diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/64223-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/64223-0.txt | 13158 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 13158 deletions
diff --git a/old/64223-0.txt b/old/64223-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 22c5ac6..0000000 --- a/old/64223-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13158 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Jewel sowers, by Edith Allonby - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Jewel sowers - a novel - -Author: Edith Allonby - -Release Date: January 06, 2021 [eBook #64223] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images - made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEWEL SOWERS *** - - - - - JEWEL SOWERS - - - - - _GREENING & CO.’S_ - - POPULAR NOVELS - - -=When it was Dark.= _3rd Edition._ - - By Guy Thorne. =6s.= - -=The Oven.= - - By Guy Thorne. =3s. 6d.= - -=The Serf.= _3rd Edition._ - - By C. Ranger-Gull. =6s.= - -=His Grace’s Grace.= - - By C Ranger-Gull. =6s.= - -=Mr. Topham=: Comedian. - - By C. Ranger-Gull. =3s. 6d.= - -=Back to Lilac-Land.= _2nd Edition._ - - By C. Ranger-Gull. =6s.= - -=The Hypocrite.= _8th Edition._ - - By C. Ranger-Gull. =6s.= - -=Miss Malevolent.= _2nd Edition._ - - By C. Ranger-Gull. =3s. 6d.= - -=The Steeple.= - - By Reginald Turner. =6s.= - -=The Comedy of Progress.= - - By Reginald Turner. =6s.= - -=Cynthia’s Damages.= - - By Reginald Turner. =6s.= - -=The Danger of Innocence.= _2nd Edition._ - - By Cosmo Hamilton. =6s.= - -=The Love Thirst of Elaine.= - - By S. J. Adair Fitz-Gerald. =6s.= - -=Fame the Fiddler.= - - By S. J. Adair Fitz-Gerald. =2s. 6d.= - -=Mrs. Evelyn’s Husbands.= - - By The Comtesse de Bremont. =6s.= - -=Daughters of Pleasure.= - - By The Comtesse de Bremont. =6s.= - -=Mr. Incoul’s Misadventure.= - - By Edgar Saltus. =3s. 6d.= - -=Mary of Magdala.= - - By Edgar Saltus. =3s. 6d.= - -=The Day of Prosperity.= - - By Paul Devinne. =6s.= - -=A Dead Woman’s Wish.= - - By Emile Zola. =3s. 6d.= - -=Two in One.= - - By T. W. Speight. =3s. 6d.= - -=Mora=: One Woman’s Story. - - By T. W. Speight. =6s.= - -=Compromised.= - - By Gertrude Warden. =6s.= - -=A Tragic Contract.= - - By Mount Houmas. =6s.= - - - - - JEWEL SOWERS - A Novel - - - LONDON - GREENING & CO., LTD. - 20, CECIL COURT, CHARING CROSS ROAD, W.C. - 1903 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS - - - CHAP. PAGE - I. AN INTRODUCTION TO LUCIFRAM 9 - - II. FRIEND AND EXECUTOR 13 - - III. ROSALIE 21 - - IV. THE GOLDEN SERPENT 28 - - V. THE MASTER 42 - - VI. NEW EXPERIENCES 52 - - VII. A DEBT OF GRATITUDE 57 - - VIII. A BOOK OF INSPIRATION 64 - - IX. MARIANA 77 - - X. A CONVERSATION IN SHADOWS 85 - - XI. GARDEN AND HOUSE OF SHADOWS 92 - - XII. AN ACT OF DISOBEDIENCE 101 - - XIII. THE FOLLY OF SIMPLICITY 119 - - XIV. BROKEN SPIRITS 131 - - XV. A WAYSIDE HOUSE AND GLOOMY CELL 139 - - XVI. THE GOVERNOR 154 - - XVII. A PLANTATION 166 - - XVIII. SEEDS GROWING CONTRARIWISE 174 - - XIX. A HUMBLE CRUCIFIXION 190 - - XX. A SIMPLE CONVERSATION 202 - - XXI. A MAN WHO STOOD ON HIS HEAD, ACCORDING TO LUCIFRAM 209 - - XXII. A LEASE OF LIFE 216 - - XXIII. THE SCANDAL OF THE TEMPLE 222 - - XXIV. AT THE SEBBERENS’ 232 - - XXV. THE GOLDEN PRIEST 245 - - XXVI. CONVERSATION AND A LITTLE PIG-STUFF 254 - - XXVII. AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES 264 - - XXVIII. REVENGE IS SWEET 277 - - XXIX. A CONFESSION 286 - - XXX. FESTIVAL 293 - - XXXI. MYSTERIES IN MARBLE HOUSE 303 - - XXXII. DIPLOMACY 313 - - XXXIII. THE WORTH OF A JEWEL 319 - - XXXIV. “A GIFT, A FRIEND, A FOE, A BEAU, A JOURNEY TO GO” 326 - - XXXV. THE SUN RISES ON THE YEAR 334 - - - - - JEWEL SOWERS - - - - - CHAPTER I - AN INTRODUCTION TO LUCIFRAM - - -In the little planet Lucifram, that spun a brilliant and solitary course -among the stars, exchanging annual salutations with them as the waxing -and waning of the solar laws brought them out of the void and within -hail, the people each and all walked upside down. The trees were upside -down, the houses, the churches with their steeples, the palaces, the -oceans, rivers, lakes, mountains, animals, and fishes, each and all, -reversed our own conception of mundane propriety. Cultivate a patience -with the seeming strangeness of this extraordinary planet, even to the -reading of this simple book, and let that virtue lead you nearer to -another sphere, more to your liking. - -There were a few, indeed, upon this sphere who did their best to stand -upon their feet. Sometimes they succeeded; but others were bowled down -in the struggle and ended by standing once again upon their heads, or -lying crushed, paying the debt they owed to Outraged Custom. - -The circumference of this sphere was something like two thousand miles. -It bulged out towards the north and south, with giant hollows to the -east and west. And because _everything_ that existed was contrary to our -idea of things, all things looked normal. - -When Nature and architecture combine to alter things, making them -contrariwise, as people call it, what wonder if morality and all ethics -blend with the custom? - -To begin with governments and kingships. Unlike those upon a two-legged -basis, a king was never chosen for his worth, but for his frailties. He -was chosen to strew the path of his subjects with flowers which all -might pick like little children out at play, and then would quarrel -over. - -Alas! To be a king in the planet Lucifram! That little planet -topsy-turvy. Here, though a ruler might have the will of a Hercules to -turn a somersalt and land upon his feet, some diviner instinct calling -him to that, the pigmies around him pinned him with millions of tiny -threads, an anchorage whereby to hold his head safe to the ground. -Threads worked in gold! Held for the wonder of the multitude. - -So for the kings. The Gods of all the stars looked down on them. They -heard those faint sighs of weakness—those breathings after higher -things—and pitied some, and smiled at others. And though in the -topsy-turvy synagogues and churches the people prayed for them, no -prayers reached heaven except those simple few the kings themselves -breathed in solitude. Prayers that must travel very, very far, as all -prayers must, and which needed the giant strength of great simplicity to -bring them to the end of their weary journey. - -So for the kings and princes. An arduous task is theirs—bound thus with -chains—God only knows how hard! As each insidious little link might -whisper, telling its own small share in the universal tale. - -In our world we always speak of “Church and State”—a correct and steady -way of speaking—but in Lucifram ’tis always “State and Church,” and that -is why the palaces and kings claimed our attention first. - -The Church, composed of temples, synagogues, and priests, jumbled -together in luxurious profusion, was dressed and bedecked so finely that -the God the people worshipped fell almost out of sight. In their chief -temple, in the greatest city, was a three-tailed golden Serpent, coiled -around a golden pole above a table decked in red, and set with incense -vessels. Dim and mysterious was that holy place, where priests, all -flowing and bedecked in golden garments, came each day to bow before the -Snake. Its three tails, the gold of them burnished like fire, spread out -like fans on high, against a background of mosaic. Below, resting on the -altar, was the great head, lying quite still; the genius of ages worked -in its cruel fangs and awful eyes. Eyes never closing, jewel-glinting, -green and fiery, all-surveying, all-watching. Those terrible eyes lit up -the gloom, and compelled men to stand upon their heads as it itself was -forced to do. For by the grim and dreadful fascination of those -never-closing eyes, unconsciously the worshippers changed to position -like to it, tails up, heads down, blinded by their religion. - -In this temple the people sat in the big gloomy aisles, each on a little -chair with a ledge in front for kneeling, and heard the priest from the -pulpit, and the reader from his desk. Awed by the grandeur and the -solemn dimness, they bowed and salaamed before the triune tails, hidden -from the vulgar gaze by a red silk curtain blazoned in gold. And when -the mighty organ rolled and rumbled, and the angel voices of the choir -boys rang through the gold-washed rafters, their senses were stirred by -some far hidden mystery, and their eyes would dim or kindle as they felt -it; only the gleaming eyes within the veil remained unchanged. - -Now it was customary for the priests who waited on the Serpent to fast a -day each month and marry only once. A layman in Lucifram might wed -twice. No priests could marry under forty. For laymen, the age was -twenty-five for the first attempt, and forty for the second; that is, -for the few who preferred company in their latter years to peace. But -though the women, by Act of Parliament, enjoyed the privilege of -marrying twice, just as the men did, there were certain things clearly -beyond them, they being in Lucifram, as here, the weaker vessels. On -those great days whereon the priest drew back the silken curtain and -displayed the Serpent, all women were debarred from entering the temple. - -And so enough for an explanation and a prologue. Take my hand, descend, -and tread on Lucifram! - - - - - CHAPTER II - FRIEND AND EXECUTOR - - -In the capital of Lucifram there is a great park—a city park—planted -with trees sown centuries since by the restless winds, when all was -peaceful country. To the right stretches the city—work and pleasure, -laughter and tears, and perpetual hurry-scurry. All round the park -sounds and sights of human life, condensed within a curiously small -circle, were in evidence. Silent streets, tall and shadowy, lit by -occasional gas lamps, fringed on a brilliant thoroughfare, with -omnibuses, cabs, and people hurrying everywhere. Most spacious squares, -with fountains and statues, backed by huge buildings, erected both for -grace and durability, lay on all sides. The mansions on this side of the -park were in many cases of plain exterior. This gave the lie to the -magnificence within. On the right side of the park, facing it and -running along its entire length, was built the famous Greensward Avenue. - -In the centre of the avenue, standing back under the shadow of the high -walls of two palace gardens rising on either side, stood a large square -house built of black marble. It was built in black, and the blinds were -of deep red, the only colour to relieve it. Those were not visible till -night came. Thirteen imposing-looking steps lead up to an imposing door, -in black polished oak, rarely carved. Two narrow windows in the wall -reached down on each side of it. The house consisted of three storeys -and a basement, and to the back were pretty and extensive gardens -protected by high walls. - -The owner of this house was a certain Camille Barringcourt, who had but -lately come there, within the last three years. With the exception of -servants, he lived quite alone—a bachelor in the land of double -marriages. - -Now the house in which he lived was very appropriately called “Marble -House.” It had been built by a millionaire quite recently, despite its -old appearance. The reason why it had such an appearance of age was -because it had been erected from a spoiled cathedral in the remotest -corner of Lucifram, where instead of worshipping the Serpent they -worshipped the Toad. It had cost a vast amount of money to cart the -marble and oak right over from east to west, but it was done right -royally, and the house itself, from this point of view at least, was -very interesting. No sooner was the great mansion completed, and royalty -entertained on one single occasion, than the millionaire died. Men and -women agreed on this, that his death was at least mysterious. He was -found dead in bed. So far as the doctors could tell he suffered from -nothing, and had come by no foul play. He had died painlessly, in the -big plain bed-chamber containing little else but the desecrated altar of -the Toad, with a fac-simile of the Serpent rising above it—a shrine -which all good people in Lucifram kept in their private rooms. And so he -was buried, and the ladies mourned. He had been generous. And then his -will was read. - -All his vast wealth was given to charities; all went to charity except -the house. That was left “To my friend, Camille Barringcourt, as a -slight token of esteem, and in remembrance of the past.” That was all. -No one had ever heard or seen anything of this friend, and no one knew -anything of the past. But lawyers, like detectives, have a way of -hunting people up. In a little time it was spread abroad that Camille -Barringcourt lived in Fairysky, or at least was staying there, a country -which much resembled Italy on the Earth. - -It may also be mentioned here that Camille Barringcourt and the lawyer -were left executors of those vast charities. - -The first thing about the new-comer’s arrival that excited general -interest was the advent of six horses. All were black as night, with -long tails, fiery eyes, shining coats, and tossing, untamed heads. - -Nearly all the little boys in that aristocratic neighbourhood were late -for school that morning; or better, never went. Accustomed as they were -to beautiful horses, they had never even in their experience seen -anything to equal these. The six black horses travelled through the -crowded thoroughfares singly led, each by a groom. Their trappings were -of a deep red, and no unnecessary weight was placed upon them. The men -who led the animals were men who understood their business, and had -great patience with their coquettish, curvetting ways. Just as the -journey was drawing to a close the traffic in the streets was for the -minute stopped. Five of the six horses had passed the crossing, and the -last was drawn up close to Lady Flamington’s carriage. Whether it was -her ladyship’s hat (she was one of the best dressed and most beautiful -women of the day), or whether her two thoroughbreds were ready to enter -into the fun of the thing, and dance a lively impromptu pirouette with -the new arrival, it would be hard to say. However, the black steed began -a dance, anything but safe in the state of the crowded thoroughfare, and -the bays in harness did their best to follow suit. It was a spirited -attempt; then the groom for once lost his temper. - -“Get up, you devil!” said he. The horse took him literally and reared -up, despite his efforts to keep it down, dragging him with it, in its -wild, untamable fury. The trampling forepaws struck on the cushions of -my lady’s brougham. What might have been the result it is impossible to -say, for her escape on the other side was cut off by a huge lorry drawn -up against her like a wall, but just at that moment a voice fell on the -hubbub and the consternation, and the “voice that breathed o’er Eden” on -the day of her marriage had never been so welcome to Lady Flamington as -that one now. At the same time a hand, the whitest, the most beautiful -she had ever seen (so she told her friends after), grasped at the -bridle. - -“Waugh-o, Starlight—Starlight! Come, then.” - -The words, the tone, the caressing hand on one side, the firm hand on -the bridle, were too much for the four-legged beauty. Won over by more -words, more pressure on the hateful bit (even though silver), and more -caressing patting on her glossy neck, she came gracefully down to earth -once more. - -It seemed to Lady Flamington that the stranger had sprung up from -nowhere. As a matter of fact, he had sprung from the hansom behind, in -which he was following, at almost walking pace, these six prancing -treasures. Then just as the traffic was starting again he looked across -at her. - -“You are not hurt,” said he. “I should have been bitterly sorry if that -had happened.” - -For once her ladyship could find no words. She bowed, he raised his hat, -the procession moved along. Then she knitted her brows thoughtfully. - -“He should have been sorry in either case,” she thought, and fell to -studying his face in her memory. - -Meanwhile the six black horses had turned into Greensward Avenue, where -likewise at a quicker rate her ladyship’s carriage was progressing. - -All the way to the spacious private stables at the rear of the private -grounds, Mr. Barringcourt, for it was he, led that most spoiled of all -spoilt animals, Starlight. The little boys followed admiringly, till the -big doors of the stable-yard closed cruelly upon them. - -“That looks like a dook turned undertaker,” said one. - -Rumour had spread a report that Camille Barringcourt was a twice married -gentleman, with a large family. - -“How unlike poor Geoffrey Todbrook,” said the ladies, and sighed. - -But rumour for once was entirely wrong. One bachelor was dead; another -succeeded him. - -The new arrival settled quickly into his new home. Seeing it was already -furnished, that was but natural. His servants were all foreigners, dark, -tall, all very unlike the people on this side of Lucifram. Yet there was -an inexpressible charm, dignity, and quiet repose about them that -delighted and mystified everyone. Among them were some women, -parlourmaids, sewing-maids, and housemaids apparently. - -Each one of these servants, men and women, dressed in black, faced with -deep red. It was a kind of uniform. - -Now, a few words are needed as to the personal appearance of the Master -himself. In figure he was tall, athletic, graceful, broad-shouldered. -His hair was black and short, crisp at the ends, as Lady Flamington -noticed when he removed his hat. People called his face “odd.” It was -dark and swarthy, with a strong forehead, and black eyes which were -gloomy and deeply set. The nose was straight, bearing in its lines more -sensitive refinement than any other feature of his face. - -When he smiled he showed, though not obtrusively, a sparkle of white and -even teeth. When Lady Flamington admired the beauty of his hands she was -within the right. For strength and suppleness they would be hard to -beat, and for whiteness also. This then, in short, was the figure of -Camille Barringcourt, come to dispense the charity of his friend of the -past; come to settle in Marble House, of Greensward Avenue. - -Lady Flamington, some dozen houses off, persuaded her first and only -husband to call there, soon after the arrival. He did so, hoping to see -the fine black horses she had spoken of. Horseflesh was his hobby. He -saw the gentleman, but nothing else in the way of interest, took a -sudden fancy to him, and invited him over to dinner on Friday night. The -invitation was as suddenly accepted. Sir James went home with some -misgivings. He didn’t know whether his wife liked swarthy men; she was -fastidious. His wife had no objection to them. She was delighted to -welcome any of his friends, except turf acquaintances and bookmakers. - -On Friday night Mr. Barringcourt came. It was a little formal affair, -one or two of the family circle and an intimate friend. The stranger sat -beside his hostess for dinner, and they talked commonplaces. At last she -turned to him with a pretty grace. - -“You have not yet demanded my thanks,” said she. - -“For what?” he asked. - -“You know for what.” - -“Your thanks would necessitate my apologies.” - -“I am surprised you never offered them.” - -“It was unnecessary.” - -“There I must confess to some curiosity. Do you remember you said to me, -‘You are not hurt.’” - -“Well?” said he, and smiled—a smile all the more charming as he bent his -head to hers. - -“Well!” she retorted. “I was hurt; your horse frightened me. To be -frightened is to be hurt. Can you dispute it?” - -“I never saw anyone stand pain better. Your face was a vision of—of—” - -“Of what?” she asked. - -“I do not understand your language very well, as yet. I shall improve in -it; you must be patient. In a week or two I shall have found the word I -need.” - -“And till then?” - -“Learn to be gracious to a poor speaker.” - -“Ah! But I do not intend to let you off so easily. After telling me I -was not hurt, you next proceeded to say, ‘In that case you would have -been deeply sorry’—you see my memory is good. Now, am I to understand -that under the circumstances you felt no sorrow?” - -“Most certainly.” - -“Now we shall quarrel, unless you can explain yourself.” - -“Is it necessary?” - -“You shall discover how much so if you do not explain your meaning -instantly.” - -“Then do not blame me if I sink still deeper into the mire. Under the -circumstances, I was not sorry. I had been told on coming to this -country I should find all the women forward—most of them ugly—the -remainder plain. After three days’ looking round me I had come to the -same conclusion. Suddenly by the merest chance my eyes lighted on you. -Can you wonder I should feel no sorrow?” - -She frowned, then laughed, and looked at him. - -“Where did you learn this grossest form of flattery?” - -“I see your ladyship has no education to appreciate the truth.” - -“Talk to my husband about horses. I have no more to say to you.” - -“Is he a lover of horses?” - -“Yes. He attends every Race Meet in the county.” - -Mr. Barringcourt smiled. “That speaks for itself,” he said. - - - - - CHAPTER III - ROSALIE - - -Let us pay a call on Cinderella. - -Alas! not a Cinderella with a prince and gorgeous clothing, but one -without a tongue, or rather, tongue-tied. - -Rosalie Paleaf, for that was her name, lived alone with an aunt and -uncle. Both her parents were dead. She was pretty, of that fair delicate -type called “picturesque.” Her hair was of a palish yellow tint, glossy, -but straight; her skin was fair and delicate. The eyes were grey, with -dark curling lashes, and delicately marked brows. Her nose turned up -just the least little bit, the most charming upward, delicate little -curve in the wrong direction it would be possible to meet. The corners -of her mouth, however, turned down with the saddest, most wistful droop -imaginable. In fact, there was only one feature in her face that kept it -from becoming most woefully pathetic, and that was the little, -inquisitive, life-enjoying nose. To come back to her eyes for finishing -touches. Their greyness was very pale. The pupils generally were large, -with an equally black rim along the edge of the iris. Inside this rim -the colour gradually paled to the pupil, which gave her eyes a curiously -bright appearance. And then being tongue-tied! She had nothing she could -talk with but her eyes, and so she used them. - -Uncle and aunt were very kind to her. Who indeed could help being that? -She was the gentlest, kindest creature, harmless and very helpless, with -the sweetest face, the happiest manner, and sunniest smile upon -occasions. - -They were people of moderate circumstances in a very quiet way, and if -Rosalie had not the hardest work of the house to do, it was because her -aunt always insisted on doing it, with the help of an occasional -charwoman. And so, when very young, she learnt to hem, and dust, and do -the toasting. Later she got promoted to wiping tea-things, then dinner -dishes, and ended as a fully-fledged young housekeeper, ready to bake -and cook, darn, and make and mend, to sweep and dust, and do all work -that is useful. - -Beyond this her education had not progressed. She could read and write, -’tis certain, but very little more. Accomplishments were beyond the -means of her relations, and had they not been it would never have struck -them a child apparently quite dumb should need such things. So she -stayed at home and was happy, except in the company of strangers, when -her sad defect made itself felt under their pitying glances of surprise, -however well they might try to conceal them. - -But a child’s happiness often constitutes a woman’s misery. As the years -passed by Rosalie began to feel her loneliness, her utter incapacity for -the work of the world. She felt also something deeper, stronger, more -unwordable. It was more real than anything else in her life, yet, -because unseen, it was unsympathised with as having no existence. And -so, although her happiness was gradually becoming overshadowed, she -never fully recognised it till one October evening when she had turned -twenty. - -To look at Rosalie the spectator would never have taken her for that -age. All her life had been spent in one long silent dream—the privilege -of childhood. - -It was the kind of autumn evening made for thought and sadness. The sky -was very clear, with a suspicion of purple in it, and the gold of ages -was in the west. As she stood by her bedroom window looking out at it, -there came that terrible foreboding of sadness and sorrow that seems to -do its best to crush young hearts, though perhaps it only moulds them. - -And along with it came a longing for expansion, a weariness of the -endless routine, the companionless silence and that nameless thirst -after something, she knew not what. How could Rosalie, walking in the -mist, having no speech or utterance, explain it even to herself? She -wanted something, the purple of the sky suggested something—suggested, -nothing more. And from that day forward the nameless longing grew, -settling itself within her heart, finding no happier outside quarters. I -do not know that she looked thinner or more frail, her physical strength -was too great for that. No one beyond herself knew of the longing, and -she attributed it all to discontent, and tried to stifle it. - -At last one evening she understood. The inordinate longing for speech -rushed over her. - -But how to manage it? It is all very well to find out what you want to -do—but how to do it? There was only one way—only one way, at any rate, -that suggested itself to her, and that way was prayer. - -Now, her religious education had not been exactly neglected, but Rosalie -was one of those heedless creatures who hear a little and invent a great -deal. - -She had been told with great piety by her aunt of the great golden -Serpent, its wonderful power, its relentless cruelty to those who -crossed or vexed it, its generosity to those who did as they were told, -and from those few rudimentary remarks she had built up a little golden -temple of her own, quite an unseen spiritual affair, in which to worship -the Supreme Being of Lucifram. She certainly gave to the gorgeous -Serpent many qualifications she had never been told it possessed, but -what of that? She was but a poor, helpless creature at best. But with a -reverent, far-away love she had always worshipped the Serpent, although -as a sex she had been given to understand he reckoned her somewhat -inferior. - -But now, sitting up in bed, there came to her one of those terrible -convictions, never to be misplaced, that are in themselves the sheerest -madness or the sheerest sanity, that she must get her tongue untied. And -the Serpent, being the strongest of all powers on Lucifram, was the -likeliest to do it. - -Next afternoon at five o’clock saw Rosalie kneeling in the famous -temple, her head buried in her hands, praying in the silence as only -sincerity and helplessness can pray. - -“Oh, Serpent, give me my tongue! Let me talk,” said she, a most natural -request when coming from a woman. - -Then she went home quite comforted, as only the simple can be. - -“One does not pray for nothing,” she thought “I feel the Serpent heard -me.” - -And that night she was so happy, she did not notice her uncle’s troubled -look and silent way. She did not mean to be selfish, she was thinking -purely of her prayer. - -Some weeks went by, and every day she walked to the temple and prayed: - -“Oh, Serpent, give me my tongue! Let me talk.” - -But no answer came to her prayer, and at last she got tired of kneeling -down among the empty pews. The building was so big that she felt quite -far away, so she picked up her courage and went up the big aisle, right -up through the choir stalls to the steps rising towards the altar, -hidden by the curtains. It was legitimate for any woman to go so far. -She was perfectly within her right. So she went up the steps and knelt -down quietly beside the golden railing. - -And there she prayed to the unseen Serpent—prayed, and believed it heard -her. Then she went home. How near she had been to that Unseen Power! How -fervently she had prayed! The Serpent always answered prayer, always -looked after the helpless. - -On going home her ring at the door was answered by a neighbour with a -white face and swollen eyes. - -What was the matter? - -An hour ago, soon after she went out, her uncle had been brought home -after a stroke. Since then he had died, just after the arrival of the -doctor. - -Rosalie sank back against the lobby wall, her hands by her sides, her -eyes filled with horror. - -“Your aunt is upstairs in the back bedroom,” said the neighbour, who had -told the story as quietly as she could, as gently as its tragedy -allowed. - -Rosalie pulled herself together and went upstairs, trying the bedroom -door at the back. It opened, and she was thankful. Her aunt sat in a -chair, her head buried in the pillow of the one spare bed. Rosalie went -to her and touched her shoulder. The elder woman moved slowly, and then -sat up, smoothing her grey hair. - -“I’ve been here long enough,” she said dully. “I must go and see to -things. Sit here, Rosalie. It isn’t for you to be about.” - -Her dull grief repelled all sad advances. From the time that Rosalie -found her lying there cramped against the bed she showed no further -signs of weakness, no further signs of giving in, till the funeral was -over. - -Then when the blinds were drawn up once more, and the November light had -flooded the room, she took her foster daughter in her arms and wept as -only a broken-hearted woman growing old can weep. - -“We went to school together,” she said at last, twisting her wet soiled -handkerchief around her fingers. After that she scarcely mentioned her -husband again. - -But now time showed a great difference in the little household, in -addition to its greatest loss. Money troubles and worry, of late months -thickening ominously, had helped to bring about the sudden end. There -were no more happy meals at tea-time, no bread to toast, nothing but the -barest, rude necessities of life. For they were poor, so poor that they -scarcely knew how to look the future in the face. Both were very -helpless. - -The elder woman in a few short months had grown old, shrunken, and thin. -She tried at times to smile bravely, to take interest in life and -neighbours, but life and interest had gone for her in the old playfellow -and life love. And more and more each day since her uncle’s death -Rosalie felt the want of speech. She could give none of that bright -assistance that was needed. No better than a living shadow she was bound -to go about the house. Yet still she went to the temple to pray in -humility and faithfulness. - -And then, as the spring came round, she heard vague, disquieting rumours -of the little house being shut up. Her aunt was going to live with a -married brother, whose wife had little in common with her, and she -herself, Rosalie, was to be sent to a Home for the Deaf and Dumb and -Blind, a large charitable institution, greatly enlarged and improved -upon by the munificence of a dead millionaire, one Geoffrey Todbrook by -name. Insufferable thought! To separate her from the only human being -she had learnt to love, shutting them each within a dungeon of -strangers! “O God! O Serpent!” What of the prayer of months, to give one -atom in the multitude the powers of speech? Prayer of presumption! Its -punishment the taking away of everything that makes some lives worth -living, the precious gift of freedom. - -And yet Rosalie set her lips hard, there was no drooping, and went once -more, with faith supremely high, but heart all wrong and tortured, to -kneel and pray to God within the temple. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - THE GOLDEN SERPENT - - -The afternoon was cold and gloomy, and by the time Rosalie reached the -temple the little light that ever came there had quite died away. There -were no Americans in Lucifram, no English tourists either, consequently -the sacred building from morn to eve was silent as the grave except for -matins and for evensong. But evensong was held at seven, and now it was -but four. - -Rosalie’s heart was in that terrible state of aching which approaches -physical pain. Speechless, she knew herself quite helpless. - -For lack of speech she must be separated from one who had suddenly grown -more helpless than herself, one whom she could not bear to part with, -one who had grown accustomed to her great defect, and had never labelled -on the door those words: “Home for the Blind—the Deaf—the -Dumb—Incurables.” - -“Once I get inside there I am dumb for ever,” she cried to herself, as -she stumbled up the darkening aisle. “Oh, I cannot go—I cannot! I want -to live like other people. To be free—free—free!” - -And so she knelt down beside the altar railings, and buried her face in -her hands against its golden bars. - -“Oh, Serpent, let me speak! Give me a tongue like other people have. I -cannot go to that asylum—I cannot really. I cannot live without my aunt. -We are all in all to each other. What good am I if I remain a speechless -log? I might as well be dead.” - -No answer. Darkness and silence. That was all. The impenetrable hardness -of it sank to Rosalie’s heart. Suddenly she got up and looked round -cautiously, with pale face and dark-rimmed eyes. There was no noise. -Nothing moved in the empty building save herself. Silent and trembling, -she took a step forward inside the railing, then another, and her hand -touched the crimson curtain. Again she looked around, assured herself -again that she was quite alone, silently drew back the heavy fold and -stepped within. The lights upon the altar, burning by day and night, -changed the dull gloom to brightness. Her wandering, awe-struck gaze -fell full upon the Serpent, its head and jewelled eyes all shining -underneath the slowly swinging lights. - -Here, then, was the hidden God that all things worshipped. This was the -God who punished some, rewarded others, and wore the creeds of ages on -its three-pronged tail. Her eyes were dazzled by the brilliancy, but the -Serpent’s wisdom gleaming from those curious eyes attracted her. - -“Give me what I want! Give me what I want!” she whispered, and stretched -out her white arms till her hands had clasped behind the Serpent’s head. -Then she leant forward and pressed her lips against the cruel, hardened, -lifeless fangs, and whispered yet again: - -“Give me what I want—just so that I may serve you!” - -As silently she unclasped her fingers, rising to her feet. She passed -down the three steps leading from the altar, and became aware, with -beating heart and sudden tumultuous fear, that she had been watched. - -For, stepping from the side way, came a stranger, stopping her progress -outward to the other side of the veil. - -“What is it that you want?” he said. - -In his eyes there shone the priceless worth of wisdom’s jewels, giving -them in their brilliant expression something of the same impenetrable -light the Serpent’s had. - -Rosalie became confused, and mixed the two together. How could she help -it, seeing both had come together? But no words were there for -utterance. She raised her hand to her mouth, her eyes to his face—eyes -that had grown in sadness and in beauty throughout a lifetime—and then -she shook her head. - -“Dumb?” said he. - -She nodded. - -“Is that what you came to pray about?” - -Again she nodded. She looked up at him, and her eyes sank. After all, it -was the secret of a life, for none knew of these daily visits to the -temple, and now a stranger had discovered it—the secret which had been -guarded so jealously all these years. - -“And you come in here to pray often?” - -She shook her head vehemently, and pointed outside. - -“I see. You stay outside?” - -Again she nodded. - -Then he held the curtain aside, and she passed out, he following her. - -The church without was black. - -Rosalie gave a muttered cry of dismay—the building was so large, its -pews, and steps, and labyrinths all so intricate. But her companion -produced a light that glowed like a thin taper, but burnt with a clearer -and a stronger light, and plainly lit the church around them. - -“Never trust to the church to give you light,” said he whimsically, -“unless, as now, you penetrate to the Holy of Holies!” - -Rosalie smiled; she felt it was but polite, unaccustomed as she was to -strangers. - -Together they walked down the long aisle, and once she stole a glance up -at him sideways, with great curiosity, to see what he was like. But the -stranger was looking at her, and she bent her head downward again. She -evidently did not possess the gift of sweet unconsciousness of self. - -“I presume you wished to come away?” he said at the end of their -journey, before he opened the heavy doors. - -She nodded. - -Then he laid his hand upon her shoulder. - -“The Serpent must be very cruel and hardened if he withstand such a -prayer as that you offered.” - -There was more amusement than pity in his voice and expression. Rosalie -felt, but did not understand it. Never had anyone in her narrow life -been able to put so much expression into a mere hand-touch. In gratitude -she could have taken and kissed it many times. - -They passed out on to the high steps leading from the temple. The rain -was coming down in torrents. The street lamps glistened through it, and -the passers-by were infrequent. - -“How are you going home?” he said. The outside world seemed to have -separated them. - -She pointed to her feet. - -“Walking? Well, hurry and don’t get wet. It would be a pity to spoil the -prayer by leaving no time for its fulfilment. Good-night!” - -Then he moved away a step or two, and she stopped to put up her -umbrella. Suddenly, however, he turned round, and came with quick -strides toward her. - -“See, here is my card. When you have made headway with the Serpent, and -received an answer to your prayer, come and see me!” - -And he scribbled on the back of the card “Admit Bearer,” and then handed -it to her, once more leaving her standing on the steps. - -Then Rosalie, having succeeded in getting up the umbrella, and gathering -up her skirts, turned in the direction of home. It was a walk of about -twenty minutes, and all the way she thought of the stranger, of his -interesting face, deep eyes and mellow voice, his hand laid so kindly on -her shoulder. She remembered, also, that sudden perceptible change when -outside the church, a mixture of harshness and coldness and pride, more -shown in his manner than his words. - -“I wonder what he was doing inside the curtain?” she thought. “Perhaps -he had gone there to pray like me. I hope I did not disturb him.” Then -she sighed. “He looked a rich man, and he could say whatever he wanted -to. There could be nothing he was wanting half so much as I.” - -On reaching home she was met by her aunt. As soon as they were seated at -the frugal tea, the lady explained that a Mr. Ellershaw, an acquaintance -of her dead husband, had called that afternoon to see her. On hearing -how matters stood, and the separation that was imminent, he had told her -of a post of caretaker he knew to be vacant, where the work was to look -after a large building in the city let out in flats to different -business men. There would be a certain amount of work to do in -connection with this—and he did not know whether either of them would -care for such a post; but it was there if they wished. It would ensure -them living together, four rooms in the topmost storey. Rosalie looked -across her tea-cup and nodded her head eagerly. - -“You like such a prospect?” her aunt asked quietly. - -She nodded again. - -“It will be very hard work, and I am not as strong as I used to be.” - -Rosalie held out her hands and looked at them triumphantly. Then she -pointed to herself, and smiled. - -“You think you could undertake some of it?” - -So together they wrote a letter accepting the post, and a week later -left their old home, with all its memories and associations, to settle -in a fifth storey dwelling amongst the skylights. - -Rosalie felt her prayer in part was answered. They were not to be -separated after all. Hard as the work might be, it meant freedom and the -company she loved. She was content, went to the temple, knelt humbly and -returned thanks. Then she went on praying for a voice with a faith born -of simplicity and her own idea of God. - -One day a priest found her praying there. He inquired the cause. Like -the stranger, he was not long in finding it. He put his hand upon her -head, and blessed her in the name of the Serpent’s three tails. Then he -went back to the priests’ lodgings, and kept his story for supper. He -was a jolly man, of the earth earthy, and his idea of the Serpent was -that his golden coils were lucrative. The priest was not bad-hearted; he -was simply mediocre. But he had a sense of humour—and who, indeed, but -the soured and stupid have not?—and the idea of a girl kneeling by the -altar railings (he had never seen her, as on that one unique occasion, -step beyond) praying persistently to be allowed to talk when plainly she -was physically beyond it tickled his sense of funniness. He laughed and -shook till the tears ran down his face. - -“And she believes it—_that’s_ the biggest joke,” he cried. “Believes -that if she prays long enough the Serpent will weary or turn merciful, -and fulfil her prayer.” - -“According to our history of the past, with its wonders and miracles, -that is not so impossible as it seems,” said one, more thoughtfully. - -“She’d best jump back a hundred year or two, and cap one miracle by -another, then,” remarked a third. - -“What did you say to her, James Peter?” asked a fourth. - -“Oh, I blessed her, and prayed to the Serpent to look serious, and the -request was granted. ’Twas a miracle on a small scale, I can assure you. -I could have roared right out.” - -“What is she like to look at?” put in a fifth. - -“Pretty—sad-looking—just the sort of woman to get an idea. That is the -sort we can’t afford to quarrel with. They tip so handsomely on -Sundays.” - -“Little or tall?” - -“Oh, tall! Medium, at any rate. Couldn’t smile if she tried. Sacred -liver of the Serpent! What a sermon for one of you fellows with a love -of sentiment to preach on Sunday.” - -“Wait till the woman is made whole, and sitting in the congregation. -Then our fortunes are secured,” said another drily. - -And in this respect the priests of the Serpent were very different from -our own. Amongst themselves they never acted the hypocrite—the heathen -idolaters! - -So next day, when Rosalie went to pray, one or two passed in and out -silently to behold the phenomenon. After a time they grew accustomed, -and took no further notice of her. After all, a woman might as well -spend her time in an attitude of humble devotion. Experience generally -proved those to make the best sort of wives. - -Rosalie and her aunt had been established a little over six months in -the new home, and the work was so hard and unaccustomed that it was -beginning to tell on both of them. - -The older woman was little better than a breakdown before she came, and -gradually without much complaint, but growing silence, she sank into the -bed of weakness more. It was a sickness from which she never rose. - -She had been too old to face these sudden changes, was not made of the -stuff that endures, or not enduring, fights. So then this cloud had only -risen in mockery to sink the heavier. Where was Rosalie’s prayer of love -and thanksgiving? - -The last week of her aunt’s illness was very strange and unreal to -Rosalie—strange and unreal when, after the second funeral within a year, -she sat alone in the little empty four-roomed storey. - -Her hands, roughened, though not coarsened, by hard work, were clasped -between her knees. Her head had sunk forward on her breast, her open -eyes saw nothing. - -Vaguely she hoped that she might be the next to go, thought of her -prayer for speech, and dashed the bitter tears from her dull eyes. What -of her prayer? Perhaps to the Serpent it sounded nothing more than -clamorous presumption and self-will. - -Again she had been offered the shelter of the Home for Deaf and Dumb by -those who recognised her sad position. Was she ungrateful? Many poor -waifs there were, she knew, in that great city, with none to help them -to the scantiest food and shelter. - -“I can’t believe you’re either kind or just, and I won’t pray to you any -more!” she cried inwardly, jumping up fiercely at last. “I wasn’t made -to be without a tongue. I wasn’t! I wasn’t! You haven’t the power to -give me one; that’s what it really is.” - -But no bricks and mortar fell to punish such an outburst. - -“What have I done that I should be left here alone?” she continued. “I -want to go along with aunt and uncle. You know I do. I can’t live here -alone.” - -But there was no answer. Gradually a calmer spirit came over her, -together with a wish to find out that sphinx-like secret that wrapped -itself in icy silence. - -“What’s the good of making me want to talk if you won’t let me?” she -asked. - -Out of the vast silence a voice seemed to shape itself at last. - -“Give up! Sacrifice!” it said. - -It was such a very beautiful voice, and yet so very cold, that Rosalie -shrank from it. Sacrifice was such a heathenish thing! Besides, what was -there to sacrifice in the way of a tongue—she hadn’t got one, not a -serviceable one, at any rate. - -“The Serpent’s will comes first with all believers,” cried the same -voice out of the silence. - -“I wish we could agree,” said Rosalie, with no disrespect, and then fell -a-thinking. - -Yes. After all, it came to the old, old thing. A clashing of wills—one -human, one divine—if such it could be called. And therein lay the only -sacrifice that God or the Serpent ever needed. It meant the sacrifice of -will. - -Slowly and clearly the truth unfolded itself. If her faith were pure and -unselfish, she must be willing to give up longing and praying for that -which was beyond her, and still love and serve the Serpent even without -reward. - -And to what path did her duty point? The thankful acceptance of a -shelter that was offered, a gentle surrender without bitterness into -God’s hands. An ending of a prayer He thought fit not to answer. - -It meant a great deal to Rosalie. The priest had laughed at her -simpleness in expecting the performance of a miracle. Perhaps would all -else had they heard it; but to her it was a very real thing, the outcome -of real belief, that left a shattered feeling of disappointment when the -ending came. - -“I thought the Serpent always answered prayer when it was real,” she -said, and felt suddenly like one moving uncertainly in unknown lands -amongst a host of strangers. - -The time was drawing round to autumn again, and now that her aunt had -been removed, arrangements were being made for her going. Within the -week, she had been told, she would go the Home. Those who had interested -themselves on her behalf did not like to think of the lonely girl. The -doctor who had attended the aunt and uncle had very kindly made it his -business to remove all delays, such as often took place for those who -were admitted. - -Another woman, older and stronger, and more accustomed to the work, was -engaged. She had been there for some time before her aunt’s death. -Rosalie, in this new and quiet mood, recognised the kindness that had -been shown to her on all sides. But though she was truly thankful, she -could raise no enthusiasm. The next day, when afternoon came, she -dressed herself as carefully as her worn clothes would allow, and went -once more towards the temple. - -But with what different feelings! For two years past she had gone always -with the same earnest prayer, with no doubt of its acceptance, and now -she was going to give up the prayer and everything that made her life -worth living. - -It was just such another wet, dull day as that a year ago when, with -excess of feeling, she had drawn aside the sacred curtain and stept -within the Holy Place. - -To-day, as usual, she went and knelt beside the railings. All was -growing dark. The same silence, the same utter emptiness, pervaded the -temple now, as then. Now, as then, the great longing seized her to pass -within the veil. So silently she rose, drew back the curtain stealthily, -and stept within. The Serpent’s steadfast gaze demanded her first -glance. Then she looked round, but perceived no stranger. Assured, she -ascended the steps and knelt beside the gorgeous table. With tenderness -and love, the outcome of simplicity and pure devotion, she clasped her -hands once more about the Serpent’s head, kneeling before it. - -“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her lips close to the terrible mouth. “I -made a god of my own tongue instead of you. But now I understand. And, -oh! Serpent, teach me the right way to live, and keep me from growing -bitter.” - -Then, as before, she imprinted a light kiss, tender and loving, on the -unkissable mouth, and silently bowed her head some minutes on the table. - -Then on a sudden Rosalie rose, her eyes wide open, and stared at the -golden god. They stared in wonderment, but growing understanding. The -light of dawning wisdom was in her eyes. - -One minute, two minutes, three, passed away. She turned round suddenly, -emerged into the church, dark now as once before about a year ago. A -light was in her hand; she cared not how she came by it, but partly -knew. - -A priest from one of the choir stalls was watching her, with a feeble -candle in his hand. - -He called out “Treason! Blasphemy!” to see a woman thus emerge from -behind the sacred curtain. It was James Peter. - -Rushing forward, he slipped over a footstool, and fell down heavily. His -light was extinguished. Down the vast aisle, with the lightness of a -spirit, Rosalie ran. Her eyes were laughing, a flush was on her once -pale cheek. - -James Peter, rising, followed her. He puffed and groaned at every -priestly step. - -But when the door was open she turned and nodded to him in the distance. -The door closed. He was in darkness. He had followed solely upon her -light. - -Not till the lights were brought for Evensong did he extricate himself -from the toils of the massive building. Then he told his tale. - -“I tell you she turned round at the door and called to me ‘Bon soir, -monsieur! Adieu!’” he cried for the third time to his companions. - -“Good Lord! What does it mean?” said one. - -“Was she not dumb?” asked a second. - -“As dumb as the Serpent!” replied James Peter. “She went into the Holy -Place, and is cured.” - -“A woman in the Holy Place!” - -“Yes! I called ‘Blasphemy!’ but the damned footstool tripped me! Had it -not been for that I had caught her and brought her up before the great -High Priest.” - -“A footstool tripped you!” - -“Don’t speak so sneeringly, brother Thomas John. I said a footstool -tripped me.” - -“And you lost the woman?” - -“What could I do without a light?” - -“Strike matches.” - -“I followed her eyes till the door closed, and forgot about them. -Besides, not being a smoker, I never carry any.” - -“Did you say you found a woman in the Holiest Place?” asked others, -crowding round. - -“I did not find her there, I saw her coming out.” - -“Coming out! And never stopped her?” - -“No!” - -“But we must find her. What is her address?” - -“I don’t know. What’s the punishment when we have found her?” - -“In olden times it was to have her tongue torn out by the roots.” - -“But the Serpent had just given her one, I tell you.” - -“Nowadays, I expect, the punishment will be modified. Strict silence on -penalty of death, maybe.” - -“But if the Serpent has given her a tongue, who then dare take it away?” - -“How has the Serpent given her one?” - -“I tell you, before she was dumb.” - -“Impossible! No woman was ever so afflicted—worse luck!” - -“I tell you she was dumb, and is cured. She said to me at the door, ‘Bon -soir, monsieur. Adieu!’ Very pretty words,” and he mimicked the tone and -gesture. - -“This is sheer madness. There is no sense in the words!” cried another. - -“Is it necessary for women to speak sense?” asked James Peter. - -All the others laughed. He looked dangerous. And so they talked, and all -gesticulated. But the mistake was on the part of James Peter—in part, at -least. - -He never heard the lady speak. It was his own imagination which coined -strange words without meaning. - - - - - CHAPTER V - THE MASTER - - -Rosalie outside the temple never paused, apparently, to think. She did -not take the direction of her old home, but flew on as if scarcely -touching the ground towards that portion of the city where lay the -mansions and the ancient park. The usually crowded streets were almost -deserted, the rain kept wayfarers within doors. Nothing hindered her -rapid movements onward. - -Greensward Avenue was one long vista of shining pavements, dripping -trees, and glistening street lamps. Here and there brighter lights shone -from the entrances to houses. But on Rosalie sped till she came to the -central house, which stood a little back behind high iron palings. - -The door had two leaves, and opened inward from the centre. There was a -vestibule beyond, and then another double door of thickest glass, -polished and cut to shine like diamonds. Above the hall door a deep red -lamp was burning, which cast its light well out into the street. The -only furniture within the vestibule was a broad chair of oak, and a -massive umbrella stand all carved with hideous faces, very ancient, no -doubt, but not exactly beautiful. - -Rosalie noticed these as she stood on the top step touching the bell, -and because each face was very fascinating she would have continued -looking at them had not the inner door opened upon the instant. - -It was not a creaking door. It opened noiselessly and swiftly, and in -the doorway stood a man. - -He had none of the superabundant dignity generally associated with the -servants in rich houses. His hair was not powdered, his dress was plain, -and black. - -Rosalie, so swift and impetuous until now, came to a standstill. She -looked at him, and he at her. She had no voice with which to explain her -errand, and suddenly remembered her only chance of admittance there was -the card. For it was to Marble House she had come, the house of the man -whom she had met in the temple just a year ago. - -“What is it that you want?” he asked. These were the exact words with -which she had been greeted by the master. - -Then she remembered the card was hidden away in the bosom of her dress -in a little silken bag she had made in an idle moment for it months ago. -She must produce it, that was evident, and trust to Providence to do the -rest. She turned round towards the many-headed umbrella stand, and began -to extricate the card of introduction. The man stood there waiting, and -when she turned round, flushed and flurried, holding the card, and -glancing at him suspiciously to trace the smile upon his lips, she found -nothing there, not even surprise. He evidently was old enough to be -beyond it - -Rosalie pointed to the back; he read it, then motioning her to sit in -the chair facing the hydra-headed umbrella stand, went in once more -behind the polished doors and closed them after him. - -The door opened silently again before long. - -“Come this way,” said the low, serious voice. - -The doors swung to behind them. They entered upon a large square hall. -It was not brilliantly lighted, and the farther end was dim and scarcely -discernible. But every thing was rich and massive, and highly polished. -It reminded her in some indescribable way of the temple she had just -left. Carved oak chairs, just as those seen in the sacred building, -lined the walls, standing round in a perfect square, except where -interrupted by some other article of furniture. These chairs seemed to -be endless. - -As Rosalie passed along she became accustomed to the dimness, and -noticed from this farther end a spiral staircase ascending to the upper -floor. It was built in polished oak, and went round and round in a way -that reminded her of the Serpent’s coils. It led to a gallery that -overlooked the hall on all sides. - -Three double glass doors of the same peculiar lustre as the entrance -(which made the fourth) led out of this hall, one on each side, one -being beyond the staircase. - -Her companion passed through that door to the left, and she followed -him. They came upon a corridor, and stopped before the last door on the -left-hand side. Her guide knocked, then opened it. There was no name to -give; Rosalie had no tongue to speak, no card to show. Then the door -closed again, and she found herself in the presence of the man whom she -had come to seek. - -He was sitting by a table reading. A fire was burning in the hearth near -by. A high shaded lamp stood on the ground beside him. The floor was -thickly carpeted, the walls were lined with books from floor to ceiling, -one other door led from the room. - -The Master looked up as she entered, then got up, pushing the book away. - -“So you have come,” he said. He came forward and held out his hand. - -Rosalie, trembling and uncertain, returned the hand-shake, nodding. - -“What! you cannot speak yet?” - -She shook her head, but as he was withdrawing his hand she clutched it -eagerly, unconscious of anything but this one little sinking straw of -hope. - -This time he looked at her more closely. “What is it?” he asked. - -She raised her other hand to her throat and mouth, then pointed to him, -her eyes full on his face. - -“I’m not the Serpent,” he answered, and he shook his head and tried to -disengage his hand. - -But Rosalie’s fingers tightened with a fierceness and determination -altogether foreign to her. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flashed angrily; -she gave one little imperious stamp with her foot. - -The Master looked at her and smiled—a smile that travelled from his eyes -to the corners of his mouth. - -“I see. You do not intend to go till I have performed an—an -impossibility?” - -Rosalie nodded in all seriousness. - -“It is the gift of speech you’re wanting?” - -She nodded. - -“It’s very dangerous; leads people into all kinds of indiscretions.” - -She shook her head vehemently. - -“You think you differ from the commonality?” - -But Rosalie neither shook her head nor nodded. She only looked up at him -with no other expression in her eyes except dumb entreaty. - -“Come to the light,” said he, “and try to look less ghostly. After all, -if you can’t be cured you can’t. You’re brave enough to stand that, -aren’t you?” - -Again she nodded, still looking at him. - -He pushed the shade of the lamp up. “Now open your mouth,” he said. - -Obediently Rosalie did as she was told. - -“Why, you’ve got a tongue!” said he, bending his brows, and stooping -down to her. “Can’t you move it?” - -But Rosalie could not. It was complete paralysis of the muscles -evidently. - -“Come with me, and I’ll see what I can do.” - -He led her through the other door into another room. The walls of this -place were lined with chests and cupboards with glass fronts, containing -curious instruments. In the centre was a long table. The room was also -fitted up with chairs such as dentists use, and a marble washing basin -fitted with water pipes, hot and cold. - -Yet when the light was turned on the general effect was cheerful. -Rosalie found it so, at any rate, for renewed hope was springing in her -heart. She sat down upon the chair he drew for her, and watched him -whilst he went to the cupboard and brought out something shaped like a -very long darning needle. It was thick at one end, very fine and pointed -at the other. Then from another shelf containing flasks of glass -polished and cut he took a liquid shining like silver, and poured some -into a tiny crucible. With these he came back to her and placed them on -the table. Then he looked at her, smiling. - -“This will hurt you very much,” he said; “but you asked for it, so you -will have to go through with it.” - -Anyone but Rosalie would have noticed that the expression of his face -was not particularly kind. But she noticed nothing. She leant back -against the head-rest; he placed his hand upon her eyes. After that they -were too heavy for her to open them. She opened her mouth instead. - -It was a curious kind of pain, if pain it could be called. Never in the -whole of her life had she ever felt anything so soothing. She could not -tell how long the sensation lasted, but it ceased very suddenly. Then -although her eyes were closed she felt (this was the curious part of it) -a strong light shining into her mouth, right back to the roots of that -so far silent tongue. It was a light that had the power to heal and -strengthen, and for a long, long time it played upon every unused nerve -and delicate muscle. At last all was over; the master laid his hand upon -her eyes again and opened them. - -“Now,” said he, “the miracle has been performed. Are you satisfied?” - -From long custom Rosalie nodded. - -“You must speak,” he answered, laughing, “if but to show your -appreciation of the gift.” - -“Thank you,” she said, quite perfectly, with just a little break in the -word that took nothing from its sweetness. - -“Did you find the pain very bad?” - -“I nev-er felt it.” - -“Never felt it?” he repeated. “Give me your hand.” - -But her pulse was even, and he frowned. - -“Where did you come from when you came to me?” he asked, bending his -eyes down to hers with a keen, penetrating glance. - -“I came from the temple.” - -“From the prayer?” - -“Yes.” - -“Then you—” but here he stopped. “I see,” he continued, but in reality -he didn’t. - -“Did you expect I should be hurt?” she asked. - -“I can hardly believe you were not.” - -“But I should have screamed. I made no sound.” - -“That was scarcely possible. For my own part, I always think it best to -guard against screams, they are so unhelpful and unnecessary.” - -Now Rosalie looked at him, with eyes just as keen and penetrating as his -had been. - -“Why do you stare at me?” he asked, smiling. - -“To see if you are disappointed.” - -Here he laughed. - -“Be careful. Your tongue is getting rather out of bounds already.” - -“I think you would rather have enjoyed my being hurt.” - -“Well, what can you expect in a country where vivisection is disallowed? -One must take what little pleasure one can get.” - -Here he led the way back into the outer room. When they were both -through he turned the key and put it in his pocket. - -“I rarely go in there,” he said. “Few folks are fool enough to come to -me. I have no ambition to become a doctor, and I shun the popularity -that hangs upon the quack.” - -They were both standing by the table now, one on either side. Rosalie’s -eyes were fixed dreamily on a large glass ink-stand in the centre of the -table. She was beginning to feel indescribably tired. There was nothing -very wonderful in this, the operation had lasted longer than she was -aware. But though tired, she was feeling remarkably light-hearted, -longing to get outside and give herself two or three decided pinches to -become convinced she was awake, and that this great good fortune of her -prayer had at last come to her. - -But over and above the tired feeling and the unreality came gratitude to -her deliverer. The thought of this made her suddenly raise her eyes and -look across at him. - -Certainly his face was very proud, and the shadows lurking underneath -his eyes and at the corners of his mouth gave it a dark, forbidding -expression. It was not altogether pleasant. - -“The feature I like best is his nose,” thought Rosalie. “The one that -frightens me most is his mouth; the one that most interests me is his -eyes.” - -“You have been very kind to me,” she said. “Is there any way in which I -can pay you back?” - -But he shook his head. - -“I do not think you could give me anything tangible, but perhaps you -yourself will be able to suggest something.” - -Rosalie flushed to the roots of her hair. “I haven’t anything,” she -answered. - -“Not even a soul?” - -“What is that?” - -“That part of you which under certain conditions becomes immortal.” - -“That part of me belongs to the Serpent.” - -“The Serpent passed you on body and soul to me.” - -“The Serpent did nothing of the sort,” she answered vehemently, if -slowly. “I—I—I—” - -“You what?” - -“I nothing.” - -His eyebrows came together in a frown. - -“Yes,” he answered quietly, “there is one way in which you can pay me -back. Speak the truth in answering my questions.” - -“I’ll try,” said Rosalie meekly. - -“Then put an ending to that ‘I—I—I—.’” - -“I came because I thought it was time. I got a little bit tired of the -Serpent.” - -“Why?” - -“Because it never took any notice of me.” - -“Are you sure?” - -Rosalie’s curious eyes looked up innocently and met his. - -“Does that surprise you very much?” - -“I confess that it does.” - -“Do you know, I’m very tired. If you don’t mind, I’ll come again -to-morrow and talk it over.” - -But he shook his head, and smiled again. - -“I don’t think I’ll let you go,” he said. “Your answers are not very -satisfactory. Besides, where is there you can go?” - -“Oh, with a tongue one can go anywhere and do anything.” - -“You think so?” - -“Yes.” - -And here from sheer weariness and exhaustion she slipped down in the -arm-chair beside her. - -It had been a very hard day, and the ending had told upon her strength. -She had not fainted, however, she was only sleeping. - -Mr. Barringcourt crossed the room and looked at her very narrowly, even -dropping on one knee to examine her features more nearly. - -It was a very pale, thin, and tired face he looked at, delicate and -fragile, with dark lashes, and faint blue shadows underneath the closed -eyes. The backs of her hands were rough, and he took each up and -examined it as though he had been a fortune-teller—back and front. - -Then he began walking slowly back and forwards through the room. His -face, though handsome after a kind, was certainly not of the most -prepossessing; and yet in repose his expression was one of weariness and -contempt. - -“What shall I do with her?” he muttered. “Keep her to prevent blabbing -as usual. Keep her and bring her up to talk properly. When she is old -enough, or rather fit enough, I’ll let her out on a lease long enough to -take her to the devil. Always the same! everlastingly the same! coming -and going, with nothing to give and everything to ask. Dull to the very -core, chattering like magpies, smiling and aping God knows what! Rich -and poor, all of them alike. And for some reason best known to myself I -stand it. What an excellent patient fisherman I should make!” - -Then he sat down again very deliberately in his chair, and drew the book -he had been reading towards him, at the same ringing a bell. The same -man who had admitted Rosalie answered it. - -“Take her away, and see she doesn’t get out,” said he, without looking -up; and the other evidently understood so well that he never asked a -question. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - NEW EXPERIENCES - - -When Rosalie awoke next morning, it was with a pardonable sense of -bewilderment and estrangement. - -Instead of the little bedroom, bare of carpet, and devoid of all -furniture, except the poorest and the simplest, she found herself in one -that was really palatial. - -The bed had deep hangings of red silk, and she was not up to date enough -to tear them down as breeding microbes and all things unhealthy. Then by -degrees, her eyes travelling beyond the bed, she gradually became -acquainted with the other things within the room, washstand, -dressing-table, sofa, chairs; and here Rosalie gave a squeal of delight, -and jumped out of bed, for there opposite was a wardrobe, as respectable -as carved black oak could make it. But it was not the wardrobe that -attracted her attention so much as the mirror set full length in its -middle door—a mirror larger than she had ever seen before or dreamt -about. Rosalie was not vain, but she had always entertained a great -longing to see her feet at the same time as her head, and had thought it -only a luxury and privilege accorded to the rich. When she had become -accustomed to this novel vision she walked over towards the windows. -Here, so far as beauty was concerned, a disappointment waited on her. -All three of them looked upon a high blank wall opposite. It gave a -sense of extreme dulness to the place. - -Just then her explorations and discoveries were cut short by a knock at -the door, and on it entered a woman carrying a tray holding a cup of -tea. Rosalie, who understood nothing of this sort of thing, stared at it -and the bearer. - -“I’m quite better now, thank you,” she said, shaking her head. “I was a -little tired last night. I’d rather not have my breakfast in bed, if you -don’t mind.” - -“This is not your breakfast,” said the other, in a voice so well -modulated that many seemingly more exalted might have envied it. - -“Oh, what is it?” said Rosalie, standing still with her hands behind her -looking at it. - -“A cup of tea to help you to dress.” - -She had the sweetest voice imaginable. Rosalie thought it the saddest -she had ever heard. - -“I shan’t be ten minutes dressing,” she replied decidedly. - -“Quite an hour, I should say,” replied the other. - -“Oh!” gasped Rosalie. Then she clapped her hands together, caught up the -flowing robe and skipped across the room to the bed. - -“If I’m not dressed in ten minutes, my name’s not Rosalie Paleaf.” - -Then with a sudden change to alarm in her manner, she turned round, -growing alternately hot and cold. - -“I say, where are my things? I can’t see them anywhere.” - -“I took them away last night. There are your clothes for the day.” And -she directed her attention to a chair on which some very pretty and -expensive _lingerie_ was laid. - -Rosalie looked at it, then drew herself up. - -“I want my own clothes,” she said. “These are too good for me; the -others might be poor, but they were my own.” - -“I am afraid you cannot have them; you must dress in these.” - -The tears rose in Rosalie’s eyes. - -“I want my own clothes,” she said again. “Auntie and I cut and made them -together. They were the last pair of stockings that she ever knit.” - -There was no answer. - -“Won’t you bring them back?” said Rosalie at last, the tears still -standing in her eyes. - -“I am afraid it is against the rules of the house.” - -Then Rosalie got up with a sigh, and prepared to get inside the first -garment. - -“There is your bath first.” - -“I never bath in the morning; I always leave that till night.” - -“I think you had better do that which is customary.” - -Again Rosalie sighed, and followed her tormentress to an adjoining -bath-room. - -And so it took her well on into the hour before she was dressed, ready -to leave the bedroom. - -Mariana, who stayed to help her, insisted on arranging her hair, and -after all arranged it much more becomingly than Rosalie herself had ever -done. - -But the black robe with its red silk facings, that fitted her companion -so becomingly, suited her not at all. The fit was as perfect as it could -be, but otherwise she looked quite out of place in it. - -Breakfast was served on the same floor as that on which her bedroom -was—three rooms away. - -All this portion of the house evidently looked out on to nothing better -than the wall mentioned before; but the beauty of the interior -compensated for outside gloom. Rosalie was charmed with everything she -saw, though somewhat awe-struck, and she took her breakfast shyly from -the hands of what she described to herself as the handsomest man she had -ever seen. She also made a mental note that he must be brother to the -man she saw downstairs. - -Rosalie had not gone all this time without grateful remembrance of that -ordinary gift she had come to possess; but somehow there was some vague, -indescribable thing in her surroundings that took away a full -appreciation. She was longing to be outside, to talk with people more -like herself, not all in black with red silk facings and knee breeches, -and voices modulated to a soft perfection. - -Rosalie’s voice was sweet, but it was not the sweetness found in theirs. -Hers was the outcome of expression, theirs of classical harmony. But how -was she to get away? She dare not ask Mariana, for she was getting an -uncomfortable idea that Mariana, from no ill motive, always thwarted and -opposed her. So, watching her opportunity, she escaped and passed down -the spiral staircase. - -In the big hall below all was silent as death. Evidently no one was -about. - -She ran across to the big doors with a palpitating heart—outside them -was freedom, she scarcely knew from what. - -Alas! Another hand had touched the large glass handle before her own. - -“Your card, madam. Your passport out.” - -“I have none. I shall not be away five minutes.” - -“I am afraid you cannot go.” - -“But I must go.” - -There was no answer. Exasperated, Rosalie stood and faced him. - -“You let me in, and you can let me out.” - -“The orders are that you are not to pass.” - -“Whose orders?” - -“The master’s.” - -“Then take me to him.” - -“He is engaged at present.” - -“I’ll go myself, then.” - - - - - CHAPTER VII - A DEBT OF GRATITUDE - - -As Rosalie passed along the corridor her sudden decision was sealed by -growing annoyance and a longing, almost amounting to fear, to get away. - -With scarcely a pause she knocked upon the door, that door through which -she entered last night. Without stopping she opened it. Mr. Barringcourt -was there alone, at a table littered with papers, writing. He was indeed -busy and engrossed, for on her entrance he did not raise his head, till -accosted by her voice, and then he looked up sharply enough. - -“You!” said he, bringing his eyebrows together in that dark frown which -Rosalie had seen last night, and seeing had never forgotten. - -“Yes. I want to go out.” - -“Impossible!” said he, with an impatient gesture of his hand, and -returned to the paper. - -“I want to go out,” she repeated. “And you have no right to stop me.” - -“In my own house I have every right. Go away, you are interrupting me.” - -“So are you interrupting me.” - -He laughed, not altogether kindly, and looked up at her again. - -“That is little short of impudent.” - -“I don’t care. I want to go out, and if you won’t give me leave, I shall -take it.” - -“Take it then, by all means.” - -“That man at the door won’t let me.” - -“Knock him down. It will be one way of surmounting the difficulty.” - -“He is such an elephant. I disliked him the very first time I saw him,” -she replied with energy, and as much simplicity as the truth occasioned. - -“Well, go away and fight it out with him; watch the door, and bounce out -when he’s not looking.” - -“I won’t do anything so undignified. I shall make friends with the -kitchen people, and creep out that way.” - -“The kitchen door leads into the garden, and the walls are high, and the -gate is locked. I keep the key myself, to ensure no one getting to the -stables.” - -“Then give me leave to go out at the front.” - -“Now, why should you want to go out at the front? You have as beautiful -a home as you could possibly wish for. What more can you want?” - -“Fresh air and human beings.” - -“You have them here.” - -She shook her head. The tears rose in her throat, and were very hard to -choke down again. - -“It’s the dismallest place I ever came to; and I’m no use. The people -here always contradict me.” - -“You are the first person who has ever complained of them; and your -opinion goes for nothing, your own conduct leaves so much to be -desired.” - -“In what way?” - -“In my time I have experienced much ingratitude, but never any quite to -equal yours.” - -“I—ungrateful?” - -“Most decidedly!” - -“What are you wanting from me?” - -“Quiet submission.” - -Rosalie’s eyes opened wide, her lips parted; her expression was one of -unfeigned surprise. - -“What’s that?” - -“To do what you’re told quietly. Now you _know_, there is no excuse for -your not complying.” - -“But to submit means to stay here.” - -“Of course!” - -“But I can’t. Oh, I can’t really! Anything but that.” - -“Nothing but that. You come to me with the most unusual request, and I -am fool enough to put myself out of the way for you. Then you expect to -go away, or rather slip away, without any more words about repayment. -And when you are brought back, all this squalling.” - -“Nice people are quite content with ‘Thank you.’” - -“I’m not nice, and ‘Thank you’ never appeals to me.” - -“But if I stay here I can do nothing.” - -“Yes, you can mope.” - -“In return for a tongue?” - -“Why not? It would be the height of self-sacrifice, and the perfection -of thanksgiving.” - -Her serious eyes met his thoughtfully. “Do you really wish me to stay -here?” - -“I not only wish, but am determined on it.” - -“Then my self-sacrifice can never be spontaneous.” - -“You mean you are changing your mind. You are wishful to stop?” - -“Not wishful, but if you want it, I’ll—I’ll try to settle down more -cheerfully. After all, it’s only just.” - -“That is so.” - -“Shall I often see you?” - -“Never. I am not fond of inflictions.” - -He spoke so drily, and the words were so unkind, that Rosalie’s wistful -face grew paler. Yet still she argued to herself it would be selfish to -wish to be free, to have a tongue and everything. And after all, the -stranger was so clever that he must of necessity know best. - -“Will you let me out just for an hour?” she asked at length, with a -voice greatly subdued from the first clamorous outburst. - -“Not for an hour.” - -“But I have an aunt, and she is dead. I shouldn’t like strangers to take -what once belonged to her.” - -“Where is your uncle?” - -“He is dead too.” - -“Your people?” - -“I have none.” - -“Where then, in the name of all the devils in Lucifram, do you intend to -go to?” - -“I thought when people knew I had miraculously come by a tongue they -would—” - -“Ah! I thought as much. You want to behave with all the absurdity of a -hen that has laid an egg.” - -“Indeed!” said Rosalie, flushing. - -“You want to get out just to cackle.” - -She was silent. - -“You admit it?” - -“I admit nothing but your want of manners.” - -“What a waspish, vinegarish tongue yours is.” - -“It’s the fault of the doctor, then. If one cannot produce a sweet -instrument one might as well admit oneself a failure.” - -“How was I to tell? Your face was so deceptive.” - -“Maybe so is my tongue. I was only speaking in fun. Let me out for one -hour. Lend me twopence, and I will return, having spoken to no one, and -in the right frame for being submissive.” - -For a short time he was silent. At last he said: - -“Promise me faithfully you will return.” - -“I promise you most faithfully.” - -“Within the hour?” - -“Yes.” - -“You understand perfectly that my reason for bringing you back is not -for any personal gratification I should derive from it. It is simply so -that you may not obtain any great or particular pleasure from having a -prayer perfected.” - -“You speak plainly enough for the dullest mind.” - -“I’m glad. Now you may go. And remember, come back if you have any sense -of gratitude.” - -So Rosalie passed out again into the farther hall. - -“I have permission to pass,” said she at the door, and then she stood -outside. - -It seemed to her when she reached the parapet that she had been out of -the world for years. And oh! to be back in the world again! To see and -hear the sights and sounds, so commonplace and ordinary, yet to her -stilled ear so sweet again. Never had that terrible silent mansion -struck her as so terrible till now she stood amongst the noise of work -and life once more. - -One hour of freedom. One hour with the light, jogging world, and then to -pass once more beneath the shadow—a silent spirit in a silent world. The -’bus rattled on, taking its own slow time towards that quarter of the -city where she had lived. She found the upper storey empty, and none had -missed her. Yesterday the doctor had told her his intention of coming -for her at four o’clock to-day. It was not yet quite twelve. - -Each of the little rooms was now quite bare, except the tiny attic -called her bedroom. In it were gathered the few trivial things she -prized as belonging to days that were less dark than these. There was a -necklace of coral, a collar of lace, a pair of gloves, kid, backed with -astrachan, the last present her uncle ever gave her; a tiny brooch of -gold, left by her aunt, and always worn by her, and but little else. One -other thing she found, a book that in that planet compares nearly to our -Bible. Sadly and lovingly she placed them all together, and kissed them -many times, her eyes blinded with tears; and then a voice whispered: - -“Why go back? Go to this doctor. Tell him everything, for he is kind. -None would blame you for not returning to that prison mansion, even -though under a promise. It was an unfair advantage.” - -But Rosalie shook her head. - -“I must go back, because I promised. I asked everything in return for -nothing. And God, in His own good time, will make the dark path plain.” - -The struggle gradually died, and Right conquered. - -At last she was ready to go. Glancing round for the last time, she saw -upon the mantelpiece a key, a solitary one upon an iron ring. - -“It belonged to uncle’s safe, the one that had so little in it,” she -thought. She took it up. Its dull appearance suggested so much dull -tragedy to her. “I’ll take it with me,” she thought, and slipped it in -the pocket of her dress. - -Then she passed down the broad stone steps out once more into the -street. Her brief holiday was over. The short hour was almost passed. -She clenched her hands together, and drove back the blinding tears that -struggled in her eyes. Gradually she drew nearer to the Avenue—how -eagerly she had rushed there on the night before! The great black marble -mansion came in view, its dusky grandeur having a certain sinister -lowering to her understanding eye no different from a prison. - -“I wonder when I’ll walk along this street again?” she thought, and -ascended the marble steps, hiding all trace of past emotion. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - A BOOK OF INSPIRATION - - -“The master wished to speak to you when you returned,” the attendant at -the door said to her when he answered it. - -Rosalie crossed the hall, feeling that vague sense of satisfaction that -generally accompanies honesty, and which at times appears so poor a -recompense. - -This time on knocking she waited for the answer. When it came she opened -the door and entered. - -Mr. Barringcourt was in the act of filing papers, and generally tidying -up the littered table. - -“You are quite punctual,” said he. “And what is more, astoundingly -honest.” - -“You did not expect I should return, then?” - -“No! Honestly speaking, I thought I had seen the last of you.” - -She shook her head. - -“Gratitude brought me back at the expense of inclination.” - -“You should have yielded to temptation, and run away.” - -“Perhaps my action in returning was not quite so commendable as you -think. I was much tempted to run away, and then—” - -“What?” - -“I could find no place to go to.” - -“You have no appreciative friends?” - -“Not one.” - -“The doctor?” - -Rosalie looked up quickly, and flushed. “Why do you speak of him?” - -“I’m sure I don’t know,” he answered drily; “I believe I was meaning -myself.” - -“Oh—yes—of course,” stammered Rosalie. “I thought you meant Dr. Kaye.” - -“Then you had notions of appealing to him?” - -Rosalie laughed. “You are not the pleasantest of companions.” - -“You might as well make a confidant of me. I am the only one you will -find for some time.” - -“Well, yes, then,” she answered, looking across at him with a timid -glance. “I thought of running to the doctor, informing him you intended -making a prisoner of me in a free city, and asking him to give me the -benefit of his protection and advice.” - -“And you thought better of it?” - -“You told me if I was grateful I should return. I was grateful, and -though there seems something very topsy-turvy about the recompense you -ask for, there is something in it that appeals to my sense of justice.” - -“That is why you came back?” - -“There is no other reason.” - -Mr. Barringcourt all this time had been sitting in his chair by the -table. Rosalie was standing at the farther side of it. Now he got up and -walked over to the fireplace, where the fire was burning brightly. - -“What is your name?” he asked. - -“Rosalie Paleaf.” - -“Brought up by an aunt and uncle?” - -“Yes.” - -“Always dumb, and therefore very much out of the world?” - -“Yes.” - -“Where did you learn the little bit of knowledge you possess?” - -“I listened to it. I was not deaf, you know.” - -“Could you read?” - -“Yes, I can read. That is how I used to spend most of my time.” - -“Travels, novels, or biography?” - -“A little bit of both—all three, I mean. ‘The Life of Krimjo on the -Desert Island,’ which was my favourite, contained a little of all, I -think.” - -“Ally Krimjo was only make-belief,” said he ruthlessly. - -“Indeed he wasn’t! He had gone through everything he spoke about, the -shipwreck and the loneliness, the savages and everything. Make-belief! -Oh, Mr. Barringcourt, have you ever really read it through?” - -“Yes, at the time it was written.” - -Here Rosalie laughed again triumphantly. - -“That shows you don’t know the book I’m talking about at all. The man -who wrote it lived hundreds of years ago. Quite three hundred, I should -say.” - -“At that rate I must be mistaken. Then if you are so fond of travel and -biography, I have some volumes here all on that subject, written, too, -about the time you speak of. You will have a great deal of time lie -heavy on your hands; perhaps you would like some?” - -Rosalie looked dubious, and her eyes travelled to the imposing-looking -book-shelves. - -“I never found anyone quite to come up to Ally Krimjo,” she replied -regretfully. - -“You refuse my offer?” - -“Not if you give me something interesting. But as a rule I don’t like -biographies, because the people always die. Now, Ally Krimjo—” - -“You’re quite right,” said Mr. Barringcourt grimly. “Ally Krimjo hasn’t -died, so he deserves to live. Have you the Book of Divine Inspiration?” - -“Oh, yes! I don’t suppose there’s anyone without that?” - -“Here’s one with pictures; look at it.” - -He took down from a shelf a heavy and ponderous volume of the Book of -Divine Inspiration, as written and compiled in the planet Lucifram, and -carried it without the least apparent effort to the table. - -“Now come and look at the pictures. I’ll show you a few, and then you -can take it away with you and look at the rest.” - -He opened it at the first page—the frontispiece. It was a picture of the -Golden Serpent, so lifelike that its appearance was most startling. The -book, likewise, must have possessed the property of magnifying all -contained in it, for suddenly the head and coils and tails seemed to -enlarge to the same gigantic size as that within the temple. - -“I don’t like it. Don’t show me any more of that book,” Rosalie said. - -“But why?” he asked, with apparent surprise. - -“Oh! I don’t know,” she answered, almost whispering. “It’s the Serpent. -I don’t like it.” - -“But you are the young lady who was kissing its head, and throwing your -arms around it.” - -“Yes, I know. That was because I did not understand.” - -“And now?” - -“Oh, now! I think it’s cruel and deceitful.” - -“That’s nothing short of blasphemy. The Serpent is a god!” - -“Do you believe that?” she asked, suddenly looking up, and fixing his -eyes with a look as keen as it was serious. - -Two pairs of eyes, dark and light, each encountered one another—each -trying to read the other’s secret—and both for once inscrutable, dark -and light alike. - -“Yes. I’ve got a pretty good mental digestion; it can take most things,” -he said, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile. “Look! -Miss—Miss—What’s your name, by the way?” - -“My name is Rosalie—Rosalie Paleaf.” - -“Well now, Miss Paleaf, let us turn to the second picture.” - -Reluctantly she turned round once more, to behold a forest jungle, as -fine and beautiful a scene as one could wish. Its size and realism made -her put out her hand to pull a twig of feathery foliage, when suddenly -she was startled to see beneath it a pair of eyes, wild and yet -intelligent, gleaming out at her. It was an animal shaped and sized much -like a monkey. Behind it was another of the same kind, a partner in its -joys and sorrows evidently. - -Rosalie sprang back. - -“Look at that hideous thing!” she cried in horror, pointing to it. Then -recollecting herself, she said, with an effort at more self-control and -appreciation: “Are—are they extinct now?” - -“I don’t know, I’m sure. What would _you_ say?” - -“I sincerely hope so, I’m sure. Put it away. There is something uncanny -about that book. That creature startled me.” - -“It’s an acquired taste. Here we come to another.” - -He had turned onward to a third picture, in which was shown a woman -sitting on the roots of a tree, the expression of her face long and -uncompromising, full of discontent. She wore no clothing, but her long -and silky hair was sufficient covering. She was of no particular beauty, -and her expression of discontent, mingled with curiosity, subtly -introduced, and having little intelligence to enlighten it, gave the -girl a feeling of repugnance. In one hand she held a fruit of brilliant -scarlet; a mouthful was being eaten, and its taste did not seem -altogether to her liking. - -“What do you think of this?” - -“I like it very little better. The man who painted it, judging from her -face, understood human nature, and had very little mercy for it.” - -“There you are mistaken. It is a caricature,” he answered softly, -“painted one day by a man, and sent to his dearest friend—a woman.” - -“But she is eating a tomato.” - -“Of course! Let us continue.” - -The next picture showed this same woman standing beside a man who sat -upon a rock cracking nuts with his teeth. As Rosalie looked the scenes -began to move and become lifelike, pretty much in the same way as a -cinematograph. At first the man did not perceive his companion, but -turning suddenly, in the act of taking a broken shell from his mouth, he -saw her holding the scarlet fruit, from which she had taken no more than -two fair mouthfuls. On seeing this his jaw dropped, his eyes expanded. - -Thin, far-away voices came from the picture, aiding the illusion. - -“What for did you that?” said he, in a voice devoid of beauty and -expression. - -“To find out,” she replied, in the same manner. - -“But we die—we die—if we eat fruit of blood colour!” he cried, with -superstitious horror in his voice. - -“We no die, we live and grow fat. I eat, I live; but I miss something.” - -“What?” - -“I know not. Eat, and tell me.” Her look was cunning. - -“I dare not.” - -“It is the best of all kinds—but for one thing.” - -“And what is dat?” - -“Eat, and tell me. You be my faithful love.” - -Gingerly he took it in his hand, applied it reluctantly to his lips, -sucking the juice alone. - -“It wants—” - -His low forehead wrinkled. He could not formulate his thoughts. - -“What?” - -“It wants—” - -And then all round a million voices echoed: - -“_It wants but salt!_” - -“Salt!” he shouted, drowning the harmonic voices in his new discovery. - -Hereupon the woman fell upon her knees, and almost worshipped him, -kissing his hands and feet, weeping tears of pleasure on them. - -“Scrape me some up,” he uttered, taking advantage of her low position. - -She did it with her finger-nails. - -“Now stand back whilst I eat it.” - -“But I—I found it.” - -“Stand back, goose, and watch me eat.” - -“I found it first,” she whimpered. - -“Here’s a seed—that’s all you’re worth,” he answered. “Now I go to find -more,” said he, jumping up valiantly. “You bake bread and get me butter -for when I return.” - -“I come too!” she cried. “You eat the whole while I worky work.” - -“Fool—toad—weasel—monkey! bake me the bread, or I your neck am -breaking!” - -And with that they disappeared from the page. Only the picture in its -first stage remained visible. - -“That’s not pretty at all,” said Rosalie. - -“Few things are in real life,” he answered. - -“But that was caricature.” - -“Not in the way you think. It was caricature, I grant, but with a -difference.” - -“Yes. I don’t think the eating of salt with tomato could make a man -really superior, do you?” - -“No; but it was the fact that he discovered salt.” - -“But he didn’t. He was as ignorant as she till the voices whispered it.” - -“Nevertheless, he caught the first sound.” - -“Yes, of course,” said Rosalie thoughtfully. - -Here Mr. Barringcourt laughed. - -“You do not appreciate its true absurdity,” he said; “but that, maybe, -is scarcely necessary. Now, that picture, or series of pictures, was -painted by a woman, and sent to the man who had sent her the first.” - -“But how about the voices?” - -“Oh! she was no ordinary woman, by any means.” - -“Was she quarrelling with the man?” - -“No. They were amusing each other in wet weather.” - -“They paint most beautiful scenery, but I don’t like their men and -women.” - -“You are not intended to. Now, shall we go on?” - -“No; I’d rather not, really. It gives me headache, and I’ve had it ever -since yesterday afternoon, except for that little bit after you had -healed me.” - -“You are tired of the Book of Divine Inspiration?” - -“I’m tired of the pictures; they are no better than caricatures and -skits. I don’t think that’s a good book to keep in a house at all.” - -“You astound me! Were you not brought up to worship the Serpent?” - -“Yes; but the Serpent disappointed me.” - -“I see. You only worship a God who is content to spoil you?” - -She shook her head. - -“I don’t know,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll settle down again before long.” - -“I hope so. Has it ever struck you, Miss Paleaf, how completely you are -in my power?” - -“No,” she answered, looking at him quickly. - -“Well, you know, I found you in the temple, in the Holiest Place—the -place forbidden to women. Do you know what the punishment for that -transgression is?” - -“No.” - -“To have your tongue torn out by the roots.” - -“Impossible!” - -“Not in the least. In this one interview with me you have said enough -against the Serpent to set all its scales and coils bristling, and its -fangs working.” - -“I have said nothing.” - -“‘Cruel and deceitful,’ were not those your words?” - -“Yes; but to tear my tongue out would not be to prove it otherwise. The -Serpent’s wisdom should assert itself and prove the opposite. You were -also in the Holiest Place.” - -“Of course; but for a man the offence is not so capital.” - -“Tomatoes and salt,” said Rosalie, and she laughed. He laughed also. - -“Your impudence is only beaten by your ignorance.” - -“As often as I offend solely with my tongue, you must take the blame -yourself. I think you must have oiled the wheels too freely.” - -“It is a good thing you have no relatives, Miss Paleaf; they would have -missed you, disappearing so suddenly.” - -“Under the circumstances, I suppose it is.” - -“Were you happy with them?” - -“Oh, yes! As happy as the day, when we were in prosperity. But this last -year has been nothing but shadow and poverty, and I don’t think I ever -realised how many things I had to be thankful for till they were all -gone.” - -“The gift of speech does not compensate for all things, then?” - -“I don’t know. I have had it so short a time.” - -“You are longing for freedom, and can find nothing to compensate for the -bitterness of its loss. Is not that it?” - -“I don’t think it is only that. My aunt was only buried the day before -yesterday. I should be very callous and ungrateful if I could forget her -so readily.” - -“Yet you cannot deny the events of the past day have put a great gulf -betwixt you and her.” - -“Yes; I could think she had died a year ago along with uncle. Poor -thing! It would have been so much better if she had done so, I think.” - -“How long do you think your term of imprisonment will last?” - -Rosalie shook her head. - -“I don’t know. The future has always been a blank to me. I never built -those castles in the air that many love to build.” - -“How about your prayer to find a tongue?” - -“I don’t know. I longed to speak, but never looked into a future crowned -by successful prayer.” - -“Well, your term of imprisonment here lasts three years.” - -“It is a long time.” - -“On the contrary, reckoned justly, a very short one.” - -“What do you mean by ‘reckoned justly’?” - -He took up a bundle of filed papers from the table. - -“These are accounts of long standing,” he answered gravely. “It is -strange how quickly a high rate of interest accumulates. What you wipe -off in three years or less by ready payments, some are leaving till a -future date, till it accumulates and doubles, then maybe trebles, and -some day swamps them.” - -Rosalie’s eyes opened with unfeigned surprise. - -“But whom is the money owed to?” - -“To me.” - -“Have you all those debtors?” - -“These are a few—a very few. People find out the softness of my heart, -and then they come to me. Women with stingy husbands and extravagant -tastes, men with limited brains and boundless ambition. Each and all, -with many other pleas and reasons, call upon me and win me over to their -way of thinking. I am always won. No simple-hearted fool within the -country gives in more easily than I when I can gain security of person.” - -“But don’t you tell them that you expect return?” - -“No; I like them to think there’s one generous person in the world.” - -“But that is scarcely fair. You ought to tell them what you want.” - -“The argument would be beyond them. Besides, it would come then too much -like making bargains. I am no shopman. Those who seek me find me. Others -stay away.” - -“But this is nothing short of madness. How can you make people pay -without a signature or anything?” - -“I never jest but when it suits my purpose. And for madness, I grant -upon the surface it may appear as such. But each bill works -backward—item by item, year by year. Mathematicians and philosophers -looking through them would find a subject more than fascinating.” - -“But if when you show your bill the people refuse to pay, and say they -never got the goods?” - -“Why, then, one little snip and the fabric ravels out again, loop by -loop, as it was knitted up. Back it goes to the fundamental working, as -rigid as machinery, as true as time, and ends in nothingness.” - -Rosalie was silent for a time, and then she said: “Is that how it is you -are such a rich man?” - -But he shook his head. - -“I am poorer than many people think,” he answered. “And richer -too—wealth is comparative. But now,” he continued, with more energy, “I -have come to the conclusion that your term of prison life shall not be -quite so dull as you expected. You may come to me at any time, provided -I have leisure. Moreover, you may borrow any book; amongst all these -there will be surely some to suit you, even though it be but a uniquely -pictured book of Ally Krimjo.” - -“But what are you expecting in return? You say you like people to esteem -you generous, and are not in reality so at all. This generosity to me -may end in nothing but a high percentage. It may bring me down to -nothingness.” - -“You have the advantage of being young, you see. I might end your debtor -if I tied you up in an unsympathetic prison, and let you out at last, to -find I was too late, and your spirit killed by solitude.” - -He was looking at her with a puzzled and thoughtful expression, as if -trying to weigh or settle something in his mind to his own satisfaction. - -“I think you were easier to understand dumb than you are speaking,” he -said at last. - -“Well, yes, because I would be less complex,” said Rosalie wisely. “I -was minus something before, now I’m not.” - -“Maybe. When will you come to visit me again?” - -“To-morrow morning, if I may. From twelve to one?” - -“Yes. We’ll arrange for that hour twice a week. It will be neither too -long nor too often to bore either of us. The rest of the time you’ll -spend as best you can within the house and gardens.” - - - - - CHAPTER IX - MARIANA - - -Rosalie went away again, upstairs to that corridor on which the rooms in -which she lived were situated. Another meal was there in readiness, for -the hour was now past one. She ate with little heart, the silent -attendant by her side unwittingly depressing her. When the meal was over -she went to a little sitting-room which Mariana had shown her, taking -her small parcel of belongings with her, and shut the door. - -Here a fire was burning, the only one in that particular wing, for they -seemed to be chary of fires here. The room had little of brightness -about it otherwise. Its walls were panelled oak without design or -ornament. An oaken table on three legs, a few high-backed chairs, a rug -before the fireplace, polished boards the floor; that was all. A narrow -window looked out upon the blank wall opposite, giving the room a -gloomy, darkened look. Yet there was something about this simply -furnished room that Rosalie liked. It was less luxurious than any other -in that house which she had visited. - -She drew one of the high-backed chairs toward the fire, and sat down, -her feet upon the fender. She had taken her small Book of Divine -Inspiration from the parcel, and sat holding it idly in her hands, -staring at the flames. After all, it was comforting to be able to hold -something, something familiar and not strange, something that had been -handled and read by loving hands and eyes, though now they were passed -away for ever. - -For Rosalie, despite her behaviour downstairs, was only playing a part. -Laughing or answering, there had been ever in her heart the Serpent’s -tooth. It gnawed and stung with almost unendurable pain. O God! to be -but rid of it for five sweet minutes. - -So far as Rosalie was concerned, there were no late dinners in this -house of mystery. She had ordinary tea at five o’clock, and then the -lights for the evening were brought in, and the red curtains drawn. -About seven Mariana knocked at the door, and entered. - -“This is my evening for playing,” said she quietly; “would you care to -come and listen to me?” - -“Thank you; I should like to come very much. What do you play?” - -“Play? Oh! I always play on a violin; it’s my favourite amusement. It’s -the way I always spend my night out.” - -“Night out,” thought Rosalie; “what an expression coming from her lips!” - -Aloud she said: “I’m very fond of music. Have you learnt long?” - -“I don’t remember learning, but I suppose I must have done.” - -She led the way along the corridor, down the slippery stairs, and turned -in at the glass door leading from the central hall towards Mr. -Barringcourt’s study; but she did not go there. Instead, she paused at a -door next to it on the same side. She passed in, and held the door for -Rosalie to follow. The room within was dark, but it must have overlooked -the Avenue, for lights from the outside shone weirdly in through the -long windows, lighting up short lines of furniture, half a grand piano, -a strip of table, an ottoman, and a piece of wall. - -Mariana turned on one light. It was soft and shaded, but had not -strength enough to illuminate the whole room. The farther corners were -entirely in the shade. - -“Will you not turn on more lights?” asked Rosalie. - -“No; I like the twilight best. I can think and feel better when the -light is low.” - -Then she uncased the violin which she had brought down with her, and -tried the strings, testing them by the piano, which was now a little -better brought to view. - -Rosalie went over to a window—it was the natural instinct of a -prisoner—and looked out of it with hungry eyes. - -Passing, passing, never ceasing, went the traffic, and through the -closed windows came the muffled sound of horses’ feet, and wheels, and -voices. Feverishly she scanned each face as closely as she could in the -distance; but she read nothing on them but what one reads on a hundred -faces every day. Her heart beat with an aching longing to touch the -pavement again with free feet. Three years! It was a lifetime. One day -in a house like this contained an agony of years. - -“I am impatient,” she said, and closed her lips patiently and tight. - -She had forgotten Mariana’s music—in the testing of the chords—till -suddenly, after a short pause, she began to play. - -Rosalie’s attention was first divided between the music and the street. -What was played seemed to fit in with her mood—a simple air of sadness. -But this harmonic accompaniment had its dangers, for by degrees Rosalie -felt her spirits, instead of keeping pace with it, begin to follow. Then -the street claimed her attention less, the music absorbing it. And at -last she turned round reluctantly and looked toward the player. Mariana, -never an ordinary-looking woman, was by the one pale light quite -extraordinary. The long graceful robe she wore made her look more than -commonly tall. Her pretty arms, white and delicate yet, full of a -certain indefinable strength, and the ivory whiteness of her face, had a -curious charm and fascination in the dim lights. But beside her playing, -the musician herself was insignificant. From sadness her notes changed -to melancholy, from melancholy on to misery, from misery to despair. -Despondency, tragedy, hopeless complaint, and restless, weary wandering -on those spiritual wastes where no light comes, or even narrow track to -show that ever pilgrim passed before—this was her music. - -Her face as she played betrayed no great emotion. The brightness in her -eyes spoke more of mental activity and retrospection than of sentiment. -Gradually the listener’s eyes fell on the furniture around. Much of it, -in conjunction with the rest of the house, was of polished oak, carved -finely and curiously. Opposite there was a cabinet museum about the -height of a man, and above it the carved head of some idolater’s god, -growing in clearness as she became accustomed to the light - -But surely the music had affected it. Its ugly eyes, protruding and rid -of all intelligence, altered slowly to expression almost human. For -every quivering note struck from the violin found a resting-place within -these staring orbs, filling them both with misery. Their dumb speech was -terrible, but when Rosalie moved away, more ghastly still by reason of -their persistence. She looked away. There on the floor beside her was a -tiger-skin, a rug of worth and beauty, with a head and glassy eyes. Its -eyes met hers. Their dumb misery told a tale beyond the power of speech. -Shivering, she turned and moved away. - -When would Mariana stop and take her from this wretched room? She had -moved within range of the statues, those dim, misty forms of whiteness -which rose like ghosts with out and upstretched arms to beckon her. -Faces of cold, white, and deathly beauty, and eyes! Oh, terrible! all -gazing into hers with that sad gaze and straining misery, reaching to -the height and depth of agony. - -It was enough. Had they but wailed, or cried, or uttered sound, the -spell had broken. But here was silence—ghastly, terrible, because so -secret and so unexpected. - -At last the tension reached a limit. On all sides Rosalie encountered -ghastly faces of long-suffering pain to which the music seemed to form a -fitting background. Turning hurriedly to escape one face belonging to a -child, set in a picture hung upon the wall, her glance fell by chance -upon the mirror and revealed herself, strained horror in her eyes, with -blanched cheeks and open lips. She scarcely recognised who stood there. -It was enough. She crossed the room half running, and clutched Mariana’s -arm. - -“How much longer?” - -“The time is up. Alas! how quickly it has passed. Never again till next -week, and then but two short hours. And yet you ask me, ‘How much -longer?’” - -“Can you play like that, and never feel it?” - -Mariana shook her head. - -“It’s the only time I ever feel, the only time I ever live.” - -“But it is pain and sorrow.” - -“Better than emptiness. Now I have lost the only thing I love. All week -it lies quite mute, a thing of idleness, bursting with life. And when I -take it up it utters so long a wail, so sad a sigh, that my heart -returns to it, and we weep together till pain becomes an ecstasy and -sadness joy.” - -“Oh, Mariana! what a life is yours!” - -“No different from the rest. A life of grey to-morrows that come and go -in endless twilight.” - -“Will you feel like this to-morrow?” - -“No. To-morrow brings a calm existence. To-night I fill my heart with -tears.” - -“What was it brought you here?” - -“Oh! I loved not wisely, but too well, this little fiddle.” - -“And has it brought you to this pass?” - -“Yes, if pass you call it.” - -“Then, Mariana, give it up!” - -For her the dimness of the room had vanished, its fantasies and ghostly -shadows thrown off with one great effort. She grasped the other’s arms -in both her hands, and stared at her, taller by her sudden force and -fierceness. The other looked at her, and then recoiled. - -“Give it up! The only joy of life—the only life beyond a dull existence! -Why, I should die—the very thought would kill me.” - -“No! It would make you live!” - -But Mariana only looked at her, and shook her head. - -“Rosalie, can I play? Can you make anything out of it?” - -“I never heard such music; but it is wrong—it’s the wrong sort.” - -Then Mariana came close up to her, just as before she had drawn back, -and, with a sudden weakness, drooped her head upon the other’s shoulder, -clasping her hands about her waist. - -“Don’t say that!” she cried, her voice little above a whisper. “I cannot -bear it. I can do nothing more. There is no time. Once or twice I asked -the Master would he listen, and he did. But he said there was no tune in -what I played, no harmony of any sort—that all was a delusion, a fancy -of my brain.” - -“But that was not the truth.” And Rosalie held her very tight, that -woman who in the morning had seemed so strong to her. “And he only said -it because he knew you would be fool enough to take it all to heart.” - -“Hush! hush! It’s treason to talk like that.” - -“Nothing’s treason but failure. You follow my advice, and give up the -fiddle. Then after a while you’ll get it back again in such a way that -even Mr. Barringcourt will not be able to say there’s no tune in it.” - -Mariana looked at her, with surprise and misunderstanding on every -feature. - -“I can’t give it up. I’m bound to play for two hours every Wednesday -night, harmony or discord.” - -“Why bound?” - -“It was the stipulation I made when first I came here. It’s the kind of -thing one can’t break through.” - -“You don’t want to?” - -“No, I don’t; but if I did I could not.” - -“You would rather live for two hours a week than seven times -twenty-four?” - -“I don’t understand you.” - -“No, and never will.” - -It was Mr. Barringcourt’s voice, and he spoke from the door, through -which he had entered. - - - - - CHAPTER X - A CONVERSATION IN SHADOWS - - -When Mr. Barringcourt was in it, the great black house held its -mysteries and shadows; without him they seemed aggravated fourfold. Not -long after the Wednesday evening music, Rosalie stood in the centre of -the hall suddenly smitten with the most chilly fear she had ever -experienced in her life. No noise, no sound, not even the wind without, -penetrated those walls of iron marble. Shadows and silence in endless -vista met her eye. Shadows and silence like a sigh congealed, changed -from nothingness into reality. - -Dreading the loneliness, and her own want of nerve to go upstairs, she -went to the door and accosted the keeper there. - -“Does this house frighten you?” she asked. - -“Not at all,” he answered, most politely. - -“That is strange, because I feel most frightened here. It is not -haunted, is it?” - -“What do you mean?” - -“There are no—no ghosts?” - -He smiled. “That depends upon your imagination, I should say.” - -“I want to go upstairs, and I dare not. You don’t think me very foolish, -do you?” - -“Where is Mariana? Does she not look after you?” - -“Yes. But she went away, nearly an hour ago.” - -“Shall I call her?” - -“Oh, please do!” - -He touched a bell, and a minute later Mariana appeared coming down the -staircase. She looked as calm as ever. The short outburst of the evening -had died away. - -“I’m sorry to trouble you. But I really could not come upstairs alone. -The house was so quiet that it frightened me.” - -“You will get accustomed to the silence by degrees,” she answered, and -led the way towards the staircase. - -When they reached the little sitting-room where the fire burnt, Rosalie -was pleased to find a white cloth laid there, with supper on it. It was -a very plain repast, but cheerful, possibly because of the bright lamp -and firelight. - -“When do you have your supper?” she asked of Mariana. - -“I have had mine.” - -“What is the time?” - -“Almost ten o’clock.” - -“How late! That is the time I generally go to bed. What time do you go?” - -“As soon as you are settled for the night I shall retire.” - -“Where do you sleep?” - -“In the next room to yours. If you want anything in the night, you may -ring or come to me.” - -“But then I should have to come out on to the corridor. I hate -corridors.” - -“No. My bedroom opens into yours. Your door that opens into the passage -is locked at night.” - -“By whom?” - -“By me.” - -“Why do you lock it?” - -“I don’t know, I’m sure. You are safer with it locked, I expect.” - -“How long have you lived here, Mariana?” - -“Three years this autumn.” - -“And how long has Mr. Barringcourt been here?” - -“The same length of time. I came with him.” - -“And you are happy here?” - -“I could not be happier—under the circumstances.” - -“Were you ever happier?” - -“I think I was once. But it is a very long time ago. I don’t remember -how long, so that it cannot really matter.” - -“Where did you live before you lived here?” - -She shook her head. - -“I can’t quite remember. I think it was a very cold and dark place, and -one day Mr. Barringcourt came and asked me would I like to go away.” - -“And you accepted?” - -“Yes. I wanted to get warm again.” - -“And are you warm?” - -“Yes. Every Wednesday night. If it were not for that I should grow cold -again.” - -A silence. Then: - -“Who lived here before Mr. Barringcourt?” - -“A man who died. His name was Geoffrey Todbrook.” - -“What?” - -“Geoffrey Todbrook.” - -“Why, he’s the man who started homes for incurables. There was one for -the dumb and deaf and blind. I should have gone there.” - -“I have heard he was very charitable. He left this house to Mr. -Barringcourt.” - -“Were they related?” - -“No; I rather think myself the Master had let it to him on a lease. Then -when the lease expired he died, and left a will to smooth all -difficulties.” - -“Was Mr. Barringcourt living in the city before Mr. Todbrook’s death?” - -“Oh, no! I don’t think he had ever been here before. He took me to the -opera one Wednesday night, and he said it was only the second time he -had been there.” - -“The opera? Did you like it?” - -“Yes, I liked it; but it made my head ache. I was trying to remember -something all the time.” - -“Do you often go out with him?” - -“Oh, no; that would be to get oneself talked about. Besides, so long as -we remain here, I am but a servant.” - -“Why does Mr. Barringcourt keep me here?” - -“I expect you have some secret he wishes to discover, otherwise he would -not trouble himself about you. When he took me to the opera it was to -discover something.” - -“What?” - -“I don’t know.” - -“Then how can you tell?” - -“Because, up to the time we went, and through the performance, he was -very affable to me. Afterwards he took no more notice of me, and never -has done.” - -“Don’t you hate him?” - -“Why should I? I had no secret. His conduct was permissible; and I had -rather be left alone.” - -“And what secret can I have that he should be agreeable to me?” - -“I cannot tell. Perhaps, like me, you have none. But if you have, rest -assured you will not leave this house till it has been discovered.” - -“Have you ever had anyone staying here before in the same way that I -am?” - -“Not in my time. People with secrets worth knowing are few and far -between.” - -“Then what can make the Master think such an insignificant person as I -could hold a secret?” - -“I cannot tell. I only said it might be so; there is no other reason why -he should tolerate your company?” - -Rosalie laughed, despite a very uneasy feeling in her mind. - -“Do you ever have company here?” - -“Yes. Last Christmas there was a ball, and we had two or three dinner -parties and entertainments. Lady Flamington generally acts as hostess. -She and Sir James are very friendly with Mr. Barringcourt.” - -“What is she like?” - -“Very beautiful, I think, with very pleasing manners. She must be so to -please the Master; he is so hard to please.” - -“Perhaps she has a secret?” - -“Oh, no; I hardly think so. He makes a convenience of her.” - -“Good gracious!” and Rosalie laughed. “You don’t give him an enviable -character.” - -“I speak as truthfully as my perceptions allow me; but at times I may be -wrong.” - -“And does she not resent being made a convenience of?” - -“No; it is only self-respect that keeps her from falling in love with -him.” - -“Is he then so agreeable to her?” - -“He gives her everything that is not worth the having.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“He gives her everything but love.” - -“But that, with a husband, no one would want.” - -Mariana’s eyebrows rose. “There are double marriages on Lucifram, I’m -given to understand.” - -“Yes; but no one thinks much of a woman who marries twice, unless she is -a widow.” - -“Indeed,” Mariana answered, and was silent. - -“But is Mr. Barringcourt fond of no one?” Rosalie pursued. - -“I never heard of anyone. He is cold and proud, and often takes no -trouble to hide it.” - -“But then there are so many good and beautiful women in the world.” - -“They find partners, perhaps, that need them more.” - -After another silence Rosalie continued: “And Mr. Todbrook—what did he -die of?” - -“I think he went down the back staircase.” - -“In his own house?” - -“Yes.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“He died.” - -“In which room?” - -“The one the Master sleeps in now. There is a portrait of him in the -picture-gallery. To-morrow you shall see it.” - -“What did he die of?” - -“He had quick ears. He heard the spirit voices calling, and he went to -them.” - -“Painlessly?” - -“Like one sailing on a sea of glass. They say his end was merciful; and -I know it was. He suffered nothing—he suffers nothing now.” - -“Is he in heaven?” - -“I doubt there was too little pain for that; but yet I cannot tell. He -may have suffered previously. Men’s lives are strange. And the roughest -rocks are coated by smooth waters. They keep their secrets all too -well.” - -“I’m tired, Mariana. Shall we go to bed?” - -“Yes. When you wish it.” - -So they rose and went together to the bedroom, which had a chilly air in -it after the cosy room. When at last Rosalie was in bed, Mariana -smoothed the coverlet and tucked the bed-clothes in. - -“Leave me a light, won’t you?” - -“Yes; I’ll put it on this table. But there is nothing to fear. An easy -conscience may sleep well here, secure from harm.” She moved away, but -after a few steps returned. She stooped over the bed and kissed -Rosalie’s brow. “Good-night, little one. Sleep peacefully till -daybreak.” And then she went away. - -Big tears rose in Rosalie’s eyes, for the words had awakened in her a -terrible longing for love and companionship, stronger and more powerful -than ever Mariana, in her terribly set existence, could ever know how to -give. For Rosalie felt that she was even now the stronger of the two, -and wept for Mariana’s solitude as well as her own. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - GARDEN AND HOUSE OF SHADOWS - - -The next morning the sensation of waking in such fine surroundings had -lost all its charm. Rosalie awoke with a dull leaden pain at her heart, -that gained rather than lost power as she recalled one by one the -articles of furniture in this new home. The long mirror had lost its -fascination; so had the silken bed-hangings. She did not jump out of -bed, but rather lay there idly, with no wish to rise; oppressed with -such a heaviness that to lie still seemed the only ease from all those -aches and pains that twine around a heavy heart. As the grey light of -early morning brightened and broadened, she curled in among the -bed-clothes, and shut her eyes. - -“If only they would let me lie here, and not disturb me! I would never -disturb them, I’m sure. I feel so weary that the least exertion is the -biggest effort.” - -Then she lay very still for a long time, till at last Mariana knocked at -the door and opened it, bringing the customary cup of tea. - -“I feel so tired, Mariana,” Rosalie said, “and there’s nothing to do. -Don’t you think I might spend the day in bed?” - -“It is against the rules.” - -“Who makes all the rules here?” - -“The Master.” - -“But he has gone away till to-morrow.” - -“That does not excuse us.” - -“But he would never know unless you told. I am tired, really, Mariana. I -could just lie still, and never move an inch all day.” - -“You must get up.” - -“When I get up my heart aches.” - -“That does not enter into the consideration of the rule. You must get -up, or you will be shaken out when the bed is made.” - -So very reluctantly Rosalie rose, with a day of nothingness and -imprisonment before her. She was dressed in about the same time as -yesterday, had breakfast served in the same room in the same way, and -then walked out on to the corridor aimlessly and disconsolately. - -Mariana had disappeared. Although Rosalie tried every door along the -corridor she could not find her. Many of these were locked, and others -she discovered to be bedrooms, furnished much as her own, with the -exception of the little sitting-room and the room in which she had her -meals. - -At last, weary of this, she passed out to the high gallery overreaching -the square central hall. She walked round it, and tried various doors -leading off from it, but all were locked. Below, the dim hall lay in -silence. Nothing of light or life was there, though it was not yet -mid-day. She looked down over the high oaken balustrade, and sighed, and -the echo brought her sigh back to her. She whispered “Rosalie”; the word -ran round the arching dome, and then returned—a mocking, hollow voice -within the silence. So the morning crept away, with no brightness to -speed its dragging hours, no companionship, no occupation. Not a sound -fell on her ear. So still was everything, the house might have been a -City of the Dead. - -At dinner-time she ate mechanically the food they placed before her. To -refuse was simply to raise up insistence. Then she withdrew to the -little sitting-room, to idle away what time would go, to find after -endless waiting that scarcely an hour had passed. Then she got up and -went back to the bedroom to bring her hat, and with the same difficulty -as the day before, reached with safety the foot of the spiral staircase. - -The doorkeeper was sitting not far away from it, reading a paper. She -went towards him, and as she approached him he looked up, and then rose -from his seat. - -“Would you mind telling me which way I should go to find the garden?” -she asked. - -“Certainly. If you will come this way I will take you.” - -Rosalie smiled sadly. - -“Suppose somebody got out or in whilst you are away?” - -“No one would wish to go out, and the door only opens from within,” he -answered. - -He walked across the hall, and she followed him to the glass door behind -the staircase. This door likewise entered upon a corridor with doors -leading from either side of it. The house seemed all doors, but at the -farther end a spacious fernery opened out, the curtains (of deep red) -which shut it off being now looped and drawn back, so that much beyond -was visible. Through the magnificent fern-house he led her till they -came to a door of glass leading down into the garden beyond. - -The doorkeeper opened it, and let her pass through, himself following. - -Outside, broad flights of steps descended by terraces to a lawn of -smoothest grass. The terraces were paved in large squares of black and -white marble, and from the central one a huge fountain was sending up -showers of sparkling water to meet the brilliant sun. Beds of flowers, -all of colours resembling scarlet geraniums, were laid out bordering the -side walks. One magnificent bed of what looked like crimson gladioli ran -up a steep bank bordering the left-hand wall. The high walls themselves -were covered with creepers, all of brilliant red, just as autumn leaves -are often found, and the only relief afforded was that of the dark -foliage of the trees that clustered willow fashion in the rear portion -of the garden. This was a kind of wooded avenue along which a carriage -drive led from the big gates in the outer wall round to those stables -where the Master’s favourite horses were. - -“This is the garden,” said her companion, when he had brought her so -far; “you will return any time before five. After that the doors are -locked.” - -When Rosalie was left alone she walked across the lawn slowly, taking in -all the beauty and striking nature of the scene. The gardens were large. -The avenue and shrubbery beyond were shaded, and provided with many -rustic and artistic seats. Rosalie walked along the carriage drive as -far as she could, and then a sudden and unaccountable gloom seemed to -fall upon her and all things. Just then a sudden bend in the road -brought her full in view of the stables. It seemed to her for one -instant as if against the gloom surrounding her they shone out in -flashing whiteness. They were flat-roofed, though high, and the strong -pillars supporting and ornamenting the building were an exact fac-simile -of those used in the decoration of the temple. - -And standing there looking at it, Rosalie smiled. - -“I wonder whose idea that was?” she thought. “A devout architect and -designer would never have thought of such a thing. But perhaps I’m -mistaken; this may be a private place of worship. I’ll go on and see.” - -So she advanced as far as the building; but whether it were stable or -chapel she could not tell, for it possessed no doorway. She walked -around it as far as she could on either side, till prevented by a wall -of great height, but found nothing to serve as a clue as to the nature -of its use. No sound came from within—none of the odour that generally -characterises such places, either of sanctity or horses—and for the -third time Rosalie walked round with growing curiosity. Marble, marble, -all was marble, cold and hard and lifeless. - -“I really think granite would be a welcome change,” she said, and sighed -and walked away. - -But it was really pleasant and enjoyable to be in the open air. To be -able to look up at a sky that belonged in common to prisoners and free -men, there was some little consolation in that. - -As she emerged once more from the wooded avenue, her eye fell full on -the house. She was surprised and startled at its beauty, viewed thus -from the back. Whereas looking at it from the street it showed as -nothing but a large square mansion, almost ugly in its plainness, it was -from here one of the most graceful and artistic buildings she had ever -seen. It was turreted and towered, with polished oriel windows, shining -with a lustre all their own against the dusky background of dark marble. -The windows on the basement all opened on the ground. - -“I believe this is the front, and the front is the back,” thought she. -“A kind of topsy-turvy, like the rest of things. What a magnificent -door!” - -This last expression escaped her involuntarily and aloud. - -The door from which she had come was a small side one leading from the -conservatory of palms and ferns, but in the centre of this huge -construction of glass was a double door of thick carved glass, or some -substance very like it, of fine workmanship and execution. - -Rosalie went up the many steps towards it, passing the silver fountain -that fell with almost a merry sound into the marble basin. Both leaves -of the door were shut, and the carving represented was that of a temple, -the inner portion, with arched aisles and fluted pillars, and in the -centre an altar, with above it the image of a toad. Below it, on the -steps outside the customary railing, bowed figures knelt in bare feet, -their shoes and stockings at some considerable distance. The -representation was comprehensive. Each figure and detail was drawn with -great exactness and clearness. The curious polish it possessed was its -most striking feature, especially that brilliancy radiating from the -toad. Rosalie bent her eyes closer to it, shuddered to find that there -was something horribly repulsive in such an animal, and then found -herself attracted by the light shining from its head. Its eyes were -meaningless and staring, even in the carved picture, but from its head, -and this she only discovered after steady looking, the light shone very -curiously. Instead of the white light of the rest, this was almost red. -Just a faint tinge of red! All the rest, carved as it were from blocks -of ice, was utterly lifeless. Yet it was this tinge of colour, so subtly -introduced, which made the whole great difference between an -uninteresting and an interesting thing. At last she left it and looked -down once more into the garden. She saw that several narrow paths led -into the shrubberies at the sides. But what struck her attention most -was that glorious rising bank of scarlet lilies and harebells and -gladioli, that extended right down one side to the wooded avenue beyond, -and reached almost to the height of the wall. - -She perceived a narrow winding path led up this bank to its summit, and -there a garden seat was placed. This was the highest point of vantage in -the garden. - -“I believe if I could only get up there I should be able to see away -over the opposite wall, for it’s lower!” she cried excitedly. “Oh, how -glorious to be able to see the city and everything! I’ll go.” - -But alas! from the times of Cinderella downwards, clocks have often had -a knack of striking at an awkward time. And now there came the sound of -chimes, the silver warning, and then the five plain strokes that told -the closing hour of fettered liberty. - -Rosalie re-entered the house. In the central hall she met Mariana coming -from the entrance door in hat and jacket, and carrying a muff. - -“Where have you been?” she cried, running across to her. - -“Out for a walk.” - -“Oh, Mariana! What a shame never to tell me, and never to take me!” And -she took hold of her hands hungrily, and kissed her on either cheek. - -“Why do you kiss me?” the other asked, smiling. - -“To try to get some real fresh air into my lips.” - -“It is not very fresh. There is quite a fog coming on.” - -“Ah! But it’s free air. I feel all the better just for kissing you. But -why do you never take me?” - -“It is against the rules.” - -“But why can you go, and not I?” - -“I’m sure I don’t know. See, I have brought you some sweets,” and -Mariana held out a very pretty box containing a delicious assortment of -chocolates. - -Rosalie took it, somehow more touched than she liked to show by this -simple little act of graciousness. - -“Come and sit with me after tea, and let us eat them together.” - -“I am afraid I cannot. I am always busy in the evening.” - -“What are you doing?” - -“Making a wedding-dress.” - -“Are you going to marry, then?” - -“Oh, no; I’m not making it for myself. I don’t know that it is a -wedding-dress either. However, I am making it very beautifully, and so I -am ambitious for it.” - -“Who is going to wear it?” - -Here Mariana’s brow puckered, and a puzzled, tired look came on to her -face. - -“I don’t know,” she answered. “I expect if I finish it, and no one -applies for it or wants it, it will shrivel up again. For there is no -wardrobe but what is overrun with moths; and the moths here eat away all -colours except red and black.” - -“Then how can you preserve it till it’s done?” - -“By steeping the silk I sew it with in tears. But when the last stitch -is in the effect has gone. The moths cannot perceive the bitterness -afterwards. They eat it all away.” - -Rosalie stared at her, as well she might. - -“Won’t you let me see it?” she asked at length; but Mariana shook her -head. - -“It would be no pleasure to you.” - -“Indeed it would. Let me see it, Mariana, just for one minute. There can -be possibly no harm in that.” - -“The room I sew in is very damp for such as you.” - -“But I’m stronger than you. I’m accustomed to hard work.” - -The other looked at her and smiled, with more sadness than mirth in her -expression. - -“What strange ideas you get about things, Rosalie. The work I do would -kill you in a month.” - -“But you will let me come with you, will you not?” - -“Yes, if you wish it very much. After tea at six o’clock I will come for -you.” - - - - - CHAPTER XII - AN ACT OF DISOBEDIENCE - - -At six o’clock Mariana knocked at the little sitting-room door, and -Rosalie opened it, quite ready to accompany her, armed with the box of -sweets. - -“You must not bring those,” said the elder woman. - -“But I want you to have some.” - -“I’m not like you. I’m not fond of sweets, and have no intention of -making my fingers sticky.” - -Then Rosalie put them down, and followed her in silence and obedience. - -They went downstairs together, and took the door opening into the -central hall to the right, the one through which Rosalie had not yet -passed. - -But at the threshold Rosalie stood still. It seemed to her as if a great -spider’s web was barring their further progress. A breath of darkness -and dampness was wafted out to meet them, and inclination bade her turn -back there and then. Mariana evidently noticed nothing of this -hesitation; she passed through the door, and held it open for Rosalie to -follow. The gigantic cobweb was nothing but delusion evidently, and -melted into nothingness. - -“Don’t shut the door,” Rosalie whispered; but it had closed silently -even as she spoke. - -And here was darkness and cold dampness. She heard her heart beat wildly -in the stillness, and groped for Mariana’s arm. It seemed cold and -lifeless, having no animation. - -“Can’t we get a light?” she whispered, with dry lips, and her voice -sounded hollow in her own hearing. - -“The light is farther down the passage.” - -That, at least, was reassurance. It was Mariana’s voice, no different -from what it ever was, just as subdued and gentle. - -By degrees her eyes became accustomed to the intense gloom, and when -Mariana turned on the one flickering light, she recognised a length of -passage similar to that in the other two wings. But here the doors were -all quite low, and made of plain black wood. There was no attempt at -adornment. The floor was plain wood, the walls, the ceilings, and -everything was dreary, damp, and cold. - -The doors, too, were numbered all in red, and it was before No. 13 that -Mariana stopped. It opened to her touch, and together they entered. - -“This is the room I work in,” said Mariana, and again turned on one -feeble light. It seemed the only one in the chamber. - -The black rafters of oak hung low above their heads, and their heaviness -perhaps helped to increase the gloomy aspect of the place. A long table -of deal ran down the centre, with a chair at either end. This table was -covered with a white cloth reaching the ground on either side. - -Two chests of oak, shabby and worn, were the only articles of furniture -the room possessed. The walls were whitewashed. Here and there the -plaster had fallen from them, with a dispiriting effect. There was -neither fireplace nor window in the room. - -“Can you work in here?” Rosalie asked, looking round with an involuntary -shiver. - -“Yes. One becomes accustomed to surroundings. I never notice them; I’m -too absorbed.” - -She went to the table and drew away the cloth, folding it, and placing -it upon one of the vacant chairs. Below, a shimmer of satin, and gold, -and silver, all strikingly in contrast to the bareness and poorness of -the room, met the eye. - -“How lovely!” said Rosalie, drawing her breath. “Do you know, I thought -that big white cloth was the material, and it looked to my eyes more -like a shroud.” - -“This is only the material,” said Mariana. “I finished it the day you -came, after being engaged on it three years. It is all hand-spun and -woven, but now I’ve put the loom and spinning-wheel away in those big -chests. One does not want too many things about.” - -“But who taught you?” - -“Oh! it is knowledge one acquires. It needs a certain kind of brain and -a given pattern, that is all.” - -Then she went over to one of the chests and opened it, and took from it -a parcel which she untied. It contained a quantity of most lovely lace, -the like of which Rosalie had never seen before. - -“Did you make this?” she asked. - -“No; it belongs to the Master. I found it in the lumber rooms among the -attics, and asked him for it, and so he gave it to me.” - -“Gave it to you? It looks almost priceless.” - -“I know—reckoned from some standpoints. But I liked the design. It is -lovers’ knots, and sprays of lily of the valley. Have you noticed it?” - -“Yes.” - -“It was that that put it in my head about the wedding-dress. When I have -finished, it will be a beautiful creation.” - -“But do not the moths attack the lace?” - -“Oh, no; you see it belongs to the Master, otherwise it would have been -eaten long ago.” - -“But why do you not wear it yourself, if he gave it to you?” - -Again the tired, puzzled look came over Mariana’s face. - -“I have no use for it. Besides—I don’t know. I think it has something to -do with sacrifice or freedom. I can’t tell which.” - -“Will you give it to Lady Flamington, do you think?” - -“I shall not give it to anyone, except the one who asks.” - -“But you will be besieged.” - -“How can that be when no one knows about it?” And she spread the lace -upon the ivory satin, and drew it into graceful folds, just as an -understanding artist would. As she did so, even by the meagre light -Rosalie perceived its exquisite beauty. - -“Who is to be fitted for it?” she asked. - -“I don’t know. One does not like to trouble people; I think I shall use -my own discretion. After all, I scarcely hope that anyone will wear it.” - -“Could I be of use to you?” - -“It is too cold for you to take off your dress.” - -“Oh, no! Let me do it, just to feel I’ve done something in the day.” - -“Thank you,” said Mariana. “You are neither too tall nor short. I think -it would show to advantage on a figure like yours. I’ll fit it for just -such a one as you.” - -She cut a piece from the soft piles of satin, and began to shape it to a -bodice lining. - -“Are you going to try it on with _satin_?” asked Rosalie, astounded at -such extravagance. - -“Yes; inside and out must be both alike for a perfect finish. I might -use silk, but I prefer the same material.” - -What a marvellous fitter on she was! and yet how wonderfully patient -Rosalie stood, the whole long evening through. It was no light twenty -minutes—not even an hour—but dragged out into three. - -Mariana forgot herself evidently in her occupation, and had no mercy on -the model she was fitting. She treated her as a thing of wood and stone -till she had realised the full effect in fit of bodice, skirt, and -train, which, when perfected, she removed and folded into tissue papers, -all labelled for the purpose near at hand. Then suddenly when all was -finished she looked at her, and saw how deathly white her face had grown -under the lengthened strain. - -“Ah! now you are ill, and I am to blame for it,” she said. - -But Rosalie shook her head, though she shivered. - -“It’s the cold; everything is so damp down here.” - -“Yes. Indeed, it has been kind of you. I never hoped to get a model. We -can’t ask favours of each other here, and I’m sorry if I tired you; -but—but—I don’t know whether it may not be against the rule, so it was -best to complete it before the Master came, in order to plead -ignorance.” - -Truly this last was the most human thing Mariana had ever said to her, -the only deviation from a hard, set rule of living. - -“Yes,” said Rosalie, smiling despite the faintness and shivering that -overcame her. “When you’ve done a thing no one can say anything, can -they? At least, they can’t say much.” - -Mariana helped her on with her customary dress, and just then the clock -outside struck nine. - -“My work-time is up now,” she said. “I will return with you.” - -Perhaps no one ever greeted fire, and light, and warmth as Rosalie did -when back in the small sitting-room in the storey up above. In bed at -night she remembered the moths that had flickered round the dim light, -and round her also, as if claiming this work as soon as finished, and -identifying her with it, so it almost seemed to her. And yet how -beautiful the thing had looked, how out of place with its surroundings! -Suddenly great tears of bitterness fell on the pillow for this lonely -woman, so utterly without the pale of human sympathy, and yet so -uncomplaining. How beautiful she was! Once during the fitting on she had -thrown a piece of satin on her shoulder, too busy for the second to turn -round and put it down. And how its ivory smoothness had matched the -smoothness of her neck and cheek. How well it had contrasted with her -dark eyes and hair. And then there was about her such a nameless grace -and gentle refinement! Yet there she had worked in the cold, damp cell, -and been content to work, with apparently no hope for the future, but -moths and mildew and decay. - -It was in the midst of these reveries on Mariana that Rosalie fell -asleep, to wake many times throughout the night, shivering, to think -herself alone within that gloomy room below, tried on for shrouds by -ghosts with horrid grinning laughter. - -It was a night in no wise likely to raise Rosalie’s spirits from the -curious depths of unreality and pain where they had fallen; yet towards -morning she fell into a sleep so deep, that she never awoke from it till -Mariana came to call and waken her. - -“Mariana,” she said, “you promised you would show me Mr. Todbrook’s -portrait yesterday, and you never did.” - -“It is in the picture-gallery. You could have found it for yourself.” - -“I don’t know where the picture-gallery is.” - -“I had forgotten. If you wait for me in the corridor after breakfast I -will show it to you.” - -So after breakfast Rosalie went out into the passage to wait for her. - -The gallery was downstairs in that same wing, facing toward the gardens, -where the conservatory was. - -It was a very large gallery, longer than broad, with polished floor, and -seats upholstered in red velvet stood along the walls. The light was -admitted from the roof, but very beautiful electric candelabra hung from -the ceiling, which was all panelled and carved in black oak. - -Mariana led the way to the portrait of the late owner of the Marble -House. There he stood in the correct evening dress for a man of his -position, with one hand leaning on a table and the other by his side. He -was slightly built and scarcely of middle height, with a refined, -delicate, and quiet face, and a look of wistful melancholy in his eyes -that interested and attracted Rosalie. - -“Who painted it?” she asked, after studying it for some time. - -“I don’t know. There is no name to it. I think myself the Master may -have done it. It was painted after death.” - -“From his corpse?” asked Rosalie, in horror. - -“Oh, no! From memory, I should say.” - -“Does Mr. Barringcourt paint, then?” - -“In his spare time, yes. I think he must have done this. I don’t know -who else could. Even millionaires are bad to remember when once they’ve -passed away.” - -“Is it like him?” - -“I don’t know. But Everard says it is almost lifelike.” - -“Who is Everard?” - -“The man who keeps the door.” - -“I don’t like him at the door. Do you?” - -Mariana looked up with almost startled eyes. “Don’t like him? I like -everyone.” - -“I don’t like him,” persisted Rosalie. “He’s one of those men who always -does what he is told. If Mr. Barringcourt told him to wring your neck -round, or mine, he’d do it soon—as soon as wink.” - -“Of course,” said Mariana, as if that were the acme of perfection. - -“Well, he has neither heart nor head. Now, if Mr. Barringcourt told me -to wring your neck, I’d tell him to do it himself, I’d had no practice -that way.” - -Mariana looked at her in utter surprise, and then suddenly she sank back -upon the velvet seat, and began to laugh. Unhappily, her merriment did -not last, for almost as suddenly she jumped up again, her face white -with pain, and her features drawn and contracted. - -“Oh, for Heaven’s sake don’t make me laugh! The pain at my heart is -something terrible,” and she caught Rosalie’s arm in her hand, quite -unconscious of the strength of the grip she had taken. - -In surprise and alarm, the unconscious offender stood still. - -“What is it?” she gasped at length. “Is the pain very bad?” - -Mariana looked at her and nodded. - -“Talk about one’s heart breaking,” she said, with a wintry smile. “Every -time I laugh I get that feeling.” - -“Let us go away,” said Rosalie, noticing that the great pallor of her -face did not decrease. - -“Yes. It’s time I was back at—at the wedding garment.” - -“But you’re not going to that damp, dark place this morning, are you?” - -“Yes.” - -“Then I shall come with you.” - -“No. I told Everard, and he does not approve.” - -“But he is not master here.” - -“No; but his advice is very good to go upon.” - -“Did I not tell you how heartless he was?” - -“You mistake what is meant for kindness. Let us go.” - -In the central hall she took leave of Rosalie, and disappeared inside -the gloomy eastern wing. And Rosalie made no further attempt to come -with her, for her horror of the previous night was still fresh in her -mind. - -“I don’t know how Mariana can do it,” she thought, standing still in the -great hall. “It’s killing her. She looked like death this morning. And -to go there right away, to be buried in that damp sepulchre! It’s -terrible, terrible! I _hate_ Mr. Barringcourt! He’s bad—right-down bad! -The worst man I know!” - -But then she knew so very few. - -She was awakened from this reverie to find Everard, the doorkeeper, -coming toward her. - -Her first impulse was to turn away and walk toward the staircase, which -she did. - -“Miss Paleaf!” - -His tone attracted her immediate attention. There was a certain strong -gravity in it that appealed to what gravity and steadiness there was in -her. - -“Yes,” she answered, turning round to view this wringer of necks in -prospective. - -“You have endeavoured to do an incredible amount of harm since coming -here. Don’t you think it would be advisable to practise a little -self-control?” - -“Yes. I think if it were practicable it would be advisable to shut -myself up in a tin box, or oak, perhaps, and turn round once a week for -recreation.” - -“You rush from one extreme to the other without any attempt at reason.” - -“And—and you?” - -“For Mariana’s sake I wish to advise you to be careful.” - -“Not for my own?” - -“No. I know nothing about you, and you seem pretty capable of looking -after yourself.” - -Rosalie looked at him, not knowing whether her dislike was growing or -lessening. - -“Do you know you’re taking a great liberty?” she said, her colour rising -despite her efforts to keep cool. - -“Yes. And under the circumstances it is pardonable.” - -“What circumstances?” - -“You are doing your best to destroy the happiness and peace of a working -woman.” - -“Happiness! Happiness! Do you call it happiness to be fastened up in -there the greater part of the day-time?” And she pointed to the door -through which Mariana had passed a short time before. - -“When she is contented it is, at least, the nearest approach to -happiness. And your ignorant meddling can never have a good result.” - -Then Rosalie was silent, and with no heart to answer she turned away, -and went upstairs to the little sitting-room. - -Her own heart ached enough in all conscience. O God! to be free! away -from all this coldness and hardness, and gloom and silence. - -She buried her face in her hands and cried from utter dejection. When -she went to wash her hands and face for dinner, she was dismayed at her -own plain looks. She was very far from being ready for a meal, and made -little attempt or pretence at eating what was placed before her. At last -the young man who waited on her presented a red lozenge to her on a -silver plate. - -“What is it?” she asked, not being accustomed to this particular dish. - -“The nutriment you require to keep you in health. You have eaten -nothing, and this is less troublesome if you have no appetite.” - -She frowned in indecision, and for one minute looked at him and then at -it. Then without another word she ate the contents of her plate, and -afterwards a plate of plain milk pudding. - -But when alone again the same weak desire to cry began to gain upon her, -and it was only after a very hard fight she overcame it. - -“I don’t know how it is,” she sighed. “They make you do things here -however much you don’t want to. I wonder now if the eating of my dinner -was a lesson in self-control.” - -Then she went back to her bedroom and shut the door, and knelt down by -the bed to pray, if prayer it could be called. Despite her efforts, -everything was most incoherent and jumbled, broken by big sobs, and -ending in no prayer at all, but silence. At last the silence must have -brought its effect of soothing, for Rosalie rose from her knees with -scarcely a vestige of the past emotion upon her face. She combed her -hair and smoothed her dress, and then went for her hat. - -“I’ll go into the garden,” she said, “and see if I can see the city.” - -It was a glorious afternoon, with just sufficient sharpness for autumn -in the air. It was considerably after three by the tower clock, and she -recognised with regret there was time for little more than an hour -there. Her hopes were realised. From the top of the red bank of flowers -she could view the city very plainly. She saw right across to the -high-standing temple, with every building of note and height rising in -between. Behind her she could see nothing, for the wall rose -exceptionally high, but from here she could look in the direction of the -old home, and to that other magnificent erection that contained all the -best prayers and aspirations of her dumb life. - -After all, to look on to the sights of freedom is in a measure to the -prisoner freedom itself. - -From the city beyond, Rosalie’s eyes wandered back toward the mansion. -There was something wanting in it; its magnificent outline attracted and -repelled. - -“What a lovely fairy story one could write about it,” she sighed. “It -seems to me a kind of haunted, sleeping palace; and everything looks so -strong, and dark, and silent, and yet beautiful, that I don’t know -whether the story would have to turn out well or ill.” - -She sat down on the rustic seat with the arbour of trailing leaves -twining above it, and dreamily contemplated the wide expanse of city. - -Suddenly she heard the ominous striking of the mansion clock. - -One! two! three! four! five! - -Rosalie turned her eyes from the sky and looked at it. A faint pink -flush from the sun was shining on it, and she clasped her hands. - -“I won’t go in. They can’t do anything to me if I don’t. Five o’clock! -the very nicest time of all the day—the only time to see the city and -the sun look at their best. It isn’t wrong of me; I know it isn’t. I -haven’t done anything wrong that I should be a prisoner. I haven’t, -really. I feel I haven’t!” - -The sunset deepened. - -Suddenly the great gates leading from the garden flew open to admit a -dog-cart and one chestnut horse driven by Mr. Barringcourt. Behind him -sat a groom, and as they took the sweep of drive leading past her toward -the terrace steps, her eyes fell on the horse and man in livery. - -She saw that they did not belong to this place. What was there about -everyone who lived here that made them different from all else? That -groom was just the ordinary groom that one saw every day within the -streets and parks. - -As Mr. Barringcourt passed below he suddenly looked up, and catching -sight of her, took off his hat and smiled. Rosalie’s heart gave a leap -of excitement. - -The flush of evening had dyed her pale cheeks, and given lustre to her -eyes. She watched the light vehicle draw up below the central steps, saw -Mr. Barringcourt dismount, and the groom lead the horse away by the -shorter carriage drive. Rosalie clasped her hands and watched, and made -no sign of moving down. - -And the sunset deepened. - -For one minute Mr. Barringcourt stood on the steps looking at his boots, -or maybe on the ground, in apparent thoughtfulness; then he turned round -with sudden decision, and crossed the lawn to the path leading towards -the bank of flowers where she stood. Yet no step downward did Rosalie -take in that direction, and so he came up the narrow, winding path, and -very shortly reached her. - -And how different from all the others he appeared! How full of life and -animation! how strong! how quick at seeing, and therefore understanding! - -How weak and lifeless her hand felt in his! And suddenly she felt that -intense admiration for strength which all weak things must have. Yet she -searched his face narrowly for that tired and weary look that she had -seen there twice before. - -Her scrutiny was well returned. Out of the purity of a lonely spirit -longing for some companionship her clear eyes had looked full into his, -the ending of a day of weakness and tears and silent waiting. And under -the deep scrutiny of those stronger eyes she had not power to look aside -till every little secret not worth hiding had been read. Then having got -rid of all the weakness, Rosalie came to the reserve strength. - -She drew her hand out of his, and asked suddenly, with an everyday -interest: - -“Have you any horses of your own, Mr. Barringcourt, or do you hire them -all?” - -“I have my own; but they’re too good for everyday work.” - -“But when do you exercise them?” - -“Occasionally at midnight I give them a run round. They are black, so -they don’t show. Nor do they advertise their coming by too much noise.” - -This time she looked at him with puzzled incredulity. - -“What do you mean?” - -“What I say. Why are you waiting here?” - -“To see the sun set.” - -“It has set.” - -“I’m waiting for the afterglow.” - -And as she spoke, the whole sky from east to west flushed to a sudden -lowering crimson. It was reflected on his face, on hers, shone from the -many windows—red—red—a sea of golden red and copper colour, dyeing all -things. - -“But you have no business out here after sunset, have you?” he said. - -“I don’t know. You should be judge of that.” - -“I’m judge of nothing except the mood I’m in, and to-day I’m not sorry -to find you here; but it’s rather a dangerous game to play in a place -where strict discipline is observed. Don’t you know it?” - -“No. I couldn’t imagine any punishment worse than being a prisoner.” - -“Could you not? Oh, there are many worse. You are a prisoner at large, -you must remember.” - -“The reason why I stayed out is because I could think of nothing I had -done wrong.” - -“Are you a good judge of your misdoings?” - -“I don’t know. A tongue makes things so complicated.” - -He laughed. “What have you been doing since I went away?” - -“Trying to be contented, and help Mariana.” - -“Help Mariana?” - -“Yes. I tried on a dress for her last night, but the room was so gloomy -I dare not go again this morning.” - -“What kind of a dress were you trying on?” - -“A wedding-dress that gave me the shivers. Do you know, Mr. -Barringcourt, I think Mariana the most splendid woman I ever met.” - -“Indeed.” - -“Yes, and I think she’s the most shamefully ill-used woman, too.” - -“No one is ill-used, except dogs and dumb animals in general.” - -Rosalie gave him one of her sidelong penetrating glances. - -“Well,” said she, “there are dumb animals and dumb animals; Mariana is -dumb.” - -“Indeed!” - -“What I mean is, she never complains.” - -“Very sensible of her. There is no one to listen.” - -“There is Everard! She asks his advice upon everything.” - -“She told you that?” - -“Yes. She talks about everything but her own hard life.” - -“That is why you wish her to speak about it. Did she do so, you would -wish her silent. The world is very contrary, Rosalie.” - -He stepped aside to let her pass before him down the narrow path. There -was no alternative but to obey, as the sunset had now completely died -away, and the dusk of night and its accompanying chilliness had wandered -in, bringing a sense of desolation, of misery. - -The Master did not lead the way to the side door, but approached the -central one. He let himself in by touching some spring acting in the -toad’s head, and Rosalie followed with a creepy sense of awe as she -passed between these high doors, with their magnificent workmanship all -hidden in the dusk. - -The darkness of the big conservatory was partly dispelled by tiny -electric lights, coloured crimson, that glimmered here and there among -the foliage like glow-worms in a forest. As they passed the -picture-gallery, Mr. Barringcourt noticed that the door was open. - -“Who has been in there?” he asked. - -“Mariana and I went this morning to see Mr. Todbrook’s portrait. Who -painted it?” - -“I did—from memory. A man’s best friend should represent him most -faithfully. Don’t you think so?” - -“But had you nothing to work from?” - -“Oh, no! Nothing but memory. Memory is a very wonderful thing if one -only cultivates it.” - -“If I died, do you think you could paint me?” asked Rosalie, turning her -face up to his. - -“No,” he answered. “I have not known you quite long enough. I could -attempt nothing better than a caricature at present.” - -She laughed, and said: “I must endeavour to live a little longer, then.” - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - THE FOLLY OF SIMPLICITY - - -Together they entered the central hall, and saw Mariana standing waiting -there. When she saw Rosalie she stepped towards her, but on seeing Mr. -Barringcourt beyond her she stood still. - -“What are you waiting for?” he asked. - -“For Rosalie. It is long past her time for coming in.” - -“You have wonderful patience to stand here waiting. Anyone else would -have gone to look for her.” - -“If one waits long enough one generally gets what one wants,” she -answered, rather irrelevantly. - -“Well, don’t stand there any longer. You’re not needed.” - -“Thank you.” - -She turned away with grace and easy dignity, and walked toward the -staircase; but when there she looked across at Rosalie. - -“Tea is ready.” - -What a dungeon-knell there was in those three words! Tea in that little -shabby sitting-room, away from everything of light, or life, or -understanding. A piece of bread, a cup of tea and whatever else was -going, eaten alone, and the dreariness of a long dull evening beyond. -And somehow or other the thought of the evening frightened Rosalie. It -was so dark. The long passages above so ghostly, dim, and silent. And -below? She shivered and looked towards the door of the eastern wing, -that in some unaccountable way seemed to pervade all things with its -shadow and odour of graves. - -So though Mariana, after she had spoken, stood still and waited a while -for the effect of her words, Rosalie delayed to follow her. - -The freedom and grandeur of the sunset was still running in her veins; -the pleasantness of conversation and companionship had its influence on -her also. - -“Ought I to go?” she asked suddenly, looking up at Mr. Barringcourt. - -“I don’t know, I’m sure. If you admire Mariana as much as you profess I -think you should go.” - -“It isn’t a case of Mariana. It’s me—myself.” - -“Well, what of you?” - -“I’d much rather stay, and have my tea with—with you.” - -“I don’t indulge in tea.” - -“Then do they insist on your eating a red lozenge instead?” - -“Oh, no! They recognise that I am quite able to look after myself.” - -“Everard told me I was capable of doing that. And yet at dinner-time -to-day I was presented with a red lozenge on a silver salver to take the -place of ordinary food.” - -“And you accepted it?” - -“No, I didn’t. But if you don’t have tea, I’d better leave you.” - -“I’ll waive a point to-night. I have had so pleasant a holiday that it -is somewhat distasteful to settle down again. Go and remove your hat, -and come down.” - -But when Rosalie essayed to move towards the staircase she found Mariana -gone, and suddenly she stood still. - -“Why do you stop?” he asked. - -“Oh, I’m frightened! I really am! I dare not go about this place at -night by myself. I don’t know how it is, but I dare not.” - -“Nothing will hurt you.” - -“It’s the shadows and the darkness—and the silence.” - -“Run along. It’s your imagination.” - -“Are you sure there’s nothing to be frightened of?” - -“Nothing!” - -So Rosalie went, and returned like the wind. Her eyes shone with fear, -and her breath came in quick pants. - -“What did you see?” he asked, laughing. - -“Nothing! I did not stay long enough.” - -So then, in the comfortable cheerfulness of Mr. Barringcourt’s study, -they had tea. - -Rosalie sat in the big arm-chair by the fire; he in his customary one -drawn from the table. Very proud she felt to pour out tea, and quite -forgave the youth who waited on them for his officious behaviour of the -morning. Besides, this was such delicious tea. It was not a bit like -that which she had upstairs. The china was superb, with far richer -colours than Crown Derby, or anything at all resembling it upon the -planet Lucifram. - -No wonder that, in the midst of all this luxury and comfort, with a -glorious fire and sufficient light, she heaved an unconscious sigh of -great contentment. - -“Still discontented?” asked Mr. Barringcourt, breaking the heavenly -silence. - -“Oh, no! Just the opposite. I sighed because I was so happy.” - -“Have you any book on etiquette?” he continued, casting an eye round his -own well-filled book-shelves thoughtfully. - -“Etiquette? What is that?” - -“Good behaviour, I think, but I’m not sure.” - -“No, I haven’t any book on etiquette; but I remember what my aunt taught -me.” - -“Well, what did she tell you?” he asked, leaning his head against the -chair-back, and looking across at her out of half-closed eyes. - -“She told me always to be polite to people, and unselfish. You see, -there wasn’t much else she could tell, because I couldn’t talk.” - -“To be polite and unselfish! Umph! that’s good behaviour, is it? I think -I’ve explained etiquette wrongly to you, then.” After a silence he -continued: “I believe etiquette has to do with correct behaviour. Do you -know anything about that?” - -“Oh! I expect that is being stiff. No, I don’t know anything about that. -We weren’t at all stiff at home. You see, there was no need to be. We -had no servants nor anything, and we always said what we thought. At -least, uncle and aunt did, and I listened. But why are you asking about -it?” - -“I’m very undecided in my mind about you.” - -“Yes. I get very undecided about myself sometimes. I don’t think aunt -would approve of me altogether now.” - -“In what way?” - -“My tongue. It is so sharp, you know. You said it was.” - -“Oh! I’m not thinking about your tongue. I am trying to settle whether -we are breaking the laws of etiquette in thus drinking tea together.” - -“Oh, no! The curates always do it, and they are more correct than -anybody. They like you to offer them tea. Aunt used to say so.” - -“Then we are just as we should be?” - -“Yes. Does Lady Flamington never come to have tea with you?” - -“No; I generally go there.” - -“Well, it’s just the same.” - -“Who told you of Lady Flamington?” - -“Mariana. Mariana does not give you a very good character, you know?” - -“And is your strength of mind great enough to withstand her libels?” - -“Well, yes. I like to form my own opinions. Besides, the best fun is, -Mariana does not understand she’s saying anything against you. She tells -me all kinds of things, taking you quite for granted.” - -“When do you find time for these interesting conversations?” - -“At night—and sometimes in the early morning. She never neglects her -work to gossip. But when she talks it’s always to the point.” - -“Rosalie, if you wish to possess any fascination, which is another word -for beauty, you must learn to keep all your thoughts, opinions, and -feelings to yourself. It is not conducive to interest to be told of a -person’s state too freely. One must be left to find it for oneself.” - -“Do you find me uninteresting?” - -“Very much so. I do not know another man of my acquaintance on Lucifram -who would tolerate your company for half an hour.” - -Her eyes travelled to his with a very real and living pain in them. - -“I don’t know anything about men except that they’re very clever. But -I’d be quite content to earn the good graces of the women.” - -“Why either?” - -“Oh, because one must be friendly somewhere. It would be awful to have -no friends at all, men or women.” - -“How many friends would you need for happiness?” - -“As many as I could get. You see, when you’re poor you can’t expect to -have many.” - -“And when you’re rich you have less.” - -“No, indeed. I’m sure you have heaps of friends, Mr. Barringcourt.” - -He laughed in a harsh, dry sort of way. - -“You flatter me. In reality, I have no more friends than you.” - -“But Lady Flamington?—Why, Mariana says she is in love with you.” - -Mr. Barringcourt bit his lip; but the smile debarred access there -travelled to his eyes. - -“Well, what if she is in love with me, as you call it. That makes her -one of my worst enemies.” - -“Oh, no! To love anybody is to be their best and biggest friend.” - -“I grant if the love be disinterested; but then, how often is it so?” - -“What does disinterested mean?” - -“I don’t know, I’m sure,” he answered impatiently; “you must look it out -in a dictionary.” - -“I’m sorry,” Rosalie answered meekly, “but I thought disinterested meant -unselfish—and I can’t understand love being anything else.” - -“Can’t you? Then you have much to learn. Why do you love the Serpent?” - -The question came with unexpected rapidity. - -“I don’t. I—I—I—” Another pause upon the thrice repeated unlucky -vowel—and Rosalie shivered from head to foot quite coldly. - -“Is this an attempt at fascination?” - -The tone was so cold and cruel, and the words carried so sharp a sting, -that they cut Rosalie’s heart like some whip might have done. - -She shook her head. - -“I don’t understand the Serpent,” she said, rubbing her hands against -the chair arm. “How, then, can I love it?” - -“That implies that you _do_ understand the Serpent, and therefore you -are not disposed to love him.” - -“You aspire to understand me better than I understand myself.” - -“Oh, no! I take you at your own word. I asked you did you love the -Serpent, and you said, ‘I don’t.’ Surely there was not much to -understand in that.” - -“Don’t let us quarrel,” pleaded Rosalie. - -“Quarrel? Quarrel? Oh, no, certainly not. I had no intention of -quarrelling with you. I remember your telling me the other day you had -no particular affection for the god of Lucifram.” - -“But do _you_ love the Serpent?” - -“Oh! I—I—I—” - -“That is unkind of you, and not polite.” - -“We ought to have your aunt here to act as chaperon. They say it’s -scarcely wise to leave a man and woman to themselves, and now I -recognise it.” - -But Rosalie was not far behind in the argument. From cold shivers she -began to experience a certain amount of heat. - -“I don’t know about a chaperon,” she said. “I thought a chaperon was a -woman who looked after a woman, and I should like to know who looks -after the men? Chaperons are silly and stupid, and women, if they were -honest, would say they wanted to have nothing to do with them. Besides, -it was you who lost your temper then. I didn’t a bit. I haven’t yet, -only you annoyed me by the way you spoke.” - -“I? lost my temper?” - -“Yes, of course. You know you did. You think I’ve got a secret, and I -haven’t; so if you don’t like, you needn’t be nice to me any more.” - -And Mr. Barringcourt laughed. Under that laugh Rosalie shrivelled up -like a white butterfly under the breath of ice. - -“But I do like,” he answered, still laughing. “You must not quote from -Mariana. It is too absurd. And so you have no secret. I can scarcely -imagine a woman without one, nor a man.” - -The merciless mocking eyes were fixed on her, so that she seemed -incapable of moving. There rose within her a terrible weakness, a -longing to lean on him, to be guided by his advice, to speak of all -those doubts that preyed upon her mind, and state the few plain facts -that raised them. Again, as before in the garden, she recognised that he -was strong, and she was very, very weak. She looked across at him. There -was little of sympathy on his face—much of contempt and ridicule—and -Rosalie, sensitive to both, shrank from it and him. - -A very awkward pause followed—to her, at least. - -“I think the tea-party is ended,” he said, getting up and pushing his -chair back to the table. “It was very enjoyable whilst it lasted, but -there is such a thing as folk outstaying their welcome.” - -But still she sat still, and made no effort to rise. - -“What has made you angry?” she asked. - -“I don’t know, I’m sure. You say I’m angry, so I must be. You should be -able to discover the cause when you’ve noticed the effect.” - -“I can’t. But when I stumble or stammer I notice it always puts you -out.” - -“Then don’t do it.” - -“I’ll try not. But if I sometimes said the things I thought, they’d -sound so foolish that you’d laugh at them.” - -“They could not possibly be more foolish than the things you say.” - -“Are all the women of your acquaintance very sensible and clever?” - -“More or less so. Of course, they have the advantage of education and -upbringing; but still that does not do away with the fact that they -possess many natural gifts.” - -“It must be very nice to possess natural gifts.” - -“Yes. Few women are born without them.” - -“Am I one of the few?” - -“So far as I can judge you are. With talent and cleverness, you should -be able to escape from prison.” - -“But I’m staying here on principle. I never thought of trying to get -away.” - -“That shows your inherent stupidity, and a surprising lack of spirit. -Cannot you find a door of escape?” - -Rosalie shook her head and sighed. - -“No,” she answered. “I thought of the chimney once, but that was -absurd.” - -“Can you think of no other door?” - -“No. It’s no good my trying to get out where every door is either locked -or guarded.” - -“You have not wit enough to think of one, you mean?” - -“Perhaps so,” she answered, and looked at him with eyes full of a great -and wistful longing to be told. - -“Well, I’ll tell you. There is the door of my heart. Any other woman -would have thought of it at once.” - -She shook her head. - -“I’ve had no practice that way. I shouldn’t know how to go about to find -it.” - -“No? As women go, you are intensely stupid. You possess all the -disadvantages of a school-girl, without any of the attractions of -youth.” - -“I’m not very old,” said Rosalie. “I’m only twenty-three.” - -“There you are again. You can keep nothing to yourself.” - -“I only told you what my age was.” - -“Well, I’ve none of the curiosity of a census paper, and women who tell -their ages are a pest.” - -“But why?” - -“Because it is either a boast or a lie. Both are objectionable. Keep -your age to yourself. No one wants to know it, and if they do, let them -find out or guess.” - -“Is that what the clever women do?” - -“I don’t know. If you become a clever woman at second hand, you will -become an abomination.” - -“What must I do then?” - -“Remain stupid.” - -“Then I’ll never get away.” - -“Oh, no; as soon as I pointed the way I blocked it. Had you discovered -it yourself, it might have been unguarded.” - -“I don’t believe you would have let me through, even if I had found it -out.” - -“Of course not. One never believes that which touches one’s vanity.” - -Rosalie sighed. What a contrary mood had suddenly seized him! She got -up, with little of life or spirit in her movements. - -“Then if you find me so very dull I won’t come again. Three years seem a -long time, but I have no doubt God will help me to live through them.” - -He laughed. - -“God, being dumb, refuses no one, least of all religious women, they -force themselves upon Him so persistently. Yes, I shall be glad to be -relieved of your company for a while. And so please confine your -wanderings to the upper storey where you live. And leave the garden to -those who can appreciate its beauty sufficiently to be in by five -o’clock.” - -Rosalie looked at him. Pain and fear was on her face. - -“Live upstairs!” - -“Yes; live upstairs. And eat red lozenges when your appetite is bad. You -can’t die, you know.” - -She turned toward the door. - -“Good-night!” he said, drawing an open book toward him on the table, and -sitting down. - -“Good-night! I see now my fault and punishment in staying out of doors -beyond the time.” - -For only answer he laughed. As he did so the door closed. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - BROKEN SPIRITS - - -So full of pain and heaviness was Rosalie that all her childish fear had -vanished. She passed up the slippery staircase into the corridor, from -which her own small sitting-room was. - -Never to go downstairs again for three long weary years! Never to be out -of the grey, silent, ghostly shadows of those upper rooms—never to have -human companionship or friendliness! A part of the meaning floated -through her mind, and cast its heavy shroud on all things. - -It was still early in the evening, too early for Mariana to return from -the work which held her. She sat down in the high-backed chair before -the fire, and listlessly looked into it. The flames burnt low. There was -none of the brightness of the other day in them—no whispered message of -hope. - -Rosalie’s spirit ached more from the cruel heartlessness of the Master’s -conduct than even from the thought of coming imprisonment. For this was -in the present—that the future. None had ever spoken so to her -before—sharply, no doubt but never with this harsh and cruel coldness. -Every feeling in her simple nature seemed outraged and lacerated. Once -only she moved uneasily in her chair, as one undergoes some great pain, -and cried, or rather moaned: - -“It’s unfair—unfair! I haven’t done anything that’s wrong, and it was -silly and stupid of me to ever think of coming back again.” - -At last the door opened, and Mariana entered with supper. Rosalie did -not turn round till they were alone again, and scarcely even then, till -Mariana came and stood beside her, and looking down, said: - -“Rosalie, why did you not come in at five o’clock?” - -“Don’t ask me. I was foolish. There is no other reason.” - -“Is Mr. Barringcourt’s company more agreeable than mine?” - -“I thought it was, and have paid the penalty. Don’t reproach me. I can’t -stand it to-night. Perhaps to-morrow.” - -“I don’t wish to reproach you. Once I thought the same, for an hour or -two, like you. But I got over it as you have done. You will not care for -his company now?” - -“No.” - -“That is well. I suppose you know you are not to go downstairs again?” - -“Yes. What am I to do, Mariana, to pass the time away?” - -“I don’t know of anything. I wish you had come in by five o’clock. There -are so many interesting things below.” - -Rosalie laughed. - -“Oh, I didn’t come in, so there’s an end of it! I’ll take supper now and -go to bed.” - -She sipped the glass of warm milk silently, and then together they went -to bed. How cold it was in the corridor. How ill lit and melancholy it -appeared And Rosalie lay awake, with burning tears, which were never -shed, in her eyes. - -Three years! And Mr. Barringcourt had said a woman of brains or spirit -would have forestalled them and have escaped. - -And then it seemed as if across the silence there came that clear, pure -voice that spoke to her before, after her aunt was dead: “Neither brains -nor spirit, but the path directed.” - -And silence and sleep and comfort fell—night’s gentle curtain and soft -pillow for all weary heads. - -Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, long or short, according to the circumstance. -Each resembled some long and silent eternity of Nothingness. Here was -nothing to do. Mariana said there was nothing, and she knew best. - -“Bring me a little bit of sewing.” - -But she shook her head. “I cannot bring it from the workroom.” - -“Then something from above.” - -“There is nothing. Each has her work; for you there is none.” - -“Have you no books?” - -“Mr. Barringcourt has the key to the library. I can ask him for one if -you like.” - -But Rosalie shook her head. “No, thank you.” - -And how difficult she found meal-times, when she must force down food -against all wish and inclination. Sunday and Monday it was managed -fairly well, but on the Tuesday at dinner-time Rosalie recognised the -task was quite beyond her. - -“All this tastes of cobwebs and damp soil,” she said. “If I must have -one, give me one of those little lozenges you offered me the other day.” - -It was brought. She took it with a glass of water, then rose from her -seat. When she got to the door she turned round. Her pretty eyebrows -were slightly raised, and she laughed. - -“That was essence of cobweb, I believe. Thank you; I feel better already -for it.” - -All was lost upon the youth; he bowed gravely, and returned no answer, -and Rosalie went away. - -Up and down! Up and down the long dim corridor she walked, with nothing -to do but think or mope, or grow melancholy through despair. - -After tea Rosalie did not venture out beyond the sitting-room, for the -old fear of the darkness had returned; and moreover, to-night a strange -weariness oppressed her. At last she fell asleep. Her head rested on the -table, and she slept there for nearly an hour. - -A little after nine came Mariana and the supper. - -“How is the dress progressing?” asked Rosalie. - -“It is doing very well.” - -“How is Everard?” - -“He is very well.” - -“Have you seen Mr. Barringcourt to-day?” - -“No. He is away till to-morrow.” - -“Have you taken a walk this afternoon?” - -“A short one.” - -“Where did you go?” - -“My customary round. But you must not ask so many questions.” - -“But why?” - -“Because,” Mariana’s voice sank to a whisper, “if we talk much I must -leave you, and Sybilla will come. And she never speaks all the week, -except on my one night out, and then in a language I never heard -before.” - -Rosalie’s pale face grew paler. Suddenly she took Mariana’s hand and -held it very tight. - -“Are—are you making fun of me?” she asked. - -The other shook her head, and thus abruptly the conversation ended. - -At midnight Rosalie suddenly awoke, to hear the great clock striking—a -sound which she had never heard before in that room. The ache and -weariness of the evening had entirely vanished. She sat up in bed and -looked round the room, lit by one meagre night-light. All was as usual, -very still; the corners of the room were all shadowy. In another second -Rosalie was standing on the floor looking around her in a puzzled sort -of way. Understanding came with the swiftness of lightning to her brain. -She stood alert, listening, listening, but there was no sound. Quickly -and silently she dressed, holding her breath, fearful of being found -thus dressing in the middle of the sleeping night. Then with courage -screwed to desperation she went toward the door. - -“If I’m found out, God only knows what will happen,” she thought and -turned the handle. - -It had one advantage with all the rest of that big house: it was silent. - -Mercifully, a few straggling moonbeams lit up the room, shining from -door to door, leaving the rest in obscurity. Without glancing toward the -shadowy bed, she crossed to the outer door, opened it, and stood in the -corridor. The fears born of reality and action had quite killed those of -imagination. She no longer started at shadows, nor trembled at the -darkness, but went on quickly till she reached the stairhead. Her shoes -she carried in her hand to prevent sound. She feared the slippery -staircase, lest she should stumble and waken some light sleeper. But -to-night it seemed scarcely so slippery as before. Perhaps it was the -descent in her unshod feet. At last she stood safely at the bottom in -the large hall, with its Spartan plainness and great richness. Chairs, -each worth some small fortune, statues in bronze and marble, and above -all the great, oppressive shadow, emanating from that eastern door of -glass, polished like diamonds, all met her fearful glance. - -“If—if I fail—if I’m caught, that’s where I go—” - -The thought flashed like lightning through her mind, and she looked -round breathlessly to find a doorway. - -That leading to the conservatory—it stood wide open. On! On! along the -corridor, dark but for one dim electric light, such as was also shining -in the hall. Then through the palm-house, and toward the central doors. -A red spot gleamed upon the centre—the toad’s head—for this door was -carved alike inside and out. Instinctively she touched the shining knob. -The door flew open. The cold damp air of night wafted toward her as she -stood thus upon the threshold of the garden. Then, closing the door -behind her, she moved forward to the steps. And here again Rosalie -returned thanks to that light upon the ugly head. For whereas within it -showed her where to touch the spring, here it shone with a direct -brilliancy that lit up the entire straight path across the garden, right -across and through the wooded shrubbery at the farther end, that led -toward the stables. For though the faint light of night might have been -strong enough to guide her to the avenue of trees, nothing could ever -penetrate this heavy gloom, save only a light such as this steady red -one, that lit up the whole long path, right to the stables, as clear -toward the end as at the beginning. So without trouble she came to the -doorless building. One gigantic slab of marble, between two pillars, was -slid back into the wall, and the red light penetrated in beyond. She -followed on the path it lit for her, and stood within a sumptuous -building. It was certainly a stable, though at the moment it was empty. - -Here she looked round, not from curiosity, but to find some means of -exit. She walked round many times, but found nothing but one small door, -more like a cupboard than a door, built low in the wall, and quite -beyond her power to open. - -She wrung her hands in despair, and a terrible sweat broke out all over -her. No way of escape! Up to now all things had been so easy, as if -aiding and abetting her in this wild dream and dash for freedom. - -Suddenly upon the still and ghostly midnight air came a sound: the -rhythmic trampling of horses, and then a neigh half-echoed by another, -as the sound came nearer. - -“God help me!” she said, and leant against the carved partition of two -stalls, with that deathlike sweat and fear robbing her limbs of any -strength of motion. - -“The key! The key!” - -What voice was it that rang so clearly on the night? - -She fumbled in her pocket, and found the old disused one of her uncle’s -safe. - -With nothing but desperation for a guidance she applied it to the little -door, close-built to the ground. It fitted and turned. The door flew -open. As it did so, from the garden came the crunching sound of horses’ -feet on gravel, and of wheels. - -The little door closed again. Rosalie was without the precincts of -Marble House, and breathed her first long sigh of freedom. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - A WAYSIDE HOUSE AND GLOOMY CELL - - -But what and where was this place that she had come to? Instead of -coming out upon a mews or narrower street of that big city on the planet -Lucifram, she stood upon the borders of a wood. Foxgloves, cowslips, and -pale wood anemones bordered its shaded paths. She passed onward, -conscious of a new sweetness in the air, and a certain subdued light -which, though faint, was quite devoid of shadows. - -And oh! to tread upon a path of velvet—velvet of Nature’s making, all -soft and soothing to the foot. - -And though the beauties of the forest awed, they did not trouble her, -for their shade was instinct with the mood that she was in—a mood which -had much of quiet thankfulness, but no elation. With little feeling of -fatigue she walked along the pleasant path, coming out at last upon a -city all deserted. Its buildings were the most majestic she had ever -seen. There was no ordinary streets of houses all in a row. The -buildings had the strength and beauty of past ages. With courtyards of -green, and gates with armorial bearings, the windows of the houses were -narrow. During the ages, here and there a cornice or a step had -crumbled, giving a certain hoary majesty to the houses, showing they had -long withstood the inroads of all-conquering Time. No sound of life -enlivened the scene; all was silent as the house which she had left. In -the central square two churches stood, one in a state of erection, one -in the middle stage of being pulled down. Truly it was very curious. All -around betokened signs of recent workmanship. But as in dreams one -cannot pause to reason, neither did she. - -Through the silent empty streets she passed, and came once more on to a -stretch of country which rose in hills not far off. These were steep and -high, as Rosalie found on coming nearer to them, but the path bordered -with wild flowers led her to and up them, and when at last she stood -upon the summit of one that rose amongst the highest, she looked down -upon a country of gentle slopes and valleys, and dark stretches of -forest. A broad and glorious river rolled its even course picturesquely, -curving to right and left, here disappearing in the shade of the -woodlands, here glittering in the rising sun. With more heart and -renewed vigour she descended from the hill-top into this pleasant -country beyond it. The path led along the boundaries of a wood, and -suddenly there came in sight a low white house, lying far back within a -wide expanse of garden, banked with wild flowers of Nature’s growing. On -the sunny side it was unshaded by the forest, and deep-coloured peaches -were glowing in the light. A low verandah ran along the façade, and many -sweet and lovely creepers twined about its slender pillars. The big -front door stood open, also the garden gate. Rosalie, with tired feet -and thankful heart, went up to it and knocked. - -Within was a simply-furnished hall, arranged with simplest taste. Bowls -of roses stood upon the tables, and the windows, in the recesses formed -by the window seats, were open, admitting straggling stems of flowers -that clustered upward from below. Built in the wall was a golden fluted -organ, the ivory keyboard open, and all the mystic stops clear to the -view. - -Rosalie knocked. - -A door at the farther end of the house opened, and a youth appeared, -coming toward her. He was so handsome, and walked with such grace and -youthful brightness, that Rosalie’s heart went out toward him on the -instant. He did not wait for any word of explanation, but said: - -“My father will be very pleased to see you. We have been expecting your -arrival for almost a week.” - -“But where did I come from?” asked Rosalie, as taken with his gentle way -of speaking as his appearance. - -He laughed. - -“I don’t know; but from a hot place and a great distance, I should -think, or else your wits would never have been sharpened to take so long -a journey.” - -“I wonder how old he is?” thought she. “Fourteen at the most. He should -have more respect for me than to speak so—so freely; and yet it’s nice -to be spoken to quite humanly again.” - -“Yes,” she answered; “I’ve come a very long distance.” - -“Come this way. See my father, and then you may rest.” - -He took her to a room furnished simply, and not unlike that of Mr. -Barringcourt’s; and there, seated at the table, occupied much as he had -been in studying, writing, and arranging papers, was the father of the -boy. - -His hair was very white, as white as silver, and his face was beautiful -and clearly cut. He had an appearance of great age, and his tall figure -was thin and muscular. In some indescribable way he reminded Rosalie of -Mr. Barringcourt. A vague fear began to spring in her mind—for in his -dress and manner there was something strangely reminiscent, even though -he looked so very old, with his lined face and silver hair. - -But he used what Mr. Barringcourt had never used, and that was a pair of -glasses; and his glance was very keen as he looked up at her above them -with bent brows. And whereas Mr. Barringcourt’s eyes were as black as -night, his were of a piercing blue, or some colour very like blue. The -quality that struck Rosalie most was their intense brightness. - -The youth, having admitted her, withdrew, and closed the door behind -him. - -“You are punctual, Rosalie, and I’m very pleased to see you.” - -He rose as he spoke, and drew a chair for her, and on the hearing of his -kind, grave voice much peace and reassurance settled on her. - -“I couldn’t help myself,” she answered. “I had to come. But you can’t be -half as pleased to see me as I am to see you!” - -He looked at her. “Are you then so much in need of a friend?” - -“Yes; but I think I should make better friends with your son than you.” - -The vestige of a smile crept into his eyes. “But why?” - -“Well, I expect you will be too clever. You would soon learn how stupid -I was; and then perhaps we should quarrel.” - -Rosalie looked up shyly as she spoke those last words. The quarrelling, -she felt pretty certain, would be all on his side, as it had been with -Mr. Barringcourt, for she would never have presumed so far. - -“You give Billy credit for being more forbearing than I?” - -“Oh, no; I think he will be less observant. I’m very stupid, you know,” -she continued, with her large, earnest eyes fixed on his; “and people -get very soon tired of me. I thought it might be just as well to tell -you now, in case you might form a wrong impression, and then be annoyed -after, and blame me for it.” - -“Well,” said he, smiling, “that will do for the present. Sleep to-night, -and in the morning we will hold a longer conversation.” - -“But it’s morning now.” - -“Oh, no! It’s evening coming on. The sun has set. No travellers ever -come to us with morning. The journey is too long for that.” - -“But everybody cannot come to you just at the same time.” - -“Well, pretty much at the same time. We live in the centre of a circle, -and the distance from every direction is fairly equal.” - -“Do you get many travellers?” - -“Not compared with many wayside inns. But we have a select few that are -always very welcome, for we know that they possess some merit, or they -would never reach us.” - -“Ah! Then I am afraid I am not equal to the rest. I have no merits. -Nothing but chance and God’s goodness brought me to you.” - -He smiled. “That is curious coupling,” he answered. “Chance and God’s -goodness.” - -“Well, it was so extremely strange and unexpected.” - -“We will speak more about it to-morrow. But now I will come with you to -see what light refreshment our house affords.” - -He rose from his chair and led the way into another room where lamps -were lit, though there was still much light outside, and a clear fire -burning. - -“How stupid of me not to notice the sun was setting. I thought when -first I saw it it was rising.” - -“That is a common mistake, much commoner than you’d think, with those -coming from Lucifram. You see, it is the direct turnabout, and it is apt -to muddle one at first.” - -“Yes, indeed. What lovely flowers!” - -Rosalie was looking at the pretty supper-table and its exquisite -decorations. There was something so pure and delicate and delicious -about everything, from the snowy linen and flowers all white and flaxen -coloured, to the china and vessels of silver and crystal glass. -Moreover, there was no shadow lying here. One might eat in happiness and -sweet contentment, and the thankfulness born of these. - -And moreover, she did not sit down alone. Her host took his place at the -head of the small square table, she to the side of him. Every dish was -ready served. But first he offered her a little glass of purest -sparkling water. Rosalie drank it. The intense fatigue had vanished -almost on the instant. She made no effort to talk much, for he said -nothing, but ate her supper in silence. Then at last he rose. - -“I will show you to your room,” he said. “Billy has gone home; he only -stayed to welcome you.” - -“I thought he was your son?” - -“So he is. But this is not my home. It is but a temporary lodging, -conveniently situated for business purposes.” - -“Does no one else live here?” - -“No one. You need not be afraid. I am sufficient protection.” - -She followed him with trust and all simplicity to the bedroom set for -strangers. When she was alone, by the light of two soft lights hanging -from the ceiling, she compared the pure white hangings with the crimson -silks at Marble House. Here, indeed, was light-heartedness and freedom -from all depression; and with her head once on the pillow, she slept the -first genuine sleep of happiness for many a day. - - * * * * * - -Marble House lay swathed in the mist of early morning. The sun had not -yet risen, only that just perceptible twilight that makes known the -distant approach of day was at hand. But one by one various lights made -their appearance in several of the upper rooms. The occupants were -rising at their accustomed hour. It was close on six. - -Mariana also awoke, and with the first return of consciousness came the -consciousness of loss, vague and alarming. When the light was turned on -she noticed the door leading to Rosalie’s room wide open, and her own -upon the passage standing closed but for the catching of the clasp. -Hurriedly she passed into the inner room, to find, almost as she -anticipated, the bed unoccupied, its inmate gone. She went to the -dressing-room beyond. It also was empty. Then turning back to her own -room, she dressed with a curious silent haste. A dull, murky grey sky -showed through the window. It caught Mariana’s eye and intruded itself -upon her memory. Then when her toilette was completed she went out into -the corridor. There was no sign of Rosalie either in the little -sitting-room or dining-room, and the truth forced itself undeniably upon -her. Rosalie had gone—escaped in the night. But where? On second -thoughts it seemed impossible. Who ever yet escaped from Marble House in -Greensward Avenue upon the planet Lucifram? She smiled forlornly to -think of such a thing. And then a sudden fear and trembling for the -unhappy girl came over her. - -She had tried to escape and had been detected—must have been detected. -There were many cells in the east wing, and to attempt to escape and -fail in it was of all crimes most criminal. - -A feeling, or the memory of a feeling, surged in her heart, so cold, and -even, and restricted. Like some quick-gliding spirit she sought the -staircase and descended, finding Everard arranging a large batch of -papers on the table in the hall. He looked up at her approach, and -seeing the slight alteration in her features and expression, said to -himself, “It’s Wednesday,” and went on with his work. But the -earnestness of her voice attracted him. - -“Everard!” There was more in it than her usual simple, even tone. - -He looked up again. - -“Everard! Where is Rosalie? Where have you put her?” - -“Rosalie? I have not seen. Is she not upstairs?” - -She shook her head. - -“Is she in there? You have not put her in there?” and pointed to the -right-hand door. - -He shook his head impatiently. - -“She is nowhere of my putting or knowing. She should be upstairs yet. -Eight o’clock is her hour for getting up.” - -“She is not there.” - -“Not there?” He put the papers he held in his hand down, and looked at -her. - -“No. And nowhere else upon the corridor.” - -“Have you searched well?” - -“Yes. I did not like to wake the others. Do you think she can possibly -have got away?” - -“Impossible! The doors are barred—and double locked—and spring-locked.” - -“I know. But where is she.” - -“There must be a search instituted.” - -“Thank God the Master is away.” - -“He came home last night at midnight.” - -His voice was grim as his information was short. - -“Come home! Come home!” repeated Mariana. “What shall I do?” - -“You had best go and tell him.” - -“Is he up?” - -“Yes. An hour ago.” - -“I can’t go. Do this thing for me, Everard. I never asked you anything -before.” - -He looked at her with a face half serious, half cold, then turned in the -direction of the west wing. - -Mariana sat down on one of the many chairs—a solitary figure in that big -empty hall, with clasped hands and shrinking form, fearing vaguely. - -Everard knocked at Mr. Barringcourt’s door, and obeyed the summons to go -in. Before Everard could speak the Master looked up, and said, with a -pleasantness not always customary in him: - -“Good morning, Everard! When Rosalie Paleaf has had breakfast, I want -you to see her. Don’t forget to tell Mariana. What is it?” - -“She has disappeared in the night!” - -“Who?” and the dark brows contracted slightly as he looked across at the -speaker. - -“Rosalie Paleaf.” - -“Disappeared in the night? Tell fairy stories to those that believe -them.” - -“She is not in her bedroom, nor the corridor to which she was -restricted.” - -“Who has told you this?” said the Master, getting up. - -“Mariana.” - -“Confound Mariana! Go and search house and gardens, and take the -search-light, and bring her back in half an hour.” - -Everard withdrew. - -“Disappeared!” said Mr. Barringcourt, left to himself, and his brows -came together blackly. “That is impossible, without the help of -Mariana,” and then he turned to the letter he was writing and finished -it, though it was a long one, before Everard returned. - -On his entrance the Master looked up. - -“She is nowhere.” - -“You have searched in every place, likely and unlikely?” - -“In every place.” - -Then a very cruel light leapt into his eyes, in that deep shadow that -encircled them, and his lips closed one over the other grimly, as he -looked across at the doorkeeper. - -“Who is to thank for this?” - -“It was a circumstance quite unforeseen.” - -“I don’t doubt it. Where is that heavy-sleeping ass, whose snores -swallow up footfalls and opening doors?” - -“You mean—” - -“I mean your first cousin for dulness of perception. Send me that -brainless thing called Mariana.” - -Everard withdrew. He walked along the corridor as evenly as usual. -Whether doubt or misgiving was in his mind, it showed nothing in his -face. - -There, in the outer hall, scarcely having moved during the whole time, -sat Mariana. On the opening of the door she looked up. - -“The Master wishes to speak to you.” - -“Is he very angry?” - -“Nothing but what may be appeased. But you had better say no more than -you can help.” - -She got up without a word, and went to the study. - -“Where is the girl I entrusted to you?” he said, as soon as the door was -closed. - -“She has escaped during the night.” - -“At what time?” - -“Between ten and six.” - -“The time is vague. You’re a sound sleeper to be able to count eight -hours of unconsciousness.” - -“I merit it by hard work during the day.” - -“Oh! you should have explained this a little earlier. If your work was -too hard, others could have been set to watch. Your excuse is -admirable.” - -“It is no excuse, it is the truth.” - -“You never heard a footfall, nor a door creak?” - -“No. The doors, as you know, have never creaked.” - -“I know nothing. You will perhaps enlighten me, and not take too much -for granted.” - -“I can say nothing but in answer to your questions.” - -“And you know nothing of the hour of escape?” - -“I know only that I saw her safely into bed last night, looking utterly -tired out. She fell asleep almost before I left the room. This morning I -found the door leading from my room into hers standing open, and that -leading to the corridor off the latch.” - -“Has she left anything behind her?” - -“I found her hat and cloak in the wardrobe; I do not think she can have -taken them.” - -“Your deduction is beyond argument. A little less sleep would stir that -muddled, dreamy brain of yours into some semblance, at least, of -action.” - -“I don’t think it’s the sleep that makes me stupid. It’s the dull -greyness of the sky.” - -“Maybe. What penalty are you inclined to pay for your neglect and lack -of vigilance?” - -“It was not neglect. I slept heavier than I have ever slept before. I -believe God helped her, for she was young and good and innocent.” - -“You seem to entertain no sorrow for your neglect of duty.” - -Her puzzled eyes, tired and questioning, met his. - -“No, I do not feel sorry. How can I? She could not settle to this prison -life as I have done. She was of a softer and more yielding nature. What -hardens me would soon have killed her altogether.” - -“Better be killed than get away alive without permission. And you, being -the offender, must bear her punishment beside your own.” - -A wintry smile crept to her lips. - -“Oh! I am strong enough for any punishment. I have a frame of iron -buried in what seems like flesh. If I have sinned, then name the -punishment. But sin at times, if sin this be, brings near an echo of -happier things beyond this life to conjure.” - -“You are too hard-worked, you say.” - -“I said I slept the sounder for it.” - -“Sound sleeping is a thing for swine. You shall not work so hard, for -you must sleep less heavily. You are intent upon a wedding-gown, I hear. -Leave it unfinished.” - -“But I have worked at it three years; the dullest work is finished. This -is the part I love, that makes some compensation for that other thing I -worship.” - -“And for the double punishment, seeing your working hours have been -reduced and cancelled, there will be no further need for that night -out—excruciating torment for the all unhappy listeners.” - -“Rosalie loved my playing.” Her dark eyes shone out from a face pale as -death. - -“No. She was bribing you to stop by flattery. Did she not counsel you to -give it up?” - -“Ah! that is impossible. I ask nothing but two little hours a week. If -that goes, I might as well be dead.” - -“You might then, for you have done with them.” - -“It was the stipulation when I came here.” - -“You have broken the stipulation by your carelessness.” - -“What am I to do, then?” - -“Nothing. Learn to appreciate the luxury of idleness.” - -“You have not weighed the fairness of such a punishment.” - -“You have angered me.” - -“Give me but one hour a week, then. Give me but one.” - -“No, not one! Get away out of my sight, lest I be tempted to kick you -out.” - -“Where must I go? I have no place amongst the others now.” - -“There is the workroom. You had best guard what you have made from -moths. That is sufficient occupation surely for one who hitherto was too -hard-worked.” - -“It is a return to the life I led before I came here.” - -“The information does not interest me. You live your life according to -your own making. Go; I have no more to say to you.” - -Mariana’s eyes glittered. - -“I would I could appeal to some power without against this cruel -sentence.” - -“Oh! there is no power without. The world is too busy with its own -affairs. You had best sink into silence gracefully. You have got past -the age of screaming and past the age of tears. You have let go the only -prisoner I set my mind on keeping, and need expect no mercy for it. -Imbecile! Go!” - -The words were accompanied by an action so indicative of savage -irritation that Mariana, without further reply, turned to the door and -left the room. - -Daylight, unaccompanied by much warmth, had taken the place of twilight. -The lights were out, and morning had begun. - -Along the corridor into the central hall, with face all deathly white, -she passed. She met Everard there. He had waited for her. - -He read her untold story by her face, for she never said a word, and -glided past him like a ghost in a painted picture toward the eastern -wing. - -The door swung open. Here no light had ever penetrated by night or day, -save only the artificial glimmer and pale ghastliness. - -Then at No. 13 she stopped, and opened the low-built door. She gave one -hurried glance back to the big double door that shut her off from life, -then passed into the damp, dark cell, and closed the door behind her. - -No longer the work that filled with a certain pleasure the long hours of -day. To sit there idle, without light, or companionship, or -occupation—that was her doom now. And then, to give up that precious -pleasure and intoxicating dream that came round once a week! She -shuddered at the black thought. - -Down she sat upon one wooden chair. And as she sat, the moths descended -one by one about her. But when she sighed they flew far off again. The -moths in flimsy clouds hovered above, and knew quite all too well their -time had not come yet. - -So there for the present we must leave her—stiff, rigid, and unmoving. -Crushed down by pain and heaviness so great, she had no strength to move -or cry. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - THE GOVERNOR - - -The morning came, and Rosalie awoke, light-hearted and ready to arise. -No one came here to call her except the sun and singing birds outside -the window. None else were needed. When she had dressed, she passed out -on the landing and down the staircase, and seeing the door open to the -dining-room where she had supped last night, went there. Its open -windows opened on the ground. Breakfast was laid for two, and as none -else was visible she passed out into the garden, eagerly drinking in the -wondrous freshness of the morning air. - -At last she saw the stranger of the night coming toward her from a gate -in a high yew edge that separated the garden from whatever lay beyond. -He carried a basket in his hand, and as he came nearer Rosalie saw that -the basket contained small seeds. Though he wore glasses when writing in -the house, he evidently did not need them here. In fact, it did not seem -to her that a man with eyes so blue and piercing could ever be -short-sighted at all, but still it must be so. He wore no hat. The sun -shone on his silver hair, a brilliant lustre. He walked with ease and -gracefulness, and again the odd resemblance in appearance to Mr. -Barringcourt recurred to her. - -“Good morning, Rosalie! I think a spray of flowers would greatly improve -that sombre dress of yours. Gather what kind you like, and come to -breakfast—it is waiting for us.” - -He passed on as he spoke, and disappeared within the house. - -Following his advice, she gathered a cluster of pale roses, and placed -them in her belt. Truly, his words, though simple, had had a very good -effect. She no longer felt she wore a uniform of black and red. The -flowers had given the happiest relief. - -After breakfast he invited her to his study, “for,” said he, “I wish to -have some conversation with you before eight o’clock. After that I am -engaged till twelve, and rarely find much spare time till evening has -closed, and to-night I cannot spare you even that.” - -When they were both seated there, he began the conversation by saying: - -“Last night you told me you knew of no merit that could have brought you -to me, but I think that, between us, we must endeavour to discover one. -Perhaps, if you will repeat your story to me, I may be of use in finding -it.” - -So on that Rosalie recounted the story of her early life, simply and -truthfully, up to that last visit to the temple. Nor did she omit her -meeting with Mr. Barringcourt there, and the short conversation she had -held with him. But on mentioning the last visit, after her aunt’s death, -she came to a sudden stop, and seemed undecided and unknowing how to -proceed. - -“You say you went once more inside the sacred curtain. But why?” - -“I felt I had given up so much that the Serpent must recognise how much -I really loved him. Besides, I felt I wanted to get some real strength -to go on living after every hope and aspiration had died away.” - -“What was it made you wish so badly for a tongue?” - -“I don’t know. I don’t think it was me that wished; I think it was -something else.” - -And then she flushed, for that was the style of speech Mr. Barringcourt -would have ridiculed. And she herself recognised that truth at times, to -the ignorant or wilfully blind, may appear silly and foolish. But this -new acquaintance made no remark immediately, only his keen eyes -travelled across her face, as if reading something there. - -“And that something?” he asked at length. - -“I don’t know, I’m sure. But it never gave me any peace, and it wasn’t -myself, I am sure. Sometimes I used to reason that I couldn’t possibly -receive the gift of speech, and yet the inner voice repeated, ‘Go on, go -on!’ so that, apart from my own great wish, I was obliged to do as I was -told.” - -“And you received the gift at last?” - -“Yes.” - -“On that last visit to the Serpent?” - -“No, I—I—I—for that I went to Mr. Barringcourt.” - -“The Serpent did not heal you, then?” - -“Oh, sir, could it?” Rosalie’s voice was almost a remonstrance. - -“Is not the Serpent the God of Lucifram?” - -“Yes, and that is what has troubled me so heavily ever since; far more -than imprisonment and harshness.” - -“What has troubled you?” - -“Perhaps if I tell you, you will think me fanciful.” - -He smiled. - -“Fancies are all put to the test here,” he answered, and a certain -sternness rang in the kindness of his tone that reassured Rosalie, -somehow or other, when she thought it would have frightened her. - -“Well, after I had resigned my will, and prayed for strength, I closed -my eyes, and it seemed as if a great vision flashed before me in the -darkness. The Serpent seemed to have turned round, and to show that from -the back it was all hollow, and in its three tails, so black and dingy -from the inside, three dwarfed jesters sat, with caps and bells, all -grinning and pointing, as if to make a mock of everything. And then a -fire of purest light and radiance, with a centre of unearthly -brightness, more beautiful than any sight I ever saw, rolled over -everything, and burnt the hollow symbol to a cinder with its -all-conquering strength.” - -Rosalie’s eyes were shining as they looked across into his. - -“And in my mind the same thing must have happened. For somehow no longer -I thought upon the Serpent. All was changed. Whatever humble love I had -to give, and strength to ask, were given and claimed by some wise -reasoning Being far above, whose faintest breath could shrivel into -cinders this grinning mockery worshipped of man.” - -“What of the cinder?” - -“Oh! I remember it never burned away. It shone like a little ball of -gold within the fire, and I wondered at the time why it had never -disappeared.” - -Then suddenly she got up and crossed the room and knelt down beside him, -and clasped her hands upon the arm-chair. - -“And I believe it,” she said. “I could never think of going back to the -Serpent after the higher thing; I loved to see the pure white light -within that glorious fire. It was so peaceful, restful, strong and -light-giving. I hardly think I could have spent the week that followed, -with all its brilliant lights and gloomy blackness, and everything so -fresh and new, had I not had that light so pure and still to think upon. -It was divinest comfort to me even when the blackness tried to quite -obscure it, and set such a terrible gap betwixt me and every living -thing.” - -“And after this you left the temple and went to Mr. Barringcourt?” - -“Yes; there was nothing more to stay for. And I think the same thing led -me to him that has now led me to you—calling ‘On! on! on!’ in spite of -everything.” - -“And when you got there?” - -“Then he healed me, by a very natural process it seemed, that had little -of the miracle about it. But I felt no pain, and I remember he was very -much surprised at it.” - -“And the cure was perfect?” - -“Yes, I think it was too perfect. My tongue became most glib and -voluble. Words slipped out I often wished unsaid.” - -“You had had no practice in restraining them?” - -“Well, no. But I think myself Mr. Barringcourt really did oil the wheels -of my tongue too freely, because I don’t think by nature I should ever -be given to answering back. But when I was there that seemed the one -thing in life I was capable of.” - -She had risen from her knees and walked towards the fireplace. - -“But what reason should he have for doing so?” - -Rosalie looked at him sideways. Then suddenly she laughed. - -“You’ve got to learn some day how intensely stupid and simple I am, so -perhaps you had better know soon as late. Well, I think the reason why -he brought my tongue to such a pitch of volubility was because he is -very keen on finding out all secrets, and he thought I should save time -and trouble by being made very talkative.” - -“He is keen on finding out secrets?” - -“Yes; it sounds silly, but it’s true. He was most peculiar. If other men -are like him, I pity the women that have to deal with them, and often -think how fortunate my aunt was, for uncle was most quiet and -peaceable.” - -“Your experience of people is not very great.” - -She sighed. - -“No; I could not tell whether he was like other men or not. That’s how -it was I felt at such a disadvantage all the time. Anyway, he wasn’t -like any of my relations, the girls and women that I knew, nor even like -the doctor that attended us, nor the bread baker, nor the butcher, nor -any of those. But then Everard wasn’t. None of them were, in fact.” - -“What led to your discovery of his _penchant_ for secrets?” - -“Mariana told me; and when she told me, I laughed to myself, it seemed -so utterly ridiculous. But afterwards I came to understand it. That is -why he quarrelled with me, and left me a prisoner in the upper storey.” - -“In so short a time?” - -“Yes. He found I had no secret worth discovering.” - -“But had you not?” - -“No. Sometimes I felt tempted to tell him the real facts of my last -visit to the temple, but something always held me back. And after all, -if I had told him I should have become a prisoner all the same.” - -“Maybe. Then in the end you quarrelled with him?” - -“No, he quarrelled with me. We were getting on, as I considered, very -nicely, and suddenly I could say nothing that would please him. -Afterwards I understood it was because he had grown tired of me, and -found me unprofitable, so far as secrets were concerned.” - -“And so you were consigned to shadows, and a suite of rooms in an upper -storey?” - -“Yes, and it was terrible. I never wish to go through such a time again. -It seemed to me eternity. Even now I don’t believe it was a week. It was -a year of weeks.” - -“Did Mr. Barringcourt ever ask you any questions about the Serpent?” - -“Yes; he often asked me questions.” - -“And you never told him what you had seen then?” - -“No, I couldn’t, much as I wanted to. When I got to that part I only -stammered, and that used to make him angry.” - -“Then how can you say he discovered you had no secret worth discovering -when you distinctly had one?” - -“He would have simply ridiculed it, and said there was no truth in it. -So what was it worth to him?” - -“You used some little reason, then, in the controlling of your tongue?” - -“Perhaps it was I, but I gave the credit elsewhere.” - -“Now we have to discover the merit that lit the path for you to here.” - -“Will you not put on your glasses? It will be hard to find.” - -“How long did you say you prayed to the Serpent for the gift of speech?” - -“Over two years; and the prayer was answered in a different way from -what I thought.” - -“By the way, you spoke a little time ago of Mariana. Who was she?” - -“A kind of waiting-maid at Marble House. I do not know what else she -could be called, unless a sewing-maid. But she was beautiful, and -different altogether from any sewing-maid that I had ever seen. And even -in a week I grew to love her, for underneath a cold and smooth exterior -she had the sweetest, kindest disposition of anyone I ever knew.” - -“Did she derive much happiness from living there?” - -“None, except two hours every Wednesday night. And then she played upon -a violin. I never heard such music, though it was weirdly sad. But Mr. -Barringcourt blinded my reason to believe there was no harmony in what -she played.” - -“You do not give him an enviable character.” - -“That is what I said when Mariana told me of him.” And suddenly Rosalie -shuddered. “How can I give him an enviable character when he was cruel, -hard as marble, and vindictive. He was bad, really bad, and the worst -thing is I knew it all the time, yet had he been agreeable to me, really -agreeable, I would have shut my eyes to everything.” - -And from a very real feeling of shame, her colour deepened, for Rosalie -was not one of those people who are blind to their own shortcomings and -weaknesses. - -Then suddenly turning to her host, she said, changing the conversation: - -“What must I call you? Everybody has a name, but yours I never heard.” - -“Well,” he answered slowly, “I don’t know that for the present I have -any name worth going by. Some call me the Traveller’s Friend, some the -Physician, some the Task Master. You may call me what you will for the -present. Hereafter we may find a better name.” - -“Well, Mr. Barringcourt was called the Master. Suppose I call you the -Governor, without any abbreviation to a lesser name.” - -“Why that?” - -“Because Mariana told me I was weak, and weak people want someone very -strict with them, and I should like to have a good understanding, you -know, because I’m very ignorant.” - -He looked at her. - -“Well, you will find me strict enough. And for the rest, it’s bound to -follow.” - -Then he got up, and took down a large volume from a book-shelf, and -seated once more in his chair, with the book on the table, adjusted his -glasses, and opening the leaves, turned them slowly, as one looking -through the pages of a dictionary to discover something. - -As last he found the place he needed, and for some time read in silence; -then closed the book and instantly removed his glasses as he looked -across at her. - -“I’ve been through the list of merits, Rosalie, and have decided yours -is the questionable merit of clinging on. None others have had much time -to develop yet. They may be there, no doubt, but have not, as it were, -yet come of age.” - -“Clinging on! It’s very questionable, isn’t it?” - -“Yes; but you’ll have one or two stiff examinations to pass in it before -you’ve finished.” - -“But—but the people who cling on are—are so insufferable.” And it must -be acknowledged a very real tear of disappointment stood in her eye. - -“Would you have liked some higher-sounding virtue?” - -“Yes; I thought you were going to say meekness and gentleness, or some -of the great gifts of the spirit. I never read that ‘clinging on’ was -counted much in the Book of Divine Inspiration. Besides, who have I been -clinging on to? I deserted the Serpent just—” - -“Just at the right time. There is where the virtue comes. Had you been -any earlier you would have shown great fickleness. Besides, after all, I -don’t think you’re very heavy, Rosalie. You would not be such an -insufferable load to drag along.” - -“I don’t know, I’m sure. But anyway, I’ll trust to you.” - -“Well now, whilst you stay with me there is much work to be done. But -for to-day, until you become accustomed to your new surroundings, you -may take holiday. To-morrow morning be up as early as to-day. After -breakfast I will show you in what direction your work will lie.” - -After that she went away, and saw no more of him all day. It was an -ideal holiday in the sun and warmth and beauty of the outdoor life. And -for the noontide meal, Billy came and sat with her, though he only drank -one glass of water whilst she ate. - -“Are you not hungry?” she asked. - -“Well, yes. I’m getting hungry, but it isn’t my meal-time yet. You’d be -astonished if you saw the amount I eat compared with you,” and he -laughed in the gayest, happiest tone. After a while he said: “Have you -made friends with the frog yet?” - -“With whom?” - -“The frog. My father’s pet frog. It is in the garden, but is rather shy -of strangers, but very talkative when once you get to know it.” - -“A frog? And it can talk?” - -“You bet! It has a better fund of words and style of oratory than many a -statesman.” - -“Well, then, it should be a human being.” - -Billy looked at her, and his brilliant sparkling eyes were laughing. - -“Well, no, hardly that. It is quite contented to remain a frog—a very -superior kind of frog.” - -“Do you come every day for lessons?” asked Rosalie, uncertain what to -say. - -“Three times a week. And the other days I walk over in my spare time.” - -“Then you have not far to come?” - -“Not far, comparatively speaking. The distance lessens as one grows -older, I find.” - -“Then it would be less to me than you?” - -Again he laughed. - -“Well, no; I expect I’ve had more practice than you. Good morning!” - -And he was gone, leaving Rosalie to ponder on that odd kind of powerful -beauty in his face, and that exuberant merriness that made her sigh to -lose him. For that was the worst of Billy. He seemed to come and go more -like some brilliant spirit, a kind of Mercury, with winged heels, to -bring one ray of sunshine, and then depart. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - A PLANTATION - - -The next morning after breakfast the Governor led her down the garden to -the gate in the edge of yew. He carried in his hand the basket she had -seen the day before, containing seeds. But whereas yesterday they had -looked green, to-day they had a silvery-white appearance, toning to a -liquid aspect as of water in the centre. Beyond the edge stretched a -square plot of uncultivated land bordered by willow trees, and at the -further side a little hut of wood, just in the shelter of the forest. -But here the sun did not shine so brightly. The garden of Pleasure was -left behind. This was the field of _Work_. - -The Governor led the way across to the hut. It consisted of two rooms, a -living- and a sleeping-room, and moreover a little cellar, where she -discovered all kinds of garden implements and spades, and one large fork -that looked as if it were for digging heavy soil. - -He put the basket down upon the table, and then he said: - -“This is your little house. These are the seeds to be sown in the strip -of land you see without. You must dig and sow, and then wait for the -harvest. The books upon the shelves you may study in your leisure, but -you must grasp each subject thoroughly before your time of -apprenticeship is over.” - -So saying, without any word of advice or caution he left the hut and -crossed to the gate that led to the garden. Rosalie was left alone. - -But though on one side lay a great and unknown forest, she experienced -no fear at being left alone, even though when she looked out she noticed -how uncompromisingly high the edge appeared, shutting her quite away -from sight or sound of the pretty wayside house. - -But just then a voice attracted her attention. - -“Well! well!” said it, most harshly, “what’s the first thing that a -farmer does before he sows his seed?” - -“I don’t know, I’m sure,” answered Rosalie; “I’ve never lived in the -country,” and looked round to find the speaker. - -And there on the doorstep was a frog sitting, looking up at her half -contemplatively, half pityingly. Its colours were beautifully striped, -green and white. On its head these colours blended brilliantly, taking -away some of the staring effect of the wide-open eyes. - -“Don’t know?” it answered. “Well! well! You’ll have to dig. Get a fork -and dig. Well! well! best to know nothing than to know too much.” - -Rosalie went as she was told, and brought the big fork she had noticed. -It certainly was very big, and looked aggressive. - -“Do you mean this?” she asked. - -“What else should I mean? Now then, set to work. The quicker you begin, -the quicker you’ll finish.” - -“But—but what must I do with it?” - -“Grasp it in both hands. Stick it in the ground, and push it in with -your foot. Well! well! the sooner you learn, the sooner you’ll know.” - -“I won’t!” said Rosalie. “It’s a man’s work; why, it’s digging. I know I -was never intended to do that.” - -The frog, by way of showing its disgust, gave a contemptuous croak. - -“Man’s work? It isn’t the work most men would thank you for giving them. -Even as far back as the days of Divine Inspiration mankind was ashamed -of it. It’s woman’s work! What man won’t do always falls to the woman.” - -“But women never dig in our country,” said Rosalie, still bent on the -argument. - -“What country’s yours?” - -“The biggest in the whole of Lucifram.” - -“It would be bigger still if the women applied themselves better,” said -the frog, and a short silence followed. - -“Do you really think I ought to do it?” said Rosalie, at last, not being -of that stubborn nature that delights in saying “no” and sticking to it. - -“Well, I don’t see what else is to be done,” said her companion. “If you -don’t dig you’ll never sow, and if you don’t sow, you’ll never reap, and -if you don’t reap you’ll never—” - -“Never what?” - -“Prove you’re anything but a fool.” - -“Really?” said Rosalie. - -“Really!” said the frog; but the expression in each voice was different. - -So she stuck the fork into the ground, and found it took a great deal of -strength to make any impression upon the surface. But once having put -her shoulder to the plough, as it were, there was nothing for it but to -go on, for the old voice kept ringing “Go on! go on!” and consequently -on she went. - -The frog, for some considerable period, watched her from the side, but -finally hopped away into the hut. At noonday it appeared again, and -summoned her to dinner, which was already prepared in the little -living-room. - -“Who prepared my dinner?” asked Rosalie, after she had washed her hands -and settled to the meal. - -“I did,” it replied. “It’s a woman’s work certainly, but if you waited -for a woman to do it for you, you’d come badly off. No; I’m a frog, but -when there’s no one else by I can do other work besides my own. How do -you like digging?” - -“It makes me very tired, and the inside of my hands are quite sore.” - -“Are they? Well, you’ve got to go on again this afternoon, you know. If -you don’t get the seeds in before very long they’ll wither.” - -She answered nothing, but after the customary hour of rest returned -again to the hard labour. - -It was slow work and very hard, and not a soul came near all the day -long. In fact, during the afternoon even the frog seemed to have -deserted her, and it was not till the first faint tinge of evening -crossed the sky that she again heard the familiar voice calling from the -wooden doorstep: - -“Time’s up now; tea’s ready.” - -Rosalie let the fork drop on the ground, and turned round as eagerly as -her tired body would allow. - -Whilst she ate her tea, this new friend sat upon the hearth. - -“I shall be as stiff as a board to-morrow,” said Rosalie, laying her -tired arms upon the arms of the chair. - -“No; my master sent down that little bottle on the mantelpiece for you. -You must take it before you go to bed, and you will be all right in the -morning—so far as stiffness is concerned, anyway. We don’t go in for -torture here, but we believe in hard work—very hard work sometimes.” - -When the meal was finished the frog said: - -“Now, if you will take this arm-chair by the fireplace, I will remove -the table.” - -She did so, and was surprised to see that when the frog pulled a small -knob in the wall the whole table, which, however, was not large, -disappeared through an opening partition, and left the room clear. - -“If you want to read or study, you must draw that writing-desk nearer,” -continued her instructor. - -“I don’t want to do anything to-night. I’m so tired, I think I’ll go to -bed early.” - -“That wouldn’t be a bad plan, seeing you have only been at work one day, -and find it all so strange. You’ll be more accustomed to it to-morrow, -and get more done.” - -“Yes,” said Rosalie; “I’m all impatience to be finished. It is such -dreary work, and I’m quite inquisitive about the seeds. I wonder whether -they’ll grow up roses, or lilies, or nasturtiums, or dahlias, or -hyacinths, or chrysanthemums, or what?” - -“Don’t you know much about seeds?” - -“Nothing. Uncle was very clever that way; but I never cared about -seeds—they looked so very uninteresting; I only cared about the -flowers.” - -“If I were you,” said the frog, “I would rub a little of that liquid out -of the bottle on my hands. If they are blistered and sore it will heal -them very quickly. I’ve had sore hands myself, so I can sympathise. And -here’s a pair of gloves,” it continued, drawing a pair from behind the -coal-scuttle. “I made them this afternoon, instead of coming out to keep -you company. I might have made them outside, but I thought it would be a -little surprise for you.” - -“Oh, thank you,” said Rosalie. “How very thoughtful of you! Where did -you learn everything you know?” - -“Well! well!” said the frog, with quite a sorrowful croak, “I learnt it -in the school where it is most generally taught.” - -“Where was that?” - -“In the school of experience and adversity, for the most part.” - -“Don’t you think that people can be kind unless they’ve gone through a -great deal of suffering?” asked Rosalie. - -“Now and again, just now and again, one finds them. But they’re few and -far between.” - -“I think suffering and trouble make people bitter, or else break them up -altogether.” - -“Not if they’re made of the right stuff,” said the frog. “It’s the -needle’s eye that rich and poor men alike have to pass through. If you -can’t stand sorrow, you can’t stand happiness, though you may think you -can.” - -“But we were made to be happy. The Serpent—God rather, meant us to be -so.” - -“God meant us to be happy eventually,” said the frog gently. “But like -all things else worth having, it takes a great deal of fighting for. -Contentment and peace are the nearest approach to it one generally gets -the other side of heaven.” - -“I don’t like the word ‘peace.’ It reminds me of a fat woman, and a -dinner of suet dumplings.” - -“You’re prejudiced, or else you’ve mistaken it for lethargy.” - -“Well, is not contentment a state of lethargy?” - -“No; when you’re most contented, you’re least so. The two things -naturally go together, and keep up a constant flow of action that does -away with torpidness.” - -“How long do you think it will be before my work is finished here?” - -“I don’t know. It’s rather a foolish question to ask. No one knows. It -depends upon what time the seed takes to ripen and the bent of your -mind.” - -“And in the evenings must I study?” - -“It is your only time. But what you want is plenty of hard work and -plenty of deep thought.” - -“And that is almost everything,” said Rosalie. - -“I believe it is,” answered the frog; and by the simple process of -pulling another knob emptied a shovelful of coal on the fire out of the -chimney-side. - -It was not long after this when Rosalie prepared for bed. She rubbed the -liquid on her hands, and found it very soon relieved them. Then she -drank the contents of the bottle and retired to the inner room, first -bidding the frog “Good-night.” - -“I sleep on the doorstep,” said it, “so you may sleep doubly secure. -Nothing evil can cross me, for my life is charmed.” - -And, somehow or other, there seemed more life, strength, and -independence in this small creature than there had ever been in Mariana. -Poor Mariana! Rosalie fell asleep thinking of her, wondering how she had -taken the news of her escape, and whether Mr. Barringcourt indulged in -anything further than a frown when the truth was told to him. - -But these thoughts did not keep her long out of the land of dreams. -Perhaps it was that Rosalie had enough to do thinking of her own affairs -just then. It never struck her that her escape could make any material -difference to Mariana. She imagined her living the same even life, with -one real pleasure in the week in compensation for its darkness, and saw -within her mind the wedding-dress nearing completion, and trembled in -her sleep to think it soon must be finished and fade again to nothing -for want of one to wear it. - -And in the night she dreamt the seeds were sown, the time of harvest -came, and every seed appeared as a huge and barren stone. Then in -despair and disappointment she wept upon them, and they disappeared. - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - SEEDS GROWING CONTRARIWISE - - -After that, life began in earnest for Rosalie. For some weeks her days -were given to digging, her nights to mastering the alphabet of some -unknown language. It was all dry work, and very hard. - -No one came near, except the frog, and she often found herself wishing -for more human companionship. But still it was not Rosalie’s nature to -grumble too much at circumstances. She contented herself with an -occasional sigh, and for the rest learnt to love the harsh, croaking -voice that had something to say about most things, and was always kind -enough to revive her drooping spirits with cheering words. - -At last the plot of ground was all prepared, and considering it had been -digged by a woman, it was not at all badly done. No one would have known -the difference if they hadn’t been told, though afterwards they might -have discovered the depth was not so great. However that may be, the -seeds were sown in it, and began doubtless to do their own little bit of -digging, and go down so far that no one could find them where they’d -first been put. After the sowing came the time of waiting. There was -much weeding, and more watering, for no drop of rain ever descended -there, and all had to be carried from a stream near by. - -Rosalie watched the ground impatiently to see when the first bright -blade would appear, but though she waited one month, two, three, four, -nothing at all except an occasional weed altered the surface of the -ground. And her whole heart was buried in that little garden. It seemed -as if it, too, must have taken root down there, away from the sunshine -and the warmth. - -And the waiting was far worse than the working, for after three months -certainly something ought to have shown. But when it went on to four, -five, nay, at last came out into six long months, and nothing yet had -come to light, Rosalie went back into the little hut, and laid her head -upon her arms upon the table, and cried from sheer disappointment and -low spirits. For during this time of waiting and subsequent doubt no one -had come to see her, no one at all, except the frog. - -In this fit of depression, which was the first of its kind, the outcome -of disappointment and hope deferred, the frog spoke. - -“What is it, Rosalie? I’ve never seen you cry before.” - -“I can’t stand it any longer, I know I can’t. I’ve waited for six -months, with never a soul to speak to but you, and nothing has come up. -It’s all a failure. My heart is as heavy as a stone. If it gets much -worse it will break right in two. I know it will.” - -“Where is your heart?” - -“It should be in my body, but I believe I must have sown it along with -the seeds in the garden, and it’s turning to stone while they’re -rotting.” - -Then the frog spoke rather shyly, as one who fears to be ridiculed, and -is slightly apologetic. - -“Perhaps the seeds have turned to—to—to—stone, too,” and it looked hard -in the fire instead of at Rosalie. - -She, however, looked across at it with eyes wide open. - -“Well, really! It doesn’t seem unlikely, considering the time they are -in coming up.” - -“What will you do?” said the frog. - -“I’ll begin to dig again,” cried Rosalie. - -“It’s the wisest thing you’ve said since you came here,” the frog -answered, and its colours flashed quite brilliantly. - -So the next morning (for it was evening when they spoke to one another) -Rosalie rose with a much lighter heart than for some time past, went out -into the garden with the fork, and began to dig. She dug all day, but -found nothing, till just at eventide she noticed something shining in -the dull, damp soil. She picked it out with her fingers very eagerly. It -was a dull enough looking stone for the most part, with here and there a -substance in it that shone like glass—not very brilliantly. Whatever it -was, it was enough to brighten Rosalie’s spirits for the time being, and -as just then she heard the frog’s voice calling her to tea, she made as -much haste forwards as she could over the clodding soil to show her -treasure. - -“See what a beautiful thing I have found!” she cried, and held it up -triumphantly. - -“It isn’t very brilliant,” said the frog, looking at it critically. - -“Don’t you think so?” - -“No. You do, because you’ve been looking at black soil all the day, but -I’ve been looking at the sun.” - -“Well, but then the brightest thing would look dull if you compared it -with the sun. How am I to find out really what it is?” - -“Take it to my master.” - -“I can’t open the gate.” - -“The gate will open of itself, if you’ve anything to take to him.” - -Rosalie turned about to run off at once, but the other said: - -“Wait and have tea first. He is never at liberty till six, and now it’s -only five.” - -So after tea, Rosalie, having previously changed her heavy boots and -generally tidied herself, set off in the direction of the house. - -The gate this time responded easily enough to her hand, and soon she was -walking through the garden, holding her stone the tighter, in that she -was quite sure, from the fact of the gate opening so readily, it must be -worth something very considerable. - -The door leading into the garden was open, and after knocking she passed -through, and went at once to the study. - -The curious thing about the sun here was that it always set at the same -time of day, and that between five and half-past, so that now twilight -had fallen, and the lamps were lit, though the blinds remained undrawn. - -The Governor sat as usual, and must have been expecting her, for he held -out his hand as she entered, saying: - -“Well, what have you brought?” - -She placed it in the hand he held out, and waited whilst he looked at -it. This did not take very long, for almost on the instant he looked up, -and said: - -“I’ll send it to an expert in the city of Lucifram, and get his opinion -on it.” - -“You think it is very valuable, then?” - -“I’m afraid I don’t, except in a way that doesn’t count. But we’ll send -it to someone who is unacquainted with the digging, and watering, and -heartburning it has necessitated, and therefore who will be less -prejudiced than I.” - -“When will you send it?” - -“To-night; and you will hear the decision in something like a -fortnight.” - -So then she went away. The next two weeks were passed in waiting, and in -the study of those books which Rosalie found more dry and difficult each -succeeding day. For there was no one to explain them, and in some parts -there seemed nothing but big full-stops and commas, with wide gaps -between. - -But at the end of that time the frog came to her one morning and said -the Governor wished to see her. - -Rosalie went in fear and expectation, and the first thing her eyes -lighted on was her stone upon the table. This, she felt, was not quite -as it should be. - -“The decision is that it is rubbish.” - -That was all the Governor said. - -She felt rather miserable. She thought it must be with hurrying across -the garden. However, there was nothing to be said, and Rosalie withdrew. -After that some very hard, frosty weather followed, and the ground was -so hard that for a long time she was able to do nothing—outside, at any -rate. - -Then when it thawed a little she went out and digged again, and found -just such another stone as the one before, only of a little lighter and -brighter substance. - -After tea she took it to the Governor, as last time. He promised to send -it to the city, and get the opinion of an expert upon it. Rosalie -withdrew to wait. At the end of a fortnight she was again sent for to -the Governor’s house. Her stone was on the table. - -“The decision is that it is rubbish,” said he. - -And she felt disappointed this time, but not miserable. One is never -quite so sure of things after the first time—that is, if they’ve -miscarried. She went back again to the plantation and the hut. Again the -ground had frozen, and for some time it was impossible to do anything, -even had she had the inclination. - -After this, every time the thaw came Rosalie set to work again, finding -the work a change and relief from study. And though the disappointment -always lasted out the frost, it always disappeared with the thaw. And -every time she went up to the house, the particular stone she had last -found lay on the table, and the words were: - -“The decision is that it is rubbish.” - -This went on for a long while, till at last it seemed to Rosalie all the -hope had been crushed out of her, and she went back to the garden and -found it quite frosted over. But after a while the frost broke, and the -frog, seeing Rosalie made no attempt to go to dig, said to her: - -“The frost has broken.” - -“I know.” - -“Will you not go out into the garden?” - -“No; I’m too impatient. I want the seeds to grow quicker than I can -learn. I’ve been thinking about it all, and I feel that I must wait. -Bright stones take longer to grow than flowers, because they fade less -quickly.” - -Thereupon the frog let fall a tear of gratitude, but turned the other -way during the odd process, so that Rosalie never noticed it. - -Then followed a very long and dreary time, with no companionship; -nothing but the even days and dull books, and the sympathetic frog. And -this went on so long that many a time Rosalie went out to look at the -ground, and sighed, but never thought of touching it, because something -had said “Stand still.” At last, after a very long time had gone by, she -went to bed one night, feeling particularly sad. - -Some hours later she awoke to find the moon shining full into the -chamber. She got up and dressed, and went through into the outer room. -The door was open, and the frog was sitting contemplatively upon the -step, looking out on to the beauties of the night. Occasionally it gave -a croak of satisfaction. - -Rosalie went to the cellar and brought out the big fork, and thought she -was so quiet the frog had never seen her. But then, poor thing, its eyes -were so large, they stared out from every side of its head, and as she -approached the door it hopped down, and moved aside to let her pass. - -“Why don’t you ask me what I’m going to do?” she said, laughing. - -“That’s plain to be seen,” it answered, and hopped after her in the -moonlight. - -Suddenly Rosalie began to dig, just on that portion of ground where a -shaft of moonlight had fallen. For some time nothing but loose soil came -up, but at last the fork hit upon something hard. It did not move till a -space had been cleared all round it, and then it appeared nothing but a -heavy hard mass of black earth, with an irregular surface. - -“Well?” said the frog. - -“There are other tools in the cellar beside a fork,” said she. “But -we’ve done enough for one night. It can stay now till the morning,” and -she took it in both hands, and lifted it out of the deep trench dug -about it. - -So then once more night reigned undisturbed. But with the morning work -began again, this time with finer instruments to chip away the thick -layers of soil and find what lay beneath. It took a very long time, much -longer than Rosalie ever anticipated, though in other ways the hours -passed quickly under this keen absorption. In many places the soil -seemed more like marble than rock, and required much patience to remove -it, for none of the instruments were particularly sharp, nor specially -adapted for that purpose. But what of that? Working, working, ever -unceasingly, on went Rosalie, and one day she looked up at the frog, and -half laughed, and said: - -“I believe my heart is inside here, and I’ll never be happy till it’s -free, quite free.” - -But the frog only turned away and sighed, and Rosalie was so intent that -she never heard the sigh. - -And at last! - -Bit by bit a brilliant jewel unfolded itself, all flashing -green-and-moonlight colour, and with one gleam of ruby red, just one -bright gleam upon the middle surface. - -And she pressed it to her lips and kissed it. This was no dull stone -with intermittent flashes of light. No, this was _real_—a lovely thing -of sparkling colour. - -It was finished just at sunset. She scarcely needed any tea, so eager -and impatient was she to get away. - -And then she appeared before the Governor with this precious prize. - -“I’ve found something really, at last,” said she, with bright eyes and -cheeks. - -As of old he held his hand out for it, but said nothing. - -“Why don’t you speak?” she asked. - -“It is not for me to speak,” he answered; and so she went away. - -But Rosalie was scarce content with waiting now. She doubted not that -all would see the value of the stone she had so lately found, and most -of all an expert. And indeed there seemed to be no time for waiting. The -voice said, “Go on.” Truly the harvest was beginning. Who would sit down -with but one sheaf tied? - -And she was justified in doing so. Another lump of hard black earth (to -be chipped away slowly and surely) appeared amongst the looser soil. And -after a time the under surface partly appeared, and it, too, as far as -she could see, was bright and brilliant. - -But as this was in process the message arrived at breakfast, the -Governor wished to see her. - -She did not allow herself to think, because she dare not, but whatever -thought rose in her mind it was success. - -She knocked at the study door and entered. There, in the same place that -all the others had been in turn, lay the shining jewel, and the cold -voice answered: - -“The decision is that it is rubbish.” - -The pain within was so great that Rosalie could have screamed, and then -came sickness and faintness, so that she leant against the door and -looked at him. - -“What does it mean?” she asked. - -“It is accounted of no worth.” - -“Oh, but it is! it is!” she cried, and looked at him so hard that he -looked back at her. - -“I have told you the decision.” - -“But what do _you_ say?” - -“I say nothing.” - -“But what is wrong with it?” - -“I believe the decision was that it was gaudy. It shone too much.” - -She looked at him dully, and then turned and went away. - -There in the plantation was the work she was engaged on. Her eyes were -too dull to see the sparkle of light, her heart too black to care. And -suddenly she laughed, and picking up the fork lying near, began to dig -again. The frog sat by and watched. - -In furious haste, without apparent thought, she worked, and at last came -upon a much smaller mound, containing one much smaller stone of -transparent substance that had no lustre at all. But bitter tears were -running fast from her swollen eyes, and two of them flashed on it. When -she tried to rub them off upon her sleeve they seemed quite hardened, -and they never moved. - -“Is this gaudy?” she asked, turning suddenly to her companion. - -“I don’t think so,” it answered meekly. And then she sighed. - -“It seems to me it’s hardly bright enough, except the tears.” - -And in the evening she went with it again to the Governor. - -After that the time was very short till she was again summoned to the -house. - -And there the lesser jewel lay, just as she had brought it, and the -decision was once more that this was rubbish also. - -Then she turned to him, and cried bitterly: - -“You gave me the seeds—what is wrong with them? I cannot alter them from -what they are.” - -“Perhaps it would be best if now you left the garden,” he answered -slowly, “seeing it is so profitless.” - -But she looked at him with straining eyes, and answered: - -“I can’t. It’s the work I have been put to do, and I must finish it. I -told the frog I thought my heart was in that first hard mound, and I -believe it is. But there’s something else beside my heart, and that’s -there too, and I’ll never be free till it is free. And what can I do? I -am mad. I see things beautiful that others only stare at, and then pass -by with scarcely one comment. And the old cruel voice keeps crying, ‘Go -on! go on!’ and whither can I go? The path is all so black that, forward -or backward, I am lost whichever way I turn.” - -Then because he did not answer, she said at last: - -“Send it, the first I brought to you, that brilliant moonstone, to some -other place. The man who called it rubbish can’t have any eyes.” - -“Just as you like,” he answered. - -Then she went away. - -In the plantation there had set so hard a frost that everything was -white and stiff and ice-bound. There lay the half-chipped mound -containing the other jewel scarce yet visible. But Rosalie had no heart -to touch it, even had the frost allowed her. - -And no result came from sending the moonstone to another place. One -general and unanimous opinion: it had no value—that was all. And still -for months the blighting frost lay dead on everything. - -In vain, with burning fever under the outward chill that froze her too, -did Rosalie take the fork and try with what little strength was in her -arms to break the iron earth. Nothing moved. It only made her recognise -the more the great impossibility, the strength of life imprisoned by the -frozen hands of death. - -At last (for now the gate within the edge was never fast) she went again -to the Governor. - -“What am I to do?” she asked. “I can’t get on with anything, nor move -either way. I’ve prayed to God a thousand times to give me peace or -break the ice, or let me get the price of freedom from that jewel which -I brought to you, and nothing ever answers, except in contradiction. I -prayed one night the thaw might come—a hundred times and more I prayed -it. In the morning a double frost had settled, petrifying hard as iron. -Another night I prayed for peace and rest. I could not stand so terrible -a strain. I never dreamt as that night. Ten times I dozed and woke -again, covered with sweat, all shivering in the cold, to think myself -alive within a coffin, buried within the ground. And most incessantly -that other prayer to reap the price of freedom with the stone, and as -you know, it lies here in your keeping—a useless thing, and judged -devoid of worth.” - -“You say your heart is in the stone,” he answered. - -“Yes; I think it sends out shafts of brilliancy to pierce to that dull, -empty place, and prick it into fearful pain. What can I do? I’ve prayed -to God—what more can I do?” - -“There is one thing more. You’d better give it up.” - -“Oh! but that is everything—the whole of the little garden. For the -frost will never break till the stone is free, and I.” - -“You can give the garden back to God who gave it.” - -“But why give me a thing and take it back just when it’s fit for using?” -and then a great pain and fear came into her eyes. “I would do as you -tell me, I would really, but I haven’t the strength, and I’m afraid. The -frost is too strong for me. It freezes my heart, and leaves my mind -quite free, so that the blood courses through my brain in quickest time, -and then stops suddenly. It’s worse than killing me. I’m going mad, and -what use am I to God, or how can I see the light of heaven, if once that -heavy cloud descends, and coupled with the frost, freezes upon my eyes -and lips, and eats out everything?” - -“To trust in God is to be sane—have peace,” he answered. - -“Ah, peace!” she answered greedily. “What does it mean? I know no -peace—nothing but the mocking, cruel voice that says ‘Go on!’ and shows -no way.” - -“It’s the stone, Rosalie, that stands in your light, and blocks the way. -Can’t you see it?” - -“I expect I’m very blind. I’m not clever enough to understand. I haven’t -spirit enough to find a way out. Mr. Barringcourt told me so, and he -knew best. I was handicapped from the beginning to be born without a -tongue.” - -“But that difficulty, and still another, has been surmounted.” - -“Yes, but I did nothing myself.” - -“Fiddlesticks!” said the Governor, and he spoke so naturally that -Rosalie laughed, even though not particularly brightly. - -“Well, I didn’t do much myself. I don’t see how I could.” - -“You did as much as was necessary, which is never in any case very much; -and now there is one little thing more to be done—give it up.” - -“I dare not,” she said; “it would send me mad. If it would kill me I -wouldn’t mind.” And she looked down to hide the light in her eyes. - -“Give it up to God. Do you trust God and think He will forsake you?” - -“No; it’s myself I am not sure of.” - -“You should be part of God.” - -“Not here.” - -“Where else, then?” - -“In heaven.” - -“It begins on earth for those of sufficient intelligence; and for the -others, they do not count.” - -“I’m one of the last, then. It is so hard, so very, very hard, and I -have no strength at all.” - -Then a very long silence followed—the terrible fight between weakness -and trust, between blind ignorance and all-conquering wisdom, the -spirit’s humble discipline; and at last she turned to him, and said: - -“I’ll give it up! And if I sacrifice my heart or head, it’s all the -same, seeing God is the receiver, and He knows best.” - -And then she turned away, with the knowledge of having done some duty -that now seemed extremely simple. - -But the Governor rose from his chair, and came towards her, and took her -in his arms, and kissed her cheek, and the caressing action reminded her -somehow of that time long ago, when Mr. Barringcourt laid his hand upon -her shoulder in the temple. - -Bur that kiss seemed to revive her strength, and give some of that peace -she had so lately craved for. - -Yet this reward was so very unexpected. It never occurred to her that -the Governor could possibly care whether she walked right or wrong, -except, perhaps, as a spectator. But the magnetic sympathy of that kiss, -and the great, but gentle, strength in his arms as he drew her to him, -awoke her eyes to the fact that here was her friend, the only one she -had ever known, maybe would ever meet. - -But being too full of feeling for words she slipped quietly towards the -door, and crossed the lawn towards the hut. - -That was her little home, to be filled with contentment and happiness, -in which it would be her task to dig graves for bitterness, repining, -and wild craving and longing for that which was not to be. It would be a -hard task. Rosalie recognised it as she looked at the frozen mounds of -soil, whose digging had occasioned so much eagerness and anticipation. - -And in her mind she looked below the frozen surface of the plantation to -where other jewels all lay buried, and she had given them up to God, and -they must lie there. - -But the kiss and the strength of those strong arms had worked a miracle -for her. She no longer felt the weak restlessness and alternate -blackness of despair and madness. She went into the little hut bravely, -with tears trembling on her eyelids, partly the outcome of the struggle -she had gone through, and partly of a vague sense of happiness and -satisfaction that was beginning to glow within, like some glowing light -of summer. Later she said to her companion: - -“There was a man who healed my tongue for me, healed it with light, and -now I think my heart is being healed, and it is still Light, Light, -Light, on the poisonous darkness.” - -“Then you have given up the moonstone. It was a dangerous stone. I like -the little tear-stained one the best.” - -“And I love it too,” said Rosalie. “It gave me work to do at the time I -most needed it, and set my mind on the road it has travelled ever -since.” - -Then she took down the lesson-books, and found to-night they were much -more understandable, and it was with growing lightness of spirit that -she slept that evening. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - A HUMBLE CRUCIFIXION - - -The next morning sunshine and warmth had come, the frost risen and fled. -The birds were singing in the forest, and the melting icicles had none -of the dispiriting effect of thaw, but sparkled in the sunshine. The -ground was free. - -Rosalie went out and took the fork and began the old process—digging. It -took a long, long time, days, and weeks, and months, to chip away the -soil from the new mound. - -And at last the first bright ray—uncheckered—burst through. Rosalie -started up with a cry. The frog hopped up to witness. Both of them shed -a tear of joy and admiration that glistened like a pearl, though dull -beside this other. At last a gem of purest brightness was displayed, -that shone with so soft a radiance, yet so pure and bright, that it lit -up the garden like the bright sun on an early summer’s morning, and -seemed a dazzling emblem of light. - -And Rosalie said: “This is the light which cures as well as -beautifies—the talisman against all ills—the gift of God, the pearl -above all price; never pearl shone like to it, or diamond, or ruby, or -any stone dug from the mines or caves. I’ll take it to the Governor. -None can fail but to acknowledge its beauty, if but for the one central -spark from the raised inner surface.” - -And she took it to him, but as she offered it, said nothing, and he -showed no surprise, but smiled gravely, as one who might approve in -silence, but said no words. - -So Rosalie waited, and in a shorter time than she had ever stayed -before, less than a week, was sent for by the Governor. - -The flashing jewel was on the table by his side. He looked across at -her, but her eyes were fixed upon the stone. So soon, and it was back! -And the time it had taken to dig! and the long months of blackness -before! And at last her eyes travelled slowly from it back to his face. - -And he said with curious intonation: “The decision is the same as -hitherto.” - -“But God’s decision! Tell me that!” and the pain in her voice was very -terrible. - -“The decision of God is that it is as He has made it.” - -“That is sufficient. Thank you,” and she moved away; strong only in the -friendship of that silent man, who in so few words conveyed so much of -meaning. - -So once more she made her way to the little hut, where the frog as usual -sat waiting; but her lips were set in a smile so stony, that she said -never a word, but sat down in her chair by the fire, and forgot to try -to form even a syllable. - -At last her eyes lighted on the frog sitting there upon the hearth. Its -big, wide, mournful mouth drooped at the corners, and its round saucer -eyes were brimming with tears, yet there was something very comic in its -attitude—so much so that Rosalie laughed. At this it jumped so literally -that had it not borne a charmed life it would certainly have settled in -the fire, but as it was, it came down inside the fender, and then hopped -out. - -“Ah! when you laugh in sorrow your heart must needs be broken -altogether,” it said. - -“Oh, no! I feel nothing, nothing at all, one way or the other, only hard -and empty, and sorry, not for myself, but for others, that they should -be so blind.” - -“It’s well you feel hard. It doesn’t do to feel soft at times like -this,” said the frog, and tried to speak cheerfully, but somehow failed. - -Outside a white mist was settling, so silently that they never noticed -it. But just then the frog piled more coal on the fire, and soon the -room looked very cheerful. - -“Come and sit on my knee,” said Rosalie presently; and she almost -laughed again at the rapidity with which her request was granted. - -Although they had lived together so long, this was, as it were, the -first time she had seen the frog close. - -She took one of its little feet in her fingers, and noticed it was -pierced with a hole. Then in turn she looked at each foot separately, -and found the same mark in each. - -“How did you come by these? They look as if they must have been very -painful at one time.” - -“It was very stupid of me,” said the frog shyly. “Generally I put a -jewel into each, and everyone remarks about my pretty feet, but to-day, -with thinking about your affairs, I forgot. It was most negligent of -me.” - -“Where did you get the jewels from?” - -“My master said I found them by myself, but I think he really gave them -to me.” - -“But tell me about these holes, unless you’d rather not.” - -“It’s a short and very common story,” it answered evasively; “I don’t -think it would interest you.” - -“Indeed it would; you have been so kind to me all along that I know you -won’t deny me this.” - -“Well, there was a time when I used to be a very ordinary little frog, -jumping about, and eating all that I could get. And I was very vain of -my appearance, for I knew that my coat was brighter than any of my -neighbours, and I wished them to know it too. But I wasn’t content with -being admired by my own kith and kin; I thought I should like to gain -the admiration of mankind as well. Instead of confining myself to the -shrubs and well in the garden, I contrived to make myself plainly seen -by hopping about the paths. There were no children in the house -adjoining, so that I felt doubly safe, for the two servant maids used to -walk in the garden often at dusk, and talk about their sweethearts, and -at these times they always found a kind and flattering word for me. -Meeting with such kind treatment from them, I grew doubly proud, and -formed the erroneous idea that all mankind was equally kind and simple. -I made no doubt that had I been taken before the Queen, my manners, -colour, and deportment would have astonished her, and called forth her -admiration. As discontentment had first grown toward my own people, so -at last it grew towards the maid-servants. I wanted more than two -admirers, and almost lost my brilliant colour pining for them. About -this time, however, my old mother died, and what with the nursing of -her, and seeing to her respectable removal afterwards, I had little time -for thinking of myself. But when things had settled themselves again, my -old longing revived. I must go out along the paths again and try to gain -more admiration. - -“Now, there lived in that house a man. He always wore spectacles, and -whenever he walked in the garden always carried a book, and from what I -could gather from the maids’ conversation, was really very clever. Now, -being myself very ignorant, I naturally admired clever people, and a -great longing grew in my mind to gain his approbation and attention. So -whenever he walked out in the garden, I watched my opportunity, and -hopped along the path beside him. But for a long time he either never -noticed me, or if he did do so, was never attracted by my charms. This -upset me so much that my health became visibly enfeebled. I felt that if -he could but see it, I might become of value in his eyes, and thus raise -myself in his good graces and esteem. Still, I felt I could not give in, -for I had a friend of somewhat duller coat always watching me, ready to -say upon the first occasion: ‘I told you so.’ So I continued hopping by -his side in these walks, which, of late, had become habitual. But one -day, as he came down the path, he closed his book, and his eyes suddenly -lighted on me. I know not what the expression in them was, but my vanity -took it favourably. I sat there as still as a frog can sit, because I -had heard it was a sign of good breeding to sit still, and pretended to -be gazing at the sun, because I thought it would appear good taste to -admire a thing so generally esteemed. And he stood still too, but I was -quite content that _he_ should be admiring _me_. It would have -disappointed me had he turned his attention likewise to the sun. -Suddenly he stooped down, and made a grab in my direction. I had almost -waited for this, and being prepared, hopped quickly to one side. I felt -it would not enhance my charms to be caught too quickly. He made no -further attempt to catch me, but went back into the house, and I heard -my friend of the duller coat laughing, as much as to say, ‘I told you -so.’ But I pretended to consider we had made great advances. In a little -while, however, he came out again. He carried in his hand a curious -string thing, which is called a net, and this he laid with great -ingenuity across the path where he and I had previously been walking. -This I took as a great compliment; the ground was evidently not good -enough for me to walk upon. Over this he spread a few crumbs. They were -not, certainly, to my mind, as I liked more tasty things, but I thought -he had probably noticed my fragile appearance, and was showing his -sympathy with my delicacy. So to show my trust in and appreciation of -him, after a little coquettish skipping on the edge, I hopped straight -to the centre of the net. He was kneeling by the side, and I must admit -my heart beat loudly at my own boldness, but still remembering the -kindness of the maids, the only human beings that I knew, I felt no -particular or definite fear. In fact, I felt like some great queen -before a kneeling courtier. But the next moment I was much upset to find -the net swung over me, and both of us caught roughly and inelegantly -from the ground, in a manner I had never before experienced. I -struggled, but only succeeded in getting one leg through the net. My -position was indeed perilous. The last thing I heard in the garden was -the laughter of my friend who had the duller coat. So can the frog heart -be upon occasion very hard. - -“I was thrown down afterwards upon a table that had neither moss nor -anything else upon it, still enveloped in the hateful net, so that there -was no chance of me getting away, and there I stayed for a long time, -choking with fear and partial suffocation.” - -A tremor ran through its little body. - -“I shouldn’t like to speak of all that followed. As frogs go, and being -cold-blooded, I can stand a fair amount. But that was neither here nor -there. I don’t know how long I lived there, but it was a long time, and -almost every day I was put to some torture or other. Often others used -to come in to see how the different inflictions affected me, and once -someone remonstrated with him, and said I must suffer; but he said he -was always very careful with me, and the other one seemed satisfied. - -“‘Besides,’ he added, ‘it is in the cause of science. And what little -inconveniences may be suffered by this reptile may be the means of -saving many lives.’ - -“That night as I was lying in my prison, with every limb aching and -swollen, and big pains shooting through my body, I thought on his words. -It was only the extreme pain that kept me from growing proud, so instead -I felt a little thankful. - -“But after that the times of torture were growing more frequent, or I -less able to bear them, and I longed and prayed to something I couldn’t -understand to set me free. And one day, as he took me out of my cell, he -said to someone who was with him at the time—I think he called him his -assistant: ‘This thing is on its last legs; I’ll just try one more -experiment with it, and then it can be thrown to the midden.’ - -“That was a little comfort to me. - -“But just then he ran something through my hand that made me struggle -and gasp with pain, and then the other three, and I was lying fast -nailed to a board, and could not even struggle. I’ll never forget it, -though the worst never comes back to me. It was the last time, the last -time with a vengeance, and there I died. And I think I must have looked -very queer at the last, for the last thing I was conscious of was that -someone laughed. But how could one compose one’s features nailed to a -board, and suffering agony. And when I woke up I was in this pretty -garden, and I was as feeble as a baby. But my master tended me with his -own hands, and before long I had grown strong and happy again, and less -wishful to been seen. And though my coat is brighter now than ever it -had been, I think less of it and more of other things. But even now it’s -sweet to hear a little praise, and never anyone has come to see my -master but they have a pleasant word for me.” - -“Then why do you stay with me? You should be hopping in the garden, not -in this dull place.” - -“Oh, I asked to come. I knew you’d have a deal of sorrow once you came -here; it’s meant to be a place of sorrow; and I remembered that period -of my own life when I was all alone without companions. And I think if -someone could have come to me and said, ‘Cheer up, Croaker, it’ll soon -all be over,’ I would have felt a trifle stronger for the end.” - -“Was your name Croaker?” asked Rosalie gently, for the story had much -affected her. - -“Yes; I used always to be longing to be called ‘Bright Coat’ or ‘Slim -Body,’ or one of those names when I was young, but my parents had -different thoughts from me, and gave me just a family name. The -scientists sometimes called me ‘Goggle Eyes,’ and I believe my eyes did -grow unnaturally big whilst I was there.” - -“It’s very kind of you to stay with me when I’m so dull.” - -“You’re not dull,” said the frog. “No one is, unless they do nothing but -nurse their sorrow, and expect other people to carry both them and it.” - -Rosalie laughed. - -“Yes, one has a great deal to learn,” she answered, and took down a book -from the shelf. - -And hereafter most of her time was given to learning, for the -lesson-books had suddenly developed into coherent reading. They were -still hard and dull, and many a time she would have given up but for the -ever-ringing voice that revived her lagging spirits, and above all the -remembrance of that jewel of pure light, the like that she had seen -within the temple. - -Outside the mist still continued heavy and white, so that it was -impossible to find the way about. It hung like a heavy curtain. This -continued for a long time, until one day it gradually lightened, and in -a week’s time the sky was clear again. - -“I’m going to dig again,” said Rosalie to the frog, laughing. “I feel I -am intended to. The ground is soft, and though my eagerness has gone, I -still can work when there is opportunity.” - -And so in the same way she unbedded another stone, and though it was -smaller than the last, and not of the same worth by any means, it had -its merits, and one pure flash in the centre to show it was related to -the larger one. Having given it into the Governor’s hands, she returned -to her own dwelling, and waited some short time. - -But one day as she was going round the plantation, holding a book and -reading, with the frog hopping by her side, she was startled to hear -someone calling over the gateway, “Good morning, Rosalie!” and looking, -she beheld Billy standing there, his arms folded over it, and his face -all laughing, as was usual when he came. - -“Good morning!” said she, and her eyes brightened at such a change in -the day’s programme. - -“I’ve brought you bad news.” - -“Ah! then don’t repeat it. I know already what it is,” and Rosalie -sighed. - -“You know, I don’t think you’re ever going to get out of this little -paddock,” said he. - -“I don’t think so myself. Soon I shall be getting past breaking in.” - -“How do you like digging?” - -“Oh, I’ve taken to it fairly well, thanks to my little friend Croaker -here. I regard myself as a worm, and feel lowly contentment. Many a time -I have thought myself dead and the sun set.” - -“You must be very wretched to wish yourself dead.” - -“Yes, the day is intensely long.” - -“The worm will develop.” - -“With a bruised head?” - -“It’s imagination! A second miracle, and the worm becomes a serpent.” - -“I would much rather remain as I am. The worm is harmless—the serpent -dangerous; the one a little use—the other useless.” - -“And you from Lucifram!” - -“Ah! your mind was fixed on one particular Serpent. Defend me from it.” - -“You don’t look much older, Rosalie, for all your work.” - -“But you were tall before, and now you’re taller. You actually seem -older than I, and when first I saw you I reckoned you quite ten years -younger.” - -“Well, you’ve been burrowing in the ground. I’ve been advancing. It -makes all the difference. What effect has my news had upon you?” he -continued. - -“Oh! for a change it has made me angry.” - -“Has the worm turned?” - -“I believe it has been so long in a state of constant wriggle that one -turn more or less makes little difference.” - -“Suppose you leave your unprofitable trade, and come away?” - -She took two steps forward with a thankful heart, and then a great -stubbornness rose within her. She shook her head. - -“I won’t go yet,” she said. “It would be giving up too early. I have -pleased God, and by God’s grace I’ll please man, and if man is not to be -pleased by God’s grace, what is it that can please him?” - -“That is a question for my father. I should not like to say. What do you -intend to do here now?” - -“Dig again. Begin to-day. There is no frost, and the ground is soft and -loose.” - -“Is that the message I’m to return?” - -“I can think of no other. It was good of you to bring the news to me.” - -“I thought it very ill. I never delivered an unpleasant message in my -life before, and did it just for practice. I had much rather have told -you the other thing.” - -“Your face was very expressive of sorrow when you came to me.” - -“I’m glad. I imagined my countenance was too smiling.” - -She laughed. - -“Never look sad on my account. I have no wish to forfeit your company -for a sad mask. Indeed, I counted it a very great kindness your coming -to me at all.” - -“Truly, Rosalie, you are improving. I think you must be growing older.” - -“I’ve forgotten my age. It’s a thing women never remember. Years were a -form of imaginative punishment invented by the devil. Some folks are -sensitive about them.” - -“When you have finished this, will you bring it to my father?” - -“Most certainly; who else could I take it to?” - -“He has brought you little luck.” - -“It’s a word I should never use in connection with him.” - -“Well, I will leave you, and may you be prosperous. I don’t know what -else I can say, except that you will forgive me for the news I brought.” - -So saying, he turned about, and went away again. - -And the old work began once more. - - - - - CHAPTER XX - A SIMPLE CONVERSATION - - -One day, when Rosalie had about completed the stone she was engaged -upon, the Governor sent for her, by the frog. - -“And I think,” said Brightcoat, for Rosalie had changed its name, not -liking Croaker, “that it would not be at all a bad plan for us to look -and see if there are any new clothes anywhere about. This old dress you -are wearing is most worn and shabby.” - -“There are none,” said she. “I have looked many a time, and have never -found anything except the coarse brown apron I wear to protect my dress -from the soil.” - -“Well, there’s a time, and not a time, for looking for things. Suppose -we look in the little wardrobe together now. If you stay dinner with the -Governor, you must be fairly suitably dressed for it.” - -And what was Rosalie’s surprise, on looking in the diminutive -dress-closet, to find a pretty dress of softest silk, white and apple -green, just ready made to fit her figure, and everything besides to -match, even to silken stockings and pretty slippers, and a cluster of -red and golden leaves upon the dressing-table, as simple and pretty as -the rest. - -Rosalie, from feeling old as the hills, suddenly felt young as a -blue-bell blowing on an early summer morning. - -“Oh, Brightcoat! I never felt so happy in my life. To get rid of this -old black and red thing! Why, that in itself is Paradise. But to wear -these! It’s past belief. Now, if you were me, how would you wear your -hair—high or low? Which do you think suits me?” - -“I say in that loose bundle at the back you used to wear when you first -came to us.” - -“The way Mariana did it.” - -“Was it?” - -“Yes. Oh, dear, dear! I’m afraid I shan’t do it a bit nicely. When you -try to do your hair nicely it always looks hideous; have you ever -noticed that?” - -“No; you see I haven’t got any.” - -“Of course not! My dress is almost the exact colours of your skin. Have -you noticed it?” - -“Yes. My master said the colours were chosen out of compliment to me.” - -“How delightful! Frog green! It’s quite an innovation in fashions, and a -very pretty one.” - -Brightcoat’s eyes sparkled with pleasure at this little bit of innocent -flattery, and if it showed vanity, vanity of a sort is a very delightful -thing. - -So Rosalie dressed with fluttering happiness and eager haste. - -“Your hair doesn’t look a bit as if you’d taken pains with it,” said the -frog from the bed, where it was sitting. - -“What do you mean?” she asked, with sudden alarm. - -“It’s very becoming.” - -“I’d rather your flattery was a little less open. I know you mean well, -but it’s embarrassing to have one’s defects spoken of so charmingly.” - -By this time the dressing was completed, and in the eyes of her simple -companion no one had ever looked more lovely. - -“You must come too, Brightcoat. I shouldn’t think of leaving you here -alone. Besides, you are always welcome at the house, and I am only there -on suffrage. If I behave badly I must go. It’s a very terrible thing -that, when you think about it. Enough to make me tremble and shake all -over.” - -So the frog jumped lightly from the bed on to her shoulder, and made a -most delightful ornament. - -As they walked across the garden to the house the nightingales were -singing in the soft still air of night. - -The Governor, who was walking on the terrace, greeted his guests, and -they passed into the house, which was all brilliantly lit to receive -them. - -“This is your last night with us, so I have asked you here to dine with -me,” said the old man. - -“My last night?” Her voice was full of wonder and sadness. - -“You surely will not be sorry to leave the soil?” - -“Ah! but you and Brightcoat are here. I would much rather stay. Besides, -my heart is in the garden yet, and here with the jewels that I brought -to you. Oh, you have been my friend; and there is none other. Where else -can I go? Let me still live in the little hut, with the freedom I have -bought to-night.” - -But he shook his head and smiled as they sat down to dinner just alone. - -“You imagine you have become attached to the hut. But there are other -and better places, believe me.” - -“And does the way back lead as I came?” - -“Pretty much so, I believe.” - -“Into Marble House, with its shadows and cobwebs. I’m sure I daren’t -go.” - -“Perhaps it has become less shadowy since you were there. There is -spring cleaning, you know, in all well-regulated houses.” - -“But it is not well regulated. There is one part all moths and mildew, -and people live in it, or rather work there. I know, for Mariana does. -How I should love to see her once again! And upstairs it is wretchedly -lit. In fact, Mr. Barringcourt’s private room was the only human-looking -place I ever saw there. But perhaps by now he has a wife. But she’ll -need great strength of mind to get the necessary repairs done, I’m -thinking. He seemed as if he would be very conservative, except where -things affected his own comfort.” - -“I don’t think he’s got a wife yet,” said the Governor. - -When they had finished the meal, and the frog had had its full share of -the dainties that were to its taste, the Governor led the way to his own -room, and placing a chair for Rosalie near the fire, he drew his own to -the other side of the fireplace and sat down. - -“Do you object to smoke?” he asked. - -“Oh, no! Uncle had a pipe that he had smoked for years and years and -years. And the night before he died he let it fall, and it broke. I -remember how sad he looked at the time—and perhaps there was more in it -than just the breaking of the pipe, for he said nothing, but that he -could soon get a new one. And if all things had been right I think it -would have angered him.” - -“You were greatly attached to your uncle?” - -“Oh, yes! I loved them both. No one could have been kinder to me than -they.” - -“And now, when you go back to Lucifram, you have neither friend nor -relation to go to.” - -“No. Must I indeed go?” - -“I see no other way for it. But there are some friends of mine live -there, or friends of someone that I know. They will fill, to the best of -their ability, the old place.” - -“How do you know? They might take the utterest distaste to me on first -sight, and then what would happen?” - -“They are not people of prejudice.” - -“I wish I were not.” - -“You fear, then, you may take a dislike to them?” - -“Oh, no! I’m always trying to get the better of my feelings, because -they are so often wrong.” - -“Well,” said he, “second thoughts are best. I give you the benefit of a -second opinion upon most things.” - -“But there is where I fear to go back to Lucifram. It’s a place where -one is so terribly misjudged, and it’s a place, too, where you have just -the knack of saying the things you wished unsaid.” - -“Well, then, choose. Will you go back, or will you stay?” - -But Rosalie, on second thoughts, made answer: - -“You know best, and it is for you to choose. Somehow, I could not think -to doubt or question what you say; and after all, why should one bother -about to-morrow, if one does one’s duty to-day.” - -“And I have promised you friends in the place of your aunt and uncle.” - -“Yes; but I thought Mr. Barringcourt might have a word to say about -that.” - -“Well, we’re all bound to trust the future to a certain extent. There is -no telling; on second acquaintance he might prove kinder.” - -“When must I go?” - -“To-morrow, in the early morning. The journey takes a day; it will be -dark before you reach your journey’s end, for autumn is far advanced -with them.” - -Here the frog, who had so far sat quiet on the hearthrug, put in a word. - -“It will be very lonely going back to Lucifram alone. My advice and -companionship might be of some little help occasionally.” - -“Oh, yes!” cried Rosalie eagerly. “You have been such a faithful and -loving friend to me, that your brightness would dispel half the gloom, -I’m sure it would.” - -Both of them turned their eyes toward the Governor to gain his opinion. - -“You bear a charmed life, little frog,” said he, “so I don’t see what -harm or inconvenience can happen to you. In fact, I think the outing -would be a pleasant trip for you, and add something to your store of -knowledge.” - -“You don’t think,” said Rosalie anxiously, for second thoughts were -beginning to intrude themselves, “that any harm could come of it. I -remember Mr. Barringcourt saying something about vivisection once. It -would be terrible if anything happened, and I was powerless to prevent -it.” - -“I don’t think anything could happen,” replied the Governor. “A frog -that has once jumped from Lucifram successfully to heaven could, on a -pinch, repeat the process with much less inconvenience.” - -And soon after this the interview and evening ended. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - A MAN WHO STOOD ON HIS HEAD, ACCORDING TO LUCIFRAM - - -The two wanderers were standing once more in the cold, inhospitable -streets of Lucifram. But they were not alone. A tall lady descending -from her carriage had noticed the forlorn Rosalie, and pitying her tired -condition had taken her within her house, promising her one night’s -shelter at least. It may be simply stated to whom Rosalie in this hour -of need had come. In this particular house in Lime Tree Square of the -chief city of Lucifram there lived a very great painter and his sister. -In his early youth he had had a hard struggle, not so much because he -was poor, but because he was original. Now, for a man to have his own -ideas in the city of Lucifram was to set all the dogs barking, the mob -stone-flinging, and the Riot Act fluttering. - -It was very strange, but thousands of years of experience had taught -little or nothing. - -The painter, as has been said, had his own ideas, and so at first they -said he was an upstart, and very justly laughed at him. But laughter -never yet cured madness or stamped out the truth, and as the painter -seemed to be giving surreptitious invisible spiritual bites all round -him, and setting the infection flying, it was recognised at last there -must be some truth in his madness, and to a certain extent they let him -be. - -And so from being badly abused the painter at last sprung into fame. He -was a shy and reserved man, and somewhat irritable in his temper. But -that was because his temperament and his work were of a kind that wear -the nerves unevenly. But still when he liked he could be very charming, -even Lucifram admitted that, and for the hidden virtues, they left those -with a shrug to God the Serpent. - -And so in comparative early middle age he found himself the recipient of -a knighthood; that is, he received a title very similar to “Sir”—and for -simplicity we will call it such. Some spiteful people said this was on -account of his good looks, but as it was a man sovereign who gave him -the title, it’s hard to see what that could have to do with it. Now, Sir -John himself had little belief in titles, but his sister had great -belief in _him_, and though herself the simplest of plain women, she had -ambitions so far as he was concerned. - -“A title’s an empty thing,” said he, looking at her in his serious, -thoughtful way. - -“No one knows it better than I,” she answered, in her downright one. -“And if you hadn’t the real thing to outshine it, I’d hate to see it -offered to you. But it’s a courtesy you owe to the world in return for -its courtesy. If you don’t accept it, you are churlish. Besides, I -always think it’s the greatest honour that can befal a sovereign, to -confer distinction upon genius, so that, even on a royal consideration, -I think you ought to accept.” - -And so plain John Crokerly became Sir John, and was just the same before -and after—neither more or less brilliant or imposing. - -From being poor he became rich. He never married, but continued happily -in the society of his one unmarried sister. The affection and -understanding were very mutual, and perfectly to the contentment of -both. - -On this particular night Miss Crokerly entered her brother’s presence -with some trepidation. After all, she had a reputation for common sense, -though, like him, maybe a little eccentric, and the brightness of the -frog and the prettiness of Rosalie’s face hardly seemed pretext enough -on second thoughts for inviting her into the house. - -“John,” said she, betraying no misgiving in her voice, as she closed the -door, “I’ve invited a young girl from the country, who is lost, to come -in and shelter for the night.” - -“What’s her name?” and he looked up over the top of the paper which he -was reading, for daylight was precious just then, and morning meals too -hasty to allow of much newspaper indulgence during them. - -“I don’t know; she is a perfect stranger to me. I came to see if you -approved.” - -“It won’t matter to me. I shan’t see her,” he answered. - -“Of course not.” Then, after a pause: “You think I’m not running any -risks by bringing her in?” - -“I don’t know. You can’t very well turn her out again now you’ve done -it. Small-pox is pretty prevalent, to be sure. Did you make particular -inquiries if she’d been successfully vaccinated?” - -“You have no objection to what I’ve done?” - -“Not after you’ve done it,” and he relapsed once more behind the paper. - -But Miss Crokerly, after turning to the door, looked round again. - -“I should like you to see her,” she said, for her, very hesitatingly. - -“In the morning,” he answered. - -“In the morning you will have less time and inclination than now.” - -“But what purpose should I serve in going to look at her? Is she -different from the generality of country folk?” - -“I don’t know,” she replied slowly; “but I think she is much prettier. -And she has with her a frog with the most brilliant colour I ever saw.” - -At this he laughed. “My curiosity is not excited in the least,” he -answered. - -“But mine _is_,” she said, with a return to her decided manner; “and you -really must come, if but to see the frog. It is a marvel.” - -“Bring it here to me, then.” - -“Certainly not, unless I bring her too. You are growing terribly lazy, -Jack.” - -“Well, come along,” he said impatiently. “Only please don’t drag me into -any more of your charitable whims, frogs or no frogs.” - -“Of course not. This is an exception. You might ask her her name and -address. I quite forgot to do so.” - -So together they went into the hall where Rosalie still sat. The frog, -with a wisdom born of its dead vanity, had again settled itself -conspicuously to attract attention on her shoulder. - -Rosalie’s pale face and large bright eyes also possessed a peculiar -beauty and fascination, although she was tired with the journey and sick -from want of food. - -Now, Sir John’s heart was as kind as that of his sister, and, moreover, -he had a great admiration for woman when her beauty was of that delicate -yet exquisite type that approaches the ideal, and contains little of the -heaviness or substantiality of flesh. As they both came toward her, -Rosalie rose, and her movements were so quiet, graceful, and well-bred, -that one might have thought the frog’s spirit of wishing to do the -correct thing for the sake of admiration had settled upon her. All his -irritability, which was not of a very lasting or savage kind, vanished. - -“You have a delightful little companion there,” said he pleasantly, -looking at the frog. - -“Yes.” - -“It is rather an uncommon kind of pet,” put in Miss Crokerly; “and how -brilliant! Is it real, or some highly-polished stone?” - -Rosalie laughed softly. - -“Oh! it is real enough, and can jump prodigiously.” And she put her hand -up caressingly to its coat. - -“And you,” said Sir John—“you look tired. What part of the country have -you come from to get lost in the city?” - -“I have been walking all day. I came from a little hut and plantation -beyond the forest.” - -At this the painter looked at his sister and she at him. For outside -this city of Lucifram there was a tremendous forest full of jungles, and -only the pure in spirit and those led by a light of superhuman -brightness could pass through it. - -“And did you pass through the forest unhurt?” he asked. - -“Yes. We were pleasant company to each other. But I lost one of my -garden clogs. I think that was very unfortunate, because I never missed -it till it was too late to turn back.” - -She spoke evidently without any knowledge of the terrors of the forest. -But whatever reticence she showed about her journey was from now -respected by them. - -“Then you have no home to return to?” said Miss Crokerly, after a pause, -during which she had revolved things in her mind. - -“No,” said Rosalie simply, and her wistful eyes filled with anxiety and -shadow. - -“You must spend the night here, then, as I said before, and in the -morning we will arrange things. Come with me.” - -Then Sir John shook hands with her in that grave, kind way of his, and -wished her good-night, and then went back to his easy-chair and paper. - -He himself knew something of the terrors and blackness of the forest. It -had been responsible for some of his best work. But he was a man whose -hair was turning grey, and this girl, whose name, by the way, he had -forgotten to ask, appeared so very young. He was interested in, and felt -sorry for her, and yet could scarcely credit the tale that she had come -hither from the forest; on second thoughts it seemed so utterly -improbable. - -Yet where else anywhere upon Lucifram could that brilliant frog have -come from—or Rosalie’s expressive, shining eyes? - -So when his sister came back later in the evening, he said: - -“I think, for the present, at any rate, we must keep her. Providence has -sent her to us, and converts a duty into pleasure.” - -“Yes, indeed. She has had supper and gone to bed. And strange to say,” -she continued reflectively, “although for the last twenty-five years I -have been trying to cure myself of impulsiveness as one of my besetting -sins, and was just thinking as I drove home to-night that at last I had -quite succeeded, yet now I cannot help loving her at sight, as much,” -she added softly, “as if she were my own sister.” - -“That is fortunate for her,” replied he. “She appears so destitute.” - -“And I don’t doubt fortunate for me. It is not often one receives a -traveller from the forest.” - -“You have ascertained, then, that she really came from there?” - -“Of course! I ascertained it by attending simply to her voice and -manner. One needs no other guarantees.” - -“Well, I can but hope your friendship stands the test of time. For -myself, I can only say, as usual, I think you showed true discernment in -admitting her to shelter for the night, though at first, to speak -truthfully, I must admit your conduct greatly astonished me. What is her -name?” - -“Rosalie Paleaf.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - A NEW LEASE OF LIFE - - -When Rosalie awoke next morning, it was in a comfortable modern bedroom, -furnished with regard to health, and a conception of beauty thrown in. - -For the first time truly in her life and experience she awoke with a -light heart, and such unusual brightness of spirits that she seemed at -last, for the time at least, to have realised the pleasure and joy of -simply being alive. The tired sickness of the night before had entirely -vanished. - -The sky overhead was blue and bright, the air cold. Nothing could have -been more promising for a new entry into an old world. - -Brightcoat, who had spent the night on the marble washing-stand, now -took recreation in the basin of water Rosalie poured for him, whilst -she, being less cold-blooded, as it were, was nothing loath to accept -the warm water that was brought for her. - -But this part of the day’s programme being finished, Rosalie turned -disconsolately to her dress. - -“It’s so shabby and short,” said she. - -“Well, look amongst your luggage,” said Brightcoat, who was engaged in -jumping for further recreation over all the articles on the washstand. - -“My luggage,” said she, looking towards the little hand-bag. “It can’t -be in there.” - -“No harm in looking,” said the frog, and jumped clean over the -water-jug, and then sat as still as if jumping were the last thing it -would ever think of doing. - -Rosalie laughed, and then opened the bag and looked. - -There was packed into that little leather hand-bag everything to make a -perfect though not extravagant outfit. A coat and skirt that no -fashionable tailor would be ashamed to turn out, a pretty, simple dress -for household wear, the evening dress which she had worn the other -night, slippers, gloves, and all accessories. Last but not least, there -was a little box of jewellery in perfect taste and finish. - -“Oh, Brightcoat, look, look!” she cried, as one after the other she drew -out those new delights. “Who can have done it? I don’t think it could -have been the Governor. I’m sure he never bothered much about one’s -clothes.” - -And then the frog’s voice fell to a reverent whisper, so it almost -seemed. - -“I once saw the Governor’s wife pack a Christmas box for a little boy a -long way off at school, and it was quite miraculous.” - -“Was he her son?” - -“Oh, no! At least, not exactly her son. But she was very fond of him. -She forgot nothing, and sent it in such little room that no one thought -she was sending anything much at all.” - -“You have seen her, then?” - -“Yes, I’ve seen her; and never anything more absolutely beautiful. It -was she who put her tender, gentle hand upon me when first I came all -dead and dull and stunned from Lucifram, and by her radiating brightness -changed my poor coat to brilliancy. But have you turned out all the -contents of your bag?” - -“Yes. No. Here are two letters. One for me and one to Sir—John—Crokerly. -Who’s he, I wonder?” - -“The man who lives here,” said the frog, who was primitive, and believed -in calling men men, and women women, with no thought of discourtesy, but -from lack of education in those matters. - -“The gentleman,” said Rosalie. “He’s sure to be a gentleman if he has a -title. But how do you know his name?” - -“Well, I heard someone speak of the—the lady last night as Miss -Crokerly, and they said something about Sir John. And putting two and -two together, I’ve come to the conclusion it is he who lives here.” - -“How strange!” - -“Stranger things have happened. Have you read your letter?” - -“No,” and she broke open the envelope. At first she read it seriously, -then burst out laughing. - -“What is it?” asked Brightcoat eagerly, who, having long ago got over -the seriousness of vanity, could enjoy a joke. - -“Oh, this letter! It’s been written in a kind of rhyme, and I’m sure I -don’t know what it means. It seems utter nonsense.” - -“If it’s not very private, and you read it aloud, I might be able to -help you,” the frog replied courteously. - -“Well, listen. There is no address. It begins: - - “‘The road of Life - Is the path to my wife. - Its struggles and turmoils ended— - Horses so white they dazzle the sun, - A car of dazzling glory spun, - Driver all fearless of peril. - From depth to height the race is run, - The equipage right royal. - The meet a queen come decked as a queen - In shining garments past satin, - With pearl-sewn tears to laughter changed - And heart-blood drops to jewels. - A thousand colours of rainbow light - The trophies of many a hard-won fight, - Before pale faith was lost in sight - And eyes cease weeping on trial. - A driver find, - A purse well lined, - A gate and road all open. - And horses six, - To avoid the Styx, - Yet climb the invisible mountain.’ - -There now, Brightcoat, what do you think of that? Can you fathom it? I -think it’s a very charming puzzle.” - -“Who do you think wrote it?” - -“Why, the Governor! And out of compliment to his wife I feel bound -somehow or other to—to endeavour to accomplish the task set me.” - -“Horses so white they dazzle the sun, and six of them,” said Brightcoat -thoughtfully. “Do you think you’ll ever manage it?” - -“I don’t know. But there’s no harm in trying.” And she laughed again, -and was most becomingly dressed in no time. - -Then together, the frog taking its accustomed place upon her shoulder, -they descended the staircase. - -In the hall Miss Crokerly and her brother stood talking, he in a thick -overcoat ready for going out. - -Rosalie approached and handed her letter to him, which he received -kindly, though with some surprise. - -“I found it in my bag,” said she, “and had no idea it was there. I think -you are Sir John?” - -“Yes.” - -After he had read the letter enclosed, he handed it to his sister. She -read it with evident interest, then returned it to him, and holding out -her hand to the new-comer, said: - -“We’re very pleased to receive you, Rosalie. And as long as you care to -stay with us you will be welcome, apart from any considerations except -those of friendship.” - -“I’m afraid I’m too poor to accept your hospitality for a longer time -than it takes me to find work.” - -“Poor? The letter to my brother is from the wealthiest banker of our -acquaintance, the safest and surest. And his statement proves you -anything but poor.” - -Then Rosalie remembered the jewels she had found, and remained silent. -She had prized them very much and loved them, and now she understood -their value, in one of those flashes of perception that occasionally -comes to all of us. - -After that Sir John went away, and Miss Crokerly led the way into the -dining-room, where breakfast was laid for Rosalie only, as the others -had long since had theirs. - -And that day passed away as healthily and normally as Rosalie could -wish, and a morning’s shopping was quite a pleasant recreation to her, -and in fact the first of its kind she had ever indulged in in her life. - -For to be dumb is a great drawback, as most of us can understand, and -curtails most pleasures, little or big. - -And then for tea some very interesting people dropped in, or so Rosalie -found them, and altogether the weary, dead, dull, lonely level of life -seemed to have vanished. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - THE SCANDAL OF THE TEMPLE - - -Now it chanced one night that Miss Crokerly wrote a letter after the bag -had gone to post, and Rosalie, seeing that it was dry and frosty, had -offered to take it to the pillar-box, which was a few minutes’ walk away -at the end of the next square. It was so pleasant out of doors that she -took the longest way, and having slipped the letter in the box, prepared -to take the same road back. - -On turning a corner, her attention was attracted by someone coming -towards her, scarcely fifty yards away, reading a letter, so it seemed -to her, with apparently no more trouble than if it had been daylight. -But that fact, though it afterwards occurred to her, was forgotten in -the shock of recognising that here was Mr. Barringcourt. - -Rosalie stood still under the gas-lamp, unable to move, paralysed with -fear. An instinct of safety should have made her move along, but here -she stood, courting observation by standing directly in the path, with -big wide eyes fixed upon his face. Just then he looked up with bent -brows and eyes. They came directly in contact with Rosalie’s white and -terrified face. In an instant his abstracted air vanished, and a very -present alertness took the place of his thoughts. Like a flash of -lightning Rosalie turned and sped the near way home, reaching the safety -of the doorstep in less than three minutes. She did not stop to breathe -till safe within the friendly shelter of the hall, where something told -her to regain a little composure, at any rate, before appearing before -Miss Crokerly. She went upstairs and removed her hat and the rich -evening wrap she had drawn round her, sat down for a little while to -recover her breath, and then descended to the drawing-room again. - -Miss Crokerly, intent upon some fine needlework, did not look up on her -entrance; but Rosalie had one friend whose eyes were sharper and -perceptions more acute. The frog, whom she had left sitting upon the -timepiece, looked across at her. Rosalie gained assurance from that -glance. - -She sat down without any remark, and took up the book she had been -reading, making some pretence of continuing her occupation as before. - -“I’ve heard a rumour,” said Miss Crokerly presently, “that the Great -High Priest is resigning.” - -“Who is he?” asked Rosalie absently. - -“The Great High Priest of the Serpent,” continued Miss Crokerly. “I can -scarcely credit it, though. He is barely seventy-two. And he can have no -reason for it either. It’s an office never vacated till death. Dotage -doesn’t count.” - -“Maybe he is more conscientious than most,” said Rosalie, rousing -herself from her own line of thought to take an interest in the -conversation. - -“I don’t know, I’m sure. There have been whispers of it for the last -three years. I think he has enemies.” - -“I suppose all men in prominent positions have.” - -“Yes; but there are enemies and enemies. Now my opinion of the Great -High Priest is that he has hidden enemies, or perhaps he chances to be -merely unfortunate.” - -“What do you mean?” asked Rosalie, beginning to be interested in the -conversation. - -“Well, it began with a scandal. A rumour got about that he had admitted -a woman to see the Serpent, and some said such conduct was nothing short -of blasphemous. But that was either hushed up or contradicted. -Contradicted, I think, and then hushed up.” - -“Would it be such a terrible thing for a woman to see the Serpent?” - -Miss Crokerly smiled. - -“Well, there’s a great deal of superstition and ignorance mixed up with -our religion, as all simple and right-minded people can see. But it -grows in suitable soil, so it’s strong and holds well together.” - -“And did it not please the people that a woman had seen the Serpent?” - -“Naturally not, after thousands of years of prejudice. Some of the -best—by that I mean the _narrowest_—women I know withdrew their support -(they were extremely wealthy) from the temple for some months during the -scandal. They said they felt the brightness of the Serpent had been -sullied.” - -“Absurd!” said Rosalie; and the blood began to course a little quicker -through her veins from indignation. - -“Well,” said Miss Crokerly slowly, “one can’t judge quickly. Of course -you know the Great High Priest is not allowed to have a wife. She is -separated from him the day he takes up office, and if he did admit a -woman from idle curiosity to see the Serpent—well, judged from one -point, it was very serious.” - -“Maybe,” said Rosalie, whose tongue was itching to say much more. “But -do you think there was any truth in it?” - -“Well, yes. A woman’s handkerchief with a red rose embroidered in the -corner was found upon the altar.” - -“Never!” said Rosalie, with such a visible jump and accents so sharp -that Miss Crokerly looked up, and the frog’s eyes grew wide with -warning. - -“It was so, indeed. My brother had it on good authority. One of the -Golden Priests went in that evening to offer the prayer at the New Moon. -He found it there. And then this hushed-up scandal followed.” - -Again Rosalie was silent, why, she could scarcely tell. She recognised -the handkerchief, which in after events she had never missed. It was her -aunt’s birthday gift, with a little silk-embroidered rose in the corner -instead of a name. - -“But why did the Golden Priest remark upon it?” asked Rosalie. - -“That is what I say. And it is that which makes me think the Great High -Priest has enemies.” - -“But such a thing as that, once died down, could not make him resign.” - -“Perhaps not. But I don’t think it ever really did die down. And last -year at the ‘Feast of White Souls,’ after the Fast of Black Ones, as he -was coming out from between the curtains to sprinkle white confetti down -the temple aisles, a most unfortunate thing occurred. The crimson -curtain suddenly tore from the rings and fell, and there behind, to the -view of a mixed assembly, shone out the Golden Serpent. I was there -myself, having gone to hear the music, for on these occasions it is very -fine, and was sitting with my brother quite near to the choir stalls.” - -“And what did you do?” - -“Well, it was very strange, but we all instinctively did the same thing. -I took one real good look at the Serpent (and I don’t know any woman -there who didn’t, except those who screamed, and some who fainted, for -what, it would be hard to tell), and then, from a sense of what was due -to the male part of the congregation, we covered our eyes with our -handkerchiefs, and all turning our backs upon the God we worshipped, -were led solemnly out, with comparatively little confusion. The service -could not continue, and that event has made him the most unpopular man -on Lucifram.” - -“Then,” said Rosalie, half laughing, half sarcastically, leaning back in -her chair, and looking at the fire, “I should say it would not be a bad -idea to introduce a ‘Feast of Handkerchiefs’ to take the place of the -unfortunate White Souls. A handkerchief betrayed one woman and saved the -rest. It should receive a place of honour in the temple.” - -“What a pity he did not take it in that way,” said Miss Crokerly. “But -I’ve heard since that the occurrence has depressed him terribly. And the -last news is that he is resigning.” - -“And which of the Golden Priests was it who spread the first report?” - -“His name is Alphonso. I know him slightly, but do not care for him. I -think him ambitious, and unscrupulous, and narrow-minded. I cannot help -but think myself he is the greatest enemy the High Priest has, though -there are some who uphold him as the strictest and highest principled -man within the Church.” - -“I dislike him already,” said Rosalie impulsively. - -The other laughed. - -“Well, you will have an opportunity of meeting him to-morrow night at -the Sebberens’. He is unmarried, so you may be as charming as you like -to him, and no one’s heart will break. But for all that he’s greatly run -after by the women. They regard the Golden Priests and the Great High -Priest as demi-gods.” - -The Golden Priests were those whose rank came next to that of the Great -High Priest, and when this latter died his place was always filled from -this exclusive body of great men, the wealthiest and most powerful in -the Church of Lucifram. - -“Oh! that will make me dislike him all the more,” said Rosalie. “The men -who are run after by women, and the women who are run after by men, are -both equally detestable. I mean, of course, in excess.” - -“But that is fascination.” - -“I prefer the fascination that is clever enough to captivate its own -sex.” - -“Well, men admire him in an intellectual capacity.” - -“A general favourite? Most insipid!” - -“Really, Rosalie!” said Miss Crokerly, and she laughed. - -“You cannot expect me to love him. A man should always be loyal to his -superior.” - -“Well, of course, I am only giving you my own opinion. And you must not -repeat it on any account; because it is not generally believed or -certain that he might be prompted by motives of ambition to make known -the incident of the handkerchief.” - -“I hope that if the High Priest does resign someone less self-seeking -takes his place.” - -“Than Golden Priest Alphonso? But that is scarcely likely. He has Mr. -Barringcourt for his great friend, and—What is the matter, Rosalie? Your -cheeks are all aflame.” - -“Oh! I—I—I’ve had springes of toothache all day, and the sudden pain -makes me flush. I’m all right now. What were you saying?” - -“Alphonso is sure to succeed to the High Priestship sooner or later. He -has much influence on his side—the Prime Minister, and Lord High All -Superior for public and official friends, and Mr. Barringcourt, whom I -just mentioned, who has great influence in outside circles, and more -money apparently than even poor Geoffrey Todbrook had. Now there’s a man -for you to dislike cordially on the grounds of general favouritism. The -women idolise him, and men will hear no wrong of him.” - -“And what kind of a life does he lead? Is he a good man?” asked Rosalie, -leaning forward and looking across at her. - -“I don’t know. My brother thinks greatly of him, and so do I. But it’s -hard to tell who’s good and who’s bad when you come to private life. -There are so many things for and against it.” - -“Of course.” - -“Still, I think as rich men go, who are young and unfettered by -anything, he must be fairly good. I don’t remember ever hearing anything -against him. And I know he has carried out all Geoffrey Todbrook’s -wishes with regard to charities to the letter.” - -“Is he executor?” - -“Yes.” - -“Then it would be surprising if he fell short of his duties, would it -not?” - -“Perhaps so. I expect he too will be at the Sebberens’ to-morrow night -But if you have any conversation with Mr. Barringcourt at all, you -cannot choose but like him.” - -“Is his temper unfailingly pleasant, then?” - -“No; it isn’t altogether that. I have known him very absent and -off-hand. But I suppose people occasionally find that rather pleasant in -a world of suavity and insincerity.” - -“I don’t agree with you. I’d rather have people unfailingly suave. It -spares a great deal of friction.” - -“What has upset you, Rosalie? You are most argumentative to-night.” - -“I expect you are spoiling me, and I’ve never been accustomed to it. You -should treat me with stern severity, and you would find me improve -wonderfully.” - -“And you just preaching unfailing suavity.” - -“Oh! I preach by the Creed of Contrary.” - -But Rosalie’s argumentative mood sprang really from the irritation that -followed on the evening’s escapade. - -In a cooler moment, and on reflection, she was not over and above proud -of the way in which she had fled so precipitately before the enemy. And -yet what was there to be done? To have stood still was to have hazarded, -so Rosalie thought, far more than she had any intention of hazarding. -She registered a mental vow never to go out at night alone again, and -wished, oh! wished most intensely, that nothing had tempted her out that -night. In her own room the frog broke the silence by saying: - -“You seem very upset to-night.” - -“Yes. I—I met Mr. Barringcourt, and I ran away.” - -“What made you run?” - -“I was frightened of him.” - -“What harm could he work you?” - -“Oh! he might have persuaded me in a moment of weakness I owed him a -debt of gratitude.” - -“And yet you have the kiss of freedom on your brow.” - -“Yes; but like most abstract things, it sank before the concrete.” - -“You’ll get over it by the morning. Sleep upon it.” - -“I should have had you with me. You have far less fear than I. The -farther off the episodes of Marble House become the more I dread them. -They seemed all right, and yet they were all wrong.” - -“Miss Crokerly said you would probably meet Mr. Barringcourt to-morrow -night.” - -“Yes, I know. And it was only this morning I congratulated myself he was -not in her set, and that I should never be likely to meet him.” - -“If you meet Mr. Barringcourt to-morrow night, you won’t run away—will -you?” - -“No; because it will be light, and there will be people about, and I -shall have you. No, I won’t run away in any case. But you will come with -me?” - -“Of course! I should have very much enjoyed the fresh air to-night; but -you did not invite me.” - -“I’m sorry. But I’ve paid the penalty of my negligence; from henceforth -you must never leave me.” - -“What dress do you intend to wear to-morrow night?” - -“The one I have worn all along.” - -“It’s as shabby as if you’d been digging in it. But the morning may -bring you another.” - -“I hope it may not be very heavy, in case I should have to depend on my -heels again.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - AT THE SEBBERENS’ - - -The Sebberens were people who indulged greatly in private theatricals -and other sorts of entertainment. With the amateur they included the -professional, and in between the acts, songs and recitations were -contributed by the latter. - -Mr. Sebberen had been engaged in pork, and had made enough money thereby -to make the pig respected—as an investment, anyway. He married a -waitress in a restaurant, who was neither more nor less charming and -handsome than most of her class. She had ambitions, and was young. - -But for ten long years they had no children, and never a scrap of the -pig was wasted. And those ten years were years of increase. Then to put -spirit to an ambition somewhat sordid, a little daughter was born. Both -parents were beside themselves with joy. It is not everyone who can -manage so much, after breeding nothing but gold or pork, and so they -felt. It’s a common thing to be a mother after a lapse of one year, but -after ten! they grew proud on the strength of it. - -And another ten years had trebled the ample fortune, nay, more than -trebled it, and Mr. Sebberen, a comparatively young man—scarce -forty—found himself with a daughter only ten years old. - -Another decade saw her twenty, he in the prime of life, her mother too. -“Sebberen’s Pork” was of world-wide fame. The king and the chief prince -had it on their breakfast tables; the poor still bought the sausages, -and doctors still evinced a weakness for onions, milk, and tripe. - -No one would have known, to walk into this grand house, that its -occupants once lived behind a little pork shop. For Susiebelle was -handsome and clever, and had taught her mother a thing or two, and made -great friends at school, not from any particular virtue, but from the -glamour of outside show. She had a great deal of the outward semblance -of that inward spirit that had made her father what he was. She was -shallow and brilliant, and a perfect mimic of the world. - -When the world wept, she wept. They called her tender-hearted. - -When it laughed, she also laughed. They called her gay. - -When in a mood for admiration, she, too, had time for adulation, admired -arts and music, knotted her pretty brows at science, and bought rich -copies of all the works of fashionable poets. And what was all this for? - -Susiebelle at twenty made up her mind to marry, and marry as well as -could be. Her father had just had a tremendous stroke of luck in -business. She set her mind upon a duke, shooting high to reach as far as -fortune favoured. - -One year had passed away, and Susiebelle’s ambition has not yet been -granted. A poor baronet, an insipid, weak-eyed lord; not bad for a -beginning, certainly. - -And this brings us to to-night, the amateur theatricals, and gay -company. - -Sir John was under commission to paint the lovely Susiebelle, and had -undertaken it with a fine courtesy that made her mother glow with pride -to think the great were servants of the—the small. And Sir John would do -it successfully after all, for she was pretty enough to appeal to the -sense of beauty in any artist, and her parents were over and above -willing to pay. - -And that is why Sir John went to the party—from motives of -conscientiousness. And Miss Crokerly went because she wished to give -pleasure to Rosalie. She, an ideal chaperon and friend. And Rosalie went -because there was no way out of it. - -But Rosalie’s dress was in itself that night a thing of beauty. Green, -as bright and dazzling a green as the frog’s coat, that fitted to her -graceful figure as perfectly as the shining scales of a serpent’s coils, -worked with tiny seed jewels and edgings of gold. - -“You look just like the mermaid,” said the frog, “your hair is so pale, -and your eyes so bright, and your skin so fair, and your lips are as red -as coral.” - -And Rosalie looked in the glass just as once before when comparing -herself with Mariana, and laughed again just as then, and clasped her -hands. - -Then, when she was ready, she went to Miss Crokerly’s room, who, on -seeing her, uttered an exclamation of surprise. - -“What is the matter?” asked Rosalie. - -“I believe your frog is a beautifier. Take care no one steals it in the -crush to-night. Or perhaps I ought to take the credit to myself. I think -I shall. You have improved in appearance since coming here, Rosalie, and -to-night you look quite radiant.” - -“Thank you,” and with a sudden touch of impulsiveness Rosalie kissed -her. “You are so kind to me that the credit is yours.” - -When they reached the Sebberens’ the large party was assembling in the -great drawing-room, which had been changed into a theatre for the -occasion. Supper was to follow, but light refreshments were being handed -round, and proved very useful to take the chill off the commencement, as -it were. And music not too obtrusive helped digestion. Rosalie’s heart -beat quicker as they entered the brilliantly-lit room, advance and -retreat covered by Miss Crokerly and her brother, before and behind. - -Just inside the wide doors stood Mrs. Sebberen talking to a grey-haired -man; Susiebelle was busy behind the curtain, so could not be in -attendance upon the guests. - -She greeted Miss Crokerly effusively, stared, as is perfectly compatible -with good manners, at Rosalie from head to foot, became effusive to her, -and then bestowed the same greeting upon Sir John. There was no doubt -about it, she was a happy and genial woman. She evidently considered -them among her guests of honour or chief friendship, for in person she -conducted them to a line of seats near to the front. She was dressed in -rich black satin, and looked handsome enough to be imposing. - -On the way she talked much to Miss Crokerly, but looked much at Rosalie, -her dress, her face, the curious little animal upon her shoulder. - -Beyond a certain interest, Rosalie read nothing in her glance. Then when -they were seated, she passed away again, and Rosalie found time to look -around. Everything and everybody were very brilliant. And she recognised -some of her new acquaintances, but none more intimate. At last she -whispered to Miss Crokerly—Sir John had left them for the moment: - -“Where is the Golden Priest Alphonso?” - -Miss Crokerly’s sharp eyes travelled round the assembly. - -“He is not here yet,” said she. “Of course I don’t know, but I expect -that he will come. There is Lady Flamington and her husband. Is she not -beautiful? but very sad-looking.” - -“Lady Flamington—Lady Flamington! Oh! where is she?” said Rosalie, in an -eager voice. - -But just then the lady spoken of, who was sitting some distance to the -right a row in front, turned round, and seeing Miss Crokerly, rose and -came toward her. Her smile was very pleasant. - -“I am deserting my husband for better company,” said she. “I dragged him -here against his will, low be it spoken, and am paying the penalty in -sulks. Your brother is easier to manage, Miss Crokerly.” - -“The privilege of management is not mine. I am only his sister.” - -The other shook her head. - -“You are too modest. There was never a man yet who governed himself; he -couldn’t manage it. It ends in sudden death or corpulency. Both are -dreadful things.” - -Miss Crokerly laughed. - -“You will perhaps have heard what heavy responsibilities I have taken -upon myself lately.” - -“Yes; I hear you have turned chaperon,” and Lady Flamington looked -across at Rosalie and smiled as pleasantly as before. - -Miss Crokerly introduced them. - -“Are you fond of private theatricals?” she asked. - -“I’ve never been to any,” replied Rosalie candidly. - -“She was an only child, and brought up very strictly,” said Miss -Crokerly, at which Lady Flamington said “Oh!” and looked toward the -door. - -She remained sitting by them till the play began, talking with both of -them. At last she said to Rosalie: - -“Do you know, I have the oddest sensation that I have met you before.” - -“I don’t think so,” said Rosalie. “I have a very good memory for faces, -and I have never seen you anywhere.” - -“Perhaps I am mistaken. People often resemble each other so curiously.” - -But now silence was imposed. The play had begun in earnest, and it was -quite interesting enough to retain the attention. When the act was over, -a song by a very well-known singer was announced; but before this came -off a few late arrivals made their entrance. - -“There is the Golden Priest,” said Miss Crokerly. - -He came in with two more gentleman. He was tall and thin, with a narrow -face and black hair. His eyes were deeply set and fixed close together. -His nose was long, and his lips very thin and straight. He looked -clever; beyond that he was scarcely prepossessing, but he was evidently -made much of in that assembly. They gave him a seat upon the very first -row. And yet he never ceased to preach that the pig was unclean! It was -a canon of the Church. - -The play had more fine dresses in it than cleverness or substance, but -it was received as warmly as the more deserving performances during the -interludes. - -Everybody was in high good-humour apparently, and the next day the paper -said it was the most successful entertainment and supper party Mrs. -Sebberen had ever given, which, coming from such good authority, must -have been the truth. - -When the temporary curtain had fallen for the last time upon general and -good-natured applause, a movement was made toward the supper-room. - -They put a little round-headed man with weak eyes to look after Rosalie. -He blinked upon her critically, and then smiled. Rosalie did not like -him. - -However, not being dumb now, she needs must talk to him; never had -anyone been more tongue-tied. The coldness of the weather, their only -conversation, scarcely matched her conduct to him. The supper-room was -brilliant; nothing had been spared that money could buy to please the -eye or taste. He forgot her in the contemplation of his food, and she -was glad; it gave her time to look about. - -The table was long, and everyone apparently was seated at it. There was -not a plain-looking woman among the number, so it seemed to her; and -many of them were really beautiful. But Lady Flamington possessed a -certain individual grace, a coldness and sadness under her exterior -charm of manner, that raised her much above the ordinary plane. Sir John -was sitting by her, and they were talking pleasantly to one another. She -gave one the impression that she could be very fascinating. - -But as Rosalie’s eyes travelled up the table on the opposite side, she -recognised Mr. Barringcourt for the first time that evening, and he was -sitting next to Susiebelle. - -Susiebelle was evidently in good feather, for everyone had been -congratulating her upon her acting, and she was simple-minded enough to -believe them, which gave her quite a charm. She was talking to him with -great spirit and gaiety, and looked quite handsome enough to make any -mother proud. Mr. Barringcourt was listening so politely that his -attention seemed to lack interest. When she laughed he smiled; when she -smiled he listened gravely; when her face was serious, as it rarely was, -he took the opportunity to look around. - -On one of those occasions his eye travelled across to where Rosalie sat. -No sign of recognition was visible in them, but a little later he looked -at her again. - -Rosalie was annoyed to find that both times she had been looking at him, -and for the future looked discreetly the other way, nay, cultivated the -acquaintance of her companion, and found him scarcely as uninteresting -as at first she had imagined. - -But at last the evening was over, and she standing by Miss Crokerly in -the hall, waiting for their carriage. - -The coldness of the day had changed to snow, and the ground outside was -white; a sight which somehow or other always surprises people when first -they see it, however much they may have expected it. Thick white flakes -were still falling rapidly. People drew their wraps round them and -shivered, or pretended to. - -Lady Flamington’s carriage drove away as Miss Crokerly and Rosalie -reached the top step. Mr. Barringcourt had seen them off, and closed the -carriage door. Before moving away himself, he looked up at the steps and -saw these two descending. He raised his hat, looking at Miss Crokerly. - -“Sir John is not returning home with you?” - -“No,” she answered anxiously. “He said he preferred to walk; but I’m -sure he can have no idea of the state of the night. I have not seen him -since before supper-time.” - -“I’ll seek him out and bring him to you; it’s a beastly night.” And he -ran lightly up the steps, whilst they got as quickly under cover as -possible. - -He was not long away, and returned, bringing Sir John along with him. - -“You surely are not walking yourself?” said Miss Crokerly, as he -proceeded to close the door for them also. - -“Yes. It never occurred to me to order a carriage, and I have neither -wife nor sister to be concerned about my getting wet.” - -“Then,” said she decidedly, “you must come with us. I noticed as you -went up the steps your shoes are not at all suitable to the night.” - -It seemed almost as if he would decline, then suddenly he said “Thank -you,” and stepped in beside Sir John, and they were off. - -Now, the frog was so bright that the carriage was quite pleasantly lit, -for it had crept out from beneath Rosalie’s wraps to its accustomed -place. - -Miss Crokerly then introduced him to Rosalie; but as he showed no signs -of recognition, neither did she, but leant back in her corner and -listened to the conversation. - -“What did you think of the theatricals?” asked Miss Crokerly. - -“I did not arrive in time for them. The secretary of Todbrook’s Home for -Deaf and Dumb came to see me about a Christmas treat for them. For -myself, I can imagine no treat that would appeal to incurables. But he -has faith in turkey, and I think he said plum-pudding.” - -“It must be a terrible thing to be afflicted with either defect. What -else are you going to do for them?” - -“I don’t know, I’m sure. I said I’d call to see him in the morning.” - -“Oh! you should have a Christmas tree, and a cinematograph, and take -them all to the Pantomime to see the transformation scenes,” said -Rosalie. - -And she sat up again, and her eyes were very big and bright, because the -subject was especially interesting to her. The other three looked at -her. - -“Are you a philanthropist?” asked Mr. Barringcourt, with a vein of -coldness running in his words, in direct opposition to her heat. - -She laughed. - -“No; but I was told you were,” and leant back in her seat, and evidently -felt safe enough to betray no outward fear. - -“I was speaking last night about your exertions on behalf of the deaf -and dumb,” said Miss Crokerly, in explanation, recognising, without -understanding it, the tone in each of their voices. - -“You were naturally prepossessed in my favour then,” and he looked at -Rosalie again, speaking in a voice not free from sarcasm. - -“No. I simply recognised that you were doing your duty.” - -“Which you must admit is the hardest of all things.” - -“I take your word for it. From to-day I honour you as a martyr. I was -not prepossessed in your favour at all. Forgive me for my stupidity.” - -Rosalie’s voice was changed from hot to cold. Miss Crokerly heard it -with surprise, and a silence must have fallen had not Sir John, whose -mind ranged on different topics, put in suddenly: - -“I hear that it is quite true the Great High Priest intends to resign -office.” - -“I have heard the same thing,” said Mr. Barringcourt. “It is a very -unusual occurrence.” - -“Did you hear the reason of it?” asked Sir John. - -“I believe it has something to do with the Feast of White Souls. The -episode was rather unfortunate. A great many are in favour of his -resignation.” - -“Might I ask your opinion?” said Sir John. - -“Yes. I think the Great High Priest should be above scandal, and he is -evidently not.” - -And he looked at Rosalie, and his eyes were laughing, though his face -and voice were as serious as those of a judge. - -The old distaste rose in her, as of some dumb thing against a cruel and -powerful oppressor. But she said: - -“Do you indulge in scandal, Mr. Barringcourt? I thought it was the -recreation of idle women.” - -“Oh, no,” he answered, with the coolness of rudeness. “Idle women in -these parts are known by the sharpness of their tongues.” - -“I’m very sorry,” she answered, suddenly changing in tone and manner, -“but I can’t help liking the Great High Priest; and as for Golden Priest -Alphonso—I detest him.” - -“Oh, dear! dear!” said Miss Crokerly, with agitation, laying her hand on -Rosalie’s knee. “You must not talk like that, Rosalie, indeed, you must -not. It is not usual. Remember he is Mr. Barringcourt’s friend, and -bears an excellent reputation.” - -But as the carriage drew up, she stopped speaking of necessity. - -“You will drive on, will you not?” asked Sir John. - -“No, thank you. I’ll get out, and borrow whatever Miss Crokerly cares to -lend me. I never had a cold in my life. The experience would be new to -me.” - -So he came with them into the house, and seemed in no particular hurry -to depart. Rosalie said to him: - -“Will you do me a favour, Mr. Barringcourt?” - -“To the best of my ability.” - -“Then give me one good point in the character of your friend.” - -“Which friend?” - -“The Golden Priest.” - -“He is a man of great integrity.” - -“What’s that?” - -“Honour.” - -“What’s that?” - -Rosalie’s questions were not contemptuous; they were put with a great -desire to find out. - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -“There you have me,” he answered. “I’m sure I don’t know. The word -generally speaks for itself to all but the ignorant.” - -“Then you cannot defend him on the strength of it?” - -“No; he is clever enough to defend himself, I hope. You are wearing a -very pretty and uncommon ornament, Miss Paleaf.” - -“It is not an ornament. It is alive, and one of my dearest friends.” - -“Such a friend is rather questionable on Lucifram.” - -“Why?” - -“The Serpent has a weakness for frogs. In a natural state they form part -of its food.” - -“My friend has powers of self-defence as well as yours.” - -“The Serpent has a very big mouth.” - -“Yes. And is ambitious enough to prefer men to frogs upon occasion.” - -He laughed, and the conversation changed to general topics. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - THE GOLDEN PRIEST - - -That night when she and the frog were alone together, Rosalie began the -conversation by saying: - -“What do you think of Mr. Barringcourt?” - -“I like him,” said the frog, quite shortly. - -“What has prepossessed you?” - -“Nothing particularly. But I like him. I’m sorry you were so rude to -him.” - -Rosalie flushed. The tone was almost grave enough for a rebuke. - -“I? Rude? Oh, Brightcoat, how can you say so? I always try to be polite -to him, and it always ends in failure. It is he who is rude to me.” - -“No,” said the frog; “you take no pains to act or to speak sensibly. And -to say you detest anyone is absurd, ridiculous, to say nothing of bad -manners.” - -“You’ve never lived in Marble House, so you can afford to talk. Talk -about vivisection! It was Mr. Barringcourt who openly deplored to me -there was no such thing in our country. What do you think of that?” - -“There are worse things than vivisection,” replied the frog. “If it were -not for that I should never have been here, or alive now.” - -“But—” said Rosalie, staring at it. - -“Why don’t you cultivate a charming manner, Rosalie?” - -“I expect I’m not made that way. Are my manners so uncouth?” and her -expression was doleful. - -“No; but I don’t see how you’re to get your six horses, chariot, and all -the rest, unless you try to be more charming.” - -“Well, Mr. Barringcourt will never help me that way. You should have -seen the look he gave me last night, and then to-night, as if he’d never -seen me before. Such folk give me quite a creepy feeling. Besides, -talking about horses, his are black. Can’t you see he is the exact -opposite of what I want? He would do all he could to hinder me. If it -were not that once I saw him looking very tired I should detest him too. -Oh, how I hate Lucifram! Somehow or other, I never feel at home here,” -and she sighed. - -“And you’ve got about all it can give you.” - -“Then I’m like all the rest—ungrateful.” - -“Rosalie, has it ever struck you you are very pretty?” - -“Yes; every now and again it has. But what of that? All the women we saw -to-night were pretty. It’s the commonest of all things. If I’d a big -hook nose now I might appear imposing. But no; even that is common -enough to-day.” - -After a pause the frog said: “I heard someone say to-night you were the -prettiest woman there.” - -“Please, don’t! I’d so much rather you left my personal appearance -alone.” - -But the frog continued: - -“It’s as well for people to think about these things at times. I know -many a lovely woman who has been ruined by thinking too much of her -beauty in one way, and too little in another. They know they are -beautiful, and that knowledge is all-sufficient to them; their food and -recreation, and all in all.” - -“But I’m not one of those.” - -“No. I think you might put yours to much more use than you do.” - -“You speak in puzzles.” - -“You are not so dull but that with a little consideration you will -understand me.” - -So Rosalie went to bed much sat on by the frog, but maybe profiting, as -most of us do, from a little compression and criticism. - -Next day everything was sloppy, wet, and dismal. Rain began to fall in -the afternoon, and going out, no matter of pleasure on such a day, was -not indulged in. - -Tea had just been brought in, and Rosalie and Miss Crokerly were -preparing to enjoy it alone, when visitors were announced. They were Mr. -Barringcourt and the Golden Priest Alphonso. - -“I came to return the umbrella, Miss Crokerly, and met the Golden Priest -on my way.” - -“Then you will have tea,” said she. “On a wet day you are doubly -welcome. No one else has ventured out.” - -“We are fortunate. Miss Paleaf, allow me to introduce my friend, Golden -Priest Alphonso, to you.” - -And Rosalie, having a severe and cold critic perched upon her shoulder, -rose very gracefully and bowed. - -“It must have been very important business that brought you out on such -a day,” said she to him, as they sat down, with charming sympathy. - -“Well, I was out begging, and a beggar cannot choose his weather. I was -going in search of Mr. Barringcourt for a subscription for a new -decorative curtain for the temple.” - -“In place of the old red one?” - -“Exactly. It was old and shabby, despite its richness, and we think it -must be rotten. There is every indication that it may give way again, -and so we are making all speed with the new one.” - -“Then you are not superstitious enough to think it gave way before from -anything but natural causes?” - -He looked at her sharply and narrowly. - -“Oh, no,” he answered. “One can find a natural cause for everything. -Therein lies the greater miracle.” - -“But how?” said Rosalie, subduing her tongue in deferential attention to -the pillar of the Church. - -He smiled, as became one of exalted intellect. - -“Well, there is nothing like order—cause and effect—to work a lasting -miracle. A startling thing has a short life. The rottenness of the -curtain was the symbol of something still more rotten. Nothing takes -place in a day.” - -Rosalie’s eyes opened innocently, though they were very far from -innocent. There is no doubt the frog must have been to blame for it. - -“What is still more rotten? But perhaps my questions bore you. I am so -inquisitive.” - -Again he smiled. - -“You could never be that. But what is still more rotten is the system -that lets old men continue in office after they have proved themselves -unfit for it.” - -Rosalie’s eyes betrayed a charming depth of horror at this cold-blooded -statement. - -“But, sir,” said she, “who is to be the judge of their incapacity? And, -again, it seems so cruel, and—and—doesn’t it make a terrible lot of -enemies for you, saying things like that?” - -The Golden Priest laughed. The last remark evidently was to some point. - -“In the cause of common sense one has no objection to making enemies. -And I cannot for the life of me see why the highest position in the land -should never be filled by a man till he’s nearly in his dotage.” - -“Oh! it’s more restful. Besides, a great and a good man should retain -his intellect to his death, however old and feeble he may be.” - -“Granted! But feebleness is no qualification for an important post. And -greatness and goodness should discern its own capacity.” - -“Is it true, then, that the Great High Priest is resigning?” - -“Yes; in a few months.” - -“He has discernment, then?” - -“I think his action is a little too late for that. His plea is -ill-health. None of us have heard anything further—not those nearest to -him in office.” - -“And then there will come the general election for his successor?” - -(For in Lucifram they chose their highest priests that way. The clergy -vote for them.) - -“Yes; in a few weeks from now.” - -“It will be a very distracting time?” - -“Scarcely more so than the last year has been.” - -And so the silent plot of years had worked to a fulfilment, the veil or -mask at length being thrown aside. To-day was spoken openly what a month -ago had been whispered and kept down. - -Here the conversation was interrupted by Miss Crokerly. - -“Mr. Barringcourt tells me he saw the secretary again this morning, and -arranged for all the things you suggested, Rosalie.” - -“Yes. He has never doubted my judgment before, but I think he must have -detected a foreign influence, he looked so dubious.” - -Rosalie laughed. - -“Are they to have force-meat and sausages with the turkey, do you know?” -she asked. - -“It never occurred to me to ask.” - -“And you an executor of a will! And never to inquire about the gravy and -bread-sauce. It’s plain you don’t attach enough importance to a -Christmas dinner. But if I were you, Mr. Barringcourt, I’d countermand -all orders, and give them 3s. 6d. each, and a free day to enjoy -themselves anywhere and anyhow, with a night each end, to make a -complete sandwich and a delightful holiday.” - -“You imagine them to be prisoners. On the contrary, those who have -friends or relations who care to receive them may have leave from the -Home once every month. And for the inmates, you must remember it is no -prison that they live in, and they are very happy.” - -“I suppose so,” said Rosalie. “But I always dread those public -institutions for defects.” - -“You are prejudiced,” put in the Golden Priest. “They are the greatest -blessings in existence. I always regard them as branches of the temple.” - -“So do I,” said Mr. Barringcourt; but the tone was questionable. - -“I have the greatest longing to go through Todbrook’s Home,” said Miss -Crokerly. “One hears so much about it. I should like to see the inmates -at work.” - -Rosalie shivered. - -“Oh! would you, Miss Crokerly? I can imagine nothing more galling to -them than to be watched by strangers.” - -“But is it such an infliction to them?” asked that lady, turning to Mr. -Barringcourt. - -“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said he. “I hardly think so. I think myself it -would be better if they had more visitors from the outside world. Lady -Flamington is the only lady I have ever taken over the premises.” - -“I had just left there,” said the Golden Priest, “before I met you -to-day. I hear she caught a severe chill last night, and is confined to -her room.” - -“Indeed,” said Miss Crokerly; and Mr. Barringcourt and Rosalie looked at -each other, from no apparent motive. - -When tea was over the two gentlemen rose to go. - -“I think,” said Mr. Barringcourt, in a lower voice, to Rosalie, as the -others were speaking of a special fern which both were rearing—“I think -it would not be a bad plan for you to go over the Home with Miss -Crokerly. The matron will willingly take you over, and you’ll find there -are worse things in the world than being deaf and dumb, or even blind.” - -Then somehow or other they looked at each other, the first time really -since the Saturday night. How long ago it seemed now! And each was very -curious about the other evidently, for Rosalie’s eyes searched his, and -his eyes hers, but what conclusion either came to it would be hard to -say. - -And then she shook hands with the Golden Priest, and the door closed. - -“Do you think,” said Miss Crokerly, “that Mr. Barringcourt told the -Golden Priest your opinion of him, and brought him here to-day in -consequence?” - -“No, I don’t think so,” she replied thoughtfully. “I think Mr. -Barringcourt must have recognised the Golden Priest has no sense of -humour, and would resent instead of forgiving opinions.” - -“Your tone proves appearances are deceptive. I thought by your manner -you had changed your estimate of him.” - -Rosalie half shuddered, and stretched her hands to the blaze. - -“I was simply carrying out a lesson in obedience. And yet my estimate of -him _has_ changed. I find him so uninteresting.” - -“It is the common lot of most of us to be uninteresting.” - -“Oh, no, indeed. You are interesting; so is Sir John; so was—was—so have -been many people I have met—Mr. Barringcourt, for instance. But this man -is petrified by ambition. It is eating up his heart and head.” - -“Well, I am not particularly fond of him myself, as I have told you. -Still, I am surprised that with your views you should find Mr. -Barringcourt interesting.” - -Rosalie’s brows knitted. - -“I don’t understand him. I never did understand him. Have you ever met -anyone, Miss Crokerly, who at times struck you as being very, very good, -and at others almost cruel? And that is how he appears to me.” - -“But you know so little of him.” - -“Yes, of course. I forgot. I spoke as if we were almost old -acquaintances.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXVI - CONVERSATION AND A LITTLE PIG-STUFF - - -After that a short time passed away, during which Rosalie saw much of -Mr. Barringcourt and the Golden Priest, though not intimately. - -During this time Lady Flamington, young, beautiful, much courted and -admired, died. It caused a great sensation at the time, because she had -only been ill a week, and the doctor had great hopes of recovery because -she was strong. But it was double pneumonia, and whereas many a poor -person less well attended to gets well and strong again, she, with all -attention, passed away. - -Rosalie, though knowing comparatively little of her, was somehow much -affected by her death. Sir John went to the funeral, and she was put -away in a manner that would have done many a poor person’s heart good. - -The next morning was bright and frosty, and Rosalie took an early walk -in the Park. Walking there, she met Mr. Barringcourt, and as it was -daylight, and the frog was with her, she did not beat a retreat. She -expected to find him doleful, searched his face for the usual signs, but -found nothing. She remembered Mariana’s words, and thought there must be -truth in them. - -“You are out early,” he said. - -“Yes. I left Miss Crokerly feeding the birds and cleaning the cages. She -prefers to do it alone, so I don’t offer to help her.” - -“You are happier with her than you were with me.” - -“Of course. I was not at all happy with you, Mr. Barringcourt. You knew -it.” - -“I don’t think you waited long enough to find out.” - -“I escaped by the first open door, in case none other should present -itself.” - -“Which door was that?” - -“That is my little secret. You must be as charming as charming to me, -and I will be sure never to let you know.” - -He laughed. “Mariana again?” - -“Yes, Mariana,” said Rosalie, suddenly standing still and looking up at -him, for they had walked along together. “How is Mariana? I want to see -her again.” - -“Oh, she is perfectly well, I think,” he answered. “But you cannot see -her. The guest of Sir John Crokerly cannot fraternise with a housemaid.” - -“When did you find me a snob?” asked Rosalie. “Of course I can see her. -I—I should have written and asked her to call and see me, only things in -your house aren’t quite on the highest principle.” - -And Rosalie’s nose went one degree higher, and she drew her skirts more -severely round her, and moved quite half an inch further away as they -walked along. - -“What do you mean?” - -“Well, the postman would do his part of the work, but I doubt whether -Everard would.” - -“Then, if you don’t trust Everard, why not call yourself?” - -Rosalie’s eyes opened. - -“Do you mean to say if I wouldn’t trust a letter I should trust myself? -How you reason, Mr. Barringcourt.” - -“You could neither be torn up nor burned.” - -“No. But it is my firm intention never to enter Marble House again.” - -“You are the young lady who once said you never had run away, and never -intended to.” - -Her ears began to burn. - -“To recall things that are past is mean—and—and abominable.” - -“I am not recalling things. I merely wish to point out to you people -always do the things they say they won’t do.” - -“Do they?” she answered, and turned a pair of mermaid eyes on to his -profile, and tried to recall things that he had said. - -Under the scrutiny he turned his face to her again, laughing. - -“Still the old trick of staring, Rosalie.” - -“You must be very careful how you speak to me. See, I carry my chaperon -in my muff,” and she tilted it up and showed the frog sitting there. - -“If you had lived two hundred years ago, they’d have called that little -animal your familiar spirit, and burnt you as a witch. Where did you get -it from?” - -“Another secret, Mr. Barringcourt. You must be still more charming, and -I’ll count twenty every time before I speak. But when may I see -Mariana?” - -“Mariana has forgotten you.” - -“Has she married Everard, then?” - -“Oh, no! Their friendship is as pleasant as iced milk in summer. If you -want to see Mariana, you must come and seek her.” - -Rosalie bit her lip. “I’ve told you I won’t.” - -“Why?” - -“Because if I came you’d never let me out again.” - -“You say so, so I should be very ill-mannered if I contradicted you. My -road lies this way. Good morning!” - -“Mr. Barringcourt.” - -“Yes,” and he turned to find her standing there, with a puzzled and -anxious look on her face. - -“Would you mind giving me a little advice—telling me what to do, I -mean?” - -“About what?” - -“It’s about a handkerchief that was found in the temple, so it seems, -some time ago. It belonged to me. I keep wondering ought I to tell, and -I don’t want to. I would have asked Miss Crokerly, only she knows -nothing about it, and might not understand. What would you do if you -were me?” - -“I’d worry; but being myself, I’d let it pass.” - -“But it caused a scandal, and did the Great High Priest a great deal of -harm.” - -“Why did you not speak about it at the time?” - -“Because I wasn’t in Lucifram. I—I—I—You see, I haven’t got out of my -old habit.” - -“No,” he answered, and raised his hat and turned away again, and spoke -with such a short kind of pride, that just the one sharp monosyllable -was almost more than Rosalie could stand. - -“There now,” said she to the frog, as they walked home, she with a -burning heart. “Do you like him now? Did I not tell you no one could be -nastier?” - -“Well,” replied Brightcoat, “you ask advice, and only give half the -information—not that.” - -“I see you have conspired against me. If I told him the story of the -Governor, and how I met with you, he would only laugh and say I was -dreaming.” - -“You shouldn’t stammer when you’re speaking. People always misconstrue -it, and give it more meaning than it has.” - -“Because people are so stupid. Well, we’ve quarrelled again now, and you -can blame me if you like; but I blame him. And I would so love to see -Mariana again. And to think he called her a housemaid! Housemaid? I’ve -seen no woman to compare to her in beauty or grace since I came here. -The only thing she needed was life. And housemaids, as a rule, have too -much of that.” - -It is sad to relate that a few days after this the Great High Priest -died, and his death was a general relief. He was little mourned for. The -public do not always forgive a man readily, even when he has the grace -to die, though it’s certainly a great point in his favour. But still -there was a certain section still in his favour, or rather, in favour of -a certain Golden Priest called Phillipus, who was the oldest of that -superior gathering, and likeliest, therefore, to come soonest upon -dotage. Now Phillipus, if seniority had anything to do with it, ought to -have stepped into the vacant throne, and would have done, if the events -of the last two years or so had not undermined public feeling. - -He was a man of sixty, so well preserved, and of an intellect so keen, -he appeared as one in the very middle youth of life. But when events are -against a man, he may be what he will, he doesn’t make much headway, -from a worldly point of view. - -But the death of the High Priest, so unexpected as it was, threw things -forward a bit. The election for his successor must come off sooner than -was expected. In lieu of this, a famous conclave was called together at -a dinner-party—a party at which the dinner was not to be so important as -the speeches to follow. - -Whilst this was in progress of preparation, cards of invitation were -issued for a great ball in Marble House on Christmas Day. - -And so it was the day before the big dinner came off, and about a week -after the invitations for the ball had been issued, Susiebelle rushed -into the drawing-room of her great friend, Miss Groggerton. - -Now, before proceeding, it may be as well to introduce this lady -cautiously. She lived in Lucifram, not upon Earth. She was so shockingly -and vulgarly outspoken that on our modest sphere she would never have -been tolerated; but there she was. - -And why? Well, the reason is a good one. She had twice been crossed in -love. That on Earth makes a woman bitter. Not so on Lucifram. - -Crossed once, she does become embittered; crossed twice, she becomes a -scourge in the land. And Miss Groggerton had been crossed twice. - -She therefore spared no one, man, woman, or child, and in consequence -all persons with a spite against anyone went to her. She poured pepper -and vinegar upon their wounds; then salt, and healed them. - -So it was that Susiebelle rushed into her room, furnished in yellow -satin. - -“I think it’s shameful!” - -“What’s shameful?” asked Miss Groggerton, laying down her yellow-backed -novel. - -“The way Camille Barringcourt has behaved!” - -“I knew you’d never manage it,” said the other. - -“Manage what?” - -“To get him up to the scratch.” - -“You’ve failed often enough; you needn’t talk to me. - -“I was talking to myself.” - -“It’s scandalous the way that grey-haired old Agnes Crokerly gets into -everything. The reason her brother’s never got married is because she -never lets him out of her sight.” - -“The reason he’s never got married,” said Miss Groggerton, “is because -he’s no morals.” - -“You know a good bit about people,” said Susiebelle, more respectfully. - -“I should think I did! People are no better than pigs; they’re swine.” - -“Pa made his money out of pigs.” - -“They’re one degree better than people, then.” - -“I wish you’d let me say what I came to say.” - -“Go on. No one’s hindering you but yourself.” - -“Camille Barringcourt’s a pig. He’s gone and asked old Agnes Crokerly to -play hostess at his big do. And I thought now Lady Flamington was gone -there’d be a chance for ma and me.” - -“What d’ye want with _him_?” said the other sneeringly. “He’s not a -duke. He’s plain Mr.! Bless me, you’re coming down!” - -“Ah! but he’s got a mint of money.” - -“You’ve got enough money for two and more, if need be. What you want is -a title. If you looked back into his people you’d find they kept a chip -potato shop, I dare be bound.” - -“Never!” said Susiebelle, with emphasis, the tears rising in her eyes. -“He’s so real a gentleman he makes Lord Hysquint look like a -twopence-halfpenny waiter in a restaurant I don’t want a duke” (her -voice was rising), “I won’t have a duke! They’re common little sniggling -things that are too proud for their place. One might think they’d never -tasted sausage! I’ll marry who I want to, and if I don’t marry who I -want, I’ll make everybody’s life a burden to them!” - -And her voice rose to a high pitch, for she was hysterical, and had -never been much crossed in her life before. - -Miss Groggerton was enjoying the oratory so much, she made no attempt at -interruption. This would be a delightful tale for repetition. -Susiebelle, once having begun to speak, had lost control over her -tongue, a state with which many will readily sympathise. - -“I went to the temple specially when Lady Flamington died, and thanked -the Serpent, because I thought it was my turn next, and—and—and now it’s -old Agnes Crokerly—old cat!” - -“Old Agnes Crokerly!” said Miss Groggerton, with a snort and a sneer. -“Old Agnes Crokerly!” - -“Well, he’s asked her to do the thing for him. And he giving a big -affair with Lady Flamington warm in her coffin yet! And never a crape -band round his arm or his hat for her.” - -“Well! Women who make themselves too cheap can’t expect to be respected -even in their graves.” - -“She never made herself too cheap. Ma fought tooth and nail to get her -to our place, and wouldn’t have managed it then if it hadn’t been for -Mr. Barringcourt, who’s more democratic in his views. He brought her to -a charity concert when her husband was away in the land of Big Boasts -and Loud Voices, and ma improved the occasion.” - -“And now,” said the other contemptuously, “you say John Crokerly’s -sister has taken her place.” - -“Yes; it’s the way with young men. Mollycoddled by women old enough to -be their mothers.” - -Her tears began to flow again. - -“He’s not so very young,” said Miss Groggerton impressively. “And you -bet your bottom dollar it’s the other one he’s after.” - -“Which other?” and Susiebelle opened her big brown eyes. - -“What’s her name? Pa—Pa—Paleaf.” - -“What!” screamed the other. “The girl with the pug-nose, the green eyes -and washed-out hair. Sprung from nowhere! A lot you know about it.” - -“I know plenty, because I watch. Didn’t I see them walking in the Park -the other morning? I’ll do him the justice, though, to say she kept -calling him back when he was all for getting away.” - -“I don’t believe it. She knows how to dress, and there’s an end of it.” - -“She’s a right-down pretty woman,” said Miss Groggerton spitefully, who -would have been just as eager to pronounce her ugly upon another -occasion. - -“There’s no dash, no ‘go’ about her. She gives one the impression she’s -been sleeping in a bandbox. I’d rather have Agnes for company than her.” - -“You would. But then you’re not a man. It makes all the difference.” - -And then Susiebelle, being quite overwrought, put her head on the sofa -pillow and cried aloud. Truly Miss Groggerton was cruel. But it was not -her nature to remain so long, if justice must be done her. Suddenly she -said: - -“Are you very gone on Barringcourt?” - -“Dead gone. If I don’t marry him I’ll marry no one. So pa had better -look out.” - -“Well, it’s Miss Paleaf he’s gone upon now, though it may be only a -passing fancy. But why not set yourself to work to do her out?” - -“How?” asked Susiebelle, raising her head. - -“Well, she never goes anywhere but what she takes a hideous green toad -with her. These are days of extreme religion. Let’s say she worships it. -There would be scandal in no time, and it might end seriously for her.” - -“Yes; but I’m thinking of him. I don’t think he’s a very religious man. -It might make no difference to him if he’s f—f—fond of her.” - -Miss Groggerton laughed aloud. - -“You’ll never get married if you’re such a greenhorn. D’ye think any man -would care for a girl who worshipped a toad when he was there himself to -be worshipped? On my word, Susiebelle, you don’t know everything.” - -“Of course not,” said the other humbly. “How—how shall we begin?” - -“Oh! I have a great friend, a priest called James Peter. I’ll speak of -it to him as a serious matter and scandal. There’s no one like the -priests for spreading gossip.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXVII - AFTER-DINNER SPEECHES - - -After that Susiebelle went back to her accustomed life, and behaved as a -young lady who had been presented to the Emperor _should_ behave. - -The great night of the dinner had arrived; the following day was to be -the great election, and the two most popular and powerful candidates -were, to even the inexperienced eye, Golden Priest Alphonso and his -brother Phillipus. - -Now, since the death of the Great High Priest it was very plain the -latter had come into more favour. Why, it would be hard to say. A little -whisper here, a little whisper there. “He is ambitious”—deadliest sin in -a path of life that fosters ambition. And Golden Priest Alphonso, with -his far-reaching, numerous feelers, like the octopus, must have been -conscious of it. Yet the poor were his upholders. One night a week, at -his own board, they were his guests, and he was seen sitting down with -them. _This_ man ambitious? The people’s friend Alphonso! That means so -little and so much, just as in the days of our own French Revolution. - -But now the night had come, and everything was a buzz of simmering -excitement. - -Thanks to tickets sent from Mr. Barringcourt, probably through Golden -Priest Alphonso, Sir John, Miss Crokerly, and Rosalie were enabled to -go. The Sebberens only got one ticket, as happened in most houses, and -that at a side table, still a place of honour, where the wealthiest sat, -and were content to sit. - -The Golden Priests, robed in their flowing vestments of richest satin -and cloth of gold, sat interspersed amongst their guests, at the two -principal tables. The great hall was crowded, and so constructed that -all speakers, from one end to the other, could be distinctly heard when -there was silence. - -It was an off-shoot of the great temple, and was called the Golden Hall -because its ceiling, walls, and other adornments were overlaid with -gold. Men were there in the preponderance, but there were women also -from the more influential houses. People were heard lamenting the -absence of Lady Flamington. Somehow or other to-night, even in that -tumultuous world, her presence was missed. - -Rosalie was there. Rosalie, in shimmering grey, like frozen shining -_crêpe_, only soft and clinging. She was as one in half mourning among -that brilliant throng. On her shoulder was the shining frog, shining in -green and white, and for some reason or other her face was very pale, -and her eyes big and bright. - -On the opposite side, a little farther up the table, Mr. Barringcourt -sat. He wore the curious gleaming jewelled pin she had seen before, and -the persistent red light it cast was nothing short of wonderful. On the -side lower down sat Golden Priest Alphonso. Still farther off sat -Phillipus. To-morrow the race and the fight would be decided. - -Now on this great occasion the Golden Priests themselves did not speak. -Naturally, a man cannot speak on his own behalf. The only thing he can -speak for is a Cause. - -But when dinner was over (and it was finished in a remarkably short -time, being, as it were, but the trumpet sound calling to greater -things), the friends and upholders of each candidate spoke in turn. No -names were mentioned—views only were put forward, facts also. Each -speaker was allowed fifteen minutes and no more. - -The speeches began in earnest, and they revolved round the two chief men -of those chosen—for and against. - -Now it was plain that the unfortunate episode of the lost handkerchief, -or rather _found_ one, still rankled deeply in people’s minds. A debt of -gratitude was still due to the man who discovered and made known this -scandalous piece of information. Affairs in the temple had for centuries -been kept too close. A Great High Priest was needed whose actions would -be as light as day, and character above reproach. - -So on the speeches went, all interesting and conclusive, because they -all pivoted on one concrete thing, a handkerchief with a rose in the -corner. The thing itself was never mentioned, for that would scarce have -been diplomacy. Like the Serpent, the handkerchief was hidden out of -sight. - -And so on one little lie, or piece of misunderstanding, one man was -gaining a position which clearly was too good for him. So at least -thought Rosalie. She studied the faces of the two candidates, and took a -sudden fancy to that of Phillipus. He came from a line of uncrowned -kings. The speeches were going against him; he bore it with dignity and -polite attention to every speaker. - -At last one speaker, bold with champagne, ran full tilt at the red rag, -rose, or whatever else it can be called. He spoke of it openly, and the -result was—fatal. - -For suddenly the frog said to Rosalie, “Speak!” and being obedient, she -spoke. - -She rose to her feet with one deep spot of colour flaming into either -cheek, the rest white as snow. A curious silence fell on the room, which -had been silent before. - -“I think there has been a little misunderstanding about the -handkerchief,” she said, in a voice that ceased to tremble. “It belongs -to me. I never saw the Great High Priest in my life, but I did go into -the most sacred place three years ago, with—with a petition, and by -mistake I left it there.” - -Now there was a certain purity in Rosalie’s voice and simplicity in the -words that carried conviction. - -For half a minute silence followed, then Golden Priest Alphonso broke -the silent spell. - -“What right had you going there? You! A woman.” - -“I—I was very much in earnest.” - -“Then,” said he harshly and pitilessly, “you are to blame for all the -events of the past three years.” Then his voice altered, and he said: -“Truth is pleasant. It is a relief to find the late High Priest was -better than one thought. But you, what excuse is there for you, to keep -silence so long, and let a man go to his grave misunderstood? Fear, I -presume, of being found out.” - -“I knew nothing,” said Rosalie, in a kind of self-defence, for the -expression in his eyes under the hypocritical sternness was very -sinister. And then someone hissed at the far end of the room, and then -someone else. Truly the Serpent was alive, and no golden image either. - -But hissing was contrary to the dictates of good manners in such an -assembly, and the chairman called to order. Rosalie sat down trembling, -all colour gone from her face, though she had sufficient strength of -will to keep her from giving any further signs of the ordeal she had -passed through. Her eyes travelled magnetically from the face of the -Golden Priest to that of Mr. Barringcourt. - -He was leaning forward, his elbow on the table, looking at her. In his -eyes shone the old mocking, laughing light, that said in so many silent -words, “Now you’ve put your foot into it.” They showed no sympathy. - -Then a man, seizing the opportunity, got up and spoke in favour of -Phillipus; another, then another. The tide seemed turning—was turning. -Rosalie sat as an icicle. Every now and again she felt the sinister eyes -from below, the laughing ones from above, fixed on her. - -Who would have thought the popularity of a man hung on such a little -thing as a handkerchief? - -Then at last Mr. Barringcourt got up. In the midst of passion and -eloquence, he was passionless. In spite of his height, in spite of his -deep, unfathomable eyes, in spite of his firm mouth and certain lines -upon his face, he seemed to be by far the youngest who had spoken, in -manner, in voice, in a certain confident easiness. People settled in -their places, smiled when he smiled, and became suddenly more -good-natured, for at times he had a very bewitching smile. - -Rosalie looked at him. She recognised that in Lucifram she had never -seen so handsome a man, or one with so much grace. A dull pain and a -sharp pain struck at her heart together. - -“Ladies and gentlemen,” said he, for on these occasions titles were -disregarded by the speaker, “the record speech of the evening has been -delivered by a lady with a style and simplicity it would be impossible -for us to beat.” (Popular opinion fluctuated. Was Rosalie so bad as five -minutes before they had imagined? The speaker spoke so easily, he made -them feel more easy. Wonderful gift of oratory!) “Now I agree with my -friend, the Golden Priest Alphonso, the lady should have spoken earlier, -when things could have been righted. But her silence no doubt sprang -from the best intentions.” - -“That’s all very well,” called a voice. “But what about going into the -sacred place against orders?” - -“When one is in earnest, one goes much farther than one intends. It’s an -unconscious action. The lady said she was in earnest; she has accounted -for what she did.” - -“She’s liable to severe punishment.” - -“So then are all the women who looked at the Serpent when the curtain -fell. I remember hearing a conversation between two sisters who were -present at that—that unfortunate service. One fainted, the other -retained presence of mind. Since then they have scarcely spoken—one was -enabled to see so much more than the other. It is generally acknowledged -that all women worthy the name did what was natural.” - -Whether Mr. Barringcourt were laughing or no, there were few there who -took him anything but seriously. They considered this the acme of -perfection in simplicity of reasoning, for the time, at any rate. - -“But,” continued he, “to return to the general subject, the choice of a -Great High Priest. It seems to me the greatest fault in the past has -been the age of the chosen candidate. What one wants at the head of such -a great organisation as the Church is younger men—younger blood—younger -principles and ideas.” - -Dissentient voices. - -“You don’t agree with me. But lately I was travelling in Lucifram in a -country of world-wide respect and renown. It surprised me at first to -find all the places of importance filled by comparatively young -men—State, Church, professions, even trades. In the centre of their -chief city I saw a famous statue in marble of a man, and underneath in -letters of gold was carved ‘Aged sixty-five.’ There was no mistaking it; -the smallest child could read and understand it. On seeing this I made -inquiries, and was told his history by the High Sheriff, himself a man -of about fifty-five. - -“His name was Hugo de Bretton, and as a lad he had been an errand boy, -and in that capacity acquired an unfailing stock of good manners and -alertness, the necessary adjuncts to all successful men who are not -boors. From thence he travelled the ordinary roads of success till, in -due course, he became a great banker. His own fortune was enormous—his -power equalled it. This at fifty. At sixty his wealth was increased. At -sixty-five he seemed in the very zenith of his glory—physically and -mentally of astounding strength. His name a magic spell in speculations. -Then suddenly he resigned from public life.” Here a shrewd little smile, -almost imperceptible, wrinkled Mr. Barringcourt’s face. - -“Now, you know,” continued he, “that a man who amasses a fortune, a very -great fortune, I will not say how great, does the greater part of it by -stepping on other people’s corns—not intentionally, but he does step all -the same. And with increasing gold his feet at times become so heavy -they do more than crush corns—they crush life unconsciously. - -“This man was no fool. The past had been very profitable years to him; -so should the future be. How great a sacrifice his self-resignation was -it would be hard to say, but it was done with little ostentation. - -“He lived for a period of fifteen years longer, and, I venture to say, -in that time he did more practical good than any statesman or soldier of -his time. He gave of the accumulated experience of life, generously and -widely. He invested large sums for the aid of respected and aged poor, a -thing which hitherto had been thought to be the work of the poorhouses. -He spent the last years of his life a philosopher and philanthropist, -respected and beloved—leaving the outward battle of life for those who -had still to win their spurs. So great was the impression left by his -conduct that others, lesser men or equal, followed suit. And gradually -the law came in that all at sixty-five resigned their office, not as -unfit for work, but as having done their full share of labour in the -field—ready to give advice when sought, and ready to turn a life’s -experience into a profitable channel for the good of the community. And -with such critics standing by, capable of judging, and unsparingly, it -acted as a spur to the generation following. - -“And so it is that age is there the most respected. Generation of -workers follows generation in perfect order. In State, in Church, in -every division of labour there is vigour and freshness. For why is the -Church to be excluded? On the plea of sacred exemption? A most sacred -fallacy that is so ticklish it won’t bear touching, and holds together -pretty much as the old crimson curtain in the temple held, till the hand -of God, through the agency of moths, tore it down from the rings of -gold.” - -“There’s many a man young at sixty-five,” one argued. - -“Have I not given you a notable example of one who turned his mind from -business to philanthropy, and gave his mind and energy and wealth to -it.” - -“There’s many a man has died soon after giving up the business of his -life, if it’s compulsory.” - -Mr. Barringcourt laughed. - -“He’s either narrow-minded, with no interest outside his own affairs, or -he worships his work above the Serpent. He should be careful.” - -“Many of our finest clergy are over the age you mention.” - -“They push out or keep down the younger men who are just as fine. If -they wish to remain in office after age, let them work for the love of -the thing—for nothing.” - -Then he sat down. And not long afterwards the guests departed. - -“What a curious speech that was of Mr. Barringcourt’s,” said Miss -Crokerly to her brother, as they drove home. - -“Yes. He’d argue black was white when in a mood to do so. But I’ll call -on him to-morrow. According to his verdict, there’s only three years -good work left in me now.” - -“He didn’t say that,” put in Rosalie from her corner, where she had been -sitting mutely. “Just think, Sir John! Under certain conditions you -might paint the best picture you ever did in your life after sixty-five, -and what a great thing it would be if you gave the proceeds to some -great scheme of general improvement, that had too much genuine good to -have any of the sentimentalism of charity in it. I think it would be a -splendid thing, and economise resources.” - -“Under the new _régime_ we’ll have to become Spartans,” said he, not -unkindly. “But tell me, Rosalie, is it true that the lost handkerchief -belonged to you?” - -“Yes,” she answered, breathing quickly and leaning forward. “I went -there one day, nay, twice, when I was in terrible distress. I never -mentioned it before; I didn’t quite know how to. But some day I’ll tell -you all, but at present I would rather not. Has it made any difference -to you? I had to speak to-night. It has weighed so long on my mind. And -I couldn’t bear to hear them bringing that up as a blot on the late High -Priest’s life. If it had not been so cruel, it would have been -ridiculous.” - -“We wish to know no more than you care to tell us,” he answered kindly. -“And it has made no difference. The time was awkward, certainly, but you -had not been here long enough to know how things were going,” - -“Oh! but it’s Mr. Barringcourt,” she continued quickly, with a queer -ring of pain in her voice. “He knew, and has known all along, and could -have spoken and set all things right. It was cruel, cruel! I can’t -understand that anyone who spoke as he spoke to-night could act as he -has done.” - -“Did he know about the handkerchief?” said Miss Crokerly. - -“He must have done. He—he—he was at the temple the same time as I. If -only he had spoken sincerely! But it was simply to further the schemes -of an ambitious man.” - -When they got home Miss Crokerly went up with Rosalie to bed. A fire was -burning brightly in the bedroom. - -“Rosalie, did you ever know Mr. Barringcourt before you met him at the -Sebberens’?” - -“Yes, indeed. I stayed in his house nearly a week. I met him first in -the sacred place of the temple.” - -“Why were you staying at his house?” - -Rosalie looked at her with the look of fear and pain in her eyes that -had haunted them half the night. - -“If I tell you, you’ll never repeat it, even to your brother?” - -“No.” - -“Well, I was born dumb, and I remained dumb till I was twenty-two, and -then he cured me completely, just as I am now.” - -Miss Crokerly would have doubted, but Rosalie’s tone carried conviction -as before. - -“And it took a week for the cure to be completed?” - -“No. Afterwards he kept me as a prisoner. I ran away, or something led -me away. I don’t know which.” - -“It’s a curious tale. Almost unbelievable.” - -“I know. That’s why I never repeat it. I should have gone to be an -inmate of Todbrook’s Home, but I couldn’t bear the thought of it, -somehow or other.” - -Then Miss Crokerly went away. She saw that Rosalie was overwrought and -tired, and recommended her to think about nothing till morning, and go -to sleep. - -When the door was closed, Rosalie flung herself down in a chair before -the fire, and the frog hopped on to the mantelpiece. - -“Why did you tell me to speak?” she cried. “I did no good. Only incurred -cold glances and hisses and hatred.” - -“Flea bites,” said the frog. - -“Bred out of serpent’s poison, anyway. If I’d followed Mr. -Barringcourt’s advice I’d have said nothing.” - -“He always goes by the rule of contrary.” - -“It’s a rule I never learnt.” - -“It’s answerable for a great deal that happens in this world. Why do you -take things so much to heart?” - -“Oh, I don’t know. I’m a lonely, lonely woman.” - -“I’m a lonely, lonely frog.” - -She laughed. “You make light of my misfortunes.” - -“I think you are much more fortunate than you think. I bear a charmed -life, and yours is the next best thing. We’ll struggle on together, -anyhow. Remember, we’re in search of six white horses and a capable -driver. That’s all we’ve got to mind.” - -“Of course,” said Rosalie. “Life’s more like a dream than reality.” - -Here the frog yawned, and Rosalie, much soothed, was soon asleep. - - - - - CHAPTER XXVIII - REVENGE IS SWEET - - -Next day this particular city of Lucifram was buzzing. The great -election was coming off. Yet there was no doubt who was winning. Golden -Priest Alphonso had regained his old popularity. When the poll was read -at night he headed the list. The people received it with shouts of -acclamation. In other circles the news was as well received. He was -barely forty. A precedent was established. He was the youngest Great -High Priest in the record of time. - -But our history is not so much with public events as private persons, -and we return once more to Susiebelle and her friend Miss Groggerton. - -Neither of them had been at the great dinner, but the one had heard from -her father, and the other read from the paper, the trend of general -events. - -“And,” said Susiebelle, with pious horror, “to admit right out she’d -been into the most sacred place—a place no woman has ever been in -before. Such impudent boldness is enough to make one’s hair stand on -end. She’s a disgrace to our sex. If I met her in the street with the -Emperor himself I’d turn my head away.” - -As this was never likely to be, Susiebelle was very safe. - -“Yes; but what I can’t understand is Mr. Barringcourt’s conduct,” said -Miss Groggerton. “I hear that he defended her, or the next best thing. -Made everyone laugh and then serious at the same time.” - -Miss Groggerton was green when she said it, but Susiebelle became -greener. - -“Pa says no right-minded woman would care to hear her conduct made the -subject of open criticism, and if she’d had a ha’porth of modesty, she’d -have kept her tongue still. But I know the kind she is. Those pug-nosed -women are all alike. Pushing themselves to the front if they have to pay -body and soul for it. Have you seen brother James Peter yet?” - -“Yes. He called the day before yesterday. And I explained to him about -her. He was to be at the dinner last night, so he would see her.” - -Just at this moment, in accordance with the old proverb, brother James -Peter made his appearance. He has been previously introduced to the -reader at the beginning of this book. Once brother James Peter fell over -a footstool, and got lost in the dark, was laughed at by his brother -priests, and to this day heard occasional remarks made about his -conduct. He remembered very well the source of his misfortunes, and had -again scented the innocent cause of them all. He was the first to hiss -last night, proving himself to be a true cross-breed of the Serpent. -To-day he came in as one with news. He had given his vote; for him the -day’s work was over. - -“You look pale, Sir Priest,” said Miss Groggerton, who would have called -up the devil to prove him another, behind his back. - -“The events of last night have distracted me,” he cried, sitting down. -And Miss Groggerton rang for his favourite collation of whisky and ham -sandwiches. - -“Tell us, is it true?” they both cried, as the provisions were being -prepared without. - -“That woman is in the power of the Evil One,” said he solemnly. “And the -sooner that little squat animal is taken by the hind leg and cast into -the fire—the—better.” - -“Yes, indeed,” said Miss Groggerton, in joyful anticipation of -slaughter. - -“I believe it’s that frog that gets her a reputation for beauty. -Loathsome little thing!” and Susiebelle shivered, and then laughed. - -“Listen to me,” said James Peter, raising his fat finger. “Make none of -your own little spiteful remarks, but listen to me.” - -Being a priest, he spoke as one in authority, and the women submitted. - -“That woman,” said he, “is a dangerous and unprincipled character. Three -years ago—listen carefully—she came into our temple and pretended to be -drunk—dumb, I mean. She used to come and kneel up close to the crimson -curtain, and I believe she contaminated it and made it rot. She used to -look up at me with her lovely eyes (she has lovely eyes, Mademoiselle -Susiebelle, whatever you may think), and point to her lips, and shake -her head, and I—I used to pity her. She gave me to understand she was -praying for the gift of speech.” - -Here the women laughed shrilly, shook with laughing, as he had laughed -long since. - -“But that,” continued he, “was all a ruse. She was waiting her -opportunity to slip inside the curtain, eaten up with preternatural and -unwomanly curiosity. But one afternoon, as it was getting dusk, I went -into the choir stalls to get a psalter that I needed, and thought I -heard a curious sound coming from out the sacred place. I could not -understand it. I hid myself in the shadow of the carved screen, -suspecting theft, and recognising sacrilege. A little later, out came -this woman, carrying a light. I know not where she got it from. But -seeing me, she ran all down the nave at quickest speed, I following.” - -“You caught her?” - -“The devil helped her. She escaped; and at the door she turned right -round and put her tongue right out at me, and said: ‘Did you ever know a -woman who couldn’t talk if she wanted to?’ You have the story in a -nutshell.” - -“And you never reported it?” - -“Three hours afterwards. I was as one imprisoned in a living grave for -three long weary hours.” - -“But did you not tell?” - -“Yes; and the Great High Priest would not believe me. He laughed. That -was the beginning of all his troubles. He was too lax, they say. Under -the new _régime_ there will be greater strictness.” And he sighed. - -“Why, she’s a witch, a witch—an impudent, underbred thing,” said -Susiebelle excitedly. “Have you told Mr. Barringcourt?” - -“I am not personally acquainted with him. But last night, from the way -he spoke, one might almost have thought he was excusing her. Of course, -there was no putting out of tongues or giving pert answers last night; -she spoke as meek and as mildly as you please.” - -“If it hadn’t have come from the mouth of a clergyman I wouldn’t have -believed it of her,” said Miss Groggerton, glad to have such a reliable -source of information. - -“But—but” continued Susiebelle, “isn’t there a severe punishment for -going inside the curtain, for a woman?” - -“It used to be to have her tongue torn out.” - -“Who will do it? Who will do it?” - -“No one will do it nowadays. The biggest punishment would be a fine. -Pawn a few jewels; it’s done in no time.” - -“She doesn’t worship the Serpent at all; she worships that little -blinking frog,” said Miss Groggerton. - -“Well, I’ve got my eye on her. And if there are any heathenish practices -going on, you may be sure I will report them before long,” said he, and -soon afterwards got up to go. - -That same night, when all the wear and tear and excitement of the day -were over, and all the cabs had rattled home, and all the theatres been -closed, the new Great High Priest sat in an arm-chair in Mr. -Barringcourt’s study, whilst the owner sat in his accustomed one beside -the table. - -Sacred Priest Alphonso was white and haggard, and the deep lines on his -face showed the strain that he had passed through. His arms hung heavily -on the arms of the chair, his eyes were fixed on the carpet. Mr. -Barringcourt was writing a letter. When he had finished it, he sealed -it, and tossed it on the table, then bent his eyes upon his guest as a -doctor sometimes does upon an uncertain patient he treats as an -experiment. Without saying anything, he got up, and went to a -side-table, and poured out two glasses of red wine. One he filled, the -other only half, then turned his head round and looked at the Priest. -Still he sat in the same weary lethargy. A smile curved Mr. -Barringcourt’s lips. “Very far gone,” he muttered, and filled the glass. - -Then he took it across and offered it to him. He took it carelessly and -drank all the contents. Mr. Barringcourt drank half his and flung the -rest into the fire. It blazed up in a brilliant red light, then died -away as suddenly, leaving the fire dark, as if water had been poured on -it. But this beverage must have refreshed the High Priest wonderfully; -for suddenly rousing himself, he looked up at Mr. Barringcourt, and -said, slapping his hand upon the chair arm: - -“To-day has ended successfully. But the first thing I do on coming into -office is to bring that woman to trial.” - -“Which woman?” said Mr. Barringcourt, sitting down on the opposite side -of the fireplace. - -“That fool who nearly spoilt everything last night by having too long a -tongue.” - -The wine surely had had a heating effect. - -“Miss Paleaf?” - -“Yes. The one I took rather a fancy to at the Sebberens’, and asked you -to introduce me to.” And he laughed cynically. - -“Oh,” said Mr. Barringcourt easily, “you’ll let that die down. Set a -constant guard of two priests to watch the curtain. Such vigilance will -satisfy the people. Besides, Crokerly is doing the work of the -panelling, and none can do it like him. You can’t afford to quarrel with -him over the mischiefmaking propensities of a woman.” - -“Do you mean to say you would look lightly on her conduct of last -night?” - -“Of course! She did you no harm. It’s herself she’s harmed, as she’ll -find out as time goes on. It’s always best to be a bit forbearing with -women; they’re given to flying off rather unexpectedly at times.” - -“No excuse. No excuse at all. She did it from malicious intention and -love of meddling.” - -“What do you propose to do, then? Tear her tongue out?” - -“Imprison her for life.” - -“O Lord!” said Mr. Barringcourt, and he laughed. Then he laughed again, -and again he said, “O Lord!” - -The other frowned, and the light of anger glinted in his eye. - -“You seem to rather approve of her conduct,” he said. “Certainly I have -to thank you for your speech, though, candidly speaking, neither I, nor -I believe anyone else, could make head or tail of it” (he spoke in a -genuinely puzzled voice), “and for various other things I have to thank -you; but in the matter of dealing with this woman, I beg you will not -interfere.” - -“Yes,” said Mr. Barringcourt, in a low, clear voice, “I shall interfere. -The Serpent is like everything else. It can’t afford to get too much -talked about, or its reputation’s gone. If you prosecute her, you make -yourself and it the laughing-stock of Lucifram.” - -“I uphold its sacredness and sanctity.” - -“Cant and tomfoolery! You say I made a speech last night you didn’t -understand—and I didn’t take the pains to understand it myself. But if -you persist in this, I’ll make another before long which will appeal to -everyone, and tread on no general corns at all, but that of the -individual.” - -“You are in a quarrelsome mood to-night.” - -“Yes. I’ve been in the society of priests all day, and they weary me.” - -The other laughed. - -“That’s a hint to me. However, for the present you may have your way, -but I tell you candidly, if there’s any hubbub made, I bring her to -trial.” - -Then he went away; but walking along the silent streets he said: - -“Barringcourt’s as spoilt as a child. Cross him in the least thing, and -he’s inside out in no time. Yet in some whimsical, flimsical kind of way -he’s been the best friend I’ve had, and helped on considerably the -present affairs. All the same, that girl shall suffer. The thing to do -in this world is to teach people to keep their tongues still. It’s three -parts the battle of life.” - -And Mr. Barringcourt, left to himself, stood a long time looking into -the rekindled fire, which tells so much to those who read it properly. -And his face betokened more weariness and contempt than even in the past -years, and the lines of his features were finer. - -“Revenge first; thanks a very doubtful second,” he said at length, and -then went off to the stables. - -All through the blackness of the night the black steeds galloped, and -some mistook their dusky forms for passing clouds, and their wild eyes -for distant stars, and the rhythm of their feet for the rumbling wind. - -That night, as Rosalie slept, the frog left its customary place on the -washing-stand, and came close to her ear. And though all the room beyond -was dark, the light round her head and pillow was very white and pure. - -All the things the frog whispered it would be unfair to say, for the -frog was working for its own ends, as most of us do, and therefore -coloured things to its own liking. - -Rosalie woke in the morning, and looked at the deceitful frog, now -sitting on the washing-stand, and said: - -“I’ve been dreaming that a tiny little angel came and sang to me and -laughed. And though I can’t remember one word of what it said, I know -that everything was very pleasant—so that many a time I found that I was -laughing too.” - - - - - CHAPTER XXIX - A CONFESSION - - -Time flew on till it was just two days before Christmas, or, at least, -the festival which in Lucifram takes the place of Christmas in our -world. - -On this particular afternoon Rosalie dressed with the greatest possible -care, and looked three consecutive times sideways in the glass, to see -if her nose was any better disposed to turn downwards; but it wasn’t. -Still, it detracted nothing from the general effect, and, indeed, might -be said to help, if only on the side of morality, to keep her from -growing conceited. - -The frog, having come to that stage when one evidently regards oneself -as quite perfect enough, felt no qualms as to its appearance, took not -one doubtful glance into the glass. - -Rosalie, when she was ready, put her head through the door to tell Miss -Crokerly she was going to pay a call; she did not say where. - -Miss Crokerly, busy with festival matters, simply nodded her head. It -was just a little after three. - -Rosalie left the house, and walked on quickly till she came to -Greensward Avenue. Coming here, her steps slackened; but she continued -walking till she came in sight of Marble House. Here she came to a dead -stand, and looked blindly on the pavement. Her heart was beating so -quickly that if the passers-by had not been walking along so heavily -they must have stopped to inquire about it. - -But from a full stop she ran lightly and hurriedly up the steps and rang -the bell. There was no escape now, for within thirty seconds it had -opened. There stood Everard, just the same as ever, as silent, as -polite, no more surprised. - -Rosalie took her courage in both hands. There was that hideous umbrella -stand that a dowager-duchess had once exclaimed was the most charming -novelty she’d ever seen. - -“Is Mr. Barringcourt at home?” said she. - -He looked as if he had never seen her before, but after a moment’s pause -he said: - -“Yes. Will you come this way?” And led her through the outer vestibule -into the wide and gloomy hall. - -There he left her, and went in the direction of the Master’s study, but -soon returned. - -The afternoon had quite faded now, and as he conducted her along the -western corridor he turned on the lights. - -Mr. Barringcourt received her almost silently. He made some remark about -the weather—it was of little importance. He drew a chair for her. -Rosalie sat down. - -“I came to see you,” she began, clasping her hands tightly inside her -muff, “because—because—” - -“Because,” said he, in the most distant of voices, “you wished to see -Mariana.” - -“No. I’m afraid I was too selfish to think of Mariana. I was thinking -only of myself.” - -She did not notice the alteration in his expression, because she had not -noticed the previous hardness of his voice. But she got a vague idea he -was not particularly pleased to see her, yet was determined to go on. - -“It has sometimes struck me,” she began hurriedly, “that it was very -ill-mannered of me to run away from you. I—I—I escaped by a little door -in the stable wall.” - -A very curious silence followed this remark; then Rosalie continued: - -“The country beyond was very beautiful—at least, I thought it was. It—it -led me to a white house, with a low verandah and a pretty garden. It -took me a whole day to go, and the sun was setting when I got there. In -the house I met a youth—at least, I thought he was young; but afterwards -he told me he was nearly as old as you. But he seemed to grow very -quickly in the time that I was staying there. He took me to his father. -At first I thought he was very old, because his hair was white. I had -just one day’s holiday when I was there, and then I went to live in a -little hut all alone, with a plantation in front of it. I sowed a basket -of seeds in the ground that the Governor (that is the name I knew him -by) had given me. But first I had to dig in the soil, and I didn’t like -digging at all; I hated it. After that, everything went by the rule of -contrary. The seeds never came up; they grew underneath, and looked to -me like very beautiful jewels. But they took a great deal of digging out -and freeing from the soil. I took them to the Governor, and he sent them -somewhere, I think he said it was to the city, to be tested and valued. -But every time they were sent back and marked as rubbish. I’ve never -felt quite the same since. I used to feel young before, but ever since -I’ve felt as old as old. And I do nothing but pretend all day long, in -little and big things alike. I pretend least with you of anyone, and -that night I ran away from you in the street (you remember it?) I felt -quite surprised, and in one way just a little happy. It made me feel -just a little more alive. But after a while the Governor said I had -better come back again into the world. I didn’t want to, because there -was nowhere to go to, and I did not want to come back to this house -again. I was tired of prisons. But when he told me to come back into the -world I was obedient, because I knew he was much wiser than anyone that -I had ever met before. He was kind to me in some ways, although he never -threw kindness away. So one morning I started on the return journey, and -Brightcoat came along with me for company. - -“When we were in the streets, I went along scarcely knowing what I was -doing, I was so tired, and at last I sat down on a doorstep. It was Sir -John Crokerly’s, and when his sister came home she took me in; and I -have lived there ever since. There is nothing else to tell you. Now you -know all, you need trouble yourself to be agreeable to me no longer. -After all, I owed it to you to tell you. You gave me a greater gift than -I thought it possible anyone on earth could ever give me. And you no -doubt put it down to science, but I put it down to God. And—and about my -coming here, when first I did come to you. I came from the sacred place -of the temple. I had given up wishing to be cured of being dumb—at -least, praying to be cured, because I thought God was not wishful to -cure me. And I prayed to the Serpent just to help me to live the right -way, because I knew that that was the only thing God really cared about -And the Serpent seemed quite to disappear; in its place came the -presence of God. Only one little ball of light and gold was left out of -all that giant frame and jewelled head. And I don’t know quite how it -was I came to you, any more than now I have gone to Miss Crokerly.” - -With these words said, she got up and stood facing him, for he had not -sat down during this monologue but stood looking at her, a thing which, -after first beginning, she seemed quite unconscious of. - -Her words had been simple, her sentences short and abrupt, and at times -somewhat disconnected, but Rosalie’s voice was so sweet that it seemed -to run like a silver bell in and out the mazes of this experience. - -Now she held out her hand. - -“I have detained you long enough. Perhaps you’ll forgive the school-girl -style. Though I feel so old, I can find no other.” - -“Come with me to the stable,” said he, “and show me the door. I don’t -believe there is one.” - -“You will be able to find it yourself.” - -“I had much rather you came with me. It is the only way in which I can -credit your story.” - -So together they went through the silent house and silent grounds and -silent shrubbery. The red light shone full down the middle pathway to -the stable door. But Brightcoat shed a softer brilliancy round about, if -not so clearly and direct. But then there was no need for it as guide -to-day. - -The stables shone out with a certain curious light of their own—a dusky, -shadowy brightness. - -At a certain touch the unseen door slipped backward, and revealed the -shadowy twilight within. - -And as is customary with horses, they turned their graceful heads and -looked with wild eyes on the newcomers, and one in the far corner -neighed. But they seemed shadowy. All were shadowy. Eyes shone like -carbuncles, the only distinctive feature. And there was nothing of -warmth there. Everything was cold and chilly as a vault - -But Brightcoat’s light was useful here. It shone in direct rays on to -that little unnoticed door that was built so unobtrusively in the wall. - -“There,” said Rosalie, and she touched his arm. “I went through there.” - -“Strange,” said he. “I never saw that door before. How did you open it?” - -“With the key of my uncle’s safe. But that has gone. I don’t know what I -did with it. I was in such a hurry to get through and close it after -me.” - -“And the path led you to a low white house with a verandah?” - -“Yes. Let us return. It is cold here. You’ll give your horses rheumatism -if you keep them in so damp a place.” - -“You are not acclimatised. But we will go. Strange I never noticed that -door. As for the others, I suppose if they did notice it, they imagined -I had done so too.” - -When they were back again in the house, which seemed cheerful after the -intense cold without, Mr. Barringcourt said: - -“Will you have tea before you go?” - -“No, thank you. Our last tea together had not a very pleasant ending, -though it began so charmingly. We’re like most people—best friends when -parted.” - -“Then I may not see you again till Festival night.” - -“Do you still renew the invitation?” - -He laughed. - -“If I were not very contrary, you would make me angry. You harp so -constantly upon an unreasoning subject.” - -“Ah!” said she suddenly. “Let me see Mariana. Send for her.” - -“Not to-night” - -“Yes, to-night. I will not keep her longer than a minute. Just to see if -she is just the same.” - -“She has not altered. Take my word for it.” - -“You said if I came here I should see her.” - -“You must have misunderstood me. I never said so.” - -“I—I don’t believe you ever mean me to see Mariana again,” she said. - -“Indeed? What makes you think so?” and he laughed again, not at all -kindly. - -“Because you know quite well that I should do my very best to persuade -her to come away with me.” - -Rosalie bowed, and swept away toward the door, and when she got there -she said to Everard, quite loud enough for Mr. Barringcourt to hear, who -still stood in the hall: - -“When next you see Mariana, please give her my love, and tell her I -asked to see her, but was not successful.” - -He bowed solemnly and let her pass, but took no further notice than if -he had been made of stone. - - - - - CHAPTER XXX - FESTIVAL - - -Now came Christmas night. On Lucifram Christmas Day wasn’t marred by any -subsequent church-going. It was nothing better than a heathen feast; the -Serpent had nothing to do with it. - -On that day the children went simply wild, and gave themselves -incredible airs; demanded their best toys, gorged oranges and apples, -made themselves ill with plum-pudding, demanded their full share of -turkey, and got it, and looked with expectant eyes on the iced cake when -it appeared. Just as if they’d been starving all day! The little -wretches! - -The grown-up world, unless it was going out to an evening party, yawned, -and ate its customary Christmas fare, and drank it too. Then the old -people played cards, and the young people sang, especially the young men -with untrained voices, and the lovers behaved as if they really were in -love with one another. - -Come and watch Rosalie. - -Now that day there had arrived two Christmas presents so beautiful that -many an empress might have envied them. The first came early in the -morning, before the postman; a curious and unusual thing. There is no -doubt Santa Claus was on the war-path, for such a lovely ball and -reception dress could only have been made in some magic fairyland. It -was like shining silken _crêpe_, all frosted over with tiny sparkling -jewels, all in white. It shone like soft pure snow in the sunlight, and -fell in folds of simplest grace. It was so very simply, yet so very -wonderfully made, that one wondered what it was that gave it such a -beautiful effect. - -“Is it not too dead white to suit me?” said she to Brightcoat, after -going into raptures on its beauty. - -“See here, there is a little box below,” said it. - -And Rosalie opened it, and uttered the most real cry of delight in her -life. - -“It’s my stone, my first stone, that I loved so, all set in gold and -ready to wear. Oh, Brightcoat, Brightcoat, look!” - -And she sat down on the bed and hid her face in the pillows, and cried -from different emotions. At last she wiped away the tears and looked up, -her eyes falling on the shining stone again. - -“I love them all as if they were my children, and that somehow the most, -because it was the first. And I believe it loves me too. Look how -beautiful a ray of light it sends towards me! And I never hoped to see -it again.” - -Rosalie took it up, and kissed it, and shed tears upon it, but the light -from it was never dimmed; one might have thought it was made tear-proof. - -“I need no other colour. This is quite enough. And you, Brightcoat.” - -“Yes; of course, there’s me,” said the other thoughtfully. - -This was the beginning of the day. But when the postman came, besides -bringing letters and cards without end, some of the latter bearing -halfpenny stamps after the style of circulars, he brought a parcel, also -directed to Rosalie, in handwriting that the frog declared was superior -to anything it had ever seen. - -It was opened in public, and inside was a pair of slippers as white as -snow, and worked in diamonds. And they were such a curious shape they -looked as if they must really be antique, because they had little square -toes, and gold straps across. They reminded one of the daintiest garden -clogs, so light were they, and when Rosalie put them on she wanted to -dance right away. - -“They’re made on the same pattern as the little wooden clog I have -upstairs,” cried she. “Look, Miss Crokerly, they dance of themselves,” -and in excess of spirits she pirouetted round the room, and kissed both -those elderly people from superabundance of excessively childish glee. - -Where they had come from she didn’t know. She thought they had come from -the same source as the first, although they came by post. So that -evening she dressed for the real pleasure of the thing. And when it came -to pinning the jewel into the bosom of her dress, her hands trembled -just because she loved it so. It shed just the same soft shades on to -her dress as the light of the moon might shed on to the snow—a passing -green and golden and palest blue that melted into white. And on her -shoulder the ever—present frog, and a new light in her eyes, because the -ice-tears had rolled out of them. - -And underneath the shining jewel her heart beat quickly. She went with -Sir John, Miss Crokerly having preceded them in Mr. Barringcourt’s -carriage some time ago. - -“Do you know,” said she, “I thought at the last minute you’d change your -mind and stay away.” - -“Oh, no,” he replied. “I always go when Barringcourt throws his house -open. There are so many things that interest me there.” - -“Yes. It’s quite after the nature of a museum, is it not?” - -“Yes. Unlabelled. So that it has an additional charm.” - -They took their turn in the long line of carriages, and after a -considerable time were enabled to alight. - -There was an awning from the parapet to the door, and the steps were -also covered a deep red. - -Rosalie looked for Everard. He was not there. Two powdered footmen -instead. They were not inmates of the Marble House. Neither were any of -those who personally waited upon the guests that night. There was not a -waiting-maid anywhere about to compare with Mariana, and Rosalie could -not have imagined her proud and delicate face amongst that throng. But -how different did the wide hall look that night! Brilliantly lit, and -with huge fires burning at either end. Fires fit for Festival and -freezing weather. And no undue crowding of guests to do away with -comfort and beauty and enjoyment. The wide doors to the southern wing, -leading to the picture-gallery and conservatory, were thrown open. So -also were those to the west, containing the reception rooms—no empty, -echoing fireless places now, but full of life and laughter and vivacity. - -A reception was held first; dancing did not begin till eleven, when a -well-known princess was to lead with a gavotte. She was very proud of -her instep. - -At twelve supper was to be served in the large subterranean hall, a -place Rosalie had never been in, nor, indeed, anyone else. And after -that dancing began again, and continued till four. Then carriages and -home. - -On entering, Rosalie was presented with a programme that explained all -this. It was book-shaped, with a mother-of-pearl back, and in the centre -a perfect little garden clog with a broken string in gold, and -underneath “Christmas 0039”—that being the year as reckoned in Lucifram. - -“Oh, how charming!” cried one lady, who had just received hers before -Rosalie. “An old clog for luck! It is delightful!” - -Flowers the most gorgeous and tasteful banked every available corner; -truly, the house had been completely altered from darkness into light. - -Mr. Barringcourt on these occasions made an excellent host. He had none -of the clumsiness of the bachelor host, being for all the world as much -at home as if he’d been married and had ten children. Now, it was a -dancing night, and thanks to an excellent example, there was not one -smoke-absorbed, or card-absorbed, or billiard-absorbed man present. For -one night everybody made a delightful martyr of themselves, and secretly -enjoyed the process. - -Rosalie’s programme did not fill so quickly, for there were many there -who took her to have religious mania, and doubted they might have -something to put up with. Moreover, there were very few persons there -that she really knew. At last she was suddenly accosted by Mr. -Barringcourt. - -“The first and last dance, Rosalie,” said he, and they looked at one -another. Then looking down at her programme, he said: “What an empty -list!” - -“It’s quite right, thank you. I don’t care about dancing. I’d rather -watch other people, and listen to the music. Find me some quiet old lady -whom I may sit by, and who does not talk too much. It is all I ask of -you.” - -“There are not many present. They are all young and frivolous, or old -and giddy. A much easier task would be to find you partners for every -dance.” - -“I should be dead tired before supper-time; I can’t talk to strangers, -and I don’t know every dance. And it takes rather a brave man to accost -me; I perceive them mentally screwing themselves up to the pitch as they -approach.” - -“Under those circumstances, it was very kind of you to come. Here comes -the Princess. I’ll return later.” - -The Princess smiled so condescendingly all round that everyone was -charmed with her. She had a light walk, as one who treads on eggs and -fears to break them, and her admirers said she glided as the spirits do. - -As soon as she came—and, of course, she came rather late—the proceedings -of the evening began. She danced the gavotte, and brought her own -dancing-master and fiddler to play, as she was accustomed to be played -up to. - -When the real dancing began there was one of the best bands in Lucifram -in readiness, that all the evening more or less had been playing -favourite airs, and another to relieve them when occasion needed. - -Mr. Barringcourt sought and found Rosalie. - -“Should you not have given the first dance to the Princess?” said she. - -“No. My step does not suit her, and she is sufficiently truthful to tell -me of it.” - -“I can scarcely believe _your_ step is wrong.” - -“No? She is easier to deal with than you. She goes greatly on credit. -It’s a royal failing. Come, let us begin; if this waltz is as it should -be, it will be all too short.” - -And no seventh heaven could have surpassed, if equalled it. - -“How lovely,” said she suddenly, “if one could die dancing!” - -“It would mean company on a lonely road,” said he. “And cheat death of -some of its tragedy, with well-matched partners.” - -“Did you—did you send me those slippers that I’m wearing?” - -“What makes you think so?” - -“The little clog on the back of my programme. It’s the exact fac-simile -of one I used to wear.” - -“I had a little story as near as possible to that of Ally Krimjo. For -one morning there was found in the middle of my hall a little garden -clog without owner or companion. It came there through barred doors and -spring-barred doors, and none could make out how it came there. Not even -I. I never learnt it till the night when you came to say your lesson. I -proved it when you wore these little satin-covered skates to-night.” - -“You’ll give it back to me?” - -“Oh, no! I’m keeping it for luck. That is a lovely stone you’re -wearing.” - -“It’s one I told you of. Dug from the garden with a great big fork and -spade, just as a man digs.” - -“I believe I’ve seen it before in my father’s house.” - -“No, indeed. Unless your father was the Governor I spoke of.” - -He laughed. - -Then at last the dance was over. - -“I’ve found the lady you asked me for,” said he. “Miss Crokerly is my -guardian angel to-night. It is she who discovered her. Here is an -excellent place where you may sit and see everything, and hear the music -to advantage too.” - -And then he took her to a seat, and introduced her to a lady sitting -there. She was so charming a companion. Her silences were never awkward, -and now and again she would give Rosalie information about certain -people, all of a good-natured if shrewd kind, that was the highest -entertainment. - -At twelve punctually the company descended to supper. - -The staircase down was of black marble, and spiral also, like the one -above. It had none of the slippery treachery that characterised its -sister staircase, though, and it seemed altogether of a much more -reliable make. To a spectator the gay colours of the ladies and their -sparkling jewels looked like brilliant multicoloured scales on a -gigantic serpent, reared pillar-wise to support the vast chamber below. - -The subterranean banquet hall of Marble House was nothing better, -nothing worse than a crypt. - -It had great and massive pillars of hardened, blackened marble; a -fitting support for a fitting house. - -Its floors were tiled in marble. Its walls of marble too. But whereas a -crypt, if lit at all, is content with lamps of oil, or the feeble -glimmer of electricity, this place was deluged with light. The most -brilliant candelabra hung from the ceilings, sparkling in the thousand -glintings of diamond glass. The tables were covered with finest -snow-white cloths, and all the decorations were of silver, purest and -brightest and most finely worked. And all the flowers were red. - -Here, screened from view, the band was playing gently. A soft and -scented air of luxury arose, as if to show that crypts upon occasion -have finer possibilities than dining-rooms. - -The Princess, led by Mr. Barringcourt, descended first, and half way -down stopped to admire. - -“Which was the pirate, you or Mr. Todbrook?” said she. “I’m sure you -carted off the plan of a cathedral, and the material too.” - -“That is an open secret,” replied he, laughing. “But his was the theft, -not mine. I simply inherited what he had left. But he had gloomy taste. -Now, were I building, I’d fix upon a little bungalow, a whitewashed -place, with a world-wide garden for the summer-time.” - -The Princess was not of that simple nature that enjoys simplicity, but -she delighted in anything odd, as she considered it, because it made her -laugh. - -“Do you really mean to say you are philosopher enough to grow accustomed -to things?” she asked. - -“Till I see a way of escape.” - -“And you see none from here?” - -The Princess had not such keen eyes as Rosalie; she was not fond of -studying faces, except for what animal beauty they might possess. - -“None,” said he. “Although ’tis said Todbrook escaped by the back door.” - -“He died,” said she, and looked at him with a vague suspicion of horror -in her eyes. She was of a superstitious nature. - -But he laughed. - -“You talk of death at a dance?” said he. “One might almost think, -Princess, you were primitive, and scorned the guarded terms of -civilisation.” - -The conversation had taken a turn not to her fancy. He had thrown a -shadow over the brilliantly-lit supper-room. She shivered involuntarily, -and looked about her petulantly, and said: - -“Are you quite sure this place isn’t damp?” - -“Not at all! Not a rheumatic dampness, anyway. Spirits do not count; -they are above it.” - -Then their conversation ran into a lighter channel suited to the -occasion, and the feast began right royally, when the plumed peacock was -carried in, to be admired in death, a lasting tribute to its vanity. - -The band played, and the people laughed and feasted and talked. In the -whole of Lucifram that night could not have been found a gayer or more -brilliant company. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXI - MYSTERIES IN MARBLE HOUSE - - -But there was one person who never came down to supper—at the right -time, anyway—and that was Rosalie. She had strolled off alone to the -picture-gallery, led to look again on that curious representation of the -former master of Marble House. - -The silence as the last guest went down below made her heart beat a -little faster. She listened to the last echoing laugh, and he seemed -listening too. The slightly bending figure indeed betokened an attitude -of close attention—almost the hidden smile of one who, listening, -understands. - -The long line of pictures ran either side of her, each in itself a work -of beauty. She remembered that day when Mariana had gone off to the east -wing from here. - -To-night the east wing was closed. All this great glare of artificial -light never traversed there. A heavy crimson curtain hid the polished -door that led to it. - -But Rosalie’s spirit wandered off in that direction. A great curiosity, -with a deeper feeling underneath to give the strength it needed, led her -out into the central hall—led her gliding towards that gloomy fatal -door. - -She drew the curtain back with one white hand, white as snow against -this deeper shade, and turned the handle. The door opened. Blackness, -dampness, and the smell of decay and mildew met her, like a blast of -foul despair. - -She threw up her head, passed through, and the door slipped to behind -her. And for one moment it seemed as if the parting kiss of freedom -glowed on her forehead once again. And yet again the darkness was -dispersed, for both the frog and jewel, and her own shining dress, that -shone apparently without the aid of outer light, gave all the light it -needed. - -And here, within this gloomy place, at last came life and beauty, and -the soft, tender light that lived in its own strength and was -unborrowed. - -No. 13! How well Rosalie remembered it! Mariana’s workroom, a worse -place than many a prisoner’s cell. Yet it had about it an air of -indefinable grandeur, the place of no petty criminal, or one sunk in -moral disease. The rusty latch uplifted and disclosed the low-built room -beyond, and the dim burner, the oaken chests, the damp, peeled walls, -the shadowy corners, the tragedy of silence. - -But what of these? They served but as backgrounds to a picture, and -fitting backgrounds. For there, beside the long, low table, hid by the -sheet, as white to-day as ever it had been three years ago, sat Mariana. -But nothing there equalled the marble whiteness of her face. Her -graceful figure bent forward, her hands were clasped on the table, and -on her lips was that curious smile of pain, quite frozen there, as, wide -open, her eyes stared at this hidden treasure on the table. - -Some spider, mistaking the silent figure for a thing inanimate, had -weaved a web of finest threads from head to foot, covering her silken -hair and rough-spun dress. But respecting the icy chill that hung about -those cold-cut features and hands, it had left them free and bare. - -All about the cell fluttered the silent moths, settling and rising from -the table. Yet they were powerless to canker anything. The bitter iron -of living sorrow had too hard a crust. - -The light that Rosalie brought with her lit up the room. She stood upon -the threshold, gazing spellbound with horror on the central form. Could -this be Mariana—this frozen statue, this figure nipped to the spirit -with unavailing pain? Oh, never, never! For there this beautiful -machine, working so fine a marvel of creation, had come upon a horrid -pause, a fearful counterfeit of death, a fearful mockery of life! - -Then the spell broke. With outstretched arms she hurried forward. -“Mariana!” - -No sound or movement came in reply. She placed her hand upon the -stiffened shoulder. The cobweb broke; the spider saw, and ran away. She -threw her arms around the other’s neck, and kissed her stony cheek. No -sound or movement in reply. - -Burning tears fell from her eyes. They had no power to melt that which -had been congealed so long, frozen from ice to marble. - -Nothing availed—even when she fell upon her knees, and pressed her warm -lips a hundred times upon the death-chilled fingers. - -Powerless and weak! O God! for strength, strength, strength of some -sort, to give life to the dying or the dead! What blasphemy! what -heresy! what presumption!—the ignorant tumult of a still untutored -heart. Then she drew back and looked at Mariana, fighting down every -emotion to make way for thought. Her eyes fired with indignant protest, -and she said: - -“I’d rather be a murderer out and out and hanged for it! And to think of -this night, when in this very house there is no sound of anything but -gaiety and laughter; and people feasting! And here there sits a prisoner -and worse, and one man conscious of it. Oh, Brightcoat! How can you -think well of such as he! I cannot bear to look at him again.” And then -she stooped and took the slippers off she wore. “I wore them happily at -first, but now they’re all so tight they pinch my feet I wonder what -sweating or freezing system it was brought them into shape? And I so -selfish as never to insist before on seeing whether she were free or -no.” - -The slippers off, she looked at them, then at the silent figure sitting -there, and turned away, half-shivering. She placed the slippers upon the -table on the sheet. - -The moths descending, fluttered round them, yet did not touch; for, -taught by instinct, they had learnt what could and what could not return -to dust. - -Then with one parting call of “Mariana!” one loving kiss, one shivering -glance around the dismal place, she went away, closing the door behind -her, into the outer passage. - -Curiosity bade her try some of those other low and numbered doors; but -all were locked. This tragic wing was surely haunted. The air was -condensed of sighs—an essence which hung heavy on the heart. - -But before opening that crystal door, all rusted iron and cobwebs from -this inner side, Rosalie stood still to think. Then she pushed it open, -and emerged into the brilliant hall, still silent. From here she passed -toward the staircase leading down to the supper-room, where all the -guests were now assembled. - -But to return to them. - -There was no lack of merriment throughout the length of tables. But as -the supper progressed, and people became accustomed to their -surroundings, general comments were made upon a long and double-folded -curtain of heavy material that hung from floor to ceiling at the lower -end of the vast chamber beside the staircase. - -There was present at that supper a young girl just out that season—as -giddy, as merry, and full of happy spirits as one unknown to care or -saddened thoughts can ever be. - -And to close a spirited discussion with some as young and thoughtless as -herself, just as the feast was ending, she left her place amidst a -laughing silence, and ran to the farther upper end of the table, where -Mr. Barringcourt sat beside the Princess. With the happy assurance of -youth never rebuffed, she accosted him. - -“I come,” said she, still laughing, “to plead on the side of our -religion. They say that dismal curtain bears a resemblance, and a very -striking one, to the crimson one within the temple. Will you not -contradict them?” - -He looked across the room toward it “One’s black and the other’s red,” -he said, and smiled. - -“Yes; but we were discussing what might be beyond,” and her face was -demure, though her eyes were sparkling with merriment. - -“With what result?” said he. - -“We all grew curious. Princess, will you be curious, too?” - -“Oh, instantly. What is beyond that curtain, Mr. Barringcourt? Tell us, -or show us, pray.” - -The silence of expectation had settled on the guests. Barringcourt -leaned forward toward the table, playing with the half-filled glass of -wine beside him. And when he spoke his voice was low, yet perfectly -distinct. - -“You know,” said he, “it was a foible of Mr. Todbrook’s to collect as -many heathen gods and false ones as lay in his power. This house was -built on a system—I might say systems—of idolatry; its furniture -collected from disused temples sought for all over the face of Lucifram. - -“Behind that curtain stands a god, more hideous than any I have ever -seen, and I’ve seen plenty in my time, as maybe most of you have done. -The curtain came along with it from the temple where it stood, and in a -state of wonderful preservation. Over one thousand years in age.” - -“What is beyond?” was the general question throughout the chamber. - -“A death’s-head of unusual size, worshipped and feared of all in the -parts from where it came.” - -“Let us see it.” A general murmur of anticipation ran round the room. - -“These poor heathens!” said one lady, and her tone was patronising. “How -ignorant they must have been.” - -“And are still in some parts, madam,” said he. - -“We do our best with the missionaries,” she replied. - -“Let us see it, please.” - -This was the voice of the charming youthful pioneer from the back. - -“It’s a death’s-head,” said he, and he smiled very kindly as he spoke. -“They are not beautiful.” - -“But I’ve enjoyed myself so much all evening, Mr. Barringcourt, that I -could not bear to be disappointed now. Besides, the Princess has -commanded you. Please show us the head.” - -“It has never to be seen but in complete darkness. It’s a clause of the -will. It was the condition on which he bought it, I believe, from a few -crazy priests, who had no congregation.” - -But they all wished to see it, light or no light. It was a little -novelty to wind up supper and take the place of toasts. - -So suddenly the light switched out, and left the place in total -darkness. Those who were on terms familiar enough clasped one another’s -hands. They found the situation not unpleasant. - -And then upon the instant the black curtain swung backwards and revealed -a space beyond, from which gleamed out, in ashen whiteness and dusky -hollows from the blackness, the skeleton head of death. It was the head -of some great giant of unusual size, with yellow teeth discoloured, but -all present. All looked at it with gloomy interest, and some began to -wish, as darkness continued, they’d been less eager to examine it. - -But suddenly and swiftly in the silence two gleaming balls of light -glared red from the empty sockets, to turn their gaze at every -individual round the room, and with a gleam most sinister. This was -truly horrible. A room so black and dark that none could see each other. -The bleached skull and skeleton of a superhuman head. And above all the -terrible gleaming eyes, the only flash of light in the whole room, that -had the power of penetrating, and gave each the impression the evil eye -was fixed on him alone. A spell of silence had fallen. No woman cried; -the laughter of ten minutes since had died; even the very sound of -breathing was now quite hushed. This was the deadened, powerless load of -nightmare. - -Suddenly a light appeared on the spiral staircase. The gleam of snowy -whiteness, the soft glow of an undying lamp, and the pure colours of a -splendid moonshine. And above all a face and figure of most simple -beauty, eyes pure and starlit in contrast to the red gleam. And a crown -of mermaid flaxen hair, and expression sweet and thoughtful! It was a -wonderful and sweet relief to the ghastly spectacle below. - -And on a sudden the full lights flashed on again, and a sigh of relief -burst from every heart and many lips. The black curtain had fallen. -Rosalie alone remained of the weird scene, descending the spiral -staircase. A little thing will often bring about reaction, and from -being shunned by many, she from this opportune arrival gained a fair -share of popularity. - -“Where have you been?” a dozen voices cried, glad to make sound again. - -“Trying to find a partner,” cried she, and laughed; and others laughed -as well, the search had been so long and unsuccessful. - -“Supper is finished.” - -There was no lack of those to offer attention now, and along with this -came the general bustle of those leaving the supper-table. - -But by the side of Mr. Barringcourt stood the girl who, from a mixture -of youthful spirits and curiosity, had asked the first the curtain might -be moved. - -“I am glad I had finished my supper,” said she, with an attempt at -laughing still. “I’m sure I could never eat anything in here again.” - -“It is fortunate refreshments are served upstairs,” he answered. “You -would not let so small a thing interfere with your evening’s pleasure?” - -Reassured somewhat by his tone, she said: - -“After all, it was only an idol, was it?” - -“That’s all. They must be very brave folk to worship it, eh?” - -“Yes. The Serpent is much less gruesome. Isn’t it?” - -He laughed. “Well, an empty skull often looks much worse than it is.” - -“But,” said she, “it wasn’t empty. I never saw such eyes. Never! Never!” - -“You haven’t seen the Serpent yet?” - -“No; but mother did, and she said nothing about its eyes. She said it -was plain to be seen we worshipped the true god, his scales were such a -lovely gold. I am going to ask Miss Crokerly to introduce me to her -friend. I’m sure if she had not come then I should have fainted right -away. And I always laughed at Blanche for fainting. She used to do it so -conveniently.” - -So saying, she slipped away, and to the upper regions, where, so far as -she knew, there was nothing gruesome hidden away. - -And soon the episode of the death’s-head was forgotten, and the -evening’s enjoyment began again with even greater zest. - -Rosalie’s programme filled, but she never danced. Who could, when -wearing only stockings? But she did not go home, but waited for that -final dance, and no one noticed her slipperless feet. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXII - DIPLOMACY - - -“I have not the slightest inclination to dance, Mr. Barringcourt. I’ve -spent one of the most delightfully lazy evenings I ever spent in my -life.” - -“I envy you. I’ve been going through a species of treadmill. I’ve danced -with every school-girl in the room.” - -“Myself included. You began the evening badly, you know.” - -He sat down beside her. - -“Where were you all the supper-time?” he asked. - -Rosalie looked at him. She detected the old, tired, wearily contemptuous -expression on his face. She herself was far from tired. Her eyes were -bright. Her cheeks had flushed a pretty pink; she had been under no -unwilling exertion to please anyone. - -“I stayed upstairs to see how long I’d be forgotten, and when no one -remembered me, and I grew hungry, I came down.” - -“You should have acted the part of the jealous fairy godmother, and -blasted us all.” - -“Well, though I be a school-girl, yet I’ve none of the attractions of -youth, and so I’ve learnt toleration.” - -“It’s hardly fair to keep repeating what I once said at random.” - -“Was it at random? I set a whole night apart to weep about it.” - -“You had nothing better to do, then?” - -“The most miserable of all states, you must acknowledge. And through no -fault of my own.” - -“Whose, then?” - -“Yours. You have much to be answerable for, Mr. Barringcourt.” - -He laughed. “I have expiated most of my offences to-night; I have danced -the polka.” - -“With Miss Sebberen. I saw you.” - -“Let us go into some quieter room. This dancing wearies me. I never was -fond of it.” - -Rosalie’s trailing dress hid her feet, and they passed into the -picture-gallery. It was deserted. - -She sat down under the picture of Geoffrey Todbrook. - -“One day Mariana brought me here and showed me this picture. I forget -what was said, but somewhere in our conversation she laughed. She said -laughing always produced a pain at her heart.” - -“Mariana laughed? You utterly astonish me.” - -His face betrayed no signs of conviction of cruelty, certainly. - -“Yes,” said Rosalie. “It is astonishing, truly. Had I lived here as long -as she, laughing would have been utterly beyond me.” - -“It is a good thing you escaped, then.” - -“You don’t grudge me my freedom?” - -“I grudge no man anything if he wins it, or woman either. And far from -grudging you your freedom, I’m glad you won it.” - -“You were glad, then, when I ran away?” - -“Well, no—not at the time. I do not know that I ever became thoroughly -reconciled to you till you came to see me the other night.” - -Here a pause followed, broken only by distant strains of music. - -“You have another dance on New Year’s Eve, Mr. Barringcourt?” - -“Yes. You will come? It is the one night in the whole year worth dancing -on.” - -“I would come gladly; but I can find no dress to my liking.” - -“You have a week before you.” - -She clasped her hands round her knee, shook her head and looked at him. - -“I won’t come unless I can wear exactly what I want.” - -“And what is that?” - -“The dress that Mariana was making long ago. But I expect she’s finished -it, and the moths have eaten it away. But all the same, I won’t come -unless I have it. It is the one thing on earth I’ve set my heart upon.” - -Mr. Barringcourt looked at her. The pretty air of reasonless -determination suited her. - -“It’s impossible,” said he. - -“The moths have eaten it away, then,” and without pretence or acting two -big tears rose in her eyes and fell—one for sorrow at his hardness, one -for the memory of Mariana in the cell. - -But two tears upon occasion can be very fascinating. - -“You never did reason, did you, Rosalie?” said he. - -“Yes. It’s the one thing I’ve done all my life. But the simpler you are -in this world the more you’re derided. Let me see Mariana to ask her -about the dress?” - -“Oh, hang Mariana!” - -“Are you speaking broadly?” - -“What do you mean?” - -“You should never use abusive language towards the individual. I learnt -that long ago. If you want to be profane you should generalise.” - -“Whose lax teaching was that?” - -“I learnt it from the Governor; the gentleman whom I met when I ran away -from you. But he wasn’t lax, I’m sure. Perhaps I misunderstood him.” - -“I wouldn’t put it beyond you. But give me a form of forcible language -that would fit in with his exposition.” - -“Well, the only one that presents itself at all to me is ‘Damn it.’ You -see ‘it’ means nothing in particular, is quite impersonal, and therefore -no one is any the worse for it, yourself included.” - -“You’re an advocate of that particular form?” said he. - -“I’d allow it to you upon occasion, but not to myself.” - -“Indeed! Why?” - -“Because if I were a perfect woman I’d never have any inclination to go -further than the ‘d.’” - -“You’re striving after the perfect woman?” - -“Yes,” sighed Rosalie; “but she’s very delusive. It’s so easy to -overstep the bounds and become saintly.” - -He laughed. “I don’t think you’ll ever be that.” - -“But why?” - -“The strain would be too great. You’d best remain as you are. I believe -the dance is ending.” - -“And—and never a word settled about my dress.” - -“Are you so much in earnest about it?” - -“Indeed, yes. I went through all the pains and penalties of trying it -on, stood three weary hours as model, and it was so beautiful my heart -longed for it then, and has done so ever since.” - -“It’s nothing but imagination. You must look for something else.” - -They rose together, and suddenly she put her hand upon his arm, and said -in just such a voice as a mermaid might, half laughing, half -plaintively: - -“I won’t come to dance the New Year in; I’ve nothing fit to come in. And -as for the slippers that you sent to me, you can search for them just -where you like. I don’t want them, and I won’t wear them. I only want -the dress.” And she showed him her foot in its silk stocking, without -slipper or other covering. - -“Where are your slippers?” said he. - -“I’ve hidden them, and you may find them.” - -And suddenly he looked at her quite sternly, and he said: “You’ve been -to see Mariana.” - -Rosalie returned the glance as meekly as became the situation. - -“The doors were all unlocked. Besides, you should have found me a -partner for the supper-time. I resented it.” - -“And what do you think of Mariana?” - -“I think that you and I are inexpressibly different in our idea of -things.” - -“Indeed! It is because of you she’s placed where she is.” - -“And because of me you ought to place her where she isn’t.” - -“I am not disposed to laugh. Your constant prying is objectionable.” - -“I pay dearly for it: hard words and cold glances from everyone, -yourself included.” - -“Not too high a price, it seems.” - -“Dear me, no! I trust to the luck that saved Red Chin’s wife. I’m not in -the least bit inclined to cry to-night, Mr. Barringcourt I feel happy -enough to dance without slippers on.” And she stooped and kissed the -precious stone she wore. - -He looked at it and then at her. “Give that stone to me,” he said -suddenly. - -Her cheeks paled as quickly. “I love it too well to ever think of -parting with it,” she answered. - -“The price of Mariana’s freedom.” - -“No,” and her voice was a mixture of a gasp and weakness. - -“And yet you love Mariana! How you do misjudge the word! You don’t know -what love is.” - -“Neither do you.” - -“I make no professions.” - -“I have no right to give away this stone; it was given to me.” - -“Keep it, then. I simply asked for it to prove your inherent -selfishness.” - -“You could have proved it by a much simpler test. It is one of the -dragon’s heads impossible to conquer. Every now and then I give it a -sleeping potion, and get some rest. It’s very efficacious, I can tell -you.” - -She turned and went away, and they did not see each other again that -night, or rather morning. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIII - THE WORTH OF A JEWEL - - -The next morning, rather earlier than usual, Mr. Barringcourt called to -see Miss Crokerly. He saw her alone; but as he was crossing the hall on -going away, he was stopped by hearing Rosalie’s voice from the -staircase, and by seeing her coming toward him. - -“I have been waiting for you,” said she, raising her finger as if in -warning as she came nearer, and speaking very softly. “The dragon is -sleeping, completely under the influence of a powerful drug. In the -interim I’ve brought you this. The thing you asked for last night.” And -she held toward him a tiny jewel-case. - -He took it slowly, looking at her, and then at it. Then the contents -dawned upon him, and he looked at her again and laughed, though his eyes -had a piercing keenness in them that took away the effect of the -laughter. - -Then her manner changed, and she too laughed. She raised her lips to his -ear and whispered: - -“I drugged the dragon with _Reason_, think what you will,” and still -laughing, would have moved away. - -Now it just chanced (for those who find no excuse for what followed) -that there hung just above them a bunch of misletoe. Miss Crokerly was a -great advocate of Christmas parties for children, had had three such -since December began, and holly and other Christmas decorations were -much in evidence. But neither person concerned was at the moment -cognisant of this fact. One was looking down, and one was looking up, -but not at the ceiling. - -But all the same, in opposition to the laws of etiquette, yet quite in -accordance with those of nature, Mr. Barringcourt suddenly stooped and -took her hands and kissed her. It wasn’t a bit like the ordinary kiss a -man would give a woman. It fell as softly on her lips as a breath of -snow—nothing of fire—so that she laughed again, and shook her hands -free, and saying “Thank you,” ran away again. - -After that Mr. Barringcourt went away, looking as thoughtful and -preoccupied as if he had never been frivolous in his life. - -He went home, and passed at once to his own private laboratory and -study. He took with him the tiny jewel-case, and going up to one of the -big windows facing the front of the house, took out the stone and looked -at it. He looked at it so long that a bystander would have grown -impatient. Then he went to the other side of the room, and opened what -seemed to be a cupboard, but was really a set of shutters opening upon a -window looking on the garden at the back. The light from this window -showed the jewel differently. - -Before it had been softest green and pink; now a constant red ray -gleamed from the centre. He noted it, and turned it many ways. The light -still remained—no passing brilliancy or change of colour. Then he went -into the inner room, and noted the different blendings and the texture -by placing it beneath a glass, there to examine it minutely. Finally he -poured out from an old flagon, worked and chased in a substance like -polished silver, a liquid that flamed up in the crucible like -white-flamed fire, intense and beautiful. And into this he threw a stone -that matched in some respects the one he carried in his hand. Under this -great strength of heat it disappeared; no tiny fragment of lustre or of -substance now remained. And quite remorseless to its fate, he next flung -in the stone that Rosalie had given him, and bent forward eagerly to -notice the effect. - -No change! A glimmering blend of colour on the surface of the flame. -Then with his fingers, as if the leaping tongues had been but water, he -took the jewel out, and dashed the sprays of fire away like drops of -water. - -A smile, incredulous and all surprised, at first played on his lips and -in his eyes as he looked at the jewel. Then after some deep thought, he -started as one from a dream, the light of sudden understanding in his -eyes. He placed the stone once more within its case, and put it in an -inner pocket, then left the room and locked the door again. - -Leaving the wing, he went out into the central hall, and passed across -it to the eastern side, with its brilliant door and exterior brightness, -all so false to the sordid truth behind. But there he paused, and called -across the high, empty, echoing space: - -“Everard, what is Mariana’s number? I forget.” - -“Thirteen.” The answer was simple and distinct. - -“That’s a lucky number, isn’t it?” - -“I believe it’s a significant one. Unlucky, some say.” - -“We go by the rule of contrary. I think myself it must be lucky.” And he -laughed and flung open the great doors and passed inside. They swung to -after him. - -Then at the door he sought for he stopped, and with the same quick -movement threw it open. - -Inside, the miserable cell, the scanty furniture, the covered table, the -cobwebs, the thick dust, the cloud of hovering moths, the stiff and -rigid figure; but to his eyes on entering, not the central figure of -attraction. For there upon the table, standing daintily upon the -covering cloth, he saw the little satin clogs, with their golden strings -and skate-like edges, that turned up daintily, bearing an almost -laughable resemblance to someone’s pretty nose. For in the same way that -many persons’ clothes on wearing them become a part of them and look -like them, so these, scarce worn, became and looked a part of Rosalie. -And in the midst of all this mildew, and decay, and icy lifelessness, -they stood a thing of life—an open protest against everything -surrounding them. - -Without looking toward Mariana, he went and took them in his hand. They -were not soiled. They had only danced one short delightful dance, and -stood demurely side by side, longing to start again. The moths had never -touched them; they were invulnerable. Then placing them once more upon -the sheet, he leaned his hand upon the table and looked at Mariana. - -Neither pity, distress, cruelty, nor any other emotion played on his -face. He stood and looked at her, as deep in thought as if his mind was -occupied with pages of a book, a long, long time. Then throwing back the -covering from the table, he revealed the thick piles of satin that she -had worked at in the three years passed long since. So this was the -dress that Rosalie coveted; well, it was worth asking for, or would be -when finished. - -For the first time on Lucifram, and here in one of its most dismal -cells, a smile free from artifice, from cynicism, from pride, from -cruelty or contempt, ran on his lips and centred in his eyes. - -But the machine? and how to set it working? Only one way. He crossed to -Mariana, laid one hand upon her head, the other in her hands, and -stooping, kissed her lips. - -Then very silently, as some passing from life to death have done, she, -with a sigh that trembled gently into every limb, swayed back to life. -And on the second breath that stirred her bosom, looked up, and her eyes -came to the face of Mr. Barringcourt. - -“You’ve slept long enough,” said he. “You can’t complain now of being -overworked. A long spell of rest, and now comes a short one of work. Are -you ready for it?” - -“Yes.” - -She rose from the chair, no stiffness, the old slow, easy motion born of -coldness; itself born, who could tell of what. - -“Six days to finish this—and alone. Can you accomplish it?” - -“For whom?” - -“Rosalie.” - -“Has she asked for it?” - -“Yes.” - -She stretched her arms, then drew them in. - -“It’s well, because I fitted it for her, having no other model.” - -“You are to make it especially beautiful.” - -“It is not necessary to tell me so.” - -“And jewels? Everard will bring them to you.” - -Now she raised her eyebrows slightly and looked at him, and a faint -smile came to her lips. - -“Is Rosalie then so strong to bear so heavy a burden of sorrows as this -house affords?” - -“Search all you can find from the dust hidden in this room, and he will -bring the rest. Did Rosalie appear to you so weak?” - -“I loved her on that account I think.” - -“Part of a cause that changes weakness into strength. You feel yourself -strong, Mariana?” - -“Oh, no! But cold. The strength of ice, not iron.” - -“Rosalie has suffered from your complaint, I think. But she’s cured.” - -Her eyes rested on his. There was a thoughtful expression in them, and -she said: - -“Cured? Then the ice was frozen less deeply.” - -“Or maybe the fire was stronger. There’s something in that, you know.” - -“Yes,” said she; then suddenly: “These moths are a great hindrance. I -have no time to spend in sighs if I must work hard and finish in six -days.” - -“Then I’ll remove them for six days. After that they’ll come back again, -but you’ll have finished.” - -“Yes. For Rosalie. And when to wear it?” - -“New Year’s Eve.” - -“Thank you. Now you had better leave me. What of these slippers?” - -“Sew them with jewels.” - -“And make her tired feet? Is it some practice of cruelty?” - -“No. A whim of mine. To show honour to an escaped prisoner.” - -“I must wake. Six days to make a dress, and it is rumoured that one of -the planets was made in that time! I must hasten.” - -So then he left her, and she worked alone. And hour by hour some fresh -seam in the design became completed, and on the third day Everard came. -He carried a large sack, and it was full of jewels of every known -description, small and large. Standing there, he said suddenly: - -“Can I help you with these? Sorting or stringing?” - -“But surely it’s against the rules.” - -“It is advisable to break them in emergency. And I doubt if this be not -finished, some great calamity will rise. The Master is away. The work is -out of all proportion to the time. For his sake, for yours, and for -hers, I wish to help you, for this day, at least.” - -So Mariana gave way, and one little flame of heat passed over the icy -barrier almost unconsciously. The cell, being less lonely now, lost its -ghastliness. - -Thus the time passed away until completion, the last day of the old -year, the eve of the new. - -And on that afternoon at four o’clock Mariana heaved a sigh of apparent -contentment, for all was now in readiness. And Everard, having done his -full share in the arrangement of jewels, and whatever else was needed, -returned to the door in order to welcome Mr. Barringcourt, who just then -returned. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXIV - “A GIFT, A FRIEND, A FOE, A BEAU, A JOURNEY TO GO.” - - -To return again for a brief interval to that day following Christmas -Day. Mr. Barringcourt, when he had left Mariana, went to see the Great -High Priest, and afterwards attended with many others the Service of -Dedication of the Curtain. Miss Crokerly was there, but not Rosalie. -Afterwards Mr. Barringcourt said to the new High Priest when left alone -together, and the guests departed: - -“Why didn’t you invite Miss Paleaf?” - -“I have told you why. I am only waiting for a sufficiently good -opportunity to bring forward the trial.” - -Mr. Barringcourt’s lips set. “You make a great stir about nothing,” said -he. - -“I don’t forget the awkward time at which she spoke.” - -“And when do you propose to send out the summons?” - -“On New Year’s Day. A public trial and an ecclesiastical court.” - -“And you as judge?” - -“Oh, no! There is Golden Priest Ferdinand. I take no further steps in -the matter publicly.” - -“And the punishment?” - -“Life-time imprisonment.” - -Mr. Barringcourt looked at him and laughed. - -“You laugh? After all, it is worth nothing better. People must be taught -a proper respect for established religion.” - -“In childhood, yes. I doubt when they get older it’s too late. And so -you contemplate lifetime imprisonment?” - -“Could you suggest anything better?” - -“Well, there’s escape. What do you say to that?” - -“Futile. Absolutely futile.” - -“The Devil has helped her once; he may do so again.” - -“The Devil! Who or what is that?” - -(They were ignorant of such a person on Lucifram.) - -“Ah! I had forgotten. He was never fashionable here. The Devil is a -libel on virtue; the exact imitator of God.” - -“And she is on familiar terms with this—this atrocity?” - -“I owe a general pardon. I was confounding him with a Superior Being, an -error commoner than one thinks of.” - -“You speak in riddles,” said the Great High Priest, and his tone was -irritable. - -“I mean to say God helped her to escape twice before—nay, three times. -You are brave, to say nothing more of it, to put another spoke in the -wheel.” - -“By God do I understand you to mean the Serpent?” - -“As you will. To my certain knowledge she has kissed the Serpent. The -sensation must have been a new one, almost a dangerous one. After ages -spent hearing the dull praise of men coming from lips all stereotyped, -one soft kiss would have its—er—its value.” - -The Great High Priest looked at him sternly, as became his office. - -“The Serpent is above such petty considerations,” said he. “You speak -with too much levity of sacred things.” - -“A fault of my education. Forgive me for it. And the summons is to be -issued on New Year’s Day?” - -“Or on the eve.” - -“I understand you. God and his counterfeit will help or hinder you. -Good-night!” - -Next morning, walking in the Park, he came on Rosalie walking with the -frog. Quite unconscious of the impending trial, she stopped on meeting -him. - -“Good morning!” said she. “You look very thoughtful.” - -“Yes. I’m thinking of taking a very unusual step.” - -“What, pray?” - -“Paying a visit to my mother,” and he looked at her. - -“That means your father, too, does it not?” - -“No,” he answered, still looking at her in the same thoughtful, absent -way. “I frequently visit him. At present they are separated.” - -Now it was her turn to be thoughtful. “That’s very sad, isn’t it?” - -“Sadder than you’d think of; for, but for the irony of Fate, they would -be quite inseparable.” - -“And is it an unusual thing for you to visit her?” - -“Yes; I do not care to burden her with my presence, unless there is some -reason in it.” - -“That sounds unnatural. Does she love you?” - -“As much as I love her.” - -“That conveys nothing to my mind. Your powers of love are very -enigmatical.” - -“They’re simple enough on a worthy object.” - -“And she is very worthy?” - -He made no answer, but said presently, with sudden decision: - -“Mariana has begun upon the dress. It will be finished on New Year’s -Eve.” - -“And I to wear it?” - -“Yes.” - -“I went to see her. You guessed at it. But she seemed more dead than -living.” - -“A little extra sleep. She said she needed it.” - -“What of the jewel that I lent you?” - -“It is very safe. I have a request to make to you.” - -“What is it?” - -“I wish to beg the jewel for my mother.” - -“What is she like?” - -He smiled. - -“Words cannot describe her; to my eyes, the perfection of beauty and -loveliness. As innocent and simple and free from care or evil as the -light.” - -“You don’t resemble her, do you?” asked Rosalie, unconscious of the -bitterness of her remark. - -He laughed, perceiving it. - -“You may rest safely assured there. I know no one who resembles her.” - -“Is she kind?” - -“The essence of it.” - -“Then what of Mariana, and such as she?” - -His brow clouded. “You ask questions I’m not disposed to answer.” - -“Ah! but I’m thinking of my jewel. I love it so. Your mother would not -value it a tenth part as much as I. Nay, before to-day it, and others -like it, have been reckoned rubbish. She might think so too.” - -“Give me leave to take it to her, and await her verdict. If she -underrates it, I’ll bring it back to you.” - -“I’m afraid I must give the dragon so strong a dose there’ll be no life -left in it.” - -“If it is what you told me, the more honour remains to you in killing it -with such a potion.” - -And Rosalie laughed, but her eyes were wonderfully serious, and she said -simply: - -“I’ll give it to you, Mr. Barringcourt, because it seems to me to love -one’s mother is the greatest and the simplest thing in the duty towards -one’s neighbour, if that mother is as she should be. And it is more than -pleasant to me to know that somewhere in the wide universe there is -someone who has broken through the natural hardness of your heart, and -called forth a respect and love of which I never thought you capable.” - -The remaining days till New Year’s Eve passed quickly. The weather was -gloriously fine, the sunsets unequalled. - -Early in the evening Mariana arrived, and brought with her a large box -containing the dress and other things. She came in a carriage drawn by -chestnut horses, not occupants of the stables at Marble House. - -Rosalie came out into the hall to meet her, and kissed her with -affection, which Mariana in her colder way returned. - -Together they went upstairs, Rosalie suddenly finding herself very short -of words to express her delight at meeting this old friend. - -And it was Mariana who dressed her completely, from the arranging of her -hair to the tying on of her clog-shaped, satin-jewelled slippers. - -And oh! what a dress! With designs of lovers’ knots worked in -delicately-tinted jewels all over its shining surface, and a train that -hung from the shoulders in showers of priceless lace. It was studded -with jewels in the bodice, and on her hair was placed a tiara that stood -high, and had the same design worked in diamonds. Clasps of gold and -jewels were on her arms, and round her neck one fine chain of gold—no -other ornament. - -“I’m afraid, after all, Mariana,” said she at length, “your great -ambition has not come to pass.” - -“What thing was that?” - -“You wished it for a wedding-dress.” - -“I am content to see it as it is, and you so beautiful.” - -“And when to-night is over you will want it back?” - -But Mariana smiled, half dreamily. - -“To-night is not yet over, and you will never wish to part with such a -robe. You begged it from the Master, and you’ll keep it I know none -other who would care to bear so great a load, though in its beauty all -forget to think of that.” - -“I do not find it very heavy.” - -“It’s well.” - -Suddenly Rosalie laughed. - -“I say, Mariana,” said she, “suppose—suppose when I come to Marble House -it should shine red all round about me. They’d take me for a veritable -scarlet woman. I have misgivings. I remember once before.” - -But Mariana shook her head. - -“I heard from the Master you had gained strength from weakness; and I -heard from Everard you had jewels of your own that you have worn to -counteract the fatal charm of these.” - -“Not of my own, Mariana; they were of God.” “Ah, God! I had forgotten -Him. The dream has passed so long ago.” - -“God is no dream, but a living reality, Mariana.” - -“I was once bitten by a snake, and here they call the Serpent God. I -love not such an image, but live in the never-ending twilight. I think -it is the shadowed light the idol throws, placing itself betwixt the -world and God.” - -And suddenly Rosalie took her hands in hers, and drew her to her with a -gentle force, and kissed her lips and forehead, saying: - -“But soon the idol will vanish out of sight, and the true light come. -You needn’t live in the twilight, Mariana, any more than I. You only -need to trust the Glorious Spirit working behind the leaden cloud, and -struggle silently toward the healing light. And some day, even though -the waiting time be long, the icy burden will be rolled away, and you -all warm and bright again to love and honour God with strength -unfettered.” - -And then Brightcoat said: “I should like to go with Mariana back to -Marble House.” - -“Do you care for such a companion?” asked Rosalie of Mariana. - -But the frog jumped across and settled on her shoulder. - -“You need me no more now, Rosalie. I have done what work I could for -you. But now to Mariana. She may need me as once you did. And though her -heart is cold to-day, the New Year dawns, and with it in the distance I -see a fairer prospect and a warmer light breaking upon the horizon of -heaven.” - -And so with this new companion Mariana went away back to the Marble -House. Into that gloomy dwelling, though now all brilliantly lit, the -frog entered unafraid, and none thought to harm it, for the charm had -worked, or perhaps was working. - - - - - CHAPTER XXXV - THE SUN RISES ON THE YEAR - - -A brilliant house again, a brilliant crowd, the eve of the New Year, the -death-bed of the Old. Just three hours more to wait. - -But as Rosalie drove along, it was as if depression and the highest -spirits fought one another for the mastery. - -“The effects of wearing fine clothing,” said she, and laughed and sighed -in a breath. “There is magic in these jewels, I feel certain. Oh! if I -could but wear again my own precious moonstone talisman against all -heaviness, instead of all this finery, that does its best to cramp my -spirits, and half succeeds.” - -On entering, she was almost immediately joined by Mr. Barringcourt. -Never had he looked to Rosalie as to-night, never perhaps she to him. -With a scrutiny which had become habitual, they eyed each other, and at -last Rosalie said: - -“Do you not think I was right in being covetous of such a lovely gown?” - -“And the jewels?” - -“Oh, they were an extra thrown in. I’d much rather have been without -them. You should be kind, not lavish, Mr. Barringcourt. After an hour’s -wearing they begin to assert their individuality and weight.” - -“And at first you felt them light?” - -“Being alive to their beauty, I was dead to their encumbrance.” And then -again, this time seriously, she said: “But in truth I must acknowledge, -perhaps, their weight cannot be very great, for I have the greatest wish -to dance through every dance, and look to you to find me partners. I am -not really altered because I stole behind the temple curtain; for one -night it might be forgotten.” - -“The first dance is with me, and the last one.” - -“Oh, no! I am in a mood of ingratitude to-night. I cannot for the favour -of this dress, and all its valuable accessories, even say ‘Thank you.’ -Find me a partner for the dance that’s just beginning. No one has come -near me since I came.” - -“The first dance is with me.” - -“Indeed, no. I’m entering on a life of self-denial. As soon as I want to -do a thing I shall cross myself and do the opposite. What chance shall I -stand of heaven, do you think, at that rate?” - -“You’ll never get there. Be guided by me, and be less contrary.” - -“It goes very much against the grain for me to dance with you. Must I be -consistent, or must I be contrary?” - -“Become impersonal, and leave the decision with me.” - -“You are too selfish to be altogether trusted.” - -“I? Selfish?” - -“Yes. I want to dance, and here you keep me talking. I want to study men -and form comparisons.” - -“You can’t in a place like this. On these occasions they’re all more or -less alike.” - -“And on all others. The similarity of humanity is nerve-destroying.” - -“A very pleasant state of things. None but a fool would wish it -otherwise. But if you wish to dance you shall have partners in -sufficiency. I’ll say you’re quite harmless to-night.” - -“Say no such thing. Mariana tells me she was once bitten by a snake, and -so was I. Since then I’ve had the greatest inclination to bite everyone -who comes near me. She took it badly; I, by God’s help, was enabled to -take it well.” - -“What particular snake was it that bit you?” - -“I think it must have been the God of Lucifram.” - -Then he left her and went away, and through the evening Rosalie danced, -seemingly happy, on to that hour when the Old Year and the New meet and -part again. - -Then she sought Mr. Barringcourt, and found him, not amongst his guests, -but in that now deserted drawing-room where once Mariana had played for -her. He was looking out on to the gas-lit streets, and the window being -open, the cold night air blew into the room. The lights in it were -shining fully, yet the city without was plainly visible. - -“You have left the crowd?” said she. - -“Yes,” he answered. “They can amuse themselves. You look tired.” - -She laughed, an apology for deeper feeling, and looked at him with eyes -whose tiredness was lost in a certain appeal and pathetic beauty, that -characterised them long since in the days of silence. - -“I think I overrated my powers of—of endurance. I—I should be very -pleased to give the last dance to you. I left it empty.” - -But he shook his head. - -“I have not danced all evening; I do not wish to make myself conspicuous -now.” - -“We could sit it out.” - -“We might; but I am contrary.” - -Then Rosalie went up to him and put her hand very gently in his arm, and -almost whispered: - -“I have a feeling of insecurity that grows with almost every hour. It -may be childish, but I never professed to be much different from a -child. When I stay with you it leaves me more or less, and always has -done from the very first I met you. And now Brightcoat has left me, and -I feel quite alone, a thing hardly enviable in any sphere. And I’ve gone -through the evening as best I could, and tried to get the better of my -weakness.” And then she laughed and drew her hand away, and said: “If -such confessions are unusual, you only have this dress to thank for it. -The jewels have magnetic power, and draw me to the owner.” - -At this he turned round from the window and looked at her, and a very -curious smile curved on his lips. - -“That’s your solution, is it?” he said, and scratched his head -thoughtfully with one finger. Then he added: “My mother said I was to -thank you for the stone you sent her.” - -“Was she well?” - -“Yes. At the first stroke after midnight I go again to her. These guests -will then have all departed.” - -“I, too.” - -“You say that sadly.” - -“The magnetism of the stone I sent her draws me to your mother.” - -Just then Everard entered the room, carrying in his hand a large sealed -envelope addressed to Rosalie. At the back it was sealed with the image -of the Serpent. - -“You, Everard?” said Mr. Barringcourt, with some surprise. - -“I heard the door bell ring, and knew it was no ordinary guest of the -evening.” - -She took and opened it. A summons to appear before the High Priest’s -court, and on the morrow morning, this first day of the New Year. - -She read it through, half mystified, the truth with some difficulty -dawning upon her. Then on a sudden she handed it to Mr. Barringcourt, -her face as white as the background of her dress, and he in his turn -read it. Then he turned to Everard and said: - -“Who brought this?” - -“A priest who, with his companion, waits outside. I did not let them -in.” - -Master and man looked at one another, the same grim smile half visible -upon each face. Then Mr. Barringcourt took out his watch and looked at -it. - -“It wants still twenty minutes till the dance is ended. It is barely -twenty minutes after twelve. Are they impatient of delay?” - -“I did not ask them.” - -“We’ll go upon the supposition that they’re patient.” Then turning to -Rosalie, he continued: “There was a time you told me that you scorned to -run away, and never had done. Afterwards, upon much less occasion, you -trusted to the fleetness of your feet. And now? Are you prepared to meet -the enemy?” - -“Indeed, no. Or perhaps I cannot tell. If you stood for council on my -behalf I think I might enjoy it. For myself, I could never get much -farther than the truth.” - -“A marvellous short journey, with a sudden ending, but little reckoned -upon Lucifram. What think you of lifetime imprisonment, Rosalie?” - -“Ah! It is that that frightens me. I never liked the thought of prison. -Must I really go?” - -“What plan of escape is there?” - -Her brow knitted thoughtfully; then suddenly clearing, she said: - -“Take me away with you. Take me to your mother?” - -And she looked so very beautiful, with something so imperious in her -manner, yet so sweet, that little wonder if the Master consented. - -“It’s a long journey, and a very final one, and, moreover, my horses are -black.” - -“I’ll trust to the rule of contrary where you’re concerned, and trust -you too. Take me where you will. I have sufficient power given me of my -own to guard against a vital evil.” - -“You trust me to a certain point. No farther.” - -She laughed. - -“I trust you altogether, but wish to show it is not quite from weakness -I wish to come with you.” - -“Then we’ll go. My mother is hospitable, and so are others round about -her. Some are better known to you, no doubt, than she. A stranger is a -rarity among them. You will be welcomed.” - -“Alas! But who can travel in a dress like this—at midnight, in the depth -of winter? It is so conspicuous.” - -“No dress could be so suitable. Safe-guarded against wind or snow, and -simple in comparison of those where we are going. Heat or cold, darkness -or light cannot touch it. It was sewn in the inner darkness, and shines -in the inner light. Come, Rosalie, the time is up. We must away to see -the sun rise on the New Year.” - -Then he led her through those great empty rooms into the fuller ones, -where general hilarity preceded the closing of the dance. But here they -never waited. Across the palm-house to the doors of glass with the image -of the toad and temple so finely and so clearly worked in them. - -At one touch they both flew open, and there, flooded in a tide of -light—red—red—and an accompanying silence. It travelled swiftly, yet -without sound or violence into the rooms of feasting and of mirth, -carrying silence and a vague alarm. And noting where it came from, the -guests instinctively crowded out towards that curious garden, on which -faced the real front of Marble House. - -And there, below the terrace steps, upon the wide carriage drive, stood -a chariot of gold, with seats of crimson velvet, and harnessed to it the -six black steeds, with tossing heads and eyes of fire, strong, and -sleek, and slim. - -One youth alone stood at the foremost bridle. And in the midst of all -this ruddy glamour shone the pure whiteness of Rosalie’s robe, with all -its flimsy showers of lace and jewels. And there beside the carriage -step stood Mariana, the frog upon her shoulder, and with her Everard, -who had preceded them. - -Then Rosalie stepped in lightly and gracefully, and sat down. Mariana -bent forward, and with the grace peculiar to her arranged the spreading -train about her feet. Then looking up, with mutual feeling each drew an -arm round the other’s neck and kissed. Rosalie whispered: - -“You will follow, Mariana, and we’ll meet again, in no land of shadows, -red or black, but in the sunlight. And you’ll bring Everard. A little -company along the road is most desirable. But for the present, -good-bye!” - -And then the Master, gathering the long reins in his hand as he sat down -beside her, wrung Everard’s hand, and seeing Mariana held her hand -toward him too, bent over it and kissed it, by that one act undoing all -the past in which she suffered through him. - -The Master shook the reins. A thousand tingling stars shook from them -upon and round about the coal-black steeds. One wild bound forward all -in unison, not on a straight road, but up some climbing steep. - -Rosalie turned round. And laughing, half in fear and half in happiness, -kissed her hand to Brightcoat. - -“Good-bye—till—till we meet again!” - -Then the Master turned round also, a face very unlike to hers. - -His face was dark and shadowy as it ever had been. The same contemptuous -curl lay on his firm lips; a mocking laughter was in his eyes. His -glance fell upon Marble House, and the guests all drawn towards the -terraces. - -With his free hand he felt in the pocket of the long coat he wore. - -“I forgot to leave my New Year’s presents, Rosalie,” said he, and -brought out a large handful of precious stones, flinging them down to -Lucifram. Then drawing out another, he handed these to Rosalie, and bade -her throw them too. - -They fell among the crowd, who gathered them and praised their beauty. - -But the six black steeds with little apparent effort climbed up the -steep mountain-side, or so it seemed to be. And gradually the red light -disappeared, and Lucifram along with it, and darkness followed. - -And now there was nothing but the wind and icy snow and -loneliness—nothing but the path. Nothing was to be seen on either side. - -The spirited steeds, wild as ocean foam, flew up and on the mountain -track, the winds moaned after them with a song as wild, as full of sad -complaint, as if they were embodied spirits of the sighs and tears of -broken hearts. - -But no feeling of cold came near Rosalie. The jewelled robes encased -her, proof against everything. And gradually it seemed as if the -darkness gave way to a glimmering of light. At first it was feeble, but -grew in distinctness, steady, and still steadier. - -Suddenly a ray of brilliant light—light that could never blind the -eyes—shot straight across the path. Then came another, another, -following thick and fast from every direction. - -Swiftly the coal-black horses changed in the flooding light to purest -white, visions of inexpressible and perfect beauty. Rosalie’s heart beat -faster with sudden, unexpected joy. She looked up at the Master, her own -face transfigured by the light, as so was his. For all the weariness, -all the contempt, all the dark shadows, had vanished from his features, -and left nothing but what was full of life, of vigour, and of -kindliness. His eyes, still dark and deep, looked into hers, the first -time on the long and perilous journey, and he said, laughing, as -sometimes of old: - -“Do you prefer looking at me to the magnificence of all this scenery?” - -But she clasped his arm in both her hands, and leaned her forehead -against his shoulder. - -And suddenly he brought the horses to a check, and drawing her still -closer, bent his head and kissed her cheek. Then she looked up with eyes -all wet with tears, and bright with happiness, and drawing back a -little, said: - -“I never thought that things would come out this way. I—I never imagined -that black horses could come out white—nor you become so altered.” - -He laughed. - -“It all depends upon the journey that I take. Sometimes I cross upon -another rainbow, that leads us all down hill from Lucifram at almost -break-neck speed. Then neither I nor these, my horses, alter much. But -look, Rosalie, round about you. This is a scene worth seeing and -remembering.” - -He stood up, and giving her his hand, helped her to her feet. - -And then she saw that streams of light and rainbow garlands were flung -from a thousand spheres to meet this central road, itself a giant -rainbow crossing from Lucifram (a tiny speck of gleaming red in the far, -far distance) towards a country quite unsurpassed for loveliness. And -all around, from the different worlds of light, came scenes of -fairyland. - -And now she saw a towered city folded in night, the change from day; and -here the bright sunshine of mid-day glinting upon a noble river, with -sloping, tree-clad hills, and meadows smooth and green. - -Again the sun was setting behind a sea of golden glory, on whose -restless surface danced three round boats inlaid with pearl. And in the -boats sat three maidens of exquisite beauty, attended by the gentle -wind, their servant, who wafted them towards the distant shore. And as -they went they sang a song that trembled sweetly on the air and reached -in the soft silence to that golden car, ringing tones of happiness and -joy. - -So on around: a thousand scenes, and all delightful, delicate yet clear, -country and city all in perfection spread out everywhere. And each -sphere was linked to each with garlands of lights, so that the nimble -spirit crossed on them, a perfect path of beauty. - -Rosalie looked and breathed a sigh of admiration. Then her eyes -travelled to the path which they were crossing. The steep part had been -passed. There now remained only a lesser portion, and that sloped gently -down. This remaining part was free from danger. Pillars of light -garlanded with flowers guarded the sides. - -The horses, unwearied with the night’s long race, moved slowly towards -this nearing country, over whose waking sky the bright dawn was -spreading wings of glory, with silver flutings right east to west. The -descent led to a regal city, where nothing mean or sordid, no toil and -tribulation, no anxious care or killing sorrow, no oppression, no dark -deeds, no foul disease, no hardened priests or creeds had ever come. But -all was God, the essence of immortal greatness. - -And to this city came Rosalie, led by him whom some had called on -Lucifram the Master. And being all tired with the journey, Rosalie fell -asleep just as they were entering the gates. - -For no traveller from a darker sphere can enter there unweary. The soft -air, too strong for them, wafts the frail form to tender sleep, that it -undergo the great and immortal change. - -The sound of laughter and welcome, Heaven’s truest music of joy, and -then for us a silence. - - * * * * * - -So ends a little chapter in the life of Lucifram. A chapter that bore -indirectly upon the Serpent, and helped gradually to its undoing. But -that’s another tale. - - - THE END - - - _Printed by Cowan & Co., Ltd., Perth._ - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - THE SERF - - A HISTORICAL NOVEL - - BY C. RANGER-GULL - - - _Author of “The Hypocrite,” “Back to Lilac Land,” etc._ - - - THIRD EDITION—_SIX SHILLINGS_ - - - =Rock.=—“A brilliant piece of romance work.” - - Mr. A. T. QUILLER-COUCH in the =Daily News=.—“A novel of uncommon - merit; a historical novel of a period rarely attempted by fiction.” - - =Observer.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull possesses a brilliant imagination, - original thought, and an able pen. His style is clear and forcible, - and some of the passages in this, his latest story, are full of - pathos.” - - =Daily Chronicle.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull deserves the warmest praise, and - willingly do we accord it.... The story he has provided, with so - carefully studied environment, is one that is strong in human - interest, and told with considerable dramatic power.” - - =Daily Express.=—“To dive deep into the chronicles of serfdom and tell - plainly the story of a long-forgotten deed of noble daring is good - work, and thanks are due to Mr. C. Ranger-Gull for his story, ‘The - Serf.’ ... The story is wonderfully interesting, and appeals - irresistibly to the British temperament.” - - =Saturday Review.=—“Full as it be of grim realism and ghastly tragedy, - it is impossible not to read this book to the bitter end—bitter - enough, in all conscience.... The book is without doubt a notable one. - It is written in the true spirit of the times which it so eloquently - describes.” - - =Truth.=—“A tale of the life and death of a serf who in the old Norman - days struck a blow of vengeance and for freedom. He pierced his lord - with three arrows, one for each ravished daughter, and one for - freedom, and after thrilling adventures expiates his crime by a death - of the most frightful torture. There are so many powerful dramatic - scenes in the story that I should think the advertised version of it - for the stage would be most effective.” - - =Outlook.=—“The age is well suggested in its marring elements of - sordidness and splendour, fierce cruelty and childlike faith; and the - characterisation is strong in many types; brutal lord, drunken priest, - and chivalrous _jongleur_. The author achieves a convincing study of - twelfth century England, in the mastery of its strongholds, the misery - of its serfs’ hovels, and the sanctuary of Holy Church.” - - - GREENING & CO., LTD., LONDON. - - - - - “BRIMFUL OF CLEVERNESS.”—_STANDARD._ - - HIS GRACE’S GRACE - - A NOVEL - - BY C. RANGER-GULL, - - - Author of “The Serf,” “Back to Lilac Land,” “The Hypocrite,” etc. - - - PRESS OPINIONS. - - =Standard.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull is very clever. He can write well, even - brilliantly.... Mr. Ranger-Gull opens his story vigorously, and his - good spirits never flag. The book is brimful of cleverness.” - - =Sketch.=—“The novel is well-constructed and brightly written. The - reader will have only himself to blame if he does not get some good, - hearty laughs.” - - =Daily Telegraph.=—“The book is amusing, with sufficient plot to - awaken the interest, though relying chiefly for its attraction upon - its epigrammatic qualities. Mr. Ranger-Gull has put into the mouth of - some of his characters remarkably witty and sparkling dialogue, which - in itself raises the book above the general average.” - - =Daily Mail.=—“Sprightly wit is the main feature of Mr. Ranger-Gull’s - comedy. It is flippant, jocular, and epigrammatic. Readers who enjoy - quips and repartee will find his pages full of them.” - - =Daily News.=—“A smart and up-to-date novel. The book is readable, and - a pleasant companion for a journey. The end, which is pure farce, is - wholly delightful.” - - =Vanity Fair.=—“It is as entertaining and highly spirited a story of - Oxford life as one could wish.... Mr. Gull’s wit is always striking, - and occasionally it fastens to its subject with very mordant force. - The whole book is admirably clever, with no pages in it dull, and some - so sparkling that they almost hurt the eye.” - - =British Weekly.=—“It is certainly a very clever piece of fiction.” - - =Ladies’ Field.=—“A very clever and amusing novel, remarkable for - smartness of dialogue. The author has plenty of wit, and this novel is - really a capable piece of work.” - - =Free Lance.=—“A lively, brilliantly-written book full of wit and - humour and epigram, sparkling from cover to cover is Mr. Ranger-Gull’s - latest novel, ‘His Grace’s Grace.’ ... There are pages of smart - dialogue which are equal to the best of almost any modern English - writer.” - - =Bookman.=—“We have some charming comedy—a double love interest and - some clever characterisation. A book which is altogether clever and - entertaining throughout.” - - =Daily Despatch.=—“Mr. C. Ranger-Gull is smart and topical as ever in - his latest novel. The book, topical, witty, and penetrating, is bright - reading from beginning to end.” - - =Woman.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull has produced a story of sparkle and - brilliancy. The style glitters and rings like that of Maupassant.” - - =Sheffield Telegraph.=—“Very amusing and very clever.... The story is - mirth-provoking and inoffensive; ‘His Grace’s Grace’ is irresistible, - and no reader will regret making her or his acquaintance.” - - =Public Opinion.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull’s reputation as a facile - story-teller will be by no means diminished by ‘His Grace’s Grace.’” - - - London: GREENING & CO., Ltd., 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road. - - - - - A REALLY CLEVER STORY - - THE STEEPLE - - _A NOVEL_ - - By REGINALD TURNER - - - _Author of “The Comedy of Progress” and “Cynthia’s Damages.”_ - - - =The Times.=—“Few readers who take it up will readily lay it down.... - Mr. Turner is successful, and his sketches of men, women, and creeds - are, generally speaking, humorous, shrewd, and suggestive.” - - =Outlook.=—“A purposeful story altogether out of the common ruck. It - is both daring and convincing. The portrait of Frank Lester is surely - as coolly relentless a thing as has been done for a long time.... It - is excellently and pitilessly done:... We would quote some contingent - excellencies. The chief, perhaps, is Mr. Turner’s dash in carrying off - an extravagant situation.... His also is the gift of broad, almost - farcical characterisation. And to these must be added a brisk turn in - narrative, of which scarce a page lack shining example.” - - =Observer.=—“A very well-told story; the characters are drawn with - much freshness and clearness of delineation.... Bright and lively - without being flippant. Mr. Turner’s story is decidedly entertaining - and well written, and will probably be popular.” - - =Illustrated London News.=—“One reads with unflagging interest. The - great merit lies in the very cool and effective demonstration of - character, and especially of character that is off conventional lines. - The psychology, perhaps, is not very deep, but, in the plane on which - it works, is remarkably given. We have thoroughly enjoyed ‘The - Steeple.’” - - =Sunday Times.=—“This is a clever story, lightly told, and although it - concerns religion, the characters, faith, and scepticism is not - preachy, and the interest does not flag.” - - =The Scotsman.=—“This story displays a remarkable ingenuity. The book - is cleverly done in the very modern manner, and is always - interesting.” - - =Reynolds.=—“‘The Steeple,’ by Reginald Turner, is one of the most - readable novels we have lately had the good fortune to come across. - The religious and clerical element, which enters hugely into the - story, is handled so adroitly that it neither irritates nor bores, - while its latter-day actuality gives the zest of real life to Mr. - Turner’s fiction.” - - =Spectator.=—“The work is interesting, and the study of Lester is - decidedly clever and original.” - - =Bookman.=—“A story of far more than average merit, strongly imagined - and with considerable craftsmanship.... Emphatically, this is a book - to be read.” - - =St. James’s Gazette.=—“Has decided originality and cynicism enough - for the youngest of us. There are many clever touches and characters - that stand out.” - - =Truth.=—“Unusually well conceived and described.” - - =Speaker.=—“Mr. Turner has shown before that he has a pleasing and - unusual vein of satire. In ‘The Steeple’ he turns his attention to the - worldly and successful Churchman.... The book is full of entertaining - little caricatures, and some good counterfoils to them.... It is sane - and amusing, a most welcome work in these days when satire seems to be - a lost art.” - - - London: GREENING & CO., Ltd., - - 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road. - - A BRILLIANT NOVEL - - - - - The Comedy of Progress - - By REGINALD TURNER, - - Author of “Cynthia’s Damages,” etc. - - - Some Press Opinions. - - =Bookman.=—“A political novel of decided interest, picturing modern - society, political method and influences, a really great lady, and a - young man who thinks. Mr. Turner’s style is bright, shrewd, and - trenchant.” - - =Pall Mall Gazette.=—“A cleverly-written story of more than usual - interest. Mr. Turner has here something to say, and says it well. From - the first page onward we follow the career of Maurice Yorke with close - interest, an interest which never flags, and the final chapter is in - every way equal to the book’s earlier promise. There is nothing - slipshod, no falling off. The author has given us sterling good work - throughout. The characterisation of Lady Sothern is excellent—so human - withal. ‘The Comedy of Progress’ is a brilliant novel, its title, by - the way, fitting it ‘like a glove.’” - - =Glasgow Evening Times.=—“Mr. Reginald Turner has achieved another - success in ‘The Comedy of Progress.’ It is a clever novel, pleasantly - satirical, bright in style, and with skilfully sustained interest in - the fanciful social and political personages who figure in its pages.” - - =Morning Post.=—“Readers will be delighted with the ‘Comedy of - Progress’ by Reginald Turner. The story is told with skill and true - artistic effect. Lady Sothern is an excellently drawn character, full - of life and force. The charm and influence which she exercises over - all who know her are quite convincingly expressed, and the scene with - her husband when she confesses herself an old woman and stamps on her - jewels is very ably done. Mr. Turner may be sincerely congratulated on - accomplishing a difficult task with more restraint and ability than - one generally expects in such efforts.” - - =Spectator.=—“Problems and politics are dealt with in ‘The Comedy of - Progress,’ and both are to a certain extent successfully treated. The - story is readable, and the pictures of society are not badly drawn.” - - =Daily Telegraph.=—“Mr. Turner has a pretty knack of touching off a - character, or expressing a quaint thought, in a couple of lines, and - there is no blinking the fact that some of his portraits are diverting - likenesses of people he had met in the flesh.” - - =St. James’s Gazette.=—“The book is decidedly clever. Maurice Yorke - himself, Lord and Lady Sothern, and Jonas Allen, are distinct and - well-drawn characters, conceived and maintained with considerable - skill. The story is something more than a political novel. It is - concerned with the philosophy of life and its aims. There is much - serious thought and practical wisdom in its pages, set forth in - dialogue, which is always amusing and sometimes brilliant.” - - =Athenæum.=—“‘The Comedy of Progress’ contains clever conversation and - well-realised characters.” - - =The County Gentleman.=—“Mr. Turner is evidently an exceedingly close - observer of men and matters, and in addition he has a considerable - power of analysis of emotions and impulses of the springs which move - to action and the restraining forces which control men’s natural - desires and ambitions.... ‘The Comedy of Progress’ is throughout - wittily and well written, and ought to interest those who like a - serious subject carefully treated, and with more than an occasional - passage of pure fun and humour.” - - - The Comedy of Progress - - Crown 8vo., cloth gilt, SIX SHILLINGS. - - - - - The Lyons Mail - - - The true story of the murders, told by a descendant of the murdered - courier. - - _Translated from the French by_ - - ROBERT H. SHERARD. - - Generations of people have wept over the sufferings of Joseph - Lesurques, who was guillotined for the murders of the Lyons Mail - affair. It was supposed that he was an innocent man, the victim of a - fatal resemblance to a scoundrel named Dubosc. His case has been used - by hundreds of barristers to bolster up a defence based on the theory - of mistaken identity. This book demolishes the theory of his - innocence. It is written by a descendant of one of the victims, who - proves that Lesurques was guilty, that his sufferings were no more - than he merited, and that if he went to the guillotine dressed in - white, the garb of innocence, this was only a final piece of duplicity - on his part. A true story of the “good old times” in France after the - Revolution, with dramatic pictures of the unequal struggle between the - police and the army of scoundrels. In illustration of the state of - things in the Year IV. (1796) an account is given of the doings of a - certain Bondroux, who was the Dick Turpin of the Lyons highroad. - - Few chapters in fiction are more striking than the true account of the - arrest of Joseph Lesurques at the Assize Court in Paris, during the - trial of his accomplices; a fresh illustration of the resistless force - or fascination of danger which draws criminals on by the most - imprudent acts to their destruction. - - It exposes in its true light the character of the famous - Conventionnel, Merlin de Douai, who inspired Victor Hugo with one of - his noblest creations, and suggests the reflection that if one knew - the truth many names which have come down to posterity with immaculate - reputations would stand in a different place in the public esteem. - - In view of recent efforts in France to bring about the revision of a - celebrated case, the various unsuccessful attempts of the Lesurques - family to have the judgment passed on their ancestor quashed will be - read with interest. They show the inviolability of the “_chose - jugée._” - - Price Six Shillings. - - - - - THREE STORIES OF THE STAGE - - Smart, Clever, Brilliant, and Interesting. - - _AT ALL LIBRARIES AND BOOKSELLERS._ - - SIX SHILLINGS EACH. - - - BACK TO LILAC LAND. - - By C. RANGER-GULL, - - _Author of “The Hypocrite,” “Miss Malevolent,” “The Serf,” etc._ - - SECOND EDITION. - - =The Pall Mall Gazette.=—“A very intelligent and well-written story. A - decidedly entertaining novel—fresh and well constructed, and evidently - written by one who understands the inwardness of _the_ profession.” - - =Morning Post.=—“A good novel of stage life is a rare bird in this - country, and the author of ‘Back to Lilac Land,’ who has given us this - good thing, deserves a full measure of praise.” - - =The Literary World.=—“The anonymous author has written a story which - all who have seriously considered the subject must applaud as a - faithful, reasonable, and powerful account of the touring actor’s - life.... ‘Back to Lilac Land’ will be classed with George Moore’s ‘A - Mummer’s Wife,’ and with Leonard Merrick’s ‘The Actor Manager,’ as one - of the three best novels of theatrical life which the last fifteen - years have yielded.” - - - CYNTHIA’S DAMAGES. - - By REGINALD TURNER, - - _Author of “The Comedy of Progress,” etc._ - - =Sunday Special.=—“A bright, amusing story of life behind the - footlights.” - - =The Gentlewoman.=—“A sprightly, amusing yarn. Mr. Reginald Turner is - no stranger to life behind the scenes.” - - =Ladies’ Review.=—“‘Cynthia’s Damages’ proves on reading to be one of - the smartest and brightest of theatrical tales we have met with for a - long time. It is most certainly a novel which will please all women.” - - =The Daily Telegraph.=—“A story in which wit, humour, farce, and - sarcasm are admirably blended—an extravaganza brimful of fun, and - showing considerable power in the management of dialogue, as well as - in character-drawing. The author appears to be what the French call a - _blagueur_, and treats the affair of stage-life and society with a - polished and easy cynicism that evokes a smile and compels us to read - on.... The story from beginning to end is sprightly and vivacious, - contains many quaint touches of observation, and is altogether a - readable book.” - - - IN THE WORLD OF MIMES. - - By LEWIS MELVILLE. - - =Graphic.=—“Undeniably interesting. Every page shows that he writes - from inside knowledge.” - - =Daily Mail.=—“A lurid story of stage life. The book shows real - observation and cleverness.” - - =Illustrated Sporting and Dramatic News.=—“This is distinctly a clever - book, and ably written.” - - =Bookman.=—“A pleasantly-written story of theatrical life; vivacious - and lifelike by reason of its spirited characters and professional - details. It is shrewdly observed, and the world and the stage are both - described with facility.” - - _Complete Catalogue of Popular Fiction post free on application._ - - London: Greening & CO., Ltd., 20 Cecil Court, Charing Cross Road. - - - - - GREENING & Co., LTD., - - - 18 & 20, CECIL COURT, - CHARING CROSS ROAD, - - October, 1903: LONDON, W.C. - - A SUPPLEMENTARY - - CATALOGUE - - OF - - NEW BOOKS & RECENT EDITIONS - - IN - - FICTION AND GENERAL LITERATURE, - - TOGETHER - - WITH ANNOUNCEMENTS OF FORTHCOMING WORKS. - - - =Hudibras.= By DR. BUTLER. With an introductory note by T. W. H. - CROSLAND. With Twelve Illustrations after Hogarth. Foolscap 8vo, - cloth, top edge gilt, with bookmark, 2s. net; leather, top edge - gilt, with bookmark, 3s. net. - - =Bookman.=—“Messrs. Greening here give us a most interesting reprint - of Butler’s celebrated poem in a form which strikes us as being - entirely appropriate. The size of page, type and margin are both - delightful to the eye of a book lover, and pleasantly reminiscent of - the little volumes of the 17th century. While the fine paper, and the - dozen excellent reproductions of Hogarth’s well-known plays, the - portrait of Butler himself, and the neat, artistic binding make it, in - its way, a miniature Edition de Luxe.” - - - =The Pomps of Satan.= A volume of Essays by EDGAR SALTUS. Crown 8vo, - cloth, 3s. 6d. - - - =Gœthe’s Life at Weimar (1775–1779).= By G. H. LEWES. Foolscap 8vo. - cloth, 3s. 6d. - - - =“The Lyons Mall.”= Being the true story of the murders, founded on an - authentic account by one of the descendants of the murdered courier. - Translated from the French by ROBERT H. SHERARD. Crown 8vo, cloth, - 6s. - - =Globe.=—“A very interesting narrative.” - - =Queen.=—“The book is terse and interesting. It never flags.” - - =Public Opinion.=—“We get not only an insight into the doings of - knights of the French roads of the last years of the 18th century, but - a vivid and exciting story.” - - =Morning Advertiser.=—“Not only is the old story at once thrilling and - true, but it is different from the drama which Sir Henry Irving still - keeps familiarly before the present generation, a question both of - personal justice and of a point of law that renders the book as - important as it is sure to be popular.” - - - =Pentonville from Within.= With an actress in the background. By - E.B.P. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. - - - =The Cynic’s Posy.= Epigrams written and compiled by G. F. MONKSHOOD. - Foolscap 8vo, cloth, handmade paper, 2s. net. - - - =Smith of the Shamrock Guards=: The “Ragged” lieutenant. By “OFFICER.” - Crown 8vo, cloth, 2s. 6d. - - This play was intended for production at a West End Theatre, but the - performance could not be given, as the Lord Chamberlain twice refused - his license, owing to the piece containing references to the “Ragging” - cases. - - - =The Ballad of the Soul’s Desire.= A poem by VERNON NOTT. Crown 8vo, - cloth, 2s. 6d. net. - - =Northern Whig.=—“The language in places rises to a high standard of - power and eloquence.... There are ideas too, as well as language in - this striking allegory, and, if it be the author’s first work, we may - expect to hear of him again.” - - =Glasgow Herald.=—“The style and quality of the poem will appeal to - the imagination of readers who love ballads for simplicity.” - - - =The Play Pictorial.= Vols. I and II. 4to, green and white cloth, - richly gilt, 6s. nett each. - - Each volume contains six plays, fully illustrated by fine engravings - from photographs especially taken. “The Play Pictorial” is a book - original in form and artistic in design, and the volumes form really - splendid gift books. - - - =The Playgoer.= Vols. I, II, and III. Cloth, 5s. nett each. - - “The Playgoer” is an illustrated record of the theatrical world. - - - - - POPULAR FICTION. - - -[Illustration] - - =The Adventures of Mr. Topham: Comedian.= By C. RANGER-GULL (Author of - “The Hypocrite,” “Back to Lilac Land,” “The Serf,” &c.) Cr. 8vo, - cloth, 3s. 6d. Illustrated by Frank Reynolds. - - =Pall Mall Gazette.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull has achieved a really remarkable - success.... The whole book goes with an air and a swing that make it - excellent reading.” - - =Sunday Times.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull may be sincerely congratulated on his - newest book.... In language simple and eloquent and without one - unnecessary word, Mr. Ranger-Gull tells what befel an actor whose - identity is not easily identified.... The best advice we can give to - all who are interested in things “theatric,” is to get and read this - admirably written book at once.” - - - =His Grace’s Grace.= A novel by C. RANGER-GULL (Author of “The Serf,” - “Back to Lilac Land,” “The Hypocrite,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. - - =Standard.=—“Mr. Ranger-Gull is very clever. He can write well, even - brilliantly.... Mr. Ranger-Gull opens his story vigorously, and his - good spirits never flag. The book is brim-full of cleverness.” - - =Sketch.=—“The novel is well constructed and brightly written. The - reader will have only himself to blame if he does not get some good - hearty laughs.” - - =Free Lance.=—“A lively, brilliantly written book, full of wit and - humour and epigram, sparkling from cover to cover is Mr. Ranger-Gull’s - latest novel, ‘His Grace’s Grace.’... There are pages of smart - dialogue which are equal to the best of almost any modern English - writer.” - - =Bookman.=—“We have some charming comedy—a double love interest and - some clever characterisation. A book which is altogether clever and - entertaining throughout.” - - - =The Love Thirst of Elaine.= By S. J. ADAIR FITZ-GERALD (Author of - “Fame the Fiddler,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. - - - =When it was Dark.= By GUY THORNE (Author of “The Oven,” &c.) Crown - 8vo, cloth, 6s. - - - =A Tragic Contract.= By MOUNT HOUMAS. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. - - =Scotsman.=—“A story that carries the reader easily along with it by - the vivacity of its movement. It is written with a pleasant animation - which should not fail to afford enjoyment.” - - =Glasgow Herald.=—“The book evinces strength of conception, and vigour - and grace of elaboration, of which, presumably, more will presently be - heard.” - - =Dundee Courier.=—“The book is a delightful one. It is a dramatic - tale, well told, and is to be highly commended.” - - - =King Philip the Gay.= By REGINALD TURNER (Author of “The Comedy of - Progress,” “The Steeple,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. - - - =The Steeple.= A novel by REGINALD TURNER (Author of “The Comedy of - Progress,” and “Cynthia’s Damages.”) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. - - =The Times.=—“Few readers who take it up will readily lay it down.... - Mr. Turner is successful, and his sketches of men, women, and creeds - are, generally speaking, humorous, shrewd, and suggestive.” - - =Observer.=—“A very well told story; the characters are drawn with - much freshness and clearness of delineation.... Bright and lively - without being flippant. Mr. Turner’s story is decidedly entertaining - and well written, and will probably be popular.” - - =Outlook.=—“A purposeful story altogether out of the common ruck. It - is both daring and convincing. The portrait of Frank Lester is surely - as coolly relentless a thing as has been done for a long time.... It - is excellently and pitilessly done.... We would quote some contingent - excellencies. The chief, perhaps, is Mr. Turner’s dash in carrying off - an extravagant situation.... His, also, is the gift of broad, almost - farcical characterisation. And to these must be added a brisk turn in - narrative, of which scarce a page lacks shining example.” - - - =Mrs. Evelyn’s Husbands.= By THE COMTESSE DE BREMONT (Author of - “Daughters of Pleasure,” “A Son of Africa,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, - 6s. - - - =Wolves.= A novel by ROBT. H. SHERARD. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. - - - =The Marquis Catilini.= A Novel by ROWLAND STRONG. Crown 8vo, cloth, - 6s. - - - =The Jewel Sowers.= By an anonymous Author. Crown 8vo., cloth, 6s. - - - =Mary of Magdala.= By EDGAR SALTUS (Author of “Mr. Incoul’s - Misadventure,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. - - - =Mr. Incoul’s Misadventure.= A novel by EDGAR SALTUS. Crown 8vo, - cloth, 6s. - - =Morning Post.=—“An undeniably powerful work.” - - Mr. Douglas Sladen in the =Queen= says:—“It is admirably written. He - (Mr. Saltus) is the most blasé of writers, but one of the best in - style. He is so terse that he can put a whole scene before you in a - few lines.... His epigrams and phrases are simply admirable.... ‘Mr. - Incoul’s Misadventure’ is a very powerful book.” - - - =Jim Blackwood: Jockey.= By VICTOR MANDELSTAMM (translated by REGINALD - BACCHUS). Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. - - - =Morcar.= An historical tale by THOMAS SCOTT. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. - - - =The Light In Dend’s Wood= and other stories. By THOMAS DAGLESS. Crown - 8vo. cloth, 2s. - - - =The Danger of Innocence.= A novel by COSMO HAMILTON (Author of “The - Glamour of the Impossible,” “Indiscretions,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, - 6s. - - =World.=—“A very sprightly and entertaining volume.” - - =Sunday Special.=—“The author boldly depicts, under obvious - pseudonyms, several well-known, even notorious persons. He has a - bitter pen, and this book is sure to be read,—especially by the - victims.... ‘The Danger of Innocence’ is certain to be popular with - the ‘smart’ set.” - - =Daily Express.=—“A lively and diverting volume. Written in a - satirically humourous vein. The book admirably succeeds in keeping the - reader interested and amused throughout.” - - =Free Lance.=—“It contains pages of screamingly funny description of - well-known society characters and their ways, their talk, and their - attitudes, their slang, and their inanities. Of course, the burlesque - is somewhat highly coloured, as necessarily it had to be, in order to - produce the spontaneous loud laughter at which the author clearly - aims. This is unquestionably most amusing; one of those rare ones - which make you laugh aloud even when you are reading it to yourself - alone.” - - - =Portalone.= A Cornish story by C. RANGER-GULL (Author of “The - Hypocrite,” “Back to Lilac Land,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. - - (_In preparation_). - - - =Paul.= A story of the life, trials, and travels of St. Paul. By GUY - THORNE (Author of “When it was Dark,” “The Oven,” &c.) Crown 8vo, - cloth, 6s. - - (_In preparation_). - - - =The Canon’s Butterfly.= A novel by MAX BARING (Author of “The - Troubles of a Shovel Hat,” &c.) Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. - - - A POPULAR AMERICAN NOVEL. - - =The Day of Prosperity.= A vision of the century to come, by PAUL - DEVINNE. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. - - =Daily Telegraph.=—“It is a clever story, with some strikingly novel - views on political and social economy, and contains much genuine - reflection and foresight.” - - - =Out of the Past.= Stories of the Ancient East by H. G. F. SPURRELL. - Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. - - =Athenæum.=—“The stories—three in number—are concerned with the - horrors and splendours of the mighty monarchies which shared, in - ancient days, the dominion of the East, pre-Roman and pre-Mohammedan. - It must be said he (Mr. Spurrell) has painted a bold picture in lurid - colours; like the art of Assyria, its bulls and lions, it is splendid - and impressive.” - - =Scotsman.=—“Full of life and incident, there are events recorded of a - nature that simply appals. Will be read with great interest. The - writer knows his subject thoroughly, and writes well, and with - dramatic effect.” - - =Literary World.=—“The scenes are placed in the very far-distant past, - when Nineveh and Babylon were still unbuilt, and in the ‘Baratarias’ - of the ancient world. There is some reminiscence of the Arabian Nights - in them, and in barbaric splendour and reckless bloodshed they rival - the productions of Mr. Rider Haggard. As pictures of what may have - been, they are replete with excitement and incident. Mr. Spurrell - writes well.” - - =British Weekly.=—“‘Out of the Past’ takes us into the changeless - East. The Author wears a magic veil, he sleeps and awakes with - wondrous Oriental romances in his brain. They are wild and full of - terrors, but they are fruits of a brisk imagination.” - - - =A Heroine of Reality.= A novel by PERCY VINCENT DONOVAN. Crown 8vo, - cloth, 6s. - - =Literary World.=—“Written in an attractive style. The description of - Swiss scenery is carefully done, and the story as a whole will be read - with interest.” - - =Vanity Fair.=—“The story is briskly and effectively told.” - - =To-Day.=—“Picturesquely staged amid the mountains and valleys of - Switzerland. The interest of this powerful story is centred in an - unhappy middle-aged woman’s taint of drunkenness, and this secret vice - forms the pivot around which the love story of three men for her - daughter revolves. The characters are well drawn, and distinctly more - human than those one is accustomed to meet in the average novel.” - - =Daily Despatch.=—“The Book abounds in many fine situations. It is an - interesting though daring novel.” - - - =The Ice Maiden.= A society novel by “LADY FRIVOL.” Crown 8vo, cloth, - 3s. 6d. - - =Whitehall Review.=—“The writer has a very pretty gift of character - drawing. The characters of the vain and flimsy society women are drawn - with care, knowledge, and vigour.” - - =Glasgow Herald.=—“This tale abounds in romantic sentiment, and in - delineations of smart society.” - - =Free Lance.=—“A strange and lively tale.” - - =Liverpool Courier.=—“A society story on daringly original lines.... A - charming story of modern fashionable life. The book abounds in - unexpected situations, some of which are keenly humourous, and the - different characters talk like men and women.” - - =Daily Express.=—“Smart repartee and scathing conclusions on the ways - and manners of modern society life.” - - =British Weekly.=—“A lively love story.” - - - =The Staff in Flower.= A novel by an anonymous Writer. Crown 8vo, - cloth, 6s. - - =Bookman.=—“It has, what so many novels have not, a definite purpose - and a bold originality of outlook. It is a book which makes one - curious to know who wrote it.” - - =Morning Leader.=—“Written with undoubted strength and thought, and - vigour of language.” - - =Christian World.=—“A story which, despite some boldness, is strong - and original.” - - =Lloyd’s News.=—“It is a distinctly clever book, with many fine - passages in it, and reading it is anything but a tiring task.” - - =Scotsman.=—“Striking incidents in a wasted, miserable life are - related in this story.... A singularly tragic incident brings to a - close a story in which there is a curious admixture of the humorous - and the pathetic.” - - =The World.=—“The vigour and boldness, recklessness indeed, with which - theories are advanced, conclusions are rather wrenched than drawn, and - flung at the reader’s head, give the book an attraction.” - - - - - POPULAR SIXPENNY EDITIONS - - -=The Cry In the Night.= 6d. - - By ARNOLD GOLSWORTHY (“Jingle” of “Pick-me-up.”) - - -=The Angel of the Chimes.= 6d. - - By FORTUNÉ DU BOISGOBEY. - - -=The Convict Colonel.= 6d. - - By FORTUNÉ DU BOISGOBEY. - - -=Jack Sheppard.= 6d. - - By W. HARRISON AINSWORTH. - - -=Dick Turpin=; or “Rookwood.” 6d. - - By W. HARRISON AINSWORTH. - - -=Drink= (L’Assommoir). 6d. - - By EMILE ZOLA. - - -=Dan Leno: Hys Book.= 6d. - - Written by DAN LENO. - - -=Daughters of Pleasure.= 6d. - - By ANNE COMTESSE DE BREMONT, author of “A Son of Africa,” “The - Gentleman Digger,” &c. - - -=The Pottle Papers.= 6d. - - Written by SAUL SMIFF. Illustrated by L. RAVEN HILL. - - -=Seven Nights with Satan.= 6d. - - By J. L. OWEN, author of “The Great Jekyl Diamond.” - - -=In Monte Carlo.= 6d. - - By HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ, author of “Quo Vadis?” - - -=Sapho.= 6d. By ALPHONSE DAUDET. - - -=Some Legends of the Fells.= 6d. - - By C. BARLOW-MASSICKS. - - -=The Adventures of Ulysses.= 6d. - - By C. RANGER-GULL. - - - Complete Illustrated Catalogue Post Free on Application. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - 2. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed. - 3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_. - 4. Enclosed bold font in =equals=. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JEWEL SOWERS *** - -***** This file should be named 64223-0.txt or 64223-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/2/2/64223/ - -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 an eBook, except by following -the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use -of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for -copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very -easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation -of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project -Gutenberg eBooks 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 other than 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 will 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 the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager 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 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 - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without -widespread 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. |