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diff --git a/old/65401-0.txt b/old/65401-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index adc27ec..0000000 --- a/old/65401-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10207 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Perfect Fool, by Florence Warden - -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: A Perfect Fool - A Novel - -Author: Florence Warden - -Release Date: May 21, 2021 [eBook #65401] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: MWS, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading - Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from - images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERFECT FOOL *** - -+-------------------------------------------------+ -|Transcriber’s note: | -| | -|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected. | -| | -+-------------------------------------------------+ - - -A PERFECT FOOL. - -A Novel, - - -BY - -FLORENCE WARDEN, - -AUTHOR OF - -“A WILD WOOING,” “A WITCH OF THE HILLS,” -“THE HOUSE ON THE MARSH,” ETC. - - -_IN ONE VOLUME._ - - -LONDON: -F. V. WHITE & CO., -14, BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C. -1896. - - - - -PRINTED BY -KELLY AND CO. LIMITED, 182, 183 AND 184, HIGH HOLBORN, W.C., -AND KINGSTON-ON-THAMES. - - - - -CONTENTS. - -CHAP. PAGE - I.--THE GREAT MAN OF A LITTLE TOWN 1 - - II.--THE GREAT MAN’S HOUSE 13 - - III.--THE GREAT MAN’S SMILE 23 - - IV.--THE GREAT MAN FROWNS 30 - - V.--MASTER AND MAN 35 - - VI.--MUSIC HATH CHARMS 44 - - VII.--A PORTRAIT 52 - - VIII.--THE STRANGE FACE IN THE EAST WING 61 - - IX.--MR. BRADFIELD’S “SMART” RELATIONS 73 - - X.--MRS. GRAHAM-SHUTE’S MANŒUVRES 81 - - XI.--AMATEUR CHARITY 90 - - XII.--AN ALARM 97 - - XIII.--MR. RICHARD SURPRISES CHRIS 108 - - XIV.--STELFOX IS RETICENT 117 - - XV.--THE HANDSOME STRANGER 129 - - XVI.--MR. RICHARD’S MANIA 138 - - XVII.--A STRANGE MANIA 144 - - XVIII.--THE BALL 151 - - XIX.--MR. BRADFIELD RECEIVES A SHOCK 162 - - XX.--MR. BRADFIELD WELCOMES AN OLD FRIEND 168 - - XXI.--MR. MARRABLE’S MERRY CHRISTMAS 175 - - XXII.--LEFT OUT IN THE COLD 186 - - XXIII.--AN AWKWARD QUESTION 193 - - XXIV.--A LUNATIC’S LETTER 204 - - XXV.--AN APPEAL 211 - - XXVI.--A SECRET CORRESPONDENCE 217 - - XXVII.--A HOUSE-WARMING 223 - -XXVIII.--NIGHT ALARMS 233 - - XXIX.--A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE 240 - - XXX.--MR. MARRABLE AGAIN 248 - - XXXI.--BLACK-MAIL 256 - - XXXII.--A RESURRECTION 263 - -XXXIII.--A LOVE-SCENE 273 - - XXXIV.--MASTER OF THE SITUATION 283 - - XXXV.--STELFOX IS RETICENT NO LONGER 289 - - XXXVI.--VICTORY 295 - - - - -A PERFECT FOOL. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -THE GREAT MAN OF A LITTLE TOWN. - - -“My dear, the girl’s a perfect fool. What her poor mother is going to -do with her I don’t know. As for teaching, I don’t believe she knows -anything herself. And as for getting married, why, I’m perfectly -certain she doesn’t know beef from mutton, and couldn’t tell the -difference between a cabbage and a cauliflower. I should be very sorry -for the man who took Chris Abercarne for a wife!” - -So spoke one of Chris Abercarne’s mother’s friends to another old lady, -who was of exactly the same way of thinking, as a pretty girl, with -dark-brown hair and merry dark blue eyes, passed the window of a dull -house in a dull road in that part of Hammersmith which calls itself -West Kensington. - -Indeed, matters had come to a serious point with Chris and her mother. -The widow of an officer in the army, Mrs. Abercarne, having only the -one child, had got on very comfortably for some years, until one of -those periodical upheavals of “things in the city” had caused a sudden -diminution of her small income, and brought the two ladies face to face -with actual instead of conventional, poverty. Poor Mrs. Abercarne felt -utterly helpless; and Chris, merry Chris who hitherto had had nothing -to do but to laugh and keep her mother and her friends in good spirits, -found with surprising suddenness that some aspects of life are no -laughing matter. - -At first there had been a vague tendency on the ladies’ part to trust -to the help of their rich and well-born relations. But this tendency -was checked very early by the uncompromising tone of their relations’ -letters. It was clear that to get out of their difficulties they had no -one but themselves to rely upon. Mrs. Abercarne was a hopeful woman, -however, with an enormous belief in her own untried powers. She had -an unacknowledged belief that nothing very dreadful ever did, or ever -could, happen to the widow of a Colonel, who was also the granddaughter -of an Admiral, and first cousin to the son of a Marquis. She would -manage, so she said a hundred times, to pull herself and her “little -daughter” through their difficulties. - -Chris she had always treated as a baby, a very sweet and charming -child, but a creature to be tenderly cared for and played with, not to -be trusted or confided in. Mrs. Abercarne had old-fashioned notions -about the bringing-up of girls, and she would have been reduced to her -last crust before consenting to allow her daughter to leave her, except -as a wife. - -Now Chris, without daring openly to combat her mother’s opinion that -she was a mere baby, unfit by reason of her tender years to have a -voice in any serious discussion, had her own views as to the wisdom of -her adored mother’s behaviour, over which she brooded in secret. She -could not help feeling that she was by no means the helpless creature -her mother and her mother’s friends imagined, and she set about -devising plans whereby she might bring such wits as she possessed to -their common aid. - -To this end she used to buy _The Times_, and the other daily papers, -and search their columns with a view to finding a rapid and easy way of -making a fortune. - -According to these same papers, nothing in the world was so simple. -You had only to send fourteen stamps to somebody with an address in an -obscure street, to learn the golden secret of “realising a competence -without hindrance to present employment.” - -“As our present employment consists generally in sitting looking at the -fire, with our hands clasped, wondering where the next quarter’s rent -is to come from,” she remarked to her mother, who looked upon these -exercises as trivial, “it wouldn’t matter if we were hindered in it!” - -Although Mrs. Abercarne felt convinced that the brilliant prospect was -illusory, and the work offered would be something inconsistent with the -dignity of a gentlewoman, she was always ready to supply the necessary -fourteen stamps, and she waited with quite as much anxiety as her -daughter for the answers they received to their applications. These -answers were, unfortunately, nearly all of the same kind. The applicant -for the fortune was to sell small and, for the most part, useless -articles on commission among his or her friends. - -“And you know, mamma,” commented Chris, sorrowfully, as she looked at -a pair of aluminium studs which had been sent in return for the latest -fourteen stamps, “as our commission is only threepence on each pair, if -we had forty thousand friends and each friend bought a pair of studs -from us, that would be only four hundred and ninety-eight pounds ten -shillings! I’ve worked it out, and that isn’t what I should call a -fortune, after all!” - -Her mother sighed, and then said, rather petulantly, that she had known -those advertisements were only nonsense, and she hoped she would not -want to waste any more money in that way. - -“No, mother,” said Chris gently. - -And then the blood rushed up into her face, as her eye caught sight -in the columns of the newspaper before her, of an advertisement of a -different kind. - -“If I only dared!” she thought as she threw a sly glance at her -mother’s worried face. But she did not dare, until presently she saw a -tear drop suddenly on to her mother’s dark dress. - -In a moment Chris was on her knees. Her pretty, round young face was -full of eagerness, as well as of sympathy, and in the touch of her -arms, as they closed round her mother’s neck, there was the clinging -caress of one who entreats. - -“Mother--mother!” whispered she breathlessly, “don’t be angry--you -mustn’t. Only--only I have something to say--something you must see. -Look here!” and she thrust the newspaper into Mrs. Abercarne’s hands, -and placed the lady’s white fingers on a certain paragraph. “Read that!” - -Drying her eyes hastily, ashamed to have been detected, Mrs. Abercarne -did as she was asked to do. But the words she read conveyed no meaning -to her, or, at least, she pretended they did not. But a slight tone of -acerbity was noticeable in her voice as she answered; and Chris knew -that her mother understood. - -“Well, my dear,” said the Colonel’s widow, with bland dignity, which -she meant to denote unconsciousness, “I see nothing that can possibly -interest you or me in the lines you have pointed out. Your finger must -have slipped, I think.” - -“Read the lines aloud, mother dear,” whispered Chris, caressing her -mother’s hand. - -Still with the same imperfect assumption of extreme innocence, Mrs. -Abercarne read by the light of the fire the following advertisement: - - - “WANTED, a thoroughly reliable and trustworthy woman, with - daughter preferred, as house-keeper in a large establishment, - where the owner is often away. Apply by letter only in the first - instance, to J. B., Wyngham House, Wyngham-on-Sea.” - - -“Well, my dear child,” said Mrs. Abercarne, superbly, as she laid down -the paper, “surely that is not what you wanted me to read?” - -But Chris buried her head in her mother’s shoulder. - -“Yes, but it is, though,” she whispered. - -Of course, the elder lady had expected this; equally, of course, she -had to affect the utmost amazement. - -“And is it possible, my dear Christina,” she murmured, gently, “that -you can consider the words, ‘a reliable and trustworthy woman,’ -applicable to me?” - -But here, luckily for the girl, her sense of fun carried her away, -and she laughed until she cried. Her tears, however, were not all of -merriment. - -“Why, certainly, mother,” said she merrily. “I should be very indignant -with any person who said they were not! Look here,” she went on with -sudden gravity, “what’s the use of pretending any longer that we can -live on in the old way, when you know we can’t? What’s the use of -keeping up this house, and having servants, whom we don’t see how we -shall be able to pay, when we dread every knock of the postman, because -it may be more bills? Mother--mother, do let us give it up. Don’t let -us play any longer at being anything but dreadfully poor. Let us face -it, and make the best of it.” - -“What!” exclaimed the poor lady, whose pitiful pride, to do her -justice, was much more concerned with her beautiful young daughter’s -position than with her own; “and be a housekeeper! Just an upper -servant; and, perhaps, have this horrid man asking you to mend the -tablecloths and count the clothes for the wash!” - -“Well, mother, I shouldn’t mind,” said Chris laughing; “and it’s too -bad to call him a horrid man, when the worst thing the poor fellow -has been guilty of, so far, is to advertise for a housekeeper for his -‘large establishment.’ Oh! mother, wouldn’t you like to be at the head -of a large establishment again, even if it were somebody else’s!” - -But Mrs. Abercarne shook her head. Her daughter’s persuasions--perhaps -the very novelty of her child’s trying to persuade seriously at -all--were taking their effect upon her; but it was an effect which -produced in the poor gentlewoman the most acute shame and misery. - -“What would Lord Llanfyllin say?” murmured she. - -“What could he say except that it was a good deal better to keep -somebody else’s house, than to starve in one’s own?” retorted Chris, -brightly. “And as he’s never seen me, or taken the slightest notice of -you since poor papa died, we really needn’t trouble ourselves about -him at all.” - -This was self-evident, but Mrs. Abercarne did not like to be reminded -of the fact. Her cousin, by a remote cousinship, Lord Llanfyllin, had -forgotten her very existence years ago; but in the most sacred recesses -of her heart he still sat enthroned, symbol of all that was greatest -and noblest in the land and of her connection with it. She liked to -think that her actions mattered to him; and to be reminded of the fact -that they did not, was eminently distasteful to her. - -The postman, soon after this, came to the aid of Chris and her -arguments by bringing the usual batch of worrying letters with bills -and threats. With a burst of tears Mrs. Abercarne gave way, and with -her daughter’s soothing arms around her neck answered the loathsome -advertisement with an eager hope in her heart that her letter would -remain unnoticed by the advertiser. - -Poor lady! she was disappointed. Two days later she received an answer -to her letter, written in the neat hand of a man of business, in the -following words: - - - “DEAR MADAM,--Please state terms and approximate age of self and - daughter; also date when able to come. - - “Yours faithfully, - “JOHN BRADFIELD.” - - -Mrs. Abercarne felt stupefied, almost frightened. - -“You said most likely he’d not even answer!” she said, reproachfully, -to her daughter. - -But Chris, who felt that the honour or the shame of this undertaking -would devolve upon her, was full of excitement, and did not rest until -she had hurried her mother into an answer intimating that they would be -willing to become inmates of his house, and that Mrs. Abercarne would -undertake the superintendence of his establishment for an honorarium of -sixty pounds a year. - -“As for telling him my age, Christina,” went on the lady, haughtily, -“that I certainly shall not do. I consider the request most -impertinent, and it seems to me to prove conclusively that, however -well off he may be, this Mr. John Bradfield is not a gentleman.” - -“Very well, mother; you didn’t need tell him your age; you can tell -him mine. And then he can guess yours pretty nearly,” she added, with -a mischievous laugh. “It looks rather as if we thought we were doing -him a great favour by condescending to accept his money and live -comfortably in his house, doesn’t it?” she said, when she had glanced -through her mother’s letter. - -This was exactly Mrs. Abercarne’s view of the transaction, and she was -rather shocked to find that it was not also her daughter’s. So she -tried hard to impress upon Chris, who listened dutifully and without -comment, that when two women of gentle birth and breeding took upon -themselves such an appointment, they were indeed conferring upon the -individual whose humble duty it was to maintain them in such a position -an honour and a priceless boon. - -Chris, who was beginning secretly to indulge in the luxury of opinions -of her own, grew rather anxious lest her mother’s peculiarities of -style should frighten Mr. John Bradfield, and induce him to bestow the -“appointment” in question upon some mother and daughter less well-born, -perhaps, but at the same time less graciously condescending and more -accommodating. She watched eagerly for the postman for the next few -days, and when another letter did arrive in the neat, business-like -hand, her fingers trembled as she ran with it to her mother. Then -Chris noticed that Mrs. Abercarne, while still careful to affect -the haughtiest indifference, was really as anxious as she as to the -contents of the letter. Indeed, the poor lady had more debts and more -difficulties than she let her child know anything about, and she was by -this time wondering what would become of them if Mr. Bradfield should -decide not to avail himself of her condescending offer. - -This was the letter: - - - “DEAR MADAM,--Leave Charing Cross to-morrow (Thursday), at - 3.30 you will reach Wyngham at 6.5 (if you don’t get into the - wrong train when you change at Abbey Marsh), and you will find - a conveyance at the station to bring you to the house.--Yours - faithfully, - - “JOHN BRADFIELD.” - - -Mrs. Abercarne drew a long breath. - -“To-morrow!” she gasped. “Oh, Chris! we must give the whole thing up. -The man is evidently quite mad. I shouldn’t wonder if the place were to -turn out to be a private lunatic asylum. To-morrow!” - -And the poor lady, bitterly disappointed, although she would not own -it, fell to laughing hysterically. Chris threw her arms round her -neck; she did not mean the project to fall through now. - -“Why not to-morrow, as well as any other day, mother, and get it over?” -suggested she. “He isn’t mad, I expect. Only eccentric. You know -that people who live in the country always grow eccentric and very -self-willed. Don’t give up until you have seen what he is like.” - -To the girl’s mind nothing could be more enchanting than the prospect -of missing the round of farewell visits, the half-sincere condolences -of her mother’s large circle of friends, the dread of facing whom had -been haunting her; and in the end Chris had her way, and by a mighty -effort everything was packed that night, except a few necessaries which -Chris herself unmethodically rammed into the trunks on the following -morning, while Mrs. Abercarne made a rapid circuit of such friends as -lived near, that she might not quite miss the ceremony and the sympathy -of a formal leave-taking. - -Mrs. Abercarne had scarcely recovered the breath which Mr. Bradfield’s -last letter had taken away, when the train, on a cold but fine November -evening, arrived at Wyngham station. - -There were few people on the platform, but there was a footman -evidently looking out for some one, and Chris suggested that it must -be for them, and her guess was correct. The man got their luggage out, -under the supervision of Mrs. Abercarne, and as the lady had thought -proper to bring a great many more trunks than she really wanted in -order to give a sense of her dignity and importance, this was a work of -time. - -Meanwhile Chris, by her mother’s direction, stood back a little, and -to be under her mother’s eye, waited. She was stiff and cold, and she -stood first on one leg, and then on the other, weary and impatient at -her mother’s lengthy proceedings. - -“You can sit down on that bench if you’re tired. There’s no extra -charge,” said a harsh voice, ironically, close to her ear. - -She turned quickly, and saw a man rather under than over the middle -height, of spare figure, and hard-featured face, who was standing by -the book-stall, turning over the leaves of a Christmas number. He wore -a long frieze overcoat, which enveloped him from his chin to his heels, -and a little cap to match, which hid his eyes. - -Little as she could see of him, Chris instantly jumped to the -conclusion that this was Mr. Bradfield himself. - -“He wouldn’t order me about like that if he were not,” she said to -herself. And she felt rather frightened, wondering how her mother would -receive this style of address, and picturing to herself the “awful row” -there would be between the two at or very soon after their very first -interview. - -She said “Thank you,” rather timidly, and took the suggestion offered, -rather to prevent further conversation than because she wished to rest. -When her mother had finished with the luggage, Chris ran towards her, -to check any verbal indiscretion of the kind she had been indulging in -on the way down, concerning the supposed unpleasant idiosyncrasies of -the master of Wyngham House. - -But she was too late. - -“Very bucolic domestics this gentleman seems to have. Let us hope we -shall not see their characteristics repeated in the master,” said Mrs. -Abercarne, in a voice loud enough for the man at the bookstall to hear, -as she and her daughter met. - -The man in the frieze overcoat turned round, and regarded the speaker -with an amused stare, which that lady chose to consider very offensive. -She turned her back upon him sharply, therefore, as she went on -speaking to Chris, who looked frightened. The man in the frieze coat -walked away. - -“What extremely bad manners these rustics have!” exclaimed Mrs. -Abercarne, before he was well out of hearing. - -“Sh-sh, mamma! We don’t know who he is,” said Chris, in a terror-struck -whisper. - -Mrs. Abercarne was going to retort rather sharply, when a thought, a -suspicion, perhaps the same that had alarmed her daughter, made her -pause, and turn abruptly to the porter who was standing behind her. - -“Who is that man?” she asked, quickly. - -“Which man, ma’am?” - -“The man in the long coat; the man who was standing at the bookstall.” - -The porter stared at her. He seemed to think she must be joking to make -such an inquiry, and in such a tone. - -“The gentleman who has just gone out, ma’am?” ejaculated he, repeating -her words with a difference; “why, that gentleman is Mr. Bradfield of -the big house!” - -And he made the announcement in the tone of one who rebukes a -blasphemer. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -THE GREAT MAN’S HOUSE. - - -Poor Mrs. Abercarne tried to look as if she didn’t mind, but the -attempt was a failure. It was with uneasy hearts and troubled -countenances that both she and her daughter went through the station -and got into the comfortable carriage which was waiting for them -outside. - -Then, when they were well on their way, Chris rashly tried to comfort -her. - -“Never mind, mother,” whispered she, tucking her hand lovingly under -her mother’s arm, and speaking in a bright voice which expressed more -cheerfulness than she felt. “Perhaps he didn’t hear. And, after all, -you didn’t say anything so very dreadful, did you?” she added, trying -to ignore those awful last words about the bad manners of rustics. “I -daresay he knows himself that his footman looks rather round-faced and -rosy.” - -“Indeed, Chris, it matters very little to me whether he heard or not,” -answered Mrs. Abercarne, quickly “These people must expect to hear the -truth of themselves sometimes; and it cannot possibly affect us for -as you know, we have only come here, as one may say, for the fun of -the thing, and nothing would induce us to stay here permanently in the -house of such a barbaric person as you can see for yourself this Mr. -Bradfield is.” - -And Mrs. Abercarne, having run herself quite out of breath in her -haste to persuade Chris that her conduct had been singularly discreet -and full of tact, sat back and looked out of the carriage window at the -sea. - -Chris had the wisdom to murmur, “Yes, mamma,” and then to say nothing -more except a few comments on the street through which they were -passing. She was dreading the reception they would meet with at the -hands of the justly-offended owner of Wyngham House. For the first -time she realised the disagreeable nature of their position, the fact -that they came, not as visitors, but as hired dependents on the good -pleasure of a stranger, who could, if he chose, even send them about -their business with the curt intimation that their services would not -be wanted. - -To dispel these gloomy thoughts, or, at least, to prevent her mother -from guessing what troubled her, Chris looked about her as they drove -along. - -She saw, in the first place, that Wyngham was a garrison town, for the -red coats of soldiers made pleasant spots of colour in the straight, -narrow old street. This street changed gradually in character, until -the shops and inns gave place to houses of a more or less modern type; -and, at last, these dwellings came to an abrupt end on one side of the -road, and there was nothing but a strip of waste land, and a strip -beyond that of sharply shelving beach, between them and the sea. - -Chris, straining her eyes in the darkness, could see lights twinkling -on the ships as they passed, and she gave a cry of delight. She had -lived near the sea at one time, for Mrs. Abercarne had had a house at -Southsea in her more prosperous days. But it was some years since that -bright period was over, and Chris had grown reconciled to the fogs of -London since then. The sight, and the smell of the sea filled her with -vivid sensations of pleasure. She remembered the bright sun and the -breezy walks, and her heart seemed to rise at a bound, only to sink the -next moment with the despairing thought that her mother had made their -stay in this delightful place impossible. - -The same thought may have crossed her mother’s mind also, for Mrs. -Abercarne made no comment on her daughter’s exclamations of pleasure, -but sat in silence for the rest of the drive. - -Wyngham House was a little way out of the town, and was so close to -the sea, that the ocean looked, as Chris afterwards expressed it, like -a lake in the grounds. It was approached from the inland side by a -short carriage drive, and was surrounded by grounds of some natural -beauty, but of no great pretension. The house, which was built in -the Italian style, and painted white, was large and rather pretty. -It was approached by a porch in which, as the carriage drove up, a -man-servant, in livery, was waiting to receive the new arrivals. Chris -peeped about anxiously for the master of the house, and even Mrs. -Abercarne betrayed to her daughter’s eyes certain signs of nervous -apprehension. But there was no one to be seen except the respectful and -stolid-looking butler, and a neat housemaid, who was waiting inside the -entrance hall to show them upstairs. - -“You would like to go straight up to your rooms, ma’am, would you not?” -asked the maid, smiling. “There is a fire in the drawing-room, but it’s -only just been lit, and it’s rather cold in there.” - -Mrs. Abercarne answered that they should like to go to their rooms; and -she spoke very graciously, being mollified by the civility of their -reception. For the butler had even delivered his master’s apologies -for not receiving them in person, pleading a business appointment. The -sharp eyes of Chris, however, detected that a door on the left, just -inside the inner hall, was ajar, and that a hand, wearing a signet -ring, which she recognised as Mr. Bradfield’s, was visible between -the door-post and the door. This fact depressed her. Surely, if Mr. -Bradfield had overlooked her mother’s indiscretion, he would, instead -of spying upon their entrance, have come out and welcomed them himself. -She felt sure that before the evening was over there would be a scene -which would result in their leaving the place. And this thought, which -had caused her a little distress before, caused her a great deal more -now. - -For Chris perceived, as soon as she stepped inside the house, that she -was in a sort of fairy palace, the like of which she had never seen -before. Both halls were hung with rich tapestries, whether old or new -she did not know, but the effect of which was of luxury, beauty, and -romance, which fired her young imagination while it charmed her eyes. -From the ceiling hung lamps of various patterns, from the many-coloured -Chinese lantern, with its pictures and hanging strings of beads, to the -graceful modern Italian lamp of shining silver, with its flying cupids -and richly-ornamented chains. Over a beautiful carved marble fireplace -hung a priceless picture, a genuine Murillo, the dark colours of which -stood out in sombre relief against its massive gilt frame. On each -side beautiful and interesting objects claimed the attention of the -new-comers. Chris, younger and more impressionable than her mother, -lingered behind, and cast admiring looks at Florentine cabinets, rare -old china vases, and trophies of ancient armour, which were among the -beautiful and curious things with which the inner hall was stored. - -Turning to the left they came to the staircase, the balustrade of -which was so elaborately carved as to be magnificent to the eye, and -particularly uncomfortable to the hand. - -“That’s the study,” whispered the housemaid, as she led them past a -door on the left, up the first short flight of stairs. - -And from the respectful glance and the lowered tone Chris guessed that -the master of the house passed most of his time in that apartment, and -also that he was held in some awe by his servants. - -They passed on, up a second flight of stairs, to the right, noticing as -they went a dazzling collection of curious and interesting objects, old -hanging clocks and cupboards, rare Oriental plates and bowls, weapons, -helmets, and ancient shields. As they proceeded up the second flight of -stairs they found themselves surrounded on all sides by pictures, old -and new, paintings in oils and drawings in water-colour, with which the -walls were so well covered that scarcely a glimpse could be caught of -the dark red distemper which was the background to the gilt frames. - -At the top of the stairs they came to a corridor which ran the whole -length of the main body of the house; and this was a veritable museum -of beautiful and curious cabinets, high-backed chairs, the seats of -which were covered with ancient tapestry, Dresden clocks, models of -Indian temples, canoes, and of curiosities so many and so various that -Chris grew confused and walked as if in a dream with only one conscious -thought--the fear of falling against some precious rarity, and drawing -upon herself eternal disgrace and confusion. - -Mrs. Abercarne being, although she would not betray the fact, full -of nervous apprehension, as well as of vexation at her altered and -degraded position, saw less than her daughter did; but even she, with -her additional disadvantage of being short-sighted, began to be aware -that her surroundings were of a very exceptional kind. - -“Dear me,” she exclaimed, stopping short and raising the gold double -eye-glass she carried, as a beautiful porcelain vase caught her eye. -“Why, that must be Dresden, old Dresden. Your master has very excellent -taste. There are some beautiful things here. It’s quite a museum!” - -She spoke in a patronising manner to the maid, glad of an opportunity -to show what a very superior person she was. For a taste for old china -does not come by nature. - -But the housemaid was a superior person also. - -“Oh, yes,” she answered with surprise. “Don’t you know that Mr. -Bradfield’s collection is famous, and that people write and ask him to -see it, quite as if he was royalty! We’ve had a Duke here, looking at -those very things, and wishing they were his, and saying so!” - -And the maid smiled with a sense of her own share in the glory that the -Duke’s visit had cast upon the establishment. - -They went the whole length of the corridor, and were shown into a -bedroom on the right, the window of which looked inland. It was rather -a small room, this fact being emphasised by the quantity of handsome -and costly furniture with which it was filled. Before a carved white -stone fireplace, fitted with pretty tiles, another housemaid was -kneeling. She started up when the ladies came in. - -“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” said she; “the fire will draw up directly, -and the room will soon be warm. It was only ten minutes ago master told -me you were to have this room, instead of the one in the wing.” - -Chris caught a frown from the other housemaid, intimating that this -information was not wanted. Then the second housemaid having said she -would bring them some hot water, the ladies were left to themselves. - -Chris, tired as she was, spent the next ten minutes alternately in an -ecstacy of high spirits, and a fit of deep depression; the former the -result of her delight in her surroundings, the latter the effect of her -belief that she would soon have to leave them. - -“I wonder why he ordered our room to be changed?” she whispered to her -mother, as she admired in turn the handsome brass bedstead, with its -spread of silk and lace, the rosewood furniture, the little lady’s -writing-table, the cosy sofa and easy-chair. “Have we been sent up or -sent down? If we have been sent up, the bedroom in the wing must have -been gorgeous indeed. Mother, this bed is too magnificent to sleep -in; and as for the so-called dressing-room next door,” and she peeped -through a door which communicated with a second and rather smaller -room, “it is a cross between a museum and a palatial boudoir.” - -Mrs. Abercarne, of course, took these marvels more quietly. She -understood quite well that she was in an exceptionally beautiful and -well-fitted house; but she did not care to acknowledge that it was -anything out of the common to her. The ingenuous delight of Chris, -therefore, rather annoyed her, so that at last the girl had to become -apologetic. - -“You know, mother,” she whispered humbly, “I have never seen anything -so beautiful in all my life as this place and I can’t help noticing it. -You see, you were well-off once, and used to beautiful houses. But you -know that to me everything seems new and wonderful.” - -And Mrs. Abercarne repented of her petulant rebuke, remembering, with -tears in her eyes, that Chris had had indeed very little experience of -luxury. - -They had been told that dinner would be ready in a few minutes, so -Chris opened the door a little way, waiting for a further announcement -to be made to them. At the opposite side of the corridor, and a little -nearer than their door to the very end of it, a maidservant was coming -in and out of another door. A few steps further down the maid was met -by the footman with a tray. He began to express his feelings in tones -which reached the ears of Chris. - -“Well, this is a rum start!” he said confidentially to the housemaid as -he passed her. “Everything was ready for two in the housekeeper’s room; -but now it seems that the basement isn’t good enough, and we’re to dine -upstairs like the quality.” - -“Hold your tongue,” whispered the girl, laughing. “Be a good boy, and -you will see what you will see.” - -And she tripped past him, and left him to go on his way along the -corridor. - -Chris did not repeat to her mother the scrap of conversation she -had overheard; but it increased her own feelings of curiosity and -bewilderment. - -“Do you think Mr. Bradfield will dine with us, mother?” she asked, as -she softly closed the door. - -The words were hardly out of her mouth when there was a knock at the -door, and the footman announced that dinner was ready for them in the -Chinese-room. The two ladies were then shown into an apartment so -pretty that Chris felt constrained to keep her eyes down, in deference -to her mother’s wishes, lest her unseemly delight should be noticed by -the servants. - -It was indeed a most beautiful room which they now entered. Windows -on two sides were at this time covered by the drawn curtains, and -these, of dark blue silk, richly embroidered with conventional Chinese -figures, gave a striking character to the apartment. The walls were -lined with bookcases well filled with books, while in the corner, close -to a fireplace beautifully decorated in the modern style, a piano -stood temptingly open. A cabinet entirely full of Chinese models and -toys carved in ivory filled the remaining space against the walls, -while under one window stood a long writing-table, and under the other -two low-seated easy-chairs. In the middle of the room a small table -had been laid for dinner for two persons; and this again excited the -admiration of Chris by the quaint beauty of the old silver, and the -magnificence of the Crown Derby dinner-service. - -The room was lighted entirely by wax candles, in massive silver -candlesticks, and this luxurious light completed the charm which her -surroundings had thrown over Chris. The girl had been hungry on her -first arrival, but she now found herself too much excited to eat. She -felt that in this house of marvels something must surely be going to -happen, and each time the door opened she glanced towards it with eager -eyes. - -When at last the crowning charm of the meal had arrived in the shape of -dessert, served on the daintiest of Sèvres china, and the footman had -left them to themselves, Chris drew a long breath. - -“Mamma!” she said, in a voice in which girlish merriment struggled -with a little real awe, “this is too much. It is so mysterious that it -frightens me. All this magnificence just for the housekeeper and her -daughter! Everything served in the most gorgeous manner, and no master -to be seen. Why, it’s just like Beauty and the Beast!” - -A short laugh frightened her so much that she started up from her -chair. Mr. Bradfield, in a rough shooting-suit, stood just inside the -room. - -“That’s it, Miss Abernethy, or Miss Apricot, or whatever your name is,” -said he grimly. “And I’m the Beast.” - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE GREAT MAN’S SMILE. - - -Chris had jumped up from her chair in an uncontrollable impulse of -terror at the sound of Mr. Bradfield’s voice, although he spoke in -tones which betrayed more amusement than annoyance. She looked so much -alarmed that even her mother smiled, while the great man himself nearly -laughed outright. - -“Ah--ha!” said he, shaking his head in pretended menace. “You did not -think you would so soon hear him roar, did you?” - -Chris, still white, and with tears starting to her eyes, stammered some -sort of incoherent apology. Mrs. Abercarne, pitying the poor child, who -was indeed most miserable at this fresh mishap, addressed the dreaded -employer in a stately and dignified fashion. - -“You must forgive my daughter, sir,” she began, with a great -affectation of deference. Indeed, her humility was so deep, so laboured -in expression, as to constitute almost an offence, implying as it did -that her natural position was so lofty, that it required a good deal -of make-believe to bring herself into a semblance of inferiority to -him. “She had no intention of offending you, I can assure you. Her -words were merely idle ones, uttered in girlish folly, and without the -slightest idea that you were near enough to overhear them.” - -Mrs. Abercarne slightly emphasised these last words, just to remind him -that in approaching without warning he had committed a breach of what -she considered good form. - -So far from appearing to be impressed by the gentle rebuke, Mr. -Bradfield proceeded to offend more deeply. Merely nodding to the -elderly lady, without the formality of a glance in her direction, he -kept his eyes fixed upon Chris as he took a step forward, which brought -him into the corner by the piano, and in front of the fireplace. Here -he stood for a few moments in perfect silence, still looking at the -young girl, and rubbing his hands softly, the one over the other, in -the warmth of the fire. Chris, who, instead of being pale, was now -crimson, looked at the carpet and remained standing, wishing she had -never persuaded her mother to take this degrading position, and feeling -acutely that if they had come as visitors, and not as dependents, Mr. -Bradfield would never have dared to stare at her in this persistent and -insulting manner. - -Mrs. Abercarne, older and more self-possessed, was able to get a good -view of the man on whom so much now depended, and to form some sort of -opinion as to their chances of staying in this luxurious home. - -Mr. Bradfield was not handsome, neither was he of very distinguished -appearance. A little below the middle height, neither stout nor thin, -there was nothing more striking about him than his very black whiskers, -moustache and eyebrows, and a certain steady stare of his sharp grey -eyes, which was rather disconcerting, since it gave the idea that he -was always inwardly taking stock of the person on whom his eyes were -fixed. - -“Girlish folly?” he repeated at last. “Do you plead guilty to that, -Miss--Miss----” Here he paused, hunted in his pockets, and producing -Mrs. Abercarne’s letter, turned to the signature. “Miss Abercarne. You -must excuse me, but I have had a good deal of correspondence the last -few days, and I haven’t taken proper note of your name. Now,” he went -on, still ignoring the elderly lady altogether, “do you still plead -guilty to girlish folly, Miss Abercarne?” - -“Yes,” murmured Chris, “and I am very sorry.” - -“Not at all, not at all. You were quite right. I am a beast, and -you--well, you know best whether the other title applies to you.” - -“My daughter would be the last person to think so,” broke in Mrs. -Abercarne, with just enough emphasis to show that it was to herself -that he ought to be addressing his conversation; “she would no more -think of calling herself a beauty, than she would of--of----” - -“Calling me a beast?” added Mr. Bradfield, turning upon her so quickly -that she drew her breath sharply, as if she had been frightened. “Well, -and where would be the harm, when her mother set her the example? Oh, -you can’t deny it. What was it I heard you say about me at the station? -That I was more of a rustic than my own servants, and that my manners -were--I forget what; but _you_ remember, I daresay. Perhaps you will be -kind enough to repeat your criticism now that we are both calm, and I -will try and profit by it.” - -It was Mrs. Abercarne’s turn to be out of countenance, and her -daughter’s to glance at her in some amusement. For Chris saw by Mr. -Bradfield’s manner that she and her mother would not have to suffer for -their verbal indiscretions. - -“You must have misunderstood what I said,” said Mrs. Abercarne, -regaining her composure again very quickly, and speaking with a bland -dignity which made contradiction almost an impossibility. - -But Mr. Bradfield was a man used to performing impossibilities, and he -laughed in her face. - -“Not a bit of it,” said he shortly. “It was the truth of your -observation that made it so striking. I _am_ a rustic, and as -bucolic-looking as my servants. There’s just the hope, of course, that -the influence of your own grand manners may have a good effect upon -mine.” - -“Indeed,” said Mrs. Abercarne, with spirit, “I should have thought, -sir, that if you believe us capable of so much rudeness you would -scarcely wish us, or rather wish me,” she corrected, “to enter -your--your--your service.” - -She got the obnoxious word out at last, with the same deliberate -emphasis that she had used on the word “sir.” Mr. Bradfield evidently -got impatient. - -“I told you I didn’t mind,” he said, shortly. “What does it matter what -you please to think of me or my manners? If you had thought my looks -or my manners so important you would have made inquiries about them -before coming, wouldn’t you? You would have written: ‘Dear Sir,--Please -send reference as to your appearance and general behaviour.’ As you -didn’t write me like that, I take it for granted you did not care what -my manners were, any more than I cared about yours. I take it that -our coming together was a matter of mutual convenience, and that as -long as we don’t get in each other’s way we need trouble ourselves -no more about each other’s personality than if we were in separate -hemispheres. Well, then, I can promise you at least that I won’t get -in your way any more than I can help.” - -Mr. Bradfield delivered this speech with his back to the fire and his -hands clasped behind him. From time to time, as he spoke, he cast -furtive glances at Chris, but he did not look once at the lady he was -addressing. Mrs. Abercarne, however made up her mind to put up with -his peculiarities, so she uttered a curious little sound, which passed -by courtesy for a laugh of appreciation of his humour, and graciously -expressed her own gratitude and her daughter’s for his kind reception -of them. - -“My only fear is that you are spoiling us by treating us too well, -sir,” she concluded. - -Again she rolled out the “sir” in the manner of a duchess conversing -with a prince. Mr. Bradfield winced perceptibly. - -“You needn’t say ‘sir’ if you don’t like it,” said he, drily. “It -doesn’t seem to agree with you. Glad you’re pleased. You can have this -room to yourselves if you like; I don’t use it much. And anything you -want let me know of it at once. You needn’t come to me,” he continued, -quickly, “but just send word. I want you to be comfortable, very -comfortable. Perkins will give you the keys and all that. And--and I -hope you’ll be happy here.” - -Again he glanced at the girl as he walked rapidly to the door, nodded -“good-night,” and went out. - -For a few moments after they were left alone together neither mother -nor daughter uttered a single word. They glanced at the door as if -determined not to commit further indiscretions by hazarding any -comment on Mr. Bradfield, until he had had time to take himself to the -remotest part of the house. At last, when each had well considered the -countenance of the other, Mrs. Abercarne spoke. - -“A very kindly, hospitable man, and very forgiving, too; don’t you -think so, my dear?” were her first words. - -Chris stared at her mother, and then at the door. Surely Mrs. Abercarne -must have an idea that she could be overheard, or she would never -perjure herself in this fashion. The elder lady went smoothly on, -without appearing to notice her daughter’s hesitation in answering. - -“A little brusque, a little unpolished, perhaps, but a thoroughly -honest fellow, without hypocrisy and without affectation. The sort of -man one instinctively feels that one can trust.” - -And Mrs. Abercarne crossed the room to the fireside, and settled -herself comfortably in an easy chair, with her feet on the fender-stool. - -Then Chris, perceiving that there was some occult meaning in all this, -replied discreetly: - -“I am glad you think so well of him, mother. But I--I shouldn’t have -thought he was the kind of man you would have taken such a fancy to.” - -“Ah, my dear, you girls always judge by the exterior,” exclaimed -Mrs. Abercarne, as she took up her knitting, and began counting the -stitches. “But I should have thought that at any rate Mr. Bradfield’s -talk would have amused you.” - -“Why, so it did, mother.” - -Chris had grown very quiet, and was pondering the situation. She began -to have a faint suspicion of the direction whither these remarks were -tending, and some words which presently fell from her mother’s lips -confirmed it. - -“I wonder, Chris,” she said softly, running her fingers gently up -and down one of the steel knitting-pins, “whether Mr. Bradfield is a -bachelor, or a widower, or what?” - -“I don’t know, I’m sure, mother,” answered the young girl demurely. - -Then there was silence for a short space, and when Mrs. Abercarne spoke -again it was about something else. By tacit agreement the master of the -house was not mentioned again by either of the ladies until they had -retired to rest. - -Then Mrs. Abercarne heard a voice calling softly, “Mother!” and she -perceived by the light of the fire a pair of very wide-awake eyes on -the pillow beside hers. - -“Yes, dear?” - -“Why do people always think that honesty must go with rough manners?” - -Mrs. Abercarne could not answer her. So she affected to laugh at the -words as if they were a jest. But presently she asked in a rather -tentative tone: - -“Don’t you like Mr. Bradfield then?” - -And the answer came very decidedly indeed: - -“No, mother, I don’t like him at all.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -THE GREAT MAN FROWNS. - - -The next morning Chris was awakened by a stream of bright light coming -between the window-curtains and when she looked out of the window, she -gave a scream of delight. - -“Oh! mother--mother, this can’t be really November, or we can’t be -really in foggy England!” she cried in an ecstasy, as she drank in, -with greedy eyes, all the loveliness of fresh green grass, and the -varied tints of trees in autumn. - -Their bed-room was at the front of the house, and looked inland -over the flower-garden and the park. The beauty of the place became -still more striking to their London eyes, when they went into the -Chinese-room, and saw the view southwards over the sea, and westwards -along the country road to little Wyngham, a mile away. - -But while Chris was chiefly occupied with the outlook from the windows, -Mrs. Abercarne’s attention was directed to the interior of the house, -and she made some discoveries in the broad daylight which the gracious -glamour of candles had concealed from her. Curious lapses of knowledge -or taste now betrayed themselves. She perceived a valuable oil-painting -hanging on the wall between a chromo and an oleograph. A rare edition -of Shakespeare stood in the bookcase, side by side with one which was -cheap, worthless and modern. In china the collector’s lack of taste -was still more evident; old and new, good and bad, were treated on -equal terms. - -She made no comment aloud, however, having, after the experience of the -previous evening, a discreet fear of being mysteriously overheard. - -When they had breakfasted, the head housemaid came up with a message -from Mr. Bradfield, to the effect that he hoped they would begin the -day by inspecting the house, and particularly his “collection.” - -“We shall be delighted,” said Mrs. Abercarne, “and where is the special -collection Mr. Bradfield wishes us to see?” - -“It isn’t anywhere specially,” answered the woman, a gloomy-eyed and -severe person, who had lived “in noblemen’s families,” and felt her -own condescension in occupying her present situation most deeply. “The -things are all over the place. There are no galleries.” - -“A charming arrangement,” murmured Mrs. Abercarne. “So much better than -the usual formal disposal of art treasures, as if in a museum.” - -So they made the tour of the mansion, which was a singularly -ill-arranged building, in the style of a rabbit-warren, full of nooks -which were not cosy, and of corners which were well adapted for nothing -except dust. Solemnly they passed down the corridor, the gloomy-eyed -housemaid giving them as they went a catalogue-like description of the -various “objects of interest” as they passed them. - -“Model of an ironclad fitted with turret guns, torpedo-catcher, -and all the latest improvements. Specimen of pottery taken from an -ancient Egyptian tomb. Inlaid cabinet, bought by Mr. Bradfield from a -Florentine palace,” chanted the housemaid. - -“Beautiful! What a charming design! How very interesting, Chris!” -murmured Mrs. Abercarne. - -But Chris, whose taste was raw and undeveloped, was paying small -attention to ancient pottery and torpedo-catchers. Her attention had -been attracted by something which seemed to her to promise more human -interest than paintings or old china. The corridor in which they -were ran straight through the house, past the head of the front and -of the back staircases, into a wing which had been added to the east -sea-front. From behind one of the doors in this wing strange noises -began to reach the ears of Chris, who presently noticed that the -housemaid, while still monotonously chanting her description, glanced -alternately at the door in question, and at Chris herself, as if -wondering what the young lady thought of the unusual sounds. - -It was not until they had passed the head of the principal staircase, -by which time the noise had grown louder and more continuous, that -Mrs. Abercarne’s attention was also attracted. An unearthly groan made -her start and turn to the housemaid, who, taking no apparent notice, -proceeded to lead the way downstairs. - -“What’s that?” exclaimed Mrs. Abercarne, as she glanced nervously at -the door from behind which the noises came. At the same moment the door -was shaken violently, and there was a loud crash as if some heavy body -had been thrown against it. - -“And this,” went on the housemaid calmly, pointing to a picture over -her head, “is one of Sir Edwin Landseer’s, while the one on your left -is the portrait of a lady by Sir Thomas Lawrence.” - -“Oh, indeed!” murmured Mrs. Abercarne, in a rather less enthusiastic -voice than before. - -They went on through the inner hall, the dining-room, two magnificent -drawing-rooms, and a wretched little library, for the smallness of -which the housemaid gloomily apologised. - -“Mr. Bradfield’s books, like the rest of the things, were scattered in -all directions about the house,” she said. - -But Mrs. Abercarne was no longer charmed by this arrangement. The -poor lady was really alarmed, and even the imposing proportions of -the drawing-room, and the display of magnificent old plate in the -dining-room, failed to rekindle her admiration. They visited the -basement, where the cook and the rest of the household were formally -presented to her, and then she herself cut short the inspection and -returned upstairs. She lingered, as Chris and the housemaid behind her -were forced to linger too, on the staircase. They were opposite a door -which the housemaid had not opened; it was Mr. Bradfield’s study, she -said. Just as Mrs. Abercarne was about to ask a question about the -strange noises, the door from which they had issued was opened quickly, -and a man-servant, out of livery, who looked heated, disordered and -breathless, ran out and locked it quickly behind him. - -In answer to an enquiry not spoken, but looked by the housemaid, the -man said, briefly: - -“It’s all right. He’s quiet now,” and disappeared quickly down the back -staircase. - -Mrs. Abercarne drew a long breath which sounded almost like a stifled -scream; Chris looked fixedly at the locked door. - -“What door is that?” she asked. - -The housemaid, after hesitating a moment, and glancing towards the door -of the study, answered in a low voice: - -“Those are Mr. Richard’s rooms.” - -“And who is Mr. Richard?” asked Mrs. Abercarne. - -The woman did not immediately answer. During the short pause which -succeeded the lady’s question, the study door was opened suddenly, and -Mr. Bradfield came out, looking very angry. - -“Now, haven’t I told you not to make a mystery about Mr. Richard?” said -he sharply to the housemaid. “What do you mean by frightening these -poor ladies out of their wits with your mysterious nods and winks? You -and Stelfox, the pair of you? Why can’t you answer a simple question -straightforwardly, and have done with it?” - -The housemaid remained silent, and looked down on the floor. - -“I thought, sir--I thought, perhaps, the ladies might be alarmed----” -she began. - -“Alarmed!” echoed Mr. Bradfield impatiently. “And who knows it better -than yourself that there is nothing to be alarmed about?” Dismissing -the woman with a wave of the hand, he turned to the ladies. “It is only -a poor young lad, the son of an old clerk of mine. He is not quite as -bright as he might be, poor fellow! but I can’t bear to send him to -a home or an asylum, or anything of that sort. I should never feel -sure how they were treating him. But he is harmless, I assure you. -Perfectly, entirely harmless.” - -Mrs. Abercarne professed herself completely satisfied with this -explanation, and affected, out of courtesy, to applaud Mr. Bradfield’s -humanity in keeping him under his own roof. But when she and her -daughter were alone again, safe in their own room, the elderly lady -turned the key hastily, and confided her fears to her daughter in a -tremulous whisper. - -“It’s all very well for Mr. Bradfield to say this lunatic’s harmless,” -she said, close to her daughter’s ear, “but I don’t believe it. If he -were harmless, why should he be kept in rooms by himself, and be locked -in? No, Chris; depend upon it, he’s a dangerous lunatic, and that man -who rushed out is his keeper. He had been struggling with him; we heard -him. And I don’t intend to remain under the same roof with a raving -madman for another night.” - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -MASTER AND MAN. - - -To have a raving lunatic under the same roof with you is an experience -which appeals differently to different minds. To the middle-aged it is -a fact calculated to send a “cold shiver down the back,” while to the -very young it suggests untold possibilities of danger and excitement. - -It is not surprising, therefore, that while Mrs. Abercarne made up her -mind to go as soon as she heard of the existence of Mr. Richard, to -Chris this was only another inducement to stay. It was a hard matter, -however, to bring her mother to her way of thinking; and when Mrs. -Abercarne insisted on replacing in her trunks the things which she had -begun to unpack, the young girl almost gave up hoping to change her -determination. - -“Now I shall go downstairs and knock at the door of the study, and -explain to Mr. Bradfield how impossible it is that we should remain -here under the circumstances,” said the elder lady decidedly, as she -straightened the lace she wore round her neck, preparatory to making an -imposing entrance into her employer’s presence. - -“But, mother, you told him just now that you were not a bit frightened, -and he will think you are very changeable to have altered your mind so -soon.” - -“I have had time to think it over,” explained her mother, rather -weakly. “One does not see everything in the first minute. And it is not -for myself I care. But a young girl like you must not be exposed to the -vagaries of a madman, nor live in a house that is talked about.” - -Chris was silent. Against those mysterious conventions which bound -her mother down more tightly than prison walls, she knew that all her -arguments, all her persuasions, would be powerless. With sorrowful eyes -she watched her mother finish repacking, shut down the lid of the last -portmanteau, and leave the room with the firm steps of a woman who had -finally and firmly made up her mind. - -Then Chris went into the beautiful Chinese-room, and looked lovingly -round the walls, and longingly out of the window. She had never been -inside a house half so nice as this, she thought, and she had not yet -got over the first ecstasy of joy on finding what a beautiful place -they were to have for a home. Now they would have to go back to London, -she supposed; and as their own house had been given up, and the -furniture sold, they would have to take cheap and dreary lodgings until -they could find some other engagement. And when would they be so lucky -as to find another together? - -Chris was not more inclined to tears than other girls of her age, but -the weight of the woes upon her gradually grew too heavy to be borne -without some outward demonstration. So that, when at last the door -opened to admit, as she supposed, her mother, Chris was curled up in -one of the low arm-chairs by the window and could not for shame exhibit -her tear-stained face. - -“Oh, mother,” she sobbed, without looking up, “how can you have the -heart to leave this lovely place to go back to that hateful London? We -should have been so happy here; I’m sure we should!” - -“There!” exclaimed a man’s gruff voice loudly, and Mr. Bradfield, for -he was the intruder, burst into a loud, ironical laugh. - -Chris sprang up and dried her eyes hastily, overwhelmed with confusion. - -Her mother, not so fleet of foot as the man, was only just entering the -room. Her face wore an expression of great vexation. - -“There!” repeated Mr. Bradfield, as soon as he could speak. “Did you -hear that, madam? You should have coached your daughter up better. -You come and tell me that you would be glad to stay in my house, but -that your daughter is so much frightened that she insists on leaving -immediately; and I come up here, take the young lady unawares, and hear -her beg not to be taken away! How do you reconcile the two things, Mrs. -Abercarne? Answer me that, madam.” - -Even Mrs. Abercarne had no answer ready. Chris came to her mother’s -rescue. - -“My mother is quite right,” she said. “I should not care to stay here, -although it is such a beautiful place, now that I know there is a -person shut up here. I should always be afraid of his getting out.” - -Mr. Bradfield stamped his foot impatiently. Since he had been a rich -man he had been used to finding a way out of every difficulty, a way to -indulge every whim. - -“I have told you both that there is no danger; that this unfortunate -young man is absolutely harmless and inoffensive. You shall hear what -his attendant says.” - -Mr. Bradfield rang the bell sharply, and told the servant, who quickly -appeared at the summons, to send Stelfox to him. In the meantime, -without any further remarks either to mother or daughter, he strode up -and down the room with his hands behind him, and his eyes on the carpet. - -In a few minutes there was a knock at the door, and the man who had -told the housemaid that Mr. Richard “was quiet now” came in. - -Jim Stelfox was a man about forty-five years of age, rather above the -medium height, with an open, honest, and withal resolute-looking face, -and a straightforward look of the eyes which spoke of obstinacy as well -as honesty. His hair, which was still thick, was iron-grey; so were his -trim whiskers. His eyes were grey also, hard and keen; his mouth was -straight, and shut very firmly. - -He waited, with his eyes fixed upon his master, respectfully, to be -interrogated. - -“How many years have you been in my employment, Stelfox?” asked Mr. -Bradfield. - -“Seventeen years, sir.” - -“And how many years is it now since you’ve had charge of Mr. Richard?” - -“Ten years, sir, on and off; and seven years altogether,” answered -Stelfox. - -Mr. Bradfield’s manner grew harsher, more dictatorial with every -succeeding question, almost as if each answer of the man’s had been -a fresh offence. But Stelfox’s manner never changed; it was always -respectful, stolid and studiously monotonous. The next question Mr. -Bradfield put in a louder, angrier voice than ever. - -“And have you ever, in the course of all that time, known Mr. Richard -do any harm to man, woman or child?” - -For about two seconds the man did not answer; two seconds in which -Chris, rendered curious by something in the manner of master and man -towards each other, awaited quite eagerly some astonishing reply. She -was disappointed. The answer came as smoothly and quietly as ever: - -“Never, sir.” - -Mr. Bradfield turned impatiently to the two ladies. - -“You hear,” he said triumphantly. “Here is the testimony of a man -who has been in constant attendance upon him for seven years, and in -partial attendance upon him for three more. Can you have stronger -evidence than that?” - -“It is quite satisfactory, I am sure,” murmured Mrs. Abercarne, who had -not the courage to face this overbearing man with questions and doubts. - -But Chris was different. Although she longed to stay, although the -lunatic, harmless or otherwise, caused her no fears, she “wanted to -know, you know.” There was some mystery, trivial, no doubt, about Mr. -Richard and his guardian and his keeper. - -The manner of the two men towards each other, the furtive, yet -impatient glances with which the master regarded the man, the -studiously monotonous and mechanical tone in which the man replied to -the master, showed that they were not quite honest either towards the -other, or else towards her mother and herself. At least, this was what -Chris thought, and without pausing to consider how her question might -be received, she broke out: - -“But, Mr. Bradfield, if he is harmless, why do you shut him up?” - -Mrs. Abercarne, although she had not dared to put this question -herself, looked gratefully at her daughter, and curiously at her -employer. He hesitated a moment, and Chris saw Stelfox glance at his -master with an expression of some amusement. - -“Well,” said Mr. Bradfield at last, rather impatiently, “I am afraid we -should none of us find the poor fellow a very desirable companion. He -is very noisy, for one thing.” - -Now both the ladies had had occasion to find out that this latter -statement was true, at any rate, so they were silent for a minute. Then -Chris, not yet satisfied, spoke again. - -“You know,” and she turned to Stelfox, “that my mother and I heard you -struggling with him, and when you came out we heard you say he was -quiet now, as if you had had some trouble with him. How was that if he -was so harmless?” - -Again Stelfox glanced at his master, and Chris, following his look, -noticed that Mr. Bradfield had become deadly white. He stamped -impatiently on the floor as he caught his servant’s eye. - -“Oh,” said Stelfox, after a few seconds’ pause, “that was only his -rough play.” - -“Then I don’t wonder you keep him shut up,” said Chris, drily. - -Mr. Bradfield stared at her with a frown on his face. But Chris did not -care. They were going away, so she could speak out her mind. There was -a pause for some moments, and then Mrs. Abercarne began to fidget a -little, being anxious to get away. Mr. Bradfield’s frown cleared away -as he watched Chris, and at last he said, quite good-humouredly: - -“You’re an impudent little piece of goods. And so you are going to let -my madman frighten you away?” - -Chris glanced at her mother. Then she turned boldly, with her hands -behind her, and faced him. - -“Not if it rested with me, Mr. Bradfield.” - -He was evidently delighted by her answer, and began to chuckle -good-humouredly as he signed to Stelfox to leave the room. - -“So you would brave the bogies, would you? And it is only this haughty -mother of yours who stands in the way of our all being happy together. -Now, come, Mrs. Abercarne, can you resist the appeal of youth and -beauty? _I_ couldn’t.” - -Mrs. Abercarne, keen-witted as she thought herself, had not noticed -so much as Chris had done in the interview between master and man. On -the other hand she had taken careful note of the manner in which Mr. -Bradfield regarded Chris. And prudence began to whisper that in leaving -Wyngham House she might be throwing away a chance of establishing her -daughter in a rather magnificent manner. - -So she laughed gently and showed a disposition to temporise. Whereupon -Mr. Bradfield seized his advantage, laid much stress upon the comfort -her presence would bestow upon a lonely bachelor, and upon the -distinguished service her superintendence of his household would render -him. And Chris joining in his pleading with eloquent eyes and a few -incoherent words, they succeeded between them in inducing the elder -lady to accede to their wishes. - -His object once gained, Mr. Bradfield wasted no further time with them, -but disappeared quickly with his usual nod of farewell. - -Chris, anxious not to leave her mother time to waver, ran across the -corridor to their bedroom, unpacked their trunks with rapid hands, and -rang the bell for a house-maid to take the trunks themselves away to -one of the lumber-rooms, so that Mrs. Abercarne might feel that she had -burnt her ships. - -Then Chris peeped into the Chinese-room, saw her mother busy at the -writing-table, and guessed that she was writing to inform one of her -friends of her definite arrangement to stay at Wyngham. Chris thought -it would be better not to interrupt her, so she softly closed the door -and went down the corridor to make a private inspection of the pictures -to fill up the time. - -In one of the odd little passages which branched off to the right and -left from the corridor, she came upon a picture which seemed to her -rather more interesting than the rest; for it was a figure subject, -while the rest were chiefly landscapes. The passage was so dark that -it was only by opening the door of one of the rooms to which it led -that she could see the picture with any distinctness; and it was while -she was standing on tip-toe to examine it that the sound of stealthy -footsteps reached her ears. Peeping out from the nook in which she was -hidden, Chris saw at the entrance of the wing the house Mr. Bradfield -standing in front of the door of “Mr. Richard’s rooms.” He was stooping -low with his ear to the crack of the door, and his dark face wore an -expression of intense anxiety. She had scarcely had time to notice -these things when Stelfox came up with absolutely silent footsteps -behind his master. His face wore the same expression of hard suppressed -amusement which she had noticed on one occasion in the Chinese-room. He -did not speak to his master, but stood waiting in a respectful attitude -and without uttering a sound. Chris thought the whole scene rather -strange, and instead of retreating at once, as she should have done, -she kept her eyes fixed upon the pair, from her distant corner, a few -moments longer. - -So she saw Mr. Bradfield raise his head and turn to walk away; she saw -him start at the sight of Stelfox, and utter an angry exclamation. - -But this was eavesdropping, so she drew back hastily out of sight and -hearing. - -Chris could not, however, get out of her mind the thought that Mr. -Bradfield’s behaviour was very odd, and that Stelfox’s action in -waiting coolly there without a word was more odd still. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -MUSIC HATH CHARMS. - - -To Mrs. Abercarne’s surprise and disappointment, but very much to the -relief of Chris, the ladies saw but little of Mr. Bradfield in the -first days of their sojourn at Wyngham House. Apart from this, which -she considered rather disrespectful and decidedly unappreciative, -the elder lady had little to complain of. She found herself absolute -mistress of the establishment, with no one to interfere with her, no -one to dispute her orders. The word had evidently gone forth that her -will was to be law, and her power in every department of the household -was unlimited. The only thing she ever wanted in vain was an interview -with the master of the house. If she knocked at the door of the study, -he answered politely from within that he was busy, and requested her -to let him know what she wanted by letter. Then she would write an -elaborately courteous note concerning the dismissal of a servant, or a -necessary outlay in repairs. His answer was always short, and always -to the same effect: she was to do exactly what she pleased, and the -expense was immaterial. - -With her complaints to Chris that they had very little of his society, -her daughter had no sympathy whatever. She did not care for Mr. -Bradfield; she was rather afraid of him, and to enjoy his house without -his presence was, to her thinking, an absolutely perfect condition of -things. It was not to continue indefinitely, however. - -Mrs. Abercarne, whose respect for the old china about the house was at -least as great as that of its possessor, had assigned to her daughter -the duty of dusting and taking care of it. The sight of old Dresden in -the hands of the common domestic parlour-maid made her shiver, she said. - -So every morning it was the task of Chris to make what she called -the grand tour, armed with a pair of dust-bellows and a duster, and -provided with an old pair of gloves to keep her hands, as her mother -said, “like those of a gentlewoman.” - -One morning when she had got as far as the drawing-room, and was -blowing the dust from a Sèvres cup and saucer, her eye was caught by -a canterbury full of music which stood beside the piano. Mother was -busy in the basement; Mr. Bradfield was never anywhere near. So Chris -slipped off her gloves and went down on her knees and turned over the -music to see what it was like. She had the carpet about her well strewn -before she found anything to her liking. Then, having come upon a book -of ancient dance music, she opened the piano and began, very softly, -to try an old waltz tune. She had played very few bars when the door -opened and Mr. Bradfield looked in. - -Chris started up crimson, feeling that she had done something very -dreadful. She thought he would burst out into some rude remark about -the strumming disturbing him; but he only strolled as far as the -fireplace, which was half-way towards her, put his hands behind his -back, nodded, and said: - -“Go on.” - -As he did not smile or speak very kindly, Chris found it impossible to -obey. She thought, indeed, that the command was given ironically. - -“I--I was only trying a few bars. I--I am very sorry I disturbed you. -But I didn’t know you could hear. I thought you were deaf,” stammered -Chris. - -Mr. Bradfield looked up at her with a slight frown. No man approaching -fifty cares to be reminded, especially by a pretty young woman, of the -infirmities which must inevitably overtake him before many years are -over. - -“Deaf! Thought I was deaf? Pray what made you think that?” - -“Well,” said Chris, “mother and I both thought you must be, because she -so often knocks at your study door, and you don’t hear her.” - -Mr. Bradfield’s countenance cleared, and a twinkle appeared in his eyes. - -“Oh! ah! No; very likely not.” Then he chuckled to himself, and added -good-humouredly, “Your mother’s a joke, isn’t she?” - -Chris was taken aback, and for the first moment she could make no -answer. So Mr. Bradfield went on: - -“Of course, I don’t mean anything at all disrespectful to the old lady. -She makes a splendid head of a household; servants say she’s a regular -tar--er--er--a regular darling. But, well, she’s a trifle chilling, -now, isn’t she?” - -“My mother is not very effusive in her manners towards people she -doesn’t know very well,” answered Chris, with some constraint. - -“That’s just what I meant,” said Mr. Bradfield, looking up at the -ceiling. “And not knowing me very well, she’s not very effusive to me.” - -Chris, who had seated herself on the music-stool, drew herself up -primly. She could not allow her mother to be laughed at. - -“I think it’s better for people to improve upon acquaintance, instead -of making themselves so very sweet and charming at first, that they -can’t even keep it up.” - -Mr. Bradfield raised his eyebrows. - -“Have I been so sweet and charming, then, that you’re afraid that I -can’t keep it up?” - -“No, indeed you haven’t,” replied Chris promptly, with an irrepressible -little laugh. - -“That’s all right. What were you doing in here?” he went on, looking -at the gloves she was drawing on her hands, and at the duster and -dust-bellows she had picked up again. - -“I was dusting the ornaments.” - -“What on earth did you want to do that for? Isn’t there a houseful of -servants to do all that sort of thing?” - -“My mother says the care of old china is a lady’s work, not a -servant’s. She would think it wicked to leave such a duty to the maids.” - -“Well, I don’t like to see you do it. It looks as if you were expected -to do parlour-maids’ work, which you’re not.” - -Chris, with a little flush of curiosity and excitement, rose from her -seat, and drummed softly with her gloved finger-tips on the top of the -piano. She saw the opportunity to satisfy herself on a point which had -been occupying her mind. - -“What am I expected to do, then, Mr. Bradfield? That’s just what I want -to know.” - -Mr. Bradfield looked rather amused, and did not at once reply. - -“That’s what you want to know, is it?” said he at last. - -“Yes. Why did you advertise for a ‘mother and daughter,’ unless you had -something for the daughter to do?” - -There was a short pause, during which Mr. Bradfield looked at her, and -chuckled quietly, as if she amused him. - -“Upon my soul, I hardly know. I think I had some sort of a notion -that a woman with a daughter would settle down more contentedly, -and--and wouldn’t be so likely to--to give way to bad habits.” Here Mr. -Bradfield pulled himself up suddenly, recollecting that what he had -really feared was an undue predilection for his old port. “You see,” he -went on hastily, “I had no idea that I should have the luck to get such -a--such a--well, such a magnificent person as your mother to condescend -to keep house for me in my humble little home. When I advertised, I had -no idea of getting my advertisement answered by a--a----” - -Chris nodded intelligently. - -“I see,” said she cheerfully. “What mamma calls a ‘gentlewoman.’” - -“That’s it exactly. And it means a woman who is not gentle to anybody -out of her own ‘set,’ doesn’t it?” - -Poor Chris wanted to laugh, but was too loyal to her mother to indulge -the inclination. But Mr. Bradfield caught the little convulsive sound -which intimated that she was amused, and he beamed upon her more -benignantly than he had done yet. - -“I see, then,” she began, in the preternaturally solemn tone of one -who has been caught in unseemly hilarity, “that I am here on false -pretences, as it were. If I had not been a--a ‘gentlewoman’”--again she -suppressed a giggle--“you would have had no scruple about my making -myself useful.” - -Mr. Bradfield, evidently delighted by the view the girl took of things, -came a little nearer to the piano. - -“You _are_ a sensible girl,” he said, with admiration. “Now, if your -mother were like you----” he went on regretfully, and stopped. - -“If she were, you wouldn’t have your house kept so well,” said Chris, -merrily. “I’m no use at all in a house, everybody always says. They -used to make me play dance music, because there was nothing else I -could do.” - -“Dance music!” echoed Mr. Bradfield hopefully. “I thought you young -ladies never condescended to anything beneath a sonata?” - -Chris laughed. - -“I don’t, if my mother can help it,” she confessed. “She says a correct -taste in music is one of the signs of a gentlewoman, and she makes me -study Beethoven and Brahms until I have cultivated a splendid taste -for--Sullivan and Lecocq.” - -“Does she like the sonatas herself?” - -“She _says_ so; but, then, all ladies with grown-up daughters say -that. And she takes me to very dull concerts, of nothing but severely -classical music. And she pretends she isn’t bored; but, oh! the relief -which appears in her poor, dear face when they drop into a stray little -bit of tune!” - -Mr. Bradfield put his head back and roared with laughter. - -“I suppose,” he said at last, wistfully, “she wouldn’t let you come -down here sometimes in the evening and play something frivolous, -something lively?” - -Chris hesitated. - -“I don’t know,” she said. - -“Of course, we would have her down here too,” he explained. “And when -she felt that she couldn’t get on any longer without a dose of Bach, -you might indulge her, you know.” - -Chris, who looked pleased at the prospect, suddenly thought of a -difficulty. - -“But, Mr. Bradfield,” she suggested diffidently, “this music you have -here, of course it’s very nice, very nice indeed, but it’s not quite -the latest. ‘The Mabel Waltz’ and ‘Les Cloches du Monastère’ are not -new, you know.” - -“We’ll soon set that right,” said Mr. Bradfield, as he looked at the -clock and then at his watch. “I’ll wire up to some of the big music -shops, and by to-morrow or the day after we’ll have all the latest -things.” - -He disappeared with his usual nod, leaving Chris in a state of high -excitement. She rushed upstairs to see whether her mother, who had -forbidden her to visit her during her morning work in the housekeeper’s -room, had come up yet. - -As she passed the door of the study it opened suddenly, and Mr. -Bradfield appeared. He was much struck by the change in her appearance -which had taken place in a few minutes since he had left her in the -drawing-room. The restraint of his presence once removed, she had given -herself up to the wildest excitement, and her face was aglow. She -looked so pretty that Mr. Bradfield stared at her with fresh interest. -She was trying to run away when he stopped her by saying: - -“Where are you going to in such a hurry?” - -“Upstairs to tell my mother about the music,” she answered shyly. - -Still he detained her, finding her much more attractive than his -accounts. - -“Did you ever have a sweetheart?” he asked, after a little pause. - -Chris burst out laughing at this ridiculously ingenuous question. Mr. -Bradfield repeated it, and this time she answered with delightful -frankness. - -“Why, I have had a dozen.” - -It was his turn to be taken aback. - -“Oh!” he exclaimed, with new diffidence, “we must try to find you one -here, then.” - -Chris shot at him one merry glance, and then looked demurely at the -floor. - -“You needn’t trouble yourself to do that, Mr. Bradfield, thank you. I -can find one for myself if I want one, I daresay.” - -And, refusing to be detained any longer, she went upstairs, meeting her -mother in the corridor above. - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -A PORTRAIT. - - -“Mother--mother, who was the idiot that said riches don’t bring -happiness?” - -It was two days after the interview Chris had had with Mr. Bradfield in -the drawing-room, and the new music had come. Mr. Bradfield, who had -on several occasions during the past two days caught sight of Chris, -but failed to get a word with her, had sent up a message to the effect -that if Mrs. and Miss Abercarne would go down to the drawing-room, they -would find something there which would interest one of them. - -So they went down to the great room, which was cold, with a -recently-lighted fire in each of the two grates, and dimly lighted, -for there was no gas, and the illumination consisted of a dozen wax -candles. Chris, who had put on a dress square in the neck, in honour -of the occasion, in spite of her mother’s warnings, shivered, but the -sight of the great pile of music on two tables in the middle of the -room made her forget the cold. - -Mrs. Abercarne sighed at her daughter’s exclamations. She felt very -much inclined to echo the sentiment. Certainly her own happiness had -belonged to the time when she had been well off, before frocks had to -be turned, and last year’s bonnets furbished up. - -Mr. Bradfield had not yet come in from the dining-room, so Chris could -chatter on at her ease. - -“To think of being able to get everything one wanted, just by sending -to town for it. No question whether it costs sixpence or ten pounds. -To be able to look into the windows without considering that four and -elevenpence three farthings is five shillings. Oh! mother,” and she -pounced upon a waltz, and a song, and a gavotte, which she felt sure -she should like, “I feel as if I were living in an enchanted palace, -and as if Mr. Bradfield were the good fairy.” - -“Mr. Bradfield is very much obliged to you, I’m sure,” said the owner -of the house, who had come in very quietly, attracted by the sound -of her bright voice from the adjoining room, “It’s a more flattering -comparison than you made to me at first, if I remember rightly.” - -But Chris was too happy to be troubled by this reminiscence. - -“That was nothing to what you may expect if you come upon me without -warning when I don’t feel very good,” said she. - -“Let us hear some of the music, Chris,” said her mother, afraid that -the girl’s sauciness might offend the great man. - -But Mr. Bradfield was inclined to take everything the young girl -said in good part. He even offered to turn the leaves of her music, -with apologies for his clumsiness, which was indeed extreme. Chris, -who, although not a performer of special excellence, read music well -and with spirit, was in an ecstasy of girlish enjoyment, and she -communicated the contagion to her older companions. Mr. Bradfield was -good humour itself; Mrs. Abercarne was the perfection of graciousness. -He hunted out some old photographic albums, the portraits of which -she inspected minutely through her double eye-glasses, with the most -flattering comments imagination could suggest. - -“You needn’t be so polite unless you really like it,” he said, drily, -when she had just found the word “intellectual” to describe a very grim -female face; “they’re only relations.” - -Mrs. Abercarne looked up in astonishment. - -“All these are your relations? You must have a great many, then?” - -“Swarms of ’em.” - -Mrs. Abercarne looked through her eyeglasses, no longer at the -photographs, but at him. - -“I should have thought among so many you might have found someone to -manage your establishment without having to advertise,” she suggested. - -Mr. Bradfield laughed. - -“So I could. I could have found a hundred. Some to manage my -establishment, some to manage me, some to do both. And then all those -whom I had not selected would have come down upon me in a body, and my -life wouldn’t have been worth a year’s purchase among them. It won’t -be worth much when they find you are here, you and Miss Christina. I -shouldn’t be surprised if they were to set fire to the house and burn -us all up together.” - -Mrs. Abercarne began to look frightened, while Chris was immensely -amused. - -“Even money, you see, Miss Christina,” he went on, turning to the girl, -who indeed engrossed most of his attention, “doesn’t keep you free from -all worries.” - -“It does from the worst of them, though,” said Chris, sagely. “It saves -you from all the little ones, which are much worse to bear every day -than one big one now and then. Who wouldn’t rather have one bad attack -of typhoid fever and have done with it than have, say toothache, every -day? You can’t understand how much worse it is to deny yourself every -day things which cost a penny, than to resist, once in a way, the -temptation to spend a sovereign.” - -Mr. Bradfield was looking at her intently. - -“At any rate,” said he, with some wrath in his tone, “as long as you -remain here, the sovereigns as well as the pennies will be forthcoming -as often as they are wanted.” - -Here Mrs. Abercarne thought fit to interpose majestically: - -“My daughter was only using those particular terms as an illustration,” -she said, in a suave manner; “as a matter of fact, neither the pennies -nor the sovereigns are matters that concern her.” - -Both Mr. Bradfield and Chris accepted this rebuke in silence; but -they exchanged a look, and poor Chris could not help remembering Mr. -Bradfield’s remark that her mother was a joke. - -“At the same time,” went on Mrs. Abercarne, conscious that she had -somewhat checked the evening’s pleasure, “I must confess that whatever -cares one may have seem lighter when borne in a mansion like this, -surrounded by treasures of art, and evidences of high culture.” - -Mr. Bradfield tried to look as if he appreciated the compliment, and -Chris, feeling that the atmosphere was growing frigid again, made a -diversion. - -“Indeed, Mr. Bradfield,” said she, “we’re never tired of looking at -your beautiful things. Only all the cabinets and cupboards are always -locked up, and it is very tantalising not to know what’s inside.” - -“Well, here are my keys,” said he, as he took from his pocket a large -bunch of various sizes. “Open anything you like; there is no Blue -Beard’s chamber here.” - -Perhaps they thought this remark rather unfortunate, with the knowledge -they all had of the locked rooms in the east wing. At any rate, there -was an awkward pause as Chris took the keys. He hastened to add: - -“There are no rooms in this house, except, of course, poor Dick’s, -which you may not ransack as much as you like.” - -“Thank you,” said Chris, as she ran to a handsome inlaid cabinet, with -a locked cupboard in the centre; “I’m going to take you at your word, -and begin here.” - -She opened the carved doors, and found a collection of rare coins, -which excited in her only a languid interest. Then she examined the -contents of a pair of engraved caskets which stood on a side table. -Lastly, the shelves of a locked cupboard under a rosewood book-case -engaged her attention. - -Here she found something more attractive to her frivolous mind. -Hidden away at the back of the bottom shelf was an old cardboard box, -containing a miscellaneous collection of portraits, pencil-sketches, -faded daguerreotypes, and a few miniatures on ivory. - -One of these last attracted her at once in a very strong degree. It -was the portrait of a young man, fair, clean-shaven and strikingly -handsome, with features slightly aquiline, blue eyes, and an expression -which seemed to Chris to denote sweet temper and refinement in -equal degrees. She was a long way from her two companions when she -discovered the portrait; for the bookcase under which the cupboard was -occupied a remote corner of the back drawing-room, while her mother and -Mr. Bradfield were sitting by the fire in the front room. - -She sat so long quietly looking at the miniature, that Mr. Bradfield’s -attention was attracted. - -“Our flibbertigibbet has grown very quiet,” said he at last. “I wonder -what mischief she is up to!” - -As he spoke, he rose softly from his chair, walked on tip-toe to the -other end of the room, and peeped round the partition, part of which -still remained between the front and the back room. Chris saw him, and -started. - -“We’ve caught her in the very act, Mrs. Abercarne!” he cried. “Guilt on -every feature!” - -Indeed, Chris had blushed a little, and thrust the portrait quickly -back on the shelf. - -“I was only looking at a picture,” she explained quickly. And the next -moment, seized by an idea, she snatched up the miniature and held it -towards Mr. Bradfield. - -“It looks like a portrait,” said she. “Do you know who it is?” - -As she held up the picture, she saw a change in Mr. Bradfield’s face. -It was too dark in this back room to see whether he lost colour; but an -expression of what was certainly annoyance, mingled with something that -looked like terror, passed over his face. It was gone in a moment, and -he answered her calmly enough. - -“No,” said he, “I don’t know who he is. I daresay I bought it in a -collection of miniatures.” - -Chris turned it over in her hand. - -“Oh! here’s the name, I suppose,” she said; “‘Gilbert Wryde, 1847.’” - -Again, as she glanced up quickly, and rather curiously, she saw the -same sort of look for a couple of seconds on Mr. Bradfield’s face. But -he answered in a tone just as unmoved as before. - -“Perhaps it’s only the name of the artist who painted it. I should -think the date was right, by the costume. Are you fond of miniatures? -I have a splendid collection in one of the rooms upstairs. I will show -you them to-morrow, if you like.” - -“Thank you. I don’t know that I do care for them so very much. But I -like that one. The face is an interesting one.” - -“I think they used to flatter the sitter a little in the days when -people had themselves painted like that,” said Mr. Bradfield. “I -daresay, now, an artist of those days would have done the fairy’s -trick, and transformed the beast into a prince. And now, will you let -us have that song from ‘Utopia’ once more before Mrs. Abercarne carries -you off?” - -Chris rose at once, returned him his keys, and went to the piano. She -sang the song he had asked for, received Mr. Bradfield’s enthusiastic -thanks, and noticed that he seemed in higher spirits than he had been -all the evening. He gave Mrs. Abercarne her candle, bowed her out of -the room, and contrived to detain Chris a moment longer. - -“We must absolutely find you that sweetheart,” said he, in a low voice, -and in rather wistful tones. “You will be dull in this outlandish place -without one.” - -“You must absolutely leave me to do as I like about that, Mr. -Bradfield,” replied Chris, saucily. “And I am never dull anywhere.” - -“I wish I could say the same of myself,” said he, heartily. - -And then he let her go, wishing her good-night with some constraint, -which she, used to admiration from young and old, did not fail to -notice. - -She ran upstairs, and joined her mother at the door of their room. Mrs. -Abercarne looked at the girl as soon as they got inside the door. - -“What was Mr. Bradfield saying to you, Chris?” she asked, with apparent -indifference, as she took from her head the scrap of old point lace -which she thought proper to wear by way of a cap. - -“Oh, he said he must get me a sweetheart, and I told him he might save -himself the trouble,” said she, lightly. “Don’t you think it very silly -of him to say those things to me, mother?” - -Mrs. Abercarne paused a moment, and then answered, thoughtfully: - -“I think he means to be kind. He always speaks as if he took an -interest in you--a great interest.” - -Chris glanced quickly at her mother. - -“An interest! Oh, yes,” said she. - -Then there was another short silence, during which Chris knelt in front -of the fireplace and stared intently at the red coals. - -“You don’t seem very grateful, dear!” - -The girl started. - -“Grateful! I? What for?” she asked stupidly. - -“Why, Chris, you are in the clouds! What, were you thinking about Mr. -Bradfield?” - -“Mr. Bradfield!” echoed the young girl, with a laugh of derision. “No, -mother; I was thinking about that face in the miniature.” - -Her mother laughed, rather contemptuously. - -“I shouldn’t waste many thoughts upon a portrait painted forty years -ago!” she said somewhat scornfully. “Why, child, the idea of growing -sentimental about a man who, if he is still alive, must be seventy if -he is a day!” - -“Sentimental!” echoed Chris. “Did I speak sentimentally? I did not -know it. But--I should like to know something about the man whose -portrait it was. It was an interesting face, mother. I will show it you -to-morrow, and you shall judge for yourself whether I am not right.” - -Mrs. Abercarne, seeing that the girl was too much occupied in thinking -of the picture to give her attention to anything else, gave up her -attempt to sound her on another subject, and talked about the music -until they both went to sleep. - -On the following day, when Chris was in the drawing-room with her -duster, she remembered the fascinating miniature, and thought she would -like to have another look at it by daylight. So she went into the back -drawing-room, remembering that she had forgotten to lock the cupboard -door when she handed back his keys to Mr. Bradfield. - -Someone had been there before her, however, for the door was now -securely locked. Chris was vexed at this, and gave the door an -impatient little shake. The cupboard was old, and the bolt gave way -under this rough handling. She had not expected this, but, as it had -happened, she felt justified in taking advantage of the occurrence, for -Mr. Bradfield had given her permission to examine what she pleased. - -Opening the door, therefore, she took out the box, which had been -replaced at the back of its shelf, and turned out the contents in -search of the miniature. She took out every separate thing, she -thoroughly examined not only that shelf but the others; and then she -shut the cupboard, disappointed and puzzled. - -The miniature was no longer there. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -THE STRANGE FACE IN THE EAST WING. - - -Chris thought this incident very strange. She pondered it in her mind, -and mentioned it to her mother in a manner which showed that she -considered it a suspicious one. - -Mrs. Abercarne looked at the matter differently. There were a thousand -reasons, any one of which might be the right one in this case, why a -gentleman should choose to transfer some object in his possession from -one place of safe keeping to another. It might be the portrait of an -old friend---- - -“But he said he didn’t know who it was,” objected Chris. - -“Well, it may be a particularly good painting, so that he may wish to -add it to the collection of miniatures upstairs which he spoke of,” -said Mrs. Abercarne, who now showed herself ready at all times to take -Mr. Bradfield’s part. “Or perhaps,” she hazarded, with a rapid glance -at the girl’s face, “he did not quite like your taking such a strong -interest in the portrait of another gentleman.” - -“Indeed, I don’t see how that could concern him,” returned Chris, -coldly. - -The young girl quite understood these allusions on her mother’s part to -Mr. Bradfield’s evident admiration. But she would not allow the subject -to be mentioned; and her mother, who, poor lady, was not unnaturally -delighted at the prospect she thought she discerned of marrying her -pretty daughter well, thought it wiser not to precipitate matters. - -For already the bird seemed to have taken fright, and grown shy, as if -seeing or suspecting a snare. Mr. Bradfield was always trying to waylay -Chris for the sake of a few moments’ talk with her, and always failing -in the attempt. At last he complained to Mrs. Abercarne in terms which -almost amounted to a declaration of the state of his feelings with -regard to her. - -“She is young and wilful,” answered the mother, who thought that this -shyness on the girl’s part was likely to give a wholesome stimulus to -the gentleman’s attachment. “I don’t think she takes any serious views -of life at present. Better not to speak to her just yet on any matter -more momentous than concerts and dances.” - -“Dances!” echoed Mr. Bradfield, dubiously. “Is she dull down here, -then? I hope she is not too fond of balls and gaiety?” - -“Not more fond than a girl ought to be,” answered Mrs. Abercarne, -promptly. She had no notion of tying her daughter to a man who would -not let her enjoy herself as she liked. If Mr. Bradfield wanted a young -wife with the tastes of an old one, he must give up all thought of -marrying Chris. “She is a good waltzer, and loves a dance.” - -Mr. Bradfield looked rather morose, rather crestfallen. - -“Well,” he said at last, “I’ll give a ball at Christmas. The worst of -it is, that a host of my confounded relations will insist upon coming, -and--and if they have their suspicions roused, there’ll be the ---- to -pay!” - -“Then, if you are so much afraid of your relations, Mr. Bradfield, I -should study them by all means,” said Mrs. Abercarne, loftily, as she -left him upon the excuse that she had some work to do. - -He growled to himself that he would have nothing more to do than he -was obliged with either arrogant mother or flighty daughter; but he -failed lamentably to keep his resolution. The girl’s pretty face and -lively manners had enslaved him, and try as he would, this middle-aged -gentleman could not conquer the foolish longing to become the husband -of a woman twenty-five years younger than himself. - -Meanwhile, Chris was unconsciously doing her utmost to keep alive the -admiration of her elderly admirer, by being as happy as the day was -long. And as happiness is becoming, the glimpses Mr. Bradfield caught -of her bright face and lithe figure were daily more tantalising. -Mr. Bradfield was not vain enough to think that he should get this -beautiful young girl to fall in love with him, at any rate before -marriage. He reckoned on the absence of rivalry, and on her great and -increasing affection for her new home. Already she knew every object -in Mr Bradfield’s collection by heart, and could have found her way -blindfold into any corner of the grounds. - -There was one exception, and it galled her. To the west of the house -the grounds were very open, for the flower-garden was on that side, and -the trees had been cut down in order to get more sun on the borders. On -the south, towards the sea, a lawn sloped gently down from the house -to the outer fence On the north side was the carriage drive, and more -flower-beds. But the grounds on the east side she had been unable to -explore, as they were cut off from the rest by a light ornamental iron -fence, and two gates, one on the north side and one on the south, which -were kept locked. - -She had gone so far as to ask one of the under gardeners to let her go -through; but he had respectfully referred her to the head gardener, -whereupon she had given up her design as hopeless, divining, as she -did, that he would refer her to Mr. Bradfield, and that Mr. Bradfield -would make some excuse to prevent her going through. For the girl -knew very well, in spite of the frank manner in which he spoke of the -east wing and its occupant, that there was some sort of mystery, some -secret, big or little, connected with Mr. Richard, and she believed -that it was on account of the madman’s presence in the east wing that -the grounds on that side of the house were closed. She thought she -would trust to her chances of getting inside those gates without asking -anybody’s permission. They must be unlocked sometimes, and as she was -always about the grounds, she had only to wait for her opportunity. - -Of course she was right. The opportunity came one morning, when one -of the gardeners had gone through the north gate with a wheel-barrow, -leaving the key in the gate behind him. - -Chris, who was looking out of her bed-room window, ran downstairs and -out of the house, and was through the gate in a moment. - -A winding gravel path led through a thick growth of trees to the -kitchen garden, where she saw Johnson, the second gardener, busy with -the celery-bed. He saw her, but touched his hat, and took no further -notice beyond a faint grin. Probably the affairs of the household were -sufficiently discussed in the servants’ hall for him to guess that -the young lady’s transgression would be overlooked at headquarters. -Chris sauntered on, peeping into the tomato-houses, and trying to look -through the steaming glass of the fern-houses, until she was well under -the windows of the shut-up rooms. And she now perceived that there were -bars in front of all of them. - -The girl was a little impressed by this, and she kept well among the -trees, with a feeling that some hideous maniac’s face might appear at -one of the windows, and make grimaces at her. It was easy for her to -remain hidden herself from any eyes in the east wing but very sharp -ones; for under the trees was a growth of bushes and shrubs, through -which she could peep herself at the barred windows. She had made her -way cautiously, and under cover, from the north to the south, and -turning, she could see the sea between the branches. But from the -first floor the view of the sea was, in great part, spoiled by the -thick growth of the upper branches of the big elms and fir trees which -allowed a good view between their bare trunks from the ground floor. - -Chris met nobody, and she saw nobody at the front windows. Rather -disappointed, she was making her way back again, in order to get out -through the gate by which she had entered, when, glancing up at one of -the east windows on the first floor, she saw that, since she had last -passed, a man had seated himself close to the panes. - -At the first moment she of course thought this must be the maniac, and -she quickly concealed herself behind one of the bushes by the side of -the path, so that she could get a good view of him without his seeing -her. But a very few seconds made her alter her first impression. Surely -this was no madman, this handsome man with the pale, refined face, and -large, melancholy eyes. The face was young, at least she thought so at -the first look. It was not until she had examined it for some seconds -that she saw the deep lines and furrows about the mouth and eyes, and -the silver patches in the hair, which was long, and brushed back from -the face. - -Chris drew a deep breath. Something in the face made her think she -had seen it before. The long and slightly aquiline nose, the straight -mouth with its finely-cut lips, the brushed-back hair--she seemed to -know them all, as part of a picture she had lately seen. Suddenly an -exclamation broke from her lips. The miniature! yes, the face at the -window was the face in the little picture. This must be Gilbert Wryde. - -Chris was much puzzled. Was he the doctor who attended Mr. Richard, or -an old friend who had come to see him? This seemed the more probable of -the two suppositions; for if the portrait had been that of the madman’s -doctor, Mr. Bradfield would scarcely have said that he did not know him. - -But then the date on the portrait, 1847? The painting was that of a -young man in the very prime of life. In spite of the lines in his face -and the silver in his hair, it was impossible that the face behind the -barred window could be that of a man at least seventy years of age. - -Chris began to feel herself blushing, ashamed of the unseen watch she -was keeping upon a strange man. The sun of a very bright December -morning was upon his face, and upon a gold watch which he held in his -hand and looked at intently. This fact, together with the intense -seriousness of his face, caused Chris to revert to her idea that he -must be a physician. She had not heard that Mr. Richard was ill, but -that was nothing, for his name, as far as she knew, was very little -mentioned in the household, and he might be ill without her ever -hearing of it. - -She thought it probable that he was not only ill, but that his malady -had reached some grave crisis; for the face at the window was quite -serious enough to warrant the supposition that he was counting the -minutes in a case of life and death. This idea seized upon her so -strongly that she found herself watching for a change in his face, -thinking she should be able to tell whether the expression altered to -one of hope or to one of despair. - -Presently the expression did change. A look of eager expectancy -appeared in it as the dark eyes looked up. The unknown man put his -watch back in in his pocket, and disappeared quickly from the window. - -Chris, who was surprised to find that she had been standing still long -enough to grow cold and stiff, moved quickly away from her hiding-place -with a flush of shame in her cheeks. A few steps further along the -winding path under the trees, on which the decaying leaves lay thickly, -brought her out into the kitchen garden. Johnson had finished with his -celery and was going into one of the houses to look at his cuttings. He -glanced up at her, and she thought she would ask him a question. - -“Is Mr. Richard ill, Johnson, do you know?” she said. - -“Not as I knows on, miss. At least, not worse nor ordinary,” he said, -with a slight gesture of the head to denote where his weakness lay. - -“Then why has he got a doctor with him?” - -“He ain’t got no doctor with him, not as fur as I knows on, miss.” - -“The gentleman with the long grey hair; isn’t he a doctor?” - -“Why, no, Miss,” answered Johnson, with a grin; “the gentleman with the -long hair is Mr. Richard himself.” - -Chris was so much astonished that for a moment she stared at the man -and said nothing. Then she repeated, slowly: - -“Mr. Richard! Why, he looks sane!” - -Johnson shook his head. - -“He do sometimes, miss,” he answered, with an air of superior wisdom. -“Other times he carries on awful, smashes the windows, and makes noises -and cries to make your blood run cold. That’s how it is, as I’ve heard, -with folks that’s not got their proper wits. You’d think they was as -wise as you and me, and then something upsets ’em and off they go -sudden-like, an’ raises old ’Arry before you can say Jack Robinson.” - -Chris was cut to the heart. Whether she would have felt quite so -much compassion for Mr. Richard if he had been stout, red-faced and -stubbly-haired is, unfortunately, open to question. But the idea of -this man with the handsome features and the interesting expression -passing his life shut up in those lonely rooms, with no society but -that of Stelfox the Stolid, shocked her, and made her miserable. -She could not realise his condition; could not understand mental -deficiency in the owner of a face which seemed to her as intellectual -as it was good-looking. In a state of the strongest excitement she -turned back again into the shrubbery to try to get one more look at the -madman, and discover, if she could, in the placid, grave features some -sign of the disorder behind them. - -A romantic notion had seized her that perhaps the most had not been -done that could be done for him, and that she might be the means of -inducing Mr. Bradfield to make one last and more successful effort to -restore him to reason. - -And as this thought passed through her mind, the voice of Mr. Bradfield -himself calling to her made her start and look round. - -He was coming out of the orchid house, and he addressed her by name in -a tone of surprise and some displeasure. - -“Miss Christina! Is that you? What are you doing in this part of the -world?” - -“You know you said that I might examine every corner of the place if I -liked,” answered Chris, blushing. “But I have never been able to get -into this particular corner until to-day.” - -“Why didn’t you ask me to bring you here? I would have shown you -anything you wanted to see, and should have had great pleasure in doing -so, as you know,” replied he, still with some stiffness. “As it is, I -suppose you have not seen much to interest you? You have not been into -any of the houses?” - -“I haven’t been into any of the houses, but I have seen something to -interest me,” answered Chris, with her heart beating fast. - -She had resolved to be bold, and to carry on her scheme on behalf of -Mr. Richard, while excitement gave her courage. Mr. Bradfield raised -his eyebrows a little, and Chris looked down, lest she should be -frightened by his frowns. - -“I have seen poor Mr. Richard--at the window,” she answered, drawing -her breath quickly, and feeling rather than seeing, that Mr. Bradfield -was displeased. “And--and I want to know, Mr. Bradfield, if you will -let my mother and me see him, and speak to him?” - -“Speak to him!” exclaimed Mr. Bradfield shortly. “Speak to a madman! -Well, you can, certainly if you like. But we shall have to take some -precautions, as the very sight of a woman throws him into a frenzy. The -sex is his pet aversion.” - -Chris looked incredulous; she could not help it. It is always difficult -to understand that one can have no attraction for a creature who -attracts oneself, and Mr. Richard certainly attracted her. - -“I can’t think what has put the idea into your head of wishing to speak -to him,” went on Mr. Bradfield, in a tone of open annoyance. “Surely -you don’t think he is ill-treated under my roof? Stelfox is a man in -every way to be trusted, and you can ask him yourself about the poor -fellow’s condition.” - -“I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean to imply that he was not kindly -treated,” answered Chris, hastily. “But he looks so sane, so quiet; I -was wondering whether something might not perhaps be done for him if -you sent him to be seen by some celebrated mad doctor. I daresay you -will think it very impertinent of me to make such a suggestion,” added -the girl, laughing rather shyly, as if deprecating his anger at her -boldness, “but you know mother always says I’m an impudent monkey, and -I can’t help my nature, can I?” - -But Mr. Bradfield did not take her remarks as kindly as usual. He -frowned, and seemed to be thinking out some idea which had entered his -mind while she was speaking. There was a short pause before he said, -not noticing her last words: - -“You think he is quiet, do you? You think I am exaggerating when I tell -you he hates the sight of a woman. Well, you shall see. Wait here a -moment while I find out where he is.” - -Mr. Bradfield left her by herself for a short time, while he followed -the path among the trees, towards the sea-front. Chris felt chilled and -miserable. He seemed so much annoyed that she feared that she had done -more harm than good by her interference. All that she had gained was -the knowledge that Mr. Richard’s case was considered hopeless; and this -knowledge caused her infinite pain. She looked up again at the barred -windows, and pictured to herself the blank, dismal life of the man who -lived in those gloomy rooms, where the branches of the trees shut out -the sun. What were the thoughts that occupied the mind of the unhappy -man who lived there? Whom was he waiting for, watch in hand? Was it for -someone to cheer him in his solitude, someone who never came? - -Silly Chris had tears in her eyes at the thought. She brushed them away -hastily as Mr. Bradfield came hurriedly back. He looked excited, and -there was a confident look on his face, which showed his belief that he -could convert her to his own views of the madman. - -“Come,” said he. “Come this way, through the front gate.” - -Rather surprised, and wondering where he was going to lead her to, -Chris followed Mr. Bradfield, not along the paths among the trees, but -by a more open one, which passed nearer to the walls of the house, -between two flower-borders. They turned the corner of the house, and as -they did so, Mr. Bradfield looked up at the first-floor windows on the -south side. - -Mr. Richard was standing at one of them, with his face close to the -glass, looking out. - -“Mind,” said Mr. Bradfield, as he put one hand as if for protection on -her shoulder, “when he sees you he will fall into a paroxysm of fury. -But don’t be frightened; I’ll take care you come to no harm.” - -The words were scarcely out of his mouth when Mr. Richard glanced -down and saw the young lady with Mr. Bradfield. Just as the latter -had predicted, Mr. Richard’s face changed in a moment from its quiet -melancholy to an expression like that of an enraged wild animal. -Before she had time either to run forward or backward, she heard the -crash of glass above her, and a heavy glass goblet was flung down on -to the ground beside her, narrowly missing her head. Then she heard a -wild, unearthly cry, followed by a torrent of discordant utterances -impossible to understand, except as the mad gibberings of a hopeless -lunatic. - -With a little scream she escaped from Mr. Bradfield, who had thrown his -arm round her, and ran back towards the gate by which she had entered -the enclosure. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -MR. BRADFIELD’S “SMART” RELATIONS. - - -To have a personal attack made upon her by a lunatic is enough to -alarm the most intrepid girl. And Chris, although not a coward, not -even given to hysterical attacks over black-beetles, was a good deal -frightened by her first experience of Mr. Richard’s violence. - -By the time she was safely out of the enclosure, however, she had -recovered from her first alarm; and, dropping from a run into a walk, -she paused before carrying out her first idea of running indoors to -tell her mother what had happened. - -Why should she say anything about it to Mrs. Abercarne? Her mother -had hardly yet got over her repugnance to staying under the same -roof with a lunatic. If her terrors were to be revived by hearing of -the adventure that had befallen her daughter, she would make fresh -difficulties about staying, and perhaps exhaust Mr. Bradfield’s -patience. And Chris, though she could not be blind to the difficulties -which Mr. Bradfield’s admiration began to put in the way of their -remaining in his house, did not wish to hasten the moment when they -must leave it. So she turned away from the house, and sauntered between -the bare borders and empty flower-beds, to calm herself a little before -returning to her mother’s presence. - -“Well, what did I tell you?” said Mr. Bradfield, in an exultant tone. -“Are you still as anxious as ever for an interview with our young -friend?” - -Chris, annoyed with herself, vented her annoyance on him. So she turned -to say, snappishly: - -“Yes, quite as anxious; and more anxious still that he should be seen -by a doctor.” - -Mr. Bradfield’s face changed. The sullen frown which, whenever it -appeared, made his dark face so very unprepossessing, came over it as -he said shortly: - -“You presume too much.” - -And he turned on his heel abruptly, and went indoors. - -Chris felt quite glad she had offended him. From one point of view, as -the master of the house where she and her mother lived so comfortably, -she liked him very much. From any other she began to feel that she -did not like him at all. She felt again the aversion with which he -had inspired her on the day of her arrival, an aversion which his -kindness had been gradually dispelling. Perhaps it was that he showed -too decided an acquiescence in the fact that his ward’s mental malady -was incurable. Or it may have been vexation at his exposing her to -the danger of the madman’s anger, and at the daring familiarity with -which he had put his arm round her shoulder in an alleged attempt to -protect her. Or, possibly, her renewed dislike was only the result of -that instinct by which women leap to conclusions without reasoning out -the facts. It is at any rate certain that the girl felt at that moment -considerably more fear of Mr. Bradfield than she did of the madman in -the east wing. To be sure, the latter was shut up, and the former was -not. - -She did not go indoors until she had quite recovered from the effects -of the scene she had gone through; so that Mrs. Abercarne noted -nothing unusual in her countenance or manner. - -It was after luncheon on the same day, that Chris, sitting with her -embroidery in the corridor, which was warmed with hot-water pipes, and -was her favourite retreat, was surprised to be addressed by Stelfox, -who was carrying a couple of large books from one of the upstairs -bookcases in the direction of the east wing. - -“You were not much frightened, I hope, this morning, miss, by Mr. -Richard’s antics?” he asked, in his quiet, stolid manner. Chris had -a liking for this man as unreasonable as her dislike of his master. -She had seldom spoken to him; when he met her he had usually stood -out of her way like an automaton, so that it was not upon discerning -acquaintance that her predilection was founded. Still, it was a fact -and she smiled as she assured him that if she was frightened she soon -got over it. - -“But where were you?” she went on in some surprise. “Were you upstairs -with Mr. Richard? No,” she continued, answering herself, as she -remembered to have seen Stelfox coming in by the front gates as she -ran out of the enclosure, “you had gone out into the town. How did you -know, then, that I was frightened? Did Mr. Bradfield tell you?” - -Stelfox allowed his straight mouth to widen a little in what passed -with him for a smile. - -“No, miss. Master never talks about Mr. Richard to anyone. I heard it -from the young gentleman himself when I took him in his luncheon.” - -Chris looked at him in astonishment. - -“He told you! He’s sane enough to know what he does, then, and to talk -about it afterwards? Do _you_ believe that he is really incurable?” - -“Well, he’s pretty bad sometimes,” answered he, not giving a direct -answer. “Perhaps you haven’t heard the way he cries out, and the odd -noises he makes, miss?” - -Chris gave a little shudder. - -“Yes; and it’s very dreadful to hear him. But----” - -She paused, and looked at the sky, which, now darkening a little -towards evening, could be seen between the bare branches of the trees. -Stelfox was silent too, but it suddenly flashed through the mind of -Chris that his was a discreet silence which had meaning in it. Before -either spoke again, Stelfox lifted the lid of the box-ottoman near -which he was standing, and rapidly but very quietly slipped inside -the two books he had been carrying, and was immediately in the same -attitude of respectful attention as before. Then for the first time -she heard the creaking of a stair, and, turning her head, she saw Mr. -Bradfield approaching. - -To her great delight, for she had begun on the instant to dread a -_tête-à-tête_ with him, Mr. Bradfield scowled as he caught sight of -her, and disappeared into a sort of workshop he had on the first floor, -where he often spent the afternoon busy with a turning-lathe. - -As soon as his master was out of sight, Stelfox took the two books out -of the ottoman. Chris watched him in evident surprise. Then a thought -struck her. - -“You were going to take those books to Mr. Richard?” she asked, in a -low voice. - -“Yes, miss.” - -“And you were afraid he wouldn’t like you to?” - -“Well, miss,” said Stelfox, again with the contortion he meant for a -smile, “Mr. Bradfield don’t understand his ways as well as I do, and he -thinks books wouldn’t be safe with him. But I know when to trust him -with ’em, and he’s as quiet as a lamb this afternoon.” - -He was going on towards Mr. Richard’s room, when the young lady -detained him, saying, in a low voice: - -“Did he say, Stelfox, that he really meant to hurt me, this morning?” - -Stelfox looked down at the carpet, and, for a moment, made no answer. -Then he looked up, and caught a look of suspense and impatience on her -face. Looking down again at once, he said, drily: - -“No, miss; I don’t recollect as he told me that.” - -Then he withdrew, leaving the young lady in a state of curiosity and -strange excitement. - -Why should she care whether this poor lunatic wanted to hurt her or -not? Surely the only thing that concerned her was that it should be -out of his power to do so. This was what Chris told herself. But -her girlish sense of romance was tickled by the whole story--by the -knowledge of the solitary and sad life this man was leading, close to -his fellow-creatures, and yet shut out from them; by a remembrance -of the incident of the miniature, which would have passed for his -portrait, and yet which surely could not be his; above all by the man -himself, with his handsome face and weary eyes. - -For the next few days, neither Chris nor her mother saw much of Mr. -Bradfield. But he soon forgot or forgave her indiscreet interference -on Mr. Richard’s behalf, for when he did see her, he bantered her, -good-humouredly, about the approaching ball, for which the invitations -were being sent out. With this work, however, the ladies had little to -do, except to help Mr. Bradfield’s secretary--a pale, fair, weak-eyed -young man named Manners--in directing the envelopes. - -While this work of sending out the invitations was still in progress, -Mrs. Abercarne received a note from Mr. Bradfield, requesting that she -and her daughter would do him the pleasure of breakfasting, lunching -and dining with him every day, and that they would begin that very -evening. - -No sooner had they taken their seats at the table for the first time, -than Mr. Bradfield took an open letter from his pocket, and gave it to -the elder lady to read. - -“I have asked you to keep me company,” said he, grimly, “to save me -from _that_!” - -Mrs. Abercarne read the letter, which was in a large and modern lady’s -hand. The paper was perfumed, and in colour a very pale rose-pink--the -latest Bayswater fashion in notepaper. - - - “CAMBRIDGE TERRACE, - “KENSINGTON, W. - - “MY DEAR COUSIN JOHN--Need I say how utterly delighted we were - with your most kind invitation? Lilith and Rose are perfectly - charmed, and so is Donald, whom you will not recognise! He has - grown into a splendid fellow. What is this I hear, that you have - been so dull that you have had to get a housekeeper? Surely you - know that you had only to mention it, and we would have done long - ago what we propose to do now, namely--migrate from town to the - wilds of Wyngham to be near you. Yes, this is absolutely and truly - what we are going to do. Retrenchment is the order of the day, now - that we have a family growing up around us, and I think we cannot - do better than settle ourselves where we shall get the benefit of - the shadow of your wing. I suppose there is some society in or - about the place, and the fact of our being related to you, besides - the value of our own name, would of course give us the _entrée_. - Would it be asking too much of you to look out for a modest house - such as you would care for your relations to live in; not too far - away from you, I need not say. - - “William wishes to be remembered to you most kindly. As for Rose - and Lilith, and the boys, they send so many messages that I cannot - remember them all. - - “Believe me, dear cousin John, you shall not long be left to the - hired society of strangers, when your own family are only too - anxious to do all they can to cheer you, and to serve you in any - way in their power. - - “Ever your sincerely affectionate cousin, - “MAUDE GRAHAM-SHUTE.” - - -Mrs. Abercarne read the letter slowly through with the help of her -eyeglasses, and then gave it back in a dignified manner. - -“A very affectionate letter,” she remarked, having read between -the lines of the effusive epistle and conceived for its writer an -antagonism quite as violent as that which the writer evidently felt -towards her. - -“Very affectionate,” he answered, drily. “It will cost me say two -hundred pounds. And cheap at the price, perhaps, you’ll say.” - -Mrs. Abercarne coughed: comment was dangerous, and, indeed, -unnecessary. Chris, who, without having seen the letter, made a -judicious guess at the tenor of it, glanced from the one to the other. - -“You will think I have brought it on myself,” he went on, as he glanced -once more at the letter before putting it in his pocket. “However, the -woman is so amusing with her airs and her pretensions that I am doing -the neighbourhood a good turn by providing it with a laughing-stock. A -good-natured soul, too! I was in love with her once. There was less of -her then.” - -Every word he uttered concerning the effusive cousin increased the -aversion with which Mrs. Abercarne already regarded her. - -“I’ve asked them to come for the week,” he went on. “From Monday to -Monday. You will give them what rooms you please, Mrs. Abercarne. -There’ll be five of ’em--old couple, two grown-up daughters and a -grown-up son. And you and Miss Christina will do your best to amuse -them, I’m sure.” - -Mrs. Abercarne had grave doubts whether the visitors would allow -themselves to be amused, but she did not say so. Mr. Bradfield did -not like difficulties to be mentioned in the way of his whims, and it -was one of his whims to fill his house at Christmas time, and another -to play the patron to his poorer relations. She began to fear that -the pleasant and independent time she and her daughter had enjoyed at -Wyngham House was over. - -For Mrs. Graham-Shute--she knew by a fine woman’s instinct--would -“interfere.” - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -MRS. GRAHAM-SHUTE MANŒUVRES. - - -It was ten days later that Mrs. Graham-Shute arrived, according to her -promise, at Wyngham House. - -Chris, much against her will, was stationed, by Mr. Bradfield’s special -request, to receive the visitors. Mrs. Abercarne tried to persuade -him that he himself ought to meet such distinguished guests, but -he laughed, and said “he couldn’t stand the old woman’s gush; if a -reception by Miss Christina wasn’t good enough for them, they might do -without one altogether, and be hanged to them.” - -So Christina amused herself at the piano until Mrs. Graham-Shute was -announced. The girl came forward modestly to receive the new-comers, -who were talking loudly as they entered. At the first moment she -thought it was an affectation to put her out of countenance, but she -soon found out that the Graham-Shutes never did anything without making -four times as much noise over it as anybody else would have done. - -Thus, Mrs. Graham-Shute came in with rustling skirts and jingling -bonnet ornaments, while Donald laughed in a deep bass voice, and -entered with a tread as heavy as a dragoon’s. - -“My _dear_ John, where are you? It was quite too sweet of you to----” - -Suddenly becoming aware that “dear John” was nowhere to be seen, and -that there was only a slender and remarkably pretty girl bowing and -smiling to her rather timidly, Mrs. Graham-Shute stopped short, drew -in her extended hand, and stared at Chris with a face which had in an -instant lost its air of expansive good humour. - -Chris, who had been reassured by the good-natured expression which she -had at first seen on the visitor’s face, felt a chill come over her. -She was not afraid of this self-important lady, but she perceived at -once that there would be “unpleasantness” between her and “mamma.” With -the quickness of budding womanhood, she had taken in at a glance every -detail of the new-comer’s appearance, and had had time for a peep at -the young people behind. - -And what she had seen was a woman of medium height, enormously stout, -with a large, many-chinned face, in which were a pair of eyes which ran -over her interlocutor for a few moments with frank curiosity, and then -grew dull, while her tongue still ran on, and her mind occupied itself -with some subject foreign to her words. - -So that while her words to Chris were, “Dear me! So very sorry that -Mr. Bradfield was too busy to receive us himself! The poor dear man -really does work too hard with his collections, and his philanthropical -projects!” her thoughts were: “I wonder who on earth you are, and what -you’re doing here! And I hope, whoever you are, that we shall be able -to turn you out!” - -Unfortunately, her thoughts spoke through her looks more eloquently -than her words. Between her suspicions of the real state of the case, -and the possibility that this young lady might be a relation of -Mr. Bradfield’s, the poor lady felt uncertain how to treat her, and -alternated between the most distant coldness and bursts of confidential -effusiveness. When, however, Chris said: “Would you like to go up -to your rooms? My mother thought you would like what we call the -lighthouse room at the end,” Mrs. Graham-Shute stared at her with -unmistakable hostility. - -“Your mother is staying here with you, then?” she said shortly. - -“My mother is the housekeeper,” answered Chris, with a blush. - -Poor Mrs. Graham-Shute’s extensive person seemed to expand still -further under the influence of her just indignation. To be received by -this minx of a housekeeper’s daughter! A girl whose very existence, to -judge by her face and figure, was a danger and an insult to all Mr. -Bradfield’s relations who had any expectations from him. What was dear -John thinking about? She called her children much as a hen gathers her -chicks under her wings at approaching danger, and they bustled and -bounced out of the room. - -Chris was mortified, but she had expected something of the sort, so she -conquered the feeling easily. She would not go up to her mother, who -was dressing for dinner, to delay her and worry her by a description -of the new arrivals. Mrs. Abercarne could take her own part whatever -happened, and there was no need to let her anticipate evil more than -she had already done. - -In the meantime, Mrs. Graham-Shute had not dared to make any comment -on the situation until she was well past the study door. But upstairs, -meeting her husband, who had gone straight to the stables for a cigar -after his journey, she poured out her wrath in a ceaseless torrent. - -Mr. Graham-Shute was a small, inoffensive man, and he looked smaller -and more inoffensive still when in the company of his wife. He was -the grandson of a man who had been a great poet, and there is no need -to say more about him than that he was a striking example of the fact -that genius is not hereditary. Being used to his wife’s harangues, he -listened indifferently to this one; and the only point in it which -excited him to any attention was her account of the good looks of the -interloper. - -“Pretty girl, is she?” said he, with interest, when his better half -took breath for a moment. “I must make haste and dress and run down and -have a look at her!” - -The poor lady was hardly more fortunate with her children. Lilith was -rather pretty, Rose was rather plain; the former had dark eyes and a -loud voice, and the latter had light eyes and no voice at all. They -both thought that mamma was making a great fuss about a small matter, -and Lilith told her so. - -Unable to get any sympathy from this quarter, Mrs. Graham-Shute tried -her son. Donald, who was the apple of his mother’s eye, had been -coarsely and aptly described by Mr. Bradfield before his arrival as a -rough young cub. He was a great, loud-voiced, awkward hobbledehoy, who -had remained at this stage much longer than he would otherwise have -done through the injudicious management of his mother. He couldn’t be -made to see things from his mother’s point of view at all. Chris was -an “awfully pretty girl,” and looked like an “awfully jolly one.” In -consequence of her presence he looked forward to having a very much -pleasanter time at Wyngham House than he had ever had there before. - -“I shouldn’t worry myself about it, mother. In fact, I don’t know what -you are worrying about,” he said, when she paused for breath. “The -girl’s a lady, and----” - -“Why, you idiot! don’t you see that’s the danger?” gasped his mother. -“She’s a lady, and she’s young and good-looking. And if she gets him -to marry her, there’ll be an end of any hope of his doing anything for -you, or for any of us!” - -“Gets him to marry her!” roared Donald, indignantly. “Why, the old fool -might think himself precious lucky if he were to get her to marry him! -Why, she’s one of the most charming----” - -“Sh--sh!” said his mother, pinching his arm in her terror lest he -should be overheard. “For goodness’ sake hold your tongue. I’ve no -doubt these people have their spies about, and if we’re not very civil -to them, they’ll persuade cousin John to be rude to us, or something -dreadful.” - -“You needn’t fear that I shall be anything but civil to that girl,” -said Donald, as if conscious that his civility was rather a precious -thing. - -And Mrs. Graham-Shute left her son with a sigh of self-pity at -obtaining so little sympathy from her “own people.” - -She was an inventive woman, however, where her own little schemes were -concerned, and an idea had come into her head. If it should prove, as -she feared, that there was any danger of “dear John’s” being enslaved -by the housekeeper’s pretty daughter, why should she not put “a -drag” across the scent in the shape of her son? He was handsome and -fascinating beyond all men, and was twenty-five years younger than John -Bradfield. He was already attracted by the girl, who could not fail to -be flattered by his admiration, whatever her designs might be upon the -master of the house. If Donald would have the sense to make love to her -without exciting the jealous suspicions of his cousin, he might draw -off the girl’s attention, and give his mother time to “look round” in -the interests of herself and her family. - -In the meantime, she made up her mind to “be civil.” - -This proved a more difficult task than she had expected. At dinner she -found Mrs. Abercarne installed in the place of the mistress of the -house. She saw “dear John,” who had welcomed her without effusiveness, -casting sheep’s eyes in the direction of Miss Abercarne. As she -expressed it afterwards to her husband, who was delighted with Chris: - -“You couldn’t move for Abercarnes. It was ‘Mrs Abercarne, will you do -this?’ and ‘Miss Abercarne can tell you that,’ from morning till night!” - -On the whole, dinner was a calamitous function. Mr. Graham-Shute, -who was neither a busybody nor a schemer, but simply an easy-going -gentleman, without any great measure of tact, made, in spite of frowns -of warning from his wife, more than one awkward remark. In the first -place, he asked John Bradfield, across the table, whether he still kept -his private lunatic on the establishment. - -“Because if you do, you know, my dear fellow,” he went on, “I sha’n’t -be able to sleep a wink.” - -Mr. Bradfield answered, very shortly: - -“I don’t see what that can have to do with your sleeping!” - -“Don’t you? Why, John, your memory’s going. Have you forgotten the row -he kicked up last time we were here, and how we all thought he would -bring his door down? And the man who looks after him, or, at least, -who did then, man named Stelfox, said he always went on like that when -there were visitors in the house. I declare I shouldn’t have dared to -come to-day if I thought you’d got him still!” - -“Why didn’t you ask me, then?” said John Bradfield, drily. “I didn’t -want to have you here against your will.” - -“Really, William,” broke in Mrs. Graham-Shute, in an agony, “I don’t -know how you can be so absurd. How can it matter to you who is in one -part of a large house like this, when you are far away in the other?” - -“Oh! of course, it’s all right as long as he’s safely locked up,” said -her husband, as he helped himself to an olive, with more attention to -that than to the discussion in hand. “But at my time of life a man -prefers to die a natural death, and not to run the chance of being -tomahawked in his bed.” - -Luckily the young people took this as a joke, and laughed; so that -difficulty was got over. But when they had got as far as the sweets, -the doomed man began again: - -“By-the-bye, Bradfield,” he asked casually, as he tried to make up his -mind between orange-jelly and ice-pudding, “what’s become of those two -fellows who were out in the bush with you?” - -“Don’t know what two fellows you mean,” answered Mr. Bradfield, in a -tone which would have warned off any person less obtuse. “I met a good -many fellows when I was out there.” - -By this time Mr. Graham-Shute had caught his wife’s eye, seen her -frowns, watched her agonised attempts to kick his foot under the table; -but he was as quietly obstinate in his way as she was loudly determined -in hers, so he glared at her across the flowers, and persisted in his -ill-advised remarks. - -“Oh! come, you must know. Two fellows who went out with you, or -whom you met soon after you got out there, and chummed up with. -Marrable--yes, Alfred Marrable was the name of the one, and----” Here -he paused, trying to recollect the second name. “I can’t remember the -name of the other. What’s become of them? What’s become of Marrable?” - -Mrs. Graham-Shute could hardly have been trusted alone with her husband -with a weapon in her hand at that moment. For she saw that the rich -cousin from whom so much was expected was looking as much displeased -as only a sallow-faced and black-haired man can look. If William were -going on like this, they might just as well settle at John-o’-Groat’s -as at Wyngham. John Bradfield no longer pretended, however, to have -forgotten the existence of his old chums. - -“Dead, I believe, both of them,” he answered, curtly. “Did no good, -either of them.” - -“And what was the name of the other man?” - -“Don’t remember.” - -William looked at him incredulously, though he could not go so far as -to contradict him. - -His wife rushed in to the rescue. - -“And what are we going to do to pass the time away between this and -Friday?” she asked, with a great assumption of buoyancy and good -spirits. “We ought to try to ‘get up’ something, ought we not?” - -This question almost restored John Bradfield’s good humour. It was -so characteristic of his cousin Maude. She was always “getting up” -something, always at short notice, and always badly. It was her custom -to forget some one or other of the necessary preparations, and to -leave the work to be done in the hands of others. But she liked the -excitement, the glory of being the prime mover of everything, however -small, the feeling that she was making herself talked about; above all, -she liked the “fuss.” - -Lilith and Rose looked at each other. Their eyes said, “So like mamma!” - -“All right, Maude,” said her cousin, with restored gold humour. “What -shall it be? A sack race? Or distribution of buns to the oldest -inhabitants? It’s all the same to you, I suppose?” - -It was her turn to look offended. She raised her head so far that her -cousin could scarcely see more than the chins as she answered, in -stately tones: - -“Oh! of course, if I’m only to be laughed at, I withdraw the -suggestion. But I thought, as we are in a beautiful house like this, -where there is plenty of room and plenty of people to do everything, it -seems a pity not to take advantage of it, and----” - -“And get a line in the local paper,” added her husband. - -There was a laugh at this, subdued on the part of her daughters, -boisterously loud from Donald, who had been enjoying his cousin’s -champagne immensely, and bestowing more and more of his attention on -the unresponsive Chris. - -They all knew that her project, if she could yet be said to have -anything so definite, was not nipped in the bud, but would spring up to -its full growth at a not remote period. For the moment, however, Mrs. -Graham-Shute said no more about it, but rather disdainfully gave to -Mrs. Abercarne the signal for the ladies to retire, instead of waiting -for that lady to give it to her. - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -AMATEUR CHARITY. - - -As soon as the ladies were in the drawing-room, Mrs. Graham-Shute -returned to her point. As her daughters, used to mamma’s ways of -“getting up” entertainments, were unsympathetic, and as Mrs. Abercarne -was on her dignity, she was forced to pour out her proposals into the -ear of Chris. Anxious to secure at least this one ally, she became very -gracious to the girl. - -“I’m sure you would be glad of some gaiety to vary the monotony of your -life here,” she said, with condescension. “Now, what do you say to -_tableaux vivants_? I’m sure we might get some up by Thursday. This is -only Monday, so we have three clear days.” - -“There would be a great deal to do in such a short time,” said Chris. -“And where would you have them?” - -“Oh! in this room of course. It is beautifully adapted for the -purpose. There’s the opening for the curtains between the two rooms, -and a door to each, one for the audience, the other for the performers.” - -She was so enthusiastic that Chris felt quite sorry that she must -destroy this charming arrangement by pointing out that the room was -wanted for the ball on Friday night, and that there would be no time to -put up a stage on Thursday and to take it down and re-arrange the room -for the night after. - -“Well, there must be some other room in a big place like this,” said -Mrs. Graham-Shute, still buoyantly. “Come, you set your wits to work -to help me, like a dear girl, and I’m sure we shall manage something -between us.” - -Chris began to see that she had better indulge her, as she would want -something to keep her occupied during the next few days. - -“There’s a great place that was built for a barn, that was used for a -school treat in the summer, I believe. It’s down by the new stables, a -quarter of a mile away. I don’t know whether that would do. There are -some tables and trestles piled up in one corner; perhaps they could be -made into a stage.” - -“The very thing!” cried Mrs. Graham-Shute, enthusiastically. “I knew we -should manage it somehow.” - -But Chris saw difficulties where her companion saw none. - -“But you will want a lot of people, performers and spectators too,” she -objected. “And then, have you considered that there will be dresses to -be made, and scenes to be rehearsed? There’s a lot of work to be done -to get _tableaux_ up properly.” - -But to get a thing up properly was what Mrs. Graham-Shute never -troubled to do. To get it up somehow was always the extreme limit of -her ambition. She was already perfectly satisfied, and she proceeded at -once to settle other details as summarily as the first. - -“We will do fairy tales, I think,” she said. “The dresses will be -cheap and easily made. We can have the ‘Sleeping Beauty,’ with Lilith -as Beauty, and ‘Robinson Crusoe’ and ‘Red Riding Hood,’ and--and any -of those things, don’t you know? With all my cousin’s curiosities and -things we can make a lovely palace for the ‘Sleeping Beauty.’” - -Mrs. Abercarne had raised her double eye-glass, and was looking -horror-struck at this suggested desecration. - -Chris, with a frightened glance at her mother, hastened to say: - -“But, then, the performers? Who would you have for the _tableaux_?” - -“Oh, well, there must be some family in the neighbourhood quite used to -such things. There always is, you know. I must ask my cousin John about -that. I suppose you wouldn’t know of anybody?” - -“Well, there are the Brownes. Mr. Browne is a brewer, the head of the -firm of Browne & Browne. It’s a large family, and they can act, I -believe.” - -“Then they will do beautifully,” said Mrs. Graham-Shute, complacently. -“We will have them just to fill up. They can play the pages and -court ladies, and one of them can be the Wolf in ‘Red Hiding Hood;’ -and another can black himself for Man Friday. Of course, Lilith, -and Rose, and Donald will take the principal parts, for they want a -little acting, you know. People think it’s only just to stand still, -but really you have to be quite clever to do it really well. And now -there’s nothing left to decide but what’s it to be for. Of course, it -must be in aid of something. I must go and see the vicar’s wife--if he -has a wife--to-morrow, and settle that.” - -“You don’t mean to charge to see them, do you?” exclaimed Chris, in -astonishment. “Done in such a hurry, would they be worth it?” - -“Oh, people don’t mind when it’s for a charity,” answered the lady, -breezily. “Besides, I’m sure they’ll be very good. You will spare no -pains in getting the dresses ready, and all the little etceteras, will -you? I don’t mind organizing these things a bit, but I must have a -willing lieutenant to carry out the petty details,” she ended, with a -smile. - -Chris thought that upon the whole the “petty details” would be quite -equal in value to the “organisation,” but all she said was: - -“Of course, I will do all I can. But I’m afraid you will have to give -up the idea of making a charge for admission. Mr. Bradfield would never -allow it, I’m sure.” - -Mrs. Graham-Shute, losing her good humour in a moment, looked at her -with fishy eyes. Who was this girl that she should profess to know more -than she did about her “cousin John?” - -“Oh, that would take all the sense out of the thing altogether,” she -said, coldly. “If any little thing should go wrong, the lights all go -out, as happened once, I remember; or the people be obliged to go on in -their ordinary dress, as we had to do once for the murder of Rizzio, -people can grumble or make fun of you if it’s not for a charity. Young -people don’t consider these things. I’m sure, if Mr. Bradfield doesn’t -like it much, he’ll give way if I coax him.” - -Chris said nothing; and as the gentlemen came in at that moment, Mrs. -Graham-Shute proceeded straightway to use her blandishments on her -cousin. - -“We’re going to give _tableaux vivants_ in the barn by the stables, -John,” she said, attacking him at once. “Miss Abercarne says we can -make a lovely stage there with some trestles and things that are there -already for us. And she says that the Brownes will play the smaller -parts beautifully, and I’m going to see them about it to-morrow. And -we’re going to do the ‘Sleeping Beauty.’” - -“I’ve no objection. But if you must have a ‘Beauty’ picture, have -‘Beauty and the Beast.’ Of course Miss Abercarne will play Beauty, and -I’ll play the other chap.” - -Mrs. Graham-Shute’s face fell. - -“We had thought of making Lilith play Beauty; you see it wants some -aptitude, and a little experience in these things to play an important -part like Beauty. But, of course, if Miss Abercarne thinks she can do -it better----” - -“She can _look_ it better, that’s the point,” interrupted Mr. -Bradfield, with conviction. “The prettiest girl must play Beauty, and -you can’t deny that Miss Abercarne _is_ the prettiest. Ask William.” - -Mr. Graham-Shute agreed enthusiastically; and the girls, who were all -three gathered round the piano, wondered what was amusing the gentlemen -so much, and making mamma so angry. But it was at the suggestion of -making a charge for admission that John Bradfield put his foot down -the most cruelly on his cousin’s little plans. He would not hear of it. -He was quite ready to pay them to come in, he said, if that should be -necessary; but he could not think of allowing people who would be his -guests on the following night, to pay for what was not worth paying for. - -And Mrs. Graham-Shute had to swallow her mortification as best she -could. - -“Perhaps,” she said, when she had mastered her vexation sufficiently to -speak, “we had better give up the idea of having the _tableaux_, and -think of something else. The time is very short, and if we are to have -a lot of incompetent people in the principal parts, it will not, as you -say, cousin John, be worth paying to see, or even seeing at all.” - -“But,” said John Bradfield, who saw through the poor lady’s little -manœuvres, and loved to tease her. “I won’t have them given up. They -will amuse you at any rate, and I want to see Miss Christina with her -hair down. She’ll have to wear it down as Beauty, won’t she?” - -Each word was making the poor lady more angry. She saw her husband -laughing at her, and at last she could bear it no longer. - -“Oh, if the affair is going to be spoilt in this way, I wash my hands -of it. I thought it was to be kept in the family.” - -“What family? The Brownes?” cried John Bradfield, as he crossed the -room and broke up the knot of girls. “Miss Christina, there’s a -difficulty about the part of Beauty. I’m sure you won’t mind playing -it, if I play the Beast, will you?” - -Poor Chris grew crimson, and Lilith looked surprised. It was her -mother’s fault that she had been taught to consider herself, not an -ordinarily pretty girl, but a peerless beauty, with whom all other -good-looking girls were out of the running. - -“Mrs. Shute doesn’t think you are clever enough to stand and be looked -at, Miss Christina,” he went on mischievously. “But I want you to -vindicate your claims to intellect.” - -“On the contrary,” interrupted his cousin in a shrill, offended tone, -“I thought Miss Abercarne’s talents would be wasted in such a trifling -part. I thought she would like better to play the music. We must have a -musical accompaniment.” - -“Yes, yes; I should like that much better,” said poor Chris, who saw -that she had been made the instrument for worrying the stout lady to -the verge of apoplexy. “Make me of use in any way you like, as long as -you don’t want me to go on the stage.” - -And so the incident ended in a discussion of the dresses, and in -choosing the subjects to be illustrated. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -AN ALARM. - - -The next two days were days such as Mrs. Graham-Shute loved, full of -bustle and confusion, and needless noise. She herself went out early in -the morning to call upon the Brownes, and to enlist them in her service -as foils to Lilith’s charms. The Brownes saw through her motives, -and discussed them among themselves in the frankest manner. But they -were ready for any fun that might be going, as people in the country -are, and at least they could go and laugh at her, which was the usual -reason privately given for the acceptance of one of Mrs. Graham-Shute’s -invitations. - -In the meantime, as she had shrewdly expected, all the real work -was left to Chris, who had to search through old wardrobes, devise -costumes, and decide upon all the arrangements necessary for -transforming the deserted barn into a comfortable and draught-tight -theatre. Here Mrs. Graham-Shute was too modest even to make a -suggestion. - -“I’m quite sure, my dear Miss Abercarne, that you are quite equal to -seeing to all these little matters. Of course, I couldn’t undertake to -do _everything_ myself.” - -So Mrs. Graham-Shute went to call upon the Brownes, while Chris and her -mother worked and tired themselves out at home. As for Lilith and Rose, -they simply washed their hands of the whole affair, and contented -themselves with begging Chris not to work so hard, and not to worry -herself. “Mamma was always doing these things, and people were used to -the way in which she did them.” Lilith occupied herself solely with her -own costumes, with which she required a great deal of help, and which -she thought were the only things that anybody need trouble themselves -about. Rose was completely apathetic, and made no offer of assistance; -and she was of very little use when persuaded to lend a hand. - -All this Chris would not have minded much if the attentions of Donald -had not been the last straw. Having received encouragement from his -mother, he pursued Chris all day long, getting in her way, and boring -her so much, that, on the second afternoon, she was at last fain to get -rid of him by sending him into the town to buy tapes and buttons. - -Mr. Graham-Shute took refuge in the study, where he bored John -Bradfield by talking politics, which his host hated. - -It was about three o’clock in the afternoon when a knock at the study -door was hailed by Mr. Bradfield as affording a hope of release. - -“Come in!” cried he; and Stelfox entered. - -Both the gentlemen saw at once, by the disturbed expression of the -usually stolid face, that something had happened. - -“Well, what is it?” asked his master testily. - -The next moment, with a glance at Graham-Shute, Mr. Bradfield jumped -up, and, making a step towards an inner door, which led into the -library, made a sign to Stelfox to follow him. - -But Mr. Graham-Shute’s curiosity was roused. - -“Eh--what? What, it’s something about that lunatic of yours, -Bradfield, I’m sure!” he cried excitedly. “He has got into some -mischief or other! I knew he would while I was here. What--what is it, -Stelfox? Has the creature got away, or what?” - -Stelfox nodded. - -“That’s it, sir,” he said. - -John Bradfield, who had reached the library door, reeled abruptly round. - -“Got away--again? Good heavens!” - -Mr. Graham-Shute was fidgetting nervously about the room. Stelfox stood -like a rock. - -“Then why--why on earth don’t you go after him?” said Mr. Graham-Shute. - -John Bradfield interrupted his querulous questions. - -“When did you find it out, and what have you done?” - -“I found it out a couple of hours ago, sir, and I’ve been hunting high -and low ever since, and I’ve had some of the men helping me. Of course, -it all had to be done on the quiet, so as not to frighten the ladies.” - -“Yes, for heaven’s sake don’t let my wife hear of it,” moaned Mr. -Graham-Shute, “or she’ll give us twice as much trouble as any lunatic. -Do you think he’s anywhere about the house?” - -Stelfox glanced at his master, who had turned deadly white at the -suggestion. - -“I don’t think so, sir.” - -Mr. Bradfield appeared suddenly to rouse himself from the sort of -stupefaction into which Stelfox’s intelligence had thrown him. Crossing -the room with quick steps, he picked out from a pile of canes and -weapons of various kinds which stood in one corner a heavy, loaded -stick. - -“We must lose no time,” said he. “Have you any ideas as to which -direction he will have taken?” - -“No, sir. All I’m sure of is that he can’t have got far. You see, sir, -he can’t meet anyone without their finding out that something’s wrong -with him, even if he should chance upon someone that doesn’t know where -he belongs to. No, sir; what I’m afraid of is, lest he should happen -upon Miss Abercarne. After that day, and seeing what he did, he’d -frighten her so dreadfully, sir.” - -“He mustn’t meet her--he mustn’t meet her on any account!” said John -Bradfield with excitement, and he brought the end of his heavy stick -down with force upon the ground. - -“I hope you don’t mean to brain the poor chap?” exclaimed Mr. -Graham-Shute apprehensively. - -“No. But unluckily there’s a possibility of his braining the first -person he meets. Do you know, Stelfox, whether he took anything which -he could use as a weapon away with him?” - -Stelfox hesitated a moment, and then answered: - -“Well, sir, one leg of the mahogany table that stands in his -sitting-room has been forced off. It looks as if he’d been preparing -for this job, for it’s clear he’s been hacking away at the leg on the -quiet for some time, so that at last he was able to wrench it off.” - -While he spoke, Mr. Bradfield was buttoning himself in his ulster. -Stelfox went on: - -“I can’t quite make out now how he gave me the slip. The door was -closed as usual. He must have picked the lock. He’s as cunning as they -make ’em, and nobody would have guessed at breakfast time that there -was anything up.” - -Mr. Bradfield, who was walking towards the front door, stopped suddenly. - -“Where is Miss Christina now?” he asked. - -Mr. Graham-Shute answered. - -“She’s up in the Chinese-room, sewing for this tomfoolery my wife’s -getting up.” - -“Mr. Donald has just gone up there with some things he’s been buying -for her in the town,” added Stelfox. - -“That’s all right,” said Mr. Graham-Shute. “He’ll be hanging about -there for the rest of the afternoon, so that if this poor fellow should -get in there, she’ll have someone to stand by her.” - -“Stelfox,” said Mr. Bradfield as he left the house, “let somebody watch -the door of the Chinese-room.” - -But this order was given too late. Chris had, indeed, been sewing -upstairs, as Mr. Graham-Shute said, and Donald had returned from the -town with his tapes and buttons. But several things had happened since -then. - -In the first place, Donald had wanted to make his return an opportunity -of making love to Chris. - -“Why, six pieces of tape! three reels of number forty! one packet of -mixed needles! two boxes of pins! Mr. Shute, you’re a genius! You -haven’t made a mistake!” - -“I should have done if it had been for anybody but you,” said Donald -sentimentally. “But every word you say is engraved upon my heart. And -don’t call me Mr. Shute. Call me Donald.” - -“I’ll call you anything you like if you won’t tread upon the nun’s -veiling, and if you leave off snipping the tape with my scissors,” said -Chris prosaically. - -“How awfully sharp you are with a fellow. Aren’t you nicer than that to -_anybody_, Miss Christina?” - -“Not when they interfere with my work.” - -“But you’re _always_ like this to me.” - -“Always! I have known you two days.” - -“And how long must you know me before you leave off snubbing me?” - -“As long as you continue to behave as if I were a very silly girl, and -you a very silly--_boy_, Mr. Shute.” - -“You think that’s very cutting, I suppose? Do you happen to know how -old I am, Miss Abercarne?” - -“Oh, perhaps you’re only extremely juvenile for your years; at any rate -I should have thought you were too old to worry a girl at your mother’s -instigation.” - -Donald started, and grew crimson. - -“I--I--I don’t understand you, Miss Abercarne,” he stammered, seating -himself on the table, and stabbing the precious nun’s veiling through -and through with a bodkin which he had taken from a work-basket. - -“Don’t you?” said Chris calmly, as she set his teeth on edge by tearing -a piece of calico. “Then, as I am quite sure you’re not dull-witted, I -can only suppose that you must think I am. For the past two days,” she -went on, as she tore off another strip of calico, “you have followed me -about everywhere; and when you have not done it of your own accord, I -have seen Mrs. Graham-Shute remind you by a nod or a look that you had -to do so. Ah! ha! You didn’t think my eyes were so good as that, did -you?” - -Donald was redder than before, and furious with his mother, Chris, and -himself. But then the boy peeped out in him, and he snatched away the -calico just as she was about to tear it again. - -“Don’t do that, for goodness’ sake!” said he, wincing. “Call me names, -if you like, make me out a cad if you like, but don’t set my teeth on -edge!” - -“I’m not going to call you names, or to make you out anything,” said -Chris, blushing and laughing a little, and looking very pretty in the -excitement of the skirmish. “But, of course, I can’t help having my own -opinion of your behaviour.” - -“I don’t care what your opinion is, you’ve no right to say such -things!” cried Donald in a loud and dictatorial tone. - -“I haven’t said anything but that you followed me about because your -mother told you to,” said Chris, looking up with a daring face. - -“It isn’t true! It isn’t true, it’s a--a--well, it isn’t true!” roared -Donald. - -“Yes, it is true, and I know why she does it, too!” she added in a -defiant tone, but with burning cheeks. “And I can tell you that both -you and she are wasting your time; for I’m not going to do the thing -you’re both so much afraid of. And if I _were_ going to do it,” she -added, with spirit, “nothing you and she could do would prevent me.” - -For a moment Donald was struck dumb. He was not only astonished, but he -was filled with admiration. He liked the girl’s “pluck,” and she looked -“jolly pretty.” - -“And w-w-what’s that?” he stammered almost meekly. - -“Why,” said Chris, becoming redder than ever, and looking at him -half-shyly, half-defiantly, “why, marry Mr. Bradfield!” - -By this time Donald had given up all thoughts of contradicting her. -Where was the use? So he sat down again upon the table, and stared at -her stupidly. - -“Oh!” said he at last in a feeble manner, and in a tone of -reflection--“oh! so that’s what you think, is it?” - -“Yes, and what I think further is that you’re both very silly.” - -“By Jove!” said Donald softly, “I think we are!” - -“And as you agree with me so entirely upon this point,” said Chris, as -she skipped over the piles of material which lay on the floor, and made -for the door, “you won’t be surprised when I tell you that if you dare -to come and worry me any more, I shall tell Mr. Bradfield. And perhaps -you know whether you would like that!” - -With which tremendous menace, Chris gave him a little curt bow, and ran -quickly out of the room, leaving him in a state of stupefaction. - -Half-way along the corridor Chris slackened her steps. It began to -dawn upon her that she had just managed to put herself in a very -uncomfortable position. She had, she thought, probably succeeded in -freeing herself from the attentions of the boisterous hobbledehoy who -had been pursuing her. But if, as she judged most likely, he should -confide to his mother the details of the interview just passed, Mrs. -Graham-Shute’s indignation would be so great, that she would certainly -vent some of it on the girl who had “insulted” her son. With this -unpleasant idea in her mind, Chris went down to the drawing-room very -soberly. - -The moment she entered she was seized upon by Mrs. Graham-Shute. - -“Oh, Miss Abercarne,” began that lady in an injured tone, “you’ve -forgotten all about the music. Don’t you know that the performance is -to take place to-morrow, and that it doesn’t do to leave everything to -the last?” - -Chris was not in the humour to be bullied by Mrs. Graham-Shute for that -lady’s own neglect. - -“I hadn’t forgotten the music, Mrs. Shute,” she said. “But I hadn’t -been asked to arrange it, and I should not have taken the matter upon -myself, even if, with the costumes to make, I had had time.” - -“Oh, well, somebody must see to it. I’m getting this affair up for -other people’s pleasure, and I expect to be helped.” - -“If you will settle upon the music you want played, I am quite ready to -play it,” said Chris rather shortly. - -It was certainly not for Miss Abercarne’s pleasure that Mrs. -Graham-Shute was getting up the entertainment, but she spoke as if she -had no other object in view. - -At that moment the door opened, and Donald came in. He did not see -Chris, who was standing in the embrasure formed by the big bay-window -which looked out to the west. Donald slouched up to his mother with his -usual heavy tread. - -“Mother,” he said, “I want to speak to you.” - -Mrs. Graham-Shute turned towards him, and Chris slipped quickly out of -the corner she was in, passed round the two, and crossed the room to -the door. - -“Wait a minute, Miss Abercarne,” said Mrs. Graham-Shute peremptorily, -catching sight of Chris when the girl’s hand was on the door. - -But Chris took no notice. She had been running about and tiring herself -out for that lady for two days, and now at last she rebelled. She saw -Donald start and turn round, and that was another reason why she felt -that she must make her escape. She had had enough of Graham-Shutes -for the present; and as they could find her as long as she was in the -house, she pulled out a cloak from a box-ottoman in the hall, took from -a peg in the outer hall a lantern which always hung there, lit the -candle in it, and escaped out of the house. She would go and see how -the work of erecting the stage in the barn was getting on. - -She had to cross the park by a path which led alongside a plantation -to the group of new buildings, erected by Mr. Bradfield, which -consisted of the stables and some farm-buildings, one of which was the -great barn. The key had been left in the lock, so she got in without -difficulty. It was quite dark inside, and apparently deserted. Raising -her lantern high above her head, Chris saw that the men had finished -the work of erecting the stage, and that they had all left the building. - -While she still stood by the door, she heard Donald’s voice whistling -to one of the dogs. She did not want him to find her here, and to -inflict upon her another “scene.” So she shut the great door very -softly, first taking the key from the outside, and replacing it on the -inside. And when she had shut it, she turned the key softly in the -lock. - -“Now,” she thought to herself, “if he should think of trying the door, -he will find it locked, think the place empty, and pass on.” - -With a sigh of relief to think that she had gained half an hour’s -peace, Chris crossed the wide barn floor, and examined the stage. It -had been very well put up, and was firm to the tread. For she tried it -herself, putting her lantern down on one corner of the stage while she -did so. - -She tried a step or two, but stopped suddenly, hearing something behind -her which was not the creaking of a board. She looked round quickly, -but saw nothing except the bare brick walls, and the forms still piled -in one corner. So she turned round again to face the imaginary audience. - -To her horror, she found that she had a real one. - -A man, evidently from his stealthy walk a man with some purpose which -was not honest, was sliding rapidly along the walls towards the door. -Chris dropped her skirt, and held her breath. Was he going out, afraid -of being discovered? In this case she made up her mind to pretend not -to see him. - -To her horror he gained the door by a last step, which was like the -bound of a wild beast, and took the key out of the lock. - -Chris sprang from the stage to the floor, uncertain what to do until -she knew who this was, and what his purpose might be. But with a sudden -notion that this was a thief, who meant to assault and rob her, she -turned towards the lantern, thinking she could elude him better in the -dark. - -But the man divined her attention, and sprang across the floor with -leaps and bounds, uttering discordant and frantic cries. - -For one moment Chris was paralysed with horror, and could not move; and -of that one moment the man took advantage to snatch up the lantern, and -turn its full light upon her. - -Then she stood transfixed, looking at his great wild eyes in the -obscurity, and clasping her hands. - -For it was the lunatic from the east wing! - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -MR. RICHARD SURPRISES CHRIS. - - -At the first moment of finding herself alone with the madman, Chris -gave herself up for lost; for he carried in his hand a formidable -weapon--the table leg with which he had provided himself before leaving -his rooms. He did not, however, brandish it in the air, and then bring -it down upon her head, as, in the first impulse of terror, she had -fully expected. - -So paralysed with fright was she, indeed, that she shut her eyes, -flinching under the expected blow. For she was standing with her back -against the little stage, with him in front of her, so that escape -seemed out of the question. - -As the blow did not come, she opened her eyes and looked up; and -involuntarily, at the sight of Mr. Richard’s face, she uttered an -exclamation. - -For he did not look ferocious or frenzied. He was regarding her with -just the expression of surprise and shy admiration which she might -have seen on the face of any other man of her acquaintance in the -circumstances. The only difference was that he did not, as another -man would have done, make any apologies. He stood looking at Chris as -if she had been a divinity; and she began to hope that she would be -able to persuade him, with very little trouble, to let her out. Indeed, -if it had not been for her vivid remembrance of the paroxysm of rage -into which she had seen him fall, on the occasion when he had flung -a missile at her through the window, she would have been absolutely -without any fear of him at all, so greatly did his melancholy face and -gentle manners outweigh with her the reports of his violence. He was so -quiet, that for her to assume a conciliatory manner was easy. - -“May I have my lantern, please?” she asked, holding out her hand, and -still keeping her eyes rather watchfully fixed upon his face. - -Bus he did not understand her, although he looked eagerly into her -face, as if trying to do so. Chris began to feel more nervous. She -looked towards the door and tried again. - -“Won’t you, please, unlock the door, and let me go out?” she said, -emphasising her request by shyly touching the great key which was -swinging from his hand by the piece of rough string attached to its -handle. - -To her great relief, his face lighted up, and he nodded. She began -instantly to move in the direction of the great barn door, and he -followed her very quietly. She had just fear enough left, on hearing -his footsteps behind her, to turn and wait for him, so that he might -walk by her side. This, however, rendered their progress very slow, for -he moved with such languid or unwilling steps, that it seemed to her -half an hour before they reached the end of the barn. - -The attempts at conversation which she made to relieve the awkwardness -of the situation were, however, not very successful. - -The first remark she made, which was upon the weather, elicited no -reply whatever from Mr. Richard. Then she turned towards him, and asked -in very distinct and deliberate tones whether he had ever been in the -barn before. She thought he seemed to understand the question, and that -the shake of the head he gave was his answer. But still he uttered no -word. - -When they had come near the door, Mr. Richard stumbled, his feet having -been caught in a tangle of old rope and sacking which lay upon the -floor. The key fell from his hand. He did not appear to notice this, -however, although Chris heard the loud clang with which it touched the -brick floor. - -“You have dropped the key,” she said, as he walked on. - -As he took no notice still, she went down on her knees, groping among -the rubbish with which the place was strewn. He turned, and seemed to -look at her with surprise. But he did not ask her what she was looking -for. - -“It’s the key. Don’t you see you have dropped the key?” she cried, her -alarm again roused by this apparently wilful obtuseness. “Please let me -have the lantern one moment.” - -To her horror, he began to utter the strange sounds which she had -sometimes heard issuing from the east wing, and she was so much -shocked, that she instinctively put up her hands to her ears, while her -face assumed an expression of the utmost terror. Then Mr. Richard fell -into sudden silence. For a few seconds he stood looking at her as she -knelt on the ground; then he seated himself on an empty wine-case which -was among the lumber, put his head in his hands, and heaved a deep sigh. - -At that moment, Chris caught sight of the key, which had fallen behind -a little heap of tins which had once contained tobacco. In snatching -it up she knocked it against one of the tins, making a great clatter. -But the noise appeared not to disturb the madman, who did not even -look up when Chris rose to her feet, although she trod on some ends of -board and set them rattling. She feared he was only pretending to be -unobservant, and that she should not be able to get to the door before -he made the attack upon her which his mysterious conduct led her to -expect. - -She must, however, make the attempt and trust to her luck. She began -by taking two or three cautious steps; and then, when she was close to -him, she set off at a run. But she had hardly done so when he started -up and, uttering another of the weird cries which so much alarmed her, -came in pursuit, and reached the door as soon as she did. - -Not all her self-command could help poor Chris to stifle the scream -which she had suppressed before. And then, remembering that after all -her screams were her best chance of escape, as the stable was so near -that one of the men might hear them, she put her mouth to the keyhole -of the door, and called loudly for help. - -At once Mr. Richard put his hand over her mouth. For a moment she -could not move, she could not even try to cry out again. Remembering -his savage fury on the day when he had thrown the goblet out of the -window, she gave herself up for lost, believing that he would dash her -down senseless upon the hard floor. For a long time, as it seemed to -her, though it was really the work of a few seconds, he kept one hand -upon her mouth, and held both her hands with the other. He uttered -from time to time a curious sound, which was more like a low moan of -distress than a cry of fury, and though he held her so that it was -impossible for her to escape, she could not even fancy that he hurt her. - -Her first impulse had been to shut her eyes; but when she found that -she had so far come to no harm in the hands of the lunatic, she -ventured to open them, and was instantly struck by the expression of -his face, which was infinitely sad, infinitely wistful, but absolutely -mild and kind. - -In the position in which they stood, he could see the door of the barn, -while she could not. She had had only just time to realise that Mr. -Richard had no present intention of harming her, when she saw his eyes -glance quickly from her face to the door, while at the same time she -heard a slight noise behind her. - -The next instant she found herself free, and looking round quickly to -find out the reason of this, she saw Mr. Bradfield’s face just as he, -after looking in at the door, withdrew his head quickly. - -With another of the ear-piercing cries which could only proceed from a -madman, Mr. Richard rushed to the door, which was locked on the other -side before he could reach it. He hurled himself against the door, then -turned quickly to Chris, and took the key from her hand. He did not do -it roughly, however, even in his excitement, but gave her a deprecatory -look, as if asking her permission. - -Then it came into the girl’s mind, by an extraordinary flash of -inspiration, born of intense excitement, that she had some power over -this wild and dangerous man, and that this was a time to use it. She -seemed to see in the same moment, first that he wanted to do some harm -to Mr. Bradfield, and secondly, that her influence might be able to -dissuade him from his purpose. So she put out her hand again for the -key, as she ran after him to the door. He was already trying to put it -into the lock. - -“No, no!” she said eagerly, looking up into his face with eyes which -looked sweet in their pleading even by the weak light of the lantern -which he had snatched up again from the floor. “No. You are not to -try to hurt Mr. Bradfield. Now promise me you won’t. Please, please -promise!” - -The effect of her entreaty was instantaneous. Mr. Richard’s hand fell -down by his side; the expression of his face changed from one of fierce -excitement to one of pleasure, and even of tenderness. Still he said -no word; and Chris, perplexed and rendered shy by his abrupt change of -manner, drew back a step, and looked down. With the key in the door, -she was no longer afraid. Besides, had not Mr. Bradfield seen her? And -although he had most unaccountably refrained from at once releasing her -from her perilous _tête-à-tête_ with the madman, he would surely send -some one else to do so, if he was too much afraid of Mr. Richard to do -it himself. - -Not that she was in any hurry to be released. She could not help taking -a strong interest in this unhappy man, who, even in his mad frenzy, -stopped short of harming her, nay, even became gentle, in the midst of -his fury, at a word from her. Believing as she did, that more might -be done for him than had been done, in the way of lifting the cloud -which hung over his mind, she began to ask herself, as she stood there, -whether it would not be possible for her to help him to escape from the -confinement in which he was kept, to some place where he would have -the medical supervision which she was sure that his case demanded. As -this thought crossed her mind, she glanced up again at Mr. Richard, who -was leaning against the wall, and looking at her with eyes in which -it seemed to her that there was every moment less of madness and more -of an emotion which it touched while it alarmed her to see there. She -instantly made up her mind to try and help him. - -Approaching him with some shyness, and taking care, without appearing -to do so, to keep the door well in sight, she asked, in a gentle and -persuasive voice, speaking in a very slow and deliberate manner, so -that he might understand her: - -“Will you tell me, Mr. Richard, have you any friends you wish to go to?” - -He watched her face intently, and she felt sure that he understood her -perfectly. A look of deeper sadness came into his face as he shook his -head. - -“Why, then, do you want to escape?” - -Although he said nothing in answer, Chris thought he understood this -question also. For his face, which was singularly expressive, instantly -clouded with a dark and angry look. It occurred to Chris that the -objects of his anger were the people who kept him in confinement. She -knew that mad people are credited with this feeling, and, indeed, Mr. -Richard had given very strong proofs of it. - -Being rather alarmed, in spite of herself, by the sudden change which -came over his face at her last question, she drew back a step, turning -towards the door. He followed her, and took her left hand, which was -nearest to him, very gently in his, and by a little gesture, eloquent, -though silent, entreated her not to go yet. Chris began to tremble, not -with fear, but with pity. The expression of this poor fellow seemed to -her one of eloquent entreaty. Knowing, as she did, that he would soon -be back in the gloomy confinement of the east wing, she had not the -heart to leave him, as she rightly judged that he would have let her -do, if she had insisted. - -Still, deep as one’s sympathy may be, it is an embarrassing thing to -find oneself locked up with a madman, and Chris found it hard to make -conversation for a person who never replied to her, except by nods and -shakings of the head, or by puzzled signs that she was not understood. - -In this dilemma, she could not but be glad when at last she heard -footsteps outside. After trying the door, and finding it locked from -within, the newcomer having provided himself with a ladder from the -stables, entered the hay-loft at the top of the barn, and put his face -through the trap above their heads. - -It was Stelfox. - -At the sight of this man, Mr. Richard made at once for the door. But -Stelfox came down the ladder which led from the loft with surprising -agility, and seizing the gentleman by the arm, proceeded to struggle -with him. But Mr. Richard was more than his match, and he threw Stelfox -off, and again made for the door. - -“Stop him, miss. For his own sake, stop him if you can,” cried Stelfox -to Chris, who was standing near the door, watching the struggle with -much anxiety. - -She at once ran forward and lightly put her hand on Mr. Richard’s arm. -As Stelfox had expected, this was enough. It gave him time to approach -Mr. Richard from behind, to seize his arms, and to bind them together -in such a way that the madman was helpless. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -STELFOX IS RETICENT. - - -Chris burst into tears. - -It seemed to her as if she had betrayed him into the hands of his -enemies, and she sobbed out: - -“Oh, let him go! let him go! What have you made me do?” - -And all the time that she was speaking and drying her tears, Mr. -Richard, without showing any anger at his capture, kept his mild -eyes fixed upon her. When she looked up at him, with entreaties for -forgiveness in her face, he smiled quite kindly at her and stood still, -while Stelfox, keeping his hand upon his prisoner, explained: - -“It’s better for him to go home quietly with me than for him to be -brought back with a bad cold, and without more consideration for his -feelings than if he was a carted deer, at five o’clock in the morning.” - -But Chris was not satisfied, although Mr. Richard himself seemed -reconciled to his fate. Then Stelfox went on, exactly as if Mr. -Richard had not been present: - -“I’ll tell you what you can do, miss, if you feel so sorry for him. Ask -him to come back with you to the house and he will do so without any -trouble.” - -Chris was reluctant to do this for several reasons. - -“But he won’t understand,” she said, softly, turning so that Mr. -Richard should not hear. - -Stelfox’s straight mouth lengthened into a smile. - -“Just you try him, miss,” said he. - -So Chris turned again to the silent man. - -“Will you come back with me to the house?” she asked, with a gesture in -the direction of the mansion. - -His face lighted up at once, and as Stelfox freed his arm he turned -and walked beside her along the path through the meadow. They went -in silence, for although Chris was so full of pity and of sympathy -that she longed to express her feelings in some way, his silence made -intercourse difficult. When they reached the gate into the garden, -Stelfox came up to them. - -“You had better go on by yourself, miss, now,” said he. - -It was evident that Mr. Richard understood this too, for his face -clouded. - -Chris held out her hand to him with a smile. He took it in both his and -held it for some seconds, while his wistful eyes gazed upon her face -with a look of despair which touched her to the quick. - -When she had withdrawn her hand and run along the path for a few paces, -she heard again the weird, harsh sounds which seemed the only form of -speech of which the poor fellow was capable. Glancing round, she saw -that he was engaged in some sort of altercation with Stelfox over -which he was getting very much excited. A few moments after, Stelfox -left him and ran up to her. - -“The poor young gentleman is in a great way, miss,” he said, “because -he’s afraid he won’t see you again.” - -Chris drew a sharp breath. This very thought had been troubling her. - -“_Can_ I see him again, Stelfox?” she asked, almost eagerly. “Would Mr. -Bradfield allow it?” - -One of the dry smiles peculiar to Stelfox for a moment expanded his -features without brightening them. - -“Maybe we won’t trouble him by enquiring, miss,” he said; “but if -you would care to see Mr. Richard again, though he isn’t much of a -companion for a young lady, I’m afraid, I could manage it. And I can -warrant he won’t hurt you.” - -“Oh, no, I’m sure of that! I wasn’t thinking of that!” - -“It will be a great kindness, miss, if you’re not afraid,” said -Stelfox, almost gratefully. - -But Chris was looking in perplexity back in the direction of Mr. -Richard, who was waiting as quietly as possible by the gate. - -“Tell me one thing,” said Chris in a puzzled tone. “No, I mean tell me -half-a-dozen things.” - -Stelfox seemed to draw back into himself at her words. - -“Won’t it do another time, miss, please?” said he, respectfully. “Mr. -Richard’s there waiting for me, and he might----” - -“Oh, no, you’re not afraid of his running away now; that’s one of the -curious things in the case. And another is that you can trust him not -to hurt anybody, although I have myself seen him try to do so. And how -is it that he seems to understand what one says at one time and that -the next moment one may say something to him of which he won’t take -the least notice? And why does he make those dreadful noises, and yet -be able to make you understand what he means? It doesn’t sound like a -language that he talks at all; but is it?” - -Stelfox’s face had become a discreet blank. - -“Yes, it’s a foreign language, miss. One of the South African -languages, I believe. You see, he was born and brought up in South -Africa, and being as he is, not quite like other folks, he hasn’t been -able to pick up English yet, but I manage to make him out, through -being with him so much.” - -Chris smiled a little as she turned to go into the house. - -“Thank you very much for your explanation, Stelfox,” she said, “even -though I know it isn’t true.” - -She thought she heard a dry chuckle behind her as she went up the steps. - -Chris was more excited than she had ever been before in her life. She -did not quite understand the nature of the emotions which seemed to be -waging war upon one another within her. - -Chris was going upstairs, when, as she passed the study door, it flew -open as if by a spring, and disclosed Mr. Bradfield, looking rather -ashamed of himself. He wanted to find out whether she had seen him at -the barn-door, and he hoped she had not. Chris, on the other hand, was -feeling both hurt and surprised at his having left her with the madman, -instead of coming to her rescue. While she had laughed at her mother -for thinking Mr. Bradfield must be honest because he was rough, she had -herself on the same grounds, thought he must be courageous. - -“Well, what have you been doing with yourself this afternoon?” asked -he, in a jocular tone, under which she thought she detected some -uneasiness. - -“Since I saw you last, Mr. Bradfield?” asked Chris, demurely; “at the -door of the barn?” - -“Yes, yes,” said he, hastily; “at least, since that, and before -that--all the afternoon, I mean?” - -“First I worked in the Chinese-room, making the dresses for to-morrow -night,” began Chris. - -“Oh! that tomfoolery,” interrupted Mr. Bradfield. “I wouldn’t have -anything to do with it if I were you. Everything will go wrong, and -all the blame will be put on to your shoulders. I know my gushing -cousin--and her methods!” - -“I can’t get out of it now, even if I wanted to,” said she, rather -ruefully. “I don’t feel myself that there will be much glory accruing -to us from the entertainment.” - -“Glory? I should think not. I’m going to be miles away myself.” - -“Oh! Mr. Bradfield, do you mean that? They’ll all be dreadfully -disappointed.” - -“Can’t help that. Business must be considered before _pleasure_, you -know,” he added, drily. - -Both were talking, as it were, to fill up the time until they were -ready for attack and defence on the subject which was occupying the -minds of both. Then, as Chris moved as if to go on her way upstairs, -Mr. Bradfield came out of his study, and shut the door. - -“I’ve bought a new picture,” said he, as he invited her by gesture to -accompany him to the dining-room, “by one of these French fellows. Very -high art; gives one the creeps.” - -Before they stood in front of the picture, which was one of those -heart-breaking war-pictures, tired soldiers trudging along under grey, -wet skies, which form part of the legacy of the Franco-Prussian war, -each knew that the tussle was coming. - -“You take an encounter with a madman very philosophically, Miss -Christina,” said he. - -“Not more philosophically than you did, Mr. Bradfield, when you looked -into the barn, and left me there with him!” cried she. - -He was rather disconcerted by this retort. - -“Oh--er--well,” he began, “you see, I could not quite make out, from -where I was, who was with him, and----” - -“And you knew, of course, what I did not, that he would not do me any -harm.” - -Mr. Bradfield seemed to find this difficult to answer. It was not until -after a minute’s reflection of an apparently unpleasant kind that he -said, rather shortly: - -“I could see that he was not in one of his frenzied fits, and I thought -it best to go away quickly while the quiet mood lasted, and send -Stelfox, who knows how to manage him. Surely you don’t suppose I should -have left you alone with him if I had thought it likely he would do you -any harm?” - -“No, I don’t suppose so. Only----” - -“Only what?” - -“I can hardly believe that he is ever so very dangerous. I can’t help -thinking he would be better if he were allowed to come out sometimes -and see people. Do you know, I think I should go mad myself if I lived -in two rooms, and never saw anybody but Stelfox!” - -Chris hurried out this speech hastily, regardless of the evident fact -that the subject was extremely distasteful to Mr. Bradfield, who walked -up and down the room impatiently, with his hands behind him, and -repeatedly looked at his watch, as if he could hardly spare the time to -listen to such nonsense. When she had finished, he said, shortly: - -“I am afraid you must allow me to know best. My knowledge of him dates -from many years back, you see, while yours is of the slightest possible -kind. But you yourself saw him in one of his fits, when he threw -something at you through the window. Do you want better proof than that -of his dangerous temper? And do you think a person who is born without -intelligence enough to learn to speak is fit to be trusted among other -human beings?” - -“Never learned to speak!” echoed Chris, doubtfully. “Stelfox said it -was an African language he talked!” - -Angry as he was, Mr. Bradfield burst into an uncontrollable laugh at -this. Then, at once recovering his gravity, he said quickly: - -“Stelfox is an old woman! Never mind what he says. When you want to -know anything, come to me.” - -“I want to know something now, Mr. Bradfield, please.” - -“Well, what is it?” - -“Whether my mother has told you I’m going to be a hospital nurse?” - -“A what?” - -“A nurse at one of the London hospitals.” - -“What on earth do you want to do that for?” - -She hesitated a little before replying, in some embarrassment: - -“Well, you see, in spite of all your kindness, it is rather a difficult -position for me here, isn’t it? Or rather, it isn’t any position at -all. I’m not a servant, and I’m not a visitor, and I’m not a daughter -of the house, but I’m treated as all three----” - -“Who treats you as a servant?” interrupted Mr. Bradfield, angrily. “At -least, you needn’t tell me. Of course it’s my pretentious old porpoise -of a cousin! I’ll give her a talking-to she won’t forget in a hurry! -But why do you trouble your head about the maunderings of a snob?” - -“I don’t trouble my head more about her treatment than about yours, -Mr. Bradfield,” answered Chris, smiling. “I shouldn’t mind being a -parlour-maid here at all. Your parlour-maids have rather a good time of -it, I think. And I shouldn’t mind being a visitor, nor a daughter; but -a combination of the duties of all three is too much for one pair of -feminine hands, and one simple feminine understanding.” - -“Oh! And who’s to take care of my china when you’re gone?” - -“Miss Graham-Shute.” - -“Which one?” - -“Rose. Mrs. Graham-Shute says dusting would spoil the shape of Lilith’s -hands.” - -“And who is to play the piano in the evenings?” - -“Oh, Mrs. Shute herself could do that.” - -Mr. Bradfield groaned. - -“Shade of Instruction-book Hamilton! What has the piano done that it -should be exposed to that?” he exclaimed. Then, turning to Chris with -a frown, he went on, “You say I have been kind to you. Well, don’t you -know that you are here to protect me from these people? I told you so -when you first came.” - -“But you didn’t quite mean it! You like them really, or you wouldn’t -have asked them to spend Christmas with you!” - -“I like them--in moderation. But now the old lady has made up her mind -to settle down here, I see that I’m in for too much of a good thing. I -shall have to forbid them the house, or they will be in and out like -rabbits all day long.” - -“You won’t be too rigorous, will you? For the sake of the poor girls?” - -“You like the girls, then?” - -“I’m sorry for them. One is rather spoilt, the other is rather -down-trodden.” - -“And the son? He’s been making love to you, hasn’t he?” - -“Yes.” - -“You take it very coolly. Has he asked you to marry him?” - -Chris laughed. - -“Why, no, Mr. Bradfield. He’s only a boy, and I’ve only known him two -days!” - -Mr. Bradfield glanced at her, looked away quickly, took up his stand on -the hearth-rug, and drummed on his chin with his fingers. - -Chris looked at the door, and hoped he would let her go. She had an -idea what these signs might portend. - -“It wouldn’t surprise me now,” he began, in a rather nervous tone, “to -hear of a man wanting to marry you when he had only known you two days. -But it would surprise me,” he went on, with a little awkward laugh, “to -hear that he had plucked up courage to ask you.” - -Before he had reached the last word, Chris was at the door. But Mr. -Bradfield reached it nearly as soon as she. - -“No, no, I want to ask you a question before you go. Tell me, you’ve -had offers of marriage made to you before now, haven’t you?” - -“Oh, yes, I have, but--but I don’t like them; I don’t like them at all. -It’s very unpleasant, you know,” she went on rapidly, looking anywhere -but at him, “to have to say things people don’t want to hear.” - -“Well, I suppose,” said Mr. Bradfield, who was not to be put off now -that he had strung himself up to the required pitch, “the man will come -some day to receive an answer which is not unpleasant?” - -Chris shook her head doubtfully. - -“Perhaps. I don’t know.” - -“You say you’ve had plenty of offers?” - -“I didn’t say that. I said I had had some.” - -“Any from men like--like me?” - -Chris glanced at him quickly, and shook her head with a little smile, -half demure, half mischievous. She answered decidedly: - -“No, not at all like you. In the first place, they hadn’t any of them -sixpence; in the second place, they were mostly boys, at least what I -call boys,” she added, in a tone of patronage. - -This delighted Mr. Bradfield. Nobody could reproach him with being a -boy. - -“And you didn’t care for any of them?” - -“Oh, yes, I did. For some of them. In a way.” - -“Well, do you think you could ever care for me--in a way, in any way?” - -Chris did not want to be unkind, but she shook her head decidedly. - -“Oh, Mr. Bradfield, what do you want to ask me for? I couldn’t help -seeing you were going to, you know, and I’ve been trying to put off the -e--I mean, I’ve been trying to stave it off. I wanted you to see it was -no use, and that’s one of the reasons why I wanted to go away and be a -hospital nurse. So it isn’t my fault, really.” - -“No, it’s my misfortune,” said Mr. Bradfield, shortly. “But I think -you’re very silly.” - -“Yes, and my mother will think so too, that’s the worst of it,” said -Chris, ruefully. - -“And don’t you think the opinion of two people like your mother and me -is worth more than yours?” asked Mr. Bradfield, good-humouredly. - -Chris, though she was glad that he was not angry, did not like the way -in which he took her refusal. For he treated it as a joke, as a matter -of no consequence, and he stood very close to her, and stared at her, -as she told her mother afterwards, in a way she did not like. This -manner of receiving her answer piqued her, while it perhaps frightened -her a little. - -“I think my opinion is worth the most,” she answered, with the colour -rising in her cheeks, “for I can act upon mine, while you can’t act -upon yours.” - -Mr. Bradfield drew back a little way, amused, surprised, and pleased at -her spirit. - -“You’re not afraid of being married against your will, then?” - -At this rather ironically put question, the very soul of pretty Chris -seemed to flash through her eyes. - -“No, indeed I’m not.” - -Then Mr. Bradfield, who had lost his nervousness, and who went about -his wooing with a will now that he had fairly started, changed his -tone. In a voice which had become surprisingly tender--or which perhaps -only sounded tender because he did not shout so much as usual--he -said---- - -“Wouldn’t you like to make a man happy, little Chris?” - -She was too womanly to hear this speech quite unmoved, even from a man -she did not care about. So she evaded it. - -“I don’t think a woman can make a man happy,” she said. - -“I don’t think every woman could. But I’m sure you could; at least, you -could make _me_ happy.” - -“Well, if I really have the power of giving happiness, which I very -much doubt,” said Chris, laughing, “I think I ought to exercise it on -some man who hasn’t so many sources of happiness as you have already, -Mr. Bradfield.” - -“Sources of happiness,” echoed he scoffingly. “And, pray, what are -they?” - -“You have your collection, your curiosities, your pictures, your first -editions!” - -“All sources of torment, not of happiness. I can honestly say that -I suffer more if I find that old General Wadham has a duplicate of -anything I buy, than I should rejoice over the discovery of a new and -genuine Raphael. I buy, I collect, to pass away the time.” - -“But you can do so much good, and give so much pleasure. Doesn’t that -make you happy?” - -“Not a bit.” - -“Yet you are very kind-hearted. You give away a great deal in charity,” -objected Chris, incredulously. “It makes you happy to help the poor and -needy,” she ended, feeling that she was talking rather like a tract. - -“No, it doesn’t. I help ’em to get rid of ’em!” rejoined Mr. Bradfield, -tartly. “I hate the poor and needy. I’ve been poor and needy myself, -and,” he wound up with a sudden viciousness in his tone, “I know just -how they feel towards me, because I remember how I used to feel towards -anyone better off than myself.” - -Chris was almost frightened. For Mr. Bradfield’s private feelings -had, for the moment, run away with him, and he showed the girl, -unconsciously, into a dark corner of his mind, which it would have -been better for him to have kept hidden while his wooing lasted. She -felt as if she had overheard something not intended for her ear, and -it was almost with the manner of an eavesdropper who has been caught -in the act, that she moved towards the door. She had long since lost -the position she had taken up by it, having been followed up by her -unwanted admirer, until she was back again by the fireplace. He seemed -to become aware of her intention to escape quite suddenly, but he had -apparently lost the wish to detain her. - -As she opened the door, he only called out---- - -“Good-bye, Miss Christina. But mind, I shall make you give me another -answer by-and-by.” - -Chris pretended not to hear. - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -THE HANDSOME STRANGER. - - -Chris went upstairs feeling uncomfortable and unhappy. Instead of -opening a way out of the awkward position in which, as she had truly -said, she found herself now that the Graham-Shutes had come down, she -had drawn upon herself a proposal which had served only to complicate -the situation. She had settled nothing, moreover. Mr. Bradfield had -treated her suggestion of going away in the lightest manner, and -she could scarcely doubt that his persuasions would be successfully -exercised upon her mother, who was already strongly averse from the -idea of her daughter’s departure. She knew also that her mother would -be disappointed to hear that she had not given more encouragement to -Mr. Bradfield’s hopes of marrying her. These thoughts all troubled -her, but there was one other which distressed her still more, the -remembrance of the unhappy madman, whose treatment at the hands of Mr. -Bradfield and of Stelfox was as perplexing to her as his own conduct. - -Everything in connection with Mr. Richard was a puzzle. She had herself -witnessed one of his fits of fury, culminating in savage violence, and -yet Mr. Bradfield, whose regard for her she could not help knowing to -be real, had left her alone with him in the barn. She remembered seeing -Stelfox come breathless, panting and disordered out of the east wing -after a struggle with his charge, and yet he had scoffed at the notion -that Mr. Richard would do her any harm, and had even offered to let her -meet him again. - -Mr. Richard’s own conduct was more bewildering still. At one moment he -would seem to understand everything she said, the next he would pay no -attention whatever to her words. For a little while he would be silent -and perfectly gentle, then he would begin to frighten her by curious -moans and incoherent sounds. Neither of the explanations offered was a -satisfactory one. Stelfox had said that the language he talked was a -South African one, but at the idea of this Mr. Bradfield had burst into -uncontrollable laughter. His own explanation that Mr. Richard had not -enough intelligence to pick up even the rudiments of speech, was more -incredible still. The girl’s experience of madness in any form was very -slight, but she had never heard of any idiot or lunatic who was not -able to talk at all, and whatever his mental deficiencies in certain -directions might be, whatever mania he might be suffering from, it was -clear to Chris he was far from being utterly devoid of intelligence. - -Rather luckily, so Chris thought a little later, Mrs. Abercarne was not -upstairs, for the girl thus had an opportunity of thinking the events -of the afternoon over carefully before she saw her mother, and decided -not to mention any of them. Poor Mrs. Abercarne had quite enough to -worry her, not only in accommodating the housekeeping arrangements -to Mrs. Graham-Shute’s erratic habits and projects, but in parrying -that lady’s persistent attempts to cast slights upon her and her -daughter. If now she were to hear, all in one breath, as it were, of -her daughter’s encounter with the madman, of her quarrel with “that -most objectionable young person,” Donald, and her refusal of the rich -Mr. Bradfield’s attentions, Chris felt that her poor mother would spend -a Christmas even less merry than she expected to do. - -So the girl kept her little secrets to herself, which proved easy -enough to do, as the preparations for the _tableaux_ kept her fully -employed, and away from her mother. - -The following day was a long, confused nightmare to Chris. The din of -Mrs. Graham-Shute’s voice was in her ears all the morning, and until -the time when the hastily-summoned guests began to arrive. - -They had been invited for four, with a promise of tea. This, not being -within the jurisdiction of Mrs. Graham-Shute, duly came to hand. The -_tableaux_ did not. So the guests “stood about,” cold, bored, and -critical, and waited. They had assembled in the drawing-room, whence -Mrs. Graham-Shute, at the last moment, had had most of the chairs -removed to the barn, with a sudden and unnecessary spasm of fear that -there would not be seats enough for the audience. - -Mr. Bradfield, in whose name the invitations had been issued, was “not -at home,” in his study. Mrs. Abercarne, whom he desired to play the -part of hostess, was completely overshadowed by Mrs. Graham-Shute, who -not only occupied a good deal of space, and made her voice resound to -the furthest extremities of the rooms, but who had a way of looking -over the heads of the assembly as if she was counting her flock, which -suggested to the meanest intelligence that she considered them all to -be for the time being her property. - -Mrs. Abercarne, seeing that the message summoning the company to the -barn tarried in its coming, ordered some chairs to be brought in from -the dining-room, since people who are cold and shy and bored look -more comfortable sitting than they do standing. Mrs. Graham-Shute -countermanded the order. - -So the guests continued to stand, and to try to talk, and to wonder -whether the fat and fussy lady was in her right mind. - -Even Mrs. Graham-Shute, happy as she was in the consciousness that she -was doing “the right thing,” began to get rather “fidgety,” and to send -messages to the performers to know whether they were ready. - -And Lilith’s answers, more frantically worded every time, were always -to the effect that they were not. - -At last Mrs. Graham-Shute, telling the lady nearest to her, in the -innocence of her heart, that “if they waited about any longer the -affair would be completely spoilt,” insisted on “making a move” in the -direction of the barn. And, it having by this time grown quite dark, -while the wind had got up, and sleet begun to fall, the whole party -provided themselves with such shelter as was to hand in the shape of -waterproofs and umbrellas, and started on their way across the meadow. - -When they reached the barn, they found the auditorium dimly lighted -with a few lamps and candles, while sounds of hurrying and scuffling -behind the curtains gave them a pleasing assurance that they had -still some time to wait. It was very cold and very draughty, and the -spirits of the miserable audience sank too low for the strains of “Il -Trovatore,” arranged as a pianoforte duet, and very indifferently -performed, to revive them. - -For it had been discovered that Chris Abercarne was the only person -who could be trusted to ring the curtain up and down, and to be -scene-shifter, property-master, as well as wardrobe-mistress and -dresser. Therefore the local amateur musical talent had been summoned -in the shape of a young lady, whose performance was of the slap-dash -order, for the treble, and a young gentleman, whose forte lay in a -steady thumping power, for the bass. Mrs. Graham-Shute had followed the -usual rule in such small musical affairs. When in doubt play pianoforte -duets. - -The fiction upon which this maxim is founded is probably that two bad -performers are equal to one good one. Besides, there is always the -chance that when one performer is wrong the other may be right, and -that the sounds made by the one who is right may drown those made by -the one who is wrong. - -“Il Trovatore” having come to an end, there was a little faint -applause, and then a long interval, filled up chiefly with coughs in -front of the curtain, and loud, excited whispers behind it. - -At last, when nobody had any hope left but the ever-buoyant Mrs. -Graham-Shute, the curtain did at last wobble apart, and disclose a -group of male performers, in nondescript attire, belonging to a period -so vague that one could only say that it was not the present. They held -in their hands sombrero hats, each adorned by a long ostrich feather; -but this indication of the Stuart period was contradicted by the -table-cloths which they wore round them after the fashion of the Roman -toga. On a small table in the centre of the stage was a large open -volume, on which the principal performer laid one hand, while he raised -the other in the direction of the roof. - -In the bewildered audience there was a rustle of programmes, which, -written out hastily by Mrs. Graham-Shute while she was “superintending” -some other work, were not too legible. - -“Taking the _Bath_!” exclaimed a perplexed old lady plaintively, -addressing Mrs. Graham-Shute, who hastened to explain that the -_tableau_ was meant to illustrate “Taking the Oath.” - -But the unconscionable old lady was not yet satisfied. - -“Oh, yes, of course. Very interesting, and very well done. And--let -me see, I’m afraid my history is getting rather rusty,” she said, -apologetically. “What oath was it?” - -“Oh!” answered Mrs. Graham-Shute, with a little impatience in her -voice--for really, you know, people might be contented with the -pleasure you gave them, and take things for granted a little!--“it was -the Covenanters or the Wyckliffites, or some of those people in the -Middle Ages. They were always taking the oath for something or other -then, you know!” - -“Oh, yes, so they were, of course,” murmured the old lady, ashamed at -her momentary thirst for exact knowledge. - -“It makes an effective picture, you know,” said Mrs. Graham-Shute, -relenting when she found her questioner so meek. “And we wanted to use -the feathers and the hats.” - -Then the curtains wobbled back again across the picture, and there was -a little more applause, and another duet. Then another long interval -before the curtains opened upon “The Sleeping Beauty.” - -As Beauty herself and her Court ladies were all in low-necked light -dresses, and as the _tableau_ had taken some time to arrange, they -shook so much from cold, and looked so blue and pinched, that they set -the teeth of the whole audience chattering for sympathy. - -The next _tableau_, “Mary Queen of Scots on her way to Execution,” was -a more ambitious one, the effect being heightened by a recitation from -a gentleman with a slight lisp. It would have gone very well but for -the fact that something had amused Her Majesty, Lilith, Queen of Scots, -who shook with laughter as long as the picture lasted. - -Then followed an illustration of Millais’s picture “Yes.” This was -easy, though it was not very like the original; for, as all the male -talent among the performers was occupied in making itself up for the -next and more ambitious _tableau_, the gentleman who makes the lady say -“Yes” had to be impersonated by Miss Browne, in her brother’s ulster -and a burnt-cork moustache. - -Then followed “The Fall of Wolsey.” This was a great success, and -nobody minded that Wolsey wore a moustache, thickly coated with -flour indeed, but yet perfectly visible to the naked eye. The only -_contretemps_ was the failure of memory on the part of the reciter, who -spoke Wolsey’s speech from Henry VIII., got hopelessly “mixed” in the -middle of it, and had to be audibly prompted by Cromwell. - -The last _tableau_ of all was, unhappily, too ambitious. It was an -attempt to illustrate Long’s “Babylonian Marriage-Market”; but the -presence of the realistically blacked Africans unluckily suggested a -nigger entertainment on the sands to the unthinking minds among the -audience, and, the contagion rapidly spreading, the curtains were -hastily drawn amid a chorus of titters impossible to repress. - -Then everybody, anxious to get home to eat the dinners which would, -undoubtedly, be spoiling, made a rush for Mrs. Graham-Shute, and told -her they had enjoyed themselves _so_ much, and that the _tableaux_ -were _beautifully_ done, and that she must be quite proud to have such -clever daughters, and such a clever son. - -And Mrs. Graham-Shute, quite happy, said, in her best Bayswater manner, -that she thought they were rather good, “considering they were got up -quite in a hurry, you know, and with no help at all.” And she kindly -added that she was coming to live at Wyngham, and that she would get -up “a lot more things” when she had settled down among the delighted -inhabitants. - -In the meantime, Lilith, who had had an opportunity, while posing as -one of the beauties in the marriage-market, to survey the audience -as well as the dim lights would allow, was running to Chris in great -excitement. - -“Do you know who the very handsome man is, sitting near the door?” she -asked eagerly. - -Chris, who was tired out, and past interest in mundane affairs, -answered, wearily, that she did not know anybody, that if there was -a handsome man among the audience he didn’t belong to Wyngham, where -there were only ugly ones. Then Rose, who was present, spoke sedately: - -“Oh, you don’t know Lilith, Miss Abercarne! She’s always in love with -somebody or other, and as she’s had time to forget the man she was -in love with when we left town, she is obliged to fall in love with -somebody here to fill up the time.” - -However, Chris could give no information, and would not interest -herself in the matter. Her head ached; she had been too hard at work to -spare the time for a proper luncheon, but had had a sandwich brought -out to her, which she had scarcely found time to eat. Nobody had -thought of bringing her a cup of tea. She had promised her mother, who -was in dread lest the barn should be set on fire, as the result of the -afternoon’s entertainment, not to leave the building until everybody -else had gone away, and a servant had been sent to put out the lights. - -While the performers were changing their dress, therefore, in the -screened-off spaces on either side of the stage, which had been fitted -up as dressing-rooms, she occupied herself in putting out such of -the footlights as had not put themselves out, and in taking down the -curtains and folding them up. - -By the time this was done, the performers were leaving the building in -a body, tired and rather cross, smarting as they were with the sense -that the whole thing had been something like a failure, and that they -had not been well treated by somebody. Donald, who had not dared to -come near Chris since the severe snub he had received on the previous -day, hung about for a brief space in the rear of the rest, talking -loudly, though somewhat vaguely, and pushing about the chairs, in the -hope of attracting her attention. - -But Chris never once looked round; so he presently followed the others, -feeling more bitterly than they, that he had been made a fool of, and -rendered ridiculous to the eyes of the world. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -MR. RICHARD’S MANIA. - - -Chris was busy with the “properties,” which had been collected from -different parts of the house, without any formality of asking Mr. -Bradfield’s permission to use them. Curtains, carpets, valuable Persian -rugs, swords, spears, ancient armour (some of it from Birmingham), and -“antique” cabinets (chiefly from Germany, by way of Wardour Street). - -These had all been treated with scant consideration by the performers, -and they now lay scattered about the stage, or were piled in heaps at -the back of it, behind the curtains which served as a back-cloth. - -Chris knelt down, and began to look over the things, to see what -mischief had been done. But she had not been long on her knees when she -heard the door of the barn creak, and someone enter softly. Supposing -the intruder to be Donald, she did not look round until he had got upon -the stage. When she did glance in his direction, she found that the -visitor was not Donald, but Mr. Richard. He wore a caped cloak, and -held his hat in his hand; and it suddenly occurred to Chris that he was -the handsome stranger who had roused the admiration of Lilith. She rose -from her knees, and held out her hand with a smile. Mr. Richard’s face -became instantly bright with pleasure. But as his smile of greeting -died away, a look of anxiety came over his features, which it was easy -enough to understand. He was troubled because she looked so tired. It -was in answer to his look, for he uttered no word, that she said: - -“I am very tired; it has been hard work, I assure you.” - -For a few moments he held her hand, and looked anxiously into her -face. Then a bright thought seemed to strike him, and he led her to -one of the chairs which had been piled up at the back, disencumbered -it of various “properties” which had been thrown upon it, and drew it -forward, inviting her to be seated. But she shook her head. - -“I have too much to do,” she said. - -Again he seemed to understand, for he shook his head, took gently -from her hands the curtains she had been folding, and again invited -her, this time with a gesture more emphatic than before, to take the -chair he had brought. She had lost all fear of him, and without giving -him any further answer than a little smile and bend of the head in -acquiescence, she sat down with a sigh. It struck her, even at that -moment, as being rather curious that she should feel more at her ease, -and more in sympathy with this afflicted recluse even than with her -own mother. As this idea flitted through her mind she looked up, and -became conscious of a look on Mr. Richard’s face which sent a thrill -through her, whether of pleasure or pain she scarcely knew. All that -she was sure of was that the glimpse that she caught before she cast -her eyes hastily down again, was of the handsomest face she had ever -seen. No eyes at once so bright and so tender, no mouth so firmly -closed, and yet so kindly, no profile so clean cut, had she ever seen -before. She had forgotten her work; she leaned back languidly in the -carved chair, resting, and conscious of a sensation, an indescribable -sensation of vivid excitement in which there was no fear. As for Mr. -Richard, he stood for a few minutes quite still, looking at her. -Then she felt his hand upon her arm, and looking up, saw that he was -impressing upon her, still by gesture only, that she was to remain -where she was, and that he was going away. Then he turned, leaped down -from the stage upon the floor of the barn, and made his way rapidly -through and over the rows of chairs and benches towards the door. - -But Chris had felt so much soothed by his silent sympathy and -attentions, that she uttered a little cry, unwilling to let him leave -her. She was disappointed to find that he paid no heed, and the tears -came to her tired eyes. Tears caused chiefly by physical fatigue -they were, although it was this sudden desertion of her strange, -silent friend which had set them flowing. Once started, however, they -continued to flow for some minutes pretty freely, and she was still -drying her eyes disconsolately when Mr. Richard came back again. - -And then the reason of his short absence was made plain. He held in his -hands a cup of tea. - -Before he could reach the stage, Chris, quite as much ashamed as she -would have been if a person reputed sane had caught her in her act of -childish weakness, sprang up, and pretended to be again very busy. But -Mr. Richard’s intellect was evidently clear enough as far as she was -concerned, and he shook his head and smiled at her as he gently took -from her hands for the second time the “properties” she had hastily -snatched up. - -She yielded even more meekly than before to his mute persuasions, sat -down again, and accepted the tea with genuine gratitude. - -“How very kind of you! It is just what I have been wanting all the -afternoon,” she said. - -To show that he understood--that he sympathised, he just patted her -hand two or three times. This was absolutely the only movement of his -which differed in any way from the conventional manners of a well-bred -man towards a lady. - -When she had finished her tea, he gently took the cup from her, and, -commanding her with a gesture of gentle authority to remain where she -was, he set about the work on which she had been engaged on his first -appearance. - -Under her directions he folded up curtains, examined tables, collected -weapons and other _bric-à-brac_, until there was nothing left for her -to do. From time to time, however, she saw him glance towards the door, -evidently watching for someone, and when at last the servant appeared -who had been sent to put the lights out, Mr. Richard slid quickly -behind the stage out of sight. - -Chris was sorry that she had had no opportunity of bidding him -good-bye. She knew that he would not dare to come out in the presence -of the parlour-maid, and she had no excuse to make to remain behind -when the girl had put the lights out. All she could do was to make sure -that the barn door was left unlocked when they came out. - -On the way across the meadow Chris took care to be left behind, though -she thought the girl looked at her curiously. She wanted to see that -Mr. Richard got safely out of his hiding-place, although from the -intelligence he had shown she had little doubt that he would do so. -Just as she was passing the copse of beeches and American oaks which -hid the stables from the house, he came up with her. As she turned -towards him with a start he held out his hand. As she had placed hers -within it, Chris was startled to hear Mr. Bradfield’s voice shouting -some order to one of the gardeners. He was standing at the bottom of -the flight of steps which led up to the house. - -At first Mr. Richard did not appear to recognise his voice. But when -Chris started, and threw a frightened glance towards the house, he -followed the direction of her eyes, and saw as clearly as she did the -figure of Mr. Bradfield in the light thrown by the hall lamps through -the open door. - -In an instant his whole aspect changed. The tender look in his eyes -gave place to an expression of the fiercest anger; his face seemed -transformed; he snatched his hand from hers, and uttering again the -wild sounds which had so much alarmed her on the first occasion of her -meeting him, he sprang away from Chris in the direction of the master -of Wyngham House. - -But, quick as he was, Chris was quicker still. Having long since lost -all fear of Mr. Richard, and being anxious only to save him from the -pains and penalties he might draw down upon himself if Mr. Bradfield -should find out that he was at liberty, she sprang after the unhappy -man, and almost threw herself upon him. She was afraid to speak, lest -Mr. Bradfield, who had turned sharply at the wild cries uttered by the -young man, should recognise her voice and come to meet her. But she -pleaded by the touch of her hands, by the expression of her upturned -face, which he could see dimly in the darkness. - -And she conquered. Under the touch of her hands his own clenched fists -fell to his sides, while his eyes regained their tenderness as he -looked at her. His feet faltered, and stopped. - -Not until then did Chris grow afraid; not until she found that she was -resting on the arms of a young and handsome man, whose face was alight -with passion indeed, but with passion which was neither hatred nor fear. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -A STRANGE MANIA. - - -Chris Abercarne had had sweethearts at every period of her young -life--little boys of eight and nine had presented her, when she was of -a similar age, with bull’s-eyes, half-apples, pieces of sealing-wax, -and odds and ends of string and slate-pencil; in fact, with the best -and most treasured of their worldly goods. Later than this, boys of a -larger growth had written her notes on pink paper, couched in tender -terms, and doubtful orthography; while, later still, offerings of -flowers and sweets, of sighs and pretty speeches, had been laid freely -at her feet. - -While complacently sensible that these contributions were not to be -despised, Chris had become so used to tributes of admiration of all -sorts as to be hard to impress, and to have earned the reputation of -coldness. When, therefore, as she held the arms of Mr. Richard to -prevent his making an attack on his guardian, she was conscious of a -sensation that was not cold, the experience was so new and strange that -it frightened her. - -Her success had been immediate and remarkable. He had at once desisted -from his intention of making an onslaught upon Mr. Bradfield, and had -stood quite still and submissive under the gentle touch of her hands. - -Chris glanced up in his face, which was bent towards hers. She -withdrew her eyes at once, glad that it was too dark for him to see the -blush which she could feel rising hot in her cheeks; and as her eyelids -fell, after one glance at Mr. Richard’s impassioned face, she knew, -with a woman’s quick, intuitive knowledge which could give no very good -reason for itself, that the reputed maniac was sane. - -But this thought she found quite as alarming as, and even more exciting -than, her previous belief that Mr. Richard was mad. For to struggle -with a madman is one thing, and to find oneself in the arms of a lover -is another; and this latter was undoubtedly the situation in which her -own action had placed her. - -Mr. Richard’s arms, instead of remaining passive under her touch, had, -for a moment, closed round her--only for a moment--then, in response to -her look of alarm, to her movement to free herself, he had let her go. -But the moment had been long enough for each of the two young people to -make a discovery. Mr. Richard had found out that he was possessed by -a mad hope: Chris, that he was dominated by a sane one. She drew back -from him modestly, and not without a touch of maidenly fear; but Mr. -Richard saw clearly enough that her alarm was neither very deep nor -very wounding to his self-esteem. Still, he did not speak, but stood -before her with a contrite expression on his face; and at last when, -Mr. Bradfield having disappeared into the house, Chris made a movement -in that direction, he felt bold enough to hold out both his hands -towards her with a gesture which seemed to entreat forgiveness, if he -had offended her. - -For answer, Chris, who was getting used to this courtship without -words, put out her hand as she said, “Good-bye.” - -Mr. Richard took it in his at first with just the measure of sedate -courtesy which was conventionally correct; but the moment she tried to -withdraw her fingers from his grasp, he seemed to realise suddenly that -he was losing her, that the joy he felt in her presence might never be -given him again. With rapid and passionate action, his left hand also -had closed upon hers; and, before she realised what he was going to do, -he had seized both her hands and pressed them to his lips. - -Chris, much agitated, snatched away her hands, the more quickly, -perhaps, that Stelfox at that moment became visible to her, standing -motionless at a little distance, close to the evergreens which bordered -the copse. He made a sign to Mr. Richard, who, raising his hat to -Chris, followed his custodian in the direction of the house, which they -entered by a side door. - -Chris went slowly towards the principal entrance. She wanted to speak -to Stelfox, and she wanted to avoid Mr. Bradfield, whose head, bending -over the desk in his study, she could see _en silhouette_ against the -lamp-light. The blind had not been drawn down. Just before she reached -the steps, Chris saw Mr. Bradfield rise from his chair; and by the time -she reached his study door, on her way upstairs, he was standing there -waiting for her. He scanned her face narrowly as she came up. Chris, -having lost the flush of intense excitement brought into her cheeks by -her interview with Mr. Richard, was again looking pale and over-tired. - -“They’ve worked you to death over their tomfoolery at the barn,” -he exclaimed, angrily, as she came up the stairs. “Why did you have -anything to do with it?” Before she could answer he went on, in a more -inquisitive tone, “But where have you been? All the others have been -back an hour or more. I’ve been looking out for you.” - -“I’ve been at the barn clearing up, putting things straight, and seeing -that the lights were put out,” answered Chris, looking down rather -guiltily. - -“Didn’t they send someone to help you?” inquired Mr. Bradfield, -sharply. “Harriet said she put out the lights.” - -“So she did.” - -“But that’s a quarter of an hour ago. What have you been doing with -yourself since? You have not been staying at the barn in the dark--by -_yourself_?” - -There flashed quickly through the mind of Chris a kaleidoscopic view of -the question whether or not she should tell Mr. Bradfield with whom she -had been. In that brief moment of hesitation she saw the matter in all -its bearings, and repugnant as the idea of concealment was to her, she -decided, for Mr. Richard’s sake, not to betray the fact that she had -been with him. - -She answered, therefore: - -“No, I was not alone,” and as she said this she unceremoniously ran -away up the stairs, with the hurried excuse that she should be late for -dinner. - -“Are you letting that young fool of a Shute boy worry you to death?” -Mr. Bradfield called out after her, in displeased tones. - -“Oh, he doesn’t worry me,” replied Chris, disingenuously as she -disappeared into the corridor. - -Chris was angry and puzzled with herself. It was quite right and -proper that she should feel sorry for Mr. Richard, seeing, as she -believed, that he was not being quite fairly treated by his guardian. -But why should she feel more than this for him? Why should she, Chris -Abercarne, who had been so cold to all men, and so proud of her -coldness, feel in this poor fellow an interest more tender than any -she had felt before for any man--an interest so strong, that she was -ashamed of it, and could not think of it without feeling her cheeks -flush, and her heart beat faster? - -She hurried to her dressing-room and changed her gown for dinner, -delighted to find that her mother had already dressed and gone -downstairs. For she wanted to have time to exchange a few words before -dinner with Stelfox. This man, she felt sure, knew more about his -patient’s case than he chose to admit. It was he who had given Mr. -Richard his liberty on that day; he whose influence over the young man -was strong enough to induce the poor prisoner to return to his prison -without a protest. - -Chris, who knew that this was about the time when Stelfox would be -coming out from the east wing with a tray to fetch Mr. Richard’s -dinner, waited in one of the alcoves in the long corridor, and at the -first sound of the key turning in the lock of the shut-up apartments, -she ran to meet him. - -But Stelfox, who was always cautious, glanced towards the door of the -study, and then at her without a word, but with a gesture of warning -to her to hold her peace for a while. Then, while the young lady -waited, mute as a mouse, with her eyes fixed on the study door, Stelfox -very deliberately locked the door through which he had just come, -and walked towards a small apartment on the right, which contained -a telescope and a cupboard full of chemicals, used by Mr. Bradfield -when the whim took him, either as an observatory or a laboratory. -Chris followed him with noiseless steps. When she had entered the room -Stelfox shut the door. - -“You wish to speak to me, ma’am?” he asked, looking straight at her, -and putting the question with his usual directness of manner. - -“Yes,” answered Chris, softly; “and I’m quite sure you know what it is -about.” - -“I suppose, ma’am,” he answered, without any fencing, “it is about Mr. -Richard.” - -“Yes. You let him come out to-day. Surely you would not let a madman go -about by himself, and expect him to come back quietly as Mr. Richard -did? It seems to me, Stelfox, that his only mania is a great dislike to -Mr. Bradfield.” - -A little gleam of surprise, or of amusement, Chris hardly knew which, -shot out of the man’s steady eyes. But the next moment he looked drier, -he spoke more cautiously than ever. - -“They do take fancies into their heads, ma’am, people that are not -quite right do,” he answered. - -“But _is_ he not quite right? Isn’t he only pretending? And isn’t that -why he will not speak?” asked Chris, running the questions one into -another in her eagerness. “The more I see of him the more absurd it -seems to suppose that he is not in his right senses. Do, Stelfox, tell -me all about him, and why he is shut up here.” - -“I give you my word, ma’am,” answered Stelfox at once and -straightforwardly, “that I know no more than the dead.” - -Chris was petrified with astonishment. - -“You don’t know why he is shut up?” she repeated, slowly. - -“No, ma’am. I do know a little more than you do, though I don’t want to -tell it yet. But why he is shut up here is more than I can tell you.” - -Chris was utterly bewildered. Before she could recover sufficiently -from her astonishment to put another question, Stelfox went on: - -“And now, ma’am, I believe you’re interested enough in the poor -gentleman to do just one thing for him?” - -“Yes, oh, yes. What is it?” asked Chris, eagerly. “Is it to speak to -Mr. Bradfield? Is it to try to persuade him to let Mr. Richard come -out? Is it----” - -Stelfox shook his head with a dry smile. - -“No, ma’am, it’s precisely the opposite of that. What I wish to ask you -is not to speak to Mr. Bradfield at all about him, and, above all, not -to let him know that you have seen him anywhere but at the windows of -the east wing.” - -Chris was much troubled by this request, and after a few moments spent -in thought, she said, earnestly: - -“But, Stelfox, I think you are doing Mr. Bradfield a great injustice. -He is a very kind-hearted man, and if he were once persuaded that it -would do his ward good to come out----” - -“He would keep him in all the more securely,” said Stelfox, with a dry -laugh. - -And before Chris could recover from the horror she felt at these words, -Stelfox had disappeared from the room in his usual noiseless manner. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -THE BALL. - - -The evening of the day following was that of the ball. Chris was in the -lowest of low spirits, and would have shut herself up in her room but -for Mr. Bradfield, who had insisted on her reserving a square dance for -him. The strange communications made by Stelfox, and her own conviction -that Mr. Richard was being unfairly treated, made her shy and depressed -in the society of the master of the house, whose sharp eyes detected -a change in her manner towards him. The girl was troubled also on her -mother’s account. Mrs. Abercarne had been worried and exasperated, not -only by the airs which Mrs. Graham-Shute gave herself, which she could -have put up with, but by the orders she gave the servants on matters -concerning the ball. Knowing her relationship to their master, and -being somewhat impressed also by her pretensions, the servants did not -dare to disobey her; so that in the attempt to serve two mistresses -they wasted their time and fell to grumbling. A consciousness of -the battle between the wills of the two ladies pervaded the entire -household by the time the dancing began, and the ball opened in general -depression. - -“So good of you to give this dance for my girls!” cried Mrs. -Graham-Shute’s loud voice in Mr. Bradfield’s ear, as he stood surveying -the dancers, and looking about for Chris. “I’ve just been telling Mrs. -Ethandene so,” she added, glancing at a middle-aged lady by her side, -who was one of the great people of the place, and with whom, therefore, -Mrs. Graham-Shute thought it advisable to strike up a friendship. - -“H’m! Not much in my line--balls!” said Mr. Bradfield, grumpily, as he -watched enviously the young fellow who was at that moment leading Chris -out for a waltz. - -“Who is that very distinguished-looking girl?” asked Mrs. Ethandene, -who, having no daughters to marry, could afford a little admiration for -those of other women. - -“That one in the white nun’s veiling, with the marguerites in her -bodice?” said Mrs. Graham-Shute, looking in the wrong direction either -on purpose or by accident; “that is my daughter Lilith. She is hardly -out yet, dear girl; but for my cousin John’s ball I _couldn’t_ refuse -her permission, you know.” - -“No, no! I don’t mean her,” went on Mrs. Ethandene, a homely person, -incapable of taking a hint of any kind. “I mean that tall girl with the -good figure--the one in grey silk, with the flat gold necklace?” - -“That,” answered Mr. Bradfield, in stentorian tones, frowning a little, -and stepping forward so that the lady should not misunderstand, “is -Miss Christina Abercarne.” - -Mrs. Graham-Shute, whose face had in a moment become flaccid and -expressionless, drew her head well back, and murmured a postscript in -Mrs. Ethandene’s ear: - -“The housekeeper’s little girl. I didn’t know you meant her. So good of -my cousin to let her come, wasn’t it?” - -Now Mrs. Graham-Shute did not wish her cousin to hear these words; but -being one of those uncomfortable persons who are always more interested -in what is not intended for their ears than in what is, he did hear -them. And he utterly confounded and exasperated his dear cousin by -saying, in the same loud voice as before: - -“There wasn’t any goodness about it; there’s no goodness in being kind -to a pretty girl. I gave the ball just because she likes dancing. -Nothing else would have induced me to turn my house upside down like -this.” - -Mrs. Graham-Shute could only affect to laugh at this speech as if it -had been some charming pleasantry. But she did it with such an ill -grace, being, indeed, extremely mortified, that it was plain she was on -the verge of tears. - -Meanwhile Chris was not enjoying herself so much as Mr. Bradfield had -wished her to do. Her partner was a local production, being, indeed, -no other than one of the famous Brownes, without an assortment of whom -no Wyngham gaiety could be considered complete. He was the younger -partner in the principal firm of solicitors of the town, and was, as -she afterwards learnt, looked upon as “a great catch.” No Wyngham -lady, however, had as yet caught him, and young Mr. Browne, modestly -conscious of the interest he excited in the feminine breasts of the -neighbourhood, conceived it as more his duty than his pleasure to -distribute his attentions as equally as he could among the maidens of -the place. In the course of his philanthropic wanderings, therefore, he -had fallen temporarily to the lot of Chris, who was, perhaps, not yet -sufficiently acclimatised to appreciate the honour as it deserved. - -For young Mr. Browne’s attractions did not include the gift of -conversational brilliancy, and Chris found the _tête-à-tête_ hard work. - -“You go in a great deal for theatricals, don’t you?” she said, -thinking, from what she had heard, that this was a safe shot. - -But he shook his head with a smile, which had in it not more than the -minimum of the contempt the average Englishman always shows for any -form of recreation in which he is not proficient. - -“No, _I_ don’t, but my brothers and sisters do. Amy, the second one, -acts awfully well. They did the _Vicar of Wakefield_ last year for -the Blind School, and her Olivia was ever so much better than Ellen -Terry’s. Everybody said so. She’d make her fortune on the stage, that -girl would. Of course, my father would never let her go on; but lots of -people would say it’s a pity.” - -After this, as his interest in the stage evidently languished, Chris -tried Art. Did he sketch? No, young Mr. Browne didn’t sketch himself, -but his brother Algernon did; awfully well, too, so that everybody said -it was simply disgraceful laziness, and nothing else, which kept him -from exhibiting at the Academy. And this was the limit of young Mr. -Browne’s interest in Art. - -“No doubt, living down here so close to the sea, you take more interest -in yachting and boating than anything else?” - -“Well, I can’t say I’m much of a sailor myself,” answered Mr. Browne, -modestly. “But Guy--that’s my eldest brother--can sail a yacht better -than any of those men who get their living by it. My father keeps a -little yacht, and I assure you that when they’re out in dirty weather -the captain gives the boat over to Guy.” - -“Indeed!” said Chris, with as little incredulity as possible. And at -last, tired of fishing about in these unpromising waters, she came -straight to the point with, “And what is your favourite recreation? Or -are you too studious to have one?” - -“Oh, no! Walter’s the studious one of the family. He’ll make a name for -himself some day, for he’s got the real stuff in him, that chap.” - -“So that you’re the idle one, who looks on and does nothing?” - -“I’m afraid I am; but they’re all so clever that there’s nothing left -for me. And I think even they are cut out by my cousins at Colchester. -It’s an odd thing, but there are three distinct branches of the Browne -family, one at Colchester, one here, and one as far north as Caithness, -though we haven’t the remotest idea how they got up there.” - -“In the Wars of the Roses, perhaps,” suggested Chris, wildly, feeling -that she must say something, and that it didn’t much matter what it was. - -Young Mr. Browne quite caught at the notion. - -“Very likely,” said he, waking up into vivid interest. “Any national -convulsion like that causes the great families to shift from their old -places, and distribute themselves over the country. I daresay such -disturbances do some hidden good in that way; don’t you think so?” - -“Oh, no doubt,” answered Chris, feebly, wishing that she were on the -arm of the brother who could waltz better than anybody else. - -The next partner she had was a little man, nearly a head shorter than -herself, as dark as young Mr. Browne was fair. He was of a different -type, too--the type that goes up to town now and then, and thinks it -the proper thing to speak of the place it lives in as “this hole.” In -essentials, however, there was a stronger resemblance between young Mr. -Cullingworth’s way of looking at life and young Mr. Browne’s than the -former would have been ready to admit. - -“Do you like this place?” was his first, almost contemptuous question. - -“Yes, I like it better than any place I have ever lived in,” answered -Chris, exuberantly. “I don’t seem ever to have known before what fresh -air was.” - -“Oh, fresh air--yes,” replied young Mr. Cullingworth, his tone -betraying several degrees more of disdain than before. “One gets a -little too much of that; but of most of the other things which help -to make life endurable one gets next to nothing down here. It really -is the slowest hole you ever were in, and I shall be obliged to think -much worse of you than I should like to do if you don’t heartily wish -yourself out of it before very long.” - -“I’m horribly afraid I shall have, then, to reconcile myself to that -fall in your estimation,” said Chris, smiling. “I like this place -much, much better than London. London is only pleasant when you’re -rich enough to get out of it whenever you like. Now we were not rich -enough--my mother and I--so we were very glad to come down here.” - -“Awfully lucky for us down here,” said Mr. Cullingworth, without -enthusiasm. For he was not so deeply buried in the provinces as to fall -in love with every pretty face he met. “Wonder what on earth made this -Bradfield take it into his head to settle down here, don’t you?” - -“I suppose he had heard of it as a nice place, and a healthy place,” -suggested Chris. - -“He’s been awfully lucky in being taken up by all the best people in -the place, hasn’t he?” - -Now Chris had nothing to say to this, for she thought the “best people” -were very lucky in being taken up by Mr. Bradfield. They were mostly -poor and proud, which is not a nice combination, and they showed their -poverty in their eagerness to avail themselves of Mr. Bradfield’s -invitations, and their pride in their unanimity in not inviting him -back. - -Mr. Cullingworth, luckily, did not wait for an answer, but resumed, -with admiration: - -“Why, there’s all the very best society of Wyngham here to-night, there -is, indeed. I suppose you know them all, don’t you?” - -Chris, who thought the assembly decidedly unprepossessing, regretted -her ignorance, and said she supposed they would rather look down upon -her than seek her society. But Mr. Cullingworth, as representing the -“best society” of Wyngham, was magnanimous. - -He didn’t think there was any feeling of that sort, “’pon his word he -didn’t.” There might have been, of course, if some little bird had -not happily whispered about that Mrs. Abercarne was the widow of an -officer in the army, and a cousin of Lord Llanfyllin’s. As it was, Mr. -Cullingworth felt sure that the “best people” were ready to receive her -and her mother as equals. - -“If you want to know who anybody is, you know, why, I’ll tell you,” -said he, obligingly. - -Chris, obliging too, asked the name of a tall, bald-headed man, who, -although not particularly interesting in appearance, looked like a -gentleman. Mr. Cullingworth’s face fell a little, but he answered at -once: - -“Oh, that Sir George Brandram. Don’t know much about him, he’s a Wosham -man.” - -His tone was so cold, and his manner intimated such strong disapproval, -that Chris did not like to ask more about Sir George, fearing that he -might be the hero of some terrible scandal. It was only later that she -learnt that the sting of Mr. Cullingworth’s account of him lay in the -words, “He’s a Wosham man.” For Wosham, four miles off along the coast, -was the deadly rival of Wyngham; and it was a point of honour among -their respective inhabitants to acknowledge no good in the dwellers of -the rival town. - -Meanwhile, the giver of the ball was enjoying himself very little -better than the young lady in whose honour it was given. Mr. Bradfield -loved to see his house full of guests, having to the full the pleasure -of the self-made man in ostentatious hospitality. He took a cynical -delight in the knowledge that these people who were civil to him -for what he had, and not for what he was, considered themselves his -superiors, and would have disdained to shake hands with him while he -was still a poor man. - -But to-night his enjoyment of his new position was spoilt for him by a -chance word, uttered in all good faith by Lilith Shute, who was ashamed -of her mother’s behaviour towards Chris, with whom she had struck up a -friendship, which would have been a warm one if she could have had her -will. - -Lilith was dancing the Lancers with her host, whose constant glances -in the direction of Chris Abercarne she could not fail to notice. - -“How nice she looks to-night,” said Lilith, who looked pretty enough -herself to afford a word of praise to a rival beauty, and who did not -believe in her friend’s supposed designs upon the rich cousin’s heart. - -“She always does look nice,” said Mr. Bradfield, gruffly. “And she -knows it, too--a little too well, I expect, like all you girls who -think yourself beauties.” - -He was jealous, entirely without reason, of the men younger than -himself, with one or other of whom she was dancing or talking whenever -he glanced in her direction. - -“I don’t see how a girl is to help knowing it, when it makes such a -difference in the amount of attention she gets,” giggled Lilith. “Not,” -she went on laughingly, “that the attention of anyone here would be -likely to turn her head.” Then a malicious thought crossed her mind, -taking the place of her magnanimity. “Chris Abercarne’s thoughts -are too much occupied with somebody else for her to derive much -entertainment from her partners,” she said, demurely. - -Mr. Bradfield looked at her scrutinisingly; he dared to hope that -Lilith was going to say something encouraging to himself. - -“Somebody else?” he asked abruptly. “Who is it?” - -Lilith shrugged her shoulders, and laughed mischievously. - -“Ah, that’s more than I can tell you. All the information I can give -you is that he is very, _very_ good-looking, that he met her to-day in -the park, and walked a little way with her as she came back from the -town, and that she looked very much confused when she met me in the -garden, and would have liked, I’m sure, to think I hadn’t seen her.” - -Now there was a little mischief in this speech, for Lilith did not -think Chris had behaved quite well in pretending not to know whom she -meant when she described the stranger present at the _tableaux_. But, -to do her justice, she had not the least intention of rousing the real -anger she instantly saw in Mr. Bradfield’s face. Not only in his face -either, for Lilith felt, when his hand next touched hers in the dance, -that he was trembling with rage. - -“Oh, ho!” said he, with an exclamation which was meant to sound like a -laugh, but which was, in truth, anything but mirthful; “so she meets a -sweetheart on the quiet, does she?” - -Lilith, rather frightened, and seeing that she had made more serious -mischief than she had intended hastened to answer: - -“Oh, no, no; I didn’t mean that. I daresay it was only an accidental -meeting. I--I----” - -Mr. Bradfield interrupted her sternly. - -“Have you ever seen him before, this fellow whom she met?” - -“Only once,” answered Lilith, quickly. - -“Where was that? Was she with him?” - -“N--no, she wasn’t with him. It was the day of the _tableaux_. He was -sitting on one of the back seats, and nobody seemed to know who he was. -Not even Chris, for I asked her.” - -Mr. Bradfield was evidently much puzzled. All the golden youth of -Wyngham and the neighbourhood were dancing in his drawing-rooms -that night, and who the fortunate young man could be who was -considered good-looking by such a connoisseur as Lilith, and whom -Chris condescended to meet on the sly, he had not the remotest -notion. Certainly a man’s ideas of another man’s good looks differed -considerably from those of a girl; but he could not, running over in -his mind the eligible young men of the neighbourhood, conceive that any -one of them should find favour in the very particular eyes of both the -beauties. - -With his usual directness, he set about solving the mystery at once. -Taking Lilith back to her mother as soon as the dance was over, he went -in search of Chris, whom he found sitting in the dining-room, eating an -ice, and looking bored by young Cullingworth’s conversation. - -“Miss Christina, I want to speak to you,” said he, shortly. - -Chris, upon whom a hazy dread began to fall, as to the subject upon -which he wished to interrogate her, followed him with reluctance into -the embrasure of the window, which had been kept free from refreshment -tables on purpose for _tête-à-têtes_ of a more or less interesting sort. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -MR. BRADFIELD RECEIVES A SHOCK. - - -Mr. Bradfield commanded rather than invited Chris to be seated, and -planted himself in a rather menacing than lover-like attitude before -her. He had just remembered, luckily for him, that he must tone down -his martinet-like manner, as he had no claim whatever on the girl to -give him a right to be offended. - -“So you’ve found a sweetheart?” he began, in a voice which he had -subdued to the pitch of a confidential _tête-à-tête_, but which -betrayed his feelings more clearly than he had intended. - -A bright pink blush rose in the pale face of Chris to the very roots of -her hair. She hesitated a moment before replying, but her hesitation -was not of a kind to inspire her interlocutor with hopeful feelings. -She looked frightened, but she looked also as if she did not mean to be -bullied. He did not wait for her to reply before he said: - -“Did you tell your mother what I said to you the other day?” - -Chris just glanced up into his face, and resolved not to pretend to -misunderstand. - -“No, Mr. Bradfield.” - -“Why not?” - -“It would make no difference.” - -“You’ve found someone else you like better?” - -Again Chris hesitated. She had grown very white, and was chilled by -a fear of this man. There was something hard, something cruel in his -manner, which let her, for the first time, into the secret of those -qualities of doggedness and remorselessness in his nature, which had -helped him to get on in the world. She rose quickly, with the feeling -that she could hold her own better at her full height, than when she -was under the direct fire of those strange eyes. She was in terror lest -he should find out who her companion had been on her walk through the -park that afternoon. The truth was that it had been Mr. Richard, who, -after evidently lying in wait for her among the trees, had accompanied -her a little way, as usual in silence, but with a manner in which there -was no longer any attempt at concealment of the fact that he loved her. -But this was the one fact beyond all others which Chris was anxious to -hide from Mr. Bradfield. For the unhappy Mr. Richard would certainly be -made to suffer for it, if his guardian had any suspicion that he was -his rival. - -Mr. Bradfield, impatient at her silence, spoke again: - -“I suppose you will think I have no right to ask you such questions; -but you are under my roof. If I cannot be your accepted husband, I -am, at any rate for the time, your guardian, and I hear that you meet -someone else,” added he, his tone betraying the jealous anger that he -felt. - -Now Chris knew what his information was, and who his informant had -been. She turned to him quickly, and laughed uneasily. - -“Lilith told you; she saw me in the park.” Then, with a fast beating -heart, dreading the answer, she asked, “Didn’t she say who it was?” - -“She said she didn’t know. But perhaps it’s some plot between you -girls, and she knows his name as well as you do.” - -“There is no plot between us, and I never said anything to her about -him,” said Chris, quickly. “But I don’t deny that I have met a -gentleman belonging to the place once or twice by accident, by accident -entirely; and as you take it so seriously, I shall certainly take great -care not to tell you his name.” - -Mr. Bradfield was evidently furious; but he only said, drily: - -“Does your mother know of it?” - -“No. But,” added Chris, defiantly, “you can tell her if you like.” - -Her spirits had risen, for during the last few moments she had felt -pretty sure that either her words or her manner, or both, had diverted -his suspicions, if he had had any, from the right quarter. - -And all that poor Mr. Bradfield got by his talk with her was the loss -of his dance; for Chris went away and hid herself, rather than walk -through the quadrille with him. - -The next day was the faded, uncomfortable, heavy-eyed day which usually -succeeds to a night of unusual dissipation. Mrs. Graham-Shute put the -climax to the general discomfort by insisting that they should all, -directly luncheon was over, drive some miles in the cold to inspect -ruins. - -“But why in the world to-day?” as Lilith grumbled aloud. “As they’ve -stood there since A.D. 250, mightn’t they manage to stand there a few -days longer?” - -But Mrs. Graham-Shute saw no reason in an point of view but her own. -They had an afternoon to spare; there were ruins to be seen; therefore -ruins must be seen on that spare afternoon. So they all drove off in -the cold, looking very blue about the nose, and feeling too cold to go -to sleep, even under a mountain of rugs and furs, and nobody at all got -any pleasure out of the expedition except John Bradfield, who drove -Lilith over in his dog-cart, and managed, by steady persistence, to get -Chris to consent to drive back with him. He was so gentle, so humble, -touched just the right chords of gratitude in her so deftly, under -his seeming clumsiness, that the girl could not hold out against him. -However, she made her own conditions. - -“Mind,” she said, holding up a warning forefinger in its pretty glove, -as he made a collection of rugs for her comfort, and held out his hand -to help her to mount, radiant with his victory, “you are not to try to -converse with me except upon the subjects I specially choose, for I’m -too cold to be civil, unless I have everything my own way.” - -Mr. Bradfield, glad to get her upon any terms, consented with a roar of -laughter. But Mrs. Graham-Shute, who overheard this speech from Chris, -was overwhelmed by the girl’s audacity. - -“I wonder how my cousin puts up with such impudence,” she said, in -a tone of exasperation, as she floundered, panting, through the mud -which, at this season, was an indispensable adjunct to the ruins. “She -puts on all the airs of a person of consequence, like her horrible old -mother. Thank goodness, I’ve escaped an afternoon with _her_, at any -rate.” - -“That’s just what she said of you when she refused to go, my dear,” -said her husband, gently, in her ear, as, tottering under her weight, -he helped her into the landau. - -Chris need not have felt apprehensive. Mr. Bradfield had thought -matters over, and decided that the fortress was not to be stormed, that -his best plan lay in starving out the garrison by a long and careful -siege. Besides, it was too cold for ardent lovemaking; their jaws were -stiff as they drove in the face of the winter wind. So that Chris was -pleased to find that her drive back with Mr. Bradfield was a good -deal pleasanter than her drive out had been in the company of Mrs. -Graham-Shute. - -It was Mr. Bradfield who chose the topics of conversation after all. -For he was so anxious to prove his good faith that he gave her no -opportunity of starting any subject of her own, but beguiled the way -by stories of his life on Australian sheep farms. His experience had -been hard, and some of his tales of hardship and privation, while they -had the desired effect of securing the young girl’s sympathy, made her -shudder. - -“Why, I would rather have remained as poor as you say you were all my -life than have made a large fortune in such hard ways as those!” she -exclaimed. - -Mr. Bradfield’s face clouded suddenly at her words, so that Chris began -to wonder what there was in her speech to offend him. - -To break the silence which followed, she said: - -“You must be very glad those hard times are over?” - -As he answered, one of the hard looks his face could assume at times -made his features look repulsive in their rugged harshness. - -“Glad!” he exclaimed. “There isn’t a crime I wouldn’t commit sooner -than go through them again.” - -Chris glanced at his face, and a sudden remembrance of Mr. Bradfield’s -unfortunate ward flashed into her mind. Without reason, by a woman’s -sensitive instinct, she connected the words he had just uttered, the -hard, harsh spirit which they betrayed, with the treatment of the man -whom he kept shut up in such a mysterious manner in the east wing. - -By this time they were passing Wyngham Station. A few passengers were -coming out in a straggling thread, for the London train had just come -in. Although the afternoon was light for the time of year, it was -too dark to distinguish clearly the faces of these people, although -something of their figures was discernible. Mr. Bradfield’s gaze was -suddenly attracted by the appearance of a man who was walking in the -road a little in front of the dog-cart. As soon as he caught sight of -him, he stopped abruptly in the middle of a remark he was making to -Chris. As his voice, besides being very gruff, was very loud, Chris saw -nothing remarkable in the fact that as he stopped speaking, the man in -the road turned quickly round. - -“John Bradfield!” he cried, stepping back to the roadside. He had not -spoken loudly, so there was nothing surprising in the fact that Mr. -Bradfield drove on, apparently without hearing the stranger’s voice. - -But glancing at him as they drove on, Chris was able to see, even in -the twilight which was fast closing in, that his face was distorted and -drawn with a strong emotion. - -And the emotion was fear. - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -MR. BRADFIELD WELCOMES AN OLD FRIEND. - - -It was impossible for Chris not to be struck by the change in Mr. -Bradfield’s face, impossible for her to avoid the supposition that this -change was caused by the sight of the shabby man who stood on one side -as the dog-cart went by, and called to “John Bradfield” by name. - -Her companion was too shrewd not to know this. He turned to her, -therefore, and said: - -“That was a narrow squeak. Never had such a fright in my life as that -fellow gave me; I thought I’d run over him.” - -Chris was deceived by this speech, and she said, innocently: - -“He knew you, Mr. Bradfield. He called to you by name!” - -Mr. Bradfield turned in his seat, as if to have another look at the -man; but they had turned a corner, and he was out of sight. - -“Did he, though?” said he, as if in surprise. “Well, I daresay he’ll -find me out, if he wants anything of me. People have a trick of doing -that.” Then, as if dismissing the subject from his thoughts, he said, -“Well, haven’t I been ‘good?’ Will you come out with me again?” - -Chris laughed with some constraint. Mr. Bradfield certainly had behaved -well, but she did not want to put his good behaviour to any further -tests. There was about him all the time a certain air of an angler -playing his fish, which made her ask herself whether she were not in -truth compromising herself by receiving from him even those attentions, -slight as they were, which she could not avoid. - -They reached home before the rest of the party, and Chris ran upstairs -to her mother, while Mr. Bradfield went to his study. Stelfox, who made -himself useful about the house when he was not in attendance upon Mr. -Richard, was just placing upon the table a great pile of letters. This -being Christmas eve, the mid-day post had been some hours late. - -Mr. Bradfield glanced searchingly at Stelfox. He was rather afraid of -that faithful servitor, who was too useful a person, and perhaps too -shrewd a one, to be dismissed. Manners, the weak-eyed secretary, was -away for his holiday, so that master and man were alone. After a few -moments’ rapid debate with himself, Mr. Bradfield asked a question -which had been very near his lips since the night before, when Lilith’s -communication had made him uneasy. - -“How is your patient to-day, Stelfox?” he asked, as an opening. - -“About the same as usual, sir.” - -“Been giving you much trouble lately?” - -“Not more than usual, sir.” - -“And that’s not much, eh?” - -“No, sir, that’s not much.” - -“Do you think he gets any more rational as time goes on? Any more fit -to be about?” - -Mr. Bradfield put this question in the same tone as the rest, but the -look with which he accompanied the words was more penetrating, more -curious than before. - -He wanted Stelfox to look up, but the man persisted in looking down. - -“He’s about the same, sir, as he’s been ever since I’ve known him.” - -“Just as mad? Just as unfit to go about uncontrolled?” - -“Exactly the same, sir.” - -Now Mr. Bradfield was not satisfied with this answer. He looked angrily -at all that he could see of Stelfox’s stolid face, and then said, -shortly: - -“I haven’t seen you to speak to about that affair of Wednesday -last--you know--when he got away.” - -Stelfox raised his eyes for a moment, as respectfully as ever. - -“No, sir, you haven’t.” - -“Did you have any difficulty with him, in getting him to come back? It -was in the barn you found him, wasn’t it--where I told you he was?” - -“Yes, sir, it was in the barn. I had no difficulty with him.” - -“And, of course, you have taken good care that he shouldn’t get out -again?” - -Now this was a question, undoubtedly, although he hardly meant it to -be taken as one. It was supposed to be a matter-of-course remark, that -hardly needed an answer. Stelfox’s answer was, perhaps, just the least -bit aggressive in tone. - -“I have taken the same care of him as usual, sir; I can’t do no more.” - -John Bradfield, as he glanced again at the man’s face, looked doubtful -still; but he saw that he had gone as far as he dared. - -“I am quite satisfied with your care of him, Stelfox, quite satisfied. -Of course, I’m always anxious, always nervous. I shouldn’t like him to -get out again, and frighten the ladies.” - -“There’s no fear of that, sir,” said Stelfox, as stolidly as ever. - -“It’s a very awkward and responsible position that I have taken upon -myself, in undertaking to keep an insane person under my own roof,” -pursued John Bradfield. “The expense is nothing to me, and, of course, -I don’t mind the danger to myself. His father was a very valued servant -of mine, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for his son. I could never -have borne to see the boy taken away to a pauper lunatic asylum.” - -He paused, and seemed to expect some comment. So Stelfox said: - -“I understand, sir; I quite understand.” - -But he looked as if he did not. - -“And the hard part of it is,” went on Mr. Bradfield, in a loud, -aggrieved tone of voice, “that if some friend, say, of his father’s, -were to turn up now, and want to see him, ten to one he’d think I ought -to have treated the lad differently, put him into an asylum, or done -something or other that I haven’t done.” - -Again he paused. Stelfox, still stolid, still apparently without vivid -interest, said: - -“No doubt, sir.” - -Mr. Bradfield would have given anything to know exactly what was -passing in the man’s mind. Stelfox would have given anything to know -what was passing in his master’s. - -Mr. Bradfield, impatient, turned on his heel, and began rummaging -among the letters the post had brought, tossing on to his secretary’s -already well-covered table all those directed in handwritings he did -not know, and opening the rest, only to throw them for the most part, -half-read, into the waste-paper basket. - -“However,” he went on, still reading, “I have the satisfaction of -knowing I have done my best for the lad. And so have you, Stelfox. And -I may as well take this opportunity of telling you that you will start -the New Year with new wages. No objection to another ten pounds a year, -I suppose?” - -“Not the least, sir, and thank you,” replied Stelfox, moving aside from -the door as somebody knocked at it from the outside. - -Then Mr. Graham-Shute put his head in. - -“Any admission?” said he, and he brought the rest of himself inside -without waiting for an answer. “It’s d--d cold in these parts, -Bradfield, and you keep your horses too fat. We’ve been a week on the -road back from those d--d ruins. I’m frozen to death. There was only -one comfort, and that was that my little Maudie’s jaw got too stiff to -move. So we had a heavenly spell of silence on the way back.” - -He walked to the fire, and began slowly taking off his silk muffler, -his gloves, and his overcoat in the cheery warmth. - -Stelfox had quietly withdrawn. - -“By-the-bye, Bradfield,” went on Mr. Graham-Shute, agitating his jaw -violently, as if under the impression that in the Arctic atmosphere -outside something had gone wrong with it, “you’ll never guess who we -met down in the town just now, looking about for you.” - -John Bradfield’s back was turned to his cousin, who might otherwise -have seen that the approaching communication was no surprise to him. He -was expected to show curiosity, however, so he asked: - -“Well, who was it?” - -“Why, your old pal, Alfred Marrable, who went out to Australia with you -over thirty years ago. He doesn’t seem to have done as well out there -as you did, by the looks of him. I knew him in a moment, dark as it -was, by that odd limp in his walk. So I stopped the carriage and spoke -to him. It appears he has come down here on purpose to see you. So I -put him on the road. We were full, or I would have given him a lift.” - -“Much obliged to you, I am sure,” said John Bradfield, rather more -drily than he meant to do. - -Mr. Graham-Shute, who took an intelligent interest in his cousin’s -affairs, stared at him in astonishment. - -“What, don’t you want to see him?” he asked. “I thought I was bringing -you the best piece of news you’d had for a long day. For you’ve -generally such a good memory for your old friends, and I know that you -and Marrable were always great chums. Did you fall out, or what?” - -“No,” said John Bradfield, recovering himself. “But the longest memory -is not eternal, and it’s seventeen years since I saw him last. I’ll do -all I can for him, certainly, for the sake of auld lang syne.” - -The words were hardly out of his mouth when a footman knocked at the -door, and informed his master that a person wished to see him, a person -who gave the name of Marrable. - -“Oh, yes, I’ll go and see him myself,” said John Bradfield, who hoped -that his cousin would, in the meantime, take himself off, and allow him -to welcome his old friend Marrable _en tête-à-tête_. - -“I daresay he’ll be too shy, after all these years, to come in at all,” -said he, as he went out. But what he thought was, “I’ll do my best to -get rid of him.” - -Graham-Shute’s voice, however, rang out cheerily after him: - -“You have forgotten Marrable, if that’s what you think of him.” - -John Bradfield went slowly down the few stairs which led into the inner -hall. By the time he reached the bend which would bring him in sight of -the newcomer, he had made up his mind. - -“I must take the bull by the horns,” said he to himself. “After all, -the man’s a fool, and will be easy to manage, even if he does know or -guess a little too much.” - -With all his knowledge of the world, John Bradfield was capable of -making the mistake of thinking a fool can be easy to manage. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -MR. MARRABLE’S MERRY CHRISTMAS. - - -Surely no human creature ever trod this earth, who, by his appearance, -seemed less likely to inspire fear than Mr. Marrable. - -A fair, colourless, middle-aged man, under the middle height, and -inclined to be stout, he was the most inoffensive-looking person in the -world, and, to judge by his demeanour as he stood in the hall, holding -his shabby tall hat in his hand, and looking about him with an air of -awe-struck astonishment, the humblest and the meekest. - -As John Bradfield approached him, with outstretched hand, and a rather -forced smile of welcome on his face, Mr. Marrable withdrew his gaze -from the objects around him, and fixed it nervously upon his old friend. - -“Well, Alf,” began John Bradfield, as he came up to his abashed old -friend, “this is a strange meeting after all these years, isn’t it?” - -The other man, after hesitating a moment, thrust his hand with great -delight into that of his old friend, and instantly became as talkative -and lively as a moment before he had been taciturn and depressed. - -“Why, John, so it is,” he exclaimed, with a smile broadening on his -plump and placid face, turning his head a little towards his companion, -after the manner of those who are slightly deaf. “And glad am I to see -you again, old chap, and looking so well too, and--and so prosperous,” -and he gave a shy glance round him. “Do you know,” he went on, growing -buoyantly confidential under the influence of his friend’s hearty grip -of the hand, “that I thought you wanted to cut me? That you had grown -too grand for your old friends.” - -“No. When was that?” asked John Bradfield, shortly. - -He was not a good actor, and Marrable looked at him doubtfully, as he -answered: - -“Why, out in the street just now, outside the station. I knew you in -a moment, wrapt up as you were, and cutting such a dash, too. But -then you were always a dashing fellow, even in the old days, John,” -maundered on the unprosperous one, admiringly. “I called out to you, -but you took no notice. And I said to myself, ‘Ah, he’s like all the -rest of ’em; he knows his friends by their coats. He----’” - -“Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself,” returned John Bradfield’s -loud voice. “I never turned my back on an old friend yet, and I’m not -going to begin now. Did you come down here to see me?” - -“Yes,” answered the other, meekly. “Well, at least, the fact is I heard -of you quite by chance, and of how you’d got on, and as I’m down in -the world, and I remembered your good heart in the old days, John, I -thought I’d just run down and have a peep at you, and then, if I wasn’t -wanted, I could come away.” - -Mr. Bradfield felt a sensation of relief; these words seemed to show -him a way out of his difficulty. But the next moment he was undeceived. - -“If you don’t want me here, John, I’ll just spend a few days in the -town here; I daresay I can find lodgings good enough for me easily -enough, and all I’ll trouble you for will be my fare back to town, -which you’ll not begrudge me, for old acquaintance sake.” - -Mr. Bradfield inwardly called down upon his old friend’s head something -which was not a blessing. He was not going back to town then, but -proposed to potter about the place, chattering of course to everyone he -met about his old friendship with the rich Mr. Bradfield, and either -letting fall or picking up some scrap of information which it would be -prejudicial to the rich Mr. Bradfield’s interests to be known. - -The first suggestion which came into John Bradfield’s mind was bribery, -but the next moment’s reflection told him that this was always a -dangerous method, for if he were to make Marrable a handsome money -present with the condition that he must take himself back to town -immediately, that gentleman, little gifted as he was with intellectual -brilliancy, could hardly fail to see that his old friend must have some -strong motive for wishing to get rid of him. His curiosity once roused, -he could hardly fail to find out something which would serve as an -excuse for blackmailing in the time to come. The only alternative to -this course was, John Bradfield felt, to keep his old chum under his -own eye while he remained at Wyngham, so he said: - -“Come, come; that’s not the way I treat my old friends. Stay and spend -Christmas with me, Alf, and when it’s over, and you back to town, -where I suppose your heart lies--for you’re a thoroughbred cockney, I -know--I’ll see what I can do to set you on your legs, and give you a -fresh start in life.” - -Although Marrable was pleased, he was not overwhelmed with joy and -gratitude as John Bradfield had expected. In truth Alfred, on learning -by chance of the change in his old friend’s circumstances, had taken -it for granted that he would be allowed, nay, invited to share in John -Bradfield’s luck, as, in the old days of struggling and hardship, -he, then the more prosperous one of the two, had shared what he had -with John. An invitation to spend Christmas, even with the promise of -help afterwards, was only a small measure of the hospitality he had -expected; his answer betrayed his feelings. - -“Thank you, thank you, John. I thought you couldn’t have forgotten -old times altogether. I thought you had more heart than that. As for -London, I seem to have lost my old fondness for it somehow. The old -folk are dead; my poor mother died there as soon as we got back. I -seem to have got disgusted with the bricks and mortar somehow. There’s -nothing I should like better than to settle down for the rest of my -days in a nice country place, as you have done.” - -John Bradfield did not take this hint, as his friend had hoped. But he -invited Marrable to come upstairs, and said he would see what he could -do for him in the way of evening dress. - -Unfortunately this was not much. John Bradfield was slim, Alfred -Marrable was stout. The struggle of the latter to get into the clothes -of the former left him, therefore, both uncomfortable and apoplectic. -No persuasions, however, would induce him to go down to dinner in his -own shabby morning clothes, for Marrable flattered himself that he was -a lady’s man, and that he looked his best--which he did not--in evening -dress. - -John Bradfield, who had been turning over the situation in his mind, -gave his old friend a hint as they went downstairs. - -“I say, old chap,” said he, in a confidential tone, “there’s one thing -I want you to do to oblige me.” - -“Anything, old man, anything.” - -“You see, I’m a great man here, not the poor starveling I was when you -and I went out in the steerage to Melbourne thirty years ago. I don’t -think I’ve grown much of a snob, but still one doesn’t care, when one’s -got on, to have all the servants talking about their master having been -glad enough to do things for himself once. Do you see?” - -“Oh, yes, yes; of course, of course. I understand perfectly. You may -rely upon me, old chap. I flatter myself I’m not wanting in tact, -whatever my faults may be.” - -John Bradfield, although he feared that Alfred was giving himself too -high a character, went on: - -“So no talk about old times and hard times, or”--his voice trembled -a little here, for this was in truth a point on which he was most -anxious--“or old acquaintances. Let the dead past bury its dead, as the -poet says,” he continued, jocularly, “and we’ll have a merry Christmas -over its grave.” - -“That’s it, that’s it; so we will,” agreed Marrable, heartily, as they -reached the drawing-room door. - -In all good faith Alfred Marrable had given his promise to be discreet, -and in all good faith John Bradfield had told him that he should have a -merry Christmas. But unluckily the powers of darkness in the shape of -Mrs. Graham-Shute, were against him. Indeed, John Bradfield had had his -doubts about her, and as he entered the drawing-room with his _protégé_ -in his ill-fitting clothes, he whispered to the latter: - -“Never mind the Queen of Snobs,” with a glance in the portly lady’s -direction. - -Mrs. Graham-Shute was already looking at them with an unpromising -stare. She had a hatred of shabbily-dressed people, the keener that -it was only by a great effort that she herself escaped that category. -She had been indignant when her husband stopped the landau to speak to -this “person,” and now to have the “person” obtruded upon her notice, -in clothes which did not belong to him, was an outrage to her dignity, -which at once dispelled the good humour which is traditionally supposed -to belong to fat people. If people must invite their humble friends, -they should not ask them to meet guests of greater consideration. It -was extremely awkward and unpleasant, as one didn’t know where to -draw the line between too much civility, which made the humble friend -“presume,” and too little, which might offend one’s host. - -In the case of Alfred Marrable, Mrs. Graham-Shute certainly did not err -in the former manner. Her disdain of the poor man, who was just the -sort of weak-minded person to be impressed by her foolish arrogance, -had a crushing effect upon him; so, far from becoming loquacious on the -subject of old times, the poor man could scarcely be prevailed upon to -open his lips at all. The glare of the cold, fish-like eyes, turned -full upon him at dinner--for she sat opposite to him--even took away -the poor man’s appetite; and John Bradfield was able to congratulate -himself that night that the evening had passed off (according to his -views) so well. - -The next day was Christmas day, and Alfred Marrable, always under the -watchful eyes of his careful old friend, began it beautifully. He -went to church, was almost pathetically civil and attentive to the -ladies, delighted to carry their prayer-books, and to render them such -small services of a like kind as he could. At luncheon, by which time -Mrs. Graham-Shute had grown sufficiently used to him to ignore him -altogether, he thawed a little, and needed the warning eye of his host -to restrain him from making appropriate Christmas allusions to old -times over his glass of port. - -But it was at the Christmas dinner that evening that his discretion -melted away like wax before the fire, and he made up for lost time and -past reticence with a loquacity even more dangerous than John Bradfield -had feared. - -He alluded to change of fortune, some for the better, some for the -worse, when they had got as far as the turkey. When they reached the -plum-pudding, he got so far as to remember old friends by the initials -of their names; and he broke down altogether into amiable chatter about -thirty years ago, at the cheese. - -John Bradfield frowned, but by this time frowns were thrown away upon -Alfred. Nothing short of taking him by the shoulders and turning him -out of the room would have checked the flow of his half-cheerful, -half-sorrowful, wholly sentimental reminiscences. - -Mr. Graham-Shute, observing John Bradfield’s disapproval in his -face, and being, moreover, really interested in the past life of the -extraordinarily successful man, mischievously encouraged Marrable -by his sympathetic questions; while his wife, who considered these -allusions to a ragged past indecent and revolting, tried in vain to -talk more loudly than ever to drown the remarks both of Alfred Marrable -and her liege lord. - -“Dear me, that’s very interesting! And so you walked six hundred miles -up the country with only one shirt apiece, and your feet for the most -part tied up in straw for the want of boots!” said Mr. Graham-Shute, -with deliberate distinctness, thus cleverly epitomising for the benefit -of the entire company a rambling story which Alfred had been pouring -into his ear. - -“I’m sure we shall have skating to-morrow, at least almost sure, though -of course one never knows, and the frost may break any minute, and then -there would be an end of everything, just when the ice in the parks -will be getting into nice condition, and when there are sure to be -some ponds and things down here that will bear, though I think myself -that skating in the country is always more risky than in town, because -there are not so many appliances and things, in case you are drowned,” -babbled out Mrs. Graham-Shute, with one nervous eye on dear cousin -John, and the other on that wretched William, who was by this time -cracking nuts while he listened to Alfred, and who took care, as his -wife raised her voice, to raise his also. - -The unhappy Marrable went on: - -“Yes, indeed! Times are changed, and no mistake, since then. Fancy -that fellow there,” and he gently indicated, by a wave of his bunch -of grapes, his unhappy host, “fancy him coming to me, with a coat on -his back that he bought for eighteenpence from the ship’s steward, -and saying to me: ‘Alf, my boy! it’s all up with me! I’m stone-broke; -and I believe I’ve got a touch of the fever upon me, and I know I can -never stand the hard life out there in the bush. I shall just go and -throw myself into the dock basin before another night has passed over -my head.’ Fancy that, now, for a man that must have thousands and -thousands a year, to judge by the style he lives in, and the goodness -of the wines he gives us.” - -And Mr. Marrable ended with an expressive smack of the lips. Mr. -Graham-Shute nodded appreciatively. - -“Was that when you first went out?” he asked with interest. - -“Oh, no. We’d been knocking about out there for some time, and not -doing much good, either of us. That was the odd part of it, that -Bradfield, who’s got on so well since, didn’t seem to do any better -than I.” - -Being unable to silence her husband, Mrs. Graham-Shute had now turned -her attention to occupying “dear cousin John” with conversation, so -that William’s delinquencies should escape his notice. Otherwise, -it is possible that John Bradfield might have been exasperated into -some heroic measure to stop his old friend’s tongue. As it was, Mr. -Graham-Shute’s kindly “Dear me, yes, that was curious!” encouraged -Marrable to go on: - -“Let me see, where had I got to? Oh, yes, I remember, Bradfield had -told me he meant to do away with himself; he was so down on his luck, -poor chap! I didn’t know what to say to him; the little capital I had -gone out with was all gone; when who should we come across but the old -chum we had gone out with, the only one of the three who had done any -good--Gilbert Wryde!” - -At the mention of this name, Mr. Graham-Shute suddenly put down his -nut-crackers, and leaned back in his chair. - -“Ah!” cried he, “that’s the name I’ve been trying to remember; I knew -there were three of you who went out to Australia together, and I -couldn’t remember the name of the third. I never saw him, but I’ve read -some of his letters to John when they were little more than lads; and -they were full of most uncommon sense for such a young chap. I thought -to myself then that he ought to get on. So he did, did he? Gilbert -Wryde!” - -As he repeated the name deliberately and slowly, to impress it upon his -memory, both John Bradfield and Chris looked up, rather startled. Chris -was the more impressed of the two, for she had not been expecting to -hear the name, while John Bradfield had. - -Quite innocent of the effect his information was producing, Marrable -resumed his story. - -“Get on! I believe you, as well as our friend John here himself, and -in half the time. He was the right sort, too, old Gilbert, and he took -us by the hand, and set us on our legs again, and there was no more -talk of suicide after that. He set me up in business in Melbourne, and -he took John away with him up country, where he’d made his own fortune -at sheep-farming, and where he evidently put him in the way of making -his. Poor Wryde! He did not live long to enjoy his fortune. I never saw -him again.” - -John Bradfield had been listening to this speech with only the smallest -pretence of attending to what his cousin Maude was saying. Marrable, -catching his eye, and being in too jovial a mood to understand the -menace in his host’s expression, turned to him with the direct question: - -“Ah, John, you wouldn’t be in the position you are to-day if it hadn’t -been for Gilbert Wryde, would you?” - -John Bradfield’s face was as white as his friend’s was rosy. He -answered at once, in a hard, metallic tone: - -“We did each other mutual good service, Wryde and I. I’m not likely to -forget him, certainly.” - -“Ah!” pursued Marrable, “if he’d only been alive and here to-day, it -would have been a merry meeting indeed, eh, John?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -LEFT OUT IN THE COLD. - - -Even Mrs. Abercarne, at the other end of the table, could see that -something had gone wrong: Mr. Bradfield’s voice as he loudly assented, -had not the right ring: Mr. Graham-Shute looked mischievous, his wife -looked anxious, while Chris looked as if she had been frightened. -The housekeeper gave the signal hastily to Mrs. Graham-Shute, even -in the midst of the laughter and cracker-pulling which was going on -among the young people. Lilith and Rose were surprised, but both Mrs. -Graham-Shute and Chris jumped up in a hurry, quite eager to leave the -scene of what looked like the beginning of a serious quarrel. For, -although no angry words had passed between the gentlemen, Marrable’s -effusive geniality in face of his host’s ever-increasing abruptness, -looked ominous to those who knew the temper of the latter. - -When the ladies were assembled in the drawing-room, and Chris had -sat down to the piano to play some carols, Mrs. Graham-Shute, for -want of a better, was forced to make a confidante of the obnoxious -lady-housekeeper. - -“Exceedingly unpleasant, was it not, to have to endure the presence of -that extraordinary individual at dinner,” she said to Mrs. Abercarne -in a confidential tone. “Of course, it is very good of my cousin to -remember his old friends, but it’s a pity he cannot find some who -would make themselves more agreeable to the rest of us. Such a pleasant -party we should have been, too, if it hadn’t been for that!” - -Now Mrs. Abercarne had been smarting for the past week under the snubs -and slights which Mrs. Graham-Shute had administered to her daughter -and herself, and she was by no means mollified by the Bayswater -lady’s momentary condescension. She pricked up her ears, figuratively -speaking, rejoicing in her opportunity. - -“Yes,” she answered, frigidly, drawing herself up and surveying Mrs. -Graham-Shute in a manner full of stately vindictiveness. “I quite agree -with you. Mr. Bradfield is a great deal too good to his old friends; -and they do make themselves excessively disagreeable; and the party -would be much pleasanter without them.” - -And poor Mrs. Graham-Shute, try as she would, could not look as if -she did not perceive that this speech was a barbed one. She turned -away abruptly, and, taking the place at the piano which Chris had just -vacated, began hurriedly and very badly, and with vicious thumps upon -the keys, a hymn about “peace on earth and goodwill towards men.” - -Chris had stolen into the recess formed by the great bay window on the -western side of the room. She heard a sound like the breaking of glass -outside, and had left her place at the piano to look out. Raising the -heavy curtain, and pulling back the blind, she saw dimly through the -moisture on the window-pane, the forms of two men, one of whom was so -close that he seemed to have been trying to look through the window. -She could just see enough of them to know that the figures were those -of Mr. Richard and his keeper Stelfox, and her heart leapt up, and -her brain seemed suddenly to be on fire, as there rang in her ears the -words used by Mr. Marrable about Gilbert Wryde. - -Gilbert Wryde! Gilbert Wryde--Mr. Bradfield’s benefactor! She -remembered the portrait bearing that name, and she remembered Mr. -Bradfield’s change of expression at the sight of it. That expression, -which she had taken for annoyance, must then have been caused by some -more tender emotion, to which also the subsequent disappearance of the -miniature must be traced. And then the likeness between the portrait of -Gilbert Wryde and the solitary occupant of the east wing? Chris felt -sick with excitement, bewilderment and fear. She would have given the -world to be able to forget the problem which was beginning to trouble -her peace of mind, to shut her mind to the questions she could not help -asking. - -In the meantime, a great impulse of pity for Mr. Richard, spending his -Christmas alone except for his attendant, and peeping in through the -windows at the warmth and light inside the room he was not allowed to -enter, seized her, and caused her to find an opportunity of leaving the -room unobserved. Putting on a hooded cloak, and wrapping it tightly -round her, she went out into the garden. - -Chris, who had run down the steps, paused at the bottom. The impulse -upon which she had acted in coming out into the night was the kindly -one of exchanging a Christmas greeting with the outcast from the east -wing. But to this impulse had succeeded a fit of maidenly shyness. -Twice since their last meeting in the barn, she had encountered Mr. -Richard in the park in a manner which could scarcely have been the -result of chance, and on each of these occasions the silent happiness -he had shown in her society had touched her deeply; so deeply, indeed, -that she could not help feeling a little self-consciousness about this -meeting which she herself was bringing about. Whether she would have -turned back, following the dictates of her impulse of shyness and -maidenly modesty, it is impossible to say. For at that moment she heard -a footstep on the path, and a great thrill of a feeling she did not -understand passed through her as a voice she had never heard before -said low in her ear: - -“I wish you a merry Christmas.” - -With a start she turned, and put her hand into that of Mr. Richard, who -kissed it with the fervour of a lover. - -“I am afraid your Christmas is not a very merry one,” she said gently. - -They were standing in the full moonlight, and Mr. Richard was gazing -with his usual melancholy into her face. - -“No, it has not been happy,” he answered very slowly, and with an -apparent effort, “until now.” - -Then he stood for a short time in silence, and Chris, utterly thrown -off her balance by new and strange feelings, did not notice, or did not -mind, that he held her hand in his own with a warm pressure which said -more than his words had done. - -Chris roused herself by an effort from the trance of pleasant feeling -into which the first words she had ever heard him utter had thrown her. - -“You are here by yourself!” she exclaimed. “I thought Stelfox was with -you!” - -Mr. Richard seemed to find it even more painful than she had done to -break by speech the spell which the happiness of the meeting had cast -upon him. His first answer was a heavy sigh. Then he said, gently, with -the same strange appearance of speaking with difficulty, as if the -exercise of speech were an unaccustomed thing which made him shy and -nervous: - -“He is not far off. He did not want me to come out here to-night. But I -begged that the day might not pass for me without one sight of you.” - -He uttered these words in such a low voice, and so indistinctly, that -Chris had some difficulty in understanding him. Perceiving this he -became so painfully nervous, that in repeating the words he was more -indistinct than ever. He had scarcely finished saying them for the -second time when Stelfox came with his usual noiseless footsteps round -the angle of the house. - -He started on seeing the young lady, and, without uttering a word, made -a sign to his charge which Chris understood to be an imperious command -to return to the east wing. Mr. Richard was as submissive as a lamb. -Taking the young lady’s hand for one moment in his, he pressed it for -a moment in his own, and whispering in a very low voice, “Good-bye,” -disappeared rapidly towards his rooms, returning by the north side of -the house. - -As soon as he was out of sight, his attendant shook his head gravely. - -“It’s a great risk we’re all of us running, through my letting the -young gentleman out, as I’ve done the last few days,” he said, in a -warning voice; “but he’s begged so hard and he’s behaved so well that -I’ve done it to keep him quiet for one thing, for fear he’d get out -without my leave, instead of with it.” - -Here was her opportunity. In a voice which was one of earnest entreaty, -Chris said: - -“Why should he not be let out? He is not mad, you know he is not mad, -Stelfox. You would never dare to let a man who was really insane go -about as he has done the last few days. Why should you ever have been -afraid to let him out? And why have you changed your mind now?” - -Stelfox looked rather alarmed by the young lady’s vehemence. He gave a -glance round and made a gesture of warning, as if afraid they might be -overheard; but Chris went on in a reckless tone: - -“I can’t understand you. Either this unhappy man is mad, in which -case he certainly ought not to come out at all, now more than at any -other time, or he is not mad, in which case it is very wicked of Mr. -Bradfield to shut him up, and very wicked of you to be quiet about it, -and very silly of Mr. Richard himself not to get away when he can.” - -“Hush, ma’am, pray don’t speak so loud; you wouldn’t if you knew the -harm you might be doing the poor gentleman by it. Mr. Richard’s mad, -and he’s not mad, and that’s the truth. You can see for yourself -there’s something wrong with him,” he went on, looking into the young -lady’s face, with an expression of some doubt and curiosity. “He’s -reasonable enough in many ways, as I told you before. He’s as mad as a -hatter in his likes and dislikes. It’s by his liking for you, ma’am, -that I’m keeping him in order. But he hates Mr. Bradfield so much -that if I were to allow him to meet my master alone, I wouldn’t give -sixpence for Mr. Bradfield’s chances of getting away from him alive.” - -The night air was clear and still, and keen with frost. The great -evergreen oaks above them were lightly powdered with snow, which there -was not even a breath of wind to shake off. For a moment after Stelfox -had uttered these words there was a dead, silent calm, which increased -the dread roused by the man’s words in poor Chris. - -Then, from the north side of the house, there came suddenly, piercing -their ears, a ringing cry of “Help--help!” - -Then there came a crash, the sound of a heavy fall, and then again -perfect stillness. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -AN AWKWARD QUESTION. - - -When the ladies left the dining-room, a spirit very different from the -kindly geniality, conventionally supposed to belong to the Christmas -season, reigned over the revels there. Alfred Marrable was, under the -influence of the best dinner he had tasted for a long time, merry -enough and to spare; while Donald also found happiness in French -plums and champagne. But a spirit of mischief looked out of Mr. -Graham-Shute’s grey eyes, while John Bradfield himself sat on thorns. -For Marrable would take no hint to be more reserved. As he would have -expressed his feelings had he been asked, this child of misfortune -was, for once in a way, enjoying himself, and he did not mean to let -his enjoyment be interfered with. So, having got a sympathetic ear, -as he thought, into which to pour his troubles, he maundered on about -the old times to his heart’s content; for John Bradfield, who knew -how obstinate his cousin could be, and how maliciously bent he was on -encouraging Marrable, dared not bring worse upon himself by active -interference. - -“Yes,” murmured he, with a mournful sigh, as Mr. Graham-Shute filled -his proffered glass for him, “some are born lucky, and some unlucky, -there’s no denying that. Now to see all of us three together, Gilbert -Wryde, our friend John there, and your humble servant, I don’t think -anybody could have foretold how we were going to end. You might have -known that Wryde would get on, perhaps--he was a clever fellow, with -a head on his shoulders--but take old John and me, now! Not that I’m -saying John hasn’t got a head on his shoulders--he’s proved it, we’ll -all admit; but he didn’t bear his head so bravely in those days, didn’t -dear old John, when he was down on his luck out in Melbourne. Why, -many’s the time I’ve said to him, ‘Pluck up, old chap, there’ll be -piping times for us yet,’ and the piping times have come sure enough, -haven’t they, dear old chap?” - -As each mention of his host’s name grew more familiar, and more -affectionate than the last, the scowl on John Bradfield’s face grew -blacker, and the mischievous twinkle in Mr. Graham-Shute’s eyes grew -more evident. Even Donald began to look from one to the other, and to -say to himself, with the innocent enjoyment of sport peculiar to youth, -that there “would be a jolly shindy presently.” - -The first thunder-clap came from Mr. Bradfield, who suggested at -an unusually early stage of proceedings, an adjournment to the -drawing-room. But the period of Alfred Marrable’s modest reticence was -over, and he protested, with indecorous loudness: - -“No--no, dear old chap, not yet. Just when we’re beginning to enjoy -ourselves!” He was not in a condition to observe that this was by -no means the case with all of them. “Let’s be happy while we can, -and let’s get thoroughly warmed before we have to meet Old Mother -Iceberg again!” added Marrable, with a chuckle, believing himself to -be uttering a witticism which the company would fully appreciate, and -forgetting, poor man, the relationship in which “Old Mother Iceberg” -stood to two of them. - -A slight pause followed this speech; but Marrable was too happy in the -sound of his own voice again to remain long silent. - -“Yes, as I was saying,” he pursued, shaking his head sagely, and -wondering what it was that made the nuts slip through the crackers -instead of letting themselves be cracked in the orthodox manner, “some -are born lucky, and some of us aren’t. Here’s John, with an income -like a prince’s, and not a chick or child to leave it to, while I’m -struggling along, picking up a pound where I can, as I can, and with -three other mouths to fill beside my own. By-the-bye, John,” and he -suddenly looked up and spoke in a brighter tone under the influence of -a brand new idea, “what a precious lucky chap that young son of Gilbert -Wryde’s is, to come into a big fortune like his father’s without having -to do a stroke of work for it.” - -John Bradfield’s face grew grey at these words. His throat had become -in a moment so dry, that the words he tried to utter in answer or -comment would not come, but resolved themselves into a choking cough. -Nobody noticed this, for the Graham-Shutes had their attention fully -taken up with Marrable himself. So Alfred went on with a sentimental -cheerfulness: - -“Why, that young fellow was born with a golden spoon in his mouth, and -no mistake. Let’s see, he must be three or four and twenty by this -time. Wish I could come across him! If he’s anything like a chip of the -old block, it would be a good day for me if I did. What d--d slippery -nutcrackers these are of yours, John! Do you know what’s become of -young Wryde, eh?” - -“I haven’t the least idea,” answered John Bradfield, as, his patience -worn out, he rose from the table. “As his father died in Australia, I -should think your best chance of hearing of him would be to prosecute -your inquiries over there.” - -Alfred Marrable, who had by this time, not without a little difficulty, -gained his feet, stared at his old friend and host with a sudden -portentous gravity. His familiarity, his affectionateness were gone; in -their place was the solemnity of outraged dignity. Supporting himself -with one hand against the table, and nodding two or three times before -he spoke, to prepare his friend for the awful change which had come -over his sentiments, he said, in a spasmodic and tremulous voice: - -“Mr. Bradfield, I beg your pardon. I repeat,” said he, with another -dignified pause, “I repeat, I beg your pardon. If I had known, I -should say, if I had been aware that my presence in Australia would -be considered more desirable to you than my presence here, I would -have gone there--I say, sir, I would have gone there, sooner than -intrude here, where I am not wanted, where,” and he looked round at the -Graham-Shutes, and felt a muddled surprise to note that they looked -more amused than sympathetic, “where it seems I am not wanted. It -is not too late, while a railway line runs between here and London, -to repair my er--er--error.” Drawing himself up to his full height, -Mr. Marrable concluded, “I wish you all, gentlemen”--here he paused -a little, for effect with disastrous results--“I wish you all a -ver--happy--new--year.” - -Unfortunately for the dignity of his exit, Alfred Marrable forgot that -he had John Bradfield’s clothes on. And the appearance of his portly -figure, with the arms drawn back by the tight fit of his coat, and a -series of ridges between the shoulders not intended by the tailor, was -more provocative of laughter than of indignant sorrow. - -As the unlucky Marrable left the room, an expression of hope appeared -on John Bradfield’s face which became one of intense relief when, -following his old chum into the hall, he saw that the latter was -sincere in his intention of immediately leaving the house in which -he chose to think he had been insulted. Taking his overcoat, a sadly -threadbare garment, from the peg on which John Bradfield himself had -hung it, Alfred buttoned himself up in it with great dignity, and -proceeding down the inner and the outer hall with slow steps, perhaps -willing to be called back, he fumbled at the handle of the front door, -and finally let himself out into the cold night. - -Just as Mr. Bradfield was congratulating himself upon having got rid of -a dangerous and untrustworthy person, and wondering whether he should -be troubled with him again, a voice close to his shoulder disturbed his -reflections. - -It was that of his cousin, Graham-Shute, who had witnessed the abrupt -departure of the humble friend, and who had been struck by the fact -that Alfred Marrable, confused as he was, had conceived a just opinion -of the value of his old friend’s welcome. - -“I say, Bradfield, you’re not going to let the poor chap go off like -that, are you?” - -John Bradfield turned upon him savagely. - -“Why not? He chose to go. I couldn’t keep the fool against his will, -could I?” - -“But--but--but d---- it, man, you’re not serious! This fellow helped -you when you were a young man, and you turn him out of the house like a -dog, on a night like this?” - -John Bradfield turned upon him sharply. - -“Helped me! Who says he helped me! The man’s a born fool, and never -helped anyone, even himself.” - -But Mr. Graham-Shute was already at the front door. Before he had time -to open it, however, both he and his host were startled by a loud cry -of “Help, help!” in Marrable’s voice. - -It was John Bradfield’s turn to be excited. Pushing past his cousin, -he drew back the handle of the front door, and was out upon the stone -steps in time to see dimly a man disappearing in the direction of -the east wing. Then he turned his attention to Marrable, who had -fallen down the steps, and was lying motionless at the bottom. He was -not insensible, however; for John Bradfield had no sooner bent over -him with a face full of anxiety which was not tender, than Alfred, -struggling to sit up, said, in a hoarse whisper: - -“John, I’ve seen a ghost, I swear I have, the ghost of Gilbert Wryde!” - -John drew back his head, and affected to laugh boisterously; this -merriment was as much for the benefit of his cousin as of Alfred, for -the former was now hurrying down the steps with ears and eyes very much -on the alert. - -“Gilbert Wryde!” echoed Bradfield. “Why, he’s been dead these sixteen -years; you know that as well as I do.” - -And he turned to his cousin with a gesture to intimate the tremendous -extent to which his potations had affected poor Alfred’s vision. - -But Mr. Graham-Shute had put up his double eyeglasses, and was -examining the prostrate man with attentive eyes. He shook his head -slowly in answer to his cousin’s gesture. - -“He’s sober enough now,” he said, briefly. - -Indeed, poor Marrable had been startled into sobriety compared to which -that of the proverbial judge is levity itself. He now turned his eyes -slowly from the spot at which he had last seen the vision which had -startled him, and fixed them on John Bradfield’s face. - -“He went round there,” he said, emphatically. “I’m positive. I can -swear it--Gilbert Wryde!” - -John Bradfield felt that his teeth were chattering. He could scarcely -command his voice to answer in his usual tones: - -“One of the gardeners, most likely.” - -Marrable shook his head emphatically. - -“It was not one of the gardeners,” he said, with a great deal more -decision than he usually showed. “I won’t trouble you again, John, but -I will find out what I want to know before I leave this place.” - -He was trying to rise, and Mr. Graham-Shute helped him. But he could -only move with difficulty, having sprained his left ankle in his fall. - -“Here, Bradfield, send some of your men to take him indoors,” said Mr. -Graham-Shute, in a peremptory manner. - -“Of course, of course!” assented John Bradfield. - -And he gave the necessary orders to two menservants who had by this -time appeared in the doorway. - -So Alfred Marrable, protesting all the time with more than his usual -vigour, was carried indoors, and placed by John Bradfield’s orders -in a spare room, which was next to his own bedroom. Then with much -reluctance, and more by his cousin’s orders than by his own, John sent -for a doctor. - -In the meantime he suddenly developed a solicitude for his unlucky -friend as striking as his previous neglect. He insisted on remaining -himself by the side of the injured man until the arrival of the doctor, -and, for fear of exciting him, as he said, he would allow no one to -enter the room but himself. - -When Stelfox knocked at the bedroom door, and, in his extremely quiet -and respectful manner offered his services to wait on the gentleman, -John Bradfield answered him very shortly indeed, with a scowl upon his -face. - -“No, I don’t want you. And you would be better employed in looking -after that lunatic of yours, and in keeping him from frightening people -half out of their wits, than in attending to other folks’ business.” - -Stelfox listened to this rebuke in meek silence, with his eyes upon the -ground. When his master had finished speaking, he respectfully retired -without a word, either of protest or of excuse. - -John Bradfield watched him retreat with a malignant expression of face. -He had serious cause of dissatisfaction with Stelfox, but he was not -sure whether it would be wise in him to show it; for John felt that he -was standing on a volcano, and that an eruption might take place at any -minute. He was just forming in his mind the resolution to keep Marrable -and the astute Stelfox apart, when he heard a noise behind him, and -turning, found that Marrable had got off the bed on which he had been -placed, and in spite of the pain his ankle gave him, was dragging -himself along, by the help of the furniture, towards the door. - -“What are you doing? Where are you coming to?” asked John, sharply, as -he sprang towards the injured man to help him back to bed. “You mustn’t -move until the doctor has seen you. We’ve sent for him, and he will be -here in a few minutes.” - -There was nothing about which John Bradfield was more anxious than the -prevention of a meeting between Marrable and Stelfox, whom he strongly -suspected of an unwholesome curiosity. But the injured man was excited -and obstinate; and he almost forgot the pain his ankle was causing him -as he clung to John Bradfield’s arm, and whispered, hoarsely: - -“What was that you said about a lunatic? Let me speak to the man, John; -let me speak to him! I must get to the root of this, or I shall go mad -myself!” - -John Bradfield saw that the man was thoroughly frightened, and within -an ace of becoming noisy in his vehement questionings. So he said that -if Alfred would be quiet, and allow himself to be helped back on to the -bed, he should learn all about it. - -“What I want to know is,” said Marrable, sticking to his point when his -host showed anew a disposition to dally with his promised explanation, -“who the man was that I saw? And who the lunatic is you spoke about, -and where he lives?” - -“The lunatic is the man you saw,” answered John Bradfield, doggedly, -when he could fence no longer. “I took him in myself out of charity, -and he lives under my roof.” - -“But how does he come to be the image of Gilbert Wryde?” persisted -Marrable. - -“How should I know? It’s a chance resemblance, that all. It was on -account of that likeness that I was attracted to him, and took pity on -him, and brought him into my own house,” added Bradfield, with a happy -thought. - -Alfred Marrable had become, under the influence of his feeling of -resentment against Bradfield, as obstinate as he usually was yielding. -He raised himself once more from his bed. - -“Let me see him,” he said, sullenly. - -And as Bradfield tried to soothe him, he called out all the more loudly: - -“Let me see him, John. I will see him.” - -So that at last John, fearing that by the time the doctor arrived -Marrable would be beyond control altogether, and hearing the footsteps -of the curious in the corridor outside, made a virtue of necessity. - -“Be quiet!” said he, between his clenched teeth. “Be quiet, can’t you, -and listen to me. The man you saw is a dangerous madman; and he is -Gilbert Wryde’s son.” - -Marrable sank down on the bed, trembling as if with severe cold. - -“Gilbert Wryde’s son--a lunatic!” he repeated, in horror. “It is too -awful! It can’t be true!” - -Now that he had shot his bolt, John Bradfield was calmer in manner, and -able to assume an appearance almost of indifference to the ejaculations -and comments of the other. - -“If you don’t believe it, you can easily see for yourself,” he said, -shortly. “As soon as you can move about, you shall be shut up with him -alone for an hour if you like.” - -But Marrable sat in a heap, with staring eyes, and with his teeth -chattering, muttering to himself at intervals: - -“Gilbert Wryde’s son a lunatic! Gilbert Wryde’s son!” - -And then the man, who was soft-hearted, and who remembered how Gilbert -Wryde had befriended him years ago, broke down, and sobbed, while -Bradfield moved restlessly about the room, waiting for the doctor. - -When the medical man arrived, he pronounced the injury to be of a -comparatively slight nature, and told the patient that he might, with -care, be able to get about again in a fortnight or three weeks. - -“But,” he added, looking from one man to the other enquiringly, and -perceiving that both were in a state of high excitement, “you will have -to keep very quiet if you wish to be cured so soon.” - -John Bradfield went as far as the end of the corridor with the doctor, -and then returned to the patient, whom he found resting on his elbow, -with an inquiry on his lips. And John “shied,” so to speak, at the -expression of Marrable’s light grey eyes. - -“Bradfield!” said he, in a husky whisper, “I want to ask you something. -If the poor chap you’ve got shut up for a lunatic is Gilbert Wryde’s -son, what has become of Gilbert Wryde’s money?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -A LUNATIC’S LETTER. - - -John Bradfield was equal to the occasion. Turning so that he faced -Marrable, he answered at once: - -“Gilbert Wryde’s money! Oh, he left it in the hands of trustees, of -course.” - -There was a pause, and John turned away, as if feeling that he had -satisfied his companion’s thirst for information. But presently -Marrable spoke again, and his manner was somewhat lacking in that -respect for the rich man which had characterised it on his first -arrival: - -“You’re one of the trustees, I suppose?” - -John Bradfield, very unused of late years to being spoken to in this -way, answered curtly enough: - -“Yes, I’m one of them. Anything more you want to know?” - -“Only this--who are the others?” - -“Men you’ve never heard of. Old chums of Wryde’s.” - -“Do they live in England?” - -“No; out in Australia.” - -“Oh!” - -This exclamation might be taken as signifying assent, and it was thus -that John Bradfield chose to take it; and the subject was dropped out -of their talk, if not out of their minds. - -The assiduity with which John Bradfield tended his old friend was -wonderful. It was remarked that he scarcely let anybody else go near -him; that he slept in Marrable’s room, and even served him with his own -hands. It escaped remark that on rare occasions when John Bradfield did -leave the apartment of his friend, he took care first to send Stelfox -out on some errand which would take a considerable time to execute. - -Mr. Bradfield’s doubts of Stelfox’s trustworthiness were increasing. -Taking the bull by the horns, as his custom was when hard pressed, Mr. -Bradfield took the servant severely to task for suffering Mr. Richard -to get loose again, and ended by threatening him with instant dismissal -if it should occur again. - -At this Stelfox looked up. - -“Do you mean that, sir?” - -“I do, indeed.” - -“And what--what, sir, would you do with Mr. Richard, if you did send me -away?” - -There was some spirit in the servant’s question; there was more in the -master’s answer: - -“That’s my business!” - -And Stelfox, with a glance at his master’s resolute face, made -submission. - -The day following the accident being Boxing-day, Mrs. Graham-Shute -asked and obtained permission from her host to extend her visit, and -that of her family, until the day after. It was impossible to go out, -much less to travel, on such a day as that, she said. - -In spite of this impossibility, however, Mrs. Graham-Shute stayed -out nearly the whole of the morning, looking for a suitable house in -which she could settle with her family, to fulfil her kind promise of -“looking after dear cousin John.” Of course, it was the worst day -she could have chosen for her expedition, as the agents’ offices were -closed, and the caretakers were making a holiday. But, being a woman -of great valour and determination, just when these qualities were -unnecessary and inconvenient, she ferreted out the unhappy agents, -and made them unlock their books for her benefit, and she chivied the -caretakers away from their dinners to attend her over the empty houses, -only to declare at the end of the day’s work that she had never met -such an uncivil set of people in her life--never! - -Mrs. Graham-Shute found, moreover, cause of bitter complaint in other -directions. The rents were absurdly high, for one thing. She had -imagined that in a hole of a place like this you would be able to pick -up a house, with thirteen rooms and a nice garden, for next to nothing. -Indeed, to hear her talk, one would have imagined that she looked upon -the honour done to a dwelling by her residence within its walls as -an equivalent to rent and taxes. The poor lady was quite hurt at the -local ingratitude. It was enough, as she said at luncheon-time, to the -amusement of dear cousin John, to make one stay in town. - -“Why on earth don’t you, my dear?” murmured her husband, who had -strenuously opposed the proposed flight to this clubless and remote -region, and who knew very well that the love of change had much to do -with his wife’s determination to move; and the belief that she would -be a great person down here, while in town it had been forced upon her -that she was only a very small one indeed. - -His wife looked at him reproachfully. - -“My dear, you know as well as possible that we must economise for -the sake of the children,” she said, with a sigh and a glance at her -cousin, as if sure that he would approve her sentiments. - -It was fashionable to economise, so Mrs. Graham-Shute was always -talking about it; and there it ended. Her husband had suffered from -this idiosyncrasy, and he went on in an aggrieved tone: - -“Why can’t you begin at Bayswater, and save moving expenses? -Everything’s cheaper in town than here, and you’ve something to talk -about besides the health of the pigs.” - -But Maude went breezily on: - -“Ah, but in town you’re tempted to buy things; my feminine heart can’t -resist a bargain. Now, here,” she ended triumphantly, “you can’t spend -money, because there’s nothing to buy!” - -Here John Bradfield struck into the conversation. - -“Isn’t there, though? There are bargains to be had here as well as in -town, as I have found to my cost.” - -Maude smiled at this remark, having only frowned at her husband’s. And, -of course, she remained unconvinced. - -Mrs. Graham-Shute spent her own and her daughters’ afternoon in making -a list of the houses they had seen, with their several defects and good -qualities. The former consisted, not in imperfect drainage and “stuffy” -bed-rooms, but in “reception rooms” too small for the entertainments by -which she proposed to dazzle the neighbourhood. - -Meanwhile, Donald, left to his own devices, tried hard to contrive an -interview with Chris, who had, during the last day or two, avoided him -with a persistency which nettled him exceedingly. During the last -conversation he had had with her, she had reproached him with following -her about at the suggestion of his mother. While greatly annoyed and -offended by her perspicacity, it had not made him less anxious for the -flirtation he had promised himself with such an “awfully pretty girl.” -This being the last day of his stay at Wyngham Lodge, he felt that he -must come to such an understanding with her as would pave the way for a -welcome when he and his family should return to Wyngham for a permanent -residence. - -When, therefore, Donald saw Chris walking in the garden, he put on -his hat and sauntered out there too. It was on the south side of the -house that Chris was walking, and she appeared to be looking at nothing -but the sea. As she drew near the east wing, however, she glanced up -from time to time shyly at the windows. On hearing footsteps on the -path behind her, she turned quickly, and flushed, with an unmistakable -expression of disappointment, on coming face to face with Donald. He -was taken aback; his vanity was wounded; and instead of addressing her -as he had intended, he stepped aside for her to pass him, and followed -the path she had been taking towards the east-end of the house. Angry -and mortified, he went on as far as the enclosed portion of the -grounds. And here, lying on the ground just within the locked gate, he -saw an envelope lying on the damp grass. Stooping, and putting his hand -through the wire fence, he found that the envelope was just within his -reach. Drawing it through, he discovered that it contained a letter, -that it was directed to “Miss Christina Abercarne,” and that it was too -dry to have lain there long. - -While he was turning the missive over in his hand, and looking about -him, considering from what quarter the letter could have come, Chris -bore down upon him with a crimson face and very bright eyes. - -“That note is for me, is it not?” said she, as she managed to see the -superscription. - -Now Donald was not particularly chivalrous, and he thought it quite -fair that he should find some advantage to himself in his discovery. So -he said, holding the letter behind him: - -“What are you going to give me not to tell?” - -Chris drew herself up haughtily. - -“I am not going to give you anything, Mr. Shute. But you will have to -give me my letter.” - -“And you won’t mind if I repeat this little anecdote, say, at the -dinner-table to-night?” - -“Not a bit. And you, I dare say, won’t mind what I shall think of you?” - -It was his turn to blush now. He stammered out that, of course, he was -only in fun, and he handed her the letter in the most sheepish and -shame-faced manner. Although she took it from him very coolly, to all -appearance, a strange thrill went through her as she held it, and knew -unfamiliar as the handwriting was, from whom it came. - -Donald stared at her. For there had flashed over her face a strange -look, half gladness, half sorrow, and he felt with jealousy that some -other man had roused in her the feeling he would have liked her to have -for himself. For a moment she seemed hardly conscious that she was -not alone; then recovering herself quickly, she remembered that this -wretched youth had the power, if he liked, to increase the misfortunes -of a man who was unlucky enough already. So she said, catching her -breath, and speaking with a most eloquent moisture in her eyes, and -with a tremor in her voice which few male creatures could have resisted: - -“Of course--I believe you, I believe what you said--that you were only -in fun. You would not care to bring real misery upon--anybody, would -you?” - -Donald was touched, and he reddened, under the influence of a kindly -emotion, even more deeply than he had done with anger. - -“You may trust me,” was all he said. - -Christina held out her hand, taking it away again, however, before he -had time to do more than hold it for a half second in his. - -“Thank you--very much,” said she, as she hurried away. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -AN APPEAL. - - -Chris walked as long as she could be seen by Donald; but as soon as she -was out of his sight, she ran. Into the house, up the stairs, never -taking breath until she had shut herself into the dressing-room, and -turned the key in the lock. Then she took out the precious letter, her -eyes so dim that at first she could scarcely read it. When at last -she had conquered her agitation sufficiently to do so, she read the -following words, written in a bold, clear hand: - - - “You must forgive,” so it began, without any heading, “all that - is strange, all that is wrong in this letter, for it is the first - I have ever written. If my words are like those of a savage you - must forgive that too, for it is not my fault. I have lived alone - for years that I cannot count, but it is nearly all my life, ever - since my father died. I have been miserable enough, and yet I - never knew what misery was until I saw you. Neither have I ever - known what joy was until I looked into your eyes and touched your - hand. You have opened the world to me. You have woke me out of a - long sleep. You have given me heart and courage, you have saved me - from becoming what they pretend that I already am. I had thought - myself an outcast from all the world; long ago I had forgotten - what hope was, when you came here like a ray of sunshine and - changed the whole face of the world for me. I scarcely know how to - go on. I am afraid to offend you, afraid that you will not believe - what I say. But you are kind, you are good; and as I cannot see - you again I must write. I ask you just this one thing; it is a - favour I think you will not refuse. Come into the enclosed garden - under my window every day, at any time, if only for five minutes, - and let me see you. I know the gates are kept locked, but you will - be able to do this if you will, for if you ask for the key you - will get it, as nobody could resist you. - - “One more thing I beg you to do. Be silent about me to the man - who keeps me here. If you intercede for me you will only do me - harm. I don’t know myself why he keeps me here; he has never even - let me know my own name. I know, as you know, that I am cursed - with an infirmity which condemns me to a solitary life; but I ask - you to judge whether it was necessary to treat me as I have been - treated. I know he pretends that I am dangerous; and he has just - this excuse, that, as far as he is concerned, he has made me so. - But I will not write to you of him. The time for me to call him to - account is nearer than he thinks. - - “If I see you in the garden to-morrow I shall know that you have - found my letter, and that you forgive me. - - “DICK.” - - -Chris had been interested in Mr. Richard. She had known of this -interest, which had seemed to be occasioned by pity only. Now that she -held his letter in her hands, and pressed it against her lips she -knew more than this. She knew that the feeling she had for the forlorn -recluse was something deeper, more tender than pity. She knew that she -loved him. - -When she went downstairs to dinner, her face seemed transfigured, her -fresh beauty had never been so brilliant. All eyes were attracted by -the delicate colour in her cheeks, by the brightness of her eyes; and -Donald, who guessed the cause for this unusual radiance, was jealous -and sullen throughout the meal. - -The next day was that of the Graham-Shutes’ departure. The fair Maude -thought it only right to warn her dear cousin John, before she went, -to be on his guard against the Abercarnes, as they were very designing -people. Dear cousin John retorted with a bombshell: - -“I hope, my dear Maude,” said he, coolly, “that one of them will no -longer be an Abercarne by the time I see you again.” - -Crestfallen, the poor lady pretended not to understand. So John -remorselessly explained: - -“Why, I hope to make Christina Mrs. John Bradfield before many weeks -are over.” - -Poor Mrs. Graham-Shute drew a long breath. At last she said: - -“Whatever you do, of course, you have my best wishes for your -happiness. But--lucky as you are, John,” she ended, with spiteful -emphasis, “I wouldn’t tempt Providence too far, if I were you!” - -To which dear John answered by a roar of derisive laughter, which made -Maude say to her husband, as they drove away, that, under the influence -of those two harpies, John’s manners were deteriorating greatly. - -John Bradfield went back into the house quickly after seeing his -cousin off; he ran upstairs, and was in time to catch sight of Stelfox -hovering about the doorway of the injured Marrable. John’s expression -grew threatening. There was danger, danger too great to be tolerated, -in the meeting of these two men. Each of the two possessed the links -which the other lacked in a chain of facts, which, if known, would be -John Bradfield’s ruin. With a black frown on his face, the master of -the house opened the door of the sick-room quietly, and walked to the -bedside. - -Poor Marrable had begged to get up that day, being, indeed, quite -well enough to do so. But John had insisted on his remaining in bed, -apparently out of solicitude for his friend, but really in order that -he might the more easily keep him under his own eye. Alfred appeared -to be asleep. John Bradfield glared at him ferociously. With this man -was the key to John’s fate. The knowledge he held of the past life -of his old chum was shared by nobody else on this side of the ocean. -With these thoughts passing through his mind, John Bradfield almost -involuntarily began to lift up, one by one, the various bottles, some -containing medicines, and some lotions for outward application, which -stood upon the table. - -Suddenly Alfred sprang up in bed, and stared at him with feverish eyes. - -“There, there, there!” he cried, as if fear and indignation had -deprived him of words. “Do you want to poison me? I believe you do. I -can’t make you out, John. I’m afraid of you. You’re not the same man I -used to know, and I’ll not stay under your roof another night! I tell -you, I’m afraid of you.” - -Remonstrance was useless, but indeed his host did not press him very -much to stay; his chief wish now was to get his guest out of the house -before Stelfox could learn his intention to go. In this he succeeded. -Ordering the landau to be brought round, he himself helped Marrable -downstairs, accompanied him to the station, reserved a first-class -compartment for him, and made him as comfortable as he could with rugs -and wraps. Then he looked in at the carriage window and spoke to him in -tones to which joy at his departure lent an appearance of real warmth. - -“My dear fellow,” he said, “I am afraid ours has been an unlucky -meeting after all these years. But I’ve been worried lately; I’m not -myself at all. But I’m not one to forget my old friends, and so you’ll -find when you get back to town, if you’ll open this,” and he handed -Marrable a large envelope sealed with red wax. “Just send me your -address when you get home, and let me know whenever you change it. And -every quarter you shall have a similar little packet from me as long as -you need it, for auld lang syne. And a happy new year to you, old man.” - -So saying, John Bradfield wrung his friend’s hand with a heartiness -which soothed Marrable’s wounded feelings, and even went far, for -the moment at least, towards deceiving him as to his friend’s real -sentiments. - -John Bradfield went home with a lighter heart. Here was one danger got -over, for the present at least. There remained one other to be grappled -with; that other was--Stelfox. - -There could be little doubt that the man-servant had of late formed -some sort of league against his master with that master’s victim, and -Mr. Bradfield was anxious to know the exact terms of the compact. On -reaching home, therefore, he condescended to play the spy, and with -this object watched his opportunity, and when Stelfox unlocked the door -of Mr. Richard’s apartments and went in, Mr. Bradfield followed him, -entering by means of a duplicate key of his own. - -Between the outer door by which he had just passed in, and the door -of Mr. Richard’s sitting-room, there was a passage, very dark and -very narrow, lighted only by a little square window in the centre of -the inner door, which had been made for secret observation, by Mr. -Bradfield’s order, of the lunatic’s movements. - -Mr. Bradfield was advancing with cautious steps towards this window -when he suddenly paused, struck motionless with terror. And yet he -could see nothing, he could not even distinctly hear the words that -were being exchanged in the room. All that he knew, in fact, was that -he heard two voices in conversation. After a few moments of absolute -stillness and hideous terror, he moved spasmodically forward to the -inner door and looked through the little square window. All that he -saw was Mr. Richard, seated at the table talking to Stelfox, who stood -respectfully before him. - -Mr. Bradfield drew a long, gasping breath; made his way, stumbling at -every other step, back through the passage on to the landing at the -head of the staircase outside. There he made one step in the direction -of the stairs, staggered, and fell down, gasping, unconscious, digging -his nails into the flesh of his hands. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -A SECRET CORRESPONDENCE. - - -A beautiful peace had descended upon Wyngham House on the departure of -the Graham-Shutes. There were no more scurryings up and down stairs on -unimportant errands; no more conversations carried on at opposite ends -of the house. Mrs. Abercarne rejoiced articulately in the change; but -to Chris the satisfaction brought by the change was tempered by many -things. - -For one thing, the girl was troubled by the consciousness that she was -not acting quite openly, and by a fear of what the consequences would -be if she were to do so. Her first meetings with Mr. Richard she had -concealed from her mother for a perfectly good and honest reason, the -fear of giving Mrs. Abercarne unnecessary alarm. Later, when she had -begun to feel sure that Mr. Richard was not so mad as was supposed, -Chris had thought it a pity to worry her mother with her story while -Mrs. Abercarne spent her days in a tempest of irritation against her -declared enemy, Mrs. Graham-Shute. - -But now these excuses for reticence had disappeared, and still she -hesitated to confide in her mother. For her confidence, if it was to -be in any way genuine or whole-hearted, must now be in the nature of -a confession. She did not now try to cheat herself into the belief -that she had no deeply personal interest in the occupant of the east -wing; indeed, all her thoughts were occupied in wondering why he was -kept there, and in devising schemes for releasing him from his unhappy -position. Certain words he had used in his letter had struck her to -the heart. He had mentioned the infirmity she must have noticed; so -that Chris, even in spite of herself, was obliged to admit that her -lover, although not insane, for that she refused to believe, suffered -from sudden lapses of memory, or fits of unconsciousness, which would -certainly make him, in her mother’s eyes, a “most ineligible person,” -while his eccentric habit of silence would increase this impression. -For Mrs. Abercarne would not be ready, as Chris was, to explain these -things tenderly away, and account for them by his long and enforced -seclusion. - -So that Chris seemed rather depressed than exhilarated by the departure -of the noisy relations, whose presence had made it easier for her to -hide her secret troubles from her mother. - -Mr. Bradfield also suffered from the departure of his guests; at -least, that was the inference Mrs. Abercarne drew, with some asperity, -from his gloomy looks. But, in truth, although the sudden change from -excessive noise to excessive tranquillity proved trying to his nerves, -the causes of Mr. Bradfield’s uneasiness had a much deeper root than -this. - -He was brooding over the consciousness of a crime which would not have -troubled him in the least, but for the fear he now entertained that he -would be found out. - -Now John Bradfield’s roughness and abruptness of manner were not -accompanied by as much energy of character as might have been -supposed. Nor was he a man possessed of much fertility of invention -or resource. Therefore, although conscious that the cunning Stelfox -was in possession of certain knowledge which he had concealed from his -master, John Bradfield vacillated between two courses; the one was to -come to an understanding with the servant, the other was to let things -go on for a while and await fresh developments before embarking on a -hazardous course of action. - -He decided on the latter course. - -In the meantime, Chris had felt bound to answer Mr. Richard’s letter. -She had not dared to confide even in Stelfox, partly because he was too -reticent, and partly from a delicacy in letting the man know of her -secret correspondence with his charge. It was with a fast-beating heart -that she, after watching for her opportunity, slipped under the locked -door of the east wing the following answer to Mr. Richard’s letter: - - - “I received your letter. I must tell you first that I have never - before received a letter without showing it to my mother, at - least since I was a little girl, when I had lots of letters, with - toffee and flowers, from my boy-sweethearts, which I did not show, - because my mother would have made me give up the toffee. I do not - like writing now without telling her about it, and yet, on the - other hand, I cannot bear to leave your note unanswered. So please - do not write to me again, not, at least, unless you have something - very, _very_ particular to say about anything, for instance, in - which I can help you. I am very much troubled by what you say - about the person you mentioned. I cannot believe that person - guilty of the deliberate cruelty and wickedness you suggest. Won’t - you let me speak? It would be better, believe me. I know that I - am not a proper person to give advice to anybody; I am supposed - to be too silly to be capable of such a thing. But if I were a - person of more authority, who would be listened to, I would say: - Go to that person and ask that person to tell you about yourself, - and _insist_ upon knowing. Then I believe that person will have to - give way. - - “And now please remember that you are not to write to me, because - it puts me in a great difficulty when you do. For, on the one - hand, I cannot bear not to answer, when you are so lonely; and, - on the other hand, I can’t bear to do anything underhand, that I - can’t tell my mother about. It makes me feel quite wicked. And - yet, if I did tell her, I know she would tell a certain person, - or else she would insist upon our going away, and there would be - dreadful scenes. - - “I know this is a dreadfully stupid letter, and I am almost - ashamed to send it; if I do, I shall post it under the door. But - please, please believe that I am very, very sorry about it all, - and that I do hope you will take the advice I should like to give - you if I dared. - - “Yours--” (she debated within herself for a long time how - she should end, without being too forward, too formal, too - affectionate or too cold)--“sincerely, - - “CHRIS ABERCARNE.” - - -“I can’t put ‘Christina,’ it’s simply too horrid,” she said to herself, -as she looked sideways at the letter; “it’s a dreadfully bad letter, -just such a letter as Miss Smithson used to say a lady ought not to -write; full of ‘that person,’ and ‘can’t,’ instead of ‘cannot.’ And it -gets worse, instead of better, as it goes on. However, I don’t think -there are any sentences without heads or tails, and if there are, why, -he shouldn’t write to a girl if he expects grammar. I think,” she went -on, a little blush rising to her face as the thought came into her -mind, “that I may give it just one, to help it on its way.” - -And, laughing to herself, she pressed the letter to her pretty red lips. - -Now if Chris had been a really conscientious and strong-minded girl, -instead of the perfect fool her kind friends declared her to be, -she would have been quite satisfied with having put an end to her -correspondence with Mr. Richard, and would have been shocked at the -idea of his wishing to carry it on. It is sad, therefore, to be obliged -to relate that every morning, while taking her walk in the enclosed -garden, as he had begged her to do (for Johnson proved delightfully -corruptible), she cast an inquiring glance towards the spot where she -had found Mr. Richard’s first letter. - -And, all things considered, it is not surprising that before long she -found a second. - -She had given him fresh hope, fresh courage, he said. But again he -begged her to say nothing on his behalf to anybody, assuring her that -before very long he hoped to be able to act upon her advice, for which -he thanked her most gratefully. - -And then, after a day or two, during which she contented herself with -glancing shyly up at his window, at one of which he was always to be -seen watching her with very eloquent eyes, it began to seem rather -cruel not to let him have just a few lines to assure him that she had -received his letter. So that another kind little missive got posted -under the door of the east wing; and though she begged again that -he would not write to her, there was something about the injunction -which made it read to the young man like an invitation. And so, with -many qualms of conscience on the one side, at least, an intermittent -correspondence went on, which became the happiness and the misery of -the girl’s life. - -In the meantime, John Bradfield laid siege to her affections with a -good deal of tact, inflicting upon her very little of his society, but -anticipating her wishes in every possible way, until she found that -he had gradually become the fountain-head of a great many pleasures -which she would never have known but for him. She could not mention -a book that she would like to read, a flower she was fond of, or a -composer whose works she would like to study, without finding, in the -course of the next few days, book, plant or music lying about as if it -had found its way into her presence by magic. These attentions made -Chris uncomfortable, and Mrs. Abercarne very happy. The latter thought -it wiser to say nothing, and was deceived by her daughter’s manner. -For Chris, grateful on the one hand for Mr. Bradfield’s kindness to -herself, and anxious on the other to pave the way for coaxing him to do -justice to his ward, acquired towards the master of the house a manner -full of a sort of pleading diffidence, so that both her mother and Mr. -Bradfield believed that the charm was beginning to work. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -A HOUSE-WARMING. - - -It was about six weeks after Christmas when Mrs. Graham-Shute again -descended upon Wyngham, not for mere invasion, but with a view to -settling in the conquered country. - -By the luckiest chance in the world (so _she_ said) there was by this -time a house to be let absolutely within sight of Wyngham House. It -was an ugly brand-new dwelling, built of yellow brick, standing in a -very small scrap of immature garden, on the west side of Wyngham House, -and therefore a little way further from the town than Mr. Bradfield’s -residence. It had been built by the local poet, a gentleman who turned -out a large amount of verse, mostly very bad, and always very dull, -some of which occasionally found its way into the dullest and heaviest -of the old established magazines. Overweighted by the burden of his -own celebrity (at least this was the construction put upon his action -by the neighbours) he had built a high wall round his house and tiny -garden, to shield himself from the public gaze; although nobody wanted -to look at him. Then, suddenly tiring of his dwelling when he had -finished spoiling it, he put up a board announcing that it was to let, -just in time for it to be pounced upon by the fair Maude, who was -charmed by the dignified seclusion offered by the high wall, and by its -near neighbourhood to dear cousin John. Furthermore the house had what -she described as a “magnificent entrance,” which meant that a great -deal of the space which ought to have been utilised in enlarging the -poor little dining-room, was wasted on a big draughty hall, in which -the four winds found a charming playground from which to distribute -themselves up and down and around into every corner of the house. -There was also a good-sized drawing-room, which was to be the scene -of certain functions which were to bring a breath of Bayswater into -benighted Wyngham. - -Long before the harmless, necessary plumber was out of the house, -long before the carpets were down or the new papers were dry, Mrs. -Graham-Shute had resolved upon most of the details of a house-warming, -which was to be remembered as an epoch in the local annals. In honour -of the occasion, Lilith had fortunately discovered a talent for -dramatic authorship, and had fashioned a play which was to be the chief -feature of the evening’s entertainment. Having got as far as this, -Mrs. Graham-Shute, long before the moving was accomplished, proceeded -to send out invitations to all those people whose acquaintance she -had made, or had not made, as the case might be, during her week’s -stay at dear cousin John’s. The next thing to be done was to call upon -the editor of _The Wyngham Observer_ (with which is incorporated _The -Little Wosham Times_), to ask him to insert, under the heading of “A -Distinguished Arrival,” an account of the proposed function which she -had thoughtfully written out beforehand. But the editor had, as she -afterwards expressed it, “no enterprise, no manners, no anything,” for -he mildly informed the lady that if he inserted her contribution it -must be paid for as an advertisement. - -Then began the first of the poor lady’s difficulties. Of course she -sent an invitation to dear cousin John. Equally, of course, she sent -none to the housekeeper or the housekeeper’s daughter. Then she -received a blunt note from Mr. Bradfield, informing her that unless -Mrs. and Miss Abercarne came too, he shouldn’t come. Remonstrances -followed, but were unavailing; then Mrs. Graham-Shute made a feeble -stand; but the thought of what life would be at Wyngham without the -countenance of the Great Man prevailed, and Mrs. and Miss Abercarne -got their invitation, which Mr. Bradfield then put pressure on them to -accept. - -What a frantic state of excitement pervaded “The Cottage” on the day of -the “function!” What skirmishes there were among the performers! What -rushes into the town on the part of the younger members of the family -for a pound of sweet biscuits, a packet of candles, sixpennyworth of -daffodils, and two syphons of lemonade! Not to speak of a running -stream of messengers to cousin John’s, with pressing requests for the -loan of a dozen chairs, a bottle of whisky and a tea-tray! As Mrs. -Graham-Shute feelingly said, “It was quite lucky, as it happened, those -wretched Abercarnes _had_ been invited, you know!” - -And so indeed it was. But when at last the evening came, Mrs. -Graham-Shute felt that her exertions had met with their reward, for -there was not a space sufficient for the accommodation of one person -which did not hold two. This was the very height of enjoyment to the -good lady, who received each guest with a fixed, galvanic smile, -and said she was “_so_ delighted that you could come, you know,” the -while she looked over the shoulder of the guest whose hand she held, -too obviously occupied in counting the number of people who pressed -in behind. It was indeed, as she afterwards said, a most successful -function. Number of guests, eighty--seats for thirty-five. Sandwiches -for five-and-twenty; tea for all those enterprising and muscular -enough to make their way into the dining-room, where Rose, feeble and -frightened, drifted round the tea-table rather than presided at it. - -There was some delay before the entertainment of the evening began; -this is inevitable when you have to wait until the last guest has -passed safely in before you can set your stage. By-the-bye, there was -no stage proper, a space being railed off merely from the hall-door to -about half-way up the hall, so that it was exceedingly disconcerting -when the two Misses Blake, elderly and slow both of movement and -understanding, knocked at the door at the most thrilling moment of the -drama, and had to be let in right between the villain and the lady he -was trying to murder. To avoid a second _contretemps_ of the same kind, -one of the younger children was told off to stand in the cold outside, -to show late comers in by the back door. - -Unluckily the play, a harmless charade of the forcible-feeble order, -took place under some disadvantages. In the first place, as the stage -was on the same level as the auditorium, only the people in the first -two rows could see anything of what was going on. In the second place, -the performers, although they were all dead-letter perfect, and had -been pretty well rehearsed, had not mastered the acoustics of the hall, -and were seldom heard. In the third place, the seats were put so -close together that everybody was on somebody else’s toes, or else on -somebody else’s gown; and in the fourth place, the hall was so bitterly -cold, and draughts blew in so steadily from under all the doors, -that, compared with this improvised theatre, Mr. Bradfield’s barn had -been a warm and cosy place. The only things which everybody heard -were the rat-tat-tats at the door, and subsequently the voice of the -eldest Miss Blake, who sat in the front row, and inquired from time to -time, plaintively, “What they were saying,” and the answers which her -obliging companion bawled in her ear. - -However, Lilith, though not histrionically great, looked very pretty -in grey hair, which made her young face look fresher than ever; and -the place was crammed to suffocation. So Mrs. Graham-Shute who panted -complacently at the remotest end of the hall, and tried to console -those who could neither see nor hear, and who were restrained by her -presence from the solace of conversation, was quite satisfied. And when -the play was over, and everybody jumped up and fled frantically in -search of fire to thaw themselves, she received, in perfect good faith, -their vague congratulations. - -There was only one drawback to her happiness; this was the persistency -with which cousin John devoted himself to “those Abercarnes.” - -Wherever Chris went, Mr. Bradfield followed, until, as Mrs. -Graham-Shute said to Mrs. Browne: - -“It really was quite a scandal, you know, and she could not understand -how any right-minded girl could let herself be compromised like that!” - -But Mrs. Browne, who was a good-natured old soul, only said that Chris -was such a very pretty girl, that if Mr. Bradfield didn’t follow her -about somebody else would, and that she didn’t seem to encourage his -attentions much. But this seemed to Mrs. Graham-Shute only a fresh -injury, and she presently asked Donald, rather snappishly, to go and -talk to that Abercarne girl, and distract her attention for a few -moments, so that cousin John might have a few minutes to himself. - -But Donald was angry, and said, sulkily, that he wasn’t going to be -snubbed again. The fact was that, presuming a little upon his knowledge -of her receipt of the letter which he had found in the garden, he had -already tried to force a _tête-à-tête_ upon her. She had avoided it, -and even spoken to him rather coldly; and Donald, who was neither young -enough nor old enough for chivalry to be a strong point with him, had -sworn revenge. So now he rushed at his opportunity. - -“Snubbed!” echoed Mrs. Graham-Shute, scandalised; “a housekeeper’s -daughter to dare to snub _you_--a Graham-Shute--my son! No, no, Donald, -you must have misunderstood her, you must really!” - -“I know jolly well that I didn’t misunderstand,” blurted out Donald, in -the usual highly-pitched family voice. “She simply dismissed me as if -she’d been a princess, and I nobody at all, when all the time I could, -if I liked----” - -Here Donald paused, significantly, wishing to yield, with apparent -reluctance, to his burning desire to betray the girl’s little secret. - -Mrs. Graham-Shute’s face woke at once into eager interest. She was -not at heart an ill-natured woman, and it would have given her no -satisfaction to hear anything very dreadful to the girl’s discredit. -But some trifling indiscretion, some girlish escapade, which it would -annoy John Bradfield, and, perhaps, disgust him to know, that Mrs. -Graham-Shute would have dearly liked to hear about. - -“What is it! What is it she has done?” she asked, quickly. “You may -tell your mother, you know. It is nothing serious, of course?” - -“Well, I don’t know,” grumbled Donald, in a surly tone. “Some people -might think it serious for a girl to keep up a correspondence with some -fellow, who daren’t send his letters by post!” - -“What!” cried Mrs. Graham-Shute. “Ah!--are you sure of this, Donald?” - -Nothing could be better than this, if it were only true. There was no -great harm in it, but it was just the sort of thing to put an elderly -admirer on his guard. - -“Has she got you to take letters for her, then?” she asked in horror. - -“Me? No--not such a fool!” returned Donald, shortly. - -The lad was uneasy, being ashamed of himself for having betrayed the -girl’s confidence, forced though it had been, and afraid of the use his -mother might make of it. - -“Now, you won’t go and make any mischief, will you, mother?” he said -earnestly, alarmed by the expression of satisfaction on her face. - -“I should think you might trust me,” she said haughtily, as she moved -away, anxious to make use, without delay, of her new weapon. - -Having managed to detach cousin John momentarily from the Abercarnes, -who were, in truth, glad of a little relief from his attentions, Mrs. -Graham-Shute asked her cousin to get her a cup of tea. He complied, -and would immediately have escaped, but she detained him by bringing -her fan down with a sharp snap on his arm. - -“One moment, John; I think you might spare me one moment, especially -as I want to talk to you about your favourites,” she said, rather -snappishly, as he reluctantly waited. - -“Oh, if you’re going on again about them,” said John shortly, “you may -save yourself the trouble. They _are_ my favourites, and there’s an end -of it.” - -“Quite so,” rejoined his cousin sweetly. “It’s because of the great -interest I know you take in them, that I want to speak to you. Who is -this young fellow that Miss Abercarne is going to marry?” - -This question, serenely put, though not without a strong touch of what -a woman would have recognised as malice, had the desired effect of -startling John Bradfield, as well as of making him very angry. - -“What--what do you mean?” he asked shortly. “I’ve heard nothing about -it. It’s some d--d nonsense somebody’s put into your head, and there’s -not a word of truth in it, I’ll be bound.” - -“My dear John, don’t be angry. Perhaps there is nothing; very likely -not. If there had been anything in it, no doubt you would have heard. -But as there’s no doubt she’s carrying on a correspondence with someone -_who does not send his letters by post_, I naturally thought that it -must be with someone she thought about rather seriously. I daresay I -was wrong. So sorry if I’ve made any mischief!” she added, as if in -sudden surprise at the effect of her words. “But really, you know, -girls shouldn’t do these things, now should they?” - -Loud voices were the rule in the house, but Mrs. Graham-Shute was -startled by the loudness of her cousin’s angry reply: - -“It isn’t true!” roared he. “It isn’t true. It’s one of your infernal -concoctions of a spiteful woman. I’ll go and ask her.” - -“My dear John,” cried Maude, without temper, for she could not afford -to quarrel with him, “my dear John, just consider a moment? What -possible object could I have in saying it if it were not true? I should -expose myself to all sorts of horrid things, and really deserve to be -called spiteful--and nobody can say that of me, really--if I said a -thing like that when it was not true. Can’t you see that for yourself?” - -But John was blunt to the verge of rudeness. - -“I can see that somebody’s been telling lies,” he said abruptly, as he -turned on his heel, and fought his way back to where Chris was standing -near her mother, who, having obtained one of the much-sought-after -chairs, was lost to sight in the crowd of guests who had not been so -lucky. - -“Miss Christina!” said John Bradfield, not attempting to hide the fact -that he was angry, “I’ve got something to say to you. Is it true that -you’re carrying on a correspondence with someone?” - -Chris turned deadly white, and every spark of animation suddenly left -her face. Her mother, who was of necessity so close to her that not a -look nor a word could escape her, broke in sharply: - -“Chris! why don’t you answer? Ask who said such a thing. But of course -I know who it was!” - -And Mrs. Abercarne threw a steely glance towards the spot where Mrs. -Graham-Shute’s large head could be seen bobbing amongst the throng, -like a cork on a surging sea. - -Still Chris made no answer, and her mother, suddenly perceiving how -white she had grown, grew alarmed. - -“Why don’t you deny it, child?” she asked in a low voice, quivering -with earnestness, as she rose to whisper in her daughter’s ear. - -The tears were in the girl’s eyes. She turned to her mother, and under -the pretence of drawing round her shoulders the China crape shawl which -Mrs. Abercarne wore as a wrap, she whispered: - -“Mother, don’t be worried. But I can’t deny it; it’s true.” - -Poor Mrs. Abercarne was thunder-struck. If she had been told ten -minutes before that it was possible for her Chris, her little girl, as -she persisted in calling her, to be guilty of keeping a secret from -her, she would have treated the idea with scorn. So that at the first -moment she was absolutely at a loss for words, and could only murmur: - -“You, Chris! You!” with quite pathetic amazement and grief. - -As for John Bradfield, who stood near enough in the crush to catch the -purport of their words, his amazement had given place to a great fear. -He did not dare to ask any details concerning her correspondence; being -deterred, not so much by the knowledge that he had no right to do so, -as by an alarming suspicion as to the identity of the unknown lover. - -Fortunately the assembled guests were now beginning to carry out their -long-felt wish to be gone; so Mrs. Abercarne and her daughter took -advantage of the thinning of the crowd around them to make their -escape also. - -Mrs. Graham-Shute was bidding her guests farewell with the bored look -which comes of the consciousness of duty fulfilled. As she shook hands -and listened to their stereotyped words of thanks, she expressed the -hope that they had enjoyed themselves, though she might have known they -hadn’t. Then they all trooped out, and drove or walked home, exchanging -comments which would have taken the poor lady’s breath away, and made -her forswear the world for its base ingratitude. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -NIGHT ALARMS. - - -“Chris, what does this mean?” - -Wyngham House being so near, Mrs. Abercarne and her daughter had -returned on foot. They had not exchanged a single word on the way. -It was not until they had reached the Chinese-room, and had sat down -before the fire there, that Mrs. Abercarne thus broke the silence -portentously. - -Chris looked the picture of despair. The colour had again left her -pretty cheeks; there were lines brought by anxiety in her fair young -face; the tears were gathering in her eyes. And yet there was something -comical in the look of resignation with which she deliberately sat down -as soon as her mother had done so, determined to brave the matter out, -and get her confession and her scolding over and done with. At her -mother’s question, therefore, she drew a sigh which sounded like one of -relief. - -“It means, mother dear,” she began, frankly, “that--oh! dear, I know -you’ll be so angry! And it will worry you besides! I wish you wouldn’t -ask me. You might take it for granted I haven’t done anything dreadful, -nothing more than I used to do when I was twelve, when I used to find -love letters from Willie Mansfield behind the scraper, and answer them -in the holly-bush so that he might prick his fingers when he got them.” - -She ended with another sigh, as she rested her little round chin in her -hand, and looked plaintively at the fire. - -But Mrs. Abercarne was not to be put off like this. - -“Christina,” she said solemnly, drawing herself up another inch, and -looking at the fire herself, lest her daughter’s sighs should mollify -her too soon, “I insist upon a full explanation. You have given me -none. All I know at present is, that my daughter has so far forgotten -what is due to herself as a gentlewoman, as to carry on a clandestine -correspondence with some unknown person. I insist upon knowing at once -who the person is.” - -Chris looked at her dolefully. - -“Oh, mother, won’t it do if I promise not to write again, and not to -receive any more letters?” - -“No, Christina, it will not do,” said Mrs. Abercarne, obstinately. “It -is a matter of course that you will cease this correspondence. But, -in the meantime, I insist on knowing the name of the person who has -induced you to jeopardise your own self-respect.” - -Whereupon Chris jumped up with a gesture indicating restlessness and -despair. - -“All right, mother! Now, don’t scream; it’s Mr. Richard--there!” - -If a servant had suddenly appeared with the news that an invading army -had landed at the pier-head, and was now surrounding the house, or that -Lord Llanfyllin had poisoned Lady Llanfyllin and married his cook, poor -Mrs. Abercarne would have been less utterly shocked and struck dumb -than she was by this intelligence. For a few moments she could only -stare at her daughter, who now, that the crisis was over, began to -laugh half hysterically. - -“Mr.--Richard,” the poor lady at last gasped out. “Mr. Richard--the -lu--lu--lunatic? Oh! it isn’t possible! It’s too awful--too appalling! -I--I--I shall die if it’s true!” - -But Chris was getting better already. She slid down on her knees, and -put her arm round her mother’s neck, unable now to restrain a wild -inclination to laugh at her mother’s hopeless terror. - -“No, you won’t, mother. Of course I couldn’t help knowing you’d be -awfully angry, and so I put off telling you. But it’s not half as bad -as you think. Dick’s no more mad than you or I.” - -“Dick!” cried poor Mrs. Abercarne, with a shriek, which subsided into -a moan. “To think of my daughter--my Christina, calling a m--m--madman -Dick!” - -“But when I tell you that he’s not mad, not mad at all,” insisted -Chris, raising her voice a little to emphasise her words. - -The words were hardly out of her mouth when she sprang up with a little -cry. - -Mr. Bradfield was in the room. - -Chris became in an instant as red as she had been white before. - -“Have you been listening?” she asked, impulsively. - -“Sh-sh, Christina,” said her mother’s reproving voice. - -But the intruder answered with great meekness: - -“Well, I did hear what you were saying when I came in; and what’s more, -I’m very glad I did, for you were making a statement which it’s my -business to disprove. You were saying that somebody was not mad. Now, -of course, you mean my unhappy ward, Richard.” - -“Your unhappy ward!” retorted Chris, with spirited emphasis. “Yes, I do -mean him.” - -“You think he is not mad?” - -“Not mad enough to be shut up, at any rate.” - -He seemed taken aback by the girl’s boldness and straightforwardness, -and he did not immediately answer, but left Mrs. Abercarne time to -read her daughter a little lecture on the impropriety of her present -behaviour, which, she said, was only the sequel to be expected to her -conduct in deceiving her mother. Chris began to look distressed, but, -before she could answer this accusation, Mr. Bradfield broke in: - -“Never mind what she says, Mrs. Abercarne. She’s only a foolish girl, -and it’s lucky we’ve found out this affair before he’s found an -opportunity of dashing her silly brains out. He’s been worse than usual -the last few days, and I’m expecting some sort of dangerous outbreak -every day. Let us be thankful things have gone no further.” - -And, affecting to take no further notice of Chris, he shook hands with -Mrs. Abercarne, bade her good-night, and left the room with a curious -look of sullen determination on his face, which frightened the younger -lady so much that she was silent for some minutes. - -At last she said, in a frightened whisper: - -“Mother, what do you think he’s going to do? I never saw him look like -that before.” - -But she got no sympathy. Mrs. Abercarne was entirely on John -Bradfield’s side, and expressed her opinion that whatever he did would -be the proper thing to do. But, on the promise of Chris to cease all -correspondence at once with Mr. Richard, a truce was patched up between -mother and daughter, and the subject of contention was allowed to drop. - -Poor Chris, however, felt that she could not so suddenly break off all -communication with the unhappy Dick without one word of explanation. -So she contrived to meet Stelfox that very night before she retired -to her room, and without hiding the fact that she had been exchanging -communications with his charge, begged him to tell Mr. Richard that she -had been obliged to promise to do so no longer. - -Stelfox, as usual, showed no surprise. He said he would deliver her -message, and that was all. - -It is not to be wondered at that, after such an exciting evening, -Chris was unable to sleep. She now occupied a little bed in the same -room with her mother’s large one; and presently, finding her own sad -thoughts intolerable, she got up and very quietly crossed the corridor -to the Chinese-room in search of a book. - -Just as she reached the door, a noise, which seemed to come from the -east wing at the opposite end of the house, caused her to turn her -head quickly. There was no light in the corridor, so that she could -see nothing. Her first idea was that burglars had got into the house, -and she was on the point of running back to rouse her mother, and give -the alarm, when she heard the unlocking of a door. It then flashed -into her mind that it was, perhaps, Stelfox coming out of the east -wing that had attracted her attention. Being determined to find out -which of these two surmises was correct, and not wishing to alarm the -household without cause, she went to the end of the corridor, without, -however, venturing too near the spot whence the noise came. Chris -was not particularly courageous, and the fear of meeting a real live -burglar, caused her to tremble from head to foot. The noise went on -all the time, until she reached the railing which surrounded the well -of the staircase, and from here she could see a dark mass, which might -have been anything, but which must, she supposed, be a human being, -disappearing out of her sight from the bottom of the staircase into -the hall. That was all she could see; and as she still leaned over -the railing, the last sound died away, without her being able to tell -whether the figure she had seen had left the house or not. - -For a few moments she was absolutely paralysed with terror, and -remained quite still in the cold, not daring to move, or to cry out, -afraid even to turn round, lest she should find the hand of a burglar -laid upon her mouth. At last, however, as she heard nothing more, she -began slowly to recover her wits, and to wonder what it was she had -seen, what she should do, and whether she was not making a great fuss -about nothing. - -Then followed shame at her own alarm, until at last she went back along -the corridor, telling herself that the cause of her fright must have -been a visit paid by Stelfox to his charge in the east wing. Of course, -it might have been a burglar that she had seen, but then, on the other -hand, it seemed more likely that it was not, for burglars usually find -out, before entering a house, in what part of it the most valuable -portable property is kept, and it was certainly not kept in the east -wing. - -So Chris, reassured, went into the Chinese-room, though not without a -feeling that this was an exceedingly daring thing for her to do, after -the fright she had had. - -She had chosen her book, and was opening the door, when, her ears -being more on the alert than usual, she heard another unusual noise, -proceeding this time from the outside of the house. Kneeling upon the -ottoman under the window at the west end of the corridor, she looked -out, and saw to her horror a man staggering along across the grass -in the direction of the sea, with a shapeless mass hanging over his -shoulder; and as this shapeless mass defined itself, when her eyes -became accustomed to the gloom, she saw that it was the body of a man. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. - - -It is sad, in these days of strong-minded girls with nerves of iron, to -have to relate of poor Chris Abercarne that she fainted. No sooner had -she convinced herself that it was really the body of another man that -the living man in the garden below was carrying across his shoulder -than her hands relaxed their hold of the window-sill, and she fell in a -heap on the ottoman. - -When she opened her eyes again she knew nothing but that she felt very -cold, so that for the first moment she supposed that she was in bed, -and that the bed-clothes had slid off on to the floor. Raising herself, -and looking about her, she soon remembered what had happened, and with -a cry got on to her feet. So stiff and benumbed was she, that she -staggered on her way back to her own and her mother’s room, and fumbled -with the handle. - -While she was thus occupied, another occurrence, almost as startling as -the previous one, attracted her attention. There was a flash of light -at the other end of the corridor, and by it Chris saw, with perfect -distinctness, Mr. Bradfield coming out of the door of the east wing. -Before Chris had had time to make out where the light came from, Mr. -Bradfield reclosed the door softly, and he and the light disappeared at -the same time. - -Chris felt as if she was losing her wits. Hastily rousing her mother -from sleep, she told her all that had happened in such an hysterical -fashion, with such wild eyes, and such a pale face, that at first Mrs. -Abercarne was disposed to think that the girl had been dreaming. Chris -herself seemed to incline to the same opinion. Nevertheless, she begged -her mother just to come into the corridor with her for one moment. - -“Perhaps,” went on Chris, her teeth chattering with the cold, “perhaps -you’ll see something or hear something to show you that it was really -true. But, oh! how I hope you won’t.” - -Mrs. Abercarne drew on her dressing-gown, and mother and daughter went -out into the corridor together. They had scarcely done so before they -began to cough and to choke, as a volume of blinding smoke came rushing -towards them from the east end of the house. - -“Fire! fire! The house is on fire!” cried Mrs. Abercarne. - -And as she rushed along the corridor, she ran against Mr. Bradfield as -he came out of his room. - -“What--what do you say?” cried he, as if in amazement and alarm. - -But Chris noticed that he had had time to dress; and as a multitude -of ghastly suspicions forced themselves into her mind, she burst out, -passionately: - -“Dick! What have you done to Dick?” - -Mr. Bradfield did not turn to look at her, nor did he answer; but she -saw him shiver. - -By this time the whole household had taken the alarm. The servants came -running from above and from below, among the latter being Stelfox, -whom Chris detained for a moment as soon as he reached the top of the -stairs. - -“Mr. Richard! Mr. Richard!” she cried, in tones of agony. “Save him, -save him--_if he is there_!” - -As she uttered these words, prompted thereto by a sudden suspicion -that it was Stelfox himself whom she had seen carrying the lifeless -body, and that the body was that of the unhappy Dick, she saw a look -exchanged between the man-servant and Mr. Bradfield, who had come up to -hear what she was saying. Chris put her hands up to her head, covered -her eyes and shrank back with a great sob. The horror of the situation, -and the fears of her heart, were too much for her. She let her mother -lead her to a seat, where she sat shivering and weeping silently -during the tumult which followed. But unnerved and disorganised as -she was, Chris had sense enough left to notice that Stelfox did not -rush forward and attempt to force an entrance into the burning wing. -He tried the handle of the door indeed, but finding it locked, he did -not even produce his own key. He turned instead towards his master, -and looked at him for a moment steadfastly before suggesting that the -fire-extinguishers, which were kept ready in cupboards all over the -house, should be brought and used at once. - -Mr. Bradfield at once gave an order to that effect, and as in the -meantime the stablemen had been at work on the outside with ladders -and with apparatus which was kept in the stable-yard for the purpose, -before very long the fire was got under, and it was possible to enter -the rooms of the east wing. - -In the meanwhile Mr. Richard had not been forgotten. The outer door -leading to his apartments had been burst open; but the rush of black, -blinding smoke which followed, made it absolutely impossible to -penetrate further than the passage within. The stablemen, who tried -from outside to rescue the unfortunate man, fared no better. By the -time they had forced the windows the rooms were all alight and they -found it impossible to enter. - -Exclamations of pity and distress on account of the unlucky young -fellow passed from lip to lip among the women of the household, whose -sobs and cries added to the tumult. The one woman whom a mixed assembly -generally produces who is the equal of any man, was duly forthcoming -in the person of a young housemaid, who, at the risk of her life, -penetrated as far as Mr. Richard’s sleeping apartment, which was by -that time all in flames. She was rescued herself just in time, being -dragged out in an insensible condition. But as soon as she revived, she -declared that she had been in time to discover that Mr. Richard was not -in the bed at all. This statement, which she made in presence of most -of the household, was little regarded except by Chris, on whose ears -this piece of intelligence fell with sinister import. She fell back -again into her mother’s arms, her eyes closed, in a state bordering -on insensibility. It having been by this time ascertained that the -fire would not spread beyond the wing in which it had originated, Mr. -Bradfield had leisure to think of the girl. He drew near to where she -sat leaning against her mother’s shoulder, and asked if she was better. -But at the first sound of his voice, Chris started up, her eyes wide -open, her face lined with horror. - -“I shall never be better, never,” she said, tremulously, “until I am -out of this dreadful house.” - -And she would not look at him, she would not listen to him; but -nestling against her mother like a pert and frightened child, she -turned her head away with a shudder. - -“Don’t speak to her now,” said Mrs. Abercarne, anxiously. “I am afraid -the poor child is going to be ill.” - -She led her daughter back to her room, but, even as they went along the -corridor, there came to their ears a rumour, a cry which had passed -from one to the other of the servants until it reached them. - -Mr. Richard could not be found; this was the burden of the cry. Chris -stopped short. - -“No,” she said, in a low voice, staring in front of her. “He was -murdered first, and the place was set on fire as a blind.” - -And then she laughed hysterically, so that her mother began to tremble -for her sanity. - -When the morning came, Chris was too ill to get up, and a doctor was -sent for, who ordered her to remain in bed, and keep very quiet. Before -night she had become worse, and on hearing that she had been suffering -from worry and shock, the doctor gave it as his opinion that she was -suffering from brain fever. It was either that or typhoid, although at -the present stage he could not definitely pronounce which it was. - -In the meantime rumour was busy, and it said, starting from the -gossip among the servants of the household, that the fire had not -been an accident. The place was not insured, so there was no official -investigation into its origin. But gossip spoke of the smell of -paraffin, and the story was soon current that Mr. Richard had conceived -a hopeless passion for Miss Abercarne, that he had set fire to the -place in order to effect his escape, and that he had then committed -suicide by throwing himself into the sea. - -Chris knew nothing of all this. She lay for many days unconscious, -hanging at one time between life and death. Mr. Bradfield’s despair at -any apparent change for the worse in her condition was quite as great -as that of her own mother. His haggard face, his anxious eyes, the -change from brusque abruptness to an almost timorous vacillation in his -manner, excited the comment of the entire neighbourhood. Some put the -change in him down to anxiety as to the fate of his ward, of whom no -inquiries could find a trace; some to his despair on the young lady’s -account. When Chris began to get better, her mother’s anxieties about -the girl were as deep as ever. For the melancholy in the girl’s eyes -was touching in the extreme; a shadow seemed to have been cast upon her -whole nature. Her frivolity had gone, but it seemed to have taken the -freshness of her youth with it. Mrs. Abercarne longed for, at the same -time that she dreaded, an explanation. - -It came one day when Chris had been carried, for the first time, into -the Chinese-room, and laid upon the sofa. Mrs. Abercarne was watching -her daughter anxiously, when Chris said: - -“Mother, has anything been found out--about the fire?” - -Mrs. Abercarne flushed slightly; she had heard a good many rumours, but -had shut her ears as much as possible. - -“Found out!” she echoed, as if surprised by the question. “Why, no, of -course not.” - -“I mean--doesn’t anybody think it strange?” - -“That there should be a fire? No. It is always dangerous to use lamps. -And Mr. Richard, poor young man, was evidently not to be trusted with -one.” - -Chris moved impatiently. But she only asked: - -“Do they think he was burnt alive, then?” - -Mrs. Abercarne hesitated. She wished with all her heart, poor dear -lady, that she could honestly say “yes.” But truth (and the certainty -that she would be found out if she told a falsehood) prevailed. - -“It is impossible to say,” she answered, shortly. “But--but I believe -they did not succeed in finding any traces of the body.” - -“Ah!” said Chris, as if this had been just what she expected. - -She asked no more questions, but sat for a long time looking -thoughtfully out at the sea. At last her mother ventured to say: - -“Mr. Bradfield wants to know, my darling, what flowers you would like -best for him to send you. He is very anxious for the time to come when -he may see you, though he does not wish to intrude too soon.” - -Mrs. Abercarne had thought it wiser not to look at her daughter while -she said this, so she did not see the cloud which darkened on the -girl’s face at the mention of the name. - -When Chris next spoke, however, there was a difference in her tone. - -“Mother, I want to speak to Stelfox.” - -Mrs. Abercarne flushed again, and frowned slightly with perplexity. -She wished her daughter would not make such awkward requests. After a -moment’s hesitation she asked: - -“Why, my dear? What have you got to say to him? I am quite sure,” she -went on, hurriedly, “that the doctor would not allow you to see anybody -just yet.” - -Chris turned slowly and looked at her mother. - -“Has he been sent away?” she asked abruptly. - -“Well, my dear, I don’t know whether he has been sent away for good or -not, but he is certainly away at present.” - -The girl’s face fell again, and her mother in vain tried to rouse her -from the depression into which she had sunk. - -The hopelessness which had fallen upon the girl like a pall retarded -her convalescence. She took no interest in anything; the only way in -which her mother could rouse any emotion in her was by an allusion to -Mr. Bradfield; and then the feeling shown by the girl was one of the -utmost abhorrence. - -Poor Mrs. Abercarne, therefore, soon began to find herself in a very -awkward position between her employer on the one hand, eagerly anxious -to see the girl, or even to minister to her pleasure, unseen, in any -way that might be suggested; and her daughter on the other, who had -conceived such a strong aversion for the man that she would not even -look at the books and papers her mother brought her, because she knew -that they were supplied by him. Her dislike, indeed, to the very sound -of his name was becoming almost a mania, so that Mrs. Abercarne feared -she would have to leave Wyngham on account of it. - -It need scarcely be said that Mrs. Abercarne, who had been completely -won by John Bradfield’s passion for her daughter, not only acquitted -him of the crime her daughter chose to suggest in the matter of the -fire, but looked upon the disappearance of the lunatic, either by -suicide or by misadventure, as a very fortunate circumstance. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -MR. MARRABLE AGAIN. - - -The doctor was troubled by the slowness of the girl’s convalescence, -and by her own lack of a strong desire to get well again. He -recommended change for one thing, and cheerful society. Now the one -was as difficult to get as the other. Change could only be got by -sacrificing a situation to the disadvantages of which Mrs. Abercarne -had grown accustomed, while its advantages she appreciated more every -day. Cheerful society seemed more out of the question still. - -It was therefore with a feeling almost of gratitude that Mrs. -Abercarne, while sitting by her daughter’s sofa one morning, heard that -Miss Lilith Graham-Shute was downstairs, and that she wanted to know if -she could see Miss Abercarne. - -“Show her up, Corbett,” said Mrs. Abercarne. And turning to Chris, she -said: “You would like to see her, my dear, wouldn’t you?” - -“Yes,” said Chris. - -The two girls, indeed, had felt a mutual attraction, and had only been -prevented by the fierce enmity which raged between their respective -mothers from becoming very good friends indeed. - -When Lilith came in, smiling, bright-eyed, cheery, and suffering from -a valiant attempt to subdue her usual exuberance of voice and manner, -her entrance was like a ray of sunshine. She came to the side of the -sofa on tip-toe, which was quite unnecessary, and caused her to be so -unsteady of gait that she knocked over a basket of flowers which had -been placed on a little stand beside the sofa. - -“Oh, look what I’ve done!” she cried, as she stooped down in haste to -repair the mischief. - -“Oh, you needn’t trouble about those things!” cried Chris, -ungratefully, with a little look which girls’ freemasonry enabled -Lilith to understand. - -Miss Graham-Shute’s big brown eyes grew round with delight at the -prospect of a little bit of interesting gossip, if they should get a -chance to be alone together. She nodded discreetly, as she went down on -her knees to rearrange the scattered daffodils and lilies of the valley. - -“I’m such a clumsy creature!” cried she, in feigned distress. “Donald -always says I’m like a bull in a china shop. Oh!” she cried, as she -buried her little _retroussé_ nose in a bunch of Parma violets, “I -should like to be ill if I could get such attentions bestowed upon me! -You _are_ a lucky girl, Chris! And an ungrateful one too!” she added in -a lower voice, with a glance at Mrs. Abercarne, whose back was for the -moment turned. - -“You can have the flowers, if you like,” said Chris quickly. “Yes, do -take them,” she added, eagerly as Lilith made a gesture of refusal, “I -shall be so glad if you will. They--they are too strongly scented,” -she added, as an excuse, as she noticed a look of pain and annoyance on -her mother’s face. - -“Oh, well, they are not too strongly scented for me,” said Lilith, -drily. “Thank you awfully, dear. I’ll be sure to remember to bring back -the basket.” - -“No, don’t; keep it, I don’t want to see any of it again.” - -She spoke petulantly, for the handsome gift had been accompanied by a -message from Mr. Bradfield, almost demanding permission to see her. - -Then Mrs. Abercarne, moved to wrath, spoke: - -“I think you are very ungrateful, Chris. Those flowers were sent from -Covent Garden expressly for you, and at great expense.” - -She was not unwilling to annoy the Graham-Shutes, by proving in what -high estimation “the Abercarnes” were held at Wyngham House. - -“Chris, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, you really ought,” said -Lilith, gaily, as she got up from her knees. “Now, don’t let me knock -anything else over. You haven’t any silver tables, or anything of that -sort, luckily.” - -She glanced merrily round her, in all innocence; but Mrs. Abercarne, -always rather too ready to feel insulted, chose to consider this speech -as a barbed one. - -“No; unfortunately we are not rich enough to buy unnecessary things,” -she said acidly; “and we are not refined enough to look upon silver -tables as necessaries.” - -“You needn’t talk at me as if I were mamma, Mrs. Abercarne,” cried -Lilith, brightly. “I know we buy unnecessary things, and leave the -necessary ones unbought. I know we spend money on toys which are -supposed to be ancient silver, when in reality they are modern pewter, -and have to darn our gloves. I know we do lots of things which are -foolish, and get us laughed at, but, after all, you _can_ laugh at us, -and you ought to be grateful for that!” - -The girl’s sense of fun was infectious, and Chris laughed aloud. Lilith -went on: - -“The latest--no, not the very latest craze, but the latest but one, is -for me to blossom out into a great dramatic writer, and to buy a house -for us all in Kensington Palace Gardens. Mamma says I am brimming over -with talent (and perhaps I am, but it hadn’t troubled me much till it -was pointed out to me), and there is a dearth of dramatists, and I am -to ‘supply a long-felt want,’ as the advertisements say. And all on the -strength of my little play the other day, which, by-the-bye, I have -sent up to a London manager to read. Of course, I’m hoping he’ll take -it, but it seems almost too good to be possible, doesn’t it?” - -The girl spoke playfully, but with just enough wistfulness in her tone -for the other ladies to see that she was full of the most forlorn -of all forlorn hopes. Mrs. Abercarne began to perceive that even -Graham-Shutes may be human, moved with like passions to our own. -And when Corbett appeared again, asking if she could speak to Mrs. -Abercarne for a minute, that lady left the room with the pleasant -consciousness that the visit of the lively girl was doing Chris good. - -No sooner were they alone, than Lilith drew near to her companion -mysteriously. - -“Chris, tell me, is it true that you don’t like Mr. Bradfield, and -don’t mean to marry him if he asks you?” - -“Indeed it is,” answered Chris hotly, with more energy than she had -shown since the beginning of her illness. “I wouldn’t marry him if he -were the richest and the most charming person in the world!” - -“Then I think you’re very silly.” - -Chris laughed a little. - -“It’s lucky Mrs. Graham-Shute can’t hear you say so.” - -Lilith burst into a laugh of delightful merriment. - -“Yes, indeed it is,” she admitted heartily. “It’s the greatest dread of -her life that you should become Mrs. John Bradfield, of Wyngham House. -And nothing will induce her to believe that you are not trying to bring -it about. For my own part,” she went on, prosaically, as Chris shook -her head, “I should think much better of you if you were.” - -Chris looked at her in amazement. - -“What? This from _you_!” cried she. “They do say, you know, that you -are always in love, and always with somebody who hasn’t any money at -all.” - -“Well, I suppose they’re right. Men who have money _are_ always horrid, -aren’t they? Still, if one of the horrid creatures were to ask me, I -should have to have him, I suppose,” she went on with a sigh. “And as -no girl can ever fall in love with a rich man, I may just as well be in -love with a poor man first, and know something of the sentiment.” - -“Who is it now?” asked Chris, smiling, and rather interested. - -“Oh, it’s still the same one, the mysterious stranger I saw in the -barn on the evening of the _tableaux vivants_.” - -“What!” said Chris, turning suddenly crimson, while the tears rushed -into her eyes. “It is more than two months since then. This is -constancy indeed.” - -“It’s so easy to be constant down here,” sighed Lilith. “And I admit -that I might have wavered a little before now in my devotion if I -hadn’t seen, or thought I had seen, my handsome stranger in town the -other day, when I went up with mamma to do some shopping.” - -To her astonishment, Chris sprang up from her sofa in great excitement. - -“You saw him? You saw him?” cried she, all her old animation in her -face, the old ring in her voice. - -Lilith looked at her in amazement. - -“Why, Chris, who was he? You pretended you didn’t know.” - -But the light had already died out of her companion’s eyes. Sighing -heavily she answered: - -“Indeed it was true that I did not then know whom you meant. And if you -did really see him yesterday, why, then he was not the person I have -since supposed him to have been.” - -Lilith, who had heard rumours of the flirtation, or attachment between -Chris and the alleged lunatic, was full of interest and curiosity. - -“Why, Chris,” said she, “was that the person they called Mr. Richard? -If so, I don’t wonder you liked him better than cousin John.” - -But Chris would confess nothing, and rather irritated Lilith by her -reticence. - -“What do people say about him? How do they account for his having -disappeared?” - -“Well,” said Lilith, lowering her voice, “they say that he set the -place on fire in order to escape, and that he’ll come back some day and -murder cousin John!” - -“That’s all nonsense,” said Chris, sharply. “A lunatic might do that, -but not Dick.” - -“Dick, oh!” said Lilith, raising her eyebrows. “You have confessed -something at any rate, now, haven’t you?” - -But for answer Chris burst into tears, so that Mrs. Abercarne, -returning, looked at Lilith with stern reproach. - -“I’m so sorry,” said Lilith, penitently; “but, Mrs. Abercarne, it’s -really better for her to cry than to lie all day looking as if she -wanted to! And oh! I’d nearly forgotten what I came for; mamma sent me -to borrow a box of sardines.” - -Mrs. Abercarne suppressed a smile at this characteristic errand. - -“I’m afraid we haven’t such a thing in the house,” she said. “A friend -of Mr. Bradfield’s has just arrived from town unexpectedly, so we have -been running our eyes over the stores to see what we could give him to -eat to stave off his hunger until Mr. Bradfield comes home to luncheon.” - -“Who is it, mother?” asked Chris, in whom Mrs. Abercarne noted this -curiosity as a sign that Lilith’s visit had done her good. - -“Oh, the unfortunate person who sprained his ankle on Christmas day.” - -“Mr. Marrable!” Chris clasped her hands with a fresh access of -excitement. “Mother, let me see him at once. Do let me.” - -Both the other ladies were a good deal surprised at this demand, and -the vehemence with which it was expressed. But there was no resisting -her importunity; and therefore, as soon as Lilith had reluctantly taken -her departure, Mr. Marrable, as shy and nervous as ever, was shown up -into the Chinese-room. - -He expressed his delight at the honour Miss Abercarne had done him -by admitting him, and was proceeding to utter some old-fashioned -compliments which he had been preparing on the way upstairs, when -Chris, by a look at her mother, induced that lady to leave the room. -Then the girl turned to Mr. Marrable, and exhibited a sudden energy -which startled that rather flaccid gentleman. - -“Mr. Marrable,” she said imperiously, “I have heard you talk of an old -friend of yours and Mr. Bradfield’s, named Gilbert Wryde.” - -At the mention of the name, Mr. Marrable started violently. - -“Yes, yes, er--er--I may have mentioned him; I say I may have mentioned -him,” he answered feebly, looking round as if he hoped to find a way of -escape. - -“This Gilbert Wryde had a son, I think you said?” - -“Oh, my goodness!” murmured poor Mr. Marrable; and then, seeing that -she was determined, he admitted that he might have mentioned that too. - -“Tell me, and tell me the truth, mind,” continued the young girl, -earnestly, “when you knew that son, years ago that was, of course, when -he was a child, was there anything the matter with him?” - -Mr. Marrable stared at her piteously, as if feeling he could hope for -no mercy from this excited female. - -“Nothing,” murmured he feebly, “nothing of any consequence, that is to -say, beyond, of course, being deaf and dumb.” - -To his horror, the young lady sprang up with a wild cry, clasping her -hands as if she had received a revelation. - -“Deaf--and--dumb!” - -And, uttering these words, she sank back fainting on the sofa. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -BLACKMAIL. - - -Poor Mr. Marrable was very much frightened by the effect of his words -upon Chris. He rushed to the door of the room, and summoned Mrs. -Abercarne with frantic cries. - -But before her mother could reach the room, Chris had entirely -recovered her self-command under the influence of a strong feeling of -relief, and when Mr. Marrable went downstairs to await John Bradfield’s -return, she was brighter and less listless than she had been since her -illness. - -In the first place, the hope, weak as it was, which Lilith’s words -had woke in her, was enough to live upon for a day or two at least; -and in the second place, the fact she had learnt from Alfred Marrable -had relieved her from the last trace of suspicion that she had given -her love to a maniac. Now that she knew that Mr. Richard had been -deaf and dumb, she understood much that had appeared strange in his -conduct towards her. It was clear that when he had left her questions -unanswered, it was because he could not hear them; and she now -remembered that he had watched her lips as often as possible when she -spoke, and had evidently understood her words by these means. This, -then, was the infirmity to which he had alluded in his letter; and now -the only thing which puzzled her was the fact that on the last two -occasions when she had met him he had spoken to her. When and how had -he recovered or obtained the power of speech? - -It is a curious fact that this interview with Mr. Marrable, and the -information he had given her, increased, without her being able to -account for it, her new belief that her lover might be still alive. She -moved about with new cheerfulness, nourishing the hope that her mother -would either take her, or send her to London, where, as she knew, -all those people go who for any reason wish to remain for a time in -concealment. - -On the other hand, what reason could Dick have for wishing to remain -in hiding? Would he not rather, if he had escaped the dangers of the -night of the fire, return either to see her, or to bring Mr. Bradfield -to book for his long incarceration? And what had been the object of -that incarceration? What, also, had been the meaning of the scene she -witnessed on the night of the fire? - -With these and similar questions the young girl’s brain seemed to reel -as she sat at her window looking out at the grey sea. - -Meanwhile Mr. Bradfield had returned from his morning’s ride, and had -been greeted, on dismounting from his horse, with the information that -Mr. Marrable was waiting to see him. - -John Bradfield entered the dining-room, into which the discriminating -footman had shown the visitor as a person not quite smart enough for -the drawing-room, with a frown on his face. - -“Oh, so you’re here again, are you?” was his abrupt greeting. - -Alfred, who felt better after the glass of beer and crust of bread and -cheese which he had modestly chosen as his refreshment, came towards -his old friend smiling, and trying to look cheerful. - -“Yes,” he answered mildly, “as you say, I’m here again.” - -His cheerfulness did not please Mr. Bradfield, who frowned still more -as he asked shortly: - -“Well, and what do you want?” - -Now this Mr. Marrable did not quite like to confess. So he went on -smiling, until he perceived by an ominous motion of his friend’s boot, -that that gentleman’s endurance was about to give way. - -“Well, John, it’s no use beating about the bush. The fact is, I’m down -on my luck; there’s nothing doing up in town, and things don’t seem to -get any better, and----” - -“And you want some money, I suppose; your next quarter’s allowance -advanced you, in fact?” - -“Well, no; not exactly that, though I don’t say it wouldn’t be a -convenience.” - -John looked at him incredulously. - -“What do you want, then?” - -He wasn’t exactly afraid of Marrable, who seemed too flabby a sort of -person to inspire one with much fear of what he might do; at the same -time there was no denying that the weak vessel before him contained -some perilous stuff in the way of undesirable knowledge. The man’s -audacity in coming down again so soon gave him food for reflection. - -“The fact is,” answered Marrable, softly, “that my wife and I were -talking things over last night, and she said things were so bad that it -would be better for us to part, and she said she was sure you wouldn’t -mind giving an old friend like me a shelter for a time.” - -“The d----l she did!” exclaimed Mr. Bradfield, in amazement. “And -hadn’t you the sense to tell her that the suggestion was like her -cheek?” - -“Why, no, John,” returned Marrable, just as gently as ever. “I didn’t -tell her that, for I thought myself it wasn’t a bad idea.” - -There was a pause, during which John Bradfield, considered the -downcast, hang-dog face of the other, while his own grew perceptibly -paler. - -“Why?” he presently asked. - -“Oh, I’m sure I don’t want to make myself unpleasant in any way, John, -but it seemed so odd to find Gilbert Wryde’s son here, shut up as a -lunatic----” - -John Bradfield shivered. And the look he cast at the other was not -pleasant to see. - -“Do you mean to suggest that you had any reason for thinking that he -was not a lunatic?” - -Marrable’s answer came quickly. He was evidently anxious to get it out -before he got afraid to say it: - -“Well, I should like to see him, that’s all.” - -“You haven’t heard, then, about the fire down here? He overturned his -lamp, set fire to the place, and was burnt alive.” - -“Dear me! Was there an inquest?” - -These direct questions, put timorously, had the effect of making John -Bradfield so furious that he stammered as he spoke: - -“There was no inquest. The body could not be found!” - -“Perhaps,” suggested Marrable, “he wasn’t burnt at all. Perhaps he -escaped, or perhaps----” - -Although he paused, significantly, John Bradfield did not urge him to -go on. There was a silence before Alfred said, in the same infantile -manner as before: - -“And what became of all his money, John?” - -“He never had any.” - -“But he ought to have had plenty,” rejoined Marrable, in the same -sing-song voice. “Now, I’ll make a clean breast of it, John. Not that I -wish to make myself unpleasant, as I said before, but when I was down -here at Christmas I thought things looked fishy (I don’t want to be -unkind, but they really did); so when I got back to town I got a friend -to cable over to Melbourne for me, and find out the particulars of -Gilbert Wryde’s will.” - -Then there was a pause. John Bradfield looked, not at his old chum, but -out at the sea, which lay a bright blue grey in the sunshine. To think -that he should have escaped detection all these years, to be brought to -book at last by such a paltry creature--that was the thought that was -surging in his mind as he stood digging his nails into his own flesh -and not listening very eagerly for the next words, for he knew so well -what they would be. - -“I only got the letter yesterday which gave me all particulars. I know -that Gilbert Wryde left all his money to you in trust for his son. So,” -pursued Alfred, slowly, and apparently without vindictiveness, “you -never really made any money at all yourself, John, any more than I? But -you’ve lived like a fighting-cock on Gilbert Wryde’s. That’s about the -size of it, isn’t it, old chap?” - -Although he was trying to give a playful turn to his conversation, -Marrable did not speak cheerfully. - -There was a long pause. John Bradfield, being hopelessly cornered, saw -that there was nothing for it but to find out the lowest price at which -Alfred would be bought. His methods were always blunt, so that Marrable -was not surprised when his old chum simply planted himself on the -carpet in front of him, jingling some money in his pockets, and asked -briefly: - -“How much do you want?” - -Marrable, who never looked up at his friend if he could help it, -bleated out, quite plaintively: - -“Well, John, for myself, I should be sorry to stoop so low as to take -anything; but I should like to send home a ten-pound note, if you could -spare it, and all I ask of you is to put me up here for a bit, and let -me make myself at home as we used to do in the old days together.” - -John Bradfield was so much amazed at this request, that for a few -moments he could give no answer whatever. The thought of having always -in the house with him this flabby, weak-kneed creature, who was, -nevertheless, his master, by virtue of his knowledge, was so galling, -that he would rather have given up the half of his ill-gotten property -than have supported the infliction. He laughed shortly, therefore, and -said, in a jeering tone: - -“What, believing me to be capable of what you accuse me of, you are -willing to trust yourself under the same roof with me? It wouldn’t be -very hard to make _you_ pass for a lunatic with all the medical men in -the county, you know!” - -But Marrable bore the jibe placidly. - -“If anything were to happen to me, John, while I was down here,” he -answered, composedly, “my wife, who put me up to coming down, would -come down after me; and if once _she_ got hold of you, John, oh! -wouldn’t you wish me back again, that’s all!” - -John Bradfield was silent. The net was closing round him. Already the -fatal knowledge was in the power of more persons than he knew; he -felt the strong walls of his citadel, in which he had been secure for -seventeen years, crumbling. He was man enough, however, to be able to -keep his feelings to himself. - -“All right,” said he, shortly, “you can stay if you like, of course. -And when you like to go, you can take what you want with you.” - -But Marrable, who had a conscience, was not quite satisfied. - -“Thank you, John,” he answered, rather dismally. “I thought you -wouldn’t mind giving a shelter to an old chum down on his luck. But, -mind you,” he went on, shaking a slow, fat forefinger impressively as -he spoke, “I don’t mind taking a crust from you as a friend, seeing -that, after all, it’s not your money at all, but Gilbert Wryde’s, and -that he’d have helped me like a prince without my asking. But you -understand that I wouldn’t be so mean as to take a bribe to hold my -tongue if Gilbert’s son were still alive.” - -Blunt as John Bradfield habitually was, his bluntness was as nothing -to the terribly tactless and blundering plain-speaking of Alfred, -who thought he was conducting the interview with equal amiability -and cleverness, while, in reality, every speech he uttered made John -Bradfield wince, and filled him with an ever-growing wish that he dared -kick his meek master. - -And so Alfred Marrable became a permanent guest at Wyngham House. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - -A RESURRECTION. - - -Encouraged by her condescension on his first arrival, Alfred Marrable -looked forward to finding daily pleasure in the society of the -beautiful Miss Abercarne. Great was his disappointment then to find -that she took advantage of her position as a convalescent to remain -entirely in her own rooms; so that, at the end of his first fortnight -at Wyngham, he had seen no more of her than on his first day there. - -At the end of that time Chris, having obtained her mother’s leave to -go away for a change, left for town one day by the morning express, to -spend a few weeks with some friends of her mother’s in town. - -Her sole objects were, in the first place, to avoid for a little longer -the inevitable meeting with Mr. Bradfield, and in the next to indulge a -wild hope that she had formed of finding that Dick was still alive. - -Her first object was gained, of course; her second remained a vision -for the first two months of her stay in London. - -Then a very strange incident recalled with great vividness all the -associations which linked Wyngham House and Dick together in her memory. - -She was looking in the window of a picture dealer in one of the side -streets of the West end when a little water-colour drawing attracted -her attention. - -It was a picture of the sea seen through the branches of trees with -one little white sail in the distance. The blood rushed to her cheeks, -and her heart began to beat violently; it was, she thought, just such -a view of the sea as could be got from the windows of the east wing at -Wyngham House, between the bushy boughs of the American oaks and the -ragged trunks of the fir trees. So much attracted was she that on the -following day she came by herself to look at the sketch; and on the -third day, being again by herself, she entered the shop and asked the -name of the artist and the price of the picture. The price was a modest -half-guinea, which Chris, resolved to do without a new summer hat, -promptly paid. As for the artist’s name, there was a difficulty. The -man in the shop did not know it. All he could tell was that the picture -was the work of a young man who often brought them sketches, some of -which they bought, some of which they rejected. He would probably turn -up again in the course of a day or two, with some more work; and if the -young lady wished to see any more of his drawings, they would no doubt -have some to show her shortly. - -Chris, full of vague imaginings, called again at the end of a week. -They showed her some more sketches which they said were the work of the -same artist, and again she was struck with a certain sentiment in the -pictures which seemed to her fanciful young mind to express her own -feelings about the objects they represented. But the subjects, chiefly -of sea and sky, did not arouse in her the same feeling of recognition -as the first one had done. - -“Perhaps you don’t care so much about the sea-pieces without a peep -of landscape,” suggested the dealer, noticing a slight look of -disappointment on his customer’s face. “But we shall have some more -attractive ones in a day or two, I dare say. The young fellow has gone -down to the country, and I’ve given him a commission.” - -“What part of the country?” asked Chris, feeling that she was blushing. - -“A place called Wyngham, on the south coast, not far from Dover.” - -Chris felt giddy with a shock which was not all a surprise. She hardly -knew how she got out of the shop, nor how she reached the house of her -friends. But she told them that she must go back to her mother the very -next day; and the two ladies with whom she was staying, not without a -little mischievous laughter at the girl’s expense, and some malicious -suggestions which showed them to be not without penetration, let her go. - -As the train bore her back to Wyngham, Chris seemed to be in a dream. -The hope which had so long lain dormant in her heart had now sprung up -into vivid life. She knew that her lover was alive. - -Much to her disgust, it was Mr. Bradfield who met her at the station. -However, circumstances had now cleared him from the worst of the -charges of which she had secretly accused him; if Dick was alive, as -she believed, it was certain that John Bradfield had not murdered him. -So John, who was as gruff as ever, but rather shy, got a more civil -greeting than he had ventured to hope. - -“I’ve got the phæton outside,” said he. “Your mother was afraid of the -dog-cart; she said you would be. But she was wrong, I know. You don’t -look like an invalid; you’ve come back cured.” - -“Yes,” she answered, drawing a quick breath. “I--I am quite well now, -thank you.” - -“Any more disposed to be kind than you were, eh?” - -“That depends,” answered Chris, whose emotion was by this time too -strong for her to conceal. - -John Bradfield looked at her with curiosity. - -“Depends on what?” - -But Chris waited a moment, and then she gave no direct answer. - -“Tell me,” said she, in a voice which trembled with eagerness, “have -you had any visitors to-day?” - -John Bradfield’s face grew suddenly livid. - -“What visitors?” asked he, harshly, after a pause. - -“Ah! Then you have not--yet.” - -“Why,” cried he, in harsher tones than before, “what do you mean? Have -you seen anybody?” - -He did not pretend not to know whom she meant. Chris looked up into his -face with eyes full of eloquent appeal. - -“Mr. Bradfield, you know whom I mean. If you have not seen him yet, you -will see him soon, I am sure of it.” - -“You have got up a little scene between you?” asked he in the same -disagreeable tones. - -“I haven’t even seen him. But I know that he is coming. Mr. Bradfield, -many things have happened which I don’t understand. I don’t know how it -was that you could ever think him insane. Didn’t you know that he was -deaf and dumb?” - -John Bradfield affected to start violently. He had had his cue. - -“Deaf and dumb!” he exclaimed. “Are you sure? Surely Stelfox would have -found it out. Unless, indeed, the cunning old rascal deceived me for -fear of losing his place.” - -And he affected to fall into a paroxysm of rage against the cunning -man-servant. - -“You do believe, do you not,” he went on, earnestly, “that I would have -cut off my hand rather than commit such a shocking injustice as I seem -to have done in all good faith?” - -Chris was at first puzzled, and at last deceived by his vehemence. For -the last argument he put forward was unanswerable. - -“What,” said he, “had I to gain by it? He was the son of one of my -oldest friends, and I should have liked nothing better than to treat -him as my own. Now I understand the hatred the poor lad seemed to have -for me. Of course I always took it for one of the signs of insanity in -him.” - -Insensibly Chris had allowed herself to be softened towards her -companion, who had indeed succeeded in proving to her that she had most -cruelly misjudged him. - -He would have liked to prolong the drive, in order to enjoy as long -as possible the sight of her pretty face, growing prettier under the -influence of the gentle feeling of self-reproach for her treatment of -him; but there was work too important to be done at home for him to -dally with the precious moments. - -On reaching Wyngham House, while Chris ran upstairs to her mother, Mr. -Bradfield first informed himself of the whereabouts of the incubus, -Marrable. On being informed that that gentleman had retired to his room -to rest, as he generally did in the afternoon to digest a very heavy -luncheon in slumber, the master of the house went upstairs, peeped in -to see that his friend was really asleep, and then noiselessly locked -him in, and went downstairs again. He knew that, if Gilbert Wryde’s son -were really about, the young man would lose no time in making himself -known to him. Then he went to his study, from the window of which, as -it was in front of the house, he could keep watch. - -As he had expected, it was not long before the swinging of the iron -gates at the entrance of the drive informed him of the approach of the -visitor. John took out the key of the cellarette he kept in his study, -and helped himself to a wineglass of brandy. - -“And now to bluff it!” said he to himself. - -In a few minutes a servant knocked at the door. - -“Come in!” cried his master. - -The man’s face was white, and his manner full of alarm. - -“There’s a gentleman who wishes to see you, sir. I showed him into the -drawing-room. I think, sir, it’s--it’s Mr. Richard,” he ended, in a -lower voice, as if announcing a visitor from the other world. - -To his astonishment, his master sprang up with an appearance of the -greatest eagerness; and echoing the name as if it filled him with joy, -he hastened through the hall to the drawing-room, and entered with -outstretched hands. - -Before the west window, in the full stream of light from the declining -sun, stood the man who for seventeen years had been the victim of his -cruelty and greed. It is not in human nature, even in the springtime of -youth, to recover in a few months from the effects of the confinement -of years. Gilbert Wryde’s son showed in his prematurely grey hair, in -the sharpened outlines of his face, in a certain indefinable look of -weariness and waiting in his grey eyes, as well as in the deep lines -about his mouth, the effects of his cruel imprisonment. - -He turned immediately when the door opened, and confronted John -Bradfield with such a look that the latter instantly changed his -intention of seizing his visitor by both hands. John felt indefinably -that it would be like shaking hands with a marble statue, and he did -not want any more chilling. He was sufficiently master of himself, -however, to affect a boisterous delight at the meeting. - -“Come here, come here; sit down,” said he. “Let us understand--let us -know each other. I have heard to-day such things about you that if you -had not come of your own accord, I would have hunted over the world -until I had found you.” - -But the visitor remained standing. - -“I should hardly have thought,” answered the young man, coldly, “that -you would have been in such a hurry.” - -Mr. Bradfield thought it better for the moment to ignore this speech. - -“But what is this?” exclaimed he, with apparent solicitude. “You have -recovered your speech, your hearing! It is miraculous!” - -“Not quite,” answered the visitor, in the same tone as before. “I hear, -as I speak, with difficulty. But I am under treatment which, they tell -me, would have cured me altogether, if it had been applied earlier. I -was not dumb from my birth, as you, no doubt, know.” - -“Richard,” said Mr. Bradfield, earnestly, “don’t take this tone with -me. You would not, if you knew what I have suffered since it was first -suggested to me, a few weeks ago, that you were not really insane, as I -supposed.” - -“But what reason,” asked the young man, his voice betraying excitement -for the first time, “had you for thinking any such thing? Why, if -you had got such an idea into your head, did you not consult some -specialist on mental cases? Isn’t a man’s whole life, his whole -happiness, worth a guinea fee?” - -Now Mr. Bradfield, luckily for himself, had had time to prepare himself -for these questions. He knew exactly what line to take in answering -them. - -“Of course,” said he, “you can’t really believe what you suggest, that -it was meanness which prevented my doing so. When you hear all my -reasons for thinking as I did, you will agree with me that I had some -ground to go upon. In the meantime, it is more to the point to tell you -what I have been doing since Miss Abercarne (for it was she) expressed -to me her belief you were sane.” - -The mention of the girl’s name had, of course, the desired effect of -making the young man listen. It seemed to argue good faith on Mr. -Bradfield’s part. - -John went on: - -“I caused inquiries to be set on foot, right and left, for you. I -decided what I should do if I were lucky enough to find you.” - -The young man interrupted him: - -“In the first place, you will tell me something about myself.” - -“That,” answered John, readily, “was what I was going to do. In the -first place, you are the son of an old friend of mine, who died in -Melbourne in poor circumstances, but who left relations there whom -you ought to find out, for I have reason to believe, from something I -have since heard, that you might establish your claim to some property -held in trust for you over there. Of course, under the impression that -you would never be able to use it, I have not troubled about it. I am -a rich man, and I was able to do all I could for the son of my old -friend.” - -“Gilbert Wryde!” assented the young man. Seeing the look of surprise on -John Bradfield’s face, he added, “I learnt that from Miss Abercarne.” - -“Well,” pursued Mr. Bradfield, “there’s only one thing for you to do -now; you must make your way to Melbourne--I will supply the funds--and -prosecute your inquiries there. In the meantime, I will draw up a will, -which you shall see, making you all the reparation in my power.” - -“Thank you,” said the young man, still coldly. “I want justice, not -benevolence. I can earn enough for myself.” - -“But you might marry,” suggested John. - -A softer look came over the young man’s face. After a pause of some -minutes’ duration, he said: - -“I will consider what you have said, Mr. Bradfield. In the meantime, I -will not intrude upon you any longer. But I should like, before I go, -to see Miss Abercarne for a few minutes if,” he added in a gentle tone, -“she will see me.” - -“Unluckily,” said John, “she’s still in London, where she has been -staying with some friends of her mother’s for the last three months. -But if you’ll give me your address, I will get Mrs. Abercarne’s -permission to send you her daughter’s.” - -The young man moved at once towards the door. - -“Thank you,” said he. “I will send you my address then. And I will let -you hear from me again.” - -“You won’t stay--to dinner?” asked Mr. Bradfield, feeling tolerably -secure of his answer. - -“No, thank you. There is a train back to town in about an hour. Good -afternoon.” - -And he left the room without another word. - -Mr. Bradfield followed him out, and saw him go through the iron gate at -the end of the drive, then he went back into the study, and passed his -hand with a gesture of relief across his forehead. - -“Saved!” muttered he. “Safe for a few hours. What must be the next -move?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII. - -A LOVE SCENE. - - -Although Mr. Bradfield kept close watch from the study window, and saw -Gilbert Wryde’s son safely out of the grounds, he was no more a match -than other astute middle-aged persons have been for the wiles of a pair -of lovers. - -Richard Wryde, although he had let himself be “talked over” by Mr. -Bradfield, was not quite so simple as his guardian supposed. Before -he was out of the house, therefore, it had occurred to him to doubt -whether Mr. Bradfield’s information about Chris were correct. It was, -at any rate, worth while, he thought, to make the tour of the eastern -end of the grounds, on the outer side of the wall, and then to saunter -past the sea-front of the mansion, keeping a careful eye on the windows. - -And when he was within sight of the window of the Chinese room, he was -rewarded for his perspicacity by the sight of Chris, engaged in her -favourite occupation of looking out at the sea. - -She saw him in a moment, without his having to exert himself to attract -her attention. He saw her spring up, clasping her hands. And he knew -that all he had to do was to wait for her to come to him. - -He went back, therefore, towards the east end of the house, so that the -trees might hide him from the curious eyes within. In a few minutes Mr. -Bradfield heard the creaking of the gate again. He got up and looked -out; but Chris had gone through like an arrow, and he saw no one. - -When she was once outside the gates, however, shyness, excitement, -one does not know what, stayed her flying feet, and brought a flutter -to her heart. And when she caught sight of Dick, as he came round the -angle of the wall to meet her, she stopped altogether. - -Dick was timid too. It seemed to him, as it seemed to her, that the -happiness at their lips was too great, that the cup must be dashed away -before the draught was taken. The man, of course, recovered first from -the stupor of joy following weeks of longing. - -Chris, with her eyes upon the ground, felt a hand on her shoulder, warm -breath upon her face. - -“You are glad to see me? Then tell me so.” - -She looked up suddenly, saw, in place of the wistful face she -remembered, eyes full of the fire of recovered light, of youth renewed. -Her lover was no longer the deaf and dumb recluse; he was as other men -are, but with a charm of gentleness, of sadness past, but remembered, -which made him infinitely more attractive in her eyes than any other -man could ever be. - -“I am so glad,” she whispered, “that I hardly dare to speak for fear I -should cry!” - -And, with a sob she tried hard to suppress, she brought out from under -her cloak, and held out towards him, the little sketch of the sea seen -between the trees of Wyngham House. - -“When I saw this,” she said, brokenly, “I knew, oh, I knew that you -were alive. But you might have let me know before. For I have been so -miserable, I wanted to die.” - -Her lover took her in his arms; they were under the trees on one side, -and in the shelter of the high wall of Wyngham House on the other; and -in words a little old-fashioned, a little more fanciful than the modern -lover of every day dares to use, he told her of the light which the -sight of her from his prison windows had brought into his life, of the -new energy she had unconsciously put into him, of the longing he had -felt to stand beside her and to feel the touch of her hand. - -“Before you came here,” he said, pouring his words into her willing -ears with an impetuosity which, in truth, made him well-nigh -unintelligible, “Stelfox did not dare to let me out of the rooms in -which I was kept, even for ten minutes. He had tried it once, not long -ago, and he had only with great difficulty prevented me from attacking -that old rascal Bradfield. But when you came, I became at once a -different man. I thought no more of Bradfield, or of anybody but you, -always you. I lost the dead, sullen patience that my confinement had -taught me; I raged like a wild beast shut up for the first time. When -I saw Bradfield touch you, as he did that day under my windows, on -purpose, I believe, to provoke me, I lost my self-command, and threw at -him the first thing that came to my hand. You remember, I dare say. I -smashed the window, and nearly frightened you out of your senses. Then -Stelfox gave me a lecture which made me ill, really ill, with misery -and want of sleep, for two or three days and nights. - -“He told me that I had frightened you so much that you would never -come near my windows again; that you thought my savage attack was upon -yourself, and that, in all probability, you would not dare to stay -at Wyngham afterwards. So that at last I became so wretched that he -had to be merciful, and to tell me that you were not going to leave -Wyngham, and that he would contrive for me to see you again. In the -meantime, however, I overheard something said by the men working in -the garden, which told me that Bradfield himself was in love with you. -This, indeed, I had already guessed; but to hear it confirmed made me -so furious that I contrived to pick the lock of my outer door and to -get out, with the fixed intention of braining the brute, or, at least, -of doing him some severe injury, if I got the chance. I saw him go out, -on foot, across the meadows for a walk. I lost sight of him behind the -shrubbery, so I thought I would hide among the farm-buildings until he -came back. I found the barn door unlocked, so I hid myself there; and -presently you came in, as you know. I can’t tell you how I felt. At -first it made me giddy to be near you; it seemed as if my brain would -burst, as if I must cry aloud or shout for the very joy of looking into -your eyes. When your hand touched mine--it was when you put out your -hand to take the lantern, I think--I felt a joy so keen, that it was -almost like the pain of a stab. When I put my hand over your mouth so -that you should not scream, it was almost more than I could do not to -kiss you, as I do now.” - -He pressed his lips again and again to hers with a passionate vehemence -which almost frightened Chris, accustomed as she was to the utmost -gentleness on his part. She tried to draw herself out of his arms, -but with a sudden change from passion to wistful tenderness, he partly -released her, and drew her hands against his breast with a melancholy -smile. - -“I am a savage!” he exclaimed. “I have frightened you. Let me at least -hold your hands; I will not hurt them. I will hold them like this!” - -He relaxed the grasp in which he had held her fingers, and she let her -hands lie lightly in his as he went on: - -“You must civilise me. And don’t be afraid. The block is very rough, -but your skill is very great.” - -As he bent his head to kiss her hands very gently, Chris felt that he -was trembling. - -“I want to ask you something,” said Chris timidly. “Those cries, those -strange cries you gave--that evening in the barn! And your strange -silence, too! I don’t understand. Why didn’t you speak to me!” - -“I was stone deaf, you know; I had been so ever since I was a small -child, when I had scarlet fever badly. It left me absolutely without -hearing, so that I could not hear the sound of my own voice.” - -“Yes, yes, but you could speak?” - -“I had learnt to talk when I was a child, but under the treatment of -the brute who calls himself my guardian, I had forgotten how. I had got -into the way of making cries and noises like a person deaf and dumb -from birth.” - -“But you could speak, for you spoke to me on Christmas Day?” - -“Yes; but that is a long story. It was Stelfox who found out, four or -five years ago, that I was neither dumb nor insane, and with great -patience he taught me what I had almost forgotten, how to speak again. -But I did not dare to speak to you, because, as I told you, I could not -hear myself; I had only spoken to Stelfox for years; I distrusted my -own powers. When I made the strange cries which frightened you, I was -not conscious of it myself. You see, it is true that I am a savage.” - -Chris, seeing that the avowals he had been making caused him pain and -bitter mortification, took his hands, and raising them to her face, -laid them tenderly against her cheek. - -“That is a trouble you will have no more,” she said, softly. “And you -can hear now, can you not?” - -“I can hear fairly well on one side now,” he answered. “I can hear -some days better than others. I am under treatment by one of the great -London aurists. He says that if I had been brought to him sooner he -could have cured me completely; as it is, the hearing in the right ear -is completely gone, and in the left it is permanently impaired.” - -Chris began to sob, and Dick had to comfort her. - -“Don’t, don’t cry, my darling; I shall make you as melancholy as myself -if I don’t take care--you, who used to be all life and brightness.” - -“I haven’t been very lively since you went away,” answered Chris. “I -have been very ill. I thought you were de--ead!” And she shuddered. “I -thought I saw you carried out--dead--over the grass--hanging over a -man’s shoulder!” - -“I was carried over a man’s shoulder, I believe, only I wasn’t dead,” -answered Dick simply. “It was Stelfox’s doing.” - -Chris looked puzzled. - -“It was in the evening of the day that they found out I had been -writing to you,” said she. “Had that anything to do with it?” - -Dick listened with interest. - -“Everything, I should think,” he answered drily. “Stelfox’s account -is, that he found me lying on the sofa insensible, when he came in to -clear away the dessert on that evening. He examined the decanters on -the table, and finding that I had drunk very little wine, came to the -conclusion that what little I had taken had been tampered with. He -succeeded in rousing me, but left me for the night in such a drowsy -condition that he came back again after I was in bed, to find out if I -was all right. His suspicions were then aroused by finding that someone -had been in the room, so he woke me with difficulty, told me to dress, -and made me go downstairs.” - -“Ah!” interrupted Chris quickly, “that was what I heard, what I almost -saw. Well, what then?” - -Dick went on: - -“By the time we got downstairs I had grown so drowsy that when he -left me for a minute I tumbled off to sleep again. He had no idea, he -said, at that time of going further with me than the garden, where he -thought the fresh air would revive me, while he went upstairs again to -make investigations. But my continued drowsiness alarmed him so much -that he thought it best to take me first at once into the open air. -When we had got outside, however, he found that I was again in a state -of stupor, so he lifted me up and carried me bodily across the garden -towards the beach, where he thought that he could revive me effectually -by splashing the sea-water in my face. In the meantime he saw smoke and -flames coming from the east wing, and at once made up his mind that I -could not go back. He left me, therefore, having brought me to myself, -while he borrowed a horse and cart from a man he knew; driving slowly, -and resting frequently, so as to spin out the time, we went towards -Ashford, where we arrived in plenty of time for him to put me into the -first morning train for London. He telegraphed to a brother of his to -meet me, and he returned himself to Wyngham in time to escape awkward -questions; for in the commotion caused by the fire he had not been -missed.” - -“I don’t understand Stelfox,” said Chris, doubtfully. “I have never -been able to make out whether he was a good man who was sorry for you, -and was kind to you, or a bad one who found it to his interest to serve -Mr. Bradfield in his wicked treatment of you.” - -“You’d better ask him,” said Dick, smiling. “But he says he doesn’t -know himself. Anyhow, he’s been a good friend to me. There is no piece -of good fortune, from my recovery of speech down to my escape, that I -do not owe to him. So when he tells me not to look too closely into his -motives, I take care to humour him.” - -“But I should like to understand,” persisted Chris. “He could have let -you out long ago if he had liked then?” - -“He says it would not have paid either him nor me. He wanted me to -remain here until he had succeeded in finding out who I was, and what -that rascal Bradfield’s motive was in keeping me shut up. But he hasn’t -been able to find out yet, and beyond the fact that I now know my -surname, a piece of information which I owe to you, I am as much in the -dark as I was when he first shut me up.” - -Chris mused for a few minutes without speaking. Then she said, half to -herself: - -“I wonder whether Mr. Marrable could help us?” Then in a different -tone, “Won’t you see Mr. Bradfield? Won’t you ask him for an -explanation? He has been kind to mamma and me. I don’t want to think he -is so wicked as to have known that you were sane! And yet----” - -She thought of the drugged wine, of the fire, and she shuddered. - -Dick interrupted her. - -“I have seen him,” he said, shortly. “I have asked for an explanation. -But he will give none, at least none to satisfy me.” - -“And you are going to rest satisfied _not_ to be satisfied?” cried -Chris, almost with indignation. - -“I don’t know what I shall do. At present I am going back to town. -I had some work to do here.” He touched the little sketch which she -still held in her hand. “My pastime in the days of captivity has become -something more than a pastime now. I had undertaken to make a series of -sketches of the sea and shore down here for a dealer----” - -“Yes, yes, I know. I found that out,” said Chris, blushing at his look -of tender surprise. - -He kissed her again as he went on: - -“But I have found that I must see my cunning old Stelfox first, and -tell him what Bradfield has said. Knowing the man better than I do, -he may understand better than I Bradfield’s motive for behaving -generously.” - -“Behaving generously?” echoed Chris, interrogatively. - -“Yes, he will pay my passage out to Melbourne to make enquiries about -some property which he believes has been left to me.” - -“Then don’t go,” cried Chris, impulsively. “You have had no reason for -trusting him before; why should you trust him now?” - -Dick hesitated. - -“It does seem rather a slender chance of fortune, doesn’t it?” he said -at last. “But it’s the only one I have. Remember, I not only have to -live, but I want to keep a wife too.” She bent her head, but he heard a -little sigh which had no sorrow in it. “Now I can just keep myself by -my sketches; I can do nothing else, and I shouldn’t like to see you in -anything but pretty frocks.” - -“I believe,” said Chris, solemnly, jumping to a conclusion, “that Mr. -Bradfield has got some money belonging to you, for they say that your -father was a rich man.” - -Dick looked thoughtful, but not hopeful. Little opportunity as he had -had of knowing the world, he guessed that it would require superhuman -energy to set the law in motion to make a rich man disgorge for the -benefit of a poor one. For he was too ignorant to know that he could -attack Capital in the person of Mr. Bradfield, by invoking the great -god Labour. It did not occur to him, therefore, that a smart solicitor -could have made a fortune both for himself and his client by bringing -an action against John Bradfield, the rich man who had oppressed the -poor one. - -“I couldn’t prove it, even if it were true. And I know nothing of the -kind,” said he. - -Then Chris had another inspiration. - -“You ought to consult a lawyer,” said she promptly. - -The suggestion was so obviously a good one, that Dick agreed to this. -And then their talk began to drift from the realms of fact to the -pleasanter paths of feeling and fancy, and was carried on chiefly in -whispers, and in sentences which had no beginnings and no endings. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV. - -MASTER OF THE SITUATION. - - -While John Bradfield still sat in his study, turning over the papers -from a locked drawer in his desk, tearing up some, and carefully -putting aside others, he heard again the creaking of the gate, and -looking out, saw, in the dusk which had now fallen, a figure which -seemed familiar to him. It disappeared at once by the lodge, and Mr. -Bradfield, after waiting a few minutes in vain watching for its return, -rang the bell, and asked whether anyone had come in by the back way -during the past few minutes. The servant said he thought not, but he -would inquire; and he returned a few moments later to say that no one -had come in. - -Mr. Bradfield did not feel satisfied, although he gave no sign of his -dissatisfaction. - -“I could have sworn it was Stelfox!” said he to himself, as he again -looked out of the window. - -This time he saw another figure, whom there was no mistaking. The -blood mounted to his head as he saw that it was Chris Abercarne, who -was walking quickly back into the house. He was hard pressed for time, -working among the papers with something of the feeling of a fox that -burrows in the ground when the hounds are within hearing, but he felt -that he must spare a moment to speak to her. - -Chris was startled by the change which had come upon him since he drove -her from the station. She knew of his interview with Dick, and, seen -by the light of that knowledge, his face betrayed more than he could -guess. The frown on it was not one of anger; it was the harassed, -worried frown of a hunted man. And her indignation against him changed -in a moment to pity; her face softened. - -“You have been talking to--Richard, I suppose?” said he shortly, almost -rudely, pronouncing the name with an effort. - -“Yes,” answered Chris gently. - -“You’re in love with him, or fancy you are, of course?” pursued he -harshly. - -Chris admitted that too. - -“And you think I’ve ill-treated him, no doubt?” - -The young girl’s face changed suddenly. She looked so sad, so wistful, -that he was touched. - -“I--I hope not; oh, I hope not!” - -“What do you mean?” - -“I mean that you have been so kind to my mother and me, that--that----” - -“Well, that what?” said he, not looking at her, and trying to speak as -gruffly as ever. - -“That I shouldn’t like to think----” - -She paused again, and there was silence on both sides for a minute -or two. Chris was looking with wide eyes at the back of his head, -wondering with all her might whether it were possible for a man, a real -man, one, too, by no means without the milk of human kindness as far as -most people were concerned, to be guilty of the crimes which seemed to -have been brought home to him. - -John Bradfield, for his part, had been flung, all in a moment, into a -sentimental mood. He had truly loved this girl, in his own way, which -was not, perhaps, the highest way, but still in a manner not to be -altogether despised, except by a woman who was entirely absorbed in -love for somebody else. Now he had got to lose her altogether; to lose -even that faint hope of holding her some day in his arms, which he had -nursed side by side with some particularly cruel and selfish designs -upon her favoured lover. For a moment he felt as if he must break down -in some sort of confession, perhaps some sort of appeal. Then the -sterner stuff in him hardened, and saying only, “Go along with you,” he -made way for her to pass him on her way upstairs. - -Then with one look after her, one sigh, he dismissed her absolutely -from his mind, and gave himself up to the serious dangers of the -moment, and the way to escape them. For he did not deceive himself; -he knew that the cordon was closing round him, that before long the -outposts would close in, and the chain of evidence, each link of which -was now in the possession of a different person, would be complete -against him. It only wanted the garrulous and untrustworthy Marrable to -be questioned by either Stelfox, or Richard, or even Chris, for it to -become known that the fortune that he, Bradfield, had been enjoying, -was that left by Gilbert Wryde to him in trust for Richard, Gilbert’s -son. - -If this had been all the story, John Bradfield might have got off -lightly. But the comparing of notes would lead not only to the -discovery of the fraud he had practised, but of the infamous means -by which he had maintained it. Then there was that little matter of -Richard’s disappearance at the time of the fire. What did Stelfox -know? Bradfield, who had mistrusted the man for some time, but who had -doubted the advisability of trying to “square” him, now wished that he -had done so. However, it was too late to spend the time in regrets, and -Mr. Bradfield went straight back to his study, and drawing down the -blinds and locking the doors, proceeded to unlock a safe which had been -built into the wall in one corner of the room. - -As he took out, from some tin boxes inside, several bundles of papers, -he smiled to himself with considerable malicious satisfaction. He -took the papers to his desk, brought from a cupboard a strong leather -travelling-bag, and with just a loving glance at the papers, which -showed that he was too familiar with their exact contents to do more, -he thrust them into the bottom of the bag, which he then carefully -locked, putting the key in his pocket. - -While enjoying to the full the pleasures of his quiet country life, and -of his beautiful mansion, the astute Northerner had never lost sight -of the fact that he might not be able to enjoy them for ever. He had -therefore made a provision against discovery, by opening an account, to -the extent of some thousands in each case, with several banks on the -Continent, and in that Paradise of unrepentant thieves, South America. -As long, therefore, as he could keep out of the hands of the police, it -would go hard with him if he found himself without the sinews of war. -The papers in the precious bag, which for the last few weeks he had -kept always near at hand, consisted of securities easily realisable, -and of the means of establishing his identity with the person who had -opened the banking accounts above mentioned. - -With the bag in his hand, John Bradfield unlocked and opened his study -door softly, looked out, and listened. The person he most feared was -Stelfox, in whom he recognised a mind as astute as his own; and he -had a strong suspicion, in spite of the footman’s assurance to the -contrary, that Stelfox had, within the last hour, secretly entered the -house. John Bradfield felt that he must not only escape, but that he -must escape without Stelfox’s knowledge. - -He went softly upstairs, the thick carpets altogether deadening the -sound of his footsteps, reached his bedroom, and packed in a Gladstone -bag such things as were strictly necessary for a sudden journey--a -change of clothes, some linen, the book he was reading. He was also -careful to put in his favourite opera-glasses, being determined to take -his journey not like a fugitive, but like a man of pleasure. - -Then he left his bedroom as quietly and watchfully as he had -entered it, and going to the door of Marrable’s room, listened for -a few moments before going downstairs. He had not stood there for -half-a-dozen seconds before the expression of his face changed from one -of attention to one of mingled excitement and delight. - -For Marrable, whom he had locked in asleep, was now awake, and -talking--talking in his wandering and foolish manner, but with unusual -emphasis and excitement. - -And the answering voice was Stelfox’s. - -Here was a bit of luck indeed. The cunning Stelfox had found his way -to the very person who could give him all the information he wanted, -and was now doubtless in the act of extracting it from his talkative -companion. And when he unlocked the door of Marrable’s room, and went -in, he had left the key outside. - -Mr. Bradfield softly turned the key in the lock. Then, going quickly to -his workshop, which was only a few yards away, he returned with a pair -of nippers, and mounting on a chair, he neatly snipped the bell-wire in -two. - -“Now,” said he to himself, “when they find they’re locked in, they will -ring the bell, and nobody will come. And that door will stand a good -many kicks.” - -He looked at his watch as he ran quickly downstairs, and slipped out of -the house without meeting anybody. - -“I can get a cab at the stand,” thought he. “I shall just have time -to catch the train. I shall book to London, but I shall get out at -Ashford, and go to Queensboro’, and on to Flushing. That’s just the -last thing I should be expected to do. So that if Stelfox has been fool -enough to chum up with the police on his lunatic’s behalf, I can give -them leg-bail easily.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV. - -STELFOX IS RETICENT NO LONGER. - - -Mr. Bradfield awoke, on the morning after his abrupt departure from -Wyngham, with a start of surprise at finding himself in a strange place. - -He had been troubled by no pangs of a guilty conscience, not even by -fears of an imaginary pursuer. Accusations might be made against him -certainly, some of which could be supported by evidence which might -weigh heavily with a judge and jury. But the real foundation of his -misdeeds was one so astounding, requiring so much digging and delving -before a good case could be made out, that he might have remained -securely at Wyngham for months to come, might almost indeed have defied -Dick and the law to do their worst, if it had not been for Stelfox. - -What Stelfox knew his late master was not quite sure; but the man’s -respectful reticence during long years, during which his suspicions of -foul play had grown into certainties, had so strongly impressed the -master, that Mr. Bradfield had never felt safe since Stelfox had left -his service. - -So that Mr. Bradfield, for whom Wyngham House and its treasures -had lost the charm of novelty, had thought it safest, as well as -pleasantest, to decamp, leaving only the bare bones of his stolen -property to be wrangled over in litigation. - -What had woke him he did not know. He seemed to have jumped from the -deepest, sweetest slumber into broad wakefulness. He looked out at the -sky, which he could just see between the white dimity curtains of the -window, and he saw a bright little line of light which showed him that -the summer sun was already high in the heavens. He looked at the foot -of the bed, and saw, instead of the brass and beaten iron-work of his -own magnificent bedstead, the polished mahogany of the old-fashioned -four-poster. Then he remembered where he was, heaved a sigh of -satisfaction at having left the anxieties of Wyngham behind him, and -turned over in bed for another doze. - -Then he saw what it was that had woke him. Standing beside his bedside, -as respectfully as ever, was Stelfox. Then Mr. Bradfield felt that the -way of the transgressor is indeed hard. He sat up in bed, and tried to -look merely surprised. - -“Hallo, Stelfox, is that you?” he said, boisterously. - -“Yes, sir, it is I,” answered Stelfox, who was always correct. - -“Well, and what are you doing here? Nothing happened, I hope?” - -He was not yet quite warmed to the world and its doings, so, although -he was undoubtedly annoyed and alarmed by the appearance of his late -servant, he did not quite appreciate the full significance of this -singular intrusion. - -“Well, sir, I can’t exactly say that nothing has happened,” said -Stelfox, still looking down. “I came down from London to Wyngham -yesterday afternoon, sir, to see you. But I saw Mr. Marrable instead, -sir.” - -All this was said quite simply. But when his speech was finished, -Stelfox came to a sudden stop--a nasty, significant stop. - -“Mr. Marrable! Oh, yes,” said Mr. Bradfield, assuming more cheerfulness -of speech as his thoughts lost it. - -“He told me, sir, about the will made by Mr. Gilbert Wryde.” - -“Well, what has that to do with me?” - -“Well, sir, it has a good deal to do with you now that Mr. Richard is -of age and proved to be sane, I think. For, of course, he ought to come -into his property.” - -There was a pause. For the thousand and first time Mr. Bradfield was -asking himself whether this was a man to be bribed. He decided that at -this stage of affairs the experiment must be tried. - -“Look here, Stelfox,” said he, “you’re an honest man, and you want to -see justice done to everybody, I’m sure.” - -“I do, sir,” said Stelfox, modestly. - -“And, in consideration of the fact that I’ve not been a bad master to -you, or an ungenerous one for ten years, you would like, I am sure, to -see justice done to me, too?” - -“I should, sir,” answered Stelfox readily, but in a manner which left -Mr. Bradfield to doubt whether the inflection of his voice was not -“nasty.” - -“Well, then,” pursued Mr. Bradfield, “see. Mr. Wryde, Master Richard’s -father, left me a large sum--you see I don’t deny it was a large -sum--in trust for his idiot son.” - -But here Stelfox at last looked up. - -“_Idiot_ son, sir!” he interrupted, promptly. “But Mr. Marrable assures -me that, so far from being an idiot, Master Richard was considered a -very bright child, even after the scarlet fever had made him deaf.” - -“Mr. Marrable assures you! But what’s Mr. Marrable? An idiot himself!” -interrupted Mr. Bradfield, impatiently. - -“And,” went on Stelfox, steadily, not heeding the interruption, “he -says he knows it was old Mr. Wryde’s intention to take or send his -little son to England, as it was thought his hearing could be restored. -Indeed, sir,” pursued he, with uncanny smoothness, “Mr. Richard has -recovered his hearing in a wonderful manner since he has been in -London, and under the care of a specialist, sir.” - -Here Mr. Bradfield broke out with sudden sharpness: - -“Oh, oh! so he’s been with you in London, has he?” - -His tone was by this time so frankly inimical, that Stelfox answered -boldly: - -“Why, yes, sir; it was natural for him to stay with the only friend he -had.” - -“Then you helped him to get away, I suppose?” - -“Yes, sir, after I discovered the drugged wine. I’ve kept it, sir; kept -the decanters just as they were left that night. I thought they might -be wanted, perhaps, especially after the fire, sir.” - -This was frankness indeed. Mr. Bradfield changed colour. - -“Do you mean to insinuate that I wanted to make away with the fellow?” -he asked, abruptly. - -“I only mean, sir, that I thought what I could prove about the -decanters that night, and what Miss Abercarne could prove about having -seen you come out of the east wing just before the fire, and what Mr. -Marrable could prove about old Mr. Wryde’s intentions, and what the -will itself could prove about the way you carried them out--I thought, -I say, sir, that all these things together might form a very good case, -and that with a clever lawyer at his back he might hope to recover his -property.” - -As each fresh charge was mentioned, John Bradfield’s frown grew deeper, -and the lines about his mouth grew harder and more unyielding. At the -end he turned his head, and sought the man’s eye steadily. And the man -at last looked steadily at him. - -“And what, if it is not too straightforward a question, what share were -you to have in the final distribution?” - -“Well, sir,” answered the man straightforwardly, and in exactly the -same tone as before, “I may say that I expected not to be forgotten.” - -“Ah, ah!” chuckled Mr. Bradfield, triumphantly. “I thought not. Now -we’re coming to it. Now I’m going abroad, as you see. I don’t admit the -truth of a single one of these accusations, not a single one, mind. But -I see you could make out a very plausible tale, for you’re a clever -fellow, Stelfox, and I see I could be worried to death and half ruined -besides, before the thing was settled. So look here: tell me what you -want to keep your d----d mouth shut?” - -Stelfox went on quite placidly, as if the manner in which the command -was given had been rather flattering than otherwise: - -“I want you, sir, to do the right thing by Master Richard. I am sure, -sir, begging your pardon for having to say such a thing, that he will -not be too particular in the matter of looking into past accounts.” - -But Mr. Bradfield’s not too sweet temper had been rising, and at these -words he gave it vent. - -“D----n your impudence!” roared he, glaring at the man with so much -ferocity that even the calm Stelfox moved a step nearer to the foot of -the bed. “Do you think I’m going to be mastered by you, or that escaped -whelp? No. D----n you both for a couple of accomplices who want to rob -me. You can go to the d----l both of you, and I’ll be d----d if either -of you shall get a penny out of me. Get out of my sight, or I’ll have -the landlord prosecuted for allowing you to come in!” - -Rather to his surprise, Stelfox withdrew at once in exactly the -same manner as if he had only come in to bring the gentleman’s -shaving-water. Mr. Bradfield, breathing heavily from rage and -excitement, got up, turned the key in the lock, and began to dress. - -He was in a passion still, so indignant with Stelfox for refusing to -be bribed that he quite felt that he was an injured person. He told -himself, however, with a chuckle, when he had got a little cooler, that -neither Stelfox nor anybody else could prevent his crossing to Flushing -by the next boat, and getting out of jurisdiction before matters had -got far enough for a warrant to be issued for him. At the same time -there was just a little undercurrent of anxiety in his mind, the result -of the extreme promptitude with which the cunning Stelfox had traced -him out, and the astuteness with which he had framed an excuse to -induce the attendants at the hotel to show him up to the room of the -gentleman he asked for. - -“But how on earth did he get in?” Mr. Bradfield asked himself, -remembering that he had locked his door before going to bed. On -examination, however, the lock proved to have been defective, so that -Stelfox had found his entry easy. - -By this time Mr. Bradfield was fully dressed, and he turned to the head -of the bed where, under the damask curtain, he had hidden his precious -bag of securities on the previous night. - -The bag was no longer there. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI. - -VICTORY. - - -Stupefaction, terrible, absolute, fell for one moment upon Mr. -Bradfield. He thought not of common thieves; it was borne in upon -him at once, with irresistible force, that the theft was the work -of Stelfox. Ringing the bell violently, and not waiting for it to -be answered, he ran downstairs, telling the waiters, the boots, and -everyone he met to “Stop that man!” - -At first they did not take in the sense of this injunction, but when -they did, they explained that the man, who had represented himself to -be Mr. Bradfield’s servant, had just caught the train back to Wyngham. -For it appeared that Stelfox had made no secret either of his own name, -or of his master’s, or of his destination. - -“My bag! My b--b--bag,” stammered Mr. Bradfield. “He’s a thief! he’s -stolen it.” - -At once a little group collected round the excited man, and the -proprietor of the hotel coming forward, at once ordered the boots to -run to the station and telegraph a description of the man, so that he -might be stopped. For, indeed, more than one person remembered that he -had gone upstairs without a bag, and returned carrying one. - -But this order was scarcely given when Mr. Bradfield, turning suddenly -more ghastly white than before, changed his mind and his tactics. - -“No, no,” stammered he. “Don’t do that; wait a bit.” - -At the same moment, a maid came running out of the bar with a note, -which, she said, had been left for the gentleman by the man who called -himself his servant. - -Mr. Bradfield, opening the envelope with clammy fingers, read the -following words: - - - “SIR,--I beg respectfully to say that I have taken your bag back - to Wyngham House for you, as I am sure that you will want it when - you return, as I hope you will do in the course of the day. I can - undertake to say that a satisfactory settlement will be arrived - at, if you should think proper to meet Mr. Richard Wryde and his - lawyer, who will be there to meet you.--I am, sir, your obedient - servant, - - “JAMES STELFOX.” - - -Mr. Bradfield’s head swam. The events, which he had been leading so -beautifully up to this moment, had turned upon him, overwhelmed him, -and were now carrying him away in their rush. A few moments’ reflection -convinced him that he must now go with the tide. - -While still looking at the note he recovered himself, and explaining -hurriedly that he had made a mistake, and that it was all right, he -paid his bill, walked to the station, and inquired the time of the -next train to Wyngham. - -Mr. Bradfield had been beaten at his own game of “bluff.” For -undoubtedly, as he had said to Stelfox, the case against him, strong -though it was, would have taken time and money in abundance to prove. -In the meanwhile, if he had not lost nerve at the last, he could have -turned the tables on Stelfox by accusing that astute person of stealing -his bag. - -But the contents of that bag were so incriminating, that he decided -that any arrangement would now be better than coming into court. - -It was rather startling, however, for the poor man to find, on -alighting at Wyngham Station, the persistent and wily Stelfox waiting -on the platform to meet him. Of course, the new master saluted the old -master as respectfully as ever. - -“I thought you would be coming by this train, sir,” said he, “so I -took the liberty of telling Williams to bring the phaeton round. It’s -waiting outside, sir.” - -Mr. Bradfield was not grateful for this attention. He nodded, strode -sullenly through the station, and drove home at a rapid pace. He -wanted to get the whole business over as speedily as possible. Stelfox -followed in a cab. - -Wyngham House looked curiously different in his eyes from the mansion -he had left, as he then supposed, for ever, on the previous night. And -yet nothing about it was changed; it was the eye which looked upon it -which had undergone a transformation. The footman who let him in knew -something, perhaps, but he was careful to look as if he did not, this -being an art in which all well-bred servants are proficient. But the -man’s first words sent a shudder down John Bradfield’s back. - -“Mr. Wryde is in the drawing-room, sir.” - -The change of name spoke volumes to begin with. “Mr. Richard” was now -“Mr. Wryde.” - -John went straight to the drawing-room, and walked in with a sullen -face. His day was over, but he could “die game.” He found not only -his late ward, but Mrs. Abercarne, her daughter, and a gentleman of -unmistakably legal aspect. There was a little flutter on his entrance, -but he at once perceived matters were to be made as pleasant for him as -the circumstances allowed. Thus, Richard came forward, and although he -did not shake hands with him, he introduced Mr. Reynolds, “of the firm -of Reynolds and Parkinson,” in a tone less cold, less hostile than that -he had assumed on the preceding day. - -And yet in the meantime Richard had become aware, through Marrable, -who, on the announcement of Bradfield’s arrival, had tried to hide -himself behind the window-curtains, of the monstrous breach of trust -by which John Bradfield the pauper had become John Bradfield the -millionaire, at his expense. The reason for this change in demeanour -was simple enough; the human mind admires vastness, it is easily -impressed, nay, abashed by undertakings carried on with magnificence, -with completeness. If a man steals our watch, or a purse containing -sixpence, we seize him, and hold him until a policeman comes up; if he -cheats us out of a thousand pounds by inducing us to take shares in -a worthless company, we proceed against him respectfully by lawsuit, -which may end in our discomfiture instead of his. So that Richard, -overwhelmed by the greatness of the crime, felt almost more bewildered -than indignant in the presence of the criminal. - -John Bradfield had the wit to recognise this, and it cleared the way to -an understanding. He proceeded to assure both the lawyer and his client -that he had only held Gilbert Wryde’s money in trust, and had used it -in the belief that Richard was insane. Now, finding that he had been -mistaken, he was delighted to hand over to the young man the fortune of -which he had been trustee, and should never cease to regret the unhappy -error by which Richard had been kept out of his property so long. - -All this both the lawyer and his client affected to hear and believe -without question, so that matters went on quite amiably and smoothly, -and the transfer of the property from the usurper to the owner was -quietly arranged when the ladies and Marrable, all of whom had greeted -John with much constraint, had left the three gentlemen by themselves. - -“May I ask, Mr. Bradfield,” asked Dick, during a pause for the lawyer -to make some notes of the arrangement proposed, “whether your own -private fortune is large enough to enable you to live in the style -you’ve been accustomed to? Or have you only kept up this large -establishment on my account?” - -He had found this delicate question somewhat difficult to frame, and -he had not quite succeeded in avoiding a suspicion of sarcasm. But Mr. -Bradfield answered at once that his private fortune was not adequate to -stand such a strain. - -“You will oblige me, then,” went on Dick, with very cold courtesy, -“by arranging with Mr. Reynolds the income which you would wish to -have paid to you”--he paused a little before he went on with some -emphasis--“in consideration, not of your past, but of your present -services.” - -John Bradfield winced; but he submitted like a lamb to be awarded -a handsome pension in consideration of the fact that he had had to -disgorge the remains of the property he had stolen. - -As soon as they decently could, both Mr. Reynolds and Richard left him. -When they were in the hall, lawyer and client looked at each other. - -“Well,” said Mr. Reynolds, as he prepared to leave the house in company -with Dick, “I’ve met some rogues in my time, but----” - -“I prefer to think,” said Dick, gravely, “that he has tried so long to -believe that I was insane that the forced belief has injured his own -brain.” - -“Very kind of you to put it like that. You forgive him then?” - -The answer came, short and sharp: - -“No. You can’t forgive the man who has robbed you of seventeen years -of life, and youth, and hope. If I had forgiven him, I should not have -insulted the cur by offering him a pension.” - -The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. - -“You don’t understand the world, Mr. Wryde. Nobody minds such an insult -as that.” - -“It’s a satisfaction to me, at all events,” answered Richard, simply. - -But he would not have been so magnanimous if he had not known that -Chris was waiting to meet him in the meadow by the barn. - -Later in the day Mr. Bradfield came across Stelfox, who was enjoying -the victory he had been the means of bringing about too greatly to -leave the scene of it with undue haste. His late master, who had -recovered his spirits a little, addressed him, with some abruptness, in -the following manner: - -“Stelfox, you’re a scoundrel.” - -“Thank you, sir,” answered the man as quietly as ever. “If I hadn’t -been a bit of a rogue myself,” he went on thoughtfully, “perhaps, sir, -I shouldn’t have been so successful in bringing another rogue to book.” - -For one moment Mr. Bradfield seemed disposed to kick him, but he -refrained, and laughed instead, with some constraint, however. The -remark had to be treated as a joke, though it could not be made to pass -for a palatable one. - -“Now, why,” pursued he, with an appearance of sincere regret, “did you -not either let me know that you believed Mr. Richard to be recovering, -or else let him escape much sooner than you did?” - -“Well, sir,” he answered, not thinking it necessary to notice the -first question, and proceeding straight to the consideration of the -second, “when I first had my suspicions, the poor young gentleman had -grown into such a savage that, if I had let him out, people would have -believed that he _was_ insane. I had to do my best to fit him for the -world before I let him out into it. And I shouldn’t have succeeded so -well as I did but for Miss Abercarne’s coming. That gave him just the -stimulus he wanted, and after that it was easy to do what I liked with -him. Why, sir, he’d forgotten how to speak when I first took him in -hand, and I had to teach him as well as I could by the movement of the -lips first, until bit by bit it came back to him.” - -John Bradfield whistled softly. - -“Then I d----d well wish you’d left it alone!” he murmured softly, as -he walked away. - -There was consternation among the Graham-Shutes when the evil rumour -reached their ears that “dear cousin John” had got into trouble of -some sort which involved heavy pecuniary loss, and the breaking up the -establishment at Wyngham House. It came at such an awkward moment, too, -just when Mrs. Graham-Shute had contemplated borrowing the use of the -grounds for a garden-party which was to break the record of all her -previous entertainments. - -So, in despair, she had to borrow the common garden in one of the -little squares in the town to give an open-air reception, which, at -least, had the merit of attracting a great deal of attention. It -was, indeed, the “sensation of the season” among the little boys -and girls and the fisher-lads and hawkers of the population, who -assembled in crowds, climbing up the railings from the outside, and -occasionally shying well-directed pebbles right into the strawberries -and cream which the guests were enjoying as well as they could in the -circumstances. So that Mrs. Graham-Shute’s usual neglect to provide -sufficient amusement for her guests was amply compensated for by the -necessity of perpetual rushes on the part of the gentlemen of the party -to the railings, to disperse the jibing hordes from the courts and -alleys of the town. - -One other incident gave an unusual zest to the proceedings; this was -the appearance of Chris Abercarne, no longer in the character of the -“housekeeper’s little girl,” but as the _fiancée_ of a gentleman of -property who now made his first appearance in Wyngham society as “Mr. -Bradfield’s ward.” - -Dick’s appearance threw Lilith into a state of the greatest excitement. - -“Why, Chris,” she took the earliest opportunity of whispering to Miss -Abercarne, “it’s my handsome stranger! How awfully, _awfully_ mean of -you not to tell me! I’ve been wasting my time dreaming about him for -the last six months!” - -But other things less pleasant to hear were said about the young fellow -with the prematurely grey hair, and the deep lines of sadness in his -face. People whispered of “a far-away look in his eyes,” and asked each -other what the story was about the man who had been shut up in the east -wing at Wyngham House. And they wondered why Mr. Bradfield had left so -suddenly for the Continent, and whether it was true that Wyngham House -was to be sold. - -But none of these rumours troubled Chris or her future husband, whose -scarcely concealed worship of each other caused many a kindly smile. -Chris was quite astonished at the number of friends she had, as the -quality and quantity of wedding presents that poured in proved, for -everybody’s opinion of the perfect fool had gone up when everybody -heard that she was going to marry a man with thirty thousand a year. - -A much smarter wedding than that of Richard Wryde and Chris Abercarne -took place about the same time as theirs. It was that of James Stelfox -with a young woman to whom he had long been attached, and who was -enabled, through the generosity of Richard, to indulge her heart’s -highest ambition, and to be married in a white satin train six -yards long, with a veil of corresponding proportions. She had eight -bridesmaids, who all wore mauve satin frocks and primrose-coloured -hats, and the portrait of the bride and an account of the ceremony -appeared in _The Woman’s World of Fashion_. - -Richard Wryde had set his late servant up as the proprietor of a -brand-new hotel, for he persisted in being passionately grateful to the -man who had been the means of saving his reason and his life, in spite -of Stelfox’s own gentle remonstrances. - -“If you’ll only believe me, sir,” he would say earnestly, “it was just -a toss up whether I took your part or Mr. Bradfield’s. For you were -that savage when it first occurred to me to take you in hand, that I -didn’t know how it would turn out myself. It was just a lucky ‘spec’ on -my part, sir.” - -But Dick will not believe this, neither will Chris. They are both -rather old-fashioned, unworldly creatures, tinged with a simplicity -which comes to him through his long confinement, and to her through -sympathy with him, and they are a little out of touch with the cynical -spirit of the times. - -They live quietly in the lake district, for Richard Wryde, through his -long deafness, cannot hear a louder noise than that of his wife singing -or playing the piano, or the splash of the water of the lake, or the -cries of their children at play. - - -THE END. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A PERFECT FOOL *** - -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. 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