Let me poke the fire -up before we settle ourselves. And now tell me all about yourself, how -you really are; of course one could not ask before that young -Meredith. I want to see his father so much. By the bye, Haldane told -me you knew him so well in Australia. You don't look very well, I -think, but you are much stronger than when you went abroad."</p> - -<p>"I am much stronger," said Margaret. "But before I talk about myself, -and I have a deal to tell you,"--Miss Crofton was delighted,--"I want -to talk to you about yourself and Haldane."</p> - -<p>Miss Crofton was perfectly willing to enter on so congenial a subject, -and she told Margaret all about the arrangements, which included many -festive proceedings, to which the girl naturally attached pleasurable -anticipations. When she had reached that portion of the programme -which included the names and dresses of the bridesmaids, she stopped -abruptly, and said with some embarrassment:</p> - -<p>"Why do you look so grave, Margaret?--is anything wrong?" Then she -added, before Margaret could speak, "Ah, I know, you don't like a gay -wedding; I remember how quiet your own was; but, you see, it would -seem so odd if mine wasn't gay, and besides, I like it; it's not the -same, you know."</p> - -<p>"I know, dear," Margaret said very gently, "it is not at all the same -thing, and I can quite understand your wishing to have a gay wedding. -But I want you to listen to me, and to do what I am going: to ask you. -It is something in which you can do me a great service."</p> - -<p>This was delightful, this was being the "great friend," indeed this -was very like being the favourite sister-in-law. So Lucy promptly -knelt down by Margaret's chair, and putting her arm round her, assured -her, with much emphasis, of her readiness to do anything she could for -her pleasure.</p> - -<p>There was a short pause, during which Margaret looked at the girl with -a grave sweet smile, and took her disengaged hand; then she spoke:</p> - -<p>"Haldane is coming here very soon, my father tells me. What leave has -he got?</p> - -<p>"A month."</p> - -<p>"Now Lucy, don't be astonished, and don't say no at once. I want you -to be married during his leave, instead of waiting until the autumn."</p> - -<p>"Margaret! Why?" asked Lucy, in a tone which fully expressed all the -surprise she had been requested not to feel.</p> - -<p>"I will tell you, Lucy. In a short time I am likely to have another -baby. You did not know that, at least you did not know it was to be so -soon; and I am very, very anxious--so anxious, that if I cannot have -my own way in this it will be very bad for me--that your marriage -should be over before a time comes when I may be very ill--you know I -was very ill indeed after Gerty's birth."</p> - -<p>"I know," said Lucy, still with the surprised look.</p> - -<p>"And I feel sure, dear Lucy, that if you are not married until the -summer I shall not be here."</p> - -<p>"Not be here, Margaret! You surely do not mean--"</p> - -<p>"I mean nothing to frighten you, Lucy, but I do mean this. I have not -been well lately, and I have been sent away as you know; I ought not -to be here now, the doctors would say--but it cannot be helped; we -were obliged to come to England, and I may be sent away again, and not -be able to go to your wedding. In short, Lucy," and here Mrs. Baldwin -lost her composure, "I have set my heart on this. Will you make the -sacrifice for me? will you put up with a much quieter wedding, and go -and spend your honeymoon at our villa at Naples?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know what to think," said Lucy; "I would do anything you -liked, but it does not quite depend upon me; there's papa and mamma, -and Haldane, you know."</p> - -<p>"I fancy Haldane will not object to your marriage being hurried a -little," said Margaret, with a smile; "and I have generally understood -that Miss Lucy Crofton contrives to get her own way with papa and -mamma."</p> - -<p>Margaret was very unlikely to remember her own importance out of -season; but it was not unseasonable that she should think of it now, -and feel comforted by the assurance that Mr. and Mrs. Crofton would -probably yield to any very strongly urged wish of hers.</p> - -<p>Lucy laughed a little--the imputation of power over anybody was not -unpleasing to this young lady, who, after a fashion which had not -hitherto developed into unamiability, dearly loved her own way.</p> - -<p>"But Lady Davyntry is at Naples," she said in a tone which was very -reassuring to Margaret, who felt that the chief question was virtually -disposed of, and details only now remained to be mastered.</p> - -<p>"She is; but I am going to ask her to come home, since I find I cannot -return. We must go to the Deane soon, if you will only be good, and -let things be arranged as I wish. I need not go until after your -wedding; but my husband and I wish that the child should be born at -the Deane.</p> - -<p>"Of course," assented Lucy, "and you want it to be a boy, don't you, -Margaret?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, we hope it may be a boy."</p> - -<p>"Well, whether it is a boy or a girl, I must be its godmother. You -will let that be a promise, won't you?"</p> - -<p>A long conversation ensued, and Lucy bade Margaret farewell until the -morrow, with a delightful consciousness that she had achieved the -position she had so much desired.</p> - -<p>Margaret told Mr. Baldwin her wish with regard to Haldane's marriage, -and the steps she had taken towards its fulfilment. He found no fault -with it, but failed to comprehend her reasons.</p> - -<p>"I can understand your dislike of the kind of wedding the Croftons -would have been likely to institute," he said; "but you might have -escaped it on the plea of your health."</p> - -<p>"No," she replied, "I could not do that--I could not hurt the feelings -of all these good people, and I could not endure the wedding. Even as -it will be now, think how painful it must be to me."</p> - -<p>Her husband understood all those simple words implied, but he passed -them over unnoticed. It grieved him inexpressibly to observe that -Margaret had not shaken off the impression of the occurrence from -which his own happy, hopeful nature had rallied so much more quickly.</p> - -<p>"I know, my darling, I know--and, indeed, I ought not to have asked -you for a reason, because you are the least fanciful of women--it -would be true masculine logic to refuse to aid you in one fancy, but I -am not going to be logical after that fashion. I will write to -Haldane, and get everything settled."</p> - -<p>Accordingly, everything was settled. Mr. Carteret was acquiescent as -usual, and with his customary politeness congratulated himself on the -presence of Mr. Meredith and his son on so interesting an occasion. -The Croftons were benignant. Dear Mrs. Baldwin had made such a point -of their daughter's profiting by her villa at Naples, and had set her -heart so completely on the matter, and, of course, dear Mrs. Baldwin -must just now be considered in everything. Haldane was delighted, and -all went well.</p> - -<p>"Margaret," said James Dugdale, when all had been arranged, "why is -this fixed idea always present with you? Can you not shake it off? -Ever since you came home I have been watching you, and hoping that you -were yielding to the influence of time; but I see now, since you have -set yourself to arrange Haldane's marriage, that this is a vain hope. -Why is it, Margaret?"</p> - -<p>"You ask me why it is?" she replied. "You--can you say it is not in -your own mind also? Can you say that you ever really believed that I -could get over the thing that has befallen me? You may call it -superstition, and no doubt it is so. I fancy such a youth as mine is -fruitful ground for the sowing and the nurture of superstition, if -such be the sense of doom, of an inevitable fate hanging over me; but -it is stronger than I, and you know I am not generally weak, James. It -is always there,--always before me--I can see nothing else, think of -nothing else."</p> - -<p>"I know, dear, I know; but when your health is stronger--believe me, -Margaret, I do not wish to mock you with an assurance that you can -ever quite get over what has happened--when your child, the son and -heir, is born, you will be better; you will wonder at yourself that -you allowed such sway to these dark forebodings. Think of all you have -to make you happy, Margaret, and don't, don't yield to the -presentiment which is due to your health alone."</p> - -<p>She laid her hand on his arm with a smile.</p> - -<p>"Supposing it be so, James; supposing all I think and feel--all the -horrors which come to me in the night-watches, all the memories -perfectly distinct in their pain, whereas I could not recall an hour -of the brief happiness I ever knew in my days of delusion--supposing -all this to be a mere groundless state of suffering, and <i>you</i> know -better"--here her clear gray eyes looked at him with an expression of -ineffable trust and compassion--"what harm have I done? <i>If I live</i>, -this marriage may as well be over; and <i>if I die</i>, I have spared my -husband and my father one sharp pang, at any rate. Haldane would be -very sorry, but he would want to be married all the same, and it would -be hard upon Fitzwilliam and my father."</p> - -<p>"And me?" he asked her, as if the question were wrung from him by an -irresistible impulse of suffering.</p> - -<p>Her hand still lay upon his shoulder, and her clear gray eyes, which -deepened and darkened as she slowly spoke, still looked steadily into -his.</p> - -<p>"And <i>you</i>, James. No, I have no power to save you a pang more or -less; it would not make any difference <i>to you</i>."</p> - -<p>There was a strange cruel satisfaction to him in her words. It was -something, nay, it was very much, that she should know and acknowledge -that with her all that had vital interest for him began and ended, -that the gift of his heart, pure, generous, disinterested, was -understood and accepted. There was silence between them for some time, -and then they talked of more general subjects, and just before their -interview came to an end their talk turned upon little Gertrude.</p> - -<p>"You will always love her best, James; both my children will be dear -to you," said Margaret; "but you will always love her whom her mother -unconsciously wronged best."</p> -<br> - -<p>Lady Davyntry made her appearance at Davyntry in due season, and the -set of Neapolitan coral, which she brought as her contribution to the -worldly goods of the bride, was so magnificent, that Lucy could not -find it in her heart to cherish any such unpleasant sentiment as -jealousy against Eleanor, and determined that the "great friend's" -scheme should extend to her also.</p> - -<p>The return of her sister-in-law was a great pleasure, but also a great -trial for Margaret. Her presence renewed painfully the scene of secret -humiliation, of severance from those who had nothing to hide, from -which she had already suffered so much; and the phantoms of the past -came forth and swarmed about her, as Eleanor overwhelmed her with -caresses, and declared her delight at being once more with her, and -her vivid perception of the improvement in "baby."</p> - -<p>The most unsuspicious and unexacting of women, Eleanor Davyntry had -been so perfectly satisfied with the reasons assigned by her brother -for his return to England, that it never occurred to her to ask him a -question on the subject. She was very eloquent concerning the beauty -of the season at Naples, assured Haldane that she had left everything -in perfect order for the reception of his bride, and wound up a long -and animated monologue by informing Margaret that she had brought with -her the unfinished portraits.</p> - -<p>"What a pity!" interrupted Baldwin; "They may be injured, and surely -you knew we intended to return."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I did," said Eleanor, "but I thought Mr. Carteret would like to -see them as they are, and I never reflected that they might be -injured."</p> - -<p>The few days which followed the arrival of Lady Davyntry were full of -the confusion and discomfort which ordinarily precede a wedding, even -on the quietest scale. The Merediths, father and son, had gone to -Oxford, where Hayes Meredith had one or two old friends among the -University authorities. They were not to return until the day before -the wedding. Mr. Carteret was rather "put out" by the inevitable -atmosphere of fuss and preparation, and Margaret devoted herself as -much as possible to him, passing in his study all the time she could -subtract from the demands of the bride-elect and her brother. Mr. -Baldwin was much with Lady Davyntry, and James Dugdale kept himself, -after his fashion, as much as possible to himself.</p> - -<p>On the clay before that fixed for Haldane's marriage all the inmates -of Chayleigh were assembled, and Lady Davyntry was of the party. They -had been talking cheerfully of the event anticipated on the morrow, -and Eleanor had been expressing her fears that Mr. Carteret would feel -very lonely after his son's departure--fears which that placid -gentleman did by no means entertain on his own account--when Hayes -Meredith and Robert arrived. The evening passed away rapidly, and -the little party broke up early. Meredith joined Dugdale in his -sitting-room, and the friends proceeded to the discussion of the -business on which Hayes Meredith had come to England. With two -exceptions they adhered strictly to this one matter. The first was of -a trifling nature.</p> - -<p>"Did you happen to see my pocket-book anywhere about?" Meredith asked.</p> - -<p>"No," said Dugdale; "you mean your red-leather one, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"I have not seen it, or heard of its being found in the house."</p> - -<p>"I must have lost it on our journey to Oxford, I suppose," said -Meredith. "It's of no consequence; there was no money in it, and -nobody but myself could understand the memoranda."</p> - -<p>The second exception was of a graver kind; it, too, arose on -Meredith's part.</p> - -<p>"I am sorry to see Margaret looking so ill," he said. "I was very much -struck by her looks this evening. Has she been looking so ill as this -since I saw her last?"</p> - -<p>"No," replied James; "she has overexerted herself lately, I fancy, and -she has never gotten over the shock."</p> - -<p>"Has she not?" said Meredith quickly. "That's a very bad job; very -likely to tell against her, I should think. Isn't it rather weak of -her, though, to dwell so much as to injure her health on a thing that -is of so little real consequence, after all?"</p> - -<p>"I suppose it is," said James; and he seemed unwilling to say more.</p> - -<p>But the matter had evidently made an impression on Meredith, for he -said again,</p> - -<p>"I thought her looking very ill, feverish, and nervous, and quite -unlike herself. Do you think Baldwin perceives it?"</p> - -<p>"No," said James shortly, "I don't think he does. Margaret never -complains."</p> - -<p>"Well, well, it will all be right when the heir to the Deane comes to -put an end to uncertainty and fear, if she has any."</p> - -<p>And then he led the conversation to his own affairs.</p> -<br> - -<p>"I like your friend so much, Madge," said Lady Davyntry to Mrs. -Baldwin, as the sisters-in-law were enjoying the customary -dressing-room confabulation. "He is such a frank, hearty, good fellow, -and not the least rough, or what we think of as 'colonial' in his -manners. What a pleasure it must have been to you to see him again!"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Margaret absently.</p> - -<p>"How tired your voice sounds, darling! you are quite knocked up, I am -afraid. You must go to bed at once, and try to be all right by -to-morrow. I delight in the idea of a wedding; it is ages since I have -been at one, except yours. What sort of a boy is Mr. Meredith's son?" -she continued, in a discursive way to which she was rather prone; "he -looks clever."</p> - -<p>"He looks knowing," said Margaret, "more than clever, I think. I don't -like him."</p> - -<p>"If she knew--if she, too, only knew," ran the changeless refrain of -Margaret's thoughts when she was again alone, "if she could but know -what I have lived through since she saw me last! What a change has -fallen on everything--what a deadly blight! How hard, and how utterly -in vain I strive against this phantom which haunts me! If I had but -listened to the warning which came to me when I found out first that -he loved me, the warning which her words and the yearning of my own -weak heart dispelled! If I had but heeded the secret inspiration which -told me my past should never be taken into any honest, unsullied life! -And yet, my God, how happy, how wonderfully, fearfully happy I was for -a while--for happiness is a fearful thing in this perishing world. -Would I have heeded any warning that bade me renounce it? Could I have -given him up, even for his own sake?"</p> - -<p>She rose and paced the room in one of those keen but transient -paroxysms of distress which, all unknown by any human being, were of -frequent occurrence, and which had not quite subsided when her husband -came into her dressing-room.</p> - -<p>"Margaret," he said to her gravely, when he had elicited from her an -avowal of some of her feelings, "you are bringing this dead past into -our life yourself, as no other power on earth could bring it. Do you -remember when you promised to live for me only? Can you not keep your -word? This is the trial of that faith you pledged to me. Is it failing -you?"</p> - -<p>"No," she said, "no, it is not failing, and I can keep my word. -But"--and she clasped her arms around his neck and burst into sudden -tears--"my child, my child!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div2_10" href="#div2Ref_10">CHAPTER X.</a></h4> -<h5>MARGARET'S PRESENTIMENT.</h5> -<br> - -<p>That noun of multitude, "the neighbourhood," was at first disposed to -take it very ill that the wedding of the eldest Miss Crofton should be -despoiled of any of its contemplated gaiety and display, by what it -was pleased to call the "airs which Mrs. Baldwin gave herself." It -bethought itself of Margaret's marriage, and arrived at the very -probable conclusion that she was disposed to be a little jealous of -her sister-in-law elect, and not disposed to allow her to "have a fuss -made about her" if she could help it.</p> - -<p>Poor Mrs. Crofton found her explanations and apologies coldly -received; which distressed her, for she was a slave to conventional -observances, and visited and received visits with exasperating -regularity, and Mrs. Baldwin's popularity declined. But not -permanently; when it was understood that her return to the Deane was -desirable for a reason which every one understood, and whose force all -recognised, opinions were modified, and general good-humour was -restored.</p> - -<p>The preparations for the wedding went on, and nothing was wanting to -the cheerfulness and content of all concerned, except less inquietude -regarding Margaret. They remembered afterwards that it happened so -frequently that, when they came to think of it, they were amazed that -the circumstance had not impressed them more deeply at the time: that -when any two of the small party at Chayleigh met, one would say to the -other, "How ill Margaret looks to-day!" or, "She is looking better -to-day;" or, "She seems hardly so well, I think;" the phrases varying -widely, but each conveying the fact that Margaret's looks and health, -Margaret's spirits and general demeanour, were in some form or other -the objects of general attention, and were altered from their ordinary -condition.</p> - -<p>Mr. Carteret's solicitude about her was fitful, and easily -tranquillised. He would question her anxiously enough when she came -down to breakfast in the morning, and be so uneasy and unhappy if she -did not come down, that, perceiving that circumstance, she was rarely -absent from the breakfast-table. But when the day advanced, and -Margaret began to look brighter, he would remark that she "had got -some colour now, and looked quite herself again," and, with the -inconsequence which is frequently observable among persons who are -constantly in the presence of even the most beloved objects, he failed -to notice how often she required to "look quite herself again," in -order to remove his transient uneasiness.</p> - -<p>She looked very handsome at this time; handsomer than she had ever -looked, even at the period when people had first found out that there -was no great exaggeration in calling Mrs. Baldwin "a beauty." The -broad brow, the sweet serious lips, which kept all their firmness, but -had less severity than in the old time, the large sensible gray eyes, -the delicate face, which had never had much colour, and now had -permanently less, wore a spiritualised expression which made itself -felt by those who never thought of analysing it.</p> - -<p>Among the number were the Croftons, Hayes Meredith, and Lady Davyntry. -Mr. Baldwin was not so blind. He saw that a change, which impressed -him painfully, had come over the face and the spirit of the woman whom -he loved more and more with every day of the union which had hitherto -surpassed the hopes he had built upon it in happiness, and the only -mistake he made was in believing that he quite understood that change, -its origin, its nature, and its extent. He knew Margaret too well, had -been too completely the confidant of her misgivings and hesitations -previous to their marriage, and of the relief, the peace, the -rehabilitation which had come to her since, to under-estimate the -severity of the blow which had fallen upon her; but there was one -aspect of her trouble in which he had never regarded it, in which it -was her earnest desire, her constant effort, that he should never see -it.</p> - -<p>He had no knowledge of the presentiment under which Margaret laboured; -he had never suspected her of such a weakness; and if it had been -revealed to him, he would have unhesitatingly referred it to the -condition of her health, have pronounced it a passing nervous -affection, and dismissed it from his thoughts. He had never heard her -express any of the vague, formless, but unconquerable apprehension -with which she had learned the probability of Hayes Meredith's coming -to England; he had no idea that a foregone conclusion in her mind lent -the truth which had been revealed to her an additional power to wound -and torture her, which was doing its work, unrecognised, before his -eyes.</p> - -<p>One of the most sympathetic, generous, unselfish of men, Fitzwilliam -Baldwin united cheerfulness of disposition with good sense to a degree -not so frequently attained as would be desirable in the interests of -human nature; and while he comprehended to the utmost the realities of -the misfortune which had befallen Margaret, himself, and their child, -he would have been slow to appreciate, had he been aware of its -existence, the imaginary evil with which Margaret's morbid fancy had -invested it. When this wedding, with all its painful associations--so -painful for them both that they never spoke of the subject when they -were alone--should be over, Margaret would be quite herself again; and -she would find so much to occupy and interest her at the Deane, she -would be able to throw off the impressions of the past, and to welcome -the new interest which was so soon to be lent to her life with nearly -all the gladness it would have commanded had the incident they had to -deplore never occurred.</p> - -<p>He had a keen perception, though he did not care to examine its origin -very closely, that Margaret would find it a relief to be rid of the -presence of Meredith and his son. They were associated with all that -had been most painful, most humiliating, in the old life; they had -brought the evil tidings which had cast a heavy gloom over the calm -sunny happiness of the new, and she could not be happy or oblivious in -their presence--could not, that is to say, at present, in her abnormal -state of sensitiveness and nervousness.</p> - -<p>Fitzwilliam Baldwin did not cordially like Robert Meredith. He felt -that he did not understand the boy, and his frank nature involuntarily -recoiled, with an unexplained antipathy, from contact with a -disposition so <i>voilée</i>, so little open, so calculating, as his -observation convinced him that of Robert Meredith was. Quite -unselfish, and very simple in his habits and ideas, Mr. Baldwin was -none the less apt to discover the absence or the opposite of those -qualities, and it was very shortly after their return to Chayleigh -that he said to his wife,</p> - -<p>"Meredith intends to make a lawyer of his son, he tells me."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Margaret, "it is quite decided, I understand. I daresay he -will do well, he has plenty of ability."</p> - -<p>"He has, and a few other qualifications, such as cunning and coolness, -and a grand faculty for taking care of himself, which people say are -calculated to insure success in that line of life."</p> - -<p>"You don't like lawyers," said Margaret.</p> - -<p>"I don't like Robert Meredith; do you? said her husband.</p> - -<p>"No," she replied promptly, "I do not; more than that, I ought to be -ashamed of myself, I suppose, and yet I can't contrive to be; but I -dislike the boy extremely, more than I could venture to tell; the -feeling I have about him troubles me--it is difficult for me to hide -it."</p> - -<p>"I don't think you do hide it, Margaret," said Baldwin; "I only know -you did not hide it from me. I never saw you laboriously polite and -attentive to any one before; your kindness to every one is genuine, as -everything else about you, darling; but to this youngster you are not -spontaneous by any means."</p> - -<p>"You are right," she said, "I am not. There is something hateful to me -about him. I suppose I am afflicted with one of those feminine follies -which I have always despised, and have taken an antipathy to the boy. -Very wrong, and very ungrateful of me," she added sorrowfully.</p> - -<p>"Neither wrong nor ungrateful," her husband answered in a tone of -remonstrance. "You are ready to do him all the substantial benefit in -your power, as I am, for his father's sake. There is no ingratitude in -that, and as for your not liking him being wrong--"</p> - -<p>"Ah, but I don't stop at <i>not</i> liking him," said Margaret; "if I did, -my conscience would not reproach me as it does. I hope his father does -not perceive anything in my manner."</p> - -<p>"Nothing more unlikely. Meredith does not observe you so closely or -understand you so well as I do; and I don't think any one but myself -could find out that you dislike the boy; and I was assisted, I must -acknowledge, by a lively fellow-feeling. I should not wonder if Robert -was perfectly aware that he is not a favourite with you."</p> - -<p>"I am sure there is nothing in my manner or that of any one else," -said Margaret, "which in any way touches himself, that he fails to -perceive."</p> - -<p>"Fortunately it does not matter. He loses nothing material by our not -happening to take a fancy to him, and I don't think he is a person to -suffer from any sentimental regrets. More than that, Margaret--and -enough to have made me dislike him--I don't think he likes you."</p> - -<p>"Like me! He hates me," she said vehemently. "I catch his eye -sometimes when he looks at me, and wonder how so young a face can -express so much bad feeling. I have seen such a diabolical sneer upon -his face sometimes, particularly when either my father or his father -spoke affectionately to me, as almost startled me--for my own sake, I -mean."</p> - -<p>"For your own sake?" said Mr. Baldwin in a tone of some annoyance. -"How can you say such a foolish thing? Why on earth should you give -such a thing a moment's thought? What can it possibly matter to you -that you are the object of an impertinent dislike to a boy like young -Meredith?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing indeed," answered Margaret, "and I will never think of it -again. You are all in a conspiracy to spoil me, I think, and thus I am -foolish enough to be surprised and uncomfortable when any one dislikes -me without a reason."</p> - -<p>No more was said then on this subject, and Mr. Baldwin dismissed it -from his mind. The conversation he had had with his wife had just so -much effect upon him and no more, that he took very little notice of -Robert, and displayed no more interest than politeness demanded in the -discussions concerning him and his future, which just then shared the -attention of the family party at Chayleigh with Captain Carteret's -rapidly approaching marriage.</p> - -<p>This circumstance the young gentleman was not slow to notice, and it -had the effect of intensifying the feeling with which he regarded -Margaret.</p> - -<p>"She has put her fine husband up to snubbing me, has she?" he said to -himself one day, when Mr. Baldwin had taken less notice of him than -usual. "Now I wonder what <i>that's</i> for. Perhaps she's afraid of the -goodness of my memory. I daresay she has told him a whole pack of lies -about the time she was in Melbourne, and she's afraid, if I walked or -rode out with him, I might get upon the subject. And I only wish he -would give me a chance, that's all."</p> - -<p>But nothing was more unlikely than that Mr. Baldwin should give Robert -Meredith such a "chance," and that the boy's natural quickness soon -made him understand. The only person with whom he associated at this -time, who afforded him any opportunity for his spiteful confidences, -was the bride-elect.</p> - -<p>Lucy was still pleased by the unrepressed admiration of the only male -creature within the sphere of Mrs. Baldwin's influence who was wholly -unimpressed by her attractions. The "great friend's" project, though, -according to Miss Lucy Crofton's somewhat shallow perceptions, -triumphantly successful, did not in the least interfere with so -thoroughly legitimate a development of feminine proclivities.</p> - -<p>To be sure, the subject of Margaret's first marriage, and her -disastrous life in Melbourne, was one which Lucy had never heard -touched upon, even in the most intimate conversations among the family -at Chayleigh. Her affianced Haldane had never spoken to her, except in -the briefest and most general terms, of that painful episode in the -family history. But that did not constitute, according to Lucy's not -very scrupulous or refined code of delicacy, any barrier to her -talking and hearing as much about it in any other available manner as -she could.</p> - -<p>She even persuaded herself that it was her "place" and a kind of -"duty" to learn as much about her future sister-in-law as possible; -people would talk, and it was only proper and right, when certain -subjects were introduced, that she, in her future capacity of Mrs. -Haldane Carteret (the cards were printed, and very new, and shiny, and -important they looked), should know exactly "how things stood," and -what she should have to say. Which was a reflection full of foresight -on the part of the eldest Miss Crofton, and partaking somewhat of the -nature of prophecy, as, from the hour of Mrs. Baldwin's marriage, the -subject of her colonial life had never been revived in the coteries of -"the neighbourhood."</p> - -<p>Robert Meredith had method in his mischief. He did not offend the -<i>amour propre</i> of Lucy by speaking contemptuously of Mrs. Baldwin, or -betraying the dislike which he entertained towards her; he dexterously -mingled in the revelations which he made to Lucy an affected -compassion for Margaret's past sorrows, and a congratulatory -compassion of her present enviable position, with artful insinuations -of the incongruity between the Mrs. Baldwin of the present and the -Mrs. Hungerford of the past, and a kind of bashful wonder, which he -modestly imputed to his colonial ignorance of the ways of society, how -any person could possibly consider Miss Lucy Crofton other than in -every respect superior to Mrs. Baldwin.</p> - -<p>The boyish flattery pleased Lucy's vanity, the boyish admiration -pleased her, and she entirely deprecated the idea that Robert's -manners and ideas were not on a par with those of other people born on -this side of the ocean.</p> - -<p>"You must remember," she said with much coquetry, and a smile which -she intended to be immensely knowing, "that Mrs. Baldwin is a great -lady in her way, and I am not of anything like so much importance. I -fancy that would make as much difference in your part of the world as -here."</p> - -<p>And then they talked a great deal of his part of the world; and Robert -acknowledged that his most earnest desire was that he might never see -Australia again. And Lucy Crofton confessed that she was very glad -Haldane could not be sent <i>there</i>, at least on that odious "foreign -service," which she thought a detestable and absurd injustice, devised -for the purpose of making the wives and families of military men -miserable. She was quite alive to the fact that they were highly -ornamental, but could not see that soldiers were of the slightest use -at home--and as to abroad, they never did anything there, since war -had ceased, but die of fevers and all sorts of horrors. So the pair -pursued an animated and congenial conversation, of which it is only -necessary to record two sentences.</p> - -<p>"I suppose you have no one belonging to you in Australia?" Robert -Meredith asked Miss Crofton, in a tone which implied that to so -exceptionally delightful a being nothing so objectionable as a -colonial connection could possibly belong.</p> - -<p>"No one that I know anything about; there is a cousin of papa's--much -younger than papa, he is--who got into trouble, and they sent him out -there; but none of us ever saw him, and I don't know what has become -of him. I don't even know his name rightly; it is something like -Oldham, or Otway, or Oakley."</p> -<br> - -<p>"How do you feel, Madge? are you sure you are equal to this business?" -said Lady Davyntry to Margaret, as she came into her sister-in-law's -room on the morning of Haldane's marriage. "Haldane is walking about -the hall in the most horrid temper, your father is lingering over the -last importation of bats, as if he were bidding them an eternal -farewell, and the carriage is just coming round, so I thought I would -come and look after you two. I felt sure you would be with the child. -What a shame not to bring her to the wedding!--Isn't it, Gerty?" and -Lady Davyntry, looking very handsome and stately in her brave attire, -took the little girl out of her mother's arms, and paused for a reply.</p> - -<p>Margaret was quite ready. She was very well, she said, and felt quite -equal to the wedding festivities.</p> - -<p>"That's right; I like weddings, when one isn't a principal; they are -very pleasant. How pale you are, Margaret! Are you really quite well?"</p> - -<p>"She is really quite well," said Mr. Baldwin; "don't worry her, -Eleanor."</p> - -<p>The slightest look of surprise came into Eleanor's sweet-tempered -face, but it passed away in a moment, and they all went down to the -hall, where Margaret received many compliments from her father on her -dress and appearance, and where Haldane on seeing them first assumed a -foolish expression of countenance, which he wore permanently for the -rest of the day.</p> - -<p>The carriages were announced. Margaret and her husband, Lady Davyntry -and Mr. Carteret, were to occupy one; the other was to convey Haldane, -Hayes Meredith and his son, and James Dugdale.</p> - -<p>"Where is James?" asked Mr. Carteret. "I have not seen him this -morning."</p> - -<p>Nobody had seen him but Haldane, who explained that he had preferred -walking on to the church.</p> - -<p>"Just like him," said Haldane, "he is such an odd fellow; only fancy -his asking me to get him off appearing at breakfast. Could not stand -it, he said, and was sure he would never be missed. Of course I said -he must have his own way, though I couldn't make him out. He could -stand Margaret's wedding well enough."</p> -<br> - -<p>The last day of Margaret's stay at Chayleigh had arrived. All -arrangements had been made for the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Baldwin -and Mr. Carteret. An extraordinary event was about to take place in -the life of the tranquil old gentleman. He was about to be separated -from the collection for an indefinite period, and taken to the Deane, -a place whose much-talked-of splendours he had never even experienced -a desire to behold, having been perfectly comfortable in the knowledge -that they existed and were enjoyed by his daughter.</p> - -<p>That her father should be induced to accompany her to Scotland, that -she should not be parted from him, had been so urgent a desire on -Margaret's part, that her husband and James Dugdale had set themselves -resolutely to obtain its realisation, and they had succeeded, with -some difficulty. The collection was a great obstacle, but then Mr. -Baldwin's collection--whose treasures the old gentleman politely and -sincerely declared his eagerness to inspect, while he secretly -cherished a pleasing conviction that he should find them very inferior -to those of his own--was a great inducement; besides, he had -corresponded formerly with a certain Professor Bayly, of Glasgow, who -had some brilliant theories connected with <i>Bos primus</i>, and this -would be a favourable opportunity for seeing the Professor, who rarely -"came South," as he called visiting England.</p> - -<p>He was not at all disturbed by Margaret's eager desire that he should -accompany her; he did not perceive in it the contradiction to her -usual unselfish consideration for others, which James Dugdale saw and -thoroughly understood, and which Mr. Baldwin saw and did not -understand, but set down to the general account of her "nervousness." -He had been rather unhappy at first about the journey and the change; -but James's cheerful prognostications, and the unexpected discovery -that Foster, his inseparable servant, whose displeasure was a calamity -not to be lightly incurred, so far from objecting to the tremendous -undertaking, "took to" the notion of a visit to the Deane very kindly, -was a relief which no false shame interfered to prevent; Mr. Carteret -candidly admitting, and the whole family thankfully recognising.</p> - -<p>"I don't know how I should have got through this day," Margaret said -to James, as they stood together on the terrace under the verandah, -and she plucked a few of the tender young leaves which had begun to -unfold, under the persuasion of the spring time--"I don't know how I -should have got through this day, if papa had not agreed to come with -us. It is bad enough as it is; a last day"--she was folding -the tiny leaves now, and putting them between the covers of her -pocket-book--"is always dreadful--dreadful to <i>me</i>, I mean. It sounds -stupid and commonplace to talk of the uncertainty of life, but I don't -think other people live always under the presence of the remembrance, -the conviction of it, as I do. It is always over me, and it makes -everything which has anything of finality about it peculiarly -impressive to me."</p> - -<p>Her hand was resting on his arm now, and they turned away from the -house-front and walked down the grassy slope.</p> - -<p>"Do you--do you mean that this sense of uncertainty relates to -yourself?" he asked her, speaking with evident effort, and holding her -arm more closely to him.</p> - -<p>"Yes," she replied calmly; "I am never tortured by any fears about -those I love now; the time was when I was first very, very happy; when -the wonderful, glorious sense of the life that had opened to me came -upon me fully; when I hardly dared to recognise it, because of the -shadow of death. Then it hung over my husband and my child; over my -father--and--you."</p> - -<p>He shook his head with an involuntary deprecatory movement, and a -momentary flicker of pain disturbed his grave thoughtful eyes.</p> - -<p>"And it lent an intensity which sometimes I could hardly bear to every -hour of my life--my wonderfully happy life," she repeated, and looked -all around her in a loving solemn way which struck the listener to the -heart. "But then the thing I had dreaded, though I had never divined -its form, though it had gradually faded from my mind, came upon -me--you know how, James, and how rebellious I was under my trial; no -one knows but God and you--and then, then the shadow was lightened. It -never has fallen again over them or you; it hangs only over me, -and--James, look at me, don't turn away--I want to remember every look -in your face to-day; it is not a shadow at all, but only a veil before -the light whose glory I could not bear yet awhile. That is all, -indeed."</p> - -<p>He did not speak, and she felt that a sharp thrill of pain ran through -his spare form.</p> - -<p>"Don't be angry with me," she went on in soft pleading tones, "don't -think I distress you needlessly, I do so want you to hear me--to leave -what I am saying to you in your mind. When I first told you that I had -a presentiment that I had suffered my last sorrow, that all was to be -peace for me henceforth, except in thinking of my child, you were not -persuaded; you imputed it to the shock my nerves had received, and you -think so still. It is not so indeed, even with respect to my child. I -am tranquil and happy now; I don't know why, I cannot account for it. -Nothing in the circumstances is susceptible of change, and I see those -circumstances as clearly as I saw them when they first existed; but I -am changed. I feel as if my vision had been enlarged; I feel as if the -horizon had widened before me, and with the great space has come great -calm--calm of mind--like what travellers tell us comes with the -immense mountain solitudes, when all the world beneath looks little, -and yet the great loneliness lifts one up nearer to heaven, and has no -fear or trembling in it. I am ne her God not unquiet now, James, not -even for the child. The wrong that I have done her God will right."</p> - -<p>James Dugdale said hastily, "You have done her no conscious wrong, and -all will be righted."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know; I am saying so; but not in our way, James, not as -we--" she paused a very little, almost imperceptibly--"not as you -would have it. But that it will be righted I have not the smallest -doubt, not the least fear. You will remember, James, that I said to -you the wrong I did my child will be righted."</p> - -<p>"Remember!" he said in keen distress. "What do you mean, Margaret? -Have you still the same presentiment? Is this your former talk with me -over again?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," she replied, "and no. When I talked with you before, I was -troubled, sad, and afraid. Now I am neither sad, troubled, nor -afraid."</p> - -<p>"You are ill. There is something which you know and are hiding from us -which makes you think and speak thus."</p> - -<p>"No, indeed."</p> - -<p>There was conviction in her tone, and he could but look at her and -wait until she should speak again. She did not speak for a few -moments, and then she resumed in a firm voice:</p> - -<p>"I want to say to you all that is in my mind--at least as far as it -can be said. I am not ill in any serious way, and I am not hiding -anything which ought to be made known; and yet I do believe that I am -not to live much longer in this world, and I acknowledge with a full -heart that the richest portion of happiness ever given to a woman has -been, is mine. When this trouble, the only one I have had in my new -life, came to me, it changed me, and changed everything to me for a -time; but the first effect is quite past, and the wound my pride -received is healed. I don't think about that now; but I do think of -the wonderful compensation, if I may dare to use a word which sounds -like bringing God to a reckoning for His dealings with one of His -creatures, which has been made to me, and I feel that I have lived all -my days. The old presentiment that I had of evil to come to me from -Australia, and its fulfilment, and the suffering and struggle, all are -alike gone now, quieted down, and the peace has come which I do not -believe anything is ever to disturb more."</p> - -<p>"Margaret, Margaret!" he said, "I cannot bear this; you must not speak -thus; if you persist in doing so, there <i>must</i> be some reason for it. -It is not like you to have such morbid fancies."</p> - -<p>"And it is not like you to misunderstand me," she interrupted gently. -"Can you not see that I am telling you what is in my mind on what I -believe will be my last day in my old home, because, if I am right, it -will make you happy in the time to come to remember it?"</p> - -<p>"Happy!" he repeated with impatience.</p> - -<p>"Yes, happy! and if I am not right, and this is indeed but a morbid -fancy, it will have done you no harm to hear it. You have listened to -many a fancy of mine, dear old friend."</p> - -<p>Tears gathered in her eyes now, and two large drops fell from the dark -eyelashes unheeded.</p> - -<p>"I have, I have," he said, "but to what fancies! How can you speak -thus, Margaret? How can you think so calmly of leaving those who love -you so much, those in whose love you confess you have found so much -happiness? Your husband, your child, your father!"</p> - -<p>"I cannot tell you," she said; "I cannot explain it, and because I -cannot I am forced to believe it, to feel that it is so. The world -seems far away from me somehow, even my own small precious world. You -remember, when I spoke to you before, I told you how much I dreaded -the effect of what had happened on myself, on my own feelings--how -strangely the sense I have always had of being so much older than my -husband, the dread of losing the power of enjoying the great happiness -of my life, had seized hold of me?"</p> - -<p>"I remember."</p> - -<p>"Well," she continued, "all this fear has left me now--indeed, all -fear of every kind, and the power of suffering, I think. When I think -of the grief of those I shall have to leave, if my presentiment is -realised, I don't shrink from it as I did when the first thought of -the possible future came to me. After all, it is for such a little, -little time."</p> - -<p>Her eyes were raised upwards to the light, and a smile which the -listener could not bear to see, and yet looked at--thinking, with the -vain tenderness so fruitful in pangs of every kind and degree of -intensity, that at least he never, never should be unable to recall -<i>that</i> look--came brightly over her face, and slowly faded.</p> - -<p>"O, no, Margaret; life is awfully long--hopelessly long."</p> - -<p>"It seems so sometimes, but it has ceased to seem so to me. You must -not grieve for what I am saying to you. If all is what you will think -right with me, and we are here together again, you will be glad to -think, to remember how I told you all that was in my heart; if it is -otherwise, you will be far more than glad, James."</p> - -<p>In his heart there arose at that moment a desperately strong, an -almost irresistible longing to tell her now, for the first time and -the last, how he had loved her all his life. But he resisted the -longing--he was used to self-restraint--and said not a word which -could trouble her peace.</p> - -<p>They returned to the house shortly after, and went in by the -drawing-room window. At the foot of the green slope Margaret paused -for a minute, and looked with a smile at the open window of her room. -A white curtain fluttered about it; there was a stir as of life in the -room, but there was no one there.</p> - -<p>"You will take care of the passion-flower, James?" she said. "I think -the blossoms will be splendid this year."</p> - -<p>A few hours later, and the house was deserted by all but James -Dugdale. Hayes Meredith and his son had escorted Lady Davyntry to her -own house, and gone on from thence to dine with the Croftons.</P> -<br> - -<p>The first letter which James Dugdale received was from Margaret. She -wrote in good spirits, and gave an amusing account of her father's -delight with the Deane, and admiration--a little qualified by the -difficulty of acknowledging at least its equality with his own--of Mr. -Baldwin's collection, and his frequent expressions of surprise at -finding the journey by no means so disagreeable or portentous an -undertaking as he had expected. She was very well, except that she had -taken cold.</p> - -<p>A day or two later Lady Davyntry heard from her brother. Margaret was -not so well; the cold was obstinate and exhausting; he deeply -regretted her return to Scotland; only for the risk of travelling, he -should take her away immediately. The next letter was not more -reassuring, and Lady Davyntry made up her mind to go to Scotland -without delay. In this resolution James Dugdale, with a sick and -sinking heart, confirmed her. Not a word of actual danger was said in -the letters which reached Davyntry daily, but the alarm which James -felt was not slow to communicate itself to Eleanor.</p> - -<p>"She has been delicate for a long time," said Lady Davyntry to James, -"and very much more so latterly than she ever acknowledged."</p> - -<p>In reply to her proposal to go at once to the Deane, Eleanor -had an urgent letter of thanks from her brother. Margaret was not -better--strangely weak indeed. Lady Davyntry was to start on the next -day but one after the receipt of this letter, and James went over to -Davyntry on the intervening day. He had a long interview with Eleanor, -and, having left her, was walking wearily towards home, when he saw -Hayes Meredith and Robert rapidly advancing to meet him. He quickened -his pace, and they met where the footpath wound by the clump of -beech-trees, once so distasteful in Margaret's sight. There was not a -gleam of colour in Meredith's face, and as James came up the boy -shrunk back behind his father.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter?" said James, coming to a dead stop in front of -Meredith.</p> - -<p>"My dear fellow, you will need courage. Baldwin's valet has come from -the Deane."</p> - -<p>"Yes!" said James in a gasping voice.</p> - -<p>"Margaret was much worse after Baldwin wrote, and the child--a -girl--was born that afternoon. The child--"</p> - -<p>"Is dead?" James tore his coat open as he asked the question, as if -choking.</p> - -<p>"No, my dear fellow"--his friend took his arm firmly within his -own--"the poor child is alive, but Margaret is gone."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div2_11" href="#div2Ref_11">CHAPTER XI.</a></h4> -<h5>AFTER A YEAR.</h5> -<br> - -<p><i> Lady Davyntry to James Dugdale</i>.</p> - -<p>"The Deane, March 17, 18--.</p> - -<p>"MY DEAR MR. DUGDALE,--Your last letter, imposing upon me the task of -advising my brother, in the sense of the conclusions arrived at by -yourself and Mr. Meredith, gave me a great deal to think about. I -could not answer it fully before, and I am sure the result which I -have now to state to you will not, in reality, be displeasing to you, -but I cannot uphold its soundness of wisdom, in a worldly sense, even -to my own judgment--though it carries with it all my sympathies; and I -am confident Mr. Meredith will entirely disapprove of it.</p> - -<p>"I was obliged to be careful in selecting an opportunity for entering -upon the discussion prescribed by your letter with Fitzwilliam. Since -his great affliction fell upon him, he is not so gentle, so easy of -access, as he used to be; and though he will sometimes talk freely to -me of the past, the occasions must be of his own choosing. Hence the -delay. I took the best means, as I thought, of making him understand -the gravity and earnestness of the matter it was necessary he should -consider--I read your letter to him. The mere hearing of it distressed -him very much. He said, what I also felt, that he had not thought it -could be possible to make him feel the loss of Margaret more deeply, -but that the statement of his present position, so clear, so true, so -indisputable, has made him feel it. He listened while I read the -letter again, at his request, and then left me suddenly, saying he -would tell me what to answer as soon as he could.</p> - -<p>"Some days elapsed, and we saw very little of him--I perceived that -one of his dark moods was upon him--and yesterday he came to me, to -tell me to answer your letter. He took me to the sitting-room which -was Margaret's, and where everything remains just as she left it on -the last day that she came downstairs at the Deane. I suppose he felt -that I could understand his decision more clearly, and be less -inclined to listen to all the reasons which render it unwise, when -everything around should speak of her whose undimmed memory dictated -it.</p> - -<p>"The sum of what he said to me--with many strayings from the matter, -and so much revival of the past in all its first bitterness, that I -was astonished, such a faculty of grief being rarely seen in a -man--was this. He cannot bring himself to contemplate, as you and Mr. -Meredith are agreed he ought, a second marriage. As nearly as -possible, this was what he said:</p> - -<p>"When we found out the wrong which had been innocently done to -Gertrude, we hoped, indeed we were so persuaded, that the child we -were expecting would be a boy, and the wrong be thus righted, that we -never looked beyond the birth of the child, or discussed the future in -any way with reference to a disappointment in that particular. The -child would be the heir, and Gertrude's future would be safe, rich, -and prosperous. Such were our dreams-and when the fearful awakening -came, it was some time before I understood all it meant. It was weeks -before I remembered that the wrong done to the child my Margaret had -loved so much, that she broke her heart because that wrong had been -done, could never be righted now. It was very long before the thought -occurred to me that those to whom this dreadful truth was known would -perceive that a second marriage, by giving me the chance of a male -heir, and thus putting the two children on an equal footing in the -eyes of the world, would afford me the only means of avoiding -injustice to Eleanor."</p> - -<p>"Here he stopped, and said he suffered equally about both children, -for the youngest had also sustained the greatest loss of all. Then he -continued:</p> - -<p>"'I did think of this sometimes, but with horror, and a full knowledge -that though it would be a just and wise thing in one sense for the -interests of my children, it would be unjust and unwise towards them -and myself, and any woman whom I might induce to marry me, in another. -I daresay you will think I am talking nonsense, forgetting the -influence, which, however slow, is always sure, of the lapse of -time--forgetting that others have been heavily bereaved and yet have -found consolation, and even come to know much happiness again--when I -tell you that I never could take the slightest interest in any woman -any more. Well, supposing I am wrong there--I don't think I can be; -there is something in my inmost heart which tells me I am right--we -are dealing now not with the future, but with the present. James is -right in pointing out that I must make up my mind to some course, and -I am glad Meredith is still interested in me and in the children's -future. Time may alter my state of mind, but if it does, no -arrangements made now will be irrevocable.</p> - -<p>"'But, as my life is uncertain, I am not justified in allowing any more -time to go by, without providing, as well as I can, for the -contingencies which may arise. Tell James I am deeply impressed with -the truth of this, and the strong necessity of acting on all he and -Meredith have set before me, though I cannot act upon it in the way in -which they prescribe. For the present--and you will not need to be -assured that I am not regardless of what Margaret would wish--I must -only make all the reparation which money can make to Eleanor.'</p> - -<p>"Then Fitzwilliam entered into a full explanation of the position of -the estate, and gave me the enclosed memorandum, which he wishes you -and Mr. Meredith to see, and showed me how the ready money he can -leave to Eleanor, and the income, apart from the entailed estate, -which he can settle on her, in reality amount to within two thousand a -year of the income which must come to Gertrude as heir of entail. To -this purpose he intends to devote all this money, his great object -being to render the position of his children as nearly equal as -possible, and so reduce the unintentional injustice done to Eleanor, -and the wrong, now past atonement, inflicted on Gertrude, to such -small dimensions as may relieve him from any suffering on the subject.</p> - -<p>"He has requested that no portion of Mr. Carteret's property should be -left to either of the children. They will be rich enough, and he -considers, very justly, that Haldane's children will have a superior -claim on Mr. Carteret, who was feverishly anxious, Fitzwilliam tells -me, to have all his affairs settled; when he spoke to him, he did not -like this idea at all, he is so much attached to little Gertrude; but -when my brother told him he knew it would have been Margaret's wish -that her brother should have all it was in their father's power to -give, he was satisfied, and promised that it should be so.</p> - -<p>"In telling you this, I daresay I am repeating what is already known -to you; but I give it its place in the conversation between us, as -bearing upon the point that the only way in which the past can now be -repaired, is by securing to the children as much equality in money -matters as possible.</p> - -<p>"As a branch of this subject, I may tell you that the future -disposition of my property has been discussed between us. In Davyntry -I have, as I daresay you know, only a life-interest, and the money of -which I have to dispose comes to me from my father. It is six hundred -a year, and I shall at once make my will in favour of Eleanor. Thus -the inequality in the fortunes of the girls will be decreased, and -Fitzwilliam is much less likely than ever to live up to his income. -The girls will both be very rich heiresses, no doubt, and I do not -think any of us who are in the secret need feel that the advantage to -Gerty of appearing as the heiress of the Deane is very material.</p> - -<p>"Her father feels very deeply the condition of the entail which -prescribed that she must bear her own name, her husband being obliged -to assume it. There is a sting in that which you will thoroughly -comprehend. He asked me if I thought that remembrance had contributed -to the pain which Margaret had suffered about this calamity, but I -could assure him conscientiously that I did not think it had ever -occurred to her. The child was so mere an infant, and the strong hope -and expectation, disappointed by Eleanor's birth, possessed them so -completely, that money matters, in connection with the future, were -never discussed between them. He confirmed me in this. They never -were; and now it is a keen source of regret to him, because, he says, -he should be fortified by the knowledge of how she would have desired -he should act, under the present circumstances.</p> - -<p>"Poor fellow! I listened to him, seriously of course; but, sad as it -was, I could hardly keep from smiling at the way in which he confounds -the present with the past, forgetting that he had no fear, no -misgivings, no presentiment, and therefore that no reason existed for -such a discussion. All this will appear impracticable to Mr. Meredith, -but he will have patience with my brother; he saw enough of what their -life together was, to understand, in some degree, the immeasurable -loss. My ignorance of all that had occurred, at the time of Margaret's -death, is, perhaps, regrettable on this score, that I might have -gotten at more of her mind than, for his sake, she would have betrayed -to him; but it is too late now to repair that ignorance, and we must -only do the best we can in the children's interests.</p> - -<p>"Keeping in view the change time may produce--that my brother is still -a young man, and that a second marriage may not always be so repugnant -to him as it is at present--I think we may rest satisfied in having -induced him to contemplate, and, no doubt, as soon as possible to -make, a proper disposition of his property. As for the children, they -are as happy as little unconscious creatures like them can be, and I -Where is there a second Margaret to be found?</p> - -<p>"Fitzwilliam spoke to me very freely on this point. He could not -pretend to any woman that he loved her; and as, in that case, his -second wife must necessarily marry him for mercenary motives, could he -regard any woman who would do so as a fitting representative of their -mother to his children--could he make her even tolerably happy, thus -entering upon a life in which there could be no mutual respect? Such -arguments are all-powerful with a woman, especially with me; for I -know how pure, how disinterested, our lost Margaret's feelings and -motives in her marriage were, and remember only too well seeing how -they were realised--the doubt and dread she expressed when she first -recognised the prospect for the future which lay before her. How -wonderful and dreadful it seems to speak of her thus in the past, to -refer to that which seemed so completely all in all to us then, and is -now gone for ever!</p> - -<p>"My brother is content with the care the children have from me, and, -far more effectually, from Rose. Time teaches me her value more and -more forcibly, and I am more and more thankful that, in the blackest -and worst time of our distress, you suggested her being sent for. How -strange and fortunate that Margaret had given you a clue to what her -wishes would have been! Neither Fitzwilliam nor I would have thought -of her; indeed, I had entirely forgotten the 'Irish-Australian -importation of Margaret's,' as I once heard poor Mrs. Carteret speak -of her. She is a comfort to us all past describing.</p> - -<p>"I do not know whether Fitzwilliam has told you that Terence Doran, -Rose's husband, is coming to him in a month as factor. He is a very -clever young man, we understand, and, though well placed in Ireland, -willing to come here, for his wife's sake, to enable her to remain -with the children. I have no intention of leaving the Deane for the -present. Fitzwilliam seems restless; he does not say so, but I fancy -he wishes to go abroad again. I should not be surprised if he started -off soon on some prolonged tour.</p> - -<p>"You ask me about the children. Before I reply to your questions, let -me tell you how sorry we all are that there is no chance of our seeing -you here. We understand, of course, that the state of your own health, -and the duty you feel imposed upon you with regard to poor Mr. -Carteret, to whom it would be naturally most distasteful to come here, -furnish indisputable reasons for your absence, but we do not the less -regret it. I infer from the news that Mr. Meredith means to leave -England next month, that he has satisfactorily brought all his -business to a conclusion. His return will be a great boon to his -family. An absence which, by the time he reaches Melbourne, will have -been prolonged to nearly two years, is a terrible slice out of this -short mortal life. I suppose all the arrangements made for his son -have succeeded to his satisfaction, and that you, with your invariable -kindness, have undertaken the supervision of the boy.</p> - -<p>"And now, about the children. Gertrude is a fine child, very like -Margaret in face, and, so far as one can judge of so young a child, of -a nice disposition, rather grave and sensitive. Her father idolises -her; he is never weary of the little girl's company, and I can see -that he is always tracing the likeness to the face hidden from him for -a while. Little Eleanor is delicate and peevish; indeed, if it be not -foolish to say so of an infant, I should say she is of a passionate -nature; she is not so pretty as Gertrude, but has large brown eyes, -quite unlike either her sister or her poor mother. She is Rose Doran's -favourite, and I can trace sometimes, in her candid Irish face, some -surprise and displeasure when she notices my brother's intense -affection for the elder girl. She has no knowledge of anything which -makes the child an object of compassionate love to the father."</p> -<br> -<p class="left">"MARCH 18.</p> -/ -<p>"When I had written so far, I was interrupted by Fitzwilliam. He -brought me a letter which he has written to Mr. Janvrin, of Lincoln's -Inn, his solicitor, and which contains instructions for the drawing up -of a will according to the plan I have mentioned. He wishes me to -recapitulate to you what would be the children's positions in the -event of his death, unmarried, and not having revoked this will.</p> - -<p>"Gertrude would succeed to all the entailed property, chargeable, as -in Fitzwilliam's case, with a provision for her younger children.</p> - -<p>"Eleanor would have all the savings from the general income up to the -time of her father's death, and all such property as is not included -in the entail.</p> - -<p>"Haldane Carteret and I are named as the guardians and trustees, and -my brother signifies his wish that his children should reside -alternately with either Mrs. Carteret or me, according to the general -convenience.</p> - -<p>"Will you kindly communicate this to Mr. Meredith, together with my -personal acknowledgment of the kind interest he has taken in us all -during the sorrowful period of his stay in England?</p> - -<p>"Always, my dear Mr. Dugdale, most faithfully yours,</p> - -<p> -<p style="text-indent:40%">"ELEANOR DAVYNTRY."</p> -<br> - -<hr class="W10"> -<br> - -<p class="center"><i>James Dugdale to Lady Davyntry</i>.</p> -<p class="left">"CHAYLEIGH, MARCH 20.</p> -<br> -<p>"MY DEAR LADY DAVYNTRY,--I have to thank you for your kind and -explanatory letter. I never expected Baldwin to take the view of the -matter on which I wrote to you which Meredith takes. Meredith is so -much more of a man of the world than I am, has so much longer a head, -and so much sounder judgment, that I could not hesitate to transmit to -you and Baldwin his views, in which the world, could it know what we -are so unfortunate as to know, would no doubt recognise reason and -force. Well, we too recognise them, but that is all.</p> - -<p>"All the dispositions which you tell me Baldwin has made are admirable -under the circumstances, and considering his determination, which I do -not think is likely to yield to the influence of time, which cannot -restore her who was lost, and will, I am convinced, but increase his -appreciation of the extent and severity of that loss. Gertrude gains -only in name and appearance, and does her sister no real injury. I -have often thought how terrible Baldwin's position would have been had -not Eleanor lived. Then he must either have married again, or done an -injury to the heir of entail by permitting Gertrude to succeed. -Meredith was asking me about the succession, but I could not tell him. -I fancy I heard, but I don't remember where, when, or how, that the -next heir is a distant relative, with whom Baldwin is not acquainted.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Carteret had told me, before I received your letter, Baldwin's -wishes about his will, and that he intended to comply with them. The -only legacy Gertrude will inherit from her grandfather is the -unfinished portrait which you brought from Naples. He never mentioned -it, or seemed to notice that I had had it unpacked and placed in the -study, until the day on which he mentioned Baldwin's request, and then -he looked at it, quite a fond, quiet smile. The calm, the -impassability of old age is coming over him, fortunately for him.</p> - -<p>"But while I perfectly understand the force and approve the object of -the representation which Baldwin has made to Mr. Carteret, and while I -heartily approve the reason and the generosity of the disposition you -intend making of such portion of your property as is within your -power, I do not think I am bound by similar restrictions. Partly -because the little I possess is so small, so utterly trivial and -unimportant, in comparison with the handsome fortune, which the -measures Baldwin is taking will secure, with your assistance, to -Eleanor; and partly because I feel towards the elder child in a -peculiar way, almost inexplicable to myself--I intend to bequeath to -Gertrude the small sum I possess the power of bequeathing.</p> - -<p>"She shall have it when I am gone, and it shall be left at her free -and uncontrolled disposition; it will add a little yearly sum to her -pleasures, or, if she be as like her mother in her nature as in her -face, to her charities. It will be a great pleasure to me to know that -Gertrude, whose splendid inheritance will come to her by a real though -guiltless error, will at least have that small heritage in her own -real undisputable right--not as the heiress of anything or any one, -only as Margaret's child.</p> - -<p>"I am so glad to know what you tell me concerning Rose Doran. She was -always a good, genuine creature, and it is almost as rare as it is -pleasant to anticipate excellence and not to be disappointed. Baldwin -should be careful, however, of annoying her by displaying too marked a -preference for Gerty. Rose is a very shrewd person, and in her -impulsive Irish mind the process, which should make her suspicious of -a reason for this preference, and jealous for the child whose life -cost that of her mother, would not be a difficult one.</p> - -<p>"Meredith's plans are unchanged. He has every reason to be satisfied -with the arrangements made for Robert. I have no doubt the boy will do -well. He wants neither ability nor application; I wish he had as much -heart and as much frankness. Davyntry is looking very well, lonely, of -course, but well taken care of; I ramble about there almost every day. -Haldane and his wife are expected next week at the Croftons.</p> - -<p>"Yours, dear Lady Davyntry, always truly,</p> -<p style="text-indent:40%">"JAMES DUGDALE."</p> -<br> - -<hr class="W10"> -<br> -<p class="center"><i>Hayes Meredith to Fitzwilliam Meriton Baldwin></i>.</p> -<br> -<p class="right">"CHAYLEIGH, APRIL 2.</P> -<br> -<p>"MY DER BALDWIN,--I am off in a short time now, and this is to say -good-bye--most likely for ever. At my time of life I am not likely to -get back to England again, unless, indeed, I should make a fortune by -some very unlikely hazard, of which not the faintest indication -appears at present.</p> - -<p>"I am very much obliged to you for letting me know all the -arrangements you have made. I am sure you know my feeling in the -matter was interest, not curiosity, and though not only the safest, -surest, speediest, but also the most natural and agreeable way of -putting an end to your difficulties appeared to me to be a second -marriage, I am not going to blame you because you don't think so. I -know the difficulties of the position, but, after all, you inflict a -mere technical wrong on one sister, while you make up for it by -endowing her with a much larger fortune than she would have had, had -her real position been what her apparent one is--that of a younger -child.</p> - -<p>"From what you say of the amount of the savings which you expect to -leave to Eleanor, I should think she would be little less rich than -Gertrude, and without the burden of a large landed estate and -establishment to keep up--also enjoying the immense advantage of being -able to dispose of her property as she chooses, an advantage which -Gertrude will not enjoy, and which, with my colonial ideas, I am -disposed to estimate very highly indeed.</p> - -<p>"I have so many kindnesses and attentions to thank you for, that I -must put all my acknowledgments into this one, and beg you to believe -that I feel them deeply. The most welcome of all the acts of -friendship I have received from you is your promise not to lose sight -of Robert. He will get on well, I think. If he does not, his heart -will be more in fault than his head, in my belief.</p> - -<p>"As to O----, I hardly know what to think of your proposal. I doubt -its being altogether safe to open communications voluntarily with a -man of his sort. He is so very likely, after his kind, to impute some -bad, or at least suspicious motive to an act of charity which I should -not be disposed to give him credit for understanding or believing in. -The least danger we should have to fear would be his establishing -himself as a regular pensioner in consideration of your aid extended -to him in so inexplicable a fashion.</p> - -<p>"But, beyond this, there is more to apprehend. I think I told you he -knew nothing of M----, not even her former name, nor her destination -in England. If he receives a sum of money from you, he will naturally -make inquiries about you, and there will be no means of keeping the -required information from him. Once supply him with a clue to any -connection between you and his worthy comrade deceased, and O---- must -be very unlike the man I believe him to be, and must have profited -very insufficiently by such companionship, if he does not see his way -to a profitable secret, and the chance of <i>chantage</i>, in a very short -time. This is the risk I foresee, and which I should not like to run.</p> - -<p>"At the same time, I understand the feeling which has dictated the -proposition you make to me, and I can quite believe, remembering her -noble nature so well as I do remember it, that M---- would, as you -suppose, have been glad to rescue from want the man to whom -H---- owed, after all, relief in his last days, if to him she also -owed the knowledge of her sorrow. I propose therefore (subject to your -approval), when I arrive at Melbourne, to inquire, with judicious -caution, into what has become of O----, and if I find him living and -in distress, to assist him to a limited extent, provided he is not -quite so incorrigible a scoundrel as that assisting him would be -enabling him to prey on society on a larger and more successful scale.</p> - -<p>"I would suggest, however, that under no circumstances should he be -told that the money comes from you. I shall be credited, if I find him -a proper object or anything short of an entirely unjustifiable object -for your bounty, with a charitable action, which it certainly never -would have come into my head to perform; but I am quite willing, if it -gives you any pleasure or consolation, to carry the burden of -undeserved praise and such gratitude as is to be expected from -O----, not a very oppressive quantity, I fancy.</p> - -<p>"I am glad to hear good news of you all from Dugdale. And now, my dear -Baldwin, nothing remains for me to say, except that which cannot be -written. Farewell. We shall hear how the world wags for each of us -through Dugdale.</p> -<p style="text-indent:40%">"Yours faithfully,</P> -<p style="text-indent:50%">quot;HAYES MEREDITH."</p> -<br> - -<hr class="W10"> -<br> -<p><i>Mrs. Haldane Carteret to Miss Crofton</i>.</p> -<p class="right">c"CHAYLEIGH, APRIL 18.</p> -<br> -<p>"MY DEAR MINNIE,--I promised to write to you as soon as I arrived -here, but I have been so busy, finding myself in a manner at home, and -<i>tant soit peu</i> mistress of the house, that I could not manage it. No -doubt you find it desperately dull at school, but then you are coming -out after a while, and the vacation is not far off--and I can assure -you I am almost as dull here as you are. I have my own way in -everything, to be sure; but then that is not of much use, unless one -has something in view which it is worth while to be persistent about. -And really the old gentleman, though he is a dear nice old thing and -sweet-tempered to a degree, is very tiresome.</p> - -<p>"You know, of course, from mamma's letter, that Haldane is not coming -for a week or two. He has to remain in London to meet Mr. Baldwin on -some <i>very important</i> business. I believe it is simply that Haldane is -to be made trustee and guardian to our little nieces, if their father -dies, and that cannot be anything very particular; but then, you know, -there never were such children. (I am sure I shall not wish mine to be -made such a fuss with, not that it is in the least likely.) Everything -that concerns them must be fussed and bothered about in the most -intolerable way.</p> - -<p>"A great deal of this is Lady Davyntry's fault; I must say, though she -and I are the greatest friends--as such near relations ought to -be--she does worry me sometimes. However, she is not here to worry me -now; she is at the Deane, and writes to Mr. Carteret almost every day, -of course about nothing but the children. If they are made so much of -now when they are infants, what will it be when they are grown up -enough to understand, and be utterly spoiled by it, as of course they -must be? It would not be easy to imagine worse training for the -heiresses; however, you don't want me to moralise about them, but to -tell you some news. And so I would, my dear Minnie, if I had any to -tell, but I have not.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Dugdale is, if possible, less amusing than ever: but I see -very little of him. He has installed himself in poor Margaret's -room--fortunately for me it is not the best room, as I suspect I -should have had some difficulty in making him decamp, for he is -excessively pertinacious in a quiet way, and as for Mr. Carteret -interfering, one might as well expect one of his pinned butterflies to -stand up for one's rights; so there he generally is, except at -meal-times, or when he is wandering about at Davyntry. The fact is, -the house, and every one in it, is be-Baldwinised to an intolerable -extent.</p> - -<p>"Of course I was dreadfully sorry for poor dear Margaret. I must have -been, considering she was my sister-in-law, if even she had not been -my greatest friend; but there is reason in everything, and I should -not be doing my duty to Haldane if I went on fretting for ever; -there's nothing men dislike so much in women as moping, or an -over-exhibition of feeling. I assure you if she had died only last -week--and after all, the melancholy event took place at the Deane, you -know, and not here at all--the house could not be more mopey.</p> - -<p>"I don't think it is quite fair to me, considering the state of my -health, and that my spirits naturally require a little rousing; and -really sometimes, when I can get nothing out of Mr. Carteret but 'Yes, -my dear,' or 'No, my dear,' and when I know he is thinking rather of -Margaret or of the collection--such a lot of trash as it is, and it -takes up such a quantity of room--I am quite provoked. And as for Mr. -Dugdale, it is worse; for though he is very polite, I declare I don't -think he ever really sees me, and I am sure, if he was asked suddenly, -on oath, he could not tell whether my hair is red, black, or gray. And -<i>it</i> is a nuisance when there are only two men in the house with one -that they should be men of that sort.</p> - -<p>"I don't suppose it will be much better when Haldane comes, for I -fancy there is not the faintest chance of any company; nothing but -Carteret and Crofton, Crofton and Carteret,--after a whole year, too, -it is a little too bad. I have slipped out of mourning, though, that's -a comfort. You know I never looked well in black, and it is not <i>the -dress</i> after all, is it? Haldane thought I might go on with grays and -lilacs, but mourning, however slight, is not considered lucky, and -though I am not at all superstitious myself, it would never do to -offend other people's prejudices, would it?</p> - -<p>quot;There is really nothing to look forward to until you come home, -except, perhaps, a visit from Robert Meredith; and he is only a boy; -but he is very clever and amusing, and greatly inclined to make a fool -of himself about me. Of course it would not do to encourage him if he -were older; but it does me no harm, and keeps him out of mischief. His -father has sailed for Melbourne. I really have no more to say, as of -course you get all the home news from mamma.--Your affectionate -sister,</p> -<p class="right">"LUCY CARTERET.</p> - -<p>"P.S. I have just heard from Haldane. It is almost settled that he is -to leave the army. Mr. Baldwin is going in a few days to the East, and -intends to be away for three years at the least."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>END OF VOL. II.</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>LONDON: ROBSON AND SONS, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's A Righted Wrong, Volume 2 (of 3), by Edmund Yates - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A RIGHTED WRONG, VOLUME 2 (OF 3) *** - -***** This file should be named 60965-h.htm or 60965-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/9/6/60965/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the Web Archive -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, -and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, unless you receive -specific permission. If you do not charge anything for copies of this -eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. You may use this eBook -for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, -performances and research. They may be modified and printed and given -away--you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks -not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the -trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. - -START: FULL LICENSE - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full -Project Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at -www.gutenberg.org/license. - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or -destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your -possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a -Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound -by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the -person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph -1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this -agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the -Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection -of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual -works in the collection are in the public domain in the United -States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the -United States and you are located in the United States, we do not -claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, -displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as -all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope -that you will support the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting -free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm -works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the -Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with the work. You can easily -comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the -same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg-tm License when -you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are -in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, -check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this -agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, -distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any -other Project Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no -representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any -country outside the United States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other -immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear -prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work -on which the phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, -performed, viewed, copied or distributed: - - This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and - most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no - restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it - under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this - eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the - United States, you'll have to check the laws of the country where you - are located before using this ebook. - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is -derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not -contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the -copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in -the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are -redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply -either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or -obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any -additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms -will be linked to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works -posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the -beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including -any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access -to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format -other than "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official -version posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site -(www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense -to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means -of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain -Vanilla ASCII" or other form. Any alternate format must include the -full Project Gutenberg-tm License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -provided that - -* You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed - to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he has - agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid - within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are - legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty - payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project - Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in - Section 4, "Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg - Literary Archive Foundation." - -* You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all - copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue - all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg-tm - works. - -* You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of - any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of - receipt of the work. - -* You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work or group of works on different terms than -are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing -from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and The -Project Gutenberg Trademark LLC, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm -trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project -Gutenberg-tm collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may -contain "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate -or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other -intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or -other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or -cannot be read by your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium -with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you -with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in -lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person -or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second -opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If -the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing -without further opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO -OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT -LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of -damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement -violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the -agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or -limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or -unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the -remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in -accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the -production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, -including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of -the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this -or any Project Gutenberg-tm work, (b) alteration, modification, or -additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any -Defect you cause. - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of -computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It -exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations -from people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future -generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see -Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at -www.gutenberg.org - - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by -U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is in Fairbanks, Alaska, with the -mailing address: PO Box 750175, Fairbanks, AK 99775, but its -volunteers and employees are scattered throughout numerous -locations. Its business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt -Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to -date contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and -official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND -DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular -state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To -donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project -Gutenberg-tm concept of a library of electronic works that could be -freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and -distributed Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of -volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in -the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - -</body> -</html> - - - - - |