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diff --git a/old/66617-0.txt b/old/66617-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f16f8b4..0000000 --- a/old/66617-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11316 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Lord Alistair's Rebellion, by Allen -Upward - -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: Lord Alistair's Rebellion - -Author: Allen Upward - -Release Date: October 26, 2021 [eBook #66617] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by Cornell - University Digital Collections) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORD ALISTAIR'S -REBELLION *** - - - - - -LORD ALISTAIR’S REBELLION - - - - - LORD ALISTAIR’S - REBELLION - - BY - ALLEN UPWARD - - In the Pot it is called Scum - In the Sea it is called Foam: - In the Sky it is called Light. - - [Illustration] - - MITCHELL KENNERLEY - NEW YORK MCMX - - - - - _Copyright 1910 by - Mitchell Kennerley_ - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I WESTMINSTER BRIDGE 9 - - II BIOGRAPHICAL 23 - - III THE PRODIGAL SON 45 - - IV A FAMILY COUNCIL 58 - - V BEERS COOPERAGE 70 - - VI THE WHOLE DUTY OF WOMAN 94 - - VII THE DECADENTS 109 - - VIII A LEGITIMIST DEMONSTRATION 132 - - IX MOLLY FINUCANE AT HOME 158 - - X A SCIENTIFIC OPINION 175 - - XI THE PRETENDER 197 - - XII THE POWERS THAT BE 217 - - XIII ROYAL PATRONAGE 237 - - XIV VIRTUE TRIUMPHANT 253 - - XV MAGIC CASEMENTS 264 - - XVI NEW LAMPS FOR OLD 274 - - XVII A SPOKE IN THE WHEEL 290 - - XVIII THE LAST WORD OF SCIENCE 304 - - XIX POET’S CORNER 316 - - XX LADY ALISTAIR 328 - - XXI THE HOUSE OF CATILINE 346 - - XXII HIGH TREASON 361 - - XXIII A PERSONAL EXPLANATION 374 - - AFTERWARDS 393 - - - - -LORD ALISTAIR’S REBELLION - - - - -CHAPTER I - -WESTMINSTER BRIDGE - - -NIGHT clad the imperial city in a black robe stitched with fire. - -The misty river rolled in from the sea through its illuminated bridges -with the subdued swish of some great snake writhing its way through -hoops of gold. - -Out in the fog-haunted region between the bridges the movement of the -red and green-eyed steam-tugs, clutching invisible barges and dragging -them away into the darkness, seemed like a shadow-show in which -grotesque demons were hunting the souls of men. - -The two banks of the river offered a contrast full of significance. - -Along the left bank white lamps that slit the dusk with the hard, -bright glare of diamonds were strung like beads at measured spaces -apart. A broad, smooth-paven road rattled with the wheels of traffic, -and the long bend of the river revealed a sweep of stately buildings -representing the power and splendour of a great civilization. - -Education, law, science, government, police, had their homes side by -side along that mighty façade, which thus became an entablature on -which the characters of civilization were legibly impressed. Beside -the ancient universities of the law stood the headquarters of the vast -machinery for the teaching of the populace--that is to say, for the -taming of successive generations of barbarians. The power of wealth was -expressed in luxurious hotels and club-houses, in the mansion of the -noble and the estate-office of the millionaire. The revenues of empire -flowed in and out through the gates of one majestic pile; from another -the guardians of the social order waged war against the restless -ranks of crime. Last in place towered the huge palace of the imperial -Legislature, supreme over all. - -Across the river the low mass of the southern shore lay in obscurity. -All that could be distinguished over there was a dark roof-line broken -by a few tall, smokeless chimneys, rising above the water like the -walls and towers of a beleaguered city encompassed by its moat. The -solitary illumination on that side of the river was afforded by a high -square building which broke the gloom from instant to instant with huge -letters of yellow fire, spelling out uncouth, barbaric syllables in -what might have been the jargon of some subterranean race of men. Seen -across the river mist the tower flared out like those burning mosques -beheld from afar by the voyager in the Underworld as he drew near to -the city of Dis. - -All night the square, ugly minaret continued to flash its monstrous -hieroglyphs upon the darkness, as though the dwellers on the southern -shore were signalling a message from their camp. And from time to -time, when the rattle of the wheels on the hither side stayed for a -moment, there was borne across the water the low, sullen hum as of a -vast multitude swarming in the narrow streets and stunted houses of the -hidden region beyond. - -Thus the two banks of the river faced each other with something of a -mutual threat. - -On one side of the gulf, that low, sombre roof-line with its fitful -torch-fires; on the other side, the broad illuminated rampart of -civilization, crowned by its imperial keep. - -A light more brilliant than the rest streamed from the summit of the -ponderous clock-tower that guards the foot of Westminster Bridge. - -This was the answering signal of the northern shore to that sullen camp -across the river. It burned there to proclaim that the sovereign power -of empire was at work beneath, judging over five hundred millions of -men, and two and a half continents. All the forces of the mightiest -society the world has yet beheld were focused here in the High Court of -Parliament, the Board of the Anglo-Roman Raj. - -Here the decrees were shaped in obedience to which invincible fleets -crossed the ocean; armies were transported from one hemisphere to the -conquest of another; kings were dethroned in Africa and other kings -were crowned in Asia; warlike republics were extinguished under the -Southern Pole, and tottering dynasties propped up in the shadow of the -Himalayas; whole races of men, speaking strange tongues, and reckoning -time by other constellations, had their laws and manners and religions -changed for them; immemorial savagery was thrust into the forcing-house -of civilization, and immemorial civilizations were rooted up; from -this centre the hardy freemen of the Baltic North spread the ancient -Mediterranean culture and Semitic folklore wherever the Raj extended -round the globe. - -Here throbbed the great piston-rod which drove the myriad wheels -of government and slowly stamped deeper age after age the same -Roman-Semitic imprint upon the subjugated populace at home. - -Night after night, as the dwellers on the southern shore gazed across -at the majestic citadel of the Raj, they saw that beacon burning, -the symbol of the unresting watchfulness of their rulers against the -assaults of foes within and without. That steady flame shone out -defiance alike to the foreign invader and the traitor within the gates; -to the rebels who scoured the African veldt, and the more dangerous -rebels who skulked through the streets and alleys of the imperial -capital. On all alike, on the encroaching Tsar as on the plotting -Maharajah, on far-off savages and on felons crouching at the gates, -the Genius of the Raj was seen to keep its never-closing eye. - -More than a mile away, round the curving bank of the river, where the -warehouses of Mammon clustered thickly round the temple of Jehovah, -there rose another Symbol, invisible in the night, soaring high above -the intervening territory of squalor. - -This Symbol was intended to represent a Roman gibbet, the gibbet on -which a Redeemer had been put to death two thousand years ago, in a -remote corner of that ancient Mediterranean realm of which this modern -civilization was heir. - -In the night these two Symbols confronted each other, the Flame and -the Cross, as though they were the warring ensigns of Ahura-Mazda, the -Spirit of Light, and Anru-Mainya, the Spirit of Darkness. - - * * * * * - -On the midmost arch of Westminster Bridge a young man stood alone, -leaning over the parapet, and sounding with his eyes the black depth of -the water below. - -His whole air and appearance were out of harmony with the spot where he -found himself, and suggested that he must have strayed there from some -gayer quarter of the town. An opera hat was thrust back on his head, -and a silk-lined overcoat, thrown open in front, allowed his waistcoat, -of white satin, to become soiled by contact with the grime of the -bridge. He held a cane of rich and fanciful design in one hand; the -other hand, resting loosely on the ironwork of the balustrade, showed -more than one curious and valuable ring. - -He leaned on the bridge dully, his head drooping as though he were -tired. Although his face was that of a man not yet thirty years of -age, it bore marks which showed that he had lived too eagerly, without -heed to life’s immitigable laws. Already the forehead was crossed with -faint lines, though there was no thinning of the black hair that curled -above. The beauty of the face was marred by the flush of intemperance, -and the sensuous underlip contradicted the refinement of the sensitive -nostrils. The dark, restless eyes and delicate chin completed the -impression of passion and weakness which was left by the whole face. - -On the pavement of St. James’s such a figure would have seemed at home. -Seen where it was, like a tropical bird blown ashore on some bleaker -landscape, it provoked the curiosity of the passers-by. - -Some of them took offence at the unusual sight. A group of roughs -returning from some haunt of vice on the north side to their dens -across the river eyed the well-dressed loiterer with envious contempt, -and tried to hustle him as they went by. Their leader, a hulking -Irishman, encouraged them in a coarse speech, which still breathed -faintly of the sea-scented glens of Connemara. - -Something in the voice or in the words startled the lounger. He turned -his head quickly, and gave the ruffian a questioning look, under -which he slunk to one side, and passed on with his friends. In the -dark streets where their homes lay they might not have been abashed -so easily. But their courage for violence ebbed on the well-lighted -bridge. Few crimes are committed at high noon. - -A policeman sauntering on to the bridge shortly afterwards caught sight -of the stranger, and seemed to become interested in his doings. Instead -of pursuing his way when he had reached the farther end of the bridge, -the officer halted, and stood about on the pavement by St. Thomas’s -Hospital, keeping his eyes fixed on the figure that overhung the -balustrade so persistently. - -Two shop-boys coming along in their turn had their sense of humour -tickled by the young man’s forlorn attitude. One of them gave vent to a -ribald jest. - -“Look,” he said aloud to his comrade, “there’s Jesus Christ.” - -So closely wrapped in his own thoughts was the lounger that it was -many seconds after they had been uttered before the words succeeded -in penetrating to his consciousness. The last sound of the youths’ -trampling feet had died away at the end of the bridge before he woke up -sufficiently to ask himself with a resentful air: “What made him say -that?” - -He found himself unable to dismiss the jeer from his mind, in which it -went on echoing with such tormenting insistence that at last he stood -up and shook himself, unconsciously making a physical effort to change -the pattern in the brain’s kaleidoscope. - -But the suggestion which so irritated him was not to be got rid of -in that fashion. It chimed in too well with the whole tenor of his -meditation since he had found his way on to the bridge. The half-formed -questions which had been baffling his attempts to give them definite -shape now all at once began to come together and settle down into one -question, precipitated, as it were, by that profane mockery. - -“Why,” he reflected, with a growing sense of anger at the -comparison--“why did he call me that?” - -It was not because he attributed any serious intention to the jester -that he argued thus with himself. He was in that mood when everything -around us appears mysterious and fraught with some revelation to which -we only need a key. The words of the shop-boy became for him a hint -from the night itself, like the cryptic utterances of the characters in -a play of Maeterlinck’s. - -“What likeness is there between Christ and me?” he went on, putting the -problem before himself more distinctly. - -What likeness, indeed, between this spoilt child of civilization, to -whom the world seemed to have given of its best, for whom Christianity -could be no more than a legend, and that buffeted Redeemer hanging on -his gibbet in the Syrian sun of two thousand years ago? - -And yet an insult cannot rankle unless it is barbed with truth. From -the inner cells of memory, where they had been stored up in past -days by a religious mother, certain words and phrases were already -coming forth, as though moved by some subtle affinity, to answer that -uncomfortable question. - -_Despised and rejected of men_--they ran something like that. And -again: _Stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted_. There were other -words which should have followed, surely, but he tried in vain to draw -them forth. - -_Despised and rejected of men._ The flush darkened on the young man’s -cheek as he flung back his head with a rebellious and angry glance at -the river’s northern bank, where the shining walls and towers of the -city of Ormuzd seemed to overhang the gulf--the glance which an exile -gives at the city which has driven him forth. - -He had fled to the spot, stunned by one of those buffets which life is -ever waiting to deal to those who have not learnt their lesson aright. -And his ears still smarted with the scream of the newsboys who were -proclaiming in every street that Lord Alistair Stuart had failed. - - * * * * * - -In London men like Alistair Stuart fail every day, and go under, -leaving scarcely a ripple on the smooth surface of a society which -hastens to forget all disagreeable things. But Lord Alistair’s -catastrophe had been able to eclipse for one night the comedy of -politics and the tragedy of war. For he happened to be one of the few -in whom the world is interested, and when the world is interested -in a man it will not suffer him to go down to sheol in peace. Its -hisses are the reaction of its cheers, and those who court its notice -put their lives to the hazard, like Esther when she went to touch the -sceptre of Ahasuerus. - -The world knew Alistair Stuart in two characters--as the brother and -heir-presumptive of the Duke of Trent and Colonsay, and as the lover of -Molly Finucane. - -To the outer world, for which newspapers are written and formal -histories compiled, he was the brother of one of its most important -citizens. The Duke of Trent was distinguished not only by his rank, -but by his service to the State. By an ironical coincidence the same -_Gazette_ which revealed the fact that Lord Alistair Stuart had -filed his petition also contained the notification that his brother -had kissed hands as Secretary of State. It was impossible that the -moralists of the pulpit and the press should overlook the striking -example of the idle and industrious apprentice, and the younger -brother’s disgrace was deepened by the elder’s triumph. - -In that inner world whose newspapers are the boudoirs and the -smoking-rooms, and which goes for its history to memoirs and chronicles -of the back-stairs, the name of Alistair Stuart had gained celebrity in -connection with a personage of whom the pulpit might not know, and the -press might not tell. - -Molly Finucane had achieved one of those reputations which have given -certain women a place in history. In the ancient world she might have -had princes to fight for her, and poets to sing her praise. In the -modern world she was a figure of evil, regarded with a feeling like -that which inspired the legends of the succubi. An element of mystery -attached to her extraordinary career. It was said that she could -neither dance nor sing, that she was astonishingly ignorant, and that -her speech and ways smelt of the gutter. Even beauty was denied her. -The men whom she had ruined themselves could not explain the secret of -her power over them; she overcame her victims like a malarial fever. -Some men could meet her day after day without succumbing; others lost -themselves from the first; others again began by despising her as an -ugly little street-girl, and ended by giving her their wives’ jewels. - -How many had perished in the maelstrom of desire which she created -none could say. But there was a ghastly story of the young Earl of -St. Luc, who had put an end to his life at the age of twenty because -his trustees refused him the means to set up an establishment for -Molly Finucane. An ineffaceable impression had been made by the two -contrasted pictures of the desolate mother weeping over her boy’s -dead body, as it was dragged all stained and dripping from the moat -surrounding the ancient keep of the St. Lucs, and of the wide-mouthed, -stupid Irish girl, planted in a reek of tobacco smoke on a table -crowded by tipsy youths, repeating to them in her cracked, shameless -voice the latest and most brutally coarse refrain of the street. - -It was a year, perhaps two years, since the tongue of scandal had first -singled out the name of Alistair Stuart from among the rest of those -who singed their wings in this fatal flame. Gradually it became known -that Molly Finucane had given him a devotion which no other man had -ever been able to buy with gold or blood or tears. For his sake she -had refused at the last moment to take possession of the miniature -palace furnished for her by the great Brazilian broker, Mendes; who had -simply shrugged his shoulders and ordered the house to be kept vacant -and ready for her. Stuart and she had gone to live together in a faded -corner of Chelsea, in a house surrounded by elms with black trunks and -yellow leaves. - -The house in Chelsea loomed large in the mind of the new generation. -It was regarded as a citadel of sin, as the headquarters of a cult -which gloried in its moral degeneracy. Alistair Stuart assumed the -character of a high-priest among the pagans, as they chose to call -themselves--poets whose verses echoed still more faintly the faint -autumnal sighs of Verlaine; wits whose epigrams were brilliant with the -phosphorescence of corruption; men in whom genius was a vice, and vice -an affectation. Hatred of the middle classes was the watchword of this -sect, which was recruited from penniless younger sons, from university -failures, from a whole class for whom the Protestant Church has no -refuge, but who in Catholic countries end often in the monastery. They -waged war on the Victorian Age, on its religion, on its art, on its -commercialism, but, above all, on its Puritanism. - -In the eyes of this brotherhood of the unfit bankruptcy was rather -meritorious than disgraceful, and the fifty thousand pounds which -Stuart had spent without possessing represented so much spoil taken -from the Philistines. Stuart’s own first proceeding after he had -signed the warrant for his civil degradation had been to send forth -invitations for a supper to celebrate the event. - -His bankruptcy had been in one sense voluntary. Although he had cut -himself off from intercourse with his family when he took the house in -Chelsea, he knew that Trent would have helped him to make terms with -his creditors. But he knew also that Trent would have required him to -give up Molly Finucane. He had filed his petition with a light heart, -in the belief that the disgrace would fall more heavily on his brother -than on himself. - -For the éclat resulting from his act he had been prepared, but not for -the effect of the éclat on his own mind. - -He had been on his way to a club in Piccadilly overlooking the Green -Park, which served as a meeting-ground for those members of the cult -who kept on terms with respectability. Almost on the club steps he was -arrested by the sight of his name in large letters on a news-bill, -bringing the sharp reminder that he had forfeited his right of entry. - -It was a shock to him to find that his exploit had suddenly lost its -charm. He bought a paper as he walked on, and read of his brother’s -promotion to the Cabinet. The unforeseen coincidence intensified his -discomfiture. This brother of his, whom he had always looked on as -a dullard and a prig, whom he had so often sneered at among his own -friends, was standing there crowned in front of the footlights, while -he, Alistair, was being hissed off the stage. In a flash he saw the -ruin he had made of his life, and was dismayed. - -And as he wandered miserably through the streets the question that -had risen and struggled for expression in his mind was--Why? Why had -his brother so far surpassed him in the race? Why were the honours -and rewards of life bestowed on some and not on others? Why had he, -Alistair, steered his bark upon the rocks? - -Standing there between that visible theatre of his brother’s triumph, -on the north side of the river, and the unknown hooligan realm upon the -south, with which there stole upon him a daunting sense of affinity, he -pondered the question; and while he pondered it, the feeling grew upon -him that it would not be answered by itself, that it was a part of a -more tremendous issue, that the meaning of life was involved in it, and -the eternal mystery of the world. - -Alistair looked back for some clue to the tangled skein of his career; -and by-and-by the vista of the past took on distinctness, like one of -those marvellous canvases of Rembrandt from whose dingy surface there -gradually peeps out a whole magical landscape charged with light. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -BIOGRAPHICAL - - -THE lustre of the rain was over the grey lochs and green Hebrides. - -The broad sound that stretched between the Island of Oig and the -mainland was crinkled in furrows, on whose torn edges the foam-spit -flickered like driving snowflakes. Whenever the indigo folds of the -rolling rain parted for a minute the white beaches of Kesteven gleamed -out like a picked bone. Away to the southward, where the fishing-boats -were slowly reaching round the Mull of Oig, their taut sails glistened -like new-washed tiles in the sunshine; then, as they twisted about -and came up into the wind, the light emptied out of their sails like -water being spilt, and each boat in turn became a murky phantom gliding -forward along leaden grooves. - -When the rain-wreaths closed round again, the mainland was blotted out -with its hills and pine-forests, and the fishing-boats were no longer -anything but blurred hints of things behind a screen. The mist wrapped -the Island of Oig round with a great stillness, as though it had been -removed a thousand miles off into the midst of the sea. - -When at last the heavy cloud phalanxes broke and drifted overhead, and -the lochs and isles lay in clear day, something new had crossed into -the magic ring of the horizon. - -Down in the south-east, in the far-off corner of the landscape, where -the pale rose-purple of the hills melted into the dark slate-purple -of the waves, a low black smudge had come like a flake of soot on a -glorious stained-glass window. Seen at first as a mere speck on the -picture, it swiftly spread and grew till it became a great dingy smear -trailing across the heavens. And there was something about this new -presence in the landscape which made it seem strange and hostile to -the rest. It was as though a harsh, unexpected note had been struck in -the middle of a symphony. All the other things there--the clouds and -the sunlight, the hills and the sea--seemed to have grown used to one -another during the ages, and to keep up a stately accord together; but -this smoke giant forced himself in amongst them, like an upstart that -had not learnt their ways--an ugly gnome of the underworld breaking -into the haunts of the fairies and the nixies. - -Beneath the inky banner a small black steamer lifted its hull above the -wave-line and came on obstinately, beating defiance with its paddles to -the mother elements. The fishing-boats that for thousands of years had -put in and out from the little haven of Oig had never done aught but -coax the elemental forces in order to turn them to service. For them -the winds and the tides had been instruments on which they searched, -as it were, for the right chords. But this masterful intruder snapped -the strings in careless discord; compared with the others, it seemed -to be a burglar breaking the locks of Nature with a crowbar instead of -opening them with a key. - -Fussing and fretting as it came, the steamboat struck right through -the fleet of fishing-boats, and hurried on. It churned its way noisily -into the harbour, driving small rowing-boats to right and left like -frightened birds, and took up its berth against the pier with the air -of an invading column taking up its quarters in a surrendered town. At -the same time everything seemed to wake up to meet it: the old men who -leant all day against the harbour wall started out of their dreams to -handle the ropes flung to them from the steamer’s deck; the harbour -master and the factor of the company hastened along the quay, and all -the folk of the little town issued from their houses and swarmed down -to the water’s edge. The whole Island of Oig roused itself from its six -days’ peace, and began to bustle for its life. - -Having taken fast hold of the pier with its rope tentacles, the -masterful black monster rapped out a wooden gangway, down which there -walked quickly a passenger who looked as much estranged from the -surroundings as the floating machine which had transported him from the -mainland. - -The strangeness was not so much in his black clothes as in his gait and -bearing. He walked jerkily, with short, quick steps, casting glances -to right and left through his spectacles, as though he were moving -through a crowd, on the lookout for hindrances. His feet struck the -ground in the helpless, violent fashion of one who wore boots and used -his feet merely as the ferrules of his legs on the pavement, instead of -as claws to grasp the ground with. The muscles of his neck had suffered -a similar atrophy; a long course of high collars and top-heavy hats had -drilled his head into a fixed pose, and it moved on the socket of the -neck stiffly and jerkily within certain narrow limits. That his eyes -had also become cramped by gazing at books instead of fields and clouds -was shown plainly enough, for this man of the town wore glasses. He had -only to open his mouth to speak, and you saw that his very teeth were -no longer Nature’s handiwork. - -The townsman’s speech was as outlandish in the Island of Oig as were -his dress and gait. He stopped half-way down the pier, before a group -of boys, who had left their play to come and see the steamer, and put a -question in English. - -“Can one of you boys direct me to the house of Mr. Duncan Gilderoy?” - -Now, nearly everyone on the Island of Oig bore the name of Gilderoy; -and this was all the more noteworthy because Gilderoy was not their -real name, but one which the whole clan to which the islanders belonged -had taken to hide their own, in order to escape the enmity of other -and more powerful clans on the mainland, which had sworn to wipe them -out. This wholesale exchange had taken place more than three hundred -years before, and only a few of the very old islanders, living in the -most out-of-the-way corners of the isle, any longer remembered what -their real name was; and they were not believed by the rest, because -the story sounded so strange beside the sober narratives of events told -in the books written by people in Edinburgh, and called the “History of -Scotland.” Therefore, though the _Pax Britannica_ was now established -in Oig, the inhabitants still clung to their cloak-name, so that all -of them but those whose families had come into the island since the -sixteenth century called themselves Gilderoy. And of these Gilderoys -every third man had been baptized Duncan, because Duncan was the lucky -name of the island, and it was well known that if you were baptized -by that name you could not be drowned, unless the nixies made a -mistake;--though even that was not known to the present generation, who -had been brought up on the Edinburgh books, and who therefore thought -they had their children baptized Duncan because it was the custom. - -So when the outlander put his question the boys stood dumb at first, -staring at him and wondering at his stupidity. The invader on his part -wondered at theirs. - -“Don’t you speak English?” he demanded crossly, as though ignorance of -that tongue were wrong in itself, a sign of natural depravity which -even the benighted heathen must know in their hearts they ought to be -ashamed of. - -The boys seemed to feel the force of the rebuke. They turned their eyes -to one who stood in the forefront of the little group, as if calling on -him to defend them. The leader answered instantly: - -“What Duncan Gilderoy is that?” - -He spoke the outlander’s tongue as easily as the outlander himself, -though each of them sounded his words in a way that seemed a little -strange in the other’s ears. The man from the mainland crowded his -words in that habit of hurried speech which towns beget. The boy -intoned his words with a slight shrillness caught from the winds and -waves that battle round the Hebrides. The boy had already learnt from -the stranger’s speech that he was an Englishman; the Englishman thought -he learnt from the boy’s that he was not a Scotchman. To the Englishman -a Scotchman was a person who spoke the dialect of old Northumbria. He -had expected to find the islanders of Oig speaking either Gaelic or the -speech of Burns. - -“Are you English?” he exclaimed. - -The boy flushed darkly. - -“No,” he said, and held his tongue. - -This time the invader looked at him closer. He was a handsome boy of -eleven or twelve years of age, tall, and rather slender, and although -he wore old, worn clothes, he did not look in the least humble or -ashamed of them, a thing which struck the Londoner’s mind as reckless -and a little bad. Below his kilt of dark green tartan, variegated with -stripes of black and white, the boy’s legs and feet were bare, like -those of his companions. Above the kilt he had on a shabby jacket of -black velvet with tarnished silver buttons, and a round bonnet set on -the back of his black curls made a frame for his face. - -The man repeated his first question in another form. - -“Do you know Mr. Duncan Gilderoy?” - -“Do you mean Duncan Gilderoy of the Old House? Or is it the minister?” -asked the boy. - -“No, it’s not the minister. He is a farmer, and they told me his house -was just outside the town.” - -He said “town,” because he had heard it called that on the steamer. But -his London eye called it “village.” Two rows of squat houses struggling -up from the harbour’s edge to a small kirk just under the ridge of the -hill--that was all he could see. - -“Then that is Duncan Gilderoy of the Old House,” put in another of the -boys. - -The man turned to him. - -“Has he a young gentleman living with him, named Stuart?” he asked. - -All eyes were turned to the boy who had been the first to speak. This -boy gave a distrustful, searching glance at the stranger. - -“If that is the Duncan Gilderoy you want, I can take you to him,” he -said, rather unwillingly. - -“Come on, then.” - -The other boys fell back, staring hard, as their comrade walked -off beside the man in the English clothes. The man carried a small -travelling-bag in one hand, and before they had gone many yards he -offered it to his guide. - -“Would you like to earn a sixpence?” he said pleasantly. - -The boy flushed again and frowned angrily. Then he stopped dead, and, -turning round, shouted back to the group they had just left: - -“Here, Jock, carry his bag, and he’ll give you sixpence.” - -Jock proved to be the boy who had guessed which Duncan Gilderoy the -stranger wanted. He darted from the rest, and ran up to seize the bag, -and then, having taken possession of it, fell in on the other side of -its owner. - -The Londoner felt he had made a mistake of some kind. The boy who had -refused an offer of sixpence commanded his respect. Gazing at him -again, it began to dawn upon him that this bare-footed young Highlander -carried himself with dignity, and that he held up his head in a way -that is not taught in Board-schools. The next moment the boy, aware -that he was being studied, lowered his head with a defensive instinct, -and glanced at the man out of the corner of his dark eyes. The glance -was at once sly and naïve, like that of some bright, wicked bird. - -“And what is your name, my boy?” the Englishman asked, with a touch of -middle-class patronage. He could not quite get the bare feet out of his -mind. - -“I am Alistair Stuart.” - -The stranger uttered a sound of surprise. - -“The Stuart who lives with Mr. Duncan Gilderoy?” - -“Yes.” The answer came unwillingly again. - -“Then you are the boy I have come here for.” - -“I knew that,” said Stuart. And a slightly cunning look came into his -eyes. - -The man was baffled. He could not quite make up his mind whether the -boy had been playing a practical joke on him from the first, or had -been merely too dull to explain himself. Londoner-like, he leant a -little towards the second supposition, for he was managing clerk to a -firm of solicitors in Theobald’s Road, and firmly believed that human -nature contained no depths which he had not sounded to their very -bottom. He believed that all men were animated by one supreme motive, -the making of money, that they were distracted and impeded in their -progress towards the goal by the counter-attractions of woman and wine, -and that he was the wisest who best withstood these allurements, and -kept his gaze steadily fixed on that yellow bull’s-eye of endeavour. He -regarded the law as the rules of the game, and knew to a hair exactly -how far it was possible to go without breaking them. There was only one -irrational element in the man’s life: he was a Wesleyan, and holding it -for certain that the doctrine of that sect amounted to an immediate -communication to himself from his Maker, of whom he was a good deal -afraid, he paid in reluctantly but largely to the Church funds, which -he regarded as a species of blackmail levied by God on business men. - -The three walked up through the narrow street together. The street was -paved with cobble-stones, and ascended in layers or great steps, with -one or more houses to a step. The houses themselves would have been -called hovels in London, and looking at them, the law-clerk considered -that he was walking through a slum. He wondered almost mournfully how -human creatures could submit to pass their lives in such miserable -conditions. The sight of the bare-footed lads and lasses with their -red cheeks and shapely legs woke actual pity in his breast; for he was -naturally kind, and his kindness could only find expression in the -benevolent wish to take control of all these lives which he understood -so little, and shape them into the image of his own. - -Stuart had been looking forward to the coming of this man ever since -he could remember. He had always known that Duncan Gilderoy was only -his foster-father, and that his life would not be lived out on Oig. -They had told him that his father and mother lived in France, and -that his father was too ill to have his children with him. He could -not recollect these legendary parents, who were only known to him by -portraits which he religiously cherished, and by letters which came -to him regularly from his mother. His father, from whom he received -only occasional messages, was the object of a devotion that filled his -whole heart; his yearning for that unknown father’s love was one of -those passions of childhood which are never told, and which are never -forgotten. There was more of awe than love in his thoughts about his -mother; she was an Englishwoman, and the tenderness that her letters -expressed was overlaid with pious monitions and references to Bible -texts. He learned that he had an elder brother, James, who was being -educated at a school in England under the casual supervision of the -head of the family, who had never noticed Alistair. At some time or -other--he was doubtful when--the perception had come that the character -of his upbringing was at least partly due to lack of money. The islands -and moorlands, the castles and broad acres that made up the great -inheritance of Trent and Colonsay were all tributary to certain men of -law in London and in Edinburgh, whom the clansmen of Oig hated as a -conquered nation hates the invader encamped upon its soil. - -Alistair knew also--for these things were the history and politics of -Oig--that his father stood next in succession to the dukedom, and that -his brother’s favour with the reigning Duke was in right of his exalted -destiny as heir. - -Thus the boy, reared in the society of herdsmen and fishers, who were -to him as kinsmen of a lower rank, had had always before his eyes the -vision of the great world in which he was one day to play a part. -Civilization shone for him afar off, as it shines for the native of -some colonial wilderness, in all the hues of hope and wonder. How often -had he climbed to the top of the cliff that overlooked the Sound of -Oig, and laid himself down on the wind-mown grass, looking and longing -for the first peep of that sooty feather which he had taken for the -signal of emancipation. No instinct had ever warned him that the little -noisy packet was a slaveship, the galley of the great Anglo-Roman Raj, -coming to make him captive, and carry him off to be tamed and trained -into a citizen of the Raj, to speak its tongue and wear its dress, -and learn its manners, and its laws, till the innermost pulse of his -being should be timed to the Anglo-Roman time, and the ancient Pictish -blood in his veins should forget its source, and run as if through -Anglo-Roman ducts. - -Looking back across his life to this point of departure, it seemed to -Alistair that he had found the clue of his tangled skein, and that he -might in time achieve a complete answer to the riddle of his fate. For -a moment the longing of his heart returned to that green islet in its -grey sea, and he bitterly regretted that he had not been left to live -out his life there among the clansmen whom he loved, and by whom he was -beloved, who esteemed him as a prince among them, and would have still -esteemed and shielded him had he become the outlaw of the Raj. He was -an exile--surely it was this, he told himself--he was an outlander -adrift amongst a race to which he did not belong; which he never could -understand, and by which he never could be understood. - - * * * * * - -The first great misunderstanding with his captors had come when he was -a boy. There was a Velasquez-looking portrait on the walls of Colonsay -House of a lad of fifteen, long-legged and slim, with eyes like the -night--a night haunted by the slumber of wild beasts that the first -footfall will disturb. The dress of this boy was touched with the -girlish delicacy that betrays a mother’s darling: the collar was of -lace, the jacket was of velvet, the straw hat, thrust back from his -forehead, was costlier than lace or velvet. At night he slept in silk, -in a tapestried chamber. His days were passed within the stately walls, -or in roaming through the glorious demesne, of one of the historic -homes of England, watched over with all the care that love and wealth -could afford. - -He had lived with his mother ever since his father’s death. It was not -until she had clasped him in her arms that she had told him of his -loss, and she had never suspected the bitterness of the boy’s grief. -The father whom he had never known remained a sacred memory still, all -the more sacred because his mother never talked to him about the dead. -By this time the old Duke was dead as well, and James had succeeded -him, so that the days of hardship were over, and the inheritance was -being nursed back into something like its former splendour. - -A fond yearning to regain some of the lost years of their childhood had -caused their mother to keep both her boys beside her, giving them a -tutor instead of a school. But she had another motive which she tried -to believe was paramount--the desire to bring them early into her own -religious fold. - -During four years Alistair had had his mind steeped day after day -in the emotional atmosphere of primitive Christianity. This was his -mother’s native air, and she could not have been brought to believe -that it might be drawn with difficulty and pain by any human creature. -If the knowledge had been forced upon her that such a training was -unwholesome for either of her sons, her universe would have become a -maze without a plan; her God would have been shattered like Dagon. - -To both the boys this training came as part of the yoke which age -imposes on youth. Boyhood is always surrendering its secret convictions -at the bidding of authority; the process called education is one long -defeat of the barbarians by the legions. Their mother heard them repeat -the phrases which she had taught them, and believed in her work. - -A cold temper and unimaginative mind enabled the elder boy to take this -religion in the formal spirit in which it has been taken by a great -part of mankind for two thousand years. As a theory of the universe -it received his unquestioning assent; as a life-motive it left him -practically untouched. He became the unconscious hypocrite whom the -Gospel was written to make us loathe, and who has governed the Church -ever since the Gospel was written. - -On Alistair his mother’s teaching had another effect. A poet’s -sensitiveness on the score of words made him shrink at times from -the familiar language of his mother’s creed. But his temperament -responded readily to the exciting influence of religious emotion, and -the cunning which usually accompanies hysteria taught him to use this -faculty for his own protection. When he had been naughty during the -day--and Alistair was already marked out as the naughty one of the -two brothers--it was his mother’s habit to come into his room after -he had gone to bed, and try to soften him. She knelt beside the bed, -and talked and prayed with him till the boy melted in a confession of -wrongdoing, and the two made it up with kisses and tears. - -These scenes had endeared Alistair to his mother, whose tenderness for -her younger son aroused the elder’s secret jealousy. They had been -ruinous to the boy himself, whom they made an emotional debauchee. He -spent his sincerity in spasms of repentance which left him worse than -before. There were yet other consequences: the nervous organization is -a sensitive instrument, which ignorant fingers do not touch for nothing. - -For a year past Alistair had inspired his mother with hopes that he was -ripening for the change of mind which she called conversion. He had -become more serious; his gaiety was sometimes dashed with melancholy; -he wrote verses which she treasured up as evidences of the direction -his intelligence was taking. The verses were echoes of the poets whom -she had placed in his hands, and her favourite poets were Miss Havergal -and Dr. Bonar. He had taken to wandering much by himself in the park; -sometimes on returning from these rambles he posed her with strange -questions about the nature of the Deity and the contradictions that -abound in every positive system of the universe. - -The mother drew happy auguries. Like Hannah, she dedicated her son -to the Lord, and wrote to the Archbishop who was his godfather, to -interest him in the boy. - -All this time one half of life had been carefully hidden from Alistair. -Of the great mystery of life he knew less than an animal knows. -For him, as for all his generation, the divine lore which was once -communicated in solemn temples and amid consecrated groves, which -is still given the character of a revelation among the worshipping -millions beneath the Himalayas, lay under the blight of the great -ascetic frenzy which spread round the Mediterranean zone two thousand -years ago. The temple had long been a stew, the revelation a vulgar -jest bandied about on furtive lips; the groves were cut down, the -torches were blown out, the musical instruments were broken, and the -rite of initiation had passed from the holy places into the sewers. The -road of darkness was esteemed the road of safety; and Alistair walked -upon it in ignorance alike of the law of Heaven and of the taboo of -man. - -The Garden of Eden is like that flying island of Arabian geography -which descends unawares in front of the adventurer, and tempts him -to tread its enamelled turf, surrendering his senses to the hymeneal -music of its birds, and the perfume of its myriad flowers. The earth -was changed for Alistair by a keeper’s daughter, a girl of his own -age, with a face fair as an apple-blossom, in whose heart the seed of -ambition had been early sown by a vain mother’s hand. All through one -summer-tide they met by stealth among the woods of Trent; while she, -intoxicated by the young lord’s notice, listened with uncomprehending -ears to that passionate romance which youth pours out at the first -touch of love: and for him the sunshine sprinkled all the air with -orange-blossoms through the green network overhead, the silver -birch-stems rose like rejoicing fountains in the glimmering shade, -the hum of insects lapped his enamoured ear like the vague music of a -shell, the very ground distilled a rapturous scent, and all his pulses -sang within him as his life swept into the great throb of the universal -world. - -The retribution which followed on discovery tortured him still in -the remembrance. What such a discovery must have cost a mother like -his, he could not gauge. He only knew that every sacred feeling in -his own breast had been outraged, the innermost sanctuary had been -profaned, the delicate blossoms had been uprooted and trampled in the -mire. He had a recollection of hideous scenes, of questions that were -intolerable insults, of a visit from the Archbishop, who came too late -to mediate, and, finally, of a term of penal servitude passed in an -institution abroad, from which Alistair returned a Roman Catholic. - -In his mother’s eyes this was a moral bankruptcy. Fresh influences were -brought to bear on the perverted one; the rest of his youth was passed -in drifting from one guardianship to another, under a perpetual cloud, -and manhood found him without faith and without a career. - -That his mother had loved him throughout Alistair knew well, though -even he did not know how much she loved him. Perhaps the love between -them had been strengthened by the tragedy of the past. It seemed to -Alistair now to have been the old story of the hen that has hatched -out a duckling from the shell. He thought of his mother with a painful -mingling of wrath and tenderness, believing her to have been cruel to -him, and knowing that she had been cruel to herself for his sake. The -mother whom his instinct taught him to demand was one of those mothers -of the passionate races, who live only to be the slaves of their sons, -to hear their confessions, to soothe their remorse, to abet them in -their worst crimes. His grievance against his own mother was that she -had not taken him for what he was. The changeling had been tormented -in the hope of giving it a human soul. - -When he came of age he took the problem out of her hands. “You do not -understand me,” he told her one day; “I must live my own life.” - -His brother, Trent, had granted him an allowance of a thousand a year, -which his tradesmen raised to five thousand. The contents of every shop -in London were at the command of the brother of the Duke of Trent and -Colonsay, on condition that the brother of the Duke paid double for -them. The shopkeepers began by cheating him, as though they foresaw -that he would end by cheating them. - -Stuart hardly knew that he was extravagant. Most of the ways in which -he spent money were ways in which he heard other men praised for -spending it. He collected miniatures; he bought old cabinets, which -were repaired for him by skilful workmen; he published tiny volumes -with his own poems, in which a strain of southern passion mingled with -the dreamy melancholy of the northern seas. His pleasures were those -of a poet, not a man about town. He lent money to those about him, to -the poets whose names were unknown to the readers of magazines, to the -painters whose pictures were abhorred by the Royal Academy, to the -musicians who could not make bright tunes. Such men have no right to -live; but Stuart fed them at his table, and rejoiced in the incense of -their praise. - -It was the difference between Lord Alistair Stuart and the men who -surrounded him which had first fascinated Molly Finucane. He had been -for her a mystery which she was bent on exploring. When after a time -she found that this intellectual side of her lover’s character was out -of her reach, she became jealous, and sought to choke it. It was of -such as she that a certain acquaintance of Stuart’s in those days wrote -that all men kill the thing they love. - -In her own way, and with what truth was left to her, Molly Finucane did -love Alistair Stuart. That was the part of it which others could not -be expected to allow for. The life in the house in Chelsea had been -as regular as that of any married pair. The only visitors received -were Stuart’s friends. Molly had discarded all her old associates -as completely as though she had been really married--always with -the exception of Mendes, whom Alistair sometimes asked to dinner. -She had practised what in her eyes was economy, playing the novel -part of housekeeper, enjoying the strange experience of giving -orders to tradesmen, and calculating the prices of household stuff. -Unfortunately, she could not shake off at once the habits of reckless -expense which she had been taught. Her nature had come to crave for -excitement as an opium-eater’s craves for the drug, and the only -amusements she knew were costly ones. The play, for Molly, meant a -brougham, a little dinner at a smart restaurant, a private box, and -a supper at some Bohemian night-club--in short, the spending of five -or ten pounds. She went to the theatres and music-halls very often. -On the nights when she did not go she felt disastrously bored, and -wished herself dead. Then she had to have flowers every day, and a new -bracelet or some such trifle every week, or she felt herself neglected. -She had acquired the fatal idea that the love of men was only to be -gauged by the money they spent on her. An unbroken stream of these -offerings was necessary to convince her that Stuart had not tired of -her. - -In reality, it was the attempt to live within his means which destroyed -Lord Alistair’s credit. As soon as his tradesmen heard of the house -in Chelsea they began to send in their bills, and as soon as the -money-lenders heard that he was paying his debts they refused to help -him. It was the Duke of Trent whom they had trusted to, and now they -recollected that the Duke’s estates had come to him heavily mortgaged. -They told Lord Alistair to apply to his brother, and his brother told -him to leave Molly Finucane. Like the rest of the world, he believed -that it was the house in Chelsea which had brought his brother down. - -Alistair had retorted by filing his petition. It was to be open war at -last, he told himself. If the head of his house would not heed him, -neither would he heed the honour of the house. - -And now, as he stood on the bridge and gazed at the spectacle of the -night, it was borne in upon him more fully and more clearly that he was -not without companions; that his case was not a solitary case, but -that other houses besides the house of Trent and Colonsay had their -younger sons and their failures; that other lands besides Oig had given -their children to be devoured by the minotaur called Civilization; that -his was only one of those broken lives which underlie the pageantry of -empire, like the rubble underneath rich palace walls. - - * * * * * - -He turned once more to regard the spectacle of the night, and his eye -swept over the two edifices that confronted each other immediately -above the bridge, the palace, and the hospital; the chosen of the race -gathered in the one, its victims in the other, as if civilization were -an army whose headquarters and whose ambulance stood side by side. His -eye rested long where the road leading down into the dark purlieus of -poverty and crime flared and roared like the mouth of sheol; then it -returned to the northern side, where the roof of a great mansion was -just visible above the trees. - -What he saw there was the form of a grey-haired woman seated alone, -thinking of her prodigal son, perhaps praying for him, perhaps -expecting him. He threw one last backward glance towards the city of -Ahriman, and then, with a shudder, he set his face towards the gates of -Ormuzd, and walked swiftly off the bridge. - -All the time he had been standing there a prayer had been going up to -Heaven: “Give me back my son, O Lord! Give me back my son!” - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE PRODIGAL SON - - -ALISTAIR walked past the lights of Palace Yard, and turned into the -broad avenue of Parliament Street, bordered by the vast offices of the -British Empire. When he had gone half-way to Charing Cross, he turned -aside again, and presently found himself in front of a high and sombre -house, one of a row whose windows overlooked the river and the bridge. -It stood back in a bleak garden enclosed in tall iron railings, where -nothing grew but grass and trees and ivy, all of the same shade of -soot-encrusted green. This was Colonsay house, a relic of the days when -the Thames had been a glorious highway between the cities of London and -Westminster, a highway lined with the dwellings of great nobles, and -bright with painted barges and fluttering banners. - -Now a slight air of decay hung over the old house, and it seemed -conscious that it had outlived its generation. The tide no longer -washed the foot of its lawn, and rich brocades and jewelled sword-hilts -no longer sparkled under its trees. It stood there with its few -neighbours, isolated among the encroaching buildings of a newer age, -and waiting its own turn to be devoured. - -Stuart hesitated for a moment as he stood outside the door. There had -been a time when he would have walked through that door as of right. -But it was long since he had lived under his brother’s roof, and more -than a year since he had passed this doorway last. During the time that -he had been living in Chelsea he had shunned all intercourse with his -family. His mother had written to him more than once, but her letters -had remained unanswered. The letters were entreaties to him to abandon -the woman who was dragging him down, and he had not abandoned her. - -He raised his hand to the bell, and jerked it roughly. Then he stood -waiting, half ashamed to encounter the gaze of his brother’s servants, -and resenting their curiosity in advance. - -“Is the Duke in?” he asked of the man who opened the door. He had no -wish to meet his brother that night. - -In the first moment the footman did not recognize his questioner. The -next his face lit up with an expression of respectful sympathy. - -“No, my lord; his Grace is at the House of Lords. But will your -lordship come in?” - -As he threw the door wider the butler, an old family retainer, stepped -forward. His face wore the same expression as the footman’s, a little -less subdued, and he ventured on a word of welcome. - -“I hope I see your lordship well? Her Grace is upstairs, and I believe -would be very glad to see your lordship.” - -“Very well, Stokes,” said Stuart shortly, giving the footman his hat -and stick. “I’ll go up.” - -The servants fell back with faces of demure congratulation as he passed -between them to the foot of the staircase. It was evident that they -viewed this home-coming of the prodigal as the pleasant and appropriate -ending to a deeply interesting history. Perhaps Lord Alistair’s -transgressions had aroused in their breasts a secret fellow-feeling -such as they could never have for their upright, decorous master. The -conduct which had disgraced Lord Alistair in the eyes of his equals had -made him a hero in theirs. Disgrace, after all, is a relative term; -what is ignominy in the schoolroom is often glory in the playground. - -Alistair reached the first floor, and took his way to the -well-remembered little drawing-room, where his mother always sat when -she was alone. Tapping softly on the panel, he opened the door and went -in. - -It was an old-fashioned room with narrow Georgian windows, and the -walls were decorated with painted panels, set in elaborate gilt -scrollwork, with small tail-pieces underneath, in the style of an -Italian altar-piece. A picture of sportsmen in a coppice was completed -by a dead pheasant below, and a sea-piece was similarly finished off -with a group of shells. In contrast with this eighteenth-century -elegance the furniture was of that ungraceful, stereotyped pattern -which has not yet been out of date long enough to be esteemed for its -curiosity. It was the work of an age which valued the useful above the -beautiful, and preferred the accurate production of machinery to the -irregular handiwork of the craftsman. It was the age of the political -economists, when Free Trade was the gospel of humanity, and the world’s -ideal took shape in a huge bazaar. It was an age in which England ruled -the world, and the shopkeeper ruled England, and men deemed that the -millennium could not be far away. - -The religion of this age was Evangelical Christianity. The work -of Wellesley and Whitefield still leavened the national life from -the cottage to the throne. The Catholic conspiracy had not become -formidable; the rising tide of knowledge had not yet sapped the -foundations of the old beliefs. A miscellany of Hebrew literature, half -savage, half sublime, bound up with the cryptic legends of the Roman -catacombs, and rendered into English by the intellect of the sixteenth -century, was accepted as the personal composition of the Creator, -inspired, infallible, and irrevocable, from the first letter in the -word _Genesis_ to the last in the word _Amen_. Salvation by faith was -the watchword of the Churches; the unbeliever was assured that his -best actions were but additional sins until he had gone through that -spiritual experience which brought him within the pale of the redeemed. - -Yet this strait, remorseless creed educated women who were gracious -and beautiful in their lives, and of such women Caroline, Duchess -of Trent, was one. She accepted her creed, as the scientist accepts -the law of cause and effect, without understanding it, but her logic -was able to reconcile it with hope and charity, and with a tireless -devotion to the good of all about her. - -They who are willing to sacrifice themselves will never want those who -are willing to accept the sacrifice. In her girlhood Caroline had been -a maid of honour in the Court of Queen Victoria, and she had ever since -been one of that small circle whom the widowed monarch counted as her -personal friends. The needs of selfish parents had forced her into an -early marriage with a sickly old man whom she nursed faithfully and -kindly, but whom she could not love. He died before she was thirty, -leaving her with enough wealth to attract Lord Alexander Stuart, the -penniless younger son of a great but impoverished house. - -To this man, as handsome as he was worthless, she gave her heart and -her fortune, in accordance with the common law which mates the best -with the worst, and he had become the father of her children before she -made the discovery that he was an irreclaimable drunkard and gambler. -For their own sakes she consented to part with her children, and she -passed the next ten years of her life in accompanying the man to whom -she believed herself bound, from Continental hotel to hotel, keeping up -a hopeless struggle against the vices which were dragging him down to -the grave. - -Her loyalty, and perhaps some relic of her love, survived him, and no -word of hers had ever betrayed his memory to his sons. In the face of -the younger she found a resemblance to his father which had insensibly -gained on her affection, and although she had tried to disguise it from -them, and from herself, both the boys soon knew that Alistair was their -mother’s favourite. When the courtesy rank of Duchess was conferred on -her by royal patent, she did not value the distinction for herself, -but her mother’s heart felt a secret pride that her handsome, naughty -Alistair should be given the style of Lord. - -The catastrophe which opened her eyes to the meaning of heredity -rendered her frantic with grief and shame. That likeness between -Alistair and his father which had fascinated her for so long now became -a source of terror. The handsome boyish face, with its ruddy cheeks and -bright eyes and clustering curls, which had gladdened her sight, was -now a dreadful chart in which she read prophecies of evil to come. - -Under the stress of panic she took that step which she had since -bitterly regretted, which had cost Alistair his religion, and had cost -her his confidence. Ever since that miserable time mother and son had -remained apart, gazing at each other wistfully across a chasm which -neither could bridge. - -The life which he had been leading since his manhood seemed to her a -dangerous, if not an evil one. She saw him moving in a world which was -wholly strange to her, a world in which her own ideals of conduct were -ignored or despised. She heard that he had written poems which she was -advised not to see. Trent told her they were unfit for any decent woman -to read, and the Archbishop added that they were blasphemous. When she -ventured on a remonstrance with Alistair he replied by telling her that -art was above morality, and that a poet must be a law unto himself. - -Like all the mothers of her generation, she would fain have shut her -eyes to one side of her son’s life. But even she could not help but -hear of such a portent as Molly Finucane. The Archbishop felt it -his duty to warn her. Trent openly complained that his brother was -disgracing the family, and threatened to forbid him the house. He might -have carried out the threat if Alistair had not ceased his visits of -his own accord. - -By this time sorrow had helped her sixty years to make the Duchess an -old woman. Her figure was still upright, but her hair was silvered. Her -face, at once sweet and venerable, was marked by a settled sadness. Her -elder son had been as great a comfort to her as his brother had been a -trial, and she had learned to value him more and more. Yet not all her -pride in Trent’s career could soothe her inward grief and yearning over -the marred life of the son who had gone astray. - -Alistair came in softly, and found his mother in tears. At the sound -of his footstep on the threshold her face flushed, and she rose up, -breathing fast, and went quickly to meet him, with a great joy shining -in her eyes. - -“My boy!” she cried hysterically. “My boy Alistair!” - -They stood there silently for a space, with their arms round one -another’s necks, and both felt comforted, for these two loved each -other very tenderly, and they had not met for a long time. - -Such moments do not last. The first gush of affection spent, they were -left face to face, two natures belonging to different worlds. - -While Alistair led his mother to a seat he asked anxiously: - -“When is Trent likely to be back? I don’t want to see him.” - -The Duchess looked troubled. - -“He won’t be in till late, I expect. He is introducing a Bill in the -House to-night, and he told me not to sit up for him. I think there is -another debate on first, about the Church.” - -Alistair heard her listlessly. The doings of the House of Lords sounded -in his ears just then like the fretting of phantoms on a stage. He had -struck his foot for the first time against reality. What does anyone -know of life who has never risen in the morning wondering under what -roof he shall lay his head at night? - -“But you ought to see him,” the mother went on to say. “He is your -brother--neither of you should ever forget that. You want his help, -dear, and I am sure he will help you if you will only let him.” - -“He should have helped me before,” Alistair returned in a resentful -tone. “I know Trent; he would not lift a finger to save me from being -hanged unless he were afraid of what people would say.” - -“Don’t be bitter,” the mother pleaded. “Your brother means well by you, -I am sure.” - -“Nonsense, mother; he would be only too glad to get rid of me -altogether. I have always been a thorn in his side. He looks upon me -as the black sheep of the family, and always will. Trent would like to -pack me off to the Klondike for the next ten years, I expect.” - -As this was one of the suggestions which had actually fallen from the -Duke’s lips that day, when the news of his brother’s insolvency had -been brought to the house, the Duchess found it difficult to answer. - -“Klondike would be better for you than the life you have been leading -here,” she said as gently as she could. “Don’t you think it would be -better for you to leave London and go abroad for a time out of the -reach of temptation?” - -The young man frowned. He knew very well what was meant by the word -“temptation.” - -“I can’t go without money,” he said shortly. - -“I could let you have a little, dear, and James, I know, will let -you have as much as you want, as long as he knows that it won’t be -spent”--she hesitated an instant--“in bad ways.” - -Alistair scowled. - -“What business is it of his how I spend my money?” - -His mother raised her hand with a certain quiet dignity. - -“It is my business, at all events, to know what kind of life my boy is -living, and to sorrow when I know that he is living in open sin and -shame.” - -To this speech Alistair made no answer. He could have made none that -would not have added to his mother’s pain. - -“How much do you want?” the Duchess asked presently in a weary tone. It -was not the first conversation between them that had ended at the same -point. - -The young man started up. - -“Look here, mother, I didn’t come here to ask for money; I’m past that -now. It doesn’t matter to me whether I stay in London or go abroad. -Trent can decide for himself about that. Anyway, I must go under for -a time, I suppose, and I don’t much care if I ever come up again. I -was out on Westminster Bridge just now, wondering whether it wouldn’t -be the easiest way to drop over, and put an end to it all; and then I -thought of you, and felt sorry for your sake more than my own; and so I -made up my mind to come and see you--and here I am.” - -The poor lady shook a good deal as she listened to this speech; and, -remembering her prayer just before Alistair came in, she breathed a -silent thanksgiving, and the tears came back into her eyes. - -“Oh, my poor boy, can’t you see that all this is the result of the life -you have chosen!” She would have liked to make a more direct reference -to her religious belief, but feared to do so. She had learnt by this -time that her son and she had no common ground in that direction. -“Why--why don’t you leave that wicked woman, and start a new life? She -is ruining you, body and soul.” - -Alistair frowned impatiently. - -“I can’t let you say that, mother. It’s not her fault, Heaven knows! -The poor little thing has tried to do her best for me. She is a great -deal better than some of your good women, who would draw their skirts -aside if they passed her in the street.” - -He spoke roughly, but not disrespectfully. - -The Duchess sighed heavily. - -“My unhappy boy, you know nothing about good women. You never meet -them; you might be a different man if you did. If I could only bring -you under the influence of some really good, devoted girl, such as I -know”--a name rose to the Duchess’s lips, but she deemed it wiser not -to pronounce it at that moment--“who would love you well enough to -overlook the past, she might redeem you even now.” - -Alistair sighed, too, at the picture called up by his mother’s words. -He thought of poor little neurotic Molly, with her spasms of utter -wretchedness, her hysterical fits, her occasional drunken outbreaks -in which all the gutter in her blood came to the surface; he thought -of her perpetual, feverish craving for excitement, of her secret -hatred of his intellectual pursuits, of their ill-managed, disorderly -household, with insolent servants going and coming every month. And -then he contrasted the portrait with that of some sweet and gracious -maiden--such a girl as his mother must have been in her youth--who -would bring peace into his life, whose presence would be soothing as -the sound of church bells heard at evening across the autumn fields, -who would guide and rule their home through happy years of wedded -friendship. Alistair sighed. - -His mother heard and drew courage from the sigh. Already her mind was -busy in working out a scheme for her boy’s salvation. Her eagerness led -her to make a false step at the outset. - -“If you will go away even for a short time I shall feel happier,” she -pleaded. “Won’t you try to separate yourself from this woman? If you -like to go abroad I could come with you, perhaps. You have often said -that you should like to visit Rome?” - -Alistair shook his head stubbornly. - -“I cannot go away without Molly.” - -The Duchess of Trent flushed. It seemed to her that this answer was an -insult, even though she had in a manner forced it from him. - -“I wonder that you dare say that to me,” she said, with a touch of -anger. - -“I beg your pardon, mother. But it’s no good our discussing such -things. I can’t expect you to understand how I feel about her. She has -given up everything--you may say she has reformed--for my sake, and if -I were to send her adrift now I should feel myself a blackguard. Why, -God help me, I believe the poor little thing’s been selling her jewels -to pay the housekeeping bills for the last few months. If she’d been my -wife she couldn’t have done more than that.” - -His mother started, and a look of dreadful apprehension came into her -eyes. - -“Don’t talk like that, Alistair! I’m getting old, and it frightens me. -Promise me, promise me, my own dear son, that you will never _marry_ -her?” - -In her agitation the poor lady rose and went to him, laying a pleading -hand on his shoulder as she looked into his face. - -“No, I don’t suppose I shall ever do that,” he said. - -But he spoke in a tone of dejection, like a man not certain of himself, -and the mother’s fear was not relieved. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -A FAMILY COUNCIL - - -THE Duke of Trent and Colonsay, after shaking hands with the Prime -Minister, and receiving the congratulations of several colleagues on -his first appearance as a Minister in charge of an important measure, -was walking out of the House, when he felt himself tapped familiarly on -the shoulder from behind. - -He turned round in some annoyance, for he was careful of his dignity, -but the look of rebuke was exchanged for one of respectful pleasure -as he perceived that the hand which had touched him was the Duke of -Gloucester’s. - -“Are you going back to Colonsay House?” the Prince inquired. - -“I _was_ going,” the Minister returned, conveying by the change of -tense that his movements were for the Prince to dispose of. - -“That’s right; then I’ll walk round with you, if I shan’t put you out,” -Prince Herbert said, linking his arm in friendly fashion in the Duke’s. - -The two companions were old acquaintances; they might almost be called -friends. They had been boys together, in so far as a Prince is allowed -to be a boy. Their houses were in the same part of the country, and the -cordial relations between the Duchess Caroline and her royal mistress -had been renewed by their descendants. - -At that time, indeed, Prince Herbert had been more intimate with -Alistair Stuart than with James. The younger boy’s merry, versatile -disposition had made him a favourite, while his brother was rather a -dull companion. But the course of their later lives had tended to keep -up the intercourse between the Prince and the Duke, while Alistair had -gradually drifted away into paths in which it was impossible for his -royal friend to keep him company. - -The new Home Secretary expected to receive some compliment as they -passed out under the vast vault of the Victoria Tower and turned -eastward. His speech that night had been a marked success. The Bill -he had just introduced was one to provide the punishment of flogging -for the gangs of street-boys who infested the southern side of the -river. He had denounced the enemies of order with conviction, and the -House had cordially endorsed his righteous anger. No one had been -weak enough to think, or bold enough to suggest, that there was any -better way to deal with the hooligan than to flog him. There had been -a time when England could export her savages to savage lands, but, by -some wonderful political alchemy, no sooner did she cast her convict -colonies on the shores of America and Australia than they rose up -mighty states, and with the zeal of renegades refused to harbour the -next criminal generation. Even the army, so long the last refuge of -the blackguard, was become respectable. Science was already lifting a -confident voice to preach extermination for the unfit, and society, -puzzled between the old creed and the new, found itself too weak to -crucify, but not too weak to scourge. - -It was with a sense of disappointment that the young Minister found -that their walk was to be a silent one. The Prince said nothing till -they were in Colonsay House. - -“I suppose the Duchess is not up so late as this?” the Prince asked, as -they entered the hall. - -“My mother generally goes on about this time, but I will ask. Stokes, -go and see if her Grace is in her room, and if so tell her his Royal -Highness has asked for her.” - -The Duke led the way into a Japanese smoking lounge which opened -off the stairs. A large bow-window revealed the panorama of the -night-enchanted river, the reflections of the bridge lamps veining the -tide with molten gold. - -Prince Herbert walked to the window and gazed out speechless for -several minutes, during which his host strewed a lacquered table with -cigars of a rare brand, named after the Prince himself. - -“The grandest view in Europe, I always think,” the Prince observed, -as he turned reluctantly from the window. “And yet there is something -dreadful in it. It is so utterly removed from Nature. It makes one -think of the underground life which we are told the race will one day -have to take to.” - -“We have taken to it already, it seems to me,” Trent answered. “We -travel underground, our light and water come to us underground, our -food is cooked underground, and I am told there are underground stables -in some parts of London.” - -Prince Herbert closed his lips as he walked across to choose a cigar. -It was not the first time that he had found James Stuart a heavy person -to talk to. He could not help comparing this commonplace mind, with -its prim grasp of daily life and its impotence to rise to any higher -plane, with the brilliant and sensitive imagination of Alistair, like -a soaring bubble, one moment glowing with the reflected radiance of a -thousand stars, the next moment smashed against the coarse paling of -the roadway. - -Yet it was this man who enjoyed honour and favour, while the other was -become an outcast. It was to this man that he himself was about to sue -for some toleration of the other. - -He had just struck a light when the door opened to admit Alistair’s -mother. With the quick instinct of sympathy she had divined the object -of the royal visit, and she pressed a warm kiss on the Prince’s -forehead as he came forward to greet her. - -“My dear aunt,” he exclaimed, using the title which he had given her in -his boyish days, “I hope you haven’t come downstairs on my account. I -ought to have gone up to you.” - -“I would much rather sit here, and see you smoke,” she said, with an -affectionate smile. “That is, if an old woman is not in the way of two -young men.” - -Prince Herbert hastened to draw forward a chair, but the Duchess -refused to sit down till the visitor had lit his cigar. As soon as some -servants who had brought in a tray of spirits had left the room, the -Prince opened his appeal. - -“I am very sorry about Alistair,” he said. - -A frown passed quickly over the Duke’s face at this allusion to the -family trouble, but his mother looked up gratefully. - -“I was sure you would be,” she responded. “Poor foolish boy! If only I -could find a way to save him!” - -“Couldn’t this have been prevented?” inquired Prince Herbert, glancing -at the elder brother. - -James shook his head decisively. - -“It was impossible. My mother will tell you I did everything I could. -Twice I have got him to give me an account of his debts, and settled -them, as I thought. But I don’t believe now that he ever let me know -one half of what he really owed. It is like pouring water into a sieve -to try and help Alistair.” - -“Do you know what the amount is now?” - -“Fifty or sixty thousand, I understand. I don’t suppose he knows within -ten thousand or so himself. It is two years’ revenue of the property. -Everything is entailed; I can only mortgage my life interest, and that -means paying a heavy premium for life insurance. Ever since he came of -age I have given him a thousand a year, and of course he could have his -rooms here if he chose to lead a decent life. My mother knows that that -is the very utmost I can do for him if I mean to keep up the estates as -they ought to be kept up. I have to think of a jointure for my wife, if -I should ever marry, and some provision for my own children.” - -The Duke delivered his defence in an injured tone, as though he felt -that the sympathy of his audience was against him. Prince Herbert, in -his quiet way, returned to the attack. - -“I have really no right to ask you, but I should have thought your -properties brought you in a great deal more.” - -“They are still heavily encumbered,” was the answer. “There are -mortgages on nearly everything except the Scotch land, and that brings -in nothing. I might let the moors, I suppose, but in my opinion that -would be another disgrace. I am very strongly opposed to giving these -Americans and stockbrokers the pick of all the historic places in Great -Britain. I blame Cantire for letting Mull.” - -This time the Duke spoke with undisguised warmth. It was a relief to -him to silence the misgivings from which his own mind was not entirely -free on the subject of Alistair. - -“After all, I owe a duty to my people, as well as to Alistair,” he -continued. “I am the head of the clan as well as the landlord. I regard -myself as a constitutional monarch on my own estate, and I have no -right to sacrifice my tenants in order to enrich Molly Finucane.” - -Prince Herbert felt himself rebuked. He doubted no more than others -that the house in Chelsea had been Alistair’s undoing. - -“Is there no hope of rescuing him?” He looked hesitatingly at the -Duchess. - -“I have just seen Alistair,” she confessed, not without some fear of -her elder son’s resentment. “He came here to see me to-night.” - -“To ask for money, I suppose,” said the Duke. - -The Duchess was wounded by the taunt. - -“He did not ask for any, and I did not give him any,” she said with -dignity. “I told him I was sure that you would help him if he would -only leave that woman.” - -“And what did he say?” - -“I don’t think he meant what he said; I can’t think so. But he talked -about her in such a way that for a moment I thought he wanted to marry -her.” - -A fierce exclamation broke from the Minister, a milder one from Prince -Herbert. - -“If he does that, he shall never have another farthing from me; I will -never acknowledge him again!” - -“His infatuation for her is terrible,” the mother went on. “He even -defended her to me. He told me that she had made sacrifices for -him--that she was paying for the house.” - -The two men exchanged glances. This was a deeper depth than either of -them had suspected. Perhaps the Duchess would have suppressed this part -of her information if she had understood how it would strike a man. - -“Is there no chance that the woman herself may give him up now?” - -The Duchess shook her head doubtfully. - -“I should think not, from what he says. I hardly know what it is best -to do. I think perhaps he might be induced to give an undertaking not -to marry her, in return for some assistance.” - -The Home Secretary made a face of disgust. - -“So I am to be blackmailed, am I? I have to bribe my brother not to -make a street-girl the next Duchess of Colonsay.” - -Prince Herbert looked distressed. - -“Are you sure that is the right way to go to work with Alistair?” he -asked gently. “I have always believed that there was good in him, you -know. Perhaps if you tried to appeal to his generosity you might do -more than you suppose.” - -Alistair’s mother gave the speaker a grateful look. - -“Thank you, Bertie. It is very good of you to plead for my poor -boy. I think, James dear, you may have been a little harsh with him -sometimes.” - -“If you were to go to him now,” the Prince pursued, “not to scold him -at all, but just to say, ‘Well, old fellow, you’re in a mess; let’s see -if I can get you out,’ I think you would find him very different to -deal with.” - -The elder brother still frowned. - -“You don’t know Alistair as well as I do. He would most likely insult -me. The last time I wrote to him, nearly a year ago, enclosing his -allowance, and pointing out to him how the life he was leading was -bound to end, he wrote back to me--my mother saw the note: ‘Dear Jim, -your cheques are better than your sermons. Affectionately, Alistair.’” - -Prince Herbert by a severe effort checked the smile which rose to his -lips. - -“After all, he is your brother,” he reminded the aggrieved senior. - -“I’m sure I don’t know why he should be,” the Duke muttered, but he let -his voice drop at the sight of his mother’s sorrowful face. - -“I would see him myself,” the Prince added, “only I have to leave for -Birmingham to-morrow to lay the foundation stone of a cathedral, and -I am under engagements which will keep me in the district for several -days.” - -The Duchess rose and walked across the room to where her son was -seated, tapping a fretful foot upon the floor. She laid her hand on his -arm, and looked him beseechingly in the face. - -“My son, my eldest son!” she murmured softly. “You need not be jealous -of the poor prodigal. Say that you will go?” - -And James said that he would go. - - * * * * * - -That night Alistair’s mother did not sleep. - -The bankrupt himself slept heavily after emptying a bottle of -champagne, at whose expense he no longer hesitated. The new Minister -tossed to and fro till the excitement of debate had evaporated, and -then sank into a calm, health-giving slumber. Prince Herbert slept too; -if he had passed a troubled night the wires would have flashed the news -next day from Auckland to Vancouver. - -But the Duchess of Trent could not sleep. She spent a night of fear and -sorrow, her mind haunted by the terrible word that spelt the wreck of -her darling--the word _wife_. - -Rather than see her son married to Molly Finucane she could have prayed -that he might be taken from the world. To her apprehension such a -marriage meant ruin final and irretrievable, ruin social, moral and -religious, ruin in this life and the next. - -As the first streak of dawn slanted through the window the poor lady -crept from her bed, and throwing a dressing-gown round her shoulders, -sat down at a small writing-table to write a letter. - -She began by addressing the envelope, with fingers that shook partly -from cold and partly from anguish: _Miss Finucane, Elm Side, Chelsea_. - -She had made up her mind to take the desperate step of writing to -Molly Finucane to implore her not to marry Alistair. - -She had first entertained the idea of going to Molly to make the appeal -in person, but she had found herself unable to face the reception which -she feared was possible. Molly Finucane’s reputation daunted her. -The courage of this gentle, pious, pure-minded woman was not great -enough to brave the scoffs of a girl whom common fame reported as more -foul-mouthed than a bargeman. - -The letter took a long time to write. The words came slowly, and more -than once the writer felt inclined to drop the pen in despair. But at -last it was finished. - -The letter ran like this: - - “DEAR MADAM: - - “Will you pardon the liberty I take in addressing you? I write on - behalf of my son Alistair. I hardly know how to express myself - without seeming unkind, but you will understand what a shock it has - been to his mother to see him in the Bankruptcy Court. He was here - last night, and from what he has said to me I feel sure that you do - not wish him ill. His only chance of salvation is an entire change - of life, and that can only be brought about by your influence. The - tremendous hold you have over him is my only excuse for appealing to - you like this. I have no doubt you see as clearly as I do how his - present life is likely to end--in misery and distress. Nothing I - could do would be too much to show my gratitude if you would consent - to let his friends extricate him from his present way of life, and - give him a fresh start. He is still a young man, and unmarried, and - therefore we hope it is not too late to save him. If you are really - his friend you will yourself be anxious to do nothing that would - drag him deeper down into the abyss. In his present state of mind - I fear for him; he is hardly master of his actions, and might be - led in a thoughtless moment to take some step which he could never - recall. It is even possible that he might contemplate marrying you, - which--forgive my saying so--would entail certain misery on you both. - He would lose all his friends, and as soon as the awakening came he - would regard you as his bitterest enemy, and the cause of his ruin. - I hope you will not resent my speaking thus plainly; I need not say - I do so solely out of the natural anxiety of a mother for her boy, - and not out of any desire to say anything harsh or unkind toward you - personally. Most earnestly I implore you, I appeal to you in the name - of your own mother, to let me save my boy! With many apologies for - thus addressing you, believe me, - - “Yours very sincerely, - - “CAROLINE TRENT AND COLONSAY.” - -The letter finished, the Duchess betook herself to her praying-closet, -where she remained till her maid appeared. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -BEERS COOPERAGE - - -THE Duchess of Trent would never call the little chamber which she used -for her devotions an oratory, thinking that term savoured of Romanism. -The furniture of the praying-closet was as downright and old-fashioned -as its name. There was a little table against the wall, supporting a -plain cross of silver, a Bible, a Book of Common Prayer, a small book -of devotions called Bogatzky’s “Golden Treasury,” containing portions -of Scripture, with hymns and prayers for each day. An armchair and a -kneeling-cushion were the only other articles in the closet, except on -the walls, which were hung with a few illuminated texts of Scripture, -and a fine engraving of one of Holman Hunt’s pictures. It was such -a room as might have been used by the pious Countess of Huntingdon, -or one of those saintly dames who kept alive the lamp of Evangelical -Christianity through the days of the Regency. - -Here the Duchess was accustomed to spend many hours in pious -meditation. Her nature was inclined to the tenets of the Quakers, but, -like the royal mistress whom she had formerly served, she deemed that -questions of ecclesiastical forms and government were unimportant, -provided they did not come between the soul and its Maker. Her horror -of Romanism had its root in the natural strength of her character; she -revolted from the devotional practices of that communion as a healthy -man might revolt from the use of crutches. Her education had taught -her to consider that the claims of the Roman Church were a deliberate -imposture, but she was too charitable to think evil of the individual -members of its priesthood. The great wave of medieval reaction which -was now sweeping over the English Church, and in a lesser degree -over the Nonconformist bodies, had passed her by. The ecclesiastical -subtleties which had exercised the mind of Newman and his followers -were meaningless to her. She lived, as she humbly believed, in direct -communion with God, whose Holy Spirit afforded her what light was -necessary to salvation, and the Sacraments she regarded as mere outward -tokens of a spiritual allegiance. - -Believing thus, her piety overflowed, not in the observance of fasts, -nor in attendance at public services, but in works of benevolence. In -the country parish where she had formerly lived she had discharged all -the duties of a curate, except those connected with public worship. -The cottagers believed in her more than in the Rector; on several -occasions she had been asked to baptize some new-born infant whose -little life seemed to be guttering out. Those of such children who -survived were regarded as singularly blest, and their parents showed -great reluctance to let the ceremony be repeated in the church with the -proper forms. She had been in still greater request as a peacemaker; -no quarrel ever outlived her interference in that office. Yet she -never scolded the people, and seldom rebuked them. Her method was to -take the causes of mutual offence upon herself, and ask forgiveness -from each in turn. It became imprudent for her to speak severely to -any of the villagers, even when rebuke was called for. She found out -once that a drunkard whom she had sternly reproved for ill-treatment -of his children was set upon in consequence by the entire village and -beaten dangerously. Her removal to London was felt like death. The -whole country-side was downcast. She arranged to keep up the payment -of all her alms by the hands of the Rector, but this was not felt as -a consolation. Half the population of the parish followed her on the -day she went away from them, the mothers crying and holding up their -babes to take a last look at her, the children silent and hanging their -heads. The fathers at work in the fields cast down their tools as the -carriage went by, and came and stood in the road, with bared heads, -till it had disappeared. - -Afterwards the Rector, himself a well-meaning but dull man, meeting one -of the men on his way home, said that he was glad to see so much love -shown by the people for her Grace. - -The man stared at him. - -“Us love she, sir? Why, that’s nought. ’Twere her as loved we, sir, -better than us love each other.” - -When the Duchess settled in her son’s London house, she sought at -once for the spot where such service as hers was most needed. She -did not apply to the minister of the parish in which Colonsay House -was situated, lest, tempted by her great rank, he might exaggerate -the claims of his own district, and perhaps push out some humbler -worker. For though every Calvinist is something of a republican, and -the Duchess of Trent made it a point of conscience not to set value -on the title she bore, a wise prudence taught her never to forget the -importance attached to it by others, and the unwholesome influence -it was likely to have over a certain class of minds. She knew how -to distinguish with perfect clearness between the courtship paid to -her rank and the love which she inspired on her own account; in this -respect again resembling the monarch who was her friend. - -After a careful investigation, carried out quietly by herself, the -Duchess chose for her sphere of charitable labour a district lying -in the south of the Thames, between Lambeth and Westminster Bridges. -Here, under the shadow of the Archbishop’s Palace, she found heathendom -as utter as, and vice more rank than that the Church was sending out -missionaries to cope with in China and Hindustan. - -The Vicar of the parish in which this region was included, whose name -was Dr. Coles, was a pious, learned, and zealous divine, but he was -believed to construe his ordination vows according to a code of honour -more Roman than English. The services at St. Jermyn’s bore little -resemblance to those of a Protestant place of worship, and it was -suspected that they were but the outward and visible signs of a still -deeper cleavage between the Doctor’s private beliefs and those affirmed -in the articles of religion which he had subscribed. The Vicarage -was the resort of a great number of young men from the theological -colleges, among whom the Vicar of St. Jermyn’s appeared to enjoy an -authority not explained by his rank in the Church. - -Being a man advanced in years, and not being able to afford more than -one curate, Dr. Coles was glad to avail himself of the services of -helpers from outside the parish. Most of these were women of wealth -and position, who came from their homes in the fashionable quarter to -minister to the dwellers in the back streets of Lambeth. The reader of -the society paragraphs in the daily press sometimes little suspected -that the women whose names he saw in the list of guests at a grand -dinner-party or dance the night before had spent their morning going -about the slums of St. Jermyn’s. - -The Duchess of Trent and Colonsay went to work without fuss, calling -herself at the homes of the poor, and winning an easy entrance by -her own kindly and modest demeanour. The sullen drudges of these -dark precincts soon learned to look for her coming, not as that of a -patroness, but as that of a dear friend, who was interested in the -small details of their daily lives, and ever ready to sympathize if a -drunken husband overnight had left a black bruise on the poor thin arm, -or a ne’er-do-well son had been sent to the cells for fighting in the -streets. They never knew how closely their own stories often tallied -with the experience of the lady who listened to them so wistfully, and -who found in soothing their sorrows the means of living down her own. - -It was to this district that the Duchess took her way on the morning -after she had seen her son. - -The carriage set her down at the corner of a small street, called, as -if in mockery of a more splendid region, Little Bond Street. Walking -down this street, where she was well known, and nodding pleasantly to -those of its inmates who were at their doors, the Duchess presently -came to a small court or yard, which bore on the wall of the archway -opening out of the street the legend “Beers Cooperage.” - -Beers Cooperage no longer retained any trace of the manufacture of -casks and barrels which some departed cooper had doubtless carried on -there in bygone days. It consisted of a row of half a dozen very small -cottages, with still smaller enclosures in front, which looked as -though they might once have been meant for gardens. A last reminder of -the time when Beers Cooperage had considered itself to be in a rural -neighbourhood lingered on the window-sills of some of these cottages, -which were ornamented with miniature wooden railings and five-barred -gates, a touch of rustic fancy of which the modern Londoner has become -incapable. Yet though the inhabitants of Beers Cooperage could not have -originated these quaint decorations, and had probably never seen the -country sights they were meant to recall, they took a pathetic pride -in possessing them, and as soon as one of the railings or gates showed -signs of decay it was carefully repaired. - -Who knows what influence such trifles have over all of us? It is -certain that the dwellers in Beers Cooperage were generally quieter -and more decent in their lives than most of their neighbours. One -or two of them kept singing-birds, instead of terriers to kill rats -with. The inmate of one house, a poor cripple, had even set himself -resolutely to make his front garden a reality instead of a name, by -planting a row of wallflowers, bought full-grown from a coster-monger, -in what he evidently considered a bed. These plants, which perished -periodically, and were regularly renewed, were regarded with reverence -by the neighbours, and attracted pilgrims to view them from two or -three streets away. But on the rare occasions when they burst into -bloom of their own accord, no profane hand was allowed to come too near -them. After being reverently smelled at a distance by the dwellers in -the Cooperage, the blossoms were culled with anxious pride by their -proprietor, and made into a nosegay for the Duchess, who carried them -home with her, and set them on the table of her oratory. They were the -only flowers ever seen on that simple altar. - -There was one house in Beers Cooperage, however, which differed -strikingly from the rest. This was the hovel at the upper end, where -the yard terminated in a high blank wall. There were no five-barred -gates on the window-sills here; nothing but fragments, which hung -rotting over the edge. Half the panes in the window were broken, and -stuffed with dirty scraps of paper. The paling before the house was -also fast disappearing, and the space in front was littered with broken -tins and refuse not sufficiently noisome to attract the notice of the -sanitary inspector. In the corner stood a kennel tenanted by a mongrel -bulldog, the terror of the small children in the Cooperage. The door -of this cottage generally stood half open, and through it came all -day and night long sounds of angry scolding, or of oaths and drunken -yells. The inside of the place matched with its outside. The floors and -stairs looked as if they were never washed; the germs of a dozen fevers -might have lurked in the dirt which was thickly piled everywhere. The -miserable crockery and kitchen stuff was in as deplorable a condition -as the windows. The bedding chiefly consisted of heaps of unwashed rags. - -This was the one house in Beers Cooperage into which the Duchess had -never yet ventured to go. It was tenanted by an Irishman, who had -threatened to wring the neck of any ---- Protestant who came meddling -inside his doors. - -For the last fortnight the Cooperage had enjoyed a blessed spell of -relief from the presence of this man, whose formidable strength, added -to his choleric temper, rendered him the terror of his neighbours. -He had been taken in the act of kicking an old man whom he had first -knocked down. The magistrate before whom he was brought, who had just -previously imposed a sentence of six months on a boy for the theft of -a pair of boots, desirous, perhaps, to show that he could be merciful -on occasion, sent the hooligan to prison for fourteen days, thereby -releasing the rest of the inhabitants of Beers Cooperage for that exact -length of time. - -On this morning, as soon as the Duchess came out from under the archway -which formed the entrance to the Cooperage, she saw that something was -amiss. - -Several of the cottages showed broken windows, and in one or two places -even the cherished gates and rails had been damaged or destroyed. A -broken birdcage lay on the ground in the far corner of the yard beside -the dog’s kennel. All the doors of the houses were closed, except the -Irishman’s, through which shrill screams were issuing. Lastly, the poor -lame gardener was standing in his little plot disconsolately regarding -the wreck of his cherished flowers, which looked as though they had -been trampled over by a regiment. - -“Mike Finigan done it,” he explained, in answer to the Duchess’s -sympathetic exclamation. “’E got outer prison yisterday, and ’e come -in drunk lorst night with ’is crew, and played old ’Arry all over the -place.” - -As if the presence of the Duchess had instantly become known, by what -is called mental telepathy, to every resident in the Cooperage, all -the other doors were thrown open, and the women crowded about her, -recounting the tale of the Irishman’s misdeeds, and denouncing their -author. The owner of the broken birdcage pointed to it, not without a -certain melancholy pride in her pre-eminence of wrong. - -“’E broke it ’isself, and ’is mates killed my bird; and there I’m going -to let it lie till I ’aves the law of ’im, the roughing.” - -Whether the woman believed that the continuance of the broken cage on -its present spot would be a strong confirmation of her story, like the -bricks in Jack Cade’s chimney, or whether she had some obscure feeling -like that which causes a Brahmin creditor to starve himself to death, -in a spirit of revenge, on his debtor’s doorstep, and considered the -wrecked cage as a talisman which would work harm to the wrongdoer, -she failed to explain. But the threat of legal proceedings was not -taken seriously by her neighbours, the inhabitants of Beers Cooperage -regarding an appeal to the constituted authorities with much the same -feeling as schoolboys do a complaint to a master. The poor have an -instinct which teaches them that the State is their enemy; they are a -subject population within the borders of the Raj. - -While the group round the Duchess were still shrilly vociferating, -evidently with the object of making their reflections reach the ears of -the Irishman in his retreat, they were interrupted by the appearance of -two figures in the mouth of the archway. - -One of these new-comers was a man, the other a girl of nineteen -or twenty. At the sight of the first the Duchess of Trent frowned -slightly, but her face brightened again as she caught sight of his -companion, whom she had come out this morning in the secret hope of -meeting. - -There is a type of womanhood known all over the world as English, -and in that bright and gracious type Hero Vanbrugh was completely -moulded. It is not a type of classical perfection, like that associated -with the Roman virgin; it does not cast that intoxicating spell over -the passions of men which Southern poets mean by love. The Southern -language has no word for this type; it is only the dear old Northern -names of maid and sweetheart and wife which express its tender charm. - -Hero Vanbrugh, as she stood framed in the archway, was a picture to -gladden the eyes. It was not only that her features were delicately -chiselled, and her body a harmony of slenderness and strength; there -were men who declared that at some moments she seemed to them to be -actually plain; but the freshness of the rain was in her face, and the -laughter of the wind in her hair, and the blue breath of the sea in -her eyes, and there were other men to whom at many moments she seemed -the fairest sight that they had ever looked upon. - -The dress which she wore was of that unpretending serviceable pattern -which would have been deemed almost masculine a few years before. In -the eyes of a man the simple coat with its white collar, and the plain -skirt, might have appeared homely, but the eye of another woman would -have been quick to note the marks of an artist’s hand in the cut of -each garment, and would have credited the wearer with perfect taste, -coupled with the means to gratify it. - -The man who stood beside her in the archway was as unlike her as it was -possible to be. - -If Hero Vanbrugh might have been taken as a type of all that was best -in English humanity, the same could scarcely have been said of her -companion. Big and bull-necked, with coarse, flushed features, small, -deep-set eyes, and a round fleshy chin, he might have passed, in a -different dress, for a comrade of Mike Finigan himself. His costume -would have marked him out in any other country as a Roman priest. He -wore the shovel hat, with a long brim projecting before and behind, -which is associated with the stage priest of comic opera, and his whole -figure, from the neck to the ankles, was enveloped in a long black robe -of design similar to that worn by Noah and his family in the toy arks. -The priests of Rome in this country being in the habit of adopting a -dress corresponding with the character of that worn by the people -among whom they live, this outlandish disguise served to indicate that -the wearer was in Anglican Orders. He was, in fact, the Rev. Aloysius -Grimes, curate of St. Jermyn’s parish. - -The Rev. Aloysius was one of that class which has flowed into the -ranks of the clergy of late years in increasing numbers, to fill the -gap created by the falling off in the supply of graduates from the -Universities, a falling off due as much to the decline in the value of -the Church’s preferments, perhaps, as to the decline of belief in her -doctrines. The son of a small tradesman in the suburbs, he had passed -from a higher-grade Board School into a theological college. He had -entered the college an ordinary sharp London lad of the lower orders, -and left it the social equal of dukes. - -Such a youth, strongly conscious of the importance of the step he had -gained, was not likely to listen with reluctant ears to any doctrine -which exaggerated the dignity of his profession. The Rev. Aloysius came -out into the world firmly impressed that he was a priest, commissioned -by the Maker of the Universe to teach and to rule mankind, endowed -with power to bestow the absolution and remission of sins, and -supernaturally enabled to work the awful miracle of Transubstantiation. - -Between the Duchess of Trent and Mr. Grimes there was an instinctive -antagonism, which each strove to veil beneath the outward forms of -courtesy, the Duchess because she respected the curate’s cloth, -the curate because he respected her Grace’s rank. To the Duchess -the doctrines held and taught by the Rev. Aloysius were simply and -literally blasphemous fables and dangerous deceits. She supposed that -they had been abandoned as such at the Reformation, and she understood -them so to be condemned by the Articles of the English Church. Yet she -perceived that they were now freely tolerated within its pale by those -to whom the government of the Church was committed, and she shrank -with real pain from setting up her own judgment against that of the -Episcopal Bench. - -What added to her distress was the fact that she was unable to credit -the head of that Bench with any belief in what she had always regarded -as the cardinal doctrine of Christianity. That doctrine in her mind was -the Atonement. The great truth which Catholicism images in the crucifix -seemed to her the central one of Christianity, and those who doubted it -became in her view mere Deists, with a reverence for Jesus of Nazareth. -Such a Deist she believed Dr. Dresden, the then Primate, to be, and, -believing it, she regarded even the Rev. Aloysius as more worthy of his -place in the Church than the Archbishop. - -Mr. Grimes glided in front, fawning over the hand of the Duchess, -before Hero could come up. - -“I am so delighted to meet you here, Duchess. It is so good of you to -do so much for our poor people. They are always singing your praises.” - -The Duchess made the briefest response to these compliments as she -turned to greet Hero. - -“My dear, how well you are looking! One would think that St. Jermyn’s -was a health-resort, to see you. Now I wonder whether you will take -compassion on a poor old woman, and let me carry you home to lunch with -me presently?” - -Hero blushed as she listened to these old-fashioned compliments. - -“You are exceedingly kind, Duchess. I shall be delighted. I came here -in the brougham to-day, so that I shall be able to send a message to -my father to let him know where I am. But what is all this about?” She -turned to the excited women who were now repeating the tale of Mike -Finigan’s outrages in the ears of Mr. Grimes. - -The Rev. Aloysius was listening with a troubled brow. In his secret -heart he had a great respect for Finigan, partly because he knew -that the Irishman had no respect at all for him, and regarded him as -an impostor, dressed in plumes borrowed from his own clergy, partly -because of the superior example which the Finigans showed to his own -flock in the matter of reverence for the priesthood. The hooligan and -his family in their wildest moments treated their own priest as being -invested with dreadful sanctity and tremendous powers. They firmly -believed that Father Molyneux could strike any one of them dead without -moving an eyelash; if one of them had been betrayed into lifting a hand -against the Father’s person, they would have expected to see it wither -to a stump. Yet Father Molyneux was a very insignificant-looking little -man, with a jolly smile, and a brogue like the scent of an onion, who -went about dressed in a shabby overcoat and a disreputable hat of the -ordinary chimney-pot shape. He said “Sorr” to Mr. Grimes when that -gentleman condescended to greet him in the street, and never showed by -a word or look that he did not regard him as a superior by whose notice -he was honoured. It was true that the little priest had a reputation -for humour among his own friends; a sound as of laughter was sometimes -heard issuing from the presbytery as the Rev. Aloysius passed by; a -book entitled “The Secret History of the Romish Conspiracy” had been -found by the priest’s housekeeper in the cupboard where his reverence -kept his whisky and his slippers; but those things were mercifully -hidden from the curate of St. Jermyn’s. - -Mr. Grimes turned towards Hero, as she came forward, shaking his head. - -“I’m afraid it’s a sad business, Miss Vanbrugh. Finigan has broken -out again. I can’t understand how it is that a man so well conducted -in some respects, with such genuine faith in his religion, schismatic -though it may appear to us, should be guilty of outrages like this.” - -Hero flushed up. She did not share the elder woman’s deep-rooted -prejudice against the Catholicizing movement, which attracted her -strongly on its æsthetic side, but her English common sense remained -to her. - -“The man is a drunken brute, who ought to have been sent to penal -servitude for fourteen years, instead of being let off with a paltry -fourteen days!” she exclaimed. “What are prisons for, I should like to -know, except to protect peaceful folk from ruffians like that?” - -The Rev. Aloysius shook his head doubtfully. He was inclined to read -the text, “Thy faith hath made thee whole,” in a very broad sense, and -to consider that Mike Finigan’s admirable loyalty to his creed ought to -atone for any trifling disregard of his neighbours’ peace and comfort. - -But the inhabitants of Beers Cooperage, whose rude minds failed to -appreciate the beauty of Mr. Finigan’s theological attitude, in the -face of their broken flower-pots and slaughtered pets, were quick to -perceive that Hero was the champion of whom they stood in need. They -deserted the curate to besiege her with their complaints; the owner of -the birdcage renewed her direful malediction, and another woman, who -could boast no injury on her own account, drew the sympathetic young -lady to the scene of the trampled wallflowers. - -The sight aroused Miss Vanbrugh’s wrath in real earnest. - -“I have a great mind to send for the police myself,” she declared. “I -only wish I had seen him do it, so that I could give evidence.” - -The women shrank back at these words. Their anger against Finigan, -already partly relieved by the mere exertion of denouncing him, was -cooled at once by Miss Vanbrugh’s threat. - -“That ’ud only mike it wuss, miss,” the lame man responded dolefully. -“’E’d come out again at the end of a week like a mad Calico, an’ not -leave a roof over our ’eads.” - -Before Hero had time to resolve this extraordinary expression into an -allusion to the late Khalifa of the Soudan there was a stir among the -little group behind, caused by the sudden appearance of Mike Finigan -himself at the door of his abode. - -Now that the women perceived that their clamour had achieved its -purpose of rousing the evildoer, they suddenly became silent. Finigan -lounged forward, with a masterful air, his hands in his pockets, and -surveyed his neighbours disdainfully. - -It said, in the history-books out of which the small Britons of Beers -Cooperage were taught in the Board School, that Ireland had been -conquered by England in the year of grace 1172. The history-books said -nothing about the conquest of Beers Cooperage by Mike Finigan. - -Seen close at hand, the Irishman did not look a remarkably vicious or -ill-disposed creature. His face was of the dark, heavy, animal type -to be met with in some of the western counties of England itself. -He represented that mixed remnant of old, forgotten races which is -found washed up in out-of-the-way corners of the land, the relics of -prehistoric wanderings and subjugations, the rubble of European man. - -Because his ancestors during a thousand years or so had spoken a -Gaelic dialect, learned language-mongers called Mike Finigan a Celt. -His name might have told them that he was a mongrel Finn, between whom -and the fair-haired, blue-eyed Gauls who took Rome there was no more -kinship than between the Chinaman and the Greek. The traditions of his -own land, had the language-mongers cared to study them, would have -disclosed to them the existence of half a dozen strange older races, -some of whom in all likelihood were still speaking Neolithic dialects -of their own when the armies of Cæsar landed in Britain. - -This primitive savage had been brought from his native bogs, and set -down among a peaceable town-dwelling population, chiefly of Dutch -descent, by the economic machinery of the Raj. The Raj had taught him -to speak its language, and bestowed upon him a voice in the choice of -its administrators. - -Now the Raj was trying to digest Mike Finigan. - -In his own country, dwelling on some bare hillside beaten by the rains -of the Atlantic, the Irishman might have seemed a picturesque figure. -Living the life that was natural to him, digging his native peat, and -finding an outlet for his brutal instincts in the folk-fights that -formed the immemorial pastime of the country-side, he would have been a -harmless subject. - -In the streets of London he was a dangerous criminal. The civilized -life brought out all that was worst in this wild nature. It galled him -with its manifold restraints. It stunned him with its monotony of work. -It teased him with its decorum. It stifled him with its lack of air and -space. Finally, it drove him to the public-house. - -If dirt be matter in the wrong place, so is crime conduct in an unfit -historical or geographical environment. If the hooligan had lived a -few thousand years earlier he would have been a hero. He would have -refreshed himself with his native mead before going into battle, and -his strength becoming as the strength of ten, he would have been deemed -of supernatural birth. His exploits would have become the theme of -bards, divine honours would have been rendered to his memory, and, -his figure shining through the mist of saga like a demigod’s, learned -students would have been engaged to-day in identifying him with the -solar orb. - -As it was, Mike Finigan’s history was already written to its end. After -a long or short series of savage atrocities, after wounding and maiming -a certain number of peaceable citizens, and being punished by sentences -ranging from a small fine to six months’ hard labour, according to the -magistrate before whom he happened to be brought, one of Mike Finigan’s -kicks some day, probably by pure accident, would cause a death; when -society, seizing the excuse for which it had been waiting all along, -would hang Mike Finigan. A pity that you could not have passed the -sentence before the murder, and commuted it to transportation, back -to the little shieling in the potato-patch from which you dragged his -father, Your Majesty the public! - -The effect of alcohol is different on different constitutions, a truism -which fanatics forget. On Finigan its effect was to make him a raging -wild beast. His unfortunate neighbours would have been the first to -bear witness that when the drink was not in him the Irishman was -harmless enough. His speech was always coarse, and he was a stranger -to soap and water, but those were venial faults in the light of his -drunken frolics. At such moments the appearance of the Khalifa himself -in their archway would have struck less consternation into the dwellers -in the Cooperage than Mike Finigan’s. - -After one of these outbursts the Irishman was usually sullen and silent -for a day or two, during which period his neighbours found it wisest to -leave him alone. He was in that condition, surly, but not dangerous, as -he strode forth to silence his assailants. - -At the sight of the Duchess he paused, uncertain. Though he had uttered -a coarse threat against any Protestant who should invade his own home, -he had acquired a tacit respect for the quiet lady who visited his -neighbours, and perhaps there were times when he would not have been -sorry if the Duchess had disregarded his words, and included his wife -and family in her friendly ministrations. A secret shame at having -disgraced himself in her eyes caused him to assume a defiant and -insolent air as he demanded of the women: - -“And what have yez got to say agin me, now I’m here?” - -The women shrank back terrorized. - -The Duchess thought it useless for her to speak. But Mr. Grimes, -anxious to show her Grace how well he could administer a priestly -reproof, rashly undertook to answer the bully. - -“I wonder you are not ashamed to ask the question, Finigan. You have -been behaving in a shocking, scandalous manner. Do you consider what -disgrace you bring, not merely on yourself as a man, but on the Church -to which you belong?” - -The Irishman turned red. - -“Here, Mister, yez lave me Church alone, an’ I’ll lave yours,” he -muttered. - -The Rev. Aloysius smiled at the success with which he had touched the -man’s weak spot. - -“I am not blaming your Church,” he said impressively. “The teaching you -have received is good enough for you to know when you have done wrong. -I am pointing out to you that your neighbours here, who do not know -and understand the Church of Rome as I know and understand it, are not -likely to have their opinion of it raised by such conduct as yours last -night.” - -The curate was warming to his work, and would have gone on to inflict -further stabs on the sensitive place, when suddenly the Irishman -clenched his fists, and stepped towards him. - -“Say another word about me Church, good or bad, and, be the Howly -Moses, I’ll knock yer teeth down yer Protestant throat!” - -The Rev. Aloysius fairly recoiled, stunned, to do him justice, as much -by the insult conveyed in the description of himself as a Protestant as -by the threat of personal violence. It was too bitter; the serpent of -schism had raised its baleful crest, and stung him in the very midst of -his flock. - -Fortunately, or unfortunately, no one suspected the true cause of his -agitation. Before he could frame a suitable retort an unexpected ally -came to his rescue. - -Hero Vanbrugh had listened impatiently to the curate’s attempted -admonition of the hooligan. Her indignation at the brutalities whose -effects she had just seen was still hot within her, and the Irishman’s -hectoring demeanour made it boil over. - -She walked up quickly, and confronted him with blazing eyes. - -“You coward! How dare you stand there and bluster! How dare you come -out and show yourself, in the face of all the mean, silly, brutal, -wicked things you did last night! Where is the bird you and your -friends killed? There is its cage! Look at it, and stay here and brazen -it out if you dare! Look at that poor man’s flowers all trodden down -and broken! I wonder you can bring yourself to pass them! To rob a -poor lame man! a cripple! I suppose you will beat him next, or murder -him if you are not afraid of the police. I tell you, you are a coward, -nothing but a big hulking coward, who goes about bullying women and -children--and cripples! Go! Don’t stay out here! Go and hide yourself, -lest a man should come along and see you!” - -Then a great thing happened. For Mike Finigan, the tyrant of Beers -Cooperage and the terror of the police, raised his finger to his -forelock, and with a muttered--“Beg pardon, miss,” turned round, and -shrank back into his house like a thoroughly ashamed man. - -The Duchess turned to Hero with a look of grateful admiration. - -“You did that splendidly, my dear. Thank you.” - -The women, relieved of the presence of their enemy, would have burst -out in a triumphant chorus, but Hero restrained them with a gesture, -and the next minute they were surprised to see her turn white and -totter against the side of the Duchess, who hastened to draw her away. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE WHOLE DUTY OF WOMAN - - -AS the two ladies passed under the archway from Beers Cooperage into -the street they were followed by Mr. Grimes, anxious to efface the -rather humiliating figure he had cut in his encounter with Mike Finigan. - -“I wonder if we may have the honour of seeing you at our bazaar this -week, Duchess?” he said smirkingly. - -“What bazaar is that? I don’t think I have heard of it,” the Duchess -responded, with indifference. - -“The Legitimist bazaar--to obtain funds on behalf of the cause,” the -curate explained. - -The Duchess of Trent knitted her brows. - -“I am afraid I don’t understand. What cause is that, if you please?” - -The Rev. Aloysius faltered somewhat in his speech as he answered: - -“It is the cause of the legitimate monarchs who have been excluded from -their thrones by--ah--popular insurrections, and--ah--constitutions -and republics, and so on. The Duke of Orleans is one of our principal -objects,” he went on rather hurriedly, observing a significant frown -come over her Grace’s brow at the word constitution--“rightfully Louis -XIX of France; and then there is Don Carlos of Spain, and the Duke of -Cumberland, and others. Many of us consider that the Bishop of Rome has -been wrongfully deprived of his sovereign rights by the House of Savoy.” - -“Any more?” asked the Duchess, with some scorn. “I shall be glad to -know whether you consider the Queen as a usurper, because I have served -in her household as a girl, and I have no desire to conspire against -her in my old age.” - -The curate of St. Jermyn’s cast down his eyes. - -“Oh, I dare say there are a few members of the Guild who hold, in an -academical spirit, of course, that the elder branch of the Stuarts -are entitled to our allegiance, but that is really more a pose than -anything else. No one intends the slightest disrespect towards Queen -Victoria. But the French Republic is very different; its intolerance -towards the religious orders must make every Christian wish to see its -downfall.” - -“I am afraid that I do not sympathize with your views sufficiently to -care to come to your bazaar,” the Duchess said dryly. “It appears to -me that Legitimism, according to your account of it, is another name -for Roman Catholicism, and I am a Protestant.” The Rev. Aloysius looked -pained. “Besides,” her Grace went on severely, “even if this nonsense -about the Stuarts is only a pose, as you say, it seems to me in very -bad taste. I only trust it is not actually treasonable.” - -Mr. Grimes bit his lip. Then he put on a touch of bravado as he replied: - -“I am sorry you should think so harshly of us, Duchess. I should not -have ventured to broach the subject, only Lord Alistair Stuart is among -our patrons, and we hope to see him on Saturday. Miss Vanbrugh also -held out a hope that she might drop in for an hour.” - -“I was only coming out of curiosity, remember; I told you that, Mr. -Grimes,” put in Hero promptly. “As it is, I think I shall follow the -Duchess’s lead, and boycott you. I have no objection to Louis XIX, but -I think I must draw the line at Mary III.” - -It was under this name that the Bavarian Princess whom the Legitimist -Guild honoured with their homage, figured in their recently published -calendar of true and lawful Sovereigns. It must not be supposed -that in so styling her the Legitimists were inconsistent enough to -acknowledge the title of the wife of William of Orange to a place in -the list of British monarchs. The Mary II recognized by them was the -ill-starred rival of Queen Elizabeth. Further back than the martyr of -Fotheringay their genealogical inquiries did not too curiously extend, -lest, perhaps, they should find themselves confronted with that direct -descendant of the Plantagenets who plied the trade of a chimney-sweeper -in the last generation, and who, as a base Protestant mechanic, would -have been ill-deserving of the sympathy accorded to such illustrious -figures as Don Carlos and Leo XIII. - -But a change had come over the face of the Duchess while Hero was -speaking. Now she said to her: - -“After all, I expect it is a mistake to treat Mr. Grimes’s friends -seriously. Suppose we agree to look in on the conspirators together? I -should like you to meet my boy Alistair.” - -And without waiting for the expression of the curate’s exuberant -delight at this decision, the elder woman gave the signal to enter the -carriage that was to convey them to Colonsay House. - -On the way thither the Duchess made no further reference to what was in -her mind. But while they were waiting for lunch to be served, she took -her guest into the little drawing-room where Alistair had found her the -night before. - -“I want to talk to you about my boy,” she said, making Hero sit down -beside her on the couch. “I dare say you know he is in sad trouble just -now.” - -This was by no means Hero’s first visit to Colonsay House. The -friendship between her and the Duchess was of some standing. -Encountering each other among the squalid byways of St. Jermyn’s -parish, a mutual liking had quickly sprung up between them, which -rested on no more occult base than the simple goodness of heart which -was common to the two. The older woman admired Hero Vanbrugh for her -courage and plain good sense, and Hero on her part revered the Duchess -for her antique piety and single-mindedness. Thus it came about that -the two were constant companions, visiting in the same district and -helping in each other’s work. - -It was a source of secret regret to the Duchess that Hero did not -share her own old-fashioned prejudice against the Catholic practices -and teachings of Mr. Grimes and his Vicar. Hero had an æsthetic -appreciation of the ritual of St. Jermyn’s, with its banners and -processions, its incense and its worship of the consecrated elements, -and this led her to listen with outward tolerance to the utterances of -Dr. Coles and his disciple on the subject of the Catholic doctrines -which lay behind these outward symbols. But the native strength of her -mind forbade her to make that surrender of her own judgment to priestly -authority which is the real test of the Catholic temper. - -Perhaps this obstinacy was due more largely than she suspected to -the personal antipathy inspired in her by the Rev. Aloysius. A young -woman’s religion is generally coloured by her personal relations with -the man who is her religious teacher; and Hero secretly despised Mr. -Grimes as a man, though she tried to respect him as a clergyman. A -suggestion from the curate that Miss Vanbrugh would derive spiritual -benefit from a visit to his confessional had been so discouragingly -received that he never ventured to renew it. - -The curate did not help himself in Hero’s eyes by his rather too -evident admiration of her as a woman. If he had not been vowed to -celibacy it might have been supposed that he was courting her; and even -as it was, there were jealous eyes, belonging to older and plainer -women in the St. Jermyn’s flock, which watched him with distrust, and -jealous minds which dwelt upon the fact that Anglican vows of celibacy -are a poor security. Perhaps it is not doing much injustice to Mr. -Grimes to suppose that there were moments when he himself recollected -with some satisfaction that in his Church such vows resemble the -treaties of civilized Powers, and are liable to be repudiated the -moment they become inconvenient. - -Be that as it may, it is certain that Hero Vanbrugh was heart-whole as -far as her clerical admirer was concerned. Lord Alistair Stuart she had -never met, her intimacy at Colonsay House dating since the separation -due to Molly Finucane. - -She was familiar with Lord Alistair’s story, in so far as it had become -a social scandal, but this was the first time his mother had pronounced -Alistair’s name in her presence, and her interest was strongly roused. - -She gave the Duchess a nod of sympathy and understanding. - -“I saw what had happened in the papers. I was very sorry. It must have -been a great blow to you and to the Duke.” - -“It is a crushing blow,” the mother answered. “Not only in itself, but -because of what lies behind it. My boy would never have come to this if -he had not fallen under the influence of that dreadful woman.” - -In saying this the poor mother spoke quite sincerely. In spite of -Alistair’s disclaimer, in spite of her own experience with him in the -past, she could not bring herself to forego the mother’s consolation -of laying her darling’s sins upon another’s shoulders. In the eyes of -a true mother the whole world is full of wicked men and women busied -in laying snares for the destruction of her child; she never deems it -possible that her child may be himself the tempter of others. - -Hero did not doubt that the Duchess spoke perfect truth. What woman -likes to think that another woman’s influence is otherwise than hurtful -to a man in whom she is interested? - -“I am sure of it,” Miss Vanbrugh said with conviction. “But perhaps -what has happened”--they both shrank from the word “bankruptcy”--“may -be the best thing in the end, if it compels him to leave her.” - -The Duchess shook her head despondently. - -“I hardly know what will happen yet. I hinted that his brother might -come to his help if he would give up his present life, and he refused. -Do you know what I am actually afraid of? I believe that woman is -scheming to make him marry her!” - -Hero Vanbrugh was as much shocked by this suggestion as the Duchess -could have desired. Her training had not been severely Puritanical, -but an instinct older than copybooks and Sunday schools taught her -to look on Molly Finucane as her natural enemy. Such women as Molly -were traitors to their sex; they were the blacklegs of the feminine -trades-union. The wage which the others had worked from time immemorial -to establish--honour, a home, the half of all a man’s possessions, and -the chief place in his life--all this the free-lance had foregone, to -snatch the miserable gains of adventure. - -The announcement that lunch was on the table did not interrupt the -conversation. But it added another interlocutor in the person of the -Duke of Trent. - -The new Minister had passed a busy morning at the Home Office. His -first care had been to send for his solicitor, to consult him about -Lord Alistair’s affairs. The lawyer told him that, though the nominal -amount of his brother’s indebtedness was not less than fifty thousand -pounds, the creditors would probably be willing to accept one-half to -cancel the proceedings. Twenty-five thousand was a large sum to a man -circumstanced as the Duke was; nevertheless, he had made up his mind -that it should be forthcoming, and he had instructed the solicitor to -open the negotiations on his behalf. - -The most important item of official business had been a call from the -Chief Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, who reported a fresh -piece of hooligan violence from the neighbourhood of Bermondsey. A -policeman was again the victim, and the Force were beginning to show a -dangerous temper, and to demand permission to carry revolvers for their -own protection. - -The Home Secretary privately sympathized with this demand, but he -foresaw that such a departure would be the signal for a storm of -protest in the workmen’s papers and in the House of Commons. The -particular quarter of London where the latest outrage had occurred was -represented in the House by a sturdy demagogue who was not likely to -sit with his mouth closed while his constituents were threatened with -what he had already described in advance as martial law. The very gangs -which were now defying the police were believed to have done effective -work during the last election, and on one memorable occasion their -popular representative had led them to an armed encounter with the -forces of law and order in the heart of the capital. - -These considerations had to be weighed by the Home Secretary. A Cabinet -Minister in these days holds the position of a buffer between the -permanent heads of his department, who really govern the Raj, and -the assembly elected by the populace to supervise them. The first -duty of the Minister, no doubt, was to support his staff, but it was -also imperative to take no step that might endanger the popularity of -his party in the constituencies. In this dilemma the Duke of Trent -had reserved his decision till he should have had an opportunity of -consulting Major Berwick, the trusted chief of the electoral machine. - -A smile of pleasure betrayed his gratification at the entrance of Miss -Vanbrugh, who greeted him with the ease of old friendship. He told his -mother briefly of the steps he had already taken on Alistair’s behalf. - -The Duchess gave him a grateful look. - -“Thank you, dear; I knew you would do what you could. I was just -talking to Hero about the poor boy. The one thing we have to try for -now is to make this trouble a means of rescuing him from his present -life.” - -“I ought to make that condition, of course,” the elder brother observed -doubtingly; “but from what you told me last night he would only refuse -it if I were to.” - -“It is very difficult,” the Duchess admitted. “I am afraid you are -right. Perhaps if you say nothing about conditions, and simply let him -know that you are helping him generously, he will feel ashamed not to -make a return.” - -The Duke of Trent had his own opinion as to his brother’s sense of -shame, but he did not care to express it before Miss Vanbrugh. - -“What I want most,” the Duchess proceeded, “is to induce him to come -here again. I dread the consequence of his always being with that -woman. If I could get hold of him sometimes, and bring him into contact -with women of a different kind, I feel sure that the contrast between -them and the woman he is living with would soon disgust him with her.” - -Even if the Duchess had not stolen a glance at Hero Vanbrugh as she -spoke, her drift could hardly have been misunderstood by the girl. The -Duke failed to see the personal application of his mother’s remark. - -“If you could find some decent woman who would overlook the past, and -get him to marry her, she might be able to keep him straight,” he said -bluntly. “On the other hand, she might not.” - -“I feel sure that he might be saved by the right woman,” the Duchess -said earnestly. “I am convinced that the poor boy is secretly sick of -the life he has been leading, and only his pride keeps him from giving -it up. A noble, pure-minded girl, who really cared for him, would be -able to do anything she liked with Alistair.” - -This time the allusion was too plain to be mistaken. The Home Secretary -intercepted the blush on Hero’s face, and his eyes were opened. A look -of dissatisfaction replaced his indifferent air, as he replied with -some bitterness: - -“I am not so sure of it. Many a good woman has sacrificed her life -before now in the effort to reclaim a man who was unworthy of her, and -the sacrifice has been in vain.” - -In saying this he was thinking of the history of his own father and -mother, of which he had learned more than his mother suspected. He had -sometimes felt surprised, as well as mortified, that he should have -had such a parent as Lord Alexander. Never having seen his father since -early childhood, and being free from any tendency to romantic idealism, -the Duke was able to judge the dead man quite impartially, and to think -of him as if he had been some remote ancestor, whose virtues and vices -were merely matter of curiosity for his descendants. - -“I wonder my mother’s own experience has not taught her the folly of -thinking that a worthless man can be redeemed by a good wife,” he -reflected impatiently. “Alistair takes after his father; no doubt -that is why she has always loved him better than me. Her whole soul -is absorbed in trying to save him from the consequences of his own -follies, and I am merely a pawn in the game. Now she wants to enlist -Hero Vanbrugh in the same task, as if a girl like that were fit for -nothing better than to be the keeper of a drunken prodigal.” - -The Duchess observed the frown on her eldest son’s brow with wondering -dismay. It did not occur to her that he could be moved by any other -feeling than fraternal jealousy. Old-fashioned in her ideas on this -subject, as on most others, she had never contemplated it as possible -that the Duke of Trent and Colonsay could marry out of his own -class. And the class in which, with perfectly unconscious pride, she -placed her young friend was that middle one which appeared to have -been created to supply doctors and lawyers and men of business for -the service of the aristocracy. In her eyes the girl’s father, Sir -Bernard Vanbrugh, was simply a successful medical man. The scientific -achievements which had made him a European personage, greater than any -Secretary of State, were outside her ken. - -If she had come to entertain the project of marrying Hero Vanbrugh to -her prodigal son as a last means of averting the terrible catastrophe -of Molly Finucane, she did so honestly, considering that she offered a -privilege to Hero, corresponding with the greatness of the interest at -stake. It was in the perfect simplicity of this conviction that she had -so candidly revealed her design. In the same spirit she had been ready -to take Alistair’s brother into her confidence without any apprehension -that she might be applying the spur of rivalry to a slumbering -admiration. - -She was familiar with the Duke’s expressed views on matrimony, which -she respected, although they struck a little cold on her own more -emotional nature. She knew that he had made up his mind from an early -age to two things--that he was one of the best matches in Great -Britain, and that marriage was the most important card he had to play -in the game of life. It had long been understood between them that -Trent was in no hurry; that what he required in a wife was a great -fortune, accompanied by those social graces which count for so much -in politics; and that when he found a possessor of both these gifts -who pleased him she would become his Duchess. The mother lived in the -mild expectation of hearing some day that her young sultan had thrown -the handkerchief to a fitting aspirant, whom it would be her part to -welcome with what tenderness was permitted, and in whose favour she -would cheerfully resign her place in Colonsay House. - -Thus it lay altogether outside her calculations that her eldest -son could take any interest in Hero Vanbrugh warmer than a passing -friendship. The prudent young statesman was the last person in the -world whom anyone acquainted with him would have believed capable of a -romantic passion. And the last person in the world to believe it would -have been the young Minister himself. - -A man who has lived to the age of thirty without ever losing his head -in the company of a woman naturally regards himself as love-proof, and -perhaps insensibly relaxes his self-defence. But Hero Vanbrugh enjoyed -one great advantage over almost every unmarried girl whom Trent had -ever met, inasmuch as she had not come before him as a candidate for -the orange-blossoms. - -If he had met her in one of those crowded ballrooms where her sisters -are paraded nightly in the London season for the allurement of -intending purchasers, Trent would have carefully guarded himself from -giving her a second thought. He had met her for the first time at his -own table, lunching in outdoor costume with his mother, who introduced -her as a helper in her charitable work. The Duke, presuming that -Miss Vanbrugh came from some humble clerical circle, unbent from his -ordinary reserve in the desire to put her at her ease. He was rewarded -for this kindly effort by the discovery that she was beautiful and -charming. - -It was not until afterwards that he learned from his mother, who -rallied him playfully on his fascination, that he had been entertaining -the daughter of the great Vanbrugh. It was chance, therefore--one -of those chances that every now and then take over the control of -our lives and change them for us--that had caused Trent to meet Hero -Vanbrugh on this easy footing instead of in the cankered atmosphere -of fashion. But the ice, once broken, could not be re-formed, and the -relations between Hero and her host at Colonsay House had developed -into intimacy. - -Up to this time the Duke’s mental attitude had been that of a man who -views a tempting object in a shop-window, and stands hesitating, purse -in hand, wishful to buy, but unable to make up his mind to give the -price. Now he suddenly became aware that another possible purchaser was -coming up, and that if he wanted to make sure of the bargain, he must -lose no more time. - -An embarrassing silence was broken by Hero, who undertook to divert the -thoughts of the Home Secretary by asking: - -“What do they think in the Home Office of the Legitimist Guild?” - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE DECADENTS - - -IT was some time after dinner when the Duke of Trent, faithful to his -promise to their mother, drove up to the gate of Alistair’s house in -Chelsea. - -On the way James considered what line it would be best for him to take. -He reckoned on finding the prodigal in a despondent mood, perhaps half -estranged from the temptress already, under the stress of poverty and -disgrace. If so, it should prove an easy task to appeal to him by the -picture of the welcome awaiting him in Colonsay House. Alistair could -not but be touched by his brother’s generosity--and James meant to be -generous. He meant to say--to say a little condescendingly, perhaps, -but kindly: “I take your debts on myself. Your name is cleared. Your -mother and I only ask you not to forget that you have a home to come to -when you like.” - -By the time he had reached the house the Duke had half persuaded -himself that he should be able to bring the repentant one away with him -that very night. - -The house was surrounded on all sides by a high brick wall, pierced at -the entrance by a tall narrow gateway, the gate of Georgian ironwork. -Ordering his coachman to wait, the Minister strode up a covered pathway -that led to the door of the house, and knocked. - -As he did so he was aware that the lower part of the house was -brilliantly lit up. He caught a murmur of voices coming through the -windows of a room which overlooked the front garden, and even heard -what sounded like applause. - -Before he could frame any explanation to himself of these sights and -sounds the door was opened by a smart lad in a rather untidy page’s -livery, who stared at the visitor with the vulgar impertinence of a -servant who does not respect his employers. - -At the same instant a loud burst of laughter came from the interior of -the building. - -“Is Lord Alistair at home?” the Duke demanded sharply, incensed by this -reception. - -“He’s engaged,” said the boy glibly, giving the Duke a cautious look. -“What name, please?” - -“The Duke of Trent. I am his lordship’s brother,” returned the Home -Secretary, frowning. - -“Oh, that’s all right, my lord--I mean Your Grace,” the page responded, -with an air of relief. “Come in, please.” - -And, scarcely giving the visitor time to remove his hat, he threw -open the door of the room from whence the sounds had proceeded, and -announced him. - -The new-comer took two steps through the doorway, and stopped -astounded. - -He had arrived on the scene of a festivity. Around a dining-table, -crowded with a confusion of dessert-dishes, champagne-bottles, -coffee-cups, cigar-boxes, and spirit-stands, with the ashes of -innumerable cigars and cigarettes soaking in the spilt wine and coffee -on the tablecloth, were seated some seven or eight men, most of them -young, all wearing evening dress, and seeming to be in the highest -spirits. At the head of the table, facing the Duke as he came in, the -woman he had come to snatch his brother away from lolled back in her -chair, puffing a cigarette, her hands monstrously encumbered with -coloured stones, and her powdered bosom resplendent with five or six -chains of jewellery. At the foot of the table, beside the door by which -James had just entered, the brother he had come to pardon and to redeem -turned languidly in his seat, and, rising with studied nonchalance, -removed a cigar from his lips to say: - -“That you, Trent? So good of you to join us.” And, turning to the -company again, he added the careless introduction: “My brother.” - -His second glance round the room had warned the angry Duke that, -however he might be disposed to treat Molly Finucane, her guests were -not men whom he had any right to object to meet. Too well-bred to make -a scene under the circumstances, he choked down his indignation, and, -after a haughty bow, which neither included nor excluded the lady of -the house, he accepted the chair which someone offered him. It was with -a sense of satisfaction not unmingled with surprise that the Secretary -of State discovered on sitting down that his neighbour was a personal -acquaintance, the great Mendes, head of the South American Bank, and a -financier with whom Cabinet Ministers were obliged to reckon. - -Lord Alistair vouchsafed a light word of explanation. - -“Been having a little feed to celebrate my smash,” he said, waving -his hand over the dirty table. “These are my friends. You see before -you the members of the Dishonourable Brotherhood of Decadents, an -association for the spread of corruption among the upper classes. -Dishonourable Brother St. John, I call upon you for a speech.” - -“What on earth is all this?” the Duke demanded in a whisper of his -neighbour. - -The millionaire shrugged his shoulders, as though he were slightly -ashamed of his company. - -“I suppose they intend it for humour,” he answered in the same key. -“It’s one of your brother’s ideas. He’s always starting something -of the kind. It used to be a Chinese Guild, and they all dressed as -mandarins and wore pigtails. Last year it was an anti-Semite show, -and Stuart had the cheek to ask me to join it.” The Jew’s smile as -he said this was a trifle threatening. “They parody everything. That -Frenchman opposite, Des Louvres”--he nodded towards a man with a thin, -wicked-looking face and small dark beard and moustache--“he is at the -bottom of it, I believe. They may know something about him in your -Office.” - -The Home Secretary was staggered. Possessed of too little imagination -to see anything in the proceedings but a rather scandalous jest of -the kind that undergraduates indulge in at places like Cambridge and -Oxford, he felt that the mere fact of the jest being carried out by -grown men made it doubly unbecoming. And he felt personally aggrieved -that these men should be making merry over an event which had cast a -shadow on the house of which he was the head. He recalled his mother’s -grief, Prince Herbert’s gracious interest, the money sacrifice which he -himself was preparing to make; and his heart swelled with inward wrath -and shame. - -He could not help wondering privately what Mendes was doing in such -company. The keen, remorseless man of business who had executed a -masterpiece of legal robbery, and thereby made himself one of the new -world powers which were taking the place of Kings and Cabinets, seemed -strangely out of place among that crew of mockers. The Brazilian sat -for the most part silent, his lips set in an ironical smile. But from -time to time his glance wandered in the direction of Molly Finucane, -who moved restively in, her chair whenever she caught Mendes’s black -eyes fixed on hers. - -The rest of the revellers were all excited in different degrees by the -wine they had been drinking, and their remarks and interruptions formed -a sort of ground-bass to the speech which Alistair had called for. Mr. -Gerald St. John, whom the “Court Guide,” more tender of his dignity -than he seemed to be himself, described as “Honourable,” was a man of -about the same age as Stuart, though his bald forehead gave him the -appearance of being older. He had some little reputation as an amateur -in music and painting; he had composed songs which were occasionally -sung, and painted pictures which the New Gallery did not disdain. - -Addressing his friends as “Dishonourable Brethren,” he hailed them as -the missionaries of a new gospel. Theirs was the task to purge society -of Puritanism and propriety. They were to set the example of becoming -artists in Beautiful Sin. It was impossible for Trent to tell how far -he was serious. His speech mingled echoes of the cant of a certain -class of literary and artistic critics with what appeared to be broad -farce. - -But two passages in the address made an impression on the Minister, by -their curious connection with his recent interests. The first was a -surprising compliment to the Church of Rome; the second was a panegyric -in a much broader vein of the hooligans. - -Of the Roman Church the speaker said that it was the only form of -Christianity which deserved their toleration and respect. He regarded -it as the true Church of the Decadence, and as such he called upon the -Brotherhood to support it. He was not himself a Catholic; he was a -polytheist. But he considered that, next to polytheism, the Church of -Rome afforded the best rallying-point for all that was beautiful and -corrupt in the art and life of the age. - -This extraordinary eulogy was received with vociferous applause, -especially by the French Count, whose air was that of a man enjoying -a personal triumph. Molly Finucane, who had not been to Mass or -Confession for many years, but who had not quite shaken off her early -impressions, tried to disguise her nervousness by hammering the table -with her wineglass till it broke--an accident which she was half -disposed to interpret as the work of an offended Power. - -The Duke of Trent, who entertained a vague respect for the Roman Church -as a venerable institution whose influence was generally exerted on -the side of the Conservative party, hardly knew what to think of this -equivocal homage to its merits. The Honourable Gerald St. John passed -on to the question of hooliganism, not without a shy glance in the -direction of the Home Secretary, which showed how much the jest was -enhanced by the presence of hooliganism’s official adversary. - -The hooligans, he declared, were crusaders fighting for the same -cause as that Dishonourable Brotherhood. They were martyrs of the new -individualism. Their so-called outrages constituted a protest--the -only form of protest which dull and hidebound statesmen could -understand--against the iron yoke of Socialist civilization, under -which they were all groaning. He regarded the hooligans as saviours. It -was significant that so far the man whom they had selected for attack -was that embodiment of everything vulgar and virtuous, the suburban -ratepayer. When they had exterminated the ratepayer, he hoped they -would go on to the millionaire. He had always regretted that their -fellow-workers, the Anarchists, should show so much antipathy to Kings. -It was an unreasonable prejudice. Kings were picturesque survivals in -the midst of the hideous monotony of modern life. Kings were rarely -respectable, and were not seldom steeped in crime; and this applied -particularly to those romantic claimants--he, the speaker, preferred -the dear old name “Pretender”--whom their Dishonourable Brother on the -left was seeking to restore. - -This allusion was accepted by Des Louvres with eager manifestations of -approval. Once more the Secretary of State felt an obscure uneasiness -as he compared these mocking utterances with the recent experience -of his own department, and he began to ask himself if he was indeed -listening to the first whispers of a coming storm. - -Hero Vanbrugh’s question about the Legitimist Guild had not fallen on -deaf ears. He had had the curiosity to ask his permanent staff if they -knew anything of the Legitimists, and he found they knew very little. -There is nothing Government Departments dislike so much as information, -except the trouble of acting on it. No one in the Home Office could say -exactly who the Legitimists were, or how they had come into existence -as a guild. Their very number was unknown, but it was believed to be -insignificant. They were wholly without influence or following, and -would never have been heard of but for the fact that the newspapers -regarded their proceedings as a good joke. Every sensible person put -them down as a clique of vain and foolish young men who made themselves -supremely ridiculous by trying to revive a cause which had been dead -for a hundred and fifty years. - -Such was the official view. Sixty or seventy years before a similar -view had been taken of the action of a little clique of Oxford men who -were setting themselves to undo the work of the Protestant Reformation. -That little clique had undertaken to break up a settlement which had -taken root for two hundred and fifty years, and had survived twelve -reigns and six rebellions. In the course of a single reign they had -come within sight of their goal. They had driven the word “Protestant” -out of polite conversation, and made it a synonym for everything base, -ignorant and malicious. They had made it dangerous for a Protestant to -object publicly to Catholic practices which were still forbidden by the -letter of the law. They had sent an informal embassy to the Vatican to -negotiate the re-entry of England into the Roman obedience; and they -had delivered the first open attack on the legislative bars which still -hindered that consummation. - -Fresh from the assurances of the Home Office, it was a shock to the -Minister to find himself for the second time that day confronted with -this ridiculous but offensive movement. It was true that Mr. St. John’s -remarks bordered on satire, but the serious-minded are apt to resent -satire at the expense of what they fear, as much as at the expense of -what they revere; the only notes they wish to hear are the snap of -cavil and the rumble of denunciation. - -If the Duke of Trent had consulted his own inclination he would have -risen and protested against this trifling with treason. But, like most -men who are deprived of the sense of humour, James Stuart was keenly -sensitive to ridicule, and he dared not expose himself to the merciless -wit of this crew of profligates. He bitterly repented the false step he -had taken in sitting down amongst them, but he sought in vain for any -means of extrication. - -Meanwhile the orator concluded with a felicitous reference to the -occasion of the feast. - -One Dishonourable Brother--in fact, the founder of their Order, he -said--had shown that it was possible to emulate, if not to surpass, -the exploits of the humble hooligan. By his magnificent defiance of -the day before he had struck dismay into the mercenary ranks of their -hereditary foes--he need not say he meant the trading class, whose -shameful supremacy had made England unfit to live in. Their gallant -host had plundered the hostile camp of a sum which represented one of -the greatest triumphs ever achieved over the Philistine. He called -upon him, in their name, not to pay this _canaille_ a farthing in the -pound. And he called upon them to drink confusion to the respectable -classes, coupled with the name of their Arch Decadent! - -Everyone rose to his feet to drink the toast, with the exception of the -bankrupt himself, and his brother, who tried to conceal his disgust -under an air of amused tolerance. - -Alistair Stuart was conscious of his brother’s real feeling, and -resented it all the more because he was half ashamed of his own part in -the buffoonery. His tone became louder and more insolent as he gulped -down glass after glass of spirits, and called upon one or other of his -guests to keep up the entertainment. - -Nobody dared call upon the Secretary of State. They all knew enough to -feel that he was a stranger in the camp, if not a spy, and only the -emphasized indifference of Stuart to his brother’s presence gave them -courage to go on. The presence of this representative of all that they -professed to loathe and despise, looking on with chill disapproval, -dashed their spirits unexpectedly, and even to their own ears their -customary jests took on a hollow sound. - -Presently it came to the turn of a youth seated opposite to the Duke. -He was of a pale and sickly countenance, the whiteness of his face -being accentuated by the black locks which he allowed to grow down to -his neck. His tie was a black sash with flowing ends like that worn by -French Art students in the quarter of Batignolles. He did not appear -to be much more than twenty, and answered to the name of Egerton Vane. - -“Who is he?” Trent asked his neighbour. - -“The lunatic with the scarf round his neck? That’s a minor poet. -I don’t suppose you have ever come across his works. He publishes -two volumes every year, at his own expense, of course, with about -twenty poems in each. No one ever reads them, except the provincial -reviewers. He has got an album filled with cuttings from papers like -the _Pembrokeshire News_ and the _Berwick-on-Tweed Gazette_. ‘A volume -of verse from the graceful pen of Mr. Egerton Vane’--that’s the kind -of incense he feeds on. Once he got a puff in a paper called the -_Librarian_, and carried it about with him for months. He said to me -with tears in his eyes: ‘This is recognition!’” - -Everyone in the room seemed to have some literary or artistic vocation, -except Mendes himself. The motive which brought the South American -there remained unguessed by Trent, but it was clear that he extracted -some amusement from his strange associates. - -“That other young fool over there is his brother, Wickham Vane,” the -millionaire continued, indicating a boy of eighteen or thereabouts, at -the other end of the table. - -“Does he write poetry, too?” - -“No, he doesn’t do anything so material as write. He thinks beautifully -about old tapestry.” - -Wickham Vane might have been pursuing his peculiar vocation at that -moment from his absorbed expression. But he roused himself from his -abstraction to pay the homage of attention to his elder brother. - -Egerton Vane held a large sheet of paper in his hand, but before -reading from it he prepared his hearers’ minds by a short allocution. - -“The poem I am about to read you strikes an entirely new note in -literature, the note of the unreal. It is a ‘Sonnet to a Drawer in a -Japanese Cabinet.’ I have come to the conclusion that all the poets -who have preceded me have been mistaken in thinking that Nature was -poetical. The artificial only is poetical, because only Art can be -artistic. Nature is incapable of symbolism, and the symbol alone is -truly beautiful. All the glorious sins which reveal themselves crudely -and grossly in mere human beings are latent in exquisite suggestion in -the divinely precious works of Art. Even the handicrafts of the East -are steeped in the splendid sensuality of its peoples. In this poem -I have attempted to do justice to the subtle and elusive vice which -clings like the aroma of putrefying rose-leaves to the workmanship of a -Japanese cabinet in my possession.” - -The poet proceeded to read: - - SONNET - - TO A DRAWER IN A JAPANESE CABINET - - What shadow of dead secrets, lemon-eyed, - Lurks in thy black recesses, frightful drawer, - Crowned with the Pagan scent of delicate gore - Fresh from the veins of some green suicide? - - Behold thy lacquered sins are glorified - In frantic fowls that round thy handle soar, - Mad with obscure desires, like those that tore - Unclean blue Mænads by the Phrygian tide! - - And horrors like vermilion rats awake - And crawl about thee, crooning in my ears - Dim, vampire songs of shrivelled souls that ache - - With the strange lust for torture-baths of pain; - Sick with the thirst of poison drunk in vain, - And bleeding with the clammy blood of tears. - -The new note thus successfully struck in literature was applauded with -a vehemence that concealed some jealousy on the part of the other poets -present. Only Molly Finucane, who was beginning to feel herself left -out in the cold, asked the author impertinently what his work meant. - -“Nothing!” was the rapt reply. “All Art is quite meaningless.” - -The Duke of Trent turned to Mendes. - -“And is that absurd and disgusting rubbish the sort of thing which -passes for poetry to-day?” - -“Not to-day, perhaps, but it will pass for it to-morrow. If Egerton -Vane goes on long enough, I have no doubt he will found a school. But I -have noticed that most young fellows who begin like that end by going -into a monastery.” - -The Duke began to see a new usefulness in the institutions which he had -been brought up to regard with aversion. - -The Brazilian, who knew the weak spot in most of his fellow-men, -maliciously threw an apple of discord among the company by asking -Egerton Vane across the table what he thought of the poems of Rowley -Drummer. - -The quarrel which instantly arose and raged over the merits of this -distinguished writer showed that envy of a rival’s renown may be a -stronger passion than hatred of the middle classes. - -The chief apologist for the poet was a man who had recently achieved -a scandalous success with a novel in which he dealt faithfully with -the vices of all his most intimate friends. The terror inspired by -this performance had made him for the moment the most courted man in -London society, and persons like the brothers Vane followed him about -everywhere in the hope of finding themselves pilloried to fame in Basil -Dyke’s next libel. - -Dyke, who found his antipathy to the _bourgeoisie_ sensibly diminished -by every cheque which reached him from his publisher, and who was -already meditating desertion from the decadent ranks in favour of -marriage with an heiress, put forward a claim on behalf of his client -which it did not seem easy to refute. - -“He has made vice popular in the person of the British soldier,” he -urged. “He has stamped with brazen hoofs upon the Gordons and the -Havelocks and the prayer-meeting heroes of the Victorian Age, and has -called upon the drudging taxpayer to bow down and worship a swearing, -drinking blackguard. His patriotism is nauseous in itself, I grant, -but then he has made it patriotic to break the Ten Commandments. He has -identified Imperialism with immorality.” - -“And therefore, I suppose, you would say with Art?” retorted Egerton -Vane, with ill-concealed annoyance. “All Art is immoral, but it does -not follow that all immorality is artistic.” - -“Vulgarity is never artistic,” added the thinker about old tapestry, -coming to his brother’s support. “Rowley Drummer has no sense of the -unreal. He sees life in all its blinding vulgarity, and therefore the -better he paints it, the worse is the result.” - -Dyke saw that he had gone too far. It is always bad manners to praise -one poet in the hearing of another. He tried to qualify his praise. - -“I do not defend him as an artist,” he explained, “but as a demagogue. -I say that the coarse passion called patriotism, in his hands, has been -turned to a good purpose. After he has taught the public to acclaim the -hooligans of the barrack-room, they cannot very well flog the hooligans -of the street.” - -To the Minister, fresh from his legislative essay, this remark sounded -like a challenge. Once more a doubt invaded his mind as to whether all -that he was listening to was sheer ribaldry, or whether there were not -underlying it some serious purpose, or at least some serious tendency, -of which Cabinet Ministers one day might have to take heed. - -Molly Finucane had been feeling bored for some time, and, what was -worse, feeling that her exclusion from the conversation reflected on -her position as the lady of the house. She seized this opportunity to -assert her prerogative. - -“Who talks of flogging the hooligans?” she asked, with a good deal of -scorn. “They’ll have to catch ’em first.” - -She stopped short, warned by the uneasy looks of the rest that she had -committed herself in some way. Molly did not read the papers, and so -was ignorant of the recent proceedings of the House of Lords. But she -was aware that Lord Alistair’s brother was identified in some way with -the Government, and therefore with the cause of law and order, and she -guessed that her expressions might contain some element of offence. - -There had been a time when Molly would have enjoyed nothing so much as -shocking a Cabinet Minister by telling him across her own table that -her brother was a corner-boy. But for the past year a great change -had come over her disposition, as great as that which transforms the -roystering medical student into the serious family practitioner. It had -not needed the letter from Lord Alistair’s mother to put before her -the idea of becoming Lord Alistair’s wife, nor to teach her the way in -which his friends would take such an alliance. To become Lady Alistair -without at the same time obtaining the social honours which other Lady -Alistairs enjoyed would do little to satisfy that yearning for other -women’s respect which is the torment appointed for such as Molly -Finucane. And there was enough good in Molly to make her anxious for -Alistair’s sake not to be a permanent blight on his career. It was for -his sake as much as for her own that she had been striving painfully -for the last twelve months to acquire the habitudes of a lady. - -The unexpected arrival of the Duke of Trent had caused her a thrill of -pleasurable excitement. To make a good impression on the head of the -family, she felt, would bring her half-way to the goal. Now, at the -thought that she had been so near to disgracing herself, she could have -bitten her tongue. - -Molly’s preoccupations were not shared by Alistair, who took it for -granted that his brother had come to reproach him, and resented what -seemed to him an impertinent intrusion. By this time he had drunk too -much to care what he said or did, and the desire was strong upon him to -wreak his bitter feelings on the head of his favoured elder. - -Staggering to his feet, and casting a disdainful look at the silent and -annoyed Duke, he burst out: - -“I am a hooligan. I’ve been trying to disguise it ever since I was a -boy, but I’m not going to try any more. I hate your law and order; I -hate your respectability; I hate your civilization. Our forefathers -were thieves and murderers, and I envy them. They lived a jolly life -among the heather and the hills, and they were gentlemen. They didn’t -cringe to cobblers and butchers for votes, and go to church on Sundays -to please their grocer. They swore and drank and diced as much as -they liked, and never asked what the Dissenters thought of them. I -am sick of the strait-waistcoat; I am sick of swallow-tail coats and -prayer-books. Why should I torture myself in the effort to lead your -unnatural life? I protest against it all. Life is one long persecution -of men like me, by men like you. Why can’t you leave me alone, as I -leave you alone? I don’t force you to drink and gamble, and lead what -you are pleased to call an immoral life. Why do you try to force me to -lead a moral one?” - -He paused for a moment, and then, as if the overflow of his wrath had -sobered him, went on in a more serious vein: - -“What is your ideal? Show me the man you honour, and I will show you -the value of your morality. The hero of to-day is the successful cheat, -the tradesman who has made a million by selling rotten food to the -poor or to your own soldiers in South Africa; the bandit of the Stock -Exchange; the monopolist who has broken the hearts and ruined the lives -of a hundred struggling rivals, and who three hundred years ago would -have been hanged as an engrosser. That is the man to whom you kneel, -for whom all the doors of all the churches are thrown open, in whose -name I am ordered to reform my ways.” - -The speaker seemed to feel the need of pointing his denunciation with a -personal application. - -“I am your victim. I am the man whose life is ground out beneath the -Juggernaut wheels of what you call your social system. Why? Because -I cannot become hard and selfish and stupid like your model. It is -monotony that you want; it is originality that you hate. Go to the -tombs of your martyrs--most of them are buried in Westminster Abbey -or St. Paul’s--Goldsmith the bankrupt, Nelson the adulterer, Pitt -the drunkard, Shakespeare the debauchee. Those are the men whom you -are trying to exterminate, and you have nearly succeeded. I--I had -something here, perhaps”--he smote his forehead with his hand--“and -I might have done something if I had ever had the chance. But you -have killed me. All the bright instincts, all the golden wings that -fluttered in the dawn, all the magic whispers, all the reveries and -dreams--they are dead and still and silent now. Your work is done.” - -A slight shiver went round the room and touched even the Cabinet -Minister, who had been more than once on the point of rising and taking -his departure. - -Suddenly Alistair Stuart broke into a loud laugh. - -“Thank you, my Dishonourable friends--thank you for your support -to-night. You see before you a bankrupt, but a merry one. You will hear -of me again before long. I think of taking a house on the south side of -the river, and turning hooligan. I invite you to become members of my -band. I hope to give some trouble to the authorities. We are fortunate -in having one of them here to-night. I invite you to drink his health, -gentlemen--my brother, the Home Secretary, author of a Bill to punish -the hooligans by flogging. In your name I defy him, and drink damnation -to his Bill!” - -The thickness of his speech and the increasing wildness of his -behaviour relieved Lord Alistair’s hearers from the necessity of -treating this as anything but the utterance of an intoxicated man. But -it was clearly necessary to put an end to the scene. - -Mendes and the Duke of Trent rose together, but the financier was the -first to speak. - -“Gentlemen, it is time we were going. Stuart, sit down! You don’t know -what you are doing!” - -He thrust Lord Alistair down into a chair and held him there, while the -others made their hasty farewells and streamed out into the hall. - -“I am obliged to you, Mendes,” said the Duke. “Do you think,” he added -in a whisper, “you could get that girl out of the way?” - -“It’s her house, I believe, but I’ll try to send her to bed,” was the -answer. - -The Brazilian went up to Molly, who sat looking rather frightened at -her end of the table. He said a few words in a low voice which appeared -to produce the right effect. Molly Finucane glanced timidly at the -Duke, and then came towards him with an evident desire to propitiate. - -“I’ll leave him with you, if you like,” she said, “but you won’t find -it much good talking to him to-night, I expect. You’d better come again -in the morning, if it’s any business.” - -Trent confined himself to bowing silently, and Mendes accompanied Miss -Finucane out of the room, leaving the brothers together. - -Alistair had remained still, with his head resting in his hands, as -though exhausted by his passion. Hearing the door close, he looked up -sullenly. - -“Well, what do you want with me?” he asked. - -Faithful to his resolve to be gracious, in spite of the provocations he -had received, the Duke made a mild answer. - -“I want you to come home, Alistair.” - -“This is home.” - -“My house is your home,” said James, not unkindly; and, with a tact of -which he was not always capable, he added: “Our mother’s house is the -home of both of us.” - -Alistair reddened. - -“How is she?” he muttered. - -“She is very anxious and unhappy about you. I have promised her to save -you, if you will let me.” - -This time the elder brother’s words were not so well chosen. It always -grated on Alistair to be reminded that he was dependent on James. - -“I can’t leave my friends,” he said stubbornly. - -Trent thought of the company he had just seen depart, and his -indignation got the better of him. - -“Friends!” he repeated. “Friends who have landed you in the Bankruptcy -Court!” - -“Well, you didn’t keep me out of it!” - -Trent made a strong effort to keep his temper. - -“I have seen my solicitor to-day with the object of preventing the -adjudication. Alistair, I will do it, if you will only pull yourself -together, and make it possible for your mother and me to help you. I -will pay your debts once more, though I can ill afford it, and start -you again with a clean sheet, if you will only take advantage of it. -Come! I have got the brougham waiting outside. Why shouldn’t you get up -now, and let me take you straight away with me?” - -He tried to speak cheerfully and confidently. But there was no -encouragement in the bleared eyes that looked up at him. - -“What! and leave Molly after she’s stuck to me all this time? D’you -think I’m a cad, Trent?” - -“You called yourself a hooligan just now.” - -Trent regretted the retort the moment it had passed his lips. But it -was too late. Alistair started up angrily. - -“And, damn it! I’ll _be_ a hooligan before I will sell the little woman -for a few miserable thousands, like that! Go to the devil, you and your -clean sheet! I’m sorry for the old mater, if she feels it, but I can’t -stand your patronage, and I won’t have your moralizing; so you can just -leave me alone.” - -“I will leave you alone!” exclaimed his brother. “God forgive me, I -sometimes wonder what I have done to deserve being cursed with such a -brother as you!” - -He turned and strode out of the room, leaving Alistair to sway and sink -down with his head upon the table among the ashes and wine-stains of -the extinguished revel. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -A LEGITIMIST DEMONSTRATION - - -THE carriage which brought the Duchess of Trent and Miss Vanbrugh to -the Legitimist bazaar set them down at the door of a mean-looking, -brick-built schoolroom, over the door of which was a niche containing -the statue of a woman holding a babe in her arms. - -This woman was intended for a Jewish peasant, wife of the carpenter -Joseph of Nazareth. This babe was her Divine Son, the second person of -the Christian Triad. - -The woman wore an emblem of glory in the form of a crown on her -head. The babe’s head was undecorated. The group was copied without -alteration from the ancient pagan idols of the Great Mother and her -Child, worshipped for countless ages in the Mediterranean zone. - -Beneath the niche four letters were cut. They were the four initials, -A.M.D.G., of the Latin words, _Ad majorem Dei gloriam_--“To the greater -glory of God.” - -It was the motto of the famous Society of Jesus, set up over a building -in which the children of Protestant Churchmen were being educated. -Only the Jesuit motto was not set out in full; it was merely hinted at -by those cryptic letters. This was a touch that Ignatius Loyola would -have admired. - -Neither of the two ladies observed the unobtrusive initials, nor, -if they had done so, would they have understood their significance. -But they could scarcely avoid seeing the idol in its niche; and -just as they were stepping out of the carriage a bright little lad, -attractively robed in a white gown with a red vest above, evidently a -singing-boy from the church hard by, passed through the doorway, bowing -reverently to the sacred image as he went up the steps. - -The Duchess of Trent was amazed. Her works of charity had never brought -her into this part of the parish, and she had always kept herself from -contact with the religious activities of St. Jermyn’s. - -“If that is not Popery, I should like to know what is?” she exclaimed -bluntly to her young friend. “Did you see that boy bowing to the Virgin -Mary? I have no doubt they are taught to pray to her as well.” - -This surmise was perfectly just. Such slight control as the episcopate, -or at least the lay judges of the Privy Council, exercised over the -services in St. Jermyn’s Church, appeared to cease altogether on the -threshold of the school. Within that building Dr. Coles was supreme, -and taught what religion he pleased. If it had suited him to set up -an image of Siva for the adoration of his scholars, or to inculcate -the most degrading beliefs of primitive savagery, no one would have -interfered with his discretion. Thus, while the Vicar maintained -some of the forms of Anglican worship in the parish church, in the -schoolroom he had long laid them aside. The catechism taught to the -boys was one prepared by a clerical secret society, and was carefully -contrived to fill the learner’s mind with hatred for the Protestant -heresy, and to turn it in the direction of Catholic Unity. - -A special liturgy, compiled by the same hands, was also provided -for the use of the scholars. In it the Mother of God figured as the -principal, though not the sole, object of worship, the Apostle Peter -taking the second place. Among the prayers, precedence was given to -one for the Patriarch of the West--“Thy servant Leo, that he may be -inspired rightly to define and zealously to defend the faith once -delivered to Thy saints.” After this came petitions on behalf of a -personage discreetly referred to as “the lawful Sovereign of these -realms,” the souls of the dead “now awaiting Thy judgment,” and the -reunion, “under one visible Head on earth,” of all branches of the Holy -Catholic Church. Dr. Coles himself was responsible for a supplementary -prayer in which “our blessed patron, Saint Jermyn,” was complimented on -his influence with the Mother of God, due to the continence of his life -on earth, and implored to use that influence on behalf of the area for -which he was, as it were, the spiritual County Councillor. - -It was a document breathing the spirit of the Dark Ages, when God -figured in men’s minds as a sort of Byzantine Emperor, surrounded by a -court of heavenly chamberlains and eunuchs, each dispensing favours to -his own train of followers, and none incapable of being bribed. - -Miss Vanbrugh, regarding the symbolical sculpture with the indifference -born of ignorance, smiled at her friend’s indignation. - -“Let us go in,” she said; “I don’t think it’s so bad inside.” - -The whitewashed walls of the room in which they found themselves -offered a curious medley of science and religion, evidencing a painful -struggle in the mind of Dr. Coles between proselytizing zeal and a -desire to earn the grants of an heretical Government. A large crucifix -over the teacher’s desk was flanked by a geological map of Great -Britain, and a glass case containing silk in various stages from the -cocoon to the finished skein. The Ten Commandments on one wall were -faced by the two hemispheres on the other; and an illuminated calendar -of Holy Days was half concealed by a chart depicting screws, wedges, -levers, and other mechanical appliances. The cloven, or at least the -clerical, hoof peeped out in a series of cartoons illustrative of -English history, the scenes chosen being all in one category--the -landing of Augustine, the martyrdom of Edmund, Thomas à Becket defying -Henry II., and Langton, with a formidable crozier, extorting Magna -Charta from King John apparently by the threat of physical violence, -while the barons respectfully looked on. - -On this particular occasion the eye was quickly distracted from these -mural decorations by the exhibition beneath. The room, which was -large enough to contain one or two hundred people, was lined round -three sides by stalls loaded with that extraordinary description of -articles which are manufactured specially for sale at bazaars, and in -which the greatest possible uselessness is combined with the greatest -possible fragility. Children’s frocks, which no child could wear for -an hour without damaging them, embroidered tobacco-pouches sufficient -to dismay the most stout-hearted smoker, weird contrivances of paper -and cheap ribbon described as toilet-tidies, ridiculous pin-cushions, -and impossible patchwork quilts formed the staple of the display. In -one corner a lottery was being conducted by the Rev. Aloysius Grimes, -happy in that immunity from the law which newspaper editors cannot -obtain; and pretty little choristers, in their sacred vestments, were -passing to and fro among the ladies doing a roaring trade in the sale -of tickets. But the great attraction of the afternoon was the theatre, -which had been organized in an adjoining classroom, and in which it was -announced that a Miracle Play would be produced at four o’clock, under -the direction of Egerton Vane, Esq. - -As soon as Mr. Grimes caught sight of the Duchess of Trent and her -companion, he handed over the care of the lottery to a young lady -assistant, and hastened forward to greet them. He was just shaking -hands, when a stir in the doorway announced the arrival of Dr. Coles. - -In appearance the Vicar of St. Jermyn’s contrasted very favourably -with his curate. It was easy to see that he was a man of education and -refinement, and his white hairs gave him a certain dignity. His face -was that of a sensualist, but the benevolent smile, which had become -almost stereotyped on his lips, produced an impression of cordiality -and goodness of heart. The Doctor’s career had not been quite -untroubled by the voice of scandal. But any bygone slips on the part of -a saintly man had been forgotten or forgiven. The reverent murmur which -welcomed his appearance among his flock was a striking testimony to the -influence he had secured over those among whom he worked. - -The Rev. Aloysius, breaking away from the two ladies in the middle of a -sentence, without apology, was the first to cast himself on both knees -before his employer, and respectfully kiss a large ring on the Vicar’s -extended forefinger. - -“What in the name of goodness does that mean?” the astonished Duchess -asked of Hero. - -She spoke loudly enough to be heard by several persons in the throng, -who turned and cast rebuking glances at her. Directly afterwards she -saw a number of well-dressed women advance one after the other and -salute the Vicar of St. Jermyn’s with the same ceremonial as that -observed by Mr. Grimes. - -“Are they all mad, or what is it?” the Duchess whispered. “I have -never seen such a thing before in my life, except when I was abroad, -in Roman Catholic society. But even they don’t kneel to their priests, -only to a Bishop.” - -Hero blushed guiltily. She was better informed than the Duchess, -but she was not sure that her knowledge might not damage her in her -friend’s eyes. - -“Perhaps these people regard Dr. Coles as a Bishop,” she suggested -timidly. “Have you never heard it whispered that he had been secretly -consecrated by--an Armenian Bishop, I think?” - -The Duchess stared at her in honest bewilderment. - -“How could that be? I don’t understand. Why should an English clergyman -go to Armenia to be consecrated?” - -Hero saw that she must make her revelation complete. - -“I understand the object was to renew the Apostolical Succession in the -Church of England.” - -“It has never been broken,” said the Duchess, with decision. She had -been told so as a girl, and had never given the subject a second -thought. To her devout mind, too candid to be taken in logical -snares, the presence or absence of one or two or three Bishops at -the consecration of another could not seem a matter of real concern. -To attribute to such details the awful consequences they possess for -Catholic minds would have seemed to her to attribute the technical -instincts of a small attorney to the Maker of the sun and stars. - -“The Pope of Rome refuses to recognize Anglican Orders, you know,” -Hero explained gently. “The application was made to him the other day -by Lord Bargreave on behalf of a third of the clergy, and he told them -that the English Church had no Bishops, no priests, and no Sacraments.” - -The Duchess flushed to the roots of her hair. - -“When I was a girl,” she said sternly, “the Church of England would -have refused to recognize the Pope of Rome. I was brought up to believe -that the Roman communion was a half-pagan, half-political body, which -had corrupted the Gospel with idolatry and superstition, and forfeited -its right to be called a Christian Church.” - -It was Hero’s turn to be astonished as she listened to the language -of an extinct generation. Brought up in the age which had witnessed -the triumph of the Ritualist propaganda, it was news to her that the -national Church had ever occupied any attitude but one of envious -imitation or suppliant apology towards that of Rome. And yet Hero -Vanbrugh was a girl who had read a good deal, travelled much, and used -her own powers of observation and reasoning. She had seen the ignorant -priesthoods of Spain and Italy, and their brutish flocks, the most -degraded element in the European population. The sight of the Rev. -Aloysius Grimes cringing to Mike Finigan had roused her indignation. -And yet the spectacle of a great society of Grimeses cringing to -Mike Finigan’s master, in the name of Elizabeth’s and Cromwell’s -countrymen, had scarcely moved her to a passing sigh. - -“Times have changed,” she murmured to the Duchess. - -And times had. Even the Duchess realized dimly that it had become -unsafe to utter aloud her sentiments of loyalty to the English Church -or to the English Throne in a Church of England schoolroom, while it -had ceased to be unsafe for Dr. Coles to parade openly his treason -to both. His episcopal character was no secret in the theological -colleges from which a steady stream of young men like the Rev. Aloysius -turned their steps to the obscure Lambeth Vicarage in search of those -supernatural powers which they deemed the neighbouring Archbishop had -no power to bestow. In this way the whole Church was being gradually -leavened, so that the time was at hand when some portion of the -mysterious virtue brought from Armenia would have found its way into -all the channels of ordination, and obstinate Evangelicals would be -receiving Armenian Orders unknown to themselves, and would be working -the great Transubstantiation miracle in which they personally did not -believe. - -For the sake of achieving this object Dr. Coles had put on one side the -prospect of promotion in the English Church. With abilities sufficient -to have raised him perhaps to the House of Lords, he had deliberately -accepted the part of priest of an obscure parish, content if his -underground revolution was allowed to proceed without interference. -His motives were mixed, perhaps, but great revolutions are the result -of mixed motives, and never of wholly small and base ones. The Vicar of -St. Jermyn’s was blinded to the degrading character of his methods by -the loftiness of his aims. He took the guilt of fraud and perjury on -his conscience, and he did so contentedly, looking forward to the time -when the Church he served would re-enter the Catholic unity, and the -Body of Christ be made whole. - -As soon as he had finished receiving the homage of his peculiar -adherents, the old priest went up to the Duchess of Trent, for whom -he had a warm regard. In spite of the theological gulf that sundered -them, she commanded his sympathy far more than the vain and hysterical -women who grovelled in his confessional, and her simple and unselfish -piety displayed in those good works which all religions enjoin had -won his gratitude and respect. Had he been able to make a convert -of the Duchess he would have felt it as great a triumph as when the -State-appointed Bishop of Linchester, laying aside his jewelled crozier -and mitre, came and knelt in the humble study of St. Jermyn’s Vicarage -to receive them again at the hands of the “Bishop of Lambeth.” - -On her side the Duchess was not blind to the merits of Dr. Coles, -his indefatigable zeal, unworldliness, and kindly temper. They met -as friends meet, seated in different trains, and going in opposite -directions, who exchange a brief word of greeting before they pass out -of each other’s sight. - -The Duchess had never referred to the religious aberrations of the -Doctor, but she thought she might safely challenge him on the subject -of loyalty to the Throne. - -“I had no idea that you sympathized with the Legitimists,” she observed. - -The Vicar smiled indulgently. - -“This bazaar, I suppose you mean? It is more Father Grimes’s doing than -mine. I hold entirely aloof from politics.” - -“But you have lent your schoolroom.” - -Dr. Coles frowned. - -“My schoolroom, as you call it, is a public building,” he said, with -a touch of anger. “I find I am expected to lend it for the purposes -of political meetings, even to the party which almost openly aims at -Disestablishment. I sometimes wonder I don’t receive an application to -lend it for an infidel lecture.” - -The Duchess was impressed. Dr. Coles had struck the one note which -brought them into perfect accord, in his reference to infidelity. - -In the view of the Duchess this was the one thing worse than Popery. -Her religious scale was made up of five degrees. At the very bottom -came Infidelity, in which term she was disposed to include the -Unitarian denomination and those divines of her own Church whose Hebrew -studies had led them to take different views as to the authorship of -the Old Testament books from those at one time prevalent. The second -head, Popery, covered practically the whole Christian Church during the -ages between the death of Paul and the conversion of Martin Luther, and -two-thirds of existing Christendom. The third division, under the word -Idolatry, embraced the religions of the rest of mankind, including the -stern monotheists of Islam. The Jews formed a class apart; the Duchess -was too good a Conservative to blame that ancient race severely for -their stubbornness in resisting even a Divine reform; she regarded them -as a species of embryo Christians, whose development had been arrested -in the caterpillar stage. Her fifth division, Protestantism, applied to -the sects dating from the Lutheran revolt, and to stray heretics of the -past, such as the Socialist Lollards and the freethinking Albigeois, -who possessed the merit of having been persecuted by Rome. Among these, -of course, she distinguished between the converted Christian and the -much larger class of sinners for whom she wished to take for granted a -death-bed repentance. - -It was not an unimportant matter that the Duchess of Trent should -have held these views. Money is always important, and the Duchess was -one of a very large moneyed class who were always ready to open their -purses on behalf of their favourite propaganda. The infidel and the -sinner were supposed to be reached by the ordinary machinery of the -Church, and the Papist and the Jew had been wellnigh abandoned as -hopeless, though a few Englishmen of the lower class still prowled -through countries like Spain and Portugal, distributing Protestant -tracts and increasing the dislike felt for their nation. But the great -field for missionary effort, of course, was that section of mankind -labelled idolaters or heathen. In the spirit of the hymn which singles -out the inoffensive Buddhists of Ceylon to brand them with the epithet -vile, the good Duchess firmly believed that to thrust, not merely -the theology, but the morals, social customs, marriage institutions, -language, manners, and even clothing of her own age and country upon -all the peoples of the earth was a Divine injunction to be neglected at -her peril. - -This generous zeal had long been encouraged by the statesmen of the -Raj, who saw its possessions widened without the expense of arms. The -British Empire resembles no other that has ever existed in having come -into existence unconsciously. England has sent forth her outlaws on -the shores of distant continents, and they have come back soldiers for -her. Her merchants have gone forth seeking merchandise, and realms -Alexander sighed for have fallen like ripe fruit into their hands. Her -missionaries have Anglicized where they should have Christianized; -the bigoted worshippers of Allah and Vishnu imitate the language of -Macaulay, and every new church in Africa gives a new cotton-mill to -Lancashire. - -Dr. Coles had a more personal argument in store for the Duchess of -Trent. - -“Surely you cannot be very bigoted against the Legitimists,” he urged. -“I thought that all the old Scotch families were Jacobites at heart. -And Lord Alistair Stuart is a member of the Guild.” - -“I have heard my mistress, the Queen, say: ‘I am the greatest Jacobite -of them all,’” the Duchess responded. “But I don’t think she ever -expected to hear of real Jacobites in the twentieth century. I don’t -take your friends very seriously, Dr. Coles, and I dare say my son -doesn’t either.” - -Before the discussion could be carried further Alistair himself came -into view. His mother watched him anxiously, half afraid of seeing him -accord the same homage to Dr. Coles as the others. But whether because -he was wanting in reverence for Armenia, or because he was ashamed to -show greater respect to a man than to his own mother, Stuart contented -himself with shaking hands with the priest, after he had previously -greeted his parent. - -He was surprised at first to see her at such a function. But the -diplomacy of the Duchess was very transparent. She at once turned to -Hero, and pronounced the formula which entitles two people in English -society to know of each other’s existence. - -It was the first time Alistair had seen Miss Vanbrugh, but not the -first time he had heard her name. The eyes of society are very keen -where a man like the Duke of Trent and Colonsay is concerned, and its -whispering-gallery is very wide. Although the Duke himself had never -given any significance to his intercourse with Hero, the correct -significance had already been given to it by others, and the rumour -had reached Lord Alistair. For him the girl who stood before him was -the girl who was on the point of becoming his brother’s betrothed. - -He raised his eyes to her face, and when he saw that picture of calm, -sweet maidenhood, with all the bloom of youth and purity upon it, and -those eyes radiant with high and happy thoughts, and when he recalled -that other face he had just quitted, with the paint peeling off under -the haggard eyes, and the cracked lips set in a querulous scowl because -he had not dared to bring her into the company of reputable women, and -when he compared his own lot, cast with that unhappy creature, with -the life that lay before his brother, blest in so dear a wife, then -his heart failed him, and he had to turn away his eyes to hide the -unexpected smart. - -On her part Hero was not much less moved. She saw standing before her -the figure around which her imagination had already woven its romance, -and he was handsomer than the hero of her romance. The gracefully-knit -form, with its statuesque neck and curling dark hair, breathed the -very spirit of the lays of Oisin. The swish of the heather was still -in his elastic tread, the sunlight of the rain-washed Hebrides was in -his glance. She seemed to see him in his kilt and plaid, the eagle’s -feather nodding in his bonnet, and the claymore by his side, a young -chieftain of the glens, starting at daybreak from his bed among the -fern, and setting forth perhaps to woo a maiden like herself with -the immemorial charms of song and dance. In the strait garb of the -decorous capital he seemed to her like a shorn Samson, and she thought -of violets fading in a city garret, and skylarks caged in a dark cellar -beating their wings in want of light and air. - -She, also, drew her comparison, and the cold and perfect courtier of -Colonsay House suffered by it. For the first time she felt in its full -strength that instinct of self-sacrifice which lies at the core of -every noble nature. The task which Stuart’s mother had offered to her, -and in which she had only taken a sentimental interest, now became a -fascination. The longing to save this glorious soul, fallen among weeds -and briars, to lift it up and wipe away its stains, and set it on its -true path again, overcame her like the touch of love; the touch of -love overcame her like the longing to save, and her hand trembled in -Alistair Stuart’s. - -The two Vanes sidled up, anxious to be recognized by their chief. - -“So glad you have turned up, Stuart,” bleated the elder. “It’s quite a -demonstration, isn’t it?” - -“Yes,” Wickham echoed, “it is a blow. I think we are striking a blow.” - -He meant at the hated middle classes. It was the only kind of a blow he -was ever likely to strike against that or any other enemy. - -Stuart heard them with impatience. Somehow the presence of Hero made -the two brothers look tawdry and ridiculous with their decadent cant, -their untidy hair, and their silly, outlandish neckties. He answered -with irony: - -“No doubt the middle classes will be frightened when they hear of this -bazaar. But you must see that it gets into the papers, otherwise the -effect will be lost. Are there any reporters here?” - -The brothers looked around a little nervously. - -“I hope so,” said Egerton, whose vanity was slightly greater than his -cowardice. - -“It might vulgarize the thing,” suggested Wickham whose cowardice was -slightly greater than his vanity. - -Stuart understood their fears, and played on them by way of distraction -from his secret emotion. - -“I expect the place is crammed with detectives,” he observed. “I -fancied I saw one or two suspicious-looking fellows with notebooks as I -came in.” - -Hero grasped the situation, and smiled. - -“No; do you think so?” exclaimed the elder Vane in a tone of -exultation, tempered by alarm. “But surely there is nothing they can -take hold of--nothing illegal, I mean--in a bazaar?” - -“They may shadow us after this, though,” muttered the junior, in whom -alarm had got the better of exultation. - -“They may treat the bazaar as evidence of a conspiracy,” Stuart -suggested cheerfully. “But here comes St. Maur; you had better ask him.” - -He turned, and led Hero away through the crowd, to escape from the -person he had indicated, leaving the brothers in a state of cruel -apprehension. - -But Mr. St. Maur was not to be shaken off so easily. This gentleman, -who had spelt his name “Maher” in his native city of “Dahblin” -(as he was accustomed to pronounce it), was the son of a decent -butter-merchant, who had put him to the Bar. Coming over to the Temple, -in accordance with old custom to keep his terms, the ambitious youth -was surprised and charmed to find that his membership of the Roman -Church, which had stood somewhat in his light in the society of the -Irish capital, was here a fashionable distinction. To drink the Roman -Pontiff’s health before that of the British Sovereign appeared to be in -some mysterious way a passport to Court favour, and a Roman missionary -had just been given precedence over the heads of the English Church. -The policy of the Primrose League had been adapted to the purposes of -proselytism, and a club had been founded in the West End in which the -middle-class aspirant could enjoy the privilege of lunching in the -same room as a Roman Cabinet Minister and receiving the _Times_ fresh -from the hands of a Roman Duke. Unfortunately the Duke and the Cabinet -Minister failed to play their parts with sufficient zeal, or else there -were not enough of them to go around, and St. Bridget’s Club gradually -sunk from depth to depth till not merely Protestants, but Jews, -profaned its portals, and it became a refuge for all the suspicious -characters whom other clubs refused. - -Young Maher was not long in deciding to forsake the Irish Bar for the -English, and a slight alteration in the spelling of his name enabled -him to pose as an offshoot of one of the greatest families in Britain. -The difficulty of an accent which clove obstinately to his tongue was -met by a well-constructed legend of an Irish branch of the family in -question, supposed to have settled in the Emerald Isle about the time -of Strongbow. On the strength of this genealogy, which would have done -credit to the Heralds’ College in its best remunerated moments, Mr. St. -Maur was in the habit of referring to a nobleman of lofty rank as “the -head of our house,” thereby causing intolerable anguish to his friends, -the Vanes, who were only nephews of a baronet. Unfortunately they were -prevented from questioning the genuineness of St. Maur’s pedigree, -inasmuch as they had laid every stress upon it in introducing him to -their acquaintance. But they had an uneasy sense that the Irishman was -an impostor who had beaten them by mere bluff. - -On his part the barrister having, as he conceived, surpassed the Vanes, -was seeking for loftier heights to scale. As soon as he met Lord -Alistair Stuart in the brothers’ flat he promptly marked him out for -attack. Undaunted by Stuart’s evident dislike for him, the Irishman -persistently forced himself on his notice. With this object he had -thrown himself heart and soul into the Legitimist cause, as he would -have thrown himself into the Independent Labour Party the day after if -the leaders of that movement had been members of the peerage. - -Having come to the bazaar chiefly in order to push his acquaintance -with Lord Alistair, Mr. St. Maur was not the man to be balked of his -prey. - -“Grand success, this, isn’t it, Stuart?” he bawled out from afar, as he -hustled his way through the throng. - -Much as Stuart disliked his follower, he failed to give him credit -for the naked singleness of his aims. Had he fully understood the -Irishman’s character, he would have got rid of him before this by the -easy expedient of introducing him to his brother. Once anchored to the -coat-tails of a Duke, St. Maur would have left a mere younger brother -severely alone. As it was, Lord Alistair saw no way of repelling the -intruder except by a harshness which was not in his nature. - -Mr. St. Maur shook hands effusively, and then, finding he was not going -to be introduced to Lord Alistair’s companion, began enlarging on the -prospects of the movement. - -“I consider this affair will launch us as a serious party,” he -declared. “The public will begin to reckon with us. It will soon be -time to think of a Parliamentary candidature. What do you say, Stuart?” - -Alistair shrugged his shoulders. - -“I should think you would get about ten votes in any constituency in -England.” - -“Ah, but what about Scotland? There is a feeling up there that might be -appealed to. If a man like yourself, now, a member of an old Highland -family, were to stand in your own part of the country, don’t you think -the clansmen would rally round you?” - -“You forget that I should have my brother’s influence dead against me. -He is a member of the Government.” - -“He would have to disavow you officially, of course. But privately, you -know? Don’t you think the Duke might be brought to show some sympathy -for the movement?” - -“He would simply laugh at it, I expect,” said Stuart. - -“The Duke of Gloucester does not laugh at it,” returned the other. - -Alistair’s face darkened at the name, and he cast down his eyes. - -“How do you know that?” he asked. - -St. Maur swelled with importance. - -“I happen to have private information that he watches the proceedings -of the Guild with the closest attention. He has everything that appears -in the press about us sent him by a press-cutting agency.” - -“I wish I had known that before,” said Alistair. And, turning to Hero, -he explained: “I have let them have an autograph letter of the Prince’s -to sell at one of the stalls.” - -The absurdity of this did not strike Hero so much as its ingratitude. - -“A letter from the Prince to you, do you mean?” she asked, with an -accent of reproach. - -“Yes; I used to know him very well when we were boys. I came across it -the other day among some old papers. But I shouldn’t like him to hear -that I had let it be sold.” - -A purpose had swiftly formed in Hero’s mind. - -“Whereabouts is the stall?” she inquired. - -“Over here.” - -Turning his back on Mr. St. Maur with unwonted rudeness, he conducted -Hero to a stall presided over by a pretty, overdressed little woman, -who had been persuaded by Mr. Grimes in the confessional that she would -thus atone for certain errors to which pretty, overdressed little women -are prone. Prince Herbert’s autograph had been entrusted to her for -sale, and by good luck it had not been disposed of when the two came up. - -“What is the price of this letter?” Miss Vanbrugh asked quickly. - -“One guinea,” the stallkeeper simpered. “It is from His Royal Highness -the Duke of Gloucester to Lord Alistair Stuart,” she added in ignorance -of who stood before her. - -“Let me buy it, and give it to you!” cried Alistair, guessing Hero’s -design. - -She took up the letter. It was a short schoolboy’s note, and contained -a misspelt word. - - “DEAR ALISTAIR: - - “I cannot meet you to-morrow, as the Crown Prince of Austria is - coming, but I will go out fishing on Saturday if you like. Come over - here at ten o’clock--mind, be punctual. - - “Yours affectionately, - “HERBERT. - - “P.S.--Sorry to break my promise, but they made me. Mind, bring your - fishing-rod.” - -Hero handed the letter to her companion. - -“I would rather you let me buy it, and give it back to you,” she said. - -She handed the money to the lady of the stall, who was looking -considerably astonished. - -Alistair understood the delicate rebuke. His glance took in the -contents of the friendly, boyish note afresh, and he felt ashamed that -he had parted with it. - -“I am very grateful to you, Miss Vanbrugh, believe me,” he said -earnestly, as he slipped the letter into his pocket. “I ought not to -have let it go into strange hands. But I hope I needn’t count you as a -stranger. You are often at Colonsay House, aren’t you?” - -“I have never met you there,” said Hero pointedly. - -And Alistair was silent. - - * * * * * - -The Miracle Play was a great success, though not, perhaps, in the way -anticipated by Dr. Coles. - -The Vicar had understood that the text of the Ober-Ammergau -performance was to furnish the basis of a version only slightly -modified by Mr. Egerton Vane. But Mr. Vane, being deeply imbued with -the spirit of Maeterlinck, had allowed his adaptation to become -tinctured to an unforeseen extent by the vein of symbolism peculiar to -the work of the Belgian master. The orthodox Christian interpretation -being repugnant to his feelings as a Pagan, he had, moreover, boldly -replaced it by something more congenial to his own sympathies. - -The result was somewhat as though a conscientious Buddhist should -rewrite “Paradise Lost,” endeavouring to make it illustrate the -doctrine of metempsychosis. - -In the opening scene Mary was introduced as the Spirit of Form, -receiving the Annunciation from the Angel Gabriel as the representative -of Creative Genius. The dialogue, which was fortunately unintelligible -to nine-tenths of the audience, turned on the sterility of the Jewish -nation in the department of the plastic arts. Mary was informed -that her Son would remove the prohibition contained in the Second -Commandment, thereby opening the way for the Christian school of -statuary and painting. - -The whole of the sacred narrative was dealt with from the same -standpoint. The Wise Men were presented as the exponents of the three -arts of Poetry, Music, and Painting, whose respective merits were -discussed at some length. The dispute of the child Christ in the Temple -was made to turn on Keats’s famous identification of Truth with -Beauty. Satan, in the scene of the Temptation, appeared as the genius -of Utilitarianism and the middle classes, urging the Christ to abandon -the principle of Art for Art’s sake. Towards the end of the drama -Byron’s jest about Barabbas was almost literally incorporated, Barabbas -being designed as a type of commercial success in literature--a Jewish -Tennyson or Ruskin. - -Every allusion to the Jews as a people was barbed with the bitterest -malignity. The Semitic spirit was branded, with some historical -confusion, as that of Philistinism _par excellence_; and Isaiah and -other prophets were ingeniously represented as having fallen martyrs to -their literary excellence rather than to their reforming energy. - -The allegory was so vague and the dialogue so obscure that most of -those present entirely failed to grasp the enormity of the author’s -transgression. But it was otherwise with Dr. Coles. The Armenian -proselyte was a learned and thorough-going medievalist, and he had -taken it for granted that medieval traditions would be strictly adhered -to. He had left the work of superintending the rehearsals to his -curate, never deeming that Mr. Grimes was capable of betraying the -trust. Nor was he, had he been sufficiently intelligent to perceive -that he was being made a cat’s-paw by his pagan librettist. The actors -in the piece, being the choir-boys, were even less capable of judging -of the drift of the performance. - -The deeply mortified Vicar restrained his wrath till the moment when -the High-Priest Caiaphas came upon the scene in the thinly-disguised -character of the proprietor of a morning paper with an enormous -circulation, when it became impossible to mistake the dramatist’s -intentions. Rising from his seat in the front row of the audience, Dr. -Coles gave a peremptory order for the curtain to be let down, and the -thoroughly mystified spectators seized the opportunity to escape. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -MOLLY FINUCANE AT HOME - - -AS he turned away from St. Jermyn’s schoolroom, after putting his -mother and Miss Vanbrugh into their carriage, Lord Alistair Stuart made -a curious discovery. Thrusting his hands into his pocket in the act of -nodding to a cabdriver, he found that he had no money. - -The brother of the Duke of Trent and Colonsay had often known what it -was to want a thousand pounds, but he had never been without sovereigns -in his pocket, and it took him some moments to realize that this state -of things was not accidental, but natural in his new circumstances. - -Much to his own surprise, he felt the first cold touch of poverty -distinctly exhilarating, like a bather’s first plunge into the sea. It -was not hardship so far; it was merely adventure. He apologized to the -disappointed cabman, and set off to walk to Chelsea, with that sense of -superiority to fortune which Aristippus may have felt when he bade his -tired slave throw away the bag of gold. - -Voluntary suffering has always exercised a powerful charm over a -certain order of mankind. The starvation, the confinement, and the -self-torture of the Hindu fakir and the Catholic saint have not been -practised solely with a business-like view to reward in a future life; -they have satisfied a need--morbid, perhaps, but real, since it is -found among races that have scarcely risen to the conception of another -world. It is as if diseased human nature instinctively sought its own -remedy, as the suffering animal seeks out the herb possessed of healing -powers. - -As Alistair Stuart took his way through the mean streets of Lambeth -and Vauxhall, with their narrow dirty pavements, their scanty shops -at the street-corners and their taverns in which the only touches of -brightness and prosperity seemed concentrated, he felt the temptation -growing strong upon him. - -“After all, it would not be so bad to live this life,” he said -to himself. “One might be very cosy in one of these small old -houses, tucked up against some great dead wall, with unknown things -taking place on the other side of it, or buried beneath some huge -railway arch, with trains thundering overhead all night to unknown -destinations. I seem to be an outlaw; why shouldn’t I live among -outlaws? I could loaf about in flannel shirts and dressing-gowns all -day long, and Molly would fetch me my beer from the public-house. I -should smoke long clay pipes, and write an epic poem, like the ‘City of -Dreadful Night.’” - -But the recollection of Thomson and his poem turned the current of his -thoughts into a darker channel. - -“How many men of genius has London brained with her paving-stones!” he -reflected bitterly. “The poet asks for nothing but liberty to sing, and -the world will not give it to him. ‘Give me money’s worth for my bread -and raiment and shelter’ is her harsh demand; and she drags the poet -from his fountain in the wilderness to sweep the dust of the bazaar.” - -His fellow-feeling for the poor drunken schoolmaster rested on -sentiment. In Alistair the seed of genius, delicate from the first, -had been choked, not by the pressure of physical needs, but by a -profound moral discouragement. During the years in which genius begins -to recognize itself, to try its wings, and point its first shy flight -towards the empyrean, he had found himself living the life of a -criminal on a ticket-of-leave. He had been kept in a state of spiritual -starvation, deprived of the food for which his nature pined, and choked -with the dry bread of Calvinism. The budding tendrils of his mind had -shrivelled, vainly searching for the air of sympathy and the warm sun -of praise. He had been made to feel afraid of his own intelligence, -his dreams and guesses after truth and beauty were imputed to him as -iniquity; and if he ever sought to give them expression, he wrote as -Crusoe might have written on his desert isle--for the ears of savages. - -His genius had emerged from this ordeal maimed for life. If he sang -now, it was not as the birds sang, rejoicing in their Maker’s gift to -them, but stealthily, as prisoners sing in dungeons, apprehensive of -the passing warder’s tread. Even the desire for fame was now a broken -spring. He had tasted too deeply of the bitter cup of disapproval to -hope to cleanse his mouth with the honey of applause. He felt vaguely -that he had been sent into the world to teach his fellow-men to rejoice -with him in all its beauty and its wonder, and that they had struck -him brutally across the lips, and bidden him become dull and timid and -mean-hearted, like themselves. - -A whole generation in England had endured an experience more or less -like Alistair’s, and the literature of the age still breathes a -suppressed bitterness against the cruelties of Evangelicalism. The -persecution was all the more oppressive because it was not sanctioned -by any public authority, nor embodied in any law. It was carried on -privately, around every hearth, and in every hour of family life, -poisoning the springs of truthfulness and self-respect, and breaking -the hearts of the young. It was the memory of such wrongs that had made -easy the triumph of the Catholic reaction; the Protestant tyranny had -fallen, as other tyrannies fall, more by its own abuses than by the -strength of its assailants. The fires of Smithfield were forgotten, -and the little pagan group who surrounded Alistair Stuart patronized -the Roman Church as their most powerful ally against the Nonconformist -conscience. - -But Alistair was beginning to look deeper. The play he had just -witnessed, in spite of its absurdities, had embodied certain sentiments -of his own. “There is no cure,” he reflected as he walked along. “There -is no help for men like me; the crowd will always persecute us. They -have set up the image of the Crucified One that they might crucify -others in his name. The memory of Otway did not save Chatterton; the -sufferings of Chatterton did not redeem Poe. Their flattery of the -dead is only a deeper insult to the living. They kneel at the tomb of -Shakespeare, and if Shakespeare rose again they would cast him into -Reading Gaol.” - -It was Alistair Stuart’s misfortune to be only a half-hearted sinner. -The world likes its men to be thorough-going. Confronted with a mixed -individuality it is disconcerted and annoyed, like a reviewer called -upon to judge a poem by a prose-writer, or a serious volume from a -humorist’s pen. Alistair’s natural instincts had been cowed by his -boyish experience. Without sharing the convictions of the righteous, -he lacked the courage to despise them utterly. He would have had them -pardon him, though he could not repent. - -His embittered mood lasted till he came in sight of the river below -Battersea Park. The sunlight sparkling on the water, and the fresh -breeze blowing over the trees of the park, refreshed him for the -moment, and his thoughts turned to Hero Vanbrugh. - -A sigh rose to his lips. - -“If I had only met her a year ago!” - -The rebuke which Hero had administered so delicately in the matter of -the royal autograph had moved him to the heart. It had been an appeal -to his self-respect, a proof that she credited him with honourable -instincts like her own, and at this crisis in his life the compliment -was like the touch of balm upon a sore. With such a hand as Hero’s -to restrain him, that plunge into the social underworld which he -was contemplating lost its fascination. How was it that in all the -years they had known him neither his mother nor his brother had ever -been able to strike the chord which this girl’s finger had touched -unerringly at their first meeting? - -In searching for the answer to this riddle, he recollected whither his -steps were bound. The figure of Molly Finucane rose before him like a -faded portrait over which a breath of discoloration had passed, leaving -it tarnished and dingy, and he shivered slightly, and unconsciously -relaxed the quickness of his pace. - -His heart sank within him as he ascended the familiar path, and let -himself in with his latchkey. Missing the expected figure of the page, -he hung up his hat himself, and passed into the drawing-room. - -“Where’s Tom?” he inquired, not without some foreboding of the reply he -should receive. - -Molly was lying on the sofa in a low-necked dress, pulling a cigarette, -and trying to amuse herself with an illustrated ladies’ paper, which -did not amuse her at all--it was much too severe in its decorum. She -sat up yawning at Stuart’s entrance, and frowned as he put his question. - -“I had to get rid of him for insolence,” she replied, with still -smouldering wrath. “I told him my shoes hadn’t been cleaned this -morning, and the young brat contradicted me to my face, and said he -couldn’t do them any better. The lazy little wretch hadn’t touched -them. I asked him if he knew who he was talking to, and he became -insolent. So I just ordered him to pack up and leave the house.” - -Stuart listened without much interest to this story, the counterpart -of which he had often heard before. Somehow Molly’s servants were -perpetually incurring dismissal for similar behaviour. It was rare for -her to keep them more than a couple of months, and it was not uncommon -for them to be sent away the day after they arrived; and always for the -same cause--disrespect to the mistress of the house. - -“I can’t think what’s the matter with the servants nowadays,” Molly -complained. She was not the only mistress to whom it had never occurred -that there could be, by any possibility, a servants’ side to the great -question. “I had a Scotchwoman here to-day, applying for the cook’s -place”--the cook had been under notice to leave for some time--“and she -was most impertinent.” - -Molly stopped rather unexpectedly, as though she had been going to give -particulars of the impertinence, but had suddenly thought better of it. -The Scotchwoman, in fact, had presumed so far as to inquire into the -character of the relationship between the lady of the house and the -Lord Alistair Stuart who was indicated as its master, and had withdrawn -her candidature for the situation on learning that the tie was merely -one of friendship. Being told rather fiercely by Miss Finucane that -this was not her business, the offender had replied uncompromisingly: -“Excuse me, miss, I don’t set up to blame you, but I have my character -to think of, and if it was known that I had taken a place in a house -that wasn’t respectable, I might not be able to suit myself elsewhere.” - -It was no doubt the irritation caused by this plain speaking which had -vented itself on the unlucky page. Alistair shrugged his shoulders as -though in sympathy, but inwardly the question suggested itself whether -Miss Vanbrugh ever had to encounter insolence on the part of servants. -He did not think it likely. - -He had to go upstairs to dress for dinner, this being a point about -which Miss Finucane was very particular. If ever a man ventured to -present himself at her dinner-table in morning dress she was apt to -take it as a carefully studied reflection on her character. Her own -time hung so heavily on her hands that she spent half her day over -her wardrobe. She breakfasted in a fur-lined dressing-gown, put on a -walking-dress during the morning, lunched in a third costume, wore an -æsthetic tea-gown in the afternoon, made a grand toilet for dinner, -and exchanged it for a loose night-robe in which she drank whisky -and water before going to bed. In all these changes of costume jewels -played a great part. Diamonds and sapphires meant to Molly much what -a table well covered with briefs means to a barrister, or the strips -of ribbon on his breast to a soldier; they were the tangible tokens of -success. - -When Stuart came downstairs there was no sign of dinner. He sat down -and tried to talk to Molly about the bazaar, but she listened sulkily, -offended because he had not ventured to take her with him. - -“There were lots of women there, I suppose?” she asked, in a grumbling -voice. - -“Yes, a good many. Women belonging to the Church, most of them, I -expect.” - -“Was there anyone you knew?” - -She fixed a shrewdly questioning glance on him, and noted the momentary -hesitation that preceded his reply. - -“No, no one.” - -Molly gave a scornful smile. - -“That’s a lie, Alistair. Was your mother there?” - -“I prefer not to talk about my mother,” returned Alistair, who dreaded -Molly’s coarse tongue. - -“Do you think I didn’t know why you wouldn’t take me?” Molly retorted. -“Who else was there?” - -“No one I had ever met before.” - -Molly pounced on the concealed admission. - -“Your mother introduced you to someone. Who was it?” - -Stuart rose to his feet, beginning to get angry. - -“The only woman I spoke to the whole afternoon was a young lady who, I -believe, is going to marry my brother.” - -“What’s her name?” - -“I decline to tell you.” He walked over to the bell and rang it -impatiently. “What the deuce are they keeping dinner for?” - -Molly sat silent, watching him with all the cunning of a narrow -intelligence concentrated on one point. No one in the world was more -ignorant than Molly Finucane was of the things that are written about -in books, but the keenest counsel who ever sifted the evidence of -a lying witness could not have matched the sureness with which she -detected anything in Alistair’s mind that threatened her supremacy over -him. Her instinct now warned her that some danger had arisen for her, -and her fear, overpowering her jealousy for the moment, made her hold -her tongue. - -No notice was taken of Lord Alistair’s ring, but after another ten -minutes or so an untidy parlour-maid put her head into the room and -announced that dinner was ready. - -The dinner was badly cooked, and not appetising, and the parlour-maid -had neglected to warm the claret. Molly called for champagne. - -“There’s none left, ma’am,” the maid retorted, speaking in that hostile -tone which her servants generally assumed towards Miss Finucane. - -“Yes, there is, unless you’ve drunk it in the kitchen.” - -An altercation between mistress and maid followed, high words being -used on both sides. Stuart went on with his dinner in silent disgust, -trying not to listen. He had sat through similar scenes often enough -before, but they had not made the same impression on him. It was as -though his whole nature had been set throbbing like a bell with a -certain note, with which his surroundings were all out of tune. - -The dinner was not only badly cooked, but it quickly appeared that -there was not enough of it. On seeing a few slices of ham set before -her in the place of a joint, the mistress of the house lost her temper. - -“Go and tell the cook to make an omelette,” she ordered angrily. “It’s -disgraceful that we can’t have enough to eat.” - -The parlour-maid departed. A minute or two afterwards the door was -flung open violently, and the cook advanced into the middle of the -dining-room. - -“You can’t have an omelette. I’ve no eggs, and the fire’s gone out,” -she remarked loudly and aggressively. - -“What do you mean, cook?” said Molly, evidently rather alarmed. - -The cook saw her mistress quailing, and raised her voice. - -“I mean that I’ve cooked as much as I mean to, and I’m not going to do -any more. I’m tired of it.” - -“This is disgraceful!” exclaimed her mistress, appealing to Stuart. -“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, to come in and talk like that, -simply because I asked for an omelette.” - -“Well, you can’t have it, then,” the cook returned, with a ring of -triumph. - -“Very well; that’s enough. Go downstairs!” commanded Molly. - -The cook tossed her head, and marched out of the room, slamming the -door behind her. - -“Do you owe the woman any wages?” Stuart asked, as soon as she was -gone. He knew by experience that it was useless to interfere in these -periodical scenes between Molly and her household. - -“Not a farthing,” Molly protested. “And I’ve always treated her kindly, -too. I can’t think what makes her presume like that.” - -The cook went down fuming and snorting into the kitchen, and gave the -explanation to her sympathizing sisters. - -“I’ll teach her to send haughty messages out to me, and me a -respectable woman whose father had a farm, and six men under him; and -her out of the gutter, and no better than a street-walker, if you come -to that, though she do ride in her carriage, and wear as many jewels as -a Martinet.” - -“You mean a Marchioness, don’t you, Eleanor?” inquired the housemaid, -who had moved in higher spheres. - -“I mean a lady, that’s what I mean,” said the cook, with grim emphasis. -“Consequently I don’t mean Miss Finucane, as she calls herself, though -her real name’s Finigan, and she’s low Irish down to her boot-soles.” -She took a long breath, and concluded: “And so I’d have told her to -her face if his lordship hadn’t been there; but he’s a gentleman, when -all’s said and done, and I’m sorry for him.” - -The cook spoke for her sex. Most women were sorry for Lord Alistair -Stuart. - -When Molly saw Alistair rise from the table immediately after the -cook’s stormy exit, her face fell. - -“You’re not going out again?” she protested. - -“I’ve got to,” was the answer. - -“Take me with you, then,” Molly demanded. - -“Can’t. I’m going to see Des Louvres.” - -“You’re always going there. What do you want to see him for?” - -“It’s on business to do with the Legitimists.” - -“Bother the Legitimists!” Molly was not a politician. Beyond the vague -notion that all these pretenders of whom she heard so much enjoyed -the secret patronage of the Pope, and must therefore be in some way -inimical to that Protestantism which it had been her first lesson as -a child to abjure and abhor, she was completely indifferent to their -cause. - -“I won’t have you go,” she continued. “You’ve been out all day, and -left me alone with those wretched servants. I want you to take me to -the theatre.” - -“I’ve no money,” said Stuart impatiently. - -“Can’t you borrow some?” - -“Who from?” - -A name rose to Molly’s lips, but she hesitated to pronounce it. She -looked at Stuart, and as their eyes met each knew what the other was -thinking of. - -“No,” he declared hastily. “I’m sorry, Molly, but I must go. I -promised. There’s to be somebody there that I must meet.” - -“Who?” - -“Well, it’s a sort of secret. You won’t talk about it?” - -“Who have I got to talk to?” - -The retort struck painfully on Alistair. That compassion for Molly -which lay at the root of his refusal to leave her was stirred by the -reminder of the poor little woman’s loneliness. She had no friends, -she could have no friends in their present circumstances, and she had -no interests in life apart from him. He felt that he was ill-treating -her by this second absence in one day, and his voice softened as he -explained: - -“It’s Don Juan. Des Louvres told me he doesn’t want it to be known that -he’s in England.” - -The name was not familiar to Molly. - -“Who is he?” she asked, more with the object of detaining Stuart than -from any real curiosity on the subject. - -Don Juan, in fact, only ranked as an heir-apparent in the Legitimist -almanac, his father being still alive. He represented one of those -families of decrepit and priest-ridden despots which were everywhere -driven from the thrones of the Mediterranean by the great Liberal -flood of the nineteenth century. Now the flood was beginning to abate, -the wrongs of the past were fading from men’s minds, and the figures of -these discrowned Princes stood forth once more, surrounded by the halo -of romantic misfortune. - -But all this did not concern Molly in the least. Don Juan’s only -importance for her was as a new acquaintance for Stuart. She took a -jealous interest in all Alistair’s friends, not as individuals, but as -influences over him which might or might not tend to detach him from -herself. - -“Why are you going to meet him?” she asked, hardly waiting for the -answer to her first question. - -Alistair gave a half-ashamed smile. - -“Well, he is going to give me a decoration, I believe--the Order of the -Holy Sepulchre.” - -Molly looked impressed. She was sensitive about Alistair’s social -position, which she was conscious of having compromised, and this -decoration, coming on the morrow of his bankruptcy, seemed a welcome -rehabilitation. - -“Then he really is a Prince?” she asked, with floating recollections -of police-court cases in which adventurers had obtained money by -pretending to titles not really theirs. - -Stuart laughed good-naturedly. - -“Yes, he’s a Prince right enough; at least, he’s as good as the Comte -de Rouen.” - -Molly had heard of the Comte de Rouen, whose party had just given -proof of its vitality in a neighbouring country in one of the most -extraordinary episodes recorded in history. A conflict, extending over -years, and threatening at one time to assume the character of a civil -war, had taken place between the heads of the army, on the one hand, -and the civil Government on the other, over the body of an obscure -Jewish officer. If the guilt or innocence of the victim of this famous -persecution had not yet been placed beyond the reach of doubt, at least -it was made clear that his enemies had steeped themselves in perjury, -forgery, and every kind of subornation and conspiracy. It became -equally evident that the motive of their action was rather religious -than political; a chasm was revealed running through the nation, and -sharply dividing the clerical persecutors from the anti-clerical -defenders of the accused man. The army chiefs appeared as the tools of -the priesthood, which was seen in full cry on the trail of a Semitic -victim. The contagion spread to other countries, and prelates of the -Roman Church in England proclaimed their sympathy with the crusade. A -shock ran through Europe and America. It was as if the mask of saintly -meekness under persecution worn so closely by the Roman Church for -a century had been suddenly lifted for a moment, and modern men had -obtained a glimpse of the Fury’s visage underneath, with its writhing -snakes and its teeth gnashing for blood, the visage which they had -almost come to think of as a fable of Protestant historians. - -The name of the Comte de Rouen silenced Molly, and Alistair was -allowed to depart without further objection. - -As soon as he had left the house she went upstairs, took out his -mother’s letter, and read it through again for the fourth or fifth -time, with her lips tightly pinched and her forehead wrinkled in the -effort to devise some reply calculated at once to teach the Duchess -manners, and yet to neutralize her opposition. - -This was what she wrote: - - “DEAR MADAM: - - “Don’t worry about Alistair. You are about as likely to see me marry - him as you are to see”--she named a sacred personage--“riding down - Piccadilly on a bicycle. - - “Yours truly, - “MARY FINUCANE.” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -A SCIENTIFIC OPINION - - -THE Duke of Trent and Colonsay sat at his great office table in his -room at the Home Office thinking. - -The table was piled high with official papers. The permanent staff -of a Government Department are quick to detect the weakness of each -new chief put over their heads by the changing tide of parliamentary -warfare. The weakness of the new Home Secretary was for details and -statistics. A return of a hundred foolscap pages showing exactly how -many pounds of beef and how many pounds of rice are consumed in the -prisons of the country every year, or how many miles a policeman tramps -over in the same period in the course of his beat, afforded a real -satisfaction to his intellect. His staff catered for this taste as if -they had been the conductors of a popular magazine. They kept their new -chief busy and contented, and he let them alone. - -But it was not about his important functions in the State that the -Minister was thinking at this moment, but about a more personal concern. - -His discovery of his mother’s project had left him for some time in a -state of indecision, due partly to the fact that his desire was not -so much to marry Hero Vanbrugh as to prevent his brother from marrying -her. The appearance of a rival on the scene is generally sufficient to -decide a hesitating wooer, but then the Duke had not been exactly a -wooer, and this was another cause of embarrassment. Suddenly to begin -paying the attentions of a lover to a girl whom he had been accustomed -to treat familiarly as his mother’s friend seemed to a man of the -Duke’s stiff habit of mind an awkward, and possibly a ridiculous, -proceeding. - -On the other hand, he saw that his mother was actively pushing her -design, and he could not shut his eyes to the fact that Alistair was a -rival to be feared. - -It is difficult at all times for a man with a strong sense of his own -dignity to make love, and for a man animated by the calm and temperate -regard of the Duke of Trent to try to make love according to the -accepted English convention struck even his imagination as dangerously -foolish. - -He condemned in his own mind the national custom which requires the man -to do his own love-making. - -“Now, in France,” he reflected, “there would be no trouble about the -matter. I should tell my mother to send for Sir Bernard Vanbrugh, and -they would settle it between them.” - -Sir Bernard’s name suggested an alternative which recommended itself -the more the longer he considered it. He would carry his proposal to -Hero’s father, and leave it to him to break the ice with Hero herself. - -His acquaintance with the great scientist and physician was of the -slightest, but he could hardly distrust the reception such a son-in-law -as himself was likely to receive, and he might count on the father’s -influence with his daughter to overcome any possible hesitation on her -part. - -Desirous to give every possible distinction to his overture, the Home -Secretary drew towards him a sheet of the official notepaper, and -wrote a few lines requesting the physician to name an hour at which he -would receive him on a private matter. The note folded and sealed, he -handed it to his private secretary, with injunctions to send it by a -messenger, and bring back the reply. - -Sir Bernard Vanbrugh’s answer, which arrived within half an hour, was -even more formal than the Duke’s request, simply stating that the -physician would be at liberty that day at five o’clock. - -The Duke ordered his carriage, and alighted at Sir Bernard’s door in -Stratford Place punctually at the hour named. Rather to his surprise, -but even more to his relief, he was taken, not into the drawing-room, -but into the physician’s consulting-room, and offered the patient’s -chair. - -The man whose grey powerful eyes, under their square wall of forehead, -were turned on him with something of the penetrative power of a -searchlight, across a fragile-looking desk in some decorative wood, -was a man with a remarkable history. - -There are some men of whom their friends are accustomed to say that -they should like them better if they were not so clever. Vanbrugh had -started in life with this handicap. He was an intellectual monster, -a brain-giant whose understanding was to the understandings of those -about him what the magnesium light is to a tallow candle. - -Those into whose company he was thrown suffered somewhat as they -would have done in a strong light. Moreover, they were conscious that -Vanbrugh silently looked through them and over them, and they resented -the process in proportion to their conceit of themselves. - -Thus it happened that the ablest man of his time was the most unpopular. - -The unpopularity was the most marked among the members of his own -profession. To Vanbrugh the usages and traditions of his class were -so much rubbish. He saw in the etiquette of medicine nothing but the -precautions of dunces to protect their incapacity from discovery. He -was unable to make allowance for that infirmity of the human mind which -clings to custom through sheer terror of the unknown. Where he ought to -have imputed cowardice he imputed fraud. - -He was a revolutionist by sheer force of insight. His mind covered at -a single bound the slow progress of years, and he was too impatient -to wait for the laggards to catch him up. The stupid are in a great -majority at all times, and in all situations, but some men, not less -great than Vanbrugh, have possessed the art of coaxing them, and -leading them on. It was just this art that Vanbrugh lacked. Unconscious -of his own brutality, he trampled on folly and dullness with feet of -iron, and the dull and foolish turned and rent him. - -Up to the age of forty Bernard Vanbrugh’s life had been one long record -of disaster. - -As a student he had been deeply unpopular, even with his professors, -who saw that they had in him a critic rather than a pupil. While -still walking the hospitals, the young man had ventured to argue -with the great lights of the profession whom he was there to watch -reverently and believe implicitly. He had had the audacity to suggest -to a celebrated gynecologist the use of ice at a critical stage of a -well-known operation; and though the specialist found himself obliged -to act on the advice, and subsequently enhanced his reputation by -adopting the treatment in his private practice, he never forgave the -young man’s presumption. - -The medical authorities treated Vanbrugh with strict justice, up to the -point at which justice ceased to be obligatory; that is to say, they -awarded him as examiners every prize for which he chose to enter, but -they refused him a house-surgeoncy. When the astonished and mortified -young man tried to learn the reason for this refusal, he was met by -polite excuses and the recommendation that he should start in practice -as a consultant. - -One old professor told him the truth. - -“Our honorary staff will not have you,” he said bluntly. “Not because -they haven’t confidence in you, but because they think you haven’t -confidence in them.” - -With a bitter smile Vanbrugh acknowledged the justice of the excuse. - -He made up his mind that he must accept a house-surgeoncy in the -provinces. But when he came to apply for the usual testimonials from -those who had superintended his education, he received documents so -frigidly worded as to show clearly that they were given as a matter -of obligation merely, and not with any good will. The local doctors -in whose hands the appointments lay discerned the actual disapproval -beneath the formal recommendation. Vanbrugh, the most distinguished -student of his year, or for many years, was not even invited to present -himself for a personal interview when he applied for a post of two -hundred a year in a small country town. - -He abandoned this useless attempt without much regret. He knew well -enough that London contained his destiny, and that he had been guilty -of treason to his own powers in seeking to escape it. - -His enemies had advised him to become a consultant--that is to say, to -take rooms in an expensive street in the West End, and wait for other -doctors to send him patients as to a superior. Vanbrugh took this -advice, and for fifteen years no patient ever crossed his threshold. - -A consultant depends absolutely on the support of his own profession, -and in his own profession Vanbrugh was hated as few men are hated. -There were men who, if they had heard of a patient intending to consult -him, would have walked across London to prevent it. - -Vanbrugh was a poor man. The whole of the funds remaining from his -scholarships, together with the remittances doled out grudgingly by his -family, were set aside to pay the rent of the rooms in Brook Street. -His brass-plate, once affixed to the doorpost there, became his flag, -which he would not strike while life remained. In the meantime he had -to live. - -After endless trials in all directions, Bernard Vanbrugh succeeded in -getting employment on the staff of one of those bureaus which undertake -to supply information on any subject. Vanbrugh’s was the medical -department, and he was paid at the rate of half a crown an hour. The -work had mostly to be done at the British Museum, and his weekly -earnings averaged about two pounds. - -This, then, was the situation. The most brilliant follower of medicine -in Europe, perhaps the keenest intellect of his time, was compelled to -spend the best years of his life among broken-down journalists, and -stranded governesses, and all the sad jetsam of the educated class, -doing drudge’s work for the wages of a drudge. The celebrated Huxley -had a narrow escape from the same fate. How many other Huxleys and -Vanbrughs are to-day dreeing the same weird, while the millions of -philanthropy roll about the gutters, and the billions of endowments -pass into the pockets of the dunce? - -Vanbrugh divided his scanty earnings into two equal portions. Fifty -pounds a year paid for his food and clothes and the rare holidays -conceded to health, with the other fifty he bought books and scientific -instruments. - -The subject he had chosen to investigate was the cells of the brain. - -At the age of forty he completed his work on the brain, and the -fifteen years’ penal servitude to which he had been sentenced by human -stupidity and spite approached its term. - -He carried the manuscript to an important publisher, and solicited a -personal interview. - -Strange to say, the publisher granted it. Vanbrugh’s name was well -known to him. Some hints of his researches had leaked out from time to -time, and the hospitals were already trembling. The meteoric career of -the student had not been forgotten. Every now and then his brethren -spoke of Vanbrugh as of a man from whom the world was certain to hear -sooner or later. While he was toiling in the dust he was already -reluctantly recognized as the coming man. - -Vanbrugh placed his book in the publisher’s hands with something of -his old arrogance, which half a lifetime of hardship had not been able -to crush. - -“This is a book which will, directly it appears, supersede every other -book on the brain. But if your reader sees my name on the title-page, -he will tell you it is rubbish. I ask you to submit it to him without -allowing him to know whom it is by, and then he may tell you the truth.” - -The publisher smiled. He glanced from his caller’s proud, harsh -countenance to his shabby clothes and patched boots, and thought he -could understand. “The man is a crank,” he said to himself. “His -troubles have unhinged him.” - -Nevertheless, he gave the required promise. He even went beyond his -word. Lest his English reader should suspect the authorship of the book -and be prejudiced in consequence, he took the trouble to forward the -manuscript to Vienna, to a renowned specialist in that capital, saying -that his usual advisers differed as to the merit of the work, and -requesting an impartial opinion. This was the first stroke of fortune -in Vanbrugh’s favour. - -In less than a month the publisher was astonished by receiving back -the manuscript with a letter in which the Viennese authority repeated -Vanbrugh’s very words. - -“I cannot understand what you tell me about your advisers,” the -Austrian wrote. “This is one of the greatest works I have ever had the -good fortune to read. It will supersede every existing work on the -brain. The author has done you a high honour in offering this book to -your house.” - -The great publisher winced. It so happened that he had in the -press a voluminous book on this very subject by a baronet and -physician-in-ordinary to the Court, a book on whose preparation he had -already spent a considerable sum. It was clear that one of these two -books must kill the other. In either case he must be at a loss. On the -other hand, if he were to refuse Vanbrugh’s work, it might be taken by -the great rival house which divided the trade with his. - -In this uncertainty he decided to submit the manuscript to his reader -in the ordinary way. Scarcely had he sent it off when he received a -second call from Vanbrugh. - -The Austrian specialist, not dreaming that his opinion could be -disregarded, and filled with enthusiasm for Vanbrugh’s achievement, had -addressed a letter to him, congratulating him in the warmest terms. The -letter did not elate Vanbrugh in the least, but it brought him round to -the publisher to find out what was being done with his book. - -He came, taking it for granted that its acceptance was now out of -doubt. The publisher, compelled to give a definite answer, made up his -mind on the spot, and proposed terms which Vanbrugh accepted. - -Two days later his reader returned the manuscript with a brief note, -dismissing it as the work of a charlatan. Vanbrugh had beaten this man -in one of the hospital examinations. - -When the book came out, the medical reviewers were staggered. They -dared not attack, and they would not praise it; it was therefore -allowed to fall dead from the press. The distinguished baronet, whose -book had been thrown over by the publisher, was furious. He threatened -to have Vanbrugh’s name taken off the register as a quack. - -The publisher was wringing his hands, when suddenly an offer arrived -from Leipzig for the German rights of the book, an offer larger in -amount than what he had paid Vanbrugh for the copyright. Similar offers -came tumbling in from Paris, from Rome, and from St. Petersburg. Rival -editions appeared in New York and Chicago, the publishers of which, -more honest than their legislators, sent considerable sums to the -author. The scientific press on both sides of the Atlantic rang with -the name of Bernard Vanbrugh, and the popular journals followed suit. - -As Vanbrugh had foretold, his book superseded every existing treatise -on the brain. - -The first part of the work was a careful and exhaustive monograph -on the brain-cells, their morphology and physiology. Vanbrugh had -applied every available tool of scientific investigation in his -experiments--chemical agents, electric discharges, the microscope, and -the photograph. The reaction under the different rays of the spectrum -had been tested separately and in combination, and results of the -highest interest obtained. But the epoch-making character of the book -was given to it by the second part. - -Here Vanbrugh had boldly essayed the feat of building a bridge between -physiology and what is called psychology. He had explored what are -known as mental phenomena in the light of his physical analysis. Into -this dim and distrusted region of knowledge Vanbrugh had projected the -searchlight of his merciless intellect, and had made it scientific -ground. - -Even the lay reader could follow him here, and understand most of his -conclusions. Vanbrugh disdained the hieroglyphic vocabulary of the new -priesthood of science, and forced the words of daily life into the -service. In this part of the book occurred his famous comparison of the -brain to a biograph, with the process of thought carried on by a series -of films, succeeding each other with inconceivable rapidity, but yet -with a gap of pure annihilation after each. - -“Science is measured knowledge,” was the keynote of his triumphant -peroration. - -“Science is measured knowledge, and the only measures we can apply are -physical ones, and we can only apply them to physical phenomena. Slowly -but surely, as we succeed in identifying these processes called mental -with the processes of the brain-cells, we shall be enabled to reduce -them to a plan, to evolve order out of confusion, and to regulate human -passion and intelligence as we regulate the secretions of the stomach -and the circulation of the blood, the alternation of the harvests, and -the courses of the tides.” - -Such thorough-going materialism shocked and terrified not a few -readers, but the day was gone by for any objection to be raised on that -score in scientific circles. Before the book had been out a year it was -the recognized authority on the subject with which it dealt in every -civilized country, and the London colleges were obliged to give it a -place upon their shelves. - -Honours and distinctions flowed in upon the author from abroad. -Vienna was the first to offer him the honorary membership of her -first learned society, and other capitals hastened to do the same. A -great foreign ruler, who considered it a part of his own greatness to -befriend greatness in others, sent his most coveted Order to the poor -English doctor, of whom his Ambassador in London had never so much as -heard till he was directed to call upon him with the decoration. Not -content with that, the Emperor wrote privately to the English Court, -remonstrating with it warmly on its neglect of so illustrious a subject. - -The English Court took the hint, and Sir Bernard Vanbrugh figured in -the next list of birthday honours. Then at last the sullen opposition -of the profession gave way. His brethren realized that they were -compromising their own reputation in the eyes of the world, and on the -next vacancy Vanbrugh was offered, and he accepted, the Presidency of -his College. - -He was now sixty years of age; his appointment-book was filled up for -weeks in advance, and his only child was an heiress. - -The Duke of Trent, with all the prestige of his rank and office, -yielded to the same involuntary fear that Vanbrugh always inspired, and -sat down like a schoolboy in the master’s presence. - -“I don’t think we have met very often,” he began, “but I dare say you -know that Miss Vanbrugh is a great friend of my mother’s.” - -At the mention of his daughter the scientist moved slightly, and his -expression became less severe. - -“I have had many opportunities of seeing her at Colonsay House,” the -Minister pursued, his tone unconsciously betraying his intimate sense -of a favour about to be conferred, “and, so far as I am able to judge, -she is disposed to like me. I will come to the point at once, and say -that the object of my visit is to ask you to give her to me. I don’t -suppose it is necessary for me to say anything to you on the subject of -my own feelings. I show them sufficiently by my proposal. I am not a -sentimental schoolboy, but you may believe me when I say that, should -your daughter honour me by becoming my wife, I shall do the utmost in -my power to make her happy.” - -Sir Bernard listened without any further sign of emotion to this -speech, the formality of which did the wooer less harm in his eyes than -it might have done in Hero’s. - -“What does Hero say?” was his sole observation in reply. - -“I have not spoken to her yet. In fact, I have never given her any -reason to expect this proposal. We have been friends, and nothing more, -so far. I confess I have felt some difficulty about approaching her. I -have had no experience in love-making, and it occurred to me that you -might be willing to sound Miss Vanbrugh on my behalf.” - -The physician made no objection to this suggestion. He remained -thinking for some little time, and then answered deliberately: - -“You have done me an honour, of which I am entirely sensible, in asking -for my daughter’s hand. As your wife her position would be a very proud -one, and perhaps most fathers in my place would accept your offer -without a moment’s hesitation. But Hero is my only child, and I am a -man who has always held strong views on the question of marriage. I -trust you will not think me wanting in appreciation of your high claims -to consideration if I put exactly the same questions to you which I -have always intended to put to any man who came to me in the character -of a future son-in-law.” - -The Secretary of State was a little surprised by this reception of his -offer, but on the whole he was pleased by it. He told himself that few -candidates for matrimony would be better able to withstand a father’s -scrutiny than he. - -“I shall be very pleased to answer any questions you wish to put to me. -You are most fully entitled to know everything I can tell, and I have -nothing to conceal.” - -Sir Bernard Vanbrugh nodded. Opening a drawer in his desk, he took out -a large printed form and spread it out in front of him. - -“I had better begin, perhaps,” the suitor suggested, “by giving you the -names of my solicitor and banker. They will give you every information -with regard to my financial circumstances.” - -The physician shook his head slightly. - -“I do not doubt that your means are ample, and my daughter will not be -a portionless girl. I am the medical adviser to a number of insurance -companies, and this paper contains the questions it is my duty to put -to a person who desires to insure his life. In my view, I ought not to -have to say, marriage is an infinitely more important step than the -granting of a policy. Are you willing for me to examine you with the -same care as if you were asking my employers to insure you for a few -thousand pounds?” - -The Duke opened his eyes. Not even Sir Bernard Vanbrugh’s -reputation for originality--eccentricity it is called in Government -departments--had prepared him for such a proposition. But any momentary -irritation was quickly swallowed up in the comforting reflection: What -sort of reception would this man give to Alistair! - -“I am at your disposal, Sir Bernard!” - -The physician began his methodical examination exactly as if he were -dealing with an ordinary patient. He weighed the Cabinet Minister, he -measured him, he took his pulse and temperature, and sounded his heart -and lungs. As test after test was applied the examiner did not conceal -his interest and satisfaction, and at the close of the ordeal his -manner became almost enthusiastic. - -“I can congratulate you,” he reported, “on being an almost perfect -life--I may say, a remarkable life. Do you know that you are as nearly -as possible a normal man?” - -The twelfth subject of the Queen looked ever so slightly disconcerted -by the compliment. - -“You don’t understand, I see,” said Vanbrugh. “I must explain to you -that scientific anthropologists have arrived at certain standards of -bodily proportion, of the energy of the vital functions, and so on, -which they have fixed as constituting the norm of humanity--that is -to say, the perfect balance which ought to be found in every member -of the species. The normal man is therefore a scientific abstraction: -he is the imaginary type with which actual individuals are to be -compared, and to which they should as far as possible conform. Now -I find that you fulfil to an extraordinary degree every requirement -which anthropological science has laid down for the species. You are, -therefore, a normal man--the first I have ever been fortunate enough to -come across.” - -The Duke of Trent tried to persuade himself that this was a flattering -report, though in his ear the word “normal” sounded disagreeably like -commonplace. - -“At all events, you are satisfied?” he asked. - -“I am more than satisfied so far. Now as to your family history----” - -For the first time a misgiving stole into the Duke’s mind, as he -remembered Lord Alexander Stuart’s career. Surely this scientific -inquisitor was not going to visit the sins of the father on the son, as -his words foreboded? - -“Is your father living?” - -“No; I have the title,” the Duke reminded him. - -“True. At what age did he die?” - -“As far as I can recollect, at about thirty-eight or forty. I could -easily ascertain.” - -“That may not be necessary. What did he die of?” - -The Duke’s cheeks burned. But he saw the folly of temporizing with a -man like Vanbrugh. The story of Lord Alexander was perfectly well known -in London. - -“Of _delirium tremens_, I am afraid.” - -Sir Bernard’s eyebrows lifted, and he shot a painful glance at the -unfortunate son. - -“Your mother,” he hastened to say, “I know is alive. What is her state -of health?” - -The Duke was glad to be able to reply altogether satisfactorily. He was -beginning to breathe again when the scientist put the fatal question: - -“Have you any brothers or sisters?” - -“One brother.” As the admission escaped him all his old bitterness -against his junior returned with ten-fold force. - -“Living?” - -“Yes, he is living.” - -“Surely I have heard something about him lately?” Sir Bernard said -reflectively. “What is he called?” - -“Lord Alistair Stuart.” - -The words might have been red-hot coals on the Duke’s lips and not have -given him a greater wrench to utter. - -Sir Bernard Vanbrugh laid down his paper and leant back in his chair. - -“I cannot congratulate you on your family history,” he said gravely. - -“Surely, sir, you will not hold me responsible because I had an -unworthy father, and have a brother who takes after him? I am not like -them. Ask anyone who has ever known me, and they will tell you that -my life has been absolutely free from reproach. I neither drink nor -gamble; I have never indulged in any kind of vice----” - -The physician interrupted him with a quiet gesture. - -“I am not a priest, Duke, but a scientist. I am not here to deal in -moral blame or praise, but to decide whether you are a man whom I can -welcome as the father of my grandchildren. Your family history is -against you.” - -“Every family has its black sheep,” the unfortunate suitor urged. - -“Every existing family is the result of ill-assorted marriages, -brought about by any consideration rather than the desire to have -healthy offspring. You must forgive my saying that Lord Alistair Stuart -is a very black sheep indeed.” - -“Alistair is not hopeless,” said the Duke, astonished to find himself -defending his brother. “He is young yet, and he may settle down and -marry some respectable woman.” - -“Heaven forbid!” Sir Bernard Vanbrugh noted his listener’s bewilderment -at this unexpected rejoinder. “The greatest service a man like your -brother can render to society is to lead the life he is leading. Nature -understands these things better than we do. She takes a man like that -and unites him with a woman like Molly Finucane in order that the -vicious strain may die out. To take your brother away and marry him to -a healthy woman, in order that they might have diseased children, would -be the worst of crimes.” - -James Stuart shuddered as he listened to the voice of the new morality -preaching its relentless gospel. - -“But you didn’t find any strain of disease in me?” he pleaded. - -“These things often pass over a generation. The law of heredity is -still mysterious. It is the most important of all the problems awaiting -scientific solution. You ask me to take a risk--a tremendous risk. I -can only promise to consider it carefully.” - -Of his own accord Sir Bernard added: - -“As far as you are personally concerned, I could not hope to meet a -man to whom I should give my daughter with greater confidence. Your -temperament is exactly what she needs to correct her own tendency to -emotionalism. You see, I am frank with you, Duke, as frank as you have -been with me. I have watched over my daughter with all the powers of -observation I possess from her earliest years, and I cannot shut my -eyes to her weakness.” - -“Miss Vanbrugh is as near perfection as any girl I have seen!” -exclaimed the wooer, with unwonted enthusiasm. “If she has a weakness -it is in being too ready to sacrifice herself for others.” - -“That is the weakness I mean,” the scientist resumed calmly. “Her -attraction towards Catholicism has given me some anxiety, and would -give me more if I thought it went below the surface.” - -“But you are not a Protestant?” - -Sir Bernard Vanbrugh smiled at the old-fashioned word. - -“There are no more Protestants,” he pronounced. “There is Science -and there is Superstition. Religion, as I understand it, is a form -of hysteria, skilfully exploited in the interests of the clerical -class. To me as a physician this Catholic revival is the symptom of -a widespread cerebral disease which attacks individuals of morbid -temperament. I have watched the class of persons who exhibit the -symptom, and I have seldom failed to trace the disease. On the whole I -am inclined to diagnose it as an obscure form of sexual perversion. -A woman does not want to go to confession unless she has something to -confess.” - -The Home Secretary shivered, as he listened to this brutal analysis, -with the same sense of discomfort as a thinly-clad man exposed to a -cold blast of air. He was not the first man who had experienced the -same sensation in listening to Bernard Vanbrugh. - -A week later he received the scientist’s decision. - -“It gives me great pain,” Sir Bernard wrote, “not to be able to accept -your proposal for my daughter’s hand, but your family history is too -bad. Personally, you are everything that a father could desire, but -my grandchildren must not have in their veins the same blood as Lord -Alistair Stuart.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE PRETENDER - - -THAT mood of deep dissatisfaction with his life which had been growing -upon Alistair Stuart of late was strongly with him as he left the -Underground Railway-station at Westminster, and walked across the -bridge on his way to see Des Louvres. - -The night was misty, but not dark, the lamps were lit, and the Palace -showed up grey and spectral beside the water, while farther on there -stretched a dim line of river-shore unillumined by any spark of light, -as though night and slumber had overcome and blotted out that quarter -of the city, while the other parts were still awake with feverish life. - -As Alistair reached the southern foot of the bridge all the lights and -sounds of Lambeth burst upon him with an effect of squalid but stirring -energy. - -He plunged into the bustling thoroughfare, with its noisy -street-stalls, its jostling tramcars, and its hurrying passengers, -as a bather plunges into the sea, and took his way along the road -which branches southwards in the direction of Kennington. The sense -of bankruptcy and failure no longer affected him disagreeably as it -still did in the region he had just quitted. Here his poverty seemed -to bring him into touch with the life about him, and he looked at -everything with pleased, expectant eyes, like a traveller wandering -through the picturesque slums of some romantic town of Spain or Italy -in which he thinks of settling for a time. - -He drew a deep breath of anticipation, like a man about to be released -from prison, as he reflected that the poverty which he had been afraid -of might become a glorious incognito, under which his nature would -have freer play than it had ever had in the world which had held him -hitherto. The thought of this new, strange freedom caused his blood to -tingle. Strange, formless instincts and yearnings began to stir within -him. He glanced curiously to right and left as he walked along, down -dark, narrow turnings with narrower courts and alleys leading out of -them, and the impulse grew upon him to throw off the ways and hampering -conventions of his class, and mingle in the mysterious, half-naked life -of this underground world of which he seemed to catch glimpses all -around him. - -“There are adventures to be met with here!” he whispered to himself. -“There are men who commit crimes!” - -All the old lawless blood of a hundred generations of highland -manslayers and freebooters surged up into his brain, and he fidgeted -in his civilized bonds as a boy on a hot summer’s day fidgets in his -clothes before the splash and sparkle of the sea. - -For a moment he stopped in front of a house which was to let, but a -glance at his watch caused him to move on at a quickened pace. He was -amused with the idea that the watch, which he had bought in Paris, -would pay for a year’s rent of the house. - -By this time the character of the thoroughfare had begun to change. He -was passing by terraces of lodging-houses standing back behind long -narrow strips that had once been gardens. In some of them the sickly -grass still struggled for existence, in others it had frankly given up -the ghost and been replaced by gravel. Decayed notice-boards behind -the railings announced the various ways in which the tenants of these -houses struggled for a livelihood; one aspired to be a coal-merchant, -one deemed himself a dentist, others would have liked to give lessons -in shorthand or book-keeping; none of them, it was to be feared, got -much beyond the stage of expectation. - -Presently Stuart came to a street in which the houses seemed to be of a -better class; it was a street which still preserved some features from -the time when this neighbourhood had ranked as a residential suburb for -the prosperous middle class, on a level with Dulwich or Finchley of -to-day. The name painted on the side-wall was Chestnut-Tree Walk, and -the first house in the street was detached, and surrounded by a high -wall, over which a few straggling shoots of dirty ivy hung their heads, -while at the side of the house rose up one or two trees which, if the -thick black crust upon their limbs and stunted foliage could have been -washed off, might have proved even to be chestnuts. - -This house was the end of Alistair’s walk. It was the residence of the -Comte des Louvres. - -The situation was happily chosen for privacy. The neighbourhood was -not quite poor enough for a well-dressed man to be conspicuous, -and not quite respectable enough to possess an organized social -vehmgericht, while it was altogether off the track of the ordinary -foreign outlaw. Such of his neighbours as had noticed his existence -at all supposed the tenant of Chestnut-Tree House, known simply as -“Monsieur,” to be a teacher of the French language, who had seen better -days. The last supposition was not very wide of the mark, but the -better days were those of the Count’s ancestors, real and fictitious. -His great-grandfather, a wealthy furniture-maker, had conferred the -title on himself in the confusion of the great Revolution, after the -last of the true Des Louvres had perished by the guillotine. Similar -occupations of vacant honours were too common at the time for this one -to attract much attention, and the furniture-maker’s son, by a great -display of zeal for the Bourbons and for Holy Church, had succeeded in -firmly establishing his position in the aristocratic sphere. It was the -grandson who had dissipated the family fortune, leaving the present -Count only the inheritance of a good name. - -The merits of his ancestors, or his own Legitimist zeal, had secured -for Des Louvres the patronage of the Pretender who passed as the Comte -de Rouen, but whom the Count invariably referred to in private as His -Most Christian Majesty Louis XIX. In the service of this personage Des -Louvres filled a position half-way between that of a press-agent and a -chargé d’affaires, supplying the English newspapers with paragraphs in -the Count’s interest, and generally watching the course of events on -his behalf. - -Des Louvres had made no mystery of these functions, but a certain -obscurity hung over whatever other transactions he was engaged in. Some -persons believed him to be in the employment of a Government celebrated -for its elaborate secret police organized in every capital of the -world; others suspected the Count of rendering services even less -creditable to a certain foreign potentate, and hinted that the house in -Chestnut-Tree Walk, if it could speak, would be able to tell some very -strange stories indeed. - -Among these activities of Des Louvres which he took less pains to hide -was his connection with the English Legitimists. It was he who kept -them in touch with the more important organizations abroad--in France, -in Spain, in Italy, and in Portugal. He cheered their flagging spirits, -oppressed by the sense of their insignificance at home, by making them -feel that the Guild was taken seriously on the Continent, and that -they themselves were persons of note in Paris and Madrid. It brought -consolation and refreshment to Egerton and Wickham Vane to know that -their toy conspiracy bulked largely in the columns of such trusted -organs of the Papacy as the _Osservatore Romano_ or the _Paris Univers_. - -Des Louvres was one of those who know human nature only by its -weaknesses. Such men seldom come to grief, though they never come -to greatness. He had been the first to perceive that Lord Alistair -Stuart’s bankruptcy would change his point of view in certain respects, -and to lay his plans accordingly. - -As soon as Stuart touched the bell-knob of Chestnut-Tree House--the -door abstained from the indiscretion of a knocker--he was admitted by -the Count’s confidential servant, a fellow whom it did not require the -science of M. Bertillon to identify as a hardened criminal. Leclerc, -as this respectable felon was called, received Lord Alistair with an -exaggeration of his customary deference, and ushered him towards what -Des Louvres called his cabinet. - -On the way he observed respectfully: - -“You will find Monsieur le Comte alone. His Royal Highness has not yet -arrived.” - -He spoke in a sort of church whisper, as though the coming princeling -already cast a shadow of awe before. - -Des Louvres came out to receive his visitor, whom he greeted with -enthusiasm. - -“I am delighted you have managed to get here. Don Juan is most anxious -to make your acquaintance.” - -Stuart had come to keep the appointment with a certain feeling of -interest in the romance of Don Juan’s exalted claims, tempered with -an insular distrust of foreign royalties and foreign decorations. His -prejudice softened insensibly under the Count’s blandishments. - -“Has his father much of a party left?” he asked. - -“Undoubtedly a very strong one. The priesthood has never taken kindly -to the constitutional dynasty, and you know that in those countries the -Church is still a power.” - -“I suppose there is no prospect of his taking the field?” Stuart said -wistfully, as he thought of what a glorious escape it would be from the -ruins of his present life to take part in a romantic expedition to a -sunburnt land, to recover a lost crown. - -The watchful Frenchman caught the note of yearning in Alistair’s voice, -and his answer was tuned in sympathy. - -“On the contrary, there is every prospect just now. Not the father -himself, of course--he is too old--but Don Juan as his representative. -His father intends to abdicate in his favour, I believe.” - -“And you think he has a real chance?” asked Alistair. His eyes lit -up as he pictured himself lying out on the wild sierras, making the -camp-fire under the cork-trees at night, and in the daytime taking part -in that great game whose stakes are death and renown. Already he was -marching, crowned with myrtle, through Gothic cities bedight in flags -and flowers, his ears deafened with the clang of joy bells and the -roar of exultant throngs, and his veins throbbing with the intoxication -of victory. - -“If I did not think so I should not have asked you to meet him,” -answered Des Louvres, following up the impression he had made. “The -Prince has come to England in order to organize an expedition. All -he requires are the necessary funds to arm his followers with modern -weapons. As soon as he succeeds in landing the first shipload of -magazine rifles and ammunition the country will be in flames--I ought -to say that I mention this for your ear alone. You are the only person -in England beside myself whom the Prince is willing to take into his -confidence.” - -Alistair received this compliment with satisfaction not unmixed with -surprise. Hitherto he had not been very serious in his support of -the Legitimist cause, for Alistair was one of those who are wiser -in judgment than in action, and it did not escape him that a party -which rallied to it such adherents as the two Vanes contained no very -formidable menace for existing institutions. To find himself thus -singled out as the one English partisan whom Don Juan considered worthy -of his confidence was therefore as unexpected as it was gratifying. - -“If Don Juan would care to have me, I should like to volunteer for the -expedition,” he said eagerly. - -“I know that you could not please him more than by such an offer,” Des -Louvres responded. “He will certainly invite you to serve as one of his -aides-de-camp. This will make it especially appropriate for him to -give you the Holy Sepulchre.” - -Alistair could not resist a slight grimace. He was unable to overcome -the fear that by his acceptance of this doubtful honour he might be -making himself ridiculous. He had recently been forced to contrast -himself rather sharply with his elder brother; the contrast would be -sharp indeed between the Garter which Trent expected soon to receive -and this mock badge bestowed by a foreign adventurer. - -Des Louvres was aware of Stuart’s feeling, which he had manœuvred -skilfully to overcome. - -“Of course, the Prince recognizes that in the present state of his -affairs it is you who confer a favour on him by consenting to take this -decoration,” he said. “You must not suppose that he does not understand -the difference between you and a man like Egerton Vane.” - -Alistair smiled. - -“I shouldn’t think you would have much difficulty in persuading either -of the Vanes to accept the Order of the Holy Sepulchre.” - -Des Louvres shrugged his shoulders. - -“I have promised them the second or third class, as a matter of fact. -They are gentlemen, and it will make a good impression abroad if the -Prince appears to have a strong connection in England.” - -He had scarcely finished his explanation when the faithful Leclerc -opened the door to admit the two brothers. - -As Stuart had judged, Des Louvres had encountered no misgiving on their -part. At the first mention of the Pretender and his decoration their -flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes had betrayed the eagerness within. -In fact, their feelings had been so unmistakable that Don Juan’s agent -thought he might safely slip in an intimation that there were fees in -connection with the Order of the Holy Sepulchre, as in the case of -better known and more highly coveted distinctions. The fees payable -by a Chevalier, he informed Egerton, amounted to sixty pounds in -English money, while Wickham might compound for the lower dignity of a -Companion with forty pounds. This disagreeable preliminary had caused -much anguish to the brothers, who were both misers at heart; but after -a severe struggle vanity triumphed over avarice, and they handed their -cheques to the Count as Chancellor of the Order, on his assurance that -the sums named represented little more than the actual cost of the -jewels they would receive from His Royal Highness. - -The sight of Lord Alistair Stuart in the Count’s study came as a -considerable shock to the Vanes, who had looked forward to patronizing -Stuart on the strength of their new honour. “In foreign Courts they -attach more importance to a decoration than to a mere courtesy title,” -Egerton had already laid it down to his admiring brother. “I am not -sure that, as a Chevalier of the Holy Sepulchre, I am not entitled to -take precedence of Alistair Stuart.” The study of ancient tapestry -not throwing any light on this important problem, Wickham received the -observation with that soothing docility which his brother had been -accustomed to exact from their nursery days. - -But a bitterer stroke awaited the Chevalier Vane, as Egerton had now -instructed his servants to call him. For scarcely had the new-comers -exchanged greetings with the rival they found before them when a -confident ring at the front-door was followed by the entrance of the -one man whom they had most wished to crush with their newly-acquired -rank--in short, Mr. St. Maur. - -Neither of the Vanes could conceal his chagrin at this turn of affairs, -and Des Louvres perceived that all his tact would be required to -smooth them down. As soon as the intruder had planted himself, with -his customary simple strategy, beside Lord Alistair as the person -of highest rank present, their host put his lips to the ear of the -Chevalier. - -“It is a thousand pities that we have no better Irishman among us -than this fellow,” he whispered. “His Royal Highness insisted on my -presenting some representative of Ireland to him; and what could I do?” - -“I think you should have declined,” the Chevalier Vane returned acidly. -“I consider that the dignity of the Order will be lowered if the Prince -bestows it on a man like that.” - -“His family is very ancient and illustrious,” Des Louvres suggested. - -The Chevalier Vane put on a pitying smile. - -“I am afraid his family doesn’t much appreciate the connection. I have -never heard of St. Maur’s being asked to----” He named the ducal seat -to which St. Maur was in the habit of referring as if it had been his -childhood’s home. - -“I am a foreigner; I do not understand these things,” said the -Frenchman. “But I have met this man in your flat, and I have heard you -introduce him to others as a relative of the Duke’s.” - -The charge was a true one, and Egerton winced. The Count pursued -pitilessly: - -“Besides, it is a very common thing in this country, is it not, for the -elder branch to ignore the existence of the younger ones?” - -This was hitting Vane on a raw place. The abiding sorrow of the -brothers’ lives was that their titled relative, a vulgar Philistine -immersed in field-sports and such coarse pleasures, had never taken the -slightest notice of a cousinship which should have been his pride. - -Further discussion was prevented by the sound of wheels outside. Des -Louvres instantly excused himself to his guests, and went out to the -front-door to receive his royal guest with fitting honour. - -The personage who now alighted from a hansom-cab, and walked up the -steps to where the Count stood waiting with bowed head, was a tall, -swarthy young man of a rather heavy type of face, and sombre eyes. The -face and figure were not lacking in distinction, though they could -scarcely be called handsome. Their chief defect, however, was an air of -listlessness and lifelessness, as though the unfortunate bearer of a -great name had been crushed beneath its weight from his birth. - -Life had, in fact, had nothing to offer Don Juan that he could accept -as compensation for what his forefathers had possessed and lost. The -misery of opposition, the misery of exile, and the misery of ruin -had accumulated their shadows over his cradle. The secret of earthly -happiness is to have found the work we are best fitted for, and to be -doing it with all our might. The only work for which this young man had -been formed by birth or circumstance was to saunter in black velvet -beneath the shade of cedar-trees, in a park wide as a province, with -a falcon on his wrist, and silk-clad favourites on each side of him, -while behind a curtain a queen and a confessor played chess for his -kingdom. It was thus that his ancestors had discharged their office for -two centuries; it was thus that he himself would have discharged it had -the kingdom been still to lose. - -It is unhappiness to gaze too long at the unattainable. The memory of -the past had been to Don Juan what a glimpse of London is sometimes -to a savage, unfitting him to take up his daily task, and rendering -his life a dull ache of longings for the remote and unachieved. In -understudying the great part he was never likely to play he had missed -the chance of success in some humbler rôle. - -The poor Royal Highness mounted the steps of Chestnut-Tree House and -greeted Des Louvres in a tone of intimacy. - -“I am not too soon, am I? Those gentlemen have come?” he asked, using -the French language. - -“They are awaiting you, sir,” the Count returned with a nice mixture of -cordiality and deference. “Leclerc, marshal His Royal Highness to the -audience-room.” - -Leclerc, looking more like a gaolbird than ever, led the way upstairs, -while his master walked respectfully in the visitor’s rear. They -entered a large drawing-room in which the furniture had been disposed -with some care, so that an armchair stood by itself against one wall in -the manner of a throne. - -“This chair is for you, sir,” the Count said persuasively, as the -Pretender stood hesitating. “If I may venture to advise, it will be -better to rise to receive Lord Alistair Stuart, as he is the heir to -a dukedom. The others are simply gentlemen, and you may receive them -seated. It will do good to maintain a little reserve with them, but -of course that does not apply to Lord Alistair, who is, or has been, -intimate with the Royal Family in this country. In his case I have -ventured to waive the question of fees.” - -Don Juan’s face fell slightly at this last intimation, the exchequer -of the Order of the Holy Sepulchre being a not unimportant item in the -princely civil list. - -“I have never given the Order to any one for nothing,” he objected. -“The price of the Grand Cordon is two thousand francs.” - -Des Louvres put on his most conciliating air. - -“You remember, sir, that you are going to ask Lord Alistair to render -you an important service. It is well to establish a claim on him -beforehand.” - -“Still, Des Louvres, I think he should pay something. As a favour I am -willing to let him have the collar for a thousand francs.” - -“I am afraid in that case he would decline it. I must tell Your Royal -Highness frankly that there is a very strong prejudice amongst the -British nobility against foreign decorations, no matter of what kind. I -had almost to urge Lord Alistair to accept your Order.” - -The poor Pretender winced at this plain speaking. - -“I trust, Count, you have not degraded my family Order,” he said, with -a flash of pride. - -“On the contrary, Prince, I have given it prestige in British eyes. -Lord Alistair Stuart belongs to the highest nobility; his brother is -Minister of the Interior. Permit me to assure you that the moment it -becomes known that he has accepted the Order of the Holy Sepulchre its -value will be greatly increased. You will be able to sell as many of -the second and third classes as you like.” - -“Of course, if you tell me that”--muttered the disappointed Prince. - -“But I do tell you,” Des Louvres returned, with some impatience. He -was used to dealing with these waifs and strays of royalty, and their -airs and pretensions frequently tried his temper. “You have brought the -jewels with you, I suppose?” - -Don Juan fished in his pockets, and brought out four small boxes -covered with imitation leather, and lined with cheap plush. - -The boxes on being opened revealed small badges in different -metals--gold, silver, and bronze--in the form of a cross enamelled with -a Latin motto. The one intended for Lord Alistair was attached to a -neck-ribbon, and the intrinsic value of the four together might have -been about five pounds. - -As soon as Des Louvres had arranged these gimcracks on a small table -beside the Prince he withdrew to summon the four candidates. On the way -he passed into his dressing-room, and selected his own collar and badge -from a number of other decorations more or less real. - -Entering the room where the others were waiting, he drew a paper from -his pocket, from which he read aloud with perfect gravity, for though -Des Louvres was a rascal he was a Frenchman, and perhaps took the -proceedings more seriously than any of his English puppets. - -“This is the protocol approved by His Royal Highness,” he explained. -“We shall enter the room in the following order: myself, as Chancellor; -Lord Alistair Stuart; Mr. Vane; Mr. St. Maur; and Mr. Wickham Vane. -I shall present you in the same order, and as I pronounce each name -you will advance, bowing low, and kiss the Prince’s hand. As soon -as the presentations are finished I shall recall you to receive your -decorations. Each of you will then advance in turn, and go down on -one knee, the Prince rising. His Royal Highness will throw the Collar -of the Order over Lord Alistair’s neck, and kiss him on one cheek; he -will fasten the Chevalier’s badge on Mr. Vane’s breast, and hand the -Companion’s badges to the other two.” - -No one raising any objections to the ceremonial indicated, the Count -led the way upstairs, where his man was waiting to throw open the door. - -As Stuart approached him, bearing himself with the dignity of one who -was himself a descendant of kings, Don Juan rose instinctively, and, -departing from the protocol, courteously shook hands. He sat down again -to receive the other three in the manner prescribed. The Vanes showed -their superior acquaintance with Court etiquette by merely approaching -their lips to the royal hand; the Irishman’s smack betrayed the warmth -of his nation. - -The bestowal of the decorations followed, causing a disagreeable -surprise to the two brothers as they perceived the difference between -the value of their jewels as bullion and the substantial sums they had -paid for them. - -The formalities happily accomplished, Don Juan, who had played his part -with a mixture of pride and uneasiness, at once put aside his state, -and invited the company to treat him as a friend. - -St. Maur instantly clutched the chair nearest to the Prince’s, and drew -it forward, cleverly cutting off the new-made Chevalier, while Des -Louvres rang the bell for champagne and cigars. - -The Pretender at once began to talk about the prospects of his cause, -not saying anything directly about the proposed expedition, but giving -his listeners to understand that he hoped before very long to receive -them more suitably in the palace of his ancestors. - -The Prince’s French being rather too fluent for some of his British -hearers, and theirs not quite fluent enough, Des Louvres helped out the -conversation with hints and explanations of his own, now throwing in a -respectful question, and now reminding Don Juan of some point he had -passed over. - -Alistair had suffered from a sense of awkwardness during the previous -ritual, and he still felt half ashamed whenever he glanced at the -gaudy ribbon on his shoulders. But as the conversation went forward -his reserve melted away, his eyes began to sparkle, and he questioned -the Pretender, as eagerly as good manners allowed, on the state of the -country and the chances of a campaign. - -Don Juan noticed the interest he had aroused, and his tone towards Lord -Alistair Stuart became evidently more friendly, while the Chevalier -Vane as evidently bored him by disquisitions on the art and literature -of the promised land. - -Finally, after throwing a look at Des Louvres, and receiving an -imperceptible nod in return, the Prince rose to his feet, saying, as he -did so: - -“I shall hope to receive you again before long, gentlemen. Will you -remain behind a few minutes, Milord Stuart? I have something to ask -you.” - -The others were obliged to take their leave, the Chevalier remarking -with some bitterness to his brother on their way home that even royalty -in these days is tainted with the Philistinism of the triumphant middle -class. - -Another bottle of champagne was opened, and as soon as Stuart had -emptied his glass, Des Louvres approached the real object of the -conference. - -“The Prince wants to buy arms for his partisans, as I told you, and he -is over here in order to raise the money. I have taken the liberty of -saying that I think you may be willing to assist him.” - -“I!” exclaimed the astonished Alistair. - -The Frenchman bent forward, and murmured softly: - -“I ventured to tell His Royal Highness that you were on intimate terms -with the head of the South American Bank.” - -“Mendes!” - -“Exactly. The suggestion is that you should sound Mendes on the -Prince’s behalf.” - -Alistair sat as one dumbfounded, and for some moments the other two -watched him without speaking a word. - -A repugnance, which he could hardly explain to himself, battled -within him against yielding to the Pretender’s request. Mendes was his -intimate acquaintance; Mendes sat at his table, and entertained him in -return. He was a banker; it was his business to grant loans, and this -was a loan for an object which Alistair heartily sympathized with. And -yet he felt he would have gone to anyone rather than Mendes. - -Des Louvres understood the silent struggle better, perhaps, than -Alistair himself. He also knew the way to end it. - -“You are not taking any champagne,” said the tempter, refilling his -glass for him. - -Mechanically, weakly, Alistair lifted the glass to his lips, and -drained it. As he set it down again a flush overspread his face, and he -cried out thickly: - -“Why not? I’ll tackle old Mendes with pleasure. He’s not a bad sort; he -would like to oblige me, I know.” - -An hour later the Frenchman and his servant were helping Lord Alistair -Stuart into a cab, to the driver of which the Count gave the necessary -directions, while the sober Prince looked on with a face of regretful -dismay. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE POWERS THAT BE - - -WHEN Alistair woke up on the morning after his promise to Don Juan, he -did not feel happy. - -Apart from the headache left by his overnight excess, he suffered from -the recollection of the pledge extorted from him. He owed nothing -whatever to Mendes, and yet it put a strain upon his sense of honour to -ask a favour of the Brazilian. - -Mendes and he had been friendly for a long time, without being friends. -Their acquaintance had begun and continued, so to speak, along two -parallel lines. Molly Finucane had brought them together. And Molly -Finucane kept them apart. - -Molly had known the financier longer than she had known Alistair -Stuart. When she gave way to that touch of real sentiment which united -her to Stuart, Mendes had shown no resentment and made no unpleasant -scenes. Perhaps it was partly for that reason, out of a kind of mild -remorse, that Molly had continued to receive him as a friend, and even -to encourage his visits; although with the new sense of honour which -had been developed in her by her passion for Stuart, the little woman -steadily refused to accept the smallest gift from the millionaire. -Perhaps, also, she saw that the presence of Mendes, seated at their -dinner-table day after day, bland, reserved, and calmly expectant, like -a player whose turn to play has not yet come, acted as a talisman on -Alistair, who was made to see that another was waiting to snatch the -prize from him if he once loosened his grasp. - -It was noon by the time Alistair got down to the breakfast-table, and -he sat picking at some tough, half-cold kidneys, and grumbling to -Molly, who was in a dressing-gown pouring out his coffee. - -“These things are not fit to eat,” he complained crossly, pushing away -his plate. - -Molly reminded him that the cook was under notice to leave. - -“Our servants generally are,” he retorted. “But we don’t seem to get -any better ones in their place.” - -“I know I am a bad housekeeper,” was the meek response. Complaints -of this kind on Alistair’s part were a new symptom, and Molly was -frightened by it. “Good servants expect such high wages nowadays,” she -added. - -“They expect their wages to be paid regularly, you mean. No wonder they -won’t do their work properly when they don’t get paid for it.” - -“We have no money.” - -Alistair coloured up as he was again recalled to his position. - -“Well, we can’t get any now, at all events,” he said. “I don’t suppose -Trent will be such a cad as to stop my allowance, but the next cheque -won’t be due till Christmas, and we can’t very well borrow any more. -What about Carter’s?” - -Carter’s was the establishment from which they were accustomed to get -their household supplies, one of those huge bazaars which deal in -everything from a landed estate to a packet of pins. - -“I paid them a hundred pounds the other day,” Molly answered. “I expect -they’ll give us credit for a time.” - -Alistair said nothing, but sat tapping the table with his fork, and -thinking. - -“I must sell some of my jewels, I suppose,” said Molly bravely, after a -short silence. - -Alistair looked up and studied her face. - -“Why not sell the furniture and everything, and let’s clear out of this -place? We can’t go on like this much longer, any way. What should you -say to disappearing for a time?” - -“Where to?” asked Molly, startled. - -“Somewhere over on the south side. I thought of Lambeth. If we’re going -to be poor, it’s best to live where everybody else is poor around us.” - -Molly stared at him in consternation. In her ears the proposal, if -it were serious, sounded like the end of everything. Molly had been -born and bred in Lambeth. She knew what life there was. The idea of -returning to it, after her experience of luxury, struck her as a -dismal form of suicide. And not being able to divine the curious, -half-romantic attraction which the scheme had come to possess for -Alistair, she credited him with her own feeling of repulsion. The -suspicion quickly followed that this suggestion covered a design to -give her up. Stuart meant to demonstrate that it was impossible for -them to live together any longer, and on that pretext to accept the -offers of his family to rescue him. - -The spectre of parting, never really laid, always peeping out at odd -moments to grin at her, now showed its haunting features plainly, and -she cried out with passion: - -“No, no! Don’t talk like that! Don’t talk like that, Alistair!” - -Alistair shrugged his shoulders as he rose from the table. He had not -expected his proposition to be very eagerly welcomed at first, and he -was content to let the idea rest in her mind. - -“Well, I’ve got to go into the City this morning,” he said. - -Molly glanced at him inquiringly, but thought it wiser not to ask whom -he was going to see. - -He took a third-class ticket on the Underground Railway, in accordance -with his resolution to experiment with poverty. But he had donned a -frock-coat from Savile Row in order to give his mission a serious -character, and he noticed that this incongruous dress seemed to be a -cause of offence to his fellow-passengers. Two workmen with a roll of -leaden piping, whom he found in his compartment, stared at him with -resentful scorn, and made remarks to one another in an undertone which -he could see were disparaging. - -Alistair had to discover that to be the outcast of the aristocracy does -not of itself constitute one a member of the democracy. To acquire a -low position in life something more is necessary than to have lost a -high one. - -He got out at the Mansion House Station, and made his way towards the -great whirlpool of traffic formed by the eight streets which debouch in -front of the Royal Exchange. - -Here he could not resist the inclination to stand still for a minute on -one of the small islets of pavement which divide the stream. He told -himself that this was the centre of the world’s business, the heart -of that vast invisible machine which steadily converts the labour of -fifteen hundred millions of men into the wealth of a prosperous few. -The low brown building, blackened with London grime, which faced him -with such solid immovability, needed no letters on its front to tell -that it was the Bank of England. It was here, surely, and not in that -pretentious palace further west beside the river, that the true centre -of gravity resided; this really was the core of that political and -social system with whose genius his genius was at war; it was for the -men whom that brown square of building sheltered, and not for anyone -else, that the legislators travailed, and the police went their daily -rounds, as the soldiers fought on far-off continents and the sailors -adventured in uncharted seas. In the interest of wealth it was, in the -last analysis, that the Raj had been built up, that the firm framework -of society had been compacted, and that such outlaws as himself were -held in check. Not Yahveh, and not Christ, neither Ormuzd nor Ahriman, -but Mammon was the God of the Anglo-Roman Raj--Mammon, whom that Syrian -Redeemer had so much hated; Mammon, who had built all the churches ever -since unto this day. - -Alistair’s head drooped on his breast as he moved slowly on. He found -himself presently in a narrow turning off Lombard Street, a sunless -retreat giving no outward indication that the great spiders of finance -set their webs within. - -It was the quarter of bankers’ bankers. A clerk from the head office of -some limited company with branches in half the towns of England would -walk in quickly through a swing-door, pass through an outer office -without stopping, and approach a long table at which two or three men -were seated side by side. A name would be mentioned, a bundle of bills -exhibited, and some figure pronounced. The two or three heads would -turn and exchange glances; one would give a nod across the table, and -the clerk would walk out again. The nod had meant the loan of a million -for twenty-four hours. - -It was the first time that Alistair had visited Mendes in his business -quarters, and it took him a minute or two to discover the brass-plate -which bore the name of the South American Bank. Even then he had to -grope his way through what seemed to him a maze of stairs and passages -before he reached a small wired counter, protecting a pale clerk who -asked him his business. - -“I have called to see Mr. Mendes.” - -He handed in his card with a patronage of which he was quite -unconscious. The clerk received it respectfully enough, and passed out -of sight round a partition. A minute then elapsed before a man in sober -livery came out from a side-door and asked his lordship to be good -enough to follow him. - -He showed Lord Alistair into a small, comfortably-furnished room, -in which a man of forty or thereabouts, well dressed and fully -self-possessed, was seated at a writing-table. - -He rose politely as Alistair entered, and offered him a chair. - -“Mr. Mendes has someone with him at the moment,” he said, speaking -courteously, but without any particular deference. “Perhaps it may save -time if you can tell me what you wish to see him about.” - -“I am a personal friend of Mr. Mendes,” returned Stuart haughtily. - -The other did not seem to feel rebuked. - -“If you have not called on business it might be better for you to go to -his private house,” he said quietly. “Mr. Mendes is a very busy man, -and it is against his rule to receive his private friends here, except -by appointment.” - -The last words seemed to be underlined with meaning. Was it possible -that this courteous intermediary was already aware that Lord Alistair -had no appointment, and was taking it on himself to refuse him an -interview with the principal? - -“I have business of an important character with Mr. Mendes,” Stuart -declared in a tone of resentment. - -“In that case I think you had better let me send in a message of some -kind,” persisted his questioner. - -Alistair flushed up. - -“Does Mr. Mendes know I am here?” he demanded. - -The other shook his head slightly. - -“Mr. Mendes’ orders are very strict, and I am obliged to respect them. -I am not authorized to send in a visitor’s card without some intimation -of the business on which he has come.” - -Alistair sat dismayed. A sense of impotence stole over him, at the same -time that the figure of the man with whom he had been familiar for so -long began to grow larger and more formidable of outline before his -awakened eyes. All these precautions interposed between him and the -millionaire taught him a new estimate of their respective positions -in the world. He, Alistair Stuart, might be called a lord, but which -of the two really was lord? His courtesy title, his historic lineage, -his royal friendships--all these things might give him a sentimental -prestige in the eyes of women struggling on the fringe of society, -and still cherishing the delusions of the snob. But in this grim -City office, where only realities counted, what was he but a needy -insolvent, regarded with suspicion as a probable would-be borrower? -The feudal age was past, and the trappings of feudalism stood revealed -for the worthless, threadbare frippery they were, as if a strong beam -of daylight had suddenly fallen on the painted canvas of a theatrical -scene. The feudal age was past, the old Viking race, whose stone keeps -dot the English shires, had gone down, never to rise again, and to-day -the barons of steel were being broken in pieces by the barons of gold. - -While these reflections were passing in one compartment of his brain in -another the decision formed itself to accept the conditions. - -“My business is confidential,” he ventured first. - -The intermediary bowed. - -“I am in Mr. Mendes’ confidence.” - -“Well, I have come on behalf of Don Juan.” And seeing that the -Pretender’s name made but a faint impression on the confidential -secretary, or whatever he should be styled, Lord Alistair entered -earnestly into the history of the Prince, his claims, his hopes, and -his prospects of success, winding up with the explanation that Don Juan -had authorized him to negotiate a loan. - -“Do you offer security?” was the confidential man’s sole comment on -this appeal. - -The question dragged Alistair promptly down from the height of his -enthusiasm. - -“The Prince would guarantee repayment out of the taxes, I suppose,” -he said a little doubtfully. “Or couldn’t he give concessions for -railways, or mines, or something? He would leave that to Mr. Mendes, I -should think.” - -A very faint smile creased the mouth of the City man. He took a slip of -cardboard from a stand in front of him, and wrote a few words on it: -“Lord A. Stuart. Loan for Pretender. No security.” - -With this in his hand he rose and passed into an adjoining room. - -In less than a minute he returned, accompanied by a younger man, who -bowed respectfully to Lord Alistair as he said: - -“Will you come to Mr. Mendes, my lord?” - -Alistair rose eagerly and followed him, feeling pretty sure that the -banker had been disengaged the whole time. But the barriers he had -had to surmount had considerably weakened his self-confidence, and he -experienced a sensible relief when Mendes, rising at his entrance, -shook hands with his accustomed friendliness, and offered him an -easy-chair. - -“I hope my people haven’t bothered you too much,” the millionaire -said. “But you find me here with my armour on, keeping guard over my -money-bags. Who is your royal friend?” - -Alistair repeated the story he had just told in the other room, but in -a distinctly lower key of enthusiasm. - -“You met him with Des Louvres?” remarked the Brazilian. “Why didn’t Des -Louvres come here, or, better still, the Prince himself?” - -“He will come, I have no doubt, if you are willing to entertain his -proposals.” - -“I can hardly say that till I have seen him.” Mendes touched a bell, -and the young man who had introduced Alistair promptly appeared in the -doorway. - -“Ascertain what is known in Rome about Prince Don Juan de Bourbon, and -let me know when I come back from lunch.” - -The young man hesitated an instant. - -“The telephone does not go beyond Paris, sir,” he said, speaking with -just perceptible hesitation. - -“Our agent there can telegraph on. Cipher.” - -Mendes spoke quietly. As soon as the door had closed on the young -secretary, his employer made a mark upon a sheet of paper. - -“You won’t see that youth next time you come here,” he observed to -Stuart. “That is the second time this week he has asked me to think for -him.” - -Alistair shivered as he heard the ruthless sentence. A picture rose -before him of a young man proud in his employer’s favour, and filled -with ambitious dreams for the future, going home to an old mother, or -perhaps a newly-married bride, in some pleasant little suburban home, -and breaking the news that he was ruined. It was in this way that -money-bags were guarded. - -Mendes sat considering for a moment. - -“You don’t know why Rothschilds refused them, I suppose?” he threw out. - -“I didn’t know they had applied to Rothschilds!” exclaimed Alistair in -astonishment. - -“All these people do, as a rule. Rothschilds have the name, you know. -Every financial scheme that gets floated in London goes there first. We -smaller men have to subsist on their leavings.” - -He sat up to his desk, and wrote a short note, which he sealed up and -addressed himself. Then he touched the bell again, and handed it to the -doomed young man, whom Alistair gazed on with a fascinated interest. - -“Take it yourself. They may see you. Now,” he said, turning to Stuart, -“come and have lunch.” - -Mendes conducted his guest to a big club-house behind the church at the -corner of Lombard Street. In the hall he stopped and wrote down Lord -Alistair’s name in the visitors’ book with satisfaction. Regard for -race is a sentiment deeply rooted in the Semitic mind, and Mendes took -a genuine pleasure in the thought that his companion was a descendant -of Scottish Kings. - -They took their seats at a small table in the midst of a vast room -filled with similar ones, nearly all of them inconveniently crowded. -The lunchers were mostly middle-aged men of prosperous appearance, and -their talk seemed to run chiefly on gambling as it is carried on at the -legalized Monte Carlo in Chapel Court. They all spoke to each other -without formality, and a man who came and sat down at the same table -as Mendes and Stuart at once plunged into a story of some speculator -who had been gambling in copper, and owing to an unexpected desertion -of the market by other speculators found himself suddenly left with -some hundreds of tons of ore on his hands, which were actually brought -in waggons to his office in Billiter Buildings, where he had one small -room and a boy. The idea that a buyer and seller of anything should be -called upon actually to handle it evidently appealed to the narrator as -a superb joke. - -Generally speaking the lunches were of a very substantial description, -and champagne seemed to be the only wine in much demand. Mendes catered -liberally for his guest, and over their coffee offered him a cigar -which the Duke of Trent and Colonsay could not have afforded to smoke. -But most of the men round them were smoking similar cigars. It was -impossible to think that everyone in that crowd was as rich as Mendes. -Alistair could only suppose that they represented the winners of the -moment, who were spending their gains with a gambler’s recklessness in -the belief that their luck would never turn. - -In this judgment he was not wholly right. The world of the Stock -Exchange is as small as other worlds, and those who inhabit it have to -consult the opinions of their neighbours. If anything, the keeping up -of appearances was more important to these gold-hunters than it is to -the village tradesman or the retired officer in his seaside villa. To -have ordered a modest lunch or a cheap cigar would have been to hoist -a signal of distress, perhaps to bring an unstable fortune tumbling to -the ground. - -Among these earthen pots the solid vessels of wealth floated calmly, -sure sooner or later to crush the greater part of their venturesome -rivals. As they rose from the table, Mendes moved his head slightly in -the direction of the story-teller. - -“That man will not last six months,” he whispered. “He has gone in for -American rails.” - -“Are they going down, then?” asked the ignorant Stuart, attempting to -adopt the jargon he had heard around him. - -Mendes smiled good-naturedly. - -“It doesn’t matter whether they go up or down. Dealing in American -rails is playing roulette against a croupier who can make the ball roll -where he likes.” - -The spectacle of all these men feverishly engaged in the hunt for gold -had excited Alistair in sympathy. For a moment he felt a pale reflex -of their passion, and wished that he too could be among the winners -instead of the losers. - -“How do men make money?” he asked wistfully of the millionaire. - -“No one can make money,” the rich man replied grimly, “in this world. -He can only take it. And the only way to take it is to be a little -more greedy and cunning than the man you take it from.” - -It was the gospel of Mammon. And Alistair Stuart knew that here at -least he could never find salvation. - -On their return to George Yard, Mendes was stopped in the outer office -by the gentleman who had interviewed Alistair. He excused himself to -Stuart for a few minutes, and nearly a quarter of an hour elapsed -before Alistair again found himself in the financier’s room. - -“Well, I have heard something about your friend,” Mendes said grimly, -as he sat down. - -Alistair’s heart sank at the Brazilian’s tone. He waited for him to -speak. - -Mendes went on deliberately. - -“Perhaps I ought to say I have heard something about his father. I -don’t suppose this young fellow is anything more than a tool.” - -“What have you heard?” - -“I have heard this: that the last time he got a quarter of a million -out of a confiding Greek in order to make a descent on his kingdom, -as he calls it, he spent the whole of the money on his own pleasures, -without ever going within five hundred miles of the frontier.” - -“I don’t think Don Juan would do that,” Alistair protested. - -“He will not get the chance,” the other said brutally. “We are going -to lend no more money to these kings of the hooligans.” - -“You think he has no chance of success?” - -“I don’t think those who are behind him want him to succeed, if you are -speaking of Don Juan.” - -“But whom do you mean? Who are behind him?” asked the bewildered Stuart. - -The South American gave him a doubtful glance. - -“You’re a Catholic, aren’t you?” - -“No,” said Alistair. - -“Half a one, I suspect. All you people cling together, I notice. -Decadents, Legitimists, or whatever you call yourselves, it comes to -much the same thing. I haven’t watched you all this time for nothing.” - -“I am not a Christian at all,” said Alistair. - -“What has that got to do with it? That man Des Louvres is about as -much of a Christian as this table, but he is a very good son of the -Church--one of the best agents they have got, I fancy.” - -“I can assure you that you are mistaken if you think I have any -Catholic sympathies,” Alistair protested emphatically. “I am a Pagan, -pure and simple.” - -“So is the Roman Church, according to the Protestants,” sneered Mendes. -“But I am quite ready to take your word for it. I don’t suppose Des -Louvres has told you any more than he was obliged to.” - -Alistair remained silent, too much offended to reply. - -Mendes went on in a tone of quiet deliberation: - -“The day of these Pretenders is over. A King who has been driven from -the throne by a rival or by a foreigner may have some chance of getting -back again. But these Latin princelets were turned out because their -own subjects were sick of their misgovernment, and no one wants to try -them again. After all, people are not such fools as to prefer tyranny -to freedom. The sort of abject superstition on which they rely is very -strong, no doubt, till it is shaken, but after it has once been upset -you can no more restore it than you can set up Humpty-Dumpty again. -Legitimism, as you call it, is not a popular sentiment; it is only the -fad of a clique of aristocrats who are played out themselves. Such men -do not make revolutions.” - -Stuart made no attempt to resist this reasoning. - -“Then you consider that Don Juan would have no chance?” - -“I never thought he had a chance of making himself King, if that is -what you mean. The only question I have to consider is whether it -would pay me to give him a run.” And seeing Stuart’s bewilderment, -the financier added: “I haven’t been thinking of the mines and the -railways. An attempt of this kind, if it looked at all serious, would -send down the price of every investment in the country, and if I knew -of it beforehand, I should be able to make enough out of my knowledge -to repay whatever I gave your friend. I should never expect to get it -back from him.” - -“Then why won’t you give him the run?” - -“I will tell you why. Because those who are behind him, those from whom -Des Louvres is pretty sure to have his instructions, are simply putting -this poor young fellow forward to gain something for themselves, and -they will push him on or call him back to suit their own purpose.” - -“Whom do you mean?” - -“I mean what Disraeli meant--and he was not altogether a fool--when -he said there were only two powers at the bottom of everything that -happened in Europe--the Church and the secret societies. In this case -it is not the Freemasons.” - -“Then what do you suggest the Church has to gain?” - -“I don’t think it matters. Perhaps there is some quarrel on between -the Pope and the reigning dynasty; perhaps there has been a movement -to suppress the monasteries or to expel the Jesuits--I don’t know. I -haven’t been following their recent history. But you may take it from -me that the Vatican has some motive for putting pressure on somebody or -some party in the country, and that Don Juan is to be used as the red -light.” - -Alistair could not resist the conviction that Mendes was probably -right. He did not feel any personal interest in the matter one way -or the other, except as it affected the chance of his being able to -take part in an interesting adventure. He had, perhaps, a slight -friendliness left for the Church of Rome; at all events, he would have -felt no reluctance to fight its battles as long as in so doing he was -fighting against the social system for which Mendes stood. - -“Even if you are right,” he urged as a last appeal, “I don’t see what -difference it need make to you, as long as the expedition takes place.” - -“I cannot be sure that it will take place.” The Brazilian paused a -moment, and then added gravely: “You know that I am a Jew.” - -Alistair looked at him inquiringly. - -“I am not disposed to let myself be used as a puppet by the friends of -Monsieur des Louvres. We have seen rather too much lately of the true -feeling of the Roman Church towards our race. The Dreyfus case has been -a revelation of more things than the innocence of Captain Dreyfus. We -now know what treatment we have to expect from Rome if she ever does -regain power, and no penny of my money shall ever be given to help her.” - -“Rome is not so bad as Russia,” said Stuart. - -“Russia’s turn is coming,” was the reply. “There is a curse on those -who persecute our race.” - -And Alistair shivered again. - -Alistair went home feeling as though he had been in possession for a -brief moment of the magic bell of northern folklore, which enables its -wearer to descend into the bowels of the earth and see the gnomes at -their work. He had a vision in which he seemed to have been walking -below the surface of the great city among the foundations of palaces. -On either hand the tremendous walls rose up, immovable, forbidding, -and dank with the underground slime. These were the mighty bases of the -powers of wealth, against which he had set his feeble shoulder in the -foolish expectation that he could make them rock. And the puny effort -had left him beating out his life down there in the subterranean mire -at the foot of those sunless piles among the forgotten pauper rubbish -of the world. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -ROYAL PATRONAGE - - -ON his arrival at the house, weighed down by this new and dreary sense -of discomfiture, Alistair found Molly in a state of pleased excitement. - -“There’s a letter for you from Easterthorpe. It’s from the Duke of -Gloucester!” was her greeting. - -Alistair flushed as he recognized Prince Herbert’s handwriting. He had -not forgotten the bazaar, and he tore open the envelope with some fear -of encountering a reproach. - -The Duke addressed him as “Dear Alistair,” just as in their boyish -days, and begged him to come down to Gloucester Lodge for the week-end. - -“There will be no one here but my wife and children,” the royal note -ended, “and we can talk about old times.” - -Left to himself, Alistair would have declined the invitation, in spite -of the courtly theory that invitations from such a quarter are in the -nature of commands. He was too much disgusted with the way in which -life had dealt with him, and he with life, to have any more heart in -the struggle. It would be simpler to go under, to efface himself, and -cease to keep before the world. - -But he found that Molly was determined that he should go. She had made -up her mind that the Prince’s invitation was a repudiation of the Duke -of Trent, and an intimation that Stuart’s irregular connection with -herself had not lowered him in the royal estimation. - -Alistair, of course, knew better. He saw perfectly well that Prince -Herbert’s reference to his family was a delicate way of saying that the -visit must be a private one. The _Court Circular_ would not know of -Lord Alistair’s presence at Gloucester Lodge. - -For this reason his acceptance was a little stiffer than the Prince’s -invitation. He began it “My dear Prince,” and signed himself “Yours -ever.” The Prince had written “Yours affectionately.” - -Nevertheless, Alistair was a good deal more touched by the overture -than he was willing to betray. - -He had not yet been adjudicated a bankrupt. But the Duke of Trent had -suspended negotiations on his behalf, and he was to meet his creditors -on the Monday to undergo the customary useless cross-examination as to -how he had managed to get rid of the money. - -At the very moment of departure he was confronted with the new -difficulty of cash. Neither he nor Molly found themselves in possession -of the price of a first-class ticket, and Alistair was too proud to go -on such a visit unless he could do so in the way befitting his rank. - -He solved the problem by ordering a cab to drive him to the -railway-station, and making it stop at a famous pawnbroker’s on the -way. It was his first visit to such an establishment, but the prospect -of the journey put him in good spirits, and he tendered his French -watch to the shopman with a certain enjoyment of the situation. - -“I am going down to stay with the Duke of Gloucester, and I haven’t got -my railway-fare,” he said, with perfect self-possession. - -The shopman grinned at what appeared to him a lively witticism, and -after examining the piece, offered ten pounds. - -“What name shall I put?” he inquired, as Alistair signified his -consent, preparing to write “Jackson” or “Thompson,” at his customer’s -pleasure. - -“Stuart--Lord Alistair Stuart,” came in the same assured tone. - -This time the pawnbroker laughed out. - -“You will have your joke, sir. I’ll put ‘Mr. Stuart.’” - -“But I have told you my name,” said Alistair. “You can see it on my -coat if you like.” - -He slipped off the light overcoat he was wearing, and gravely exhibited -to the eyes of the wondering shopman the tailor’s parchment label, on -which his name and rank were clearly legible. - -“I beg your lordship’s pardon, I’m sure,” stammered the man. “It’s so -seldom that our clients give us their real names that I thought your -lordship was pretending. The address, please?” - -“Care of Miss Finucane, Elm Side, Chelsea.” - -The shopman, scarcely able to believe his ears, wrote down the address -with an amazement which he made no attempt to conceal. As he handed -over the ticket he asked: - -“Would your lordship like a cheap watch to wear while this is with us?” - -“Thanks, no,” said Alistair, with easy indifference. “Time is of no -consequence to me just now--I am a bankrupt.” - -He strolled out of the shop, charmed with his victory over the hateful -traditions of hypocrisy and self-shame embodied in the pawnbroker. In -his exhilaration he could have challenged the whole middle class. - -His spirits rose steadily as he came to the terminus, and he lavished -half a crown on the porter who carried his light dressing-case to the -railway-carriage. - -He found himself intruding on the privacy of a stout, vulgar-looking -man of sixty or thereabouts, whose name was too freely displayed over -all his belongings, from a giant portmanteau down to a rug-strap, to -leave the least observant fellow-passenger ignorant of his identity. It -was the great Sir Gilbert Lawthorn, whose discovery that pickles could -be sold three-halfpence a bottle cheaper than the prevailing price, -and still be made to yield a profit, had earned him seven hundred -thousand pounds and a baronetcy. - -This great personage scowled on the inspector who admitted Stuart -into his compartment, and then, after a scornful glance at the modest -dressing-case, he remarked rudely: - -“I generally have a carriage reserved for me, but this time I thought -no one would be in the train. Are you going far?” - -“I am going to Easterthorpe,” said Alistair, lowering a window. - -The pickle-seller gazed at him in displeasure. - -“I live there,” he announced, with conscious superiority. “My place -is close to the Prince’s. I don’t think I have seen you in the -neighbourhood.” - -“I am going down to stay with friends,” said Stuart carelessly, as he -took up a paper. - -“Do your friends know the Prince?” Sir Gilbert inquired, with -patronage. “He called on me last week.” - -Alistair lowered his paper and looked at the fat baronet over with -unfeigned surprise. - -“I have not the honour of your acquaintance, sir,” he said -deliberately, beginning to read again. - -“I am Sir Gilbert Lawthorn!” burst out the indignant magnate. - -“Thank you. Your pickles are excellent,” replied Alistair. And this -time he was allowed to read his paper in peace. - -When the train stopped at Easterthorpe a groom in neat black livery -appeared at the door of the carriage, and touched his hat. Sir Gilbert, -who evidently recognized him, took the salute to himself. - -“His Royal Highness is not in here,” he proclaimed pompously. “Did you -expect him by this train?” - -The groom, without replying, took the case which Lord Alistair passed -out to him. - -“This way, my lord, if you please,” he said deferentially, as Alistair -prepared to follow his luggage. - -The baronet turned crimson. - -“I--I beg your pardon,” he stammered awkwardly, half holding out his -hand. “I had no idea that you were going to stay with the Prince.” - -But Alistair was not in a merciful mood as far as the middle class was -concerned. - -“Who the devil do you suppose cares what you think, or who you are, or -anything about you? I wish I had come third class.” - -He followed the secretly delighted servant out to a smart dogcart, and -Sir Gilbert Lawthorn’s fat coachman meekly drew a heavy barouche and -two fat horses out of the way of the royal conveyance. - -It was with a slight sense of embarrassment that Alistair entered the -pleasant dwelling in which the Duke of Gloucester and his wife were -able to enjoy some of the pleasures of English home life. But his -uneasiness was quickly dispelled by the reception he found waiting for -him. The Prince himself sprang up from a lounge chair in the bright -little hall, and grasped him cordially by the hand, exclaiming as he -did so: - -“Ada, my dear, here is my old chum, Alistair Stuart.” - -A woman some years younger than her husband, with a face in which -womanly grace and keen intelligence were harmoniously united, rose from -the midst of a group of small children, and offered her hand with equal -friendliness. - -“I am so glad you have come. I have heard so much about you from Bertie -that I hope you will let me treat you as an old friend. Do you like -children?” - -It was evident that children liked Alistair, for almost before he had -sat down two youngsters of five or six, in white sailors’ suits, were -romping round him, while a small girl of three, safely sheltered by her -mother’s skirts, regarded him with grave but friendly curiosity. - -“I know something about you,” the elder boy said presently, with an -amusing note of condescension in his voice. “You used to go fishing -with father when he was a boy.” - -Alistair remembered the unfortunate letter he had sent to the -Legitimist bazaar, and was ashamed. - -The tactful Princess gave him no time to indulge in such thoughts. She -poured him out a cup of tea, and bade her eldest son carry a plate of -toast to the visitor--an order which he obeyed with an evident sense -that he was conferring a considerable favour. - -Lord Alistair was not long in awakening in the mind of the Duchess of -Gloucester the same feeling that he awakened in most good women--a -regret that such a life should be running to waste, and a desire to -save him. It happened that the Duchess had literary tastes, she had -heard of Stuart’s poems, and she engaged him in conversation on that -ground. - -“Have you given up writing?” she asked. “I don’t think you have -published anything for a long time.” - -“Everyone has given up writing,” Alistair returned with a bitterness -that surprised himself. It had grown up in his mind unconsciously; his -literary disappointments had become part of his general feud with the -successful order of mankind. - -The look on the face of the Princess made him hasten to explain himself. - -“The English public will not tolerate literature; that is the simple -truth. The publishers will not publish it, the booksellers will not -sell it, the public will not read it, and the police have orders to -suppress it. My old publisher told me plainly the other day that it was -a waste of time to print anything but four-and-sixpenny novels. He said -the booksellers have got used to making up their accounts in items of -four-and-sixpence, and they consider it a nuisance to handle anything -else. And even the novels are falling more and more into a stereotyped -pattern; they must be exactly the same length--a hundred thousand -words, I think he said--and be written well down to the level of the -vulgar provincial mind.” - -“Surely things are not quite so bad as that?” - -“Very nearly. The worst of it is that the persecution of literature -is purely for reasons of hypocrisy. The public likes what it calls -immorality--will have it, in fact: no book that is really pure has -much chance of success--but it insists on the writer pandering to -the proprieties. Either he must slobber over his adulteress in the -Nonconformist vein, or else he must tell the whole thing in an -epigrammatic falsetto. It is a choice between ‘East Lynne’ and ‘The -Innocence of Henrietta.’” - -“But are there no writers before the public now whom you look upon as -on a higher level?” And the Princess suggested one or two names. - -Stuart shook his head. - -“What is their position?” he said. “Granted that they have genius, the -conditions of the age give them no chance. Unless they go on producing, -and keeping themselves constantly before the public, they are cast on -one side. The greatest genius, as a rule, can only give the world one -or two masterpieces. Coleridge wrote three short poems, Poe a dozen -short stories. Dante and Cervantes each wrote one book--their other -work is of no account. Everyone of them would have starved to-day, -just as they starved in their own day, while the vulgar novelists -made fortunes round them. Writers such as you speak of have to go on -writing worse and worse, conscious of their own degradation, and freely -reminded of it by the press, and by their publishers’ accounts. It is -the torture of the damned.” - -“It seems to me there ought to be some remedy,” the Princess said -thoughtfully. “I know so many rich men who seem to me only anxious to -find some way of doing good with their money.” - -Alistair shrugged his shoulders. - -“A man of genius does not like to accept charity. The rich men would -expect too much gratitude. They prefer building cathedrals--each -poem of Coleridge is worth a cathedral--but you could not expect a -millionaire to see that.” - -“There are pensions, and literary funds, are there not?” - -“Pensions, yes, for the bad writers who have fallen below the level of -even the British public. And there are literary funds, yes. I was once -asked to act as a steward at one of their annual dinners. The secretary -sent me the rules, by which I saw that no grant was ever made to -writers whose lives or whose works were open to objection on religious -or moral grounds. I wrote back to say that I did not see my way to -support a literary fund from whose benefits Shakespeare and Shelley -would have been excluded.” - -The Princess saw that she was handling a sore. She sighed, and changed -the conversation. - -After dinner Prince Herbert played billiards with his guest, and their -talk ran on the past. Alistair was softened by the boyish memories -recalled by his old playfellow, and when he went to bed it was with -more peaceful and happier thoughts than had come to him for a long time. - -He was sipping his cup of tea in bed the next morning when he heard -light footsteps, followed by excited whispering, outside his door. The -next moment the handle was turned cautiously, and then the door was -thrust open with a bang, and two small boys invaded the room. - -“May we come in?” demanded the elder. And satisfied with the expression -on Lord Alistair’s face, he turned and beckoned through the doorway. - -“It’s all right; don’t be afraid, Tissy.” - -The apprehension felt by the unseen Tissy communicated itself to -Alistair, who hastened to say: - -“Hadn’t you better go away till I’ve dressed?” - -“We want to stay and see you dress,” the leader responded. - -“I’m not worth seeing, I assure you,” said Alistair. “I dress very -badly.” - -It seemed doubtful whether the excuse would be accepted, when -fortunately a warning cry was heard from the doorway, and a voice as of -one speaking with authority called out: “Come here directly!” - -The head of the invading party cast a hasty glance round the room, and -only remarking regretfully to his brother: “I can’t _see_ his teeth,” -withdrew in good order. - -Stuart did not offer to accompany his hosts to their little country -church. But the sight of the family party setting out across the park, -and the far-off sound of the bell, had a soothing effect upon his -spirit. Contrast is the secret of all beauty, and perhaps the prodigal -had never considered how much of their charm would depart from the -rocks and valleys of Bohemia were there no Puritan plain without. - -In the afternoon he found himself left alone with the Princess, after -they had taken tea in the garden. The scent of the roses was all about -them, and the bees drummed restlessly as they went by. It was a perfect -piece of English landscape, and the perfect type of English womanhood -fitted into it like a picture in its natural frame. - -“Lord Alistair,” she said, with quiet seriousness, “I want to ask you -if you will let the Prince help you. He has never forgotten your boyish -friendship; he is attached to you still, and he only wants to see his -way clear to do something for you.” - -Alistair murmured an expression of gratitude. - -“I hope you will look on me as a friend too,” the Duchess of Gloucester -went on. “Will you let me speak to you frankly, and will you be frank -with me in return?” - -“Will you pardon me if I am?” asked Alistair. “It is easy for some men -to be frank; but when I am frank I find I only shock good people.” - -“But why should that be so? Are you sure that when you are shocking -good people, as you put it, it is your true self that is speaking?” - -“Madam, I do not know what is my true self; or if I have got one any -longer. I used to have one when I was a boy, but twenty years of -enforced hypocrisy have pretty well knocked it out of me.” - -The Princess sighed, and paused for a moment. - -“Perhaps I can help you to find it. Do you really love the woman you -are living with?” - -“No.” The truth came up from the depth of his consciousness, exploded -by surprise. - -“Then why don’t you leave her?” - -It was Alistair’s turn to pause. - -“She has given up everything for me. Sometimes I think I ought to marry -her.” - -“What had she to give up?” - -This question offered a new light to Alistair, and he took time to -consider it. He might have answered superficially that Molly had, in -fact, given up the offers of Mendes; and latterly she had given up a -great many pleasures that almost ranked as necessities for her. But -he saw the point of Princess Adelaide’s question. What Molly had done -was to quit the life of a courtesan for that of a concubine, with some -prospect of becoming a wife. Now, a swimmer who climbs on to a raft to -save him from exhaustion can hardly be said to give up the sea. - -“Do you consider that she has a greater claim on you than your mother?” -the Princess unfortunately added. - -This time Alistair answered deliberately. - -“Yes. I do not consider that my mother has any claim on me whatever. -In my opinion the obligations of a child towards its parents are -trifling beside those of the parent to the child. My mother has been -the worst enemy I have had. She has been to me the ordinary type of the -Christian persecutor, the race of the Inquisitors and Nonconformists -and Churchmen of every church. I have forgiven her because she does -not know how wicked she has been. Her crimes are the crimes of her -creed. Her brain has been warped and maimed by the training she herself -received, as much as the foot of a Chinese girl is warped and maimed -by bandages to make it small. I forgive her, and I think I love her, -but I should no more think of trying to shape my life according to -her prejudices than if she were a cannibal and wanted me to eat human -flesh.” - -The Duchess of Gloucester felt that she had bound herself in honour not -to show any disapproval of these outspoken utterances. But she began to -see what Lord Alistair meant by saying that it is not equally easy for -all men to be frank. - -She returned to the subject of Molly Finucane. - -“It seems to me that you must leave this woman sooner or later, and -that you will never have a better opportunity than now. If you really -feel that you owe her anything, I don’t think you would find it -impossible to get your friends to make some provision for her, if she -needs it.” - -Alistair remembered Mendes and his empty house. He did not think Molly -was likely to be in need if he left her. - -“And what should I do?” he asked. - -The unexpected question baffled the Princess for a moment. She had not -heard of Hero Vanbrugh. - -“Return to your literary work,” she suggested. “You have not the excuse -of being obliged to write something that will sell. Write to please -yourself, and in time you will find your audience.” - -“If I were to write to please myself, the world and my own family -in particular would think worse of me than they do at present.” And -seeing that the Princess was not disposed to interrupt him, he went on: -“The supreme sin in English eyes is truthfulness. Truthful thinking, -truthful speaking, and truthful living are all equally under the ban. -And the worst of it is that those who clamour most for freedom of -thought are most severe on freedom of life, and those who live most -freely are the least tolerant of free speech. The Dissenter persecutes -the sportsman, and the sportsman persecutes the sage. All the racing -men I have ever met have been bigoted High Churchmen, who would have -cheerfully burnt Darwin and the late Mr. Spurgeon. And if they had -begun with Darwin, they would have had Spurgeon’s help.” - -Princess Adelaide sat silent for some time. The task of rescuing -Alistair Stuart seemed to be more difficult than she and her husband -had foreseen. - -“I wish we could help you,” she said gently, at last. - -“I am afraid I am not to be helped,” Alistair confessed sadly. “When I -look back over my life, it seems to me that ever since I was twelve -years old I have been surrounded by people knocking me over the head, -and saying to me: ‘Don’t be Alistair Stuart.’ I have tried not to be -Alistair Stuart, but I have failed. And the worst of it is that I am no -longer ashamed of being Alistair Stuart. It seems to me that all these -complaints ought to be addressed to my Creator. I did not make myself: -God made me; let Him repent, not me.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -VIRTUE TRIUMPHANT - - -THE Prince and Princess were obliged to confess to each other, -when Lord Alistair was gone, that they had failed to find a way of -unravelling the tangle of his life. - -In reality they had done more than they knew. Their kindly treatment of -him, coming just at the moment when he felt himself a social Ishmael, -rejected by all classes in turn, had given him back no small portion of -his self-respect. He could not help contrasting the delicate attentions -of Prince Herbert, the representative of the greatest House in Europe, -and an English gentleman to boot, with the pretentious compliments of -the poor waif of royalty from the Mediterranean whose bogus honours he -had stooped to accept a day or two before. - -Nor could he resist the incense to his pride offered by the clumsy -abasement of the pickle-selling baronet. It was something to feel that -he still excited the envy of the Lawthorns and the Mendes. He might -be a bankrupt, but he was still Lord Alistair Stuart, and heir to one -of the greatest titles of Britain. The highest in the land still felt -affection for him; the noblest women thought him worthy of their -concern. - -These reflections accompanied him on the way up to town the next -morning, and prepared him to face his public examination with a lighter -heart. After all, bankruptcy was not fatal to a man in his position. He -had nothing to lose. His creditors could not take the allowance made -him by his brother. But for Molly, indeed, he need not be a bankrupt -at all. But for her, and his quixotic refusal to abandon her, the -proceedings against him would have been dropped already, and he himself -would be enjoying the traditional honours of the returned prodigal. - -Why had he refused to leave Molly? After all, was it not true that he -had exaggerated Molly’s claim on him? She had preferred him to Mendes, -doubtless, but her choice had not been taken from any exalted motive -of self-sacrifice. If it had been inspired by the hope that he would -marry her, it was a selfish choice enough. She knew pretty well that -Mendes would never do that. Yes, his refusal to leave her had been -quixotic--that was the right word. For her own sake, since it was -evident that she shrank from facing poverty with him, for her own sake -it would have been better to say good-bye. - -The public examination did not turn out to be a very formidable ordeal. -Lord Alistair, who was at his best when he was on his defence against -the Philistines, came through it with flying colours. The advocate -engaged by his creditors to bully him in the approved professional -style bullied in vain. The bankrupt’s answers were in the lightest vein -of good-natured irresponsibility. He declared that he kept no accounts, -had no idea what he spent, only bought the things his tradesmen teased -him to buy, and felt confident of his ability to pay for everything if -these unwise proceedings had not been sprung upon him. The creditors -present began to fear they were unwise, it being evident that they -could not hope to recover from Lord Alistair even enough to pay -their demolished barrister. In the end they were glad to adjourn the -examination in the hope that the Duke of Trent might yet be induced to -make an offer on his brother’s behalf. - -Before he went home Alistair had the gratification of seeing his name -once more on the news-bills of the evening papers, but this time -accompanied by editorial compliments, such as “Insolvent’s Witty -Replies,” “Calls his Creditors Unwise,” and so on. It was a brilliant -victory, and the middle class had never been made to look more -ridiculous. - -Alistair got back to Chelsea sooner than he expected, and found the -house empty. After letting himself in with his latchkey, he rang the -bell to ask if the mistress of the house had left any message for him, -but no one answered the summons. - -The household arrangements were so irregular that there was nothing -very surprising in all the servants being out together. Nevertheless, -one of those subtle sensations which we call presentiments warned -Alistair that the emptiness of the house was a sign of crisis. - -He took the trouble to go down into the kitchens. There, as he had -already foreboded, he found everything lying about in disorder. The -dirty plates and dishes from lunch were heaped up in the sink, and the -fire in the range had died out. He could find no shoes or umbrellas or -other belongings of the servants, such as they would be likely to keep -downstairs. - -Already convinced that the servants had deserted the house, or been -dismissed in a body, he mounted to the top floor, and had his judgment -confirmed by the state of the attics. All the trunks were gone. The -beds had been made, no doubt in the forenoon, before the crash, -but everything else wore an untidy and dismantled air. The homely -dressing-tables looked bare without the presence of brushes, and there -was dirty water in one of the wash-stand basins. Several drawers stood -half out of the various chests, showing bits of paper, broken buttons, -and an odd glove. - -It was the first time Lord Alistair had ever visited this part of the -house, and the whole spectacle depressed him. He found himself pitying -the departed servants who had had to occupy such mean and desolate -quarters. Why should it be necessary for these fellow-creatures to pass -their lives so shabbily? Why should one man be worse off than another? -And that sensation of a spiritual kinship between himself and all the -underlings of the world, which had first come to him as he stood on -Westminster Bridge, returned like a wave of melancholy over his heart. - -Instead of going downstairs again, he went to the window of the attic -in which he happened to find himself, and looked out. It was a glimpse -of back-door London--that unknown London which hides behind the stately -squares and fashionable terraces and busy rows of shops. At that hour -a mist breathed on the roofs and gables of the houses, making them -beautiful. Each particular chimney was invested with a romantic air, -and had a character of its own. There were two, a tall one with a -little one beside it, at the end of a long roof-comb, and the group -suggested a stately lady leading her child by the hand. Behind them -came a short squat chimney that might have been the maid carrying a -bundle. Farther along a pair of slender, crooked chimney-pots bent -towards each other, like two beaux of the eighteenth-century meeting -and bowing on the Pantiles. - -Looking lower down, another world revealed itself. Here were small -yards in which a little grass grew of its own accord, and tall, gaunt -clothes-props were the substitutes for trees. Strange barrels that -could have nothing in them were stacked against a wall to rot away. -The backs of the next row of houses were divided from these yards by a -mysterious lane that led nowhere. To the right there was just visible -a little branch street, with houses on only one side of it. Such small -houses they were, with a door and three windows to each, and yet in -the ground-floor window of one of them there was actually a card, as if -it had lodgings to let. - -More interesting than the houses in the side-street were those just -opposite, across the mysterious lane. By looking closely it was -possible to see something of the life that went on in them. People -came out of their back-doors into the little yards which opened into -the lane. Watching these people was like watching the inhabitants of -another planet; they might live there for years, and you live in your -house for years, and you might watch each other every day all that -time, and yet you would never become anything to them, nor they to you. -They might be born, and grow up, and marry, and die, and you would -never know so much as their names. - -Compared with the commonplace sights of the front streets, this was -like a peep into the wonder-world. The sky was turning from yellow -to violet under the enchantment of sunset, and all the air seemed to -be full of a deep sigh. Wicked faces began to peer from the bricks -of the houses, and the chimneys, if they were looked at long enough, -really moved and nodded to each other as if they were communicating -secrets overhead. Even the clothes-props down below felt the influence, -and came to life, and the clothes on the lines changed into ghostly -people whispering to and nudging one another as the darkness gave them -courage. It was impossible to believe that this was London, that the -Underground Railway ran beneath, and that the hospital stood not far -off. It was easier to think that you had strayed into the heart of some -haunted town, thousands of years ago, wherein dwelt a mystic folk, -worshipping strange gods, and going about the streets of their doomed -city, noiseless and hushed. - -The sudden stopping of wheels outside, and the instant clamour of -a bell, broke Alistair’s trance. With the dazed feeling of a man -just recalled from sleep he stumbled down the stairs, and opened the -front-door to Molly. - -She marched in, dressed in her most extravagant clothes, with a hat, -which Alistair could not remember seeing before, on her head, and a -more than usually profuse display of jewels on her arms and hands. -Her cheeks were bright with rouge and powder, and there was a hard, -metallic glint in her eyes which warned him that she had been drinking. - -“Well, old boy, how did you get on?” she burst out, in a voice tainted -with huskiness. “I had a row with the servants while you were away, -and sacked the whole lot of them, and a good thing too. Jump into my -carriage, and we’ll go off and have a nice little dinner at the Savoy -or wherever you like, and a box at the theatre after. Cheer up!” - -While she was rattling on with an evident anxiety not to give him time -to think, Alistair was glancing from her painted face to her jewelled -fingers, and from the new hat to the coupé which had brought her to the -house. - -“Come in here,” he said, in a quiet tone of authority, at the same time -closing the front-door. - -He led the way into the drawing-room, Molly following with reluctant -steps, and a look of defiance. - -“Well, what is it? What do you want to say now?” she demanded. - -“Where have you come from?” asked Alistair. - -“Where have I come from? What business is that of yours? I can go where -I like, can’t I? I’ve been shopping, if you want to know.” - -“Where did you get the money?” - -“Never mind! What money? Can’t I have a little money of my own? I’ve -been giving you money lately.” - -“I know you have. And I’m very sorry I let you. But that was money you -got on your jewels, and I gave you some of them myself. You have been -getting some more since I went away, and I want to know where you got -it.” - -“Suppose I borrowed it; what’s that to you?” - -“Who lent it to you?” - -“I shan’t tell you. You’ve no right to ask.” - -“No, I know I have no right over you. But I have the right to say I -won’t eat a dinner without knowing who is paying for it.” - -“I shall pay for it; isn’t that enough?” - -“With whose money? You have just admitted that you had been borrowing.” - -“I borrowed it from Carter’s--there!” - -Stuart shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. - -“Where did you think I got it from, then?” - -“From Mendes. I don’t know anyone else who would be likely to lend you -money.” - -For a moment Molly wavered between wrath and fear. Then something in -Alistair’s face overcame her, and she broke down in a whimper. - -“Don’t be angry with me, Alistair! Don’t look like that. I didn’t know -what to do. The servants all left me, I had nowhere to go, and we’ve -been so hard up lately. I thought you wanted money badly. It was for -you more than for myself, really. I was afraid you would get tired of -living with me if we were poor. You threatened to give up the house and -everything only the other day; you know you did. I didn’t think you -would mind my borrowing a little from him--he’s your friend as well as -mine. I didn’t go to his house, only to his office in the City; and he -was awfully good, and gave me a hundred pounds at once, and told me to -come again when I wanted more.” - -Alistair remembered his own reception in Mendes’ office. - -“He wouldn’t have given the hundred pounds to me,” was all he said. - -“No!--you’re not going!” Molly screamed, as she saw him turning from -her. “Alistair! Alistair!” - -She cast herself on the ground before him and caught him by the foot, -in a paroxysm of sobs and wails. - -“I’m very sorry for you, Molly. I’m not angry with you at all; I’ve -no right to be; but I can’t live with you any longer; you must see -that. I fancied it would come to this sooner or later. I don’t blame -you; I dare say I ought to blame myself. But I can’t live on money that -another man gives you; you must know that well enough.” - -“I’ll give it back to him. I haven’t spent half of it. I’ll take it all -back to him to-morrow. I’ll sell something to make it up.” - -She began desperately tearing off bracelets and rings and dropping them -on the floor. - -But Alistair’s mind was made up. He was surprised to find how perfectly -easy it was for him to act now that the moment had come. He had not -known that he should be so glad to be free. - -“Nothing that you could do now would alter the fact that you have taken -money from Mendes,” he said. “We may as well make up our minds to what -has happened. It was bound to come sooner or later. It is better to -part like this than to drag on till we should be both sick of each -other. It’s good-bye.” - -“I will never speak to Mendes again. I will never see him,” sobbed -Molly. - -Stuart took a step towards the door of the room. She sprang to her feet -and got in front of him, clinging round him to prevent his going. The -scene became dreadful and ugly. He had to struggle step by step out of -the room and into the hall. It was a fight to get his hat off the stand -and put it on. He felt that it was imperative that he should get away -there and then. Another hour spent with Molly would be irretrievable -dishonour. At the front-door the miserable woman made a still more -frantic struggle. He had to unclasp her fingers by main force, and to -thrust her back with one hand while he turned the latch with the other. -If he had not promptly slipped his foot in between door and doorpost -she would have slammed the door to again before he could open it. And -all the time she kept up an incessant wailing appeal to him for mercy. -For the first time in his life Alistair felt that he was doing a cruel -thing. - -He was still shuddering from the sound of Molly’s last moan as he got -into a cab at the street-corner and gave the direction: - -“Colonsay House.” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -MAGIC CASEMENTS - - -LORD ALISTAIR stood on the deck of a Channel steamer and watched the -coast of England melt into the night. - -His mood was burthened with that indignant melancholy which swelled -the heart of Byron and of Whistler, and many another exile whom the -builders of the Raj have rejected from their midst. In the Tate Gallery -hangs a painting which he had often gazed upon, a symbolic masterpiece -of Watts’. It represents hard-heartedness sitting crowned with gold -and robed in scarlet on the throne of the world. The painter has -called his figure “Mammon”; it came before Alistair just then as the -image of England--the England that stones her prophets and worships -her swindlers; the England that made Burns a gauger and one Perceval -Prime Minister; that chained the dying Napoleon on an ocean rock, and -rejected the last prayer of Nelson; England, with her shop-keeper’s -conscience, where art is a sin and generosity a crime. - -A sense of exultation and relief accompanied his thoughts. He was -escaping from the Puritan prison against whose bars his spirit had -so often bruised its wings. In the obtuse self-satisfaction, in the -unctuous mercy, of its keepers he had felt something more merciless -than in all the recorded cruelties of furious saints and frantic -Emperors. Not the snow-peaks of Switzerland, he told himself, not -the Shakespearean cadences of Venice, nor Rome with her memories and -marbles, afforded that zest to wandering which greets us like a scent -on foreign soil. It was the sense of freedom from that chain of custom -and convention which we forge upon ourselves. The Mediterranean filled -her coasts with pleasure cities which were cities of refuge from the -middle class. The Niagara of gold that poured from England was the -price the English tradesman pays for his vindictive respectability. It -was the tax on spite. - -A moist wind thick with delicious sea-smells, that mounted in the -brain like wine, lifted him out of his vexed meditation as the steamer -drew clear of the tangled lights of Spithead and came out on the wide -moonlit pavement of the sea. His mother joined him on the deck, and -they sat and watched the broad moon sail aloft like a luminous balloon -scattering glory. - -“I should like it to be like this always,” Alistair sighed in ecstasy. - -A sense of utter peace had fallen on his spirit, worn out with -striving. The molten orb, lifting beyond the shadow of the earth, -seemed to drag his soul upward as a spar is sucked in the wake of a -great ship. He looked up and longed after that visible Elysium, that -floating Island of the Blest on which the happy dead voyaged in light -for ever across a sea buoyed with stars. That ship of souls, on what -far coasts did it touch? within what magic roadsteads anchor? What -wondrous cities went forth to greet the mariners of that immortal -Odyssey? - -The yearnings of a thousand generations who have spelled in the heavens -for some divine boding of the fates of men; the mystic soundings of -devout astronomers in temple labyrinths beside old Nile; the vision -conned upon the starlit terraces of Babylonian towers--all these -forgotten intimations from his pre-natal life surged in upon him in -waves of deep emotion, and floated his consciousness from its moorings -among the things of every day. - -Caroline sat beside her son and did not break the silence. She, too, -was happy. Her prayers had been granted; the prodigal had found his way -home. Within the compass of her simple mind there was room for only one -ending to the story. Conversion would follow on repentance, and a happy -marriage would insure a regular and fortunate career. - -Her agitated joy over his return to Colonsay House had moved Alistair, -if not to repentance, to a wish that he could change his nature in -accordance with the life his mother wanted him to lead. In the first -moments of united tenderness he even persuaded himself that this might -be so. He was wearied and disheartened by his warfare with society, and -he hoped that the truce might ripen into a peace. - -The Duke of Trent’s reception of his brother had been courteous, -if not very cordial. He bade him welcome to the house, and on the -following evening informed him in their mother’s presence that the -family solicitor had taken charge of his affairs. - -Alistair saw that he was expected to be grateful, and he succeeded -in appearing so, though in his heart he was half sorry to accept his -brother’s favours for the sake of his creditors. - -“If it were not for you I would not let Trent give a penny to these -people,” he told his mother when they were by themselves. - -“It is not only us you have to think of,” the Duchess seized the -opportunity to suggest. “We hope you may find a wife who will make your -life happy, and you would not like to go to her with any mark against -your name.” - -The Home Secretary had never spoken of Sir Bernard Vanbrugh’s refusal. -His repulse had mortified him deeply, but he took it sedately as he -took most other things. He blamed himself for not having made sure of -Hero in the first place, and with a certain obstinacy he still clung to -the idea that she would sooner or later be his. - -Sir Bernard had been equally silent on his side. He did not know which -way his daughter’s inclination went, and wanted to avoid a disagreement. - -The Duchess, whose diplomacy was of the simplest order, went on to say -to Alistair: - -“Don’t you think you would like to come abroad for a little time? The -Vanbrughs have a house at Dinard, and it would be very pleasant if you -would take me over there.” - -Alistair gazed at his mother in doubt. He could hardly misunderstand -her drift, and the light in his eyes was a sufficient revelation to her -of his own wishes. But the gossip which had reached him concerning his -brother and Hero Vanbrugh held him back. - -“What about Trent?” he said. - -“He can’t leave town till Parliament rises, of course. He may join us -afterwards, perhaps.” - -Alistair was puzzled by his mother’s indifferent tone. - -“Will he like me to be there in his absence?” he asked. - -The Duchess was equally puzzled. - -“Why, what difference does it make to him?” she returned. - -“Isn’t there something? I thought--I heard that he and Miss -Vanbrugh----” - -The Duchess looked at him in surprise. - -“Oh, no!” she declared with confidence. “There has never been any idea -of that kind. He likes her very much as a friend, but he would not -think of anything more. I know exactly what his views are; he has often -told me. He means to marry a great fortune. Hero will have money, no -doubt,” she was quick to add. “Her father is rich for a professional -man, I believe. But, of course, he could not give her enough for -Trent.” - -Alistair received the assurance with a throb of delight, as his -mother’s project suddenly shone out to him in the bright light of -hope. But a misgiving of another kind assailed him, and one which he -found it more difficult to explain to her. He found himself ashamed -to pass straight from the side of Molly Finucane to such a girl as -Hero Vanbrugh. It would be almost an insult, he thought; it would be -acting as though he sought Hero, not for her own sake, but as a sort of -refuge, a substitute for the woman he had left. - -The sense of shame which Hero alone had been able to rouse in him -returned in its full force at the idea of presenting himself before her -with all the stains of his past life still showing, with Molly’s kisses -fresh upon his lips. He felt a desire to go away first and purge his -life in other scenes, to renew himself in some atmosphere of sweet and -strong endeavour from which he could hope to emerge fitter for Hero’s -love. - -Alistair wondered that his mother did not perceive the indelicacy of -such a course as she had proposed, and Caroline on her part wondered at -the strange embarrassment with which Alistair at last gave his consent -to her plans. It was not easy for these two to understand each other. - -During the few days that elapsed before their departure the Duchess -did succeed in getting a glimpse at what was weighing on Alistair’s -mind. She saw with secret concern that he really did doubt if he -were worthy of such a girl as Hero, and that this doubt might even -prove an obstacle to the fulfilment of her desires. It was necessary -to encourage him, and give him confidence in himself, and the -conscientious mother was surprised to find herself in the strange -part of an apologist, extenuating instead of aggravating her son’s -misdoing. Her first faltering attempts in this direction brought about -a beautiful change in the whole intercourse between the pair. Caroline -was deeply touched to see how the prodigal son’s nature softened and -expanded under this rare indulgence. They began to be happy together; -the poor woman secretly feared that she must be doing wrong. - - * * * * * - -When Alistair rose on the first morning in their new home, and stepped -out of his bedroom window on to the little balcony that overlooked the -Emerald Coast, he repeated to himself the two lines of Keats in which -the essence of all poetry is distilled: - - “Magic casements opening on the foam - Of perilous seas in faery lands forlorn,” - -The house, which had been Hero’s choice for them, stood on the far -edge of a little headland dividing a sandy bay from the broad haven of -the Rance. The surrounding sea was ringed with a crescent of rocks and -islets in the midst of which green Cézembre glowed-- - - “The captain jewel in the carcanet.” - -Something, that seemed the mast of a wrecked ship, rose up in -melancholy memorial from one seaweed-covered ledge on which the waves -were now foaming softly, like a child that tries to kiss away the -recollection of its passion. On his right hand, across the shallow -glistening tides of the estuary, the tall spire of St. Malo lifted -itself like a more stately mast above the white walls of the islet city -of the corsairs. Far to the west the grey cape of Freher watched the -Atlantic billows, like a grim warder of the Breton coast. And over all -the summer haze lay like a spell of strong imagination, and conjured up -a legendary world. - -It was a leaf of poetry that lay outspread before him, and he read it -with a poet’s eye. The faculty of toil, the long labour of the midnight -lamp, the fortunate strategy of words, had been denied to Alistair -Stuart, and therefore he was not a poet. Remained the gift of wonder -and of worship, and by that talisman he still had power to people the -sweeping landscape with mysterious life; the Tritons rose and called -each other from the waves, old Proteus lifted a slumbering head and -listened from his cave, and on the rocks the Sirens sang. - -He had risen in that happy mood when every little thing becomes a -spring of joy. The coffee foaming in its thick white cup, that woke -him with its fragrance, and the shell-like bread, were delightful -reminders that he had come to a lighter-hearted land. He dressed -himself in pearl-grey flannels, and wandered out into the garden with -a wide-rimmed panama over his brows, and drank the scent of roses and -carnations, intoxicated by all the beauty round him, like a man risen -from a sick-bed. His thoughts went back to the life he had just left, -and he wondered that he could have lived it for so long. All the dark -speculations, the impulses that had moved him to go down into sheol, -seemed to have suddenly become as unreal as the imaginary dangers of -the night forest are to the traveller coming out on the broad highway -at dawn. - -When the Duchess joined him in the garden walk that overlooked the -sea, she gazed on her boy with secret pride. As he stood there in the -sunshine, the light breeze playing in his hair, and in his eyes the -dawn of joy and hope, he seemed to her mother’s heart a Prince Charming -who had only to stretch out his hand and pluck the fairest flower in -the garden of love. - -Alistair found himself too much excited to remain at home waiting for -the advent of the Princess. With a lover’s superstition he believed -that the way to hasten her coming was to go out himself. He kissed -his mother, and went down a rock-hewn stairway at the foot of which a -wooden gate let him out on the sands. - -The little Plage, enclosed between the two headlands which Dinard -thrusts out into the sea like a snail’s horns, was bustling like a -fair. The French had made a miniature village of the beach, with -streets of little huts in which they read, and sewed, and called upon -each other, and carried on their family life. Children were burrowing -in the sand like rabbits, and bathers clad in the bright hues of -butterflies fluttered on the sea’s edge. - -“And I might live this life always!” Alistair murmured, with a sort -of wonder at his own past blundering, as he stepped among this glad -throng, as glad as they. - -Hero came towards him, walking beside her father, dressed in white with -one blue flower at her throat and a red flower in her heart. - -“We were just coming to see you!” she cried gaily. - -“I could not wait for you, you see!” cried Alistair. - -And they two looked at each other through the magic casement of love. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -NEW LAMPS FOR OLD - - -DURING the next few days a thing happened that surprised everyone. Sir -Bernard Vanbrugh and Lord Alistair became great friends. - -Alistair had motives that were plain enough to three members of the -little party for his goodwill towards Hero’s father. But it puzzled the -two women to account for the pleasure which Sir Bernard evidently found -in the society of the young man. - -To the Duchess the development did not bring unmixed satisfaction. -Her own acquaintance with the scientist had begun with some secret -trepidation on her part. She knew that Vanbrugh held opinions which -she had been accustomed to hear described in the venomous language of -her creed as infidelity, and which she had been taught to attribute to -moral perversity rather than to mental aberration. Such a man was not -the father-in-law she would have chosen for her son, though she had -resigned herself to the relationship as an inevitable evil, the flaw -inseparable from all human arrangements. While it pleased her to see -that he liked Alistair, she watched with secret uneasiness Alistair’s -unaffected liking for him. - -To Vanbrugh the young man presented himself as an intelligent -companion, a rare exception among the crowd of contemporary youths with -minds ranging from bridge to polo, and from horses to ballet-girls. It -could not have occurred to him in any case that the Duke of Trent’s -brother was a probable aspirant to the prize which the Duke had failed -to gain, and, in fact, his mind was so thoroughly armed against the -possibility of Lord Alistair as a son-in-law that he never thought of -him in any such connection. - -He spoke of him freely to Hero, as he might have spoken of a character -in some play which they had both seen. - -“I like that scapegrace because he is so sincere,” he confided to -her one evening after Stuart had left them. “He never seems to have -acquired the habit of hypocrisy. I suppose it is because he has always -had the world at his feet. If he had ever had to earn his living he -would have had to pretend like the rest.” - -Vanbrugh’s brow contracted as he added: - -“The Queen said to me once: ‘I like you, Sir Bernard, because you -always tell me the exact truth.’ I replied to her: ‘That is the reason, -Madam, why it has taken me forty years to come into your presence.’” - -The physician’s long and stern fight with society, as represented -by his own profession, had qualified him to sympathize with another -Ishmael, though one of a very different order. His indulgence for Lord -Alistair did not spring from any flexibility in his own standard of -conduct; but for the shams of European morality, for the decorum which -consists in keeping one’s wife in London, and one’s concubines in -Paris, he had as strong a contempt as Alistair’s own. The proprieties -of the cupboard-door were equally loathsome to both; the hackneyed -dance of society, for ever whirling giddily round on the skirts of the -Divorce Court maelstrom, was equally repellent. - -The attitude of the scientist contained an enigma for Alistair, whose -intellect, wavering and searching like a flame in the wind, contrasted -with Vanbrugh’s as the strength of fire contrasts with the strength of -steel. To him there appeared something stubborn and unreasonable in the -scientist’s morality, which substituted collective Teutonic instinct -for the voice of God. The Haeckelian vision of a world of Unitarian -ministers and their wives leading uniform lives in a Prussian barrack -struck cold on his imagination. In the new ethics he found the Puritan -prison-house without the window. - -There was one difference, however, for which he could only be grateful. -His new friend appeared to reverse the common practice, and to be -strict with himself only that he might be merciful with others. His -programme did not include the conversion of the sinner, and for the -first time in his life Alistair found himself associating with a -righteous man who did not want to do him good. - -This unique toleration would have refreshed him under any other -circumstances. But at such a moment, and in such a quarter, it -disconcerted him. When, with some idea of softening the judgment of -Hero’s father, Alistair attempted a plea that he had sown his wild -oats, he was taken aback by the answer: - -“The evil is sometimes not in sowing wild oats, but in sowing tame oats -among them. Mixed oatmeal is good for neither horse nor man.” - -“I am not sure that I understand you,” Stuart faltered. - -“I mean that it is a dangerous idea that the really diseased can become -good members of society. In my experience a man who tries to change his -nature often changes it for the worse. The reformed drunkard is apt to -become an insane teetotaller, and the reformed rake makes the worst -possible father.” - -Alistair dared not pursue the subject. He had some ground for hoping -that Sir Bernard’s practice might be less inexorable than his -principles. - -Soon after their meeting, the Duchess, overcoming her dread of the -scientist for Alistair’s sake, ventured to ask him what he thought of -her boy. Vanbrugh, with his habitual bluntness, had terrified her by -responding: - -“I think he drinks too much. You ought to try to stop him.” - -The poor mother had already noticed, and tried to shut her eyes to, -this weakness of Alistair’s, new in her experience of him. It was due, -she told herself, to the influence of Molly Finucane, and would pass -away now that he had escaped from that evil atmosphere. - -Something of this she tried to plead to Sir Bernard. - -“He never used to take too much,” she said. “But he is easily -influenced by his companions. He needs someone to watch over and -strengthen him.” - -“Yes.” Even Vanbrugh shrank from speaking his whole mind about Lord -Alistair to the trembling mother. “If you can persuade him to stay with -you it may check him.” - -The Duchess was afraid to carry her soundings further. For the first -time it dawned upon her that Sir Bernard was capable of taking a -critical view of such a son-in-law. - -She had conveyed the physician’s judgment to Alistair, and Alistair -had rejoiced her by a promise of amendment which had so far been kept. -To help him, the Duchess had insisted on sacrificing her own glass of -wine, and as both the Vanbrughs were water-drinkers, all intoxicants -had silently disappeared from the tables of both households. - -Alistair was touched by his mother’s self-denial on his behalf, and -cheered by Hero’s delicate sympathy. In the first flush of his new -resolution, amid the distractions of his changed life, and buoyed up by -the inspiration of his love, the path of reformation was made smooth -for him. The gloomy feelings that had haunted him in London returned -into the remote recesses of consciousness. The bright constellation of -Ormuzd rose beckoning before him, and the dark Sign of the Suffering -One sank below the horizon of life. - -The only reminders he had of the past were the letters that reached him -from Molly Finucane. - -At first the letters had come every day, passionate, reproachful, -entreating him to return to her. Molly protested that she had seen -no more of Mendes; that she was selling everything in the house -at Chelsea; that they would still have enough to go on with till -Alistair’s allowance from his brother became due; that she would follow -him and live with him where and how he would. When Alistair wrote back -what he intended for a final farewell, and sent a banknote given him by -his mother, Molly returned the note torn into a dozen pieces. Then the -letters became fewer and more pleading and pitiful. At last there came -one telling him that Molly had taken refuge with her brother, whose -address she gave him, in some Lambeth slum. After that there were no -more letters. The little woman had sunk in despair. - -Alistair tried hard to forget Molly Finucane, and for a time it seemed -to him that he had succeeded. His love, if the passion she had aroused -in him deserved that name, had died out of itself, his compassion had -been put to sleep by the influences brought to bear upon him. If these -good women, if one so filled with the spirit of Christian charity -as his mother, could see nothing blameworthy in his desertion of -Molly--indeed, nothing that was not wholly praiseworthy--surely it was -absurd for him, the prodigal and the bankrupt, the unbeliever and the -misanthrope, to let himself be tormented by misgivings. To ruin what -was left of his own life for the sake of one whom no human sacrifice -could redeem--surely this were madness rather than heroism. - -In this mood he became a ready listener to the philosophy of Sir -Bernard Vanbrugh; and Sir Bernard expounded his philosophy with some of -that proselytizing zeal which marked the last generation of scientists, -the Huxleys and the Tyndalls, before Science had laid down her arms -at the feet of the great Sphynx, and confessed that she had found no -better symbol to replace the old. - -It would have surprised and alarmed the Duchess if she had been told -that the topic most frequently discussed between Sir Bernard Vanbrugh -and her son was religion. It would have more than surprised her, it -would have found her utterly incredulous, if anyone had told her that -Alistair had an intensely religious nature. - -To her unnaturally stunted mind the word “religion” had only one -meaning, and unbelief only one excuse. Alistair had heard the Gospel. -In his boyhood he had shown signs of yielding to its influence; it -followed, therefore, that his later rejection of it was a deliberate -surrender to Satan. Everything in his troubled life that had resulted -from his having been violently robbed of his own religion she -attributed to his wilful and wicked refusal to embrace hers. - -In reality, ever since the evangelical tutors employed by the Duchess -had succeeded in convincing Alistair that the Catholic creed was false, -without convincing him that their own creed was true, he had been -groping in a spiritual twilight. The religious instinct, though wounded -and defaced, was not dead. - -He still cherished a more kindly feeling for the Roman Church than -for any other, as the one which he had found most indulgent to the -sinner, or, at all events, most intelligent and tactful in dealing -with himself. To his intellect the language of both creeds sounded -incredible. But whereas the teachers of his mother’s confession -seemed to share the darkness of their most ignorant disciples, he had -found among the priests of Rome some whom he could listen to without -impatience. - -“Our Church,” they declared, “has never claimed that her formulas -should be taken literally like mathematical propositions. The Catholic -word for ‘creed’ is ‘symbol.’ We offer our dogma, not as the truth -itself, but as a symbol of the truth--an allegory, if you will. It is -the best statement of the relations between the Unseen and man that the -human mind is capable of receiving, and we offer it as nothing more.” - -This comfortable language would have gone far to satisfy Alistair -if he had not observed on the part of his Catholic friends a -certain reticence and subservience to authority which alarmed his -liberty-loving instincts. - -The answer to his demand for freedom was the answer of all priesthoods. - -“Only a few minds are strong enough to stand alone. Our Church does -not forbid inquiry. She does not punish freethought. What she forbids -and punishes is the attempt to disturb the ignorant, to rob them of -the faith which is the best for them, without giving them anything -in exchange. You may persuade the peasant-woman to give up her -Christian Catechism, but you will not persuade her to replace it by the -Synthetical Philosophy.” - -Alistair felt that this was still the old situation. He was to be -silenced lest others might be shocked. He was to be bound that they -might be free--to suffer that they might be strong. - -While he thus found himself cut off from the communion of the orthodox, -the Christian religion continued to fascinate him. His spirit felt the -presence of a living truth concealed in these formulas which his mind -could not accommodate, like a beautiful face hidden beneath an ugly -mask. - -Sir Bernard Vanbrugh’s theology was of the new scientific kind which -calls itself anthropology. The analysis of myths and the genesis of -beliefs had formed his favourite study, outside the range of his -profession, and he found a missionary’s satisfaction in imparting his -lore to Alistair Stuart. - -“Christianity,” Vanbrugh proclaimed, “is a synthesis of all the ancient -beliefs of the Mediterranean, some of them comparatively enlightened, -others purely barbarous. We are now able to trace every one of its -rites and dogmas to an origin in some older state of society. Its -evolution has been as entirely natural as that of man himself.” - -“Is not that rather in its favour than against it?” Alistair suggested. -“Is it not possible to view the primitive beliefs as the gradual -unfolding of a great truth?” - -Vanbrugh frowned. This was not language that he liked to hear. - -“That is what the orthodox would say, no doubt. But I am not concerned -with apologetics. No serious thinker will ever again waste his time in -controversy with that class of person.” - -“I am afraid the orthodox would not think one view any better than -the other,” replied Alistair, thinking of his mother. “Isn’t it the -orthodox view that all the resemblances to Christianity found in other -religions are blasphemous parodies contrived by the devil in order to -discredit the true faith?” - -Sir Bernard smiled, reassured of his pupil. - -“Yes, I suppose that is the sound explanation. But there is a school -of reconcilers abroad, men who want to retain positions in the Church -without wholly forfeiting the respect of educated men, and their -favourite cry just now is the evolution of religion.” - -“But the religious instinct itself? How do you account for that?” - -“In the beginning it was nothing but the savage’s fear of -Nature, as Lucretius observed. In our days it is an atavistic -survival--practically a disease.” - -Alistair trembled. - -“Is it a disease that can be cured?” - -“Every disease can be cured as soon as it is understood, or if not -cured in the individual it can be eliminated in the race. Where -religion is due to a mere obstruction in the brain, we shall in time be -able to remove it by trepanning; but where it is a hysterical symptom, -the only remedy will be to isolate the sufferers, as we now isolate the -insane, and allow them to die out.” - -A strange light broke on Alistair. - -“Is not that what the Catholic Church does?” he said eagerly. “Her -monks and nuns--are they not really hysterical patients who are -voluntarily adopting the very course that science would prescribe for -them?” - -The scientist grudgingly conceded that this was so. - -“Unfortunately the convents soon became mere refuges for the idle,” he -observed. “And healthy girls were forced into them by selfish parents -in order to save their dower. Still, no doubt the Protestants made -a mistake in shutting up the monasteries altogether and condemning -celibacy as a vice. There are plenty of cases in which it ought to be -compulsory.” - -“Why compulsory?” Alistair pleaded. “Surely it is far better that they -should take a vow of their own accord, inspired by the thought that -they are helping to save the race?” - -The scientist shrugged his shoulders. - -“All that is sentiment,” he said--“one of the things for which the -healthy have no use.” - -Alistair sighed. - -“How monotonous the world will be when everyone is perfect! You will -have to preserve a few criminals as curiosities, like the lions and -tigers in the Zoological Gardens.” - -Sir Bernard smiled good-humouredly. - -“That won’t be necessary. We shall preserve some of the savage tribes -instead. They are documents of priceless value to the anthropologist.” - -“When does a man cease to be a priceless document, and become a -criminal?” Stuart asked, with secret bitterness. - -The other reflected for a moment. - -“I suppose the answer is given by Johnson’s definition of dirt: When he -is in the wrong place.” - -It was the answer which Alistair had given to himself that night on -Westminster Bridge. He was in the wrong place. But was there any right -place in the world for him? - -He lifted his eyes and looked away. They were sitting on the verandah -of Vanbrugh’s house in the Malounine, facing eastward. The sun was just -leaving the sky, and the red glow of the western horizon, caught full -on the white walls and windows of St. Malo, bathed the city in fire. -Alistair’s heart beat painfully as he strained his eyes on the flaming -town. There was his world, there the vision that called to his soul. -O, not in dingy lanes, not on the cold, grey pavements of reality, but -amid those vermilion glories, his spirit should have dwelt and burned -itself away. - -He was an exile. Not from the Island of Oig, nor any other island of an -earthly sea, but from that far-off sphere of which the sunset-smitten -town reminded him. He was an exile from some world of which love, and -not hate, was the keynote, banished for what fault he could not tell, -condemned to mortal life as to a penance, but tormented and consoled by -intimations from that happier state. - -The soul has her imperial moments when she exercises a prerogative that -reason cannot take away; when the toilsome knowledge gathered together -by the senses falls into shards under her feet, and she enters into -possession of herself, freed from the bonds and trammels cast about her -by the material brain. In that moment Alistair did not think--he knew, -knew well, more surely than if a voice from the beyond had spoken it in -his ear, that he was an immortal spirit inhabiting eternity. - -When his attention returned to the voice beside him, he found that the -agnostic was expounding the folklore of the crucifixion. - -“The whole subject has been illuminated by Dr. Frazer’s book ‘The -Golden Bough,’” he was saying. “The sacrifice of a human victim in the -spring, at the time of the seed-sowing, is one of the oldest rites in -the world. The victim was originally conceived of as the corn-god, and -was put to death in order that his spirit might enter into the seed. -His body was buried in the field, and he was supposed to rise again in -the form of the harvest. In that way the dogma of Transubstantiation -had once a reasonable meaning--the bread was the flesh of the slain god -in his new avatar.” - -Alistair listened like one awakening from sleep who has not yet caught -the sense of what is going on around him. - -“Christianity, in short, is the old Adonis worship, adapted according -to Jewish ideas. The Old Testament is full of allusions to this -cult--‘women weeping for Tammuz,’ and so on.” - -“You were speaking of a human victim,” murmured Alistair. - -“Yes; it was customary to select a man at Easter, usually in later -times a condemned criminal, who was sacrificed as a scapegoat for the -sins of the people. The Jewish mob appear to have claimed a victim -in accordance with this custom. Two were released, in fact, one to -be sacrificed, and the other to be honoured as the representative of -spring.” - -Alistair felt there was some confusion in this statement. - -“For the sins of the people,” he repeated thoughtfully. “You say the -victim was sacrificed for the sins of the people?” - -“That was one form of the cult,” the scientist assented. “The idea of -the sin-bearer is a very ancient superstition. Even the details of the -New Testament narrative follow the lines of what we know to have been -the customary ceremonial in Babylon and elsewhere. The scourging and -the crown of thorns were both familiar practices. They are alluded to -in Isaiah--‘He was wounded for our transgressions.’” - -“‘With his stripes we are healed.’” Alistair finished the sentence with -a start of surprise. They were the words he had tried and failed to -remember on the night of his disgrace. - -“At an earlier stage in the history of the cult the king of the tribe -had been sacrificed,” Vanbrugh went on, “So, when a criminal was -substituted, he was still called the king for the occasion.” - -“It was a fine end for the criminal,” was Alistair’s comment. - -His mind presented him with two contrasted pictures--the felon of -civilization, in his dreadful garb, numbered and branded like a -chattel, drudging in the stone quarries under the warder’s eye; and -that sufferer of the antique world, drawn out of some fetid Eastern -gaol, clad in the royal robe and crown, and marched in solemn -priest-led procession to the top of a Syrian hill to be put to death -for the salvation of the people. The sin-bearer, the redeemer--surely -every criminal was such! “Don’t you see,” he said suddenly to the -astonished anthropologist, “that they were right? They were simply -saying what modern science is saying, only they said it far more -beautifully. The criminal is the sin-bearer; he _is_ crucified for the -good of the people even to-day. He is imprisoned and hanged that our -lives and purses may be safe. By his stripes we are healed.” - -Sir Bernard Vanbrugh told his daughter that night that he was a little -disappointed in Lord Alistair. - -“He is brilliant enough in his own way,” was the scientist’s verdict, -“but not practical. I am afraid he is a dreamer.” - -It was the dreamer that Hero loved. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -A SPOKE IN THE WHEEL - - -THE assurance that Hero loved him was not conveyed to Alistair in -words. It stole in upon him like faint scents rising from the earth -after a shower, and thrilled him almost unawares. - -The note of passion was overlaid by higher and more intricate -harmonies. In Hero’s thoughts of Alistair there was a protecting -tenderness, like a mother’s for a child that has suffered some hurt; -and in Alistair’s thoughts of her there was a reverence and spiritual -yearning that made it seem profane to offer her the common coin of love. - -When he sat beside her on some lonely stretch of sand or grass-clad -promontory, and saw the sea reflected in her eyes, like the star in the -wine-cup of Hafiz, he shrank instinctively from the thoughts that other -women had roused in him. For the first time he saw into the mind of the -ascetic, and shared its rebellion against Nature--Nature that roots -the flower of life in earth. A silence often fell on him in Hero’s -presence. He dreaded certain stages on the way in front of them, and -wished that they could have fallen asleep together, and waked up man -and wife. - -The marriage of true minds, so rare and so desirable, made formal -marriage vulgar. There was something impossible in that astounding -ceremony by which society revealed its strain of primitive savagery. -How could a man and woman, sensitive to beautiful things, their hearts -vibrating with the awful music of creation, prank themselves out like -negroes at a fair, and march into a public building to advertise -mankind of what they were about to do? The marriage of true minds did -not admit impediments like these. - -The thorns of life pressed less roughly against his spirit as he talked -with Hero. He opened his heart to her, and the bitterness within seemed -to be changed and softened under the tender light of sympathy. A -process of reconciliation went on without his understanding whither he -was being led. - -And Hero found in Alistair that which her life had lacked hitherto--a -motive and an aim. For in the view of life in which she had been -trained there was, as Alistair told himself, no window; and Hero had -missed the window. She had sought it at St. Jermyn’s, and found only -the pale altar-lights of a past age guttering in their sockets. For -a brave, truthful heart like hers that was not enough. In Alistair’s -discontent, in his revolt against the social order that had condemned -him, she discerned his latent faith in a more beautiful order, of which -this triumphant one was the enemy. - -Her woman’s instinct told her that every man’s life depends for -one-half of its happiness or its misery on the women he meets with. -The man who has met the right woman for him cannot be utterly cast -down. And so, as Alistair’s mother had foreseen, Hero’s love was -strengthened by the idea of devotion. She had the power to help this -wounded soldier, perhaps to nurse him back to strength again, and such -a mission was the best thing that life had yet offered her. - -All this became part of their mutual consciousness as the days -stretched into weeks of happy summer, and Alistair still lingered, in -wayward mood, unwilling to exchange delicious expectation for dull -security. For the poet waking life has nothing that can quite match the -exquisite texture of his dream. And when at last he spoke he did so -rather sorrowfully, like one who says farewell. - -Without having made any compact with each other, the lovers kept their -secret for a time. - -Even Alistair’s mother, though she was watching and praying for the -end, could not feel sure that it had been reached. But there is one eye -keener than a mother’s, and that is a rival’s. The Home Secretary had -read with angry jealousy the letters in which the Duchess described the -growing intimacy between Alistair and Hero, and innocently indulged -her hopeful anticipations. He sought and obtained the Prime Minister’s -permission, and on the day that Parliament was prorogued he left -England for France. - -Alistair went across to St. Malo to meet the English boat, and the -moment he saw him the Duke guessed the truth. The brothers had not been -really cordial for many years, though for their mother’s sake both -tried to keep up a conventional friendliness. But on this occasion -Alistair greeted his brother with an unaffected kindliness which sprang -from the new happiness in his heart. He was at peace with the world; -he wished to be at peace with Trent as well. He wanted to forget past -grudges, and to view his brother’s character and conduct towards him in -the most favourable light. - -“I am so glad you have come, Trent,” he said heartily. “This place is -fairyland itself, without the ogres.” - -“What about Sir Bernard Vanbrugh?” - -“He is quite well. Do you mean, is he an ogre?” - -Trent nodded. He knew something about the scientist. - -“I have not found him very formidable so far,” Alistair said cheerfully. - -His brother’s hint had made an impression on him nevertheless. He had -suspected for some time that it would not be all plain sailing with -Sir Bernard Vanbrugh, and this confirmation of his fears from another -quarter depressed him considerably. - -Trent was satisfied. He saw that his brother had not yet spoken to -Hero’s father, although he might have spoken to Hero. - -The Duchess was waiting at the villa to welcome her eldest son. Almost -the first thing she said to him was: - -“I have asked the Vanbrughs to dine here to-night. I thought you would -like to see your old friend Hero.” - -“Yes, I should like to see her,” the Home Secretary replied impassively. - -The suspicious glance which Alistair darted at him was met and repelled -by the Minister’s reserve. - -“I shouldn’t wonder if you liked Sir Bernard too,” the Duchess added. -“He is an extraordinary man. He seems to know almost all about -everything.” - -“I have met him,” Trent said, with the same cold indifference. “He -impressed me as an extremely able man--a man of strong character.” - -The Duchess waited till she and Trent were alone to broach the topic -that was engrossing her thoughts. - -“I think all is going well,” she said. “They seem quite wrapped up in -each other. But I am still a little anxious about Alistair. The poor -boy seems to be so much ashamed of his disgrace; he has told me that he -does not think he is good enough for a girl like Hero Vanbrugh.” - -“The question is what she thinks, isn’t it?” - -“Yes; that is what I want you to tell him. You can put it better than I -can. A little encouragement from you just now might turn the scale. We -can save him--and you will help me, dear?” - -“You haven’t said anything to her father, I suppose?” - -“No.” The Duchess looked a little troubled. “He is not a man I should -find it easy to be confidential with. I think I am a little afraid of -him.” - -“I think you are right,” pronounced the rejected suitor. - -All the old bitterness had welled up again as his mother spoke. He, the -eldest son, the credit to the family, was welcomed by his mother simply -as an ally in the salvation of the young prodigal who had brought -disgrace upon their house. He was to encourage this ne’er-do-weel, who -at last showed some slight sense of his own worthlessness--to pat him -on the back, and bid him go forward and win the bride whom he, Trent, -had been refused. - -“I wish you would sound Sir Bernard,” said the innocent Duchess. - -Trent started. The suggestion chimed in so exactly with certain -dark suggestions of his own secret mind that he nearly betrayed his -exultation. - -“I will do so if you wish,” he said, measuring out his words carefully, -so as to give his conscience no possible excuse thereafter for -reproaching him with treachery to his brother. - -The Vanbrughs had not been in the house five minutes that night before -the Duke saw more than anyone else had seen. Every look that passed -across the table between Alistair and Hero told him that they had -nothing more to tell each other. He saw also that the physician had as -little suspicion of what had happened as if he had been a thousand -miles off all the time. - -After dinner was over the lovers wandered down the garden paths and -the Duchess retired to her drawing-room. The Duke and Vanbrugh were -left sitting on the verandah over the coffee and cigars, of which only -Trent partook. The physician dealt as severely with himself as with his -patients, and the abstemious habits so long enforced by poverty had not -been departed from in prosperity. - -The Home Secretary considered how he could make his attack most -crushing. An ingenious idea suggested itself. - -“Do you think you have treated me quite fairly, Sir Bernard?” he asked -in an accent of mild reproach. - -The physician turned and stared at him. - -“In what way do you mean, Duke?” - -“Am I not correct in saying that you declined me for a son-in-law -principally on the ground that I had the misfortune to be the brother -of Lord Alistair Stuart?” - -“That was one of my strongest reasons, certainly--perhaps the -strongest. Well?” - -“Well!” - -The Duke waved his hand in the direction in which the lovers had -disappeared. - -“I never said anything implying that I should object to make a friend -of your brother,” protested Sir Bernard hastily, trying to ward off the -unwelcome suggestion. - -The Minister treated this evasion with contempt. - -“My brother has been wiser than I, it appears. He has made sure of Miss -Vanbrugh’s consent before asking for yours.” - -“I hope you are mistaken!” cried the father, now seriously alarmed. “I -am sure you must be. I know every thought in my daughter’s mind.” - -“Is it possible that you, a wise man, can believe that?” - -“I am certain that she has never had a secret from me before.” - -“Then it is serious indeed.” - -The justice of the remark silenced Vanbrugh. He struggled in vain to -resist the conviction that the Duke of Trent was right. A hundred -trifling indications of the understanding between the lovers returned -upon his mind, like water pouring in through a leak. - -“Damn the young blackguard!” he growled. “He is just the sort that -attracts good women. They think that they can ‘save’ him. I ought to -have remembered that.” - -Trent listened, anxious for some assurance that his warning would not -be thrown away. - -“If I have made a mistake in speaking to you----” He spoke slowly, to -let the other interrupt him. - -“You could not have done me a greater service, Duke. Even if you are -mistaken in thinking there is anything in it, I shan’t be the less -obliged to you for the warning.” - -“I should not like Miss Vanbrugh or my brother to know that I had -interfered.” - -“No one shall know. It is a matter entirely between ourselves.” The -Home Secretary breathed easily again. “After all, it was a mere -accident. You naturally thought I had seen as much as you.” - -“I am afraid I spoke under the influence of jealousy,” Trent said, -determined to do the handsome thing by his conscience, now that all was -safe. “My mother had actually asked me to sound you as to the match.” - -The word stung Sir Bernard. - -“There will be no match,” he said decisively. “I will see to that.” - -And Trent was satisfied. - -When the Vanbrughs were leaving, an hour later, Sir Bernard declined, -a little curtly, Lord Alistair’s offer to walk round with them. He -watched the parting between Hero and Alistair, and made up his mind -that he must interfere at once. - -In order to give greater weight to his action he formally told his -daughter before going to bed that he desired to speak to her before she -went out the next morning. Hero’s start and blush at the request showed -that she guessed its meaning. - -The boast which the scientist had made, that he knew every thought -in his daughter’s mind, might have been made with more truth by Hero -about her father. She had never deluded herself about the view which -he would take of such a suitor as Lord Alistair Stuart. Now she spent -a restless night revolving in her mind how best to defend the man she -loved. - -Sir Bernard passed a restless night also. The task of a father whose -daughter is motherless is a responsible and delicate one; and though -the physician had accustomed himself to speak more plainly to Hero than -most fathers speak to their daughters, he would have given a great deal -to have had a woman’s aid at this crisis. - -Their conversation took place the next morning in the drawing-room of -the villa. The scientist missed his study, but the French seaside house -is built on the principle of parsimony in living-rooms and extravagance -in bedrooms. The villa contained sleeping accommodation for upwards of -twenty persons and a dining-room comfortably seating six. - -“We have seen a great deal lately of Lord Alistair,” the father began -gravely, “and I am afraid I have been to blame in not noticing how much -you and he were together. I will not ask you whether you have seen his -evident admiration for you, but I hope it is not too late to caution -you against any serious inclination for him.” - -“Who has been speaking to you about us?” demanded Hero, with a bright -spot on her cheeks. - -Sir Bernard had not allowed for womanly intuition when he promised to -keep the Duke’s interference a secret. - -He shook his head gravely as he answered: - -“I see no good in discussing that. It is for you to tell me how matters -stand.” - -“It was the Duke, of course,” Hero returned. “Paragons are always mean. -There was a time when I might have accepted him if he had asked me to. -But he is like the dog in the manger: he would not ask me himself, and -yet he grudges me to his brother.” - -The scientist was weak enough to accept the gambit offered by his -adversary. - -“You are doing the Duke an injustice,” he said. “As a matter of fact he -called on me some time ago in London, and asked me for your hand.” - -Hero opened her eyes. It was a shock, and it could not be a -disagreeable one, to know that she had had such a suitor. In the light -of this revelation the tale-bearer was less harshly judged. - -“What did you say to him? Why didn’t you tell me?” she exclaimed. - -“I declined his proposal on medical grounds,” her father answered. “The -family stock is unsound.” - -Hero began to see what she had to face, and her heart sank. - -“I think you might have told me,” she said reproachfully. - -“He came to ask my consent, not yours, and I told him I would not give -it. There was no reason that I could see for telling you.” - -Hero looked her father in the face. - -“Suppose he had come to me first, and I had accepted him?” she said. - -The physician answered gravely: - -“I should have had to ask you to choose between him and me.” - -The clash of these two strong wills had come at last, and both were -silent for a time. - -Vanbrugh was the first to resume. - -“Every objection I had against the Duke of Trent, of course, applies -with ten-fold force to his brother. The Duke is physically sound; -he has personally escaped the taint of his family stock, and it is -possible that it may disappear in his descendants. But Lord Alistair -has inherited his father’s vices. He is an idler, a profligate, and I -might say a drunkard.” - -“He has ceased to drink,” Hero protested. “I do not believe the life he -has been leading is his natural one. I am sure that if he were to marry -a woman who understood him he would become a changed man.” - -“I do not believe in changed men,” her father answered. “But that is -not the point. I am not condemning Lord Alistair for the life he has -led up to the present. On the contrary, from my point of view of an -enlightened sociology, the sooner such a man exhausts his vital energy -the better.” - -“You would have him commit suicide!” Hero exclaimed, with flashing eyes. - -“I would have him commit suicide rather than marry, yes,” the scientist -responded firmly. - -“I have promised to marry him.” Hero said the words with a calmness -which alarmed her father. - -“Even if such a man could reform his conduct, he could not reform his -physical constitution,” the physician said, turning his eyes away from -his daughter’s face. “His children would be doomed, before their birth, -to disease and insanity. To bring such beings into the world is a crime -worse than murder, and will be dealt with as such as soon as society -has escaped from the thraldom of the priests.” - -It was not the first time that Hero had heard her father express -similar sentiments. It was the personal application that was new--and -terrifying. - -“If I do not marry Alistair I shall never marry anyone else,” she said, -after a tragic pause. - -Sir Bernard glanced at her face, and saw it pale with resolution. He -became afraid. - -“That would be a crime on your part. It is the duty of the sound to -marry, as much as it is the duty of the unsound to refrain.” - -“Duty to whom?” asked Hero. - -The question opened Vanbrugh’s eyes to the gulf that had come into -existence during the past few weeks between him and his daughter. -Hitherto Hero had been his child, and had looked at the world through -his eyes. Now she loved another better than him, and had learned to -look at the world through the eyes of the man she loved. - -His answer was given without confidence. - -“To society. To the order of Nature of which you are a part.” - -“Society!” Hero’s tone breathed some of that scorn which she had caught -from Alistair in their intimate communion with one another. “Society! -that is the man in the street, isn’t it? Or is it the public?--the -British public expects every man to do his duty!” Some of the bitter -expressions that she had heard Alistair use came back to her with -unexpected force, and half unconsciously she defended him in his own -language. “The whole duty of man is to be one of a horde of drudges -toiling to make a millionaire. That is civilization, isn’t it?--the -social order to which we are all expected to conform. And the new -religion is that we are to marry and have healthy children, that this -great organized stupidity may go on for ever.” - -Sir Bernard Vanbrugh recognized Lord Alistair’s voice, and bowed his -head in despair. “My daughter is lost to me,” he told himself. “I have -lost my daughter.” - -Aloud he said: - -“And your father? I have tried to be a good father to you, my dear.” - -Hero was smitten to the heart. She went over to where her father sat, -and put an arm round his neck. - -“I love you just the same,” was all she found it in her heart to say. -“I love you just the same.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE LAST WORD OF SCIENCE - - -SIR BERNARD VANBRUGH knew that he had failed to shake his daughter’s -resolution. - -He did not believe that Hero would marry Lord Alistair Stuart while he -forbade her to. But what he feared was that she would refuse to give -him up. He was getting on in years, he had not spared himself, and -sooner or later Hero must be free. In the meanwhile he saw before him -the prospect of her celibacy, a state abhorrent to his feelings whether -as father or as physician. - -In his own mind he had a husband chosen for Hero--an engineer; one of -that class to whom the future seems to be assigned; sane, strong, and -self-reliant; a water-drinker, like himself; a man of orderly life and -wholesome instincts; an ideal father, for whom what science calls the -mechanism of life was really mechanism, and nothing more; a man in -whose eyes poetry-books and prayer-books were alike contemptible; one -who found no weakness in himself, and tolerated none in others. - -Vanbrugh compared the husband whom he had chosen for his daughter -with the husband she had chosen for herself, and was bewildered and -impatient. - -In those days a certain obscure writer of Jewish blood, who had tried, -and failed, to write poems, plays, and novels, had taken vengeance on -his more successful brethren by publishing a malignant libel in which -he pried with some pruriency into their private lives, and proved for -his own consolation that genius is a form of vice, if not a positive -crime. Some scraps of scientific language picked out of the works of -Professor Lombroso had served to disguise the critic’s rancour, and -the mixture had proved more palatable to the public than the author’s -literary efforts. The sentiment coarsely vented in this work was that -which inspired Sir Bernard Vanbrugh when he thought of Lord Alistair as -a husband for his only child. - -From the envy and more or less feigned Pharisaism of the libeller -Vanbrugh’s mind, of course, was free. He had liked Lord Alistair, and -been interested by him. In the life that he had led hitherto he had -been harmless in the scientist’s view, or, at all events, not harmful -enough to call for harsh measures. But now everything was changed. If -by the lifting of a finger Sir Bernard could have terminated the young -man’s existence, and with it the spell which he had flung over Hero, -he would have lifted the finger without an instant’s hesitation or an -instant’s remorse. - -And yet he judged better of Lord Alistair than of some of those -splendid types of healthy manhood whom the modern world goes forth -to worship, as they practise foul play against each other for a few -pounds upon the football field. For he decided to appeal from Hero to -her betrothed. He was going to ask the young man to give up voluntarily -the prize within his grasp; and somehow he did not think that he should -ask in vain. - -He left the house about the time Lord Alistair usually came round, and -met him strolling up the road. - -“My daughter is at home,” he said, in answer to Stuart’s inquiry. “But -before you see her I should like to speak to you. Is there anywhere -where we can go and have a quiet talk?” - -The request was ominous enough in itself, and the physician’s manner -made it more so. Alistair’s heart sank as he answered: - -“I expect the club would be the best place. We should not find anyone -in the card-room at this hour.” - -He turned and walked silently side by side with the arbiter of his -happiness, past the crowd that bustled in front of the Plage, and up -the short street that conducted them to the club door. - -As he went a great despondency settled on him. Without knowing what -Sir Bernard meant to say to him, he felt that there was little that he -could say for himself. What account of himself could he give that would -be considered satisfactory by the father of an only daughter? It was -only his mother who had encouraged him to lift his eyes to Hero. He -ought to have asked his mother to plead his cause with Hero’s father. - -Even in his most buoyant moments during the past few weeks he had never -felt quite sure of his happiness. A sense of unreality came upon him -ever and anon; he had felt like a man dreaming a delicious dream, and -dreading the awakening he knows must come. - -Now the awakening had come, and could not be put off. - -He found himself seated in the deserted card-room facing Hero’s father -across a small green table, on which two packs of used cards and three -or four scoring-blocks awaited the return of the bridge-players. - -The sight of the soiled packs affected him painfully. He knew that -this economy was due to the exorbitant French tax, but yet it struck -upon him as a note of squalor. The cards themselves were small and -badly made, like most things made by Governments. He drew one of the -packs towards him, and began shuffling it nervously while he waited for -Vanbrugh to speak. - -Vanbrugh noted the action with a physician’s eye. - -“I expect you have guessed what I want to speak to you about,” he said -quietly. - -Alistair lifted his eyes from the cards and stole a glance at his -questioner, a glance not free from the cunning of his Pictish blood. -But he said nothing. - -“My daughter tells me that you have asked her to become your wife.” - -For a moment Alistair made no response. Keeping his head down he cut -four cards in rapid succession--a club, a spade, a diamond, and then -another diamond. He took it as a bad omen. - -“Has she told you anything more?” he asked. - -“Only that she had given you her consent.” Vanbrugh hesitated; he found -it harder than he had expected to tell this young man the truth about -himself. - -“You will understand naturally,” he began again, “that Hero is my chief -interest in life. Her happiness is dearer to me than anything else in -the world.” - -“And to me, too,” Alistair put in swiftly, raising his head and looking -Sir Bernard in the face. - -“That is what I hoped you would say,” Sir Bernard answered gravely. “I -want to discuss the matter with you from that point of view.” - -Alistair lowered his head again. - -“I am not good enough for her--you need not tell me that. But if she -loves me?” He spoke in low tones, which only just reached the father’s -ears. - -“You must let me speak plainly, Lord Alistair, as plainly as I spoke to -your brother when he came to me with the same request.” - -“Trent! Did he come to you on my behalf?” cried Alistair in -astonishment. - -“He came on his own. He has known Hero longer than you have.” - -It took Alistair a moment or two to grasp the situation. - -“Did you refuse Trent?” he exclaimed. - -“Yes.” In his own mind Vanbrugh was beginning to doubt the wisdom of -that refusal. Had he not been over cautious? His objection to the Duke -of Trent had been more or less hypothetical: the Duke himself was -sound; it was possible that he might not transmit the family taint. He -might have done well to consider the danger of leaving his daughter to -follow her own fancy. When there were so few perfect husbands, and so -many undesirables, it would have been wiser, perhaps, to close with one -who had so much in his favour. - -“Why, in the name of Heaven, did you object to him?” - -“Partly because he was your brother. I told him I could not let my -daughter marry a man of diseased stock.” - -The words stunned Alistair. He had been prepared to have his own -misdeeds brought up against him; to be told, perhaps, that it was too -late for him to reform; or at least that he must give proofs that the -reformation was thorough and lasting, before he could be trusted with -Hero. But this was cutting away the very foundations. - -“I never heard of such a thing!” he stammered, letting the cards fall -from his fingers. “Do you condemn us for the sins of our ancestors?” - -“It is not I who condemn you. Nature does that, and I am only her -student and interpreter.” - -Alistair put his hand to his head. - -“And is that the latest gospel of science?” he said bitterly. “The -fathers have eaten sour grapes, and the children’s teeth are set on -edge.” - -“It is not a very recent gospel, and you are not quoting from a -scientific work,” Sir Bernard reminded him. “All that science does is -to add the corollary that those who have eaten sour grapes ought not to -become fathers.” - -Alistair made no answer for a time. He sat toying with the cards, -cutting them at random and speculating vaguely as to who were the -Argine and the Hogier after whom certain picture cards were named. It -struck him that men were like cards; the gods must have created them of -different values for their own amusement, and be playing some Olympian -game among themselves, in the chances of which it was his, Alistair’s, -destiny to fall a loser of the trick. - -Sir Bernard watched him with a pity he did not try to quench. He liked -this young man very much--so much that he could have wished for his -sake that Nature was less inexorable. - -“How merciless science is!” Alistair observed presently. - -“Science is not so merciless as the old religion,” the scientist was -not sorry to respond. “At least, it does not reproach you for what -you cannot help. Its sentence is not pronounced vindictively, like -a bad-tempered judge denouncing crimes which he himself was never -tempted to commit. And when it forbids you to pass on your evil -inheritance to the unborn, it is acting, not without mercy for you, but -with greater mercy for them.” - -And then, while Alistair remained quiet, listening dully without the -power of resistance, the other went on to draw the picture of tainted -life passing from generation to generation, the terrible theme of -the dramatists from Æschylus to Ibsen, figured by superstition as a -curse from the gods, traced by science to the cruel thoughtlessness -of men. He described the great army of the victims, as he himself -had reviewed it in his medical practice. In addition to those whose -misfortunes were the subject of public notice and public charity, -there were the innumerable secret sufferers, the cause and meaning of -whose sufferings was most often unknown to themselves. There were the -drunkards, the gamblers, the adulterers, with whom the world dealt so -much more harshly than with its cripples and consumptives. There were -the neuropaths and hysterical subjects, little better than maniacs, -yet struggling to keep their place among the sane, endowed with the -gift of reason, held responsible as reasonable beings, and yet tortured -with the consciousness that their infirmity betrayed them at every -moment into conduct which only madness could excuse. He touched on -the terrible case of those who go through life with the dark shadow -of paralysis hanging over them, never knowing at what day or hour it -will strike them down. And all these evils, and the lesser ones, as -they are called, though it may be doubted if they are really lesser, -the infirmities of temper, of idleness, of defective memory--in short, -every human frailty and affliction, except the insignificant damage of -war and accident and pestilence--truly insignificant in comparison--he -traced to the one cause. And in a world of healthy, rational men -there would be no war and no pestilence, and very few accidents. So -that true religion and true science, the religion of Humanity and the -science of Nature, were at one in denouncing as the greatest of all -crimes--indeed, the only real crime--the bringing of unhealthy children -into the world. - -When he had finished the listener gave him a questioning look. - -“But if there are no children?” - -Vanbrugh frowned for the first time, and his voice hardened. - -“I have lived a hard and abstemious life,” he said; “I have been -stricter with myself than with anyone else. My reward is to have -a child in whom I have never detected a weak spot. I have a right -that she shall make a happy marriage, and receive a woman’s crown of -honour--a happy motherhood.” - -Alistair bowed his head again, and scattered the cards from his hand. - -“And what is to become of me?” - -The mournful question deeply moved Sir Bernard. He was asking this -young man to surrender the sweetest form of earthly happiness; what -could he offer him in exchange? - -“Has science nothing else to say to me? You are a physician; if I am -diseased, cannot you cure me?” - -Vanbrugh was disconcerted. - -“We are only groping our way as yet,” he answered mildly. “Remember -that all knowledge was forbidden by the priesthood for a thousand -years. We are only in the beginning of a better age.” - -“The age in which there will be no men like me!” Alistair commented. -“And in the meantime science has no gospel for me.” - -“It is your father whom you have to blame,” Sir Bernard said -reluctantly. - -Alistair trembled. - -“You mean that I ought not to have been born?” - -The physician was silent. - -“I am a waste product, for which science has no use. O, why not? You -have found beautiful dyes in coal-tar; can you find nothing in me?” - -Vanbrugh was a father fighting for his child, a zealot fighting for his -faith. But he was touched by this appeal. - -“I have not said that. I have only told you that you ought not to -become a father. It is not your fault if you have received an evil -inheritance, but it will be your fault if you pass it on.” - -Alistair hid his face in his hands for a time. - -“Be honest with me, Sir Bernard,” he said presently, in a husky voice, -without lifting his head. “You are the priest of science, and I am in -the confessional. You think I ought to commit suicide?” - -The scientist was profoundly moved. He held his breath for an instant, -and his forehead grew damp. He found his resolution failing him. - -“No,” he said, in faltering tones--“no, don’t think that. I have told -you science is still groping her way. I believe it would be happier for -some of the poor victims of heredity--the hopelessly insane, the deaf -and dumb, and perhaps the criminal and paralytic--if a painless death -were provided for them. But a man with your gifts should find something -worth living for.” - -Alistair looked at him earnestly. - -“I want to live,” he said simply. “I don’t want to die. I can’t feel -that I have any less right to live than you. Perhaps the criminals and -paralytics can’t feel that either. I never feel unfit; I never knew -that there was anything wrong about me till other people told me so. -When I was a boy the world was a beautiful place to me; it would be -so still if there were no good people in it. It is they who will not -let me live. You are only saying to me in more honest language what -they have been saying to me, what my own mother has been saying to me, -ever since I can remember. I don’t know why I am condemned. Ever since -I was a boy I have loved beautiful things as other men love gold; I -have walked through life with my eyes fixed on the stars, and my feet -tripped up by every ditch. My mother thinks that I am wicked, and -you say that I am diseased. And to me--yes, to me--you all seem blind -people burrowing in the earth and refusing to be happy.” - -Vanbrugh shook his head. - -“I am not responsible for what others have said to you. In my eyes you -are simply a victim of heredity. I do not want my daughter’s children -to be victims in their turn; that is all. If you love her----” - -“I do love her,” Alistair interrupted fiercely. “I thought you -understood. I only want now to know what I can do for her sake. If I -were a Catholic, I would go into a monastery, so as to leave her free. -That is the last word of Christianity for a man like me. The last word -of science is the lethal chamber.” - -Sir Bernard had an inspiration. - -“Why don’t you go back to Molly Finucane?” - -Alistair fell back in his chair as if he had received a blow. He woke -out of his dream. Sir Bernard was right, and his mother had been wrong. -He had no business to unite his wrecked career with such a life as -Hero Vanbrugh’s. Molly Finucane was the true match for him. She was a -scapegoat like himself. The figure of the poor little painted creature -had haunted his memory even during these last days of courtship, and he -had never felt quite satisfied that he had acted honourably in leaving -her. - -He rose to his feet. - -“Yes,” he said, “I can do that. That will set Hero free. Good-bye, Sir -Bernard. I am going back to London to marry Molly Finucane.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -POETS’ CORNER - - -THE September sun was shining on Beers Cooperage, shining as brightly -on the dingy London yard as on the glittering emerald seas of France. - -The inhabitants of the Cooperage were rejoicing in the light and -warmth. The cripple had brought out a rocking-chair, with its cane seat -patched up with string, and was swinging himself with half-shut eyes in -front of the little row of flowers which assiduous watering had kept -alive during the summer drouth. A new canary in the mended cage of its -predecessor chirruped gaily from the open window of one of the tiny row -of cottages; the window of another revealed a trophy of travel, a box -bearing on its lid a photograph of Southend Pier, framed in polished -mussel-shells, which its owner, with an altruism not often found in the -denizens of lordlier neighbourhoods, had disposed so that its beauty -could be enjoyed by the passer-by at the expense of the inmates of the -house themselves. - -Over the whole of the Cooperage there was an atmosphere of freshness -and content. The little gates and palings on the window-sills were -newly painted in artistic green and white. Many of them now revealed -their inner utility by guarding pots of musk or mignonette, with here -and there a bright red geranium. The pavement of the yard was clean -beyond its former wont, and the refuse heap that had once marked the -abode of Mike Finigan had disappeared. - -It was over Mike Finigan’s house that the greatest change of all had -come. Not a single broken window was any longer to be seen in the -front of the dwelling. The door had been painted green to match the -five-barred gates, and decorated with a handsome old brass knocker that -shone like an imitation sun. The window of the ground-floor was open, -and through it could be seen a perfectly æsthetic kitchen--a kitchen -after the heart of South Kensington, with a high-backed settle, a -Cromwellian table and armchairs, all of the finest black oak, a dresser -lined with willow-pattern plates of deepest blue, and a mantelshelf -glorious with copper saucepans scoured to the grain. - -The transformation had extended to, or rather it had begun with, the -inhabitants of the regenerated hovel. The bewildered dwellers in the -Cooperage dated their present era of peacefulness and brightness from -the appearance of a remarkable announcement in the _Times_: - - “On Monday, the 14th instant, at the registry office, Lambeth, Lord - Alistair Fingal Stuart Campbell-Stuart, brother of the Duke of Trent - and Colonsay, to Miss Molly Finucane, daughter of the late Jeremiah - Finucane, of Beers Cooperage, Lambeth, S. W.” - -Following on the step thus disclosed to the world Lord and Lady -Alistair had taken up their residence in what might have been -described with truthfulness as the home of her ladyship’s family, -vacated beforehand by her brother. - -Stuart had not attempted to reform Mike Finigan. He had adopted the -easier and simpler plan of reforming Mike Finigan’s surroundings by -obtaining him a post as water-bailiff to a friend who rented some -fishing in the heart of the Finigan country. Mike was now living his -natural life among his own people, breaking their heads and getting his -own broken to their mutual contentment, and earning the character of -the best water-bailiff in green Connacht. - -Alistair would have been glad to adjust his own life as successfully as -he had adjusted his brother-in-law’s. - -In the first flush of her joy at his return, and gratitude for the rank -he had given her, he had found it easy to persuade Molly to try the -experiment of life in Beers Cooperage. He allowed the little woman to -consider the scheme as a sort of practical joke, one of those slaps in -the face to the hated middle class which she had learned to relish as a -proof of aristocratic feeling. - -To their humble neighbours the invasion of such a spot as the Cooperage -by such a figure as Lord Alistair--Mr. Stuart, he called himself to -them--could only be understood in the light of those settlements and -missions by which the well-disposed had recently striven to irradiate -the gloom of darkest London. One of the great public schools had -planted a hall in adjacent Battersea, the Wesleyans had a settlement -somewhere Walworth way, the Church of England was bestirring itself in -Southwark. The Cooperites were convinced that the new resident had come -amongst them on evangelizing thoughts intent. They accepted the green -paint and the flowers as a preliminary sop, and awaited with stolid -resignation the tracts and the lectures on wireless telegraphy and the -Andaman Islands that would surely follow. - -Alistair himself was surprised to find how little was changed in -his life by the transmigration. The brief episode which lay behind -him at Dinard took its place as a dream from which he had awakened. -Respectable society, as represented by the Secretary of State for -the Home Department, had dropped him once more, and his old friends -had welcomed him back. The marriage announcement had been hailed in -the circle of which he was the acknowledged chief as a masterpiece, -reflecting more glory on him even than the bankruptcy which was now -formally complete. If Alistair Stuart had gone under he had proved -himself, like Samson, most formidable to the Philistines in his end. - -He was able to estimate the greatness of his triumph when he found that -his first visitor was the Chevalier Vane. - -It was true that the Chevalier came as to the house of mourning, to -condole and patronize rather than to congratulate, but Stuart knew him -well enough to be sure that he would not have come at all unless he -considered that there was still some distinction to be drawn from the -association. - -Vane’s restless vanity had just stimulated him to make a bid for -notoriety on his own account, on lines more congenial to his cautious -temper. Inspired by the example of certain distinguished writers of -the French decadent school who had exchanged the Bacchic ivy for the -Christian palm with evident benefit to their reputations, he had -conceived the felicitous idea of publicly entering the Church of Rome. -He had already in the press a volume of hymns composed in honour of -various medieval saints, collectively entitled “A Rosary of Twilight,” -and he trusted that the contrast between its mystic piety and the -erotic breathings of his unregenerate muse would at last stir the -reviewers out of their apathy. - -He had cherished the hope that a man of his importance would be deemed -a proper subject for conversion by a Bishop. But the Roman authorities -had taken, as usual, a severely practical view of the situation, and -had intimated that the reception of a convert, however illustrious, was -a matter to be regulated, like other ecclesiastical ceremonies, by the -mundane consideration of fees. The cost of an episcopal welcome proved -too severe a wrench for the mercenary instincts of the poet, but after -a good deal of haggling he secured a monsignor, whose violet stockings -made the function a moderate success in the dearth of by-elections and -divorce suits. - -Wickham Vane, after a severe internal struggle, revolted on this -occasion from his allegiance, and struck out a line of his own by -embracing the tenets of the Theosophists. But the two brothers -continued to live together in the same harmony as before, and it was -remarkable that the priests who came from time to time to confirm -the new Catholic in his faith found Wickham a much more interested -listener, while the yogis and mahatmas who visited Wickham went away -under the firm impression that it was his brother who was their -disciple. - -The author of “A Rosary of Twilight” brought with him a presentation -copy as an inexpensive form of wedding-present. Molly received it with -gratification as a homage offered to her in the serious character of a -Christian matron. But the page containing the inscription to Lord and -Lady Alistair was the one that she read with most pleasure; indeed, it -was the only one that she could understand. - -Her promotion had not wrought much change in Molly’s manners; there -was no reason why it should, having regard to the tone of the -most fashionable circles; but it had infused a distinct shade of -condescension into her treatment of such of her acquaintance as were -commoners. To the Chevalier Vane she accorded the courtesy due to his -rank, but the untitled Wickham found himself almost snubbed. - -Stuart showed the brothers over his new dwelling. The front-door -opened directly into the art kitchen, behind which there was a tiny -wash-house, where real cooking could be accomplished on a gas-stove. -Lady Alistair volunteered the information that they usually dined out, -and that the household work was attended to by a plebeian neighbour. -Overhead there were two small bedrooms, one of which Alistair had had -fitted up as a dressing-room and study for himself. - -The Vanes were charmed with the whole establishment, Egerton merely -advising a cuckoo clock for the foot of the stairs as a finishing -touch, and Wickham inclining to think old tapestry more suitable than -wallpapers for the rooms upstairs. In his enthusiasm the Chevalier even -expressed himself as seriously disposed to install himself in the house -adjoining. - -“We might set a fashion,” he declared, with that naïve vanity by which -Alistair hardly knew whether he was more amused or annoyed. “In time -we might draw other men of letters round us, and have the whole court -occupied.” - -“Then it would have to be called Poet’s Corner,” Alistair observed. - -“That is just what I was going to say,” Vane snapped back, becoming -almost rude in his greediness to appropriate the suggestion. “Such a -settlement would be like a lighthouse of civilization.” - -“I hope not,” Stuart retorted. “We have had too many attempts to -civilize the slums. I have come here to barbarize them.” - -This time the Chevalier was compelled to acknowledge the master’s -superiority. - -“You are right,” he heroically confessed. “But I am certain my idea is -a good one. It will make a sensation. We shall have pilgrims coming to -visit us from all parts of Europe and America.” - -And already in his egoistic fancy he pictured himself receiving a -stream of reporters in his own cottage, seated in state in some exotic -garb, and dictating interviews on the subject of the poetry of the -Catholic renascence, which would be wired to the ends of the earth. - -Stuart read his thoughts, and smiled rather sadly. Vane’s proposal had -pleased him at first, corresponding as it did more or less with the -project dimly shaping in his own mind. He had always had a soft corner -in his heart for the two brothers. He knew his own need of intellectual -fellowship, and both the Vanes, under their absurd affectations, -possessed some real taste. Egerton could be a pleasant enough companion -on those too rare occasions when he was not iterating the tedious -personal note, and Wickham shone as a mildly agreeable moon. Stuart -was not blind to their faults, but, then, no master has ever found -faultless disciples. If the disciple were equal to the master there -would be no masterhood. - -As it is natural for a leader to crave for followers, so it is natural -that he should bear much from those who seem disposed to follow him. -Stuart, without analyzing his motives, had made many efforts to attach -the Vanes to himself. He had tried to melt the adamantine selfishness -of the elder by generous praise of all in him that was possible to -praise. He had tried to fan what little sparks of individuality he -had detected in the younger. He had shut his eyes as much as he could -to their humiliating vanity and meanness, vices which he hoped might -exhale in the sunshine of a little success. - -Now he was moved to despair of them. It was evident that the real -attraction for Egerton in the project he had embraced so feverishly was -not the companionship of congenial minds, but the notoriety conferred -by reporters. His soul thirsted not after the praise of the judicious, -but after the paragraphs of Fleet Street. Regretfully Alistair made up -his mind to abandon the half-formed scheme, unless the two brothers -could be persuaded to abandon him. The participation of such a man -as Egerton Vane would degrade any movement in which he played a part -to the level of his own vanity. It did not deserve even to be called -vanity--it was vulgarity. Instead of the vanity of genius, it was the -vulgarity of the charlatan. - -Happily unconscious of the reflections passing through Lord Alistair’s -mind, the Chevalier Vane was occupying his mind with the problem of -his neglected volume, which Lady Alistair had laid aside. The poet -of the Catholic renascence was anxious to read some of his work to -the company, unworthy though they seemed to feel themselves of such a -privilege, and he began forcibly turning the conversation towards the -end in view. - -“The new poetry will be distinguished from the old by its form not -less than its spirit,” he proclaimed magisterially. “I have come to the -conclusion to discard the sonnet in favor of the acrostic.” (There was -an acrostic in the “Rosary of Twilight.”) “Form is the essence of art, -and the acrostic represents form in its severest limitations.” - -“Form _is_ art,” flashed Alistair, who saw through the visitor’s -strategy, and felt maliciously disposed to balk him. It had always -been an honourable understanding among the Decadents that they were -to listen to each other’s poems and look at each other’s pictures, as -some slight mutual compensation for the deafness and blindness of the -middle class. But it seemed scarcely fair to extend the benefit of this -arrangement to the poetry of the Catholic renascence. - -Vane blinked, but recovered himself promptly. - -“That is what I said. Form is art or its essence. For that reason it -ought not to be concealed. In the acrostic form takes its right place -as the governing condition of the whole.” - -Wickham dutifully came to his brother’s reinforcement. - -“That is why I find tapestry so far superior to painting,” he murmured. -“The limitations of the needle are so much severer than those of the -brush; their influence over the composition is so much more obvious. -There is something vulgar in dexterity.” - -“Is there not something vulgar in expression itself?” Stuart put in. -“Surely the unexpressed is always higher than the expressed?” - -This was a wedge driven between the opposing forces. Wickham, whose -claims to consideration rested entirely on the meditations in which he -was believed to indulge, could not reject the principle which justified -his existence. Egerton, fretting with impatience, began to fear that he -should be reduced to the coarse manœuvre of openly seizing his book and -reading unasked. - -But even this was not to be permitted him. - -“For my part,” Stuart said, “I consider that as the first word of -literature was the riddle, so it must be the last. Poetry is falsehood, -and we should never be allowed to tell the truth. Remember that when -Shakespeare ventured to talk poetry to Ben Jonson in the Mermaid -Tavern, he ‘had to be stopped.’ The poet will always be stopped by -respectable people when he talks prose, and that is why he has to -talk poetry, which they can’t understand. Take my advice, throw your -acrostics overboard, and write riddles. Write them in Sanskrit if -possible, and use a cipher. That will give you all the limitations -you want. And the middle class will form a Vane Society, as they have -formed a Shakespeare Society and a Browning Society, to interpret you; -and when you are dead they will write biographies to prove that you -were fairly orthodox and perfectly respectable.” - -The author of the “Rosary of Twilight,” as he walked home in dudgeon, -observed to the fraternal satellite: - -“I am afraid Stuart is deteriorating. He seems to be incapable of high -seriousness.” - -“He needs to surround himself with pale green tapestry,” was the -melancholy response. - -Others of Alistair’s old circle came round him in his new home, and -rejoiced in this fresh defiance to the Victorian proprieties. But there -was one notable absentee. The figure of the Brazilian banker was never -seen in the little high-art kitchen. Since Molly Finucane had become -Lady Alistair, Mendes had been struck off her visiting-list. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -LADY ALISTAIR - - -SIR BERNARD VANBRUGH kept his own counsel about his conversation with -Lord Alistair, as he had done about the Duke of Trent’s proposal. - -In a brief letter from London Alistair told Hero the truth. - - “If I am a scapegoat of others” (he wrote), “I cannot let you be my - scapegoat. My life, I am told, must be a cul-de-sac, and you must - not think of walking down it with me. I ought to have seen this all - along; perhaps I did suspect it; but I was forlorn and you made me - happy. Now I can only do my best not to make you miserable. Forgive - my mother for her share in the mischief that has been done, and try - to forgive and forget. - - “ALISTAIR STUART.” - -This letter made no difference to Hero whatever. She guessed that her -father had influenced Alistair to write it, but she forbore to speak to -him on the subject. Her mind was made up, and so was his, and further -discussion between them would only make them both unhappy. - -She carried the letter to Alistair’s mother, who had been left -wondering and dismayed by his unexplained departure, and the two women -who loved Alistair embraced and shed some tears over it. - -“He will come back to you if you will wait for him,” the mother -pleaded. The language of the letter was outside her comprehension, but -she thought she knew what was in Alistair’s heart. “He has drawn back -because he is afraid he cannot make you a good husband. But he has not -really given you up.” - -“I have not given him up, at all events,” Hero said quietly. - -The Duchess felt greatly comforted. Only her old misgiving came back to -her. - -“Suppose he means to marry that woman?” she whispered. - -“Then I shall look upon his wife as my sister. I shall try to make a -friend of her for his sake, and I think I shall succeed. After all, -perhaps I have no right to take her place.” - -The mother was daunted by this answer. She could not bear to admit that -Molly Finucane had any rights where Alistair was concerned. She would -have liked to see Hero more jealous. - -The news of the marriage reached them only through the newspaper. -Alistair had thought it would be affectation to try to soften the blow. - -It was a dreadful blow to the Duchess, though she had seen it coming. -She sank under it, and aged visibly. Hero tried in vain to administer -consolation. - -“I think Alistair has acted nobly,” she declared. “I am proud of him. -And I should be proud of myself if I thought he had done it to please -me.” - -The poor Duchess began to fear that Hero, instead of an ally, was going -to prove a traitor. She could see in her son’s action nothing but -desperation. She had her own settled view as to what would constitute -happiness for her boy, and she wanted to see him happy. - -Hero wrote in the same courageous strain to Alistair himself. And she -enclosed a short note to Molly, asking permission as a cordial friend -of Lord Alistair’s to congratulate her on a step which she believed and -hoped would be for the happiness of them both. - -When Molly got the letter, she was puzzled and rather alarmed. - -“Is Miss Vanbrugh the girl your mother wanted you to marry?” she asked -her husband. - -“Yes. But you see I married you instead,” was all Alistair said in -reply. - -And Molly did not dare to question him further. She answered Hero’s -letter as ungraciously as she could, though her new sense of dignity -kept her within the bounds of formal civility. She hoped that this -would be the end of all intercourse in that quarter. - -Neither Alistair nor his wife had any suspicion that their new -residence was within the charitable rounds of the Duchess of Trent. -The dwellers in Beers Cooperage were equally ignorant that their new -neighbour was her Grace’s son. They had soon given up the notion -that he was among them as a social or religious missionary, and now -cherished the exciting belief that he was in hiding from the police, -who would presently appear on the scene, and drag him off with all -dramatic circumstance. - -Alistair had concealed his address from nobody; on the contrary, he had -taken pains to transmit it to the editor of every directory in which -his name was included. The ratification of his bankruptcy had left him -with a pleasing sense of freedom, and the sale of Molly’s furniture had -provided for present needs. - -When the Duchess returned to Colonsay House, her first thought was for -Beers Cooperage. She dreaded a meeting with her daughter-in-law so -much that she was tempted to relinquish her visits to the little yard. -But a sense that it would be cowardly to make her poor friends suffer -on this account co-operated with some human curiosity to overcome her -repugnance. She decided to go to the Cooperage as usual, and take her -chance of meeting its new inmates. - -Hero disappointed her friend by refusing to accompany her. She made it -her excuse that she intended to call on Lady Alistair, and did not wish -the compliment to be lessened by association with charitable visits. - -She had another reason which she did not tell the Duchess. She feared -that Alistair’s mother was incapable of dealing tactfully with such -a woman as Molly Finucane. Indeed, she had shown herself little able -to deal with her own son. Hero was determined to be the friend of -both, and in order to be so she saw that she must not let herself be -identified with the Duchess. - -Caroline delayed so long that it was Miss Vanbrugh who first made Lady -Alistair’s acquaintance. - -She drove to the Cooperage in her father’s carriage at the fashionable -hour of the afternoon, walked up the yard without noticing its inmates, -except by a nod in passing, and knocked at the bright green door. - -It was opened by Alistair himself, who could not restrain an -exclamation of pleasure. - -“Is Lady Alistair at home?” Hero asked smilingly. - -“You have come to call on her? That is good of you! She is upstairs; I -will fetch her down.” - -Hero detained him by a gesture, as she whispered swiftly: - -“Don’t tell her that it is good of me. Don’t praise me to her at all. -And leave us together.” - -Alistair understood. He placed Hero in one of the Cromwellian -armchairs, and went upstairs wearing a look of indifference. - -He found Molly seated on her bed, looking very fierce and flushed. Her -ladyship had inspected the visitor from overhead through the window, -and immediately prepared for battle. - -“Who is she?” she demanded. - -Alistair shrugged his shoulders with well-assumed carelessness. - -“It’s Miss Vanbrugh, the girl who wrote to you, you know.” - -“What has she come here for?” - -“I suppose it’s a call. She asked if you were at home.” - -“And what did you say?” - -“I said yes. You hadn’t told me that you didn’t want to receive -callers.” - -Molly felt herself baffled. She bit her lip, and looked hard at -Alistair. - -“Our marriage was announced in the paper,” he said, pushing his -advantage. “That entitles my friends to call on you, I suppose. In -fact, it would be rather marked if they did not.” - -“Your mother hasn’t called.” - -“No. That is rather marked.” - -Molly saw she was in a dilemma. She would have been glad to cut off all -further acquaintance between her husband and this girl, of whom she -had such good reason to be jealous. But Miss Vanbrugh’s visit offered -an opening into society, that respectable society which had been the -object of her ambition for so long. It was the first opening that had -presented itself, and it might very easily be the last. - -Lady Alistair decided to sacrifice jealousy to ambition, and, like -other wives, to make her husband suffer for the sacrifice. - -“You know that she has only come to see you,” she said. - -“If you think so you can stay up here. I will go down and tell her that -you have a headache.” - -“Yes, you would like that, wouldn’t you? Me to stay up here by myself, -while you and her enjoy yourselves without me! I shall come down.” - -“You may do as you please. But if you imagine that Miss Vanbrugh or any -other lady would consent to stay and talk with the master of the house -while the mistress keeps out of the room, you have a good deal to pick -up.” - -This speech produced an effect on Lady Alistair. She did not resent -receiving lessons in social etiquette. - -“You want me as a chaperon, I suppose,” she grumbled, hastily touching -up her toilet and complexion. - -“What nonsense! I doubt if I shall stay in the room. You must learn to -entertain your own visitors.” - -Incredulous, but silenced, Molly descended and faced the enemy with a -warlike front. - -At the first sight and speech of Hero she felt herself half disarmed. -The perfect sincerity, the clear nobility of nature, that shone in -Hero’s face, put every thought of vulgar jealousy instantly to shame. -This woman might be a rival, and a formidable one, in the sense that -a mother or a bachelor friend is the rival of a selfish wife, but she -would never be a rival in any other sense. - -“Dear Lady Alistair, I am afraid I have been rather slow in calling, -but we have been abroad, and when we got back I found I had really -nothing to wear. What do you do for your autumn hats?” - -One glance at the overdressed and bejewelled little woman had taught -Hero the way to her friendship. Once lured on to the ground of -millinery Molly became interested and animated before she knew it, and -Stuart found himself provided with a good excuse for slipping out of -the room. - -The new Lady Alistair had expected to feel embarrassed in talking to -the first lady she had ever met, and she had prepared to carry off -her embarrassment by insolence. It was a surprise, and an agreeable -one, to find herself chatting easily and pleasantly with the new-comer -on topics that she thoroughly understood. Instead of being schooled -and patronized, it was she whose superior knowledge of fashions and -fashionable shops enabled her to impart information, and almost to -condescend. - -Hero was not contented with this opening success. She wanted to be -Molly’s friend, and not merely to be friends with Molly. - -“What a clever idea to take this little house!” she said, as soon as -the opportunity served. “And what a charming nest you have made of it!” - -“It is rather poky,” said Lady Alistair, not quite sure whether her -visitor was speaking sincerely. - -“Oh, but how cosy you must find it! Everybody loves cottages, but then -so few of us can afford to live in them. My father, for instance--of -course, as a working professional man he is obliged to consider the -opinion of his patients.” - -“Yes, I suppose so,” Molly assented. It made her quite gracious to -think that Miss Vanbrugh recognized her own social inferiority. - -“I should not wonder if you set the fashion,” Hero pursued. “I am sure -there must be lots of people who are tired of flats.” - -Molly was surprised by her visitor’s discernment. - -“The Chevalier Vane, a friend of ours, talks of taking the cottage next -door,” she said, with satisfaction. - -“That will be just the thing for you, won’t it? I know Lord Alistair -well enough to be sure that he wants plenty of society. I expect you -have hard work sometimes to find distractions for him.” - -The hint sank into Molly’s mind. Frivolous and stupid as she was, she -was able to see that this new friend was giving her sound advice, and -she was not ungrateful for it. Alistair had married her, but whether he -would continue to live with her would depend a good deal on how far she -succeeded in making his home a pleasant one. - -Poor Molly! She had caged her bird, but she had yet to see if she could -make it sing. - -Hero would not go away till she had coaxed Molly into making tea. She -praised the furniture, the copper saucepans, the new cuckoo clock, the -absence of servants--everything about the house, till its mistress -began to think that she must be really a most enviable housewife. When -Alistair rejoined them over the tea, he found Molly in a better humour -than he ever remembered. And he was careful to do nothing to break the -charm. - -As he escorted Hero down the yard to her carriage he thanked her -earnestly. - -“Your visit has been like an angel’s--only let me hope there will be no -‘far between.’” - -“I will come as often as I think your wife wishes me to,” was the -gentle answer. “Be sure you do nothing to make me unwelcome to her.” - -The advice was not unnecessary. After Miss Vanbrugh had departed -Molly began to doubt whether she had done well in being so friendly. -She tried the experiment of disparaging the visitor to her husband, -watching him keenly to see the effect of her remarks. But Alistair was -on his guard, and only responded by shrugging his shoulders and saying: - -“If you don’t like her you needn’t see any more of her. You have only -not to return the call, and the Vanbrughs will leave us alone. If you -do return it, I suppose they will ask us to dinner. Please yourself. As -long as you don’t interfere with my friendships I won’t interfere with -yours.” - -The prospect of going to a real dinner-party--a dinner-party at which -ladies would be present--was a strong temptation to Molly. She decided -that the acquaintance must be kept up. - -“Of course I shall return her call,” she said sharply. “What do you -take me for? Do you think I’m jealous of an ordinary girl like that, -who doesn’t even know where to get her gloves?” - -During the next few days there was a perceptible change in Molly’s -behaviour towards her husband. She suggested his going to look up some -of his friends, and asked him to choose at what place they should dine. - -It was in the midst of this effort of the little creature’s to be a -good wife to Alistair that Alistair’s mother came to see her. - -Caroline had found her simple morality confused by the transformation -of Molly Finucane into Lady Alistair Stuart. Ordinarily the marriage -ceremony would have amounted in her view to a complete white-washing -of the sinner. It was the atonement prescribed by all her social and -religious canons. But this particular marriage concerned her as a -mother. She could not but view with jealousy an atonement made at her -son’s expense, and she found an excuse for condemnation in the fact -that the marriage had taken place in a registry office. The Duchess was -not so strong a Churchwoman as to deem it no marriage at all, but she -could, and did, regard it as something short of that reconciliation -with righteousness and respectability which a union blessed by the -Church would have been. - -She could not forgive her son’s wife, but she could not quite condemn -her. In this frame of mind she made her way to Beers Cooperage one -morning before lunch, determined to give her first visit a neutral -character. - -The appearance of the Duchess after an absence of so many weeks caused -a flutter of excitement in the little court, and all its inhabitants -hastened out of doors to greet her. - -As it happened, Lady Alistair was in her house alone, and hearing the -sounds, she went to the window and looked out. - -The spectacle of an elderly lady in old-fashioned black silk walking up -the yard amid the throng of her dependents told Molly nothing. It was -an entire surprise to see the visitor advance straight to her own door, -and to hear her say to the people thronging round her: “I am going in -here first. I will see you all again when I come out.” - -In the absence of a servant, Molly was half inclined to let the visitor -knock in vain. But, after all, a visit paid at such an hour could -hardly be one of ceremony. Most likely the old thing wanted to ask her -for a subscription: she would surely not presume to talk religion to -her when she was informed of her rank. - -Determined to put the intruder in her place at once, Molly went -leisurely to the door and threw it open. - -“Do you want to see me?” she asked roughly. - -Caroline gazed at the pretty painted face that she had brought herself -to believe had been her boy’s undoing, and there was not much relenting -in the gaze. - -“Are you my son’s wife?” she returned, with gravity. - -Molly was taken aback. The idea that this old person, evidently a -familiar figure in the court, should be the mother of Lord Alistair -quite confused her for an instant. - -“Are you the Duchess of Trent?” she stammered, with a shamefaced -recollection of certain correspondence that had once passed between -them. - -“I am Alistair’s mother,” was the response. “Is he here?” - -“He has gone out,” said Molly. Then, realizing that she was standing in -the doorway, and that the interview was being watched by a number of -curious eyes, she drew aside hastily. “But won’t you come inside?” - -“I will, thank you.” - -The Duchess walked in with great deliberation, and seated herself, -upright and stately, in Molly’s own chair, exactly as she was -accustomed to do in one of her poor people’s cottages when about to -admonish a drunken husband or a slatternly wife. The poor people, who -knew that the lecture was really an excuse offered by the Duchess to -her own conscience for the forgiveness and solid kindness that were to -follow, always listened meekly enough. Unfortunately Molly did not know -anything except that she was on her defence. These court martial airs -roused her spirit, and she sailed across the room with a flushed face, -and cast herself down with insolent negligence on the settle. - -“I have been a district visitor in this neighbourhood for some years. -I don’t know whether you were aware of it when you took this house.” - -“No,” said Molly, “I wasn’t. But I don’t think I should have had any -objection.” - -The Duchess frowned. She had come, not prepared to make peace, perhaps, -but disposed to entertain a truce. Now the enemy seemed not to desire -either peace or truce. - -“I asked because I could not understand my son’s choice of such a -residence. Does he really mean to stay here?” - -“You must ask him that. I suppose he will leave it when I do--not -before.” - -The Duchess, routed from her own position, was obliged to accept -Molly’s. - -“Why have you brought him here? Do you wish him to forfeit his place in -society altogether?” - -“I don’t know what society you mean. Our friends are visiting us here -as usual, and they think the place charming. If it keeps away frumps -and bores, so much the better.” - -Caroline was confounded. In her mind the common notions of her -generation on the subjects of piety, morality, and social propriety -were inextricably blended. Quite unconsciously to herself she had -included in her scheme for Alistair’s salvation the possession of a -big Cubitt-built house in Eaton Square, with menservants eating five -substantial meals a day in the basement, and doing little else; a -carriage and pair, conveying him and his wife to an endless round of -serious entertainments in other Cubitt-built houses, wherein similar -menservants ate similar meals; the directorship of some respectable -railway or insurance company to occupy his mind; a seat on a hospital -committee by way of good works; and, above all, a stately pew furnished -with red cushions and hassocks, in which he would be seen regularly -every Sunday morning, carrying the glossiest of silk hats and wearing -the straightest of frock-coats. No doubt she placed first of all -that spiritual change which she deemed necessary to all men, but she -believed that if Alistair were once converted all these other things -would be added unto him, and perhaps she also believed, without being -conscious of it, that if the other things were present the conversion -would be added. - -Molly’s own ideal was really very similar. The Cubitt-built life was -the life for which she hankered with all a woman’s thirst for the envy -of other women. If the Duchess had known it she might have found in -Molly a much more trustworthy ally than in Hero Vanbrugh. But she was -never likely to know it. For her Molly embodied every evil influence -at work in Alistair’s life. The evil had triumphed, and the best that -could now be hoped for was some poor salvage from the wreck. - -“What sort of friends?” she said, in answer to Molly’s last remarks. “I -am afraid my poor boy’s friendships have done him more harm than good.” - -“His relations haven’t done much for him anyway.” - -The two women regarded each other with unconcealed hostility as they -exchanged these retorts. It was a new experience for the Duchess to be -defied in this open fashion. - -“I am afraid you must take the responsibility for that,” she said -severely. “His brother and I were both trying to save him, but you -prevented us.” - -“How did I?” - -“How? By marrying him, of course.” - -“And why should that prevent your doing anything for him? I know! If he -had married your Miss Vanbrugh, as you wanted, the Duke would have paid -off his debts fast enough. Because he preferred me you wash your hands -of him in revenge.” - -“He did not prefer you,” said the Duchess sternly. “He thought that -after living with you as he had done he was unfit to be the husband of -a good woman.” - -It was a merciless stab, the stab of a mother fighting for her -offspring. For an instant Molly felt sick. Then, to the dismay of her -adversary, she burst into tears. - -“You are a cruel, wicked woman to say a thing like that. You hate me -because I love Alistair, and you know that he loves me. What do you -want me to do?” - -The Duchess’s conscience smote her. She sat there unable to make a -reply. After all, now that this wretched marriage had taken place, what -did she want Alistair’s wife to do? - -Molly, unconscious of the difficulty, removed it by putting her -question in a different form. - -“He came back to me of his own accord,” she sobbed. “I was living -here--with my brother--and he came and asked me to marry him. What -ought I to have done?” - -“You knew that such a marriage would be his ruin. You ought to have -saved him from it, if you really did love him.” - -“And what about me?” moaned the dejected Molly. - -The Duchess felt a momentary shame. - -“There are Homes,” she said, with hesitation, “where women who desire -to lead better lives are encouraged and trained to become useful -members of society.” - -Molly sat up, and dashed away the tears that were making havoc of her -rouge and powder. - -“And is that what you want to do to me? Put me into a reformatory, and -cut my hair, and make me go about in a grey dress and an apron, saying -‘Ma’am’ to a lot of old maids who are too ugly themselves for any man -to want them? and then get me a situation as a servant or something, -where I should always be patronized and watched to see that I didn’t -enjoy myself? No, thank you! I won’t go into your Home! I won’t--I -won’t!” - -The Duchess rose to her feet slowly. - -“Some other time, when you are calmer----” she began. - -“I’m not going to be calm!” Molly cried fiercely. “And I’m not going to -be good either--not in your way. Why should I? Why should I pretend to -be ashamed of myself, and make long faces--repent, as you call it--to -please you? I don’t want your good opinion. I never asked for it. All -I want is for you to leave me alone. You think you are very good and -gracious, I dare say, to talk to a girl like me. I don’t see it. If you -really wanted to be kind, you would be kind to me now, as I am. It is -easy enough to forgive people when they have left off doing what you -don’t like; the thing is to forgive them while they are still doing -it. If I joined the Salvation Army, and wore a poke-bonnet, you would -have nothing to say against me. Bah! You’re like all the rest; I know -you. Get us to go down at your feet and be miserable, and then you take -credit for forgiving us. And that’s what you call Christianity!” - -The Duchess had stumbled to the door and escaped before Molly lost her -breath. - -Alistair’s mother tottered down the yard, too much agitated to remember -her pensioners, and Alistair’s wife lay on the high-art settle, with -the copper pans gleaming down at her, and wept as if her heart would -break. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -THE HOUSE OF CATILINE - - -AMONG those friends of Lord Alistair’s who did not neglect him in his -fallen state was the moving spirit of the Legitimist Guild. - -The Comte des Louvres visited the house in Beers Cooperage, and -professed himself enchanted with everything about it, but most of all -with its nearness to Chestnut-Tree Walk. - -“We are neighbours now,” he declared, “and I shall expect you to look -me up very often. Drop in whenever you have nothing better to do.” - -The Frenchman threw a flattering deference into his manner towards -Molly now that her position seemed to be established. He was keen -enough to see the direction in which her ambitions pointed, and he -threw out hints of his ability to help her. - -By way of a beginning he invited her to his house to meet some of -the ladies who had held stalls at the famous bazaar. Lady Alistair -did not refuse the invitations. She appeared in the Count’s shabby -drawing-room, flaunting in the extravagance of the past, and scored a -feminine triumph over women whose whole yearly dress allowance would -not have paid for one of her frocks. But Molly was too shrewd to -mistake these gatherings, at which tea was handed round by the two -Vanes, and the conversation turned chiefly on the Legitimist cause and -its prospects, for the kind of society she had aspired to. The women -to whom Des Louvres introduced her were as much outside the pale as -herself, though for different reasons, and in the end they tired her by -their pretentious gentility, and she left off trying to mix with them. - -It was borne in upon the poor little woman that her dream of -respectability was never likely to be realized. The cruel frankness of -the Duchess had broken her spirit. The dismal vision of the Home began -to rise up before her as a final destiny. Very often she cried now when -she was alone. It seemed to her that life could never be jolly again. -Nothing had turned out as she had hoped. Marriage seemed to have made -things worse instead of better. Alistair left her to herself as much as -formerly, and when he was with her they had less and less to say to one -another. And they became really poor. The Duke’s intentions as regards -his brother’s allowance remained undeclared. In the meantime the South -Kensington furniture, the copper saucepans, and the Cromwellian oak -had been bought on the hire system, and there was trouble about the -instalments. Once or twice already they had had to dine at home on -slices of ham brought in from a shop in the Westminster Bridge Road, -because they could not afford a meal at a restaurant. And now the -winter was upon them. - -After all, Molly had not returned Miss Vanbrugh’s call. And this was -not because she was jealous of her, but because when it came to the -point she found she had not the courage. In Hero’s presence, in the -light of her candid eyes, the pretence of being a lady could not be -kept up. Perhaps Hero guessed how matters stood, for when she found -that Lady Alistair did not come to her she made the experiment of -coming again to Beers Cooperage. And Molly was very glad to see her. To -her own surprise, she found her once dreaded rival was her only friend. -They grew to call each other by their Christian names. And by degrees -Molly opened her heart to Hero, and told her everything; told her one -day, with tears and sobs, the story of her miserable life, and wound up -with the despairing cry: - -“I shall never be any better; I know I shan’t. I can’t be sorry. I -can’t repent.” - -Hero held out her arms. When she reached home that evening she found -the bosom of her dress all streaked with rouge. - -Alistair’s wife was not blinded by the respectful homage of the Comte -des Louvres to his true character. Her instinct told her that the Count -had no friendships which did not serve some purpose of his own, and she -warned Alistair against him. - -“Beware of that man,” she said one day after the Frenchman had been to -see them. “He pretends to be your friend, but he is scheming to get -something out of you.” - -“Most friends are,” was Alistair’s retort. “Of course, Des Louvres is a -scoundrel, but he is an interesting one. Honest men are such bores.” - -And in that remark Alistair expressed more of his character than he -knew. Perhaps the strongest of all the motives that stirred him to -quarrel with the social order in which he had been reared was that he -found it dull. He judged of life like a novel--it is the villain who is -the soul of the plot. - -If he had been born fifty years before, Alistair Stuart might have been -happily engaged among those who were struggling for the emancipation of -Europe from the old Legitimist régime. Political liberty, the liberty -that Shelley had hymned, and Mazzini plotted, and Garibaldi fought for, -seemed a Dead Sea fruit to his taste, but yet at least the struggle for -it had been worth waging. To-day nothing interesting, nothing heroic, -was going on in the world. The glorious dawn of the nineteenth century -had been succeeded by a commonplace day. The struggles of the hour were -for markets and mines; the question that moved men’s souls was whether -Mike Finigan should be compelled to hide his glass of beer from the -respectable sight of Mr. Stiggins. - -Liberalism was dead, and the social democracy marching over its corpse -had discarded every noble watchword, every lofty ideal, and proclaimed -the naked issue of more wages and less work. They and the millionaires -might fight it out between them as far as such as Alistair were -concerned. Neither side seemed likely to add anything to the beauty of -life. - -In the house in Chestnut-Tree Walk he found himself brought into touch -with an altogether different world. It was a strange underground world, -a world of decayed races, and lost causes, and fallen dynasties, -and overthrown gods. Sometimes it seemed to him a world of pure -make-believe, in which everything was pasteboard and tinsel, and at -other times it seemed to him that there was a meaning hidden beneath -the make-believe, that there was a strength in all this decay capable -of assailing and overcoming in time the strength of the world of -triumphant causes and conquering races; that from this concealed and -stagnant source a power of corruption might arise, like the pestilence -that issues from the slums of Canton or the pilgrim-ships of Mecca and -devastates Asia and Europe. - -Alistair became a more and more frequent visitor to the house hidden -behind the grimy chestnut-trees. Des Louvres was never a dull -companion. He possessed a unique knowledge of contemporary European -history, especially of that part of history which does not get into -books, and which the underbred provincials who compile scholastic -histories seem never to understand. His memory for royal genealogies -was equal to that of a German Court Chamberlain. And he was not -ignorant of British pedigrees either. - -On one occasion he surprised Stuart by asking him: - -“You are related to the Earls of Mar, are you not?” - -“My grandmother was an Erskine,” Alistair replied. “Why do you ask?” - -“Your ancestor headed the first Jacobite rising on behalf of James -III,” said Des Louvres, with a significant glance. - -“It is sometimes called the Earl of Mar’s Rebellion,” responded -Alistair. “But I don’t think my ancestor distinguished himself very -much. He made his arrangements very badly, and quarrelled with the -Pretender when he came over.” - -The other did not pursue the subject. But his remark had taken effect -on Stuart’s mind. - -In addition to Des Louvres there were often other interesting figures -to be met with at Chestnut-Tree House: Frenchmen fresh from the -boulevards; Austrians and Spaniards with the latest gossip of their -capitals; urbane Roman priests, affecting the diplomatist rather than -the cleric, and anxious that the Duke of Trent’s brother should take an -interest in the absorbing question of the Temporal Power. - -“There never was a more interesting State than the Pope’s,” Stuart was -told. “It was government by the refined and intellectual class, the -aristocracy of mind and birth combined. There was no public opinion, -which, as you know, always means vulgar middle-class opinion. There -was no Puritan inquisition; Garibaldi and his brigands made it their -chief complaint against us that we did not persecute the sinner. Every -man could do as he pleased, in short, provided that he did not openly -assail the Church. Of course, no Sovereign can tolerate rebellion. For -artists and poets, for all men of taste and originality, the Rome of -the Popes was an almost perfect home.” - -Alistair grew more and more inclined to believe it. More and more -he came to feel that he had no quarrel with the Church of Rome. It -had never persecuted him. On the contrary, it had treated him with -consideration at a time when he had received no consideration from -those who owed it to him most. - -He would have been glad enough to believe that a restored Papal State -would afford him the city of refuge for which he yearned, and if he -raised objections the tempters easily swept them away. - -“Was not the press muzzled?” he would ask. “Was there not a censorship -of books?” - -And the answer would be that the democratic press was equally muzzled, -only it was muzzled by a golden muzzle. A paper could not be launched, -except at a cost only within the means of the very rich. It could not -be carried on at all without the revenue derived from the pill-makers -and the soap-makers; and the pill-maker would permit nothing to appear -in it that might by any possibility offend his bilious customers. -The rich man would not tolerate any paper that did not pander to -the passionate greed which was fast becoming more than a disease--a -veritable possession. - -And there was a censorship of books as well, a censorship -administered, not by educated men, but by policemen hounded to -their work by rabid zealots in whom sexual perversion took the form -of prudery. There were commercial censorships and voluntary ones. -A tradesman, sitting in his office, held in his hands the fate of -half the books brought out in England. The committees of the Free -Libraries were more intolerant than any Roman congregation. Were not -their shelves choked with the rubbish of evangelical serialists, -and barred to the masterpieces of De Maupassant and D’Annunzio? The -real censorships of books in every age had been exercised by human -stupidity. The Index Expurgatorius of ignorance and spite was vaster -than the British Museum Catalogue. - -Stuart found himself more than half committed to the cause already. His -effort on behalf of Don Juan, slight and unsuccessful as it had been, -had brought him a letter of thanks from the Prince, and an invitation -to call on him if Lord Alistair should ever find himself in Rome. Des -Louvres continued to speak hopefully of the Pretender’s prospects. And -in the meanwhile it became more and more clear to Alistair that Don -Juan’s cause, and all these romantic causes and whispering conspiracies -centred in the one supreme cause and the one secular conspiracy -represented by that immemorial figure, crowned with the triple crown of -Ra, grasping the keys of Sheol and Amenti, and pursuing in the name of -the Crucified One the empire of the Conqueror. - -In the same measure that Alistair Stuart was attracted to the camp of -these rebels against the established order he was repelled from that -rival camp whose red flag was the symbol of an international Jacquerie. - -Every poet is at heart an anarchist, but his vocation bids him be a -transcendental one, perceiving that sympathy is stronger than violence, -and the seed that bursts unseen and silently is a more formidable -engine than the bomb. Alistair found in the proletarian propaganda, so -far as it had come under his notice, a leaven of envy and hatred of -the best. The spirit of Marat’s bloody apostolate lurked under words -like brotherhood and humanity. It was not only against the rich and the -tyrannical that the red flag waved; it menaced equally knowledge and -genius. Archimedes would fare no better at such hands than he had fared -at the hands of the soldier of Marcellus. The policy of these helot -Tarquins was to strike down the tall flowers of the garden, roses and -nettles together. - -His three months’ sojourn in Beers Cooperage had taught Alistair that -he could not really be the brother of his humble neighbours. He was -not nearer to them in spirit than if he were dwelling in Colonsay -House. He was too kind-hearted not to wish to befriend them, but he -could only do so as he befriended children and animals--without feeling -himself as one of them. His common sense, or, what is the same thing, -his sense of humour, saved him from trying to elevate them by means of -wireless telegraphy and the Andaman Islands. The simple truth was that -he no more wanted to change their natures than to change his own. He -was that rare thing, an individualist who respected the individuality -of others. He was the only person who had ever bestowed money in the -Cooperage without asking whether it was to be spent on tea or on beer. -In his mother’s opinion he was doing harm to the neighbourhood. Among -the beneficiaries a suspicion had begun to germinate that he must have -his eye on a seat in the County Council. His favourite manifestation -of interest was to call in passing organ-grinders, who played in the -Cooperage by the hour together, while the children danced. - -Alistair could make his poor neighbours happy, but they could not make -him happy. - -The poet searching for his Eden places it ever in some environment -which he has not yet tried. Whole generations of priest-ridden Italians -had placed the home of freedom in Puritan-ridden England; it was -natural that Alistair should place it in Papal Rome. - -Des Louvres, the Catiline of this conspiracy, had just that touch of -the bohemian in his own character which enabled him to understand -Stuart. He did not hope to rouse in him any active enthusiasm for the -small territorial ambitions of the Catholic Pretenders, clerical or -lay. But he saw that what Stuart wanted was a stick with which to beat -society, and the Legitimist stick was as good as any other. Little -by little he drew his proselyte on to the view that all the elements -that made the Victorian Order hateful to him were personified in -the reigning House itself. The Hanoverian dynasty was a Protestant -dynasty--or, at least, it was required to pose as such in public. The -Act of Settlement was the work of the Low Church party, supported by -the Nonconformists; in other words, it was the Puritan settlement. -All English history, all English literature, all English society, -had rested hitherto on the basis that the Low Church party was in -the right, and that its standards ought to govern Great Britain, and -Ireland, and India, and ultimately the whole world. - -Alistair himself had been brought up in an atmosphere where that -assumption was not supposed to be even subject to discussion. The whole -world, to his youthful mind, had been divided into two classes--those -who were Low Churchmen, and those who ought to be, and knew it. He, -Alistair, knew it, so did the others, from the General of the Jesuits -to the stone-breaker suspected of being a Plymouth Brother, and from -the condemned murderer to the author of the “Origin of Species.” The -Sultan of Turkey knew it in his heart, and so did every follower of -every other faith, except, possibly, the Grand Lama, protected by -geographical barriers from the enterprise of the Low Church Missionary -Society. - -And now all these assumptions were breaking up and melting away so -rapidly that the mere statement of them sounded more like satire than -sober record. Histories of England were being written, and were being -used in the schools, which failed to teach that the Revolution of 1688 -was the most glorious event in the annals of the human race. It was no -longer universally deemed an act of oppression on the part of James I. -to permit the peasantry to dance on Sunday. Even the Reformation had -ceased to be the subject of unmitigated eulogy. The rising generation -were being allowed to perceive that some bigotry goes to the making of -a martyr, as well as of a heretic-hunter. The failings of the leading -Reformers were no longer veiled, and the virtues of their opponents -were lovingly conceded. - -Every revelation passes through three stages: first, it is a heresy; -next, a commonplace; and last, a superstition. The mind of man revolves -like his planet, and truths rise and set like the stars. - -Protestantism had survived into the third stage. The great Protestant -Churches still flourished, but they no longer professed the Protestant -religion. The Church of England was suing for recognition by the -Church of Rome. The Dissenting Churches, founded by men who were more -willing to endure poverty and prison than to wear a surplice, or to -use a ring in the marriage ceremony, were adopting liturgies and -vestments. The evangelical organizations, the Missionary Societies, -the Bible Societies, the Tract Societies, were still in full activity, -but they had ceased to evangelize. Like the Churches, they lived on -their inheritance; they were kept going by the dead hand. Frock-coated -committees were called together by well-salaried secretaries to dispose -of funds too large for the shrunken field of endeavour; but, wiser -than the augurs of old Rome, the secretaries never smiled. - -The machinery went on with well-oiled wheels, but the spirit was gone. -The foundation stone of the building had been almost accidentally -mined. The picks of excavators toiling at the dust-heaps beside the -Tigris and Euphrates that once were Nineveh and Babylon, had turned -up a handful of arrow-stamped bricks, and the Protestant Bible had -become a mere human document. The whole of English society was engaged -in a conspiracy to suppress the fact that the world was changing. The -schools and universities went on teaching that it never changed; the -pulpits proved that it could not; the newspapers were positive that -it had not; yet underneath all this loud shouting of the cohorts of -respectability could be heard a murmur like the whisper of Galileo -before the Inquisition--_But it does move_. - -It was the close of the Victorian Age. It was an age which had recorded -its own praises on a myriad monuments, and chanted them in thunder -on the days of jubilee. It was an age which had gazed round upon its -mighty works, and boasted itself like Nebuchadnezzar. Nevertheless, in -this age, so glorious in its own conceit, so fruitful in many respects, -one rank weed had been suffered to grow up unchecked, till it poisoned -the breathing-room of the human spirit. - -The name of this weed was Cant. - -The Victorian world had been satirized unconsciously by the Victorian -poet. In his “Idylls of the King” Tennyson had depicted a man without -passions trying to impose his own cold virtues on men of warmer -temperament, and producing first hypocrisy and deceit, and in the end a -deeper corruption. The Victorian world had been like Arthur’s Court. - -In this world Cant became a religion, and hypocrisy was enforced by -law. It was a world whose literature and art were adjusted to the -mental and moral level of the Sunday-school. It was a world in which -a terrible disease, bred of moral corruption, scourged the race, and -every effort to stay its ravages was fought against tooth and nail -by the mænads of social purity. It was a world in which selfishness -was inculcated in a million sermons, and slander and persecution were -reckoned as good works. It was a world in which blackmailing became -a recognized profession. It was a world in which men sent sailors to -be drowned in rotten ships, and built chapels with the proceeds. It -was a world which overthrew kings and set up millionaire monopolists; -which suppressed slavery and invented sweating; which substituted the -prostitute for the concubine; which imposed a curfew on beer at home -and sold opium abroad at the point of the bayonet. A great pirate -Empire ravaged the seas, with a crucifix at the masthead, and stole -pagan continents. - -One night when Alistair Stuart went round to the house in Chestnut-Tree -Walk he found its master waiting for him in a state of excited -expectation. - -“Have you heard the news?” Des Louvres asked in a whisper, as soon -as Stuart had sat down. “They are trying to keep it out of the papers -as long as possible, but it has reached me from a source that I can -absolutely depend upon. Queen Victoria is dying.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -HIGH TREASON - - -“I HAVE my information from a person in the confidence of one of the -Royal Family. The Queen cannot last more than three days.” - -Stuart had received the news with a slight shock. For him, as for all -his generation, the venerable figure seated on the throne had almost -a legendary character. It seemed impossible to think of the British -Empire without Queen Victoria; the idea of a new head on the coins and -postage-stamps was strange and incredible. - -But, apart from these reflections the Frenchman’s announcement did not -strike him as having any importance for himself, and he was unable to -understand the excitement with which Des Louvres took him by the arm -and drew him towards the door of the room. - -“Most of the others are here,” Des Louvres said in a voice lowered to a -whisper. “I telegraphed to them as soon as I heard. They are in there, -waiting for you to take the chair.” - -Then for the first time it struck Alistair that the approaching demise -of the Crown was an event likely to prove a crisis, and that Des -Louvres expected him to play a part in keeping with his ancestral -traditions and outlawed state. - -Nothing loth, he passed into the room where the committee was -assembled, the strongest feeling in his mind one of amusement at -the thought of the terror likely to be excited in the bosom of the -Chevalier Vane and his brother at the prospect of a serious collision -with the authorities. - -He found the Chevalier inside, looking pale and anxious, while -Wickham’s face bore the calmer expression of one whose mind was made -up. Mr. St. Maur was also present, looking little less comfortable than -the Chevalier, and the party was reinforced by the Hon. Gerald St. John -and Mr. Basil Dyke. The Decadents were complete, with the one exception -of Mendes, whose complaisance had never extended to the length of -enrolling himself among the comrades or followers of the Comte des -Louvres. - -Stuart had scarcely seated himself when Egerton Vane rose precipitately -to his feet, to explain his position. - -Des Louvres had cruelly refrained from assigning anything more definite -than “important business” as the object of the meeting; and when on -their arrival they learned the character of the crisis, the brothers -felt themselves entrapped. This was the moment of all others when they -would have wished the Guild to practise the modesty of self-effacement; -and if the Guild was going, on the contrary, to do anything rash, it -was the moment which they would have chosen silently to sever their -connection with the Guild. They knew better than the Frenchman the -sentiment entertained by her subjects towards the dying Queen, and -they had no desire to face the storm that would be provoked by any -demonstration of disrespect. - -“Our secretary has called us together rather hastily,” the Chevalier -began in a plaintive tone. “No doubt the news he has received is very -important, if it is reliable.” - -“It is absolutely reliable,” interrupted the Count. - -The Chevalier drew a laboured sigh, as he resumed: “In that case, -whatever our political views may be, I am sure we shall all feel that -at such a moment we must share to a certain extent in the national -mourning for the loss of a venerated and respected--er--personage. I -am not sure that our secretary has acted altogether discreetly--though -of course he meant it for the best--in summoning a meeting of the -Guild at such a moment; but as we are here, I suggest that it -would be a graceful act on our part to pass a resolution recording -our--er--respect and--er--sympathy with the family of the--er--the -Queen!” - -The speaker brought out the last word with a defiant jerk, and sat down -hastily, hoping to evade a rebuke at the hands of Des Louvres. But he -was agreeably surprised to see that astute schemer rise and second his -proposition. The French Count had the sense to interpret the situation -rightly, and to see that the fears of a man like Egerton Vane were a -useful index to the state of English opinion. Evidently it would be -wise to propitiate the public sentiment by such a resolution as Vane -had suggested. - -The Chevalier had the gratification of seeing his proposition carried -unanimously. But this concession made to policy, Des Louvres lost no -time in coming to business. - -“In three days from now the throne will be vacant, and the Guild will -have to show whether it is capable of taking action in accordance with -its principles. Since the successful rebellion of 1688 no usurping -Sovereign has ever been allowed to ascend the throne without a protest -being made on behalf of the legitimate heirs. On this occasion it is -clearly our duty to make that protest, and the only question is how we -should proceed.” - -This bold challenge was received in chilling silence. Stuart glanced -round the room with a disdain he hardly tried to conceal, and saw one -after the other shrink back. - -Without rising from his seat, St. John put a question to the secretary. - -“Has the Princess been consulted?” - -Des Louvres shook his head. - -“Her Majesty’s position is a difficult one,” he explained. “As a German -Princess she is exposed to pressure from Berlin. We cannot expect her -to give us any open countenance. As long as she does not publicly -repudiate us, that is as much as we have any right to ask.” - -After a silence full of eloquence, the waverers found a champion -in Mr. Basil Dyke. The novelist was on the eve of completing his -reconciliation with the _bourgeoisie_ by marriage with a lady whose -father’s liver pills enjoyed a celebrity such as literature cannot -attain, although it was part of the understanding that in the future -Mr. Dyke’s productions were to be recommended in the same organs of -publicity as his father-in-law’s. The reformed Decadent looked forward -to entering the House of Commons in the character of a supporter of -Church and Throne; and with such a prospect in view it was evidently -time for him to dissociate himself from the political profligacies of -his youth. - -“I cannot agree with the Comte des Louvres that we have any right to -speak on behalf of the Princess, without her express authority,” he -said. “Neither do I see what we have to gain by coming forward at this -particular time. We have proclaimed our principles, the public is -aware of them, and any assertion of them at this moment would be taken -badly. It would be said that we were guilty of bad taste--that we were -advertising ourselves on the occasion of a funeral.” - -Alistair smiled. It seemed to him very English, this unctuous horror -of advertisement on the part of a man who had won notoriety with a -treacherous libel and was about to confirm it by an alliance with liver -pills. Basil Dyke was clearly marked out for a knighthood under the -new reign. He was one of those whom England delights to honor. - -There was no doubt that the novelist had on his side the majority -of those present. The disappointed Count vainly tried to strike a -responsive chord. - -“What is the Guild for, if it is not to act at a crisis like this?” he -demanded. - -The Hon. Gerald St. John gave him his answer: - -“Our mission is to educate, not to indulge in vulgar demonstrations, -like Socialists and people of that kind. For my part I have never -pretended to take any interest in Mary III. My quarrel is with -respectability and I shall wait to see whether the new Court is -respectable before I condemn it.” - -Des Louvres bit his lip. “You English are always respectable,” he -sneered. - -“Not at all,” was the good-tempered answer. “Our middle class is always -respectable, I grant you; but our aristocracy is generally wicked. And -we have had lots of disreputable Kings. I have every hope that the -Victorian Age will be succeeded by a Restoration.” - -“Charles II. was a Stuart,” protested the Legitimist agent. - -“Well, if it comes to that, I don’t know that your German Princess is -any more of a Stuart than the people in possession. There seems to me -very little to choose between Bavaria and Saxe-Coburg. George IV. was a -man with many fine qualities.” - -Des Louvres began to lose his temper. - -“Of course, if anybody is afraid of the consequences I don’t expect -them to come forward,” he said sneeringly. - -The insult that cannot be pardoned is the one that we feel to be -deserved. Egerton Vane, St. Maur, and the bridegroom-elect rose to -their feet together. - -“After that I shall go home. Come, Wickham,” cried the Chevalier. Mr. -St. Maur was understood to mutter that if anything did happen the -Comte des Louvres would probably be the first out of the country. Dyke -inquired whether a foreigner was qualified to dictate to Englishmen -their line of conduct at a national crisis. - -The hubbub was subdued by the chairman’s voice. Alistair had been -bored by the debate, much as a boy fresh from his first term at school -is bored by the forgotten interests of the nursery. He felt that he -had outgrown all this kind of thing; it was wide of the mark; it led -nowhere, and promised nothing. But he was in just that mood when action -of any kind offered a temptation which it was impossible to resist, and -he felt a keen pleasure in asserting himself for the last time among -those who had been his followers for so long. - -“Before Des Louvres talks about being afraid, suppose he tells us what -he wants us to do?” - -The mutterings of strife died down, and all eyes were turned on the -Count. His response was ready instantly. - -“I consider the Guild ought to issue a formal Assertion of the right of -Queen Mary III. to the throne.” - -“Have you got the Assertion there?” - -Des Louvres produced it, and read it aloud. It was received in dead -silence. - -“Well,” said Alistair, “what next? What do you want to do with that -thing?” - -“It ought to be posted up all over London, the moment the death of the -Queen is announced.” - -“Who is to post it up?” - -This time Des Louvres had no answer ready. He glanced doubtfully round -the uneasy faces of his colleagues, and drew his own conclusions. Dyke -could not resist a sneer. - -“Surely that is the secretary’s duty.” - -The Frenchman was stung into accepting the challenge. - -“I will post up one if everyone else will do the same,” he said. - -The chairman looked slowly round him. - -“I agree to put up one,” he said deliberately. - -There was another silence, during which the two Vanes consulted each -other’s countenances. The same thought had occurred to each. What was -to prevent them from taking a copy of the treasonable document and -discreetly disposing of it in private? - -The Hon. Gerald St. John shrugged his shoulders. “If Stuart is going to -post one up, I shall do the same, though I don’t agree with it.” - -The Chevalier Vane rose to his feet with considerable emotion. - -“Give me a copy, and I will do my duty,” he said sublimely. “I answer -for my brother as well.” - -Mr. St. Maur had meanwhile been deciding on his private course of -action. Convinced that the present proceedings must be taken seriously -by the authorities, he had resolved to earn his own pardon by a -whole-souled repentance. He lowered his eyes to the ground, as he said: - -“For my part I am compelled to dissociate myself from this manifesto at -such a time. I desire that my protest may be recorded in the minutes of -the Guild.” - -The Chevalier and his brother exchanged alarmed glances. The idea that -their courageous undertaking might be recorded in writing had not -occurred to them. - -“Surely there will be no record taken of to-night’s meeting!” Egerton -exclaimed. “These proceedings are confidential!” - -Des Louvres hastened to reassure him. He had conceived a suspicion from -St. Maur’s manner, and determined to balk him. - -“I am in the hands of the committee,” he said. “But in my opinion it -will be best to make no entry beyond the names of those present, and to -state that the proceedings were of a private character.” - -Basil Dyke sprang to his feet. - -“In that case I shall withdraw at once!” he declared. “I consider you -had no right to bring us here without warning us of what you were going -to propose. This is high treason. I shall resign my membership of the -Guild.” - -“I move that Mr. Dyke’s resignation be accepted,” said Alistair -swiftly, going through the necessary formalities, as the irate novelist -made his way to the door. - -Wickham Vane cast a reproachful glance at his brother. - -“If there is going to be any record of to-night’s meeting, I shall go -as well,” he announced. - -Des Louvres saw that he must give way. - -“Have it as you please,” he remarked. “As I said, I am in your hands.” -Then, with a warning glance in St. Maur’s direction, he added: “That -concludes the business of the meeting. Those who have undertaken to -post up copies of the Assertion had better remain behind to consult as -to the most appropriate places.” - -The informer was obliged to take the hint. - -“Very well, gentlemen,” he said, as he rose to go. “Remember that if -this lands you in trouble, I have done my best to save you.” - -“That fellow means to betray us,” said Des Louvres, as the door closed -behind the Irishman. “He will turn King’s evidence if the police get on -our track.” - -Egerton Vane turned white. But stealing a look at his brother, he was -reassured by the placid expression that stole over Wickham’s face. - -In the discussion that followed it was settled that Stuart should put -up the manifesto at the most important spot--the gallery of St. James’s -Palace, from which the new Sovereign is wont to be proclaimed. The -others selected other points about the Metropolis, and Des Louvres -undertook to post copies to members of the Guild in the provinces, with -instructions to affix them to the church doors. The secretary possessed -a typing machine, and each of the volunteers was in possession of his -copy as he came away. - -Alistair strolled home slowly, to find his wife in a state of some -excitement. - -“Do you know what is happening?” she asked eagerly, as he came in. “The -Queen is dying.” - -Alistair stared at her. - -“What, is it in the papers already?” he exclaimed. - -It was Molly’s turn to stare. - -“Then you knew it? Who told you? Oh, of course, that man Des Louvres.” - -“Who told you?” demanded Alistair. He noticed that Molly was rouged to -the eyebrows, and that she had been drinking. - -“Mr. Mendes told me,” she said in a hard, defiant voice. “He called -here just after you had gone. He wants us to go and dine with him.” - -“You can go if you like,” Alistair said listlessly. - -The dinner with Mendes took place three nights afterwards. It was -given in London’s most expensive restaurant, and Lord and Lady Alistair -were the only guests. Mendes was as cool and composed as ever, chatting -with his guests as if no interruption had ever occurred in their -intercourse. Molly was voluble and restless, emptying her glass as -often as the waiter filled it with champagne. Alistair ate and drank -little, and hardly spoke except when his host addressed to him a direct -question. He felt strangely out of place, as he sat there, looking -abstractedly from one to the other of his companions, and wondering -what he was doing there between them, and how it was all going to end. - -Suddenly, just as the sweets were being brought round, there was a stir -outside, and a man came in hurriedly with a sheaf of papers under his -arm. He went through the long, brilliantly lit saloon, leaving a paper -on each little table, and as he approached Mendes he said in his ear in -a subdued voice: - -“The Queen is dead, sir.” - -Alistair slowly filled his own glass with wine, lifted it up, and -emptied it. - -“It is the end of an age,” he said, as he set it down again, and rose -deliberately to his feet. - -Mendes glanced at him curiously. - -“Yes, it is the end of some things,” he answered composedly. “Are you -off?” - -“I have an engagement,” said Alistair dryly. - -The two men shook hands quietly, but not without cordiality. Each of -them had found something in the other to respect. - -Alistair was leaving without bestowing more than a nod on Molly, when -she surprised him by getting up. - -“You don’t want me?” she said, with the husky accent which came into -her voice when she had been drinking a good deal. - -“No,” said Alistair, puzzled. - -“Then good-bye.” - -She held out a beringed hand, and Alistair took it nervously, inly -afraid of a scene. Then he went without looking back. - -It was midnight before he let himself into the little art kitchen in -Beers Cooperage, and saw by the light of the match which he had struck -to show him the way upstairs a white envelope lying on the floor. The -flap bore the printed name of the hotel in which he had dined that -night, and he tore it open, with a sensation of knowing all about it, -and having expected it all along. - - “DEAR ALISTAIR” (said the shaky, badly-formed writing within), “It is - no good. You don’t want me, and it will never be any better. I have - gone abroad with Mr. Mendes, and you can get a divorce as soon as you - like. - - “MOLLY FINUCANE. - - “P.S.--You are a fool if you don’t marry Hero Vanbrugh.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -A PERSONAL EXPLANATION - - -THE great Puritan Queen lay dead--dead, after sixty-three years of -unexampled prosperity and glory. For her, and in her name, heroes -had conquered and statesmen had annexed; laureates had hymned her in -exquisite verse; discoverers had written her name on the map of new -continents and carried it to the mysterious sources of old Nile. On her -the farthest East had showered barbaric pearl and gold, and new realms -had come forth out of the desert to hail her Queen. - -The last Protestant Queen lay dead. And before the warmth of life -had ebbed away two hands were lifted to rend the veil of the world’s -reverence. One of these hands affixed a paper to her Palace walls, -proclaiming that she had been a usurper; the other boasted in the -public press that she had been interred with a Catholic emblem upon her -breast. - -Both hands were guided, consciously or unconsciously, by the same -motive power. Both actions were symbolical. The mysterious process of -the rise and fall of nations is worked out by and through the change of -minds. The Victorian Age had passed away before Victoria herself. And -her end had been hastened and embittered by the opening revelations of -the anti-Puritan war. - -The last man in England who was likely to read aright the signs of the -times, and perceive the true trend of contemporary history was the -man who, naturally enough, found himself occupying the post of Home -Secretary. - -The Duke of Trent had been passing the last two days at Osborne, in -obedience to the archaic custom which required him to witness the -Sovereign’s demise. Not less archaic in essence seemed to his eye the -seditious manifesto which was brought to him by an agent of Scotland -Yard, torn down from St. James’s Palace within half an hour of its -being put up. Viewing it, as his character and intellectual limitations -compelled him to view it, as an offensive practical joke, nevertheless -he hastened back to town in a state of uneasiness bordering on alarm. -He did not, of course, apprehend anything in the nature of violence, -but he thought it quite possible that the authors of the Assertion -might be preparing to interrupt the formal proclamation of the new -Sovereign; and he had ordered the ceremony to be deferred till the -police had had time to act. - -Privately he had another and still more serious cause of anxiety. -He had not forgotten the Legitimist bazaar, and he feared that the -investigations which had been immediately set on foot might show the -name of his brother as figuring among the authors of the disgraceful -jest. - -The task of the police did not prove a difficult one. Late in the -afternoon of the day after the outrage the Chief Commissioner himself -waited upon the Secretary of State at the Home Office to make his -confidential report. - -The Duke received him alone, with an air of embarrassment which the -Commissioner found it easy to understand. - -“I thought it best to come to your Grace myself, as the matter is one -that seems to call for careful handling.” - -“What have you found out?” - -“The manifesto--they call it the Assertion--comes from the committee -of a body styling itself the Legitimist Guild. The real instigator, -I suspect, is a Frenchman, the Comte des Louvres, who is a sort of -international agent. He is in the pay of the Duke of ----, the King of -the ----, and even, I believe, of the Vatican.” - -The Home Secretary frowned. - -“What was his motive?” - -“Simply to show that he was earning his money, I expect. There may -be some idea that if they can give trouble to our Royal Family, the -influence of the English Court will be exerted on behalf of the -Royalist cause in France--or the Pope’s temporal power.” - -“Well, what have you done?” - -“We had very little to do. As soon as the manifesto was found I guessed -whom it came from, and sent a couple of detectives round to the Count’s -house, where they seized the papers of the Guild. That seems to have -frightened them, and within an hour or two more than half of the -committee were round with us volunteering information, and anxious to -be accepted as King’s evidence in case of a prosecution.” - -The Duke raised his eyes to the Commissioner’s face. - -“The King does not want a prosecution. He prefers that the whole thing -should be hushed up. All we have to do is to give these fools a good -fright, so that they will think twice before repeating their exploit. -What are their names?” - -“The first men who came to us were two brothers named Vane, who had -undertaken to post up copies of the Assertion themselves, but thought -better of it--they brought the copies with them to prove their -innocence. Afterwards there was an Irishman who calls himself St. Maur, -but whose real name is Maher, and Basil Dyke, the novelist. Dyke seems -to have protested the whole thing from the first, and resigned from the -Guild in consequence. I don’t think any of the four are likely to give -any more trouble.” - -“Who else is there?” - -The Commissioner of Police discreetly turned his head. - -“The only others are the Comte des Louvres, the Hon. Gerald St. John, -and--Lord Alistair Stuart.” - -Lord Alistair’s brother clenched the hand that rested on the desk in -front of him. - -“Yes; that is what I expected.” He paused for a moment or two, frowning -and fidgeting in his chair. “Who put up this wretched thing?” - -“According to the Vanes, Lord Alistair must have posted the one on the -Palace. The other two were each to put up one somewhere else, but I -believe Mr. St. John was the only one who actually did.” - -“In other words, my brother is the ringleader--is that so?” - -“I think his lordship is the only one of the whole crew who has any -pluck,” was the response. “He was in the chair when the thing was -decided on.” - -The Duke of Trent drew his lips together. - -“Do you know where to find him?” - -“I have men watching them all. Lord Alistair has stayed indoors all -day.” The Chief Commissioner hesitated, and then went on. “Your Grace -will excuse me if I refer to a private matter which perhaps you would -wish to hear at once. Lady Alistair has deserted his lordship--eloped, -in fact, with Mr. Mendes, the millionaire.” - -The Duke looked up, startled. - -“When did that happen?” - -“Yesterday, I understand. She did not come home last night. His -lordship has been alone all day.” - -James Stuart fell into a brown study. The news he had just heard was -both good and bad. It was a relief to know that he would not remain -much longer the brother-in-law of Molly Finucane; but on the other -hand he saw his brother resuming the position of a rival for the hand -of Hero Vanbrugh. With the cold obstinacy of his nature, James still -clung persistently to the belief that sooner or later he would obtain -the woman on whom he had set his heart--or what he deemed to be his -heart. But now the obstacle that had stood between Hero and his brother -had been removed, and unless he could replace it by another, even his -dull mind could perceive how things were likely to go. - -He fixed his eyes once more upon his official subordinate. - -“What you have told me, Commissioner, alters my position. If my brother -is the person principally guilty, I cannot honourably be responsible -for advising His Majesty to let the affair be hushed up.” - -The Commissioner bowed low, deeply impressed by the scrupulous delicacy -of his superior. - -“What are your Grace’s instructions?” - -“The law must take its course--for the present, at all events. Of -course, I shall communicate again with His Majesty, and with the Prime -Minister.” - -“In that case I shall have to arrest his lordship as well as the -others.” - -“It will be sufficient if you arrest Lord Alistair. You can give the -others a chance to escape abroad.” - -The Chief Commissioner stood for a moment, playing awkwardly with his -hat. - -“In cases of high treason,” he observed, in a low voice, “it is -customary for the warrant to be signed by the Home Secretary.” - -The Home Secretary drew himself up. - -“Have you a warrant with you?” - -The necessary form was procured from the criminal branch of the -Department, and James wrote his own name beneath that of his only -brother, with a firm, unfaltering hand. - -The next hour was taken up by the Commissioner of Police in personally -effecting the arrest of his distinguished prisoner, and by the -Secretary of State in communicating with the head of the Government. -The Duke went through the form of tendering his resignation, which was -courteously declined. - -“I do not believe for a moment that His Majesty will reconsider -his decision, nor should I advise it,” the old Prime Minister said -sensibly. “You had better cancel the warrant at once. Give your brother -a good fright and send him out of the country. Let us hope that this -experience may sober him.” - -When James got back to the Home Office he found a note on his desk from -the Chief Commissioner. - -“I have his lordship in the next room, but he is hardly in a fit -condition to be questioned. Perhaps your Grace had better see him -to-morrow.” - -The Duke rang his bell, and ordered his brother to be brought before -him alone. - -Alistair came in, still wearing the evening dress in which he had dined -with Mendes overnight, with his hair unbrushed and his eyes from an -unreposeful sleep. - -His brother glanced at him with carefully concealed anxiety; for though -he was scarcely aware of it himself, he was always a little afraid of -Alistair. It was a relief to see that his brother was not apparently -intoxicated: the reckless mood which James dreaded most had given place -to one of depression. At such a moment Alistair might be spoken to -seriously; he might even be reproved without the risk of unpleasant -retorts. - -The prisoner, without going through any form of greeting to his -brother, dropped into one of the great spreading leather-covered chairs -which stood round the wall and waited for Trent to speak. - -“Is it any use asking you why you have done this?” Trent said, after -regarding him in silence for some time. - -Alistair turned on him a lack-lustre eye. - -“If you are asking me as Secretary of State, perhaps not.” - -The Home Secretary fidgeted with the papers on the writing-table in -front of him. It was a favourite trick of his when he was embarrassed. -Indeed, he generally kept a pile of papers in front of him on purpose. -A little consideration told him that it was not worth while to try to -bluff Alistair. - -“Well, no, I’m not.” - -“You have arrested me, haven’t you?” The prisoner made his point -quietly, as though moved by a quite impersonal curiosity. - -“Yes.” The Duke hesitated again, and again decided that the bluffing -policy would be too risky. “Since I signed the warrant, I’ve seen the -Prime Minister. I tendered him my resignation, of course.” - -Alistair began to look ever so little interested. - -“I never thought you would do that,” he confessed. - -“I don’t suppose you thought anything about it, one way or the other,” -Trent retorted, with some bitterness. “You never do think of me--or -your mother--do you?” - -The prisoner straightened himself up for an instant. - -“Oh, yes. It is difficult not to think of one’s enemies sometimes.” - -Honest astonishment came into Trent’s look and mien. - -“Enemies! Your mother and I! What do you mean? If I were to call you my -enemy, I should have some reason. The worst enmity I have ever shown -you has been to give you a thousand a year, and to offer to pay your -debts.” - -“Yes, on conditions,” Alistair reminded him. But he did not speak with -any appearance of resentment. The elder brother’s warmth had failed to -rouse any answering warmth in the younger. - -“On conditions which, as you must now admit, were for your own good. -At least, I suppose that you are not prepared to defend that wretched -woman any longer.” - -“Silence!” Alistair had nearly sprung out of his chair. “Say whatever -you like about me, I shan’t resent it; but leave Molly alone, please.” - -Trent looked as bewildered as he felt. - -“You know, don’t you?” he began. - -Alistair cut him short. - -“I know she has just done the greatest thing that any woman can do -for a man. She loved me, she was married to me, she saw that I loved -another woman, and she has deliberately set me free to marry her. By -heavens! I should like to know how many of your Christian women would -do as much as that!” - -Trent was staggered. Like the Duchess, he had overlooked the fact that -Molly Finucane was really an ally. Perhaps, if they had been wiser, -Lady Alistair might have been made to take a different view of the -situation in the past. But now it was too late. - -He dared not risk a direct question about Hero. - -“Well, you can’t marry anyone else yet,” he said, not very delicately. -“The question is, what are you going to do?” - -“Isn’t it what are you going to do? I am still under arrest, I believe.” - -Trent fell back on his papers again. - -“I told you I had seen the Prime Minister. He is willing to let the -matter be hushed up, out of consideration for me.” - -After all, he had ventured on a bluff; and, after all, it did not come -off. Alistair merely smiled. - -“I am not a fool, Trent, you know. I have never seriously supposed -that I ran any danger of being hanged, drawn and quartered. So the -resignation has been withdrawn?” - -“It was declined,” the Minister corrected. “But if the papers get hold -of the business, I shall have to go--for a time, at all events.” - -Alistair seemed genuinely concerned. - -“Really? I should be sorry if it was so bad as that.” - -Trent gazed at him sullenly. - -“Can’t you see that everything you do is bad for me? Somehow or -other you seem bent on wrecking my career as well as your own. First -bankruptcy, then that marriage; now, I suppose, divorce--and this -disgraceful outrage on the top of everything else.” - -Alistair was surprisingly meek. - -“Yes, I dare say you feel it is rather rough on you; but, after all, no -one can blame you for my misdeeds.” - -“But they do--they must. You don’t suppose I could remain Home -Secretary with my own brother doing time in one of the prisons under my -control. You just called me your enemy; I should like to know what you -are to me.” - -“I could tell you that, if I thought you would understand,” the other -said in low tones. - -“What have I done, what has our mother done, that you should make no -effort to spare us all this disgrace?” Trent demanded warmly. - -“Ah! what have you done? Have you ever considered me?” returned -Alistair. - -“Considered you? We have done nothing else. We have always been trying -to save you, but you have never let us.” - -“Save me!--yes, I suppose that is how you would put it to yourself. You -have been trying to save me from disgracing you, as you call it. Has it -ever occurred to either of you that the whole of our joint lives has -been one long persecution of me by you, Trent?” - -“Persecution! What do you mean?” - -“I am going to tell you what I mean. I dare say I shall never have -another opportunity. We are not likely to see much more of one another. -I am going abroad.” - -The unexpected announcement on his brother’s part that he was preparing -to take the very step that Trent almost despaired of making him take -was so welcome that the Duke found himself listening patiently to what -followed. - -“Have you ever asked yourself why I am different from you--why I lead a -different life from the one you lived? To begin with, you are the Duke -of Trent and Colonsay; I am a younger son. Do you blame me for that? Do -you blame me for not being a Duke, like you?” - -“Of course not. It is nonsense to suggest it.” - -“I do not think it is nonsense. On the contrary, I think a great many -people in your position blame people in mine. Not in so many words, -perhaps, but in their whole attitude towards them. You blame a man for -not being a gentleman when you call him a cad. But if he was born a -cad, what fault is it of his? Every time we who are well born boast of -our good blood, surely we are blaming the people who had the bad luck -to be born without pedigrees. And yet we cannot all belong to the Royal -Family.” - -“I am not aware that I ever put on side on account of my family,” -protested Trent. - -“No. But you would be very much surprised and offended if a tradesman -offered to shake hands with you over the counter. Let us pass on. You -have nearly forty thousand a year; I am a pauper. You must admit that -you have blamed me for that.” - -“I? Never! I have blamed you for spending more than your allowance, -that is all.” - -Alistair shook his head. - -“You don’t see it, of course. But the whole life of a man like you -is a reproach to one like me. You blame me for buying things that -you would not blame a rich man for buying. It is a crime on my part -to drive a motor; it is no crime on yours. And you go much farther -than that, because you tell me, in effect, that I ought to be rich. -In England every rich man is telling that to every poor man all day -long. It is the cry of the press and the pulpit, of the home and of the -Sunday-school. Every millionaire is angry with the man who is not a -millionaire. Why? They tell us that we could become millionaires like -them if we chose; and it is a lie. We cannot all be millionaires. -There are not enough millions to go round. The millionaire himself has -gained his money at someone else’s expense. You have gained your money -at my expense. Instead of the inheritance being divided, you have it -all. If I am not angry with you on that account, why should you be -angry with me?” - -“I am not angry,” Trent protested again. But he began to feel a little -shaken. - -“If we all became millionaires,” Alistair continued calmly, “you who -are millionaires already would be the first to suffer. You would have -no servants to wait on you, no labourers to toil for you, no clerks to -make and keep your millions for you. Surely it is to your interest that -a large part of mankind should remain poor. Then why be angry with them -on account of their poverty? Why despise them for serving you? If you -like robbing, why abuse those who let themselves be robbed?” - -“Does this mean that you are going to turn Socialist?” asked the -puzzled Duke. - -Alistair smiled. - -“Can’t you see that it means the very opposite? It is you who are -the Socialist--yes, you--because it is you who will not tolerate the -individual. You have never tolerated me. You have always been trying, -as you put it, to reform me. And what do you mean by reforming me? You -mean crushing me out of my natural shape and into your natural shape. -You believe that all men ought to resemble each other like buttons on -a coat--and you are the pattern button.” - -Trent made no answer. In his heart he felt that he was the pattern -button, and that Alistair ought to try to resemble him. But he feared -his brother’s sarcastic tongue too much to say so. - -“Why?” Alistair continued. “I am sure it has never occurred to you that -I ought to dye my hair the same shade as yours, though men stooped even -to that depth in the days of Louis Quatorze. You have just admitted -that I am not really to blame for having been born after you, or -because you have my share of the property. Then why blame me because my -tastes are different from yours--because I prefer poetry to politics, -and Bohemia to Philistia?” - -“It is not a matter of taste only. The common rules of morality are the -same for all.” - -“And why should they be the same? Who made the rules? You”--he pointed -an accusing finger--“you, and men like you. When you say morality, you -mean monogamy. Who set up monogamy as the idol that all the human race -ought to fall down and worship? It was not religion--there is not a -word in favour of monogamy in the Bible. It is an Anglo-Saxon fad.” - -“Of course, if you repudiate the laws of morality, I cannot argue with -you.” - -“I am not arguing. I am trying to make you understand. I want to see -if it isn’t possible to stop all this cruelty--this frantic Puritan -craze for killing everybody who isn’t a Wesleyan. I don’t want to kill -you. I don’t mind your being respectable; why should you mind my being -disreputable? What business is it of yours?” - -“You forget that you are my brother, and that I suffer for your -conduct.” - -Alistair shook his head. - -“That isn’t true, Trent, and you know it isn’t true. Here you are, -Secretary of State, with the Garter in prospect, and a very fair chance -of the Premiership, if no man with brains comes along. If I ever were -to reform, as you are always urging me to do, and go into politics, you -would find me a rather dangerous rival, you know.” Trent thought of -Hero, and winced. There was something in what his brother was saying. -Alistair, in the House of Commons, with his fascinating manner and -sparkling wit, would be a rather dangerous rival. And he had never seen -it, never realized that their mother’s anxiety to make Alistair enter -the House might be another of those projects to save the younger son at -the expense of the elder. While these reflections were passing through -his slow mind, Alistair was still speaking. - -“No, Trent, it is the other way about. I don’t suppose that you will -ever see it, but I see it now. Instead of your suffering for me, it is -I who suffer for you. You owe everything you are, and have, and may be, -to me.” - -“How on earth can you say that?” - -“Because I am the younger son--the younger son in more senses than -one. The law gives you the dukedom and the estates, and gives me -nothing, is a law which makes me suffer for your benefit. And it is -the same with all the other laws under which we live. They are all -laws made in your favour at my expense. The whole social system has -been created to favour you and oppress me. The laws of morality, as -you call them, they are all made by men like you, and against men like -me. You have regulated the world to suit yourself, and the man whom -your regulations do not suit is sacrificed to secure your happiness. -Yes, it is just like the old days when they buried a victim under -the foundation stone, to make the building safe. You and your world, -society, civilization, the British Empire--call it what you like--you -are the builders, and it is the building; and all we whom you hang and -exile and imprison--Jacobites in one century and anarchists in another, -Byron and Shelley above, and the pickpocket and drunkard below--all we -are the foundation victims, whom you sacrifice in order to secure your -State.” - -Trent felt out of his depth. In his confusion of mind he said the most -unwise thing he could have said. - -“You speak as though there were no such thing as religion. What you are -really attacking is Christianity. You are not a Christian.” - -Then Alistair looked at him gravely and steadily, and the thought that -had been growing and taking shape in his mind ever since the night he -had stood on Westminster Bridge came out firm and distinct at last. - -“I am a christ!” - -“Alistair!” Genuine consternation showed in the listener’s face and -voice. He actually feared that his brother was out of his mind. - -“I am your christ. Listen! It is not only the dukedom and the -estates that have come to us from our ancestors. We have inherited -other things--blood, instincts, passions, everything that makes the -difference between one man and another. And that inheritance has been -unfairly divided, too. Our forefathers were half Saxon and half Celtic. -You have inherited the Saxon strain, and I the Celtic; and we live in -a society in which it is well to be a Saxon, and ill to be a Celt. Our -father was a drunkard and our mother a Puritan. You take after her -and I after him, and we live in a world in which it is well with the -Puritan and ill with the drunkard. Some of our forefathers were steady, -plodding money-gatherers, others were wild, reckless adventurers. -Again you have inherited the good strain, and I the bad. You have had -everything, Trent. Everything which the world requires a man to be or -to do, you are, or it is your nature to do. All that the world forbids -a man to be and do, I am, or it is my nature to do. It is as though -a breeder had deliberately bred you with all the good points and me -with all the bad. You know what Sir Bernard Vanbrugh thinks about -these things. What did he tell you?--that you had inherited an evil -strain? The man was blind. I have inherited the evil strain, and by so -doing I have saved you from it; I have carried it off from you, like a -drainpipe. That is how it is. I am your saviour. Vanbrugh doesn’t see -it, but Darwinism and Christianity are saying the same thing. Evolution -is the sacrifice of the unfit on behalf of the fit. The scapegoat -bears away the sins of the righteous. They were quite right to put up -a crucifix in the old Courts of Justice, but it ought to have been -over the dock, and not over the Judge’s head, because the criminal -is the christ; he is the redeemer in whom the old vices and savage -instincts in the blood of mankind are drained off and got rid of, for -the salvation of the world. You may substitute the lethal chamber for -the cross, but you will be still doing what those old Jews were doing, -putting one man to death for the good of the people. Surely that is how -it stands between you and me, Jim. Surely I have borne your sicknesses, -and carried your pains, whereas you did esteem me stricken, smitten of -God, and afflicted. But I was pierced for your transgressions, I was -bruised for your iniquities: the chastisement on behalf of your peace -was upon me; and with my stripes you are healed.” - - - - -AFTERWARDS - - - “ISLE DE ST. PIERRE, - “LAC DE BIENNE, - “SWITZERLAND. - -“MY DEAR ONE: - -“I am writing to you from an island in the least known of the Swiss -lakes, lying beneath the Jura. The island is the size of a small farm. -It is crossed by a thickly-wooded ridge, and there are reed-grown -marshes on one side, and on the other meadows and gardens and a homely -inn. The inn has grown out of an older cottage or farmhouse, and -certain rooms in the more ancient part of the building have become a -place of local pilgrimage. On Sundays and holidays the workmen of the -small neighbouring towns come here to drink and dance. But the foreign -tourist is more rarely seen here, and the English tourist would most -likely shun the spot if he had heard of it. For these rude quarters -were the refuge, more than a hundred years ago, of a man who, more or -less against his will, lit the great bonfire of the feudal system. - -“It was during one of those breaks in his life when, like Jonah of old, -he seemed to be trying to flee from his allotted task, that Rousseau -came and hid himself for this little isle. But the feudal society -craved for destruction, and, like all societies in that condition, it -first bred its destroyer and then steadily goaded him to the work. The -young Marat, from his home a few miles away, must have looked on while -the prophet of the Revolution was being hunted out of this retreat by -the Prussian police, and, as it were, ordered to resume his terrible -apostolate. - -“If imagination were possible for public bodies, if gratitude were -conceivable on the part of the Socialist democracy, this isle would not -be turned into a restaurant for bank-holiday workmen. It would be made -a fit memorial of Rousseau by being set apart for the benefit of his -heirs. Every man of genius, driven like him into exile by poverty and -love of freedom, would find here a retreat in which he could rest from -the storms of the world. Or if stupidity were not the curse of gold, -the millionaires themselves would raise a voluntary tax to build an -alms-house for Rousseau and Marat, instead of flogging them on to the -work of anarchy with the sharp goads of hunger and contempt. - -“I find that my brother’s unexpected death has made no difference -in my feelings towards England, although I find it has made a great -difference in the feeling of England towards me. My godfather, the -Archbishop, has written to me in the most cordial spirit about my -Church patronage, thanking me in advance for my gracious patronage of -Christianity. He hints that I may play an important part in bringing -the Roman and Anglican communions closer together as the sole means of -preserving society. But I do not want to preserve society. The Prime -Minister’s letter of condolence also contains a hint that in a year or -two, if I behave, I may succeed to the Home Secretaryship--I think he -means all the Cabinet offices to become hereditary in course of time. -But I am not going to behave. England expects every man to be a humbug, -but she will be disappointed as far as I am concerned. - -“I recollect your father saying to me once that in many persons -the infliction of pain on others--in extreme cases, even on -themselves--gives rise to sensations of enjoyment which are actually -akin to, and have their seat in the same region as, the sensations of -physical lust. Thus the nuns who ill-use children in their orphanages, -and the Puritans who gloat over the sufferings of profligate men and -women, are really indulging in an unnatural form of profligacy. It -is difficult to account on any other principle for what Anglo-Saxon -races call their civilizing mission. It clearly has nothing to do with -Christianity, because the only sins seriously denounced in the Gospel -are love of money and hypocrisy, and those are the supreme Anglo-Saxon -virtues. When we find a nation of swindlers bent on putting down -polygamy in Utah, and a nation of pirates objecting to child-marriages -in Hindustan, we are clearly face to face with some form of insanity. -And it is becoming more difficult every day to escape out of the power -of the maniacs. - -“Rousseau rendered greater services to the democracy of Europe and -America than any one man who has ever lived. He is the author of the -Declaration of Independence, and the author of universal suffrage. And -yet if any follower of Rousseau attempted to set up a community to lead -the life which Rousseau lived and advocated, anywhere within reach of -that democracy, it would be put down by force. This isle is now the -property of a hospital--of course, a hospital for the benefit of the -democracy. I have written proposing to acquire the island and build on -it a hospital for men of letters, and even that is more than democracy -can tolerate; my letter has not been acknowledged. Switzerland is -covered with sanatoriums for every kind of disease, but there is no -sanatorium for genius. The Swiss are making millions a year out of -Byron’s praises of their scenery; they grudge the smallest corner of -their soil to be a home for other Byrons. - -“As far as I can see, there are only three or four countries which have -still been spared a measure of freedom, and they will not retain it -very long. The Puritans have been howling for the blood of the Turks -for generations, and I doubt if their mutual jealousy will hold them -back much longer from civilizing the whole of Islam. China has been -spared for the moment, but it cannot be saved except on condition that -it follows the Japanese example and becomes as greedy and bloodthirsty -as the Christian Powers. - -“However, I shall now visit the countries that have not been annexed up -to the present, and try to find some spot where it may be possible to -set up a city of refuge. I will found a spiritual order like the old -Knights of the Temple. Who knows that we may not be able to preserve -one spot of the planet alike from the millionaire and the Socialist, -the slave-driver and the slave? - -“In my monastery, dear Hero, there will be neither marrying nor giving -in marriage, and none need declare himself man or woman unless he -pleases. In all matters we shall strive to obtain freedom without -disorder, and happiness without selfishness. We shall have many guests -who will be refreshed and comforted, and sent upon their way, but only -after long trial and approval will any be admitted to our Order. We -shall have servants, whom we shall treat as brethren without calling -them lay-brothers, and they will do their work, as we shall do ours. - -“Such are the thoughts and plans I wished to lay before you, but I dare -not wish that you should make them yours. Doubtless you will consider -them with kindness and with wisdom, and will tell me your decision. - -“I shall wait here another week for your answer before setting out for -the East.” - - - - -THE NEW WORD - -by ALLEN UPWARD - -_$1.50 net_ - - -“In this book a man, who in the broader sense of both words is at once -a scientist and a seer, has undertaken an inquiry into the sources of -knowledge and the foundations of faith, a review of the jurisdiction -of materialism and the credentials of the idealists, that has worked -out into what he himself has admirably defined as a ‘circumnavigation -of hope.’ Mr. Upward’s equipment as a navigator of these reef-strewn -and mirage-haunted seas is unequalled in our day. A man of scientific -training and legal aptitude, a philologist of amazing insight, a -debater with a wide knowledge of men, a broad culture, and a trenchant -mind, no English writer of the post-Darwinian period has approached -him in the gift of putting into living folk-speech the tangled -technicalities of the schoolmen; no controversial critic has had at his -command so vitriolic a wit and used it so magnanimously; no ruthless -iconoclast of intellectual idols has shown himself so conservative and -yet so able an architect of intellectual optimism. Mr. Upward’s inquiry -is developed as an interpretation of a cryptic phrase in the will of -Alfred Nobel, ‘a work of an idealistic tendency.’ Its professed object -is ‘to forge upon the anvil of sense a definition of hope that will -ring true in the ear of the materialist as well as of the idealist.’ -And its prosecution is Socratic in its argumentative shrewdness, -its unity of purpose, its unswerving directness and its triumphant -simplicity.” - - --_Mr. J. B. Kerfoot in LIFE_ - - _At all booksellers or sent postpaid by the publisher on receipt of - price._ - -MITCHELL KENNERLEY. Publisher, New York - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LORD ALISTAIR'S REBELLION *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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